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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Light the Way - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Angst, date rape/roofies, slight BDSM Word count: ~4k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Starting a new job is never easy, it's even worse when your boss is an arsehole. When he unexpectedly comes to the rescue though, the relationship dynamic changes drastically.

She graduated from university a year ago with a Bachelor’s degree in PR and Marketing, and still has no idea what she wants from life, although the last twelve months of working as a barista have proven to her that a career in hospitality and customer service is definitely not it. Having happened across an online advertisement of a vacancy for the position of a personal assistant at a private law firm, she applied on a whim, never expecting to hear back. It’s not like she was qualified anyway, so she had nothing to lose

Yet, here she is, almost four weeks later, standing in the foyer of Red Keep Legal, preparing to begin her first day. The office building is sleek and modern, minimalist in decor, yet the polish of everything suggests it is incomprehensibly expensive. A handsome, bearded, older man, dressed in a sharp suit collects her from reception. She learns his name is Otto Hightower and he is a partner at the firm. They are high end solicitors and only take on the most exclusive of clients. She turns his business card over in her hands, the thickness of the smooth, matte black cardstock is high quality, with ornate golden lettering and a blood red logo of a three headed dragon. She knows she has seen that logo before, but can’t place where exactly.

“You’ll be a personal assistant to my grandson, Aemond.” Otto tells her. “He’s working on a particularly tricky case at the moment, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring he has everything he needs. I imagine he won’t ask you to do much more than get him coffee.”

So there it was, the reason she’d gotten the job. She was hoping her coffee making days were behind her, but no such luck. She sighs inwardly, the bitter irony is almost comical.

“Anyway, if you have no further questions, I shall introduce you to Aemond.” Otto concludes.

She smiles and nods politely as he turns on his heel and leads her towards the elevator, stopping on the second to last floor. She follows him along a marble floored corridor, before he gently raps his knuckles against the rich mahogany of an office door. After a few moments the door swings open to reveal the most ethereal being she’d ever laid eyes upon. He is impossibly tall without being gangly or awkward; his long, lithe limbs flow like water as he props himself against the doorframe. His silky, silver locks are perfectly coiffed and she feels self conscious as the bright blue of his right eye scans all the way from her feet to the top of her head, analysing every inch. She notices the skin around his left eye is lightly scarred - the only indication that the realistic prosthetic that sits within the socket isn’t something he can actually see out of. The simple long sleeved top and black trousers she’s wearing suddenly feel drab in comparison to the well tailored navy blue suit he wears, and she fights the urge to hide herself.

“Aemond, this is your new personal assistant.” Otto informs him, gesturing towards her. “Your mother and I worked hard to find this one, so perhaps you could try being a little more cordial than last time.”

She doesn’t stop to think about what that could possibly mean, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and rushing forward, smiling wide and extending a hand.

“Hi Aemond! It’s wonderful to meet you!”

His plush, full lips remain unmoving, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, not returning the gesture and continuing to study her.

She drops her hand, feeling deflated and laughs nervously.

Clearly not picking up on the awkwardness, or simply not caring, Otto glances between the two of them, before giving a curt nod and striding back towards the elevator.

Aemond watches him go before returning his attention back to her.

“Wonderful to meet me, hm?” he finally says, quirking an eyebrow.

Before she can respond, he continues, “Look, I’ve told my grandfather I don’t need an assistant and I like my own space. I’m looking over some contracts at the moment, so I would prefer it if you could make yourself scarce.” He disappears from view, allowing his office door to close behind him.

She immediately feels miserable. Her shoulders slump as she stands in front of the closed door. The first day of a new job should feel exciting, especially when your boss is so breathtakingly handsome, but this guy is rude and has declared her useless within minutes of meeting her. For a moment she considers just walking out and not returning.

She spends the remainder of the day sitting at her desk that’s positioned to the outer left of Aemond’s door. No one goes in or out, and not once does she catch sight of him. As far as first days go this is undoubtedly the worst she has ever experienced. As tempting as it is to just bail and head home, she desperately needs the cash, so she watches the hours slowly tick by on the off chance her stand-offish boss may suddenly decide he needs something. By the time 6pm rolls around, and she stands to gather her things, her legs have cramped from sitting for so long and she curses herself for only stretching her legs on the few occasions she went to the bathroom.

Arriving home, she finds her flatmate isn’t back yet and breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’d be bombarded with questions about her first day and not have a positive answer for any of them. She uses the opportunity to pace the flat, rifling through the contact sheet and paperwork she has been given. She sighs when she happens upon the number listed for Aemond - what was the point of having the number of someone who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her? She saves it to her phone anyway, tomorrow was a new day after all. Perhaps she’ll score a few brownie points if she texts and offers to grab him coffee on her way to the office. She still can’t figure out why he’d been so cold towards her. Flopping down on the couch with a glass of wine, she boots up her laptop, deciding to do some research on Aemond Targaryen, as she realises that beyond meeting him today and knowing he works for one of the most prestigious law firms in all of Westeros, she really knows nothing about the man she is supposed to be working for.

She wakes up early the next morning, armed with a plan. Her evening of wine-fuelled research had been fruitful. She’d discovered that Aemond was from a family of famous Valyrian legal, political and business figures. Her recognition of the logo on Otto’s card was because it was regularly splashed across all of the major tabloid and broadsheet newspapers. She’d read through a few old articles regarding family drama, disputes over assets, and the death of his father to get an idea of who he was, before deciding his cold demeanour is likely attributed to the combined stress of his job and seemingly endless rifts between his mother and half-sister. She decides that if she is to break down his walls then she will do so with kindness, but she also wants to look the part - if she is to fit in with such sophisticated people then she needs to start dressing like one. She slips into a pencil skirt so fitted it looks like it has been painted on, alongside a sheer white blouse and a killer pair of black stilettos. She completes the look with perfectly styled hair and a thick coat of blood red lipstick. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t vying for more than Aemond’s professional attention, but she’d try anything at this point just to get him to acknowledge her presence. Giving herself a last once over look in the mirror, she fires off what she considers to be a breezy good morning text to Aemond, before heading to the coffee shop she used to work at. “Good morning Mr. Targaryen! Hope you’re well today. I’ll grab you a coffee on my way to the office. See you soon!”

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, coffees in hand, she is disappointed to see that she’s been left on read. Nevermind. She has gone all out with the coffee order, asking for the special roast of beans with an extra shot and foamed milk. This was sure to win him over. She knocks timidly at his office door and after a long moment is about to knock again when it swings slowly open with a perfectly poised Aemond on the other side. God, he was breathtaking.

She realises she has gone too long without saying anything when he snaps out an impatient “Yes?” She jumps slightly, stepping forward into his office without an invitation. Aemond cautiously backs away, his brow furrowing with suspicion and confusion.

She thrusts one of the cups towards him, “Umm…I text you. Did you - uh - coffee?” Great, now I’ve lost the fucking power of speech.

Aemond gingerly accepts the cup from her, without saying thank you. “Are you always this articulate?” He says flatly, before taking a sip. His nose instantly wrinkles, “Ugh, does this have milk in it? I’m allergic to dairy."

Her eyes widen in horror, "Oh gods,, I’m so sorry! I should have thought to ask, I can always get you-"

"Forget it.” He cuts her off, “That will be all for the day, before you try to poison me any further. Close the door on your way out.”

Fantastic, another day sat at my desk, except this time I’m dressed like a cheap escort.

The confidence she’d felt when she stepped out of the door this morning had been crushed flat by Aemond in a matter of seconds. She sits with her hands clasped tightly in front of her on the desk, willing her unshed tears away. Did he want her to quit? She’d placed everything on this job and she didn’t want to give it up without a fight. Sje simply couldn’t understand why Aemond seemed to hate her so much.

After a few hours pass by, she notices it is lunch time - he has to take a break some time. She decides that now is when she’ll make her move. Standing purposefully, she sniffs back her tears and checks her make-up in her compact mirror, before strutting back towards Aemond’s door. She’ll give that arsehole a piece of her mind. It was about time he learned to respect her.

She bursts into Aemond’s office without knocking. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?!” she rants, not waiting for his reaction to her sudden intrusion.

He looks up from the documents he has been reading and stares at her, but his expression is unreadable.

He stays silent, so she continues her tirade. “I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were when I accepted this job, despite that I’ve treated you with nothing but respect and you can’t even extend me the same courtesy!” She paces as she yells at him, gesticulating wildly. There’s a part of her telling her to stop, that this behaviour will likely get her fired, but at this point it would have been like attempting to put toothpaste back in the tube. “I know you think you’re hot shit, but that doesn’t exempt you from behaving like a decent human being.” She stops and looks at him then, his face still a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at her from his seat at the desk. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!” She demands.

“Oh, are you done?” He replies sarcastically.

She throws her hands up in exasperation, eliciting a huge sigh at his complete lack of emotion.

Accepting her reaction as affirmation, he diverts his attention back to his paperwork and mutters “Well, if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

It takes all of her willpower not to grab the nearest object and launch it towards his head. She storms outside, slamming the door as she goes. Fuck this. Walking purposefully straight to the elevator, she lets it take her to the ground floor before hastily exiting the office building. There was absolutely no way she was spending another second in this godforsaken building.

Arriving home she throws her keys a little too aggressively onto the kitchen counter and heads straight towards the fridge, grabbing for the can of whipped cream. As she loudly squirts an unhealthy sized swirl of it into her mouth, her flatmate, Rhea, looks up from her laptop with an amused smile and asks “Rough morning?”

She hadn’t noticed her sitting at the dining table, too engrossed in her own foul mood to have any awareness of her surroundings. “Think I lost my job.” She slurs without bothering to swallow.

Rhea closes the lid of her laptop and rushes to pull her into a bear hug. Finally releasing her, she smiles kindly and wipes cream from her chin, before saying “First of all, you’re gross, and second, how has that happened? You’ve been there less than 48 hours!”

“It’s a long story.” She sighs, “The short version is that my boss is an arsehole, so I yelled at him and then left the office.”

“Oh.” Rhea winces, “That’s bad.”

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” She whines, rubbing her temples.

“Well, it might not solve your impending unemployment, but we could go out tonight?”

“Are you high right now, Rhea?! The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is looking at the classifieds!”

“Come on, you were miserable for so long in your last job and don’t seem to be faring much better in this one. You deserve a little fun!”

“I dunno…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer! I’m working from home today, so having a reason to leave the flat later will keep me sane. Plus you don’t even need to get changed - you are wearing that outfit!”

“Fine. I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”

Rhea squeals with excitement, clapping her hands. “Amazing! Now be a doll and fuck off until 7pm, I have to concentrate.”

Rhea returns to her laptop while she retreats to her room, wondering if there will ever be a point this week where she isn’t being told to go away by someone.

The bar they end up at later that evening is loud and overcrowded. Despite that, she can feel herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the second white wine she was sipping or the steady beat of the music causing her to sway your hips involuntarily, but for the first time in two days she wasn't thinking about Aemond. She sighs contentedly, draining her glass and flashing Rhea a toothy grin as she pushes through the crowd with their next round of drinks.

“Having fun?” Rhea half shouts over the cacophony of noise.

Nodding, she grabs her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor. She chugs her drink as they both move to the rhythm of the song playing. She feels woozy and attributes it to drinking too much wine too fast.

“You want water?” She shouts to Rhea, making a drinking motion with her hand. Rhea nods gratefully and she staggers her way to the bar. She can feel her vision shifting in and out of focus and getting her legs to work the way she wants them to is proving difficult. Changing course, she heads outside, deciding a few lungfuls of fresh air will help set her straight.

As she slides down the brick exterior of the building she barely notices the dark figure that has followed her outside. “Easy.” A gruff male voice says, though in her mind it sounds far away, “Just relax.” Rough hands paw at her as her head flops around on a neck that feels boneless.

“Get the fuck off her.” She hears a familiar voice snarl demandingly. The man is gone in a flash and replaced instead by someone crouching in front of her, cupping her cheeks and coaxing her to look up into a concerned blue eye.

“Aemond?” She slurs.

“Keep looking at me.” Aemond says, cradling her head, “I’m fairly certain that that prick spiked your drink. I’m going to make sure you get home safely, but you need to stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes are glassy and Aemond blurs and duplicates in her vision as he keeps her face tilted up towards him. “Rhea.” She mumbles groggily.

As if summoned by the utterance of her name, her room mate pushes her way out of the bar, phone in hand, looking left and right. When she finally catches sight of her slumped on the ground with a man crouching over her, she shrieks and runs towards her. “What are you doing to her?!”

“Helping her.” Aemond replies flatly, without looking away from her. “Pretty sure she’s been spiked.”

“Jesus!” Rhea squeals, kneeling at her side, before finally looking over at Aemond. “Holy shit! You’re Aemond Targaryen! Your uncle is so hot!”

Aemond rolls his eye, hooking his arms around the body of the semi-conscious woman in front of him and slowly lifting her to her feet.

“Should we call the police?” Rhea asks, slowly realising the gravity of the situation.

Aemond turns to stare at her. “It will take an hour for them to get here.” He explains. “And when they do they’ll just file a report which they’ll never follow up on. Our time is better spent getting her home, so she’s at least safe. I’m assuming you know where she lives?”

Rhea nods. “We’re flatmates.”

Aemond momentarily supports her weight with a single arm as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and passes it to Rhea. “Order an Uber”.

“Thanks for helping her.” Rhea says, as the Uber finally pulls up to the curb. They waited in total silence and any excitement Rhea had felt at having met Aemond was rapidly dissipating into awkward discomfort. “I can look after her from here.” She moves to take her from the supporting hold he has on her.

“Because you’ve done such an incredible job of that so far.” He retorts icily. “I’m coming with you.”

He maneuveres her limp form into the back of the car as Rhea makes her way around to the other side to sit next to her. She is surprised to see Aemond fold his tall frame into the backseat beside her, fully expecting him to ride shotgun. The drive back is tense and uncomfortable. She sits unconscious, sandwiched between the two of them, her heading lolling against Aemond’s shoulder.

“So…” Rhea begins, attempting to break the silence, “You’re the arsehole boss then?”

It was intended as a joke, but Aemond’s humourless chuckle instantly makes her cheeks burn at having said something so rude. “Is it true you’re going to fire her?”

Aemond seems surprised at that. “No,” He says simply. “I won’t expect to see her in the office tomorrow, she’ll need a day to recover, but tell her to be there at 9am sharp on Thursday. And I take my coffee black.”

“Sure.” Rhea smiles meekly. By this point, the Uber has pulled up to its destination. “Would you like to uh…?” She asks, gesturing towards the block of flats.

“No, I think you’ll be fine from here.” He responds, “Goodnight.”

With that, Rhea is left to help her out of the car, which pulls away as soon as she's closed the door.

The next day she awakens with no memory of the evening before, feeling like she has the mother of all hangovers. She swears loudly as she looks at the time and realises it’s almost midday. If she wasn’t fired before, she certainly was now.

Hearing she is awake, Rhea sweeps into the room with a tall glass of water for her. She fills her in on the details of the previous evening and she listens in stunned silence. She spends the rest of the day in bed, struggling to process what has happened to her and the fact that a man she’d assumed hated her had come so valiantly to her rescue.

Thursday morning rolls around quickly and she dresses simply in black trousers and a sensible cardigan. She heads to grab Aemond his morning coffee; black coffee. No sooner had she deposited the cup into his hand had apologies begun tumbling from her lips, saying sorry for how she’d spoken to him, sorry for storming off, sorry for him having to look after her. He cuts her off, sliding a sheet of paper towards her.

“This,” He begins, “Is a list of things I need you to do for me today. Think you can handle it?”

She nods, stunned at finally being asked to help him out.

“Perfect. See you later.”

The day passes in a blur and she struggles. This is the first day she’s actually performing the job she has been hired to do and the busy, demanding nature of a prestigious law firm was worlds apart from the past two days of sitting at her desk and sulking. She gets lost trying to deliver documents to various people’s offices, forgets to seal contracts in confidential envelopes and accidentally hangs up on no less than five clients while trying to transfer their calls. It is a complete disaster.

She sits, highlighting every instance of the word “Harrenhal” in a document, feeling totally overwhelmed. How could anyone manage to be so bad at a relatively simple job?! The truth was, she kept finding herself distracted, thinking about what had happened to her two nights ago. What would have happened if Aemond hadn’t shown up? She caps the highlighter pen, resting her head in her hands and fails to suppress a sob.

Hearing his office door open, she turns to face Aemond as he exits, attempting to compose herself, but knows he has likely already seen her crying. “Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just having a bad day. Ignore me.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes.

Silently Aemond beckons her into his office, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

She follows obediently, dread gnawing at her insides, certain he’s going to fire her.

“Kneel.” He quietly commands, once the door is closed behind them.

“What?!” Her eyes widen in shock.

“Trust me, you need this. Kneel.” He insists.

She does as she is told, kneeling before him, gazing up at his impossibly tall frame with curiosity.

He slowly reaches out a hand, fingers gently grazing her jawline, before running a thumb over her lips. He pushes gently, parting them and meeting the resistance of her teeth. “Open”.

This time she doesn’t question his request, silently accepting the alien intrusion of Aemond’s thumb into her mouth. Instinctively she feels herself sucking on the digit and gradually relaxes. The sensation sends a throb of arousal straight to her core. She’d never experienced anything like this before, but seeing him tower over her, offering his thumb for her to suck was strangely erotic.

“Better?” He asks.

She simply nods, doe-eyed and staring at him in awe.

“Good.” He smiles slightly, stooping down until his lips are ghosting the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. “I much preferred Tuesday’s outfit, by the way. Maybe that can make a reappearance tomorrow?”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for giving my friend some Rules and charging him $ when he breaks them?

As usual, sounds crazy but stay with me here.

Me (40f) and J (35m) met about 2 years ago, briefly dated, and quickly figured out we were Just Friends. At the time he was looking for a new place to live, my landlord was looking to fill a vacancy in my building, now we're neighbors.

Last July I noticed he hadn't been home in a few days (his assigned parking is right next to mine). Not answering messages. Start to get worried. Search his name in the local jail, there he is. (Got pulled over for speeding and a past legal issue, that I knew about, was not resolved like he thought it was.) A clerical error had him stuck in jail for 10 days. Eventually bond gets set and I bail him out.

I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid: never loan what you can't afford to lose. The second that money left my pocket it was written off in my brain. He lost his job, he lost his vehicle. But to my complete surprise, he immediately called up an old boss and got a new job. Great! Now how to get there?

I have a M-F day job and my commute is a 3 minute walk. His new job is overnight at a C store. So it just made perfect sense for him to take my car to work. This worked great for a few months.

Then a few months ago he got a gf, it got serious real quick, she moved in with him, he changed jobs, and now the car situation is getting fucking complicated. I had no problem with him taking my car to work, he owes me money (which he has been paying) so him having a job is ideal.

But now he's using my car like it's his. I had to remind him that it's my fucking car, you're just supposed to be using it to get to work, ASK if you wanna use it for anything else. He apparently didn't get the memo cuz one day I came home early from work cuz I had a Dr appt and my car was not where it should be. Turns out he and his gf went shopping and I had to reschedule my appt. I was furious.

So I laid down some Rules: He puts gas in the car. He takes care of maintenance (oil change, car wash, wiper blades, etc.). But most importantly, if it is not going anywhere other than his or gf's job, HE HAS TO KEEP ME INFORMED. I made sure he understood that I was not keeping tabs on him, I just need to know where my car is in case, I dunno, he mysteriously disappears again.

I had already been keeping a paper record of every time he paid me some money back. So now I'm charging him $10 every time he breaks a rule. Yes, he agreed to this. I've had to do it a handful of times, and I tell him every time.

And before anyone asks: no, the gf is not a part of this problem. We get along great, we're all adults here. She knows everything you now know.

So, AITA for fining my friend when he breaks a rule?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ickadori · 7 months

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++ 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔

[summary] after trying your best to avoid inui and pretend he never existed, he suddenly shows up in your apartment to work things out.

[cws] yandere -> stalking, delusional behavior, mentions of murder, breaking and entering. allusions to noncon. gn reader.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“You’re crazy.”

Inui laughs, pink lips splitting into a smile that seems far too angelic for the grim atmosphere. “No, I’m not.” He softly says, a deep sigh leaving him right after, shoulders sagging and lids lowering. “Nothing that I’ve done saw far could possibly label me as crazy.”

“You broke into my apartment—”

“—I have a key, that you gave me, mind you.”

“I changed my locks weeks ago, you fucking psychopath!”

You’re talking faster than you normally do, words stumbling over each other and jumbling together, and your heart is pounding, pulse racing, skin sweating profusely despite the AC being on full blast.

You’re scared.

“I want you to leave.”

“I want to work this out.” He completely ignores you, instead opting to settle himself down on the couch, arm stretching along the back of it as he settles his gaze on you. You used to get so giddy whenever he looked at you — Inui was beautiful, otherworldly, completely unreal even when you were laid in bed beside him and marveling at the way his lashes rested against the tops of his cheeks. It felt like some grand thing to have a man like him notice you; a man so out of your league that even your own mother had doubted the relationship in the beginning as being serious.

Now, after you saw inside him, saw past that perfect exterior, got a glimpse of the darkness that lingered just underneath the surface, his gaze only succeeded in terrifying you. It raised the hairs on the back of your neck, sent your heart lurching up into your throat, made your movements rushed and jumpy as your body screamed at you to run, get away.

He invoked a fight or flight response in you, and you had never once chose to fight. You ran every chance you could; changing phone numbers when he kept texting and calling, quitting your job and finding a new, remote one when he showed up after he could no longer reach your phone, shopping at a new grocery store when he took to going to the one you always visited, before finally choosing to make all your purchases online when he seemed to be at every single public place that you visited.

Your body screamed at you to run now, eyes darting to the front door that had been locked and bolted. There was a total of five locks (you could never be too careful, so you were told) and it would take you about 3 seconds to undo each one. 15 seconds. It would take you about 4 to reach the door from where you stood in the entry way to the bedroom. It would take Inui about 2 — he was closer, and his legs were longer. 19 vs 2.

Your heart lurches.

You had a window in your bedroom, 2 seconds to slam the door and turn the lock into place, 4 to get the window open and climb and plummet to your fucking death because this apartment o it had vacancies on the ninth floor when you had so hurriedly changed residences.

So fight then.

The thought makes you violently ill, and you wretch before slapping your hand against your mouth, tears pooling in your eyes that you quickly blink away, the drops sliding down your cheeks as you harshly breathe through your nose.

“Why are you panicking? We’re just talking.” Inui gives you a look of confusion. “Very calmly, too calmly if you ask me, considering that my girlfriend, whom I love very much, has been avoiding me for weeks.” He slowly stands from his seat, lithe fingers moving to straighten out his designer shirt before setting the thin chain around his neck straight. “Come sit do—or actually, we can talk in your room.”

