#found a purpose for ducky mug...

[skunkes]

[scifrey]

Keepsakes

A Plane Ticket: Despair & Desire

Status: Complete

Series: the Hob Adherent series (this is the last story in the series. No, really, I mean it.)

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death.

Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Johanna Constantine, Despair of the Endless, Orpheus, the Kindly Ones

Summary:

Morph and Hob travel to Naxos for their honeymoon, but once there, Hob is tasked with a quest as Vassal of the Endless that will force Morph to confront and amend one of his greatest past cruelties.

Picks up directly after the epilogue of Cling Fast.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Part Two: Despair & Desire

Hob is sitting on one of the lounge chairs on the private patio of their isolated villa. He’s facing the sea when Morph shuffles out of the bedroom, dehydrated and rumpled. He’d obviously found the tea Hob had laid out for him, as he’s got a fresh mug of it cradled between his hands.

“Husband,” Morph crackles, bussing a kiss off of Hob’s crown, then dropping into the lounge chair next to Hob. He takes a sip of his tea, then does a double take at the expression on Hob’s face. “Why have you been crying?”

Hob scrubs the heel of his hand against his eye, and offers Morph a lopsided, tight smile. “I’m fine, duckie.”

Morph makes a disgruntled noise, like a displeased cat. “That is not what I asked. What has made you upset?”

Hob debates lying, but decides that isn’t the precedent he wants to set on the first full day of their honeymoon. “I had a dream about blood and flowers.”

Morph perks up, intrigued. “A nightmare?”

“No,” Hob says. “It felt peaceful. But terribly, terribly sad. And terribly lonely.”

“Do you think it some omen?” Morph asks. “That the Dreaming is trying to communicate something to you?”

“No,” Hob says. “And I’m sure anything the Dreaming has to say to me, it’ll get Merv to say directly to my face.”

Morph nods. “This is true. Mervyn has never shied away from offering blunt truths.”

Hob chuckles a little, heartened by the light banter. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of the man he���s married, this gorgeous, fey prince he gets to call his own for the rest of eternity. 

Morph has bluish bags under his eyes, clearly not having slept enough in the last few days to be well-rested. It’s a worthwhile price to pay for all the frankly amazing sex they’ve been having to celebrate their marriage instead of sleeping. Morph’s lips are chapped from the alcohol, the plane travel, and the sun. They’re irritated and pink from kissing and dehydration. His floofy, sleep-mussed hair is sticking straight up in the sea breeze. His neck is a ruin of bruises.

(Hob is so glad Matthew decided to stay in the Dreaming and train Miko for the next month.)

Morph’s wearing just a pair of teeny, tiny black swim trunks, and a smear of white sun-block on his shoulders and nose where he hasn’t worked it into his skin properly. Morph is utterly devoid of body hair, save for what’s on his head, and Hob thinks he created his final mortal corporation that way on purpose. No need to ever shave. 

(Hob wonders what Morpheus will do if mustaches ever come back into fashion.)

The no-shaving is likely because Morph already despises all the little chores that keeping a human body in good health requires. It makes sense. Hob has never met an adult so resistant to brushing his teeth. He’s like a toddler. It took Hob threatening to never kiss him again to get Morph to understand that it was necessary for good oral health.

Morph is just so… so pretty . And all Hob’s. Forever.

Hob’s heart flips over in his chest, beating like a jackrabbit behind his ribs, and Hob is so in love, just arse-over-tits, disgustingly, inescapably in love . He is fucked with it, and he couldn’t be happier.

Morph takes another sip before asking: “What has you so disturbed, then?”

“Despair visited me, in the dream,” Hob confesses.

“Busybody!” Morph harrumphs. “Could the twins not give us a day before teasing – ”

“No, duck, it wasn’t that, it was…” Hob trails off and licks his lips. He tastes his own finished tea, and the salt of the sea, and the lingering tang of mimosas. “She tasked me with a quest. As vassal.”

Morph’s expression grows thunderous. “And so seeks to separate us during our honeymoon ? How dare she ask this of you now .”

“No, not that either,” Hob rushes to reassure him. He lays a comforting hand on Morph’s bare thigh, sliding his fingers up until they tease the edge of Morph’s slutty trunks. Morph’s pupils dilate, but they can both sense that now is not the time. “This is something that I have to do with you, I think.”

Morph takes Hob’s wandering hand, and presses a series of soft kisses on each knuckle. “Speak then of your quest, O Vassal,” he says with amused warmth. “So that we may undertake it and return to more pleasurable activities.”

Godswounds, Hob feels like a shithead for what he’s about to say. For what he’s about to do . 

But he does it anyway. 

“Morph, beloved…” he says softly. “Where is your son?”

Morph leaps to his feet like Hob’s flesh is a burning brand.

The tea mug drops and shatters on the terracotta tiles at their feet. Morph steps back over the lounge chair, horror crawling across his face, along every line of his body. Hob’s wearing sandshoes, so he ignores the ceramic shards on the ground for the moment. Careful to keep his body language non-confrontational, his arms open and loose, Hob also rises.

“He’s here on Naxos, baby, I know that already,” Hob says softly, squinting in the high sun. “But where?”

“Orpheus is dead ,” Morph says, and it’s half snarl, half sob. He fists his hands in his hair, shoulders curving inward under the weight of his sudden, unexpected reminder of his grief.

“But that’s not true,” Hob says gently. “Not completely. Is it?”

“He was… he was killed, he’s dead , he–he–” Morph’s breathing hitches hard, and he gags on a retch.

