#next week will probably be only small sketches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysteria157 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 16

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~14.1k

CW: explicit sexual content, smut, profanity, ass slapping (lol?)

Summary: The last person you ever wanted to see pries into your life. Nanami makes a life changing decision. Your hard work finally pays off.

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 Almost there! Happy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

The sound of Ulani’s shrieks had a smile curling against your lips, your stomach fluttering with joy as you looked up at her from your hands. Your daughter wrung her hands in the air, stretching her arms toward the various works of clay drying on long shelves on the wall of Rory’s studio, bouncing excitedly in the baby carrier strapped to said owner’s front as he walked about and described each piece to her.

There was a lull between classes, a three hour break that gave you time to leave the house for air and dig your hands in something.

You brought the wooden rib to the spinning clay, the hard material pressing gently to the greyish shiny mound as you made a steady tunneling design along the side. You were initially worried about the sketches of the small collection of works you prepared to make for Choso. You thought they would be too bold for him, too typical from what he probably had already made himself. But one quick glance over them and he was approving immediately, his bored expression softening and a smile pulling along his features as he listened to you talk him through your designs.

You only had a month; one week before Christmas to deliver the completed pieces to him. Your mind was moving a mile a minute, honing in on the clay in your hands as you started a rough throw.

The loud chime from Rory’s phone pulled your gaze to him briefly before you were looking back down the spinning (soon to be vase) in your hands. You hoped Ulani would have a creative streak. To have a child that would want to sit across from you, to dig their hands into clay or in paints, it filled you with a sensation that you couldn’t quite place and—.

“Y/n.”

His normally eclectic and cheerful tone was tainted somehow, bitterness and apprehension curving against the syllables of your name as they slid from his mouth. It made you pause, pulling your hands from the clay as you looked up at him and took in his serious expression. His twists were pulled up into a bun, allowing you to see every nuance on his face; brown eyes steely and frustrated, lips flickering with the beginnings of a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your mother is here. She’s outside. She would…like to talk to you.”

You frowned immediately, the thought of her souring your mood—and the rest of your day—quickly. Your first reaction was to wash your hands, pluck Ulani from the carrier strapped to Rory’s chest, and leave through the back door. But the second reaction you had—unfortunately—, was to wait. To listen and think that maybe this time would be different.

It wasn’t different when she showed up at your door with painful accusations when she heard you were leaving Sendai. It wasn’t different when she sneered hurtful words across the table on Christmas. It wasn’t different on every birthday, or a report card with a B instead of an A, or even a present you had worked hard to get for Mother’s Day when you were ten.

It was never different.

But some part of you, deep down in a chasm that had been cobwebbed over and buried beneath the dirt in your chest had held hope that maybe this time would be different. Just once more.

“I’ll take Ulani to the back. If anything goes wrong, you come get me. Immediately. Okay?”

You stood up wordlessly, nodding curtly as you strolled to the row of basins along the studio wall to wash your hands. Rory threw the diaper and toy bag over his shoulder, cooing to your daughter to distract her as he made his way out of the large, empty room and leaving you alone.

You definitely weren’t presentable; black overalls and a t-shirt that you usually wore when you threw clay, your curls frizzy and piled atop of your head without a care, no earrings, no—.

No.

She would take what you gave, or leave.

No more acquiescing her.

Your heart was racing frantically in your chest, painful beats pushing the blood through your veins in thick pulses. You wiped away the sweat that had prickled on the back of your neck, bit the inside of your lip until you could taste the tinge of copper on your tongue, squared your shoulders and took a long, heaving breath.

You could do this.

Or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself as her elegant form walked into the now stiff air of the studio. Her eyes were apprehensive, genetic brown hues looking anywhere but at you as she walked closer to your standing form near the basin row. Her similar curly hair was twisted and pulled back into a low bun, simple diamond earrings in her ears, and dressed in jeans and a thick sweater—a stark contrast to her usual silks and pastels.

While you were used to her exuding rudeness and arrogance, your nose flared at the heavy smell of hesitance and unease that radiated from her instead.

It felt like minutes before she spoke, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of something to say. You wouldn’t be the first to talk, you wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. Ome’s words rang in your ears like a siren.

“If your mother is ever going to come around, she is going to do all the work.”

“Throwing clay?” Her voice was practically silent when she finally spoke, her words wobbly on the ends, shaky. You didn’t respond, your hands digging into the sides of your cotton overalls as your gaze stayed locked with hers. “You look…healthy.”

“What do you want?”

You couldn’t deny the satisfaction of watching her flinch from your words. Growing up, you had been on the receiving end of it time and time again.

Her mouth opened again, silence falling from the space between parted lips, brows furrowing and face coloring in shame.

“I want to apologize.” You scoffed, the reaction immediate as you shook out a humorless laugh and folded your arms across your chest, shifting your gaze to look anywhere else as you tried to ignore the anger festering in the base of your stomach. “Please just—when I showed up at your door in Sendai and said all those things…and then when I showed up here and spoke so harshly that you ended up in the hospital—well your uncle tore me to shreds. You wouldn’t even begin to comprehend what he said and—”

“Let’s hear it.” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, courage locking the vertebrae of your spine in place and holding you up and steady as you kept your patronizing gaze on her. “What did he say?”

Eyes that you were used to seeing filled with disdain and indifference were now colored with embarrassment and guilt.

You didn’t care.

Not today.

“He said that I am a heartless bitch who never deserved nor should have been a mother. And the fact that I would put you at risk without batting an eyelash shows that I deserve to rot in hell.”

You reminded yourself to give Rory a warm hug later.

“So what changed? You felt bad?”

“I had a small heart attack.”

You bit the side of your tongue, willing yourself to keep your appearance neutral and not convey the worry that flooded your body of its own volition. You may not care for her, but you wouldn’t wish her harm.

You weren’t that heartless…but sometimes you wished you were.

“It was minor, but it scared me. When I woke up in the hospital, I realized how alone I was. You weren’t there, Rory wasn’t calling. Not even my father called. He never cared unless it was to benefit himself. And it took me fifty five fucking years and me almost dying to realize I was just like him. He raised me to work hard and that my value only came from my accomplishments and my education, the man I married, and the health and success of my kids. I believed him and followed him just to feel something from him…and I did the same to you.”

Suddenly you hated her. You hated that all of a sudden, she was ‘seeing clearly’. All of a sudden, her trauma made so much sense to her. Now it all clicked after you had already been scarred enough.

You hated her.

You didn’t but—fuck.

“I’m trying to do better. I’ll always be working on myself. And I know you will probably never forgive me or want to speak to me again. And that’s fine. I came prepared knowing that possible outcome. But I had to do it anyway. It probably won’t make up for years of how I treated you but…I was a terrible mother…and I’m so…so sorry.”

You ignored the prickle in the back of your eyes, kept your gaze steady even though your chest was shaking with unease and something else. Something else thick and heavy and pressing against your skin, digging into your lungs and narrowing your breath.

“Everything that you have done, has always made me so proud. Proud as your mother, not because of expectations. You’re a wonderful daughter, who I am proud to call my own. I hope that one day, you’ll let me be in your life again. In your daughter’s life. On your own terms, however you want. And if you don’t, that’s okay too.”

The silence was deafening, only the faint sounds of cars fluttering outside as they drove past to cast some sort of noise between the tension of you both. This was the first time in your life that she had ever apologized to you. The first time she had ever shown a flicker of remorse and guilt. The first time you had ever watched her realize the consequences of her own actions in how she chose to raise you.

You wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave and never come back or contact you again.

But you knew—deep down you knew—that you owed it to yourself and maybe even your daughter to try.

“I should get going.”

Her soft voice pulled you from your thoughts, watching in faint fascination as she smoothed her hands down her cashmere sweater and cleared her throat to dispel the awkwardness in the air.

“I’m staying with your uncle. We’ve been trying to reconnect and well—I’ll be here for a few days.”

You ignored the small flicker of hope in your chest, because it didn’t make sense to feel this way. Your mother didn’t deserve a modicum of well wishes or happiness from you and yet the thought of her reaching out again had you fighting the small voice in your head whispering finally to the attention you always craved.

Though only a few words had left your lips, you were suddenly tired. So mentally tired.

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

She offered you a soft smile, the sight pulling at your chest and preventing you from speaking further. She hesitated for a moment longer—a hand lifting as if to reach for you—but instead she tucked it against her chest and left the room without another word.

When the door chime of the studio rung in your ears, you sagged against the basin row behind you, hands reaching back to grip the edge, fingers digging into layers of dried glaze as you squeezed tighter with each beat of your heart.

Thirty years of trauma and only looking your way unless it was for her benefit and now all of a sudden, she was remorseful. If she meant it, you really wouldn’t know unless you gave her a shot.

But right now, you couldn’t think about it.

Right now, the only thoughts on your mind were getting home to take care of Ulani and vent to Kento with free hands and an angry mouth. Kento who you, surprisingly, hadn’t heard from all day.

You faltered at sight of your phone screen, blinking against the chilly November wind as you made your way to the car. You were used to a few messages from Kento throughout the day. While he offered the minimum amount of words in meetings and conversation in his workplace to get the job done, he turned to his phone to vent on any annoyances and to ask your opinion on a certain direction projects on his roster should take. You had left that life, and though marketing no longer flowed through your veins next to caffeine and exhaustion like it used to, it felt freeing to exercise your brain again with things you once embraced so readily.

But right now, you were a little mystified as you noticed only one message from him.

Kento: Hello. I know you’re at Rory’s studio right now but I’m not home and did not want you to be alarmed. I decided to go to the bakery.

Are you still there?

Kento: I am.

Be there soon.

Your heart jumped into the narrow tunnel of your throat, pumping frantically, a loud sloshing in your ears from each beat as you raced to your car and strapped Ulani in her seat.

Since Yu’s death, he had not set foot in the bakery let alone walked along the block that the establishment was built on. Through his journey of grief, he still hadn’t talked about owning the bakery or touched the deed that Yu had given him.

Kaya had done a great job keeping up with the bakery since her husband’s death. And Yu, like the beautiful soul he was, ensured his employees would still have a career in the midst of something going wrong. A fellow bakery owner from his years in culinary school happily took the extra help and Yu’s former employees were still earning a modest living.

Even in death, his kindness would never cease.

The thick curtains only showed slivers of dim light through glass windows as you peered from inside your car. Your stomach was in knots, twisting by the second as you strapped Ulani to you again and walked inside.

The bakery wasn’t big, modest and modern with hints of eclectic and outgoing tones that exuded Yu’s personality. Walls were painted a warm brown, employee of the month pictures and certificates of achievement littered a small section—polaroid pictures of families and neighbors and friends next to them.

The front register was covered with a thin white sheet, the wood counters clean and free of dust, the long glass display case empty and dark. Large chalkboard slabs behind the register on the wall had been scrubbed clean, no longer holding any remnants of Yu’s handwriting to display what goods would be available.

Before, when the bakery was open and bustling, the spaces between cabinets and the center of the small tables inside were adorned with different houseplants that grew throughout the seasons. Long Philodendrons would hang down from the ceiling and trail on the walls like vines; waxy Hoya Carnosas would adorn the tables that Yu would rotate with Peperomias of different shades and size. You remembered the large Fiddle Leaf that would sit in the corner behind the counter, curving over a table meshed against the glass windows that would always offer a warm and cozy cover for whatever lucky person happened to snag the seat. It was his pride and joy, the only plant that responded to his touch. Haibara always loved plants.

But those plants were all gone now—the corners, walls, and tables now bare.

A small part of you hoped that Kaya took them home instead of throwing them away.

Your eyes caught Kento, his tall body leaning stiffly against a wooden counter, his glasses covered gaze directed to the blank chalkboard slabs on the wall. A crisp black long sleeved button up covered muscular arms that were crossed over his chest, dark grey slacks fitting perfectly on legs that ran miles every morning before the sun rose, black expensive Chukka boots that he embellished in occasionally, and his typical silver Cartier watch graced your eyes as you took him in. Broad shoulders rose softly as he pulled the cold air in through his nose, sharp cheekbones curving his face into a somber expression.

Something must have happened.

A thick fog of unease permeated from his presence across the tiled floor of the bakery and to both you and Ulani. The feel of it made you swallow, eyes blinking back a sudden sting as you opened your mouth to say something to him.

Your daughter beat you to it, babbling happily at the sight of her father, the noise cutting through the tension in the room like a knife and wrapping around Kento like a warm blanket. He reacted immediately, his head turning to you both and a small smile curling the ends of his mouth only fractionally as he took you in.

You watched his mouth open, lips parting and twitching before closing altogether. Apprehension colored his features, the strength he had practiced using in his head before your arrival vanishing entirely upon the sight of you.

“Rough day?”

Your voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and making it feel more empty than what it already was, washing over him and filling his lungs to fan flames of newfound confidence. You crossed the empty space between you both, admiring his gracefulness even in the midst of whatever inner turmoil he was going through.

Kento didn’t speak at first, his eyes flickering from yours to down at his daughter as she looked around the room.

“Before you came along, I went to Haibara for almost everything that I was frustrated about. To him, I was a grumpy old man inside of a twenty something year old body who frequently fretted about everything and everyone. But he listened to me anyway. Every day when Gojo was more insufferable than usual or when work was so grating that I felt suffocated, I rambled to him.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you gushing like a teenager to someone,” you teased, smiling up at him as he fingered a soft lock of Ulani’s hair that poked from her beanie.

“Haibara used bribery to get me to open my mouth,” he muttered in reply, voice colored with sadness and a slight twinge of nostalgia. “This morning I already felt heavier than usual. And it just got worse as the day went along. Meetings ran annoyingly long. Our branch in Niigata is performing below benchmarks and they are pushing back on everything we suggest. To make matters worse, the lovely bento you made for me was upside down when it was time for lunch.”

“How shameful. I worked hard on that,” you goaded, clicking your tongue in fake admonishment as you began to bounce your daughter in place. The small remark seemed to do the trick, a gentle huff leaving his chest in response.

“Normally, I turn to you when I want to voice my worries. But I knew you were busy and before I could even think about it, I was pulling out my phone, texting Yu instead and hitting send. It hit me almost immediately that he’s not here.”

He cleared his throat, cheeks ruddy with embarrassment as he spoke to you. You didn’t offer any words, reading his own cues and placing a hand on his chest, your thumb stroking the fabric slowly to encourage him.

“I brushed it off the first time. But then it happened when one of the higherups asked a question that ran a meeting 15 minutes over. And again, after I put your bento back together. Three messages still delivered but no response, and my chest felt so heavy even though I knew the reason why.”

Dark blonde eyebrows furrowed in frustration, the muscle arching angrily over the curve of his odd glasses. Kento had never believed in any sort of afterlife or spiritual presence. He was ashamed, foolish to think that a friend so precious to him who was long gone could possibly send him something back.

“And that’s why you came here? To think that you could hear him in a place where he always was?” you asked him softly, keeping his attention on you and hoping to smooth the angry crease in his brow.

“It sounds asinine, doesn’t it?”

You shook your head in response, that same hand on his chest reaching up to stroke the soft skin of his face, thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. He relaxed into your touch, leaning more into your hand and siphoning the warmth that it brought.

Yu’s presence still bled through the walls of his bakery. Your eyes could see the plants and writing on the chalkboard through a thin veil of reminiscence. The equipment remained shiny from his years of care, the countertops held stains of hard work and wear and tear that seemed to season the dough he used to knead every night before leaving. The air, thick and cold, held echoes of his loud and boisterous yelling as you laughed at a joke with a hand on your once pregnant belly. Vivid memories flashed through your mind like an old reel; him blowing raspberries into the plump cheeks of his daughter’s face and whispering warm words of affection to his wife when he thought no one was listening.

Haibara was everywhere and yet nowhere.

“Did he answer you?” you asked, your own voice tight from the memories.

He chuckled softly from your question; the sound strained even though his shoulders relaxed from their once tense hold. He plucked Ulani from her carrier, kissing her cheek repeatedly until her gummy lips curled into a drool covered smile and her body hiccupped out a harsh giggle.

“He did.”

You didn’t pry further. Whatever words he had for his friend where for him and him alone. You knew he would tell you if you asked, but it felt wrong to do so. So, you simply smiled up at him instead, hoping your body language would convey just how satisfied you were with his progress.

The dim lights of the bakery glinted over his glasses, the tinted lenses offering you a flash of deep set eyes that hadn’t stopped tracing over you since you walked in.

He outlined your features; typical black cotton overalls and white shirt with flicks of dried clay that you wore when throwing, curls pulled up into a messy bun, smooth skin without blemish as you radiated love in his direction.

He had felt hollow all day, his chest carved out with the sharpest knife imaginable and exposed to the open air as frustration and sadness festered along the raw walls of the woundt. Just thinking about Haibara seemed to pull him so low that on days like these it was hard to even see the top of the hole in order to climb out of it.

But you offered that familiar smile, spoke to him with words that held thick layers of affection and comfort that seemed to make the hole in his chest a little less painful. You were a beacon to him, shining bright and unmoving even though the rocky waters of his grief had pressed against you time and time again. You would always be there to offer the answers he needed to hear, even if they stung a little more than usual.

You both freely gave and took from one another, balancing chaos and peace with a harmonious practice that should have taken years to build.

And right now, you were giving him everything he needed in that moment.

So, Kento took; leaning down to slant his lips against yours and leeching away the comfort he had been searching for all day and swallowing it for himself. When he pulled away and sighed against your cheek, placing another kiss on the skin there, his body felt a little less heavy than before.

Later that night, after you had vented your own frustrations about your mother and hours after Ulani had been tucked in bed, you carded your fingers through thick blonde locks while he lay on your sweaty chest. With your steady heartbeat against his ear, Kento pulled in a calming breath for the first time that day.

Just minutes before, his mouth had been hot on your skin, wringing every ounce of adoration from your body that you gave him when his tongue dipped between the crevices of your body and his hips rolled against yours. And now with your strength, he exhaled away his worries and sadness into the warm air of your bedroom, squeezing you closer to him so he could soak up your warmth.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you today.”

It was the first word he had spoken in a while; he was normally somewhat vocal when you both made love, but tonight he was quiet, content to relish in the moans you exhaled against his skin. You didn’t let your mind run away with irrationality and remained quiet, your fingers scratching a spot on his nape that relaxed him further against you.

“Meetings did run long, the Niigata branch is performing below benchmarks, and your bento did fall apart before I could enjoy it. But—well lately I’ve been thinking that…” he trailed off, the rumble of his voice into your skin falling into nothing as he lost the remaining words in his throat. You felt him swallow against you, felt his hands dig a little more into the flesh of your waist, felt his nose press more into the skin of your breast before he pulled in your scent with a deep and shaky breath. “These past few days, I’ve been thinking about fulfilling Yu’s portion of his will—opening the bakery.”

Soft patters of happiness fluttered against your ribcage. You twirled a thick lock between two fingers, ruminating words in your head before speaking.

“Is that what you asked him then? In the bakery? You asked if he thought you were ready?”

He was silent for only a moment before speaking against you. “Yes.”

Nimble fingers traced against you, swirling in no specific way as he fought the urge to swallow his words and turn away from you so he could disregard the conversation and never bring it up again.

He’d gotten this far; he could keep going. He owed it to himself to keep going.

“He told me to stop complaining about the meetings. The Niigata branch will fall in line eventually. Your lovely bento can easily be remade, and…and that yes, yes I’m ready.” His unease was front and center now that the words were out of his mouth, that painful feeling in his chest returning with an intense ebb that made him hold you tighter. “There are still some things that I need to figure out; my job, how I want things to be run, when it will open. But I have time. Plus, I want Ulani to be a few months older, so things are not as intense for us.”

You were elated, your lips pulling into a bright smile as you felt the soft tresses of his hair graze against your fingertips. It had taken him months to get to this moment, and to be honest, you thought it would have been much longer. He climbed over you, his blond tresses falling over his forehead to brush against your own.

“How does that sound?”

You admired him from above, reaching up to stroke his cheek, your thumb sliding along his bottom lip.

“I think that sounds great, Ken.”

That beacon of light shined up at him again, calling for him to come home in the warmth of your embrace where he could stay as long as he wanted.

For the final time that night, he took every morsel of your love, swallowed it down with another press of his lips against yours before he rolled inside of you for more.

***

Your commission for Choso in the weeks following became a real test for how you could balance motherhood. Before Ulani, you could spend hours in your studio, hunched over a pottery wheel or easel and throwing out piece after piece until your fingers ached from dryness and overuse.

But now, you had to throw clay in intervals, short ten minute increments with Ulani doing tummy time or playing with sensory toys on a thick pallet of blankets next to you. Kento offered a small reprieve during his lunch breaks by coming home to help out and soak in as much time with his daughter as he could.

You had to balance perfecting a small collection of works for Choso as well as take care of Ulani, and take care of yourself.

It was exhausting and a small reminder of what you could and couldn’t handle at least while your daughter was at this age.

But the results were worth it.

You relished in the pride of watching Choso smile deeply as he unwrapped a vase of your own design. It was almost as tall as you, but created with a soda firing technique that left the glaze a surprising but beautiful texture that would stand out in his home. Ten pieces to grace his home in whatever way he wanted were unwrapped bit by bit, his black painted fingernails tracing along the sides of each one in childlike fascination as he riffled through.

“These are beautiful. Truly.”

And while you were elated from his response, the check that he wrote held far too many zeros that had you blanching in shock and pushing the piece of paper back towards him. He resisted, black eyebrows pinching in confusion before pressing it more firmly into your hands, curling your fingers around it.

“Get used to this. People would pay so much to have something of yours. Cherish it.”

The smooth texture of the check in your hand felt almost imaginable between your fingers. “Choso, I don’t think I can—”

“I will not give you any less than that. Please don’t think I’m trying to be too generous. All of it is earned. You have such a gift.”

Those same words again echoed in your ears. Kento had uttered those same words as he looked at your work in your old studio in Sendai. Chiyo had spoken them to you as she admired the mural in Ulani’s nursery. Over and over, until it had become too loud and overwhelming that you didn’t have the justification to remain in denial any longer.

***

“You look so fucking good,” Ome squealed the minute she laid eyes on you. The entire day was spent throwing on every outfit you could find and feel comfortable in, trailing over your figure and fighting subconscious thoughts with every article of clothing you put on. Ulani, while an admirer of yourself, offered nothing but incoherent babbling that seemed to bring a small smile to your face in the midst of your inner turmoil.

It had taken you hours, but you could truly admit that you looked hot.

The one sleeve long black maxi dress hugged your body enough to show off your curves gained from motherhood without being too tight. The high slit up the side exposed the expanse of a smooth brown leg, your skin glowing in the light of your room as you turned to admire yourself. Your curls were tucked away and slicked back into a neat bun, the baby hairs of your edges smoothed down and curled against the skin of your hairline. Classic gold hoops adorned your ears and a double layer herringbone gold chain sat against the skin of your collarbone. You were fastening the ankle strap of your three inch chunky heels when Ome walked into your room.

Ome filled out her halter neck midi dress so well. Growing up, she was always a bit curvier than you were. She was never insecure with her body and she flaunted it when she could. The dress stopped right before her knees, dark chocolate skin strapped with stiletto heels and a gold ankle bracelet. Her 4c hair was styled into a neat high bun with two thick strands of her hair tightly braided to frame each side of her face in its own creation of bangs.

“You look fucking good,” you retorted playfully, smoothing invisible wrinkles from your dress before sitting down at your vanity.

“I know.”

You snorted against the firm glide of eyeliner, completing a classic cat eye on both sides before throwing her a glare through the mirror.

“You and Gojo are just alike, its uncanny. Is he your date tonight?” The teasing inflection in your tone earned you a heatless glare, beautiful silver eyes rolling dramatically at your jest.

“Fuck you.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Your eyes stayed locked with hers through the mirror as you ran a thin layer of gloss over your lips.

“I’ll have you know that this is our third date, so—”

“Three dates and still no pipe? Damn that’s crazy.”

You expected a biting remark in response, expected her to cuss over an insult that you would both laugh at. But Ome narrowed her eyes instead, pursing beautiful lips before she sauntered to where you sat.

“It’s funny…I’ve noticed a few things. You’ve got on a sexy ass dress, high heels, you have on your favorite perfume and you look unbelievably happy and comfortable.” Ome threw you a look. “Kento must be dicking. You. Down.”

You swatted at her as if she were an annoying pest even though the loud laughter shaking from your chest told her everything she needed to know.

“I heard my name.”

The man himself was suddenly leaning against the doorframe of your room, a beautiful brow lifted in question. You swallowed the groan as you soaked in his dark brown ribbed knit top that was loosely tucked into white slacks, short sleeves hugging his biceps perfectly. Your eyes traced along thick and veiny forearms as he crossed his arms over his chest, a well-cared for black Rolex winking at you from his wrist. His hair was parted and gelled in its usual style, but he had forgone the glasses, and his serious gaze was as intense as ever as he narrowed them playfully at you.

God if you didn’t have anywhere to go, you would be on your knees in a second.

“What have I done?”

You were quick, shooting Ome wide eyes, mouth loaded with an admonishing retort. “Ome don’t—”

“I was telling her how good she looked. She seems more happy than usual and she’s finally getting more comfortable with that new mommy body..so I assumed you’ve been putting her to sleep.”

Why did you even bother with her?

Kento hummed softly, pursing his lips as if in thought before chuckling softly to himself.

“Well I’m glad my efforts are paying off.”

You gawked, blushing furiously and barking an insult at Ome as she threw her head back and guffawed into the air.

***

Rory’s exhibits were usually lavish—at least lavish for a small town like Yoyogi. But this was another level entirely. Choso exuded his status in the ceramic world. Artists that you had grown up studying in your spare time and only dreamt of meeting were within walking distance. Waiters dressed in sleek black uniforms floated along marble floors with plates of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. Faint notes of classical impressionist music wafted through the air, created an atmosphere of sophistication and wealth as you took in each piece. The unease of being out of place was thick in your stomach upon your arrival, but all too quickly Kento’s presence was enough to make you forget about it all.

Because Kento, like the clingy man he was, couldn’t go five minutes without his hands on you. Familiar fingers skimmed along the slope of your exposed shoulder as you leaned over to inspect one of Choso’s monolith sculptures. A firm hand caressed the curve of your waist and the small of your back to lead you through the crowd of people when you were ready to proceed to the next pillar. Ever the soft man he was, ever the gentleman, but still always within reach.

And it was true, Kento prided himself on being a gentleman and upheld that standard every single day.

But tonight, he was slipping and since he set eyes on you in your room earlier, he was itching to get you alone.

You’d been turning heads all night and had been too happy and absorbed in your own world to notice. You smiled up at him as you explained Choso’s firing and glazing techniques. You pulled Ome and Chiyo about the room to show them your favorite pieces. The low lights against your creamy brown skin seemed to make you glow. Your perfume had his mind hazy and resisting the urge to bury his nose into your neck. With every gentle click of your heels against the floor, the black dress he had been undressing all night in his mind showed long expanses of your leg and thigh. You were the most exotic and ethereal creature in the room.

And all his.