“No!” Your hand leaves your mouth in an instant, and you outstretch your palms towards him, furiously shaking your head as you step forward on shaky legs. “W-We can talk out here.” It seemed like a terrible idea to let him into your bedroom, but the more pessimistic part of your reasoned that if he wanted to violate you in that way, he could do it in many more places than just your bedroom.

“Don’t do that.” He doesn’t stop his stride, loafers that likely cost more than an entire years worth of rent softly clicking against your wooden floors, and you’re frozen in your spot as he comes to a stop in front of you, eyes scanning your face before they finally settle on yours. “Don’t act like you’re scared of me.” He raises a hand and you flinch despite yourself, eyes unnaturally wide as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek.

“I-I…”

“You went snooping where you shouldn’t have and found some things, but that’s fine. I’m not mad. You were just curious.” His other hand comes up to touch the other side of your face, thumbs absentmindedly swiping at the dark circles under your eyes (thanks to him, no less), and your mind goes back to the ‘things’ you had found.

Guns… drugs… money… a fucking severed head that had been stowed away in a black garbage bag.

You feel like throwing up—you would have, had you been able to eat for the last few days, but every time you tried to force something down, that body-less head popped into your mind and stole your appetite.

You hadn’t gone to the police - you were too scared you’d end up in a bag, too - but maybe you should have. Maybe you should have cried to the closest detective and hoped and prayed that they convicted him, locked him away for good so that you never had to see his face again.

“Hey.”

His nose brushes against yours, blonde hair brushing against your cheeks, and you suck in a shuddering breath as your knees knock together. “You still love me, don’t you?” He smiles. “That’s why you didn’t go to the feds—you love me.”

Get the hell away from me, you want to say, scream it even. You want to tell him that no, you don’t love him, not after what you found, after you realized what he was capable of.

His lips press against your forehead, cold and damp, and a violent shiver runs up your spine, then back down, then up again, and it keeps going, until you’re just trembling in his hold, lips shaking and vision blurry as he cradles the back of your head with a hand. Is this the hand he used to cut that poor man’s head off? Or is it the other hand, the one drawing ‘soothing’ circles into your back.

“I missed you.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, and his hold is loose on you, even gentle, but it feels as if he’s crushing you, squeezing you tight and forcing all the air out of your lungs. It feels as if he’s killing you, slowly. “Holding you,” his hand slips down to grip the back of your neck. “Touching you,” he closes the last inch of space between the two of you, hips pressed flush to yours.

“Can you guess what I missed next?” You can hear the grin in his voice, and then he’s walking you back into your room, shushing your complaints and refusals with overwhelming kisses, hot touches and purposeful strokes.

#tokyo revengers x reader #inui x reader #funny little goofy inui piece bc i think he’d make a cool yan

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dilfhos · 7 months

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PART ONE.

#!WHO; Sukuna the demon ft. GOJO.

#!CC: deadoves! no warning. MDNI. [read the tags on original knktbr fic. this is still dc.]

note: soo, ive been craddlin’ this baby since 2019, only recently deciding to add Sukuna and Gojo. very begrudgingly posting it here, however i will not be updating if this flops. ik how tumblr is with long fics/series—unfair. so if you’re interested lmk or else you can read on my ao3 !!

You arrive at the old Kaisen house, adoring the scene. The demon sets his sights on you.

WC. 3.8k+

[I.] [II] [III.] | KINKTOBER ‘23 | plz reblog if you enjoyed, id love to reach an audience!

“We’re here,” Your eyes fluttered open, the sun rays spilling into your vision as you stirred awake. Beside you was your best-friend, Gojo Satoru, sitting back, his hand tugging at the hem of his damp shirt. You looked over at him then forward through the front window, met with an old gate. Behind it was the house, large in stature and almost intimidating as it stood in front of the afternoon sun, casting long shadows along the lawn.

“Looks like the gate is—”

“I got it!” You interrupted eagerly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaping out the car. You made your way towards the gate, unlatching the metal and pushing it open. You then stood, admiring the house further.

It was a beautiful old giant, its Victorian style exterior being the highlight of it all. You glanced around you, noticing how the rest of the street seemed almost separated from your patchy plot of land. As if the neighboring houses were trying to get away. Segregated from the quaint smaller houses filled with decored and neat lawns, was your new home.

You made a motion towards the car, prompting Satoru to reach and grab the bag that held your prized item. You took your camera and eagerly paced back and forth near the entrance until you found a good spot to take a photo.

Yeah, there would be plenty of pictures in the future. The house was even more beautiful through the lens as you snapped a couple. In front of the house to the left was a large tree, nearly scarce of green leaves as it added more touch of age to the scene.

“How long are you going to be out there?” Satoru called, an arm draped over the open window. You could hear a tinge impatience in his tone but you didn’t move yet.

“Sorry! I’m coming!”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest, fingers strumming against the wheel. A thin coat of sweat beaded along his skin, slicking his white locks down against his forehead.

This house really gave him the creeps. He understood you wanted to get away from everything but he didn’t think it would go this way.

A couple months ago, he had visited you in the city and was surprised by the fact that you were wanting to move out. Not just out of the apartment but out of the entire area. You told him you wanted a change in pace, in scenery. To quit your current job for the time being and just be at peace. He honestly thought you were out of your mind but after coming to terms with how that life was treating you, he supported the decision. He was your best friend, he would always support your decisions, even the…bold ones.

His eyes scanned the surroundings.

This part of town was quietly tucked in the country and had plenty of beautiful places to photograph and “run through fields” as he put it. Given the little population and even fewer vacancies, there weren't any options to live except for the old manor a little bit on the edge of town.

Being protective, Satoru didn’t waste time in Shadowvale’s research and made privy to the stories but he didn’t believe them. It was just a silly ghost legend made up by the oldheads to spook outsiders and the younger generations. But it didn’t stop him from telling you about them.

Being much like your friend to find the story silly, you laughed it off, ecstatic that you would finally be moving. And he wasn’t that far of a drive from you so he supposed it was fine.

Satoru watched as you finally circled back to the passenger side, eyes down on the camera screen. You got in, sighing at the gust of cool air. The car began moving again as it crept forward past the gate and along the dirt path that led up to the large house.

“Get any good shots?”

“Yes! It’s more beautiful through the lens than in person. And the way the light was hitting it…” Satoru smiled as he listened to you excitedly fill him in as if he could understand a half of what you were talking about.

. . .

“What is in here? ” Satoro croaked, nearly collapsing on the porch. He had one of your boxes in his arms, stumbling toward the door. Following close behind him was you with another box. You rested a foot upon the first step of the porch, ignoring the stressed creak it brought.

“Just clothes?” You honestly didn’t know. It could have been anything really and as far as you knew, it wasn’t even heavy. He probably just wanted something to complain about.

“They feel like bowling balls,” He sat the box down in the foyer, swiping at sweat that began to bead down his temple. You rolled your eyes as you followed behind him placing the box on top.

The sky was beginning to darken, more clouds obscuring the afternoon sky. Shadows seemed to appear in the dimness, warping spindly shapes across the lawn. The thicker clouds that seemed to come out of nowhere loomed over the countryside with promises of rain in the night.

You shivered, arms pricking in goosebumps as you crossed the threshold, placing down another box. It seemed so cold all of a sudden, a stark contrast to how it was nearly an hour ago when your clothes were practically melting against your skin. You jumped when you felt a firm hand grip your shoulder.

“Woah, jumpy already?” Satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “If you’re gonna chicken out, tell me now so I won’t have to load the rest.”

“You’re just trying to get out of work, Gojo,” You playfully shoved his arm and made your way back to the car. The only thing that remained was your television, propped up at an odd angle because of its large size. The trek to the house was awkward with the screen nearly bigger than you, but you made it, sitting the appliance against the wall of the foyer.

At least the chill was gone, after having broken another sweat. You watched from the doorway as Satoru closed all of the doors. Once more, your eyes ventured up towards the sky, another shiver running down your spine.

“You okay?” He questioned, making his way towards the door. You nodded, stepping back to allow him inside before closing the door.

Sukuna’s canines were made visible as his malicious grin widened, stretching inhumanly against his face. Raven spikes jutted out every which way, a part only tamed enough to fall before his striking crimson eyes as he looked over the railing of the staircase. He ran a clawed finger teasingly over the wood, always touching but never feeling.

The demon licked his lips slowly, his intense gaze catching you and the way you ran your hands along your arms in the foyer. His claws began to strum lightly against the wood as he continued to watch you with focus.

You walked further into the house, in awe at how spacious the interior was. To your right was a winding staircase, leading up to what looked to be a balcony. Unaware of the demonic presence, your eyes linger in the place he stood before moving on to your left.

The foyer spilled into a wide den, already furnished with a couch and a couple love chairs covered in plastic. The plastic crinkled under your touch as your fingertips ran along the surface of the couch, seeking out small holes and other old looking stains.

Everything had an antiquated touch to it and you wondered how long the house had been standing, abandoned by its previous owners.

Your eyes wandered to the fireplace on the far end of the living room. The entrance was gated with a rusting metal. You squatted down, fingers running along the rough bricks. Frowning at the dust that gathered on your skin, you straightened, rubbing your hands against your jeans.

From the balcony, the demon had the perfect view of you. So curious, eyes darting around only to pause and inspect something of little significance just for you to do it all again. He watched as you made a circle around the den, studying everything your greedy eyes took in as if the sight were new.

“Gojo?” You called, making your way back towards the boxes.

Was that what the other one was called? Frankly, he couldn’t bother to care as he’d already signed off on him. He’d make a decent meal though.

“Yeah!” Satoru responded from the kitchen. You peered in that direction for a few seconds waiting for him to emerge. Rolling your eyes, your attention returned to the box you were squatted in front of.

“Don’t go running off. You still have to help me,” You whined, hands rummaging through the cardboard. Empty handed, you flipped over the flaps to a nearby box, doing the same thing.

“This sink doesn’t work! It's like… stuck or something,”

“Just leave it before you break it more. I’ll call someone tomorrow.” You shouted, standing up. You sighed, stretching as your little fingers wiggled upwards. Sukuna watched unmoving as you stretched, eyeing a brief sight of your tummy.

Those were a lot of boxes. Not the occasional suitcase or makeshift plastic bags he usually saw with squatters.

So you were moving in. He chuckled darkly.

He actually couldn’t determine if you were stubborn or just plain stupid. You probably thought that nothing existed beyond your little mortal realm, that no outworldly dangers could harm you.

The small chuckle developed into a much throatier laugh, the noise disappearing into nothing. He was about to disappear before his attention snapped back towards you, his hands gripping the peeling wood of the banister almost painfully as he leant over the bar.

You had gasped, his ears picking up on the familiarity of sound, quickly identifying it as surprise. Fear? Sukuna watched in intrigue as your eyes darted around for the source, only briefly ghosting over the place he stood. He remained frozen, holding his breath as you looked right through him.

You could’ve sworn you heard laughter. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you walked around, trying to strain your ear for whatever you heard.

“Toru?” Maybe he was on the phone or something.

Unfortunately for you, that second was all it took for the demon to be immediately interested in you.

For decades, he remained rooted to this cursed plot after his grisly death with the inability to be seen, felt, and most definitely heard. He only controlled the physical realm which made for a lot of entertaining nights for whoever dared to trespass. Not to mention he was granted his demonic familiars. They had no intelligence but it kept him company, he supposed. Less lonely being evil if he’s surrounded by the very essence.

But something about that little gasp as if you heard something illogical... It made him lick his lips, something dark and enticing settling into the pit of his stomach. His mind was racing with new fun and exciting things he wanted to do with this information.

Satoru finally emerged from the kitchen, his shirt spotted in darkness, hair dripping in water. You took one look at his disgruntled form and bursted out laughing, immediately forgetting about the noise you heard.

“Its funny that your new sink is janked up?”

“Janked up?” His seriousness only made it funnier. He sucked his teeth and made his way towards the boxes, hastily searching for a towel.

“What were you...even doing...in there?” You said in between giggles. He only ignored you as you wiped away the wetness that gathered in your eyes.

“Are you done?” He deadpanned. You nodded with a smile. He only scoffed before he started to bring out contents from one of the boxes. You then took your place next to him, sorting through the items.

“Hey, what was funny earlier?” You cut through the silence.

“What do you mean?” He crinkled his forehead.

“You were laughing at something. Did Suguru send a dumb meme or something?” You giggled. Your face only fell at his response.

“I wasn’t laughing and I haven’t spoken to him since last Tuesday.”

Little words were exchanged as he helped you unpack. He was probably still upset. After a while, you grew bored and wanted to venture around. Even though you’d already seen the house on the tour, you were itching to do something. Standing up, you brushed off your hands, attention venturing to the staircase balcony.

“Hey, I’m gonna go check out the rooms upstairs,” A simple grunt was made as Satoru looked towards you.

“I’m not getting paid to do this!” He shouted as you began your trek. You smiled, calling back, “The unwavering devotion to the best friend in the entire world should be enough to start right?”

Upon going up, you felt a weird chill and found yourself turning towards the wall. You paused midway, eyeing the surface where you saw what was assumed to be a large painting or portrait.

You couldn’t really tell with the dingy cloth that covered it. Your fingers itched to tear away the cloth to reveal what was underneath but you didn’t. This was just one of the many things left behind by the last owners and you felt if you did, it'd somehow be disrespectful. You should call the realtor to inquire about possibly having some of the stuff taken out of the house.

“Hey, I’m going to step out for a bit, I need some air,” Satoru called from the doorway, suddenly feeling nauseous. You leaned over the wooden balcony, amazed at how high you were. After waving him off, he walked out, the door creaking shut behind him and you turned, facing the hallway.

The way you stood there was kind of enticing, especially with the way your eyes darted around with that same greedy look he noticed before. But something else was mixed with it, Sukuna noticed.

Unease.

He could sense it in the way you tensely rocked on the balls of your feet, looking between the few rooms that lined the dark hallway. Sukuna stood at the very end on the hall, leaning against the peeling door with arms crossed, watching for your next move. He really wanted you to walk his way so he could get a taste of that nerve-racked aura but much to his dissatisfaction, you chose the first room on the left.

It was fine, he could be patient. He only had the rest of his eternal death.

With a menacing grin, his form shivered, bending into the light until he was gone.

. . .

Even though you’d seen the rooms on the tour, viewing them again took your breath away once more in how spacious it was. Every part of the house exuded mystery and refinement. The bathrooms had surprised you the most; one being nearly as big as the bedroom, having room for a large claw-footed bathtub, a shower, plus two sinks. Giving one last look, you decided that it did pair nicely with the room attached. As expected, the large king-sized bed was still there, neatly made. Deciding to exit out the bedroom, you made your way toward the door.

“What the…” You tried the knob, jerking the brass but it was stuck. You tried once more, taking the handle between both hands and jiggling it as hard as you could.

You could see the wooden door moving against the frame but it wouldn’t open. This didn't happen on the tour. You stepped back, deciding to go through the other way but stopped in the middle of the bathroom, an eyebrow lifted in confusion.

Did you close the door behind you?

It was shut just like the other. No...you didn’t think you did. You moved towards the door turning the handle.

It was stuck too.

“Gojo?” You called, gripping the doorknob. Was he messing with you? You pulled and pushed with more force now, pacing to the other door to be met with the same result. Your stomach churned thickly as your skin began to prickle with heat.

“Gojo, open the door! This isn’t funny!” You called slapping your palm against the wood. You were beginning to grow frantic until finally, the door gave way.

Stumbling forward, you immediately gag at the sour odor that hit your nose. It smelled rotten and it caused you to cover your face with your arm.

But the odor was immediately forgotten when your eyes settled on the sight of the last room. You moved to the large rectangular window across the way, the sides framed by flowing curtains. It ran from the edge of the ceiling, stopping just above the hardwood floors.

The view outside was just as breathtaking as the first time, spreading over the fields of the rural side. You could see some houses peppering the golden hills of early autumn land.

“Wow,” You whispered, moving around the room. There was a queen-sized bed on one side, neatly made in a similar fashion as the one in the other room. Against the other wall was a desk.

You fell back onto the bed, breathing in deeply despite the rank smell. You loved it, everything from the antiquated vibes to even the apparently faulty doors.

You felt really at home, a feeling you haven’t had since your life in the city. You laid there, basking in the final fleeting heat rays of the setting sun until you suddenly tensed, eyes snapping open. Hairs stood up on your skin, making you shiver slightly.

That same chill.

Sitting up, your eyes scanned the empty bedroom. The shadows shifted in the corner, tricking your peripheral into moving your full attention in the area. Getting up, you moved over to the opposite side, running your fingertips along the smooth walls. It was just a simple corner, void of that special something. That something that you decided you were definitely going to set up as your photography corner. You smiled, trying to think of that instead of the foreboding unease that just wouldn’t leave you alone.

From behind you, Sukuna stood close, clawed hands reaching out to trace the outline of the nervous aura that you emitted despite your exterior calmness. When he brushed your neck, you jumped, whipping around, eyes wide.

Nothing.

But it was most definitely something, you rubbed the back of your neck, eyes darting around until you decided it was just a draft. Your walk toward the door was brisk though and if he'd known better, it almost seemed like you were in a hurry, as if you couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

The door creaked shut behind you.

. . .

“Have fun exploring?” Satoru asked as you bounded down the stairs, not even looking up from his phone. He decided not to tell you about the sudden sickness that overpowered him earlier instead deciding your bliss was something he didn’t want to ruin.

You nodded, expressing your excitement for the way you were going to set up your hobby station. You looked on the coffee table to see a box labeled Photography, in his sloppy scribble. Satoru looked up, catching your gaze.

“Before I go, I wanna get a picture of us,” When you raised a brow, he smiled before continuing.

“In your new pad. It’d be the first picture you take since the city and y’know, since I did most of the grunt work its the least I’m owed. Besides, by the time you get settled in, there’ll be photos scattered everywhere by next week,” You both laughed.

“Sure thing Toru,”

Another hour had passed after some coaxing to help you actually settle in. Satoru helped you place them where they belonged. Bags of cutlery, pots, pans and other kitchen ware were all sat upon the glass table in the dining room. You forgot how beautiful this area was, spacious and home-y for meal nights, which you were looking forward to. It was separated by an island, the other side made as a kitchen.

Your photography stuff and your clothing were taken upstairs to the room where it was placed on the desk.

“Isn’t this room amazing?” You beamed, arms spread wide as you stood in the center. Satoru stood in the doorway, looking everything but impressed. Something about the space bothered him, yet he couldn’t determine why. For you though, he smiled genuinely.

“Yeah, I think it it was made just for you,”

By the time you were done, exhaustion was heavy on you both. By now, the promised photo was long forgotten and you were on your porch, clinging onto your best friend in a tight embrace.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” He smiled, shaking his head as he once more expressed how early he had to be up for work. It was lucky he was in only the next town over, but it didn’t ease the lonely pit in your stomach as you watched him get into his car.

As Satoru drove away, his eyes glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as you waved him off. His attention wasn’t on you though, but on the looming presence of the house seeming to swallow your body.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryoumen x you #satoru gojo x reader #kinktober23 #multi fic #[ output—☆ ]#[ deadoves— ☆]

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seikkoi · 7 months

Text

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

content/warnings: named reader, explicit sexual content (very end), alcohol consumption, mentions of financial issues, employer/employee relations, explicit mentions of mental health issues (reader has the anxieties™), mentions of physical injuries, set in canon universe before aou.

genre: mostly angst ngl, sm*t at the very very end

word count: 7,463 im sorry

a/n: lightly inspired by the song 'october' by rothstein

dedicated to: the lovely @alessandraavengers

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business." Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “My business is your job."

I won't complain,

I will be decent,

though it will be freezing,

I welcome the rain.

The hands of the clock on the wall ticked silently, a sign of the building’s expense. You clutched a leather binder filled with papers in your lap as you sat. Everything you had to show for the last seven years of your life. Countless awards, certificates, recommendations—the expensive bachelor's and the bank account-draining master’s. Your leg bounced on the dark mahogany, steadily increasing frequency as seconds turned into minutes.

Ironically, this would also be interview number seven. For the job you were least qualified for. You applied for close to twenty at this point, all well below your skill, but you were desperate. You had barely a year of experience—quitting your first job one year out of school after one-too-many sixty hour work weeks. The moment you turned in your resignation, dread and regret over your choice in profession filled you. It held you down, sleeping and rotting the days away. Eventually, reality set in, pulled you out of bed and back into the corporate world.

Turns out, lack of experience and ‘quitting with notice’ is less than ideal.

You hoped a step down in prestige would result in less stress. All your fantasies of a top floor corner office and luxury disappeared like ash under a light rain. You always held expensive tastes that you couldn’t sustain unemployed. But the stress wasn’t worth it. All you needed now was to pay the bills. Too quickly ‘over-qualified’ or ‘under-experienced’ became your least favorite words. You had to fight back the dread every time you checked your email.

Just when you’d started pondering entry-level positions, a notification came through for a new vacancy ‘Fit for your skillset!’. To your dismay, the description sounded no different than the job you left. More grueling expectations and personal sacrifice. On top of that, you still were under-experienced by their requirements. Not to mention who it was for. Overworked employees typically miss most current events, but far too much has been going on with this company to make even you pay attention. Working for such a high-profile, drama-ridden company might be even worse. But after weeks and not so much as an offer letter, you had to try anything. On the plus side, at least it paid well.

Three days later, you found yourself inside of Stark Tower, wishing the silent clock would move faster.

Square breathes, internal mantras—nothing worked. Your heels still made a gentle clack against the floor. Thankfully, the general noise of the front lobby kept it from being a nuisance.

What you swear is eons later, your ears prick up to a similar click growing near you. You turn your head as a tall blonde approaches the small waiting area. She stops at the front desk a moment, making your heart skip a beat when the receptionist points to you.

‘Just relax, you know what to say.’ you thought to yourself. ‘They won’t hire you if you’re a nervous wreck.’

You manage to muster what little confidence you had left after weeks of rejection to stand and straighten your dress as she greets you. Thankfully, the smile she extends is friendly enough. The hand you feel is soft and manicured too— acute tells of an easy life.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Potts, I’ll be bringing you up to meet Mr. Stark.” she says, turning and heading further into the lobby.

‘Maybe this won’t be too hard. Maybe this job won’t be like the last.’

During the entire elevator ride to Mr. Stark’s office, Ms. Potts spews out factoids about Stark Industries but you’re too busy rethinking your entire interview strategy. Something about a cave, Obadiah Stane and a wormhole whizzes through your ear to no reaction. It was nothing you hadn’t already read in the weekly papers, nor did it ease you one bit.

You were even more taken aback when you realize you’re descending, and the silver doors open to a spacious garage. The faint sound of movement echoes, source unseen. You turn to Miss Potts, who only gives another pleasant smile and gestures into the concrete space.

Sure, the whole world knew Tony Stark was a bit eccentric. You knew that well enough when you applied. Hell, it probably explained the vacancy. Maybe this was some type of strategy, or just his nature. Either way, something was screaming at you to tell Miss Potts you had changed your mind, go home and apply for anything else.

Then, you remembered how badly you wanted success. You couldn’t accept anything less.