“I’m so sorry to bring it up. I’m sorry I have to make you think about it. But Despair asked me, and I…” Hob reaches out to Morph, palm up and welcoming, but not demanding. “He must need us. You.”

“He does not–he wants for nothing…”

“I know. The priests.”

“I… I tried–I don’t– Hob , why would you… why would Despair…”

“I know what Lady Johanna did for you,” Hob says gently. “And I know why.”

Morph peers up at Hob through tear-clumped lashes, the rims of his eyes red and raw. “I couldn’t let him rot .”

“Of course not.”

“But I cannot help him.”

“I know,” Hob assures him. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m not even mad at you about it, duckie. I just don’t get why you never told me. Why you haven’t gone back to see him.”

“He forbade me from attending him,” Morph says, misery in every line of his body. “He would not see me. He refused to even dream so that I might hold him again in the Dreaming.”

“Children have tantrums,” Hob says. He doesn’t mean it in a derogatory or condescending way. “Robyn yelled at me well into his twentieth year. He professed he hated me and then came to apologize within a few days. It’s hard, being a young man, when your passions are so large and your power is so limited. Surely he misses you–”

Morph drops his arms, and they hang limp at his side as he confesses to the sea: “It is my fault his wife died.”

Hob doesn’t buy that for a second, and makes it clear in his expression. “You were the snake that bit her?”

“ No ,” Morph gasps, horrified, whipping his wide gaze back to Hob.

“You sent it?”

“No.”

“Oh, so you were the satyr that tried to assault her?”

“Hob!” Morph wails, growing more and more distraught the more Hob presses him.

“Well I don’t see how you killed her, then,” Hob says, letting a little of his exasperation leak into his tone. He gets that this is probably the single hardest topic for Morph to discuss in the history of his entire existence, but jesu maria , is Hob’s husband ever a Drama Queen. “Unless the stories are vastly different from what really happened?”

“ I did not help Orpheus travel to the underworld to retrieve her! ” shouts, all at once, like he’s vomiting up glass. The confession rings across the water, echoing sharply, clapping back unpleasantly against Hob’s ears.

And then Morph crumples.

Hob knows this crumple, because this is the same crumple he experienced when Despair comforted him in El’s solar. Morph folds inward like rough origami, knees and elbows jutting, hands clawed over his face as he slams into the decking.

Oof, that’s going to bruise.

Hob is over the lounger and at his husband’s side in an instant, pulling Morph in and letting him cinch his arms around Hob’s waist, and press his face into Hob’s tummy, and sob. Does he feel regret for pushing his husband to this? Yes, of course he does. 

Does she also think it was necessary?

Yes to that, too.

Could he have been a bit softer in his approach?

Yeah, he’s realizing with a sinking stomach that perhaps he was a bit prickish about getting them here. Just because he’s Vassal to the Endless doesn’t mean his name has to be Dickhead.

“What… wh-what is this–?” Morph chokes, wet and snotty and awful. “I–I can’t breathe, I–”

“It’s just a panic attack, love,” Hob croons gently, rocking Morph gently, petting down the nape of his neck and back. “Perfectly normal for a human. I’m sorry what I said brought this on, I should have… I’m here, I’ll help. Deep breaths now, you’re going to be fine, just relax, shhhhh… breathe…”

“The… the feeling , it is here , and I cannot dislodge… Hob,” Morph gasps, hands fisted against his own heart.

“That’s grief, my beloved, that’s normal, too. Breathe. Just breathe.”

Morph breathes. 

When the panic finally subsides, he lets out a deep, shuddering sigh and flops onto his side on the sun-warmed terracotta. Hob cradles his head in his lap, lovingly cleans his face with the tail of his own shirt, and kisses his eyelids softly.

“I’m sorry,” Hob says again. “I should have eased into that a bit better.”

Morph’s mouth twists, but he rocks his head back and forth in denial. “I suspect no matter how you phrased it, I would have… panicked all the same.” He flattens his palm against his heart, and Hob twines his fingers between Morph’s, taking comfort in the feel of Morph’s heart slowing. “My son has been dead for thousands of years, and yet I have not grieved him like this in all that time.”

“Welcome to humanity,” Hob scoffs gently.

“I do not like it.”

“Neither do I,” Hob says. “I hate seeing you suffering.”

Morph closes his eyes, slowly, as if the very thought of Hob’s pain causes the same in him. “And yet, do I not deserve to?”

Morph’s eyes are closed, so Hob indulges in a single eye roll. “Babe, being unable to help Eurydice after her death is not the same as killing her, either accidentally or on purpose.”

Morph squeezes Hob’s hand hard, expression screwing up in shame. “I did not want him to marry her. I did not think it a wise match, and he never forgave me. I would not… I would not dance at their wedding. Calliope called it selfish, and feared it would be taken as an ill omen, and then…”

Ah-ha, that explains it, Hob thinks. “And then she died.”

Morph nods, sniffling as more tears leak out of the side of his eyes. He presses the heel of his free hand into one, scrubbing. “Orpheus begged my help, both as his father and as Dream of Endless, and I would not give it.”

“ Could not.”

“ Would not,” Morph insists. “My sister Death found a loophole to the rules. As did my brother Destruction. And yet, in giving them his aid, his failure to complete his quest and rescue Eurydice meant that death and destruction became his fate.” Now he finally looks up at Hob, glacier-blue eyes swimming with regret. “Had I acquiesced, perhaps he would have succeeded. And had he failed, perhaps the worst that would have befallen him was an eternal sleep.”

“Or eternal nightmares,” Hob says gently, cradling Morph’s cheek. “You can’t know. And you can’t beat yourself up about it now, not literal centuries after the fact. But it’s… it’s not too late to have a relationship with him.”

