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xmasterofmunsonx · 9 months ago

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Under Pressure

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Rating: 18+ eventually - mentions of miscarriage, drugs, and language

Summary: You’re a top chef from Atlanta, who gets scouted for a program to help integrate temporary chefs into restaurants across the US to bring something new to each restaurant. Your assignment? The Bear, in Chicago. Your new head chef? Carmen Berzatto.

THE BEAR

DAY 1

Your morning started off rough, the coffee pot in the short term rental wasn’t working, and you barely slept the night before in anticipation of this day. Your boss Ryan had already sent you a good luck text knowing how nervous you probably were. This was a new program where restaurants were switching out chefs for a few months at a time to bring in new ideas, and hopefully improve business. You’d been scouted by Natalie from the Bear, and as soon as you heard that it was a chance to be in Chicago with your brother for 3-6 months depending on how well it went, you jumped at the opportunity.

Your rental was just a few minutes walk to the restaurant, Natalie had scouted the place out for you over a few FaceTime calls, and the company organizing this program handled everything else.

You took a few deep breaths before walking into The Bear, where you were greeted by Natalie’s smiling face. She must have spotted and announced that you were standing outside waiting, because by the time you were walking in you could see heads peeking through the kitchen window. You were dressed casually, not knowing what to expect for tonight- what station you’d be put at, or if you’d be dealing with the front of the house at all. You wiped your nervous, sweaty hands on your jeans before shaking her hand and introducing yourself to her.

Her smile was warm, and she held out a hand to you, “it’s so nice to see you in person finally! Welcome to the Bear, we’re so excited to have you here. And thank you for being so willing to come spend time here.”

You offered a smile, your southern accent slipped out more than you meant to, “Thanks Natalie, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve heard so much about this place.”

“Please, just call me Nat, okay? Your accent is precious- it’s even more in person.” She offered another big smile to you.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “at dinner last night I had three people say something about it so I guess it’s stronger than I thought.” You scratched your neck nervously, “am I dressed okay? I didn’t know how you guys were with tattoos, but I figured I could stay in the back tonight if I had to and wear something to cover them up tomorrow-”

“Please, you’re going to fit right in. C’mon back here and I’ll introduce you to everyone. They’re all prepping for the day, you got here at a perfect time.”

Nat lead you into the kitchen, where the team was already starting to prep for the day. You looked around at the organized chaos and smiled to yourself, it felt like a good fit already despite the nerves still in your stomach. You could tell they took pride in their kitchen by the pristine countertops, and the organization of each station. You were too busy looking around to realize that everyone had stopped what they were doing and had their attention on you.

Nat clapped to get everyone out of their strange daze, “Hey everyone, listen! Here’s our guest chef we’ve been talking about. Just a reminder, she’ll be here for 3-6 months depending on how things go, so treat her nicely, all of you. She’s here to help us, bring in some fresh ideas, and maybe even get things running a little bit smoother.”

You waved at everyone nervously with a small smile, “Hey everyone. I’m really excited to be here. Nat’s done a wonderful job telling me all about everything amazing y’all already have going on for you, and I’m honored to be here. I couldn’t believe I was scouted over my head chef, Ryan.”

A woman in the back made a comment, “that’s because we need more calm in this place. That one beside you can get a hot head sometimes, we needed another woman in here. I’m Tina, by the way.” She smiled at you, and you looked to your left at the well known chef you had heard about already - Carmen Berzatto. You may have been all the way in Atlanta but you knew him and you knew his reputation. He was shorter than you had expected, but his presence was strong.

Carmen was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and you felt like you were under his microscope. You knew how he felt, you were a guest in his kitchen, and you knew what it was like to have someone who could potentially be invading upon your space. You’d read all the articles, done your research and you knew this kitchen ran like a well oiled machine.

“Good to have you here, Chef.” He spoke calmly, and extended his hand, his large one completely enveloping your small tattooed one. You saw him take a glance at them, but he made no comment.

Another girl stepped forward, a much warmer smile on her face, “I’m Chef Sydney, and we’re excited to have you here even if someone doesn’t know how to show it.” She was motioning her head to Carmen and you just shook your head with her.

“I’m Richie,” a tall man emerged from the side of the kitchen, “welcome to the jungle of this kitchen. We’re all a bunch of fuckin’ lunatics, so I wish you the best of luck.” You laughed at his introduction and shook his hand politely too.

“Believe me, I’ve worked in chaos before. I fully believe I can keep up with it here.”

“You? A Michelin star chef have worked in a wild kitchen before? That’s hard to believe.” You blushed at the fact that he’d also done his research on you. It was something you were proud of accomplishing so early on in your career, but you stayed humble about it. “But you’ve never worked with bear over there. He’s a tough one.”

“Shut up, cousin.” Carmen snapped at him quickly without looking up.

The rest of the team laughed, the tension easing slightly as they adjusted to your laid back energy.

Nat guided you over to Carmen’s station where he had resumed his prep for the day, “As we discussed on our calls, Carmen’s in full charge of the kitchen. He’s the one who will keep you updated everyday, and if you need anything, or if he makes you cry, tell me or Richie.” She winked as Carmen tensed and rolled his eyes.

“Your kitchen is beautiful, I heard about all the renovations.” Carmen nodded, his expression was serious, but not angry.

“Thanks, it took a lot to get here.” He put down his utensils and walked you over to a blank prep space, “You’re on sauce for tonight, think you can handle that?” You nodded, “alright then, we’ll get you settled.”

You took your place in the kitchen, already starting to acclimate to the flow of the kitchen after he explained everything to you. The staff started out initially a little wary, and you could tell by their glances, so you tried to play it as cool as you could, which seemed to make everyone warm up to you quickly. You knew you tended to have an exterior calm demeanor, no matter how you were feeling inside, but your quick wit fit in perfectly with the jokes floating around all night.

You felt Carmen’s eyes on you almost the entire first shift, and you wondered what it was about. Was he regretting his choice of you over Ryan? Were you overstepping in some way he wasn’t voicing to you? Thoughts about you being unwanted were already starting to intrude on your thoughts, and because of your overthinking, you had one small slip up with the sauce that you hoped he hadn’t seen, but his raised eyebrow seemed to clue you in that you weren’t as sly as you thought.

“Won’t happen again, Chef.” You said, as you passed the fixed dish to him. He observed the plate, nodded and called for it to be taken to the table.

EVENING

The kitchen was finally quiet for the night, and you were sweaty. Your hair had made it up into a bun on top of your head, your bangs stuck to your forehead, and you had shed your layers of chef coat down to your simple black t-shirt. You loved staying past close, the lack of clattering dishes, orders being barked, “behind!”, “hands!”, etc. hadn’t been spoken in about 20 minutes and all you could hear were softer noises of things being scrubbed down.

Carmen was busy wiping down the counter tops after you’d cleared them all off, and he’d dismissed everyone else to go home. He didn’t say it to you, and you didn’t want to seem lazy on your first day, so you took the initiative to start organizing prep for tomorrow thanks to the lists and clipboards all around. You appreciated the way the kitchen was similarly organized to yours, but his was a little more controlled, and yours a little more relaxed.

“So, that accent of yours.” Carmen had a smirk on his face as he glanced up at you, “didn’t know people in Atlanta sounded quite like that.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you chuckled.

“I’m actually not from Atlanta.” Carmen leaned against the countertop, crossing his arms again, ready to listen. “I’m from a tiny town a few hours outside of Atlanta, went to school-”

“Oh, I know where you’ve been. We can skip all that.” You wiped your hands nervously on a kitchen towel and leaned against a different counter, facing him. He was trying to intimidate you, but you weren’t giving in. “So, you landed in Atlanta, huh? That’s a good food scene.”

“Yeah, it’s been a ride. I started in this tiny diner back home as a teenager, nothing fancy, but I learned a lot there, and that’s what originally made me want to become a chef. My parents would always ask what I wanted for my birthday and from about age 10 and up, I’d ask for a nice meal at a fancy restaurant in the big city.”

“That’s cute.” Carmen was listening intently and you were wondering what his intentions were with this conversation. “How would you say today went? Feel good about it?”

“Actually, yeah. You definitely know how to run a kitchen. I mean- I didn’t think you didn’t, but I felt really comfortable here and only fucked up once so I would say that’s pretty good. You run it like it’s nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing, I’ve been doing it for a while now. You get a pass for today, but we don’t have time for fuckups, even if they’re small, m’kay? I could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack once you noticed I saw it so I let it slide since you fixed it, but I expect perfection every day, just so you know.”

You nodded, understanding completely since you were the same way. “Understood, just first day jitters.” You glanced around again, “You can tell this is a special kitchen. You, or someone has put a lot of heart into it and I can tell just from the first day of being here, feels right at home. I was so nervous about it.”

There was a look in Carmen’s eyes that you couldn’t quite figure out, “Yeah, we’ve put a lot of heart into this place. All of us. And we’re trying to keep it that way.”

You nodded understanding him, he was setting some soft boundaries already about not wanting to change much. You could tell he appreciated you noticing that he’d put his heart into it as he went back to cleaning off the counters, it was something you hoped people would always feel in your own space.

Carmen glanced up again, “So really, what brought you here? Other than the program, why Chicago- the Bear? We don’t have a star.”

You pause, unsure of how deep you wanted to go with the answer. You started to smile as you spoke, “I needed a change. And when I was offered the opportunity by the program, and here was one of the options, after speaking to Nat, I knew it would be the right move.”

You couldn’t help but turn your smile into a grin as you felt an understood respect between the two of you that couldn’t have happened during service earlier today. You were much more at ease now that he understood why you were here.

The air between you two was more comfortable, as you were finishing up the last bits of the closing duties. You heard Carmen clear his throat, trying to keep his tone casual as he glances over at you, wiping down the last of the counters.

“So, you’ve got anyone waiting for you back in Atlanta? Married, dating...?”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt a smile creep onto your face. This isn’t the first time you’ve been nonchalantly asked about your personal life in a kitchen, by a male especially, and you could tell he was just curious by his other questions about where you came from.

“Not anymore. I was married, divorced now. A uh, very brief marriage.” You could tell the word shocked him, it did most people.

“What uh, what happened?”

You sighed, finishing up completely for the night. “Yeah, married very briefly- it didn’t last long. Six months, to be exact. He started cheating on me after I got sober, and I found out six months after we got married.”

You watched as Carmen’s eyebrows knitted together, something in him darkening a little. “Thats fucked up.”

You nodded, “Yeah, it wasn’t easy. He was an enabler, and I guess he couldn’t handle the positive changes I was making for myself. The most fucked up part, was he told me he was cheating on me while I was in the hospital miscarrying, from all the goddamn stress he was putting me through. He left me there alone, and moved his shit out of my house and once I was discharged, I came home to a half empty house. So, that’s why I needed Chicago.” You don’t know why you were so vulnerable so quick, and you regretted immediately when there was a moment of silence between you two that lasted just a little too long.

“Thats really fucking heavy. I uh, I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if I knew about all of that.” You nodded, appreciating his understanding. “How long have you been sober now?”

“Two years and a few weeks.” You said simply. You saw a look in his eyes again as he scratched at his eye, but not saying anything back. You sighed again, “Sorry for just… laying all of that on you. The city, restaurant, pretty much... everything was tied to him, to that past life. I just needed a small break, a fresh start. Ryan was really supportive, and I still can’t believe I got picked over him, so thank you.”

Carmen nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I totally get needing a change, finding something new without the weight of the past can be hard but I think we’re all glad you’re here. Sydney and I talked for a long time before we decided on you.”

His eyes were softer now, and you could tell there was more he wanted to say but he didn’t allow himself to be anymore vulnerable than he already was.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today. You did a good job today, Chef. Thanks for putting in the extra work tonight too, you didn’t have to do that.”

“If you don’t mind, it’s kinda my favorite part of the day to participate in, I like the quiet before going home. Helps me relax some and leave anything at work, at work.”

Carmen nodded, “Well, it wasn’t expected but it was appreciated. I know they’ll appreciate it tomorrow too when they come in.”

You two walked out together, and told each other goodbye and went your separate ways.

You picked up your phone to call your brother who was living in Chicago too- he had been for a while, you had had dinner with him last night and you knew he was eagerly waiting to hear about your first day.

“So, is he hotter in person than in the pictures?” Your brother asked before he even greeted you, and you heard his boyfriend Blake laughing in the background. You turned around to see Carmen still walking the opposite direction.

“God, shut up. I don’t know, I’m just here to work. My day was fine, by the way. Actually only fucked up once and I didn’t get yelled at.”

“Probably because he thinks you’re cuuuute.” Blake was teasing- you knew at this point you were on speaker phone.

“Fuck both of you.” You were blushing at this point. “I’m working at one of the best restaurants in the city and all you care about is how hot the chef is?”

“C’mon, he’s practically a model. His arms- are they that big, or are they photoshopped?” You rolled your eyes, you should have known this was coming from them.

“They’re really that big and only a little distracting, okay?” You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “He’s alright.” You couldn’t let them know about the post work conversation you both had.

“Ugh, just imagine him all sweaty and yelling out orders. I’d thank him for yelling at me.”

“Blake, come on! I’m a professional chef and you’re being ridiculous.” You were glad they couldn’t see your blushing face, because there were a few times tonight you were thankful the kitchen was as hot as it was because his voice did sound rather… hot as he was barking orders. The way he had full control over his staff, versus your calm demeanor in your kitchen. “He’s intense, but he’s really good at what he does.”

“Ugh, the hot brooding type, and the skills to go with it? I bet he’s good with his hands.” Blake said, and you hollered for your brother to take over the phone call before you got overwhelmed.

“Stop it, he’s my boss.” You continued walking at a fast pace to get back to your apartment.

“So no sneaky make out sessions in the walk-in?”

“BROTHER! GET YOUR PARTNER OFF THE PHONE!” You yelled as you laughed.

“I’m glad you had a good day.” Your brother had picked up the phone, finally. “And who knows, maybe the hot chef with the temper is just what-”

“Fuck off! Both of you!” Your heart was actually warm at the teasing, you knew they were worried about you and wanted the best for you.

“I’m glad you had a good day. Even though you have to let us know if things heat up with you two.” Your brother spoke.

“Thanks, and I truly needed the laugh. I’m almost to the house now, so I’ll talk to you both later.” You ended the call, biting your lip to hold back a smirk as you thought about your day. You plopped down on your couch, thinking of nothing but the intense chef you spent the whole day with, and now you couldn’t get him off of your mind.

THE BEAR

DAY 2

Your second day started off different than the first. Maybe it’s because you were more comfortable, or because you let some walls down last night, but you felt a lot of tension in the air tonight as you were all busy during dinner service.

Carmen had assumed his position at the pass, his eyes constantly scanning the kitchen, but you felt them burning into you, and every chance you looked at him, you caught him stealing a look at you.

Your technique was not one to be fucked with, honestly. You were smooth, well practiced, and efficient. You knew what you were doing, and you were doing it really well. Other members of the staff had complimented you all night, and you couldn’t thank them enough for their kindness.

What you didn’t know, was that this was starting to gnaw at Carmen already. His temper was flaring as the orders picked up, and his voice had a new edge to it that had you making sure you were doing everything perfectly tonight.

You knew he knew about you, and you felt respected by him after last nights talk, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was acting like this tonight to prove that this was his kitchen, no matter who was receiving the compliments.

“Sauce, NOW! We don’t have all fuckin’ night for this!” He yelled out harshly, and you responded completely unfazed by this tonal change.

Your hands picked up the pace, working quicker than before and more precise than before as well. It seemed to piss him off more that you weren’t barking back, just yet at least, and you couldn’t let him get under your skin like you knew you were under his.

“Yes, Chef, sending sauce now!” You observed him as he took the plate. He analyzed everything about it, and you knew what he was doing. You’d seen it time and time again in men-ran kitchens. They loved to critique the women more than anything and they were willing to throw out a perfectly good dish just for the sake of their ego.

“Too thick. Sending back, didn’t I tell you we don’t have time for this?” He handed it back to you, and looked elsewhere, barking out another order.

You nodded and immediately got back to work, adjusting the sauce the tiniest bit because you knew it was the perfect thickness. It was identical to last nights, and he hadn’t said anything about it last night. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you put together the dish again. You wanted to argue back the more you thought about it, but you decided not to.

Everyone was on edge at this point. Carmen had turned into the chef you’d been warned about, the volatile, temper tantrum throwing chef. You glanced up at Sydney and she offered you a smile with her shrug, mouthing that it was okay.

Carmen’s frustration continued to build as the night went on, and it’s as if each dish you sent up that was perfect only pissed him off more and more. You could tell it was bothering him.

“C’mon guys, move faster! We’re behind as it is!” He snapped and you looked back over at him, as he was glaring daggers at you.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, but picked up your pace even more, staying just as precise as before. You weren’t letting him get to you, and you could tell he was growing more frustrated. He was being too hard on you, but he couldn’t stop- he was starting to feel lesser in his own kitchen and it was only your second day. How the hell could you do this for three months?