The elevator closed quietly behind you as you exited, looking for the source of the noise. There’s cars (some ridiculously new and some pathetically old), studded workbenches, and chaotic piles of robotics and machinery strewn about. You have to round the corner to find him, behind a small bar tucked away from the metal mess everywhere else.

He’s turned away from you, seated at the bar with eyes glued on a few papers before him. An ornate pen signs away without pause. You’re certain the sound of your heels against the floor gave you away, but you’re sure to clear your throat to not shock him.

Mr. Stark, clad in a grease-stained white tee and dark denim, shifts in the barstool slightly to give you a cursory look. You can tell immediately his mind is lightyears away from the present situation, focused elsewhere. On a lighter note, you notice how much kinder he looks in person. All the magazines and op-eds made his face harsh, never smiling.

“You’re the one who applied for assistant thingy right? Miss…” Stark trails off, scanning back through the papers in front of him. There’s a slight slur in his speech, one that forces you to remember the early hour.

“Cassian.” you interrupt his search and he laughs, abandoning the papers for a shiny glass on the counter.

He brings the amber liquid to his lips before he speaks again.

“Right, Cassian, look—” The glass finds its way back to the solid surface despite his sway. He stands once it does, facing you with a wide smile. “You’re hired!”

With that, you’re left more dumbfounded, staring at the billionaire as he sauntered over to one of the cluttered workbenches.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t understand—” You turn towards him as he walks by, not sparing you another glance.

When he reaches the middle of the garage, he lets out an exhausted sigh. The familiar regret seeps in, turning your nerves up another notch.

“The woman that probably brought you here—Pepper, she used to be my assistant, and handle all the tabloid bullsuit.” he mutters, fiddling with a wrench from the bench.

“After the whole ‘tower nearly blowing up’ situation, she’s taken a step uh-out of my life. For better or worse. I didn’t wanna hire anyone else, she’s convinced I can’t manage my own life— we compromised.”

You start to speak, trying to formulate the right words to say. Stark pays it no mind, tossing the wrench back down gently.

He pivots towards you, and you see the stress in his eyes. You can see why she’d quit-hell you were starting to wish you never applied. The name ‘Stark’ proliferated in the papers these days.

“Offer letter is signed, on the bar, job’s there if you want it.” With that, he walks across the garage, past you into the elevator.

The electronic ding! sounds, leaving you in the garage alone without another word. You’re convinced this is a terrible idea- even before whatever that just was.

Something sparks your curiosity to look at the signed papers, and put a dollar amount to this madness. You walk back to the bar, grabbing the stack of papers with a faint ring of water in the corner.

You’re certain you’re dreaming when you count the number of zeros.

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were ready for retirement at the ripe age of twenty-six.

This was a new type of demand. Running nearly every aspect of Tony Stark’s life didn’t eat your soul, but it ate at your mind. You could spin embezzlement or drunk-driving into a heartwarming story- alien attacks and Hydra were a whole new ballpark.

It was almost refreshing. Spinning stories for shitty people and tailoring public statements for the goal of maximum human exploitation never quite sat right with you. Handling Stark’s life just felt like defending someone who deserved it. It felt more honorable working for him than a greedy tech firm. (There are some questionable times when he doesn’t, but you don’t bother with those).

The righteousness helped the uncharted territory be more than manageable. Still, making Stark’s technology enterprise mesh well with his role as Iron Man felt like a hero’s feat on its own. The media would come up with any number of wild conspiracies about Iron Man, most of them disparaging to his image.

Stark was legitimately aiming for good things in the world. The weariness in your bones kept you craving more simplicity and ease, nonetheless.

You sunk down into the leather couch of the conference room, watching as the board members filed out in quick order. The room was filled with the golden ray of sunset— soon to turn pitch black.

Officially done with the day’s meetings, you forgo any workplace formalities and kick off your heels, despite your boss’s presence.

A light chuckle at your exhaustion breaks the silence, Stark slumping into the empty space beside you. You raise an eyebrow when he wriggles at the lavish tie around his neck, tossing the garment to the floor next to your heels.

“What, you can kick back but I can’t?” he jests, undoing the top two buttons of his black dress shirt.

You give a ‘fair enough’ shrug, leaning back to start mentally processing the last ten hours.

You found yourself staring at his exposed neck as your mind trailed off, his head leaned back, eyes shut. His jaw is tight, forehead pinch in a now-familiar focus. Stark looked nearly as drained as you, still you knew better than to try and equate things. Honestly, you considered yourself semi-lucky to only have to make things look nice for the cameras and not be present for them. In the evening glow, though, he looks close to ethereal.

You shift your eyes at the thought.

You two sit in comfortable silence as the sun moves behind the New York city skyline.

You’re doing mental math on how soon you can retire when he fills the void with a question.

“Regret taking the job?” he asks, unmoving.

You add ‘potential mind reader’ to his list of skills.

“Some parts are better than others.” It’s as honest of an answer you can give without sounding ungrateful for the opportunity (or thinking about the alluring glow on his skin).

He laughs again, turning to meet your eyes. This would mark the first time you’re under a heat lamp from his gaze, irises tired and alluring.

“Seriously,”

Clearly your answer isn’t convincing, because he turns to his side on the couch to fully face you.

“You aren’t regretting this? Because lately you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” he says with a lazy grin.

You thought you were doing a good job of burying your issues beneath walls of smiles. Hearing otherwise hurts your resolve a bit, especially from Stark. He had enough on his plate without worrying about you.

“It’s just…a lot,”

Despite how you felt, you couldn’t lie about it, not to his face.

“But it’s not your fault, it’s not you.” you swiftly add upon seeing his somber grin fade away.

“Ha, isn’t it though?” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth like a deflated balloon, running his hands through messy brown locks. “This..rollercoaster I’ve put myself on.”

“Rollercoasters can be fun.”

“You hate it.” Stark faces you once more, propping his arm up on the back of the couch.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you quit.”

The suggestion pulls a laugh of your own. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Stark makes a genuinely puzzled face, to which you spend the next minute or two explaining why you quit your first job, the weeks you spent rotting away after. You had hoped to never recount such a sad time outloud, but you couldn’t stand him feeling at fault for your lack of enthusiasm.

Ease passes through you when it seems to comfort him a bit.

“Maybe I hire you for something else, maybe pay you to not deal with this shit.” he says, laughing.

You brush off his joke with another short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Really, it’s fine. Just need a long hot shower.”

You start to stand, but are stopped when a hand graces your thigh.

“No jokes, I know what it’s like to get more than you signed up for. If money’s all that’s keeping you here, trust me that’s not an issue.”

You give a flustered smile, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was.

“It’s not all that’s keeping me here.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You know it’s just a dinner, right? Like just food, maybe music, high probability of dessert?” Stark taunts, noticing your trembling leg from behind his phone screen.

The car seems like it’s moving way too fast, even though you can very clearly see the speedometer under 25 miles per hour.

“Yes, I know what dinner is.”

You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain the ground under your feet. The part Stark conveniently forgets is that it is a very large gala he’s dragged you along to, and not just a normal dinner. You can do normal dinner, not a one hundred plus person dinner with reporters and red carpet. He’s also not considering the part where he didn’t tell you about it until two hours ago.

“Oh, that’s a relief, thought you might jump out the window.” he pockets his phone, turning to you. “I can just have Happy take you home, you know.”

“No, no, this is…excitement. I’m excited. Totally ready.” you’re really trying to convince yourself, but it only makes Tony snicker.

“These things are really boring, promise. That’s why you’re here, keep me from falling asleep.”

Out the window, the street lights start to turn back into normal orbs instead of blurry splotches. The car pulls up the curb with enough ease for you to take in the venue. It's a marble hall, one you feel suddenly underdressed for. You make a mental note to tell Stark never to give you this little notice again. Perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and head home.

Stark could behave himself, right?

The black window tinting your view disappears when the door is pulled open. You hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore, now holding the door and gesturing to the entrance. You get your first good look at the suit he’s wearing, tailored and jet-black. The flattering seams are a decent enough distraction to join him on the sidewalk.

Stark places both hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a playful shake.

“You look amazing, I look amazing, please stop worrying. It’s starting to spread and I can’t eat on an upset stomach.” he forces himself into your gaze, searching your face for the supposed ‘excitement’.

A deep breath, then a second passes through you, staring at Stark's eyes until you can manage a curt nod and still legs.

“See, you’re gonna be just fine.” he exclaims, dropping the hands from your shoulders and already smiling for the line of photographers waiting by the door.

You follow unsteadily, praying this is a speedy event. You could do this for an hour, maybe two. Stark takes notice of your delay, turning back to you just before reaching the first nerdy cameraman.

“Hey, what’s the issue with this? If your not comfortable with the cameras, you know we can just go around—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupt, gripping your clutch with sweaty palms.

“Then what?” he asks sympathetically.

“There’s like a hundred people in there, Stark.” you admit with a long sigh.

“And I’m one of them, what’s the worst that can happen if you're with me?” He turns and props his arm out towards you. “Miss Cassian?” he says, dragging out your name.

You want to roll your eyes at his constant unserious nature, but instead you take another deep breath, loop your arm through his, letting your fingers wrap around the satiny fabric on his bicep before taking slow steps forward.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Bright bulbs of light flickering in blinding succession. In every direction, microphones with human mouthpieces spew their hurried questions. Your boss answers in his typical Stark way, earning only more adoration and curiosity. You come to humor yourself with the questions they ask. Always seemingly random, from his favorite brand of whiskey to his opinion on migrant detainment in the Mediterranean.

You stand to the right as he smiles and poses for them. You almost hate how good he looks in the cold wind, face most definitely beaming behind designer snow-white frames. Outside of that, you admire his patience, knowing this winter vacation (where he didn’t have to be Iron Man for once) was leaked and now semi-ruined.

It would’ve been a well needed break for you as well. Three months of non-stop press releases, conferences, and meetings were wearing you ragged. Late nights were occupied with drafting memos and wishing you chose a career with less work. While you hated the time work took away, you unfortunately began to admire the work you did. Working for Stark turned out to be more desirable than you thought. You imagined dealing with another frustrating, reckless CEO- not a charming, witty superhero. Regardless of the long hours and chaos, you loved helping put more good into the world.

Finally, as snow starts to fall, he answers a final question on if he’ll change the color of his suit before turning to enter the cabin.

“Mr. Stark— Iron Man, won’t be taking any more questions, excuse me, thank you.”

You tried to squeeze past incessant reporters and fans, barely making it through the hotel front door if it weren’t for security. The commotion outdoors gets muffled by the tall wooden doors. You sigh and lean against them, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Feeling alright, Cassie?”

Stark’s voice makes you open your eyes to see him standing in the foyer. This would be the fourth time you feel his eyes burning through your skin. You expected him not to be upstairs in bed, asleep already, not in front of you, eyeing you with his hands buried in his pockets.

The place he chose spared little expense, clearly for starlets like Stark looking for a lush, woodsy escape. Wooden walls covered every inch, adorned with fancy art and a modern fireplace in the living room. The color reminds you of the tower lobby, a deep mahogany.

“Yeah, just remind me why I’m here and not at home in my heated apartment.” You keep your voice light as you hang your coat on the rack by the door.

Stark gives a playful scoff, too used to your sarcasm to take offense.

“A certain former assistant thinks I need a babysitter on my own vacation.” He turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen with a renewed energy (surely only now remembering he’s supposed to be relaxing).

“She’s not wrong.” you agree only because Stark re-emerges from the kitchen with a tall amber colored bottle and two glasses.

You can’t help rolling your eyes at his stiffened jazz hands, tossing yourself onto the plush armchair by the fireplace. The cold seemed to wrap itself around you, not leaving despite your proximity to the fire. Stark chose to sit on the side table next to you, rather than the wide array of more comfortable seating options. You’d gotten used to him entering your personal space since your talk in the conference room. You took it as a sign of his narcissism more than anything.

“Not sure I’m meant to be a drunk babysitter, Mr. Stark, ” you quip as he starts pouring.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he winks, offering you one. “And come on with the ‘mister’—making me feel old over here.”

It’s bothersome how little he has to say to change your mood. Something about being with just him, away from press, deadlines or state secrets, pulled you in and kept you coming to work everyday. In this moment, however, his solitary presence made you anxious. You’d have to get through this sabbatical without the chaos of the world bringing you back to reality. The real world, littered with expectations.

Free of any reason to decline, you take the glass. You and Tony do a lazy toast, clicking the glasses together before taking a sip. The peaceful quiet envelopes the cabin, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

“You okay?” you ask upon seeing the weariness in his face, contrasting the grin he held.

“Better than okay,” he finishes the rest of his drink, pouring another faster than you take a second sip. “Happy to be away from everything, ‘get in touch with the great outdoors!’ as they say.”

You laugh at the dramatic mocking tone he uses, extending your arm out when he makes a gesture at your empty glass.

“I hope your atleast being slightly genuine, Mr. Stark.” you say once the glass is full once more.

“When am I ever not, Miss Cassian.” he draws on your name with the same mocking pitch as before.

You fake a wince at the taste of your own medicine, which amuses the hell of the already tipsy Stark.

“I see what you mean, felt fifteen years added on instantly with that,” you admit, chuckling at his demeanor.

“Hence why I’m such a nice guy and call you Cassie like a normal person,” he states smugly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh really, Tony? ‘Cause you only gave me that nickname after I explicitly told you no one ever calls me that.” you laugh.

“Yes and that was a great loss to the universe that I fixed,” Tony turns his head to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling (you tell yourself it’s just the alcohol and nothing else).

The both of you stay there silent, eyes locked for what quickly becomes far too long and the awkwardness makes your attention back to your drink. You finish the contents, hoping that the liquid would cool your now burning skin.

You internally remind yourself that this is just how he is- a playboy philanthropist turned charming hero, nothing else.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t really much of a vacation for you. ‘Know you wanna be at home, away from Stark Industries,” he deflates a bit, pouring a third drink.

“No, it’s not like that,” you interject, speaking softly, “I really don’t mind being here, and it’s still a good break from meetings and all that other tedious shit.”

He takes a sip, seemingly mulling over your words. “Give any more thought to my offer?”

You let out a small laugh, thrown off by his sudden mention of it. You were certain then that he wasn’t being anything near serious.

“What, you paying me to not be here? I didn’t think that was you being serious.”

“It’s a win-win, no? You get a salary, I don’t have to drag you along for this rollercoaster, Pepper doesn’t worry, everyone’s happy.”

Clearly you’re left silent for too long, because Tony stands before he speaks again. He seems conflicted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Look, I don’t need to see you miserable, I guess.”

“What, who said I was miserable?”

“Anyone would be dealing with me.”

TWO DAYS LATER

After a few days, an air of melancholy had hung over you. Two days of nothing turned into endless overthinking about your life. Every decision made seemed to rattle in your bones, looking for a place to be. You tried to tell yourself it was normal to feel lost, to feel as though everything you’ve ever done was pointless. This was the first time you’d had room to think, of course everything would be overwhelming.

That didn’t help, but whatever red wine Tony brought did.

You found it on night two, cracking open the second bottle when Tony comes downstairs. You gave a sluggish hey that gave away your state immediately, but you were too absorbed in your thoughts to meet his eyes.

“Didn’t take you for a wine connoisseur.” he mutters, sitting in the chair across from you.

You don’t bother with a response. In fact, you wished that he’d go away. Seeing Tony lately just reminded you more of the life you were sure you wouldn’t have. You were certain you made all the wrong choices, took all the wrong paths.

“Cassian?” he leans forward, forcing his face into your point of view. “Kinda' freaking me out here.”

“You ever think about what your life would be like if you weren’t,” you trail off for a moment, slurring slightly. “I don’t know—you?”

He laughs and it feels infectious, closing your eyes to hopefully shut up the twist in your stomach.

“Me, specifically? Who knows? Maybe I’d be a pilot, or own a hotdog stand.” he goes silent at your lack of reaction to his joke, resting his chin against his hands.

“Why, thinking about faking your death and adopting a new identity?”

The red liquid in your glass coats your dry throat. You’d love to start over. Go back and see what the other paths held. Then, the deep pit of your stomach turns, remembering how different and worthwhile working for Stark made you feel.

“What if I did everything wrong?” you ask quietly.

If you did, a small part of the anxiety in your gut assures you that it was worth it to find your way to him.

“Define ‘wrong’.”

“Not what I imagined, I guess”

To help someone who wanted to do so much to help the world.

“Well, what do you want from life?”

You go silent again. “I don’t know.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

With nothing to prove you,

and if I should lose you

—It won't be in vain.

On the last day at the cabin, you feel a genuine sense of sadness at the thought of leaving.

Fourteen days with no reminder of the outside world had you the most relaxed in years. Bliss was all you felt waking up each morning to no phone calls, no emergencies, and no meetings. You forgot what it was like to just exist, to not have your thoughts bogged down by deadlines. You had even forgotten the benefits of good company. The demanding nature of your job meant little social life, and you didn’t realize until nearly two days in that you had been craving it. What surprised you more was that you received that good company in the form of your boss. Tony seemed to go out of his way to fill any voids of silence with quips and self-deprecating jokes to make you laugh. Clearly to spare himself the awkwardness of your dissatisfaction.

Nothing changed about personality, but removing the dark shadow of responsibility made him visibly less wound up. It must have done the same for you, because you spent most of these last two weeks laughing (or catching up on well-needed sleep). You tried to avoid him lately, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you could feel growing for him. Opting for weeks of solitude with him was possibly not the wisest route.

Retroactively, if you had all this sudden free time at home alone, you probably would’ve gone a little crazy.

You must be wearing your solace on your face, because that night, during dinner, Stark asks if something is wrong.

“Is it a bad thing if I don't want to go back to New York?” you chuckle at your own absurdity, scraping the last bits of food into the trash.

“Is it worse if I agree?” he smiles, looking up from his own plate.

“Not excited to go back to being an Avenger?” you ask honestly, sitting back down at the kitchen table, next to him.

“Ha, excited’s the wrong word.” he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “You’re not jumping to get back out there either.”

You give an agreeing nod, resting your head in your hands when you start mentally going through all the tasks waiting for you tomorrow.

“You don’t have to go back like I do. You can get away from all this.”

When you look up, Tony’s eyes are glued to the floor.

“You know, you can just fire me if it’s that much of a bother to you.” you say sharply.

Truthfully, it was starting to come off as a subtle hint to leave rather than concern. It muddied whatever imaginary connection you maybe thought you’d fostered over these last few weeks. All the little touches and extra concern bounced around in the back of your head like a live grenade. You didn’t know how much of it was aimed towards you, or just his charismatic nature. Maybe there was never any charisma, and he was the same as any other CEO.

“Cassie, that’s the last thing I want.” he says, like he’s offended, and you want to laugh at the audacity.

“Could’ve fooled me.” you retort, standing to exit the kitchen.

Tony intercepts you at the doorway, however, clearly scrambling for words to ease the newly-created tension. All it really does is annoy you more, seeing those brown eyes pleading silently. Either way, you can’t get past.

“I—This is too much for anyone to handle. I can barely handle it and that’s because you do so much behind-the-scenes for me. A lot of people have reached their wits end with me and I don’t want that with you.”

It sounds painful for him to say, and despite his soft tone, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him be.

“I think you’re worried a bit too—”

“I’d rather not be the reason you spend weeks in bed, okay?”

Frozen in the doorway, your anger still boils. It felt like the thing you were most ashamed about being thrown in your face. You want to go back to that conference room and never tell him a thing. It’d save you the confusion, save you from all the mixed signals. He couldn’t mean it. You remember the way he reluctantly submitted to Pepper and hired you. Tony didn’t care, he never wanted you here in the first place. You felt stupid for thinking anything else.

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business."

Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“My business is your job, can’t you see I’m trying to be supportive?”

You almost start to regret your words, but you can’t stand the way he looks at you like some fragile thing.

For the fifth time, you're hot under his gaze, but it does nothing besides flare your anger more.

“I don’t need your support, stop acting like you have any idea what’s best for me.” you snap, taking a step closer.

To your surprise, Tony closes the remaining distance, and you have to look up to maintain your glare. Tony's expression shifts from concern to frustration, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Clearly, you don’t even know what’s best for you. Forgive me for giving a damn.” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes, deciding to just put an end to this conversation. In his frustration, Tony left a wide enough gap for you to try and snake through. Your heated exit must’ve been obvious, because he steps back to keep you in front of him.

“Seriously?” your fists clench at your sides, heat spreading up your arms to your cheeks.

“Why are you still here?” he softens a bit, but not entirely folding his arms over his chest.

It’s not enough though— your irritation is unchanging even under his tender gaze. It was easier to stay angry and pretend like he wasn’t the only thing keeping you. To not admit that you didn’t want to abandon him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you retort through gritted teeth, motioning at the logged walls around you.

“Damn it, I thought it’d help, Cassie!”

The severity of his words leaves you speechless. You never heard him really raise his voice, let alone come close to yelling.

“But, clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.” Tony moves from the doorway, taking fast steps past you towards the main door before you can say anything.

In an effort to keep him from storming out, you reach out for his arm as he brushes by. Instantly, he pulls away as if you're made of open flames. You try to show the hurt on your face, but now that your anger has started to dissipate, you notice a similar transformation in Tony. To your benefit, though, it keeps his feet firmly planted.

“I’m not some broken person you need to protect.” you admit, avoiding the potential anger still in his eyes.

“Wow, really? Didn’t know.”

Always with the jokes and sarcasm. You lift your head to Tony’s expectant gaze, causing you to sigh heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he states dryly, leaning back against the kitchen table. “Why are you still here?”

“You keep assuming I hate my life.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, rather dramatically in your opinion.

“Could’ve fooled me.” he responds, mocking your words from earlier. “You avoid me like the plague lately, and I don’t know how you expect me to just see you unhappy and say nothing”

“That has nothing to do with work-”

“Then what is it?”

There’s something else in his eyes, something like the sparkle you saw all those months ago.

You look at him with pleading eyes of your own. A sense of entrapment overwhelms you, stuck with the choice between potentially ruining everything or, well, still potentially ruining everything. You wish he really could just read your mind and understand. Understand that you didn’t want to leave him, that you were avoiding him to protect your own, admittedly fragile, heart.

"Can't you just accept that I don't want to leave?" you manage, your voice barely louder than a pin drop.

Your heart flutters as he steps closer, though it shouldn't surprise you; he's never been one to respect personal space, and an argument wouldn't change that.

"No, I need to hear you say it," his tone is low, almost taunting, and his unyielding gaze sends another wave of fluttering through you.

"I don't want to leave you."

In the next second, Tony's lips crash against yours, pinning your back to the wall with a heavy thud. You don’t notice, the world fading with the taste of vanilla on your tongue and the scratch of his beard on your chin. Your thoughts become a blur as Tony's teeth graze your lips, and his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer, the arc reactor pressing into your skin.

When the kiss ends, you're both left panting, yet he still clings to you, gripping your waist like he’s scared you’re going to run away.