“No, it is far beyond too late,” Morph says glumly. “That Despair is the one who tasked you with seeking him out, it makes this truth enough.”

“I don’t agree. Sure, he despairs, Morph. It was his blood I dreamed of. His darkness. His loneliness. But we’re here now. We can go see him. We can go get him and… and, I don’t know, bring him home.”

Morph looks up at him quizzically. “What life do you suppose a disembodied head may live in London?” 

He means the question sincerely, so Hob answers him sincerely.

“Well, he won’t have much of a social life, I guess. But there’s London Below, people will hardly blink an eye at him there. And maybe someone there would be able to fashion a body for him. Perhaps there’s a rabbi who knows how to make a golem. Maybe we can track down more angels and get one of those ‘stacks’ of corporations Lucifer talked about.”

Morpheus muses on this, but seems unconvinced.

“We don’t have to decide now,” Hob says. “It’s Orpheus’ to make, anyway.”

“That it is,” Morph says gravely. 

Hob takes that as a sign that the panic attack has well and truly passed, and maneuvers them over to the lounge chair, to perch wound together at the foot, facing out at the water.

“I do have one question I want to ask,” Hob says, squeezing Morph’s fingers reassuringly. “And I don’t mean this confrontationally, okay?”

Morph takes a shaking breath, letting it out on a shakier sigh. “Okay.”

“If you’re so resistant to seeing him, if you didn’t even want me to know about him, why did you suggest Naxos for our honeymoon?” Hob asks gently. “ You’re the reason we’re here. Were you really not going to tell me?”

“I–” Morph prevaricates. 

“Why would you–”

“I don’t know!” he gasps, suddenly distraught again. Hob rubs his back soothingly. “I thought… no, I didn’t think, I wasn’t… you asked me, so I… I don’t know why I said Naxos. You asked, and I answered without thought.”

Instead of answering right away, Hob stops and replays the conversation that brought them here in his mind. 

“Hey, duck,” Hob asks, looking up from the world map he’s got spread out on the kitchen island. Matthew is standing beside it, having asked Hob about all the places he’s visited. “Since I’ve got the map out, where’s the one place in the world you want to go more than any other?”

“Naxos,” Morph says, immediately and with no hesitation. He’s on the sofa, face and hands buried in his sketchbook, thumbnailing the next chapter of his graphic novel. He doesn’t even look up. Hob’s not even entirely sure Morph’s realized he’s answered.

“Okay,” Hob says, “Sounds good. I’ll book the tickets.”

Morph just grunts, focused on his work. Matthew and Hob spend the rest of the night researching vacation villas and ticket prices without his input. Hob’s paid a ludicrous amount of money for one of his shady underground contacts to provide him with identity papers for Morph; it’s only fair that they actually use the passport. Besides, it’ll be a nice surprise for after the wedding.

“You answered Naxos because this is where Orpheus is,” Hob says. “But you didn’t even realize it was your greatest wish, to be near him.”

“I… I suppose I must not have, I–” Morph sits up so fast he nearly headbutts Hob, and grabs Hob’s shoulders in a merciless grip. “I want to see him. I want to! Hob, I want... I want to see my son. ”

“Okay, duck,” Hob says gently. “Okay. You get cleaned up, and I’ll see if this place comes equipped with a map.”

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

[save-the-spiral]

hey, idk if you're doing requests atm, but i read about Alexander in monquista; i'd LOVE to hear even just some thoughts from his journeys in marleybone and mooshu as he gets closer to finding out about his parents, is given their old ship, and all. really happy you're enjoying making characters and telling stories for pirate101!

Was planning on writing more of an overview of his arc up to Marleybone, but instead I ended up writing him meeting bonnie anne, who becomes basically his best friend, big sister, and confidant. Warnings for homelessness, starvation, casual violence mention, and uh they’re both kids while all that happens.

Alexander knew he was going to be a pirate. He knew that deep down into his bones, he remembers glimpses of memories, where his pirate captain mother and her first mate, his father, told him stories of their adventures. He was born and raised on the skies, nestled in the captain’s quarters, away from harm. 

He never jumped at gun or cannon fire. He was graceful, able to walk on the railing of a ship like a tightrope, climb the rigging, all when his parents weren’t paying attention, until he was shouted down, or he fell. Alexander had never known anything but the ship and port towns until he was about eleven or so.

He had been dressed in modest clothes, appearing like a runaway or cabin boy, and was told to stay in an inn until his parents or one of their crewmates swung by to pick him up.

Alexander ran out of gold after six months. At that point all he had was a knife and the clothes on his back, as he was thrown out onto the streets of Skull Island, nothing but an annoying whelp now that he couldn’t pay the innkeeper.

And that was how he lived. Always one missed meal away from starving, always shivering, what was once a lithe frame that promised a growth spurt now simply skin and bones, where he could place his shaky hands flat against his ribcage, and let his fingers rest in the divots between gaunt skin stretched over ribs.

Alexander was just another too small figure to haunt the sewers of Skull Island, who fell asleep every night reminiscing of his lost at sky (he can only hope, because what if they left him on purpose, never to return) parents. He would replay memories of bedtime stories, the way his parents would finish each others sentences or interrupt with jokes, or wild corrections.

One day he woke with a kick to the stomach, and he groaned, cheek sliding against the grimy wall as he opened one eye.

“I don’t got any money.” He rasped. His hair was long now, matted in a curtain down to his mid back. He wore patched rags, hand outs from older kids who out grew them and knew not to waste when more desperate kids would need them. He was curled behind a box, and no one should have found him.

