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girlgenius1111 · 19 days

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hard launch

mapi x ingrid x reader. after they confirm their relationship, the public's response makes you feel like maybe you don't belong with ingrid and mapi. an international break complicates the matter, until you're barely speaking to them, and they have to figure out what's wrong; until they have to try to pick up the pieces.

-----

“We don’t like to hide you, amor. We want everyone to know you’re ours. Please?”

The hope in Mapi’s eyes was too hard to resist, quickly transforming into joy when you nodded your head. Next to you, Ingrid whispered a promise into your ear, that everything would be okay, everything would go perfectly. You weren’t so sure. They didn’t seem to understand your hesitation. Of course they didn’t. They were them. Ingrid and Mapi. They were widely adored, together and separately.

Your girlfriends could do no wrong.

Except choose you, apparently.

It was easy to believe them, that no one would care, when you were safely tucked away in bed with them. Feeling Ingrid’s arms wrapped around your waist and Mapi’s lips press into your forehead. They made you believe them; when they told you that while some may have a negative reaction, the majority of the public would just be happy if they were happy.

You shouldn’t have believed them. Shouldn’t have trusted them, shouldn’t have given in when they asked you. A small, very hurt part of you wondered if it had been on purpose; a way for them to show you they were too good for you without actually having to say the words. Logical you knew that was ridiculous, but it was hard to use logic when you were scrolling through comment after comment about how awful you were.

Upon reflection, both of your girlfriend’s would realize the mistake of letting your relationship go public just a few days before you and Ingrid were set to go on national duty. It was a few simple posts, photos that would have previously just included Ingrid and Mapi now including you. You, asleep on Mapi’s shoulder on the plane. You and Ingrid, hand in hand as you walked through the darkened streets of the city. The posts confirmed rumors that had been simmering for months. You remembered so clearly hitting the post button at the same time your girlfriends did.

They’d smiled at you, dropping their phones onto the table without another thought. Yours was heavy in your hand, though, and it felt like every comment that slid through made it weigh more and more. The comments were worse under your post, of course they were. It was more confusion on your girlfriend’s pages than anything, but mostly vile insults on yours.

You shouldn’t have read them in the first place, but you were only human. You couldn’t help but scroll through the comments section late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping, search your name on twitter just to see what your new insecurity of the day would be. It was self destructive, yet you couldn’t stop. It ate at you for three days before you left.

The worst was that they didn’t even notice. Long used to ignoring comments on social media, neither of them saw what was happening, and what it was doing to you. In fact, it may have even been bearable if they’d noticed. If they’d been there to dispel your worries. Instead, they’d remained oblivious, and then you’d all split up for a week. You to England, Ingrid to Norway, Mapi staying at home in Spain.

You always got a bit anxious before it was time for camp, and any odd behavior on your part was attributed to that, both by your girlfriends, and by you. Because while your brain was screaming for you to show them everything that was being said and beg for them to tell you none of it was true, you refused to be that pathetic. They wanted this so badly, a relationship that wasn’t a secret, and you couldn’t ruin that.

Maybe, though, you’d already ruined everything anyway. Each of them felt the odd and unusual tension when they kissed you goodbye earlier that afternoon, but neither of them were there to see the tears that fell once you were on the plane, leaving Barcelona.

If the past 3 days had been almost unbearable, and you’d been with them, you couldn’t imagine what a week of not seeing them would do to you. You weren’t sure you could survive it.

—

It took Ingrid an embarrassingly long time to realize you were avoiding speaking to her. Mapi, less so. It was the 3rd day of a 7 day break, and the three of you had only facetimed once. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t odd. What was odd, though, was the fact that you’d barely been texting them. You hadn’t spoken to either of your girlfriends unless they’d called you, hadn’t reached out at all. It was unlike you, but even then, both of them just assumed it had been a busy break.

At least, until Ingrid got a text from Keira. The midfielder was wondering what was going on with you, if the three of you had been in some kind of fight or something, because you were acting completely weird. Barely socializing, looking exhausted no matter how much time you spent alone in your room. It was concerning enough that multiple of your teammates had noticed, and tried to talk to you about it, only to be shut down.

You were fine, you told them. Nothing was wrong, you were just a bit more stressed than usual.

None of them believed you, but your answer as to what was wrong remained the same. Finally, Leah instructed Keira to just text one of your girlfriends, and see if they knew anything. If they did, perhaps they could give Keira some answers on how to help you. And if they didn’t… well, there was clearly something very, very wrong.

The phone call that followed Keira’s text wasn’t very fun for you, or for either of your girlfriends. Mapi had to ring you three times before you picked up, and even then, your face was only half in view of the screen. After you’d exchanged hello’s, you fell silent. It was a heavy silence, one that told both your girlfriend’s very clearly that you weren’t okay. They didn’t know why, but they were going to figure it out if it was the last thing they did.

After a few more seconds of total silence where they waited for you to say something, Mapi gave in.

“Amor? How are you?” Mapi wondered.

“Fine.” You told her. Short answers, make up an excuse for why you have to go in a minute. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. They don’t need to deal with your emotions, just like how they probably don’t want to deal with you.

“Really? Because Keira told us you’ve been acting kind of weird.” Ingrid said gently. You forced yourself to look away from her wide, concerned eyes.

Fuck, this was hard. But you couldn’t break down. They didn’t need that. They didn’t need you.

“Yep. I’m fine.” You replied shortly, shifting again so the camera only showed half your face.

“Can you let me see you, then?” Ingrid asked. “If nothing is wrong, look at us.”

With a very forced roll of your eyes, you tilted the screen so that your face was visible. You looked exhausted, which they’d known you would, but they weren’t expecting the completely empty look in your eyes.

“Amor, are you sure you’re-”

“María, I said I’m fine,” you snapped, digging your nails into the skin of your thigh at the hurt look on your girlfriend’s face. Guilt was all you could feel, suffocating, maddening guilt.

“Don’t be like that.” Ingrid said sharply. “We’re worried, and we want to help,”

“I don’t need help. Everything is fine. God, can’t you both just leave me alone? You’re hovering and you’re suffocating me and I’m over it. I’ll talk to you later, I have to go.”

You hung up before either of them could get a word out, throwing your phone across the room once you’d done so.

Everyone was right. You weren’t good for them. You weren't good.

The text you received afterwards only reinforced that. Your phone screen was cracked from the force of your throw, but you could still see what Ingrid had written.

I don’t know what the issue is, but if you’re upset about something, you need to stop being immature and tell us what’s wrong. We can’t read your mind. You owe me and María an apology.

Mapi hadn’t even bothered to text.

It was easier than you expected to push them away, which really just reinforced what you’d been convinced of over the past several days. They were better off without you. You tried to convey that in your reply.

I’m sorry to both of you. You deserve better. Don’t worry about me, please. I’m fine.

You were pretty sure you’d never been less fine in your life.

—

Neither of your girlfriends liked the sound of your last text. It was self deprecating, and it just didn’t sound like the you they knew. Their frustration began to fall back into worry, and that worry only grew with every day that passed.

You wouldn’t answer their calls or their texts. None of your teammates could get a single word out of you.

Mapi almost flew out to you when Keira told her that Sarina was benching you for the friendly you had. The only reason she didn’t was because you were coming home the following day.

Keira said you weren’t sleeping and barely eating. The coaches and physios and captains had tried to talk to you, but you just kept saying you were fine.

Neither Mapi nor Ingrid were very sure what they were going to get when you came home to them the next day. No matter how much either of them thought about it, they couldn’t put the pieces together. You’d been fine before you left. Maybe a little weird, but nothing compared to how you were now.

Ingrid had barely played in her own match, too stressed over you to really focus on training. It was a friendly for her, too, and she’d never cared less about a match in her life. Never wanted something to be over more in her life.

Mapi was laying on the couch when she figured it out. Snuggling with Bagheera, maybe wearing one of your shirts, and definitely not stalking your instagram.

She clicked on the comments by accident, but the absolute vitriol caught her eye immediately. She read one comment. Then another.

She read them until she was crying, herself. Until she finally had to close the app before she broke her phone by throwing it or something, and called Ingrid.

—

Mapi was always more active on social media over the international break. She must have been really bored to be looking through your instagram, but that was the only explanation for the text you received with only a day to go until you headed back to Barcelona.

Amor, I think I understand why you’ve been so distant recently. I don’t know how to fix this so far away from you, especially when you won’t answer the phone, but I love you so much. None of those people know you or us. We want you, and that is all that matters. Please don’t be too unkind to yourself. Call me if you can.

Ingrid’s text followed shortly after.

I talked to María, and I went through the comments. I’m so sorry we didn't notice before now, and I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I understand why you’ve been distant, but I wish you’d answer the phone. I love you, so so much. More than you know.

They still cared, and you didn’t understand why.

You were nothing, and they were everything, but that’s not how they were acting.

It was incomprehensible, so you didn’t try to comprehend it. You ignored their texts, and knew that once you arrived home tomorrow, there wouldn’t be any more avoidance, for better or for worse.

—

Your hand shook as you tried to unlock the door, eventually just dropping the keys all together onto the door mat. Swearing under your breath, you set your bag down to grab them, but the door swung open of its own accord. There Mapi stood, her phone in hand like she’d been tracking your location. Just the sight of her had emotion splitting your chest open, tears instantly filling your eyes.

“Corazón,” she murmured, tugging you in through the door as her free hand grabbed your bag.

“Hi,” you said meekly, shutting your eyes as Mapi’s hands came up to cup your cheeks, her eyes studying your face closely. The whole time you’d been gone, you hadn’t let yourself cry. Not one tear, no matter how much you’d wanted to. You’d done everything you could to push every emotion away, focus on numbness rather than everything swirling around inside your head. As soon as you saw Mapi, though, that was over.

You sunk in on yourself, your head dropping until your chin hit your chest, and all you could see was your shoes on the hardwood floor. Tears clouded your vision, and you couldn’t help the quiet sob that slipped past your lips.

It was a testament to how poor your state of mind had gotten in the last week that as soon as Mapi kissed your cheek, you broke completely, a part of you genuinely shocked that she still cared for you. Still wanted you. She drew you in closer, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking the door shut as she did so. You pressed your face into her shoulder, hands fisting themselves in the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“I’ve got you, amor. I’m right here.”

And she was. She was right there. Even though everything seemed to tell you that it should be otherwise, she was still there. She still loved you. The comments she’d evidently discovered hadn’t lifted some veil from her eyes, making her realize how much she despised you, how much better she could do. She touched you in the same gentle way, held you so carefully. She still loved you. She loved you.

Somehow you found yourself being half carried over to the couch, still cradled close to Mapi’s chest. Once she had you comfortably resting with your head in her lap, you tried to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, looking up with wide eyes at your girlfriend, desperate that she understand that you knew this was your fault, and your fault alone.

Mapi just shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on sooner, and I’m sorry there has ever been any doubt in your head that I love you.”

And though it still didn’t make any sense, you turned and buried your face in the fabric of Mapi’s, of your, shirt, and let every feeling that had been trying to strangle you for the last week out.

Mapi was there through it all, her hands stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Wiping away your tears as she murmured soft, sweet reassurances to you.

It was still incomprehensible, but you were tired of trying to understand why they loved you still. Why they loved you at all. You were too tired of everything, honestly, and all you seemed to be capable of was sniffling into your girlfriend’s lap, and drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in 7 days.

—

When Ingrid walked in through the front door, it was completely silent, save for an occasional sniffle. It had been radio silence from Mapi since the time you were due to arrive home, around two hours before her own plane landed. She had no idea what to expect upon her arrival, and the unknown made her stomach twist with anxiety.

She leaned down to pet Bagheera quickly, before making her way into the living room. If she thought she was going to find you to be the source of the quiet crying, she was wrong.

Instead, you were curled up in Mapi’s lap, your head resting on her thigh, as you dozed peacefully. The Spaniard was playing with your hair in one hand, the other reaching up to wipe away her tears. If there was anything Ingrid hated, it was seeing either of you upset; she would get this itching feeling to fix it, no matter what it took. Within a second, Ingrid was crossing the room and sliding onto the sofa next to Mapi, her hand cupping the older woman’s cheek. Mapi inhaled shakily, trying to muster a smile for the Norwegian, but it was a weak attempt.

“Hi my love.” Ingrid whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Mapi’s slightly damp cheek.

“Hi.” Mapi whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

“Tell me why you’re crying.” Ingrid was pretty sure she had a good idea, but she wanted to hear it from Mapi.

“She’s… she’s in so much pain, Ingrid. She believes everything everyone is saying about her. I can’t imagine what the last week has been like and I didn’t do anything about it-”

The Norwegian cut her girlfriend off. “Neither of us did. She didn’t tell us. We should have checked in and we should have realized something was off before we left, but she didn’t tell us, María. She didn’t want us to know.”

Mapi nodded slowly, and Ingrid knew that the Spaniard still blamed herself. Honestly, Ingrid blamed herself, too, and no rational words could fix that. Not when you were laid in front of her, the effects of the past week clear on your face.

Knowing that there wasn’t anything else she could say, Ingrid wrapped an arm around Mapi’s shoulder, pulling the defender into her. With María’s head on her shoulder, and you sleeping in her lap, Ingrid could almost pretend that everything was fine.

In the silence, she could pretend that you hadn’t been subjected to astoundingly hateful comments that had made you doubt the entirety of your relationship with them. If she tried really hard, she could pretend everything was fine.

When the first tear slid down her cheek, though, she knew she wasn’t really convincing herself. Not with Mapi crying on her shoulder, not with you, exhausted, heart battered and bruised next to her. Nothing could erase what had happened, but Ingrid hoped, with everything in her, that it could be repaired.

—

When you woke, you thought you found yourself just as you’d been when you’d fallen asleep, with the environment around you slightly different. It was lighter, in the apartment, with the smell of something cooking wafting in from the kitchen. You shifted, realizing you weren’t lying on Mapi, anymore. Your head was resting on a pillow, two throw blankets tucked around you meticulously.

Low voices were audible from the kitchen, and you rose shakily, feeling weak and exhausted from your breakdown, even as you’d just woken. A part of you wanted to just head for the door. Running away would be the easiest option, because you were quite sure that going into that kitchen would bring about conversations you didn’t want to have. If you could have done anything, you would have gone back in time to two weeks ago, when no one knew about the three of you, and no one had anything to say. Back when Mapi and Ingrid had no reason to question your mental health and your very negative view of yourself. It had felt like they were fixing that, slowly but surely. The response to your relationship had destroyed what self confidence you had built back up, and it was so fragile now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to successfully convince them that you were okay.

But there was love waiting for you in the kitchen, love you didn’t understand but love you craved all the same. And if you walked out the door, you weren’t sure you’d ever find anything like it ever again.

When you walked into the kitchen, it was to find both of your girlfriends sitting at the counter, both looking at something on Ingrid’s computer.

Ingrid turned to look at the sound of your footsteps padding into the room, and any fear you had that she was still upset with you melted away at the look on her face. She got up, practically crashing into you with the force of her hug. One arm around your back, the other pressing your face into her shoulder, she held you so tightly, she hoped it would convey to you that she was never letting you go.

“My love.” She sighed, feeling you sink into her. It was such a relief to have you back in her arms, to know that you were okay and safe, relatively speaking. Ingrid had thought the worry and concern would fade a little at the sight of you, but it didn’t. If anything, it grew. Because you so clearly weren't okay, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed all of this.

Ingrid and Mapi had discussed it while you were asleep; that for your response to the hatred being spewed your way to be this severe, there had to be some foundation to it already in place. For you to so readily believe that you weren’t worthy of them, that you were destroying their relationship, that you were an awful person, you must have had those thoughts before. They hadn’t known that, hadn’t ever known you to be anything but energetic and smiley and happy and loving.

You felt arms snake their way around your abdomen, Mapi’s face come to settle against the back of your head. It was a relief to you, too, to keep being reminded that they wanted you, regardless of what the little voice in your head was trying to convince you of.

They held you like that for a while. Until Ingrid’s arms started to go numb and Mapi’s began to ache from holding you so tightly. Only when you shifted uncomfortably in between them did they finally let go, allowing you to step away from them and rub harshly at your eyes.

It was just hitting you now, the full force of what you’d put them through. And now that you were with them, again, you felt a little silly for how you’d acted. You were younger than both of them, not by much, but that immaturity was clear in your actions over the past week, and you hated that. You hated that you’d made things worse for them when you’d only been trying to make everything better.

“I’m so sorry.” You croaked, desperate for them to know that your intention hadn’t been to hurt them, that you were just reacting in the way you best knew how. They both began speaking at the same time, trying to tell you that you didn’t need to be sorry, but you didn’t let them get very far. “No, I am. I put you guys through hell and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have just talked to you, I know that. I just- I don’t… I’m not-”

Ingrid interrupted you, reaching forward to grab your hand in hers, an almost painfully sympathetic look on her face. “It’s okay. We both understand that you were struggling, and that your first instinct was to shut down. I don’t really understand why, if we’ve made you feel like you can’t come to us with things that are upsetting you-”

At this, you shook your head rapidly back and forth. This wasn’t their fault, they had to know that.

“-we want to talk more, but we want to show you something first.” Ingrid finished, tugging on your hand until you followed her over to her computer. There was a document pulled up, one they had clearly been pouring over when you’d walked in. Both of them stood behind you anxiously as you read, not sure if their idea was going to make this worse or better.

When you turned to them with tears once again pooling in your eyes, they feared they’d made it worse.

When you flung your arms around both of them, a soft thank you falling from your lips, they knew they’d made it better.

It had been Mapi’s idea to craft a statement, one that she’d checked with her agent and the club’s PR people about. Everyone had been on board, so she’d got to writing, as soon as she’d gotten the okay from Ingrid as well. She’d never post it without your consent, but she hoped that it would alleviate some of your worries.

It was quick and to the point, and you could see where Ingrid had vetoed some of Mapi’s run-on sentences. The two of them expressed their disgust with the way people had been treating you in the past week. They had really only ever been on the receiving end of love from the fans, and this was not what they had been anticipating. You were an important part of their relationship, of their lives. You deserved respect, and they wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Their priority was each other, and you. It should have all been things you already knew, but you were crying like you hadn’t known how important you were to them.

They let everything sink in, let you calm down for almost 20 minutes before they started the conversation you’d been dreading. They watched carefully as you settled yourself in the armchair in the living room, leaving the couch for both of them. The distance you were creating made them nervous, and Ingrid couldn’t help but lean forward and rest her hand on your knee. You seemed to relax a little, even giving the Norwegian a tiny smile in response.

Mapi was, again, the one to break the silence. “Amor, I don’t really understand. Why didn’t you come to us with this? We would have stopped it as soon as we knew.”

It felt oddly like a therapy session, with both of them staring at you from the couch, the spotlight very clearly fixated on you as you began to speak.

“At first, I didn’t want to be dramatic. And then the comments started to get to me and I was afraid that if I brought it up…”

“What?” Ingrid asked softly, bracing herself for whatever you were about to say.

You looked away from them, chewing on your lip. “I was afraid you’d agree with the comments and break up with me. I was afraid you were just with me because you didn’t know how to end it. I was just really scared you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the rug underneath you, even when Ingrid grabbed your hand and pulled on it, eventually pulling so hard you gave in and got up, settling in between the two of them on the sofa. Gentle fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at Mapi.

