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helen-with-an-a · 7 months

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Embarrassing Moments

Hi. So this is my first real fic I've written but yeh. This is inspired by mine and @lyak12 's ramblings and daydreamings hehe.

Anyways, I don't think there are any warnings - it gets a little suggestive but no outright smut (if you get me) anyways here it is

Lucy Bronze x reader

TW: Suggestive (no outright smut - lead up to it)

Word count: 3.3k

Description: Lucy wants to break your record after the Champions League final

You had done it. Champions of Europe. You felt bodies land on you, causing you to stagger forwards. It hadn’t sunk in yet, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to. This daze, this elation. You finally understood was Lucy was talking about, you wanted it again. She had always said as soon as she won something it was onto the next thing. And she was right. You had missed out on the Euros through injury, but you knew you wanted this feeling to never stop and to replicated it in a few months with the 3 Lions on your chest. Missing out on the Euros was saddening but getting to watch the entire tournament as a fan was an experience you hadn’t been able to do for a long time. But this joy was something else. Knowing that it was you that helped drag your team over the finish line. Knowing that you contributed to this win.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ Keira screamed, arms wrapping round your shoulders.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ You laughed, finally coming down to earth a little bit – at least enough to soak up the moment.

You were passed around from person to person. Sweaty hugs, sloppy kisses planted on cheeks, laughter and shouts coming from all directions. It wasn’t until familiar strong arms gripped you tightly that your head finally came out of the clouds.

‘Campeones de Europa,’ you said softly as you grinned up at her. ‘What’s this title? Number 4?’ She laughed

‘Eh. This one’s the most special.’ She replied. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, cocking your head to the side. ‘I’ve got you to celebrate with me’.

‘Oh, dear lord, Luce. So bloody cheesy’.

‘What can I say? I’ve got a trophy. And another champions league medal’. You rolled your eyes. She was always joking that out of all the medals and titles she’d won, you were her best prize.

You stood side by side as you clapped for Wolfsburg. Despite not knowing many of them personally, you knew how hard this would be for them. You didn’t doubt they would be back with a vengeance next year. Suddenly, it was your turn. Aitana was in front of you, beaming away and prattling something in Catalan. You couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t care. She was happy and that’s all that mattered.

Lucy was behind you – a hand dangerously low on your waist as she gently pushed you towards the officials. ‘Gracias,’ you murmured as a medal was slipped round your neck. You felt so much pride as you stepped up to kiss the trophy. Barcelona’s trophy. Your trophy. You took your place on the podium and pressed yourself into Lucy’s side. More shouts and cheers rang out as confetti rained down.

‘Hey.’ Lucy called to get your attention. You were trying to find your family – you had seen them briefly yesterday but, like all match days didn’t look for them in the crowd before the game. You turned, smiling when you realised just how close you were to her body. Hard muscles, soft skin, and that unique Lucy scent – a little sweaty, floral undertones from her shampoo and body wash and something undeniably Lucy. It was intoxicating. ‘I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?’ You think it was a question but the way she said it was a statement. Her hands threaded through you hair. The slightest nod was all she allowed before her lips were on yours. You heard cheers from the crowd and teammates alike and fervent camera clicks.

‘That’s…’ you breathed out when you parted. ‘That’s ... we're gonna break the internet.’ You weren’t really concerned. You had never hidden your 3-year relationship, but you had never been a fan of PDA, especially during a game.

‘Good.’ She smiled that breath-taking grin, pressing another kiss to your lips, before whisking you off to find your families.

‘You know …’ Lucy trailed off a little while later. You were back in the hotel lobby. Her arms wrapped around you as her fingers dipped below the waistband of your shorts. ‘I’ve been thinking’. You could tell exactly what she was thinking about. Her eyes had been slowly darkening since the dressing room. You had taken off your shirt (the sweaty material was sticking to you in a way that was slowly becoming too much) and danced around with Patri and Pina, screaming Spanish lyrics you only half understood – alcohol working wonders to slowly take away your inhibitions and reservations.

‘Oh no, that’s never good.’ You joked. You had eased up on the alcohol after the changing rooms. You didn’t want to be too drunk that you couldn’t experience the celebrations. Lucy was still nursing a beer, but you knew she was nowhere near drunk.

‘Ha ha,’ She said sarcastically. She readjusted the pair of you, your hands moving to fiddle with the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. ‘I was thinking we should set a new record…’ She waited for you to get what she meant. You looked confused for a moment, her eyebrow raising in response. It clicked. She wanted to beat your previous orgasm record. After the Euros you had gone, round after round, until you finally tapped out at 5 am. ‘It was seven for you after the Euros, right? Combined total of 11? I don’t think we’ve beaten that since then. But I have a feeling… tonight is the night. We’re going for 8… maybe even 9.’ The way she was talking so casually about your previous sex-capades had you blushing scarlet. You weren’t a prude per say but you weren’t as open as Lucy - never really spilling your secrets to your friends, often sporting a bright blush on your cheeks as stories were swapped across the changing rooms. You looked around, but no one was paying attention. Alexia had already dragged Olga off, and it looked like Mapi and Ingrid weren’t too far away either. You could see a hint of lime green disappearing around a corner, so you assumed Jill and Jana were making themselves scarce.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You pushed yourself up onto your toes and smashed your lips into Lucy’s. It wasn’t a pretty kiss. It was intense. Tongues and teeth clashing. Incredibly indecent and not at all appropriate for a public space. But you couldn’t find it in you to care.

‘Take me to bed’. You whispered. You were surprised she heard you – the music was loud and the conversations even louder.

‘Your wish is my command, princess’. The honorific had you clenching you thighs in anticipation of what was to come. The lift was torturous, the walk back to your room agonising, the wait as she fiddled with the key card was unbearable. But finally … finally, you were in your room.

You saw the intensity in Lucy’s eyes as you made your way passed her. It was a little overwhelming you, so to avoid her gaze, you played with the medal that was still swinging around your neck. ‘Your first Champions League title.’ You smiled, quietly proud of the achievement. You had come to Barcelona from your childhood club, Man City, as part of the exodus of players that left the club in the summer. You had never been the receiver of individual awards – not like Lucy who had probably hundreds of accolades to her name. But this felt special. Yes, it was a team award, but you were coming off of an injury that had prevented you from having the euro call up. The Spanish media had started calling you ‘la creadora de juego. ‘The playmaker’. You had been instrumental in most goals this season, either direct assists or making initial runs and occasionally tapping them in yourself. This felt like your medal.

‘I am so proud of you’. Lucy snapped you out of your daze with a gentle hand on your cheek. Whilst you were zoning out, she had stripped out of her top and shorts. It was a sight to see. It had you dizzy at the thought out what that body would do to you and what you could do to it. Thick thighs you could get yourself off on. Defined abs that would clench as you sent her flying over the edge. Strong arms that would hold you to her as she caught her breath again. Rough but soft hands that could have you teetering on the precipice in mere moments.

‘Te voy a follar hasta que veas estrellas.’ That had your head spinning even more. She was well aware of what her use of Spanish did to you and frequently used it to her advantage. I’m going to fuck you until you see stars. God, you hoped so. You let out a shaky breath. ‘Traffic lights?’ She asked, an eyebrow raised in expectation. You cleared your throat. You knew you had to be confident when you told her what the system meant.

‘Green means I’m good. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop’. Your voice was a little shaky.

‘Good girl’. Your heart fluttered as she leant down.

‘I’m not going to hold back.’ She reminded you. Her lips working on your neck leaving dark marks in their wake.

‘I don’t want you too’ You replied as you settle against the pillows. You could feel a smile against your naval as she descended down your body.

The sun is what awoke you the next morning. You were on your front, arms thrown over Lucy as your head rested on her outstretched arm. Her face was turned away from you, but you could already see the damage you had done to her neck. The crisp white sheet contrasted greatly against her tanned skin, but even though it covered her from her waist, you could still see the darkening splotches that you had bitten and sucked into her skin. You doubt you looked much better. You tried to shift so you could shower away the stickiness on your skin, but you couldn’t move. Lucy was facing away from you, her other hand resting on her stomach, so she couldn’t be blamed for whatever was keeping you hostage.

It was then, when you had become more aware of your body, just had much you ached. You had beaten you previous record last night. In fact, you had absolutely demolished your score. She had pulled 10 from you last night. And you had given her 6. You couldn’t imagine what it would take for you to beat this record – maybe the winning World Cup? ‘Luce,’ you called out. Your voice was raspy and deep. This was new – you knew you were loud in bed – you could no longer look at some of your City ex-teammates without being reminded of the amount of teasing you had received after an away win and Lucy’s return to games following an injury – but you’ve never lost your voice from sex before. You cleared your throat at tried again. ‘Luce?’ It was a little better – still undeniably overused but hopefully you could pass it off as from the match and pitch-side celebrations. It was clear that Lucy was still dead to the world, she always had been a deep sleeper, so with a monumental effort, you peeled yourself away from the warmth of her body and shuffled to the edge of the bed. It took more effort and a lot longer than you anticipated but you managed it. You could feel how weak you were, and you knew you couldn’t stand up without help.