But a fox girl did, small enough that she knew where someone his size would hide. Her muzzle scrunched as she showed a few small fangs in disgust. “I don’t need your money, kid.” 

Her strong Albion accent woke him up for sure. There were some foxes around, most with strong pirate’s accents, half forgotten the tone of their homeland.

“What d’you want?” Alexander asked now, bracing against the wall with intent to spring up and run if he needed to.

Now the girl cocked her head, hand easily falling to her hip as she rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.” She trailed off, eyes distant.

“If you don’t plan on mugging me, then you might as well sit and tell me what it’s all about. Don’t got much else to do on this shit island but sit around and starve.”

At that, the girl giggled, snorting herself into an abrupt stop, and then sat down on one of the crates, leaning dramatically against the wall. She kicked her booted feet out, then crossed one slowly over the other, then crossed her arms behind her head to pillow against the wall.

“Name’s Bonnie Anne, by the way, kid.”

“Alexander.”

“Got a last name, Alexander?”

“D’you?”

“Fair. How’s about I give you one. Lamb.” The soft tone betrayed that it was a pet name, one old Marleybone grandmothers gave their kin.

“No.” Alexander snorted.

“Ducky?” 

“Nah.” 

“Fine, little bird. We’ll workshop it.”

“Maybe after the story, Bonnie Anne.”

“Sure. So, back in Albion, I and my family lived in this nice big farmhouse- the whole family, cousins and all, and,”

Alexander closed his eyes now, head leaned back against the stone wall, listening with a smile on his face. It was so rare to find someone so intriguing now, someone who didn’t set him on edge. Bonnie Anne was just so simple, so casual about existing in this poverty. She was excitable, and Alexander was entranced, reminded of how his mother would tell stories.

Alexander decided to stick by her, whether Bonnie Anne liked it or not. One had to cling to what gave them joy in these joyless circumstances. 

[hansolmates]

vernon; lazy morning haze

feat. Vernon x female reader

genre/prompts: fluffity fluffer fluff w/waking up reader, wearing each other’s clothes, just a lil bit of suggestiveness and absolutely no plot whatsoever 

word count: 1618

summary: In his excitement of seeing you after so long, he forgets to be a little more gentle when it concerns waking you up. 

Vernon looked forward to Tuesdays the most.

To others it might be that random meh day in the middle of the week, not exactly Hump Day but at least not a Monday. But his Tuesdays were special, because once practice was over he could spend the rest of the day to himself. Usually he’d be songwriting with the guys in the studio, or finally getting around to reading that Vonnegut novel his mom had been bugging him about.

But this Tuesday was even more special because he could spend the day with his girlfriend. Today’s practice ended early (and by early, meaning really late from Monday night into Tuesday morning) and seven out of the thirteen members knocked out in the middle of the dorm before they could even think about scheduling another practice. A sudden shot of energy ran through his system as he took the trip to your apartment, hardly even bothering to shower or change his clothes.

Punching in your keycode he quietly stepped into your apartment, sliding his shoes across the entrance and throwing his bag atop the loveseat. The door of your bedroom was open a crack, just enough for him to slide in with as little noise as possible.

“Babe?” he whispered cautiously, popping his head in first before fully entering your room. It looked exactly as he left it a week ago, the white ducky sheets thick and ruffled in a permanent disarray with textbooks strewn in every corner of the room. Biting his lip, he noted the fluffy white blob of blankets in the center of the mattress that was curiously breathing in and out.

Tiptoeing so he could prop one knee on the bed, he lifted the layers of blankets to see a familiar bedhead under the covers, fast asleep. Well, it was eight in the morning, he couldn’t blame you. He instantly smiled at the familiar face, trying to remember the last time you two could be alone like this, with you constantly working your day job and school after, and his 24-hour job neither schedule was hardly forgiving. It still wasn’t going to stop him from waking you up however, he couldn’t waste another free day sleeping.

But the bed looked so so warm, like little marshmallows bouncing in hot chocolate. And he was so sleepy. All he could think about was cuddling the fuck out of you, putting on your warmest sweaters with your legs tangled together and his face buried in your neck.

He steeled himself, reaching over to poke your fluffy cheek, soft from sleep. “Baby,” he said, “c’mon, it’s the first time I’ve been around in like, two thousand years. Get up so we can go buy breakfast or something.”

You scrunched your brows together, as if a butterfly’s fuzzified feet were curling at the tip of your nose. He wasn’t expecting you to get up the first time anyway, the two of you knocked out like a pair of lead beams whenever either of you lacked proper rest.

“Don’t just sleep on me.” he muffled a groan, hopping fully on the bed. His legs barely fit on the small mattress as he continued to hover over his girlfriend. Gently shaking your shoulders, he persisted. “The love of your life is right here!” he balked.

A little part of him felt bad for trying to force you awake, but he knew you’d regret sleeping in and wasting a whole day together. When you finally started to shift in the covers, albeit with a lot of whining, his heart perked at the familiar ministrations when it came to your awakening.

“Yes you’re awake, thank god.” he cheered to himself, “Move over, let’s go do something.”

And before he could even think about letting you get up at a respectably slow pace, he pushed your body to make space on the bed. In his excitement the gentle push turned into a shove, and in a matter of seconds the blankets and your body were tumbling off the bed. There was a sudden squeal of surprise, and a sickening sound of your weight landing on the hardwood floor. Vernon couldn’t even move despite his prior eagerness, still frozen in the bed looking at the lump in the mattress he just so gracefully removed.