You sent up another flawless dish, and he glared at you.

“Carmen, I’ve got this.” You put your hand on top of his gently. He froze and snapped his eyes back to you. You were quiet, and confident, and it wasn’t something he was used to having to deal with.

“I need this shit done my way.” His voice was low, and his jaw was clenched. Okay, maybe your brother and his boyfriend were right. He was kinda hot.

You locked eyes with him, “I’m aware. This is your kitchen, I’m just here to help, chef.“

There was a thickness in the air between you two, and he paused before speaking. You realized in that moment that Carmen was going to be hard on you just because you were good. He’s not used to being the one not being complimented, or in control. Somehow, your calm demeanor had changed the air of the kitchen and almost made it seem like you were the one running it because you were being so efficient, and that’s what pissed him off.

The rest of the night continued on, but you could tell Carmen was exhausted in every way possible. He’d pushed you and everyone else too hard tonight. You were cleaning up your station with ease, not letting it show how defeated and beat down you had been made to feel, but you knew it was because of his insecurity.

One by one, the kitchen clears up. Carmen leans against the counter with his arms tightly crossed, his biceps practically bulging out of his tshirt, watching you finish up. The room is quiet again, but the tension from earlier still lingered in the air.

“Been on my case all fuckin’ day, Carmy.” You’d picked the name up from everyone else around you and decided to pull it out while you two were alone. “What’s the problem?”

Carmen stiffens slightly at the sound of your voice, the nickname rolling off your tongue so smoothly, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he pushes off the counter, walking slowly towards you, his jaw tight. He knows you’re right—he’s been harder on you than anyone else.

“I’m just making sure things get done right.” He answered through his clenched jaw.

You raised your eyebrow at him, matching his posture and pose. You could smell bullshit from a mile away. Your frustration was simmering, and you tried to not let it show. “That’s not what this is about. I’ve been running kitchens long enough to know when someone’s got a problem with me. So what’s the fucking problem?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He leaned against the counter next to you, and you could tell he was searching for the right response. He was quiet, and less defensive when he answered. “You’ve been doing everything right. That’s the problem.”

You titled your head, completely confused by his answer. “Not following here. Like, at all. I get picked on when I do things correctly? Because that’s… not exactly what I signed up for, Carmen.”

Carmen gripped the roots of his hair and let out an exasperated breath when he looked at you. “You’re good—really fuckin’ good. Better than most people I’ve worked with. And it’s... you’re throwing me off.”

You watch him, your brow furrowing as your mind starts to race. You know exactly what it’s like to work with people who can’t handle someone who’s just as good, or better, than they are, especially men. But Carmen’s answer feels different- he isn’t just being competitive.

You dropped your attitude, “You feel like I’m stepping on your toes?”

You watched as his sharp jaw got tighter, and he looked away from you as he avoided answering you. You let him simmer, waiting for him to come up with what he was trying to say.

“Yeah, I mean, maybe. You’ve got the Michelin star restaurant, the experience... It’s hard not to feel like I’m being compared to that. You’ve been here 2 days and everyone already loves you and what you’re making.” Ah, he felt like he was going to lose control of his kitchen.

You felt your frustration melt a little but as you calmed your voice down, l“I didn’t come here to compete with you. I’m here to help. That’s it.”

Carmen exhales, and you hope he realizes that’s all you’re here for.

His voice was low, “I know... it’s just...” He pauses, insecurity written all over his face.

You finish the sentence for him, “It’s hard to let someone else take some of the control.”

Carmen nods, his eyes meeting yours again. You totally got it- you know what it’s like to be in his position, to feel like you have to prove yourself every day, even when you’ve already proven it a hundred times over.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

You smile gently, feeling the tension between you two easing as she steps even closer, standing just a few steps away from him now.

“Look, I promise I’m not here to take over. This is your kitchen. I respect that. But I’m good at what I do, and I think we can make this place even better if we work together. I can take whatever step back that I need to. Fuck, put me on dishes tomorrow. But you can not take this insecure shit out on me tomorrow. I’ve paid my dues in hell kitchens before and I know yours is not one, but you’re not going to make it one for me either. I’m here to help.”

He nods, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “What’s your favorite late night snack?”

“What?” You looked at him like he had two heads because he changed the subject so quickly.

“What’s your favorite late night snack? You’re here late enough, what can I make you?”

“Nothing, I’ve got some leftovers at home.” You lied- you had something frozen at home, but honestly you were probably just going to eat a piece of bread with peanut butter before you pass out.

“Nah, I’m making you something. If you don’t tell me anything I’m gonna just pick something.”

“But we already cleaned!” You stomped your foot, and that earned a smile out of him. “Grilled cheese.”

He clapped his hands together, “Yes, that sounds delicious. Garlic butter or salted butter?”

Your mouth was already watering, “garlic butter of course.”

“That’s the correct answer.” He got to work quickly, not making a mess of the counters to undo any of your work. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and saw it was your brother so you answered it.

“You’re still there?” He asked you.

“Yes, I’m still here. Stop stalking my location or I’m turning it off for you. Closing down a restaurant takes a while.” You said back to him, quickly. Carmen turned around to watch you as you paced the kitchen and he waited for the pan to warm up.

“You sure you’re just closing the restaurant?” His partner chimed in.

“Blake, shut the fuck up.” You knew you were as red as a tomato. Carmen mouthed the word, “what?” “My brother and his partner think you’re the hottest chef in Chicago.”

You held the phone away from your ear as they both cussed you out and yelled at you for outing them, saying they’d never be able to show their face at the restaurant.

“Then quit giving me shit!” You yelled back.

“How was today?” Your brother asked, calmed down.

“It was…” you looked around and Carmen had turned back around to the pan on the gas stove. “It was a day.”

“Oooooh. You’ll have to give the hot tea later. About the hottie.”

“Stop iiiiiiiiiit.” You whined, and Carmen turned around again, laughing at you. “I gotta go, you two go to bed. It’s past your bedtime.” You hung up the phone before they could say anything else, and you placed your phone on the counter. “Sorry. He lives like, five minutes down the road and he is so excited to have me in town that he calls me all the time, and checks in on me-”

“You okay over there? You look a little flustered.” Carmen teased you, and you were mortified.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You two seem pretty close.”

“Yeah, we are, we’re actually twins.” You were born first, and you would always brag about it.

“Oh shit! That’s cool.”

“Yeah, except I got all the brains apparently. He’s an idiot and doesn’t know how to act. Sorry about all the uh, stuff.” You vaguely motioned, and blushed, suddenly focused on the fact that Carmen’s arms were naturally flexing as he flipped the grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. Your brother wasn’t completely wrong.

“He thinks I’m the hottest chef in Chicago, does he? Don’t twins like, share brain cells or something?” He turned around to make you blush even more.

“God, stop it, Carmen. It’s been two days and you’re technically my boss, so stop.” You buried your face in your hands, until you felt two hands grab onto your wrists and pull them away.

“Sorry, I overstepped. I was just going along with his teasing. Is he as southern as you?” He squeezed your hands before he let go and went back to the stove.

“God, no. He learned how to talk differently in high school and he never got his accent back. Moved up here for college and stayed ever since.”

“So you’ve come up here to see him before?” He was cooking a sandwich for himself and he was testing the sides to see if they were done yet.

“Once or twice. Not enough, I’m really glad to be able to be here to see him for this long.”

“You know, the program is kind of a placement program too, so if you wanted to-”

“I’m not trying to get ahead of myself here. I’m just needing a vacation from Atlanta, a working vacation, and somewhere that everyone doesn’t call me ma’am.” You joked.

“Triangles or squares?” Carmen asked, putting the sandwiches on paper towels.

“What?” You were confused at his question.

“You seem like a square sandwich kinda person, don’t tell me you like triangles?”

“Is there any other way to cut a grilled cheese, Berzatto?” He raised his eyebrow at you and said nothing, just cut the sandwich into four slices. “They taste better.”

He laughed at your childish comment, “you’re honestly not wrong.”

You helped him clean up the small mess he made and walked out of the restaurant with him again, but you both hesitated at the door tonight.

Carmen’s hands were shoved into his pockets as he cleared his throat, “Hey, you wanna come in early tomorrow and help me with the special?”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You weren’t expecting this kind of integration into the staff or menu yet- three days in. This was a huge deal.

“You really want me to help?”

He scratched his head, “Didn’t we just have a conversation about how you were here to help? I think you’ve got some good ideas, and I think you can handle it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” You tried to fight back the smile you had on your face at the recognition he was giving you after a bad day today.

“Just uh, don’t be late.” He teased you.

“I wouldn’t dare.” You teased back, already wishing this was the Carmen that you were dealing with every day for the next three months. “Thanks for the sandwich.”

“Thanks for everything tonight, Chef.” You blushed again at the comment and waved bye as you made your way to your home, your cheeks keeping you warm the entire walk back.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfic #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white x reader

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midnight1199 · 11 months ago

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Fated To Meet You

PAIRING: Jake Sully x Reader

WARNINGS: slight!angst, avatar!reader, fem!reader, can't think of any more rn, AU, happy!ending hopefully, not beta read

NOTES: Hello dear readers, this is my first time posting a multichapter fic on any platform so crossing my fingers that I do justice to your expectations. I'm not a native English speaker and English is my second language so please let me know where I can improve my writing skills. Moving on, please enjoy the story!

SUMMARY: The first time you saw him, you felt pity for him—Jake. Maybe that was the spark that would lead to the inferno of feelings you would hold until your last breath on Pandora.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Uprooting your current life and moving to an entirely different planet for a new beginning came as a surprisingly easy decision for you to make. Your fascination at your grandma’s storytelling of the lush green forests surrounded by trees as tall as the grim concrete skyscrapers, the sounds of life of the various creatures of the forest almost as prominent as the grinding of the metal machinery on Earth was what drew you to sign an application on a piece of paper which basically would sign your life away for the next 18 years to an organization called RDA.

Getting selected for the Avatar program as a xenobotanist was not something you expected. So you spent the next year and a half learning about the native flora and fauna life of the alien moon, Pandora. The week before your team was supposed to board the ISV Venture Star, you came to know of the death of your friend and colleague, Tom Sully. Killed for the few papers in his wallet. That is when you also learn of the RDA’s plans to send Jake, Tommy’s twin brother, in his stead to Pandora to prevent the monetary loss of losing an Avatar driver and subsequently wasting an asset.

You had only met Jake once when Tommy had brought him to the Training camp for a tour, and aside from greeting each other, there had not been any further interaction between you two. So, to say that seeing Tommy’s identical copy roll into the port almost gave you whiplash would be an understatement. Meeting eyes from a distance, you could only nod and wave at him before being hurriedly ushered by the staff toward the med bay for a final checkup before being put into cryosleep.

A dry mouth and blurry eyes were the first things that you noticed before your ears picked up on the med tech staff announcement. “You’ve been in cryo for five years nine months and twenty-two days. You will be hungry; you will be weak. If you feel nausea, please use the…” His voice fades to the background as you float to your assigned locker, you vaguely notice another hand reaching to the locker next to yours. You follow the hand to a familiar face – Jake. Jake barely looks at you before he grabs a bottle of water from his locker and floats away to his assigned seat to prepare to land. “They did not even have the courtesy to rename his locker,” you mumble. You brush a hand over the embossed ‘Sully. T.’. “See you on the other side, friend” you whisper before grabbing your items and floating off to your seat. The entry into the Pandoran atmosphere goes by in a blur. The dystopian dull grey of Hell’s Gate sticks out like a sore thumb between the beauty of the lush greens and emeralds around you.

You are rushed out of the Valkyrie shuttlecraft, breathing mask secured on your head, and the RDA militia screaming at you to hurry along. Carrying your knapsack, you make your way to the mess to watch Colonel Quaritch’s speech in silence. You can’t deny that the man has a flair for dramatics. “You're not in Kansas anymore. You're on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen. Respect that fact every second of every day.” You watch from the corner of your eye as Jake rolls in on his wheelchair, meeting your eyes for a split moment before redirecting his attention to the man’s speech. “If there is a Hell, you might want to go there for some R & R, after a tour on Pandora. Out there beyond that fence, every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubes. We have an indigenous population of humanoids called the Na'vi. They're fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin that'll stop your heart in one minute. And they have bones reinforced with naturally occurring carbon fiber. They are very hard to kill. As head of security, it is my job to keep you alive.” He glances around. “I will not succeed. Not with all of you. If you wish to survive, you need to cultivate a strong, mental attitude. You got to obey the rules: Pandora rules!”

You zone out as the man starts listing the rules you needed to obey. You wonder if the others standing in the room with you realize the hypocrisy of the Colonel’s speech. Reading between the man’s words was easy and the message was clear – Kill or be killed. The RDA was expecting you to follow their orders without question and you would be damned before you let a few military goons browbeat you into submission.

Post briefing, you head out towards the labs as instructed. “Jake!” A loud shout rang through the hallway. Norm Spellman, a fellow Avatar Driver, rushed past you towards a clearly taken aback Jake. Internally sighing, you quickened your pace to catch up with both of them, wincing slightly at hearing the end of Norm’s introduction, “…Wow! You look just like him. I’m-” “Norm Spellman”, you cut in, “and I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Jake. We went through Avatar Training with Tom.”

“Yeah, he mentioned your names—both, uh, both your names. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Why don’t we explore a bit? Check out our Avatars?”, smiling you nudge Norm to walk ahead. He petulantly calls you a bully but ambles on ahead. Snickering, you head behind Jake and push his wheelchair ahead. “Hey, I’m sorry about Norm. He’s a bit awkward with introductions, subtlety isn’t his strong suit”, grimacing slightly you continue, “the guy is all brains and no grace but he’s good at heart…”. Jake shrugs and glances back at you. “It’s alright, no harm done.”

Following Norm, you find yourselves in the bio-lab. “That’s your avatar right there.” You point Jake towards an incubated blue form in a large blue tube-like structure. A similar female figure in another tube grabs your attention and you head towards it. Your Avatar looks exactly like you except leaner, taller, and very very blue. She’s curled up in a fetal position, twitching occasionally, as if dreaming. You press a hand on the glass. This was what your training had led you to. A step away from your dreams. A step away from Grandma’s stories.

The meeting with Grace had gone as one would expect an open can of milk sitting in the most humid part of the house for a week to smell, that is to say, bad—Grace Augustine; xenobotanist, xenoanthropologist, and Head of the Avatar Program on Pandora. You had known of Grace through her books on the Pandoran flora, so when Dr. Patel—a scientist for the Avatar Program—introduces you to Grace, you’re sure you’re about to faint.

“Grace, I’d like you to meet Norm Spellman, Y/N, and Jake Sully.”

The woman turns around, puffing the cigarette smoke out, and walks towards you. “Norm, I hear good things about you. How’s your Na’vi?” “Awvea ultxari ohengeyä, Nawma Sa'nok lrrtok siveiyi”, the man responds. You and Jake watch as they continue conversing, with you catching bits and pieces of the conversation. Admittedly, your year and a half of training did not center around the necessity of learning the language. You’re still better off than Jake, who you see is lost and zoning out.

“Uh, Grace? This is Y/N”, Dr. Patel adds pointing at you, “and Jake”. You step forward to shake hands with the older woman, “Ma’am. It is an honor to work with you! Your books on Pandoran botany were the materials we used at the Academy.” You lean in closer and continue, “I can’t wait to explore in person!” Grace nods once and drops your hand. Your smile drops along with that clear dismissal. She turns to Jake and you see him move to offer his hand. “Ma’am-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don't need you. I need your brother”, she turns to Dr. Patel, “You know, the PhD who trained for three years for this mission-”

“He’s dead.” Jake lowers his arm, “I know it’s a big inconvenience for everyone.”

Grace stays silent as she stares back at Jake. You want to step in before the conversation escalates but are too nervous to slice through the mounting tension. The silence lingers between the five of you before it is broken by a furious Grace storming off. Your shoulders slump, all tension leaking out before exhaustion hits you. The emotional rollercoaster of the day completely drained the energy out of you.

Dr. Patel sighs and turns towards Jake, “Here tomorrow, 0800. Try and use bigwords.”

He leaves you staring after him as he follows after Grace. “That went well…”, you hear Norm mutter. “Let’s just head to the dorm, guys”, you say as you move towards the said dorms, “and don’t forget to video log your experience. Don’t need the Wicked Witch of the West on our asses for that.” Jake and you share a laugh while Norm huffs and stomps his way toward the dorms. You turn to follow after him but a hand grabbing your arm stops you. “I saw you trying to step in y’know, earlier”, Jake murmurs, “Thanks for caring about Tommy, he had a good friend in you.” It’s the complete exhaustion and defeat in his voice that makes your heart pang with grief. A week—that was all RDA had given to the man before you to grieve his dead brother. His dead twin brother, someone whom he had once shared a womb with. You smile softly at Jake and take his hand in yours. “I didn’t do it for Tommy”, squeezing his hand you continue, “I did it for you, Marine. Figured somebody needed to give you a break.” A hurried staff rushing past you snaps you out of the moment and you clear your throat while pulling your hand away from Jake’s.