Before you, Kento had been satisfied with his lack of jealousy. He knew his worth and what he wanted in a companion; and when the moment came, he knew that she had chosen him for a reason.

But that was before you had come storming into his life. Talented and teasing and beautiful.

So, when he caught the slimy purple eyes of a scrawny man with long blonde hair looking at your ass for a third time that night, he couldn’t deny the slight twinge of discontent that flared inside of him.

“Squeezing me a little tight there,” you spoke softly, chuckling with an uneasy gaze as Kento locked eyes with someone behind you. His hold on your hip loosened, narrow eyes blinking down in your direction before he offered a soft apology. His face was colored with a thin veil of annoyance and irritation, and while never directed at you, it was still rare to see in your presence.

“Is someone bothering you?” You made to turn around, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever seemed to put a frown on your boyfriend’s face. But instead, his hand slid against your cheek, palming the skin to stroke with his thumb and directing your gaze back to him. Expression softening but still holding a glint of anger, a small smile fell on his features.

“It’s nothing and I don’t want you thinking about anything else other than this. Choso gave you VIP tickets for his own exhibit and now you’re finally here. Enjoy it.” He ran his thumb over your eyebrows, smoothing away the sharp dip in them both to erase as much confusion from your face as possible. “As I recall, you still have five more pillars to show me.”

That did the trick. With a faux glower up at him, you laced your fingers through his and pulled him along.

Half an hour later, you were fully engrossed in a conversation with Kento when you heard Choso speaking from the front of the room. You didn’t pay too much attention, your mind elsewhere as he thanked everyone for coming, spoke about the inspiration behind this year’s collection, and listed those who had offered their unwavering support.

“This year, I wanted to add something new to my collection. An artist that I collaborated with that I hope you all will enjoy.”

The pillar next to him was covered in a black sheet. Throughout the night, your eyes had lingered on what it could have been, but you didn’t give it much thought. Choso lifted the sheet, unsheathing the contents beneath.

Kento’s hum of surprise should have been your first indication that what you were looking at wasn’t in your imagination. You blinked once, squinting and trying to recall faint memories of yourself to test your cognition and ensure you were in your right mind. The pieces looked familiar. Vaguely you remembered sketching, throwing and glazing them yourself.

But that couldn’t be. You had packed them up and given them to Choso just a week prior.

Your ears felt like cotton had been rammed inside, the faint words from Choso’s mouth and mutters from the crowd around you muffled and stuffy.

“It’s hard to find artists who understand your passion. Even harder to find those who have said passion and can convey beautiful things with nothing at all. These pieces belong to a friend that I’ve only recently made. They are not for sale, so don’t ask or berate her. But I owe these all to F/n, l/n.”

The bottom of your heels felt rooted to the spot, sinking into the marble floor as Choso’s gaze locked with yours, and the people around you turned to follow suit. He hadn’t called you. That wasn’t your work on the shiny black stone pillar. Surely you were dreaming. You were dreaming that the eyes directed at you and the soft applause garnered your way was a small snippet of something you would remember when you woke up.

Kento’s hands gently cradled your upper arms, rubbing and ushering you forward with a slight chuckle behind you. You were on autopilot as you took timid steps to stand next to Choso, beads of sweat cold on the back of your neck once with the sudden and dreadful realization that you were now the center of attention. You didn’t know what to say, your mind was still trying to keep up, heart beating hard against your ribcage, mouth dry and sticky.

You bowed softly, muttering an embarrassed and soft thank you before the room broke into applause again. Your eyes traced over your pieces as they lay in front of you, shiny and brand new and reflecting just how hard you had worked.

“I’m sorry to have put you on the spot,” Choso admitted, his voice tunneling through the dying sounds of ringing in your ears as you blinked back into the present. “I honestly didn’t plan to make a collaboration. But the minute Yuji showed me your page, I had to. I also knew that if I told you my plan, you might have created something with the goal of impressing, not being genuine.” Deep purple eyes flickered up to Kento who stood silently beside you. “I’m afraid I’ve broken her.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that rattled from the tight confines of your chest, shaking you firmly and making you aware of the crowd that had dispersed and the lingering people who eyed your work from afar.

The path to get to this exact moment had suddenly been carved up, rooted from its spot in firm soil that you had patted down yourself and paved over with material you weren’t familiar with.

Build a small following, take on commissions until you gained your confidence, and then just hope that you would have a lucky break one day.

Clean cut and simple, even if a little modest compared to your intense disposition for hard work.

But Choso had given the order to carve up that path, pulled you to the side with a vague distraction of a commission that you thought would sit privately in his house, and then placed you back on shiny floors and only a few steps from your goal.

“Excuse me?”

The voice, deep and feminine, pulled you once again from your anxious thoughts. And when you saw her, your heart gave what felt like the millionth lurch of the night. You had studied her work alongside Choso’s and so many prolific artists in your intense years of college, had tried to make your own sketches from the sight of her pictures that she posted online, had admired her from afar all night and been too shy to introduce yourself. Yuki Tsukumo, a decade older than you with twice as much experience and classical training, stood in front of you with flowing blonde hair and a red dress that clung to a strong and lean figure.

“I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to snag you before others did. I’d love to know your process.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again, neurons in your brain misfiring and the command to speak lost in the midst.

Thumbs from Kento’s hands still on your shoulders stroked against your skin, spreading warmth with each pass.

“My love, your mouth is open, but no words are coming out.”

“R-right!” you squeaked, blushing furiously and pushing through the thick bushels of embarrassment in your chest, grabbing the small nestle of courage inside before you opened your mouth to speak.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered to Choso an hour later, your voice thick and heavy with overwhelming emotion.

The exhibit was still in full swing, but you’d finally been given a small morsel of time by yourself. Sweaty hands clutched a stack of business cards; Yuki Tsukumo at the top, four more famous artists beneath, and a plethora of attendees at the bottom. All with their contact information, all pressed delicately into your hands with the wish for you to contact them and set up time for a commission. All curious to know more about you, marveling at your process and inspiration, fascinated by you.

The confusion of it all had passed by the time Yuki gave you a warm hug with a promise to get lunch with you the next time she was in town. Such a trivial thing to say from someone so revered in the world that you were barely dipping your toes in.

Pale hands covered yours, the fresh black polish of Choso’s fingernails shining up at you against the dim lights in the room. He squeezed, pulsing warmth into sweaty and tingly fingers.

“Surely, you wanted to get this far?” You swallowed, your throat contracting around a painful ball of emotion in your throat that was threatening to crawl up and out of your mouth. “Everyone in this room; Yuki, the other ceramic artists who I invited, even your uncle, are all people who have worked hard to get here. I don’t entertain myself with those who boost the confidence of others of the same status, just for glorification. You are unique and I want to keep you in my little circle of unique people for as long as I can, so you come out into our world still holding pieces of yourself. There’s no need to be shy. I’m sure you have work in your own studio that you probably never thought would see the light of day. And yet here you are.”

Echoes of none too distant memories were suddenly flashing in your mind; Kento guiding you along Rory’s exhibit just months prior, listening to you gush about your uncle’s work and brushing away all attempts of Kento boosting confidence in yourself.

“Where do you think you get the trait from? You have work in your studio that could be sitting right on these pillars tonight.”

“I will say it until you begin to realize and then continue to do so; you have a gift.”

Emotion that was once bubbling in your belly, surged up into your chest, pressing against the bone of your sternum until it began to splinter, seeping through the cracks and trailing hot overwhelming waves of pride through your veins. The force of it made you pull in a deep inhale, eyes blinking rapidly to oust the faint traces of tears along your lashes.

“Thank you,” your voice was a little stronger, but you couldn’t trust yourself to say much more without bursting into tears.

So, you didn’t.

And Choso, who could see the rising flood of emotion in your eyes, brought still clasped hands to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. His tired eyes caught Yuki far behind you, shyly admiring her form while she talked to Rory, mustering courage he had cultivated for years in her presence but never opening his mouth enough to use it. He excused himself and meandered timidly in her direction.

The hum of everyone around you settled your nerves and you used the lull in privacy to take deep-seated breaths into your lungs to shackle yourself into the present. And when you finally turned around to face out into the crowd, you fell short when a man blocked your way.

There wasn’t much to him; average height but still a little taller than you, long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail on the left side of his head, deep purple eyes that looked a little more unnerving than sincere.

He was kind with a gentle disposition despite the three faint markings beneath each eye. And as he fumbled over compliments of your work and explained how much he wished he had enough time in his busy schedule to frequent galleries, your eyes flickered past him in search of Kento so you could make your way over when this conversation was done.

Said man was already on his way, pushing down waves of indignation as the man rested a hand on your shoulder. He told himself to be calm, to focus his attention on his mother as she asked about Ulani and work, to reason that you knew exactly what you were doing.

He didn’t doubt you—would never doubt you. You didn’t need anyone to speak for you.

But the man in front of you had leered at you one too many times when you weren’t looking, had slithered his eyes over Kento’s own hand that caressed your waist. He felt unhinged responding to the frustration in his chest and hated how freely he rode with the primal urge in his veins to make sure everyone in this room knew you were his.

“There you are, love.” Kento was suddenly by your side, interrupting the man—who he found out was named Haruta Shigemo—and wrapping a muscular arm around your waist. Shigemo’s purple pupils flickered down at your waist, taking in the way Kento’s hand lay against your curves in loud but also silent exclamation that this was a battle Kento would always win unless you cast him out.

In only a few short seconds, you had taken in all you needed from their silent but heated battle with each other. You fought the urge to roll your eyes and made your way past Shigemo, muttering how nice it was to meet him before wading into the crowd toward your family and friends.

Rory had to practically shove you inside of the car when it was time to leave.

“You both are either working or taking care of your daughter, have a night to yourselves. I’ve taken care of you plenty of times when you were a baby, I can do the same for Ulani. Have a nice night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He kissed your cheek goodnight before you could protest any further and Ome was already leaning down to speak to you through the open window, blocking you from trying to escape.

“I’m so proud of you,” Ome whispered, raspy voice low and airy, admiring you with years of affection that only you would ever receive. “And I love you.”

“Love you too, Ome.”

“You deserve to be celebrated.” The gentle moment didn’t last for long, with a heavy clearing of her throat, she threw an elegantly arched brow in your direction. You could taste the beginnings of an inappropriate remark, loaded in her mouth with a stench that you could smell a mile away. “So, remember, whatever you can’t fit into your mouth, use your hand. Twist the wrist as you come up and—”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you hissed playfully, swatting at her through the open window.

***

The cityscape was breathtaking, with the moon shining through high clouds and a sprinkle of snow beginning to fall, all of Nakameguro had been cast into silence as it settled in for the night. Distant notes of one of Kento’s records floated about his living room, sliding against the books on his overcrowded bookshelf, dancing over the vacant and plush long sofa you used to sink into, and then over to you, wrapping around your body like the warmest blanket you could ever imagine.

You pulled in a long breath, the warm air drifting down your throat and into your lungs, expanding your chest with fluttering sensations of happiness. You were happy. So truly happy and proud of how far you’d come from your own hard work and the people who had walked into your life.

“Ulani is perfectly fine,” Kento called from the hallway, his low and always commanding voice growing closer as he made his way across the room. “Megumi says that she was amazing with him and Rory is already reading her a book before he gets her ready for bed.”

“Megumi would be the type to prefer babysitting over socializing.”

“Gojo practically raised him. Came into his life our senior year of high school. He’s the complete antithesis of Gojo. Thank god.”

You snorted, elbowing his arm when he slunk up next to you. “You should have let me speak to her.”

Kento rolled his eyes dramatically. “Darling, she has no idea what a phone is or how it works. Hearing your voice but not seeing you would only have made her cry.”

“Will you humor me for once!” You giggled up at him, smacking him on the bicep again and ignoring the way your fingers carded around muscle. “Besides, I’m a little upset with you anyway.”

You weren’t, but it was funny to see dark blonde eyebrows furrow mildly even though brown eyes flashed back at you with equal mirth.

“And what have I done to upset you?” Long fingers pressed against your necklace to smooth out the kinks, calloused fingertips dragging goosebumps along your skin.

“I saw the way you looked at Shigemo.”

“So he has a name,” he muttered, eyes focused on the movement of his fingers, ignoring the tumultuous waves of insecurity in his chest as you chuckled weakly up at him.

“My, my. Nanami Kento, Director of Strategic Partnerships, are you jealous—”

“No,” he interrupted, deep and low timbre of a voice firm and resolute. Stoic mahogany eyes commanded your attention, holding you tight with invisible hands on your hips. “I’m not a jealous man. But I am protective, especially of you.”

You couldn’t help the severity of your eyes rolling from his response.

“I don’t need you to protect me, Ken. I can take care of myself. Which, yes, I know that you understand that. But he was only being nice—”

“Nice or not,” cutting you off, voice suddenly icy and face flaring with a hint of anger before it washed away. “He did nothing but leer at you all night. Every time I saw him, his eyes couldn’t help but stare right at your ass or the way I held you. I was being protective because he made me uneasy. I should have told you when I first saw but I didn’t want to distract you from your night. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to upset you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pulling your gaze from him as you let his words sink into your skin. The furrow between his brows deepened, skin wrinkling with frustration in himself as the silence stretched further. He couldn’t look at you; being caught was embarrassing enough. So he kept his gaze on the faint shine of your necklace instead, dragging a fingertip along the unique surface.

“How can I make it up to you?” he asked, tone somber and shy.

For once when it came to sex, you could make him fluster. You could make him blush like a schoolboy and fumble over his words. You both were always in control when fucking; giving and taking every time. But he always held a sway over you that could make you relax into his words and embrace.

So you were going to enjoy this.

“I’m not so sure, Kento,” you began, jutting your chin up at him, radiating defiance as much as you could. Umber irises snapped up from your necklace, smoldering in their heated gaze as he began to taste the shift in the air. “First Pia and now this? Your offenses are stacking up. You’ll need to really show me how sorry you are.”

You should have planned this better, should have thought of your comebacks a little more thoroughly in your head before the words left your mouth. Because with just one step in your direction even though you both were already so close, your chest was constricting like a vice as you held your breath and staggered slowly back.

Cold glass against the exposed parts of your back made you gasp, the icy touch bringing a tingly rise of goosebumps up your spine. He towered over you, casting a tight cocoon of his rich cologne that was thickening from the growing heat between you both. Kento reached for you, sliding a large palm up the side of your body, dipping and rising with the map of your curves, the side of your breast, over the exposed skin of your clavicle and then to rest on the side of your neck. A rough thumb ran along the plushness of your bottom lip and then he was looking at you again, gentle affection now slowly brewing into something else.

“May I?” he asked, darting his eyes down at your lips to ask for permission.

“I…I suppose you can,” you whispered, voice small and shy. His hold on the side of your neck slid around to your nape, tightening slightly before pulling your head back to look up at him.

He didn’t speak, his presence all over you, suffocating you slowly, pulling you under a rush of waves that you knew you wouldn’t rise from for a very long time. Mingled breath of champagne from him and peppermint from your lip gloss danced between your lips, cold and electrifying as he exhaled softly into you and molded himself to you, brushing a thick tongue along your bottom lip before you granted him access. He used his hold on your neck to angle you up more toward him, opening yourself up more so that he could take and show just how much he was willing to give back. Another hand against the dip in your waist gripped firmly with a scalding touch that began to burn through the fabric of your dress.

That defiance you had culminated in only a short time as means of a joke evaporated the moment his lips pressed against yours. Because now you were falling, sighing softly into the air from the wet brush of his lips against the side of your neck and then down. Down and along the skin of your collarbone, over the tops of your breasts before he returned back to your lips, stealing what little remained in your lungs. Heavy breathing against your own, his clothed chest brushed against you as he pecked your lips once, and then again before slowly descending down to rest on his knees in front of you.

The sight of him below you, ready to worship had your heart racing, going a mile a minute in your chest and then stuttering when you felt a hot hand on the skin of your leg. He trailed it upwards, mapping out the saphenous veins just underneath your skin and brushing the high slit of your dress out of his way. A subtle squeeze on your knee and an even firmer grip into the fat of your thigh before he was throwing the exposed leg over his shoulder, opening you up to him. Your cunt fluttered beneath black panties from Kento’s transfixed gaze, blown out pupils burning through the thin layer of insecurity over you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your panty covered clit, dragged his thick tongue along the cloth, the touch electrifying enough to pull a yelp of surprise from your lips and smack hands against the cold glass pressing into your back. You felt the air of the room hit your core again, sharper this time from Kento’s act of pulling your panties to the side.

“Look at you baby, you’re dripping. You’re so wet, darling. So, so wet for me.”

Without his eyes on you, it gave you time to compose yourself through the storm of lust that had taken root inside of you. But it didn’t last long; with a firm squeeze to your thigh again, he silently commanded you. And like so many times before when you were incoherent from the touch of him, you obeyed and looked down, eyes locked with his as he licked along the slit of your pussy from entrance to clit.

The moan that left your lips was louder than you intended, eyes shutting tight instantly as pleasure shot up from the base of your spine and grasped at the back of your neck. Kento ate you out like a man starved, long and thick tongue swirling around your clit in a gentle touch before plunging between your folds to dip inside of you. You let the whine in the back of your throat free, combing a hand through thick blonde strands and tightening hard in a silent demand for more.

One finger slid into you, wet from your slick and pumping languidly with the ebb and flow of your moans; then two, then three. You loved the stretch, hated waiting so long for that final finger so they could curl against the spot inside of you that had both hands now knuckle tight in his hair. His thick tongue flicked against your clit, pulling it into his mouth before sucking hard, fingers scissoring and curling inside of you with a practiced touch that made you arch against the glass and drag your head along the surface.

He brushed against that spot in you once, and then again, and again with eyes never leaving the reactions of your body; your stomach clenching as you felt your walls squeeze his fingers, your arms beginning to shake as the familiar heat of an orgasm rose from the base of your spine. You shook out another moan, willpower to control your volume slipping entirely. You whined, higher and higher, the pleasure crawling up your skin, leaving hot searing promises of euphoria in its wake.

And with a sharp curl of his fingers and another firm suck of his mouth on your clit, your orgasm pulled from behind your belly button; your muscles pulling tight and voice shaking from your throat as you moaned his name harsh and loud into the air.

With languid licks and fingers slowing in their intensity, he worked you down from your high with the gentle caress you knew and loved. When you mustered up enough breath to swallow without struggle and finally look down at him, it was no surprise of the hunger that shot back your way. You moaned from the feel of his fingers sliding out of you and flinched when he pressed another soft kiss to your puffy pussy before he stood to tower over you again.

Your eyes stayed locked on his as you grabbed his hand, bringing slick covered fingers to your own mouth and remaining deadlocked with your gaze as you swirled your tongue around the digits and sucked his fingers clean. His exhale from the action was burning against you, long and deep with a hiss in the back of his throat as he watched the pink of your tongue dip between his fingers.

You smiled softly—teasingly as always—against his hand.

“Take me to bed.”

And that’s how you found yourself only seconds later, standing in front of his large and wide bed and shuddering from his touch as he pulled the zipper of your dress down and moved you to sit on the bed. You made to reach for your heels, completely forgotten since walking into his apartment when—

“Keep them on,” he rumbled at you, eyes caressing every inch of exposed skin as you shrugged off your bra and slid back until your head was resting on plush pillows. With hands unbuttoning his shirt, he whispered softly across the room. “You know what to do. Spread those legs for me, baby.”

Digging your teeth into you bottom lip, you followed his command, spreading your legs and digging your heels into his sheets, opening yourself up for him and pushing your panties to the side before he could ask. That familiar flare of impatience you often felt during sex licked up your chest, taking over your body so that you could reach down and begin to rub circles on your clit.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” you whined, holding in a chuckle as he fumbled with the belt and zipper of his hands and yanked them down with his boxers. In all his nakedness with corded muscle and a thin downy trail that led to a familiar thick cock hanging between his legs, you felt your pussy flutter from the sight of him, still circling your clit languidly as he crawled on the bed towards you.

“Fuck me, Ken.”

He hissed out a sharp curse, trailing wet lips up the skin of your thighs, up the twitching muscles of your stomach, a hot swipe of his tongue along the underside of your breasts before circling a nipple into his waiting mouth. The muscle, thick and wet pressed and flicked against you, a hand coming to knead and pinch your other breast to make sure nothing is without his touch. You arched against him, sighed softly into his caress, bucked your hips with every flick of his tongue against your nipple. When he alternated with an even more gentle touch, you whined for him, beckoning him to give you the throbbing cock that hung between his legs, desperate in your pleasure.

He responded to your call like always, angling muscular hips toward you. The first touch of him against you was always jarring, and you jumped for a second before he smoothed away your nerves with a velvety kiss and a hand on your hip before pushing into you slowly. The hand not on your hip reached up to cradle the side of your neck, a thumb stroking your cheek again to keep himself in check and blink through the nasty thoughts in his head as you clenched and squeezed around him. No matter how many times you had both done this, the feel of you around him had his mind scrambling for purchase in sanity.

You dug manicured fingernails into his back, whimpering in impatience and titling your hips so that he could slide further into you. The rock of his hips was sinful, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as he began to pick up his pace minutes later. He was so hot against you, so overwhelming and all-encompassing and here, here right now inside of you, giving you everything without having to say a word.

He knew every inch of you, every crevice, every scar, every mole and dusting of hair. But every single time you were beneath him, the beauty of you had his chest drawing tight, painful and squeezing, mind overwhelmed with the thought that this was real. From the sound of you panting and moaning into the air between you both, the feel of your fingernails digging into his back, the sight of the frizz of your hair that was still in a bun and the sheen of sweat that was beginning to form along the skin of your neck and between your breasts that bounced with each pump of him inside of you…you were—

“Beautiful,” he whispered, tilting your hips and angling his thrusts in a way that had you moaning sharply and arching into him. Your back curved up into him, panting harshly in disbelief and shuddering as he found the one spot you needed to take you to a blissful finish.

“Ken—,” you hiccupped, trying to seek purchase on his sweaty back, fingers slipping as he pulled away to sit up on his knees. Large hands on your hips pulled you softly towards him before hooking behind your knees and pushing them towards your chest. You were open, sweaty and gushing your slick around his cock, cheeks hot with embarrassment at being so exposed but mind hazy and numb with pleasure. The stroke of him in you felt more full, more splitting and he was able to curve and dip against that spongy spot with ease.

Your hands reached over your head, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his pillows to tether yourself as much as you could.

You hated how quickly you could fall apart, how quickly you could glare and challenge him but be a moaning mess only seconds later. You hated that he knew just what to do.

Fuck, you’re a terrible liar.

“You always take me so well, baby. I love looking at you like this. So fucking beautiful. The prettiest little thing I’ll ever have. That I’ll ever want.”

Burning at the base of your spine was quick to bubble to the surface, breaking past the veil from your previous orgasm and sliding over the edges of your muscles to pull them tight. Your cunt fluttered around him, spasmed with each smack of his hips against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in his large bedroom and each brush of his lower abdominals against your clit had you moaning tightly and arching your back to press your head into the pillows.

The sounds of his low groans between you, the sight of your knees pushed into your chest, folding you into a mating press as he fucked you hard and deep, your heels rocking limply with each thrust, it was hitting a spot in your mind and within your cunt that had you choking on a moan as vestiges of an orgasm fluttered to life in your lower belly.

“Fuck Kento—” you choked, words falling short from the tension in your stomach and lower back. He never needed you to say it out loud. He knew you, inside and out, with every thrust and bead of sweat and pitch in your sounds. A hand slid down the spread of a sweaty leg, trailing burning and heavy on your skin before a thumb began to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loud in response, unashamed of the volume. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, love,” he panted against you, slanting his lips against your panting ones, swallowing your moans before he pulled away and licked your bottom lip. “Cum for me. Let go and make a mess all over me.”

He applied a little more pressure to your clit, kept up the same tempo and between that and the feel of his cock hitting you in just the way you liked, you were curling your toes in your heels, arching your back and shouting into the air. Your orgasm snapped like a rubber band, sharp and slapping on the ends before falling into the hot lava in your belly. The tempo of his thrusts slowed, lips parted as he whispered soft praises of—That’s it. Such a good girl. Take everything you need— into the space between your lips.

You were floating, smiling loosely up at him and curving your neck to give him access to press hushed affection into your skin. Even though you were blissed out beyond belief, you could see the lust still in his eyes, blown out pupils straining from holding back his own orgasm.

Wordlessly, you pushed him away, sighing pleasantly as he slid out of you. Your limbs were heavy and begging you to slip beneath the covers and sleep; but instead you rolled onto your hands and knees, arching until your chest pressed into the sheets and smiling confidently from the sound of him behind you.

“Shit,” he hissed, praying to whomever would listen for the woman in his bed, sinful black heels, a delicious arch in her back, creamy brown legs spread, panties soaked and pushed to the side, and a wet pussy winking at him. Kento watched in disbelief as you reached between your legs to spread yourself, pulling puffy folds of your pussy apart and chuckling softly from the vacant look in his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are,” you muttered, eyes hooded as you watched him grab the base of his cock to stave off coming before making his way to you; pressing a hand against the cleft of your ass while the other gathered your slick on his cock and he slid home.

Within minutes, the faint traces of overstimulation from your last orgasm had bled into reawakening embers of the one you were about to experience. Kento slid a hand along your skin, snapping the edge of your panties against your hip before carding through the thin layer of sweat in the dip of your spine. His thrusts were unchanging, never ceasing even as he dug fingers into your neat bun and pulled your curls loose. They cascaded over your shoulders and his fingers carded through the tresses and around your neck, sliding against your cheek and jaw and pulling you up onto your hands so he could turn your head to the side and look at him.

Blonde hair was messy and matted to his forehead, free from its gel and sophisticated part and falling over to graze the tops of his serious eyes.

He was so beautiful. Even panting and red faced and a crazed look in his eyes, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“The sight of that man did make me angry,” he panted calmly against your lips. “He leered and ogled at you like he wanted to do the nastiest things. And while I was protective of you, I was never jealous. I have no reason to be. Do you know why?”

You shook your head, breaths shaking out from your lungs from the force of his thrusts. Cooling lava began to heat again from the look that he gave you.

“I have no reason to be because even if you ever gave him the chance, he would have no idea what to do.” Your pussy clenched hard around him from the implication of his words and he smiled around a groan before he slid a hot tongue along the skin of your shoulder before biting into the crease of your neck. You yelped. “He doesn’t know that you like to be talked through it, probably wouldn’t even know what to say. He doesn’t know that you need three fingers to stretch you open or that you like a tongue sliding on your skin and your ass slapped when you’re getting it just the way you want.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your hooded eyes were wide with disbelief as you panted and whimpered against his lips. Umber irises were thin rings as he spoke, his words filled with growing filth, but his expression just as calm and loving and serene.

“Shigemo can’t handle your nails down his back or the way you squeeze just right when I’m whispering in your ear. He couldn’t handle giving you the three, four, five orgasms you deserve before he’s had his fill.” He kissed you gently, a blatant contrast to the way his hips were smacking against the back of yours. “He doesn’t know any of it. He couldn’t handle any of it. But I do…and I can. Isn’t that right, baby?” You nodded furiously, blushing in every way imaginable, bashful from his words even though he was fucking you like you were being paid for it.