“Oh, shit.” he gulped, looking down at the angry little figure popping up from the other side of the floor.

Your face was dead center in the middle of all the blankets, the only thing visible was your eyes, fully equipped to shoot lasers into his skull. You kind of looked like that worm-thing from Alice in Wonderland and it made him want to chuckle and tell you, but you didn’t look like you were in a laughing mood.

“Baby,” he coughed uneasily, giving a nervous grin, “I’m home early—”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Yes ma’am.” lips tight, he bolted out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. No point in not making noise, especially when you were rudely awakened by your inconsiderate boyfriend.

Patient as ever, he began rifling through your kitchenette searching for anything edible. Tired of the usual ramen-and-stale-cereal combination he had with his members every morning, he noticed a pretty robin egg blue desert box in the middle of your fridge. Opening it on the counter, he vocalized very loud yassssssss upon discovering it was a quarter-eaten chocolate cheesecake with a ganache filling. Suppressing the urge to dive in the confection, he started looking for your kettle and some jasmine.

He probably could’ve spent well over an hour making tea (he’ll never understand the tea-to-water ratio as he puts the tea in the steeper, leaf by leaf) but thankfully you walk in the the room, padding barefooted. You felt like absolute death, only subdued by the fact that your boyfriend was somehow in your apartment for the first time in days.

“Good mornin’, beautiful.” Vernon said, spooning honey into your favorite mug.

“Liar.” you give him a warning look, running a hand through your bedhead.

“Why would I be lying!” he laughed, sliding your tea to your side of the counter. “You always look good, especially in that shirt.”

“Oh, this old thing?” you teased, thumbing the hem, “Some random guy left it here.”

It was hard not to watch you walk in the kitchen in nothing but his flannel, the warm cream and navy plaid stopping short at the edge of your knees. He may or may not have accidentally left it during a night way back when he started sleeping over, and as much as he missed that worn fabric, it was worth it knowing you kept it on you whenever he wasn’t around. No one could wear his clothes better than you, especially with that bralette-thing (he never got the purpose of the thin lace, but he understood that you found them cute and comfy, and Vernon certainly found it a little more than just cute) peeking out from the undone buttons.

“Hm, what’s this guy like?” he played along, a coy smile playing on his coral shaded lips.

“Dunno.” you shrugged, looking up at him through your warm mug. “I guess he’s good-looking. He likes Twix bars and Marvel movies.” you licked your lips, noting that that Vernon got your tea just right. “Oh, and he’s also my boyfriend.”

“Sounds like a lucky guy.” he grinned even wider when you began making your way around his side of the counter, leaning your backside against the marble tabletop. His large height towered over yours, and he settled his long legs between your body, dipping down to press a light kiss to your forehead. “Sorry I pushed you off the bed.” he mumbled sheepishly, the words melting across your skin.

“Yeah well, you caught me just as I fell asleep.” you replied with a soft giggle, looking just as guilty for snapping at him earlier. “But what about you? When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmm, Sunday afternoon?” he hummed, his fingers pressing comfortably at the swell of your hip. His fingers trailed a path under the flannel to your bare skin, cotton soft and warm from your slumber.  

“Geez, Vern. Are you human?”

“Hell yes. Because I can’t turn down chocolate and that cake is literally staring at me in the face.” he opened the drawer next to your body, pulling out two forks. “Breakfast?” before he could even ask, he stabbed his fork in the confection behind you.

After two cups of tea and a shared cheesecake, the two of you were blissfully caught in a sugar-haze, playing with each other’s fingers as you settled against the couch recliner.

“Let’s watch a movie.” Vernon proposed, staring at the black television screen as if it would magically turn on.

“Let’s go sleep.” you sighed fretfully, leaning against him. “See, you’re so sleepy that you wanna go out and do things. You’re going loopy.”

“But we’re gonna end up sleeping all day.” he pouted.

“Is that a bad thing?” you murmured, the warmth of his chest already betraying your attempt at putting up a fight. “We sleep better when we’re together. As long as I know you’re with me, it’s a day well spent.”

His resolve was quickly breaking, all in a matter of seconds because of the fact that your body was fitting so perfectly between his, and the smell of your vanilla shampoo soothing the heck out of him. “Fine,” he said, adjusting his position so you were safely tucked in. He didn’t even feel like making the trek down the hall and to your bed. “One hour.”

“One hour.” you repeated, nuzzling your face in the fabric of his rose sweater.

“And then we go out.”

“Ye.”

“Maybe we should go to the park.”

“Mm.”

“We can take a subway—”

“Vern.” you sighed exasperatedly, shutting your eyes. With another adjustment your face was tucked in the crook of his neck, your lips decorating flowery kisses against the juncture of his collarbone. “Go to sleep.” you whispered, your words acting like a spell to his quickening slumber.

“Yes ma’am.”

[feelsgood-anon]

Eros - Bar AU Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE IS A MYSTIC MESSENGER AU.  IT IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE AMERICAN SITCOM CHEERS, A SHOW CENTERED AROUND A BOSTON BAR CALLED CHEERS AND IT’S REGULARS.  EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TRIED TO KEEP AS MUCH OF CANON PERSONALITIES WITH ALL THE MYSTIC MESSENGER CHARACTERS JUST REMEMBER THAT IT IS AN AU AND A FEW THINGS MAY BE DIFFERENT THAN IN GAME OR YOUR HEADCANONS. THIS HAS BEEN FUN TO PLAN AND I HOPE YOU FIND A BIT OF JOY READING IT!  

PG13+ FOR SWEARIN’ AND BOOZIN’.