“How could we not love you?” She asked incredulously. Her disbelief settled something in you, and you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shirt and let yourself relax, but you knew you had to help them understand.

“I’m not good enough for either of you. I’ve never understood why you want me, and-”

“Stop.” Ingrid cut in, shifting so that she could look you in the eye. “How long have you been feeling like this? Longer than just since the comments?”

You nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You knew they didn’t like you keeping things from them, and this was something rather important. “Since the beginning. I love you both, but I’ve never understood why you love me.”

Both of them were completely silent for a moment, long enough for you to get nervous. “It’s okay, really. I’ve always been like this.”

“Unkind to yourself?” Mapi asked quietly.

You turned your attention back to her. “Realistic.”

She scoffed, taking a few calming deep breaths. “That is not realistic. Not at all. We tell you we love you and you don’t believe us?”

“No, María, I believed you, I just didn’t get why. It never made sense to me because you are both so perfect.”

Ingrid squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to her. You wished they’d sit in front of you or something, so you didn’t have to turn back and forth like you were watching a tennis match.

“The way you think about yourself is ridiculous. If we are perfect, so are you.” Ingrid said, her hand cupping your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. “You aren’t tricking us into loving you. We just love you. We aren’t going to change our minds about that.”

She kissed your lips gently, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her kisses, her touch, until that moment. Mapi’s voice in your ear stopped you from leaning forward and capturing Ingrid in another kiss.

“I know this isn’t something you can change overnight, how you think about yourself. But I want you to try, okay? I want you to really try for me.”

You nodded, shutting your eyes tightly. You could try. For them, even if you weren’t sure you deserved it.

“I will.” You promised. “If you both promise that you won’t stay with me if you stop loving me. That if I’m not what you want anymore, you’ll-”

“We won’t ever stop loving you. There is no we without you, love. There is just us.” Ingrid told you, her green eyes boring into yours, making it hard to come up with a response.

“We choose what’s best for us. And we choose you. You are good enough, mi amor.” Mapi promised. Her whisper in your ear sent a shiver down your spine, the words filling you with the sensation of being loved. So much love, you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

“You are good.” Ingrid emphasized, her lips pressing repeated kisses onto your temple. “You are good, and we love you so much.”

It didn’t feel as incomprehensible anymore.

“We want you to love you too. Whatever it takes to convince you that you are good and loved, amor, we’ll do it. Okay?”

You nodded, turning to press a kiss to Mapi’s lips. Ingrid buried her face in your neck, and you wondered how you’d ever considered walking out the door. You belonged here, with them. They chose you, and that was all that mattered.

—

i have no confidence that this is good BUT🤞 i hope you all like this one. it was a labor of love... i think i like it?? who knows.

normally bailey builds up my confidence before i post a fic but she's on a very well deserved fun super cool trip and i don't want to interrupt her so please tell me this doesn't suck! lie if you must!

love to you all 🥰🫶🏻

[also as always, tell me if you find any typos 😇]

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader

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livwritesstuff · 3 months

Text

for @steddie-week day 5 | exes to lovers

fully and completely inspired by @emchant3d's divorced dad's post [x] from a few weeks ago bc i did not once stop thinking abt it

tags: modern day, artist!eddie, finance guy!steve, steddie as rich gay divorcees, sort of an accidental parent trap situation

They were too young, Steve thinks in retrospect – married at twenty-three, their daughter born when they were twenty-five, and then divorced before his twenty-seventh birthday.

He gets to think retrospectively because in a few years it’ll be a full decade since the papers for that last bit got signed. Now, Steve is thirty-four and sweating his ass off in a red polo and crisp jeans, the stiflingly hot July sun beating down on him as he scans the perimeter of a crowded playground for a familiar head of curly brown hair – not his nine-year-old. He found Rosalind already, wreaking havoc on the jungle gym. No, he’s looking for his ex (-husband, technically, but Steve usually stops at ex; the -husband part just makes him sad these days).

It’s custody swap day, which is either his favorite or least favorite day of the week depending on who the swap is favoring.

Today it’s favoring him which is why he’s slowly making his way around the edge of a playground in Bushwick, keeping an eye out for his ex, Eddie.

“Steve,” he hears from somewhere behind him. Steve turns towards the sound and sees not that curly head of hair he’d expected. Eddie’s hair is completely buzzed (which, for the record, was not the case last week when Steve dropped Rozzy off with him) and he’s wearing a paint-splattered white t-shirt tucked into old jeans and all that combined is making it reeeally hard for Steve to pretend he’s not crushing hard on the guy he divorced eight years ago.

“Dude,” Steve started, eyeing Eddie’s hair (or lack thereof) as he made his way to the section of fence that Eddie was occupying, “What–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Rozzy already hit me with all the good zingers so you’re too late.”

“No, I don’t –” Steve stopped, “It’s…not a bad look, just…you know. Why the change?”

Eddie looked away.

“Long story,” he replied as Steve remembered (yet again) that he doesn’t get full access to Eddie’s world the way he used to.

Luckily for Steve, Rozzy runs up to them and spares him from having to figure out a response for that.

“We should get pizza,” she says. Steve’s eyebrows fly up.

“We should get pizza?” he repeats.

“Please,” she adds, her eyes shining, “At Dad’s? And we play Mario Kart? Dad said I’m getting good at 200!”

“He said that?” Steve asked, and he glances over Rosalind's head to see that Eddie is making a so-so gesture with his hand.

He’s never been all that good at saying no to his daughter (or anyone), so it doesn’t take much more convincing on Rozzy’s part for the three of them to head off in the direction of Eddie’s loft, with a pitstop planned for the pizza shop down the block.

They actually have a nice time.

It’s true that Rozzy is getting better at 200cc – good might be a bit generous, but Steve’s fine with that (he doesn’t know if his ego could handle getting crushed by a fourth-grader).

Just as they’re finishing their second grand prix (the Star Cup, because Rozzy likes the dolphin race), one of the other kids in the building knocks on the door and invites Rozzy over for a sleepover, which Steve agrees to because he remembers the illicit kind of joy in a summertime Monday night sleepover.

Eddie doesn't show Steve the door after Rozzy's gone. Rather, he pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge – an expensive Sémillon he says was given to him by a client.

“So the art biz is still going well, I assume,” Steve comments as Eddie pulls two vintage wine glasses out of a cabinet and pours them each a healthy serving.

Conversation about work manages to sustain them through the first few glasses (Eddie actually remembered that it’s been just over a year since Steve left his dad’s Fortune 1000 for a CFO position at a marketing company that had just graduated from small to midsize status). They work through the second quarter of the bottle talking about Rozzy, and the third vanishes even quicker while Steve spills some of the latest Harrington family drama.

While Eddie is updating him on how Wayne is doing, Steve finds that he isn’t really listening, distracted in the way he can’t help but notice how Eddie’s paint-stained t-shirt is actually more like an undershirt, and a size too small for him, the torso and sleeves tight around lean muscle, and there’s a thin silver chain around his neck and a scruff of facial hair around his jaw, and –

Steve doesn’t immediately realize when Eddie stopped talking. When he does, when his eyes finally unstick themselves from the buzzcut and drop back down to Eddie’s, he sees that Eddie is staring at him too.

Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lip.

“Ask me again why I buzzed my hair,” he tells him.

“Why’d you buzz your hair,” Steve asks, because he’s obedient like that (and because he really does want to know).

“Steve–” Eddie stops, a giggly, wine-induced hiccup of a laugh slipping out before he shakes his head, “An entire can of paint tipped ov–” He cuts himself off with another half-hysterical laugh, barely managing to say, “Spilled on my head,” before he was completely doubled over, and Steve is laughing too because he can totally picture it and because he had a bit more wine than he planned to and this is honestly the first time that he and Eddie have hung out without their daughter in…Steve doesn’t even know how long.

“Steve,” Eddie says again when they finally both recover, and his tone is completely different this time around and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn’t there before and something is happening, something is happening, “Please don’t kill me for saying this, but…fuck, it’s really kinda pathetic how badly I still want it to be you and me.”

Steve thinks he tries to respond, but then he was too busy kissing Eddie to do anything else, too busy scraping fingernails over Eddie’s scalp, too busy choking back a moan as Eddie sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, too busy tugging Eddie’s shirt out of his waistband to shove a hand up underneath and finding that he’s built more solidly than Steve remembers from the last time they touched like this, but something is telling him that’s true about Eddie – true about himself too – in more ways than one.

And if Rosalind comes home the next morning ready to ask how she’s getting back to Daddy’s house only to find that he’s already there, stealing Dad’s mug out of his hand for a sip of coffee when his own is right there…that’s a conversation for another day.

part 2

#i have SO MANY Feelings about this #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie week 2024 #literally incapable of writing them as anything other than girl-dads srry

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st4rbwrry · 1 year

Text

STICKY ☆ eren yeager.

☆. warnings ~ 2.8k. fem!reader, black coded, self pleasure, eren gives us a massage w oil, blowjob, dj on the clit, unedited, kissing, praise, pet names dnt feel like listing, vulgar language, teasing, mention of cycle, dry humping, titty sucking, neck kisses, minors do not interact! reblogs & comments are appreciated.

because this just happened to me and i had no choice but to write it. but imagine eren giving you a full body rub down massage with some shea butter scented baby oil while the two of you watch crime documentaries on netflix. it’s playing soundlessly in the background while the two of you lay comfortably on the black velvet sectional sofa in your cozy studio apartment. it’s raining outside, nighttime nearing. your home smells like salted lemon meringue pie; a candle eren bought for you because he said it reminded him of you.

warm, soft, and sweet. the two of you are cuddling together on the long part of the couch, eren completely pressed up against your left side slowly rubbing your ass in circles under your fuzzy pink blanket. you’re so into your show, sipping on a can of mango arizona, only dressed in an oversized anime tshirt and a pair of pink lace panties printed with hearts that matched the bralette underneath your shirt. he can’t stop touching you. leaning his head on your shoulder, his legs spread out in his gray sweats before his hands sink lower under your blanket to knead into the soft flesh of your hips. delicately working his way up your spine with the points of his thumbs to rub out any tense muscles. you can’t help but giggle at his move, smiling into your hair and biting your lip the higher his hands rise.

massaging your back, hands slipping underneath your bralette as he chews on his pouty lips and scrunch his eyebrows in a focused manner. intent on making you feel good. he knows you’ve been working hard so your body’s been a bit heavy. and you’re dreading heading to work tomorrow morning. so he wanted to ease that stress, as well as the hard-on he’d gotten in his sweats just from the faint moans falling past your pretty lips.

“take this off,” his voice his deep, sultry in its tone and he can’t help it. it drips off his tongue like honey. touching you has his body on fire.

dropping your phone you had picked up to check a text from your best friend, you do as he says, lifting your shirt so you’re left only in your cute lingerie set. eren stands to his full height and clears his throat as he fixes his dick in his sweats. he had to mentally remind himself that you’re ending your cycle and you aren’t really in the mood to have sex. but fuck you’re making it hard looking and sounding like that. you stare with a mischievous grin, following him as he walks towards your bathroom to find your body oil. he comes back, pushing your coffee table back so he can crouch on the floor before you.

“c’mon, lay on your stomach.”

and you’re doing just that. snuggling a neon pink easter bunny plushie close to your face for leverage. eren hums to himself, eyeing your backside as he squirts oil into his big palm and massages them together before rubbing your body down gently. he’s targeting every curve, muscle, tense area. heavy hands gliding across your brown skin with ease. he even uses his forearms and elbows to get those spots like a real masseuse. you’re moaning from how good it feels, shifting in your spot.

eren notices a inconvenience and says. “i need this off too, babe.”

he’s referring to your bralette. you laugh lightly, making a comment about how he’s trying to be nasty when you told him no. he says he promises it isn’t like that. both of you knowing damn well that it’s like that. throughout your princess treatment that you were grateful for, needing it so bad, eren begins to get bold. rubbing his palms over your ass and thick thighs, and then in between. this is torture for you considering your period was a big cockblock. she’s ending but you’re in that spotting phase that goes on and off. and you didn’t have time to check before his little teaser. your hormones were everywhere. being away from him for a full week, no dick, no head, eren’s consistent fucking with you knowing you can’t do anything . . . it’s all pent up. you needed a release so bad. and he’s playing games right now. slyly pulling your underwear down, eren saying ‘relax’ when you get too antsy before rolling and kneading your ass cheeks.

“erenn, stop,” his name comes out airy. your face is planted flat into the couch as your eyes loses their focus and your lower halve begins to ache.

“you don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

and he’s fucking right, you really don’t. you whine, twisting your ass side to side. eren chuckles and slips your panties back up, finishing with the back of your thighs giving you time to breathe with relief. until he’s back again, spreading your legs a little more so he can get into between to touch your pussy. long fingers rushing over your clothes clit, fabric becoming damper from your uncontrolled arousal. how could he make something so intimate instantly nasty? the man can’t focus on one task. his brain switches like a fuse. hissing to himself, he rubs your hardened clit in circles, taking his time, not wanting to get you too riled up. he couldn’t fuck you after all.

your face curls up in pleasure, breathing his name again, your hair covering your view of his face. hips grinding against his hand and gripping your plushie tighter. he smacks your ass a few times, loves to watch it bounce even in the dark living room you currently reside in. eren drags his right hand up your entire backside before placing it on the back of your neck to choke you, not too hard, just enough to hold you still. he’s leaning down, bringing his face mouth to your ear and breathing like a feral animal. spanking you over and over to hear you whimper and whine. squirming in your spot with annoyance when he removes his hand from your cunt, hot and needing more attention immediately.

“okay i’m done,” he announces, rubbing the remaining oil into his own skin and smiling like a cocky bastard. you groan with irritation, shoving your face into your plushie as he stands and laughs like an asshole.

“fuck you, bro.”

“you can’t, remember.”

he’s really testing you. now is not the time to test you. he takes a seat beside you after you advert your attention back onto your show, resting your chin in your palm and purposely ignoring him. titties all out and everything. eren spreads his longs legs as wide as they go, your eyes catching the tint in his crotch. he’s got his arm thrown on the headrest of the couch, looking down at you without your knowledge just to see what you would do. he wants his dick in your mouth so bad. if your willing to do it is the question that remains. it’s not really about him right now, is what your thinking. you gave him the sloppiest head literally yesterday before he had to leave for work, cum and salvia covering your face as you gagged and sucked him off like he’d run away. attempted? definitely. he couldn’t stop moaning and squirming away. especially when you overstimulated him after he nutted, cum shooting in your left eye mind you, risking a damn pink eye for his satisfaction. and he can’t grant you this one thing? you didn’t even want him to fuck you. you just wanted him to touch you.

so you know what you do? you turn your body clockwise to face him, looking up at him as he avoids eye contact and keeps them at the projector on your wall.

“i hate you,” you start with, shifting your hips so he can watch your ass move. you touch his stomach over his hoodie, the man still dressed from earlier when the two of you ran out to get food and came back to get lazy and watch horror movies. not really horror. it was it follows, side note, horrible film.

“why?”

“because you know i can’t fuck you right now, so you’re teasing me.”

“mhm,” he tongues his inner cheek, jade eyes catching your swiftly before redirecting them back to the show. “be a good girl.”

“don’t wanna,” you pout, lifting your upper body to press your face into his neck, kissing and sucking and eren immediately succumbs to you. it’s the most sensitive area on his entire body, other than his hips. he hissed and tosses his head back.

“stop,” he grumbles, but you don’t listen. rolling your neck to catch every inch of his neck with your lips. “stop.”

when he says it that time it’s stern, eren locking your neck in his grasp as he clenches his jaw, dick hard as fuck. he knocks his knees in and out, staring your pretty face down, a smile all over it. unable to contain it, he kisses you. sloppy and with tongue. your hands smoothing down to his crotch to palm the outline of his dick. eren inhales deeply, reaching between your heated thighs to rub your clit again through your panties. gasping, you lift your left leg to give him better access. grinding against his hand as he watches your face churn with contentment.

“gonna be a good girl now?” he taunts, you nod your head that now lays in the crook of his neck, moaning and kissing him still. he’s loosing his self control at this point. your tits are pressed together as you grip the back pillow of the couch and ride his hand, squealing and whimpering. your sounds take over him and he’s soon pulling his sweats to sit at his knees, heavy cock slapping at his abdomen, a clear pearl of pre sitting at the tip.

his hand swerves to the back of your neck to turn your head and push your face to his lap where his dick sat, hard and needy. honestly, your not in the mood to suck dick, your jaw going sore yesterday . . . but for your man, you’ll do anything.

“don’t care what you say,” he shifts up a little so you have better access. “suck on it.”

only your mouth encases his cock, hands clutching his hoodie, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper and suck hard just like he loves. focusing mostly on the tip because it makes him twitch and you love that reaction more than anything. love when he’s moaning ‘fuck’ or ‘fuck me, baby’ cause it makes you feel good inside. while your head bobs he continues to fuck you with his fingers, reaching inside your panties this time to toy with your clit better. eren comes to his senses and realizes if this proceeds he’s going to fuck you real bad. he swears to god he’s ready to lay a towel down and say fuck it forreal. but he knows it’s not something you’re comfortable with.

“c’mere, princess,” he speaks to you in that low, listen to me tone. you let his dick go with a sloppy pop, swallowing the remainder of spit in your mouth before leveling your face with his, batting your lashes and pushing your matted hair out the way. “do me a favor and cum for me, okay?”

“ ‘kay,” nodding your head mindlessly, eren gets lost in pleasing you again, wrapping his hand around his dick to stroke it while he finger fucks you. nothing compares to when you do it, though. you’ve ruined him, honestly. but he wants to keep it hard for you ‘cause he knows you want it after.

he notices your breath hitching, placing your hand over his when he loses his position and tries to sink his fingers in but you really want him to stay on your clit. you’re about to cum, he also knows because your burying your face in his neck and nodding frequently after he asks, “you cummin’ , princess?”’

“y-yess, m’cummin!” squeaks and mewls stream out of you and he swears it’s the prettiest thing every time you do it. eren latches his mouth back onto yours, groaning as he stops stroking his dick and shoves his tongue in your mouth. your hands have a death grip on his wrist as your thighs enclose his forearm to stop him, already sore.

“there we go, that’s my girl,” he kisses your forehead after, letting you take a moment to calm down before he’s coming up with another attack. doesn’t even give your five full minutes before he’s telling you to get up. and you sulk, whining because you don’t want to move.

“noooo,” you pout at him but he’s not hearing it, grabbing your arms and picking you up to place you on the edge of the sectional. he’s on his knees again before you, dragging you closer so your ass nearly hangs off and intertwines perfectly with his hips. “trying so hard not to fuck you.”

stretching your arms above you, you giggle like your drunk, playfully telling him to get off of you but of course he doesn’t listen. eren’s hovering his big figure above yours, bringing his head down to dart his thick tongue out and drag it slowly over your left nipple, soon latching his cotton candy lips around the bud and sucking. pulling it along as he rotates his head and moans with his eyes shut. you let him do as he pleases, always intrigued when he gets into his moments. as he’s sucking on your chest that’s when he starts grinding his hips forward to fuck against you. the bulge in his sweats rut on your clit waking it up for round two.