“I told you- the last thing I want is for you to leave.” he says sternly, voice still low. You can’t see his face, buried in the crook of your neck, but the heavy breath on your skin makes you lightheaded.

“Tony-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s wrong to think I know what’s best for you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I care about you too much for that, Cassie.”

“I’m your assistant, Tony.”

Tony gently cups a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his, his thumb caressing your cheek. He studies your face intently, searching for any signs that he should stop while he's ahead. You stopped counting how often he leaves you a mess with his eyes, and try your best not to stare at his swollen lips.

“Then tell me you don’t feel the same.” he whispers.

A beat of silence passes, the fire crackling in the next room uninterrupted.

“I…can’t.” you answer hesitantly.

The confession hangs heavy in the cabin’s stagnant air. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, waiting for the dream to end.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Doing this wrong, ruining everything.” Your eyes squeeze shut from embarrassment.

Tony laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, before kissing you again. It’s soft and slower than before, calloused hands still cupping your face.

“I think you’re the one who worries too much. When has anything bad happened to you when you’re with me?” Tony suggests, grinning, his eyes filled with warmth.

You want to mention an office party a few months ago, where a drunk attendee threw up on your shoes, but you let him make his point.

“Let me do the worrying for a bit, sound good?”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You felt like you traded seasons getting back to New York at the start of spring. You hadn’t gone home, instead staying in the tower at Tony’s request. You didn’t mind it at all, being surrounded with more comfort than you could ask for.

Tony made it his personal mission to keep you away from all things work related, despite how many times you told him you enjoyed helping him. One small problem being that he left for a mission a few days ago, and you haven’t got the faintest clue where he was or when he was returning. The first day, you relished in a bit of solitude, reading books that sat on your shelf the last two years untouched or catching up with friends that you lost touch with. To your relief, most understood your reason for disconnecting, and the books were captivating. Now, however, it was day three, and you were starting to do the one thing he asked you not to— worry.

Just as the rain starts to splatter the tall windows of his penthouse, you’re considering reaching out to Fury or Hill to make sure he’s at least still breathing. The only thing that stops you is the ding! of the elevator, turning your nerves back down to zero.

When you meet him at the door, a wide smile breaks out on his face—surprised you’re still there.

“How was it?” you ask, as Tony drops his bag and moves towards you. You feel slightly awkward in this new territory with him, shifting your weight anxiously.

“We’re getting closer to the scepter. Hydra’s pulling out all the stops these days.”

As Tony steps into the light, a deep freshly-stitched cut under his right eye comes into view. Before you can say anything about the cut, you notice the large bandage on his arm, and a matching bruise crawling up his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony slowly peels off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind you. “Oh, this? This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” he says with a flashy grin.

You’re busy scanning for more injuries, eyes raking for more bandages and stitches. Tony doesn’t let you continue for long though, taking your hands in his.

“What’d I tell you about worrying?” he teases, stroking your hair and planting a quick kiss on your lips.

You give an annoyed sigh, wishing he didn’t irritate and charm you in the same breath so much.

“I think it’s natural to worry when you’re bleeding.” you gruff, letting Tony pull you into a tight embrace.

“Then I’m not doing my job, am I?” You don’t protest when his hands roam over your body, placing light kisses against your neck. “Let me take your mind off things.”

The light kisses on your neck turn into heavy bites, leaving marks along your collarbones. He creates his own path along your skin, sighing softly as his mouth finds every inch of skin your pajamas didn’t cover. You’re a panting mess as he trails down your body, twisting a hand into his messy locks.

When he kneels before you, you feel unsteady on your feet. You wish you could say you two had gone this far already, but Tony considered himself a self-proclaimed gentleman and insisted you wait. It seems three days away from you was enough for the chivalry to fly out of the window.

He stops for a moment, fingers hooked in your shorts, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“Cassian?”

“Mhm?” You mumble, shutting your eyes. Nerves and anticipation mix terribly in your stomach, making you unable to process the desire on his face. You feel the fabric of your shorts slide down your legs with your panties. The cool air doesn’t help you any, rendering your skin sensitive and Tony’s hand feel like a furnace.

“Relax, doll.”

You suck in a breath as his lips wrap around your clit, body stilling— the hand in his hair tightening. Weeks of Tony’s insistent waiting had you thinking your first time with him would be slower- you were ill-prepared for the way he runs through your folds with absolute filth. He moans into you, keeping a tight hold on your thighs to hold you close.

He’s quick—grazing teeth against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance— just to drag the tip of his tongue against your length and return your clit to start the cycle all over again. You feel the wetness coating the inside of your thighs, saturing his scratchy stubble on your skin.

You bring your free hand to the back of the couch as he continues, sighing into your core and sending shockwaves up your spine. You try to maintain some type of balance, legs growing shaky again in pleasure rather than anxiety for a change.

“Tony, god, that’s-” You’re cut off by your own moan when you feel Tony insert a finger into your soaking cunt, rocking slowly as his mouth finds its way back to your clit.

He pulls away a moment, letting his thumb keep the pressure against your sensitive bud. Your head tilts back, nails digging into the leather behind you. Out of your view, Tony wears a smug grin, pleased to see you taking his directive to heart. The middle of the living room might not have been his first choice, but it’s well worth it. Besides the fact you taste like heaven, it’s worth hearing every sound escape your lips.

Getting caught up in that, however, caused him to loosen the grip on your thighs. When his fingers curve inside you, your hips jerk against him. The calloused fingers tighten on your legs, to your slight dismay.

“Easy, doll, I got you.” he mumbles, returning his focus to eliciting more intoxicating moans from you.

Tony renders you a complete mess sooner than you’d like to admit, gasping above him as the warmth in your core grows overwhelming. If you told yourself a year ago that your boss would have you panting and begging, you wouldn’t believe it. Regardless of belief, his tongue pulls plea after plea from you. Your stomach feels painfully coiled- mind absorbed with the wet, filthy sound of Tony’s mouth on your cunt.

With another curve of his finger, you sent over the edge—crying out Tony’s name like a prayer and abandoning the hand tangled in his hair to hold yourself up. Tony lets you ride out your orgasm against his fingers, kissing the damp skin between your legs and muttering soft praises.

It’s not until you sense him standing again in front of you that you open your eyes. You immediately want to take it back when you see the shit-eating grin covering his shiny face. The sight sends a new wave of desire through you, staring at his mouth with your lips parted, panting softly. Did he have to look so good constantly?

“As cute as you are when you’re worried, I think I prefer this look on you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x you #seikkoiwrites

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spookyswiftie111 · 4 months

Text

Enchanted - Joe Keery

Warnings: Angst. implied sumt, language.

Author's note: Here is the first part of the Enchanted series with Joe!! Hope you all enjoy. Dress is part two, so watch out for it soon! :)

“There I was again tonight. Forcing laughter, faking smiles. Same old tired, lonely place. Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face. All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you. Your eyes whispered, have we met. 'Cross the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me.”

I got my dream job a year ago and met my dream guy, but it’s not the basic happily ever after you hear in the fairytales or see in the Disney Movies. My job created many sleepless nights, and my dream guy may have possibly had a girlfriend. We hit it off as soon as we met and became best friends instantly. He was who I called when I needed comfort and when I needed company. I met Joe when I became a production assistant on his show, Stanger Things. I worked closely with him and the cast, but Joe became my other half. We were always taking lunches together and hanging out in his trailer between takes. I was in love with him, but he had no clue and after seeing him with some brunette for over six months, I felt it was best to keep it that way. Tonight, was the premiere for the new season and I was beyond excited to see him all cleaned up and classically handsome. I wore my favorite red sparkly dress, curled my hair, and finished the look with a classic red lip. I felt like I was Marilyn Monroe attending a Hollywood premiere, but I was going alone. I walked the red carpet with some of my coworkers and chatted with all their dates. I tried to seem happy and like I was truly enjoying myself, but I only wanted to be here with one person, Joe.

“Hey kiddo, have you seen Joe yet?” I ask walking up to Gaten before he grabs me into a hug.

“Y/N! You look beautiful tonight. I believe he just arrived; he should be at the front of the carpet.” Gaten says smiling and pointing to the front of the carpet.

I turned around and seen Joe looking more handsome than I could ever imagined. He was in a basic black suit, with a red tie that matched my dress, almost like he read my mind. But the most surprising (and exciting part) was that he arrived alone. His usual brunette arm candy was nowhere to be seen. Me and Joe finally locked eyes and as if he knew I needed him, he came running to me, by passing all the reporters yelling his name for pictures or interviews.

“My girl! Holy smokes, you look amazing.” Joe says finally reaching me and wrapping me in a hug that makes my stomach erupt with butterflies. He holds my shoulders and admires my dress, before locking eyes with me again and smiling.

“Joey! You look dang handsome yourself.” I say placing a kiss on his cheek and accidentally leaving a bright red lip mark on his cheek.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I forgot about my lipstick.” I say laughing as I wipe it away and notice my cheeks becoming red.

“I don’t mind at all having proof a pretty girl gave me a kiss.” Joe says, his cheeks turning equally as red. My stomach turned at the flirting he was putting off tonight. Was I just playing tricks on myself, or did I finally have a chance with the boy I have been in love with since I first met him over a year ago. I felt every inch of insecurity and hopelessness leave my body now that I was with Joe.

“I think I pissed some reporters off by finding you. Want to come with me and walk the carpet properly?” He asked grabbing my hand and squeezing it. Joe could always read my mind. Its like he knew when I was feeling down or alone, and tonight was no exception.

“I would love to, Joey.” I said squeezing his hand back in reassurance. We walked the red carpet and Joe made sure I was on his arm for every picture. I felt like I was getting a glimpse of what it would be like to be Joe’s girl for real. I was brought back to reality when a reporter yelled, “Look! It’s our favorite set of best friends!” as Joe and I were walking past. Of course, Joe was my best friend and I never wanted to lose him, but I wish he knew how much I had fallen in love with him and how much I wanted to be everyone’s favorite couple.

“The playful conversation starts. Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy. And it was enchanting to meet you. All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you. This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.”

After we finally got to our seats for the showing, we were both exhausted from all the questions. Joe and I had a secret language that only the both of us understood. We spent many days on set joking and making fun of each other so much that it became second nature. Joe grabbed my hand midway through the screening when he could tell I was getting tired.

“Remember this scene? We could not film it for laughing so much at me having to take my shirt off.” Joe leans over and whispers in my ear. I start laughing remembering my cat calling and whistles that caused everyone in the scene to laugh and join along, which caused the whole scene to take way longer than we wanted.

“What can I say, Mr. Keery, I was just saying what we were all thinking.” I say as I nudged my head into his neck. He settles his head on top of mine while we finish watching the showing.

“You look beautiful tonight” Joe says placing a kiss on my head. My heart dropped into my stomach as my thoughts raced. Was I dreaming all his flirty remarks, or have we become so comfortable together that we say things without thinking. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as my way of saying thank you.

The after party followed the showing and I mingled around the room without Joe for a bit. I was becoming anxious with the crowd and began to worry where Joe was or who he was with.

“Hey, pretty girl, you thirsty?” I heard someone say behind me and all my worries were gone once I noticed the familiar voice.

“I. Am. Dying” I say laughing and grabbing the wine glass from Joe, then taking a large swig.

“Slow down there hot stuff” he says grabbing me by my waist and pulling me in. My heart caught in my throat at his pet name and the way his hand fit perfectly on my curves.

“Can I be serious for a moment, Joey?” I say lying my head on his shoulder.

“Always” He says laying his head on top of mine.

“You always make me feel so comfortable at these types of things and I would not want to go anywhere without you” I say taking another swig of my wine.

“Ditto. You’re my absolute best friend”. He says placing a small kiss on my head. My heart dropped when he said best friend. Of course, we were but I yearned so badly to be more. Did he not want to? Maya sees us cuddled up by the bar and comes over with the biggest smile.

“Is it finally official?” She says giving me a hug once I released from Joe’s grasp.

“Is what official?” Joe says with a slight chuckle.

“You two! We have had bets on how long it would take, since apparently you two are the only ones who don’t know you are in love” she says. Joe clears his throat and I notice his mood shift.

“What? Us? Nope. Just best friends” I say forcing a smile.

“Yep, nothing to see here. Excuse me for a minute” Joe says running his hands through his hair. I watch as he walks away to the back.

“What was that all about?” Maya says, a concerned look forming on her face.

“I honestly have no idea. Maybe it’s just him who isn’t in love” I say, feeling tears forming in my eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Maya says taking me to sit at one of the tables.

“Can I be honest with you?” I say, wiping my tears

“Of course!” Maya says, leaning to grab my hands

“I am so in love with that man and all he wants to be is best friends. I’m surprised his arm candy didn’t come tonight” I say looking to the ground.

“She has nothing on you. You have that man’s heart, he just has to admit it to himself” Maya says. I notice Joe emerge from the back and head over to us.

“The lingering question kept me up, 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake and now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door. I'd open up and you would say, "Hey" It was enchanting to meet you”. All I know is, I was enchanted to meet you. This night is sparkling, don't you let it go, I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew that this night is flawless, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you. This is me praying that this was the very first page. Not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you.”

“I think I’m going to head home, I am exhausted” I say as Joe returns to the table. He can tell something is on my mind, but this time he doesn’t ask what.

“Do you need any company on the ride home? I can call us a cab” Joe asks, grabbing my hand and squeezing it in his knowing way.

“I’m okay, I can just call a cab and call it a night. Thank you, handsome” I say, kissing Joe’s cheek.

“Anything for my girl” he says wrapping me in one final hug. I look over to Maya who is smiling at the exchange with an I told you so look to me. Joe walks me to the cab.

“Listen, about what Maya said…” He begins.

“No, it’s all okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow for our movie night?” I say smiling and squeezing his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world” Joe says opening the car door for me. I climb in as Joe shuts the door and I smile at tonight’s events. All of the flirting Joe did and how clingy he was to my body. All of the looks exchanged across the room between the two of us. I began to blush and smile at how lucky I am to have Joe in my life, even if it is just as a best friend. I begin to wonder if I take up as much space in his mind when we aren’t together as he does mine. I get home to my empty apartment that overlooks New York City. I texted Joe to let him know I made it home. I grab a glass of wine and sit down to read a book by the window illuminating my apartment with the lights of NYC, still in tonight’s dress, too exhausted to take it off. I checked my phone and Joe never replied, which is not like him, but my guess was his lady showed up after I left the party. My heart sank at this thought, and I hoped I wasn’t right. The thought of him taking her home and touching her body the way I dreamed of at night made my stomach turn. I hear a knock at my door that breaks my train of thought. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I get up and open the door.

“Listen to me and don’t say a word” It was Joe pushing past me into my apartment.

“About what Maya said…” He began

“Joe, I said it’s fine….” But he shuts me up with his lips crashing onto mine. I feel like I am in a dream as my head spins.

“I said don’t say a word, damn it.” Joe says breaking the kiss. I blush and suddenly cower in his now dominate presence.

“I am so in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the moment we met. I never admitted this to you for the fear I would lose you as a friend and I could not bear the thought of my life without you” Joe says pulling me in close, touching his forehead to mine.

“But I don’t care anymore. I am so damn in love with you, Y/N and no other girl compares to you.” He says staring deep into my eyes with those big hazel puppy dog eyes.

“Can I talk now?” I say giggling as Joe wraps his hands around my waist, causing me to shiver at his touch.

“The floor is all yours, beautiful” He says smiling down at me.

“I am so damn in love with you too, Joesph David Keery. I always have been. You are not only my best friend, but the absolute love of my life. It has been a tortuous 6 months watching you with another girl” I say, grabbing his hands to lead him to the couch.

“You have no idea how magical you have made my night. You looked like a princess tonight you know that? My princess” He says crashing his lips onto mine again. This time it’s more aggressive and needy. I know exactly what Joe wants and so do I.

“Joey, Baby?” I say breaking our kiss.

“Mhmmmhm?” He says pushing me further down on the couch, his hands becoming more and more needy and roaming every inch of my body.

“Take me to my bedroom and make up for every moment you never confessed your love to me” I say taking his hand to lead him to my corner bedroom.

“I’d love you for the rest of our lives if you asked me to, baby girl” Joe says following in behind me.

To be continued…..

#joe keery #joe keery x reader

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natashasnoodle · 2 years

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A Friend From Work | Robin Buckley x Female Reader

Masterlist | R.B Masterlist

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Starting work at Scoops Ahoy was daunting enough without seeing the girl you've had a crush on for years standing behind the counter.

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The mall was bustling with people as you walked through it, which was not helping with the embarrassment of having to wear your new Scoops uniform. No one was actually looking at you, but as you made your way through the hustle and bustle you could have sworn that you had a million eyes on you. But in reality, everyone else was enjoying their Saturday, laughing with friends, buying food, and looking for new clothes. You were invisible to these people, especially as most people in the mall had seen the Scoops uniform at least once, so they couldn't care less. They just saw you as an employee.

But still, you anxiously tugged on the small tie as you made your way over to Scoops Ahoy for your first shift since being hired. You had only been in once with your Mom and were served by Steve Harrington, which shocked you at first and you stood intimidated, but when he had flashed you a friendly smile of recognition you were pleasantly surprised. You deduced that he must have changed since his days of tormenting those of Hawkins High with his right-hand man, Tommy H.

So, when there had been a vacancy flyer pushed through your letterbox and your Mom told you, more like ordered you, to apply you weren't worried about the fact that Steve would be a coworker. Your Mom wanted you to apply so that you would actually leave the house for something other than school, and you didn't push back because the idea of having your own savings sounded like a nice thing.

When you got the call saying that you had gotten the job, you were ecstatic. It wouldn't have been a life or death situation if Scoops Ahoy hadn't hired you, but the fear of failure powered you, so it was nice to get a win. Though when your employer said that you would be working with another Hawkins High Student as well as the guy - Steve - you saw at your interview for most of your shifts, you had another panic. You recognised Steve obviously, but he had left High School, so you didn't really have to worry too much if you embarrassed yourself at all. But a current Hawkins High student? Panic.

Your current main focus had been trying not to be noticed out in the public mall area with your little sailors' uniform, but as you neared the store itself, your focus shifted onto that student. If it was another popular type then you were sure to embarrass yourself due to your awkward nature. It was intimidating being shy in front of big personalities. So you just hoped that it was someone who was more your wavelength.

The hair tie on your wrist was being stretched and snapped as you walked into the store, your anxious habit coming out in full swing as you looked down at the floor, heading to the counter. When you looked up you realised that your hopes had been half answered. The other student that you were going to be working with was not a popular type, but it was the girl that you had been pining over from the sidelines since Middle School. Great.

When you locked eyes with Robin Buckley as you moved through to the other side of the counter, her eyes widened, and you struggled to figure out why. But you were promptly distracted by Steve barrelling through the staff door as he beamed at you, "Hey! You got the job!". You laughed as you twisted your hair tie at a faster speed, "That I did".

Steve walked forward and put an arm around your shoulder and turned you to face Robin, your body froze at first from the touch, but once your brain caught up you loosened up again. "You two would know each other right? Same school year?".

"Uh, y- yeah", Robin gave a tight-lipped smile before turning to face the small ice cream tubs under the glass of the counter. You frowned slightly, sure, you and Robin weren't really 'friends friends', but you had been in a couple of group projects together and had nice conversations, so this reaction had confused you. Apparently, Steve noticed the glaringly obvious tense aura radiating from the other Scooper, so he patted you on the back hard, not realising his own strength, "Hey, why don't you go wash up out back and familiarise yourself with the schedule, then we can begin training?".

"Sure", you nodded and walked over to push the door open and walk over to the noticeboard, but because the door closes slowly, you heard the hushed and rushed whisper shouting of a panicked Robin Buckley. You felt a lump form in your throat when the door shut, not expecting her to act like that towards you at all. As you began chewing on your lips and snapping the hair tie against your wrist as you tried to read the schedule.

Did she hate you? From her panicked tone, it sounded as though she had a major issue working with you, and the idea of working with someone who hated you made you feel nauseous. Though you were incredibly confused, though your interactions with her had been limited, they had been pleasant. Unless it was only pleasant for you and she just played along. "You all good back here?", Steve poked his head through the door and sent you a reassuring smile, clearly seeing you looking a little bit out of your depth.

"Yup!", you tried to sound enthusiastic, so he called you back through to the front. You adjusted your hat and followed him through, sending a small smile to Robin who gave you a small nod whilst tapping her fingers on the counter. "Robin will be training you today", Steve announced, and both of your heads snapped towards him, and you did not miss the smirk that he sent to the brunette. "Okay", Robin puffed out a breath and walked to show you how to use the till.

You got overly excited when the money part of the till popped out and a little bell noise occurred, causing you to giggle. Robin laughed alongside you, so you looked up at her and she had a genuine smile on her face. But when you made eye contact, she shrunk back into herself and took a couple of steps back as she cleared her throat. "Let's uh- move onto the actual ice creams now". You swallowed thickly and moved next to her again, giving her a bit more space this time as she went through the different types of orders and let you practice scooping a few times to make sure you had the technique.

After a few tries, you had a decent scoop, so now it was just about practising during the shift, whilst either Steve or Robin watched over you. You thought that the shift went well, other than it being completely awkward between you and your classmate, but you had fun with Steve. He included you in the jokes, helped if you were unsure about something, and you even made both of them laugh a few times.

When you got home after your shift, you honestly looked forward to the next one. It felt like you were being paid to just mess around, and occasionally scoop some ice cream. The Robin situation still worried you though. When you saw her at school on the Monday before your evening shift, she gave you a brief smile when she spotted you entering the classroom of your shared class. But that was the only interaction.

When you saw her and Steve at work that evening you got an enthusiastic hello from Steve and another hesitant greeting from Robin before Steve lightly pushed her forward. You tilted your head as you watched Steve saunter to the back room, and then faced Robin as you let out a heavy breath, "Hi".

"Hey", she smiled and shuffled awkwardly on the spot as she looked to the entrance, even though no one was there, and no one would likely be there. Monday evenings were notoriously dead for trade at the mall. "So, did you finish the work for Miss Green's class tomorrow?", you tried to start some conversation as Steve wasn't there as a buffer. "Uh yeah, I have my final draft done, just gotta y'know... read it over".

You hummed in understanding, for most classes you didn't bother reading your work over, just trusting whatever you had written in your previous sleep-deprived state. But Miss Green was a stickler for grammar. If you used one semi-colon wrong then she would deduct 10% minimum from the final assignment grade, so everyone rushed to meticulously scan their work about a hundred times before submission.

"What about you?", she asked after a moment of silence, and your eyes visibly sparkled at her interacting back, which Robin noticed and smiled at. Though she felt guilty that it meant she had clearly pushed you away, even though it was technically her goal. She didn't really want to be pushing you away, but you were not the only one who had been pining. She had done a good job over the years of pushing her feelings to the side and avoiding you so that you didn't discover her secret. But now you were working with her at least four times a week, so she decided to try and keep you at arm's length, even with Steve figuring her out within seconds and pushing her to make a move. But at seeing you look so happy when she said three words, she decided to just do the pushing feelings to the side part, and not pushing you to the side.