‘Hmm, no. Come back.’ A deep, sleep-laced voiced complained from behind you.

‘I need help’. That got Lucy sitting up.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked quickly, the panic evident in her voice.

‘I can’t stand up’

‘What do you mean you can’t stand …’ she trailed off. ‘Ohhhhh. Fucked you that good, did I?’ You could hear the smugness in her voice. ‘Did such a good job you can’t stand up’.

‘Please, Luce. We need to shower and get breakfast. It’s already past 10’.

‘Alright, alright. I’m here.’ You felt the bed moving before Lucy appeared in front of you. She offered you a hand which you took gratefully. You went to stand again but it was clear that Lucy would need to give more than just a hand. She chuckled a little at your gentle blush but hooked an arm under your elbow and helped you to the shower. You eyed her sceptically as she moved to get in with you.

‘You can barely stand,’ She protested, ‘I’m not about to let you try and shower alone’.

‘Ok but no funny business,’ you warned. She chucked and pressed a sweet kiss to your hairline.

The walk down to breakfast was a slight struggle. After showering you did feel a lot better. Lucy had rubbed the soap into your skin, giving a light a light massage as she went. But you still couldn’t stand up without assistance – once you were standing you were fine, when you were sitting you were fine, the moving in between was the issue. You also had a slight limp in your step and your voice was still raspy. Even after drinking 2 full bottles of water.

‘Hola Y/N. Hola Lucy’. Vicky called from where she was sat. Fuck! You had forgotten the B team had come to watch the match yesterday.

‘H – Hey Vicky’ You cleared your throat and smiled at the 16-year-old as Lucy deposited you next to her. You watched as her face furrowed in confusion and concern – the site of you limping and sounding so rough was not nice for her.

‘What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself in the match?’ Oh, she was so innocent.

‘Yeah, Y/N, did you get hurt last night?’ Mapi looked with faux concern as she sat down at your table. Your jaw tightened as you glared at her.

‘No, no. I’m alright Vicky. I probably just celebrated a little too hard’. You tried to reassure her. Martina looked a little suspicious of you, but the rest of the B team nodded, seeming to accept your answer.

‘Is that right? Partied too hard, did you?’ Alexia sniggered. ‘Or was it another type of celebration that’s got you like this?’ She whispered as she took a seat on your left. You shot her a look.

A plate with a selection of breakfast foods was put in front of you as Lucy slotted in on your right. ‘Thanks, darling’ you said as a kiss was dropped on your head. ‘I don’t think that’s the only name you go by, is it Lucy?’ Patri laughed. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flare pink. Lucy just laughed along, not really minding the light-hearted teasing.

‘Also, Y/N you owe me several coffees. Because of you, I’d didn’t get any sleep,’ Pina added on. Your eyes widened at her comment.

‘Hey. We were celebrating what, can I say?’ Lucy shrugs as she sips on her coffee

‘There’s celebrating and then there’s whatever you guys were doing’ Ana giggled

‘Hey it’s perfectly natural. We’re all human and every human has needs,’ Lucy commented, nonchalantly.

‘Not everyone needs to know what happens behind closed doors, Luce’ You tried to sound joking and confident, but you knew you failed

‘You made it our business by being so loud,’ Salma chuckles.

‘Ok but surely your needs were met by round 3 or 4?’ Laia added in. Lucy just smiled in response and kissed your cheek, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

With every comment thrown your way about your evening with Lucy your cheeks got more and more scarlet. If you could stand up on your own, you would have left to go back to your room by now. It’s not that you necessarily minded the comments thrown your way, it was more that you didn’t like to have all the jokes be at your expense. Due to Lucy’s lack of reaction are your significant and obvious one, you were an easy target. It wasn’t until a comment by Mapi that Lucy intervenes.

‘Hey, Lucy. Do you mind giving me tips? Ingrid’s record is 4 but our anniversary is coming up and based what we all heard last night, I think you might have some.’ That set everyone off on another round of loud laughter. Even Paños and Marta joined in this time– usually they don’t entertain childish comments from some members of the squad.

‘Guys…’ you said weakly. Sure, Lucy liked having a joke around, a little giggle at her, or your, expense was ok every now and then. But she could see this was really beginning to affect you. Your head was bowed down, attempting to hide the worst of the blush. You looked seconds away from crying.

‘Alright, alright. Sorry, I kept you guys up. But let’s move it along, shall we?’ Lucy tried to steer the conversation away from your sex lives without disrupting the joking atmosphere.

‘It’s not you that kept us up.’ Bruna responded.

‘Suficiente’. Lucy said, firmer this time, in that voice that does things to you but everyone else knows she means business. And in Spanish. She knew that would get everyone’s attention – including yours. How could you still be horny after last night? You didn’t have an answer, but you knew it was all down to the woman sitting next you, her hand splayed wide, rubbing comforting circles on your lower back.

‘So, what’s everyone’s plans before the international break or pre-season?’ Ingrid asked. It was an obvious subject change, but you were grateful, nonetheless.

‘Hey, I’m sorry we took it too far,’ Alexia murmured as the attention shifted onto holiday plans. ‘We’re not judging you or anything. Personally, I’m very impressed. My record with Olga is 6 and even then, we have to spend the day in bed afterwards. How many was it?’

’10, I think. Lucy had 6’ You whispered back; voice barely audible as the volume in the breakfast room picked up.

’10. Ay dios mío. No wonder you’re barely walking.’ Alexia seemed incredulous. ‘I’m definitely going to need tips’. She laughed, as did you. Your laughter caught Lucy’s attention. You were still sporting a slight blush, but she could tell you were much more relaxed.

Eventually, breakfast came to an end. People slowly began drifting back to their rooms to get ready for the official celebrations this afternoon. As Lucy helped you stand, you could see Mapi shaking her head, laughing. She was clearly about to say something when Ingrid, the ever-perceptive woman that she was, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her away before anything was said. You winced slightly as you started moving, but you were definitely more mobile than this morning.

‘I really don’t like you right now,’ you grumbled, pouting to emphasise your point – the sounds muffled but still perceptible to Lucy, having been long acquainted with your dramatics.

Lucy laughed loudly at your comment as she sat on the bed. Despite your words, you stepped into her embrace, her fingers gently tracing lines up the back of your thighs.

‘No, you don’t’

‘Yes, I do’ Your actions betraying your words as you pushed her to lie back against the pillows.

Lucy’s laugh must have been loud enough for it to be heard from outside as Mapi shouts drifted through the wood ‘Don’t be too loud. There are children prese-’. A harsh smack cut her off. ‘Ay! Tan violenta, Jesus’ She complained.

‘Sorry, Y/N’, Ingrid’s much softer voice floated passed the door. You groaned in response. But Lucy only laughed more.

‘Come here,’ she commanded gently. You allowed yourself to fall into her warmth.

‘Mmmm, you owe me, Bronze. That was humiliating,’ you mumbled; the events of the last 24 hours catching up with you quickly.

‘Ok…’ Lucy snickered, knowing you didn’t really mind what had happened at breakfast and you definitely wanted a repeat of the night before. As she went to speak again, she noticed your breaths evening out – light puffs of air reaching her neck as you buried your head in her shoulder. ‘Never change, Y/N. Never change’.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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nikkento-writes · 2 months

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Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble.

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #jjk smut

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autisticempathydaemon · 2 years

Text

Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature:

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted

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averageallogene · 1 year

Note

Hello~ I found your Tighnari fanfic and my lord, I admired how it was beautifully written. I know you get a lot of praise for it and deservedly so. I do find myself wanting a tad bit more tho. I was imagining after all that spicy time, some wholesome aftercare would be nice. I hope you write it with Diluc as the male lead bc I think he's a man that can give you both spicy and sweet 😊

DILUC ♡⊹˚ Burning passion [NSFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; sweet fluffy smut, my favorite <333.

2k words.

notes. HELLO DEAR!!! So sorry for the wait, I've been trying to answer all asks through work breaks and it took me a while to reach yours ;( thank you so much for the sweet message, I'm so happy you liked my first fic! Just know I always smile when I see you in my notes, I appreciate the support!!! I hope you enjoy this~ ✧˖°. Evidently I got carried away bc Diluc always makes me go 😫😫😫 *cupcakke noises*

Ah, Diluc, sweet sweet Diluc. He's not one to outwardly show much affection when in public, but when in private… The quiet winery tycoon becomes the most vocal, the honeyed little whispers he offers his beloved [F/N] as they passionately make love never fails to make her drunk on his love. He's never one to let her stray far, his body grinding against her own as he sets a slow and deep pace, always close, always whispering how good she's making him feel.

"You're so good to me, [F/N]... So, good," He's breathing deeper, his voice reduced to grunts as his lips brush against her own. His half lidded eyes delight themselves on the mirage under him, his lover's naked body glistening with sweat as he pounds deeper.