“fuck this,” eren makes a pained noise as he tugs his sweats down to reveal his cock again, scooting closer and sitting higher to position it right on your soaked clit he slaps with the tip a few times, dark eyes eyeing you as you bite your lip and moan like a slut from that little play.

eren’s placing your legs over his shoulders, like he loves to do, arching over you so your knees are close to your shoulders. he makes sure your thighs stay closed so the pressure on his dick feels better for friction. he begins to lick up your chest, trailing up to your neck where he laps his tongue and follows with kisses, fucking with you just like you did with him. you’re just as sensitive there. tossing your head back and moaning, gripping onto his shirt since he removed his hoodie, rolling your eyes back. and it gets worse when he starts ramming his dick like he’s actually fucking you. he’s following the bounce of your tits while he rolls his hips and fucks his dick on your sluice folds drinking in the fabric of your panties. your thighs making this feel so much fucking better. it feels good for you too.

“fuck, ma,” eren smacks the outside of your thigh, grunting and hastening his pace, skin slapping and it’s all making your mind hazy. “got me feelin’ like this without bein’ deep in your pussy.”

“erennn, you look so good,” it slips from your mouth without your own permission. you made a mental comment about how good he looks fucking you right now. long hair messy around his face, silver rings on his digits along with spiky or cuban link bracelets on his wrist. ink tatted on various parts of his body. his perfect white teeth sinking into his bottom lip. he’s too fucking handsome. and he’s all yours.

“i look good, huh baby?” he chuckles between a strangled moan, brows creasing.

“unh huh,” you huff out, reaching up to caress his face in your dainty hands.

“you look fuckin’ better,” his eyes turn white as your body rolls somewhat to your right side, eren able to hit it from the side, this position constricting his dick tighter, pounding harder. “fuck, n’ it’s gonna make me nut jus’ lookin’ at you.”

“keep looking,” you bite your lip and keep your face to his, the two of you breathing in each others air. “stare at me when you cum. wanna watch your face.”

“fuck,” it’s crazy what you do to him. because not even a few seconds later he’s shooting cum right on your tummy and it’s a lot, keeps going as he shudders and keeps his eyes on yours like you wanted. he’ll bite his lip off at some point with how much force he’s applying. might even get a headache from his eyes turning white. it’s all worth it though.

you smile like you’ve made the biggest achievement, curling your hands up into a ball and planting your cheek on it, falling back with a dreamy sigh. he’s the prettiest, and he’s all yours.

“i hate you,” eren runs his hands through his hair with a deep laugh, his dick still unable to stop leaking cum. he smacks your thigh again. “fuckin’ hate you.”

“you started it.”

#all of this is a true story deadass #this happened to me like 4 hours ago. bby had to go to work 🙈#eren smut #eren x you #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader #eren x y/n #eren x fem!reader #snk smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x y/n #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #aot eren #eren jaeger x black reader #𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.

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slasher-male-wife · 1 year

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Telling slashers you like 'hot old men'

I am an old man lover and enjoyer for life. I love hot old men I hope I become one when I'm older. So what better way then to make a post appreciating all of the hot old men I'm in love with. I know some of these men aren't like super old but it's still kind of old ok? We're talking an age range from 30's-50's. Also this was buried in my drafts since like April.

Includes: Doomhead, The Grabber, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Hannibal Lecter, and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Implied kidnapping in The Grabbers section

Doomhead

He honestly thought you said something else when you first said it. You two were watching a movie together and you made a comment on how you love "hot old men".

When he asks you to repeat yourself and you confirm that you said you love hot old men he laughs. He knows he's an older man but you saying that is really funny to him.

"Are you calling me an old man, sugar?" He asks you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. After you clarify you don't mean it in a negative way he just keeps laughing quietly.

He'll bring this up from time to time when he sees fit. He honestly might play up the 'old man' act just to tease you about it even more. But he's not too offended that you said it.

The Grabber

Because you've been behaving well he decided to treat you by giving you a magazine. He sat with you in the basement while you looked through the magazine.

He noticed you lingering on a page for a bit longer than the others. He asks you about why you're still on that page. You chuckle and tell him it's because there's an actor you love on it. "I just love old men." You say casually.

He pauses for a moment before he chuckles himself. He's an older man himself and because of your recent behavior. "Is that why you've been behaving so well for me?" He asks with a smile behind his mask.

Your chuckle and smile in response is all he needs to know. He's going to start subtly showing his age to you more and more. I think he'll try to show off his hands and arms. He's going to be so cocky about this and you'll never hear the end of it.

Mark Hoffman

You and Hoffman are coworkers and you've been dropping hints to him about your attraction to him. Today you were working with Hoffman, looking over some tapes when the discussion of how long you've been in the force came up.

When Hoffman mentioned when he graduated from the police academy and made a comment about how he's old you smiled and said, "Good thing I love old men."

He laughed it off at first then got a little defensive about how he's "not that old". You explained to him that you never meant it to be rude, you just meant to say that you find older men attractive.

He just nodded his head and went back to watching the tape over. But over the next few days he kept thinking about what you said. It's the most outwardly flirty you've been with him before. When he next sees you he asks you out and you accept.

Peter Strahm

You're on a date with him after being introduced to each other by a mutual friend. He took you somewhere nice and he's driving you home. You both feel a strong connection.

He mentions how long he's been working in the FBI and makes a comment about how you must think he's so old. But when you chuckle and tell him "Don't worry, I love old men." He chuckles too.

Peter isn't too much older than you but he still finds your comment funny. He asks you why and when you talk about how older men are more mature, provide stability, and they're just hot, he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh.

He thinks about your comment for awhile after the date. The comment and how well the date went leads him to asking you out again, which you of course say yes to.

Hannibal Lecter

You met Hannibal at an opera and he found you very attractive. He invited you over for dinner later in the week and you accepted. He made sure to make an impressive meal for you, which isn't hard for him to do.

You two start talking over dinner and Hannibal talks about his career as a surgeon then as a psychiatrist. He makes a comment about how you must think he's very old and you reply with, "I don't mind at all. I love old men."

He chuckles and says he's not that old. You tell him you know that but you start talking about how you love a man who looks more mature and has his life well put together.

The dinner goes well and he invites you over again later in the month. But he can't stop thinking about your comment. He knows he's an older man but he doesn't think he's that old. But the comment doesn't get to him too much because you like him anyway.

Bo Sinclair

You're sitting with Bo in his garage while he's working on a car. You're reading an old magazine when you start to giggle. He asks you what's so funny and you talk about how hot this model is.

When you show him the model Bo talks about how he looks pretty old to which you reply with "I love old men." Bo sets down his tool and looks at you.

"Are you saying I'm old, darlin'?" He asks you. You think for a moment before you tell him no. Bo is in his early 30's and you don't really consider that old.

You have to explain to him that by "old men" you mean men in their 40's and above. Bo will tease you about this constantly. Any time you two see an older man, either it being in a movie or a victim he asks you if he's your type.

#doomhead x reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x reader #peter strahm x reader #peter strahm x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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wonwoonlight · 1 year

Text

;) / choi seungcheol

➝ Seungcheol x Reader

➝ idol!au // est relationship // nothing but fluff // reader is an idol too // takes place in this universe

➝ word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy birthday, cheol! just smth short that i wrote for his bday <3 enjoy💕 not proofread lmao

“Hi.” Seungcheol waves at the camera, waiting for more people to tune in. It’s a random Thursday when he suddenly feels like doing a live, and after confirming with the company that he’ll just be doing a short one, they simply tell him to be careful. He’s long enough in his career to be doing lives on his own in his place, and with him being a leader and all, if there’s any member that they can be sure wouldn’t make a mistake during a live unsupervised, it’d be him.

Or if he makes any, well, it wouldn’t be anything like Mingyu did last month. After all, Seungcheol is currently in a publicly revealed relationship with another idol and that automatically means he’s more careful than anyone.

“I’m at home.” He leans forward to see the comments better, resting his chin on his palm. “Just suddenly felt like turning on the live because I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Huh? ‘Why is the live title different?’ What do you–ah.” He taps on his phone seeing that he accidentally titled his live ‘;)’ instead of the usual smiley face. “I must’ve made a typo.”

He continues to communicate like that, smiling to himself at the sweet questions they ask about you even though he doesn’t answer them as much as he wants to. Yeah, it’s been a year since he went public with his relationship, but the both of you have been keeping it low regardless. He would’ve shown you off everywhere if he could, but you’re more private than he is and he agrees to follow your lead because he’s fine with whatever you’re comfortable with.

At least most of the fans react positively to the news, which is thankfully still the case seeing as how he only sees so little hate comments when it comes to you. He wishes there isn’t any, but with this industry… he can only be thankful that only a very small part of people who claim to be his fans are against his relationship.

He’s just happy he has you by his side.

“It’s my day off today. I don’t have any schedules after this because I did my work out in the morning. Have you guys had dinner? I’m thinking of–” He pauses in the middle of his sentence at the sound of his door opening, eyes turning frantic at the sight of you who don’t seem to realize that he’s currently live.

“Hi! I came early becau–” You press your lips together when you finally notice the phone propped up in front of him, and if that’s not enough, his panicked eyes tell you enough that he’s doing a live.

You’ve promised to drop by later tonight, but because your lesson ends early, you decide to just drive to his place because you want to see him already. Giddy at the prospect of surprising him, you forgot to consider that this is very possible to happen, something that you actually have discussed with Seungcheol before.

Seungcheol glances at the comment section, heart light with relief at how fans are freaking out: asking if it’s you and they’re all asking him if you can join the live even for a bit.

“I’m doing a live.” He says for the sake of it, his eyes sorry despite the giddiness in his heart for some reason. You know what he’s asking you though–do you want to join me? Do you want to wait outside? Should I pretend that you’re someone else?

You also know that Seungcheol has been wanting to just… be with you in public. It’s not something he says out loud, but you know him and you know it’s something that he’s always desired. He just wants to love out loud, wants to share what–who–makes him happy with his fans.

Should I say hi? You mouth at him, in which your answer comes in the form of his frantic face melting into a big, giddy smile in a matter of seconds.

“Hi.” You shyly wave at the camera as Seungcheol moves to give you space. “Sorry I disturbed your live. I didn’t know Seungcheol was doing one.”

“They’ve been asking about you anyway.” Seungcheol jokes, nudging you a little. “It’s like they come here to see you.”

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment, still not sure how to act with your boyfriend in front of the camera. You’re used to having him to yourself–not like this, but you can’t help but admit that it does make you giddy to be able to do this with him.

“There’s no way. Anyway, I can just wait outside so don’t feel pressured to end this quickly, okay?”

Noooo, stay with us!!

Don’t go!!! We’re happy to have you here🥺

Do you really have to go?

“See? They all want you here.” Seungcheol grins, getting more and more comfortable the more he sees positive comments about you. He laughs when he catches a funny one, points it at you and reads it to everyone. “Look at this ‘You’re so pretty. Do you need a girlfriend? Dump Seungcheol and come to me?’. I can’t believe you guys are already trying to steal her from me.”

You laugh incredulously, cheeks already hurt from smiling too much.

“Maybe if you make a better ramyeon than him.” You play along. “Seungcheol makes a very good ramyeon, you know?”

“Ah, good to know my cooking ability is a dealbreaker for you.” He nods in satisfaction before proceeding to tell his fans about a recipe he recently tried to make. “Invite her on Coups Coups? Heh, she doesn’t know how to cook.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true!”

“Yeah, but still…” You pout, and Seungcheol has to physically restrain himself from kissing the pout off your lips.

“She knows how to bake, though.” He turns back to the camera. “Perhaps we can do a baking episode someday. We’ll see.”

You stay there for another three minutes before excusing yourself, telling him once again that you’re fine waiting so he doesn’t need to end the live quickly for your sake. Waving at the camera and thanking the fans for being kind, you plop down on the sofa in the living room and allow yourself to be giddy for a few moments before texting your manager to let him know about what has just transpired.

It’s almost fifty minutes later that Seungcheol steps out of his room, his grin widens when he sees you playing with your phone. His heart also blooms in size, as much as he’s seen fans supporting you two on the internet, it’s entirely different to be with you on camera and see firsthand how his fans interact with you. He’s glad the experience seems to be pleasant for the both of you, and suddenly wonders if it can be a thing now that this has started.

“Oh, you’re done?” You look up before putting your phone to the table, immediately melt into his side when Seungcheol sits beside you. He doesn’t answer you though, simply cups your cheeks and dives into your lips like he’s been wanting to do since earlier. You smile into the kiss, fingers grasping his shoulder to balance yourself. You feel him smile also, and it’s then that you pull away and share a giggle with each other. “Don’t you look happy.”

“Mmhm. I was finally able to show you off and my fans love you, this day can’t get any better.” He admits before kissing you on the forehead and pulls away.

“Finally, huh?” You scrunch your nose in embarrassment, though he can tell that you share the sentiment. “Have you talked to your manager about it?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, we didn’t do anything wrong and presumably didn’t say anything wrong. They’re monitoring it immediately, though, just in case.”

“Unlike Mingyu?”

You laugh at his unimpressed expression, only now finding the whole situation funny because Seungcheol, being the leader and all, was quite stressed about it at first.

“Did your manager say anything?”

“No. They… my management has actually been saying that it’s really up to me if I want to appear in public with you.” Seungcheol finds his heart fluttering at how shy you seem to be, the usual telltale of your nervousness showing itself as you play with your fingers.

“Yeah?” He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “And what did you say?”

“I say I’ll talk about it with you.” You look at him, abashed. “Do you… want to? You know we’ve been getting invitations to appear on shows together, right?”

“I want whatever you want, baby.” He buries his nose into your hair, hopes that his voice doesn’t sound too hopeful as not to pressure you. He’d love to take you with him everywhere, but he knows you still find it bothersome and you like to be careful, which he respects. He understands where you’re coming from, and while he agrees that it’s important to be careful, having dated you for years even prior to the public revelation, he also thinks it would be fun to be able to appear in public with you. “You know I don’t mind anything as long as I’m with you.”

You’re silent for a bit, thinking about how you’ve actually also been wanting to do shows with him. It’s surely going to be different from the short live earlier, but the positive interactions with his fans make you somewhat hopeful and you admit that it’s making you crave for more interactions in the future.

“Perhaps we can start with our self-produced contents first?” You suggest and Seungcheol squeezes your shoulder a little too tight out of excitement. “Baking, you said earlier? And we’ll see after.”

“You’re serious?”

Shrugging, your smile extends into a grin at how happy Seungcheol seems to be. If this is how he looks at the idea of it, you can’t help but imagine how happy he’d be once the idea actually comes to life. “I don’t see why not.”

You yelp when he suddenly pulls you into his lap, hugging you so tight that you can’t help but laugh. You’re pretty sure the loud heartbeat you’re hearing is his, though you won’t be surprised too if it turns out to be yours either way.

“You know, one of the fans asked if I can just name the live with the emoji I used today if you’re ever going to come again in the future.”

“Oh? You used a different smiley face today?”

“By mistake. What do you say? Are you up to more lives with me in the future?”

You pretend to think about it, consider telling him no as a joke but decided against it when you see just how much his eyes are shining in expectation, probably already thinking of a hundred schedules that he can do with you by his side.

“I want whatever you want.” You repeat his words, heart fluttering about what the future might have in store for you and him. And when you see him smile, one of the happiest you’ve ever seen on his face, you know that things are going to be okay as long as you get to keep that smile on his face.

#seungcheol scenarios #caratwritersclub #seungcheol fluff #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seungcheol imagines #scoups fluff #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #khione.fics

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hhughes · 3 months

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୨୧ ⋅ 𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒﹙⠀JH86⠀﹚

⠀⠀╰ ꒰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ◞ fem!reader x jack hughes

⠀⠀╰ ꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ◞ just some thoughts about bf!jack

⠀⠀╰ ꒰ 𝐜𝐰 ◞ nsfw near the end

⠀⠀╰ ꒰ 𝐚/𝐧 ◞ bf jack has my heart

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who didn’t think he was going to love you as much as he does. You started as fwb and the more time you spent together, the harder he fell for you.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who keeps your relationship private but not a secret. He’s not afraid to post you on his instagram and does so quite regularly.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who goes through his comment section and deletes all the rude comments about you because he doesn’t want you to see them. He gives Trevor, Cole, Alex and his brothers his insta details so they can help him.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who gets so so happy to see you in the crowd wearing his jersey. Knowing you’re his #1 fan means the world to him.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who makes an effort to take you out on a date at least once a week because he knows the hockey schedule is brutal and he doesn’t want you to feel neglected.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who is terrified he’s going to mess up somehow or the hockey is going to become too much for you and you’ll leave him. He calls Quinn at least once a week and Quinn has to reassure him. This goes on for at least the first year of your relationship. After that he feels a bit more secure.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who gets so happy seeing you and his brothers interact that he’d happily sit and observe your interactions as long as he gets to touch you somehow.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 loves spoiling you and constantly buys you flowers and gifts despite you telling him not to.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who loves how you team up with his little brother in the summer against him and Quinn. You’re just as competitive as them.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who takes you home for the summer before you were official and everyone, especially his mom, could see how in love he was with you. After much prompting from his mom and his brothers he finally asked you to be his girlfriend out on the dock where his mom he set up a little picnic.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who gets jealous easily and appreciates the reassurance you give him when he needs it.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who thinks it’s hilarious that you get all pouty when you’re the one who’s jealous. He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous that you’d think he’d ever entertain anyone else when he has you.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who doesn’t hesitate for a second to drop the gloves when someone says something mean about you on the ice.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who loves how well you get along with his friends and thinks it’s hilarious that they start inviting you to hang out and not him. You get added to the group chat and the messages always reads “come hang out, we miss you. You can even bring Jack”

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who calls you before and after every game.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who randomly tells you he loves you because he needs to make sure you know.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who carries a ring in his pocket for about a year before finally asking you because he was nervous you’d say no.

nsfw headcanons

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who is very handsy all the time. His hands constantly wanders to places deemed a little inappropriate in public spaces. He especially gets handsy when they had a really good game and he’s high off the win and the team goes out to celebrate. Hands are on your ass 24/7

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who stares at you with so much lust in his eyes sometimes it makes you breathless. and it makes his brothers gag. He also stares at you with so much love in his eyes which also makes his brothers gag.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who loves buying you lingerie. especially red ones.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who can’t look at your freshly done nails and not think about them wrapped around his dick.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who loves fucking you from behind while you’re wearing his jersey. He’s the type of guy to take a picture and send it to your ex who’s been bothering you.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who loves cumming on you. On your face, ass, boobs. Just loves seeing you all messy for him.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who can both fuck you like a whore and a princess depending on the mood.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who is a little embarrassed by how easily you can get him on his knees

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who cannot control himself in the summer when you’re wearing bikinis and denim shorts and summer dresses. There’s always so much skin exposed and he loves marking you up. You’ve given up on trying to hide the marks.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who gets a little turned on when you get possessive of him. Kissing his neck with lipstick on, he won’t wipe it off, he’d wear it happily.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who calls you and you guys have phone sex on every road trip. He has a “spank bank” of videos and photos of you but it doesn’t compare to the real thing.

𝐁𝐅!𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 who gets the urge to go home and get you pregnant whenever he sees you interact with a child because you’re going to be such a good mom.