"I have a couple of paragraphs left to go becauuuuuse I decided sleeping would be more productive", you winced, and she shook her head in faux-disapproval. "You're not gonna have time to read over it until your eyes drop out", she teased and scooped some strawberry and white chocolate ice cream into a tub and grabbed two little plastic spoons. "Yeah", you rubbed the back of your neck as you thought over your mistake, "Oh well, living life on the edge. Just don't judge me when I walk into class tomorrow looking like a zombie".

"No promises", she smirked slightly and handed you a spoon, placing the ice cream tub in between you on the counter.

---

Over the next few weeks, things with Robin had continued to get more and more comfortable, though there was still some tension during the day, and you didn't know the exact reason why. You had noticed that more often than not if you laughed at a joke that Steve made, her face would harden. So ultimately, you had come to the conclusion that she liked Steve, so you made sure to back off from him, which sucked as you considered him a good friend now. But, even though it was against your best interests from all angles, you did it because you thought it would keep Robin happy.

Though apparently, it made things a whole lot tenser.

It was noticed by both Robin and Steve that you seemed more withdrawn than normal, and they were worried that perhaps there was something going wrong at home or school, but they couldn't determine what, especially because there wasn't too many outside of work interactions other than saying hi to Robin in class and if you pass each other in the halls. Though Robin couldn't recall seeing or hearing anything about you at school that was out of the ordinary, so the home life problems assumption seemed to fit the bill.

The two were worried about you, even after only knowing you properly for a few weeks. So, whilst the two were working on a day that you were not, they made a plan to try and get to the bottom of it. Robin especially wanted you to go back to normal, she was enjoying getting to know you before you put your walls up, even if she couldn't get to know you the way that she so desperately wanted to.

Seeing as if it did end up being a school problem Robin would have better knowledge than Steve on your year group, it was agreed that Robin would talk to you on your shared break, which she was terrified about. She didn't really have the strongest grasp on social cues and so didn't want to accidentally push a boundary. But they considered themselves your friends so something had to be done.

When the dreaded day arrived, everything seemed normal to you. You all did your jobs as you regularly did and had no suspicions that there was a secret intervention being planned about why your mood had been dropping. But when you went on your break, and Robin uncharacteristically followed almost immediately after, you tilted your head as you sat, propping your feet up on the flimsy table. "Hi", she started and awkwardly stood a few paces away from you as she played with her rings, which worried you as you hadn't seen Robin this nervous in a long time.

"Hi?", you continued and she took a few steps forward. "Me and Steve were just worried about you, over the last few weeks you've not seemed yourself so we just wanted to make sure that you were okay, you know because we're friends we want you to be okay". The word friends stung your chest, but you put on a fake smile and nodded, "I'm fine".

Now it was Robin's turn to be confused as she frowned because you hadn't seemed 'fine'. "A-are you sure? Because you used to be very laughy but now whenever Steve shows up you seem all nervous". Your jaw went tight at being told they had noticed, and you didn't really want to continue the conversation. "I just didn't want to push any boundaries and make you uncomfortable", you spoke in a small voice, embarrassed that you had to explain yourself and had made them worry about you.

"Why would I be uncomfortable?", she moved to sit opposite you, now invested and even more confused about what was going on in your little brain. "Well... you like Steve, right?". You were startled when Robin let out a loud laugh before going silent at seeing your face, "Wait, you're serious?".

"I mean, yeah?", you quirked an eyebrow and she just chuckled before her face dropped. "I thought that you liked Steve".

You shook your head and answered way too fast for your liking, "Oh Gods no. I don't like him". Both yours and Robin's eyes widened at how you emphasised the end of your sentence, but for different reasons. "So there is someone you like", she stated in a small voice, that you thought almost sounded sad but you had no clue why. But before you could even think about questioning her, her face shifted in a matter of seconds into one with a grin to try and be supportive.

"So, who do you like then?", she wiggled her eyebrows and you went to open your mouth to protest but you continued, "Nick seems like someone you would talk to, is it Nick? OH maybe Daniel he seems nice". You began frantically shaking your head, those are the two guys in the school that you would be least likely to go out with even if you did like guys. "No? Hm, I'm not good at this game then I suppose".

"Yeah", you chuckled whilst awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck praying to all of the higher beings out there that the conversation would come to a quick stop, but Robin was persistent. "The only person I can think of it being that would disrupt work is Steve, but you're sure you don't like him". At this point you were looking at your hands as they rested on the table, picking at your fingernails for a distraction as your breathing picked up.

At the sight of you Robin panicked, she had done exactly what she had set out not to do, crossed a boundary. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just trying to see this logically so that I know how to help you because he's the only guy we work with", she tilted her head and looked at you. "Robin", you barely spoke, your voice cracking in the middle as you looked up at her and finally met her gaze.

The gears in her head could practically be heard as she took in your minimal words and posture, and a lightbulb might as well have appeared over her head. Her eyes widened in a way that made you shrink into yourself and her next words didn't help, "Oh... oh". You had to will tears not to appear in your eyes now that Robin had figured it out, thinking that she would treat you as a social outcast, so you looked at your lap and got ready to hightail it out of there. So you were surprised when she softly said "Hey", in a raspier voice than normal and shuffled her chair around the table to be next to yours.

"It's okay". You looked up with uncertainty as she continued. "It's okay". After searching her eyes for a lie, you smiled bashfully when you came up with nothing. There was a moment of comfortable silence as you tried to slow your heart rate down before she spoke again, "Do you wanna hear my secret too?".

"...Sure?", you frowned.

"I like you too". Your eyes lit up and Robin had a huge grin on her face at your reaction and you instinctively reached forward to take hold of her hand, making the grin become even wider which Robin hadn't thought was possible. As you both looked at your intertwined hands everything else in the world was blocked out, so when Steve threw the door open, making it hit the wall with a bang, you were both scared shitless.

Steve looked like he was about to give a lecture, but then spotted how the two of you were sitting, "Oh finally!", he half-yelled, "Look I'm very happy for you, but that girl who keeps asking for samples is back and I can't seem to get rid of her so I need one of you to do it".

"Ahoy Cap'n", you saluted him and stood to walk out the room, but not without flashing a smile at Robin who looked completely starstruck at the events that had played out.

"So... you got the girl?", Steve smirked and crossed his arms, making Robin scoff and roll her eyes. "Back off Harrington", she stood and shoved him away to walk out to the front again but stopped before she opened the door, "But yeah, I got the girl".

#robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley #robin x reader #stranger things #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fluff

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lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers · 11 months

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Is 6.5% enough?

Today, there was a leak in the Times that said the independent body who make recommendations on teacher pay has recommended a pay rise of 6.5% for teachers in England for September. Obviously, we don’t know all the details, and funding is a key issue, but is 6.5% enough to save education?

Anecdata, but I recently met up with some friends from my teacher training course. We’re close to hitting the 5 year mark- by which point 1/3 of teachers apparently quit. Except I’m going to be the only one out of five of us teaching in England in September, an attrition rate of 80%. And I don’t think that attrition rate is so unusual, any more.

Right now, on one of the main websites which schools use to advertise vacancies, there are over 12,000 teaching/education jobs being advertised in England. It’s very roughly one vacancy for every two schools. These vacancies won’t be evenly distributed between all schools, so there will be schools in September with huge staff shortages. It’s not an exaggeration to say education is in crisis.

If we got 6.5% (and if it were funded, ensuring all teachers could receive the pay rise), would it make any difference? It’s lower than inflation, after all, and many of the things that we regularly need to buy have gone up by more than inflation in the past year.

As a brief explanation, most teachers in England are paid according to one pay scale. People get a bit more in Inner/outer London and the surrounding areas, but otherwise there’s one set of pay for the whole country. All teachers progress from the starting point M1, to M6, usually at the rate of one pay point a year. The 6.5% would be added on to all of these paypoints.

6.5% would bring M1 (the starting pay point for most qualified teachers) very close to the original Tory promise of a £30,000 starting salary for teachers. At the top of the main pay scale- M6 (which is the point at the pay scale where this would have most impact) it would increase salaries by over £2000 to £41, 332. This would be noticeable in pay packets, enough to reduce people’s financial stresses- which can enable them to cope better with a stressful working environment.

I know some of you will say £40k is a lot, but bear in mind we are talking about a postgraduate qualified professional with at least 6 years of experience. For someone with a chemistry, physics or maths degree, that could be their starting salary in industry. It’s about equivalent to the average salary of a pharmacist. In a capitalist system, pay has to be competitive.

After M6, to increase your pay, you either need to get onto the “upper pay scale” or take on an extra responsibility payment known as a TLR. Getting on to the upper pay scale used to be relatively automatic, but now it’s much harder. It can certainly take people two or three years to progress from M6 to upper pay scale, and you’re expected to take on “whole school responsibilities” which can amount to a lot of extra work, with not that much of an increase in pay. Increasingly, in England, teacher pay is capped at M6, although there are a lot of older teachers who are on the upper pay scale, and sometimes, they find themselves getting pushed out because they are too expensive. If you move schools, there’s no guarantee of getting a UPS pay point at the new school.

TLRs are even worse in many ways. This is the way that people like heads of department and heads of year are paid. It’s a figure set by your school, within a national range, and there’s no consistency between schools. A Head of Science in one school may get £5000, whilst another only gets £3000. It’s worth noting that it’s also much harder to get a TLR in primary. Because TLRs are often the only way to increase your pay, a lot of people rush to take them on, sometimes in the second or third year of teaching. This often leads to burnout, because people take on massive responsibilities before they are ready, and the consequences can be damaging to everyone around them as well.

I do think 6.5% might be just enough to keep some people who are looking elsewhere from leaving. But the main reason people leave is often work related stress, often euphemistically called “workload”, which is largely being driven by the collapse in other services such as social services, the NHS and social care. “Workload” is also often made worse by being in a short staffed department, so it becomes a vicious cycle. I’ll write more about workload in another post.

However, the point is, the profession is on the brink of collapse. I really do believe that. I think the only way to save education would be to tempt a lot of the recent leavers back in. And 6.5% won’t be enough to do that. I don’t think 10% would be enough to do that. Without tackling the systemic problems within teaching, and without a pay system that really rewards classroom teachers doing the key, every day job that makes education functional, pay increases that don’t even match inflation aren’t enough.

#uk politics #education #strikes #teacher pay #analysis

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monstersinthecosmos · 8 months

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September 16, 1973

Somewhere in the middle of Louisiana Daniel wonders if he should publish the transcript. Maybe it’s actually a manuscript.

His producer at the station used to tell him to put the interviews in print. He knew a guy in New York, gave Daniel his card. Daniel watches as the landscape becomes lush and green and overgrown and thinks all the way to his apartment in San Francisco, and can picture where the card was pinned to his bulletin board over his desk.

The idea had intimidated him before. Seemed like too much work. Spinning all these interviews into narratives, tinkering with them, moving around the pieces and parts of text until they made sense. A little more work than he felt like doing.

There’s no real clear path forward; he thinks ahead to New Orleans, to Lestat. Unsure what he’ll be like, how he’ll respond. If he’ll attack, the way Louis did. Unsure if he’ll survive it.

And maybe a book would be the collateral he could leave. Or some message, so that people remember him. Connie, and Jeff, and his cousin, and his mom.

He pulls off the highway at the next gas station he sees. Ain’t No Grave playing from a tinny radio in the garage. He buys smokes and tops off his tank while he has the opportunity but really stopped for the payphone. He flips through the phone book; close enough to New Orleans that he can look up some hotels. He tries to pick one that doesn’t sound fancy and calls ahead to ask about their vacancy, asks them to hold a room for tonight.

The voice on the line is disinterested, but they help him. He lights a cigarette as he hangs up, as he fishes more change from his pocket to makes another call.

Heart racing as he listens to the line ring. He turns to watch his car, making sure it’s still there, that his tapes and the transcript are safe.

And his producer isn’t there yet for the day. Early still in California, but he knows the kid who answers the phone. Enough for a friendly “Hey, it’s Molloy,” but not too friendly to have to field questions about where he disappeared to. Unsure if anyone’s noticed.

“Can you ask Mel to give me a call?”

Can you ask him to leave a message at my hotel, this is the number, can he leave me the info for that publisher he knows? Thanks man.

He’s sweating as he hangs up. And his stomach churns but he isn’t sure if it’s hunger or nerves, but he wants to keep going.

Late afternoon when he finally hits the city limits. Part of him wants to pull over and throw up, but he breathes through it. Opens the window for all the humidity to spill into the car. He tries to catch his breath but feels like he’s drowning in the heat.

Louis’s hands had been so cold. So, so cold. It must have been so visceral, meeting vampires down here. Such a balm to the oppressive warmth.

There’s a message waiting for him when he gets to the hotel. He can’t tell if the person at the desk is the one he spoke to on the phone; just as deadpan and sick of their job, but they hand the note over. The number and address for Mel’s guy. Daniel taps his foot as they grab his key for him, anxious to run up to the room and work up a cover letter.

And tomorrow he can mail it, and he can start looking up property records, try to figure out which house it is. He’s shaking again as he takes the key and heads for the elevator, but it’s excitement this time, not the panic that’s been haunting him since that night.

Tapes in the dresser drawer, typewriter on the breakfast table. He opens the window and breathes the humidity. Feels it on his skin, like the city can touch. Steamy and charged.

Sort of erotic.

Lestat it out there, he thinks, gazing out over the rooftops. Sky turning pink with twilight; Daniel wonders if Lestat still wakes at night. Is he under there, awake and suffering, aware of the time passing? Or does he sleep?

I’m here, Daniel thinks. He projects it out into the city, wondering if Lestat will hear him.

He turns back to the room. Grabs his bag from the drawer, sets the tape player on top of the dresser. He’s not sure which tape he grabs, just the first one his hand reaches, but he slips it inside and press the play button.

Louis’s voice trills through his nerves. Frightening and soothing at the same time, vivid reminder that it was real. And Lestat is out here, somewhere. Somewhere close.

“…this vampire opened his arms, his back to the flickering footlights, his auburn hair seeming to tremble as the gold of her hair fell around his black coat,” Louis says from the speaker. Daniel swallows hard. “ ‘No pain… no pain…’ he was whispering to her, and she was giving herself over.”

His hands run through his hair. His neck cracks. His thumbnail digs into the edge of the scab on his neck, harder and harder to pick every day, but he still gets the stab of adrenaline from attempting.

The pain is warm, though. Pleasant as it bathes over him, shooting to his fingertips and his nipples and his cock. He turns back to the window and presses his forehead to the glass, rubbing a hand over his chest, wondering if Lestat will hurt him.

Not just like Louis did; he wonders what happens if Lestat doesn’t stop. Imagines the teeth in his throat, and how it would feel if he drank, and drank, and drank…

“He lifted her off the boards as he drank, her throat gleaming against his white cheek. I felt weak, dazed, hunger rising in me, knotting my heart, my veins. I felt my hand gripping the brass bar of the box, tighter, until I could feel the metal creaking in its joints.”

Or, what if it were gentle? If there were no pain. He shudders.

And sex has been the last thing on his mind since he left San Francisco, but his cock throbs in his pants. He stares out, over the other buildings, down to the street, to the cars passing by, and breaks out in goosebumps when he remembers Louis’s age. Here before all of this.

He unzips his jeans, wraps his hand around his cock. Imagines the cold hands on him.

Here before all these buildings, and the paved roads, the traffic lights. Before cars, before electricity. He wonders when this part of the city was built, wonders if it was just swampland back then.

And, god. Armand, too. He had been in New Orleans with Louis. What a sight they must have been together. Daniel wonders if Armand might be here still, too. Wonders where he is. What he’s seen. He shakes, and spits down into his hand, strokes himself harder.

A couple is shouting, down on the sidewalk. Tires screech from a block away. He wonders how much worse the charge was, in the air, way back then, with nothing but wilderness to swallow you.

“I was sitting back in the chair, my mouth full of the taste of her, my veins in torment. And in the corner of my eyes was that auburn-haired vampire who had conquered her, standing apart as he had been before, his dark eyes seeming to pick me from the darkness, seeming to fix on me over the currents of warm air.”

I’m here, Lestat, he thinks. Sun almost down now, streetlights glowing. Sky electric purple.

“But there he was, soundless,” Louis says. Daniel whines, without meaning to. His free hand slips on the window frame, nails scratching against the wood. And, fuck. Fuck. The view in front of him blurs as he stares out at the horizon, gasping for the warm air, feeling the humidity on his skin again as the orgasms crests. “…beyond the curtained entrance of the box, that vampire with the auburn hair, that detached one; standing on the carpeted stairway looking at us.”

His hand twists around his shaft, pumping himself through it, painting the window with his release.

“He would have startled me, except for his stillness,” Louis says. Daniel tastes blood in his mouth. He covers up the wound with his other hand.

“…the remote dreamy quality of his expression.”

“Had he not so completely absorbed me—“

“—as if his calm were drawing off my trepidation—“

Daniel’s heart thuds in his ears. Everything electrified, and he can’t tell if it’s the orgasm or the fear. Not sure it matters as he tries to catch his breath.

I cannot exaggerate this quality in him.

Fuck.

[previous day] | [next day]

#vamptember #vamptember 1973 #daniel molloy #vampire chronicles #stuff i wrote #monsterfucker molloy

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 9 months

Text

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 8

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

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Warning: This chapter includes smut! Minors please dni.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 8

After your first full night in the Dreaming, instead of meeting Morpheus on the beach again, you discovered places from your childhood memories you had entirely forgotten about and hadn’t even crossed your mind while you were awake. Moreover, you experienced peculiar events that either reminded you of your teenage years, or conveyed something too abstract for you to comprehend. You assumed this is how dreams normally operate, given that everything transpired beyond your control.

Seven whole days passed and you had not seen him once. You were aware that restoring his realm posed many complications, and that with the substantial number of humans who were falling asleep all over the globe, you weren't expecting any exclusive treatment from the otherwordly ruler of the Dream realm. Nonetheless, Morpheus had promised to see you again ‘soon’, and you didn’t quite understand what this implied for an immortal being with an eternity to spare. You needed to stop dwelling on it as it was making you anxious and sick.

In order to divert your attention, you proceeded in browsing new job vacancies on the internet, applying to corporations with an appropriate visual profile that matched your style. You were constantly checking your phone (which was fortunate enough to remain pristine after that tumble on the sidewalk), refreshing your email inbox. At the end of the day, you felt demoralized, albeit slightly amused, observing the amount of irritating spam populating your account.

You couldn't have won the lottery since you never bought a single ticket for it, and you weren't interested in claiming fake Amazon gift cards or accepting a one million bitcoin donation on your non-existent digital bank. You also couldn’t care less about the man who seemed to be enjoying a yellow banana up his butt, Nancy Pelosi being absolutely disgusted with whatever you might have done, and a certain Kim Smitherd offering millions of dollars to make you as rich as 'Bull Gates' while your aunt was dying.

You had to give these scammers credit for their entertaining content, at least.

On the bright side, your father was appearing to be progressively recuperating, gaining weight at a rapid pace and finally spending a lot more time outside of the house. He had struggled with his health for two years straight, simultaneously as Morpheus had endured a century of seclusion, solitude and mental affliction without ever turning his back on humanity. They both inspired you to relentlessly chase after your ambitions, even if it meant reaching out to each and every company in town that could provide you an opportunity.

Even though your heart sank every time you awakened devoid of sighting the King of Dreams, you carried on with all you wanted to complete, working hard from day to late evening to create some momentum in your stagnant routine.

Ten days after that sensual night with the Endless, your nerves were about to get the best of you. It was an emotion that you recalled all too well from your previous romances, and you truly hoped to not go through all that again. Since Morpheus didn't have a phone, you couldn't text nor call the Endless to invite him out for a drink. Matthew had paid you brief visits throughout that period, but the only information he disclosed was regarding how hectic Morpheus was with the reconstructions of his domain.

Feeling mentally fatigued and in need of some respite, you endevoavored to recuparate at Regent's Park, which occured to be your favorite area in London. In your childhood, your father frequently had you visit that place almost every weekend to relax and partake in a long walk amidst the captivating greenery and view the diverse species of birds that resided there. It was one of those locations that never changed, providing you with a pleasant sensation of nostalgia whenever you stopped by.

Arriving at the curved bridge over the lake, you set your arms upon the wooden railing and peacefully gazed at the ducks floating in the water, carried along by the calm flow. The discrepancy between the sounds of the natural world and the buoyant pulse of the streets was precisely what you needed, ideal for any mood you might be in.

In that particular instant, the rustling of leaves in the mild wind was consoling and harmonious. You were so lost in it that you failed to notice the woman proping herself on the guardrail beside you, observing you with a kind smile and waiting for you to acknowledge her presence. When you didn't, engrossed in your thoughts and fixated on the rippling patterns od the water underneath, she decided to initiate a conversation with a polite greeting.

“Hello.”

With a tilt of your head, you came face-to-face with a pair of dark, incredibly gentle eyes. The brown-skinned woman at your side left you struck with her voluminous black curls, so soft-looking that it almost made you want to touch them. The positivity that she exuded was immediately infectious - a rare quality in people that you couldn’t find often.

"Uhm… hello…?”

As she moved closer to where you were standing, her upper arm brushed against yours. Though the stranger's touch was in some way pleasant, it left you at a loss for words and with a bewildered look on your face. You searched your mind for any memories of her but couldn't find any.

Your brow wrinkled. "I apologize, but... have we met?"

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

You stared in confusion. "Who might he be?"

She didn't reply but kept gazing at you with the same friendly smile. Your eyes discended to the necklace she was wearing, an Ankh pendant attached to a long chain that sat comfortably on her chest.

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

A symbol of life and death.

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

And then it hit you.

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

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

Aftr the initial astonishment, you began to sweat profusely. What was the reason that Death herself had come to a random spot in London in order to meet a human who was lost in thought?

You were unable to contain it and said, "Please tell me you're not here to take my soul.”

She laughed. "Of course not. I just want to talk.”

Although her response relieved you, you recognized that Death was one of the Endless, a being of tremendous power and responsibility. What sort of communication was she intending to have with a mere mortal like yourself?

Unless…

The question came naturally, and the dread attached to it was quite weighty. "Did something happen to Morpheus? Is he okay??”

Seeing your concern, Death clasped your hand on the edge of the railing in a reassuring way. "He’s fine, this is not why I came here.”

You tried to make sense of it but nothing came to light. Death took both of your hands in hers, her eyes glistened as her bright expression shifted into something hollow. Her touch was gentle, but you could feel the strength in her fingers and the safety they transmitted.

Finally, she continued. "Thank you. For taking care of my little brother when I wasn't there,” she said, her voice low and slightly hoarse.

Your throat became dry, and you were unable to respond appropriately. Instead of addressing what she told you, you questioned her.

"Did you know that he was captured?"