"Diluc!" She sighs in bliss, her mouth chasing his as his hand roams to find her own. Fingers lace with one another, him placing them gently to the side of her head as his other rests on her hip. He can never get enough, truly he would've never guessed he would be so greedy when it came to [F/N].

"I love you, so so much." He always says so many times throughout the day, his tone always raw and honest. Yet, it was during such moments that her heart leapt the highest, a moan being ripped from his throat as he feels her gummy walls squeeze around him deliriously in response to his confession.

"And I love you always." It's her turn to hush him with lovely words, the hint of a smile on her face earning his response of thrusting deeper, hitting the particular spot that made her see white. The whine that followed only made Diluc grow more and more eager, the rhythm slowly becoming sloppier, his own urges nearly escaping him as he carefully nibbled on her puffy lips.

"I'm close, love." He admits, the hint of frustration evident as he picks up speed. His free hand no longer lingers on her waist, instead slithering down to find her clit, circling and toying with it knowingly as he drinks in the way her body jolts and shivers.

"Ah, 'Luc!" Her voice is nothing short of music to his ears, eyes fluttering shut as she seems to drown on the pleasure inflicted by him. Her legs wrap around his waist, effectively caging him in as her free hand roams through his free hair. "Please, inside."

His otherwise gleaming eyes darken, lust clouding him as the only response he manages is a low grunt. After all, who was he to deny his lovely girlfriend? He can feel a shiver run down his spine as his cock begins to pulsate, the urge to paint her inner walls white giving him the strength to thrust even deeper, quicker. His tip repeatedly kisses her cervix as his mouth clashes with her own, muffling all and every moan as he consumes them for himself, tongues dancing together as his arms bring her closer. His strong grip cages [F/N] against his toned body, yearning to melt with her as they chase their release.

Diluc can feel it, his orgasm right at the tip of his cock, yet as disciplined as he is, he somehow manages to restrain himself, edging his own release before he can feel the all too familiar sensation of her pussy spasming around his length, squeezing him for all he's worth as she finally releases the knot that had been pounded into her.

"A-Ahhnnn… Cumming, ah-" Her words slurred as his lips suck on her tongue, tasting her every word as her legs wrap around him tighter, her body begging him for his cum, thick and warm, to claim her.

"Fuck love, that feels so good…" In a hiss he curses, a small smile blooming on [F/N]'s face as pride swells in her chest.

To know she was the cause to render the otherwise level headed Diluc into a cursing, rutting mess, it left her wet and ready all over again. She hadn't even reached her zenith a moment ago, yet she was already yearning for him all over again, never truly satisfied with all the ways he was able to pleasure her.

"Are you ready, baby?" He moans against her lips, eyes intensively gazing right at her own as his face flushes. Licking his dry lips, Diluc devours her whimpers yet again, speaking between kisses as he pounds into her relentlessly, finally caving to his own lust. "Here we go, have my cum just as you want."

The thick spurts finally fill her up, the sensation nearly edging her into cumming yet again. [F/N] moans in delight as she hums, releasing her hand to wrap her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer. Her chest presses against his own, feeling him heaving as his pace finally slows down, riding his own high as the lewd squelching sounds fill their now quiet room.

His head slowly lowers to rest on the crook of her neck, his cheeks flushed with a vivid red that rivals that of his hair. [F/N] can feel against her skin the way he breathes rapidly, lips parted as he brings her closer, relishing in her mere presence as he finally comes to a halt. He doesn't dare move though, his cock still buried deep inside her walls as his seed spills with the overflow. Her hands find their way to his hair, breathing slower, a smile forming on her face.

"That was amazing, honey." She hums in honest delight, silently amusing herself over the way his confidence seems to quiet down. The once raging fire soothes into a glowing ember, the previous passion fizzled into endearment as his touch was now softer, gentler.

"I didn't go too far, did I?" He murmured, lips trailing from her neck up to her face before he watched the way he left her lips puffy and red. He blushes deeply in response, his beloved laughing softly.

"Never, love." You can always go harder, she thinks, yet the words die in her mouth, lest she wish for her beloved to clear his throat in embarrassment. In all honesty, that sounded quite humorous, yet she restrained herself.

"Thank you." Diluc smiles, his kiss returning to the gentle worshiping gesture he portrays during daytime. Yet as always, it never remains as one single kiss, his lips lingering as he indulges. "It felt wonderful. I can never get enough of you…"

"You're always welcome to take more, you know?" He was asking for it this time. [F/N] giggles as she watches him struggle to agree or hold himself back, his thumb caressing her face before he wipes the little drool of pleasure away from her face.

"I wouldn't want to keep you up too late…" He reasons, his eyebrows furrowing softly. He still winces when remembering the one night he'd gotten too carried away, watching with slight horror how his lovely [F/N] limped the following morning. It wasn't like she hadn't enjoyed it, yet the ever gentle Diluc felt oh so guilty.

"Honey…." She whined, her arms opening to take him closer, peppering his face with kisses. He was just so sweet, so giving, so perfect. "And I wouldn't want you pent up with lust. I can take it, really."

"Archons, you're too good for me." He sighed in bliss, his body coursing with adrenaline as he felt the desire within him rage once more. Still, he smiled, humming in satisfaction as she pampered him with her lips.

"I think the same thing about you everyday." She giggled, her fingers combing through his crimson hair with nothing short of pure adoration. She could feel his hesitancy to even pull out, her legs pressing against him as she made herself comfortable. "Well, what does my handsome lover feel like, then?"

The smile he gave was [F/N]'s favorite sight to ever behold. "Perhaps some rest… Before we pick back up?"

"Anything you'd like, baby." She smiled, kisses following suit.

Kisses lingered, constant and consuming, a make out session forming not long after. The pair remained entangled, Diluc atop as he could feel the desire to never move from such a wonderful situation. Under him his beloved simply looked and felt ethereal, their bodies piecing like the most well designed puzzle, simply perfect. His passion began to spark once more, the searing fire reappearing before his touches grew needier, his voice became hushed, his eyes darkened yet again.

"Take me once more, Diluc." [F/N] whispered against his ear, her voice fanning against his skin as his hands went lower and lower. "I need you."

His vision once more clouded, he succumbed to his desires before he took her yet again. Slow, passionate, intense. His rhythm never faltered until the very end, his hold always strong and caring, his love raw as he poured his every emotion into each thrust. Together they tangled around their bed, him now under as his gaze drunk in the sight of his beloved atop, her hips matching his set rhythm as he met her halfway. His calloused hand held her lower back in support, their hands together as he laced their fingers, squeezing hers with intensity. I love you, I love you, Archons I love you so much [F/N], his head repeated like a sacred prayer right up until they came yet again, bodies resting against one another as they basked in their afterglow.

"Would you like some water, honey?" He inquired, moving some hair away from her eyes as his own softened. She was simply gorgeous, perfection.

"I'm alright, but perhaps a shower?" She instead proposed with a smile, her boyfriend humming in agreement. His eyes lingered lower, a furious blush creeping all the way to his ears as he noticed the way his seed leaked down her thighs.

"Yes… A shower is in order." He smiled shyly, picking her up with ease. Against her protests he continued, hushing her with soft kisses. "No no, I insist. You ought to be pampered after taking me so well."

It was her turn to blush, face hiding against his long, luscious hair. Despite the innocent tone in which he spoke, his choice of words never failed to leave her lightheaded. Goodness, Diluc simply was too good.

A warm bath was quickly prepared for the both of them, and in it they sat. Diluc wrapped his arms around her figure, chin resting against her shoulder as he sighed in pure content. He always questioned if he was too… Clingy, was the word, always gluing himself to [F/N]'s hip whenever he could, yet time and time again he was reassured he was always welcome. His warmth, his protection, his love, it was all something [F/N] could never be tired of.

"'Luc, can you please wash my hair?" She questioned quietly, her beloved humming in agreement.

His fingers against her scalp felt soothing, her eyes closing with peace. She would hum in delight over the small action, Diluc behind her being unable to resist the smile from blooming on his face.

"Do you want me to wash yours?" [F/N] proposed, him not being able to resist. After all, he was always craving her touch in whichever way.

The water was still hot as they finished, passing onward to pick up the soap. He was the first to volunteer washing her body, insisting she rest for putting up with his antics. Nonsense to her, she herself always loved when he indulged in his own desires - after all, if a man deserved to, it was definitely Diluc!

His hands lingered through her legs, massaging her skin carefully, like he were worshiping a divine deity. His touch was loving and soft, yet underneath the warm soapy waters she could feel his own heat take over, slowly but surely boiling with other motives as he remained quiet.

"Something on your mind, Diluc?" She hummed with a smile, watching how his hands faltered before he resumed stroking through her skin. His thumb drew circling patterns on her inner thigh, not so subtly coming closer.

"Perhaps..." He mused, smiling upon hearing her giggle in response. He could feel his cheeks burn in both embarrassment and desire, almost ashamed of never being truly satiated of his girlfriend.

"Oh? And would you like to share?" It was now her turn to linger her touch on his leg, smiling knowingly before she leaned back, allowing his lips to come closer to her ear if he so desired. She seemed to read him like an open book, watching as he indeed came closer.