#୭ 🗄️ ₊ ⌇ hhughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic

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obbystars · 17 days

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Drop some random sebastian headcanon u have in mind fics related or not if u ever had one pls drop itudulfyldyostoakakak😇😇

(ALRIGHTY LET’S SEE IF I’VE STILL GOT IT IN ME TO MAKE A HEADCANON POST)

CONTENT WARNING: cannibalism in post-experimentation section

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / General Relationship Headcanons + some general Sebastian headcanons / kid you not pulling this up i realized i did not have any headcanons for sebastian thought out so i spent a good while thinking LSJDJSNX / i hope you guys know this is written by someone who has not dated before (has no idea what they’re doing) / wishing this could’ve been longer

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

To be honest, when it comes to entering a relationship with Sebastian, I can never see it happening when you meet during the events of the game. Like, obviously he only sees all of expendables as research collectors (and possibly food) and that’s pretty much it. He does not give two shits about us.

If you knew him before he got arrested, or even knew him while he was a prisoner under Urbanshade (specifically another prisoner), then yes I can see it happening. Of course, if you knew him beforehand and became an expendable for whatever reason after, then yes I can also see it. It’s because you knew who he was before he became what he is now, y’know?

Anywayy…

He’s a teasing type of partner. Often making sarcastic comments whenever he sees the opportunity to, pushing some of your buttons just for the fun of it, all that stuff. He can tone it down if you ask though, or if he sees it’s actually bothering you.

Sebastian does like cuddling but he is almost never the one to initiate it. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable (well he kinda is sometimes), he’s also not sure if you’re comfortable with it unless you voice it to him. Will that change anything? Not really, you’ll still need to initiate most of the time.

It’s probably obvious now that I see a relationship with Sebastian will require quite a bit of communication, but there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you can respect his boundaries whenever he voices it, there won’t be any problems. Be sure to voice yours too, he doesn’t want to overstep any of yours either.

He’s a listener. Ramble about the most random stuff to him and he’d unintentionally take in the information. Sometimes you just going on and on about stuff makes it easier to work on his homework even if what you’re rambling about is related to your own work. If random factoids aren’t exactly what he’s looking for, playing music also helps. You can take turns playing music. He rambles too but not all the time. Usually it’s something relating to his engineering class.

Sebastian can cook up something really good whenever he feels like it. It’s not super fancy but he can recreate some of his mom’s recipes. When it’s not that, it’s just a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich or something microwaved. It really depends on the mood he’s in. If you cook, try making something he hasn’t had, like a dish from your country. He’s always willing to try.

Quality time type of partner. You don’t really need to be doing anything, he’s happy just being in the same room as you.

You two are watching YouTube videos on his laptop in bed late at night until you both fall asleep. One of you sometimes wakes up to put the laptop away, while other times it was almost kicked off the bed. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet.

Game date nights. Whether it’s PvP or Co-op, you’re both playing. Local or online, doesn’t matter. As long as it’s multiplayer. Sebastian does strikes me as a rogue-like, souls, shooter type of gamer though. He probably picked up Sims at some point and got way too into making houses rather than actually making Sims. Sometimes he playa horror but it scares the shit out of him most of the time.

He sometimes plays his guitar for you, even asking if you have any requests. If you ask nicely enough, he’d help you learn how to play if you don’t already. If you actually end up getting your own, he’d be so down to play with you.

Meeting with his family is pretty much a must (his mom wants to meet you). His big sister embarrasses him by telling you just how much he “gushes” about you. In reality, he talks about you to them whenever they ask and if you two are going out just so they know and to not call or text him or anything until then. Still, his family likes you and that’s all he wants.

Post-Experimentation

Remember how I said Sebastian isn’t exactly uncomfortable with touch? Yeah, now he is. He has a bubble around him and he does not like it when someone gets too close whether it was intentional or not. His reaction to it can vary from shoving them away to a more violent reaction that may lead to a serious injury or even death.

Upon finding a corpse and being so terribly hungry, he had to try and force himself to eat it. The idea of eating another person made him want to spit it all out, to regurgitate all of it out. Flesh, bones, intestines, lungs, liver, heart… “Keep it in your stomach. You won’t find much food after this.” Eventually, he was able to stomach it. Eventually, it became natural.

If you’ve known him before all of this and he meets up with you while the lockdown is still happening, yeah he has questions cause what the hell. He wants to keep you safe, but if you stay around too long, Urbanshade might get suspicious that they lost an expendable’s signal. It’s already bad enough that they want him dead, and the scrambler can be a dead giveaway if their operatives suddenly can’t contact HQ. Just don’t die while you’re out there, please. It’d also be best if they don’t find out about your much deeper connection with him, so there’s another reason why it’d be difficult to stay in touch with each other in the facility.

He’d try to get in touch with Painter just to let him know about you. Lead the Good People away, shoot down a wall dweller that you haven’t noticed yet, all that stuff. He can’t do much about the bull shark, squiddles, and the anglers but he can try to do something about Pandemonium. Unlike the anglers, it’s not a cloud of smoke and is really just rotting flesh.

Physical touch with him in this case is still complicated. He’s very uncomfortable with it and it may take a while for him to warm up to your touch again. He’s not gonna hit you or anything, god no. If you were anyone else, one he doesn’t know, absolutely. He’ll try to express that. The topic itself is sensitive and he never likes bringing it up.

Assuming Mr. Lopee has taken an interest in you and allows you to keep coming back after every death, Sebastian is more willing to help you. Will he give you a discount though? No, especially not if there are other expendables with you. (he will slip in a battery or two though) It’s also a little less worry for him since death isn’t the end for you, but he wonders just how long it’ll take for Urbanshade to realize one of their prisoners is capable of coming back to life. You’re not supposed to have access to the Ferryman Tokens. The expendable protocol was specifically made so that Urbanshade didn’t have to use so much of them.

If you happen to come across something rare or something he usually sells at a high price, he’d appreciate it if you allowed him to take it off your hands and sell it to one of the other EXR-Ps. More intel from them means a higher chance of escaping (hopefully). You two will likely be stuck here for a while as long as no one else takes the crystal before then.

yeah uh

that’s all i got 🧍

#🌑 // a gift bestowed upon you #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #pressure #roblox pressure #roblox #pressure x reader #sebastian pressure #pressure sebastian

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earlysunshines · 9 months

Text

keep me close (and never let me go)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff ; wc: 1.9k

synopsis: sana can't sleep and you can't stop practicing

warnings: not proofread

a/n: hiiii it's been a bit, finals killed me and i've been terribly busy.

a drop of sweat hits the floor once the song stops and your chest heaves up and down as you pause in your place. you let out a sharp sigh and ignore the aching in your limbs.

you’ve been practicing for who knows how long now, trying to perfect a dance for some special stage you have with a mix of various boy group idols. it’s in a month, but it’s better to get it down sooner than later.

before replaying the chorus, you take a short one-minute break before going back to practicing again, making sure that each movement is sharp and precise. a bead of sweat drips down your face, and each breath is less controlled. still, you managed to get the chorus down, but you weren’t pleased.

a frustrated groan leaves your lips before you walk over to the speaker, running a hand through your hair and gripping it tightly out of frustration.

as you do so, you hear the door open, and spot sana popping in with a small plastic grocery bag.

you look at her from the mirror, then turn to face her. “sana?”

she shrugs. “i couldn’t sleep.”

you watch her grab a blanket from the closet in the room and situate herself on the couch, laying down and pulling out her phone.

“keep going, sorry if i bothered you.” sana assures, “you weren’t at the dorm and i figured you’d be here. i didn’t know where else to go.”

“i don’t think the music will help you sleep.”

“well,” sana begins, looking away from her phone. “i always fall asleep easily around you and i like being around you anyway. just wanted to see you.”

you smile at the last part of her comment and try to fight the butterflies in your stomach. you chuckle awkwardly and clear your throat, then sana watches the corner up your lips curl up.

“i see… get comfy.”

with a small towel, you dab off any sweat on your face then replay the chorus again. you repeat the choreo of that section again, and it’s pretty acceptable during this run, which differs from the previous tries. while you dance, you notice sana from the corner of your eye. she lies down on her phone and the blanket covers her like a warm embrace, how lucky that blanket is.

you practiced the chorus two more times, singing a little on both those attempts and quickly growing tired from how vigorous all of it is. there’s a short fifteen second intermission before you go over the bridge once and then the chorus one last time before giving into your exhaustion. you decide to take a short break and wander off to the corner of the practice room. you exhale deeply as you squat down and check your phone.

click

your head perks up from the sound and the flash from the phone sana holds in her delicate hands. the two of you make eye contact and after catching the surprised look on sana’s face; you can’t help but smile in amusement.

“sorry, you looked funny on the floor like that. you kinda look like that one pokemon mina was showing us.” she giggles.

you mirror her smile and laugh with her. “wooper?”

“yes.” she responds, “you look just like it.”

“you’re so stupid.”

“and you’re so cute.” sana teases, easily making you shift your gaze elsewhere. you pull out your phone to snap a quick picture of her on the couch to call it even.

“you look funny like that too.” you say softly, then slowly get up with a low, exhausted groan. “kinda like weedle.”

“you hang out with mina too much.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, “you’re jealous.” you add, which earns a cute pout from the girl on the cushions. you walk over to the couch and plop down next to sana to give yourself a break, grabbing a small water bottle on the table in front of you and chugging it.

sana smiles and hands you a small towel before asking, “how long have you been practicing?”

“oh, um…” you checked the time on your phone, “11:14pm.” you mutter and raise your brows a bit at the sight, shocked at how you lost track of time. “two hours i guess.”

sana gets up in surprise and almost gasps, “are you serious?”

“yeah, i just needed some extra practice.” you shrug. sana motions you to sit closer to her.

“that’s a lot… have you had any breaks?” she asks. you’re quick to shake your head and scoot closer to her, setting the towel down on the table.

“it’s fine, i’m fine.” you assure quickly, but as soon as the words leave your mouth your body betrays your response. something in you shifts and you feel yourself losing balance, everything hits all at once and the timing was unfortunate. of course you started to feel the fatigue after you tried to stop her worrying. tiredly, you fall back onto the couch as your body loses all of its strength, arms falling limp by your side.

sana lets out a small breath, unhappy with your state. “you work yourself too much, i think you’re done for the night.”

for a short moment, you contemplate whether you should argue with her or not, but you’re not in any condition to argue with sana right now; you end up not going through with it. giving in, you use the last of your energy to scoot even closer and lean against her shoulder, picking up the scent of her floral fragrance—your favorite.

“i’m kind of worried about this whole special stage, the dancing style is different than a lot of our choreos.” you confess, “i just want to perfect it quickly.”

sana looks at you with creased brows and a frown, then intertwines her fingers with yours. “hey… don’t beat yourself up about this. you’re doing it well, trust me. i watched you redo the chorus even when you were tired, you did amazing.”

“you’re just saying that because-”

“i mean it y/n.” sana declares sternly, squeezing your hand tighter. you turn your head to face her and your eyes lock. she has this look in her eyes, it’s mixed with worry and determination, a mix that makes your heart break and yearn simultaneously. “y/n, you’re one of the best dancers i know, seriously. you always manage to get any choreography we’re given down so fast, and just because you’re struggling with it this time you’re second guessing yourself and i hate that. you’re capable of so much, but you’re letting a small mishap get to your mind just like before.”

“before” rings in your head, you know exactly what this “before” is. sana frowns and holds both your hands now. you stare at her with your eyes widened and try to form a response, but nothing gets past your lips.

“you’re a hard worker, and i admire that—but don’t work yourself until you collapse. i’ve known you since we were trainees and i-” she looks down and tightens her jaw, then gazes into your eyes again. “i can’t bear to see you so harsh on yourself like that again. we’re not trainees anymore, i don’t want you stressing like that again.”

“sana…” you start. still, the words you wanted to say rolled around in your throat relentlessly but never made their way out. you smile appreciatively and hold her hand tighter. without hesitation and a sudden confidence, you lean in a bit closer and sana feels a warm pair of lips on her cheek. her eyebrows raise and her pulse quickens, she’s all warm inside when you linger for a moment. you stretch your arms out and hug her after, your eyes close as you rest your head on her shoulder. “i feel better now that you’re here, thank you.”

she smiles and pushes her nose into your neck before melting into your body and muttering, “of course, i care about you more than you know.”

“me too sha.”

the two of you stay there for a bit longer, simply enjoying each other’s presence and comfort. it’s always been like this, you and sana had been close as trainees and were always there for each other. even years later—after twice’s debut and a handful of successful comebacks—sana was always there when you needed her; always by your side no matter what. it was hard to keep your admiration and feelings for her platonic.

you fell for her because she was—and still is—the sweetest, most genuine person you know. ever since you were trainees, no, ever since your first meeting with her; she’s brightened up the atmosphere just by existing. you admired her talent, her charm, and her love for others, and after realizing she was the prettiest woman on earth—inside and outside—there wasn’t going back.

falling for someone like her was inevitable, but you had to conceal your true emotions toward her no matter what. being her friend was everything to you, and you couldn’t screw up your life because of some feelings for someone you’d consider your whole world.

the two of you held onto each other in silence for a little before you pulled away first, scared that lingering too long would be too weird (sana didn’t mind, if anything; she’d cling to you forever).

“you’re being really cute right now y/n.” she giggled, grinning so hard that her eyes start to shine a little.

“you’re a tease.” you sigh, trying to mask how flustered she gets you. sana laughs again.

“i like your reactions.” she admits, “now come on, you must be tired. get some rest pretty.”

she lies down on the couch again and taps her stomach, signaling you to lay down on her. you look at her like she’s crazy, and she just smiles.

of course you wanted to accept this offer and despite this offer being a common one—it’s sana, whenever she’s with you she can’t keep her hands off—you couldn’t accept it, especially not after your two-hour practice.“i’m all gross and sweaty.” you argue, “i can’t.”

“you’re not that gross and sweaty, come on.” she insists, tugging on your sleeve. again, you fail to argue back and give in to her antics especially when she gives you those sparkly puppy eyes. slowly, you lower yourself onto her and she accepts you with open arms, eagerly pulling you closer to her. “you’re not that gross or sweaty, do you not like when i—“

“no, no.” you’re quick to dismiss her, “i like it sana, i love it.”

“good,” sana mumbles against you. “that’s what i thought.”

sana feels more of your weight push down on her as you situate yourself comfortably in her arms. you shift over one last time and your arm ends up wrapped around her waist, your head is in the crook of her neck, and sana wraps her arms around your upper back. sana feels your chest heave up and down against her own and moves her hand to massage your scalp.

as soon as sana does that you groan tiredly, making her giggle softly and it makes your heart flutter even as you start to fall asleep.

sana waits a few minutes before pausing the movement of her hand in your hair, then asks quietly, “are you asleep?”

silence follows.

she smiles and closes her own eyes, then pushes strands of hair that frame your sleeping face.

“you shouldn’t work yourself so much y/n,” she sighs. sana lifts her head up just a bit and tilts her head, then kisses your forehead softly, keeping her lips there for a few seconds before relaxing back into the couch.

“goodnight y/n, i love you always.”

#sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana fluff #sana twice #twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #twice x reader

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midnightsnyx · 7 months

Text

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked.

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it.

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism.

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.”

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games.

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena.

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer.

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up.

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.”

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you.

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you.

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile.

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.”

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x y/n

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samandcolbyownme · 3 months

Note

You should do a Zach justice imagine where he has a guest on the show as well as us Jared Tara and Alissa and he gets really jealous because said guest is flirting it’s us and he just become his Dickish self that he always is on the podcast but just like heeps worse and then after Tara comes to us and says like he was so jelly and it ends in smut

Pleaseeeee I am living for jealous Zach!!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, jealous and slightly assholishy!Zach, flirting, jealousy, kissing, praising, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, oral (fem rec), unprotected sex, filth with a lil bit of fluff

Word Count: 3.1k | unedited

“Hello, hello everybody. Welcome to today’s episode of Dropouts.” Zach starts out, “We have Alyssa, Jared, Tara, Y/n, and our very special guest, Marx Allen.”

“You’ve been a constant name in our comment sections recently.” Jared says, “So thank you for accepting our invitation to come on.”

Marx nods, “It’s a pleasure to be here, thank you.” He looks around and lands on you, “I like that necklace.” He reaches over, “Is that an amethyst crystal?”

You nod, looking down at his fingers caressing the wire wrapped mineral in his fingers, “Yeah, I got it for my birthday last year.”

He rests your necklace against your t-shirt, “It’s beautiful.” He smiles and you look over at Zach, who’s scrolling on his phone, “Excuse me, Mr. Host Man. Whatcha doin’?”

He ignores you, making you tilt your head, and you look at Tara. She leans in to her mic, “Yeah, hello. What are we doing?”

Not even five minutes into the episode, and Zach is acting off. You knew Zach liked you, and you liked him, thanks to Tara. But, you told her that you were only going to believe it when it came from his own lips on his own terms.

So far, Zach has confirmed it, mainly by just acting out when there were guests on, specifically with the ones who flirted with you. So you made it your mission to finally get Zach to break.

Zach looks up at Tara from his phone, “You know, it’s funny. I seen someone the other day doing something and I think it’s perfect for you, too.”

“What?” Tara asks as she laughs, “Shutting up?”

“Minding your own business.” He sets his phone down next to him and sighs as Jared cuts off anyone from continuing that, “So Marx, What got you into music?”

Marx shrugs as he thinks for a moment, “From as long as I can remember, I was always doing something to make some sort of beat. Whether it was pencils or my fingers tapping on the table, I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“So you probably got in trouble all the time in school, right? With all the tapping” Alyssa asks, and Marx nods with a laugh, “Yeah, it got so bad that my mom and teachers had to check my backpack for extra pencils. I was allowed one.”

“When was this?” Tara asks and Marx sighs, “Elementary school.”

Your jaw drops and you start to laugh which catches Zach’s attention straight away, “They basically pat searched you everyday you went in? In elementary school?!”

Everyone but Zach laughs again and he just looks from you to Marx, “So what you’re saying is, you can thank a pencil and your early start to a criminal record for your music career.”

Zach’s judgmental tone causes Marx to just look at him slightly confused, but Tara break it by laughing, “Ignore him. He’s always like this.”

Marx laughs, looking back at Zach, “I mean, yeah. The number two pencil was, technically, my first drumstick. Plus, the girls love a good backstory.”

Marx sends a wink towards Zach before turning to look at you and that just sends Zach into progressively acting worse.

Usually, you’d scold Zach like a mom, tell him to be nice to the guests, but ever since you came to terms with your feelings for him, It became amusing.

Also, hot. Mainly because Zach was being an asshole in your honor.

Tara, with being the one who told you, is rooting for you and Zach to finally get together, but she respects your wishes as to having him tell you, but she made no promises to not try and help in, sometimes, not so subtle ways.

“So, Marx. You’re from Jew Jersey, right?” Tara asks as she tilts her head, eyes moving to you and you knew exactly what she’s doing.

Marx nods, “Yes, ma’am. Princeton.” You look at him, “No, way. I’m from Short hills.” Marx looks over at you, “Small world, huh?”

“Didn’t you move to Colorado when you were like, eleven?” Zach asks and you look over at him, a smile resting on your lips, “Yeah, but we went back and visited and I still do today.”

It was like you contradicted his statement on proving the he knew you better, which in reality, Zach did know you pretty well.