Ch.1 Pt.1 | Ch. 1 Pt. 2 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 |

When you’re feeling down and like things aren’t going your way, go to the place where you will be met with open arms. Things will always work out, even if it’s not the way you expect it to.

“Say Red, a quarter?” Duckie leaned on the bar top with a hand held out towards the bartender patiently waiting for the token to go turn the jukebox on.

Red mused as he dipped his hand into the container where they kept the coins especially for these occasions. A deep frown crossed his features as he continuously felt around until eventually his eyes fell downwards, “Ah damn, sorry Duckie. Let me go find some in Zen’s office. We forgot to refill it.”

Duckie nodded with a smile, sitting back to wait for the other to return, the choice of song burning into his mind.

It was a surprise to everyone when within a week the young man memorized the entire song list from that machine. It was even more impressive that he knew every song and could remember every word. His affinity for keeping mass amounts of information was something to be envious of but for some reason he would do less than mediocre in his school work. How could a guy with that much potential do so horribly?

He just absolutely hated school now.

Spending the entirety of his high school life studying without enjoying anything else, he found this new freedom of exploring things for fun. As everyone knew in the bar, he spent most nights playing video games and as they came to find out when he first started coming to Eros, he adored listening to music.

He wasn’t musically inclined, though, as he couldn’t so much as carry a tune in a basket. Every song he listened to he absorbed and on his first few visits he quickly discovered the jukebox. He couldn’t help but be drawn to a simple machine that churned out tunes. It was a challenge to him to fit a song to a situation and having the restriction of the box’s playlist made it seem like a game for him. To appease the young man, everyone always urged him to pick the song. This made him feel important. This made him feel like he had a purpose.

“Anyone have a quarter?” Red shouted as he walked back out to the floor, digging through his own pockets to see if he had anything, “I forgot to go to the bank and get change, Duckie. I’ll find you one!” He walked around as the few scattered in the bar that early in the day checked their pockets and purses.

Duckie started getting nervous as it started to look like the coin would not show up any time soon. He never carried cash on him either since he was afraid of being mugged. Red walked up behind him and pat his back, “Zen should be here soon, he’ll find one! Just hang tight, okay?”

“Yeah...okay.” the boy’s voice was soft, his eyes focused on the mug of beer in front of him. His sorrow was distracted as Sunny had walked from the back room which prompted him to give her a smile, “Hey Sunny, how are you today?”

She beamed brightly in his direction as she set a few empty glasses on the bar top, “I’m doing great! Thanks for asking! Say...you look down. Whats going on?”

Duckie’s expression fell to a somber one then, “Oh...I just don’t have a quarter to play the jukebox with. But Zen will have one! He always does for me!”

Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him. Did he really get this upset over not being able to play a song? Reaching a hand into the pockets of her apron she pulled out a coin, “You could have just asked me! Here, go put something on, hot rod.”

His face lit up immediately as she flicked it towards him, “Thanks Sunny! You’re the best!” He jumped and ran towards the jukebox as he began to peer through the songlist.

Red came back around the bar to make a drink order but hovered around the girl, “You’re doing the lord’s work, yah know.”

Sunny rolled her eyes and turned towards him, “I just gave him a quarter. It’s not like I paid his college tuition or anything.”

“True, but this is important to him! You just made him pretty happy, take pride in that!”

 Jingle~!

 “Oh, look at all the beautiful people in here. I don’t know if I’m in the right place!”

“Hey Zen!”

Zen bowed deeply at the chorus of acknowledgment.  He’d never turn down a moment to catch so much attention, “I hope you lovely folk are having a good time and that Red has taken care of you in my stead!” He pulled a new pack of cigarettes from his pocket and began to pack them against his palm as he walked around the bar, “Everyone is taken care of, right?”

“Of course, boss! By the way, we need quarters. We ran out from the Duckie bucket and Sunny here had to save us from a meltdown.”

Zen grunted a bit as he tugged a cigarette from the box, placing it to teeter between his lips, “Oh, I have an emergency jar in the office. It’s under…” He grimaced thinking of the state of that room, “I’ll go grab it.”

Sunny scrunched her nose as he watched him light the stick in his mouth, “You should really think about quitting. Do women really enjoy kissing you when you taste of tobacco?”

He stopped in his step and turned slowly. Taking a long drag he tilted his head upwards to blow smoke into the air, gaze kept steadily on her, “Would you like to kiss me and find out?”

 “No.”

 Zen slouched defeatedly. He couldn’t fathom the idea that there was a female out there that wouldn’t melt at his advances. His beautiful face, his perfect body, his sex appeal; there wasn’t anyone that could resist him, or so he thought. A cheeky grin spread across his face as he had a revelation and he wagged a finger towards her, “You are playing hard to get, aren’t you? I can see right through you, Sunny! Fear not, fair maiden! Your knight will persevere! Drag me through whatever test you choose but I will prove my worthiness!”

Accompanied by an irritated sigh, she called out after him as he had started to take long confident strides towards his office, “What? I’m not putting you through any tests! I really just-” Her words were cut off by the door closing behind him, “I just don’t want to kiss you!”

“He won’t let up, yah know. So either kiss him or deal with the fact that your boss is slightly delusional,” Red said as he took a seat at the bar top, “We’ve all just accepted the latter and let him live his fairy tale life.”

“Isn’t that a bit unprofessional of him, to be hitting on his employees?” She huffed slightly, busying her hands with cleaning off the serving trays, “You know, sexual harassment and what not.”