Unsatisfied with your lack of verbal response, he smacked your ass, the sound loud and feel stinging and surging with heat and pleasure that had you whimpering sharply against him.

“Yes! Y-yes, Ken—fuck!”

He hummed against you, kissing the skin of your shoulder in satisfaction. “Talk to me. Tell me what I can do better, baby.”

You shook your head quickly, curly tresses brushing against your cheeks and jolting from the thrusts of the man between your legs. The lava was hot again, oozing in the pit of your belly, bubbling and boiling over and fraying your nervous system to the point that your muscles were beginning to stiffen in response.

“Nothing better. It feels so good…you feel so good. Please, Kento.”

“Who’s fucking you right now?”

“You are..!” you whimpered, your thighs beginning to shake and your pussy tightening around him from his words and thrusts.

The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the panting from your mouths, the whimpers and moans from your throat against his groans, and the sound of the headboard slapping against his wall. Vaguely, you thought of neighbors, but then you realized he had none and you could moan wantonly for as long as you wanted in his penthouse suite in the clouds of Nakameguro.

“Who always makes you feel this good?”

“You do—fuck, Ken!”

“Why?”

“Because you want me,” you whined, eyes filling with emotional tears and pleasure and need.

A hard thrust.

“Why, y/n.”

“Because you love me.” Another hard thrust and a squeak from your lips. “And I love you.”

“That’s my girl,” he exhaled into you, satisfaction and affection bleeding from his skin and onto your back. He guided you to arch your back again, letting you relax your cheek into the pillows before he picked up the pace inside of you with a hard grip on your hips and faint praises and kisses on your skin.

You were on fire, burning from the inside out as you crept closer and closer to coming harder than you ever had before. He had never spoken to you like this, had never teetered the line between aggression and lavish affection.

It was a foreign feeling, but you loved it.

You loved the way his teeth bit into your skin, loved the way he showered you with worship in the most outlandish way, loved the way muscular hips smacked against yours and the sound of faint moans leaving his own breath as he got closer to his end. A hand in your curls and a gentle tug made him pull your head back by your hair, arching into the sheets and bringing your growing moans into the air of his room.

You prayed to the gods that this orgasm would break the record for the most powerful that you would ever feel. There was no way you wouldn’t get there. Not when he was grabbing you just right, saying the right words, fucking you so well that you were convinced the cloudiness in your vision wasn’t tears anymore.

A harsh grunt from his lips and his fingers against your clit had your body clenching further and your fingers digging into the sheets below you.

“Cum for me, baby. Give me one more. One more for me, please and I’ll give you everything.”

You didn’t need much more encouragement. From the wet movements on your clit and the thick cock making a home inside of you, that cord of pleasure broke with little force and the waves that rushed through had you choking on a wail and shuddering to a degree that had yourself concerned. Your blood was pumping in your ears, sloshing and fast and muffling the sound of him groaning against the skin of your neck as he pumped with renewed fervor inside of you.

He was close, so close and sweaty and sloppy in his movements, balls drawing tight against him and a tingling along his skin. The feel of you tight and hot and even more wet around him made his blood boil and his lower back ache.

“Give it to me, Ken,” you turned your head and whispered against his lips, sweaty and satisfied. “Tear this pussy up and fill me to the brim.”

The nastiness of your words caught him by surprise and only catapulted him to his end, his orgasm ripping from the base of his spine as he twitched and tensed and spilled inside of you with a harsh moan and deep bite to the side of your neck. The sound of him moaning harshly faded into sighs against you, his teeth in your neck pulling away with a feel of his tongue sliding over the marks. He was shaking against your back as you relaxed into the sheets, basking in the warmth from him and the growing ache in your body.

When he could feel the air in his lungs again, and when the suddenly cold air against his sweaty skin made him shiver for a different reason, he slid out of you slowly, locking away the sound of your pleasant sigh as he did so. He sagged into the sheets, planting face first before turning his head to look at you. Your own cheek was pressed into his pillows, faint hints of eucalyptus and woodsy cologne tickling your nose as you blinked blearily at him and smiled gently.

You wanted to throw a little comment his way, a joke to make the moment weird like you usually did after sex. But just like Ome had annoyingly teased earlier today, Kento had dicked you down whole heartedly and thoroughly that you rolled your eyes from the smug look on his face.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” he mumbled against you, chest rumbling along the skin of your back. You reach down into the hot water to grab the large hand once on your thigh. Pulling it out of the water with yours, watching as droplets fell off his smooth skin and back into the tub with you both, you carded your fingers through his.

“You fucked me pretty good.”

He snorted against the skin of your shoulder, watching as you wiggled your fingers between the crevices of his own.

“Don’t be crude.”

“Compared to what you were whispering in my ear as you fucked me within an inch of my life? Don’t even.” Kento chuckled, harsh and loud, rare and treasured that made you smile from the sound. “To be honest…I’m just happy. These past few weeks. Today. I’ve never felt this much pride besides when Ulani was born.”

He was quiet, not offering a response as you turned your clasped hands back and forth, watching the cords of muscle in his forearms bunch and ripple. The mouth on your shoulder puckered into a kiss.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Every last piece of happiness is what you deserve. You’ve worked hard your entire life, and now others can finally see what your family and friends see. What I see.” Your relaxed into his chest, angling your head up to look at him. Soft brown eyes looked back down at you, endless waves of love billowing from his skin to wash over you. “Do you finally see it? When I say that you have a gift?”

That wash of emotion you felt standing in front of Choso suddenly made itself known again. But it had coiled more, grew with more memories and smiles and words from everyone around you.

“All thanks to you,” you whispered up at him and was shocked from the scoff that he gave you in reply.

“The only thing I did was give you the words you needed to hear. I made that page for you, but you could have easily deactivated it. I organized a tour at Choso’s gallery, but I did nothing to inspire him to ask you for a commission or include you in his collection….I did the same for you as you did me. Turned you in the right direction and let yourself do the rest. This has all been you.”

Your eyes fluttered from the surge of tears that began to cloud your vision, pressing into him more to siphon every ounce of affection he had to spare.

“Even still,” you whispered, voice tight and strained. “I love you.”

He pressed his lips to yours in response, pulled away to kiss your cheek, the side of your neck where he had bit into you, the wet skin of your shoulder. Damp blonde strands brushed against you as he laid his cheek on your shoulder, turning his head into you to brush his nose along the column of your neck. A deep inhale from his chest, satisfied and blissfully happy, before exhaling against you and squeezing the hand that was still intwined with yours.

“I love you too.”

91 notes · View notes

yaekiss · 7 months

Note

Congratulations on the 400! If I'm not too late, may I send a #mailroom open letter to a yan!Albedo? Any gender neutral or feminine nickname would work and, if it so pleases you, a nsfw reply would be lovely.

__________________________

To my lovely Albedo,

How are you, love? Are you taking care of yourself while I'm away? As I sit here, working away in Inazuma City while I enjoy a sweet dessert, I cannot help but think of you... and your tendency to get swallowed up by your research when I'm not there to reel you back.

I was hoping that my business here would be done far faster than this. I suppose it isn't all bad, though. I can't say that I've ever been a social person, but people have been nothing but kind to me thus far. I may have even made a friend. But still, my heart belongs to you- and as such, no matter how I may enjoy my time, I can only eagerly await the moment I am able to return home.

I miss you dearly, my prince. I'll make sure to work even harder so that our time apart may be shortened by even a little bit. I can't to have you in my arms again, to feel the warmth of your embrace and know that everything is right with the world.

We both know that I could go on with the sweet words for pages and pages, so it's probably best that I stop here. Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? I love you so, so much.

May my affections cross what feels like an eternity apart,

Your Wistful Lover

(Alongside the letter are various, shockingly well-preserved Inazuman sweets including Sakura Mochi and Dango milk, as well as a small pouch containing a handful of carefully-chosen Sakura Blooms. Lastly is an intricately designed silken blindfold, with its own little note attached that reads, "I had this custom made for you. I wanted to make one myself, but I couldn't find the time. Hopefully you like it anyway!")

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Albedo, no gendered terms for reader, Albedo calls you "my constant", mentions of blindfolds and a vibrator used on Albedo, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Albedo, lmk if I missed anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Albedo sure is a busy man to track down... I had to look for him all over Mondstadt since he was gathering quite a collection of alchemy ingredients. It was quite the staggering assortment too... I never understand what he's planning. ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

Placed at your hotel doorstep is an innocuous package. It's decently sized, the box a lovely shade of pale indigo and shifting it slightly under the light shows an underlying iridescence hidden in the pigment.

Undoing the sturdy rope securing the lid down, you gain access to the contents within the box. You first retrieve a wondrous blooming bouquet of cecilias, wrapped in a sheer gauzy yellow fabric and tied with a teal satin ribbon. The petals are soft under your caress and for a moment, you reminisce about the first cecilia Albedo gifted to you after showcasing his alchemy.

Next, you fish out a cloth drawstring pouch. Peering into it, there's an assortment of all your favourite Mondstadt candies, enough to last you weeks. A little tag is attached to one of the strings, it reads: “In case you miss your usual sweet treats and need a boost of energy. ♡”

Unwrapping one, you pop it into your mouth before you pull out an envelope. The paper is smooth under your fingers and an impressive sketch of Dragonspine decorates the front. Flipping the envelope over, there's a wax seal, a cursive letter “A”, with flecks of gold dotted in it.

Carefully, you open it and obtain the parchment inside. His handwriting is a sight you've missed, from days spent watching him jot down his hypothesis and findings in his laboratory. Albedo's response to you reads:

“Replying to: My beloved constant.

Thank you for writing to me, my constant, I was growing somewhat nervous with your prolonged silence and I feared something unsavoury might have happened to you. As such, I am writing back to you to assure you that I've been doing alright as well. Though, I'm sure I would do a lot better with you by my side.

Next, I must thank you for the gifts you sent me. I shared the sweets with Klee and she has been pleading nonstop with me for more. Also, the sakura blooms were of high quality and proved immensely useful in my research. If you're willing, I can share my findings with you when you return, my constant.

Now, I can't help but ask what went through your mind, gifting me such a sly gift as a blindfold. What scene did you picture in your head? Was I blindfolded and tied up on your bed while begging for you to please touch me? Or perhaps I'm laid on my laboratory table, my sight obscured with the silk, pliant and willing as you drag a vibrator across my skin in an attempt to find my erogenous zones? Did you fantasise about muffling my moans with a kiss as you toyed with me? You should reenact it with me as soon as you get back, my constant, I feel as if I'm about to burst with how much I long for your embrace.

Ahem, getting back on track, I too have been working hard. (Fret not, I have not been overworking myself. I do not wish to worry you after all.) And I've made discoveries of my own and uncovered intriguing new possibilities whilst ruminating alone in my laboratory. I heard of the Inazuman archon's dedication to eternity.

Eternity... goes against natural orders, but lately, I have been finding myself relating to her obsession with such a concept. You might think it strange, my constant. However, I can understand how fearing the loss of someone close to you can affect your decisions, despite the morality of said actions.

You are golden in my eyes, unforgettable, and the time I spend with you feels like I'm the closest to unravelling the truth and meaning of this world. Is it my greed talking when I say that I want more time to uncover all of you, to understand the very fibre of your being, to see what has irreversibly drawn me to you and what makes you stay by my side? Maybe it is, but that is a question best saved for another day, my constant.

I shall end my letter here. I sincerely hope that the rest of your stay in Inazuma goes smoothly and safely, and that your return will be swift. I cannot wait to have you by my side once more, my constant. I love you so, so much as well.

Ever and eternally yours,

- Albedo -”

You fold the parchment and place it back into the envelope. One last item rests in the box. It's a handpainted painting of you, framed in an intricate wooden frame. Albedo captures your smile in the sunlight, the background featuring one of the picnics the both of you went on recently before you left for Inazuma.

However, you notice that one of the corners is a little wrinkled. Removing the backing of the frame to fix it, you discover another layer of canvas material behind that first painting. Gingerly, you peel it back to reveal a haunting portrait of the both of you.

In dim lighting, you're seated on his laboratory table whilst he's knelt at your feet, his head resting on your lap. You almost don't recognise yourself. You're familiar with his art style but in this, you're ethereal to an eldritch degree... almost devoid of humanity. It's unnerving, to say the least.

Perhaps Albedo's research has veered into more forbidden territories, challenging the principals of nature, all in the name of love. You muster one more look at the portrait.

A matching star rests delicately on your neck. In the bottom corner, he titles it “New birth.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

246 notes · View notes

thelightsandtheroses · 10 months

Text

Secret Smile: Checks and Balances (Chapter Three)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.4k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used. Author Notes - Thank you for all your comments, reblogs so far - they mean a lot. As always your comments and feedback are deeply appreciated, I’d love to know what you think of the chapter and fic so far. There is a Narcos Easter Egg in this chapter and if anyone catches it, please please let me know by sending me a comment or ask - I am super curious to see if anyone notices it. The gorgeous banner is by @/wildemaven

Chapter Two| Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

If ten years ago you had told your younger self that you’d be working with Javier Peña to bring down a cartel while you were living in Colombia, you would have laughed.

You would have laughed a lot at the sheer absurdity of it all.

You might, however, have thought how great that scenario could be. While Javier was always your brother’s friend and not yours, ten years ago you liked him and would have thought that he’d make a good colleague. He was smart, he was funny and he didn’t make you feel awful every time Rafa also drove you to the mall at the weekend like most of Rafa’s friends did. His other friends acted like there was decades between you rather than just a few years.

If Javier actually wanted you here with him, was open to working with you, perhaps things would be different. It might even feel more like you could have imagined it would.

He doesn’t want you here though; it’s clear he doesn’t want anyone in this role, but also that somehow it’s worse for him that it’s you.

You ended yesterday with a tentative peace but it feels so unsteady, so easily broken.

None of this is what you anticipated when you took this job. You were supposed to be escaping a difficult work environment by leaving the country in the first place. What you had told your friends was an adventure, an experience you needed to have while you still could, is actually turning out to just be a repeat of the same old challenges in a different setting.

The coffee and food’s pretty good though. You wonder if it’s worth it just for that.

Your coffee pot hisses on the gas stove as you make your way up to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. You barely slept last night so you’ve already been up for some time and are planning on getting into the office early.

Your apartment is one of the many the embassy provides for its staff. It’s plain and the furnishings are basic, but you’re comfortable here. You’re based on the ground floor, so you don’t have to worry about the stairs. The main living area walls are a little faded now and the paint colour falls somewhere between orange and peach. The apartment is surprisingly spacious though, however after living in such a small apartment in DC it could just be your perception.

You’ve tried to make it your own by swapping the two dog related sketches hanging in the hall that you couldn’t any make sense of with photos of your loved ones instead. You have a lot of questions for the person who lived here before. Were they dog people? Was it an inside joke perhaps?

If you could stop tripping on the split level, this place would probably be perfect.

The few personal touches you’ve either bought from DC or in your first week in Colombia have helped make it feel homely though. The patterned comforter on the faded leather couch, a few photos of friends and family scattered around, several orchids you fell in love with and foolishly thought would be easy to keep alive.

You take a large gulp of your coffee and take a bite of your eggs, turning the radio on while you finish eating.

You freeze as you hear the newsreader’s words, abandoning your breakfast instantly, before picking up your handbag and walking straight out of your apartment.

This is going to be a mess.

You’re already in Javier’s office when he arrives, sitting cross legged on the black Chesterfield couch, scanning through a file.

You had arrived at the embassy an hour earlier than you usually would. Most people were still at home or on their way in and you were looking forward to the quiet. You’d made a beeline for your office to get ahead of what had happened but Robert, one of the other lawyers, was also already in and you didn’t want him hearing everything.

You went to Javi’s office instead. Thankfully one of the janitors let you in and you had started building a response plan immediately.

This situation with Duffy and Lopez could definitely become the sort of mess you needed to help manage.

You look around at the papers strewn on his desk and you are slightly impressed by the amount of chaos you’ve caused in less than an hour.

Javi looks decidedly irritated by the scene in front of him. You quickly untangle yourself off your seat and stand up, guiltily picking your cup of coffee off his desk.

“Is this a treat I can expect every morning?” he asks lightly.

“Well, the early bird does catch the worm, Javier.”

“Apparently so.” For a second, he sounds so familiar. This isn’t the Agent Peña you met in the ambassador’s office yesterday. This is Javi, Rafael’s best friend. This is the same Javi who waited outside your school with Rafael when you were being bullied and the three of you would walk back to your house together. There’s mischief in his voice and for a second, he sounds younger.

You can’t get lost in memories now though.

”Did you hear about Duffy and Lopez?” you ask, skipping straight to the reason you’re here in his office.

Javier nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It was on the radio as I drove in.”

“I’ve been on the phone already, that’s uh, why I used your office. Robert’s already in mine and I needed privacy. They’re furious, Javi. Please tell me that they notified the police in Cali this was happening. Please?”

“It was a fast-moving opportunity,” he says, wincing at the way your face darkens. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Historically we’ve also had issues with that sort of thing, people in other people’s pockets so - this is just how it goes. You’ll learn that along the way.”

“Shit. Okay, we can - we’ll uh, we’ll deal with it. It’s done, can’t change it now. I’ve got some ideas, it’s manageable.”

“So, what do we do here then, Blue? You gonna help me navigate this?” You raise your eyebrows at Javi’s tone. There’s annoyance in his tone but he says your nickname softly. He looks exhausted already, as though he’s been stationed here for a decade as opposed to a day. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth though. He’s been here before, he spent years here.

“Why else would I be here?” you ask flatly. “I didn’t even get to finish my breakfast this morning. There’s a meeting - actually, you have a meeting in just over an hour with the Colombians and the ambassador. We need to be ready for it. You need to be ready for it, Javi.”

“So, we what? What’s the play? You said you had some ideas, I’ll all ears.”

“I think Duffy and Lopez’s visas are guaranteed to be pulled at this point. That’s probably non-negotiable. I think you’ll have to eat some humble pie, same with the ambassador but that should be enough. It’s the principle, they want to make it clear to both you and the ambassador that they’re running things, not us, okay?”

Javi exhales heavily. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke. Much. More socially than anything. Rarely.”

Javi raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean that I don’t have any on me.” You look at Javi’s dejected face. “I’m sorry!”

“This is going to be a great day, isn’t it?”

You smile widely. “That’s more like it, Javi. Keep up that winning attitude!”

Javi walks into your office later that afternoon. After helping him prepare for the meeting with the Ambassador and Vargas, you’ve been pulled into your own meetings, handing off projects you’d started before you were allotted this special assignment.

Several of your colleagues look up at him with a range of expressions from curiosity and admiration to annoyance. Everyone else is packing up for the end of their day but you’re still at your desk. At first you weren’t sure what you were waiting for but now you know.

He looks dejected. That’s the first thing you see. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked out of him; he’s flat. Even his eyes look lifeless somehow.; they’re dull, colder even.

You’ve never seen him like this before; you remember him so differently. He was driven and ambitious, yes, but there wasn’t this visible weight pulling him down. His smile met his eyes back then.

At least, that’s how you remember him.

Javi loosens his tie a little as he leans against your desk; you look at his tie, it’s blue and gold today.

“Rough meeting?” you ask politely, picking your coffee cup up and taking a delicate sip.

“They’re not letting me replace my team in Cali,” he says in a low voice, “Did you know about this? Was this one of your ideas>”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s bad enough Duffy and Lopez are out. I get why, I’m okay with it. They’re telling me I can’t send any other agents out there though? How do I do my job because I’ve been back less than a week and my agents are questioning me already. Are you gonna help me navigate me that? That’s what I need from you.”

“I’m sure there are reasons,” you say gently. If Javi says the word ‘navigate’ one more time, you think you might kick him, or slap him, or spill your coffee on him. No, no, you wouldn’t waste your coffee, even if it is bad quality.

“Yeah, the reason is that they don’t want any of this. You do realise what you’re here for, don’t you? This assignment, what they want from you … it’s to block me.“

You scowl. “I’m not blocking anyone, Javier. I’m just here to help and to ensure everything is by the books, watertight so that we have a strong case when we extradite them.”

“You actually believe that?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You falter slightly. You did believe that - you want to continue to believe that, but if you’re honest you’re not so sure anymore.

“I do,” you say, smiling tightly.

“By the book. You think they’re playing by the book? Do you know how all the checks and balances work down here? The Cali cartel are negotiating a surrender with no consequences. It’s a negotiation where they have all the bargaining power, that seem right to you?”

“You can’t pretend that rules don’t matter, that checks and balances are irrelevant. It’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say that,” Javi says, shaking his head.

Rules matter to you. It might sound uptight and inflexible, but there’s a system for a reason. Your whole career has been about upholding standards, about ensuring that justice is obtained when rules are broken. You’re not quite as evangelical about it as some of the people you went to law school with, but this matters to you.

It matters because you know what it’s like when those checks and balances don’t matter; when rules are taken as loose guidance or stretched and exploited until they break. You carry those invisible scars from DC, coupled with the complete sense of failure that the rules hadn’t mattered. Not in that scenario, not when it what came to it.

Maybe Javi’s right.

“It’ll be by the book,” Javi says gently, looking at you with all of his attention. “But I can’t guarantee they’re out there doing the same thing.”

He’s standing so close to you right now. You can smell the sharp mint on his breath, either gum or those tiny solid mints you get a tin. You’re not sure which it is; which one of the two is most like Javi anymore. The mint is clearly to mask something, not alcohol, but you can just about make out lingering traces of cigarette smoke following him too.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a growing sense of dread constricting around your stomach like vines.

“What do you know about what’s happened in Yumbo?” he asks in a low voice.

There’s a small TV in the office. The local news plays in the background; the calm intonations of the newsreader fading into white noise.

You look over to see footage of Cali and walk closer so you can hear the report. This is the tragedy Javi told you about.

The cause was a gas leak?

No, because Javi told you that the journalist who approached him had indicated it was the Cali cartel. Why would the inspector say this though?

You left DC for a reason. For many reasons actually. If there is one thing that would affect you it’s a cover up, it’s deliberately concealing the truth. You can’t take watching a miscarriage of justice before you; that’s not why you got into law.

Javi’s right. The Rodriguez brothers, all of them, they need to be held to account, to justice.

You don’t want to be the blocker; you don’t want to be the person bought in to stop justice being served. You thought this role would be about ensuring a watertight case, one that would get justice.

No. No, this is not what you signed up for. This is not what you were promised.

Javi’s right about something else too - you’re naive. It surprises you. You thought the years of legal work, of life experience would have altered that, but clearly it hasn’t.

It’s time to change things.

You neatly stack the paperwork and lock it in your desk, before sweeping your Filofax and assorted pens into your handbag.

You need a plan.

You need to find a way to fix this.

You remind him of home.

Laredo hasn’t felt like home in years, but it transpires you can’t escape your hometown. Javi laughs bitterly; turns out that he can’t even escape his hometown more than two thousand miles away.

It’s not that home is Laredo. You don’t just remind him of there; you remind him of who he was before. Before the DEA, before Escobar, hell before Lorraine even.

It’s unspeakably cruel that you’re the one who has been bought in to ruin his chances of getting this one right.

Talking to Stechner in the bar made it clear; he’s here as decoration. Agent Peña; the man who helped bring down Escobar and will therefore add weight to the legitimacy of these negotiations. There’ll be no police work, no actual justice.

If there were any justice in the world, Javier, you’d be in jail.

Stechner’s words haunt him, continually replay in his mind. That whole exchange rendered Javi too much like his old self. Less than forty-eight hours in Colombia and he’d started smoking again, slept with an intern, all his plans lay in ash.

It became worse when he spoke to Martinez after the meeting about Duffy and Lopez. Martinez made it clear that he’d helped create this problem.

Javi lights a cigarette, moves from the couch to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

This is such a fucking mess already.

He’s taken aback by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Automatically he grabs his sidearm from the coffee table, holding it low as he moves to the front door.

“Javi?” a familiar voice asks.

Javi opens the door, placing his gun down on the hallway table.

“Really?” you ask, watching the scene from the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asks, returning to the doorway and tapping his fingers on top of the door jamb as he leans against the doorframe.

“I may have access to paperwork,” you say, a slightly shifty expression on your face. “They have a few of the attachés housed in this building, I think.”

“That is kind of creepy, Blue. Just turning up like this and looking at paperwork and -”

“Shut up. Please shut up.”

“If I just turned up -”

“I’m leaving,” you say, lips pursed together with annoyance or frustration.

Javi smiles in spite of himself, reaches out to touch your arm. He can smell your perfume; crisp and bright. Citrus and sharp notes rather than the softer vanilla and gourmand perfumes he’s used to. It suits you.

“It’s fine.”

He holds the door open for you, lets you walk right into his apartment. He notices how you scan the space around you, brush imaginary dust off your clothes.

You’ve changed since the office; you’re dressed more casually. A loose t-shirt with a band logo, jeans and sandals. You look younger, more how he remembers you. He’d always been Rafa’s friend, not yours, but sometimes you’d talk to him when he was waiting for Rafa or if you bumped into him in town.

You used to be like that; friendly. Your childhood nickname of Blue was a reference to the flowers you loved as a child, and it wasn’t just bluebonnets, it was any flowers at one point. It was a misnomer though, a joke on a joke, because you’d never seemed morose when you were young. You were always cheerful, optimistic, almost unfailingly positive. Even now, Javi sees that brightness in you, a little duller, a little dampened by time. It’s still there though, shining through layers of bureaucracy.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. He wonders if you’ve heard about him sending that agent and his partner to Cali, if you’ve come all this way to admonish him.

He braces himself for the criticism, for the scolding at breaching processes, at not telling you. He had to do something though.

“You were right.”

Javi doesn’t skip a beat, manages to hide his surprise. “Obviously. So, you came all this way to tell me that?”

“I -”

“What was I right about again, cariño?” he asks, aiming for lazy disinterest but genuinely curious.

“They want me to block you. They’re working on the surrender and the gas thing - they just covered it up, Javi. People died. Children died, and hundreds got sick and it’s just swept under the carpet? The Cali cartel face no consequences for this? I - they just surrender and no one knows?”

Javi doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure what your play is, if you’re testing him or if what you are saying is genuine.

You look wrecked though; he can see the frustration and despair in your eyes, a familiar expression he’s faced in the mirror more than once since he joined the DEA.

It’s real. It’s real, or you’re the best damn actress he’s ever met.

“You must hate me.”

“Nah, not really. It’s - maybe I need someone to help keep me in the lines.” If he had had you a few years ago, maybe Cali wouldn’t be in the same place right now. Martinez’ words earlier, the way he looked at Javi, repeat again and again in his mind.

When you sell your soul to the devil, you’re not allowed to ask for it back.

Javi needs to stop the Cali cartel, to arrest the godfathers, to prove it can be done and that justice, justice will matter. He thinks it might be the only way he’ll know peace right now. He’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard to make it right this time.

If they let him. Hell, if you let him. They even chose a ghost from home to be the person who’s there to block him, stop him. Javi swears it’s deliberate.