“Well, clearly not today.” Zach raises his brows and you roll your eyes, “Yes, clearly not today.” You look back at Marx who hasn’t stopped staring at you, “What?”

He shakes his eyes, “I’m just trying to remember if I’ve seen your face around, I’m sure if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to forget it.”

You purse your lips, smirking as you nod your head, “That was smooth.”

“That was.. oh gosh, I’m turning red for you, y/n. Fuck.” Jared laughs and you look over at him, glancing over at Tara before she smirks.

You look back at Zach and he tilts his head, “Alright, moving on. Alyssa. Next segment.” He motions with his hand and she tilts her head.

You scoff, “Zach, you can at least say please.”

You smirk at him when he looks over at you and he huffs before giving Alyssa a very nice and soft spoken, “Please.”

Alyssa looks over at you and she smirks, “So I actually have here a snippet of Marx’s new song that he’s working on. I don’t know if you-“

“Play that shit!” Tara yells, “I’ve been waiting to hear this.”

Marx chuckles, “I only put what I could on because the person we have on it, decided it’s better if it’s a surprise.”

Alyssa nods as she clicks play, and you all listen to the snippet of his song, quickly getting applause as soon as it’s over.

“Just from what I’ve heard, that’s going to be a hit.” Jared says with a nod, “I just.. I want to know who is on it with you.”

“I will not confirm nor deny.” Marx shrugs and Tara groans, “That’s sounds like.. no..” she sighs, “Can you give us a hint at least?”

“She is phenomenal to work with.”

As you all look around, trying to think of who it could be, Zach clears his throat, “Your music is surprisingly good.”

“I didn’t really think you were one to listen to my music.” Marx laughs and Zach nods his head, “You thought right on that one, buddy.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he listens to your stuff.” Tara laughs and Zach forces a laugh, quickly going serious, “Are we still on this topic or can we-“

You gasp, kind of cutting Zach off on purpose, “Oh fuck. If it’s who I think it is..” You tilt your head and Marx chuckles as he shrugs, “Who do you think?”

You move one of your headphones off so you can judge how loud you’re talking before you lean over. Marx takes his off, bringing a hand up to lay on your arm.

You lean back and pull your lip between your bottom teeth as you judge Marx’s response, which also has Zach’s full attention because he absolutely loved and hated when you did that.

Mainly because he wanted to do it. He wanted to know what pretty sound you made when his teeth are in your place. It made you look all innocent and sweet but he knew what you really were, especially with how you drunk text him.

You tilt your head slightly as you notice Zach zoned out on your, “Hello, earth to Zach.” You wave your hand and he blinks, “Oh right yeah sorry, now are we ready to move through the show?”

“What’s your problem?” Tara asks, “You were literally fine.”

“I’m still fine, last time I checked which was, mm.” He tilts his head, “Right now.”

“You seem a little irritated.” Alyssa adds and Zach looks at her, “Nope. I’m great.”

“Is anyone else having like a Scooby doo moment to where.. you feel like you can cut the tension in this room with a knife and serve it on a plate?” Jared laughs slightly and you look over at him, laughing slightly as you look back at Zach.

His eyes are on you and you lick your lips, “Let’s just.. take five. Yeah?” You look around, “Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah, because I need to talk to you.” Tara stands up, setting down her headphones and you’re pulled away as she walks by you, “And you.” She grabs Zach by the hood of his sweatshirt and pulls you both out into the hallway like children.

“Good lord.” Zach stands up and fixes his hood, “What the hell, Tara?”

“What the hell, Tara? I should be saying what the hell, Zach. What the fuck are you doing?” Tara says in a loud whisper as she taps the back of her fingers into her other palm, “Seriously, Zach. She’s right here.” Tara pushes you into Zach and his arm goes around you.

“And you like her.” Tara points to each of you with her words, “And you, like him. Right?”

You both nod, agreeing in unison, “Yeah..”

“So there you go!” Tara laughs, “Just be together. Happiness is not that fucking difficult!” She sighs frantically, “Oh, my god, you’re stupid.” She points to Zach and then to you, “You’re just fucking stubborn as hell.”

“Says you.” You tilt your head, waiting for her to speak, and you copy what she says at the same time, “I am not fucking stubborn.”

She laughs, “Kay, I’m going now. Continue to take five. Come back when the tension is cut.” She moves her thumb over her neck and walks back into the studio.

Zach turns you towards him, his hands sliding over your waist, “So you like me?”

“So..” you look up at him, “You like me.”

He purses his lips and nods, “Yeah, yeah I do.” His eyes bounce from your lips to your eyes and you smile, “just kiss me you jealous asshole.”

He furrows his brows, pretending that he actually isn’t and smirks before leaning in. His hands tighten on your waist as soon as your hands slide up his chest to his neck, closing the space between you with your lips on his.

You so badly want to deepen the kiss but you know you won’t be able to just go for five minutes, so you pull away, “Let’s go and finish the show.”

“What? Why?” He whines holding onto your hips, “They can just-“ He stops when you sees you giving him a look, “Fine.”

He sighs over dramatically as he rests his forehead against yours, “please? For the love of all things considered, please tell me you don’t have plans tonight.”

You purse your lips, “Oh shit, I do.”

He lifts his head and you grab his face, “With you, silly.” You give him a kiss and step back, “Sooner we get back, sooner we’re done.” You bite your lip and raise your brows and he wraps an arm around your waist, “You’re so logical.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you walk back in, “Alright let’s get this party, re-started.” He claps and sits down as you walk back over to your seat.

You give Tara a smirk and she smiles, giving you a wink.

The rest of the show went a lot better than the first half, but you were happy to be done.

You walk up to Alyssa, placing your hands on the desk as you lean down over her computer, “Oh yes. I like that! Thank you for picking a good picture of me.”

She smirks, looking up at you, “Zach picked it.”

You feel hands on your waist as you smile, “Of course he did.” You look over your shoulder and Zach leans in, “He who did what, of course?”

“You, picking a picture to put on the thumbnail.”

“That’s my favorite picture of you. I mean, have you seen that smile?” Zach tilts his head, “Because you’d love it, too.”

You look at Alyssa and she furrows her brows, “Who are you and what have you done with Zach?”

Zach mocks her and she sighs, “There he is.”

You laugh and turn towards Tara as she walks up with Jared and Marx, “Thanks for having me on today.” Marx reaches out to shake Zach’s hand, “Also, these girls told me I had to be flirty with y/n. So I hope you don’t hate me.”

Zach looks around at you, Tara, and Alyssa, “Why am I not surprised.”

“Listen. I was sick of seeing you mope around about her. If you would have just manned up.” Tara shoots at Zach, “It would have never had to come to this.”

Marx leans in, “Plus, She makes you look good.”

“You’re not telling me something I don’t already know.” Zach shrugs and pulls you into his side. As Marx talks with Alyssa, you look up at Zach and he looks down at you, both of you thinking the same thing.

“We can take our five minutes now.” You smirk, gently pulling on his sweatshirt and he nods, “You read my mind.” He looks up, noticing everyone is engaged in conversation, “Come on.”

He slides his hand into yours and leads you out and up the steps, looking back at you as you reach the top. He turns, pulling you into his body as his lips meet yours.

His arms wrap around your body, mumbling against your lips, “Jump.” You comply, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms slide around his neck.

Your lips stay on his as he blindly closes the door and presses your back against it. He leans back, eyes moving over your face, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smile, lacing your fingers through his hair to pull him back in for a kiss. You let out a small moan as his teeth sink into your lip and Zach groans, “You sound so pretty.”

He pulls you away from the door, walking over to his bed so he can lay you down, his body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck.

“Zach.” You whimper out, gasping as you feel his nip your skin, “P-please.” You slide your hands up, cupping his cheeks to turn his head, which leads into a heated make out.

Your tongues move together, fighting for dominance, to which you surrender, allowing him to take full control.

You moan, digging your nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt. He leans back, taking it and his shirt off all in one motion, and you take the opportunity to discard your own top and bra.

His eyes fixate on your chest before he looks up at you, “Don’t stop there, sweetheart. Keep going.”

He smirks as his hands move to his belt, undoing it slowly as he watches you shimmy out of your pants and panties. His jeans and boxers are tossed to the floor before his body is on yours.

You gasp out and look up at him, your hand grips his bicep harder and you whimper out as he continues sliding in.

“You okay, baby?” Zach’s voice is low in your ear and you nod, looking up at him. He watches as your lips part and your brows furrow as your face scrunches up in pleasure, “Feels good, huh?”

You nod, lips forming an o shape as he starts to thrusts slowly. He groans deeply in your ear, “You feel so good. You’re so wet, I love it.”

You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck, “It’s so hot when you’re a jealous asshole.” You smirk, looking up at him and he scoffs, rolling his hips into you slowly which causes you to roll your eyes back and moan out.

“What’s mine is mine.” Zach whispers, “And I don’t like sharing.”

You moan at his words, digging your nails into shoulders, “All yours.”

“Say it again.”

“All yours.” You moan out, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He reaches down between you so his fingers can press against your clit, “Do it. Cum for me, sweetheart.” His lips attack your neck, sucking and pulling at your skin, “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You buck your hips, moaning out as your back arches off the bed, “S-shit, shit. Yesyesyes.” Your legs tense, body twisting as you enter your high, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it, baby.” Zach breathes out, sliding his hand up to interlock with yours. He does the same with the other, pinning them down by your head as his thrusts pick up speed.

He groans loudly, bending down to peck your cheek with open lipped kisses. You squeeze his hands, moaning out, “Flip. Flip.”

He sits up, rolling over into his back and you instantly straddle him, bouncing up and down on his cock and he groans as his hands slide up your thighs, “You look even better on top of me.”

He raises his brows quickly and you smirk, pressing your hands onto his chest as you lean forward to give yourself more leverage to move your hips faster.

“Shit.” He lets his head fall back before looking up at at you and gripping your hips tight as he bucks his upward.

You moan out loudly, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck, “Fuck. Zach.” You whimper, “D-don’t stop.”

His grip on your hips grows surprisingly harder at your words before his right hand slides up to press into the center of your back, “Love it when you cum around me.”

You melt into him, allowing him to bring you into yet another orgasm. All you can do is moan.

He rolls you back over, kissing up your neck as you feel his thrusts slow down. He pulls out to spill his cum onto your pelvis and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling.

His lays next to you, his arm laying over your chest, “I’ll get you a towel in a second.”

You nod, “You’re fine, babe.” You laugh slightly, “I need a second, too anyway.”

“Aw, did I wear you out already?” Zach laughs as he gets up to grab you a towel and you watch him as he walks over, “No. I just needed a second because as soon as I wipe off..”

You drag the towel over Zach’s mess on your skin and toss it to the floor before reaching up to grab him, “We’re going for round two.”

——

Thank you so much for reading! I truly love an appreciate all of you. See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Zach justice #zach justice x reader #Zach justice smut #zach justice fanfiction #zach justice fanfic #zach justice x y/n #zach justice dropouts #Zach justice x reader smut #smut Zach justice #smut oneshot #dirty Zach justice one shot

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the-raindeer-king · 3 months

Text

Monster au (no content warning. Gn reader, use of y/n, reader is a medium)

The two of them always show up late in the evening, far after the sun has set. It's easy to clock which one of them is a vampire, especially since you've never really seen him eat anything. He'll order something, sure. But the food always gets packed away in a to-go box that Johnny takes.

You learn through Johnny that the other man's name is Simon. Oddly normal name for a vampire, you think. But maybe he hasn't been around long. You don't bother asking, it seems rude too.

But that's the routine. Johnny and Simon come in late, sit in your section, and have dinner. Sometimes you take your break with them. It doesn't feel like you're forcing yourself into their little group. Hell, Johnny's your roommate. But sometimes, the way Simon stares at you makes butterflies erupt in your tummy and heats your cheeks.

You're pleasantly surprised when Simon comes in with someone else tonight. It's not a complete shock; Johnny's preoccupied with the full moon. But you've never seen them come in with anyone else, and you've certainly never seen this man before.

You head over to his table with a smile, already pulling your pen out of your apron pocket. “Hey, Si. You're here early,” you comment. A technical truth. The sun had set only thirty minutes ago; the sky still aglow with the remains of the day.

“Soap said you don't work late tonight,” he replies.

Another truth. One of the new girls took your typical shift, meaning you'd have been long gone by the time Simon normally comes in.

“Couldn't lose your favorite server,” you joke, noting the way his eyes crinkle, a sign he's smiling under his medical mask.

You turn to his friend, an apologetic smile on your face. “Where are my manners? I'm Y/N. I'll be your server tonight.”

Both men stare at you, different looks on their faces. Simon's eyebrows are furrowed together, confusion dancing across his eyes. The other man, dark hair and even darker eyes, stares at you in shock, mouth agape.

“Love, who are you talking to?” Simon asks carefully, his honeyed eyes darting between you and the other man.

“Your friend,” you answer, reality already settling heavy in your chest. You've gotten pretty good at telling the difference between the living and the dead, and haven't had a slip up in awhile. Only to ruin it all in front of the man you've been trying to impress.

“I, uh, I mean… let me get you some water,” you awkwardly fumble out, turning and practically running away.

You fumble around in the kitchen for fifteen minutes, hoping maybe he'll just leave. But that's the thing with the undead: they've got endless patience. Simon's practically glaring holes into the other side of the booth, as you return with a glass of ice water.

“Sit.”

It's not a question, and you know better than to argue. The other man scoots over, and you sit beside him. Subconsciously, you wrap your hands around the glass of the cup, the cold grounding you to the present situation.

The man moves his hand slowly, mouthing something as he does. It takes you a second to realize that he’s using sign language, that either he didn’t speak during life or his death removed the ability to. You don’t ask, just appreciate that he’s signing slowly so you can keep up.

“Your nickname was Roach?” you ask, outloud, missing the way Simon’s posture changes at the statement.

The man explains that his name is Gary, but Simon knows him as Roach. They were in the military together, before Simon got turned. This is news to you, as you had only gathered bits and pieces of Simon’s life from the things Johnny and him had dropped during casual conversation. Which, in all honesty, wasn’t a lot of information.

Finally, you turn to look at Simon, who stares like he’s seen a ghost (pun not intended). He stares intensely at the spot where Gary sits, like if he stares hard enough he’ll be able to see him. After a moment, he turns his dark eyes on you, frowning.

“So, you can see the dead?” he asks.

“I prefer the term medium, but yes, I can see the dead,” you agree. “Can hear them too, sometimes. It depends on the spirit.”

Simon sighs, leaning back in the booth. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to go off on you. For a man, literally and metaphorically, surrounded by the ghosts of his past, he’s equally impressed as he is pissed that you didn’t say anything sooner. But, for now, he needs to know what Roach wants. The man deserves peace, after everything they went through together.

“Okay, so what does he want?”

“What?”

“Sanderson. What does he want?”

Now, it’s your turn to stare in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Simon grumbles under his breath for a moment. “Don’t ghosts usually linger when they’ve got unfinished business, or whatever? So, if he’s still hanging around, then what’s the issue? Why hasn’t he passed on yet?”

“Oh, uh…” you reply, glancing over at Gary, who shrugs in response.

You learned pretty early on that, in some cases, the deceased just can’t move on. Sometimes it’s because they need help moving on, a burial in the wrong spot, missing important items, ect. Tangible things that they have no power in controlling. But, sometimes, it’s because they’re stuck in eternal limbo, better known as purgatory, condemned to wander the earth forever. But you’ve got a feeling that telling Simon this isn’t going to end well, so you keep it to yourself for now.

“He, uh, he doesn’t know,” you tell Simon, who looks like he might blow a gasket.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley x reader #if i decide to continue this there will be elements of ghost x roach #simon is a vampire. roach is a ghost. soap is a werewolf.#*drops this with little to no explanation and runs*#my writing #monster au

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batsplat · 5 months

Note

hiiii <3 i just saw your casey race recs post and i was wondering if you had one with dovi or marc races too! i'm relative new to motogp and i don't know where to start watching!

thankk youuuu, i love your blog, i'm learning so much thanks to you 😭😭 also you're really funny 🫶

right, this one admittedly was trickier than the casey list. marc in particular has accumulated one hell of a body of work... not easy to do justice to. marc's won a lot, but his most enjoyable races aren't the ones where he gaps the field by about two minutes at cota. it's the ones where he's scrapping and brawling his way through and the whole thing is a bit of a mess. and there's a lot of races to choose from in that regard, against a whole host of different rivals

which is very nice for him, but that makes it impossible to do anything comparably comprehensive for marc without getting to a slightly ridiculous length. luckily, that's never stopped me before, and long is what you're getting. you asked about dovi so I'm gonna go with him first, because that's a somewhat easier to tackle body of work - and limit myself to a mere ten twenty five seven eight recs. then I'll get to marc, where I've limited myself to an extremely reasonable thirty three five races, not including any I already covered in the dovi section. if you're looking for something a little more specific, like idk wet weather or feuding or whatnot, lemme know

same warning as before: plenty of race results will be spoiled in the description. in honour of how worryingly long this list is, I've escalated to a three asterisk system: * means 'go check it out', ** means 'personal favourite', *** means 'classic race'

dovi

spoiler free top ten list: welkom 2004, turkey 2007, sepang 2008, silverstone 2010, mugello 2012, mugello 2017, austria 2017, sepang 2017, brno 2018, qatar 2019

*welkom 2004: dovi's first grand prix win. most of this race consists of a three-way battle between locatelli, dovi and casey (who eventually drops away a bit) at the circuit that kicks off dovi's 125cc title-winning season. the second half of this race is more exciting than the first, and you'll never guess how dovi wins a grand prix for the very first time. let's just say he wasn't leading going into the last corner and leave it at that

**turkey 2007: andrea dovizioso once again getting himself involved in a last lap battle? SURELY not. this race is so so much fun, though after the start it settles down for a bit - stick with it, because when it gets going, it really gets going. these kids are vicious with each other! half the joy of watching these old 250cc/125cc (or equivalent) races is hearing the stuff the commentators chat about, basically getting all the good gossip of the time... like say jorge telling the spanish press they shouldn't believe half the things he says about his rivals... or how he'd already been visibly pissed off after qualifying because he was starting from p2 rather than pole... also the kind of podium both me and the commies always massively enjoy, aka one where two people on it basically refuse to acknowledge each other. the vibes between jorge and dovi are NOT good here and it's a lot of fun to watch these children being so pissy with each other

^one of his favourite career victories against his main rival in 250cc, the defending champion jorge lorenzo, who was sporting the number one plate on a superior bike to dovi's honda machinery. more often than not over the course of their time in the sport, these two have not gotten on well at all. it remains one of the sport's defining tragedies that chupa chups did not sponsor jorge throughout his career

qatar 2008: his debut in motogp and a strong race. pleasingly he gets involved in a last lap fight, and does pick off one of the aliens

*sepang 2008: dovi's first premier class podium and an extremely deserving one that really showcased his abilities as a defensive rider, the latest of late brakers etc etc. fought with valentino, then led a train of four/five riders at one point, then was involved in a great late scuffle for third place that lasted until the very end

donington park 2009: first motogp win! has to be said the aliens... uh. none of them delivered their most dignified performances. but ignore those clowns - dovi's of course cemented his reputation as a highly skilled wet weather racer over the years, but this was his first time in the spotlight in the premier class. it would take him seven more years to acquire his next victory