Red gave a hearty laugh, “Oh, you think that’s him flirting? You’ll know when he’s trying to hit on you and that’s definitely not what he was doing. But seriously, if it bothers you that much just have a chat with him. He’s not unreasonable and I’m pretty sure if it makes you uncomfortable he will stop immediately. He acts like a big shot but he’s really just a softie.”

Sunny looked towards the office. She wasn’t really sure if it did bother her or not but for the sake of professionalism she would have to have a conversation with him. Her attention was stolen, though, by Duckie pressing the buttons on the jukebox harder than normal, “Hey, Duckie, you okay over there?”

“It ate the quarter!” He slumped over and walked towards the bar, “This is the worst day!”

She giggled slightly and flicked another coin at him, “Don’t worry, have another one.”

He immediately perked and caught it, running back to the machine, “Thanks again, Sunny!” He slipped the quarter in and pressed the button but it failed to play once more. He continued to press, each time a bit more pathetically, “Not again! Ugh…” His leg swept up to kick the jukebox but it brought him pain instead of success, “Ow! Ow ow ow!” He crumpled to the floor to grab at his now sore foot, “All I wanted was to play a song!”

Red shot up from his seat to jog towards the blonde, “Hey! Don’t hurt yourself now!” He knocked on the side of it to see if it would start before turning to shout towards the office, “Boss, come out here!”

As if he were summoned by the heavens above Zen swung the door wide open, “What? What happened?” He looked at the boy sitting on the floor and rushed over with the jar of quarters under his arm, “Are you okay, Duckie? Do I need to call an ambulance? Red, call an ambulance!”

Duckie shook his head and pointed towards the jukebox, “It’s not working!”

Zen frowned and examined the thing closely. He leaned to search the back and after seeing it plugged in straightened up to start slamming it all over. Sunny rolled her eyes as she watched them try to fix the jukebox, “You should probably call someone to-”

The bartender held a finger to his lips to silence her, “We’ve got this. Hey Red, help me shake it.”

Red nodded and between the two they rattled it around a bit. Satisfied with the amount of movement, Zen grabbed a quarter from the jar and pushed it into the coin slot. He turned to Duckie with a big smile, “Do you believe in magic?”

Duckie shook his head slowly, “Not really…”

“You will today!” He slammed his hand on the button, “Tada~!”

Silence.

Zen coughed a bit, “I said...tada~!” He hit the button again but nothing played. He turned his head to glare at the machine that dared make a mockery of him. Pressing the button a few more times he let out a sigh, “Sorry, kid. Looks like it’s broken. I’ll get a guy out first thing tomorrow, okay?”

Red couldn’t help but snicker as he pulled Duckie up from the floor, “You should really work on your magic tricks, boss. That one didn’t really pan out the way you wanted.”

“Oh quiet, you. I’ll go call a repairman, you get Duckie a drink.”

Dragging a defeated Duckie back to the bar, Red swung around behind it to pour the boy a beer, “Tough break, huh?”

The blonde shrugged as he took the glass, “What else could go wrong today, really. It’s just been one thing after the other.”

“What’s been going on? You’ve been pretty sad lately,” Sunny said as she leaned towards him, “Want to talk about it?”

He began to tap his fingers along the condensation forming on the outside of his drink. It wasn’t normal for him to wear his heart on his sleeve so candidly even though he often came with flimsy complaints about school to the bar but this day was wildly different. The deep breaths he took seemed to gather every concern from his mind but when his lips moved not a sound came. He let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned to rest his head on his left arm, “Sunny, how do you not worry about school? Every time I see you here you are bright and witty. What’s your secret?”

Her eyes blinked slowly at his question, “Duckie, I’m always worried about school. Who wouldn’t be?” She pulled out her tips from the pocket of her apron to organize the bills in attempts to busy her hands, “Midterms are here and I have two research papers due at the end of the week. I try not to bring my worries to work though, you know?”

“I slept through my midterm this morning!” He finally cried before his face buried into the crook of his elbow, “I’ve already missed so many days in that class! There is no way for me to pass now!” His head raised to finish off the beer, handing her the glass for her to refill it, “My parents are going to kill me! I already took a year off and I had to repeat a few courses that I failed before.”

“Duckie, what are you majoring in anyway?” She pushed the beer back towards him, “I never got around to asking.”

“I’m still undeclared. I don’t know what to do with my life.” He let out a small groan and chugged half of the drink in front of him, “I have no idea what I’m going to do. I feel like everything is crashing down around me. Why can’t I just stay home and play video games all day?”

Red came behind Sunny and nudged her towards a table that were ready to order, “Go take care of them, would yah?” She gave Duckie a smile before wandering off to the patrons, “Deciding what you want in life is hard, don’t think too hard on it and live your life the way you want. Things will turn out alright!”

Duckie shrugged a bit as he finished off the beer, “It must be nice to have a job and a place to be, yeah Red?”

“Sure! But you have a place as well!.” Red widened his arms and took a look around the establishment, “You can always call Eros home. We’ll be here for you. How about another beer, friend?”

  ********

“Oh come on, Sugar! It’s not like it will break the bank. It will make Duckie happy!”

“But why not just buy another jukebox? I see no point in trying to fix that piece of junk. Perhaps a more stylish one would suit the bar’s needs.” The raven-haired man was glancing over the paper that Zen had handed him before pouring a glass of wine, “Is this really a necessary expense?”

“It isn’t necessary, but I don’t want to replace it. I wouldn’t want him to have to memorize an entirely new song list! Plus it’s part of the bar! It was here when I bought the place. ” Zen placed a napkin down along with the wine glass in front of Sugar, “Just give me the thumbs up so the guy can buy the part tomorrow.”