“Let’s head to the dorms, shall we?”, without waiting for a reply you hurry ahead. Jake following after you after a short moment of silence.

#jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #jake sully #female reader #fem!reader #avatar!reader #human!reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully fanfic #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar fanfiction #alternate universe

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notnights · 7 months ago

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This is way late posting but I was waiting to see how the organizers would handle this situation before I posted this but they have seemingly ghosted me so;

Criticisms I have about Corpus Christi Kadabracon 2024, while its evident I also had incredible experiences while there but I also feel avoiding the bad won't help anyone improve. So hear we go. First of all I knew going in this would be a tiny local con and wouldn't be perfect. I don't know how much experience the organizers have but my goal here isn't to rag on them but give some criticisms to hopefully help them think about how they can improve.

The venue was way too small. My nephew's school cafeteria was probably bigger than this room. Everything was in the same room. I assume this was the main reason as to why there were even artists placed outside. Which sucks it was 90 degrees on the coast. Inside wasn't much better, there probably was air conditioning but it was just so packed it was stuff and warm.

They originally had their event taking place at the Emerald Hotel in Corpus Christi when they changed venues to the Mansion Royal a wedding venue. They had replied to a comment on instagram why they were moving saying "the event outgrew the previous venue." Makes sense this was after they announced all the TADC cast would be there, and would have got an influx of tickets. And I was honestly happy for them because it meant this little con was earning a lot.

However this comment has since been deleted. Probably due to the fact the Emerald Hotel had 8 rooms, a total of 10,000 sq ft of Event Space while the Mansion Royal has 4,420 sq ft.

Apparently the hotel would be under construction the week of the event, makes sense they'd scramble to try and find a new venue near by in such a short amount of time and ended up getting stuck with something small but why would they lie about moving to a bigger venue? Be honest, scale down. I've never hosted an event like this but there's got to be a better way. I've been to cons before that had to change venues last minute but still had equitable room. Because everything was so packed the lanes between artists could barely fit two people. I can't imagine how much people with mobility aids had to struggle. I don't think a wheel chair could fit through there, at least not without grazing both edges of the lanes.

I keep joking about Jax and Gangle being kicked out of any place we stood in for too long because it kept happening. Understandable there was very little room. At bigger cons you'll see people sitting at the edges of rooms, against walls etc. Here that was not possible any space was taken any free space if stood in would be blocking something or someone. Our cosplays got in the way a lot, I get it. But its hard to move in those things, the lights were dim (what was up with that??) we can't see our feet, moving was more of a hassle than not in most places, here moving or not moving were both bad decisions!

One of these times included was for the TADC Q&A panel. Again I get it there was no room. When I had asked if there was any place we could stand, or if we should just leave I was ignored. I would've preferred being told "sorry, leave" over being ignored. When we went to the only spot we could find it was too far to hear anything. My cosplay partner was kind enough to let me go find a seat while she stayed behind but it wasn't even 2 minutes when we were told to move again.

I had purchased VIP which means I should have gotten into this panel anyways but turns out they didn't give me a VIP badge! I spent $130 back in august, only to not even get it. I unfortunately did not notice this until we left. I'm trying to see if they can at least give me the $100 back since a weekend pass was only $30.

I wouldn't be as upset if I got my VIP exclusive items and wasn't kicked out of that panel but I didn't, and I was!

Update Oct 13th: I was able to get into contact and they're giving me a partial refund and the items I was suppose to get along with the VIP. The person I talked to seemed very understanding, hopefully I get this solved.

Update Nov 26th: They have not replied to my emails for the past 3 weeks. I have to admit now that after I spoke on the phone with them when I hung up I hated that because I realize they told me what they would do--not in writing--and I was like huh, that sucks. And I hate now that that happened! I'm so sure I have to have had that in writing if I want to take legal action. And admittedly that's a lot of work even if I do have a case here but I'm also starting to get kind of mad.

We had to ask 5 different people to find out how to sign up for the cosplay contest the last one didn't know they tried to find someone who did, only to just find the sign up sheets by happenstance. How is it 5 different people didn't know where this was. Each time we were told to find "so-n-so he knows," Thanks I don't know who that is.

There was not any water stationed. No outside food or drink was allowed. I'm not exactly sure if its even legal to have that many people in one place and not have water available. There was a food truck outside that was it, it was small enough that going out to get some wasn't big of a deal and there was no room to put water even if they wanted but sheesh.

There was a vendor who was selling stolen art, AND AI generated art. They had stickers but when looking through them it was very apparent these were all done by different artists. I didn't get a good look at the rest of the stuff but my cosplay partner told me it looked like AI generated stuff (Update: from several other attendees and artists there, have also agreed it was generated). We were probably not the only ones who noticed as he kept trying to get attention to their booth getting people to buy but everyone was kind of awkwardly passing over.

Bad enough as it is but extra sucks especially since so many artists got stationed outside or out of room when one could have had that space.

Its a small con I can understand maybe some of these things slip through the cracks, I've seen bigger cons accidentally accept vendors who are selling stolen art (even before the AI Gen stuff became a thing) but the last thing really makes me question this and its that I'm 98% sure the art on the badge was AI generated.

I would love to be proven wrong and have the artist come forward and just say the rushed and that's why some parts look uber weird.

This is already bad enough as it is, but they actually had an art contest for their badges. The only innocent explanation I can come up with is one of their contestants entered was AI generated and they just didn't notice. But I just don't know and even then I'm sure people have noticed and they haven't said a thing.

I have had some talks with several other people both artists who were there or attendees how had a mass of problems too. And I'm so fussed about it.

Again if they just made a public saying sorry that sucked, we'll do better next time, I'd take it but they haven't, and they're ignoring me, and short of getting lawyers involved I'm not sure else what to do other than to write a sad little post about it!

#kadabracon #kadabracon 2024 #kadabra con 2024 #kadabra con #I spent 130 dollars and didnt even get a tshirt to show for it #long post

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pixelsawrus · 2 months ago

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Hello!! Today we start the first official first round of my megahood! Welcome to Belladonna Cove. The first hood in the series. Let's zoom into the very first family, the Clevelands.

The Cleveland family, if you are not familiar, consists of Marissa, Jason and their son Justin. Marissa comes from a wealthy family and has thus stayed home with Justin. Jason works in law enforcement and has high hopes for himself and his family. Justin is a pretty typical teenager and though he has a decent relationship with his parents, he does keep a bit of a distance. Marissa is a fortune sim who hopes to be the head of a successful family. She is a snob, bookworm, perfectionist, charismatic and ambitious. Jason is a fortune sim with a family secondary. He hopes to earn 100k and is brave, good, flirty, family-oriented and ambitious. Justin is a popularity sim and is light sleeper, shy, friendly and athletic.

We come in to Marissa Cleveland deciding that perhaps her stay-at-home mom's life has come to an end. She searches the job postings, but unfortunately her choice in business was not available.

The family is very much close-knit for the most part and very cutely spend most of their mornings sharing a meal together before parting ways for the day. Justin isn't overly close with his parents, but definitely seems to appreciate them as much as a typical teenager might.

After his first day back to school in the fall, Justin asks to invite Rick Contrary over. They don't really get along however, and struggle to make any kind of friendship before Rick leaves.

Very unexpectedly and before Marissa was even to secure a job, she starts to show signs of a possible pregnancy. She and Jason were never the type to prevent such things with the mindset of what should happen, will happen. However, with them aging, neither of them expected another pregnancy - especially after so much time between now and Justin's birth. Still, she cannot help but feel a twinge of excitement to be a mother again.

Marissa shares the news with Jason once her suspicions are confirmed soon after. At first, it appeared that he was too much in shock to fully react, but it was soon apparent that he shared the same excitement as Marissa. Interestingly, neither of them really speak to Justin about the new baby...

Jason works hard to improve his career, make some friends, and otherwise just be... a bit strange? Either way, hopefully things continue to improve so that they can secure their financial futures moving forward.

Time flies and right before the fall comes to an end, Marissa welcomes a little girl into their family. They choose to name her Marnie. With Jason and Justin, it felt right to name their little girl with a name that began with an M, and looking into her little face, it was clear that it was a perfect name. Welcome to the world, little one.

______________________________________________________________

And that is all for this one! I know that this is a super short update, but honestly, I am working on how I want to style/organize my posts. So hopefully everyone can bare with while I figure that out! Thank you for all the love and support on the blog so far! Hope you continue to enjoy <3

#ts2 #sims 2 #megahood #rotationalplay #belladonna cove #cleveland #round 1 #fall #family play #gameplay

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kaxenart · 9 months ago

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Neither hound nor handler find voicing their feelings easy, but the two try to manage.

His hound was proving much more than “functional” on missions. There might not be time to try again with another. There was only hoping this one was enough. This one had to be enough. Handler Walter began to feel a stronger sense of hope. It wasn’t the kind of hope twinged with desperation, that sliver you scraped at until your fingernails bled.

These days 621 was less catatonic and more aware of stimulus without being hooked up to their AC.

621’s expressions were subtle, if they were even there at all. Maybe it was a fool’s errand to discern whether a twitch was an attempt to communicate. Their body was marred by whatever life they were trying to escape with augmentation and the surgery itself was not done with any care to make them presentable. Much of their body was still numb. It might improve with time. The human body was a startlingly resilient thing.

Maybe they really could be normal again someday. Maybe they could be free. Maybe they could find something for themself beyond this rough life.

But that was something too far in an uncertain future. That glimmer of hope could be snuffed out one way or another.

Walter turned his thoughts back to the present and the pilot soaked in sweat laid before him. 621’s breathing wasn’t too hoarse today. He gently undid straps and buckles of 621’s flight suit. The small clicks of equipment had become a rather soothing sound.

A job well done. A step closer to his goal. Closer to the end.

Accustomed to the routine after finishing a mission, 621 moved in anticipation of Walter’s ministrations, but a little more stiffly than usual.

“Does something hurt?”

“Nnn.”

“Do you feel alright?”

“Mmmph.” 621 barely nodded their head.

Walter put a hand on 621’s forehead. An unscientific measurement, but hopefully a soothing gesture.

“Do you not like that?” He wouldn’t have bothered asking before, as 621 was frequently in a daze after sorties, but 621’s gaze shot straight at him with an intensity that startled him.

“Mmmph.” 621's head moved towards his touch.

“Ah.” Walter rubbed his thumb in circles along 621’s hairline. Their dark hair had grown back from being shaved for surgery, short and velvety.

“Y-yuh.” 621’s voice was strained.

“I’ll get you water in a moment.”

Walter helped 621 sit up, peeling back sweat-soaked fabric. 621 shivered as he wiped their body, their handler’s touch was discomfort and desire wrapped into one. Back to only a body that barely managed, but back to some semblance of safety. Back into the hands of the man who would inevitably send them back out again into danger. 621 never complained. Walter hoped this was not for a lack of ability to say so.

A pilot who preferred to grow some terrible skin fungus rather than leave their AC was not unheard of. 621 seemed like they could have gone that way at first. An augmented human didn't necessarily need a personality to be a capable pilot. The sometimes emotionally muted gen 4 made it easier to distract himself from his guilt at using people like this.

Sacrificial beasts for this legacy.

It had to be worth it.

And yet, something seemed to be changing. Like his hound, he felt something bubbling to the surface. He still hadn’t even told 621 the truth of his intentions. Would they want to carry his burdens? Did they have a choice?

621’s head fell on his shoulder.

“I keep telling you to get more rest,” Handler Walter sighed.

Always eager to please, 621 was constantly toying with ideas on the build of their AC. He could turn off the lights and chide 621 to rest all he wanted, but 621’s mind was more active than their outward appearance could show. 621’s hidden depths were an asset, perhaps also a risk as long as they remained somewhat inscrutable.

He was fairly certain 621 was still hearing voices, but he hadn’t tried to modify their augments. It was a risk he wasn’t sure was necessary. He could tolerate 621’s oddities if they remained effective. No, it was more than mere toleration at this point.

How much more, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say.

Part of him didn’t want to be doing this. The past was a leash he sometimes tore against. He had come so close to throwing it all away.

But the weight of it all kept him on his mission.

621 rubbed their forehead against the side of his jaw.

“Hmm?”

621’s lips brushed against his cheek, an inelegant attempt to deliver a kiss.

“Where did you learn that?” Walter asked.

He only received a contented sigh as an answer, and 621 rested their head on his shoulder again.

“Is that what you were worked up about?”

Not the death, not the danger, not the corps or the PCA. Just wanting him.

A quiet laugh escaped his lips as he helped 621 into a clean shirt.

“Bad?” 621’s gaze jittered nervously.

It wasn’t bad, was it? At least, it didn’t have to be a bad thing. That still didn’t reduce the complications it could entail. How much could he care for his faithful hound before it became a hindrance to his mission? How much could he fight against the cold facts of what needed to be done?

“Not bad.”

This terse answer didn’t seem to elicit any further conversation from 621 as Walter finished changing their clothes.

“You’re going to eat dinner and then you’re going to rest. That’s the most important thing,” Walter said.

Walter was going to impress that upon his hound somehow.

621 nodded.

—-----------------

Walter yawned, dealing with Arquebus was irritating. He would be more than happy to skip it if he could. There’d be work for 621 in the morning.

He pulled at the edges of his pajama shirt, a beat up old thing advertising some long-defunct business on Jupiter. Shirts were always the most comfortable when they were old, synthetic fibers beaten to smoothness but also on the verge of tearing apart.

Some impulse made him want to check on 621 instead of going straight to bed. The lights in the windowless room were supposed to have a sleep/wake cycle, but it seemed like it was on the fritz and 621 would rarely bother to manually turn off the lights if their mind was busy on something else.

621 sipped water from a mug while skimming through weapon statistics on their tablet. Their bedside table was covered in ration wrappers. The plastic container for a sandwich was also emptied. It wasn’t much, but giving them the option to pick between nondescript mush and real food seemed to give 621 some mental enrichment.

“That is not resting,” Walter said.

621 had the expression of a dog who had been caught, though much like with a dog, Walter wasn’t sure if the gesture was anything more than appeasement. Just another part of the game dogs played for their master, a hound trying to learn what was needed but unknowing of the entire situation.

Their gaze almost moved back to their tablet, but not before they noticed the difference in Walter’s attire.

“Huh.”

“I will figure out how to help you rest.” It was a thin explanation. Thin like his shirt.

Walter sat down on 621’s bed, though not quite turned towards them. 621 put down their tablet on the table.

He put some effort in staying fit, but there was no ignoring his age was catching up with him and his bad leg didn’t do him any favors.

Without the layers of his suit, the slight roundness around his midsection was easier to see.

“Oh.” 621’s face was unhelpfully blank.

“Is it the mattress?”

“It’s fine.” 621 said. “Fine, fine.”

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“...is it the voices?”

“No. No. Nope.”

“Then what is it?”

“Iunno.” 621 shrugged.

Maybe their mind had misplaced the vocabulary to explain. It wasn’t unlike 621 to make sounds that didn’t add up to much, humming discordant songs and fragments of thoughts.

The two of them were similar, in a way. Words caught in their throats. Things they couldn’t quite seem to say no matter how much the thoughts churned in their heads. Maybe there could be something, in a different life, but all there was was trying to scrape some tiny morsel of good from the miserable fates that tangled them. Part of him didn’t want to admit he wanted something. It was too late for that.

Part of him wanted to get them away from here, from him, but he needed 621.

He couldn’t change anything now.

But 621’s hands reached through the silence, grabbing his hand and holding it up to their forehead.

“More?” 621 asked.

Walter rubbed 621’s forehead slowly. Small comforts were all he could offer. It wasn’t really worthy compensation for all 621 had done.

“You’ve done well.”

A twitch of a smile appeared on 621’s face.

His faithful hound.

I love them.

Walter didn’t dare voice that thought, but 621 seemed to notice the abrupt stiffness to his movements.

621 wrapped their arms around their handler and pressed their body against his back.

“Comfy?”

Their hands trailed their way to his heart. Did they notice? But 621 said nothing more.

He could feel 621’s breaths in turn. A little nervous, for a fleeting moment.

“Move back a little bit.”

This tiny mattress was just barely enough for the two of them. The cheap filling required some maneuvering to lay somewhat comfortably.

Walter was pretty sure his joints and every bone in his old spine would still hate him in the morning as he tried to find the most tolerable way to lay in 621’s bed.

621 leaned against him, wrapping their arms around again. They wiggled slightly before making the decision to flop one leg over his body.