*qatar 2010: a somewhat stronger season than his disappointing 2009 campaign, and the first race was certainly promising. dovi scraps with vale, scraps with nicky hayden, scraps with lorenzo... the racing is pretty decent too. includes the strange sight of seeing the ducati out-powered in a straight line down the lusail straight and I'm sorry but at that point ducati might as well have called it a season, like that was their ONE thing. anyway, dovi still rode well to take advantage of it

*silverstone 2010: once jorge hits the front following some initial resistance from dani, the fight for the win is basically over - but what's going on behind him is good enough to make up for it. bunch of different duels going on in the top seven, whether it's dovi and de puniet, hayden and pedrosa, spies and sic, and eventually casey shows up to join in on the fun too. another one where a bunch of riders are pleasingly close together and there's some real suspense about the final order late on (though the most dramatic action in the last lap is happening right behind dovi - not that you see most of it given the classic tv direction sin of instead giving us a nice prolonged shot of jorge doing a wheelie over the line and his crew celebrating. cheers guys). nice comeback ride for casey-enjoyers too (he wasn't enjoying it)

**sepang 2010: lot going on in this race. three-way fight for the win. valentino is eleventh after a few corners. he does not end the race in eleventh place. this is a good race both for dovi enjoyers and for enjoyers of the... uh. complicated vale/jorge dynamic (this race immediately followed motegi, a notable low point of their relationship). lovely little spite ride, for people who like that kind of thing. love the way it gradually builds up as valentino closes and closes and dovi is just sitting on jorge's rear wheel, and then it just nicely lights up around half distance. me and the commentators are once again having a great time. it is here that jorge seals the title, so it's all post-race smiles with just a hint of posturing

silverstone 2011: casey won this by several light years, but dovi demonstrated his pedigree as a wet racer once again. his race involved intense skirmishes first with jorge and then with sic, and it's fair to say he got the better of both of them

^two excellent wet weather racers and teammates for a single year in a three person repsol honda squad. when dovi was informed he would be let go by the factory team, he decided against accepting a demotion within honda and instead made the jump to yamaha's tech 3 satellite outfit for one year. this was the first time he raced outside of honda in his grand prix racing career. then, in 2013, valentino's return to yamaha made space within ducati. he was always going to have to be vale's replacement rather than his teammate - in 2011 while searching for a ride he said "I would never accept to be teamed up with valentino rossi. it would be pure masochism. there is no room for anybody at his side, he takes it from you and he takes it all. when rossi is ready to share the limelight it will be the end of his racing days". fittingly, dovi was valentino's last ever teammate in motogp

mugello 2011: this feels like one of those classic alien era races where the winner of the race is determined after about a lap. but... it's not! makes for an unexpectedly exciting race and also *ding* last lap overtake

*valencia 2011: this one should have gone on the casey list too, knew I'd missed some. anyhow, on dovi - a lot of dovi's best races during those years came in the wet. but this time he was already engaged in a nice little scrap with dani and ben spies before the rain came. the clash also had real stakes for dovi and dani's final championship positions, a point of personal pride given that dovi had been let go by honda and pedrosa had been retained. a race that accidentally gets exciting again at the end, quite the dramatic finish. this was an emotional podium at the first race after sic's death. dovi and sic had grown up racing each other - and while he stressed that they had never been friends, dovi went to sic's house two days after the crash to see his family and share his grief with them

assen 2012: another one that probably could have gone on my casey list too, actually, with the fight for the win between dani and casey lasting pretty far into the race. behind them, it's dovi putting pressure on spies, lying in wait to make the attack... and, thrilled to say, we do in fact have some last lap overtaking. we don't really get to see how this contest is resolved because the audience needs to see the race winner coast for half a lap, but nevertheless! this one also has extra significance because spies was a factory yamaha rider and dovi was with the satellite team. always a good idea to get your market value up during contract negotiation season

*mugello 2012: would put this on my casey list if I'd included some disaster rides, which this is for him. that bit of the season where he made some high profile errors and controversial passing attempts of his own (and there was an overtake he did apologise for post-race) (this is the last casey mention I promise). anyway, never mind him. this is another one of those alien era races where the winner pretty quickly checks out by a margin of around ninety nine years, and indeed is already waving to the crowd on the last lap. the racing behind him is not too bad though, dovi is involved in a long duel with bradl that hayden eventually joins, and casey isn't the only guy executing controversial passes

assen 2014: ducati was in a pretty sorry state in 2013 and it's still in a pretty sorry state in 2014. another wet race podium, very strong race from dovi where he does manage to stick with marc for a while there. lower down the order, valentino is executing a rather nifty comeback ride after making an erroneous tyre choice

**qatar 2015: a great race and one that nicely sets the tone for what some consider a fairly interesting season. marc goes wide in the first turn and jorge has some kind of visor issues, so we end up with the two ducatis and valentino having it out for the win

^valentino after qatar 2015 about the current era of racing. at the start of the season, it looked like the ducatis would be right in the mix - surely one of the two factory riders would be able to snag a victory sooner or later. it was not to be that year and the results for the rest of the season were largely disappointing, but ducati had clearly made a step forward

sepang 2016: dovi's 2015-16 must have been maddening. three consecutive p2's to start 2015 but drops off from there. rumours at the start of 2016 that jorge's sick of yamaha and speculation is ripe about who in ducati might be sent packing for him. it looks like dovi might well be headed for the door, except iannone did something extremely damaging to his case early that season - dovi was the safe pair of hands, not the guy ducati put their hopes in. they're handing out wins to anyone who rocks up that year and indeed dovi's soon-to-be-former teammate gets ducati's first victory in about a million miserable post-casey years. plenty of talk about who'll win next and marc and vale both point to dovi, but it's just not happening. sepang is the penultimate round of the season and by this point, at least a little order has been restored again - which is when dovi finally gets his win in the wet. still bonkers to think he had two premier class wins pre-2017 both in the wet and then he's runner-up three consecutive years, very gibernau of him. he earned it too, a long scrap in the race with valentino until vale's tyres went kaput

*mugello 2017: dovi begins his transformation into a genuine title threat here. it looked like lorenzo would lead the ducati charge as he had been hired to do at ducati's home circuit in mugello, a circuit he had always been strong at. in the early stages of the race, jorge fought valentino (fresh from his first motocross accident of the season and expected to struggle late in the race) for the lead. dovi had missed warm-up as he was suffering from food poisoning, but, as would happen repeatedly that season, jorge quickly slipped back down the order - and in the end it was dovi who took the fight to the yamahas. a home victory, his first dry win, and all while not at his best physically... no wonder it was one of dovi's favourite career wins

^the moment dovi replaced maverick vinales as marc's biggest threat that season

catalunya 2017: it took dovi seven years to win two races and a week to win his next two. this was the moment when yamaha really started falling apart and confirmed the looming realignment of the competitive landscape. it all came back to the tyres - as it often did in those years, but it was particularly extreme in the sweltering heat. winning a race with your tyre preservation skills on a bike that allows you to preserve those tyres doesn't make for the most thrilling of races, but hey, job well done. his teammate finished fourth, almost ten seconds back after leading on the first lap

***austria 2017: one of the classic marc/dovi duels. the best races between the two of them (unsurprisingly) tended to be at tracks that quite heavily favoured ducati - and austria was already establishing itself as a prime ducati hunting ground. which meant that marc was pretty happy to even find himself that high up in the order and doing damage limitation in terms of the points swing in the championship fight. does that mean he plays it safe while trying to snatch the win from dovi? not even going to bother to answer that question

*motegi 2017: another in the marc/dovi collection and one that reaffirmed dovi's status as a worthy challenger to marc. a dramatic last lap in treacherous conditions that goes down right to the very last corner

**sepang 2017: such an impressive win. the title was on the line... or rather, dovi knew that he basically had to win to even still give himself a chance. he was not helped out one bit by his teammate in this regard, but rode a fantastic race in the wet to eventually force the title decider (left field choice but this dovi win is the one that most impressed me, fully thought the title would be wrapped up here especially after a poor race in phillip island)

valencia 2017: has to go on here as it's the one title decider dovi has gotten himself involved in. marc had a comfortable 21 point margin, which meant that for dovi to win the title marc would've had to finish... uh p12 or lower I believe, and dovi would've had to win the race. straightforward for marc, right? well, title deciders have a tendency to get a bit weird and nervy, just because of the stakes involved... and you can tell from how marc's riding. this race is also really dull until about ten laps to go... thing about valencia is that even when it's looking like an overtake is coming it's basically guaranteed that it won't be. the funniest part of the race is jorge ignoring team orders to a ridiculously blatant extent and ducati attempting to psychically murder him

^dovi always knew the odds were against him going into valencia. this is the moment his title bid ends, ironically just after he'd finally been freed of lorenzo

*qatar 2018: dovi would never come as close to the title again as he did in 2017, but at the start of 2018 at least it looked like he could be a serious challenger once again. this is a great race, another last lap battle... trying not to get repetitive so here, have some of my race notes to change things up:

**brno 2018: for a while, this looks like we're building up for a nice little four-way fray between dovi, vale, marc and jorge (feat. crutchlow). dovi does what he always does when he's leading and goes at the slowest possible pace, and everybody else does what they always did in those years and lies in wait, while occasionally reshuffling the order at the front in the name of whimsy. and then the yamaha does what it always does and somehow burns out its tyres anyway even though they're crawling around the circuit. anyhow, once valentino has done his scheduled backwards slide and jorge has rejoined the fray, it shapes up as a nice little three-way fray between dovi, marc and jorge. appreciating dovi races is all about getting really into the idea of tyre preservation and knowing the last laps will probably be fun. extra little spice because by this point the jorge/dovi dynamic is... not great :)) and we get an appropriately feisty duel between those two in particular

^after his win at the season opener in qatar, dovi had struggled to continue the momentum from the previous season. he went into the race fourth in the standings behind marc, vale and maverick, already 77 points down on marc - and his teammate had recently won back-to-back races. an important win and the rest of his season was a lot stronger. and of course, he had the joy of beating jorge, a relationship that managed to deteriorate even further over the course of that year

*thailand 2018: minus the yamahas providing an early and a late cameo, this one's all about another marc and dovi duel. a lot of stalking and lurking and then marc makes his move with four laps to go. excellent last few laps with overtakes galore, including of course at the very last corner

**qatar 2019: perhaps the archetypal dovi race. runs a very slow pace at the front to just carefully manage the pace, which leads to a nicely bunched up field that keeps sniping at each other. the top three for much of the race of marc, dovi and rinsy switch around plenty of times. there's one moment where dovi just like. ups the pace simply to test if he can drop everyone and then fully drops it by a second the next lap when he can't. pretty funny in how blatant it was. also, don't want to shock you here but we do indeed have another last lap battle. top five at the end covered by .6 seconds

*austria 2019: the first lap is WILD and actually manages to delay the inevitable marc/dovi duel. fabio leads for a bit, and then you are reminded of exactly why he hasn't been able to shut up about top speed for the past few years, like man after a while I'd be traumatised too. another fun duel between marc and dovi, which ends with... that's right. a last lap battle. that was kind of what their rivalry was about by 2019, given there wasn't really a title fight any more (certainly not after jorge played bowling in catalunya) - but the races themselves were thrillers, a welcome remedy when marc's dominance was at its most stifling

austria 2020: just as a heads-up - this race includes a terrifying crash when the bikes of zarco and franky morbidelli almost fly straight into valentino and maverick. nobody was seriously injured but they were inches away from a life-threatening accident; it's by the grace of god stuff. the race was stopped and then restarted, which... bit tough to say whether that helped or hurt dovi. probably helped (though I reckon he was always winning this) - in part two mr tyre whisperer is chasing jack miller on soft tyres. what happens next will shock you. deeply odd race... a lot of 2020 races had a surreal vibe - you just have to kinda experience it for yourself. at one point there's a graphic on screen telling you dovi, zarco and stefan bradl are competing for the win. this is not the case

^once more with feeling: dovi's third win at the redbull ring and only win in 2020, just after he'd announced his decision to leave ducati. between injuries, being unable to make the new rear tyre work for him and the growing alienation from ducati, 2020 was not an easy season for dovi. in the end, he was not the one to take advantage of marc's absence, and his time as a top-level rider ended when him and ducati parted ways

marc

spoiler free top ten list: cota 2013, assen 2015, phillip island 2015, mugello 2016, misano 2017, phillip island 2017, argentina 2018, assen 2018, silverstone 2019, sachsenring 2021

mugello 2010: first grand prix win! once marc has worked his way through the field this develops into a tight four-way scuffle that continues until the very end, with marc winning by .039s

estoril 2010: absolute chaos race and also the penultimate race of the season with a tight and tense championship situation. marc does well to move up the order until the rain comes and the race is paused... and then my man bins it on the sighting lap. anyway who needs more than half a bike to win a race. one hell of a comeback ride with a nicely dramatic ending

phillip island 2011: marc had to start this race from the back of the grid as a result of a one minute time penalty. early in one of the practise sessions that weekend, he had crashed and had been forced to wait in the pits while the bike was repaired, but was then sent out with only a minute to go. he tried to get in a hot lap after the chequered flag was out, and barrelled into the back of another rider who was slowing down after a practise start. the other rider went to the hospital, though was not seriously injured, and marc ended up with only a cut - but both parties were very lucky to escape relatively unscathed and he was heavily criticised for it. he himself did not agree with the penalty, and his team lodged an unsuccessful appeal. this was also a big race in that year's championship fight (that marc eventually could not see out after his crash in sepang), presenting a huge opportunity for title rival bradl to gain a decisive points advantage. a very impressive comeback ride, as well as a good contest for the win

**qatar 2012: love a race that's a mess. the season opener, and also marc's first race back after the horror crash in sepang the previous year that had given him career-threatening diplopia. marc spends a fair portion of the race battling with iannone, one of his main rivals that year, and if I personally had to fight both baby marc and baby iannone I would simply leave. another bloke is so furious at marc he slaps his arm on the cooldown lap, which was in response to a very controversial pass down the straight where marc kinda ran him off track. both were reprimanded by race direction. the finish is ridiculously close. go watch it

^the cooldown lap slap - marc was involved in several controversies that year. at the end of the year, the fim updated its rulebook, widely seen as a response to marquez-related incidents and the controversial handling of them, and introduced the penalty point system. ironically, it was that system that resulted in valentino's back-of-the-grid penalty in valencia 2015. in early 2017, the penalty points were once again scrapped

motegi 2012: another comeback ride - this time, marc stalls at the start. does his thing and eventually has a late scrap with his main title rival pol espargaro for the win. good fun

valencia 2012: 'oh you can't overtake at valencia' 'oh all the races are boring' 'oh could they please kick it off the calendar come on we deserve a better race to end the season' is what only an idiot would say. marc's last moto2 race starts from p33 after being penalised for a practise collision. spectacular comeback rides are a funny calling card to have for the statistically strongest qualifier in motorcycling grand prix history, but reflects how much of a trouble magnet he was - especially in those days. he might not have a great reputation in the premier class, but he did calm down in 2013, relatively speaking. or, well, he certainly did things it was harder to penalise him for

*qatar 2013: marc's first premier class race. jorge basically fucks off at the front from the word go, but it's an exciting battle behind him - that of course eventually involves valentino, who as ever had worked his way through the pack from further down the grid. first race first podium simple as

*cota 2013: this was always going to go on the list given that it's marc's first premier class win. the race itself is fine, not the most exciting entry on this list, but still! obviously worth a watch

**jerez 2013: icl I feel like this race really benefits from watching jerez 2005 first. not only because 2005 is the better race, but because I think you need to picture twelve year old marc marquez watching this race and thinking it was just like. the coolest shit ever. the patriotism left his body that day. I will not talk about the 2005 race here, but to be clear I am with twelve year old marc marquez on this one. anyway, back to 2013: the race is decent, the infamous copycat overtake is great but arguably the parc fermé and podium vibes are even better. not only was he shameless, but he was shameless in a way he knew echoed his hero beat for beat. baby's first premier class controversy

^the infamous finger wag. marc tries to approach him again during the podium celebrations, but seems unbothered when he is rebuffed. jorge made clear throughout that season he thought marc should be penalised, repeatedly bringing up when jorge himself was given a one race ban and how it had taught him a lesson about responsible riding (some of his rivals in 250cc and premier class rookie season might have some thoughts on that). his criticisms continued well into the season, with tensions rising again after marc's overtake on dani in aragon led to dani crashing

**laguna seca 2013: can't leave this out. important to stress moto2/125cc never went there, so it was his first time at just this notoriously tricky track that was known to be incredibly hard to conquer (here is a clip of vale and marc talking about this in the sachsenring presser). I wouldn't say the race itself is all that great once marc does his thing at the corkscrew, but laguna's quite high up there on tracks you can mostly just enjoy watching bikes go around. big moment in the championship fight because it's when marc is racking up the points at the expense of the injured lorenzo/pedrosa

^2008: valentino stops during his victory lap to kiss the corkscrew where he overtook casey // 2013: marc gets his photo taken at the corkscrew a few days before he will overtake valentino there

*silverstone 2013: a jorge/marc contest for the victory with a dramatic ending, one of the best races that year. marc had dislocated his left collarbone in that morning's warm up, so there was added tension in whether he could hold up physically across a race stint - at a time when jorge (and dani) desperately needed to make up points. interesting continuation of the lorenzo/marquez arc that season in that jorge was a little more willing to match marc's aggression, whatever the problems he had with it

valencia 2013: not bad as valencia races go, actually. which is literally only because it's a title decider and the points situation is exciting, but well credit where it's due. proper tussle between the top three - jorge was so aggressive as he attempted to back marc up into the pack that journalists in the presser afterwards were essentially inviting marc to call jorge a hypocrite. obviously has sentimental value as it's where marc's first premier class title was sealed (even if it should have been sealed earlier but hey ho)

*qatar 2014: I found it quite tricky to make a few picks for 2014, because I feel like a lot of the races this year are in the category of 'fun but not all time epics', and it's hard to really choose between a bunch of them in terms of either significance or entertainment value. the first race of a ten race win streak feels as good a place to start as any, and represents the moment when marc really began stamping his authority on the series. in many ways, this race echoed the race of the previous year: jorge leading from the start, valentino charging through the field, marc somewhere in between. except this time jorge crashes and the fight between marc and valentino is for the victory. it lasts until the penultimate lap, and this time it's marc who comes out on top

le mans 2014: marc did try occasionally to keep things interesting. yes he consistently qualified very well, but sometimes he threw in a bad start or an awful first lap for the vibes. in this one, he ran very wide during the first lap (partly helped along by jorge) and ended up back down in tenth. the pace differential is too extreme for good battles but still, some nice overtaking

**catalunya 2014: see above - there's not all that much to separate this from say mugello or silverstone, so the tiebreaker is personal preference. a good, fun scrap that involves all four of marc, vale, jorge and dani at different stages - even if the end result by this point feels almost inevitable. it is here that valentino rather understandably attempts to strangle marc in parc fermé

^still a close contest with seven laps to go. plenty of overtakes, plenty of confusion relating to a yellow flag, and last lap contact

indianapolis 2014: last of the win streak, at a track that was never particularly popular with riders and typically short on good racing. for a while there at the start it looks like this race would deserve to go on the dovi list until valentino just. um. bumps him aside. and lets marc and jorge past both of them. and then lorenzo also bumps dovi aside. sorry dovi, yamaha decided you were not to be involved in this. the next few laps are good fun too, like by this point you can TELL how much both yamaha riders want this. no manners in sight. icl it's mainly the fact that it's closing out the win streak that has made me include it and the first few laps, because once it settles down it... sure does settle down. ignore this list and just pick a win from the 2014 win streak at random - if you enjoy that one, you'd probably enjoy them all