"Would you really like to know? It might just be too… Shameful, love." He murmured, the lightheartedness in his tone evident as she could practically feel the smile on his breath.

"Shameful? Oh, now I'm left wondering just what my Diluc is daydreaming of." [F/N] giggled, her fingers tracing more and more towards his inner thigh.

He didn't take long to give in, whispering all the dirty thoughts he couldn't let go for that night. It seemed as though that night's blaze burned thrice as strong, his desire never fully ceasing. Their soothing aftercare was suddenly interrupted, put on hold as his hands lowered, caressed her, gave her all the deserving attention. He couldn't get enough of her sighs, her moans, her praises for him. It felt so difficult to contain himself, his wish to convey his burning love through his actions fueling him to continue onward.

The water was long cold by the time they truly finished, and even when they retired to the bedroom, it seemed like they couldn't get enough. Goodness, what had gotten into him, [F/N] wondered with amusement as under his administrations she came time after time again. Well, she certainly wasn’t complaining… Unbeknownst to her, the truth was that Diluc was downright addicted to her face as she reached the peak, how her pussy would squelch around his digits, or around his tongue, or would squeeze his cock dry, their fluids mixing and staining their bedsheets long into the early hours of the morning.

[F/N] couldn't remember having such a restless night, but she surely wasn't finding any fault in that. It was only as the sun rose that they had finally ceased their escapades, Diluc holding her lovingly before finally gaining the courage to get up.

"Must you really go?" He heard his [F/N] pout, receiving a smile as he caressed her cheek.

"I'm afraid so, love." He hummed, his lips brushing against her temple ever so lovingly. "Why don't you take the day off?"

"I have to work, Luc." She laughed it off softly, her eyes opening to lazily look up at him. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized just how lovingly he looked at her, his fingers lingering on her hair as he played with it ever so gently.

"Don't worry about it, just rest." He reassured her, finally kissing her one final time before he gathered the strength to get up. "I'll see that your boss is informed that you won't be clocking in today."

She could only blush and offer him a thankful smile. A day spent in his manor… It simply felt far too good to pass up.

Besides, her entire body ached. Some rest would surely do her well.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #yoko drabbles #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

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obsessedobsesser · 6 months

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Are you into fanfiction? Have you written any, or do you have any favorites that you would recommend?

It may be safe to say that I have an addiction to Good Omens fan fic.

There's of course the fandom favourites (Slow Show, Factory Settings, Shotgun Wedding, Rough Enough For Love, Or Be Nice, One Night In Bangor, etc, etc) which I recommend to everyone as they are beloved by the fandom for a reason.

But, here are 10 that I've come across that others may not know of:

'Thus saith the Lord' by TheManicMagician (Teen And Up).

I read this fic on my way home from Florida sitting in an airport because our flight was delayed. I was so engrossed with it that I missed all the commotion of someone being taken off the previous flight on a stretcher. It does deal with hurt Crowley though and mind controlled Aziraphale. 10/10 would read again.

2. 'Would I Lie to You?' by FeralTuxedo & TawnyOwl95 (Explicit)

The boys are rival team captains for a show 'Don't Lie to Me" - which is based on the real life show 'Would I Lie To You?'. Lots of bicker flirting in this one. I'm a huge fan of FeralTuxedo and TawnyOwl and they do not disappoint with this fic. I devoured this.

3. 'Talk about the weather' by nightbloomingcereus (Mature)

Aziraphale is a meteorologist and Crowley is a YouTube storm chaser. I didn't know I needed this fic in my life until I read it. It's funny and heartwarming and believe me when I say that you'll fall in love with the story and the characters.

4. 'Honey, You'll Survive' by HotCrossPigeon (Teen and Up)

Look, sometimes I just like to see Crowley hurt and being taken care of by Aziraphale. This scratches that itch. The writing is so good and they capture the characters really well.

5. 'The Sandford Flower Show' by Mussimm (Explicit)

I am literally so shocked I do not see this fic pop up as often as it should. The plot in this is GENIUS. IT IS SO GOD DAMN GOOD. Crowley takes Aziraphale to a flower show and they meet Mephistopheles, a fallen seraph. Because our boys are idiots, shenanigans ensue. Seriously. Go read this.

6. 'Trial & Error' by fellshish (Explicit)

Crowley is on trial for temping an Angel (Aziraphale). I just read this one about a month and a half ago and I honestly can't get it out of my mind. The writing is hilarious and keeps you enraptured throughout it all. I also really adore how fellshish writes Crowley and Aziraphale. Their other fic The Loophole, or, How to Convince a Demon God Exists in Three Easy Steps is also amazing :)

7. 'The Shared Desk Dilemma' by MissUnderstoodLyrics (Explicit)

Crowley and Aziraphale are both teachers at Eden University who are forced to share a desk. A prank war ensues. As you can expect, this is a enemies to lovers fic and who doesn't love one of those?

8. 'Big Name Feelings' and 'And They Were Streamers' by ghostrat (Explicit / Mature)

BNF just finished a few days ago and it's such a cute fic. It's a fandom au where Crowley is a fic writer and Aziraphale is an artist. ATWS - as it says on the tin, the boys are streamers and live together. I absolute adore anything written by ghostrat.

9. 'how do we turn on the light?' by moonyinpisces (Explicit)

Honestly, I just know that this will be up there on my list with Factory Settings once it's finished (mainly because it already is). It's SO GOOD. It takes place after S2 and the second coming is happening. I really don't want to even give much away because I want everyone to read this. Everything about it is GENIUS.

10. 'Sit Tight, Take Hold' by nieded (Explicit)

I legit just finished this fic on Sunday but it has moved up to my must read list for anyone who is looking for GO fan fiction. The boys are Formula 1 drivers and the drama in this is *chef kiss*. For context, this fic is 150K words. I finished this fic in 2 days. It really is THAT good. It's also part of a series called #RAINBOWROAD so once you finish this fic, there is more to read!

This is only the tip of the iceberg of my ever growing list of GO fics.

Thanks for the ask :)

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfic #Good Omens Fanfic Recomendations #I just like Crowley and Aziraphale being idiots and in love together #And then sometimes in pain and hurt #But of course always a happy ending #I need them to be happy or else

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esamastation · 4 months

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hi!!! i just wanted to pop in after reading some of your AC fics (ones where desmond, ezio, and/or altaïr are at the forefront so in this case: i was born for this, terrible two, stone angel, gift of living well, impermanence, three fold, & earthly scene) and say that you're a brilliant writer. as someone who's trying to write longer, more impactful stories, it's admirable how you prioritize the plot and how romance is a sweet part of it. (this is part 1 of this message bc of the word count!)

you construct romance in an original, cathartic way that feels effortless. i just finished 'i was born with this' and the romance that forms between the characters feels so natural and unforced. another thing i love in your fics is that when desmond goes back in time, he always (unintentionally at first) makes an impact in furthering knowledge, inventions, etc centuries ahead of when they were supposed to happen. more importantly, desmond finds his well-deserved happy ending.

your fic ideas are also so creative and out of the box. i'm currently going through the games right now and desmond has been so so much shit (unwillingly) and he deserves some rest and happiness :,) another thing i love is how you always leave a hopeful ending that makes me ache to know what happens after!! you flesh out the characters so much over the span of + 100,000k words, tie things wonderfully at the end, and make me feel out breath (in a good way)

yeah, to sum that up, you're an amazing writer!! i also wanted to ask you some questions about writing. i aspire to write long fics, but i struggle with plotting out events =( i feel like i rush the events in how i want to get to the end where the characters are happy! do you have a writing process? do you plot out your stories or kind of go with the flow? do you have any tips on improving your writing? i totally get if you don't have any advice! have a great day!

Thank you for your nice comments, sorry it took so long to reply, I was feeling very antisocial. Anyway.

I do not have a writing process - I'm what they call a gardner writer, I take characters and I put them into situations and see how things develop and plot either happens or it doesn't. Maybe I have vague plans like "here's a scene I want to see in future" and "this is a result I want them to come to" and then try to write towards those goals, but they don't always pan out. It's all very chaotic and leads to lot of dropped fics, but it's how I enjoy writing. (It really helps having someone reading your stuff and poking at the plot holes though, I got a lot of fics that only got as far as they did because nimadge or someone else was there along for the ride.)

I dunno if there's anything other that just practice that can improve a person's writing. Some people recommend writing short stories and flash fiction, some people say your should write X amount of words every day. If all else fails there's thousands YouTube videos on subject.

Personally I'm a huge advocate of taking ideas from other people and putting your own spin into them. Derivate, rehash, put them in a blender, see what comes out. Like, don't copy Lord of the Rings word for word and publish it as your own work, that's bad - but maybe dwarf and elf going on adventures together is a idea that could go places. Fanfiction is all derivation upon pre-existing ideas.

Related, I whole heartedly endorse anyone who wants to take plots and ideas I've written and taking a crack at them with their own style. It's pretty much how I learned to write as wee bab on a typewriter, stealing from the books I enjoyed. And hell, if you don't have a style, try someone else's. One is my most popular fics started with me trying to emulate the style and cadence of narration of a completely unrelated TV series I was watching at the time. I don't think anyone even noticed.