Somehow, you quickly became accustomed to her touch, and when she removed her hands, you mentally protested at the sudden chill that enveloped your skin for the loss of contact, despite the warm temperatures outside.

She closed her eyes, confirming with a nod of her head.

“Why didn’t you help him?”

Death let out a deep sigh, turning her melancholic gaze towards the lake in front of the bridge. "The Endless are bound to certain rules that prohibit them from interfering with each other's domains. We exist in service to the universe and the living things within it, with our own tasks and realms to oversee.”

You were aware that you should have clamped your tongue and refrained from speaking so animatedly in the presence of a formidable entity, but the immense disappointment felt within your body urged you to give it expression.

"So, you couldn't step away from your duties even for five minutes? Maybe he was hoping that you or your siblings would come to his aid, to show that you cared and let him know he wasn't alone and forgotten by his own family. What's the point of rules when someone you care about is suffering like that?”

You were filled with regret almost instantly after speaking so fervently, despite the fact that you might not have fully grasped the situation. Nevertheless, her next statement only amplified your displeasure.

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

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

The atmosphere became dense and solemn. You were so fervently protective of Morpheus that it clouded your judgment. Your knowledge of their existence in the universe was restricted, so how could you presume to teach them a lesson on what ought to be done based on your assesment?

You let out a frustrated sigh. "I apologize. I understand that it's not my place to judge. As an Endless, you certainly know better than I ever will from my humble human perspective. I just can’t see how leaving Dream to his fate and ego would make up for what he went through.”

Her smile once again beamed with warmth and joy, illuminating her entire face. "My brother means a great deal to you," she said.

Your cheeks immediately turned red at her statement, and she seemed to find your reaction amusing as she giggled under her breath. Without asking further about your feelings towards her brother, she nodded her head, gesturing for you to follow her. "Come on, let's take a walk.”

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her black jeans. Her equally dark tank top showcased her perfectly toned arms, with visible muscles lining them. Although she was generally slim, she was fit and a bit taller than you. Everything she did appeared human and ordinary, but the strength you sensed in her was enough to make anyone cower in fear.

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

As you walked alongside her, the sound of children's laughter filled the park. Your feet moved in perfect sync with hers, while her imposing and confident strides in leather boots made your own sneakers seem small and insecure in comparison.

"You see," she explained, "my brother needed to learn a lesson about the consequences of his actions and how they affect others. He had to confront his captors and overcome the situation on his own to grow into a better ruler of the Dreaming.”

You swallowed your bitterness. "So you're saying that this was supposed to happen? That he brought it upon himself and therefore deserved a century of emotional torment?”

A gust of wind blew through her hair, but she didn't even flinch when a curly lock fell in front of her eye. She continued to look ahead as she spoke. "Dream could have summoned me. He was given a choice, and he didn't take it.”

This made you think. If Morpheus truly had the chance to be released early, why did he choose to stay in captivity for all those years? He remained trapped in that cage without a word of complaint, despite the pain consuming him inside, all because of that one missed opportunity.

Was it really just pride that kept him there?

However, you understood all too well what it meant to feel helpless and always afraid of burdening those you cared about. As a mere mortal, you struggled to accept that you could hardly succeed on your own, so you couldn't blame Morpheus for holding onto his ego. Being powerless and unable to escape his predicament must have been unbearable for a creature like him. All Dream wanted was a straightforward offer from Death, which explained the disappointment you had seen plastered onto his face.

Sometimes, all we need is a caring gesture from someone we love, even when our answer is no.

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

She seemed to consider your question carefully, but ultimately chose not to answer. "You didn't know him before. You only see him for who he has become as a result of that incident.”

You gradually decreased the pace of your strides, and when you came to a standstilll, she turned and regarded you with a questioning expression.

"They killed his raven and stripped him of everything he had. The ruby, the helm, even his clothes were taken and thrown away. I don't know who Dream of the Endless was a century ago, but how is any of this justified?" you asked.

Her smile grew even wider at your passionate response, and it seemed as though the sun itself had become brighter because of it.

How ironic.

"If he hadn't taken my place that day, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you could change the course of events, would you rather not have met Dream?”

You stood in silence, fighting to gather the correct response to give and conceding that she was in fact correct. If those particular conditions had not led you to cross paths with Morpheus, you probably wouldn’t have met the person who was bringing so much love to your existence. It pained you to realize that you would willingly choose to stay in the present reality, regardless of the implications, even if you were given the choice to shift to a separate timeline where he was not a component of your existence.

“This is so messed up,” you muttered.

Death softly squeezed your shoulders in a gesture of comfort, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. She already knew what her brother’s answer would be, and so she left him behind when he needed her the most. Their family was more complicated than you could imagine, with regulations and dynamics that were foreign to you and the world you inhabited. It was unfair to criticize their lack of intervention when you didn’t really know the depths of their connection. The only thing you could do was adjust to their nature based on what it was.

You took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be indiscreet."

Her expression softened. "You were not. You're sweet."

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

"You didn't take my father when I thought I was about to lose him. I should be thanking you, not cast judgement," you said.

You could see the kindness and empathy in her eyes, with no resentment present. "It wasn't his time. It won't be for a while," she reassured you.

Hearing those words from her put your heart at ease, as you still had that nagging worry lingering in the back of your mind.

Guided by your emotions yet again, you were unable to resist the impulse and surprised the Endless in front of you with a shy and hesitant embrace. But as soon as your hands pressed against her back, you no longer had a single afterthought.

Death's scent was distinct from Dream's but equally pleasant and grounding. Her hair and skin emanated a mix of jasmine flowers, smoldering swathes of woody incense, pink lotus, and saffron. She surrounded you with her enigmatic veil of mystery, but at the same time, her sweet and caring nature was warm and fulfilling.

The woman hummed in appreciation against your hair, combing through it as a caring older sister would.

"Am I signing my death sentence with this?" You asked her.

She laughed heartily at your question. "It doesn't work that way. And this actually feels nice.”

She didn't even attempt to extricate herself from your arms. She allowed you to keep her close, as if she required that form of affection more than you did.

You reckoned that Dream's role was tremendously difficult, being entrusted with preserving the delicate balance between humanity and his realm. Death's job was undoubtedly arduous too, guiding human souls to what Morpheus called The Sunless Lands. What would have occured if she was imprisoned instead? What would a world without people able to die be like?

There was something in the way she stroked your hair and rubbed your back. Everyone assumed that the Grim Reaper was a merciless being, marching through existense with a fearsome scythe and a black shroud covering its head. They didn’t know how elegant, uplifting, affectionate and empathetic the real entity was.

When you let go of her, the expression on her face was gracious and accomplished. As the pair of you resumed your stroll under the trees, Death draped her arm around your shoulder like an old friend.

You were uncertain whether she wanted to meet the woman who showed great interest in her brother or merely intended to confirm that you were trustworthy. Regardless of her reasoning, you discerned that your unexpected encounter with her was having a beneficial effect on you, despite its rough beginning.

You continued walking side by side as if it were the most normal thing in the world, until a sudden scream made you both freeze in your tracks. It reverberated throughout the park like a strangled cry, gathering a multitude of people in the vicinity. A girl was calling out a name, pleading and choking in desperation.

Death's face became somber as she looked at the scene. She assessed it in silence, but somehow, she didn't require any explanation for what was going on.

"I have to go. I can't miss this one.”

The wind gusted once more, enveloping you in a rotation of leaves that rose from the ground. She turned towards you for the last time, and with a tender caress of your elbow that was equally affectionate and apologetic, she bid you farewell.

"I'm glad I could meet you, Y/N."

You remained still, nodding, and feeling your heart pump more forcefully. "I’m glad too. Can you tell me your name?"

In spite of anticipating denial of your request, she sent off another smile and moved backward a few paces without taking her eyes off you. “You can call me Teleute, it you desire.”

Teleute. The name which had been used to portray Grandmother Death in the ancient Greek culture. Everything made sense in the framework of history and mythology.

She turned on her heels, walking away with her hands in her pockets. Within a brief moment of diversion to pay attention to the crowd that continued to increase in size, you completely lost sight of Teleute. She had disappeared in the blink of an eye, as if she was never there. Ethereal like the swiftest of avians, the most graceful angel.

You were spurred by a combination of curiosity and uneasiness to move forward. The girl was still crying and calling out for someone who was lying motionless in her lap. As you approached, you worked through the crowd of people who were standing there in shock. You spotted an unmoving man with his eyes half-open, his body stiff like a lifeless dummy, and his complexion gradually becoming ash-grey. His partner shook him repeatedly, searching for a vital sign.

"Robert! Please wake up, please!”

The pain in her tone was excruciating. causing your stomach to tighten and shudder with each utterance of the man’s name. A friend was trying to take her away, pulling her by the arms in a futile attempt to let her leave the body behind.

The man she loved was gone forever.

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

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

“No!!!”

The ambulance arrived with a loud siren, and three paramedics ran to the body with a stretcher and defibrillator ready in their hands. You heard the sound of fluttering wings at your side, but when you pivoted to look at the origin, nothing was there. All you could see was the group of onlookers surrounding the pair and the expanse of green behind them.

The defibrillator wasn't working. The man's chest lifted and expanded with each electric impulse, but you didn't need to stay to see the outcome because you already knew it; Death had just taken him and he couldn’t come back.

Fighting to overcome the lump caught in your throat, you left the crowd and walked as far away as you could from that tragedy. Watery drops emerged at the corners of your eyes and dripped down, one hand pressed against your mouth to contain the sobs that erupted within you.

Two days later, you had agreed to spend some time with Hob, sharing the occurences that took place in your lives while working on your separate undertakings. The sun’s rays were shining gloriously in the azure sky, showering the idyllic views with a gentle beam. You could feel the breeze tousling your hair as you made your way to the modern tavern, the overgrown grass tickling the skin of your legs. The summer dress and half-sleeved viscose shirt that you selected for the occasion were soft and comfortable on you.

Upon entering the New Inn, your eyes quickly searched for Hob's usual spot. You saw your friend already seated at the table, clad in a stylish brown jacket over a white t-shirt. After greeting the enthusiastic waitress, you walked over to join him.

As you made your way past the other customers, you didn't initially notice that Hob wasn't alone. Someone was sitting across from him, and they appeared to be having an engaging conversation that caused him to display a genuine smile. Seeing Hob in such a relaxed and carefree state was a rare sight; he was frequently on edge, eager to reconcile with that old friend of his.

You immediatly wondered if the individual in front of Hob was actually him.

The man was wearing a knee-length black coat better suited for winter, and had dark hair that looked eerily familiar even from behind. The similarity was so striking that you decelerated as you moved closer to the table with your heart racing faster, incapable of making a sound and announce your arrival.

You could recognize those short, adorable, untended strands anywhere. You tried to get a better look at his face, but he remained turned away from you until you reached a distance that allowed you to be spotted.

Seeing you, Hob's expression immediately brightened. "Y/N!" he exclaimed. "Do you remember that old friend I've been telling you about? Let me introduce him to you.”

Hearing your name, the other man instantly swivelled towards you, meeting your gaze with his beautiful blue eyes. A flood of feelings engulfed you and it couldn’t be kept at bay as you looked at Morpheus’ features, struck by his exceptional appearence. He radiated an aura that could have made anyone fall to their knees in admiration.

Your face flared red with the notion that you had looked at him for too long. "It's you," you said, your tone coming off as more relieved than you intended.

Hearing your words, Hob looked back and forth between the two of you in disbelief. "Wait, do you two know each other?”

You finally diverted your attention back to your friend, giving him an affermative nod. "We do, actually."

"Bloody hell, what a small world!"

When the calmness returned to you, a strong epiphany surfaced. Morpheus was imprisoned in 1916, and according to Hob, they eventually experienced an abrupt separation, whereupon the Endless didn’t show up to their designated meetings any longer. This meant that Hob was substantially older than he had previously claimed, owing to the fact that Morpheus remained locked in that cage for more than a hundred years.

How many more astonishing truths were you about to discover? Hob had several explainations to give, but you decided to leave them for another time if you wished to keep the atmosphere untouched.

You weren't the only one making discoveries that day. Hob didn’t fail to perceive the way you looked at Morpheus, and he smugly raised an eyebrow with a devilish grin that held a lot of secret promises for later.

Afterward, Hob gestured for you to join them, pointing at an empty chair nearby.

While you were strongly enticed to snuggle with Morpheus, you chose to give them some required space to have a heart-to-heart talk on their own without your interference.

A little disappointed, but still compassionate and pleased for their reconciliation, you kindly declined his invitation with a smile. "It's all right, you two must have a lot to talk about. I’ll just sit over there and work."

You gestured towards an empty table next to the window, but Hob's expression quickly changed to one of guilt for the unforeseen change of plans.

"Are you sure? I invited you out, it's not fair to make you sit on your own, is it," he said, looking at you with concern.

You gave yet another nod. "Positive."

You looked at Moprheus who didn’t utter a single sentence, but you detected his subtle smile while he gazed at you from his seat. You gave his shoulder a light squeeze as a demonstration of affection, though maintaining secrecy. Your fingertips gently glided along his sleeve as you stepped back.

You got settled in, requested a cup of tea and retrieved your tools to initiate your work alone. Your attendance was not necessary during that time as Hob and Morpheus had a lot of things to catch up on. However, being close to the one you adored and had been waiting for, yet remaining temporarily out of reach, made it challenging for you to keep your focus.

You inhaled deeply, plugged in your laptop and let your hand drift unrestricted across the pages of your sketchbook.

A few minutes later, you were completely immersed in your own realm of creativity.

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

The Endless decided to feign ignorance. "What did you see?" he asked.

"The glim in your eyes. The way you looked at her says it all, my friend. You like her!"

Morpheus became rigid, reclining back in his seat and directing his eyes downward, maintaining silence.

"Who would have thought that after all this time I've known you, I would finally see you in love?"

In the past, Dream of The Endless would have denied Hob's assertion with unruffled temper yet seething rage, storming out of the inn to digest his private humiliation. This time, Morpheus involuntarily shifted his gaze towards you, silently admitting to the truth. The radiance of the sun illuminated your profile, and he couldn't refrain from taking note of it due to its ethereal appearance.

Hob's smile was kind. "She's a great woman, you know. Seriously, the most incredible human being I have encountered in this century. She works tirelessly to achieve her goals, and she's both intelligent and compassionate. You won't easily find someone like her in the next era.”

Although he was still in the process of comprehending your nature, to Morpheus, that wasn't difficult to believe

"Don't break her heart," Hob suddenly warned, catching him off guard and immediately drawing his attention back to his serious face.

"I know you're not a bad guy, and surely you don't need me to tell you what to do. But I care about that girl over there like family, and she's been through enough hardship to deal with more complications.”

While Morpheus was aware that Hob could decipher him with ease, he continued to keep the same calm demeanor in order to conceal his sentiments. He was not inclined to let them be made obvious or to exhibit his softer side, even to his friend.

Hob’s voice was filled with determination. "I would go to hell and back just to ensure she can be happy."

With a minor lift of his eyebrow and the edge of his lips, Morpheus replied, "That is quite admirable.”

Hob took another sip of his beer, his shoulders raising and lowering in a quick shrug. "Judging by what she told me about this 'mysterious guy she's been seeing lately,' it's clear that she really cares about you. Honestly, I believe I've never seen her care so much about any other lad before. They were all a bunch of idiots, but still.”

His eyes remained nonchalant and blank, but the usual slight bob of Morpheus's Adam’s apple definitely gave his feelings away. "So she did talk about me, then?" he asked, sounding flat but curious.

"Aye, but she was very reserved about it. I didn't get any clue that it was you, of all people, " Hob straightened from the comfortable wall sofa and directed his look towards you. He showed a smile of great pride at the sight of your hand gliding effortlessly across the page of your sketchbook without a single interruption.

Morpheus felt the urge to watch you from a distance, examining your actions and admiring the absolutely adorable way with which you seemed to bite your lower lip while tracing your pencil along the page.

The Endless was eagerly looking forward to meeting you in your dreams that night, yearning for the occasion after his extended absence to fully restore his kingdom. Morpheus wasn't expecting to meet you in the Waking World before the scheduled time, let alone find out that you and his old friend would share a special bond as well.

Eventually, the conversation with Hob took a different turn, yet Morpheus found his mind constantly drifting back to you.

You lost track of time again as you drew. It could have been an hour - maybe even two.

You observed that Morpheus was still deep in conversation with your best friend, seemingly frozen in the same position as when you first spotted him. Despite his composed and dignified demeanor, his discomfort around humans was evident from the way he watched people warily out of the corner of his eye and stiffened his shoulders when others came too close.

It was understandable, given that those who were supposed to admire him had instead ensnared him and exploited his possessions.

You closed your sketchbook and began scrolling through your emails, deleting any messages that didn't seem important without even opening them. Doing so, you almost missed an email from the CEO of a company you had reached out to in hopes of finding a job. Despite them not currently accepting new applicants, the man took the time to send you a polite response, wishing you good fortune for the future. Though it wasn't exactly what you were hoping to see, the kind and encouraging words still managed to brighten your mood.

Hob rose from the couch, stretching his neck before turning to say a few last words to Morpheus. As he approached you, a beaming smile lit up his face, though he was clearly remorseful about not being able to spend more time with you. Nevertheless, he seemed content and at ease, a state you hadn't seen him in for some time. With everything now resolved between him and his friend, the last thing you wanted was for him to apologize for something that you didn’t perceive as a lack of attention at all.

You knew there was a long conversation and explanation waiting for the two of you, but for the moment, you simply watched as he strode out of the pub and vanished into the trees beyond. You couldn't help but wonder which century he had originally come from, but given his extensive knowledge of history, it was impossible to pinpoint his specific era of birth.

Reflecting on it, you were feeling a bit daunted by the sheer number of changes and developments he had witnessed in the world, as well as deeply saddened by the loved ones he had lost and left behind. It now made sense why he had always been reticent to discuss his family history, clearly it was a delicate topic for him.

You shut down your laptop and put away your belongings. When you looked up, you noticed that Morpheus was silently and intently watching you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. When he came closer to your table, you realized that his attire was reminiscent of what he wore in the Dreaming - all black and enigmatic - but tailored to fit the style of the Waking World. The fabric was structured and gave him a modern look, while still retaining his signature mysterious edge.

“Hello.”

His low voice was like a vibration, a resonant melody deliciously flowing through your bloodstream. When you stood up and got inches away from his face, you had to keep yourself grounded and resist the urge to kiss him on the lips in front of the other customers (and the waitress, who was already glancing at you with piqued curiosity).

The immediate attraction was undeniable, stirring something in you that was definitely not appropriate for public display.

Hey you," you replied with a smile. "It's good to see you." "I've missed you," you were tempted to say, but the words caught in your throat and you couldn't bring yourself to say them.

"Are you busy at the moment? Do you need to leave?”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I can stay, for now," he replied.

Your heart fluttered with excitement, producing a series of backflips in your chest. "Would you like to take a walk with me then?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

Your request may have been simple, but it seemed to work in your favor.

"With pleasure.”

The sensation you felt was spine-chilling, causing your skin to prickle and making your hair stand on end. The genuine and happy smile that you gave him caused the corners of your mouth to pull up painfully, but you allowed your emotions to show without restraint. Walking on air, you paid for your tea and bounced out of the inn.

You sensed Morpheus following silently behind you, his cryptic expression giving him an air of caution. He stood tall and firm, his eyes narrowing occasionally as he observed his surroundings. The warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze enveloped you, while the distant sound of car horns and the chatter of passersby filled the air.

As you stepped away from the entrance to let a few more people inside, his hand lightly brushed against your upper back for support. The contact left a tingling sensation across your covered skin the moment he withdrew it. Clearing your throat, you tried to shift your focus to a new topic, hoping to distract yourself from how much you longed for more of his touch.

Thankfully, you had just the right thing to break the tension. "So, Hob Gadling? I had no idea that you were the old friend he was waiting for,” you remarked.

Morpheus looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Nor did I know that the two of you were close.”

"He's like a brother to me, really," you explained. "But I never would have guessed that he was, like, super bicentenarian or something.”

"We first met in 1389," Morpheus revealed.

And so you stopped in your tracks, unable to wrap your head around what he just told you. "Wait what? You're kidding, right?"

"I assure you, I am not.”

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

Morpheus seemed amused by your astonishment. "You look quite shocked,” he observed.

"I'm practically a baby compared to him," you admitted. "I can't even imagine what it would be like to live for so long.”

Morpheus studied you thoughtfully as you walked together, considering what he was allowed to reveal. "I must admit, Hob Gadling has proven to be remarkably persistent.”

“Persistent? You mean he actually had a choice?”

Morpheus nodded. “He did. And, he still does.”

When you turned the corner of the street, Morpheus slowed his already leisurely pace and glanced at the building to your right. It was a large complex that had been standing for centuries, refurbished into a more modern-looking bar around 1989. Throughout all the changes it went through, its original name, White Horse, and location remained perfectly intact.

The tavern had been visited by many notable figures, including William Shakespeare himself. It was one of those timeless landmarks steeped in history and wonder that had been passed down through the generations until it was eventually sold. Now, it looked more like a disquieting construction site, with all the windows covered in scribbles and the old, decaying roof under repair for an indefinite amount of time.

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

"It all started here," Morpheus said.

You looked at the dilapidated structure, trying to imagine what it may have looked like in medieval times, but found it difficult to picture Hob in anything other than his usual fashionable attire (or Dream with a different hairstyle).

"How?" you asked curiously.

"I was intrigued by his...experience," Morpheus replied. "I wanted to know how long a mortal creature could crave such a long life, convinced that he would beg for death within a century.”

You were captivated, a grin spreading across your face. "And?”

"Even after 300 years, when I found him in misery and starving for food, he still claimed to have much to live for."

You burst into a loud, genuine, joyful laugh that echoed throughout the area. Holding onto his coat, you doubled over, unable to contain your exuberant reaction. Your belly was hurting and you could barely breathe as your laughter didn't cease.

"What?" He asked you, furrowing his brows in confusion.

As you tried to recover from your guffaw, you literally convulsed with tears forming at the corner of your eyes. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your forehead against his chest, subconsciously clinging to him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," you said, wiping a tear from your eye. "That just sounds like him. It's hilarious!”

You continued to shake like a bowlful of jelly, breathing in and out a few times to regain your composure.

"If you find it amusing, you shall ask him to share more of his adventurous tales with you,” he suggested.

You let out a contented sigh. "I think I will.”

Your eyes met again, and the intensity of his gaze immediately captured your attention. Despite his outward stoicism, his expression seemed more relaxed than it had been at the inn. The mischievous, subtle smile you were becoming accustomed to only confirmed that he was enjoying your spontaneous hilarity.

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

“Hob did it, didn’t he? For you. So that you could find him,” you concluded.

“He did.”

Despite the fact that 133 years had passed since that renowned argument, their connection had survived unscathed, filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth.

"I don't know what your fight was about, but he's been remorseful about it for a long time.”

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

"He cares deeply for you,” you added.