***assen 2015: probably my favourite marquez/rossi battle. really all you can ask from with a race with two protagonists: lasts the whole race, tense, high stakes, two guys who are particularly motivated to beat each other, several overtakes plus a hell of a lot of stalking and studying each other, and last lap controversy. involves cunning, a little bit of ambiguity in the intentions of both parties, some unresolved questions. an appointment with race direction. an awfully tense post-race press conference that the relationship of the protagonists could never quite recover from. the ideal race

***phillip island 2015: one of the best races of all time etc etc, though it may make you feel like somebody is repeatedly stabbing you with the sword of damocles. still, that's entirely to do with what follows, and the race itself is a fantastic four-rider battle with a murdered seagull and a late twist

**sepang 2015: well, obviously! the actual confrontation between marc and valentino is deeply counterproductive in terms of 'guys you're letting lorenzo/pedrosa escape, stop divebombing each other' and well the whole thing is all kinds of tragic. but the racing itself nicely showcased the complete lack of respect between the pair of them and there is something kind of mesmerising about seeing two all time great wheel-to-wheel fighters go at it, no holds barred. plus it's a major part of marc's story. it is what it is

argentina 2016: this probably isn't making a lot of top thirty something lists, but hey, sometimes you just need to watch a kind of stupid race. this race was kind of stupid. it has the dubious honour of being the first in the marc/vale walk of shame 'hey remember when you guys fought here last year' tour, and they do actually get to scrap it out a bit on track again - though that confrontation is defanged from the moment they have to switch bikes. the last corner incident is dumb but also funny. the podium has truly rancid vibes. I had a good time

^nobody else on that podium as much as twitches when marc goes down. blank faces when he jokes about it in the presser. kind of impressive really. same weekend

***mugello 2016: there is a moment when you think this race will end up being an extremely tight contest until the end between the three protagonists of the 2015 fiasco. then something extremely infuriating happens, and it ends up not being that. on the one hand you leave that race feeling a little robbed, on the other hand it did still feature a veryyy dramatic finish between two of the protagonists. excellent race

**catalunya 2016: the first proper post-2015 marc/vale battle, and at valentino's favourite location for enjoyable race-long duels. it's not like... I don't think of that particular category, I'd call it my absolute favourite - but that's a very high bar. no surprise that they both really really wanted to beat each other, and hey interpersonal animosity always adds a fun nice note to the racing

sachsenring 2016: the problem with the sachsenring is that it used to produce banger after banger race until some diminutive bloke called 'marc marquez' fucking ruined it. 2003 2006 2009 2010 2011 are certified classics, as good as it gets really, tight dramatic fights for the victory and podium positions and integral to the narrative arc of their respective seasons. you used to be able to rely on this track to give you a SHOW. but then that twat showed up and... tbh I can't even remember many of his wins there having particularly memorable racing behind him (I did quite like 2018), so maybe it's not only his fault (to be clear it is in large part his fault). anyway the 2016 edition is in that stretch of 2016 where everything just kind of. goes to shit. like they start just letting anyone win. jack miller won in assen that year. anarchy in motogp. it's the michelin tyres, it's the rain, and it's this bit of the season where marc starts running away with the title. this is another very messy race, more rain, and it's one that has convinced me once and for all that marc has actual plot armour at this circuit. there is a moment where you will go 'how does he win this race' and it's the moment where he goes so far off the track he's halfway to austria. watch to find out how he somehow scams another win at the ring. damn him please do it again this year

^come on this is bullshit. if I'm the other guys I'm calling for a ban of the sachsenring until we figure out what the hell is going on. no wonder he was hopeful of winning on the murder honda

**assen 2017: brilliant race. initial four-way tussle between marquez, rossi, zarco and petrucci that includes some early aggression between the usual suspects and then some light rain to further spice things up. right on the very last lap, there are two great scraps going on - one for the win (with a controversial involvement of a backmarker), and the other for the last podium spot against cal crutchlow

**misano 2017: this is a race that very much had the shadow of valentino rossi looming over it, even though he was not in attendance. valentino had gotten himself involved in his second serious motocross crash of the season, both right before italian races, and had this time decided to take himself out of the title hunt rather definitively by breaking his leg. some time after this, marc posts a photo of himself doing motocross - which he has done a lot of over the years, but was interpreted as taunting valentino and got plenty of backlash online. whether this was a contributing factor or not, he received a frosty reception in misano. he crashed during the wet warm up session and was booed by fans as he rode past them on the scooter, prompting him to blow kisses at them. the race occurred at a tense moment during that title fight: marc had suffered a mechanical dnf in the previous race and in doing so had surrendered the championship lead to dovi. he could not afford another dnf at this late stage of the season. which perhaps made it a little surprising just how hard he fought for that win against petrucci in the treacherous wet conditions, the risk he took with his overtake on the very last lap. was it just to get an extra five points and the win, or was it (as the speculation went at the time) about getting revenge on the italian fans? who's to say - but in any case it was one of the defining performances of that year's championship and another example of marc's skill and confidence in the wet

***phillip island 2017: you know the drill - this circuit produces bangers, and this is another all-time great race. marc by this point had a weird and somewhat cursed record at phillip island in the premier class, where he'd a) been disqualified in 2013, b) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2014, c) won in a dramatic last lap in 2015, and d) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2016. so in his first four years, the only year he'd even finished the race, it set off a deeply unfortunate series of events involving marc and allegations of sabotage made by his childhood hero - which maybe goes to show the universe just wanted that particular relationship to be doomed. anyway, 2017!! apparently marc decided he could only finish at that circuit when it involved a dramatic battle between multiple riders. good on him! the racing is brutal, with plenty of contact between the riders, as perhaps you might expect looking at the list of protagonists: marquez, rossi, zarco, vinales, iannone, crutchlow. high stakes too - a decisive points swing in that year's title fight that could have easily gone disastrously wrong for marc. in 2018, marc once again did not finish the race

^a hard-fought race where all participants are more than happy to get physical. one of several races that season that prompts questions about aggressive riding, though this time all the riders are in agreement. after the handshake, marc gestures to the rubber that now stains valentino's leathers. in a year where team orders were a big topic of debate, valentino finished right in front of his teammate - who had still been in mathematical contention for the championship

**argentina 2018: for lovers of hubris and head loss. the full marc marquez experience. off his rocker the entire weekend. got whacked with a massive penalty at the end of the race that made the whole thing quite literally pointless and deserved every second of said penalty. jorge's long-standing mantra of 'just give him a race ban' became part of the discourse again. ended up p18 to valentino's p19, hand in unlovable hand. but apart from that, it was a really great performance!

^complaints at the time obviously centred around how marc was a repeat offender in the recklessness of his riding, and lacking in respect (see too the ever-lurking parallels drawn with the jerez 2011 apology - which was, it has to be said, issued for a considerably less egregious offence). publicly marc was mostly remorseless, accepting more blame in the aleix incident than the valentino one, and saying in an interview a few days later that he wasn't going to change his approach. it's the worst and the best of him - he had no need to barge aside other riders with the sheer raw pace he was able to access. on the phillip island 2003 comparison, see valentino's words about riding angry here. in 2012, marc was asked about whether there were races where he was determined to win at all cost, and he mentioned some examples from that year before adding, "there have been many times when I had to channel my inner rage to win a race"

***assen 2018: excellent race, as memorable as phillip island 2015 or 2017 if your favourite type of race is multi-rider dogfights. involves seven or eight riders in the lead group for large chunks of the race, with the order of those riders chopping and changing with incredible regularity. some pretty ridiculous saves (at least three riders right at the sharp end of the action where you feel that they really should have hit the deck) and a lot of contact, putting on full display just how aggressive riding had gotten during that time. most riders enjoyed the contest, though this time it was dovi's turn to be a dissenting voice. in any case, there were reportedly 99 passes within the lead group and it is rightly remembered as one of that era's finest gems

*austria 2018: marc vs the ducatis, as was tradition at the red bull ring. marc wanted to get payback for the last time they had been in austria, and determinedly got a good start to try and avoid history repeating itself - but he never quite managed to escape his pursuers. this is one of those races where there's a long stretch of it just... building, where it feels like either marc will make the break for it or there'll be a dramatic finale. which can make it ever so slightly annoying when there isn't a dramatic finale, but I am happy to assure you that this race delivers on that count. gets very good with ten laps to go

^plenty of close battles, but in those years nobody could match marc for week-to-week consistency. the closest by that metric in 2018 was valentino - but typically a few positions further down the order, hindered both by competitive decline and an increasingly horrendous yamaha. as for jorge, he found his form on the desmodici just as the ducati higher-ups lost their patience and kicked him out. he reached some impressive peaks and at last adapted well to the demands of the bike, but his season was eventually marred by injury

***silverstone 2019: quick warning - quite a scary crash on the first lap even by motogp standards. anyway, dramatic last lap battle with alex rins, who I think it's fair to say marc hasn't always had the best of relationships with. while things haven't exactly gone to plan for either rider since then, excluding fabio that was probably the rivalry that I was most excited to see develop post-2019. ah well. the race itself is fantastic though, one of those that just gradually ramps up the tension before the finale. the last two laps are crazyyyyy. top five closest finish in premier class history

^marc and rinsy (not at silverstone but earlier in the season at jerez). some long-standing bad blood here and I'm sure rinsy really would have liked to strangle marc from time to time

**misano 2019: another visit to valentino's home turf in the year time finally caught up with vale. before this race, marc and valentino tussled in qualifying. an odd and deeply unserious incident that had zero actual impact on their already doomed laps, it's notable in part due to how much marc visibly lost his cool over the whole thing. from p5 on the grid he ended up in an enjoyable duel with fabio quartararo for the victory that went down to the very last lap. as the commentators noted, he celebrated more than he has after sealing some of his championships. coming out best in a last lap battle, making sure to keep the edge over fabio, as well as 'winning in enemy territory'? the perfect weekend. as he says in the immediate post-race interview, "honestly speaking, yesterday was the extra motivation, the extra push for the race" and "really nice to win here in italy". you could tell

**thailand 2019: marc attempting to burnish his last lap battle record by breaking children's hearts? sad stuff. cruel and unusual. a lot of fun to watch. it's an understatement to say that fabio's rookie campaign exceeded expectations, and marc quickly identified him as his biggest threat going forwards. this was a match point race for marc and he needed to outscore dovi by two points to seal the title, but he had such an overwhelming lead that he could afford to take more risks than he might have other years - even if the race did follow a massive crash in friday practise that required a hospital check-up. another race that involves a lot of stalking and shadowing and plotting before the action really kicks off (with four laps to go). this race was part of marc's considerable efforts that year to put fabio in his place while he still could. poor fabio

jerez 2020: hurts to include but this list wouldn't really be complete without it. another race that very much encapsulates the full marc marquez experience. truly bonkers pace until it all went horribly wrong

^funniest moment of the race is when valentino does what is surely the closest you can get to a double take on a motorcycle when he sees marc go past. like he sees marc, then clocks who he's seeing and then visibly looks again in a sort of 'HOW is he here'

*sachsenring 2021: thing about marc at the sachsenring is that it undoubtedly got boring in terms of the victory fight for a few years there, but it's also just a fun, tricky track and he's a joy to watch on it. obviously this win is anything but boring, and the margin he pulls on the field never feels as comfortable as it should be. I don't really think I have much to say about this race that hasn't already been said. I cried

^make that eleven in a row at the ring. honorary mentions go to cota and emilia romagna '21, at time of writing his most recent wins. neither are classic races exactly - and indeed, if you're looking for races relevant to the current climate then aragon '21 is a good shout. at emilia romagna (the second race held at the misano circuit that year), pecco crashes out while being pursued by marc, which clinches the title for fabio. it is also the last race on home soil for valentino

**phillip island 2022: one more for good measure. somehow this is his first premier class ride at the circuit where he finished the race but did not win. late on in that year's tense title battle and gives you exactly what you want from a race at phillip island. it's not even a multi-rider dogfight as it is an every-rider dogfight that eventually becomes a multi-rider dogfight at the front of the pack... but if you looked at the run order after about three laps you would NOT be able to guess who the riders involved are, never mind who wins it. absolute chaos. one hell of a contest right until the very end involving one of that year's two primary title contenders - and some other foes old and new. marc's sole podium that year, and his 100th in motogp. second closest top ten in premier class history, not too bad

#race rec tag #batsplat responds #marc marquez #andrea dovizioso #motogp #//#mm93 #ad4 #morale tag #this was very sweet thank u anon #but also took me longer to answer lol and it's an era people here are more familiar with... so lads feel free to add/dissent #this is a complete escalation in length + detail but well. hope this isn't overwhelming #also anon you asked about marc/dovi so that's what i provided but if you are getting into the sport and are looking to watch old races #then i cannot recommend highly enough to also dip your toes in the pre 2007 years. 2004 is where it's all at i'm telling you #you've got banger after banger race you've got momentum shifts you've got narrative tension you've got interpersonal intrigue...#anyways

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7-wonders · 2 years

Text

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between (Morpheus x Reader)

Summary: Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: So! Here we are, with what is arguably the longest oneshot I've ever written. @glitchmeharder had left a comment on a post I made, pointing out that they wanted more fics of Morpheus getting stuck in the Waking World and needing to live with Reader for a little bit.

My mind took this sentence and RAN with it. Like, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I'm pretty pleased with it though, especially for my first Morpheus fic. I hope you're pleased with it too.

(Also, the POV jumps back and forth between Morpheus and Reader, but it alternates every other section and is pretty clear which POV is which)

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

Let me know your thoughts! Likes are appreciated, comments, asks, and reblogs make my world go round! My inbox is always open for you guys :)

*This fic uses she/her pronouns and includes the use of Y/n*

Freedom.

After being held captive for 106 long, painful years, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, is on the precipice of securing his freedom. The younger Burgess’s lover had erased a small part of the runes encircling his glass cage with the wheel of the old man’s wheelchair, sending little more than a sorrowful glance back towards the prisoner. So this was how he would attempt to secure his safety, by breaking the circle of runes surrounding him. Barely a scuff, really, but it’s enough.

It’s enough for Morpheus to feel the faintest bit of his power return to him.

It’s enough that it’s all too easy for him to influence one of the security guards, waxing poetically about his upcoming beach vacation, to close his eyes for just a moment.

It’s enough for a dream to form, one of sun and sea and sand. Sand that Morpheus is able to gather a handful of, right in front of the horrified guard’s dreaming eyes.

The guard, lost in his dream nightmare, shoots at what he thinks is Morpheus. In the Waking World, he’s shooting at the orb that he’s meant to be diligently watching. A bullet hits, and a crack forms. Another, and another, and another, even as the other guard screams at her colleague to stop.

The glass explodes, and Morpheus fills his lungs with his first huff of fresh air in over a century. He can’t get lost in the joy that threatens to burst like a dam at finally seeing and feeling freedom. Not when he has a job to do, not when he has a kingdom to return home to.

He steps past the broken runes, now useless at keeping him trapped, and towards the two that are commanding him to stop where he is. He does as they ask, standing still in front of them. When the female orders him to open his closed fist, he is nice enough to listen to that command as well, lifting it to his mouth and blowing the sand in their faces.

A portal forms above him, and all Morpheus can think of is home. The Dreaming. He can feel it calling to him, a kingdom beckoning its ruler back. His power lifts him, and Morpheus welcomes the sensation of traveling through realms.

Then, just as quickly as he had his power, he loses it again.

Like a spelunker who’s just had their trusty rope give out on them, Dream finds himself free-falling with no way of stopping or controlling where he’s going. He tries desperately to clutch onto the tendrils of power that have abandoned him, but they refuse to obey.

He lands harshly on cold pavement, weak and disoriented with no idea of where he is. There’s a flash of blinding lights, the sound of rubber squealing, and then…

Darkness.

•••

It’s late at night, late enough that the few traffic lights that you pass are continuously blinking red and yellow. You hadn’t intended to be out so late, but catching up with friends at a restaurant had led to all of you losing track of time, talking and laughing and reminiscing until a manager politely informed your table that the restaurant had closed ten minutes prior.

Large tips had been left as apologies and your group hustled out of the door, leaving one another with hugs and goodbyes and promises to do this again, sooner than the months it had taken to get together in the first place. You got into your car, locking the doors immediately after, and you were happy.

Still, as you watched those you know and cherish depart with their significant others, you can’t help the pang of melancholy that taints an otherwise-wonderful evening. You’re at the age now where everybody that you know is in relationships, getting engaged and married and settling down and coupling up. You, however…are not. And you’re happy with being single, truly; the best company you can have is yourself. But knowing that you’re going to return home to your quiet apartment, where you’ll go to sleep in your empty bed and wake up to eat breakfast alone before repeating the monotonous cycle that is working a full time job and being an adult in general is making you just a little bitter.

You dwell on this as you drive the deserted roads home, even though you shouldn’t be. Shaking your head at your tendency to mope, you decide to do something about it and turn your radio up with the hopes that something good is playing on the random playlist that had begun when your phone automatically connected to the car’s sound system. Hell, maybe even something bad. Anything to get you out of this thought pattern that is quickly attempting to derail your mood.

“Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?”

Ironic, considering you were just lamenting your own loneliness, but you’ll forgive Stevie Nicks for almost anything, so you let it slide. Tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, you hum along to the song and stare out at the empty, rainy landscape ahead.

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

You don’t look away from the road, you know that you don’t. But in the literal blink of an eye, a white figure appears right in front of your car. Slamming on the brakes with a scream, you watch as the figure collapses ahead of you. You don’t hit whatever it is, thankfully, and after lurching to a harsh stop, you peer through the windshield at what your headlights illuminate.

It’s a person, or at least you think it is. They’re pale, paler than any person you’ve seen before. They’re also stark naked, which, for a number of reasons, can’t be comfortable. Should you get out and help?

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking down at the man.

He’s laying on his side, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. A mop of unruly, jet-black hair covers any other facial features that might have made him distinguishable to you.

He doesn’t answer, and you swallow harshly. Oh God, is he dead? You thought you didn’t hit him, and your car doesn’t have any damage, but maybe you did.

Crouching down next to him, you take note of just how skinny he is when you lay a hand on his wrist to check his pulse (which is thankfully thrumming steadily beneath his near-translucent skin). No, not skinny. The man in front of you looks emaciated. What happened to him?, you wonder as you move your hand to his bony shoulder and begin to shake him.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

This time, a muffled groan answers you. Okay, that’s better than before. At least he’s semi-conscious. Still, he doesn’t look well at all, and you should probably get him to a hospital to be checked out. When you voice this thought, you finally elicit a reaction from him. Long, ice-cold fingers grip your wrist weakly, and you stare at him in shock as he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” You lean down next to his covered face, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“No…” he mutters. “Please…no…hospital.”

He’s delirious, that much is obvious. Still, you find yourself mulling over his request. He really does need some sort of medical attention, but he managed to muster up enough strength to specifically tell you that he didn’t want to go to a hospital. As you think about it, you also start to come around to the “no hospital” idea.