“I’m not going to sneak out after you fall asleep,” Walter remarked when he noticed 621 gripping onto his shirt.

He received a mumbled response that he couldn’t quite decipher.

The lights flickered and shut off without his input. Maybe this equipment was just getting old.

Walter felt the smallest smile on his lips. He wished there wasn’t work to do in the morning. How long has it been since he last shared a bed with anyone? He had to take this respite instead of letting his mind tangle it.

Let the moment linger.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of 621 clinging onto him. His fingers trailed gently along 621’s. This comfort wasn’t much, but it was what he could give. 621’s breaths on his shoulder slowed as they fell asleep.

#armored core 6 #armored core vi #handler walter #c4 621 #more incoherent relationship feelings #guy who can't talk loves guy who won't talk

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fascinatedscrawls · 1 year ago

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Phic Phight Prompt: Kwan starts a poetry club and invites everyone at school to the first monthly poetry slam. Some unexpected poets show up.

Word Count: 1881

For TheSilentBard

Summary: When Kwan revives the old poetry club he gets a bigger crowd than expected. Danny's sure no one is going to forget this meeting, especially not Mr. Lancer.

The club room is full to bursting, students - some excited, but most reluctantly - occupying each of the cheap chairs scattered almost haphazardly around the place. Slouched in one of the back corners, Danny watches Mr. Lancer pick his way through the messy array of seats to get to the front of the room with a dead-eyed stare.

"Excuse me, pardon me, please don't leave your - oof!" The teacher trips and nearly falls, barely catching himself on the back of a chair instead of braining himself on it and all Danny can muster the energy for at the sight is a slow blink. "Lord of the Flies, Mr. Baxter! Do be more careful with where you rest your feet!"

Closing his eyes even if he knows he can't sleep here Danny hears a snort which could only come from Sam. Technically, unlike him and Tucker, she isn't required to attend the club session for a chance at extra credit because she's acing the class.

"It hasn't started yet." Tucker points out helpfully, stylus still tap tap tapping away at his PDA. "You could leave. If you actually wanted to."

The teasing barb hits its mark once again and Sam slouches further into her seat with a tsk.

"I'm here to watch how hard this bombs." In her pause for emphasis, Danny can almost hear her rolling her eyes. "I haven't wasted fifteen minutes of my afternoon just to leave before the show even starts."

"So you admit that you're attending the new poetry club for fun." Tucker snipes, smile clear in his voice. There's a scuffle over Danny's head as Tucker ducks whatever Sam threw in retaliation. Used to it and too tired to participate, Danny slumps down until his head is resting on the back of his chair. The smooth plastic is uncomfortable and his spine is already protesting at the angle, but pushing himself back up is just too much work.

Now at the front of the room, Mr. Lancer speaks to Kwan at a volume that's likely a little louder than he thinks. Or, Danny grimaces as something else flies over his head and Sam hisses, it could be some kind of ghostly hearing he's developing.

Ancients he hopes its not that, but it would explain why he's finding it so hard to sleep these past few nights. Even for the evenings without ghostly visitors he's barely getting a couple of hours at a time. He opens his eyes to glare at the injustice of it all, which looks a lot like the pockmarked ceiling of the club room.

"Now, we're all very excited to see the old poetry club get enough interest and funding to finally return after over a decade with no members," Mr. Lancer says catching Danny's attention and likely repeating himself for what must be at least the third time if Kwan's disinterested smile is anything to go by. Two encouraging pats on his shoulder courtesy of their teacher twists his smile into something closer to a grimace for half a second before it settles into a more natural expression. "I know you had something in mind for the first meeting and hopefully, by offering that extra credit today you'll see membership continue to improve. However, if things go off the rails you can count on me to help with your inaugural meeting."

The words would likely be more comforting if someone didn't yelp in the back of the room just as he said them. Wincing, Danny closed his eyes at the loud noise before a tingle at the back of his throat made him straighten up abruptly. Eyes wide and far more alert than before, he stares open mouthed at a handful of ghosts calmly floating in through the closed door, drifting towards the front of the room without any care for who might be sitting in their way.

Another aborted scream or two rings out before Mr. Lancer even has a chance to turn to address it with a, "Edgar Allen P-"

The last of the English teacher's oft stated and highly creative use of the famous poets name as an epithet cuts off in the face of the man himself.

Or more accurately, the ghost himself.

Mr. Lancer coughs behind a hand, clearly having a hard time believing his eyes. At least a third of the room is on their feet, but when the ghosts do nothing more than mutter to each other they clearly start to relax. After months of ghost attacks and at least a few weeks of less dangerous hauntings happening all over town it looks like most of his classmates are willing to risk a sudden, potentially dangerous turn around in an attempt to earn a few more free points for class.

"Poe?" Mr. Lancer finally manages to squeak out. He looks ready to faint as the ghost nods a greeting (the ghostly raven on his shoulder doing the same, pulling a snicker from a few people around the room including Tucker), but holds it together with a gulp as he straightens his tie.

"Shakespeare, Poe, Dickinson, Frost - what do you know," Sam mutters as she identifies more of the ghosts on stage than Danny could have managed. It's no wonder she's actually passing the class. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

"How," Mr. Lancer visibly swallows back his nerves even as his hands shake. "How nice of you to join us. Will any of you be participating in our poetry readings today?"

"Yes. As always, we're here to share our works -" One of the ghosts (is it Frost or Dickinson? Wait, Danny corrects himself, he's pretty sure Dickinson is the lady actually) says before getting interrupted by the raven.

"Evermore!"

The ghost sighs at the spectral bird, but they clearly expected the interruption as they don't comment on it. Instead they go back to consulting with the ghost beside them, quietly discussing which poem they'd like to read today if their only faintly indistinct mutters are anything to go by.

"Delightful!" This has absolutely made Mr. Lancers day if not his whole month judging by his wide smile. He turns the slightly manic expression on Kwan who flinches under the force of it. "Perhaps we can hold off on your planned presentations until after our guests have, ahem, graced us with their works?"

It sounds less like a question and more like an order, especially when Mr. Lancer doesn't even wait for a response before motioning Kwan to a nearby seat.

Danny relaxes into his own with a light sigh of relief as the scattered conversations around them take on an edge of awed excitement. Not a fight then. Huh, he's actually not sure why he thought there was going to be one when clearly these ghosts are just here to indulge in their obsessions.

He quickly puts the thought out of his mind and settles in to hopefully enjoy a performance straight from the horses mouth (maybe that will be what finally helps him understand iambic pentameter), which means he jumps along with half the students when the door gets kicked in.

"Freeze, ecto-scum!" Two white suited men shout in what has to be a practiced synchronization of words and poses. Both of them have ecto guns in their hands. Hilariously, neither of the blasters are pointed anywhere near any of the ghosts.

"They should probably take off the sunglasses." Sam snarks, now on her feet and sounding more relaxed than her tense posture displays.

"But without them they'd just be odd wedding ushers." On Danny's other side Tucker eyes the GIW agents with all the suspicion they're due.

"I think they'd be just as blind either way," Danny points out, sliding his chair a little further back in case he needs to disappear behind his friends. It's looking more likely.

Or it is before Danny gets a look at Mr. Lancer's face.

Danny has done many things that his teacher does not approve of. He's missed class, forgotten homework, fallen asleep on his desk, and even attempted to cheat on his exams, but never before has he seen Mr. Lancer look like this. Instinctively, he finds himself hunching his shoulders in an attempt to make himself smaller, less noticeable, in the face of someone clearly ready to rain hellfire upon their enemies.

The GIW are making an attempt to aim at their foes only to find themselves blocked bodily by one enraged vice-principal.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Lancer grinds out, frowning hard enough that Danny starts to wonder if the expression hurts him to maintain. His words are polite, but the tone is very clear: he doesn't hold even an ounce of respect for these invaders. "Our poetry club was just about to start. Please see yourselves out if you plan to be disruptive."

The white suited agents protest loudly, but it's abundantly clear that between Mr. Lancer and the students who were excited for a chance to hear from the masters (or possibly, just very invested in this afternoon's extra credit) that they won't be capturing or shooting any ghosts today.

That's good, because Danny's too busy trying to slow his heart rate down after he finally noticed Sidney Poindexter hovering just behind his shoulder. It took Tucker pointedly clearing his throat and Danny's pretty sure he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the glowing teen.

"I see you've found the Dead Poets Society," He pushes his glasses back into place with a bland look in the face of Danny's weak glare. "I had wondered where they got to when they missed our usual club meeting."

"They meet regularly?" Danny asks, but doesn't get more than a nod in response before Sam cuts in with a question of her own.

"Why at the school? I'm sure there's other good places to meet."

"I invited them and offered it as a neutral ground." There's a pause as Danny shares a look with Sam and Tucker, all of them imagining the circumstances behind some famous poets needing specifically 'neutral ground' to meet on. Danny winces as he suddenly remembers every bruise or worse that he's gotten since ghosts started visiting Amity Park's very clearly not-at-all-neutral ground. Sidney ignores their silent conversation, not looking away from the ghosts quietly arguing at the front of the room. "It certainly made the poetry club less repetitive, so I've let the weekly meetings continue."

"So what you're saying," Tucker grins as the door to the classroom is slammed shut and locked, muffling the indignant agents' argument, "is that we're definitely in for a show."

"Well, I could imagine worse ways to spend my afternoon." Arms crossed, Sam settles back into her chair and, following Sidney's example, ignores how Tucker's smile somehow reaches new heights of smugness.

"Well, at least it will be an interesting extra credit assignment."

And maybe, if he's lucky, it'll be a reoccurring one. Danny could really use the extra help passing any of his classes. Besides, if the stars in Mr. Lancer's eyes are anything to go by, Danny wouldn't be the only one checking in on the poetry club's weekly meetings from now on. Danny might as well get some extra points for keeping an eye on some positive ghost-human interactions.

#phic phight 2024 #one shot #danny phantom

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 years ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Warning: This chapter includes smut! Minors please dni.

For this update, I did some writing research to make my text better and richer, in order to avoid most repetition. Hopefully you will see me improve more and more with the future chapters.

Tagging: @number-0-iz. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

Ko-Fi (If you ever wish to support my work)

UPDATE APRIL 2025: Chapter rewritten to better match my current writing style. It now has better wording and a few more additions.

And just like that, you found out that your best friend was immortal.

Chapter 8

After your first full night in the Dreaming, you found yourself traversing through forgotten childhood locations that had previously resided beyond your conscious recall. During these sequences, you experienced a series of mystifying encounters that either reflected moments from your youth or appeared as abstract concepts that you could barely understand. You attributed this phenomenon to the inherent nature of dreams, acknowledging their autonomous progression beyond control.

Seven days elapsed without communication from the King of Dreams. Despite understanding the magnitude of his obligations - rebuilding his realm and tending to innumerable dreamers across the globe - a sense of isolation began to form. Although Morpheus had indicated his return would occur 'soon', such temporal concepts likely carried different weight for an immortal entity.

To foster productivity, you focused on your job search, methodically submitting applications to organizations whose values and culture aligned with your professional goals. Throughout the day, you periodically checked your email on your mobile device—which had survived the earlier clash intact—retaining optimism despite the lack of responses. As the day concluded, you found yourself both disappointed yet somewhat amused by the influx of promotional messages that had accumulated in your inbox instead.

Fortunately, your father's health was steadily improving; he was gaining weight at a rapid pace and finally spending more time outdoors. Like Morpheus, who had endured a century of confinement and isolation without abandoning his responsibilities to humanity, your father had demonstrated an incredible resilience through two years of health struggles. Their perseverance served as an inspiration, motivating you to pursue your career objectives with determination, including systematically approaching every potential employer in the area.

Even though your heart sank every time you awakened devoid of sighting the Endless, you persevered with everything you wanted to accomplish, working hard from day until late evening to create some momentum in your stagnant routine.

Anxiety began to consume you as the days passed without a trace of him anywhere. Having experienced similar situations in previous relationships, you wished to avoid repeating past emotional patterns, being abandoned without explanation. Though Matthew made occasional appearances during this time, his updates were limited to brief mentions of Morpheus' intensive work on rebuilding the realm of dreams.

Mentally exhausted and seeking tranquility, you made your way to Regent's Park, your cherished sanctuary in London. Throughout your childhood, your father would bring you there nearly every weekend, where you would both unwind during lengthy walks among the lush greenery while observing the diverse avian inhabitants. The park stayed wonderfully unchanged over the years, invoking a comforting sense of nostalgia with each visit.

Arriving at the curved bridge over the lake, you set your arms upon the wooden railing and peacefully gazed at the ducks floating in the water, carried along by the calm flow. The discrepancy between the sounds of the natural world and the buoyant pulse of the streets provided the perfect setting for any mood. At that moment, the rustling of leaves in the mild wind was consoling and harmonious, allowing you to detach from everything else.

Absorbed in contemplation, you failed to notice the woman propping herself on the guardrail beside you, observing you with a kind smile as she patiently waited to be acknowledged. Eventually, seeing how engrossed you seemed to be in the rippling waves of the water below, she took the initiative to break the silence with a polite greeting.

“Hello.”

With a tilt of your head, you came face-to-face with a pair of dark, incredibly gentle eyes. The brown-skinned woman at your side left you struck with her voluminous black curls, with an inviting softness to their appearance. Her presence radiated an innate warmth and optimism - an exceptionally rare characteristic that drew others in at first glance.

"Uhm… hello…?”

As she drew near, her shoulder brushed lightly against yours. While not unpleasant, the unexpected closeness left you momentarily bewildered, and you searched your mind for any memories of her face, yet found none.

Your brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but have we met?"

The woman let out a brief chuckle, shaking her head. "No, but you know my brother.”

"Who is your brother?"

She remained silent, her friendly smile intact. Your attention dropped to her necklace, an Ankh pendant suspended from a long chain resting against her chest.

You had read about the Ankh and what it meant in symbolism and in Egyptian culture; also known as "The key of life", it was generally used by ancient deities to represent their power and their ability to revive human souls in the afterlife.

A symbol of life and death.

"There is Death, my sister. She is the one who greets the souls of the departed and guides them on their journey to The Sunless Lands.”

A sudden realization dawned upon you.

"You... you are her. Dream’s sister. You are Death."

Her smile broadened even more at your reaction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Y/N.”

After the initial astonishment, you began to sweat profusely. What purpose could have brought Death, an Endless being of immense power, to this particular location in London to converse with a mortal by a lake filled with ducks?

Unable to contain your fear, you blurted out, "Please tell me you're not here to take my soul."

She let out a gentle laugh. "Of course not. I simply want to talk."

Although her response brought relief, you remained curious about the nature of this unexpected conversation.

Unless…

Fear gripped you once more as you asked the inevitable question. "Did something happen to Dream? Is he okay?"

"He's fine—that's not why I'm here."

As you attempted to understand the situation, you failed to do so. Death gently clasped your hands in hers, and her expression transformed from radiant to solemn, her eyes glistening. Though tender, her touch conveyed both unmistakable strength and a profound sense of security.

"Thank you for taking care of my little brother when I wasn't there," she said, her voice soft and hoarse with emotion.

Your throat became dry, and you were unable to respond appropriately. Instead of addressing what she told you, you questioned her. "Did you know about his capture?"

Somehow, you quickly became accustomed to the calming effect of her presence, and when she removed her hands, you mentally protested at the noticeable chill that enveloped your skin for the loss of contact, even with the warm temperatures outside.

She inclined her head in somber acknowledgment.

"But why? Why didn't you help him?"

Death exhaled softly, her melancholic gaze drifting toward the lake before you. "The Endless must follow strict rules that prevent us from meddling in each other's domains. We serve the universe and all living things within it, each with our own duties and realms to maintain."

You knew you should have spoken with more restraint to such a powerful entity, yet the strong disappointment you felt compelled you to voice your feelings.

"So you couldn't step away from your duties for even five minutes? He must have hoped that you or your siblings would come to his aid—to show that you cared and let him know he wasn't alone and forgotten by his own family. What's the point of rules when someone you love is suffering like that?"

Immediately after expressing such forceful opinions, you recognized the impulsiveness of your words, particularly given your limited knowledge about their family. However, her subsequent response only served to heighten your irritation.

"Dream’s pride would have been damaged in ways that none of us would be able to repair."

"His well-being is more important than his pride."

The atmosphere became heavy as your fierce devotion to Morpheus inadvertently affected your ability to analyze the situation objectively. Your understanding of their existence in the universe was extremely restricted, so how could you presume to teach them a lesson on what ought to be done based on your personal assessment?

You released a frustrated sigh. "I apologize. I understand it's not my place to judge. As an Endless, you surely know far more than I ever could from my humble human perspective. It’s just… I really don’t get how abandoning Dream to his fate and pride could justify what he endured."

Her face lit up with a joyful smile that radiated throughout her features. "My brother means a great deal to you."