“What did you say earlier? Checks and balances matter. That’s right too.”

“Oh, because I’ve been thinking and it’s all fucked up. I think we need to still - people need to see them in handcuffs, through the system, that’s what’s needed.”

“Okay,” Javi says, unsure of where you’re taking this, certain he’s misunderstanding the message between your words.

“And it does matter, doing this right does matter. You and me, we make this watertight, by the book, but we have to get them, Javi. We have to get them.”

Tag List

Secret Smile tag-list: @pedgeitopascal @sullyosully @catsickyellow @spishsstuff @casa-boiardi @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @pastelnap @babeincolor @iamskyereads

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

#javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier Peña #javier pena #javi peña x reader #javi peña #javi peña x you #javi pena x reader #narcos fanfiction #*secret smile

132 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 8 months

Text

This Week in BL - all these kisses Korea, are you feeling okay?

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized sorta by favs in each category.

Sept 2023 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Fri grey) ep 5 of 12 - I did think the sketch was done AFTER they’d become lovers. Meanwhile, I do enjoy the creepy slipping through time moments, adds nicely to the tension. I’m sublimely uninterested in all the hets but that's normal for me. Bit of a slow episode, but I'm looking forward to next week.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - Cohabitation trope activated. Also "lovable grandma" is a new BL archetype I can get behind. Honestly PerthChimon's dynamic is good, it’s fun to watch a Thai BL where the leads are actually both stellar actors. There’s no stilted awkwardness to their dialogue back & forth or other interactions. I also like having MarcPuwin back on my screen. NO DAMN SINGING. Finally a fun twist on the faen fatale.

Hidden Agenda (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - I like that we’re seeing actual realistic consequences of coming out. Not the big parental freak out, but the small nasties of opening up as an everyday queer. This is rare in BL.

Naughty Babe (Sat YT) ep 3 of 8 - Lap sitting, lots of kissing, one arm counter lift - thank you, boys. Stupid tiny dog (not a euphemism). Is it just me or does Max look extra pretty these days? Anygay, it’s all quite silly and I'm mildly enjoying it.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 11 of 12 - I remain enamored of Big Daddy & the Hot Doc but nothing else.

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) 3 of 10 eps - Their history and the consequences of the confession to their friendship all seems a little sad & cruel. But also it’s just this pulp, ya know?

(10 points to the True Geek who gets that reference.)

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 6 of 10 - I want Mew’s moms’ story as a GL. (Not from this team, of course.) Ah even Sand can be a lying creep, best not to like anyone in this show... frankly, best just not to like this show. And ya know what, I'm pretty sure I really don't.

Could I make something clear? You can’t "steal a lover from someone." That's puerile thinking. That lover wants to go. It’s the lover’s fault (if anyone) not the one who stole that lover, no matter how much an asshole Top is. Sand’s ex is at fault, not Top. And screw Sand for thinking that way. Like his ex wasn't a whole person in their own right capable of making decisions?

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 3-4 Marry Go Round of 24 eps - The premise of this is dumb. The pair is fun. They still kiss great. The actors are good. Crap story. What can you do? Don’t watch it. 5/10

I need to rewatch Destiny Seeker now.

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - Omg. Too stupid to live. Why am I still watching this? How many more? Ugh.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 7-8fin - SaifahZon (no matter what country) are probably the softest enemies to lovers ever put on screen. Yes they are very cute and I like them better than the original. However, no one can out do ZeeSaint for the count down kiss on the rooftop. All in all, I enjoyed the final 2 eps, very cute. I liked this BL a lot but I’d love to know what somebody thought who hadn’t seen the original.

Ultimately, what can I say about Why R U? Korea?

Korea decided to remake, of all possible Thai BLs, Why RU? And that is exactly what we got: a short form, clean & pretty, uneven chemistry, slightly confusing, all the same tropes KBL that kind of cliff-noted the original but with none of the heat or complex relationship dynamics. I just … what world is this? Because it is BOTH bizarro land, and EXACTLY what I expected. How do I rate something like that? In the end I have to go back to simple questions: did I like it, would I rewatch it, and would I recommend it? Yes. Probably. And probably not. What the actual hell reality? 8/10

You Are Mine (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 1-2 of 10 - Office romance, broken-grumpy + innocent-sunshine. (Also cutie devil meets angel bestie hotties.) Gotta say, Taiwan is awfully good at moments of recognition. I sense some whipping boy and obsession incoming, looks good on you, Taiwan. Do I like it? Of course I like it!

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 5 of 13(?) - Taiwan never met a trope it didn’t wanna play with. Teacher student + secret relationship, there’s only one bed but they slept together on the floor anyway... it’s a trope gum ball machine. I'm not mad, a bit confused, but who cares.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 5 of 8 - Uh-oh baby is sad. Yo is such a drama queen - I respect that in a boy. Also, I love it that W took it as and excuse to play Real Boyfriends. Also leaning v obsessive stalker there Japan. As expected you had to go there. Carry on, you do (and track on your creep app) you.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - Ugh. I kind of enjoyed seeing Minato in pain and having to work for the relationship for a change. But that’s just because I’m so frustrated with his character this season and I want him to SUFFER. Sides are cute tho. I like them better this season.

It's Airing But...

Crazy Handsome Rich (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - I just can’t. The sound. DNF

Bump Up Business AKA Bump Up Project (Korea movie) original cinema release was 9/15 but MDL indicates it's been moved to October so I'll shift my dates. Last status update. Love story between a trainee who is about to debut and a celebrity from the same agency (based on a webtoon). Kpop boy group OnlyOneOf signed on to star. They’ve been auditioning for this since Libido IMHO. You can watch me chronicle their BL MV series in this post. It’s from Idol Romance who will do sad but can do good kisses (Wish You, Nobleman Ryu, Once Again, Kissable Lips, Poongduck 304, Tasty Florida, Tinted With You).

In case you missed it?

What Did You Eat Yesterday? is now available on Gaga. If you enjoyed Our Dining Table, you will enjoy this.

I did a quick analysis of 2 different acting styles based on these 2 boys here.

Boyband, I finally watched the 6 eps that are available. It aired earlier this year and was hard to find. For good reason it turns out. Yes it’s about a Thai boyband so I skipped all the singing bits. I like the actor playing Juju (Brothers). Also hi Art, are you actually ageless? Lots of other familiar faces popped up like Copter, Max, Fluke. It actually started as a solid little story (if not much of a romance). The stuff with the organizers was v boring and there were 2 het sides but the rest of it was palatable. Operative word being was. Something happened around ep 3, like they lost funding as well as distribution and it just... fizzled. No real ending, no character dev, no story resolution, just blank. It’s like it DNF’d itself. 3/10 I don’t know what I just watched and neither does it.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still To Come In September

9/26 I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan ????) - Adapted from the manga, childhood best friends: The cool, smart one who’s good at everything, and his average, dorky friend who struggles. Always by the other’s side, but not together in the way they truly want to be. No matter how hard they try, their hearts cannot reach each other.

9/27 Absolute Zero (Thai iQIYI) - from 2021, Studio Wabi Sabi and New Siwaj finally bring us this “time loop to prevent tragedy” romance. We don’t always get HEAs from them, so I'm on my guard.

9/27 Bon Appetit (Korea iQIYI) - from 2022, 8 eps from GoGo Studio, romance between an office worker who lives off junk food and the man next door who cooks well.

9/? Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam YouTube?) - it's Vietnam so your guess is as good as mine.

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Just look at the PRETTY! His makeup is flawless this series. I don't know who GMMTV hired new for makeup recently, but this ain't Thai style, this genius trained at the feet of Korea's finest. You keep that bitch (hon. gender nu) around, GMMTV, ya hear? (Hidden Agenda)

Gah, I love Yai so much. He tries so hard. He's such a sweet earnest character. He's like the angel-baby opposite of Chan (devil-baby) but they both my 2023 babies. (I Feel You Linger in the Air)

You know I love it when a BL gets meta about tropes. Here's Why R U?K calling out enemies to lovers.

Kabedon!

Yes we like all the snacks, thank you Korea. Your BL is basically snack food anyway. I'm not mad about it.

SWITCHES! I love it when we get this kinda thing. (All Why R U? Korea)

It me in all horror movies and whenever a boy starts to sing in a BL. (Venus in the Sky)

(Last week)

134 notes · View notes

finn-m-corvex · 4 days

Text

Lightning in a Cubicle Pt. 4

And here it is! At long last! The fourth part of Lightning in a Cubicle! We have finally crossed the halfway marker and are on our way to the finale, which is looking like two more parts away (5 and 6) and that'll be a relief for me, honestly. I know this is quite late, but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Words: 3.4k

Slight TWs for very very very small wanting to rot in hell instead of the Administration! Taglist @rainofthetwilight @lightning-chicken @i-love-jay-walker and @sir-robyn! Enjoy! Remember if you want to be on future taglists, please tell me explicitly!

Sora was seriously growing on Jay, and it was a problem.

A couple of weeks had passed since the girl first became his intern, and she was probably the best thing that he could’ve ever asked for. She was efficient, on time, productive, and always managed to make him laugh on a day day. Plus, she was always on his side whenever Shitty Sharon decided to try and start shit, as her name implied. Overall, the past two weeks were probably the best that Jay ever experienced while working with the Administration, and he couldn’t think of anything else that would make it even better.

Well, there was one thing, but he already knew that there was no way he was ever getting those memories back.

“...so I told the guy to shove off if he didn’t want pictures of his ass hanging around the office,” Sora said between bites of food that the two picked up from the cafeteria, “because you know that I would’ve put his ass on the copier.”

“Oh, I know,” Jay said, looking at the girl fondly as she stuck her feet up on his desk. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry about it, especially when his cubicle was as tiny as it was. “Then what happened?”

She continued to regale him with tales of her adventures in the mailroom three floors down, and Jay did his best to listen, but he was distracted.

Every night since Sora had shown up he would have dreams. Weird dreams of things that he couldn’t place, people that he couldn’t remember, and in the morning he would do his best to sketch whatever remnants he could pick out from the haze of his mind. The pictures were hanging up all around his apartment with push pins and thumbtacks, and Jay hoped that his inspection would be delayed. Otherwise he might get sent off to the psychiatric ward, and fined for all of the new drywall that would have to be installed.

Did the Administration even have a psychiatric ward? With how often upper management drives the lower classes crazy, they better have one. And it better not be coming out of Jay’s paycheck.

“Hey,” Sora said, snapping her fingers in front of his face, “are you even listening? Geez, don’t tell me we’ve gotta get you hearing aids now.”

“I’m listening,” Jay protested, “just thinking at the same time. You were saying something about one of the guys sticking his hand up the pneumatic tube?”

Jay’s brain kept working while Sora talked. All of his searches for someone named Lloyd turned up with nothing, unless he was somehow dreaming about the legendary Green Ninja, but there was no way that someone as ordinary as him would have any association with a ninja. Jay didn’t even know that Ninjago had ninja! Which you would think would be something that he would remember considering he was from Ninjago!

And yet, faint memories tugged at the farthest corners of his mind, there but just barely out of his reach. Most of them were of Cole in his black gi, great green scar on his forehead and eyes of charcoal brown, but there were some of a younger man in green next to a taller man in red, a harsh scar over the latter’s eye and irises a molten brown. One in white, with shiny metallic skin that gleamed in the sunlight and eyes glowing icy blue, but the one that twisted the knife is his gut the most was the one woman in his memories. She had beauty greater than the depths of the sea, with eyes that floated between blues and greens that he had only seen in pictures of ocean waves.

They were the Ninja.

He found things about all five of the Ninja: green, red, black, white, and gray or cyan since the articles couldn’t decide what color she officially was. She was the most gorgeous woman that Jay ever laid eyes on, and he knew that he would be thrilled if she ever became his manager—

“Jay!”

“What?” he said, annoyed.

The girl sighed. “Alright, now I know you’re not listening. What’s got you so distracted? I know you don’t like working overtime, but I thought the pay was good enough to help you at least pretend to be doing something.”

Usually it was, but even that sweet overtime couldn’t push his thoughts out of his head. “You said you lived in the Crossroads for a while, right? Did you learn anything about the Ninja?”

Sora looked surprised, and Jay knew how much of a risk this was. “I may have heard some things, why?”

“I-I was looking at some stuff about them to try and learn what they were like,” Jay said, but he decided to backtrack. “You know what? It’s nothing. We should probably just be heading home.”

“Wait,” Sora said, springing up after him as he stood and started grabbing up his things, “you can talk to me, Jay. What’s wrong?”

And he wanted to so badly; Jay trusted her more than he trusted anyone else in this place. Their trip to the aquarium had only strengthened their bond into something that Jay never knew he would have. Before she came into his life he probably would’ve said that he trusted Luke the most, but ever since he first met Sora he started acting more and more cagey whenever the two would walk by. He would only talk in short sentences to her, sometimes not at all, and it rubbed Jay the wrong way. “It’s nothing, really. Do you need me to walk you home?”

“Uh,” Sora paused, “I don’t think so. I should be okay.”

The two of them started walking out of the office, Jay bidding goodbye to the rest of his exhausted coworkers as they went. Luke was nowhere to be found, and the man standing there in the security uniform instead of Luke instantly brought a smile to Jay’s face. The shaggy hair was achingly familiar, and the man looked up to see who was exiting. A smile split Jay’s face in response to the man’s, and for some reason it just felt right to drop his briefcase and sprint to the man.

“Cole!” Jay exclaimed, jumping into the bigger man’s arms and hugging him tight. Cole laughed, reciprocating, and a rush of familiarity made him light-headed even though Jay only met this guy once before. Jay stayed there for a minute or two before realizing how weird it probably was to be hugging your security guard, and pulled back after a minute; Cole’s grip made it a little difficult, almost as if the ravenette didn’t want to let Jay go.

His head started throbbing, trying to conjure up all of the fragments that he could remember about Cole, but the only things that came to his mind were the drawings hanging up on his walls. They couldn’t be everything that Jay had from Cole, not when his arms made him feel safer than the Administration security forces ever did.

Smile still on his face, Cole put his hands on his hips. “Guess who got the job?”

“You did?” Jay guessed, and Cole flexed his large muscles as confirmation. Someone coughed from behind them and Jay belatedly realized that Sora was still standing there, looking very confused. Her eyes were wide as they looked at Cole, and Cole’s eyes widened in response.

“Oh! Sora, this is Cole. Cole, this is my intern Sora. She’s great,” Jay babbled, not noticing the tension starting to leak into the air. Instead, all he could focus on was that now he had his two favorite people in the entirety of the Administration in the same hallway. You would be surprised at how hard that was to accomplish in a building with over 300 floors.

“Yeah, we’ve met before,” Sora said stiffly, and Jay caught a brief glimpse of Cole making a shushing motion before he turned to look at his intern.

“Oh shit, really?”

“I saw her in the elevator the other day,” Cole said quickly, and Sora’s face scrunched in confusion before clearing. “We had a good talk about, uh, the printers and everything! Right Sora?”

“Printers?” Jay asked.

“Right! Printers!” Sora said, picking up Jay’s briefcase and handing it to him. “Pesky little things, right? C’mon, we should get going. We still have to get to your apartment.”

Jay sighed, patting Cole’s arm as he faced the now fixed elevator. “She’s right. Sorry man, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—”

“I can walk with you,” Cole blurted, and Jay paused.

“Don’t you have to stay here and keep watch?”

“With all due respect, Jay, I don’t think anyone’s going to be breaking into the accounting department after 8 P.M. I can walk you to your house and come back. I’ll even walk Sora to wherever she needs to be so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Well, what did he have to lose? His job? Maybe that would be a free excuse to finally get out of this damn place.

“If you’re sure,” Jay said, walking to the elevator. He tried to hide the pep in his step, shoving his lightning down as far as it would go. There had already been way too many close calls with Sora, he couldn’t slip up now. “I’m on floor 275, so it might take a couple minutes.”

“Totally fine,” Cole assured, watching as Jay drew out his keycard and swiped it. The elevator dinged not even a minute later, and the three of them stepped inside as the doors closed behind them with their signature soft woosh. Cole was standing abnormally close to Jay, something that the man would’ve normally minded if it was anyone but Cole. Somehow it just felt right when it was Cole.

Some strange feeling of dread started to creep over him, but he knew it wasn’t from Cole and Sora. Memories tugged at his senses, and his sight started to blur with colors that Jay wasn’t familiar with as sounds pinged off of the elevator walls. What was happening?

Jay started babbling about random nonsense to pass the time, a nervous habit of his, but neither Cole nor Sora tried to stop him. If anything, Cole looked like he was hanging on every one of Jay’s words, and it was a nice change from the constant ignoring or fake interest from Jay’s coworkers. Now that Jay was looking at Cole properly, trying to focus on something he could see and process, he did kinda look like the black ninja from the pictures. His hair was a bit longer, and his face was a bit more weathered, but there was definitely a resemblance.

“Say, Cole,” Jay started, cutting his rant about the horrors of cardstock paper short, “would you happen to know anything about a group called the Ninja?”

Cole choked on air. Sora looked slightly alarmed and quickly whacked him on the back, Cole finally catching his breath and looking at Jay with wide eyes. “What?”

“If you’re from Ninjago, then you should know who the Ninja are, right?” Jay continued. His mouth felt weird from saying the word.

“O-Oh yeah,” Cole scratched the back of his head, “I guess you could say that. I, uh, actually knew them before the Merge happened?”

“What was the girl like?” Jay asked, fiddling with his sleeves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu, even though he knew for a fact that he had never been in this kind of situation before. “She’s really pretty, you know.”

The elevator whirred as it went up, and Jay noticed that Cole didn’t seem to be feeling any of the normal motion sickness effects. Maybe he was already accustomed to it. “I know,” Cole said, “I think you and her would’ve gotten along really well, Jay.”

“Seriously?” Jay’s face brightened, and Sora made a fake gagging sound in the background. “Shut it, Sora. What did she like? What did she eat? Is she still here? Is she nice?”

He grabbed the front of Cole’s shirt, reeling with sensory input from the memories, preparing himself to ask the most important question of all. “Is her favorite color blue?!”

The security guard looked a little startled at how close Jay had gotten in the past minute, but then he relaxed, chuckling. “Yeah, buddy, her favorite color is blue.”

Buddy. The word awakened something in Jay, and suddenly he was clutching onto Cole for a reason other than to be dramatic.

Lightning flashed in his head, blisteringly hot and turning his vision white as he gripped onto Cole’s shirt. Cole was saying his name but Jay couldn’t speak, his tongue feeling like a wad of cotton in his mouth as he was gasping for air. The elevator kept going up and up and up, but all Jay felt was falling down-

Crashing onto his knees, Jay kept heaving, feeling Sora’s hand on his back and Cole’s on his chest as his vision blurred with tears. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and Jay couldn’t help the relief that came over him when he realized that he was finally going to be able to go home. But no matter how much he tried his knees wouldn’t move, and more tears came to his eyes when he realized that the others were going to have to help him get home. They were going to see what was in the apartment.

They were going to abandon him. Who wants to be friends with someone who was losing his fucking mind?

“Get him up,” Cole ordered, and Sora came up on Jay’s other side. She draped his arm across her shoulders and lifted, and the two of them dragged him out of the elevator and down the hallway. Jay was still getting his bearings back, head spinning out of control as the carpeted floor suddenly looked very inviting yet again. Anything was better than having to face them after something like this.

Sora scanned the hallway, looking at each of the numbered plates. “I don’t know which one is his!”

“64,” Jay croaked, and Cole found it almost immediately. The poor office worker tried to give the security guard his keycard, and Cole refused it at first, instead taking up a stance that indicated that he was going to kick Jay’s door down. Jay did not feel like explaining that to the house inspection team on top of everything else. “You break my door down and I’ll break your spine.”

“You could definitely try,” Cole grunted, but he heeded Jay’s warning, instead taking the keycard and swiping it.

A soft click, and the larger man pushed the door open. Sora brought Jay in and set him down on his ratty old couch, the man sinking into the cushions and slamming his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look around his apartment. Sora rubbed his shoulder, asking if he was okay, and then she noticed the drawings.

“Jay, what the hell is all of this?” she said, reaching out and touching one of the many pieces of paper. It was the first one he did back in his office, before he ever met her, of the Black Ninja in all of his glory and bearing a striking resemblance to the new security guard. Cole was also examining them, biting his lip as his fingers brushed across the one with the Black Ninja falling into the dark cloud. Jay never did manage to find any information on something like that happening in Ninjago. “Are-are you going crazy?”

“I…” Jay paused, “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

Because he didn’t. He really, really didn’t.

And that scared him.

Looking away from the drawing, he watched as Cole’s hands tightened into fists, his face contorting into something that Jay didn’t recognize. Resignation? “There’s something that I should probably tell you,” Cole said softly, turning to look Jay in the eyes. “You’re not supposed to be here, Jay. You never were.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jay said bitterly, blunt with hurt. “You think that I don’t know that I wasn’t meant to be here?”

“How much do you remember?”

Jay’s shoulders hitched. “Nothing. I don’t remember anything before this stupid place. All of these, all of them, they’re from my dreams. I don’t know what they’re trying to tell me, and I-I don’t even know if they mean anything.”

There was a box of tissues placed down next to him, and Jay glanced up to see Sora giving him a soft smile. “Here, these might help. Just take a few minutes, we’re not going anywhere.”

Grabbing up one of the tissues, Jay began to try and clean himself up a little, but he felt just as shattered and broken as he did on the first day he woke up. He had woken up in a bed, the same bed in his apartment, with only a note on the nightstand about how he had been in a coma from a workplace accident and that he was expected to be in his office at the normal time.

He didn’t know where his office was. He didn’t know the normal time. All he knew was that nothing, nothing felt right when he woke up and it hadn’t gotten better in three years of working in the Administration. There was always some small voice inside of him, whispering that he was destined for something greater than fixing copy machines, but-but..

Jay was trapped. He didn’t even know what he could say to get him out of that place.

But..but maybe they could help him get out.

Sora picked something up out of the box with his gi, left open on his messy desk, and Jay’s heart sank when he saw the light gleaming off of it. It was something that he only had second-hand knowledge about from his parents, and even that was fuzzy, but it was the only explanation he had to go off of because the Administration did not consider information about Ninjago traditions very important.

His Ying-Yang medallion.

Cole sucked in a breath when he saw it, eyes watering. “You still have that?”

“You know what it is?” Jay asked, standing up and instantly having to sit back down from the dizziness. He motioned for Sora to come closer, and took the medallion when she offered it. “Please, Cole, you have to tell me everything you know about this.”

Please. Please. They—they had to know something he didn’t, something to get him out and to see her—

Silence.

Sora wouldn’t meet Jay’s eyes, but he wasn’t giving her much of his attention; most of his attention was on the security guard, whose eyes softened, and Jay was startled to see tears forming at the corners. Cole quickly wiped them away with his jacket sleeve, grunting, before looking back up at Jay. Earthen brown on electric blue. Jay had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

Maybe it had something to do with the drawing of the two figures trapped deep in an arena pit, staring each other down from atop a pillar. It was dark, and there was a green blade gleaming in the corner of his vision when he was fighting for his spot on the pillar, but he could still hear the sounds of screaming applause echoing in his ears. Jay knew now who was the one in the black suit, but..he never managed to dream up who the second person could’ve possibly been. Whose eyes he was looking through.

“Her-her name is Nya,” Cole started, his hands clenched into fists. “She’s the Elemental Master of Water, and my-my sister. You’re my brother.”

“My parents didn’t have another kid,” Jay said. Something wasn’t right. “They were too old. Is your name even Cole? Or was that a lie too?” The idea of Cole lying to him about this was nauseating, and Jay wished that he was still sitting down in the elevator, hitting the bottom floor and wishing that the cable would’ve snapped so he would be plummeting straight down to hell. Maybe he was already there.

“I’m not Ed and Edna’s kid, and I wasn’t lying about my name. I’m not lying to you,” breathing out of his nose, Cole met Jay’s eyes, hardening with a resolve that sent tingles up Jay’s spine. “Jay, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you, okay? You cannot freak out on me.”

Jay nodded, struggling to swallow past the lump of anxiety and fear in his throat. What-what was he?

Cole sighed. “You’re a Ninja, Jay.”

Yeah, he was in hell. Maybe he would’ve preferred the high water.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago cole #ninjago sora #lightning in a cubicle #ninjago dragons rising spoilers #finn's ninjago aus

26 notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 7 months

Note

Imagine sleeping on Brizios stomach while next to a crackling little fire that keeps you warm as the stars above you twirl and dance, the sand being carried through the wind in the middle of the Desert of Nothingness. Nothing can harm you because it chooses not to. You are just there. To just be. To live and to sleep and to hear your own voice echo through the miles you’ve walked in the boots you bought with your own money.

Sleep and be forever rested, friend.

Thank you so much my friend! This was so sweet to send me. But it also got me thinking about Copia before The Cardinal's Bride begins...

The Cardinal’s Bride Prelude

~ Copia needs to escape for a bit and enjoy a few calm nights on his own before he has to leave and go after Saltarian's fiancé ~

He needed to get away.

Copia has started to feel cooped up at The Ministry. Too many people, too much noise. He hasn’t been sleeping very well. The nightmare about the night his life changed keeping him up more than usual. So early one morning he packs up his bags, enough supplies to last him a few days. He needs to get away, needs to be on his own. Even his Ghouls are too much to be around at the moment.

All he needs is Brizio and the stars shining above him.

It takes him almost a day before he finds a spot he likes. He picks a somewhere close to a river, watches Brizio as he wanders over and takes a drink. Everything else is routine, actions he’s done hundreds of times over the years now. He gets his little camp set up quickly. A small dinner cooked over a fire and a few apples held out for his companion.

Copia sighs and lays back on his bedroll in the grass. Brizio starts to root around in the saddlebags Copia dumped on the ground, probably hoping for one more apple. It isn't long before he gives up, snorting in disgust at his lack of treats and probably glaring over at his master. Copia smiles, his eyes staying on the stars. Brizio was predictable but the horse probably felt the same way about him.

He let his eyes close briefly, clearing his mind of everything else but right here, right now. Copia didn't want to think about his brothers. He didn't want to think about Saltarian and revenge. There was a brief flash of a girl in his mind. Of a pretty face and a soft smile. He reached into his pocket and fingered the folded up piece of paper he had stuffed in there. A sketch of a woman he would be seeing in person soon, as long as everything went to plan. Brizio snorting directly into his face interrupted his thoughts and he laughed as he shoved the horse's snout away.

"You're right, now's not the time to be thinking about pretty city girls." Copia watched as Brizio lowered himself to the ground. The both of them grunted as they moved around, Brizio finally just laying on his side and Copia leaning back against his stomach. "We should enjoy the quiet while we can, eh?"

Life would definitely be interesting in the coming weeks. All his work over the last ten years finally coming together. The notice in the paper gave him the perfect opportunity to finish things once and for all. It wasn't going to be easy dealing with Saltarian's fiancé for a few weeks, but it would be worth it to finally get the revenge he'd desired for so long. After it was done he would just send the girl back home.