Once you have enough practice under your belt, your style will develop on its own.

#About writing #Fake it till you make it basically #Obviously don't copy straight up that won't teach you anything - but master studies are one of the better training methods for a reason #Lot of the old masterpieces were produced by people who were once students emulating the styles of their predecessors

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saintvainglorious · 8 months

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10 Best Black Sails Fics I Read in 2023

In honor of Black Sails' 10th anniversary, here's a list of my top 10 favorite Black Sails fics I read in 2023, in order from shortest to longest. Most Black Sails fic rec posts I've seen are now around 2 or 3 years old (though not all, bless @jaynovz and your #jay's esoteric rec lists tag) so nearly half of the recs in this list spotlight newer fics. It's amazing to see fantastic fics still being written and updated years after the show ended - y'all are keeping this fandom alive!

I didn't read that much Black Sails fic this year, comparatively speaking, so I'm sure there's plenty of newer gems that I missed. All the fics in this rec list are Silverflint unless otherwise stated.

1 - Gone To Port Royal by Apetslife (G, 3k) - a delightful oneshot from Gates' POV where they all go to a pirate afterlife. every scene is perfect. endlessly re-readable and never fails to make me smile.

Definition of Valhalla 1: the great hall in Norse mythology where heroes slain in battle are received 2 : a place of honor, glory, or happiness: heaven

2 - i’ll be seeing you by youatemytailor/@annevbonny (NR, 19k) - this is THEE post-canon Silverflint reunion fic. the anguish, the rage, the quiet jokes, the tenderness, it's all devastatingly in-character. particularly the chapter 5 climactic unspooling leaves me in awe upon every reread.

Silver is out of his chair and across the room before he knows it. He has a grip on the barkeep’s shirt before he knows it, and he’s pulling him up, hauling him eye-level, only to head-butt him to the ground again. The barkeep’s mouth is thrown open in a wail, but there’s no sound, Silver thinks, no sound at all, save for the blood rushing in his ears as he looks at the other man on the ground, watches him roll to his side with a groan. Flint, Silver thinks, and nothing else. It beats around the knife in his gut like a drum. Flint. And then Flint is looking at him.

3 - The Dark Lord Proprietor by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 19k, Silverflintham) - a fuckin hysterical supervillain AU. Thomas has amnesia, Flint is pining, Silver tries to get them back together. what could go wrong? could not stop cackling.

A year ago, James Flint was in a stable relationship and was within spitting distance of taking over London. Now he’s single, with a dubiously loyal henchman, a lairmate determined to learn his every weakness, and a Secret Past with the new supervillain on the scene. And thanks to a new government program, it’s all a race to the bottom.

4 - the cross dimensional nassau bar of getting izzy hands laid by FortinbrasFTW/@fortinbrasftw (E, 19k ~WIP~, Flint/OFMD Izzy Hands) - a Black Sails OFMD Flint/Izzy Hands crossover. the very best kind of smut-as-character study. funny, gripping, and endlessly re-readable.

The first thing Izzy realizes is he looks absolutely fucking furious — which yeah, alright, fair enough. He’s got shorter ginger hair. A beard like Izzy’s but kept neater. Earrings like Izzy’s but worn simpler. Bleeding like Izzy but, well, maybe a bit less. And he’s handsome. Izzy realizes it suddenly and slowly somehow all at once. Bit like a bloody painting even. The kind you saw up on walls in rich folk’s houses. Only, well, no painting had eyes like that, did it? You’d have to be mad to keep a painting with eyes like that in your home. They were bright and clear and looked — honest-to-fucking-Christ — ready to set the whole damned world on fire. Izzy's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night takes an interesting turn thanks to a completely different sort of pirate captain.

5 - frail and fragile bars by Ajaxthegreat/@francisthegreat (E, 21k) - Silver realizes, post-shark date, that he's in love with Flint. an instant, iconic fave fic. SO many delicious scenes and quotes that live rent free in my head. just read it, you won't regret it.

“I think you fuck,” Silver says. By which he means, with great intent: I think you are human. I know you are human. I see you.

6 - the whole estate of mortal man by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (T, 43k) - Creature Silver AU where he'll grant wishes in exchange for souls. first read this fic in 2020 and cried. reread it this year and cried again. the nature of the AU intersects so cleverly with Black Sails' themes, and the end result is devastating.

Silver has a limited memory, an unlimited lifespan, and a need for human souls. He spends months trying to buy Flint’s.

7 - our feast is but beginning by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 55k) - Flint teaches season 1 Silver how to cook. they're definitely not dating. no, really. this writer writes dialogue so in-character that it cuts like a knife. features sensual cooking, Flint being a queer mentor for Silver, fun genderfuckery, and Them Being Real Tender.

Flint should walk away. Silver can figure out how to feed the men, it isn’t his problem. But roasting a pig is so easy, and when was the last time he had a hand in creating something rather than destroying it? Anyway, what else is he doing, with Billy taking the crew in hand with such annoying competency? He absolutely does not think about why he is reluctant for this interaction with Silver to end. “Go get another pig,” he says before he can reconsider. “Do exactly as I say.”

8 - With Strange Aeons by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 60k, Silverflint + Flinthamilton + Jackanne) - Came for the Silverflint, stayed for the Silverflint but also for holy fuck Jack and Anne are sent to Savannah and break out of there with Thomas to battle literal Cthulhu. How can you NOT read this. I don't typically read Flinthamilton, but by god Thomas is amazing in this.

After the disappearance and presumed death of Captain Flint and Long John Silver, Max smuggles Jack and Anne to Oglethorpe’s plantation. Thomas learns that not only do the three of them have a friend in common, but he is not the only one whose dreams are haunted by a strange city and a terrifying name. Meanwhile, Flint and Silver try to escape an island trapped in time, impossibly built and impossibly old. Along the way they’re forced question reality, each other, and themselves. And in his house in R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

9 - The Salt and the Sea by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 60k) - a between season 2 and 3 recovery fic. i still remembered months after reading that chapter 4 in particular left me undone. a harrowing journey into the ruins of post-leg loss Silver's mind, plus exquisite hurt/comfort.

John Silver was always able to make the best of a situation. If this particular situation had started to feel complicated, well, a vast fortune ought to prove clarifying. Whatever he might have imagined he’d seen in Flint, the reality was they had used each other. And he had been set to walk away on top. Except now he couldn’t. Now he was trapped.

10 - the straight walk home by vowelinthug/@vowel-in-thug (E, 73k, Silverflint + Jackanne + Maxanne + Billy/Vane) - A western AU and one of the best long fics in the fandom. Excellent comedy, amazing AU twists on our favorite characters, found family vibes, nail-biting action, and a fucking fantastic climax. Also, I can't believe this fic got me invested in Billy/Vane.

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez...

#black sails #black sails fic recs #silverflint #fanfiction #fic recs #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

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claymoresword · 11 months

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I Choose Her | Chp: 16

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings: just a lot of fluff, draco malfoy & y/n, potential self harm references , plot heavy

Note: Hello! Yes it's finally here you're not dreaming... As always, endless thanks for your patience and support, knowing how much you guys love this fic is literally the only reason why I have kept this story going for so long. That being said, we're nearing the end now which is depressing but all we can do is savour the next couple of chapters before it all comes to an inevitable end :(

Anyway, this might be the longest chapter I've written so hopefully you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss

Hermione stirs awake due to your sudden movements next to her. You continue clutching your arm, grimacing.

Biting down hard on your tongue to avoid screaming out, and to redirect some of the pain in your arm elsewhere.

Since that day at Malfoy Manor, every new summon from the Dark Lord has been nearly unbearable to combat.

It seems the more you fought it, the more excruciating it got; torturing you into submission.

"Hey– why are you awake?" Hermione mutters groggily as she sits up as well.

You don't reply, only staring down at the Dark Mark, it pulses visibly, you wince again.

"Fuck–" You hiss, shutting your eyes tightly. You focus all your energy on fighting the affliction.

Hermione's expression rapidly turns to one of realization and then worry.

"It's hurting again?" Hermione asks, but she doesn't expect a response amidst your visible agony.

You observed as she hovered her hand over the mark on your arm. Hermione utters the incantation, and soon enough you are able to catch your breath again, the once torturous pulsing now reduced to a dull ache.

Painful, but bearable.

Your other senses return and finally you catch the other woman's gaze, you flash her a smile in relief and gratitude.

"Thank you." You say above a whisper, the Gryffindor responds by leaning in, planting several kisses on your cheek before nuzzling her face into your neck, holding you close.

She clutches onto you desperately, and you hold onto her same.

"I just hate to see you in pain." Hermione mumbles against your shoulder, you lean back to look at her.

"It wasn't always this bad.. You know who– he's getting desperate. Just like Harry said, he knows we are close to defeating him." You state, assuredly.