Your cheeks flushed at her statement, to which she responded with a soft laugh. Without pressing further about your feelings for her brother, she gestured for you to follow her. "Come on, let's take a walk.”

As she tucked her hands into her black jeans pockets, her dark tank top revealed well-defined arms. Though her frame was slender, she stood slightly taller and imposing—her movements appearing deceptively ordinary, but with an unmistakable aura of power that demanded respect.

Still, she had such a sweet approach that you could hardly believe she was the literal embodiment of a Reaper. Humanity had often portrayed these figures in inaccurate ways, prioritizing creativity over truthfulness.

Walking alongside her, the sounds of children's laughter echoed through the park. Your feet moved in perfect sync with hers, her confident strides in leather boots making your own sneakers seem small and insecure in comparison.

"You see," she explained, "My brother needed to learn about the consequences of his actions and their effects on others. He had to face his captors and overcome the situation alone to become a better ruler of the Dreaming."

You swallowed hard, suppressing your bitterness. "Are you suggesting this was meant to happen? That he somehow deserved a century of emotional torment because he brought it on himself?"

A gust of wind swept through her hair, and she stood unmoved as a curly lock fell across her eyes. "Dream could have summoned me. He was given a choice, and he didn't take it."

This disclosure gave you pause for reflection. What compelled him to go through a century of confinement without protest, with his internal anguish, simply because he missed this single chance at freedom? Could his unwillingness to seek assistance have stemmed from more complex motivations than mere pride?

You empathized deeply with the reluctance to burden loved ones. From your point of view, you recognized the difficulty of accepting help, which gave you insight into Morpheus' stance. For an Endless being of his stature, the experience of powerlessness and confinement must have been particularly devastating. His evident disappointment suggested that what he truly sought was not just freedom, but a genuine gesture of care from any of his siblings—a simple offer of assistance, even if he might have declined it.

Sometimes, all we need is a sign of affection from someone we love.

"Would you have set him free if he had asked?”

She contemplated your query carefully before choosing not to answer. "You didn't know him before. You only see him for who he has become as a result of that incident."

You gradually slowed your pace, and when you came to a standstill, Death turned and regarded you with an inquisitive expression.

"They murdered his raven and stripped him of everything. The ruby, the helm, even his clothes were taken and discarded. I don't know who Dream of the Endless was a century ago, but how can any of this be justified?"

Her smile brightened considerably at your impassioned words, illuminating the surrounding atmosphere as radiant as the sun.

"If he hadn't been imprisoned in my place that day, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you could change the course of events, would you choose never to have met Dream?"

You stood in silence, fighting to gather the correct response to give and conceding that she was in fact correct. Had circumstances been different, your paths might never have crossed with Morpheus. Even knowing the gravity of his suffering, you were unable to wish for an alternate timeline - one where he remained unharmed but absent from your life. The impact he had made on your existence left you accepting this complex reality, however difficult that realization might be.

“This is so messed up,” you muttered.

Death placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyes ever luminous in the daylight. The complexities of their familial relationships, bound by cosmic laws and responsibilities, extended far beyond anything a mortal like you could even remotely imagine.

It seemed presumptuous to judge their actions without fully understanding the intricate bonds between the Endless. The most constructive approach was to accept and adapt to their extraordinary nature.

You drew in a deep breath. "I apologize. I didn't mean to overstep."

"You did not. You're sweet."

Instead of harboring resentment for something that nobody could control, you realized that there was a very important reason for you to appreciate her.

"You didn't take my father when I thought I was going to lose him. I should be thanking you, not passing criticism," you said.

"It wasn't his time. It won't be for a while."

If anything, her reassurance alleviated the persistent fear that had been weighing on your thoughts for a long time. And so, guided by your emotions, you stepped forward and gently wrapped your arms around her neck, both tentatively and with deep sincerity. As you felt the solidity of her human-like personification, any lingering hesitation dissolved completely.

Death's scent was distinct from Dream's but equally pleasant and grounding. Her hair and skin emanated a mix of jasmine flowers, smoldering swathes of woody incense, pink lotus, and saffron. She surrounded you with her enigmatic veil of mystery, while at the same time, she exuded a remarkable warmth that provided a sense of comfort.

Death hummed contentedly against your hair, running her fingers through it with the gentle care of an older sister.

"I'm not signing my death warrant with this, am I?" you asked playfully.

"It doesn't work like that. And this actually feels nice."

She stayed comfortably within your embrace, accepting the closeness with a tranquil grace that suggested she found as much solace in the moment as you did.

You reckoned that Morpheus' role was tremendously difficult, being entrusted with preserving the delicate balance between humanity and his realm. Death's purpose was equally monumental, shepherding souls to The Sunless Lands, as her brother had named them. What would have happened if she had been imprisoned instead? What would a world be like where people couldn't die?

Her soft actions - the way she stroked your hair and rubbed your back - revealed a stark difference from humanity's traditional portrayal of Death. Rather than the merciless, scythe-wielding monster shrouded in darkness that pervades popular culture, the true embodiment of Death possessed a graceful dignity, offering peace with outstanding compassion.

Upon releasing her, you observed her expression was both dignified and content. As you both continued walking beneath the trees, she placed her arm across your shoulders with elegant poise.

Whether she sought to meet the woman who had captured her brother's attention or simply to assess your character and worth, you couldn't tell. Nevertheless, despite the tension you had felt a moment before, this meeting proved to be remarkably constructive and insightful.

You strolled together in companionable silence until an abrupt scream halted your progress. The voice was sharp and distressing, attracting the immediate curiosity of nearby visitors. Amid the gathering crowd, you could hear a young woman calling out desperately, breaking through tears.

Death's countenance turned grave as she looked at the scene. With her otherworldly perception, she immediately understood the gravity of the circumstance without requiring further context.

"I have to go.”

A gust of wind stirred the leaves around you, creating a swirling spiral in the air. Death turned to face you one final time, offering an apologetic squeeze to your elbow before taking her leave. "I'm glad I could meet you," she said softly.

You stood motionless, nodding as your heartbeat quickened. "I'm glad too. Would you share your name with me?"

Although you expected her to decline your request, she flashed another smile and stepped backwards, her eyes still fixed on you. "You can call me Teleute, if you desire."

Teleute*.* The name once given to Death in ancient Greek culture. Everything fell into place within the framework of history and mythology.

Turning on her heels, she departed with her hands in her pockets. In the brief moment your eyes were diverted to the growing crowd, Teleute vanished from sight, swift and imperceptible, like a celestial being returning to the ethereal realm.

Driven by a mixture of concern and trepidation, you made your way through the throng. A young woman was cradling someone in her lap, her cries piercing the air. You took notice of a man lying unconscious, his eyes partially open, his form motionless, and his skin taking on an ashen pallor. His companion continued to call his name, trying to rouse him, frantically seeking any sign of life.

"Robert! Please wake up, please!”

The pain in her tone was excruciating, causing your stomach to tighten and shudder with each utterance of the man’s name. A friend attempted to pull her away, tugging at her arms in a futile effort to lead her far from the body.

The man she loved had slipped away forever.

“No, no! He can’t! We were supposed to get married next week!”

“Linda, please… get away from him, there’s nothing you can do...”

“No!!!”

The ambulance arrived, its siren wailing, as three paramedics rushed to the man with stretcher and defibrillator in hand. You heard the gentle flutter of wings beside you, but when you turned to locate its source, you found nothing there—only the crowd of bystanders surrounding the pair and the vast green expanse beyond them.

Despite the paramedics' work with the defibrillator, each electrical impulse only caused momentary movement in the man's chest. Having witnessed Death's presence moments ago, you could easily tell that medical intervention would be futile. His soul had already left, journeying to the Sunless Lands.

Unable to bear watching any longer, you quickly distanced yourself from the scene. Tears began to form unbidden, and you struggled to keep them from falling as you retreated. Your steps faltered as grief constricted your chest, the emotional response threatening to overtake you.

You braced yourself against a tree, your hand pressing to your mouth to stifle your sobs, raw and unrestrained.

Two days later, you arranged a meeting with Hob to discuss recent professional developments, and updates about your personal lives. The afternoon presented an idyllic setting, with clear skies and brilliant sunshine as they cast a warm glow across the landscape. A refreshing breeze accompanied your journey to the modern tavern, where tall grass swayed alongside the path, moving around your feet as you walked forward.

The moment you entered the New Inn, you scanned the room for Hob's preferred table, spotting him seated comfortably in his usual place. He was wearing a sophisticated brown jacket paired with a white t-shirt, comfortably reclined against the back of the small couch. After exchanging pleasantries with the attentive waitress, you made your way to your friend, weaving between patrons in the bustling establishment.

As you approached, you noticed Hob deep in conversation with someone sitting across from him. His companion seemed to have a special effect on him, as he exhibited an unusually relaxed demeanor — different from the typical reserved disposition that stemmed from his longstanding wish to reconnect with an old acquaintance.

Halting in your tracks and inspecting the distinctive silhouette from behind, you realized that not only was this likely Hob's friend, but the figure also seemed unmistakably familiar to you in a way that caused your pulse to race significantly.

He wore a long black coat, and his dark hair was instantly recognizable. As you neared the table, the sight of him left you momentarily unable to announce your presence. You would definitely know those short, adorable, untamed strands anywhere.

Seeing you, Hob's expression brightened even more. "Y/N!" he exclaimed. "Remember that old mate I've been telling you about? Well bugger me, let me introduce you properly!"

At the sound of your name, the figure turned to face you, his striking pale blue eyes meeting yours. You stood completely speechless as you took in Morpheus' elegant countenance and majestic aura, lending him an air of constant, undeniable nobility.

Your cheeks grew warm with color as you realized you'd been staring at him for a few moments too long. "It's you," you breathed, your voice carrying more relief than you'd meant to reveal.

Hearing your words, Hob looked back and forth between the two of you in disbelief. "Hold on a minute, you two know each other?"

Turning to your friend, you nodded. "We do, actually."

"Bleeding hell, ain't it a small world after all!"

When the calmness returned to you, a strong epiphany surfaced. Morpheus was imprisoned in 1916, and according to Hob, they eventually experienced an abrupt separation, whereupon the Endless didn’t show up to their designated meetings any longer. Given that Morpheus had been locked away for over a century, this revelation indicated that Hob's true age evidently exceeded what he had previously disclosed.

While there were undoubtedly more truths to come regarding his history, you opted to preserve the pleasant atmosphere by saving those discussions for another time.

Meanwhile, Hob noticed your attentive gaze toward Morpheus, and his knowing expression suggested he had come to his own conclusions about the unfolding dynamic laid bare in front of him.

He extended an invitation for you to join their table, indicating an available seat adjacent to them. Although you were tempted to accept, you decided to give them privacy for their long-awaited reunion and friendly conversation, respectfully stepping aside.

Though slightly disappointed, you were happy for their reconciliation and politely declined his invitation with a smile. "It's all right—you two must have a lot to catch up on. I'll just work at that table over there."

Pointing at an unoccupied place nearby, you noticed Hob's demeanor shift to one of concern regarding the unwanted change in arrangements.

"Come on now. I invited you out for drinks, didn't I? Bit rude of me to leave you on your lonesome."

Unfazed, you shook your head. "Really, it's fine."

Meeting Morpheus' eyes, you could see his subtle smile through his characteristic silence. As a discreet gesture of affection, you briefly touched his shoulder before withdrawing your hand, your fingers trailing along the fabric of his sleeve as you retreated.

That simple touch sent a subtle thrill through you, his mere presence at the inn leaving an inexplicable impression that lingered within your heart.

After procuring a cup of tea and preparing your workspace at the table, you focused on your tasks at hand with your best effort. Unfortunately, achieving proper concentration with the Endless seated just a few meters away proved particularly tedious.

Taking a deep breath, you set up your laptop and began sketching freely in your notebook, one line flowing into the next, gradually taking shape into more detailed forms.

A few minutes later, you were completely immersed in your own realm of creativity, your pencil guiding your hand as it traced delicate shapes across the paper, as if you were alone in the entire world.

"I saw that," Hob spoke, his face exuding approval as he regarded Morpheus.

The Dream Lord feigned ignorance. "And what, exactly, did you see?" he asked.

"Mate, the way you're starin' at her says everything. Can't hide that sparkle in your eyes - you fancy her, don't you?"

Morpheus stiffened slightly, leaning back in his chair as his gaze lowered, maintaining a contemplative quietness.

"Who would've thought after all these centuries I'd finally see you head over heels for someone?"

Previously, the Lord of Dreams would have vehemently rejected such an observation, his pride compelling him to leave rather than acknowledge such feelings. However, on this occasion, Morpheus found his eyes inexorably drawn toward you of its own accord, as sunlight streamed through the windows and bathed your features in a gentle glow. It created an almost ethereal effect, enveloping you like a protective halo.

Hob's smile grew warm and understanding. "She's quite something special, you know. Hand on heart, I haven't met anyone like her in all my years. Works her arse off to get what she wants, smart as a whip, and got a heart of gold too. Trust me, you could search for centuries and not find another soul like her."

Though Morpheus had yet to fully understand the depths of your character, from his time spent with you, he found himself in complete agreement with Hob's appraisal.

"Don't you dare break her heart," Hob warned sharply, his sudden intensity catching Morpheus off guard and pulling his gaze back to his friend's serious face.

"Look, I know you're not some villain or anything - obviously I wouldn't need to tell you what's what. But that girl over there? She means the world to me, like proper family. And she's had enough rough times without adding more drama to the mix."

Preserving his stern facade, Morpheus deliberately concealed the intensity of his sentiments.

Hob spoke with fierce determination. "I swear it, I'd walk through the bloody gates of hell and back if it meant keeping that girl happy."

With a slight arch of his eyebrow and a subtle curl of his lips, Morpheus replied, "That is... most admirable indeed."

Hob took another sip of his beer and shrugged. "Know what? Based on what she's told me about this 'mysterious bloke she's been seeing lately,' it's obvious she's utterly smitten with you. I’ve never seen her get so worked up over anyone before - and trust me, all the other tossers she's dated were proper idiots. None of them treated her right."

His eyes seemed completely impassive, but the bob of Morpheus' Adam’s apple revealed another truth. "Tell me... what has she said of me?" he inquired, his words carefully measured.

"She barely said a word about it! Had no bloomin' idea it was you she was talking about," Hob sat up straighter on the cushioned bench and turned his attention toward you. A look of pride crossed his face as he looked at your hand moving smoothly across the sketchbook page, completely absorbed in your ideas.

"She's only mentioned meeting someone at her workplace these past months. That because of him, she couldn't bring herself to scarper off for better work elsewhere. I dunno what's goin' on between you, and it ain't my place to pry. But that's quite something."

Morpheus studied you with deep attentiveness, noting the focused way you your pencil moved deliberately, a gentle smile playing across your delicate lips.

The King of Dreams had anticipated your scheduled meeting in the dream realm that evening, having been occupied with the partial restoration of his kingdom during his absence from your night adventures. This unexpected encounter in the Waking World was particularly intriguing, considering the revelation of your connection to his long-standing friend, one that seemed far too powerful to be mere chance.

While the discussion with Hob progressed to other topics, Morpheus found his thoughts inevitably gravitated to your presence.

Time passed imperceptibly as you became absorbed in your sketching. The minutes stretched into hours without notice, as you emerged from your creative trance with a painful crick in your neck.

Through occasional brief glances, you noticed Morpheus deeply engaged in conversation with Hob, his position still unchanged. Though he carried himself with elegance and nobility, understated indicators revealed his reserve around mortals; his vigilant peripheral awareness and the slight tension in his posture when others ventured near.

His caution was understandable, considering his prior experiences with those who had betrayed his trust and misused his realm's artifacts for personal gain.

After closing your sketchbook, you reviewed your inbox, efficiently managing correspondence. Among the received emails was a thoughtful response from a company's CEO regarding your employment inquiry—which, to your surprise, had arrived at all. While they weren't currently hiring, the executive had taken time to craft a personalized message of encouragement, offering kind words about your portfolio. Though not the opportunity you had hoped for, the professional courtesy and supportive tone were nonetheless appreciated.

Hob concluded his friendly chat with Morpheus and rose from his seat, briefly stretching before moving to your table. His eyes softened considerably upon reaching you, though there was a touch of regret in his eyes regarding the limited time spent together. The distinct sense of peace and satisfaction you saw in him now, a state that had been notably absent in recent times, certainly compensated for the missed appointment.

While many questions remained unanswered between you, you watched as he left the pub, his figure disappearing among the trees. His extensive historical knowledge made it difficult to determine his exact era of origin, leaving you to contemplate the vast span of time he must have witnessed.

The magnitude of changes and societal developments Hob had seen through the centuries was staggering to contemplate. Furthermore, the inevitable loss of countless loved ones throughout his extended lifetime provided insight into his reluctance to discuss his personal matters, which you still knew very little about.