"What do you think Briz? You think this girl will have had enough of cowboys and outlaws by the time we're done with her?" Brizio's only answer was a heavy sigh and Copia found himself smiling again. "You're right, she'll be begging to go home."

An old outlaw like him didn't have room in his life for a city girl anyway.

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#thank you so much my friend #message box #the cardinal's bride #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #cowboy copia #the band ghost fanfics #copia fanfics

59 notes · View notes

gaybananabread · 2 months

Note

I might be forgetful or just obsessed, but I don't think anyone's asked for headcanons about our Spider Gang: Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie. >w< Or just your favorites, of course. I admit I'm most curious about Gwen and Hobie.

-Panda/Black Feathers

🕸️Spider Gang Tkl Headcanons☆

~What's wrong with both? But yeah, I've yet to do headcanons with these goobers. I don't know this “consistency” people speak of, so expect none of it. I do wanna add some other spider peeps to these, but we'll keep it to the Gang for now. Expect some more food, probably within the next few weeks. Thank you for the request!~

🎧Miles🎨

General:

We can all agree that he's a massive dork about this, right?

He's a lee-leaning switch, though it's close.

Loves tickling both ways, but can admit neither.

Boy gets squirmy every time the word is even mentioned. You bet he practically dies when any scene comes on TV

Lee:

Lee moods for him are quite frequent.

His friends have a system for detecting them at this point. Checklist and everything if they feel like being goofs.

Nervous giggles, extra knee bounces, higher voice, showier clothes if he's bold, easy blushes and jumpiness. They've got him down to a T at this point (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Super squirmy lee, you almost definitely need to pin him if you wanna live. Known for his donkey-kicks.

Worst spots are his armpits. He will screech if you even try to get him there. Not a spot for the weak-willed.

Melt spot is his neck. A few fluttering fingers, maybe gentle scritches under his chin, and you’ll have a giggly puddle of sleepy mirth.

Real easy to fluster. Say the t-word a few times, compliment his inevitable blush, maybe incorporate the Itsy Bitsy Spider. Immediate results!

He feels like he'd be super air-ticklish. Can not handle any wiggling fingers or sneaky teases.

Doesn't ask for what he wants, like, ever. Gotta use your detective skills around him (the checklist above is very helpful (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠))

Ler:

Such a shit, even though he can't handle a fraction of what he dishes out-

Absolutely webs people up to help himself (only if they're comfy with it ofc)

Very playful and teasing. You blush? Get ready for him to point it out at least seven times. Snort? Good luck.

“Your cheeks are all red, gigglebox. This fluster you that bad?”

“Aww, you snort? No, don't hide your face! I wanna hear it again!”

“What d’ya think happens when I go here? Yeah, right there. Only one way to find out~”

Once he gets a handle on his venom power, he learns that very small shocks can be quite effective in wrecking his lee.

So, Miles being Miles, abuses that knowledge at the most inopportune times.

Little jolts during training, walking through the halls, studying, you name it. By the end of the day, people are either ready to kill him or want him to just get it over with. He's happy either way.

Has high respect for boundaries. Before starting, he'll make sure the safeword is remembered and clarify what they're comfortable with.

Super nice aftercare. Cuddles, snacks and maybe listening to some music and napping on him while he sketches.

🥁Gwen🩰

General:

I’m gonna go with ler-leaning switch. Like Miles, it’s pretty close. These kids just love to laugh ¯\_(´꒳`)_/¯

A bit better in terms of confidence. If it’s a good day and the mood isn’t too severe, she can ask one of her close friends. Other than that, suffering until someone notices.

Lee:

When she gets lee moods, everyone is almost immediately alerted.

Either she has the courage to ask, or in the more likely event that she doesn’t, she’ll provoke everyone.

Snippy comments, crop tops, hair up, sarcasm for days, and THE SASSSS

If they don’t realize she’s in a lee mood, they’re gonna wreck her anyway for getting on their nerves.

A squirmer for sure, though not quite as bad as Miles. Careful of her legs, though. She was a dancer; that kind of strength combined with spider-power won’t feel very good to the jaw.

Worst spot is her navel. A few raspberries and she’ll be a cackling, snorty mess.

Melt spots are her back and ears. She loves light traces and scratches along her back, and a feather on the shells of her ears would be heavenly.

Adores cheer-up tickles. You’ll make her entire week if you gently trace her belly or squeeze her sides when she’s upset.

She’s got a really pitchy, bubbly laugh. You get her to belly laugh, and you’ll be rewarded with lovely snorts.

Ler:

VERY sassy and playful. Will tease the living hell out of you and giggle while she does it.

Anything she can tease you for, she will. Usually teasing-compliments, but she shakes it up.

“Such an adorable belly! It’s like it was made for me to poke and squeeze. Can’t deny its purpose, can I?

“It’s so easy to fluster you! I just need to say that one little word, and you can hardly breathe~”

“It tickles, does it? Sucks to be you. Now, onto those ribs…”

Gwen likes doing her nails with her friends, so those babies are always nice and tickly. The boys can never manage to keep theirs like that, no matter how hard they try.

She likes blowing raspberries if it’s someone she’s close to. Loves the silliness, and their reactions are just too cute.

Very good at giving cheer-up/comfort tickles. If someone’s upset, they go to Gwen for some special pick-me-ups.

Wondrous aftercare. Back rubs, praises and a movie night. She’ll even braid your hair if that’s something you’d enjoy.

✮Hobie🎸

General:

The switchest spider to walk the Earth, I dare you to fight me on this/j

So chill on both fronts. He just goes with the flow.

Has magic “can say the t-word whenever” powers, loves abusing them.

Absolute menace in tickle fights. He’ll either kick your ass, or fluster the hell out of you while you attempt to wreck him.

If anyone’s in a mood, lee or ler, Hobie’s their best bet.

Lee:

Okay, so…he definitely is open to being wrecked by his friends.

One of them has a killer ler mood? Hobie’s here to help. He’s gonna be all teasy about it, but it’s quickly replaced with giggles.

When he’s just straight-up in a lee mood, he can ask with next to no problems. Coincidentally, he “accidentally” flusters his ler more often than not.

If he just doesn’t feel like asking, he’ll put on a crop top, rest his arms behind his head, and wait for someone to get a ler mood or try something.

We can all agree that this smug bastard would try to fluster his ler, right?

Holding his arms up without being asked, telling them to keep going, how good they’re doing, “Ready when you are~”, teasing them for “staring,” the list goes on.

Worst spots are his feet, followed by his underarms and hips. He’s not always in the mood for footer tickles though, so the pits are your best shot.

Melt spots are his calves and palms. Mr. Guitar would adore some hand tickles, and the tall prick deserves some draw-backs.

Rumbly, base-sounding giggles if it isn’t that bad a spot. If it is, you’ll get loud, boisterous, scraggy laughter. Very fun to find and point out the differences to him, he’ll definitely appreciate it! ( ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )

Ler:

He has two sides, one very different from the other.

The first is gentle, comforting tickles. He won’t go too fast or vigorous, only upping the ante if you ask or seem ready.

“Those some cute giggles ya got there, mate. Glad you’re sharin’~”

“You’re adorable, ya know that? All blushes an’ squirms, but you ain’t said ‘stop’ once~”

The other is the one you should be terrified of.

Evil teases, immediate worst-spot tickles, keeps you laughing until you’re in tears (unless you tap out beforehand)

“Wha’s that? Oh, tickles, does it? Good, ya needed a laugh.”

“Man, you’re laughin’ pre’y hard. Blushin’, too. I didn’ know any better, I’d say yer enjoyin’ yourself~”

Either way, he listens to boundaries and stops whenever you ask/seem like you’re done. Boy is all about respect, in this sense anyway.

He definitely plays the lee-guitar game. Your ribs are now his strings. Might even get his pick out if he’s feeling really evil.

Changes up his methods for each lee (let’s stick with the gang’s regular moods here before I go on a tangent)

For Pav, he’s a smug asshole. Lots of fake-outs before he actually starts, continuously calls his reactions “fuckin’ adorable” to see him blush. No mercy until it’s needed.

With Miles, he’s a bit less evil. Mainly just teases him for being so ticklish and his blushes.

For Gwen, he’s rougher. She usually likes to forget her name, and he’s more than happy to help. Raspberries, teases, the whole nine. Whatever gets her cackling.

Amazing with aftercare. Will pull you into his lap for cuddles, and he gives incredible massages and back rubs. Praise for days if you need them, and even if you don’t, he’s happy to supply them.

🪷Pavitr☕

General:

Suuuuuch a sunshine boy I swearrrrrr ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

He gives lee-leaning switch. Loves getting his ass handed to him, but occasionally loves making his friends giggle and squeal.

Can admit that he likes both sides, though he can only say the t-word itself if he isn’t flustered.

Always up for helping one of his friends if they’re in a ler mood, and sometimes ready to wreck them for the greater good (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Lee:

Loves being tickled, especially if he’s in a really bad lee mood.

Most of the time, he’ll whine to either Hobie or Gayatri that he’s “feeling fuzzy” and they’ll get the message. If he isn’t that worked up, he’ll flat out ask.

Very squirmy little worm, though he doesn’t flail like some of the others. Has accidentally headbutted before though, so careful if you’re messing with his neck.

Decently easy to fluster, though it takes a while to wreck him. You’ve gotta know exactly what you’re doing to really get him good (just ask Hobie or Miles, they’re loving narcs)

Worst spot is his belly, specifically his navel. Raspberries are killer for him there. Him and Gwen share a death spot and both torment each other with that knowledge.

Melt spots are his forearms and under his chin. Adorable to trace a few inches up from his pits and watch him dissolve. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t love some gentle tickles under his chin, can you? (answer: no)

Bright, bubbly, almost boyish giggles. Things get a lot pitchier when you really wreck him, squeaks and squeals coming in no short supply.

Ler:

Surprisingly formidable ler when the mood strikes him.

Most don’t suspect it to be that bad and give him full reign. They’re quickly proven wrong.

He respects boundaries of course, doesn’t ever go overboard. Takes breaks to check in and let his lee breathe every few minutes.

Loves to tease with compliments and praises. This is where he abuses his powers.

“Aww, your laugh is so cute! Who knew you’d be so ticklish?”

“That blush is just adorable, friend. You really have to show it more often!”

“I know, it really tickles here, huh? You’re doing great!”

If he’s feeling like a goober, he’ll play “Tickle Monster” and blow little raspberries on your belly. Might even make little “nom” noises while he does it to be a menace.

Loves giving tickle hugs. He’ll sneak up behind someone, koala-hug them and start wiggling his fingers into their sides. (Being short actually helps him there)

If one of his friends is upset or stressed, he’ll talk it out with them before suggesting a tickly cheer-up. If they don’t legitimately object, he’ll sweetly tease them until they’re all giggly and happy again.

SUPER sweet with aftercare. Cuddles, snacks, praises, and just general conversation. If you want to, he’d even be open to a nap.

44 notes · View notes

sweethartlullaby · 5 months

Text

you, among the art

word count: 1550 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“Have you picked out your supervisor?” Her friend asks as they stuff their books into their bags. Thursdays are always the calmest days. Students get let off early so professors can meet for their weekly meetings. Her friend likes to call them cult meetings.

They probably do rituals and all the statues come to life before they talk.

“Yeah, I think I’m going with…you know who.” She says as they step out of their lecture hall. She knows no name needs to be spoken for her friend to understand.

“You’re joking.” She shrugs as they keep walking.

“Do you not remember that horror story last year? He made that girl cry!”

“But she graduated with three job offers. That’s two more than the average.” She reasons.

“You know how you always say that this class, or that project, or this team, or whatever it is, will be the death of you?” She shakes her head with a small smile before they push through two big doors, going into the library.

“Having him as your supervisor will actually be the thing that takes you out.”

“I think the rumors are exaggerated.”

“You just tend to be naive.” She gasps and her friend only raises her hands in the air as if to say, I said what I said. They stop where the hallways meet and she turns to her.

“He might not even accept me. Maybe there’s another project more up in his alley.”

“I guess we’ll see next Thursday.” That’s when it hits her. It’s next week.

Her big presentation for a supervisor to scout her is next week.

“Shit, I’ve got to go.” She hisses before she waves goodbye and rushes to her studio. She snakes around the maze of hallways, thinking about what to work on today. It wasn’t like she was far from finished, but sculpting consumes more time than you think.

Even though it is in the same building, her assigned studio is far from the classrooms. She likes to joke that it is her weekly bout of exercise. When she passes the familiar statue of an angel opening her arms, she knows she is near.

Despite the distance, she loves that this is where she works. It’s quiet and it allows her to burst with so many ideas; sometimes, it feels too much. From the windows in her space, she faces the back of the angel, the illusion of her skirt pouring onto the floor. With the windowed dome above, rays of light shine on the statue, creating the most beautiful sight on this campus.

She takes her notebook out and flips to her most recent page. She was up figuring out the math behind her sculpture. It’s inspired by her favorite movie, Black Swan. The ballerina curls into herself as wings shoot out of her back in different directions. It is meant to portray the dancer falling into darkness as she tries to hold onto the pure image she currently has. How does she balance both at the same time?

The thing she isn’t quite sure about is the face. She’s always struggled with them and this time, she wants to perfectly capture the fear and excitement in each half of the face. There is only so much one can show with a still statue but she wants to make sure that it is the most that she is showing.

She looks back between the sketch and the statue a few times before she starts her work. She doesn’t have to finish it before Thursday, that’s what the supervisor is there for. However, she does have to show enough to convince the professors that her work is worth investing in. Scoring a supervisor will give her many benefits. Not only does she gain help in this final graduating project, but she gets more opportunities than if she were on this journey alone.

As she works, her mind drifts back to what her friend says. Yes, he has high standards. Yes, he made that girl cry. Yes, this might be a little ambitious. And yes, she is a little scared of him. But that isn’t enough to convince her not to go for it. He is the only one that she has considered as a supervisor. She’d be grateful for any other, but it’s him that she has her eyes on.

No, this isn’t crazy. This is just getting out of your comfort zone a little.

Seven days fly by and now she’s standing on the stage with her work behind her, and seats full of professors in front of her.

Her heart beats in her ears and she has to grip the microphone with two hands so no one can see her tremble. This is unlike her. She’s usually outspoken, the first to answer any question thrown at her. But for some reason, the faceless people seem to be terrifying her.

“Uh…” Breathe. They’re just people, after all.

“H-Hello.” Good. She introduces herself before taking another deep breath.

“I’m here to talk about my project, which is an inspiration from my favorite movie, Black Swan.” After that, it’s a breeze. She feels her muscles loosen and she starts actually speaking to her audience. She only has five minutes to present, with the next five for any questions.

They applaud when she finishes and the lights come on. Professors begin to raise their hands to inquire about her project and vision.

“I’d like to know why you chose that movie.”

She opens her mouth to answer but a short burst of laughter erupts from somewhere in the crowd. She thinks she must be imagining it from all the nerves but when she tries to speak again, it happens once more. She quickly looks for the source and her eyes find him trying to contain his laughter.

“My apologies, please continue.” He says but she is too stunned to speak. Did he, the professor that you’ve been eyeing, just laugh at her work?

“I…”

The room feels like it’s spinning for a bit and she has to remind herself that there are other people interested in what she has to show. But she can’t speak properly. She feels as if all hope has been sucked out of her soul.

“I chose…that movie…”

The rest feels like a blur. Those last five minutes felt like an eternity of shame and embarrassment on that stage. She answers the questions with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. It isn’t much.

When she finally steps out of the hall, she feels her knees collapse beneath her.

It’s over. He thinks I’m a joke. Everyone in that hall probably thinks the same.

She doesn’t know what to feel. Shame, anger, sadness? She sits there for a while, trying her best not to burst into tears.

“Letters are sent out.”

She doesn’t even want to check. She hasn’t told anyone about what happened. It’s too embarrassing.

She tries to avoid it as much as possible. Maybe she won’t ever have to open it. It’s probably a rejection letter. Maybe he had the time to write out what he didn’t like about her project and why he laughed at her. Maybe she is alone on this journey after all.

But as soon as she enters her studio, she finds the letter that has been slipped under her door.

She has heard many stories of this moment. They say interested professors leave their contact information on slips of paper. Some of them come with messages, others are just addresses and emails.

She clutches the pieces of paper in her hands, reminding herself to breathe.

“This isn’t going to break you. It’s just words. It’s just words.” She repeats to herself as she opens the first letter.

…Below is the list of professors who have expressed their interest in becoming your supervisor. Should you choose to contact any of them, please refer to the following pages on how to reach them. Congratulations and we wish you all the best.

The list isn’t long. There are only five names. And the very last one almost sends her heart flying out of her chest. His name, with the words ‘Preferred Choice’ in brackets right next to it.

She doesn’t believe it.

She flips to the last page and to her surprise and fear, there is a paragraph waiting for her.

Hello,

First and foremost, congratulations, and thank you so much for having me as your preferred choice. I wasn’t expecting anyone to even look in my direction after last year. I would like to take this time to apologize for my actions. I cannot fully explain why I laughed that day but I do want to stress that it wasn’t because I was undermining you and your work. I think what you have going on is brilliant and I am very excited to see how it turns out. I believe you have great potential and it would do me the utmost honor to guide you on this journey towards greatness. I understand that asking you to choose me after what I have done is audacious. But I promise you, I will do my best to make you a successful artist. I do hope you accept my request and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

a/n: hello!!!! i'm starting a series! this is part one of it and i'm really excited to release the rest. it might take a while since it is finals season but i will definitely aim to get everything out before the year ends or early in the 2024! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! i also hope you've all been well in this busy time.

35 notes · View notes

kneesheee · 4 months

Text

50 Things to Know about the Disney-verse

1. Ursula and Maleficent are rivals so Uma and Mal being rivals also tracks.

2. The Evil Queen and Maleficent are rivals for Hades' affections and for the status of "The Evilest of Them All'.

3. The Evil Queen claims not to be Hades' girlfriend, but they just had "an interesting weekend" on Castaway Cay. And therefore, I headcanon that she is Hadie’s mom. Probably conceived sometime around Evie’s banishment.

4. In the Disney Villains: Top Secret Files, Maleficent is featured in her own section. According to the pieces of information provided, Maleficent's last name is Faery.

5. She was actually invited to Aurora's birth ceremony and that the invitation simply never got to her castle because she burnt the postman to death (believing him to be a trespasser) before he could deliver it.

6. Her dragon form also appeared in The Little Mermaid series episode "Heroes" as a sea dragon.

7. Captain Hook tried to charm her, only to be zapped away leaving behind his hook. Jafar also tried to woo her while they sat together, only to end up being literally burnt.

8. It was revealed in "A Christmas Cruella" that she did want a puppy before becoming her villainous self.

9. Cruella has a brother named Cecil and a niece named Ivy. However, Cecil is not Ivy's father, meaning that Cruella and Cecil must have another sibling (most likely a brother) who is Ivy's parent.

10. In 102 Dalmatians: Puppies to the Rescue, Cruella has set up a toy factory next to DeVil Manor. She seems to have tried online dating, where she has supposedly wed herself to Professor Farzboom, a meek professor who helps her make her toys. So there’s Carlos’ dad.

11. In "Max's Embarrassing Date", she went on a date with the Beast and asked if he came in a medium, which the Beast became annoyed of. After the Beast gets soaked with soup he was eating, Cruella is unhappy as she would have to get him dry-cleaned.

12. Walt Disney's early vision for The Rescuers revolved around the kidnapping of a polar bear from a city zoo; writers considered reusing Cruella as the main antagonist (presumably driven by her desire for the bear's fur).

13. The concept art of the film shows Cruella wearing an outfit made out of crocodile leather. Because The Rescuers was set more than a decade after 101 Dalmatians, Cruella was given a period-appropriate update. Aside from her '70s alligator-chic outfit, Cruella is accessorized with Sly and the Family Stone-style sunglasses. In other sketches, De Vil is depicted in bell-bottom pants and a pair of platforms. Other concept art showed Cruella driving a water vehicle similar to the one Medusa uses in the final film.

14. The Prince is usually known as Prince Charming, though some source material shows that his name is Henri, or Henry. However, he was never referred to by name anywhere in the film. Not even mentioned as "Prince Charming".

15. The story takes place roughly in June. In the movie, the sun rises slightly before 6:00 AM (in France), as it would within a few weeks of the summer solstice. Also, by this time, a pumpkin would have grown to 20–40 pounds.

16. The debate of the setting of Cinderella has always been a problem, but most people can agree it is French; however, there is a small amount of people who think it is Spanish because the female names end in "A" but that does not really cut it so deeper research shows that the thing on Anastasia's head is a peineta or headdress used in Spain along with formal attire also the French furnishings and the Spanish furnishings within the same time period are very similar in style.

17. Cinderella is the “oldest” princess in the official franchise being 19 while Snow White is the youngest being 14. Also, Snow White’s prince was suppose to be 18 according to Disney’s records.

18. In the third movie, Cinderella’s shoe size is mentioned to be a size 4½ in women's. According to Disney's Villains' Revenge, Snow White has smaller feet than Cinderella.

19. Cinderella was actually rich at the beginning, even before she married the prince. This was exempted, however, as she was forced to work as a servant.

20. In some stories, Cinderella's real name was Ella (short for Eleanor), and because she would always lie in cinders, her stepfamily would call her CinderElla. However, in the Disney film, "Cinderella" is truly her name by birth.

21. Cinderella's last name would likely have been Tremaine since her stepmother's name was Lady Tremaine unless Lady Tremaine kept her maiden name.

22. According to Disneystrology, Cinderella’s birthday is September 6.

23. According to the Disneystrology book, Snow White’s birthday would be on March 6.

24. Cinderella is magical. She has a special ability to empathize with animals, perceive what they say and communicate with them.

25. Melody is the very first human-merperson hybrid in history, making her birth a significant historic moment in both human and Atlantican history.

26.She is also not considered a canon descendant’s character and considered to be from an AU, but apparently, Beauty & The Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and The Little Mermaid are considered to be happening roughly around the same time in the disney timeline.

26. Melody's bedroom is Ariel's guest room when she first took human form and stayed with Prince Eric, albeit recolored with brighter colors.

27. Contrary to popular belief, Jasmine's age has never been confirmed or even referenced in any of the Aladdin movies, television series, or other spinoff projects. In the original film, the Sultan declares that Jasmine must be married "by her next birthday", but never specifies how old she will become on said birthday.

28. An early story concept for the original film had the Sultan saying, "Jasmine, the law says you must be married by your sixteenth birthday.", which would have made her fifteen years old. This concept was scrapped when Jeffrey Katzenberg became worried about sending the wrong message regarding the idea that fifteen year old girls can get married. Thus, the line was changed to "married to a prince by your next birthday.", leaving Jasmine's canonical age unknown.

29. One of the Disney Princess magazines has a story about two of Jasmine's cousins named Farah and Nadine. Whether they are considered canon is unknown.

30. Although the exact date is not clear, Jasmine's birthday is in late January or early February. This is because when Aladdin and Jasmine fly on the magic carpet, Chinese New Year is being celebrated over in China. This holiday can fall anywhere from January 21 to February 20.

31. She also has another cousin named Sharma who teaches at The Royal Academy.

32. Nasira is the better sorcerer between her and her twin brother, Jafar.

33. According to Disneystrology, Tiana’s birthday would be on December 25, Christmas Day.

34. The trailer implies that Gaston may have been aware of the Beast's curse, and had ulterior motives besides wanting Belle as his wife for attempting to kill the Beast, as the trailer described him as being "one man who wants to keep the spell alive," although it is unconfirmed whether this was the case in the film itself.

35. Despite various concept materials, as listed above, give Gaston the surname of LeGume, the Bimbettes during the song of "Belle" refer to Gaston as "Monsieur Gaston" and Belle in the reprise twice sarcastically refers to herself as "Madame Gaston" suggesting that Gaston is his surname in the final version.

36. The Bimbettes (individual names Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette) are blonde identical triplets who fawn over Gaston. They are inspired by Belle's sisters from the original Beauty and the Beast fairy tale.

37. They are the first Disney characters to possess green eyes without being villains

38. These girls worked their asses off in the comics to get Gaston to notice them. 😩

39. Its implied in one comic that Belle and Gaston were friends when they were children.

40. Ironically, despite Belle being considered by the village to be the most beautiful woman in the village, Laurette once disguised herself as Belle flawlessly enough to fool Gaston initially, which conflicted with the claim that Belle's looks had no parallel.

41. Even though he is referred to as a prince in the opening, none of the characters directly refer to him by that title. In addition, the first draft for Woolverton's take of the film indicated that the Beast was intended to be a duke instead of a prince.

42. According to the first stained-glass window featured in the film's opening sequence, Adam’s family motto is "vincit qui se vincit" (meaning "The winner is who wins himself").

42. Though the Beast's official age is not mentioned in the movie, it is strongly indicated by the narrator's statement that the rose "would bloom until his 21st year." As the rose has already begun to wilt by the time Belle arrives at the castle, it is very likely that the Beast is 20 years (i.e. on their 21st year) of age by this point.

43. In authorized supplementary comics, most notably The New Adventures of Beauty and the Beast, the Prince is never shown as being older than a preteen when he's shown as a human; moreover, the palace staff all refer to his pre-curse self as "a young boy" or "child". Two individual comics show that the Prince was originally a few years older than Chip, who didn't age during the curse, and shows him as being a couple of years older than Belle herself. The comics also show that the Prince has had a few run-ins with the disguised Enchantress, meaning that he'd still be a preteen when he was cursed.

44. Despite her slim figure, Belle seems to have considerable strength. She may have lifted the Beast, as evidenced by the Beast being placed onto Philippe's back, although this was never shown on-screen. Later on, she was able to pull the Beast up onto a balcony.

45. Belle is currently the only official Disney Princess to have hazel eyes.

46. In the beginning of the original 1989 storyline, found on the Diamond Edition DVD, Belle's birthday is celebrated, and the cake reads "Happy 17th Birthday Belle", providing evidence that she is 17 in the movie, or at least that she was originally planned to be 17.

47. Contrary to popular belief, it's not made clear whether Belle was actually born a peasant, as she implies that she wasn't born in her home village in the opening song, but rather moved there. In addition, her owning books at her cottage implied that she is, or at least was, considerably wealthy (as back in the time period of the film, books were considerably expensive).

48. In the musical, specifically the song "No Matter What" one of the lyrics had Maurice stating "You are your mother's daughter; therefore you are class ... crème de la crème", implying that Belle was part of the social upper class. This was also supported by Belle having a portrait of her and her mom in the Enchanted Tales of Belle attraction.

49. In earlier drafts, Aladdin had three human friends named Babkak, Omar, and Kassim.

50. In the episode "Two to Tangle", it's revealed that Aladdin has unexplored magic powers hidden within his soul. This may possibly be a link to him being "The Diamond In The Rough".

#descendants #disney descendants #uma descendants #mal descendants #carlos descendants

50 notes · View notes

jensensfanfic · 10 months

Text

CLAY ASKING YOU TO SPRING FLING ☆ DRABBLE

pairing: clay jensen x gn!reader

a/n: i was about to go to sleep and then i got this random thought in my head. it's messy and short as hell, but i hope you like it nonetheless.