Your attempt to steer the conversation fails, your hopeful sentiment does nothing to sway Hermione, if anything she appears more distressed.

Your girlfriend looks away, helpless. Your brows furrow at the sight.

"What is it, my love?" You ask and Hermione hesitates to respond.

After a prolonged moment, her eyes finally meet yours again.

"I don't know– it just seems like you are having to sacrifice a whole lot to be here with me." The Gryffindor admits, she plays with your fingers nervously.

"Don't say that." You sigh.

You catch the tears welling up in Hermione's eyes, it makes you ache.

"I'm not here out of obligation, I'm here because I want to be." You state earnestly, trying your best to squander her doubts.

Stubbornly, Hermione continues to allow her anxieties to get ahold of her.

"What if the other Death Eaters– if they find us again– what if they do something to you?" The other woman continues to spiral, and you shake your head in disapproval.

"Hermione, you're not going to talk me into abandoning you.. not now. Not after everything we've endured." You affirm.

"But–" The Gryffindor starts and you swiftly interject.

"I don't care if they threaten to skin me alive.. I'm not leaving you." You counter dismissively and Hermione lets out a huff of amusement, she rolls her eyes, albeit half-heartedly.

"That's not funny." She scolds, your girlfriend glares at you to the best of her ability.

It only makes your heart swell.

"It wasn't a joke." You quip, gently cupping her cheek with your hand.

Hermione eyes flutter shut as she leans into your touch, she releases a deep breath, tilting her head to place a chaste kiss on your palm.

"Either way, it's my fault. I should've never gone to the initiation, I should've fought against it." You insist, this time Hermione shakes her head, she grabs your wrist firmly.

"You didn't have a choice." She counters, and after deliberating, you nod.

You were merely buying time, an attempt to throw your parents off your trail. You didn't have a choice.

"No I didn't–" You agree.

"But I do now– and I'm choosing you. That is all." You state and Hermione's tense expression softens at last.

She leans in to capture your lips with her own, kissing you deeply. Amidst your lip lock, your girlfriend moves to straddle you, her hand moves to the nape of your neck. Your own hands instinctively settle on Hermione's waist as she opens her mouth wider, inviting you to deepen the kiss.

As your tongue enters her mouth, you are allowed a fleeting moment of bliss before you feel another sharp pain, it courses through your arm, so sudden and unwelcomed that you are forced to break the kiss.

Hermione chases your lips for a moment before gathering herself, once again she appears concerned, but you school your expression, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Go back to sleep.. I need to get some air." You say, gently shoving your girlfriend off your lap.

Hermione takes the hint, but still, she sees right through you.

"What's wrong?" She asks as she settles on her side of the bed once more.

"Nothing. I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back, I promise." You reply, as convincingly as you can manage.

Hermione isn't satisfied with your response, but she decides not to push it further.

She nods, loosening her grip on your sleeve.

You avoid eye contact as you plant a lingering kiss on her forehead, one Hermione can't help but melt into.

The Gryffindor has to fight the urge to force you to stay as you climb out of bed, stepping out of the tent.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You wrap your arms around yourself as the cold breeze pierces through the midnight air, edged and ruthless.

The sharp sting that was once contained to your left arm has since spread throughout your entire body, your coat proving less than adequate to keep you even remotely warm.

You quickly regret your decision to leave the comfort of Hermione's embrace.

Just as you've decided on returning to the tent, a faint light in the distance catches your attention, and soon you make out a male figure in the shadows as it approaches you.

Quickly deducing that it couldn't be neither Harry nor Ron, as they were both asleep in their respective tents.

You instinctively fish out your wand from your pocket, you grip it tightly, prepared to use it if needed.

As you catch a glimpse of platinum hair, your face contorts in shock. The notes of his cologne envelops your senses, familiar and unmistakable, you don't get the opportunity to consider if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

"Draco? what–" You gape.

"Listen, I can't stay long." Your best friend interjects, halting directly in front of you.

Then, your body reacts before your mind can mitigate it. You lunge forward, practically jumping into his arms.

Draco is stunned for a moment, until he finally embraces you just as tightly in return.

"How are you?" He asks as soon as you separate.

You scoff. It was an impossible question to answer, a bit silly frankly, but you knew Draco was merely asking out of genuine concern.

"I'm alright." You reply, you watch as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip.

"What about you?" You return the gesture and he chuckles, humorless.

Draco shrugs, avoiding an answer entirely.

"Things are getting really tense." He claims, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Your parents have sent out a band of snatchers to look for you." Your best friend states and you aren't particularly shocked.

"Of course they did." You comment through a long sigh.

Draco steps closer, even though you were seemingly entirely alone, the platinum haired man remains paranoid.

"Word has spread about you and Hermione, and– what you did to Bellatrix. I can't guarantee that the other Death Eaters won't harm you if they find you." Your best friend remarks. An uneasy feeling settles at the pit of your stomach, you fold your arms over your chest.

"You have to lay low– or just come back home, please, it's far too dangerous." He pleads.

"Draco, you know I can't do that." You respond with a scowl, but the man was insistent.

"If you come home, at the very least, your parents– they'll protect you." His attempts to convince you prove fruitless, Draco only grows increasingly desperate.

"You're going to get yourself killed. Out here– with them." He finally states plainly, gesturing to the tent behind you, and you can't find it in yourself to deny a plain truth.

"Maybe." You say, and you pause as Draco sets his jaw, somehow he is more worried than you are.

"But I can't leave her." You add and finally he scoffs.

"You are so stubborn." The platinum haired man hisses, but you don't take offense, only finding the irony in his words.

"You're one to talk." You retaliate, and Draco finally tears his eyes away.

Your best friend knows now that you've made up your mind, nothing he says in this moment will convince you otherwise.

"Then know this– The Dark Lord is planning an ambush on Hogwarts, any day now." Draco now basically whispering directly into your ear.

"Ambush? Why? Snape's headmaster now, Dumbledore's gone, isn't that what he wanted?" You lean back slightly, perplexed.

Draco shrugs but now he appears noticeably distressed, more than he was just a moment ago, the man checks your surroundings once more.

"I think he wants to take over, and leave people no choice but to join his cause. No doubt he will kill anyone who dares to go against him." Your best friend adds, and your mouth falls open slightly at the realization.

Voldermort was definitely getting desperate.

"Just promise me that you'll stay away." Draco reiterates sternly, but you don't reply, your gaze fixed on the darkness, far in the distance as you allow your mind to speculate.

"Y/n." Draco insists on a response, he snaps you out of your thoughts.

"It's up to Harry, really. Hermione will follow his lead, I have to as well." You finally say, and it's not the answer the man was hoping for, his head falls below his shoulders in defeat.

Just before you can conjure some version of an apology, Draco wraps his arms around you, once again. He hugs you in a way that lets you know how afraid he truly is, a crippling feeling you both shared.

Things are entirely uncertain now. It is possible you may never see each other again.

"I really hope she's worth it." The man says as he releases you, and just as you open your mouth to respond, you hear a rustling from the tent behind you.

Draco flinches and your head snaps back to investigate the noise.

In just a fraction of a second, a sudden gust of air tickles the side of your face. The same side where Draco was standing just moments ago.

You no longer feel his presence, his cologne now a lingering scent. He's disapparated and frustratingly, you can't contain the tears prickling in your eyes.

However, you force yourself not to let them fall as Hermione soon peaks her head out of the tent, before taking a large step outside.

You recognize your cardigan wrapped around her frame.

"Y/n, who were you talking to?"

════════════════════════════════════════════

Harry and Ron narrow their gaze at you in disbelief, while Hermione kept her hand intertwined with yours.

The conversation with Draco had casted a shadow over you, sudden and nearly paralyzing. It seems you were grieving.

You grieved the chance to go home and be with your family. Mainly you can't help but feel you've failed Draco in some way.

It weighed on you, knocked you off your feet. Hermione senses this but she can only offer to hold your hand as you try to find your footing.

"What, you still don't trust me?" You scoff as The Chosen One and his best friend continued to stare at you with skepticism.

"No, not really.." Ron quips, and you don't care enough to grace him with a reaction, luckily for him, Harry finally speaks up.

"It's not that– why would Draco help us?" He ponders, no longer skeptical, just doubtful.

"Yeah, how do you know he's not setting us up? The Death Eaters might be on their way already." The ginger haired man is still convinced of your ulterior motives and you finally glower at him.

"Ron, if that were true they would've taken us already, you know that." Hermione chimes in before you, and you are thankful for it.

"In any case– we'll have to go back to Hogwarts anyway." Harry states, the one thing you were afraid he would utter.

You hold your head in your hands for a moment. As righteous and frustrating as he can be, of course Harry will always try to do the right thing.

That is the exact opposite of what you should do right now.

"And what? Offer yourself up as bait?" You taunt, but he is unfazed, certain of his decision.

"I can't just let them die." He asserts and you glance at Hermione, a look on her face that shows she is not exactly on your side, not this time.

"What exactly is your plan, Potter?" You relent.