Powering down your laptop and organizing your belongings, you noticed Morpheus staring at you with quiet attention, his hands resting in his coat pockets. His attire consisted of a refined ensemble in his characteristic black, seamlessly blending his aesthetic from the Dreaming with modern fashion.

He was absolutely breathtaking, even in this more understated attire.

“Hello.”

His resonant voice had a captivating quality that sent a subtle tremor through you again. As you stood to face him, you found yourself mere inches away, acutely aware of the other patrons and waitstaff in the vicinity. You forced yourself to preserve a proper distance despite your natural inclination to press your lips against his.

The undeniable chemistry between you created a tension that, while electrifying, needed to be measured given the public setting.

"Hey you," you replied with a warm smile. "It's good to see you." "I've missed you," you wanted to say, but the words stayed caught between your heart and lips. "Do you have to go?”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Would you stay a while longer?"

"I shall stay," he replied with resolve.

Your heart leapt with excitement, performing acrobatics in your chest. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" you asked, aiming for a casual tone.

It was a simple invitation, met with a favorable response. "As you wish."

The sensation you felt was spine-chilling, causing your skin to prickle and making your hair stand on end as you offered him another genuine smile that reflected your happiness. Paying for your tea and securing your bag, you exited the inn with a light step.

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the scene, accompanied by the ambient cacophony of urban life - distant traffic and conversations of passing pedestrians. As you walked away from the entrance to make room for incoming guests, Morpheus’ hand brushed against your upper back in a steadying motion. The fleeting contact sent another rush of tingles across your skin even through your clothing, forcing you to ignore how desperately you craved his touch in a more intimate way.

Seeking to ease the momentary tension, you ventured, "I must say, I'm quite surprised that you're the old friend Hob was waiting for," you said diplomatically. "He's like a brother to me, but I never would have guessed he was centuries old. After all, he must be, mustn't he?"

Openly and without hesitation, he revealed, "We first met in the year 1389."

You stopped abruptly, stunned by his admission. "Wait, what? You can't be serious?"

"I can assure you of that fact.”

Your mind boggled at the thought. "But that was over 600 years ago!"

A faint grin played across Morpheus' face at your astonishment. "I see that this comes as quite a shock to you.”

"I feel like an infant compared to him now. Living for that long… it's beyond my understanding."

The King of Dreams kept a contemplative silence as you walked side by side, carefully weighing what aspects of Hob's long life he could safely reveal. "Hob Gadling has shown quite remarkable persistence over the centuries."

“Persistence?”

"A choice was given to him. And that choice remains his to make."

As you rounded the corner, Morpheus reduced his stride, looking at the edifice next to you. The structure, a substantial complex with centuries of heritage, had undergone renovation into a contemporary establishment in 1989. Even with the numerous transformations it went through over the years, it still possessed both its original designation, the White Horse, and its historic location.

The tavern had been visited by many notable figures, including William Shakespeare himself. It was one of those timeless landmarks steeped in wonder that had passed through generations of owners before being sold. Now the structure stood as a restoration project, with graffiti-covered windows and repairs being conducted on its deteriorating roof with no specified completion date.

According to Hob, the New Inn had been founded as a replacement for those who had fought to keep the old tavern running, along with its storied legacy.

"This," Morpheus intoned, motioning to the building, "is where it began."

You inspected the dilapidated establishment and attempted to envision its medieval appearance. Visualizing Hob without his standard wardrobe or Dream with a different aesthetic presentation proved quite thought-provoking.

"How did it come to be?" you asked, fascinated.

"I found his claims intriguing," Morpheus explained. "I made him an offer, curious to see how long a mortal's desire for life would persist. I was certain he would come begging for death before a century had passed."

You couldn't help but smile, an amused grin spreading across your face. "And?"

"Even after 300 years, when I discovered him in misery, weak from hunger, he still insisted he had much to live for."

You let out a hearty laugh that resonated through the area. Gently gripping his coat for support, you were overcome with heartfelt mirth, the laughter so intense it left you breathless.

"What is it that amuses you so?"

You regained your composure, your eyes glistening with joy. Once your sudden outburst subsided, you unconsciously leaned forward, your forehead resting against his chest. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," you said, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye. "That's so perfectly him. It's hilarious!"

You continued to shake like a bowlful of jelly, breathing in and out a few times to stabilize your self-control.

"Perhaps you should ask him to share more stories of his... adventures with you," he suggested.

A contented sigh escaped your lips. "I think I will."

Your eyes met again, and the hypnotic power of his gaze immediately captured you as if drawn into his enchanting spell. Despite his outward stoicism, he seemed more relaxed than he had been at the inn, in an environment to which he had never quite adjusted. The mischievous, subtle smile he gave you only confirmed that he was enjoying your spontaneous hilarity.

You looked at the metallic barricades, where someone had sprayed the words "The New Inn" in red with a long arrow pointing in its direction.

"Hob painted that sign for you, didn't he? So you could find him," you concluded.

"He did.”

Though over one hundred years had passed since their legendary disagreement, their bond had grown into an unshakeable connection, enduring far beyond what typical mortal friendships could withstand.

"I don't know what caused your quarrel, but he's carried regret about it for a long time."

Morpheus continued to pierce you with his stare, pouting slightly at the recalled memory.

"He deeply cares for you," you added.

His eyes shifted back to the building, completely unreadable. He stayed silent for several moments, his attention fixed on the edifice before you. "Robert is... an extraordinary individual. Through both his strengths and flaws, he has proven himself worthy of respect. And in our discussion, he has consistently spoken of you with the highest regard."

You turned to him with wide-eyed wonder, cocking your head to one side. "You talked about me? After being apart for over a century?"

"It seems he found you to be rather compelling," He answered cryptically.

"I can't imagine I've influenced him much. You, on the other hand, have truly shaped him into a better person… or so he says himself."

What started as an experiment - a game even - with Morpheus testing the resilience of an immortal among mortals, soon evolved into a much stronger bond transcending eras. Through their regular meetings, what was meant to be a mere observation transformed into genuine companionship, with Morpheus developing sincere affection for Hob notwithstanding his typical reserve.

You boldly adjusted the collar of his coat, feeling the stout yet very yielding and plush fabric against your fingers. Once satisfied, you gave the front of his shoulders a gentle pat and wrapped your arm around his, holding him firmly.

Morpheus was unruffled, but his unwavering gaze on you made you feel somewhat self-conscious. At one point, he even seemed to anticipate something as he moved his eyes downward until they rested on your lips for a few brief seconds.

You were close enough that a slight movement would close the distance between you, but you decided to stay respectfully put, given the inappropriate setting and passing pedestrians. Arm in arm, you proceeded forward, leaving the old tavern and arriving at the neighboring park.

The place was filled with a diverse gathering of people taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Elders were stationed on the benches with their eyes shut, couples relaxing on large sheets for their leisurely picnic, teenagers engaged in recreational sports activities while young children played energetically throughout the grounds.

"Do you see all these people?" you inquired. "Have you ever visited their dreams or interacted with any of them?"

"Dreams are reflections of humanity's deepest desires and fears. My realm shapes itself to mirror what lies in mortal minds. I intervene when circumstances truly require it," Morpheus explained.

Walking beside the King of Dreams, both in the Waking World and his realm, suggested that perhaps you held a distinctive place in his heart after all.

At least, that was your earnest hope.

Looking at the lively scene across the park, you mused aloud, "It's strange—I never realized until now how essential the Endless are to this world. Yet no one seems aware of that, or if they are, they never show the gratitude you deserve."

Turning to face him, your expression reflected both sadness and compassion. "Everyone we see here has a dream driving them forward. You give them inspiration, ideas, and revelations… yet they don’t even know that the source of it all stands right here before them."

“Humans forget in waking hours, but I am not here to be remembered. My duty is to serve the Dreaming."

Shaking your head in disagreement, you replied, "This world couldn't function without you and your siblings. I find it remarkable that no one sees the true workings behind their reality."

Morpheus pondered your statement, his ethereal features absorbed in reflection. "I am Dream of the Endless, keeper of stories and shepherd of the unconscious realm. I do not seek recognition from mortals - my purpose lies in maintaining the delicate balance between your world and mine."

His words resonated with you as you considered their meaning. With tender adoration, you traced his chin with your fingertips, without conscious forethought. "Then I hope you'll at least accept my praise, Dream of the Endless."

As you withdrew your hand, Morpheus followed its movement. He neither protested nor grimaced; instead, a self-satisfied grin played across his face. “Very well.”

You examined him with utter amazement and profound reverence, feeling like you were in the presence of a lifelong hero—which, in many ways, you truly were.

A cluster of young people materialized close by, their animated conversation filling the air. As a girl passed by Morpheus while absorbed in her phone, his dark presence seemed at odds with the cheerful atmosphere. As soon as she noticed his solemn countenance, she hesitated, then quickly retreated with her companion, exchanging hushed words.

With instinctive care, you stepped forward and placed a delicate kiss upon his cheek. When you withdrew, his expression showed both surprise and uncertainty, while your expression remained gentle as your fingers lightly grasped his collar.

"Look," you said, glancing over at the two girls.

Like magic, the pair of youngsters were now grinning at the two of you, exchanging delighted looks as they continued on their way. Their apprehension switched to enchanted fascination, as your display of tenderness dispelled any previous uneasiness.

You clasped his hand and gave it a soft tug. "It's great how quickly perception can change, isn't it?"

Morpheus recognized your intention to alleviate his alienation in the mortal realm, understanding that you sought to dispel the persistent wariness that humans exhibited in his proximity. Though he didn't say a word, his gratitude shone through in the faintest hint of a smile.

A feeling of warmth and peace filled you as you positioned yourself beside him, your hands still intertwined. Morpheus accepted it, allowing your fingers to lace with his as he accompanied you along your chosen path, following wherever you wished to go.

Taking a winding route to your apartment through various streets, deliberately choosing roads that would extend your time together, you eventually mentioned your encounter with Death. It seemed like Morpheus had not been informed, but he showed no concern about this disclosure - having known his sister for billions of years, he was well acquainted with her mannerisms and intentions.

Among his siblings, Death appeared to be the one with whom he shared the closest bond. Their relationship consisted of a stable mix of mutual trust and loyalty, even through the difficult period of his imprisonment by Roderick Burgess.

Nevertheless, his openness about certain matters was limited, as Morpheus kept his customary discretion regarding family affairs. Respecting his privacy, you steered the conversation in different directions as you continued your walk, chatting about anything that came to mind, his thoughtful engagement in every topic of conversation being wonderfully refreshing.

Finally reaching your building, you felt a mounting wave of melancholy at the prospect of parting ways with Morpheus. As your hands slowly separated, something inside your heart cracked and sank, leaving you at the mercy of the emptiness that grew inside your chest, like a dam ready to break.

You offered him a gentle smile, though unable to fully mask your reluctance to part. He was silent, yet again, his penetrating gaze fixed upon you as he placed his hands in his pockets. He waited for you to speak, watchful and expectant.

Though you yearned to ask him to stay longer, you hesitated to voice this desire. Recalling previous relationship experiences, you chose to appear composed and not too forward, holding back your thoughts and favoring a more reserved stance.

"We've only gone out a few times—let's not rush things."

"You're too clingy, I need some space."

"I called yesterday. I'm busy today."

"Thank you for indulging me," you said at last. "I hope I haven't taken too much of your time away from your duties."

"No," he replied, his voice low and deep. "Time spent with you is never wasted. And… I owed you that much."

A frown creased your brow. "You don't owe me anything, Morpheus."

He parted his lips before quickly closing them, unable to vocalize whatever thought he wanted to express.

Adjusting your bag strap, you were caught between emotion and practicality; the prospect of a farewell kiss seemed simultaneously natural yet daunting, suddenly becoming the most intimidating task to undertake. Given your recent dynamics, such an innocent move shouldn’t present any sort of complication, but your fears continued to escalate as you contemplated the possible consequences — ones that were more than terrifying in your imagination.

Nervously, you reached out to touch his elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze. "See you in my dreams?"

Morpheus inclined his head in agreement. "I shall meet you in the Dreaming," he replied with a touch of wistfulness.

You stepped back, retrieving your keys as you turned to leave, a soft breeze stirring your hair. The moment you reached the entrance, you stole one final peek behind you, but Morpheus had already disappeared, leaving only empty shadows in the alleyway.

Walking from the lobby to your apartment, you regretted not seizing the opportunity, letting old insecurities resurface and hinder you, even though you had made all possible resolutions to move forward and let them go. Being so concerned about sharing an intimate gesture with someone you cared was unnecessary, as your intimacy with Morpheus had already reached a level that far surpassed any romantic interaction with men from your earlier years. It went beyond the physical plane, flowing through your spirit on a deeper dimension and reaching parts of your soul you hadn't known existed.

You remembered the natural progression of it in the Dreaming, where he had initiated a kiss that left an indelible mark even upon waking. Instead, you allowed yourself to be constrained by unfounded anxieties, which prevented you from expressing your genuine feelings and jeopardized your peace of mind.

As you entered your apartment, you closed the door with a melodramatic sigh, depositing your keys and bag in their usual places. You removed your high-heeled sandals and shrugged off your outer layer, the sleeveless dress underneath providing a welcome relief from the evening warmth.

Still, in the closed space of your home, you felt an eerie shiver run through you as regret weighed on your heart, freezing in your chest like an icy mountain through the pain of your mistake. You berated yourself for such needless cowardice, not knowing for certain if you would see him again— either in your dreams or the Waking World—in the near future.

"I shall meet you in the Dreaming.”

While your reunion in the Dreaming was somewhat assured, the timing remained uncertain. Would it happen tonight? Tomorrow? Or would you have to wait an entire week?

Then, as if responding to your silent plea, something unexpected occured.

You had almost made your way to your bedroom, your footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, when you suddenly halted in your tracks. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened, making you feel like a breathless fool before the magnificence of a god, for there stood Morpheus in the parlor, his longing gaze piercing through you like a burning flame.

In that fleeting moment, your determination to subdue your fondness for him disintegrated from your consciousness. That glimpse in his eyes was irrefutable, impossible to misinterpret; he desired you as ardently as you wanted to feel him against you. To melt into his embrace. To surrender to his power like a willing subject, to be utterly devoured and consumed until you were nothing but a trembling, writhing mess.

In the comforting silence of the room, no words needed to be spoken. He kept looking at you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat, barely blinking as he stood still, waiting for your move with the anticipation of a lifetime. That subtle signal was all the confirmation you required.

Throwing away all your reservations, you practically dashed towards him without thinking it over, seizing his face and cradling it in your hands. Your lips met his in the most passionate kiss you had ever dared giving, feasting on the taste of his mouth with an intensity that surprised even you. In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, connected in perfect synchronicity.

Morpheus instantly moved his hands out of his jacket and took hold of your midriff, pushing his palms against the small of your back as he kissed you with equal fervor. His tongue sought yours as you rose on your tiptoes to deepen the contact, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Breathless and trembling, you pulled away but clung tightly around him. "You came back," you whispered.

"I have been here all along."

You chuckled in delight, once more locking your lips with his.

"You have not asked me to stay," he noted, his deep baritone resonating with calm observation. “Why?”

Your lower lip sank beneath the gentle pressure of your teeth. "I just didn't know how to ask."

He smiled. “Do not be concerned, my love. I will not leave your wishes unattended.”

My love…?

Those words made your heart leap in your chest—it was such a tender way of addressing you, one that no one had ever used before, not even after months of dating.

You cleared your throat softly, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "I don't want you to fulfill my desires while neglecting your own, though," you said.

"Do you truly believe I do not want this as much as you?" he asked.

"Well, no, but—"

“Then allow me to prove it to you.”

You went weak in his embrace as he kissed you again, enveloping you in a hazy and semi-bewitched state with his delicious, inebriating fragrance. His scent was subtle and refined, distinct from artificial perfumes - a natural essence that created an atmosphere of comfort and tranquility around him, like a welcoming oasis.

As you continued your make-out session, you gradually guided him towards your bedroom. Morpheus silently followed your lead, descending to your neck and finding your collarbones. You sat down on the edge of the bed, your dress sliding up to reveal a modest view of your legs. He joined you on the mattress, settling close as your bodies drew together naturally. His cold fingertips caressed the line of your leg, starting from the area around the knee and ending at the upper region of your thigh. His hand glided beneath the cotton fabric of the skirt, sliding it higher as he gripped your skin, making you jolt.

Though typically favoring a slower, more sensual pace, the ferocity of your desire for him was irresistible. Without further preamble, you reached for the button of his pants with impatience and expectancy.

However, before you could proceed, Morpheus grasped your wrists and pressed them above your head. He held you firmly against the mattress, his face hovering close to yours as his heated stare met your own.

You made a concerted effort to regulate your breathing.