His gaze returned to the building, and his eyes narrowed with an inscrutable, impassive look. He didn't respond right away, simply staring off ahead as a few seconds went by.

"He is a good man, despite what he may or may not say. One who speaks very highly of you."

You were stupefied, tilting your head quizzically. “You… talked about me…? After more than a century apart?”

"I suppose you had a certain influence on him," He answered cryptically.

You offered Morpheus a kind smile. "I doubt that I had any influence on him. You, however, have undoubtedly made him a better person, according to his own words.”

Their friendship had begun as a challenge - a game, if you may - devised to test Hob's endurance as an immortal among humans. A mere curiosity that gradually deepened into something more meaningful. Over time, Morpheus came to regard Hob not just as a subject of study, but as a true friend that he valued despite his usual aloofness.

You found yourself adjusting the collar of his coat, feeling the stout, yet very yielding and plush fabric against your fingers. Once satisfied, you gave the front of his shoulders a gentle pat and wrapped your arm around his, holding him loosely but tenderly.

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

Although you were in close proximity and a small push from you would have been enough, you decided to respect his reservedness when people started passing by on the street. Therefore, you resumed your trek, leaving the antique tavern behind and reaching the park in the distance.

A great number of individuals of diverse ages were appreciating the weather that day. Elders were stationed on the benches with their eyes shut, couples relaxing on a large sheet for their impromptu picnic, adolescents engaging in football on the grass and children running about in circles.

“Do you see these people? Have you ever appeared in their dreams or interacted with them?” You inquired.

“I do not always interact with dreamers. When they rest, my realm mirrors their waking lives, their wishes or their fears. Only when they seek guidance or require advice, I might grant them my aid,” Morpheus said.

And there you were, walking alongside the King of Dreams, whether it be in the Waking World or the land of dreams. Maybe you did possess a unique consideration from him, after all.

You looked at all the carefree activities in the vastness of the park. "It's strange. I never thought about it, but I now realize that what you Endless do is essential for this world. It seems like nobody is aware of that, or if they are, they don't show you the gratitude that you deserve.”

Morpheus halted along the way, fixating on your eyes anew. When you turned in his direction, your countenance was overflowing with sadness and compassion. "Every person we see right now has a dream that propels them through life. They receive inspiration, ideas, and realizations from you, but they don’t even know that the source of it all is standing right here in front of them.”

“Humans forget in waking hours,” he noted. “It is not my purpose to make them remember me.”

You disagreed, shaking your head. "Even so, this world wouldn't even function without you and the rest of your family. It's incredible how nobody acknowledges what's truly happening behind the scenes.”

Morpheus appeared to give your statement a moment of contemplation. “I am the personification of ideas and concepts that are tied to life. I do not wish for mortals to acknowledge me.”

You pondered his utterances, and the only thing you were capable of doing was to accept his reasoning. You smiled, caressing his chin with the pad of your thumb and forefinger. "Then I hope you at least accept my praise, Dream of the Endless.”

As you pulled back, Morpheus tracked your hand’s movement to understand your actions. He portrayed a grin with a certain trace of self-satisfaction on his face. “Very well.”

You examined him with utter amazement, feeling as if you were standing before a lifelong hero. In a sense, that was indeed the truth.

A group of teenagers assembled in the vicinity, talking and chortling noisily as they advanced. When a young girl walked past Morpheus, you quickly noticed his awkwardness and out-of-placeness amidst such a jolly atmosphere. The girl promptly retreated when she noticed his darkened face, dragging her friend along and whispering to her in concern. Observing her troubled response, Morpheus turned away and stared at the ground.

You proceeded to move forward, slowly bringing your lips to his cheek and delivering a brief, tender, and affectionate peck on it. He exhibited a look of surprise and confusion the moment you broke the kiss, but you maintained your sweet smile in his direction.

“Look,” you gestured, turning your head slightly to check on the two girls.

As if by magic, the pair of youngsters were now grinning at the two of you, giggling with delight and hurrying along with the rest of the bunch. They went from terrified to appreciative in an instant, relishing your sudden display of affection and forgetting the momentary tension they felt.

You clasped his hand and tugged upon it. "It’s interesting how easily our perception can change, isn’t it?”

And thus, Morpheus understood that you had done it exclusively for his sake, in order for him to cease feeling like he would not fit in, like no matter what he did, the humans would consistently be alarmed by his presence.

You felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment, repositioning yourself at his side and walking forward with your hand firmly clasped in his grip, which Morpheus didn’t object to. He permitted you to retain your fingers around his, accompanying you to whichever place you wanted to go.

On the path leading to your apartment building, you disclosed about your interaction with Teleute. You presumed that he was aware of it, but it turned out that his sister had not informed him about that matter in any way. Fortunately, Morpheus didn’t express any sign of dissatisfaction or annoyance in relation to that revelation. Since he had lived close to his family for a span of billions of years, he obviously knew Death well enough to understand her inclinations and motivations.

You definitely had nothing to hide, and he listened to you extolling her mildness and empathetic gestures.

It became obvious to you that she was the one he cherished the most amongst his other siblings. It seemed like they held a particularly strong bond that, regardless of the unfavorable occurences resulting from Roderick Burgess, caused them to continue believing in one another’s loyalty.

Nevertheless, Morpheus was still reluctant to reveal any significant information about his family, so you decided to stop pressing upon the topic and continued walking along the sidewalk.

Eventually, you arrived at your building with an immense sadness growing inside you, knowing that you had to part ways with Morpheus. Your fingers slowly unfastened from his hand, and a chasm formed in the pit of your stomach.

You smiled at him, trying to conceal your increasing disappointment. He didn’t speak, continuing to cast his sharp gaze upon you. He put his hands back into his pockets and awaited for you to say anything.

As you thought to yourself, "Don't go" and "Please stay with me", you desperately wished to spend more time in his company. But given your past mistakes that led your previous partners to consider you overly clingy, you ultimately let those sentiments go.

“Thank you for indulging me,” you said. “I hope I didn’t keep you from your responsibilies for too long.”

“No,” he replied, his voce low and deep. “I owed you as much.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Morpheus.”

He attempted to reply, opening his mouth, but quickly closed it, unable to vocalize whatever thought he wanted to share.

When he remained silent, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder and firmly wrapped your hand around the strap. Your mind was in chaos, torn between your emotions and reason, leaving you uncertain about what action to take next. A single kiss couldn’t be the end the world, and it’s not like you’d never done it before. You continued to persuade yourself that it wouldn't be harmful in any conceivable way, but the more you tried to convince yourself, the less you wanted to take the risk.

And so, you permitted yourself to only touch his elbow, giving it a light squeeze. "See you in my dreams?" you asked him.

Morpheus assented with his head. "I will see you in the Dreaming."

You stepped back, turning on your heels and retrieving the keys from your bag. As you flipped open the lock of the main entrance, you glanced back to where he had been standing, but in the blink of an eye, he had vanished, nowhere to be seen in the alleyway before you.

As you made your way from the lobby to the elevator and your dwelling, you scolded yourself repeatedly for missing the opportunity and allowing your past to hinder you once again, despite having declared that it was long gone. You were not supposed to feel afraid of sharing a kiss with the one you loved, especially after spending a night together engaging in deep and passionate lovemaking. In the Dreaming, he was the one who initiated the contact, capturing your lips in that sweet, electrifying kiss that you didn't openly ask for.

Things were different for him in the Waking World, however, whether it was due to the traumatic ordeal he endured or because it was a place in which he felt like he didn’t belong. Morpheus was not a human being; rather, he was an entity of extraordinary might and prominence. Was it really feasible to be yourself beside him without holding back your feelings?

As you shut the door, a heartbroken sigh slipped out of you. You tossed the keys on the tabletop, let your bag slide to the couch, kicked off your high heeled sandals, and stripped off your shirt, only remaining with your sleeveless dress on.

You almost made it to your bedroom in a nervous stride, but suddenly halted. Your mouth fell open, and your eyes widened as soon as you noticed Morpheus standing in the parlor area, watching you with a pair of eager and yearning eyes.

In that fleeting moment, your determination to subdue your fondness for him disintegrated from your consciousness. That glimpse in his eyes was irrefutable; he desired you as ardently as you needed to feel him against you.

No words or spoken affirmations were necessary. He kept looking at you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat, barely blinking as he stood still, waiting for your move with anticipation.

That was the indicator you were looking for. Throwing away all your reservations, you dashed towards him without thinking it over, seizing his face with your hands. You pressed your lips onto his and kissed him, feasting on the taste of his mouth with an intensity that surprised even you. It felt like the only thing that mattered, as if you needed those lips to breathe.

Morpheus instantly moved his hands out of his jacket and took hold of your midriff, pushing his palms against the small of your back as he kissed you with equal passion. His tongue shot forward and encountered yours whilst you lifted your feet to deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

You pulled away to catch your breath, panting and quivering, but still clinging to him tightly. “You came back,” you whispered.

“I never left.”

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

“You did not ask me to stay,” he noted. “Why? Is it not what you wished?”

Of course he would notice.

Your lower lip sank under the light pressure of your teeth. “It is. I just… I didn’t know how to ask.”

He smiled. “Have no fear, my love. I will not leave your wishes unattended.”

My love…?

Those words caused your heart to leap in your chest, as it was a lovely way of addressing you that nobody had ever used before.

"I don't want you to fulfill my needs at the expense of your own, though,” you stated.

“Do you truly believe that I do not want this just as much?”

“Well no, but-”

“Then allow me to prove it to you.”

You became soft and pliable in his embrace as he kissed you again, enveloping you in a hazy and semi-bewitched state with his delicious fragrance.

Unlike the cologne that your previous partners favored, his scent was a subtle aroma that didn't fill your lungs to the brim, but was just enough to make you feel like you were surrounded by a welcoming oasis.

As you continued your make-out session, you gradually pushed him towards your bedroom. Morpheus silently followed your lead, kissing your neck and moving to your collarbones. Once you arrived at the bed, you sat down in front of him, causing the edge of your dress to slide up and reveal a peek of your thighs. It didn't take long for him to climb onto the mattress and press against you, positioning himself between your legs. His cold fingertips caressed the line of your leg, starting from the area around the knee and ending at the upper region of your thigh. It wriggled under the cotton material of the skirt to hoist it higher, gripping your skin and making you jolt.

Normally, you would take your time, letting your sensations grow with his touches, kisses, and pleasurable foreplay. But this time, your desire for him was so strong that you couldn't wait any longer. You immediately brought your hands to the button of his pants, eager to get to the point.

But before you could undo it, Morpheus caught your wrist and pulled both of your hands up beside your head. His grip was firm as he held you down on the mattress. Your faces were very close, and you could feel his breath tickling your mouth as he gazed down at you with a fiery look.

You made a small effort to keep your breathing in control.

“What is it that you want?” He uttered softly, his tongue just barely touching your lips. “Speak clearly, and I shall satisfy your needs.”

Your heart pounded rapidly, and your mind grew clouded with a steadily escalating craving.

“Morpheus… please….I beg of you…” you entreated with a quavering voice, your request filled with an air of desperation and longing.

“No.”

“I-”

“You must say it out loud.”

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

"Morpheus…" you pleaded.

"Say it," he demanded.

“You!”

“Oh?”

You gasped hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him as he held you in place, pressing himself against your body.

“I want you. I need you, please.”

A faint smirk appeared at the corners of his lips, conveying a small amount of triumph. “You need me? How?”

What a mischievous, teasing, and absolutely gorgeous creature.

‘Two can play at this game’.

You smiled, raising one of your legs and looping it around his waist. You pulled him even closer against your core, much like a python coiling around its prey.

You were pleased to hear the low, throaty groan that escaped him.

"Do you seriously need me to spell it out?" you teased. “You know what I want, Dream Lord.”

His sister had described him as the most prideful member of their family. According to Teleute, he was so proud that he wouldn't have even accepted her help if she had offered it at the right time. And yet, your challenging attitude was clearly amusing him to a noticeable extent.

"I will give you that, and more," he promised, his voice filled with lust and eagerness.

He removed his hands from your wrists, trailing them along your arms and closing around your breasts. Even through the fabric of your bra and dress, you could feel the way he squeezed them, causing your back to arch.

It was so little and yet too much, your inner walls clenching irrepressibly. You couldn't stop looking at the clear protuberance in his trousers, urging you to be set free. So you tried again, rapidly reaching for the button to unfasten and the zipper to pull down. A moment later, he was grasping your buttocks from under the dress and angling you exactly how he wanted, pulling his erection out and hooking his index finger under your panties. Slowly, as if he was unwrapping the most awaited gift of time, he moved your damp undergarment aside and revealed your glistening entrance. He swallowed hard at the sight.

He pushed himself inside of you in one swift motion. The entry was rough, but he managed to slide in without any resistance, making you gasp and moan as his tip hit the perfect spot inside you. You wrapped your limbs around him as he delivered strong thrusts with his impetuous pelvis, moving in and out and increasing his tempo. He fixated his hungry eyes on your face, driven by his growing need to make you come undone.

Even though the both of you were practically fully clothed, you found the scene absurdly arousing. That coat looked absolutely wonderful on him, and you loved the way his shirt rubbed against your clit, creating the perfect friction you needed to let loose. Morpheus emitted deep, rich grunts as your walls tightly enveloped his length, providing a heightened sensation of suction and pressure. Your room was filled with the sounds of sex, as skin met skin and your bodies moved together.

Just like the first time, you latched onto the back of his hair with your hands, grasping a sizeable portion of his strands without pulling, but maintaining a stable position. You continued to whine and sigh, matching his rhythm and responding to the kisses he delivered.

"The sounds you make are marvelous," he expressed, a small grin emerging at the corners of his lips.

“What can I say?” you replied with labored breaths, still reeling from the impact of the intimate and heated encounter. “You are just that good.”

With so many centuries of experience, he must have had countless lovers in the past. This made you feel a bit envious and possessive.

Morpheus was relentless, sliding in and out of you with incredible stamina. You could feel your orgasm approaching, ready to ignite a powerful firework. As he felt you tightening around him, he slowed his pace. His fingers left your thigh and moved directly to your clit, brushing it with gentle and light strokes.

You gasped at the pleasure it caused, throwing your head back as he continued to circle the small tip with his index and middle fingers. He wasn't even applying that much pressure, but the sweet stimulation combined with his girth meeting your G-spot was absolute heaven, even if it was torturous.

You were so close now. A part of you wanted the experience to carry on for hours, but the urge to feel that exquisite sensation was becoming impossible to control and withstand.

"Please, harder," you muttered.

Morpheus complied with your request, delivering precisely what you were asking him to provide. His hips pushed forward, then almost fully out, and in again to the base. As you adjusted to his thrusts, you felt your muscles tensing from the effort involved, but you didn't plan to stop. You consistently met him halfway, tightly gripping his hair with one hand and his back with the other.

His fingers maintained their position on your clit, pinching and massaging it deliciously. Your moans grew louder, and you chanted his name like a prayer.

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

It only took a couple more thrusts for him to reach his peak, groaning and stiffening as he released his essence into your depths.

It was hot, grounding, and fulfilling. It was something significant that went beyond the mere physical satisfaction. To you, it was a way to fortify the connection you had established with Morpheus, the outcome of the deep affection that was continuously expanding inside your being.

You took shallow and short breaths, taking a moment to appreciate his expression above you through your hazy state. He was throughly satisfied, gently pressing his lips against yours to prolong the moment of bliss.

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

“I must return to the Dreaming,” he voiced softly, barely above a whisper.

You signaled your acknowledgment with a slight nod of your head. “Sorry for keeping you here.”

“I was not kept here, my love. I chose to stay,” he clarified, carrying an affectionate tone towards you and an air of assurance.

You genuinely beamed, grasping his head with your hands once more and delivering a quick yet vehement peck on his mouth.

"Thank you for staying, then. And for healing my scars. Oh, and for the shell too,” you told him, emphasizing your words with a look of gentleness and gratitude.

Morpheus’ expression depicted complacency. “The Dreaming will always be there to welcome you, just as I will.”

You breathed out in a relaxed fashion. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Why should I not?”

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

“For a number of reasons,” you stated, the self-depreciating words falling out of your lips with an air of bitterness and pessimism. “Maybe one day you’ll get tired of me and leave me. I’m not deserving of having you in my life.”

In an instant, his face also changed, brows knitting together as he looked down at you. “Y/N, what-”

"Don’t mind me," you interjected. "My emotions tend to get all over the place. I didn't mean to ruin the mood.”

“You did not.”

You felt uncertain concerning the underlying cause for your sudden outburst. Perhaps it was the fear of not being enough for any committed kind of relationship. Or maybe you were scared of the notion of seeing your happiness destroyed again, despite your intuition telling you to proceed forth without hesitation.

Unlike before.

A faint chuckle escaped your throat as you tilted your head upward and kissed him one more time, maintaining an innocent and reserved touch. Your eyes were gleaming with a mixture of sorrow and joy, but you refused to be overtaken by your negative thoughts.

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

Morpheus grasped your arm and hauled you up with him, moving both of you away from the mattress and bringing you close.

The moment you stood on your feet, you could feel a few drops of his essence dripping down between your legs.

"That does sound quite tempting," he said. "But I cannot stay longer.”

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

“Yes.”

He sealed that promise by applying a delicate and loving peck to your forehead. His hand slid off of yours and brushed against your skin, lingering on your fingertips before drawing away. You stepped back slightly, watching him carefully as he retrieved the pouch of sand from his coat. You waited patiently, your eyes fixed on his every move.

“Please say hi to Matthew for me.”

He nodded to your words, the golden powder immediatly encasing him, embracing and providing him the much needed comfort and warmth that he was accustomed to.

You stared at the sand slowly fading away, vanishing from your sight and leaving only some particles that sparkled around the room.

The sun had set below the horizon, and night had fallen over London. Ella Corbyn tapped her fingernails in an anxious manner on the top of her desk as she re-read the message on her phone, her eyes staring at the screen as she tried to process the unwelcome development.

She walked through the halls of her workplace, passing by the empty offices and stopping in front of the CEO's door. She knocked softly and entered, greeting her husband with a tired expression and a sense of exhaustion.

Oliver Corbyn remained at his workstation, taking a quick glance away from his monitor to check on his wife.

“Darling, are you okay?”

Ella sighed deeply, shook her head, and looked at him with concern all over her face. 'We have a problem.”

Oliver took off his spectacles and placed them carefully on the table. He then moved his chair back and said, 'I don't like the sound of that.”

As she considered the best way to reveal such disappointing news, Ella decided to simply reveal the truth as it was.

“It’s about Isaac. He left.”

Oliver reflected on his wife's words, blinking a couple of times. “What do you mean he left? I thought he was sick.”

Ella started scratching the back of her hand and a red patch began to emerge from the rough contact with her nails.

"Yes, well. It turns out that was just an excuse. He actually sent his resignation to my email an hour ago.”

Oliver's face turned ashen, and he quickly leaned against the edge of his desk for support. “And the reason?”

“Apparently, he decided to move abroad and live with his family in the US.”

He cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief and frustration. “I can’t believe this.”

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

“I know.”

“The show is in three months. How are we supposed to make it?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Ella started to walk back and forth around the office, moving her legs in a repetitive motion. "Gosh, I can't stand this! Isaac was so good. Will we ever be able to replace him?”

Oliver was quiet, spacing out and absentmindly scratching his chin.

“Oliver?”

The man’s gaze widened abruptly. The sudden insight that struck upon him appeared to have a significant impact on his overall perspective.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” he muttered, lifting his index finger into the air as he expressed a sense of urgency.

Ella looked puzzled. “What?”

Oliver promptly ran back to his computer, rapidly typing some words on the keyboard and clicking around with the mouse. “Look.”

Ella stepped closer to his position, standing beside her spouse and shifting her emerald eyes down to the monitor.

"A few days ago, we received an application from this woman. Her portfolio was quite impressive, but with Isaac on our team, I thought we were covered. So I politely rejected her this morning.”

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

No one else was capable of producing such clean and mesmerizing drawings except one particular person.

“What’s her name?”

Oliver closed the PDF document and went back to the email he retrieved from the archive, going to the bottom where your signature was.

“Y/N Y/LN…? My goodness!”

Oliver was taken aback by the transition of his wife’s demeanor, somewhat amused by the way in which she started to jump up and down and laugh out loud.

“Love? Do you know her?”

Ella raised her hands to the top of her head and gazed at the ceiling while breathing out a sigh of relief, her feelings of worry slowly evaporating as a sense of calmness descended over her.

“We were literally best friends in high school!”

Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read on AO3!

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

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simersims4 · 2 months

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Йога🧘 (Yoga)

Меня мучала совесть за то что сбежала с дому, никому не сказав нечего. Стоя на пирсе у моря. И на нем же располагался красивый вид на парк развлечения. Я наблюдала за зимним морем, которое сегодня было не спокойным. Оно будто наталкивало на мысль что делать дальше и как жить, ведь денег осталось критически мало. Мои навыки здорового образа жизни, пользовались спросом. Вопрос стал в другом, кто будет слушать подростка. Я погрузилась глубоко в свои мысли, не заметив как на часах отбило час ночи, медленно и уверенно я брела к месту, в которой теперь буду жить.

Утром я пыталась найти в телефоне пару вакансий тренера йоги. 🧘

Одно, второе, третье объявления и на четвертом центр йоги «Гармония», в которое меня пригласили на собеседование. Быстро собравшись я отправилась туда. Как оказалось это был новый, современный цент.

I was tormented by my conscience for running away from home without telling anyone anything. Standing on the Parsa by the sea. And it also had a beautiful view of the amusement park. I watched the winter sea, which was not calm today. It seemed to suggest what to do next and how to live, because there was critically little money left. My healthy lifestyle skills were in demand. But who will listen to a teenager? I was immersed deep in my thoughts and didn’t notice how it was already one in the morning, I slowly walked towards the place where I would now live.

In the morning I tried to find a couple of vacancies for a yoga trainer on my phone. 🧘

One, second, third advertisement and on the fourth the Harmony yoga center, where I was invited for an interview. I quickly got ready and went there. As it turned out, it was a new, modern cent.

Им требовались люди на постоянной основе. Пройдя собеседование, показав свои способности. Директор взял меня за мой профессионализм, не смотря на возраст. Так и начинается моя новая жизнь в новом месте с новой работой.

They needed people on a permanent basis. Having passed the interview, showing your abilities. The director hired me for my professionalism, despite my age. And so begins my new life in a new place with a new job.

#sims 4 #sims 4 poses #sims 4 mods #sims4 dynasties #sims4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #love #the sims 4 #sims 4 evening #sims 4 yoga #sims 4 harmony

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inkstainedhandswithrings · 1 year

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The Shiny Captain

A/N: I saw a post by @infinityrevengers and it made me write a shitty, non-beta'd 4am fic :). enjoy!

warnings: non, just dumb fluff

pairing: Captain Rex x gn!reader (platonic)

summery: you do your new friend Rex a favour by cleaning off his armour for him, only for him to sheepishly tell you that he doesn't want shiny armour please.

masterlist

It had only been a few weeks since you'd joined the crew on board the Resolute. The Clone Army was stretched thinly across the galaxy, and many clones that had formerly been assigned to engineering and medicine had been 'repurposed' to become soldiers like their brothers. That, of course, left a lot of vacancies in the aforementioned fields, which is why you, a civilian, with a degree in engineering and basic medic training were offered a job pretty quickly.