—☆—

thinking about clay jensen trying to come up with a way to ask you to spring fling.

he's had a few crushes during his school life but has never felt brave or confident enough to ever ask them out. you, however, were different. he couldn't watch you go to the dance with somebody else without at least trying to ask you. there was just something about you that he couldn't let go - not without trying.

weeks went by, and each day that passed was another chance for some other student to swoop in and ask you to be their date. he needed to just buck up and do it, but he was still full of nerves whenever he was around you- which was actually quite often.

you sat next to each other in robotics almost every day. he had so many chances.

one day, while in class together, clay scribbles both of your names on top of your project plan, then doodles two little characters that you recognise from the akr comics you both read.

when you mention this, that you know these robots, clay only allows himself a mere few seconds of shock, before diving into a babbling ramble about the comics.

by the end of the conversation, clay finally gets an idea of how to ask you to spring fling. it's simple, probably a little nerdy or lame, but he does it anyway.

he spends all night– and all morning before school– sketching a small comic strip. he draws himself, and you, as akr characters, and in the very first square, inside the speech bubble, he writes, "will you go to spring fling with me?"

underneath, there are two different outcomes. in one, your character says a polite 'no', to which clay responds calmly and respectfully, the drawing of him looking sad, but understanding.

in the other outcome, the second square, your character responds with a 'yes, i'd love too'. and in this drawing, a thought bubble encases a small drawing of your characters dancing together at spring fling with tiny hearts decorating the scene.

clay can't believe it when he actually hands you this drawing in person, and he believes it even less when the second square becomes a reality.

he is utterly flabbergasted, but also, so so happy when you fling your arms around his neck and whisper a promise– to frame the picture and keep it forever– into his ear.

—☆—

Taglist: @mockerycrow

13 REASONS WHY MASTERLIST

#my writing #mine #jensensfanfic #jensensfanfic/justinsjensen #clay jensen x reader #clay jensen imagine #clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen fluff

69 notes · View notes

munsonownsmyass · 11 months

Text

Matt Murdock x tattoo artist reader

Summary: Finally working at the place of your dreams, you get the hardest client of your career.

Notes: When I read The Sweetest Pain (and part two) from @e-dubbc11 it sparked something in me. So I really wanted to make a little piece too. This one takes place in Billy's shop and the stories are intertwined, but can be read separately.

Warning: None. Just some flirting, pining and yearning for hot Matt. What?! So no spice in 3.8K words?! No, sorry. But there will be in part two (if anyone wants a part two, that is 😅)

Words: 3.8K

Standing outside the Anvil Tattoo Shop, you take a deep breath. For longer than you remember, you’ve wanted to be a tattoo artist. For years, you’ve practiced and been working in small, sleezy parlors, anything to get some experience. It had all been leading up to this. Hopefully a place at one of the finest shops you’ve seen.

Whenever you’ve walked past, you’ve been dreaming about working here. The owner, Billy and his employees are immaculate in their work, truly amazing and you want to be part of their team. With another deep breath, you pull yourself together and walk through the doors.

It’s still early, so there’s only three guys there. Billy you recognize instantly, but the other two you haven’t seen before. They all raise their gaze as you walk up to the counter.

“What can I do for you?” Billy asks, looking up from his sketch.

“I was hoping to get a job. I… I love your shop and admire your work so much and I want to be just as great as you some day, so-“ You stop, mentally scolding yourself over how awkward you are. Word vomit as if you’re some crazy fan. Hugging your folder full of your drawings and tattoos, you look to the men before you. “Sorry. I just-”

“Let me see.” Billy gestures to the folder and you hand it to him, hoping it’s good enough to land you a spot in his shop. “Why do you want to be a tattoo artist?”

“Because I’ve been through so much shit in my life and I’ve only ever felt happy when I draw… Or get a tattoo.” You chuckle softly, looking at Billy as he goes through your stuff. “Getting a tattoo is pain, but it’s a pain you control. It’s therapeutic. So whether I’m the one wielding the needle or getting a new piece on my skin, it’s like therapy. It’s something I can control.”

Billy stops and look at you, his eyes looking you over. You see in his eyes that he gets it, that he too have been through some shit in his life. And maybe that’s why no more than 10 minutes later you’ve signed a contract to work at Anvil Tattoo Shop.

The first few days go by so fast. You get your own space and some new gear, watching as Billy works. One of his buddies, Frank, lets you do a little piece on him so they can see how you work. Billy looks over your shoulder at the little skull you’re tattooing onto Frank’s chest.

“Your linework is amazing. You’re already on your way to being a great artist, Shortcake.” Billy rubs your back softly before he walks back to his own station. You blush, thinking this is probably the best day ever in your life so far.

“Easy there, kiddo. Billy is taken.” Frank whispers with a smile, looking at your flushed cheeks. You just laugh, before putting the needle back to Frank's skin.

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s not my type.”

You could swear you hear Frank's heart stop for a second. You just grin, dipping the needle again, before tattooing again. “Okay, he is hot. Even a blind person could see that, but… I dunno, just not what I’m looking for.”

“I’ve never heard anyone say that before.” Frank chuckles, looking over at Billy. “I’m gonna rub that in his face.”

“Oh, I believe you.” You both grin as you finish up your work.

You’ve been there for almost a week now, when a new client walks in. Billy had already said that the next one through the doors would be yours and you’ve been sitting on the edge of your seat all morning. But your mood falters when you see his cane and glasses.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but this is a tattoo shop, just in case you didn’t see it. Fuck, I mean-” You bite your tongue, ready to bury yourself in a hole. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles, showing off a beautiful smile that leaves you weak in the knees.

“My brain stops working around hot guys.” You chuckle, but then shake your head, wishing the earth would just swallow you whole at this point. So fucking embarrassing. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Again. Look, I can get another artist for you.”

“I think you’ll be just fine.” He chuckles. Lucky for you, he seems to find your awkwardness adorable. You look to Billy, silently asking if it’s okay or if he’d rather pull you from this client, but all you see is him and Frank trying not to laugh.

“Okay, good. So what can we do for you today?”

“A tattoo would be nice.” He grins playfully and you hate the way you react to it.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place then.” You bite your lip, hating the fact that your first real client is this hunk of a man and not just some random girl. You really don’t want to make a fool of yourself but it seems like that ship has already sailed. “Right, if you come with me, we can discuss the design.”

“Would you mind?” He extends his arm for you to take, so you do, guiding him to a little desk where he can sit while you draw.

“Looks like we know what her type is now.” Frank whispers, making Billy break. They both laugh and you flip them off, making a mental note to kick their asses later.

“Hey Frank.” The man says, smiling in Frank's direction.

“Hey there Red. Didn’t picture you as a tattoo guy.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He smirks and you sense there’s some kind of inside joke between the men, especially when you see the way Frank just smiles, before he turns back towards Billy.

“So, uhm…”

“Matt.”

“Matt.” You say softly, thankful he is blind and can’t see the heavy blush on your cheeks or the way your eyes study his face. He is really handsome and you're instantly drawn to his lips. Really beautiful lips. This is bad. You should focus.

“What type of tattoo were you looking to get?” You question, but you’re not even sure you hear the answer. Something something catholic. Look at that jawline. And that scruff. Wonder how he’d look with a full beard?

“Okay, good good.” You cough, scribbling something down on paper. Matt laughs, placing one of his hands on your arm.

“You want me to repeat it?” He smirks. Shit. He knows. Of course he knows. He probably has this effect on every woman he meets.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Just so I’m sure we agree.” You say, this time really listening to him. You love the idea he has, already doing a little sketch as you talk. It’s a typical catholic tattoo, a cross, rosary and a text, but you’re determined to make this great and special.

Soon you’ve done talking, already have a time booked and an outline to work with. As Matt leaves the shop, you sigh at the counter, not being able to think about anything else than what color his eyes might be. Frank and Billy come up on either side of you, both with shiteating grins.

“You want me to help with the sketch? I think I paid more attention than you did.” Billy grins and Frank cracks up.

“Fuck off. Fuck all the way off.” You flip them the finger before walking back to your desk. This was probably going to be the hardest job in your career.

When Matt returns a few days later for his first appointment, you’re nervous. Not just because you’re going to be so close to the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but also because you want to do a good job. You want to do Billy proud and Matt trusts you. He’s put more trust in you than anyone before. You’ve thought about it, him not being able to even know what you’re putting on his skin. So you’ve done something you never thought you’d do.

With help from an old artistic friend, you’ve managed to make a sketch he can feel. Each line is raised from the paper, almost like braille. You know he probably can’t make out everything, but at least it’s something. You slide the sketch over to Matt and watch as his fingers touch the paper.

“I know it’s not perfect, but I hope you can feel some of it.” You bite your bottom lip nervously, studying his face. He smiles as his fingers dance over the sketch and you see the surprise on his face when he reaches the text, made in braille. You already had another sketch with the actual text, this one was just for Matt.

“You-” He looks up, his eyes almost finding yours as he searches for the right words to say. “This is incredible. Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that for me.”

“Yeah, well… I know how much a tattoo can mean to a person and it’s something you’re gonna have with you forever, so… wanted you to know what I made for you.” You shrug, blushing again when you see the smile on Matt’s face.

“It’s perfect. And the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me.” His hand lands on yours, giving it a soft squeeze. “So thank you. Well, should we get started then?”

“I’m ready when you are. Just let me prepare the stencil.”

You lead him to the chair before walking over to get the stencil ready. You hear Billy and Andy snicker softly, but you try to ignore them. But when you turn around, you stop dead in your tracks. There he is, shirtless. His body is beyond what you could even conjure up in your mind, muscular and hard. So hard.

You’re not a believer, but you almost feel like thanking God for bestowing Matt and his perfect body upon you. You praise yourself lucky he wants the tattoo on his back, cause if he had faced you, you’d never get it done.

After everything is prepped and Matt is ready, you start. He doesn’t even flinch as the needle pierces the skin.

“Just tell me if it hurts and you need a break. It is a big piece for a first tattoo.”

“I’m used to pain.” He smiles over his shoulder before laying down again and you continue your work. Billy walks over every now and then, complimenting your work. You’re happy for the praise, you really are, but you barely notice him, all your attention on Matt. How he breathes softly as you work, a small sigh or groan if you hit a sensitive spot.

“You have a very gentle touch.” He says at one point and you almost combust, thoughts about how you wish you could have your hands on Matt in a not so gentle manner. But you just bite your lip, trying not to say anything.

“You making Matt feel good over there, Shortcake?” Billy teases and you just shoot him a grin, shaking your head.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, making sure to look him in the eyes as you dip your needle. “I can do you once I’m done with Matt.”

“Oh, you got a deal.” He grins and you turn your attention back to Matt. It was all just for fun, both because he was your boss and he had a girl. But you enjoyed the playful banter and flirting.

All too soon you’re done with the first session and clean up Matt’s tattoo. You’re really proud of it so far and you make sure to tell Matt all about it, trying to give him a mental image of how it looks. At the counter, as you make his next appointment, he leans in close.

“So you and Billy… Are you dating?”

“What? No!” You say a little too loud, causing Andy to chuckle as Billy feign being hurt. You mouth a sorry before looking at Matt again. “No, we’re not. I’m single. Very single.”

“Good to know.” He gives you another one of his radiant smiles, before taking the card with the time of his next appointment. At the door he pauses. “So. How am I supposed to care for this when it’s on my back?”

“Oh, uhm… Maybe a friend… or your girlfriend can help you?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m very single too.” With a grin, he leaves the shop and you don’t even try to hide the grin on your face. He’s cute, single and you’re pretty sure he just maybe a subtle, but lewd suggestion. Oh, you’re definitely in trouble.

The next few days you try to forget about your hot client and luckily, Billy has some clients come in with wishes that match your style. So you emerge yourself in work, trying to make the days go faster.

When you walk into work, everyone else is already busy with clients. You greet them and see Billy’s girl is in for her second session. You’ve been dying to meet her, so you walk over. But before you say hi, her beautiful tattoo steals your attention. Billy’s work is always beautiful, but this octopus is something else. You lean in close to really see all the fine details, putting your hand on Billy’s shoulder very carefully.

“Wow! Billy, that’s incredible.” You say with a big smile.

“Thanks…” He pauses and looks up at you. “Shortcake, this is my sweet girl. Baby, this is my new artist, Shortcake.”

She extends her hand and you shake it, noticing the beautiful rose tattooed on the back of her hand. “Hi there. It’s nice to meet you.”

You could see what Billy saw in her. Beautiful and she seemed kind. And she did have very good taste in tattoos, so you already knew you’d like her too.

“Oh jeez, I should have recognized you from your pictures. Why didn’t you tell me she was coming in today, Billy?! It’s nice to meet you too.” You say, genuinely happy to finally meet her.

Sitting down at your station, you pull out some sketches for tonight’s client. “Wish I’d known she came though, so I could have made a better impression.” You gesture to your clothes and makeup which was very basic this evening.

Billy just smiles before looking over his shoulder. “You always look good.”

“Aw, thank you.” You smile with a shy shrug. “You too, by the way. Love the new hair.”

You don’t even think about it, always being flirty by nature, so for the rest of the evening you and Billy keep it up, all for fun of course. Your mind is still on Matt and your appointment tomorrow. You can’t wait to see him again.

“You’re daydreaming again.” You hear Billy say as he keeps working on Rose. “Thinking about anyone special?” He grins and you know he’s referring to Matt.

“Oh, you know there’s only one guy for me.” You wink at him, before returning to your client. You focus on your work, but the mention of your name makes you look up in time to see Rose walk out the shop.

“Done already?”

“She was just tired.” He looks after her and you don’t press him further and just return to your client.

One of your favorite things was to sleep in, just laying in bed, maybe reading a good book. And even though you had no plans before later today, you had woken up at dusk, unable to fall back to sleep. Today was Matt’s second appointment. A small part of you had thought about being slow today, dragging it out so he had to come back.

You had heard about Billy’s little trick with Rose, making sure she’d come back. You noticed it quickly. He works fast, but not with her. It was kinda cute. So maybe you could do the same? No, it wouldn’t be proper. You shake the thought as you get ready, deciding to head to the shop early. Better to use your time cleaning than just pace your apartment.

Getting there, you restock on colors, gloves, needles. Clean around your station and the others too. When Billy walks in, he seems pleasantly surprised, but also has a worried look on his face.

“You okay there, Shortcake?” He walks closer, leaning against the counter as he looks at you.

“Yeah, just… Getting ready for Ma- my appointment. Thought I’d clean a bit.” You smile, continuing to sweep the floor. But Billy's hand on yours stops you.

“I can see you’re not.” He takes the broom from you and puts it aside, getting you to sit down on your chair. “You really like this guy?”

“Well, I don’t have to.” You shrug, looking away. Even though Billy has mixed business with pleasure, it doesn't make it okay for you to do it too. He and Rose had been friends for years, so that was different. “I know it would be unprofessional, so-”

With raised brows, Billy looks at you and for a minute you’re not sure if he truly is offended. But his face makes you giggle. “I’m sorry, Billy. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He reassures you as he pulls you in for a quick hug, before he lets you go again. “You’re talented and you’ll do great. And if that Murdock guy doesn’t like you back, he’s a fool. Now, back to work.”

He pats your back as you walk away and returns to his own stuff. You look over your shoulder, thankful for Billy and for him taking a chance on you.

Walking through the doors to the Anvil Tattoo Shop was the highlight of Matt’s week. Ever since the last appointment, he had been thinking about you. Besides being one of the most thoughtful women he’d ever met, you were funny, flirty and smart.

Throughout the session he had a hard time focusing with your hands on him. Surprisingly gentle, considering the needle in your hand. He hadn’t felt the pain, not really, too focused on you. How your heart would beat faster whenever he touched you or gave you a compliment. How your blood would rush to your cheeks at his smile. But most importantly he was surprised at how much he loved his name on your lips.

“I’m ready for you, Matt.” You say softly and Matt has to fight not to smile like a fool at your sweet voice. He follows you to the chair, smirking as he hears the way your breath hitch at seeing his bare chest.

Like the last time, time flies by in the chair. He should feel bad for being here, for enjoying your company as you defile his skin, but he doesn’t. He’ll atone for it later. Atone for the impure thoughts about you.

He knew he would feel everything more given his heightened senses, but this he would never have expected. How soft your touch is, how your breath ghost over his skin when you lean in closer. Your body pressed against his all while inflicting him with this sweet pain.

Between your flirty remarks and your genuine attempt to get to know him, you ask if he’s okay. How can he even answer that? Now that he’s felt this, he will never be okay again. He is exposed in a way he’s never been before, completely at your mercy.

“How’s it going here?” Billy asks as he inspects the tattoo. There’s about an hour's work left and you’re so happy with what you’ve done so far and by the look on Billy’s face, he's proud of your work too.

“With me or her?” Matt questions, making you smile again. “Cause even though I’m no stranger to pain, it’s starting to hurt a little.”

You all laugh and before you can stop yourself, you gently caress Matt’s arm, promising him it’s over soon. Billy gives you a soft pat on the back and notices how some of your hair has gotten loose, so he tugs it back behind your ear, so it’s not blurring your vision.

“Don’t worry, Matt. I’m sure she’ll make it up to you.” Billy winks up at Matt and you can’t help but play along.

“Oh, you know me, Billy. Always leave ‘em feeling good.”

He just about to say something back, when you hear Rose call him from the counter. You’d been so busy with Matt and Billy, neither of you had noticed her come in. She seems upset, so Billy quickly leaves you to your work and follows her out.

“You know what's happening?” Andy asks quietly and you just shake your head. You’re suddenly nervous on Billy’s behalf. You know he’s in love with Rose, that’s clear to see, so you really hope there aren't any problems.

“So, if Billy isn’t your type, who is?” Matt’s question takes you by surprise. You had never mentioned that to anyone besides Frank.

“Ehm, well… I’ve always had a thing for mysterious guys with red glasses. And I do have a thing for eyes, especially if they’re-” you drag out the last word, watching Matt smile as he removes his glasses, revealing the most beautiful hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, “-hazel. I was gonna say that, you know.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You work a little more, seeing out of the corner of your eye how Andy is making his way to the door, trying to eavesdrop on Billy and Rose. Dipping the needle again, you sigh. “I hope he’s not in trouble.”

“He’s not anymore.”

Before you can ask how he knows, they return and everyone in the shop pretends nothing is wrong. When you find out the reason behind Rose being upset, you could kick yourself. You apologize to her several times, promising you didn’t mean anything with the flirting. It’s in your nature, but you promise not to do it again.

Everything seems to fall into place and you finish up Matt’s tattoo. It’s beautiful, if you had to say so yourself and you knew Matt would love it when you tell him about it.

“You know-” he starts, smiling softly, “- the last time it was quite hard to do the aftercare properly. And my friend Foggy was not too pleased with rubbing my back.”

“Well, we can’t have that. So what do you suggest then?” You laugh seductively.

“What if I buy you dinner?” He gives you a flirty smile, making your heart beat hard in your chest. “Then you can tell me all about the after care or… You could show me?”

“Dinner sounds great.” You giggle, feeling your cheeks burn. “But I’m not off until 9.”

“I can take your last client.” Billy says behind you. “She can be ready at 7.”

You look over at Billy with his arms around Rose, both of them giving you a big smile. You mouth a thank you, before returning to Matt to discuss the details about tonight. When he leaves, you can’t help but smile. Dream job and maybe soon, a dream man. You couldn’t really imagine life getting any better than this.

Tagging: @itwasthereaminuteago @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @pedrito-friskito @chvoswxtch @yarrystyleeza @theradioactivespidergwen @mattmurdocksscars @boliv-jenta @murdock-and-the-sea @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @brokebonewritings

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction

126 notes · View notes

daceydeath · 2 years

Text

Stray Kids Reactions

Stray Kids reactions to you getting your period

Parings: 08T x Reader Word Count: 2.4k Genre: fluffy comedy Warnings: mentions of periods, blood, kissing and boys being idiots

Bang Chan

You woke up feeling the familiar cramping that you had grown accustomed to but still loathed that came along with your period. Wanting nothing more than to lay in bed with Chan and not move you grumbled when you heard the shower starting knowing that Chan would be leaving for work soon and wouldn't be able to cuddle all day long. Chan however was prepared for this he knew he was going to be busy with their comeback over the next month so in advance he went out to purchase you a new heat bag, bubble bath, bath bombs, chocolate and brought round one of his oldest but comfiest hoodies and put them all in a bag under his side of the bed a week ago. Walking back into the bedroom Chan smiled at you softly before pulling out the said small black suitcase and opening it next to you on the bed.

"Ok so hot bath first then movies in bed with a heat bag, my hoodie and chocolate for the rest of the day and I will order lunch for you alright Babygirl?" he quickly scooped you up taking you into the bathroom to run you a bath.

"I love you Channie" You sighed kissing his lips passionately.

"I love you more Babygirl" he whispered against your lips before kissing you deeply back.

Lee Know

Your cramps had come on early this month taking you slightly off guard which had annoyed you more than you were willing to admit. You often felt overly emotion in the first few days of your cycle Lee Know could see this as he watched you stomp around your apartment like a grouch for 10 or so minutes trying not to laugh as you huffed and sighed exaggeratedly to get his attention while throwing him puppy eyes.

"Kitten are you ok? would you like to go out for some coffee and cupcakes?" he asked smirking knowing that you were always going to agree to cake.

"Yes" you pouted

"The things I do for you kitten" he teased taking your hand and pulling you out the front door.

Changbin

Changbin had left early for the gym that morning which was probably for the best you realised as you stripped the sheets from the bed in a rage. You had woken up alone, in pain and feeling as though you had wet yourself which could mean only one thing that you had started your period during the night. You quickly and angrily took a shower, dressed yourself in the comfiest hoodie of Changbin's and sweatpants before aggressively throwing you pajamas in the wash.

Pulling the last corner of the sheet off the bed you heard the front door open. Hurringing to ball up the sheet you started yanking the cover of the quilt as fast as you can.

"Yah! why are you trying to kill the bed baby?" he yelled as he entered the bedroom to find you in a state.

"I'm not killing the bed I'm changing the sheets they smell" You huffed still trying to get the cover off without him seeing the blood staining it.

"No they dont baby I changed them yesterday. What's wrong?" He chuckled softly walking towards you and taking the covers from your hand. You froze when you saw that the stain was clearly visible to him now. "Oh" he said softly as he noticed the blood "why didn't you just say so baby it's fine" he soothed pulling you to him.

"you don't think I'm gross?" you asked

"never baby, why don't we put these sheets into soak and ill get us some breakfast? yeah" he soothed kissing your temple. you smiled up at him and agreed.

Hyunjin

You were always grateful to have such a romantic boyfriend Hyunjin took you on midnight picnics, sketched you while you slept, gave you flowers all time and left you little love notes all over your apartment. He was an angel and you were grateful but every month when your period came he became a little more distant not wanting to upset you or cause you anymore pain than you were already in which sometimes hurt you missed him and his care while he was too busy treating you like you were made of glass.

"Jinnie why won't I get to see you tonight" you whined into the phone pouting even though you knew he couldn't see it.

"Princess I don't want to cause you any stress you should be in bed relaxing" He sighed softly picturing the pout on your lips the furrowed brow and doe eyes that were accompanying it.

"I don't need rest" you continued childishly while sniffling dramatically "I need my Prince to cuddle me"

"Ok my prettiest one I will be there soon I promise" he cooed silently chuckling to himself.

You waited for him to arrive by making some hot chocolate you knew he wouldn't take too long to get to you he only lived on the other side of the suburb but when 15 minutes turned into 30 minutes and then 45 minutes you began to get a little bit agitated. Sitting on the couch your brooding was interrupted by Hyunjin struggling to open your front door.

"You said you would be right over….." you stopped yourself as your perfect Prince Hyunjin finally almost fell through the door holding a gigantic bouquet of roses, balloons and a oversize gift bag with a large teddy poking out the top. "Aww what did you do baby boy?" You asked tears springing to your eyes. As he handed you the gift bag revealing it was full of new pajamas and chocolates.

"I bought you things to make you feel better now come here and let me cuddle you" Hyunjin grinned looking like the cat who got the cream.

Han

The first time you got your period while you were with you boyfriend you played it off as feeling unwell, the second time you had a terrible headache, the third you must have eaten something that didn't agree with you which lead you to your current predicament of Han searching the web frantically for what you disease you could possible have that made you sick for so long. You tried really hard not to laugh as he sat you so carefully on his bed in the dorm explaining that he had been doing so research into what might be wrong and he was getting worried about how serious the answers were.

"Hannie what do you mean researching?" you asked faking a cough to mask your giggle

"Did you just cough? I'm going to have to add coughing to the symptoms" He muttered seriously going back to the screen to do another search

"I do not have Diverticulitis or Appendicitis babe" You giggled closing the laptop on his fingers.

"The what's wrong with you cupcake almost half the time I get to spend with you your not well" He whined his eyebrows furrowing in distress

"There isn't anything wrong with me babe it's normal it's just my time" you began explaining gently

"Your time?" He shrieked leaping up from his desk to pull you to his chest "it can't be your time we have too many things we still need to do! You haven't met my parents yet, I haven't met yours, we haven't even really been together long enough to even be comfortable moving in together" His voice was getting higher and higher the longer he babbled on about the future he hadn't yet got to experience.

"Hannie. Stop. Let me finish" you soothed running your fingers through his hair and you sat him on the bed in front of you "it's just my time of the month babe" you kept carding your fingers through his hair as you watched the information sink in and his cheeks slowly heat up an adorable pink shade

"Oh. Oooh" He whispered to himself looking up at you foolishly

"And everyone says Hyunjin is the dramatic one" You chuckled kissing him deeply "But it means a lot that you were so worried Hannie. I love you" kissing him again he tugged you forward until you were straddling his thighs.

Felix

"Bubs! you made it" Felix grinned bouncing over to you from the couch he had been sitting on.

"Hello sunshine" you smiled back pecking his cheek "I told you I would" Felix had invited you to the studio to watch the end of their practice before he would take you out for a walk through the park and a picnic. He lead you back to the couch and sat you down in the spot he had just vacated as Felix placed a plastic box in your. You quirked your eyebrow and he went back to his bag to grab a grab a chocolate milk that he had put in there earlier.

"Open it, it's to make you feel better I know today has been hard bubs" he grinned again handing you the chocolate milk as he winked and turned back to the guys to retake their positions for the choreography. The song started as you poked the straw into the milk box and pulled the lid of the container squeaking loudly in surprise. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted up to your nose and you couldn't help that your eyes misted up at the sweet gesture of baking you cookies and buying you chocolate milk as a way to help you.

"No. no. no bubs" Felix called leaving his position to instantly crouch in front of you "No tears my pretty bubby" he whispered wiping at the moisture on your lashes.

"I'm fine I promise" You sniffed "but Chan and Lee Know will scold you if you don't get back to work" you murmured as you looked towards the others. He nodded quickly going back to his position as the others quietly looked amongst themselves.