"Tell me what you crave," he murmured, his dark tone velvet-soft yet commanding, his tongue ghosting across your lips. "State your wish plainly, and I shall grant it."

Your heart pounded rapidly, and your mind grew clouded with a steadily surging hunger. “Morpheus… please….I beg of you,” you entreated with a quavering voice, your request filled with an air of desperation.

"Say it.”

You let out a small mewl when you felt his hips push forward, the hardness in his pants already evident and wanting. "Morpheus… I…."

"What?"

“I want—”

“Tell me.”

“You!”

“Oh?”

You gasped deeply, your chest heaving beneath him as he pinned you in place, grinding his body against yours. "I want you, I need you, please—"

A faint smirk appeared at the corners of his lips, conveying a small amount of triumph. "How do you need me?" he inquired with a carefully deliberate curiosity.

What a mischievous, teasing, and absolutely gorgeous creature.

‘Two can play at this game’.

You smiled, raising one of your legs and looping it around his waist. You pulled him even closer against your core, much like a python coiling around its prey. You were pleased to hear the low, throaty groan that escaped him, taken aback yet aroused, reverberating through his chest.

"Must I spell it out?" you teased, your voice sultry. "You know exactly what I want from you, Dream Lord."

Despite his reputation for pride, as noted by his sister Death, Morpheus seemed to appreciate your playful defiance, responding with evident amusement. "I shall give you everything you require... and more," he promised, his throat constricting with desire and need.

Releasing his grip on your wrists, his hands traced down your arms before encircling your breasts, caressing them as though they were the most precious gems in existence. The pressure of his touch was apparent even through the layers of fabric, eliciting an involuntary arch of your spine.

It was both barely anything and overwhelmingly powerful, your inner walls clenching irrepressibly. You couldn't stop looking at the clear protuberance in his trousers, urging you to be set free. So you tried again, rapidly reaching for the button to unfasten and the zipper to pull down. A moment later, he grasped your buttocks beneath the dress, angling you precisely where he wanted, as he freed his erection and hooked his finger under the edge of your panties. With tantalizing slowness, he moved your damp undergarment aside, revealing your glistening entrance, throbbing and flushed. His breath caught at the intimate sight, Adam's apple bobbing, his gaze filled with reverent awe.

"You are a feast for the eyes... a temptation I cannot resist.”

In one fluid motion, he entered you. He slid in effortlessly, drawing a deep moan from your lips as he hit that perfect spot within—perfectly, smoothly, deliciously. You entwined your limbs around him while he delivered powerful thrusts, his hips moving with immediate urgency back and forth repeatedly. His eyes darkened, fixed on your face, consumed by his need to witness your complete surrender, your face transfigured by the ecstasy that only he could give you.

Both of you were still practically fully clothed, but you found the scene intensely erotic. His elegant coat accentuated his form perfectly, while the fabric of his shirt created delicious friction against your clit, building the perfect tension you were so aching to release. His rumbling groans filled the air as your inner walls gripped him tightly, heightening every sensation, pulling him in. The room echoed with the passionate sounds of your intimacy, wet skin and inebriated sighs, your bodies moving as one.

Like before, you tangled your fingers in his hair, grasping a sizeable portion of his strands without pulling, but retaining a stable position. You gasped and pleaded for more, matching his rhythm and melting into his kisses. Heated and all-consuming.

"Your delectable sounds are most exquisite," he expressed.

"What can I say?" you breathed out between pants, still dizzy from the intoxicating intimacy. "You are simply incredible."

While acknowledging his immortal nature and endless years of existence, you couldn't help but feel a subtle twinge of possessiveness, wondering about those who might have shared these moments with him before you.

Perhaps it was premature to entertain such wishful thinking, but you wanted to be his only companion through time. Yet the reality of your mortal life loomed as a bittersweet reminder of your finite time together.

Morpheus was relentless, sliding in and out of you with incredible stamina. You could feel your orgasm approaching, ready to erupt like a firework. As he felt you tightening around him, he slowed his pace, almost teasingly, his fingers leaving your thigh to move directly to your clit, brushing it with gentle, light strokes.

You jolted at the pleasure it caused, throwing your head back as he continued to circle the sensitive tip with his index and middle fingers, torturing your delicate flesh until it screamed for him. Though he applied only the gentlest touch, the delicate stimulation combined with his fullness hitting your G-spot was pure bliss—divine yet torturous, fulfilling and absolute perfection.

Your anticipation continued to build, the sensations intensifying and creating an overwhelming need for completion as you tried to prolong the moment for as long as you could handle.

"Please, harder," you breathed out.

Morpheus answered your request, driving into you with renewed vigor and purpose. His hips pushed forward, then almost fully out, and in again to the base. As you adjusted to his thrusts, you felt your muscles tensing and aching from the effort involved, with no intention of relenting. You consistently met him halfway, tightly gripping his hair with one hand and his back with the other.

“The way you react… your moans are the sweetest symphony.”

You smiled coyly. "Do you enjoy hearing me moan for you?"

"As long as you save these beautiful sounds for me alone."

"There is only you, my King."

His fingers continued their work on your clit, pinching and massaging it sensually - even harder now, spurred on by your words. Your moans grew impossibly louder, and you chanted his name like an infinite prayer, needy, completely undone.

"Morpheus... I'm—"

“Yes,” his voice reverberated low near your ear. "Release yourself to me, my sweet."

You came with a convulsing jerk of your hips, pulsing around him as his erratic movements urged him to reach completion and follow you to your high. Your orgasm was earth-shattering, draining you of your strenght as it coursed throughout your entire body like a massive explosion. Your legs were trembling and tingling, your chest and cheeks turning into a scarlet blaze from the waves of heat.

My love. My sweet.

It only took a couple more thrusts for him to achieve his climax, groaning and stiffening as he released his essence into your depth. He stilled and quivered, lips engorged, wet, and tantalizing.

Magnificent. Breathtaking. Utterly impossible to resist.

It was hot, grounding, and magical. Something significant that went beyond mere physical gratification. This moment strengthened the link you developed with the King of Dreams, an expression of the deep and lasting love growing between you. Hopefully.

You took shallow and short breaths, taking a few minutes to appreciate his face above you through your hazy state. He was throughly satiated, gently pressing his lips against yours. It was bliss, plain and simple, unadulterated heaven.

As your nails scratched the back of his head, tenderly intertwining with his short strands, you let out a long, contented sigh. Your legs weakened at his sides as he pulled out of you, your underwear snapping back into place like a magnet.

"Forgive me. I fear I may have been... overzealous in my ardor."

Still dazed from pleasure, you shook your head. "Oh no, I assure you, that was exactly what I wanted."

“I must return to the Dreaming,” he voiced softly, barely above a whisper. "I have responsibilities that cannot wait."

You nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry for keeping you here."

"I am where I wished to be, my love," he clarified, speaking with fondness and polite certainty.

You genuinely beamed, grasping his head with your hands once more and delivering a quick yet vehement peck on his mouth. "Thank you for staying, healing my scars, and giving me the seashell. I feel truly cherished," you told him, emphasizing your words with a look of gentleness and gratitude.

Morpheus’ countenance depicted complacency. "The gates of the Dreaming will forever remain open to you," he intoned with solemn purpose. "And I... I shall find great pleasure in your company whenever you summon me."

You exhaled. "Why are you so good to me?"

"For what reason would I not be?"

When you attempted to steer clear from falling too deep into your usual overthinking, your smile slowly started to diminish.

"For a number of reasons," you stated, the self-deprecating words falling from your lips with bitterness and pessimism. "Maybe one day you'll grow tired of me and leave. I don't deserve to have you in my life."

In an instant, his eyes grew dark, brows knitting together as he looked down at you. “Y/N, what—”

"Don't mind me," you interjected. "My emotions just get scattered sometimes. I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

"You most certainly did not."

You felt uncertain concerning the underlying cause for your sudden outburst. Maybe it was your fear of not being worthy of a committed relationship, or perhaps you dreaded having your happiness shattered again—even as your intuition urged you to move forward.

How could you dare hope for something so beautiful, so ethereal, when mortality itself had already marked your future with its inevitable end?

You found yourself contemplating the concept of immortality, particularly the path chosen by Hob Gadling who had defied death's natural course. Yet the concept of an existence lived without time's constraints appeared beyond reach, too grand a wish, even for you.

A faint chuckle escaped your throat as you tilted your head upward to kiss him once more, the touch of your lips innocent and reserved. Your eyes were gleaming in the golden hour with a mixture of sorrow and joy, as you fought to push away the dark clouds of self-doubt.

With a playful tap against his chest, you said, "You should go now, or I won't be able to keep my hands off you."

Morpheus grasped your arm and hauled you up with him, moving both of you away from the mattress and bringing you close to his chest. Your dress cascaded elegantly down your thighs, fitting perfectly to your form.

"That is... most enticing. But duty compels me to leave.”

“It’s all right,” you vocalized, a touch of sweetness creeping up in your voice. "Will I see you soon?"

"I shall return to you..." he paused thoughtfully. "...sooner than you may think."

He sealed that promise by applying a loving peck to your forehead. His hand slid off of yours and brushed against your skin, lingering on your fingertips before drawing away. Respectfully, you crossed your arms over your chest as he stepped away, watching as he retrieved the pouch of sand from his coat. You waited patiently, your eyes fixed on his every move, entranced, fascinated.

"Please give my regards to Matthew."

He nodded in response, the golden powder immediatly encasing him, embracing him and providing the comfort and warmth to which he was accustomed.

You observed as the sand dissipated into nothingness, with only crystalline particles suspended in the ambient light of the room, as everything fell silent around you.

As darkness descended upon London, Ella Jones Corbyn sat at her desk, reviewing a concerning message on her phone. She scrutinized the screen intently, attempting to comprehend the implications of this unexpected situation.

She navigated through the corporate hallways, past vacant offices, until she reached the CEO's door. After a gentle knock, she entered to find her husband, her face showing both fatigue and deep concern as she uttered his name.

Oliver Corbyn looked up from his monitor, briefly glancing at his wife. "Darling? Is everything all right?"

Ella let out a heavy sigh, shook her head, and looked at him with worry etched across her face. "We have a problem."

Oliver removed his spectacles and placed them carefully on the table. "I don't like the sound of that," he said, leaning back in his chair.

After a moment's hesitation, Ella delivered the news plainly. "It's about Isaac.”

“What about him?”

"Put simply, he has left the company."

Oliver processed his wife's statement, blinking twice. "What do you mean he left? I thought he was ill."

Ella began scratching the back of her hand nervously, causing a red patch to appear from the friction. "Yes, well. That was just an excuse. He sent his resignation to my email an hour ago."

Oliver's face turned ashen as he quickly rose, perching on the edge of his desk for support. "And the reason?"

"Apparently, he's decided to relocate to the US to live with his family. Didn't he also mention having a fiancée there?"

He muttered a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose in dismay. "I can't believe this. Couldn't he have let us know beforehand?"

Ella crossed her arms in front of her chest, adopting a firm stance to refrain from scratching her skin even more. "What do we do now? We are officially without a designer. We need to find a new one, and soon."

“I know.”

"The fashion show is in three months. How on earth are we going to pull this off? We have only a handful of unfinished sketches, most of which are unusable."

"We'll find a way to handle this."

Ella paced frantically around the office. "I can't stand this! Isaac was so good. How will we ever find someone to replace him?"

Oliver fell quiet, spacing out and absently scratching his chin.

“Oliver?”

The man's gaze widened abruptly. A sudden insight struck him, appearing to have a significant impact on his perspective. "Wait, wait, wait," he said quickly, raising his index finger as a sudden thought struck him.

Ella knitted her brows. "What is it?"

Oliver rushed back to his computer, quickly typing and clicking through files. "Look."

She stepped closer to his position, standing beside her husband and shifting her emerald eyes to the monitor.

"A few days ago, we received an application from this woman. Her portfolio was exceptional, but since Isaac was on our team, I didn't think we needed anyone else. I sent her a polite rejection letter this morning."

As Ella observed the numerous illustrations on the display, her eyes settled on the exceptional detail, accuracy, and artistry that was put into every single piece—a style that was both unique and mesmerizing.

No one was capable of producing such clean and captivating drawings except for one particular person.

"What is her name?"

Oliver closed the PDF document and returned to the email he had retrieved from the archive, scrolling to the bottom where your signature was. Ella's eyes were unreadable, her face suddenly turning blank, incredulous at what was lying in front of her.

And then she let out a squeal and a laugh full of excitement, jumping so high she could almost brush her hair against the ceiling above.

“Y/N Y/LN??? My goodness!!!”

Oliver observed his wife's sudden transformation with surprise, noting how her professionality gave way to unbridled enthusiasm.

"Darling? Do you happen to know her?"

Ella raised her hands to the top of her head, breathing out a sigh of relief as her feelings of dread slowly evaporated, replaced by a sense of calmness descending over her.

Turning to Oliver, she clasped her hands together against her mouth. “We were literally best friends in high school!”

Notes:

• I didn't come up with the full description of Death's scent. Full credits to this site.

• In case you're wondering if the Reader will meet the Corinthian again, the answer is yes. All in due time.

• I was planning to add the revelation about Nada and Morpheus' son in this chapter, but in the end, I just couldn't fit those parts in. The Nada segment will definitely be added in the next update though, while I came up with something interesting regarding the truth about Calliope and Orpheus. There will be some drama and angst because of that, but this is all I can say without making spoilers.

• How many times do we sense something, but our brain and/or heart gets in the way? Sometimes we are confused and emotional, to the point we cannot make sense of what we truly feel anymore. I wanted to portray this aspect with Reader's state of mind.

• The timeframe I set at the start of this chapter is most likely inaccurate. I tried to find some proper information about the amount of days or weeks that pass between the end of episode 5 and the beginning of episode 6, but I couldn't find any. If someone knows, please correct me and I will edit the chapter!

• In my mind, even if Death never told her brother that she met the Reader in person, she most likely mentioned something about their relationship. Initially, I wanted to include that in the chapter as well, but I decided to cut it out to reduce the amount of text. Maybe I'll add a bit of it as a written memory.

• Yep, time to add some original characters into the story! :D Ella will play a very important role in Reader's life.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 9 ->

Read on AO3!

#the sandman #the sandman morpheus #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #smut #the sandman fanfic #story: let your dreams be your wings

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favsdti · 6 months ago

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- Its a femininomenom .ᐟ -

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ Emily. 19. she/her. uni student. madison beer's #1 fan. Sturniolo obsessed. delusional. music. eyeliner. tate mcrae. charlotte tilbury. ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

NAVIGATION .ᐟ

tag system. ⟢ chat. ⟢ au's. ⟢ credits.

MASTERLIST .ᐟ

۫ ꣑ৎ MATT STURNIOLO

-- ⋆⁺₊❅. 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ⋆⁺₊❅.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ CHRIS STURNIOLO

-- . ݁₊ ⊹ ˖ 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑼𝑺 . ݁₊ ⊹ ˖

˖𓍢𓇼 RAFE CAMERON

-- *.. in progress ..*

IMPORTANT WORDS .ᐟ

⚘( ၴႅၴ𝙀𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨｡｡* -- Please keep in mind; I've been on tumblr for quite some time now, but have never had an actual account before, so I'm still new and I really don't know what I'm doing (...˙◠˙). If you notice anything I could improve upon or have any advice at all, please please please tell me!!

⚘( ၴႅၴ𝙀𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨｡｡* -- With that being said, I obviously don't have any fics written and I'm still setting up my whole inbox, and trying to organize my tag system...it's a lot. But yes, please bare with me because it will definitely take me some time (hopefully not as much because I'm on winter break right now)

⚘( ၴႅၴ𝙀𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨｡｡* -- Requests are open, but due to my obvious busyness getting everything set up, I may not get to them for a while!

⚘( ၴႅၴ𝙀𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨｡｡* -- Sorry, one last thing; since I will be taking requests and also my inbox thingy will be open just in general (to just chat it up and gossip, duh) and I would love to have emoji anons...possibly? So maybe if you want too, you can send in an anon you would like to have. Just a thought!

(๑•ᴗ•๑)

--xoxo, emily

#intro post #navigation #masterlist #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #chris sturniolo #rafe cameron #inbox open #femininomenom

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pixie-mask · 9 months ago

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I’m already not dealing too well with some things and now that I realize what month it is, my mind is going into a spiral. Because there’s just little and little things and big and big things and they’re just balancing horribly for me.

For starters, my money has been in an extremely shit state this year due to a mixture of over eating, snacking, having to cover my bank balance going into the negative, treating myself with items, still backing Kickstarters, and a newly forming gambling problem.