After all, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital and dump a naked, starving man on their doorstep while claiming that you have no idea how he got like this? At best, the authorities would probably be called and you’d be questioned for kidnapping. No, it’s probably for the best to keep away from the hospital.

Logically, you know that you’re so stupid for even considering the idea that you’ve had. But really, what is this man going to be able to do to you? Even if he weren’t in and out of consciousness, he’s so frail that you could easily take him down were he to try and attack you. Against your better judgment, you decide what you’re going to do.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure the man, who you’re not even sure can hear you, before you stand up. “I think I have a blanket in the trunk of my car.”

A quick search through your mess of a trunk does reveal a blanket, hauled around at the insistence of your mother who preached needing an “emergency kit” in your car at all times. Now, you silently thank her as you grab it and hurry back to the man, though you definitely will not mention to her what the emergency kit was finally used for.

You haul him to a sitting position, his head falling back limply as you fix the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you think you can stand? I’ll get you to the car, I just need to get you on your feet.”

He makes a slight movement that looks like a nod, so you move his arm around your shoulder and wait until you feel his light grasp on your shirt before slowly bringing both of you to stand. Once you’re sure that you’re not going to drop him, you struggle with him towards your car. He’s lighter than most adult men, but considering he’s dead weight, it’s still tough to walk with him. You fumble with the handle of the car door, nearly throwing it open so that you only have to let go of him for a brief moment.

You cringe when he falls backwards onto the seats, landing harshly across them. It doesn’t seem to hurt him at all, the only sign that he even felt anything is a groan in the back of his throat. Whispering out a “sorry,” you cover his body with the blanket and make sure all of him is in the car before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sighing heavily, you think about your life choices as you glance into the rearview mirror to look at the unconscious man in the back of your car. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Taking home a naked man that passed out on the road in front of your car so that you can hopefully wake him up and get him well enough to be on his way without killing you?

Yes, you are.

•••

The first thought that crosses Dream’s mind when consciousness finally returns to him is that his limbs ache. They really, truly ache. It’s not often that an Endless has lingering pains, but it does happen. He stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles twinge as he attempts to loosen them.

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

His eyes snap open when he realizes this, and he’s bewildered to find that he’s not staring at guards looking at him disdainfully from the table they’re always perched at, nor is he looking at the wrought-iron bars separating the large, underground room from the staircase upstairs. No, instead, he’s looking up at what looks to be a ceiling fan, spinning lazily around and around.

The events of what happened before he ended up here (wherever “here” is) begin to come back to him in fragments. First the runes being erased, then securing the sand from the guard’s dream. The orb shattering, sand being blown, and beginning to make his way home. That’s where his memory becomes muddled.

There were lights, and a voice. He thinks he remembers the vague sensation of being moved, but he’s not too sure. Whatever happened, he ended up here…on a couch, under a number of blankets. Certainly not in the same basement that he had been in for over a century, with its familiar cold seeping through the very glass he found himself trapped in. No, this room is warm and inviting. Comforting, almost.

Wherever he is, it’s not in the Dreaming. More alarmingly still is that he can’t sense the Dreaming at all. After that small glimpse of his power that got him out of the Burgess basement, his power has completely abandoned him. A not-unusual feeling, considering he spent the last 106 years without it, but being “free” and powerless is not something that he’s used to.

He has had a lot of time to think about what his lack of power feels like. After a few decades, the best he could liken it to is missing a sense or losing a limb. It’s something functional, something that he should have, but that he doesn’t. Cruelly, he was granted a taste of what he should have for a mere second before fate or karma or the universe itself decided to play yet another cruel joke on him.

Dream slowly takes in his surroundings, his thoughts sluggish and confused. There’s a table next to the couch he’s laid on, a glass of water placed on it. A black screen sits on a stand across the room, and he stares at his reflection in it for a moment before the sound of humming draws his attention away.

A figure – the person humming, he assumes – comes through a doorway, eyes immediately meeting his own. Curiously, she smiles at him when she notices this. Dream’s muscles tense, on guard in the presence of an unknown being so soon after escaping Burgess. Has he escaped one prison, only to land in another?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, as though she’s happy to see this. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores the human’s question. “This is not the Dreaming.”

“No, this is my apartment.”

“I must go.” Dream attempts to stand up, but finds that he struggles to just barely sit up. “I need to return to my realm.”

“You’re not going anywhere, look at you! You’re too weak to even move.”

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

She puts her hands up in the air, presumably to show him that she means no harm. The move reminds him of what one might do in the presence of a frightened animal. In her mind, he is a frightened animal.

“Have you drank any of that water? I don’t know where you were before I found you, but you look like you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.”

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

The woman waits patiently for him to make the next move, choosing to sit on a large chair near the couch and tap at a rectangle she holds in her hands. Morpheus appreciates not being watched as he greedily drains the water that he’s been offered. Only after he places the now-empty glass back on the table does she look up at him and wait for him to make the first move.

“How did I end up here?” Morpheus asks slowly.

“When I found you, you basically appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere. You were passed out, and you only really came around so that you could tell me not to take you to a hospital.” She nervously plays with her hands, which rest in her lap. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, so I brought you here.”

“Why?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, but considering the only interaction he’s had for so long with other beings involved threats and pleas for immortality, riches, and power, he isn’t expecting much. In fact, Morpheus is preparing himself to listen to her list of demands before acting. Though he’s powerless right now and unable to manipulate her dreams the way that he did the guards at Fawney Rig, he still has millenia of experience to draw on when it comes to escaping a captor.

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

Ah. It’s at this point that Dream realizes that he is, in fact, very much still naked. Though he’s hardly shy about his form, he is aware that most humans have a more puritanical point of view when it comes to the covering of bodies.

“Are you hungry? You look like you’ve been starved, so I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat.” The woman stands and takes the glass off of the table, musing to herself as she walks to another room. “We’ll probably have to start you on something light so that you can get used to eating again. Maybe toast?”

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

He’s been left completely powerless in the Waking World, and he would have to fend for himself were it not for this random human whose path he’s been literally dropped in the middle of. A human who, apparently, has no devious intentions towards him, though he finds it hard to believe that all humans aren’t evil and heartless like Roderick Burgess and those complicit in his captivity. He finds it especially hard to believe that the first human he comes across after the Burgess affair would be the exact opposite of those he’s been around for so long.

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?” After a moment of silence, Morpheus realizes she’s asking him a question.

His attention is brought back to the woman, who’s reclaimed her seat in the chair across the room. Lifting his chin, and with what he hopes is a voice befitting the ruler he once was, he says, “One hundred and six years ago.”

She laughs at what she assumes is a joke, until she realizes that the expression on his face doesn’t change. He can see this mortal begin to make the connections in her mind. His mention of his beloved realm, the fact that he called her “mortal” to begin with, the century plus of imprisonment. The Waking World is so quick to dismiss magic and the supernatural as “fairy tales;” if it is beyond their comprehension, then it therefore doesn’t exist.

Yet, even with what they believe to be sound logic, humans just know when they encounter something that they can’t quite explain. Morpheus has always seen it in the way that people back up when he or his siblings or any of the many other preternatural beings that wander this plane walk past. The fear in their eyes as something primal activates within them, something telling them that they are no longer the apex predator.

Even with his lack of powers, he still carries his innate abilities that are woven into his very being. He can hear the woman’s heart beat faster, see her pupils dilate in apprehension. She knows, even if she does not want to admit it.

Quietly, she asks, “Who are you? What are you?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

A long minute passes as she takes in the information he’s given her. She does not run away from him in fright (which has happened to him a couple of times), nor does she call for someone who will attempt to capture Morpheus and use his powers to their own advantage. Instead, she thinks over what she’s heard and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

Morpheus is not used to thanking others, especially mortals. However, this woman’s helpfulness seems to warrant that he learns how to do so, so he nods. “I thank you for offering me aid in my time of need, Y/n.”

“I’m going to get you some food.” He hardly opens his mouth to make a rebuttal before she’s pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t argue with me, you need food. Then after that, we’ll get you some clothes. Sound good?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s back through the door, presumably towards the kitchen. Though Morpheus is still wary of relying on anybody, let alone a human, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he’s this weak, and certainly not when he’s powerless. No, he has no choice but to place his trust in this strong-willed woman who was crazy enough to rescue a stranger in the rain.

Fates help him.

•••

So, the random, naked stranger you saved out of the middle of the road turns out to rule the collective unconscious of all of humanity. And he now lives on your couch for the time being (with clothes, thankfully; you had procured a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him when he had finally agreed to let you help him), because he’s apparently lost the powers that connect him to said collective unconscious. No big deal.

You didn’t want to believe Morpheus at first. After all, just the mere idea of some being who is eons old and is, in his words, “the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of dreams” sounds insane. But the same sense that told you that it was safe to take him home tells you that he’s telling the truth. And as you get to know him more, you find that that sense was right.

From the way that he talks to the memories of empires long gone and the recollections of those great figures of history that he’s met and inspired, all of which he shares with you as the days go by and it becomes obvious that he can’t just ignore you and hope that you go away, you find it very easy to believe him. He hasn’t given you a reason to not believe him, and until he does, you’ll continue to trust what he tells you.

It’s at least a week before your new roommate is strong enough to move easily around your apartment, though he still looks half-starved. On his second day of staying at your apartment, you had offered to help him to the shower. After all, if you had been deprived of showering for 106 years, it would be one of the first things that you wanted to do. After thinking it over for a long couple of minutes, Morpheus had begrudgingly agreed. The moment he attempted to stand, he had been unable to support himself and had fallen to his knees. This left him no choice but to take your outstretched hand.

It was very obvious that the proud king felt humiliated at needing to use you to support most of his weight as you maneuvered him through your apartment and to the bathroom. You couldn’t exactly blame him, because you’re sure that it is humiliating, especially when you’re a being that’s normally more powerful than a literal god who has to rely on a mere human for help walking a few feet.

According to Morpheus, if he had his powers, he would have recovered at a much faster rate. Since he doesn’t, though, and he’s effectively human for the time being, he has to recover as a human would. When you come home from running a couple of errands one day to find him sitting up on the couch without needing to lean on anything for support, reading a book from your collection, you’re extremely glad to see that his “human” recovery is progressing nicely.

As time passes, though, you’ve found an odd companionship with him. He’s slowly become less wary of you, and you of he, which has allowed you both to trust the other and actually, dare you say it, form a tenuous friendship.

It seems like he’d been expecting you to basically tiptoe around him and ignore him throughout the duration of his stay with you. Considering you don’t want to wake up to a corpse on your couch because you abandoned him in his time of need, and because you’re a person with a conscience, you’ve done the exact opposite, much to his chagrin and bewilderment.

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Though it’s pretty damn obvious what you’re doing, you decide not to be sarcastic with him. “Making soup.”

He nods, leaning against the counter to watch. You feel a bit like you’re on a cooking show with the way that he’s viewing your actions so intently.

“What’s so interesting?” you ask after another moment of unwillingly being on Iron Chef.

“I suppose I’ve never really watched someone cook before.”

The knife pauses in midair, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been alive for as long as beings have had consciousness, but you’ve never watched someone cook?”

“It’s not often that I have to eat. If I choose to enjoy food, the palace staff typically prepares it for me.”

Oh yeah. It’s easy to forget that Morpheus literally has a castle when he’s standing in your kitchen with bedhead. You would make a joke about him being spoiled, but you suppose that if you were in his position, you also never would have taken the time to actually step inside a kitchen.

“Do you want to learn?”

“How to cook?” You nod. “Are you sure that you want to teach me?”

“I’m literally just going to have you cutting vegetables,” you say with a laugh. “It’s a pretty easy task, even for you, your highness.”

His lips just barely move upwards, and you stare at him, stunned. Did he just smile at you? You didn’t even know that he knew how to do that. You’re about to try and convince yourself that it was just a trick of the light when he says, “Being that I am a king, it’s ‘your majesty,’ not ‘your highness.’”

He did smile! And he made a joke! It’s such a small accomplishment, yet you can’t help but to feel immensely proud of yourself. Hiding your own pleased grin, you step back from the cutting board. “Okay your majesty, come over here so I can teach you to cut vegetables.”

Morpheus definitely isn’t going to be on any cooking shows of his own anytime soon. Actually, you don’t know that you’d even trust him to be in the kitchen by himself anytime soon. He nearly cuts off a finger a couple of times, and he struggles to figure out how to hold whatever he’s cutting so that it can actually be cut. The vegetables he’s been in charge of cutting are uneven, but you can see how proud he is of having completed this task himself. You’re proud of him too; though you can tease him for having never done something like cooking before, it must be hard to learn a new skill after so long.

After this, Morpheus becomes less of an unwilling house guest who’s only putting up with you because he physically can’t leave and more of a friend. It became inevitable that you would have to spend time together, since he’s living on your couch until he can figure out how to get back to the Dreaming, but it’s become actually enjoyable to be in his presence, and vice versa. Though he can still be cold, distant, and haughty, that’s to be expected. Your relationship has changed, and he’s changed.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Morpheus finally starts to feel well enough to re-enter the land of the living. At least, he’s well enough to insist that he can start researching how to regain his powers or go home. Naturally, you join him. Morpheus has long-since given up on asking you why you help him, finally realizing that this is just how you are. If he wanted to be left alone, he should have landed in front of the car of someone who didn’t care about his well-being.

You’re sitting in your local public library with him, one of your now-regular visits as you search through book after book to try and find answers. The both of you are tucked in a corner near a set of windows, enjoying the way that the sun warms your skin. Books from a variety of subjects are scattered all around you; religion and history, mythology and occult. Anything that could potentially give you an idea of how to help an Endless regain the powers that they were created with. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of material written on this topic.

Yet another book with no answers is tossed to the side in frustration, and you begin to just fire off random ideas off the top of your head. Most of them involve seeking the help of any magic contacts that Morpheus has here in the Waking World, which is made difficult by the fact that Morpheus has no way of contacting these beings. Both because of his lack of powers, as well as the fact that he’s not the most open person for one to make a contact with.

(“You? Not friendly? I’m shocked, truly,” you had said with obvious sarcasm coloring your tone. Morpheus simply sighed, turning the page of the book he’s reading harsher than needed.

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

It’s more than a little discouraging to have absolutely no answers, and you’re starting to get desperate. You tap your fingers against a book you’ve already looked through, hoping that maybe you’ll learn something through osmosis.

“You could…”

You pause, trying to think of a good idea. Your mind is racing as you turn from logical plans that could actually work to the illogical. After all, if you can’t find something that works, you’re at least going to have some fun.

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

Morpheus only looks at you. “That is not funny, Y/n.”

“I didn’t say it was!”

“I know your sense of humor well enough by now to know that you find this suggestion of yours at least slightly amusing.”

Your lips twitch, because he’s right. The mental image of Morpheus chucking you off a bridge and then eagerly waiting for his sister, literal Death, to appear while you’re screaming and falling to your end does make you want to laugh.

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got,” you say with a shrug.

“A terrible idea, truly.”

You roll your eyes jokingly and mutter, “Jerk.”

When you first met Morpheus, he would have taken your words and actions quite seriously and been offended at the perceived insults. Now, he simply rolls his eyes right back at you and smirks. Just one of the many things that have changed between you.

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

You had taken a solo walk around a few of the shelves under the guise of seeing if you had missed any research, but really you needed to get away from the corner of no answers before you started shredding books out of anger. It helped enough that you were able to return to the research with fresh eyes, and it seems like it’s paying off.

In a book about pagan rituals, you find the first promising information that you’ve seen in the last three library trips. You lay your hand on Morpheus’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wait, listen to this! This book talks about summoning the Fates.”

You point down to the passage.

“‘It is fitting to begin December with an offering to the Three Fates, the weavers of destiny. Put out three small cups of red wine, fruit and bread, along with three knives. This is a way of honoring the powers that will bring more provisions during the coming year. Have ready three candles, red, black and white.’ It’s not December, but I would think this could potentially be done year-round? We give them an offering, they recognize who it’s coming from, and they give us some answers. What do you think?”

When you look up at Morpheus, you find him already looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s told you that, when he has his powers, his eyes resemble two stars. With the way that they always twinkle when they catch the light just right, you’d argue that they already do. You smile at him, unable to stop the awkward giggle that escapes you as he continues to look at you with something you can’t quite name.

“What?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips and back again. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do, a mere moment before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Morpheus is a really good kisser, which is to be expected since he’s been alive for longer than you can fathom. He kisses you softly and sweetly, and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach make you feel a bit like a teenager receiving her first kiss from a beau. You sigh against his lips, bringing a hand to his cheek while he places one of his on the back of your neck.

Then, it actually hits you what you’re doing. Though you don’t want to (like, you really don’t want to), you need to put a stop to this. What if the only reason he’s doing this is because he feels some sense of gratitude towards you for saving him in the first place? You can’t take advantage of him like that, even if he is a very attractive man that is currently kissing you.

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest to put some space between you, though you still rest your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m letting you crash on my couch.”

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

“No, of course not! I just–I worry that you feel like you owe me, or something. You don’t.”

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He laughs lightly. “Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nod. “Yeah, you can definitely kiss me again.”

Morpheus is more than happy to reclaim your lips with his.

It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly you’ve fallen in love with Morpheus, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s fallen just as fast. You’ve lived blissfully in your own little corner of heaven with him for almost four months now. Though getting him home is still important to both of you, it’s also become less of a priority as you’ve fallen more in love with each other.

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Laying in bed with him one night, you’re transfixed with mapping out every inch of his skin that you can touch with your fingers and watching goosebumps form in their wake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how unreal Morpheus seems to be. You understand, of course, that this is due to the fact that he’s an Endless, that he is physically more than a human, and thus a human form can not truly contain all of him. But to be up close and personal to such a phenomenon really drives home just how ethereal he really is. You can easily see why he’s been mistaken as a god so many times throughout history.

“What’s it like?” you whisper to him, unwilling to fully break the tranquility you’re experiencing.

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

Your heart jumps at the pet name, so sweet and unexpected. Fighting to keep your wits about you, you ask, “Your kingdom. The Dreaming.”

“I don't even know where to begin when I tell you that it is the most wondrous place you will ever lay eyes upon.” He closes his eyes briefly and sighs wistfully. “It has been over a century since I have been home, and yet I can still see it as if I were merely there yesterday.”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.” You should have realized that asking him about the home he currently has no way of getting back to would make him upset.

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

“That is what some believe, yes. It’s a vast plane, considering all the universe’s dreamers use it when they close their eyes at night. The area around the palace, my direct kingdom, is stunning. Imagine the most beautiful landscape you can. That beauty would pale in comparison to Fiddler’s Green, with its orchards and valleys and rivers and mountains.”

“Really?”

“Mm. My personal favorite is a small clearing ringed by trees that make it seem as though you’re completely blocked off from the rest of existence. There’s a waterfall there, too, and I believe you’d quite enjoy the mermaids.”

All of it sounds wonderful, but that last word has your mind sparking with excitement. “Mermaids? Like…actual mermaids?”

“Of course. Mermaids are creatures of dreams. And nightmares. They are subjects in my realm.”

“That’s amazing.” You pause for a moment. “Would I be able to meet them?”

“You will be able to do anything you wish when I finally get to bring you to my realm. Though, it may be difficult to get you out of the library once you’re there.”

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I��ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him.

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either.

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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