"The Horcrux is hidden somewhere in the castle, we have to go there and locate it and kill it– and if Draco is right, if you know who marches on Hogwarts that means the snake will be with him, I can find the snake. I will kill it and we'll get a step closer to ending him, once and for all." The dark haired man declares with such conviction, but it does nothing to convince you.

The task will not be an easy one, there are bound to be consequences.

"Fine." Ron mutters in agreement.

Then Harry shifts his gaze to Hermione, "Alright." She nods in approval as well.

The scowl that covers your features only falters as you meet Hermione's expectant look.

You roll your eyes, it was three against one. It is not like you have much of a choice.

"Something tells me this is going to go horribly wrong.." You trail off.

"But alright."

════════════════════════════════════════════

You apparate into Hogsmeade, and the incessant screeching that pierces the evening air was deafening. It disorients the four of you, but you quickly gain your bearings as you spot the group of Death Eaters in the distance.

You, along with the golden trio, continue to use the darkness to your advantage. You disappear into the shadows, eventually crouching down behind a large table.

Soon the Death Eaters disperse into different directions, but a pair of them continue to head your way.

Heavy footsteps approach, the pair of men mutter something intelligible before they begin scanning through the area, looking underneath each table.

The four of you glance at each other, desperate for a way out. It was too late to disapparate, you were at all loss, you were about to get caught, again.

The sense of dread that overpowers you is only subdued as you feel Hermione clutching onto your arm.

You are graced with a fleeting moment of clarity, soon enough, an idea occurs to you.

You roll up your sleeves quickly, leaving your Dark Mark exposed.

Hermione observes your action silently, perplexed.

Then you begin to rise, but before your head can emerge into view, she harshly pulls you back down with a death grip on your collar.

She scowls.

"What are you doing?" She whispers, but her tone is sharp, vexed.

"Just trust me." You respond, providing no further explanation, you extract your wand quickly as you fight out of her hold as you stand up abruptly.

The pair of Death Eaters jumps slightly at the sight of you. You quickly realize that both men were unfamiliar to you; there is a chance they don't recognize you either.

You continue to push your luck, stepping out of the shadows. When the mark on your arm comes into view, their expressions grow less tense, and you release the breath you were holding.

It appears your luck has yet to run out.

"He's not under here, I've just checked." You lie, and it doesn't take the men much convincing to take your word.

They give you a curt nod.

"You cover the rest of this side, we'll check over there." One of the Death Eaters orders, soon they both turn to walk in opposite directions, splitting up to cover more of the area.

You waited until they were out of view before crouching down again, but to your confusion, Hermione was nowhere to be found.

No trace of Harry and Ron either.

"Lumos." As you searched for them, you began trying to mentally uncover an explanation.

You wonder if they had perhaps apparated elsewhere, but you eventually decide against the possibility. Certain that your girlfriend wouldn't just leave you like that, at least not without some type of forewarning.

Soon, you are inching past a dark alley, rows of abandoned pubs and houses come into view, but no sign of the trio.

"Hermione–" You finally call out, frustrated.

They are hiding, somewhere.

As you near the seemingly abandoned Hog's Head pub, the door suddenly opens, and you are dragged in by the arm, the touch you immediately recognized.

You can't contain it as you beamed in relief as you step inside,your girlfriend locks the door swiftly before dragging you further down a flight of stairs.

Once you get to the bottom of the steps the Gryffindor finally turns to you. Your grin now reduced to an easy smirk as you stared at Hermione, merely gratified at the knowledge that she had no true plans to abandon you.

Then the other woman gazes at you knowingly, a tangible sense of devotion and deeply rooted trust, a feeling that tethers you to the other.

The pair of you now certain that you could survive anything, as you will always have each other to rely on.

It moves your very spirit, the urge to act upon your desires overcomes your being and Hermione in turn, gives into her own. Soon you are both leaning in, as your lips crashed against Hermione's, she kisses you, despairingly and unafraid. She presses her body up against yours and you fall back against the wall behind you.

"You need to stop taking risks like that, they could've recognized you." Hermione breathes out as your mouths separate, she runs her fingers through your hair.

You don't respond, merely scanning her delicate features with your eyes, you find yourself memorizing every freckle and crease.

You thumb tracing over her bottom lip causing them to part slightly.

Then, you kiss her again, open mouthed and forceful. Hermione welcomes this, as she lets slip a faint noise of approval, your hand rests on the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

Your plans to continue the kiss is ruined as you hear the harsh noise; the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Hermione pulls away first, then she looks away, sheepish.

Contrastingly you stare down the source of the interruption. Ron's disapproving stare has done nothing but vex you in the past, and this time it is no different.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got more important matters to deal with right now." The snide remark irritates you, but not as much as it might have once did as you recognized that he had a fair point.

Before you can retaliate, the swinging door leading into the kitchen opens, a man enters.

A man you quickly realized to have an uncanny resemblance to the previous headmaster of Hogwarts.

You observed as he set down a tray of bread and butterbeer. As Ron approaches the tray, Hermione does as well, dragging you along with her, but you kept your gaze on the man, squinting slightly, perplexed.

"Aberforth. Dumbledore's brother." Hermione finally leans in to whisper into your ear, providing you the answer to your question.

You take a single bite of the bread, nearly too tough to chew and almost impossible to swallow.

You gently place it back onto the tray, as polite as you can manage, you force the tough piece of bread down your throat and ingest nothing else after that.

Hermione and Ron continue chewing eagerly, merely glad of the decent bit of sustenance.

Harry doesn't move; he continues watching the painting of a girl, mounted up on the wall.

You find yourself staring at it as well, finally you catch the figure blink, as if it just took notice of you. Her shoulders rose and fell ever so slightly as she breathed, but her expression remained stoic.

"Do you hear from the others much– from the Order?" Hermione asks, after swallowing the contents in her mouth.

Aberforth narrows his gaze.

"The Order's finished. 'You know who' has won, anyone who says otherwise is killing themselves." He states definitively, his pessimism isn't lost on any of you.

"We need to get into Hogwarts tonight. Dumbledore gave us a job to do." Harry asserts, and Aberforth glances at him, almost amused.

"Did he now, Nice job? Easy?" The older man's condescension was beginning to make your head hurt.

Harry's patience stretches further than yours, as he manages a civil response.

"We've been hunting Horcruxes. We think the last one's inside the castle, but we'll need your help getting in." The chosen one states firm and unfazed.

Hermione quietly offers you her mug of butterbeer, you accept it gladly, taking a sip as the older man grants Harry an equally negative response.

"This is no job, my brother's given you. It's a suicide mission. Do yourself a favor, boy, go home. Live a little longer."

"Dumbledore entrusted me to see this through." Harry's conviction doesn't falter even as he begins to grow agitated himself.

"What makes you think you can trust him? What makes you think you can believe anything my brother told you? In all the time that you knew him, did he ever mention my name?" Aberforth taunts, the vitriol lacing his statements makes you grimace.

You glance at Hermione, she is sporting a similar look.

"Has he ever mentioned her?" The older man gestures to the painting.

Harry shrugs.

"Why should he–" He starts.

"Keep secrets? You tell me." Aberforth finishes for him.

"I trusted him." Harry insistent on not backing down.

"That's a boy's answer!" Aberforth barks.

"A boy who goes chasing Horcruxes on the word of a man who wouldn't even tell him where to start, you're lying!" The older man slurs, gesturing with a goblet still in hand.

Then, it finally occurred to you that the younger Dumbledore was drunk. At least drunk enough to take out his anger on the wrong person.

"Not just to me, that doesn't matter– to yourself as well. That's what a fool does. You don't strike me as a fool, Harry Potter, so I ask you again, there must be a reason." Aberforth continues, stepping closer the dark haired man.

Perhaps an effort to intimidate, but miraculously, Harry manages to keep a level head as he holds the man's hard stare.

"I'm not interested in what happened between you and your brother, I don't care that you've given up. I trusted the man I knew. We need to get into the castle, tonight." The Chosen One declares, and Aberforth is visibly taken aback by Harry's response, and so are you.

Then, the long bearded man nods subtly to the painting above Harry. The four of you watched intently as the girl walked further into it, disappearing into the distance.

"Where have you sent her?" Ron asks.

"You'll see, soon enough." Aberforth mutters, he walks with his goblet, toward the exit.

"That's your sister Arianna, isn't it? She died very young, didn't she?" Hermione asks, gesturing to the now vacant painting.

Aberforth pauses to look at her.

"My brother sacrificed many things, Mr Potter, on his journey to find power. Including Arianna." Aberforth's reply, a final attempt to sway Harry, but his devotion to the former headmaster of Hogwarts remains.

"Thank you, Mr Dumbledore." Your girlfriend expresses earnestly, and the man only nods, dejected, soon disappearing through the doorway.

"He did save our lives twice, and kept an eye on us in that mirror." Hermione looks between you, Harry and Ron.

"That doesn't seem like someone who's given up." She says in a hushed tone, now looking directly at Harry.

He averts his gaze, mulling over his best friend's statement.

A prolonged silence hangs around you before the painting starts to shift and move, soon it opens outward like a door, revealing a dark passageway.