My finances have been hell and since I’ve been living with my mom, I have to pay here and borrow from her when necessary so I’ve been stressing from trying to hide how bad my money (and money handling skills are)

That also is a big problem, but it also connects to the core problem of November and that’s this trip were meant to be taken. First of all, I don’t know if the trip is gonna happen. We are treating it like it is to look on the brighter side of things, but frankly we, my mom, especially, are very concerned about my grandfather. His health has been in a rather rough state for several months and with each month it doesn’t look to be improving and I don’t know what my mom would do with herself if we were out of state and he passed away

But we’re trying to look on the bright side of things, so let’s say that he, hopefully, praying, makes it through and stays with us and his health improves greatly. Then we have to stress about the trip.

We’re going to Thailand by the way. And we barely finish paying off the expenses for it in September. So now it’s time to sit down and figure out even more money money for when we’re there money to buy new clothes which is a double problem for me even more because I am obese

So I get the additional joy of stressing out about clothes. And then there’s like other variety of little things we have to make sure to do before we even go on our trip. Like making sure that everything is situated for my uncle and his family to take care of my grandfather and his dog and my two dogs. So amongst all all of this, it means also getting our house in order which has been its own problems with successfully, moving things out early to have to backtrack and move new things in, and trying to re-organize. Which displaces things once more, causing new belts of anger, annoyance, awareness, and defeat. I’m wondering if I need to have the dosage of my medicine raised.

Not to mention, I don’t know how this is going to affect my current job. I’m a retail worker and I hate it, but it’s the only job that I have and I’m not sure what to even look for. But I was not granted the days from my vacation off.

Which means I have to use these PPTO hours to cover the days that I will miss, but that’s only once I know what days those are and even then, unless they give me a shorter set of hours like they’ve been doing mostly, though I am this week working a 40 hour week. Then I can’t guarantee that I I have enough PPTO to not lose my damn job. So I’m freaked over that and I I just don’t know because I already need to be looking for a new job. I need one that I don’t need to be on my feet a lot or most of the time or at all. It also have to have good benefits. Though it doesn’t help that I am an absolute failure, klutz, dumbass excuse a human being. I also just have this weird inability to learn from my mistakes and to improve myself.

And those are just the big current issues tied together. That’s not getting into my continuous issues with with my writing and artwork wouldn’t seem like much. Maybe they are the most interested in life life in real time and not even getting to a level is kind of fucking with me honestly and depression and anxiety is not letting me process any of that well.

I honestly feel perpetually tired and upset and unhappy/uneasy/empty sometimes.

Don’t mistake my my cheer and silliness for what I feel or how I might actually feel when I write/reblog certain things

#Pixie Ramble Rampage #miserable bitch

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aeoix · 1 year ago

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The grip on his katanas tightened as there was a feeling brewing in the back of his stomach that was telling him something was wrong with this place. Leo could barely hear Mikey dropping down from the ladder to join him. Near the back of the basement, there was a familiar pink glow that was consistent with most of the technology of the Kraang. Leo could feel Mikey’s presence close behind him, making sure that their flank was clear as he cleared the way out in front of them.

I live!! Sorry about such a huge delay in this. My hyperfixation kinda disappeared for a couple of months and I had no motivation to write. But I'm back and more ready than ever to write about these boys! This chapter funny enough, is the longest chapter out of all of them lol Let me know what all of you think as I want to improve my writing! Hopefully, I'll be able to finally finish Donnie's ref sheet and then move on to Mikey lol.

Reforged AU Masterpost

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #2012 tmnt #reforged au #tmnt2012 #2012 leo #2012 raph #2012 mikey #2012 donnie #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo

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i-am-still-bb · 2 years ago

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No. 22

“They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.” | Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | "Watch out!"

Alt. No. 8

Hunting

Pairing: Fili/Kili or Fili & Kili Rating: T Words: 2,917

Warnings: Zombies, guns, profanity

A/N: How did this get so long?? Currently listening to a zombie anthology which explains the subject matter.

None of the original prompts sparked anything. So I picked an alternate prompt. And then some of the original prompts sparked inspiration.

Fili hadn’t known that the end of the world would be televised. He had never thought that he would watch the implosion of governments on TikTok on his phone while hiding in his basement listening to the roar of planes overhead.

But it was.

And he had.

Or it was until there was no more cell service. That was when he got scared.

“Hurry up, Fili. We need to get moving.”

Fili nodded, but he did not verbally respond to Thorin’s order. There were no more requests, no more “could you’s.” Everything that needed doing was important and time sensitive. Fili was fiddling with an old GPS that Thorin had in his storage unit.

“You are such a pack rat,” Dis had admonished when Thorin pulled up the metal door that squealed loudly. The storage unit was large, but organized—Bilbo took credit for that—and they were able to quickly sort through and find what they needed.

Winter Gear? ✔ Camping Equipment? ✔ GPS? ✔ Any other old electronics? ✔ Paper maps? ✔ Tools? ✔

The thing was that the GPS unit had not only been stored away because it was obsolete once everyone had smartphones, it had not be entirely functional anymore. And sitting in storage for over a decade had not improved its capabilities and functionality. They were currently traveling using paper maps that were at least 30-40 years out of date and Bilbo’s sense of direction. They were all crammed into a cargo van that Dwalin had used to haul equipment to gigs back when music was a thing that most people had time for. They also had a trailer. Between the two they had stored a lot of things they thought they needed or might need in the future and they had place for the five (hopefully soon to be six) of them to sleep on inflatable camping pads.

It was slow going for many reasons.

The highways were full of stopped cars. Sometimes cars had just been abandoned on the highway. Sometimes only one lane was open and everyone who still had gas to put in a car seemed to be trying to get to the same places.

So they were using narrow, barely two lane county roads most of the time. These were better, but not by much. Cars were still abandoned. Farming equipment could also be blocking these roads along with herds of cattle who had escaped from their enclosures. These roads also had a tendency not to connect all the way through. The road would dead end for a mile only to pick up again. But it was impossible to drive for a mile through the torn up fields. So they had to detour, hope that seemingly straight roads were actually straight, and try to return to their original road.

If it had been winter they could have tried driving across the fields. Frozen earth would support the weight of the van and trailer, but the rough terrain may have done significant damage to their vehicles. But as it was, those were not options that they had to weigh. It was spring. The fields were often muddy swamps that were barely traversable by tractor. Ditches were overflowing. Sometimes roads were impassable due to flooding.

“At least we don’t have to worry about having enough to drink,” Bilbo had offered when Thorin had started cursing the incessant rain.

Thorin had scowled.

But now they had reached an impasse. Thorin’s knowledge could take them no further. The relevant map had gotten soaked by coffee and torn. The roads were now all blurry smears.

So they needed the GPS working.

Now.

Fili felt the pressure not just from those around him, but from within himself as well.

Kili had a habit of not listening and not doing as he was told.

The last communication they had with Kili was over a week ago now. They had been rationing an allotted amount of gasoline in the generator and they had called Kili on the two-way radio that Fili and Kili had left over from their childhood. Kili was told to stay put. To not leave his dorm room unless necessary. The building had a kitchen, bathrooms, exterior doors that locked when closed and you had to have a key to get inside.

But Kili never listened.

That’s how he had broken his arm when he was 6 and his foot when he was 15.

Fili was hoping that for just one time Kili would stay where he belonged. Safe.

What Dwalin was working on kept making clicking metal noises that was driving Fili to distraction. “Can you not?” he snapped, looking up from the GPS unit and his tiny soldering kit.

“No.” Dwalin’s voice was firm with no inflection. And he continued cleaning the guns.

That was the other thing.

There were guns everywhere.

And there were people with those guns.

People who were jumpy, scared, and didn’t know what they were doing. And, more dangerously, were those that were jumpy, scared, and did know what they were doing.

The trailer they were hauling had enough guns and ammunition to power a small militia.

Fili had always hated guns. He had friends who did 4H for the shooting sports and they had wanted him to join. They went deer hunting and drank alcohol pilfered from their parents in thermos. Fili declined. They went to gun ranges and rented guns that you could not legally own and that was their idea of a good time.

Fili would much rather stay at home and build model kits, tinker with electronics, and work on little things that Kili told him he should get patented.

And now guns were everywhere.

But for good reason.

The RN2a virus was that reason.

Scientists were working on a vaccine, but right now there was not much hope. So far the only known infection routes involved direct contact between an infected persons’ bodily fluids and your own mucosal membranes (eyes, nose, mouth, etc.) New information was being released and retracted on a near daily basis. No one was taking their chances.

You could recover from the disease, but having it did not give you immunity. There were people who had it 7 times before it killed them. The disease was not the worst part, nor was the death, it was the “reanimation” that came afterwards.

Those that had been reanimated had already been given a variety of nicknames—Zombies (obviously), biters, the undead—and then there were the more politically correct terms like—infected, afflicted, and reanimated. The news very carefully did not say what they had been reanimated from. They were always careful to talk around the whole “dead come back to life” bit. But everyone knew it. Most people by now had known someone who had succumbed to the disease.

It had started slowly. That was why Kili had still started college like he had been planning before the pandemic started. It grew slowly for over a year, with there being scattered reports of the dead coming back to life (and it being a symbol of the End Times), and then it had exploded in recent months. It hadn’t felt like the end of the world at first. It just felt like a bad flu season, then it felt like COVID all over again with “work from home” and “shelter in place” orders popping up everywhere. Fili returned to his part-time job of delivering groceries just like he had during COVID when he had been finishing up his senior year of high school online.

“We need to move on and find a better place to set up for the night,” Thorin said. “Do you think you can finish this in the van?”

“It moves too much,” Fili replied tersely. “I’ll probably damage it when we hit a pothole or swerve to avoid hitting another fucking deer.”

“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow then.” Dwalin’s voice had a sharp edge and everyone looked at him. Then they all saw the forms moving near the distant tree line.

—

Kili looked out the window of his dorm room into the green space that was sheltered on three sides by the building. A pine tree blocked a lot of the view, but also kept them from being seen.

“Do you think they’re still coming?” Ori asked.

“They wouldn’t just leave us here.” Kili scratched at some dried acrylic paint on the windowsill, remnants of a previous student’s art project.

“I don’t think they’d leave us here,” Ori said defensively. “Just that they got held up. Or something happened.”

“Something did happen. The power went out. And the radios died. That’s all that happened.”

Ori did not say anything more. He looked back at the pages of the book he was reading. The first thing Ori did when it looked like things were getting bad again and like they might all be told to stay in their dorm rooms for weeks on end was go to the library and check out a massive pile of books. Ori caught a clump of pages under his fingernails and ran them up and down. He had been on this one page of a thriller (probably not the best choice) for over thirty minutes now.

“Do you think we should do something?” Kili asked suddenly.

“Like?”

“Like make our way to them? Maybe we’ll run into them on the way.” Kili started pacing the length of the room from the windows, past the desk to the door and back with a detour for the space between their beds.

“And maybe we wouldn’t run into each other. We’d miss each other by a mile and then that would be it unless we both got the radios working again at the same time and were within range of each other.”

Kili grunted. And he kept pacing. And chewing at his fingernails.

“Stop,” Ori said without looking up from the book again, even though he was just staring at the weird shapes that the negative spaces made by the words.

Kili looked up, “Stop what?”

“All of it.”

—

The brick buildings of the college finally appeared. It had taken them over a week to travel what they normally traveled in an afternoon. The town surrounding the college appeared to by empty. There were the same abandoned cars, but there was also random items like trash bins, jackets, single shoes, backpacks, and such littering the road.

Thorin drove slowly. His knuckles white.

Bilbo reached over and put a hand over one of Thorin’s. Nobody said anything.

Fili wanted to jump out of the van right now and charge up to Kili’s dorm, pound on the door, and demand to be let in. He was getting the feeling that nobody was going to be there waiting for them. And the silence in the van told him that he was not the only one with these dark thoughts.

Dis stared out the window and worried her fingers.

“We’ll find him,” Fili said quietly when he took one of her hands in his own.

“I hope so,” Dis whispered.

—

They finally found a place to park that had a decently clear path forward if they had to exit in a hurry, which was always a possibility.

“Do you remember where he was living?” Dwalin asked, stuffing a gun into the waistband of his jeans. This question was directed at Fili. Dis and Bilbo had been charged with staying with the van. They were to keep it running and ready. Thorin had pressed a small but powerful glock into Bilbo’s hands.

“I’m pretty sure it was the one on the other side of the hill.”

“Pretty sure?”

“We didn’t move him this year!” Fili snapped. “I still remember where he lived last year. I know his campus mailing address, but that is no good because it would take us to the main student union!”

“We don’t have time for bickering,” Dwalin interrupted before Thorin could respond. “We need to get moving and get away from the city center.

“Here,” Dwalin held a gun out to Fili.

Fili held up hands, shaking his head, “No. I don’t even know how—”

Dwalin did not drop the hand that held the heavy black metal and plastic object. “You hold it with one hand, steady it with the other, keep both eyes open when you aim, squeeze—don’t pull—the trigger.”

Fili shook his head again.

“Take it or you’re staying with your mother,” Thorin snapped. His eyes were scanning the trees and buildings of the campus looking for any signs of Biters or of students or faculty.

Fili took a deep breath and took the gun. It was heavier than he expected. Following Dwalin and Thorin he was overly aware of the gun’s weight in his hand, it kept pulling his attention when he needed to be focusing on far more important things.

“Are you sure it was them?”

“Ori,” Kili said, stuffing another item into his backpack. “We practically grew up in the van. I would recognize it anywhere.”

Kili slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and then shrugged on his backpack. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his keys from the dresser even though it was likely that he would never use that brass colored key to open the door to his dorm ever again. “I saw them turn left towards the sporting fields.”

Ori shut the door behind them with a click.

—

Dwalin flung an arm out, stopping Fili in his tracks. He had been distracted by the unfamiliar weight of the weapon in his hand.

“Biters.”

Thorin’s gun made a small sound when he turned the safety off.

“Where,” Fili wanted to ask. But silence was one of their best protections. He scanned the trees that were just starting to turn green and the red brick buildings hoping to spot them.

“Kili,” he breathed.

“Fuck,” Dwalin swore at the same time.

“What is he doing?”

And then Fili saw the Biters, not fifty yards from Fili and Ori.

Kili grinned when he spotted them and started waving his arms.

Thorin made a harsh arm motion, trying to get Kili to stop.

But it was too late. The Biters had seen them.

“Goddammit,” Dwalin bit out. And he started to run, sprinting across the open green to close the distance between them, Kili and Ori, and the Biters. He squeezed off a few shots while running, but none of them hit their mark. But the noise did draw the Biters' attention away from Kili and Ori who had both frozen in place when they saw the Biters.

There were at least seven Biters.

Dwalin ducked behind the low wall surrounding a decorative fountain. Thorin and Fili followed suit.

“Get over here!” Thorin roared.

Kili and Ori started running. Their bags bounced heavily on their backs. Ori was falling behind until Kili slowed and took a bag from him.

Fili wanted to shout at him, to curse, “Just get over here,” he gritted under his breath. His fingers were cramping where they were wrapped around the now warm metal of the gun. “Come on, Kili.”

Thorin and Dwalin fired off a few more rounds, but this time it did not draw all of the Biters’ focus. Two of them had broken away from the group and were going to cut Kili and Ori off before they reached the fountain.

And then Kili fell.

Fili leapt over the wall before he could even consider the possible consequences.

He could smell the Biters. He could see their red rimmed eyes. Their ragged breathing was loud, whistling.

He was not going to make it to Kili in time.

Fili stopped. Planted his feet shoulders width apart. Ori brushed past him at a run. Raised both of his arms, his left hand cradling the butt of the gun and steadying his right hand. Kili was pushing himself to his feet, eyes fixed on the Biters who were quickly closing the distance. Fili leveled his gaze, both eyes open, the sight was centered on the Biter closest to Kili.

A breathe.

And a squeeze.

Fili did not think about the things he thought he would think if he had to kill a Biter. He always thought he would think about who they had been, who they could be again if the disease could be reversed. His mind was blank. Then he fixed the sight on the second Biter. Another squeeze. And another bloody hole in a human body that stopped moving for the last time.

Fili seized Kili’s hand and together they ran for the shelter of the wall and the protection of the group.

“Are you okay?” Fili asked as soon as they were seated behind the wall, chests heaving with exertion and relief.

Kili nodded. “I think so.”

“What were you thinking? We were coming to get you?”

“I was going crazy looking at the walls of that room.”

“Impatient,” Fili shook his head. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” Kili admitted quietly. Fili could barely hear him over the sound of a few more gunshots from Thorin and Dwalin.

“And now you’re going to see me so much that you’re going to get sick of me,” Fili teased. “The van and that trailer are really cramped, and with two more people…”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of you.”

“Good.”

Kili leaned his head on Fili’s shoulder. And for a moment of silence, things felt like they were all right.

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#whumptober2023 #no. 22 #lyrics #Watch out!#alt. no. 8 #hunting #the hobbit #fic #zombies #pandemic #bb writes #fili/kili #fiki #or fili & kili if you want to read it that way

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