Sugar rolled his eyes and initialed the page, “I will need a copy of this and any receipts. You better be glad that I am satisfied with the revenue this place is bringing in.”

“Thank you~!” Zen stuffed the estimate in his pocket and asked Red to watch the bar as he disappeared into his office to make a phone call.

“Cut the boss some slack, Sugar. Duckie seemed really distraught about the jukebox and he just wants to put a smile on his face.” Red said as he came back around the bar, “Can you put a price on someone’s happiness?”

“Around two-hundred and fifty, actually.” Sugar took a careful sip of his wine, “There’s always a price, Red.”

 Jingle~!

 “Hey Duckie!”

“Hi everyone!” His face adorned a smile, unlike the day before. Sunny grinned and ran over to him, “You seem in a much better mood! I’m glad!”

Duckie blushed a bit as he sat relaxed at the bar, “I talked to my professor and she’s letting me take the midterm tomorrow. I get a percentage taken off but at least I can pass it if I study hard enough!”

“Then why are you here instead of at home studying?” Sugar almost chided the boy from across the bar. The blonde ducked his head as Red had served him a beer almost immediately, “I just wanted to stop by and say hey, and thank you guys for being supportive yesterday. It means a lot! Oh…” His eyes fell to the jukebox that had caused him to spiral less than twenty-four hours prior, “Were they able to fix it?”

“Not until tomorrow, sorry bud.” Red leaned over the bar to pat Duckie on the head, “Let it be a reward for when you ace that exam tomorrow, yeah?”

Duckie nodded with a hint of a smile although he was a bit upset that it was still out of service. “Yeah, I guess it’s good that I don’t have any distractions. I can’t stay long, I have to cram!”

Sunny threw an arm around his shoulders as she still stood next to him, “Hey, things worked out! And you know what? You don’t need that machine to get a song going in this place!” She cleared her throat as she started tapping along the bar top and began to sing, “Don’t worry about a thing~ ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright~!” Her voice was shaky and slightly off-tune, but she continued on with confidence, “Rise up this morning~ smiled with the morning sun~ three little birds~ pitch by my doorstep~!”

Red started bobbing his head to the beat of her song, taking a pen from his apron to tap along the metal of the dishwasher to help her keep the beat.

“Singing sweet songs~ of melodies pure and true~ singing-!” She turned and pointed towards Duckie, “This is my message to you-u-u~! Come on everyone, sing along! Don’t worry about a thing~ ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright~!”

Everyone sang along with the chorus, a few joining in with keeping the beat along tables. Zen had emerged from his office then leaning against the frame of the door, arms crossed, as he watched Sunny start to bounce around. She caught his gaze and stuck her tongue out towards him, slinking over with awkward dance moves which led to her grabbing his wrist to pull the man towards the bar top to join in.

“This is sweet of you,” He whispered as soon as he was close enough to reach her ear. Her heart skipped a beat at she felt his words seep into her. Her body turned so sharply she nearly pushed him back, “Oh, which reminds me, Zen, I need to speak to you. A moment in your office?”

“Surely!” He twirled back around and led her to the room, letting her sit on the couch, “What’s up, princess?”

“Well, that’s what’s up. I’d like to ask you to discontinue your flirtations with me. I think it’s inappropriate at work and I’d prefer if you addressed me as you do your other employees.”

Zen pursed his lips at the request. It never occurred to him that anyone would be uncomfortable with how he was as most not only welcomed but begged for it. “Of course, Sunny. I never thought you’d be offended by that. This is a bit awkward.”

“It’s not that! I just think that if I work for you we should act professional. No hard feelings!” She nodded firmly and held her hand out for a handshake, “Right boss?”

He smiled softly, meeting her hand to shake it, “Right, no hard feelings. Thanks for letting me know, I promise I won’t do it anymore.”

“Of course I’d come talk to you. I heard you were a reasonable type anyway. Thank you for taking my feelings into consideration.” She stood up and brushed off her bottom, “Now let’s get back out there. I know I don’t sing well but I think I hear Duckie singing and...well…” She winced a bit as the incredibly off voice started getting louder.

Zen opened the door to let her exit, rubbing his temples as his body stood to keep it open, “You’re sweet, yeah. But I didn’t say you were smart…”

She elbowed him lightly as she walked past, “Duckie, shouldn’t you go study for your test?” Her voice called out over the sounds, hoping to stop the torture that he was now inflicting on the rest of the patrons.

“Oh yeah! I really should. Wish me luck, everyone!”

“Good luck!”

  ********

 Jingle~!

 “Duckie!”

“I passed!” The boy shouted as he made his way towards the bar top, “Can you believe it? All that studying paid off!”

Red passed by and pat him on the back, “Congratulations, buddy! I knew you could do it!”

“Damn, there goes five bucks.” Cannon dug into his apron and slapped the money on Red’s chest, “Seems like he’s not useless after all.”

Duckie frowned, slipping his backpack off to sit comfortably at on the stool, “Hey! You put a bet on my grade? That’s pretty harsh.”

“You passed your midterm, I made five bucks. It’s a win for both of us! Oh, guess what!” He pointed towards the jukebox, “It’s fixed! Go on, play something!.” He flicked a quarter at him, “You deserve it.”

Duckie’s eyes grew wide at the news, catching the coin mid-air, “Awesome! Thanks Red! I guess Sunny was right, yeah? Things always do work out.”

Red chuckled slightly while he prepared the two drinks that Cannon had barked at him, “I suppose she was. Cannon, order up!”

  let the tags begin! @illneverrecover @zenscrotch @suzunesays @serensama