You catch movement in the shadows, your hand instinctively moves to wrap around Hermione's waist. Your girlfriend doesn't hesitate to step slightly closer to you, also acting on instinct.

The figure that emerges is not one you'd expect, you quickly recognize it to be Neville Longbottom.

You didn't know him well, beyond a few fleeting interactions at school in the past, but

based on Harry's reaction, you considered his presence to be a welcomed one.

"Neville? You look–" The dark haired boy beams, and his friend interjects.

"Like hell I reckon." Neville quips.

"This is nothing, Seamus is worse."

He grins, his gaze shifts between the golden trio, and when his eyes fall on you, he appears stunned, for a moment.

You decide to flash him a clipped smile, one he eventually returns.

"We best get a move on." The man finally gestures.

════════════════════════════════════════════

"I don't remember this on the Marauder's Map." Ron questions as the four of you follow Neville through the dingy passageway.

You trailed closely next to Hermione, and Ron behind you.

"That's because it never existed until now, the other secret passages were sealed off before the start of the year. This is the only way in or out now." Neville explains, the light from his wand continues to barely illuminate the path ahead.

"The grounds are crawling with Death Eaters and Dementors." He remarks and suddenly you feel inclined once more to hide the Dark Mark beneath your sleeve.

Hermione catches your subtle action, but doesn't comment on it.

"How bad is it with Snape as Headmaster?" She asks instead, returning her attention ahead.

"Hardly ever see him. It's the Carrows you need to watch out for." Neville quips and your face contorts in disbelief.

"Carrows?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, they're in charge of discipline." His friend states.

"What? They put the Carrows in charge?" You gape, appalled.

"What is it? How horrible are they?" Hermione asks as she notices your reaction.

"I mean they're insane, fanatics– obsessed with blood purity. But last I heard, they were locked up in Azkaban." You admit and now Hermione's expression is nothing short of horrified.

You intertwined your fingers, an attempt to wordlessly reassure her.

"Well, they're out now." Neville states.

"Who do you think did this to me?" He adds, turning around for a moment to point at the deep gash on his face.

Although his tone was lighthearted, you can't help but feel a twinge of remorse.

After a few more steps, the five of you halt behind a flat wall. You eventually make it out to be the back of a painting, similar to one at the pub.

Neville pushes it open, he pauses to address the crowd on the other side, and soon enough, he steps aside to reveal Harry.

The room suddenly erupts with claps and cheers as they welcome The Chosen One.

Hermione continued to hold your hand as you stepped out of the passageway and into the room, Ron following suit.

You receive a few stares as you emerge next to Hermione, but no one addresses you directly, not until Seamus catches sight of you.

"What is she doing here?" He jeers, as the cheering for Harry completely dies down.

Now all eyes are definitely on you.

To your complete surprise, Ron is first to come to your defense.

"Back off alright, she's on our side." The ginger haired man says but Seamus is less than convinced.

"I'm sure that's what she wants us to believe. We've learnt well enough by now not to trust the word of any Slytherin." He spat as he stepped closer, and Seamus' attempt to intimidate you only works to amuse you.

You can't help the mocking smile that forms on your lips, and his scowl simply deepens at the sight.

"I say get her out of here." He announces, glancing around the room for any supporters of his idea.

"No!" Hermione interjects, she swiftly sets her body in between you and Seamus.

"We wouldn't be here without her help, Seamus you have no idea what you're on about." Ron defends you again, and this time you are truly bewildered.

Noticing he is outnumbered, Seamus relents.

"I've got my eye on you." He hands you the passing threat, and you tilt your head slightly.

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" You taunt, unfolding your arms, now you are prepared to go for your wand.

"Enough! None of this is going to help us defeat 'you know who'. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves." Harry quickly shuts down the possibility.

"Harry's right." Neville steps forward.

"So what's the plan?" He asks, and soon all attention is on Harry once more as everyone awaits his call.

"Okay, there's something hidden here in the castle, and it may help us defeat 'you know who'." He starts, his voice bounces off the stone walls as the room goes silent.

"Right. What is it?" Neville asks expectantly.

"We don't know." Harry responds truthfully and his friend glances at Saemus for a moment.

"Where is it?" He tries again and Harry shakes his head.

"We don't know that either." He repeats and the group standing before the four of you continue staring, deadpan.

You allow your head to droop, letting out a prolonged sigh.

"Look, I realize that's not much to go on." Harry starts.

"That's nothing to go on." Seamus interjects.

"I think it has something to do with Ravenclaw. Um, it'll be small, easily concealed." Harry recalls his visions.

"Anyone have any ideas?" He asks, the desperation in his voice was evident.

For a while it seems all hope was lost, until Luna finally speaks.

"Well there's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem." She suggests.

"Bloody hell, there we go." Ron releases a breath of relief.

Now the deadpan gaze is shifted towards the platinum haired girl.

"Lost diadem of Ravenclaw, has anyone ever heard of it? It's quite famous." Luna adds.

"Yes, but Luna, it's lost, for centuries now, there isn't a person alive who's seen it." Cho chimes in from next to her.

"Excuse me, can someone please tell me what a bloody diadem is?" Ron pleads, and you let out a huff of amusement, against your better judgment.

Hermione finds the opportunity to glare at you.

"It's a sort of crown, you know, like a Tiara." Cho explains, but it gives none of you any clue of where to locate it.

Before the discussion can go any further, the main door opens, soon Ginny bursts in, she is stunned for a moment as she spots Harry.

"Harry." She gapes.

"Hello." The dark haired man responds, equally jarred.

Ron scoffs as his sister pays no attention to him.

"Five months she hasn't seen me, it's like I'm 'Frankie first year'.. I'm her brother." He remarks above a whisper, and you grin.

"Yes but she's got a lot of brothers doesn't she? There's only one Harry." You quip teasingly, earning a smile from Hermione.

The ginger haired man merely rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Y/n." He huffs.

"What is it Ginny?" Seamus finally asks.

"Snape knows. He knows Harry was spotted in Hogsmeade."

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #harry potter #harry x hermione #hermione granger x reader #ron x hermione

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liesmyth · 3 months

Note

Alright, I've got another fic question for you! What are your favorite tlt gen fics?

you say “what ARE” I took this as permission to rec Many

A Mild Sort of Resurrection by sigaloenta [Bari Star AU]

In all the extensive special briefings and all-hands bulletins and strict sets of orders preparatory to the Emperor Divine's inspection tour of the Avernus, no one had considered that God might desire to fetch Himself a coffee.

An Impromptu Christening by orphan_account

The Ninth house finds a body and a baby. Nobody who matters is really thrilled about this turn of events.

believing in everything (and knowing nothing at all) by LesbianJesusLovesYou

A series of childhood memories from the Ninth.

“Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary by @naamah-beherit

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

High But Very Drear by @honorarycassowary. (written pre-NtN)

Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon

John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing.

Mortification of the Flesh by @theriverbeyond

In the myriadic year of our Lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the Lord of the Sharpest Edge!—Harrow Nova challenged the cavalier of the Ninth for his title.

Purgatory Is Mandatory by @urban-sith (written pre-NtN)

Ianthe figures out the true secrets of Lyctorhood while stuck in a time loop at Canaan House.

recognize them by their fruits by @ceruleanvulpine (written pre-NtN)

John and Ianthe deal with the fact that his only remaining Lyctor is the one he never liked much. Maybe they can bond over the fact that they're both egotistical manipulators who lie like breathing? No?

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar [but really that whole series!]

John misses the beach. The real beach. The current one is mostly soil with a lacy veneer of nuclear ash, clammy and streaky and hilariously radioactive, which is a real bummer when he thinks about it too hard. But the twenty-five meter sea level rise that came when all the freshwater ice finished melting around the mid-century mark ate away at the shoreline, rolled in between the skyscrapers on a new tide, swallowed up all the people who couldn't afford to move anywhere else. Have you seen the rent rates lately?

some part of me must have died by @theriverbeyond

What if Wake survived long enough to bring her newborn baby to Tomb, and killed her. and then the baby didn't die.

the kingdom of heaven by bittybelle

John puts that first-draft dream of his to bed.

Two Things by Isis

There were two things Jeannemary Chatur wanted: to fight for the Emperor Undying by the side of her necromancer, and for the stupid pimple on her chin to go away already.

when I call, will you come to me? by LesbianJesusLovesYou

“My Lady,” Ortus wheezed, shifting uncomfortably. “I only thought you should know… Gideon Nav was flogged before the congregation.”

#Anonymous #ask #tlt fic #fic recs #tlt

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7-wonders · 2 years

Text

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

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

Word count: 10.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

Freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darkness.

•••

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

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

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

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

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

I keep my visions to myself

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

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

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

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, can you hear me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, you are.

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, this is my apartment.”

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

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

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

“Okay, I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fates help him.

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to learn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could…”

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

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

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

“I didn’t say it was!”

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

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

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

“A terrible idea, truly.”

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

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

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

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

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

You point down to the passage.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him.

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either.

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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