"Yah! hold on you made her cookies? where are ours?" Changbin whined loudly as everyone got back into position to start over

"Hyung when you get your period I'll make you cookies too" Felix smirked watching Changbin's face and ears flush red.

Seungmin

You had spent the night at the dorm which wasn't entirely uncommon you sometimes had to stay to avoid fans or photographers and the boys never minded your company since you always helped cook for them or helped Felix bake goodies which they inevitably got to enjoy. Rolling over you found yourself to be alone in the room Seungmin must have gotten up a while ago since his side of the bed was cold and you couldn't hear the shower running. So grunting softly you got up feeling the standard discomfort that came with your period you decided to wash up and make an appearance in the kitchen for breakfast.

Seungmin heard you moving down the hallway as he finished making breakfast with Lee Know, he knew you had a bad nights sleep due to your cramps because he had woken up several times to help massage your stomach and lower back to help you get back to sleep. Not that he minded he just loved being with you even if it was during your monthly time he was happy to help you however you needed him to.

"Something smells amazing" You yawned stepping into the large dining and lounge area spotting Jeongin and Felix sitting at the table on their phones

"Breakfast is almost ready Boo sit down and I'll bring you some coffee" Seungmin grinned watching you slowly sit in the seat beside the one he usually sat in.

"But shouldn't I be making breakfast to apologise Minnie?" You asked guiltily looking at the plate of pancakes Lee Know carried to the table.

"Nope" he shrugged putting the plate down in the middle of the table "Seungmin said you were in too much pain to cook so just enjoy it" He smiled at you making you blush lightly. Seungmin sat down next to you placing your coffee in front of you before pecking your cheek.

Jeongin

You had been with Jeongin for a few months now but had decided early on the you wanted to take it slow not only due to both of you not having a huge amount of experience but also because with him being an idol you were not going to get the normal amount of time to get to know each other. Due to this there was so much about you that Jeongin either wasn't aware of or had never thought about before one of these thing of course was your menstrual cycle.

You had been playing around in the rehearsal studio together waiting for his other members to arrive for their practice session. you were play fighting, eating candy and laughing at each others jokes when Chan and Felix arrived. Getting up to greet them you were instantly made aware of something being wrong as Jeongin let out the most dramatic gasp you had ever heard.

"Oh my gosh! did I hurt you while we were playing around? You're bleeding!" He cried running over to you to look you all over. Your face immediately turning dark red all the way to your ears when you saw your reflection from behind in the mirror, a dark red stain on the back of your light denim jeans.

"N-no I-I'm F-fine" you stuttered awkwardly as you hoped the floor would swallow you up. Chan and Felix instantly deducing the problem swung into action.

"Innie have you got a pair of spare sweatpants in your dance bag?" Chan asked walking the maknae over to his bag while Felix pretended to busy himself with his own stuff. Jeongin shook his head looking bewildered and Chan began taking off his hoodie to hand to you "Here kiddo put this on and head to the women's bathroom down the hall ok?" You nodded quickly taking the offered clothing and darting from the room.

When you returned 5 minutes later the others had all arrived making you feel worse but at least Chan's hoodie was massive on you almost looking like a dress. You smiled shyly at the others as you quickly sat on the couch so you were out of everyone's way.

"Here" Felix whispered kindly handing you a brownie "I made these earlier for when we finished but you can have some now"

"Thank you hyung" you murmured before taking a large bite and grinning. Jeongin was meanwhile looking very embarrassed probably due to Chan and Felix having to explain what was happening while you were in the bathroom.

"So….is anyone going to say why Innie's girlfriend is in Channie hyung's clothes or are we ignoring that?" Han looking over the three of you

"No" "Nope" "Yeah Nah"

"Ok good chat" Han finished before they all took their positions for the choreo run through.

A/N Thanks for reading and reblogs, comments or criticisms are welcome

680 notes · View notes

rainbowmoonstonestories · 1 year

Text

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

There is a short block of text here that is heavily taken from Neil Gaiman's comics and it features a character we will most likely see in Season 2. I don't take any credit for that part.

Chapter 5

Hob had told you that after a storm always comes a rainbow. He was probably right.

It had been three days since the incident in the kitchen. The small cuts on your arms were still visible, forming a bunch of half moon shapes and crosses that were slowly starting to fade. You were advised to keep the sling on until the end of the week even though your shoulder wasn’t hurting anymore, but what was primarily affecting you was your wrist, which didn't seem to be improving when you attempted to move it. The doctor had confirmed that your injury would take longer to heal due to the abnormal way your wrist had been turned and the nerves twisted. As a result, you were unable to perform most of your household tasks and your shifts had been distributed to other workers as you rested.

You were grateful for the ability to still use your dominant hand to draw, filling the empty pages of your sketchbook with new sketches and ideas that you had been forced to set aside until that moment. It was a welcome distraction from the discomfort and feeling of being trapped; the space that had seemed so big before now felt small and tight, with the walls closing in and the quiet of the house becoming deafening. You longed for the sound of the city, the chatter of people and the rush of cars and buses. When you weren't in your room, you enjoyed sauntering in the garden to enjoy some fresh air. It felt unreal to finally take a breather from all the hard work, but time seemed to move a lot slower since you stopped.

Despite your circumstances, you tried to stay optimistic and appreciate the little things that brought you joy, like the warmth of the sun on your face, or the taste of your favorite tea. But deep down, you knew that you couldn't continue like this, pretending you didn’t feel helpless and unsure of what steps to take next. It felt like you had lost your purpose and passion as every day was just another hurdle to overcome. Anxiety and fatigue weighed heavily on you and there was no glimmer of light in the surrounding darkness.

You were stuck in a never-ending cycle of monotony and stress, and things had became even more difficult since you started to avoid Dream. Whenever you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you felt sick at how pale and ravaged you looked with those bandages and rough skin. You knew that he most likely wouldn't have minded, but how were you supposed to save him when you couldn't even save yourself?

The thought of facing him with your scars and wounds made you feel vulnerable and exposed. You couldn't bear the idea of him seeing you in such a weakened state, especially when he was the one who needed your help the most.

The guilt and shame of not being there for him gnawed at you day and night.

You could have taken that time off as a chance to stay away from Fawney Rig for a longer break, but you knew it wouldn't really solve your problem. Eventually, you were supposed to return to your duties and your father would have tried with all his might to stop you from returning. Now that he was regaining his old energy back, he was a lot more active and prone to fight for anything that might cause you harm.

You couldn't blame him entirely, of course. He had always wanted what was best for you and he had sacrificed a lot to ensure that you had a good life.

No. Running away wasn't an option you wanted to consider.

Although the thought of meeting Dream in your predicament was making you extremely nervous, on the fourth day since the assault, you committed to yourself to finally resume your visits. You took the time to carefully apply some heavier makeup to cover up the bags under your eyes and chose to wear a long-sleeved shirt to conceal the bruises on your arms.

The guards always watched your every move, but you noticed they were rarely on duty downstairs in the afternoon. You hoped this would give you the opportunity to sneak into the basement before they could come running down and take their seat, in order to have a few moments alone with Dream without their scrutinizing looks fixated on the back of your head.

But your hopes were dashed as soon as you stepped out of your room and Paul's voice came from behind you.

"Y/N? How are you feeling today?"

You turned around, your lips pulled into a very tight smile. "Well, I would say I’m doing absolutely great, were it not for this mummified wrist of mine," you replied.

He let out a burst of hearty laughter that echoed through the corridor, fondly patting your shoulder in a fatherly way. “Were you going outside?”

You hesitated for a moment. “Not exactly.”

You had no reason to lie to him, but the man was smart enough to connect the dots. “Ah. You want to see him.”

“Can I?”

His expression softened. “I don’t see why not.”

Paul gestured for you to walk ahead, guiding you to the flight of stairs that led to the ground floor.

As you arrived at the basement door, he opened it for you and led you inside, but you felt uncertain about what to do when it became clear that he intended to come down with you instead of waiting outside (or better yet, taking his leave).

Unable to ignore the growing disappointment within you, you made the decision to step in anyway. The elevator descended with a loud screech, and when it stopped, Paul walked out with a reassuring glint in his eyes. A sense of déjà vu washed over you as you were reminded of your first night in that cold, damp place when you almost believed they were about to introduce you to the Devil.

This time, you knew exactly what was waiting for you inside and trepidation gnawed at you with a painful grip.

You followed Paul into the cellar, your footsteps resounding in the cavernous space until the glass cage came into view. He stopped walking and put his hands into the pockets of his sweater.

The uneasiness was evident in the way he pressed his lips together and stepped back, standing in front of the locked gate. "I'll wait here," he told you. "Take all the time you need.”

You crossed the suspended bridge and walked along the platform, right up to where the cage held Dream captive. As the Endless looked up, shock and confusion took form in his eyes the moment he saw you. He inspected your face in disbelief, his gaze traveling down to your arm where he spotted your injury. You could see the concern on his face as he moved closer to the glass, placing both hands on it and frowning with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your voice shake. "Hi Dream. Sorry I'm late, I had a little impediment as you can see," you explained, looking at your sling and wiggling your fingers slightly. Your heart was racing as you tried to stay calm.

Dream's concern quickly turned into rage. He shifted his gaze beyond you and fixed it on Paul, who was watching you from a distance without saying a word. Dream's body became stiff and his upper lip twitched with a barely contained fury, the tendons in his neck were as taut as violin strings.

You smiled and shook your head, trying to diffuse the situation. "Don't be mad at him. He isn't at fault," you clarified. "Things would be a lot worse now if it weren't for him.”

Dream's attention snapped back to you and he stared at your bandages for a moment too long. His chest heaved with anger as he took in the sight again, trying to control the indignation building up inside him.

Knowing that he cared about your well-being was flattering, but you wished you could meet him under better circumstances. As you saw him now, so protective and caring despite the barrier separating the two of you, all the emotions you had been trying to suffocate came flooding back.

So you strengthened your resolve, turned to Paul and spoke to him calmly with a pleading tone. "Paul, can you give me a moment with him?”

Judging by the way he cocked his neck and his eyebrows knitted, you could tell that he was reluctant, but you couldn't let that deter you.

"Please," you insisted. “You owe me that.”

He signed after a moment of consideration, taking his hands out of his pockets and nodding at you to comply. You could see his mustache lifting at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

You didn't move, waiting for him to take the elevator and disappear behind the brick wall. You heard the sound of the metallic gate opening and closing, footsteps trampling over the upper floor and the door clicking.

Once you were sure that Paul was gone, you looked back at Dream's face, hoping he would understand the depth of your strain.

"Dream, I can't keep doing this," you said with a heavy heart. "I've really tried, but this place is like poison to me."

You had been struggling for a while now, trying to make things work in an environment that was slowly draining you of your energy and motivation, without realizing it. Despite your best efforts, the situation seemed to be getting worse, and your body now bore the marks of that.

"I never intended to cause you more harm than you've already gone through. I know I may have used you for the sake of my family, but I never meant to. And you don't know how much I hate myself for it.”

Your voice was feeble, more like a whisper that you hoped nobody else would hear.

"The money I earned in the past three months allowed me to pay for the most expensive medical treatment my father could ever receive," you said, leaning against the glass and trying to get closer to him when you felt him so out of reach. "But how am I supposed to take joy in his recovery when you're suffering?”

You closed your eyes. A single teardrop fell from your eyelashes, hitting the floor and wetting it at your feet. “I can’t leave you, Dream. I can’t abandon you here.”

You took your arm out of the sling and placed placed both of your trembling palms against the cold and unyielding glass, a cruel reminder of the distance keeping you away from his touch.

Your lower lip quivered and there was nothing you could do to contain your desperation. "I wish we could have met in a different way. Perhaps if this had never happened, I could have seen you in my dreams.”

He could have removed his hands from the glass, rejecting your attempt to connect and leaving you to your gripes. Instead, he remained completely unmoved and gazed at you with his beautiful, deep, watery eyes. The intensity of his gaze was almost paralyzing and you felt yourself being drawn into his world, into a place where all made sense and everything was possible.

“If only I was here in 1916, when they captured you. Maybe I could have stopped them, or freed you a long time ago.”

You wanted to comprehend the inner workings of his mind, to decipher the thoughts and emotions that he kept buried within for a century. You longed to hear the sound of his voice, to learn his name, to experience the sensation of running your fingers over his soft skin and hair.

The desire to know him on a deeper level was consuming you, but the barrier between you was insurmountable. You traced the outline of his face on the glass, as if trying to memorize every detail, every curve and angle.

You inspected the sphere, searching for any lock or opening that you could evade. It appeared that the cage had been sealed together, with no visible gap he could force or break.

“There must be something I can do.”

Dream leaned forward, only a few inches away from your nose. He was so physically close to you now that your breath got caught in your throat and you could almost feel the sound of his own breathing muffled in that close space. The intensity of his presence was too much to bear and you were dragged into his orbit, where everything else faded away. You tried to resist the pull, tried to maintain a sense of detachment, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the seconds ticked by.

You started to feel a strange pressure in your forehead, as an invisible force tried to shut your eyes and push you into the darkness. You heard voices, distant echoes that vibrated inside you. Flashes of light blinded you and unfamiliar scenes made their way through your mind. Scattered images and fleeting moments played out behind your eyelids, leaving you feeling disoriented and confused.

But gradually, the scenes combined into one sequence that became more stable, like an old film coming into focus. The scattered pictures began to coalesce, forming a cohesive narrative that you could follow properly. The sounds that had seemed so foreign were now familiar and you realized they were memories of someone else's past. Dream’s past.

Suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by a group of people dressed in long blue tunics. They were all keeping their hoods up except for the man who stood at the center, holding something round with his left hand.

“I give you a coin made from a stone,” he said, before placing the object down. “I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein.”

He cut the inside of his arm with the blade he was holding and a few drops of his blood fell onto the freshly painted binding circle in front of him.

The other people were chanting “Here in the darkness” over and over again. A young child accompanied by an old man entered the basement, witnessing the ongoing ritual with worry and uncertainty.

The man continued. “I give you a song I stole from the dirt-”

The elder grabbed the child by his shoulders, keeping him at the entrance and holding onto him as fear overtook him.

“-and I give you a feather pulled from an angel’s wing.” The Magus raised his right hand, holding a white feather to the sky. “For you to lift up into the heavens.”

The chanting continued, becoming quieter for a moment, and then increasing in volume when the feather raised up again with a magical energy. The little boy moved forward, narrowing his eyes as the feather continued its ascension. The man's voice also became louder as he continued with the spell.

“I summon you with poison.”

The feather started to burn, its light turning into a fiery red before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

“I summon you with pain.”

A breath of air formed into the room, blowing among those present. The pages of the spellbook rapidly turned in the wind.

“I open the way, I open the gates.”

The binding circle lit with bright flames that raised from the golden paint.

“I summon you in the names of the old Lords.”

Something appeared over the ceiling, an undefined shape made of sand that flashed and faded, only to return in a solid twist on your head.

“Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!”

In that weird vortex of sand, a humanoid figure appeared. Arms and legs were turning all over and distant groans could be heard from the mass that was taking form. And then, the creature was pulled into the circle, hard, as the lights turned off and the chanting stopped. Everyone was stunned, shocked, you could hear men and women gasping in fear as the air became thicker with a sense of foreboding. You could feel the darkness settling in around you.

The fire returned to the torches, dissipating the darkness that had engulfed the room and providing new light. The Magus moved closer, staring at the weird alien-like mask that the summoned entity was wearing. A red ruby and a human-like hand holding a pouch were visible from under the big black cape covering the captured being.

The man knelt down, reaching for the items on the floor and stopping midway. He turned to the child, who was still a little shaken a few feet away. "Alex," he called out to him, but the boy didn't react. "Alex!" he tried again, gesturing for him to come forward.

When the boy silently reached the Magus's side, he was ordered once more. "Get that pouch for me, but be careful. Don’t break the binding circle.”

They took everything; the pouch full of sand, the jewel containing fragments of the creature's power, even the black cape that once removed revealed a naked, pale, almost ivory-like body lying on the cold floor. The moment the piece of clothing was lifted, a raven popped up from it and angrily attacked the Magus, who tried to protect himself with his arms as the bird’s sharp beak tore the fabric of his sleeves.

The ravenF eventually flew out of the basement seeking refuge somewhere around the house. Meanwhile, the frail man on the floor was barely moving, twitching and shaking from being abruptly severed from his realm. It was as if a part of his essence had been sucked away, leaving him as nothing more than an empty shell.

Next, Roderick Burgess grabbed his mysterious helm and pulled it off so hard that you could feel your own neck snapping.

“We’ll let our guest recover before we tell him our demands.”

Dream was left alone, completely stripped and deprived of everything he possessed. The lack of power was palpable, with invisible constraints imposed on him by the Magus, who showed no concern for the damage he had caused to The Endless' realm, or even to his own. The pain and humiliation he felt were so intense that they became almost tangible, as if they belonged to you and not just to him.

And then, more scenes followed in sequence, one after the other.

Roderick Burgess stood in front of the cage, impatient and irritated. He circled the sphere to face his prisoner, with Alex once again at his side, looking uncomfortable and guilty.

“I know who you are, Dream Of The Endless.”

Dream's broken body laid on the hard floor of the cage, his head resting on his bent right arm. As the man spoke, his eyes opened and shimmered in the soft light above him, resembling a cat's irises in the shadows.

“I captured you according to the laws of magic,” Roderick specified. “But it wasn’t you I wanted. I wanted Death to return my son Randall who died in the Gallipoli Campaign.”

Roderick's heart was heavy with loss. He paused to regain control of his emotions before continuing. "If you give him back to me, alive and well, I'll release you. Is that in your power, Lord of Dreams?”

Dream's fists clenched with hatred and his back rose and fell as he breathed heavily.

“No, I suppose not,” said Roderick. Alex looked back at his father with visible contempt.

“So then, what can you give me?”

Once more, Dream remained silent.

“If I let you go, if I promise to give you back your things. What, power? Wealth? Immortality? Hmm? Is there nothing you can offer me?”

The man asked for things that Dream would never be able to gift to a mortal. Roderick Burgess had absolutely no right to make such demands, yet he claimed them as his own.

Dream stared at Roderick with resentment, he had no intention of ever speaking to his captor.

“Well, have it your way then. And until you’re ready to speak, I’ll enjoy the gifts you’ve already given me.”

He took the ruby from his pocket, holding the pendant between his thumb and forefinger as he showed it to Dream like a trophy he had earned. A soft glow appeared on the surface of the gem, before he hastily closed his hand around it and walked away.

Alex stared at his father's back, then at Dream, unsure of how to react to what he was seeing. Dream's head slowly raised from his arm, and he glanced back at Alex with anger and skepticism.

You were there, standing in front of Dream and next to Alex. But at the same time, you also weren't. It was as if you were watching the events unfold in a virtual reality, except that those feelings shaping in you were absolutely real. You could feel Dream's fear of losing his kingdom and everything around it. The numbness in his limbs. The distress devouring him.

The scene changed again.

Alex Burgess, now a young man, tentatively walked around the cage. “Hello. It’s Alex. The Magus’s son. See, I don’t know whether you can speak or… or even understand me, but-uh… I just wanted to ask…”

Dream's body was as still as a statue, but his head and eyes followed the guy's steps on the other side of the platform.

“Are you all right in there?”

Dream's neck turned even more, showing an ounce of surprise for Alex's concern after so many years.

He walked faster, turning around and moving closer to where the cage was. "No, of course you're not." The honesty in his eyes was something Dream hadn't seen in a very long time. He didn't feel like trusting him just yet, but perhaps he was worth listening to.

“I’m… I’m sorry. About all of this. He’s not a bad man, my father, he… he just…”

Dream didn't react, but the way Alex paused without knowing how to properly conclude his sentence implied that deep down, he didn't truly believe in the man's heart, which seemed to be made primarily of stone.

“See, if you could bring Randall back, or… or just give him something, anything. Or even just speak to him. Then I am sure he would let you out.”

Would Roderick Burgess truly let him go if he got what he wanted? Human greed knows no end; the moment mortals acquire something they desire, they immediately crave something greater. A cycle that repeats itself over and over again.

Regardless, reviving a mortal from the dead was beyond Dream's capabilities.

“See, I… I would let you out if I could.”

Dream's eyes lit up with hope as he gazed at Alex. He had always been cautious of putting his complete trust in him, but something about the way Alex looked at him now stirred new thoughts in Dream's mind. Perhaps Alex would grant him the freedom that his father would undoubtedly never consider, no matter how many riches and treasures he had already obtained through the items he had stolen from Dream.

And yet, the Endless couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

The moment Alex mentioned the devil, Roderick materialized at the cellar gates like a prison warden. "You would, would you?" His voice was cold and menacing, his eyes flashing with anger.

Alex stood frozen in fear as Roderick glared at him with a threatening look. The pounding of Alex's heart was almost audible as the man seized him by the arm and dragged him away from the basement, silently promising to punish him for his disobedience.

The images dissipated like sand, transforming into a new scene before you.

Dream sat inside the cage, his hand resting on the glass, his gaze fixed upward. He sensed a familiar presence making its way down to the basement from the upper floors. His raven perched between the bars of the closed gate to announce its arrival and Dream looked at the bird with a mix of excitement, pride and newfound hope for what was yet to come.

As the raven approached the cage, flapping its wings and pecking at the glass, Dream's lips curved into a smile. His face showed a growing fondness and determination as the bird repeatedly struck the glass with the clear intention of breaking it. The Endless rose to his feet, approaching his loyal companion and eagerly awaiting the first sign of a crack.

Suddenly, a deafening gunshot echoed around them and a large bloodstain appeared on the glass in front of Dream's eyes. It took him a moment to register what had happened, and he hesitantly looked down to see the raven's body lying motionless on the floor.

In that moment, an excruciating pain seared through you, as if someone had stabbed your heart and ripped it unceremoniously from your chest. You couldn't contain the loud, strangled scream that erupted from your throat and echoed against the damp walls of the basement. "No!!!”

Dream's hand hung frozen in the air as tears filled his eyes. When he looked up, he saw Alex holding a rifle that was still emitting smoke, aimed at the cage where the raven had been just a moment before. In an instant, Roderick and the guards came rushing down, staring in shock at the bloody mess that the young man had just committed.

His father immediately took hold of the rifle, pulling it away from Alex's hands. "Idiot! You could have shattered the glass!”

Dream let himself slide down, defeated and heartbroken. He followed the streaks that leaked from the stain, running along the sphere and onto the floor tiles. Roderick Burgess glanced at the bird, then back at Dream with a triumphant look of victory.

"Clear that mess up," Roderick said before taking his leave again, while a confused Alex was clearly trying to grasp the gravity of his actions, looking at the slaughtered bird before him.

Dream watched as Alex approached the cage and stooped to collect the raven's remains. When their eyes met, the fury in Dream's tear-filled gaze was as sharp as a knife. Alex stepped back very slowly, shuddering before turning away.

He held the raven in his hands, ignoring the guard who offered him a trashcan.

Your breath caught in your chest. You felt the loss as if it were your own and Dream's tear-streaked face was now etched fully in your mind.

As the images collapsed together into a smoky transition, another memory formed.

“The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune.”

Roderick was standing in front of Dream, leaning against the cage with both hands.

“She’s also robbed you. She’s taken your helm, your sand and your ruby. Now, I can unlock this, you can go after her… if you give me what I’m asking for.”

Dream looked up at Roderick as if he couldn't care less about what he wanted. While the woman may have taken what belonged to him in the first place, seeing his captor lose what he had wrongfully taken for his own "fortune" brought Dream a small sense of satisfaction.

“Wealth, youth, immortality. Oh, you’re a God. These things are nothing to you. Don’t you want your weapons and your freedom?”

The frustration etched on Roderick's wrinkled face was priceless. As usual, Dream remained silent, allowing his anger to boil even more.

“Speak to me!” He exclaimed. “Speak to me! Speak.To.Me.”

Dream flinched as Roderick began banging his cane against the thick, resistant glass of the cage. Although the bowl had been carefully constructed to contain Dream's physical manifestation and the limited power he still possessed, there was always a risk of it cracking and shattering.

The man didn't stop, lifting his cane even higher and demanding a response. “Come on! Speak to me!”

"It's all right, father," Alex intervened, lightly touching the man's shoulder.

However, Roderick disregarded the gesture and coldly pushed Alex away. "Get away from me. If you were any kind of son to me... " He brandished his cane at Alex, who quickly knelt down and dodged the blow. When Roderick attempted to strike him again, Alex blocked the cane and held it firmly against his chest, overpowering his weakening father.

“If Randall were alive today-”

“If Randall were alive, he would hate you as much as I do.”

Feeling defiant, Roderick attempted to free himself and punish Alex for his rebellious attitude. However, the young man accidentally pushed him back with such force that the back of Roderick's head struck the glass. His skull cracked open at the impact with the sphere and a dark red liquid coated his fingers the moment he touched the area to inspect it.

He fell to the ground, panting and unable to keep his eyes opened as a pool of blood formed on the stone tiles.

Before taking his last breath, Roderick turned to Dream. His voice was rough as he struggled to speak. “You’re never getting out of there,” he slurred.

Dream glanced back at the dying man with a stoic expression.

“Never.”

As the scene dissolved into a final cloud of smoke, you could still hear distant voices shaping around you.

"This is my friend Paul. Paul, this is our unwilling guest." Alex's voice broke through the faint sounds. "Look, we've been talking, Paul and I. And if I let you out, will you promise not to harm us?"

You strained to listen as another voice, which you assumed was Paul's, spoke up. "If you could just speak to us."

Silence.

Alex responded. “You see, I told you.”

"I'm telling you, you have to keep trying. Show him that he can trust you. Show him that you mean it." Paul urged.

"I do mean it," Alex assured. "Just promise that you won't harm me or Paul and I will let you out."

Your eyes flew open, burning with tears. You stared up at Dream, at a loss for words and panting from the tragic events that had just played out in your mind. You stumbled backward and clutched your stomach, trying to suppress the urge to cough up the lump that had formed at the back of your throat.

"Is that what happened...?" you asked, barely above a murmur. "Is that what they did to you?"

Seeing how broken he looked after reliving the hardest times of his captivity hurt you even more. New tears cascaded down, tracing streaks down your cheeks and slipping into your shirt.

“He said he wanted to let you out,” you said with a hiccup. “He wanted to help you and then what? He killed your raven, just like that?!”

Dream blinked a few times. He didn't cry, but you could see that all those years hadn’t been enough to alleviate his agony.

“What the fuck?!”

The little respect and understanding you had towards Mr. Burgess was now gone, dissolving along with the memories of sand. If there ever was a true devil inside that house, it would be his father, and you could certainly see where Alex’s trauma stemmed from. But he was the one who pulled the trigger, holding the rifle. The one who chose to murder the raven in cold blood.

The one who described Dream as an unwilling guest after what they did. After what he did.

You had reached your limit.

Right at that moment, you realized that absolutely nothing could hold you back. The future of your resume was no longer important; the only thing that mattered was making things right.

You cursed Roderick Burgess, cursed Fawney Rig and cursed all of it.