You liked being on the Resolute a lot. You'd only been along for one campaign, hanging out in the hangar and fixing ships - and the odd clone trooper once in a while, if it wasn't too serious or they just wanted to avoid a dressing down from Kix - and chatting with he troopers moving in and out of the ship all day. Or night. Or whatever timezone you had been in. You lost track of that the second you entered hyperspace.

One of the clones that you'd taken a particular liking to was Captain Rex. When you first met him, he sort of intimidated you. How could he not? He stood tall and proud, dual DC-17's on his hips and Jaig Eyes painted on his helmet in that deep 501st blue. Clone Captain Rex, first in Command of the renowned Skywalker's Fist. Nothing to be scared of right?

After about two days though, you found out that there truly was nothing to be scared of. You were in the mess hall with Fives and Echo, sharing a truly horrible meal - you would never get used to the brown sludge and gray cubes they grew up on - when Rex walked in and joined you. That was the first time you saw him without his helmet on and you immediately noted the blond hair and dropped a compliment, as it was the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh wow, Captain, didn't know you were a blond! That natural? Looks good on you."

Your compliment had left him a stuttering mess and you had to hold back a laugh as your image of the stoic clone captain became much more human in an instant.

"Uh... yes it- uhm, thanks... thank you, yes its natural," he had managed to get out.

The short conversation left your two companions hiding their matching grins and you wondered if you had said something wrong. You could imagine that the clones had their own culture. Their own way of doing things. Perhaps pointing out an uncommon hair colour was considered a faux-pa's?

A few days later you ran into him again and had stammered out an apology which he quickly waved off, saying you hadn't done anything wrong.

"It's just not something I grew up being... proud of," he'd explained, leaving you even more confused.

Clearly, your comment had flattered him, but there must've been something else making him feel as conflicted as he seemed to be. You decided not to push it.

But maybe you should have taken the time to learn more about what you had started calling clone culture, because it only took you a couple weeks to actually commit a pretty serious faux-pa's.

It had been the morning after a pretty tough mission. When Torrent and their Captain had wandered off a banged up gunship, looking a bit battered and bruised, you'd worried. You should've gotten to work on the gunships right away, but you took a minute to talk to Kix about injuries. He wouldn't need you to help out in the med-bay that night, but he appreciated you checking in.

The Captain noticed too, and approached you to give his thanks. You noted his armour seemed to have an extra coating of black dust on it. Likely volcanic ash from the planet they'd just returned from.

The two of you got caught up in an easy conversation, like you did many times since your initial, semi-awkward meeting. It had ended with him clipping off his armour and falling asleep leaned against some supply crates filled with parts that you were using to fix the gunships. You ended up pulling an all-nighter, not minding the Captain softly snoring behind you. In a way, it comforted you. At least this way you knew he was alright.

Once you were done it was already 0600 and you'd have to be up again in about an hour, which didn't seem like it was worth it to you. But you didn't want to wake Rex either and just leaving him behind here in the hangar while he was asleep - and without his armour strapped on - seemed wrong too.

Deciding to do him a kindness you found a rag, some water and some soap, making sure it wasn't so aggressive that it would remove the paint. You set to work, washing the dust and grime off the Captains armour until it looked white and shiny and pretty again. Like it was fresh off Kamino. You smiled at your work, pride rising in your chest. Not only had you managed to get the gunships going again, you'd also saved your friend some valuable time that he could now spent resting.

Another ten or so minutes passed and despite you fighting it, you must've drifted off, because the Captain's wrist chrono woke the both of you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Captain stretching his arms and neck out. Maybe letting him sleep propped up against a supply crate all night wasn't the best idea. Oh well.

Rex said your name with a tired smile. "Mornin'. Managed to fix those gunships?"

"Yeah, all fixed. Even got some... extra work in," you said, trying to be onimous.

"Extra work, eh? Can't wait to see it," Rex said, reaching for his first few pieces of armour, stacked exactly the same way they were last night - you were meticulous, thank you very much. "Let's grab some caf first though, ya? I need to...," Rex trailed off.

He was halfway done putting on his armour, only the top side of his blacks still visible. He was currently holding up his chest plate turning it over in his hands. He seemed puzzled as he picked up his pauldron and vambraces, swiping his fingers over them.

You smiled up at him proudly. "I cleaned it for you! Figured I'd take some of your load of, seeing as the last mission was a little rough."

"You.... cleaned my armour?" Rex repeated slowly.

"Sure did! Now it's nice and shiny again!"

The way you smiled up at him made Rex's heart ache. You were trying to help him. To cheer him up after a tough mission. Which he appreciated, and yet. He couldn't bring himself to appreciate shiny armour. He sighed and said your name softly. "Thank you so much for... caring... but, uhm... do you remember our conversation about, uh... how did you call it? Clone culture?"

Fear crept up on your face as you fixed your eyes on him. "Yes?" you responded, only cringing slightly. This was gonna be uncomfortable.

"It's not a big deal...," Rex began.

"Really? Would you tell me if it was?"

"Uh, I.... uhm, well," Rex stammered, answering your question well enough. "Uh, the thing is... Shiny armour... Well, clones, the young ones, fresh off Kamino... We call them shinies. Because their armour-," Rex was interrupted.

"... Is shiny. And your a Captain so-," you trailed off this time.

"So I'd prefer to leave my... shiny days behind me," he chuckled awkwardly.

You nodded in understanding. "Of course! Gosh, Rex, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..."

"Hey, hey, no, please! You were trying to help!"

"Well, that worked out great, didn't it?" you joked. It illicited a soft chuckle from him, but you could tell that somewhere, he was still slightly... disappointed, for lack of better word. "If it helps, I'd love to take one of these newly fixed gunships down planetside with you. We can... roll around in the mud or whatever, get that armour dirty again."

Rex let out a louder laugh this time, shaking his head. "Yeah, I think shiny armour is enough embarrassment for one week, but maybe I'll find a mud puddle to throw you in when you finally come planetside with us."

You chuckled at his obvious threat. "Unfortunately, I just handed in my two weeks notice. Apologies, Captain, looks like you won't get your revenge this time 'round!"

"Eh, I'll find something fitting. Now, how 'bout that caf?"

And so you made your way to the messhall with your shiny Captain, ready to defend him from Echo and Fives's quips, which you both knew were coming.

#hope I did you proud op #it's literally 4am I have to be up in 2 hours WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF #anyway #phie writes stuff #:))#captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x gn!reader #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #clones #swtcw #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #star wars the clone wars

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themoonlovemuses · 1 year

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Introductions to your New Life! (Professor Layton X Reader)

Summary: After a job position opens up at Gressenheller University, you move down to London and join the prestigious university, and along the way meet the charming Professor Layton.

WANTED: Head Librarian

Requirements: A knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System.

A candidate with strong communication and interpersonal skills who is a reliable and self-motivated person who can work largely unsupervised following precise instructions. As the work is fairly routine, you will need to maintain a high level of attention to detail and accuracy in your work.

If you are interested, please come to Gressenheller University and speak to the receptionist to inquire.

That had been the advertisement Dean Delmona had sent over in the mail when he mentioned to my mum that he was looking for a new librarian for the university. Having been friends of the family for a while, Delmona knows of my love for novels and sharing recommendations to those around me on whatever topics I had knowledge of. So naturally, after having a friendly discussion about where we all were in our professions, mum had passed on the message to me about the vacancy. A job at a bigger library than the local village has, in the heart of London, surrounded by like-minded people? Sounds like a dream come true!

And not a month later, after handing my notice to the librarian at my old job and saying my farewells to my parents and siblings, I hopped onto the train heading to Central Plaza Station with nothing but my suitcase and a note with the address to my new flat that I had acquired after talking to the landlord, Ingrid, over the phone. The move had been stressful, and the nose and bustle of the London streets had been a bit overwhelming compared to country life, but I had finally settled into the flat and explored the neighbourhood enough to know my way around. Now all that was left to start my new life is to start my first day at my new job.

Which is what I had been daydreaming about just as the bus rolled to a stop in front of the wrought-iron gates of the university. So after paying the fare and wishing the driver a good day, I strode up to the front doors of the university, marvelling at the architecture of the buildings, imagining what kind of history the walls hold. And not soon after I had got to the doors that lead to the reception room did I see the Dean, in his usual crisp suit and spectacles, waiting for me.

“Ah, (Y/N)! Good Morning! Didn’t get lost on the way here then! I know I did the first couple of times when I became the dean!” He chuckled, meeting me halfway and shaking my hand

“Oh, not at all! Thankfully the buses around here a quite remarkable and way more punctual than back home. If I had been walking here on my own I’m sure I would’ve gone around in circles just trying to find this place!”

“Ho ho! Glad to hear! Well, I’d better show you around first before I leave you to it! You’re a reliable sort, but I wouldn’t want you getting lost here on your first day! The halls can be maze-like themselves.” He agreed, before heading off down the corridors.

“Of course, as you probably know, the building was built a hundred and twenty years ago, using Neo-Baroque architecture which defined the era, and is what defines the university compared to the other buildings in the Westminster area. The original dean of the school prided his school on its excellence in providing knowledge from around the world, specialising in archaeological exploits. Which is why we specialize in this subject to this day! But enough about the history of the school! On your left, you can see the courtyards that the students tend to use between classes to either study or socialise together. And on the left are the out-of-hour offices for our Professors.” He rambled, pointing out the points of interest as he walked, including the offices, which appeared to have weird symbols on them. One seemed to have a coffee cup and… was that a top hat?

“Excuse me, sorry Delmona. What do the symbols mean on the doors? Is that one on the left a student café?” I asked, pointing it out, as only some of the doors had symbols on them.

“Oh, those! No, sadly you won’t be grabbing a cup of coffee from in there! Those symbols just help students to differentiate which professor uses which office. All doors look the same on the first day and all that! He explained patiently, as if he had received these questions numerous times.

‘At least it seemed like I wasn’t the only one to ask about it. Still, I wonder if all universities have those kinds of subliminal tricks to distinguish different professor offices.’ I thought to myself as we re-entered the building, heading back towards the main area.

“Now if you follow the path down here, it’ll lead you down towards the cafeteria, where you will be able to grab that coffee! And if you take the stair over here, that’ll lead up to the classrooms and my office directly in front of the stairs. And this door at the bottom of the stairs, is the library!” He announced, pushing the doors in a way that he must’ve been aiming to be dramatic, but ended up swinging back in our faces due to the lack of strength behind it. Coughing into his hand to discharge the awkward tension, he reopened the doors normally, myself following after him.

As I entered the space, I looked around in awe, the smell of old books and wood hitting my nose first. Pillars of golden brown wood held the building up with rows and rows of bookshelves matching the colour of the wood, it looked like it had two, maybe even three floors worth of books, and study tables scattered about the place. And just to the left, a big desk with a little rack of leaflets for what at first glance appears to be student events and a big trolley rack filled to the brim with books to be returned to the shelves. A lady wearing a hair kerchief was polishing the front of it.

“Oh, Dean! I didn’t think you would be here so soon! I was just finishing up cleaning up the place, and this must be our new librarian!”

“Oh don’t worry Rosa! There’s still time left if you need to finish up, we’re here early anyway. Anyway, as I mentioned (Y/N), this is Rosa Grimes, the university’s resident cleaner. Rosa, this is (Y/N). She’ll be starting today, I hope you take them under your care.” He says, introducing us to one another as I shake hands with the woman, Rosa. She seemed nice at first glance, almost a bit like Mum back home.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Rosa! And thank you for tidying up the place! You really didn’t have to do this just for me! I could’ve done it!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all dear! Love to keep busy me, you’ll probably see me around the place tidying up wherever I go anyway.” She laughed, tucking her feather duster back into her pocket in front of her apron.

‘Oh yeah, definitely like Mum.’ I thought to myself as we finished up.

“Speaking of which, I must be off over to the offices Delmona. You know how Layton loves to leave his office in such disarray. I think he does it just to see me and have a cup of tea together!” She laughs, waving to us both and heading through the doors we just came through, leaving me and the dean alone once again.

“Layton?” I ask, turning back towards the dean in hopes of some form of clarification as to who Rosa could’ve been talking about.

“Professor Hershel Layton, the university’s resident archaeology professor and minor celebrity of sorts to the students. He’s been known to go on excursions during the half terms and summer holidays. Always comes back to the school term with some story to tell in his lectures.” He remarks, guiding me towards the desk, where I will be spending most of my time.

“Oh, I see! That makes sense then. Must be quite the popular man then.”

“Yes he is, but I'm sure you’ll run into him at some point. He’s always coming in here for reference books on archaeological topics of one thing or another. Anyway, here's your desk. It’s normally quite quiet on a Monday as most deadlines seem to be set for the end of the week from my experience, so you should have plenty of time to get comfortable and have a look around before the students come in. I’d better be off now, as I have a meeting to attend with the school board in half an hour. I’m sure you’ll do fantastic with us, and I’ll check up with you at the end of the day to see how things went. Take care now (Y/N)!” The dean finishes, patting my arm reassuringly and heads towards the door.

“Thank you Dean Delmona! And thank you again for showing me around the campus, I really appreciate it!” I shout back, hoping to catch him before he’s out of earshot.

“My pleasure!” along with a wave is all the response back I get back as he slips through the doors. And I’m left alone in the vast expanse of the university library.

‘Alright! Let’s get settled in!’ I think to myself as a go over to the returns trolley, looking over what titles are in need of reshelving and wondering what type of student would have taken the books out in the first place. A pastime I enjoyed at the old village library as well to shake up the monotony of reshelving and lugging the heavy trolley in front of me.

The rest of the day turned out just to be as the dean said; quiet. Students only really started trickling in at around lunchtime, the same bleary look in their eyes of either late nights studying, or the aftermath of weekend-long revelry. I was thankful for this as that had given me a lot of time to acquaint myself with where each section was and what kind of selection we had on offer in case any of the students asked for any recommendations. Which I have to say, the university sported a whole array of wonderful books I could only dream of grabbing for my own personal collection. Rare copies of the Illiad and Odyssey, first editions of the Brother Grimm's fairytales, and every college textbook a student could possibly need, all waiting to be plucked from the shelves like glistening fruit from a market stall. There were even some signed autobiographies from famous authors and experts in their field, which I pondered as to how a university could’ve obtained. Was it something donated, or a gift to the university?

Either way, I had plenty of time to ponder this as the light from the wall-length windows on one side shined in the day’s light, turning the office from bright light to a golden age as the afternoon progressed. Only a couple of the more awake students had come up to the desk, either to return a book used over the weekend or ask if a certain book related to their coursework was available. The students seemed just as friendly as the staff thankfully, even inquiring about me, since they noticed I wasn’t the usual librarian on duty, who apparently was known as Ms Applewood, an kind enough woman who rumour had it retired up to Scotland to be nearer her son. How true the rumour is something I doubt I'd ever get the answer to, but it was nice to know that the student body I had encountered thought I was nice enough to even involve me in their gossip. So overall it was quite the lovely first day, only half an hour left on the clock, according to the small desk clock that the desk had come with.

‘Just enough time to do the last of the returns and lock up for the night!’ I thought to myself, standing up from my desk and heading over to the pile of books to my right that I had piled up when the door on the other end of the room creaked open. A man wearing a top hat seemed to enter the room, a thick tome tucked under his arm as he walked towards the centre of the room, scanning around the library until he seemed to notice me at the desk.

“Hello there! My apologies for coming to the library so late into your shift. I had only just gotten out of the classroom just now, Some students had some questions to ask me after classes.” He spoke, making his way over in my direction as I picked up the four books from the returns.

“Oh, no trouble at all, the library is still open another half an hour anyway, Mr…?” I trailed off, unsure as to how to address the finely dressed man in front of me.

“Ah, do beg my pardon. How rude of me for not introducing myself to you. My name is Professor Hershel Layton. I’m the archaeological professor here at the university.” He introduced, tipping the top hat of his at me slightly, having to adjust his grip on the book in his possession to do so.

“(Y/N), the new librarian. Just started today. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I replied, doing my best to nod back at him while balancing the books in my hands.

“That must be why I did not recognise you, you must be Ms Applewood’s replacement. A pleasure to meet you too.”

“No worries, now, what can I help you with today Professor?” I asked, trying my hardest not to appear nosey as I tried to read what book he had under his arm.

“Well, first I would like to return this book to the library, I was using it to help authenticate some of my student's answers in the essays I had assigned them over the weekend. And I was also wondering if you happened to know if you happened to have a copy of ‘The Azran History: What We Know’’ by Professor Desmond Sycamore and ‘Head Gymnastics’ by Akira Tago.” He asked, finally taking the book from under his arm. The title read ‘Archaeobotany in Egpyt’

“Not a problem Professor, in fact, I think I have that head Head gymnastics book in my pile for returns here. Let me see… Ah! Here we go!” Shuffling the books in my hands, I pulled it out in all it’s yellow glory from the bottom of the pile, quickly making a note on some scrap paper on what books were being taken and returned so I could enter them in properly to the system when I get back to my desk later.

“A girl returned this just today, so here you go! As for your book on Azran history, I believe I did see one on my rounds today in the Archaeological section. I’m more than happy to help look since I’m heading that way to sort these returns myself.”

“Are you quite sure, I wouldn’t want to bother you if you are busy right now.” He mused, a flash of concern flitting across his, concerned to be pulling me away from my duties perhaps?

“Not at all, professor. Like I said, these books are all heading towards the geography section anyway, so it’s on the way there anyway. Shall we?” I smile, leading the way towards the stack of shelves.

We walked in relative silence, the only nose being our shoes clacking against the hardwood flooring of the library. Not an awkward silence, which was weird since that normally did happen when meeting someone new, with neither party knowing what topic would interest the other. But a content silence, as if nothing really needed to be said at this moment.

‘Maybe he’s quite content with the silence himself’ I thought to myself, as I weaved between the stacks, before finally reaching our final destination.”

“Here we are, Professor! I’ll just quickly pop these into the geography section and be right with you!” I say, wandering just two shelves over to my own destination, shelving the books for the group study session that had left later that day.

“That’s quite alright, don’t rush on my account.” He chuckled, before staring up at the shelves, his mission already in his mind.

Having one of my last tasks of the day dealt with now, I hurried back over to the man and started looking for the book he needed as well while sneaking in some glances to assess the man next to me. Dressed rather professionally and shoes shined to a sheen. He looked the spitting image of what a professor looked like in my mind’s eye. And he acted like one as well. But there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, some sort of charm about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke? You don’t hear a lot of people speaking the way he does; almost like he thinks about every word he’s about to say before he says anything. Or maybe it’s the glint in his eyes I noticed as he scans the bookshelves for his prize, a look of passion in his eye for the craft he must’ve honed throughout the years?

‘Well no wonder he’s popular around here.’ I mused to myself as I finally noticed the book the man next to me was looking for on the bottom shelf. Bending down to pick it up, I turn towards him, catching his attention from the corner of his eye.

“Here you go! This is what you were looking for right?” I ask, handing him the book in my hands while I quickly shelve the book about Egypt he had originally came in with.

“Yes! This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“No worries. So the Azran? Are they to be a new topic to cover in your lectures then?” I asked as we made our way back to the desk to check his books out.

“Hm? Oh, no, the curriculum is quite set for this year and as much as I would love to discuss new archaeological discoveries in the modern era, I would hate for my students to be behind on their work.”

“Ah, I get it. I was just wondering since the papers recently have been talking about how fresh evidence of the Azran people are cropping around the world in the last five years. I think last week's paper talked about a potential temple in Froenborg?”

“Well, yes! You seem quite up to date with the goings-ons of the archaeological field. Do you have an interest in archaeology? Study archaeology while at university perhaps?” He asked, that glint returning back to his eyes.

“While I do have an interest in archaeology and new discoveries, it’s not because I studied it. I took anthropology as a minor during my university days instead, but both subjects seem to have an overlap from what I was taught at school. I think it’s called Osteoarchaeology in your field right? The study of bones?” I asked, wanting to make sure I wasn’t saying anything wrong as I walked around the side of the desk to check out the books he had taken.

“That’s exactly what it’s called. It’s nice to know there’s someone at the university besides the students excited about these new discoveries and what this might mean to our understanding of the world as we know it.” He smiled, passing the books over for me to stamp.

“Well thank you! Good to know there’s someone here to discuss the findings with if the archaeologists find anything new to be reported on. Anyway, I must’ve taken up more of your time than I meant to. Here are those books Professor.” Passing the books back over, I set about taking the return ledger from the desk and start locking it away in the desk drawers for safekeeping.

“Not at all (Y/N), if anything it’s been lovely talking to you. In fact, if you get some spare time during the next few weeks, I’d love to discuss more about the tribes you studied while at university and your thoughts on the Azran people.” He asked, slowly turning in the direction of the door.

“Ho ho! Roping our newest recruit into your lectures and puzzles are we Professor?” The dean mused, making his way to us from his point at the door. How did I not hear him come in?

“Ah, well quite Dean Delmona. We were just discussing the recent discoveries of the Azran people.” He said, coughing into his balled-up fist. Ah yes, now this was the awkward silence I had come to know.

“Oh, I'm only jesting with you, my boy! It’s good everyone’s been friendly to our new librarian. Making them feel right at home! He laughed, patting the Professor on the arm.

“Anyway, I was just coming down here to check up on (Y/N) and how their first day went. Wouldn’t want to keep you both here any longer than you needed to.”

“I see, then I had better leave you to it. It was lovely speaking with you (Y/N). I’ll see you around.” The professor waved, before heading towards the doors and out the room.

“You too Professor! See you soon!” I shouted afterwards, hoping he heard me just like the situation with the dean this morning.

“I’ll take you to the front gates now. Like I said, probably don’t want to waste your evenings wiled away in here. But how was your first day here? Nothing to deter you from staying here I hope?” He asked as I locked up the library doors.

“All good actually. Your school has quite a lovely collection of books and all the staff and students are so nice! I hope it’s like this all the time here!”

“Hah! The only time it’s not is when it’s exam and finals week! Then things can get a bit snappy!” He laughed, walking down the path towards the wrought iron gates we had only passed through this morning. It only seemed like an hour ago I arrived here. How time sure flies.

“Well anyway, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself here and as I’ve said, I know how reliable you are so you’re more than welcome to work here as long as you’d like to. But you better head off home now and make sure you’re fresh for tomorrow morning! Library Opens up at 8 am sharp. Make sure you get home safe now. And again, welcome to Gressenheller University (Y/N)!”

'Welcome indeed!' I thought to yourself as you strolled on down to the bus stop, lost in your imaginings of what the next few days would bring.

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