Regaining your breath, you sniffled and wiped your eyes clean. You looked at Dream one last time before making your final decision.

“This needs to end, and it ends now.”

Dream watched as you turned away and walked off the platform, but you had no intention of speaking to your boss to set things straight. You wanted to take matters into your own hands, so you grabbed a chair from the guard's outpost and held it against your chest as you returned. Dream's eyes widened as you raised the chair over your head, ready to strike the glass. "Stay back. This might turn out messy," you warned him.

Your heart pounded as you struggled to keep the heavy object steady in your hands. Your wrist already hurt and trembled from the pressure of your nerves, but you refused to let that stop you and maintained your stance.

Dream's expression was a mix of hope and fear. He pressed himself against the glass as if he was trying to stop you from doing something foolish.

As footsteps frantically approached, the reason for Dream's behavior became clear. The lock holding the gate closed was ripped off.

"Don’t move!" The guards rushed over, alerted by your screams. "Put that chair down.”

You didn’t falter, measuring the distance between you and the man in uniform. If you could deliver a single, strong enough blow to crack the glass, maybe Dream could use that to his advantage to break through. However, when you looked back at the Endless, his eyes were conveying a warning as he slowly shook his head, trying to discourage you from doing it.

You held onto the chair tightly, not willing to put it down. But then, you heard the gun's barrel as the guard pointed the weapon at you, for real this time. You knew he would shoot you if you refused to comply; after all, it was his job to ensure that Dream remained under custody.

Dream pleaded with you, his fingers curling and closing into fists against the sphere. Although you were torn between your own safety and his, the desire to secure his freedom was burning within you. You couldn't give up now that you were so close to seeing him released.

The guard's voice boomed behind you. "I won't repeat myself. Put that thing down and turn around. Hands up."

Did you truly want to put yourself in harm's way? Was it worth risking everything and causing chaos for someone who was beyond even a deity, destined for something far greater than you could ever aspire to?

Knowing that someone had a deadly pistol aimed at your back was undoubtedly terrifying, but the thought of not taking any action and simply letting things be was unacceptable.

In the end, you decided to follow your heart and trust your instincts. You smiled at Dream, lifting the chair even higher and preparing to strike the glass. You were so close, incredibly close. You could feel it.

Suddenly, a warning shot fired into the air and echoed through the basement. You instinctively shut your eyes as the sound rumbled through your chest, leaving your ears ringing uncomfortably.

You felt the chair being pulled from your grasp as an arm wrapped around your waist and dragged you away from the cage. You let yourself fall to the floor like dead weight, planting your feet firmly on the ground and refusing to even budge.

Both guards attempted to move you, trying to make you stand and escort you out. “No! Let me go!” You protested.

The man took hold of your injured wrist and pulled you up, causing you to cry out in pain. Dream could only stare as they forcibly took you away, pushing and hitting the glass to no avail.

“Dream!” You called for him. “No, please! Dream, I’m so sorry!”

As they carried you farther and farther away from Dream's cage, lifting you up like a bag of potatoes, Paul arrived in a panic after hearing your pleas. He instructed the guards to release you and helped you stand on your feet again, keeping you close to him and protectively holding your shoulder.

As you collapsed onto the leather cushions of the couch, you stared blankly at the coffee table in front of you. Tears continued to stream from your eyes and you couldn't shake off the feeling of despair in your heart.

You heard the guards explaining to Paul the situation and revealing what you had just done, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that consumed you.

Paul dismissed the guards and sat with you in silence. Although you were expecting him to reprimand you for putting the entire house in danger, he instead gently touched your back and comforted you by moving his hand up and down, allowing you to let your emotions out without judgment.

When you finally calmed down, a nervous chuckle escaped your lips. “I guess I'm fired, am I not?”

Paul let out a sigh. "Do you want me to fire you?"

"What kind of question is that?" you replied.

He smiled. "I would rather save you from all this while I still can."

You held your wrist, which was now throbbing and burning in pain. Paul brushed his calloused fingers on your hand, lifted it up, and carefully placed your sling back in place.

"Do you know why I came down with you today?" he asked.

"Because you wanted to prevent just that?"

"Yes, but not the way you think. I didn't want you to take on that responsibility."

You laughed. "Who else would?”

“Me. I would.”

You looked at Paul, serious and exasperated. "Why didn't you?"

He was about to respond when you both heard the sound of something approaching the resting area. Alex Burgess arrived with visible concern, maneuvering the wheelchair next to the couch.

"What is this all about?" he glanced at both of you inquisitively.

You could feel your blood boiling and swirling in your veins. The moment you saw his face, you immediately remembered his younger self standing at the basement gates and shooting down Dream's raven.

You stood from the couch, incinerating him with your gaze. “You,” you growled. "How do you even look at yourself in the mirror after what you did?”

Alex was shocked, looking at Paul for an explanation. His husband shrugged, just as confused as Mr. Burgess was.

"I'm sorry for what our guest did to you," he said. "If I knew he would behave in such a manner-"

"That’s not what I’m talking about." Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to control the trembles of anger. “Where you even planning to inform me about the way you killled his raven, or did you think you could just blame it all on your father?”

The color drained from the man's face as his mouth parted. “How did you…?”

You waited for him to find the most ridiculous justification.

"Is he speaking to you now?"

"He is not. He showed me."

"Showed you...?"

Your nails were lightly scratching your palms. "I don't know how, but it happened. I saw everything I needed to see, from the day he was captured."

From his position, Mr. Burgess looked so small now. He could feel the heavy judgment in your voice and in the way you were literally towering over him. He was too weak to stand and face you, too old to even sustain a debate with you.

Defeated, he sighed as a sign of admission. “It's not like I want to blame it all on my father, I know what I did. But he ordered me to get rid of it, he was the one who gave me the rifle."

You laughed. "Oh, so you’re telling me that he also pulled the trigger telepathically?"

“No, I… he was beating me up! I was afraid, what else was I supposed to do?”

Paul tried to calm you down by calling your name, but you were literally on fire. “The right thing. You were supposed to do the damn right thing. He may have given you the input, Mr. Burgess, but nobody fired that shot for you.”

His eyes closed shut as he took the blow.

"I know that your father was a monster, I saw that too,” you continued. “But you had offered Dream your help, and just a moment later, you took something - someone - very dear to him. Leaving him completely stripped of all his possessions wasn't enough?”

“I didn’t mean to!” He raised his voice, pushing himself upward. “I swear. I regretted doing it ever since.”

You flopped back onto the couch, moving a strand of hair away from your heated face. “And you wonder why he preferred to stay in that cage instead of giving you what you wanted.”

The air around you felt thick and suffocating as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over again.

“Mr. Burgess, you wanted to know if you were as bad as your father. I can tell you that no, you are nothing like him, but you just never learned to do better.”

Alex gathered his thoughts and self-reflected on what you had told him. On one hand, he was relieved not to be compared to a devil, but he had to admit that his actions somewhat reflected his father's essence. He nodded in silence, curling his fingers around the fabric of his trousers.

"I'll pack my things," you announced, standing up again. "Thank you for entrusting the work to me, Mr. Burgess. I think it's best if I end my stay here, don't you agree?”

"I..." He looked at you, unsure of the right answer to give. "Yes. Thank you for all your hard work, Miss Y/LN.”

You didn't wait for Paul to follow you. You didn't even turn around as you took your leave and ran up the stairs to reach your room.

The past three months had been the worst and best time of your life. You grew accustomed to the mansion with all its corridors, strategic corners, and historical relics, as well as the beautiful garden and the green expanse around it. But despite how beautiful and warm it could be, you never truly felt like you belonged. The moments you spent with Dream, talking to him, observing his eyes glinting and his plush lips forming the tiniest smiles, were absolutely the most cherished memories you collected there.

Now you were leaving everything behind, including him, with a daunting realization that you had failed all along the way.. And your shattered heart was condemned to a long period of piecing itself back together, knowing that you wouldn't see him ever again, not even in your dreams in a distant future.

You had to muster the courage to let go of the love that had matured for him and move on with a fresh start.

You were standing outside the Burgess mansion, waiting for the cab to arrive as you held your suitcase and felt the late afternoon breeze blowing through your hair. Paul was standing next to you, tightening the collar of his shirt with one hand and occasionally glancing at you.

The silence was awkward, but at the same time comforting.

A question formed in your mind, something you had been wondering since you saw those memories, but didn't get the chance to ask in the chaos that followed.

“Paul, did you know about the raven?”

Your question surprised him, but he didn't hesitate to answer you. "Yes, he told me everything about it.”

“What happened to her?”

“How do you know it was a female?”

“I don’t. Just a guess.”

You turned your attention to him, eagerly waiting to know.

"He buried it…her in the garden. As a reminder of what he did.”

"Did he visit her grave?"

"All the time."

As you reflected on your feelings, you felt pity towards Alex, but you also recalled the moment when Dream lost his beloved companion because of him. Forgiveness is something that requires mastery and you were having a hard time with it.

“Paul, I need to ask you for a favor.”

"Of course, what can I do for you?”

You stared at him with exhaustion in your eyes. "Not for me, for him. Promise me that you will take care of Dream. Please.”

Paul's lips widened into a big, warm smile. You felt his hand carefully take hold of yours, bringing it up and placing his other palm on top. “I promise, Y/N.”

You let out a sigh of relief, nodding in acceptance and suppressing another rush of tears.

"You love him." It wasn't a question, not even an investigation. It was a simple affirmation, the reality of things laid nude in front of his eyes.

You grunted. “I’m so damn stupid, am I not?”

“Why, because you fell in love?”

“Yes. With an ethereal, nameless being who never spoke to me once.”

Paul chuckled in amusement. "My dear, this is just how love works. The fact that you care so much about him despite all that, means that your heart is pure and honest.”

You shrugged. "And yet, here I am. Sulking and whining over my one-sided crush.”

He released your hand, brushing his fingers along his mustache. "Are you really sure it is one-sided?"

"Come on, Paul. You don't seriously believe that someone like him would ever fall for a simple human such as myself."

“I don’t see why not? Maybe you don’t realize it, but the connection you enstablished with him is something I have never seen before.”

What you felt was unprecedented, an experience that shook you to your core. Dream had the ability to get under your skin in such a manner that his presence alone left you spiritually fulfilled.

And it was all gone now.

“Maybe,” you replied. “But I’m leaving him behind, knowing that I won’t even see him again.”

Paul shook his head. “Never say never, Y/N.”

As the taxi arrived, you received the final confirmation that that chapter of your life was coming to an end. You watched the car slow down and park in front of you, the driver roll down the window and greet you with politeness. All you could do was respond with a nod of your head, frozen in place as your hand tightened around the handle of the suitcase.

Paul opened the backseat door and helped you set your luggage in place before offering you a melancholy smile. You remembered the day you stepped into his house for the first time, admiring the intricate details of the antique design and appreciating the smell of maple wood. Paul's kindness had immediately put you at ease; he was the only person who offered you support when anyone else silently judged you for your mundane attitude without even trying to befriend you.

"I'm going to miss you," you said to Paul, your eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for everything.”

Paul was feeling as emotional as you, giving you a quick, soft hug. "I will miss you too, Y/N. You probably don't realize it, but you had quite a positive impact on us.”

“I doubt Mr. Burgess sees it that way.”

“It may not look like it to you, but he wasn’t immune to your words.”

As the sun slowly disappeared behind the trees, you stood there listening to the birds singing their song for the last time. The peaceful melody of their chirping filled the air with a sense of tranquility that didn’t reflect the way you felt.

You closed your eyes, cherishing the beauty of nature around you as the rustling of leaves created a symphony of sounds. It was a melodic composition that you were ready to replace with the familiar rythm of the city.

You sat in the car and told the driver your address. As the taxi began to move, you took one last look at the building, feeling your eyes starting to water, for the upteenth time that day. You were leaving a part of yourself behind, unable to ever get it back.

The driver noticed your distress and asked if there was anything he could do to help. The only thing you truly wanted was something that nobody could provide: to turn back time and undo what had been done.

Despite the unbearable ache in your chest, you managed a small smile and told the driver you just wanted to go home.

"Goodbye, Dream," you whispered to yourself as the taxi drove on. You were drowning in a sea of emotions and couldn't escape from it.

Morpheus was a being of great power and wisdom. He had seen countless things throughout his long existence, and yet, when he met you, something had shifted all he knew about humanity. You became his anchor, the one thing that could mend and strengthen his broken heart over time.

At first, Morpheus didn't think too much of it. He had learned not to trust any mortal blindly, as that had turned against him in the worst of ways. But the more you visited and spoke to him so honestly, the more he felt deeply touched by your spirit. He found himself thinking about you, always eager to see more of you as the days went by.

There was something about your presence that drew him in. He felt an emotional pull towards you that he couldn’t define or comprehend. He longed to be close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin and to lift any barriers that stood between you.

“She’s gone.”

The moment Alex uttered those words, his entire world shattered beyond repair.

He had watched in horror as you showed up with those injuries, so visibly drained despite your efforts to hide them. He was overcome with a sense of helplessness and anger, craving your smile and the reassurance of your kindness.

Morpheus knew that you were worth so much more than what they were giving you and the fact he couldn't protect you was frustrating him to no end. You had put your life at risk for his sake, challenging the guards that wouldn't have hesitated to shoot you down if you had dared breaking the glass like you intended to.

The bravery you had shown for him had left him filled with gratitude and admiration. While his imprisonment had condemned the Waking World to a long, ever-lasting cycle of darkness spreading into wars and destruction over the past century, you were literally a gleam of hope, a beautiful dream swimming into a never-ending ocean of nightmares. Morpheus wished he could be stronger for you and ensure that the light in your heart would never fade. But how could he aspire to that now that you were so far away?

They had stripped him of his realm, his tools, his raven, and now you.

“I could have asked for wealth or power, like my father did. But all I ever wanted was to be free of you,” Alex said, brimming with bitterness and annoyance.

The Endless glanced up at the old man, scrutinizing his afflicted expression as he gave him his very last speech.

“Surely you want that too.”

As the doctor stood against a column, looking awkward and unsure of what to do, Paul grasped the handles of the wheelchair and gently pushed it forward.

“Alex, darling please,” he begged him, reaching out for his husband in fear to see him stagger.

The man didn’t protest and immediatly sat down. Paul's hand lovingly tightened his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Take me upstairs, Paul," he requested, keeping his eyes on an unflinching Dream. "I won't be coming down here again.”

Morpheus, empty and afflicted, observed the two men moving away from the cage. He blinked once, twice, and his eyes started to burn with a boiling anguish. How many centuries had to pass before someone decided to finally let him out, or were they planning to just let him rot in a bowl for eternity?

As his grief was about to engulf him, Morpheus noticed something in front of him: one of the wheels had just passed over the tiny smear that had previously formed under your steps, taking away a good portion of the paint as it went on.

As if he had planned it from the start, Paul stopped along the way and deliberately turned to check the binding circle behind him. He stared at the long streak that was now missing on the ground, then he gave Dream an imperceptible nod before pushing the wheelchair in front of the guards and disappearing at the upper floor.

Everyone else had left the room and the only ones remaining with him were the usual two, chattering away at their station and gossiping about Morpheus as if he wasn't there. The woman was reading a copy of IT by Stephen King, while the man next to her was distractingly scanning the various daily news with a lack of interest.

She turned to her partner with disgust on her face. “Old Dracula here’s not givin’ an inch.”

“Why do you call it Dracula?” He asked, turning away from his newspaper.

“’Cause I think it’s one of them Draculas. What do you think it is?”

“I try not to,” he replied. “You know what I think about? Majorca. Four days and I’ll be on a beach. Stinking of suntan lotion.”

“Lucky bugger!”

This was the chance Morpheus had been waiting for. With the binding circle finally broken, he could already feel a part of his power flowing back to his essense. It was just enough to break through the barrier and open his way to the man's mind.

He leaned against the glass and focused on the guard's deepest desires, crafting the perfect illusion to get him where he wanted.

The lady was talking, but the man sitting next to her was already yawning, lost in his own visualization as Morpheus’s spell immediatly put him to sleep. “I was on Corfu on holiday once. I met this right fit type at the hotel in the morning…”

The scene around him was perfect. The man was sitting on a reclining beach chair in Majorca, kissed by the warm sun and greeted by a beautiful girl playing volleyball a few feet away. When the ball fell close to where he was watching, she ran after it and gave him the most beautiful smile he could ever dream of. He squinted as the sun blinded him to have a better look, but the woman immediately faded away like a hallucination.

He spotted someone else walking in the distance and coming towards him. As he stood up to figure out who that might be, the ocean quickly drew back and disappeared, transforming the beach into a desert with nobody else nearby. The sky got dark, and the sense of peace he had been feeling just a moment before now had given place to confusion and turmoil.

Then he felt it, that sudden presence behind him. He turned abruptly, staring in shock at Dream who was now standing in front of him.

The Endless's eyes were cold and ominous. Slowly, he bent down onto the sand, covering himself with one hand and using the other to gather a handful of grains from the ground. The man felt threatened, stepping back in fear as Dream got closer. He was waiting for him to react, to take that one action that would finally snap the right gear in place and set his plan into motion.

It worked.

In an attempt to protect himself from the unknown, the man took hold of his gun and began shooting at Dream a few times in a row, hitting and piercing the glass in the process.

“Fred!”

The woman ran to her partner, whom had just stood up from his chair and sleepwalked closer to the cage.

“Fred, stop it! You’ll…”

He was firing like a madman.

“Fred!”

The glass exploded and a white ball of power erupted into the sphere. She turned with her own gun pointed at it in apprehension, but the moment she aimed, it was too late; Dream had already slipped out of the cage.

“Don’t move! Stay where you are!” Fred screamed, now fully awake and alarmed.

“What… what’s he got in his hands?” The woman asked aloud. “Oi! Open your hands, now!”

The energy in the room was so powerful that they had to stand with all their might not to be swept away. The wind around them was howling as Dream brought his fist to his mouth, opening it slowly and blowing the sand he had collected right on their faces.

Their grip around the weapon weakened and they collapsed into a deep slumber the moment the grains sprinkled into their eyes. Dream eyed their sleeping forms with satisfaction, then turned around to face the portal that was opening into the shattered sphere. It erupted and swirled with force, absorbing the cage until nothing of it was left.

The energy was creating a tunnel that connected the Waking World to his realm, right where he needed to return.

After over a century of agonizing captivity, Morpheus was finally free. The portal was flashing and growing, attracting his body like a magnet. He raised from the floor with his arms open wide, pushing himself up and floating into the portal.

It was time for him to resume his activity as the King Of Dreams, patch up humanity's scars, and retrieve the items that had been stolen from him when he was captured.

And then, at the end of it all, he would also find you.

A blind man, dressed in a long brown robe with an ample hood covering his head, walked through his garden carrying a heavy open book that was chained to his right hand. The garden was like a maze of paths that divided, branched and recombined, with huge statues that some claimed moved so slowly it could barely be perceived.

He walked barefoot along the pebbled pathway until he came to a stop, shifting his empty gaze to the sky. The book sit onto his hands, connected to his essence. Nobody could steal it and he couldn’t give it away.

It contained the universe, the movements of atoms and galaxies shaped pasts, presents and futures.

And it also contained the story of your life. Everything that had happened to you, that would happen one day, even the things you had forgotten over time, it was all in there. He did not write it.

Destiny observed the energy around him as one of the pages turned and showed him an alternative route, one that overlapped the previous one.

“The gears of destiny have been turned,” he declared.

And then, he continued to walk.

The first night in your apartment, sleep evaded you. Your mind kept wandering to the basement where Dream was still trapped, you had failed to help him despite your best efforts in the end and the guilt was eating you alive. You tossed and turned in your bed trying to shut your eyes, but the images of Dream's sad face kept flashing in front of you.

You jolted to your feet, grabbed your sketchbook, and turned on the lights. The dress you had attempted to draw one night was still unfinished, waiting for its lines to be prolonged and connected properly. Your hand came to a stop whenever you moved it, the image of what you wanted was vivid in your imagination, but you could catch a glimpse of what you had created on the next page through the thin material.

You hesitated, but you turned the page despite the knot that had shaped into your stomach. The representation of an eye was staring deep into your soul, Dream's eye...

You shut the sketchbook in one fluid motion and set it aside once more, unable to continue drawing for the night. It felt like an eternity before dawn finally broke and the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the window. You couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for you to move on from your feelings of love, fear, shame and regret.

After getting ready, you took a look in the mirror and realized that your makeup had failed to conceal the dark circles and bags under your eyes. To hide your exhaustion, you grabbed a pair of thick sunglasses and headed out into the neighborhood.

The morning rush was in full swing and people were bustling about their daily routines, trying to get to work, school, or appointments. You took in the sights and sounds of the town waking up around you while holding a Starbucks coffe in one hand and keeping the sling secured around the other.

As you passed in front of a newsstand, you absently glanced at the different titles that populated the daily releases. You were about to walk further without giving it too much thought, when something in particular seemed to catch your attention. You stopped, blinked a few times, and turned around to ensure that you didn't imagine it.

You almost dropped the coffee when you checked the main page of the newspaper.

𝖲𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉ing 𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝖶𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖴𝗉

𝖲𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗒 𝖲𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, "𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆.”

You had to contain yourself from bursting into the happiest laugh you ever had. You goofily held up the cup with your bandaged hand and took the newspaper from its stand. Maybe you were jumping to conclusions and such a miracle was just a random occurrence that had nothing to do with what you knew. Maybe you simply wanted to read between the lines, coming up with your own interpretation to give yourself a reason to smile again. But there was this well-known gut sensation that told you it was true, that there was absolutely no room for mistake and your theory had all the foundations to be real.

You wanted to believe it. You needed to.

Dream was free.

You tried all you could to keep yourself busy, working on your portfolio, spending time with your father and meeting up with Hob at the New Inn. You had decided to put your job hunting on hold for the time being, wanting to recover from the bizarre experience you had just gone through and take some proper rest to recharge.

Trying not to think about Dream was hard. Your guess about him being out of the cage had solidified the moment your insomnia disappeared, allowing you to fall asleep as soon as you touched the mattress. Not only that, but you had started to dream regularly now. It was just a mix of random events that you still had trouble remembering in detail most of the time, but you could at least say that your affliction was permanently gone.

Still, there was no sign of him in your dreams. You wondered if all those stories about him showing up were just a fabrication of what most people liked to think of, or if he was intentionally avoiding visiting you after what happened at the Burgess mansion. Either way, your broken heart didn't seem to recover, and even your wrist was having a hard time going back to normal. The cuts on your arms were healed, leaving just some light scars behind that were bound to disappear over time.

The dress you had struggled to complete was now finished, with all its frills and details in place. You admired your work with pride and satisfaction, thinking about how it would look created in real life, better yet on you. You didn't have many occasions to wear something like that though, especially in such an urban environment. Maybe in another life.

You sat on your balcony, enjoying a cup of warm tea and staring at the sun setting. The colors in the sky at that time of day never ceased to amaze you, it was an incredibly inspiring and relaxing moment that you could finally relish in again without having to run back and forth.

All in all, your days proceeded in the most normal and calm way possible. Sometimes you still woke up in the morning thinking you had to get ready for your cleaning shift at Fawney Rig, only to take in your surroundings and realize that you were now free as air.

Still, no matter how much you tried to draw, read, or watch TV, you continuously found yourself lying motionless on the couch, attracting all sorts of romantic movies and stories that only made you feel worse and produced the opposite effect.

You went to bed feeling heavy and dragging your feet, falling onto the mattress as you stared at the ceiling in a starfish position. With a sigh, you brought the covers up to your chest and closed your eyes. In your mind's eye, you stood on the seashore wearing your beautiful dress, feeling the sand between your toes and the salty breeze on your skin. It had been far too long since you last visited the beach and bathed in the ocean under the blazing sun.

That nice view helped you forget your anxieties and clear your head. You could almost hear the sound of the waves, slowly drifting away and falling asleep.

(gif from Pinterest)

As you watched the sea move steadily in front of you, you observed the water glistening in the sunlight and reflecting the blue sky overhead. The waves were crashing onto the shore with a rhythmic melody and the salty sea breeze brushed against your face, carrying with it the scent of the ocean.

The wind gently tugged at the soft fabric of your dress, creating a mesmerizing effect as it moved. Your eyes caught a glimpse of something glittering a few steps away, so you walked towards it with piqued curiosity, feeling your feet sinking into the warm sand. Drawing closer, you noticed that it was a beautiful white shell, adorned with crystals that shimmered in the sunlight. You knelt down to pick it up, feeling the cool texture of the smooth shell and the roughness of the crystalized top in your hands.

You smiled, admiring the precious magnificence of nature as you turned it around. You felt like a door to paradise had just opened for you and you crossed right through it.

Suddenly, you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.

Turning your head, you saw a dark figure in the distance watching you intently and your heart raced as you tried to get a better look with your hair getting in the way. You brushed it aside, spotting a long, flowing black coat that whiped in the wind. You felt your breath catching in your throat and your pulse quickening as you took in his mysterious vibe, the seashell slipping from your fingers and falling back into the sand.

You stood up, transfixed by his presence.

Dream was there, all mighty and comforting, dressed in a full black attire.

You stared at him in awe, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there, silent and unmoved, just like you remembered him. But there was something different about him too - a new energy that seemed to be emanating from his core.

You took a step forward, then another, slowly advancing towards him. Your eyes never left his form, drinking in every detail of his striking appearance. He waited patiently for you to approach him, and the closer you got, the more beautiful he looked.

The anticipation built inside you when you finally came to a stop, just a few inches away from him with no barrier separating you. You lifted your head slightly to look into his eyes, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

You tried to speak, but something prevented you from finding the right words.

Dream raised his right hand and extended it to you. You hesitantly brushed your fingertips against his, feeling a jolt of electricity with the wind picking up, blowing stronger against you.

Somehow, you were feeling out of it with a burgeoning sense of confusion. A loud bark erupted in the distance, distracting you from the scene in front of you. You looked down at your barely touching hands and saw them dissolving in a cloud of sand with the entire beach following suit. You felt yourself being pulled away, back into reality.

You awakened with a loud gasp, pushing yourself up from the pillows and panting slightly in frustration. You sit on your bed, your heart was racing as you ran your hands through your hair to get your bearings. The dog in the street continued to bark loudly, engaged in a fight with a stray cat that meowed and hissed in response. And then, all was silent again.

It was just a dream, a figment of your imagination, a projection of your subconscious desires. Your brain conjured up the image of Dream to fulfill your deepest wishes and longings. He wasn’t there, he couldn’t be.

“Shit.”

As you curled up like a ball with your forehead pressed agains your knees, lost in your rushing thoughts and wild emotions, a deep and warm voice suddenly broke through the silence. It was a voice like honey, rich and smooth, sending shivers down your spine with just one simple word.

“Hello.”

It vibrated in your ears, chest, belly, and even slightly lower.

Startled but strangely unafraid, you immediately looked up to your left, where the source of the voice was watching you from the shadows with a pair of familiar, shiny eyes.

Ayy cliffhanger! :P

The smut is coming in the next chapter guys.

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

Read on AO3!

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

84 notes · View notes