#I'm not adding other relationship tags I got lost

[kondz1u]

I FEEL THE NEED TO OVER EXPLAIN THAT THIS POST IS A JOKE. I'm a queer, trans poly person and I hate boyfriends with burning passion. That's,,, the joke, really. PLEASE stop with some of the weird, more aggressive rbgs :[[

In case you didn't hate me enough.

Drew this because of a nightmare @psychojetcocktail had. Let's just say I'm, heh, a loving friend (one that's worse than that nightmare Ian had) ( ` ∇ ´ )

[bluebeary-jay]

That funny feeling

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: pet names are something that's equally very easy and very hard for Joel (based on this request!)

Tags: established relationship, F-L-U-F-F, a grain of angst, idiots in love, a lot of overthinking uGH, mutual dumbassery, love deprived (& soft) Joel, i'm playing with the timeline here a bit, alsoo suggestive undertones hehe

Warnings: swearing and miscommunication, and nothing more ig

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: i'm finally feeling okay!! it took a while and i'm sorry for the wait. as always i hope you all will like what i came up with, and thank you again dear for requesting 💕

One of the things you noticed during those first few months of being in a relationship with Joel – and one which probably surprised you the most – was his fondness for using endearments when he was addressing you.

He called you by many names – darlin’, sweetheart and baby were just a tip of the iceberg.

And you adored it. Every single one of them.

How could you not when those pet names sounded so precious in that low and gruff voice of his? When the fact that he chose to let you get a glimpse at his softer side made you feel so special? 

He clearly liked doing this, too – and, as you suspected, watching your reaction when you received them. The tug of his lips and that dimple you so loved were an indicator enough that he wasn’t doing it out of obligation or because it was somehow expected of him.

Another thing that surprised you was how casual he was about it. Having not been in a proper relationship before made you feel out of your depth here, but from what you gathered, neither was he. At least for some time.

And yet, he seemed to have no problem or reservations about addressing you this way. He started even before he kissed you for the first time. You suspected that back then it was his strategy to show you – without voicing his intentions out loud – how he felt about you. It worked, somehow (because how were you supposed to resist that southern charm of his?), and once you both settled who you want to be for one another, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

But instead of turning it off, it only amplified his new habit and added more love and tenderness to the tone of his voice when he was calling you pet names.

You certainly were not complaining – especially when Joel was muttering those sweet words in a raspy voice into your skin when you were just waking up, or whispering them in your ear when you were passing each other during the day, brushing his hand against your waist.

So it was probably no surprise that you wanted to return the favor. The longer you were with each other, the more you wondered about what it would be like to call Joel by one of those endearments he used for you. If he would smile, if his eyes would crinkle in that adorable way…

Something was stopping you, though. Every time you were in public and Joel wasn’t currently looking at you, you were reminded of what kind of man you thought he was before you actually got to know him. His expression, the look in his eyes and his very presence were so intimidating that it gave you a pause each time. You knew he was a sweet, loving soul inside and it wasn’t like he’d be offended by being called by an affectionate nickname, or like your relationship would spiral down because of that.

…right?

What you did know, however, was that Joel Miller was a caretaker. A giver. And you wanted to take care of him, too, to make him feel as loved and cherished as he was making you feel – something you hadn’t a clue if you were doing right due to your own inexperience.

So one day, while you were tending to horses in the stables – one of your responsibilities in Jackson – you finally decided to stop overthinking and just… do what feels right to you. You were two grown-ass people. If anything happens – but probably nothing will – you’ll talk it out like adults.

You got lost in your own thoughts as you absent-mindedly brushed the coat of one of the horses. Suddenly, your attention was drawn by the animal neighing loudly but before you could look up, two strong arms embraced you from behind and a pair of lips pressed themselves to your neck.

You squealed in surprise, and then burst into giggles, when you felt Joel’s beard tickling your skin as he planted tender kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

It was not morning, but you haven’t seen him at all today since he left very early to help Tommy and some other men build a new storage house near the main street. As usual, you planned on meeting him when you’re done in the stables, but you were more than happy that he chose to surprise you.

“Hi,” you giggled. You tried to turn around to face him, but Joel grumbled and held you tighter to his chest, so you settled for putting your hand on the back of his head in an awkward half-hug. “You have some nerve coming here after you left me so rudely in the morning.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a chuckle.

“I tried to say goodbye, but you were out cold.”

“You didn’t try hard enough, then.”

“Fine. Next time I’ll shake you awake.” He pressed his lips to your pulse, planting a soft kiss there, and then another one a little bit lower, murmuring into your skin. “But you wouldn’t do that either if you were me and had an angel in your bed.”

You blew a raspberry and shook your head, making him hum against your neck with a smile. “Too much?”

“Just a little.” You turned around in his arms, and he dropped his head on your shoulder. “How’s work going?”

The man sighed heavily.

“It’s goin’. But I swear to God, Tommy gets more insufferable the sooner due date is. He almost lost it when some of the materials went missin’.”

“Well, it’s understandable with a little Miller on the way,” you replied, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and making Joel give you the stink eye. You scrunched your nose at him teasingly. “Get that pout off your face, mister, and better start thinking about what we’re watching tonight. My place, right?”

“Mhm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but then angled his head to the side. There was a distant shouting from the direction of the road and you could faintly hear Tommy’s voice among the noise. Joel took a deep breath and his warm eyes met yours. “Alright, I better go before he does somethin’ stupid again. I’ll meet you tonight after guitar practice with Ellie.”

“Don’t be late again or I won’t let you in this time,” you said sweetly and a smirk danced on his lips.

“You’re annoyin’, you know that?” Joel leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and then a lingering one on your forehead. “I’ll be on time, promise.”

You smiled and pushed his chest gently, letting him know that he should get back to his brother. He laughed – this actual rare and heartfelt laugh of his, which reminded you yet again how much you loved him – and took a couple of steps back.

“I’m holding you to it, handsome. Now go.”

Joel started to turn around, but then came to a sudden stop as soon as he heard you. It came out a bit awkward because he was mid-step and his feet kind of tangled up together, making him stumble before he managed to catch his balance.

You snorted and tilted your head to the side to peer at him, but his face was unreadable, almost blank. Like that rare and genuine laugh from earlier wiped all the emotions out of him.

“Hey. You okay?” you asked with a playful smile, taking in his expression. Joel looked over at you but didn’t answer, and you raised your eyebrows. “Joel?”

He parted his lips, like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

Something wasn’t right. His sudden silence wasn’t anything new – one of Joel’s main traits was being untalkative, though it got better since you two started dating, so you were used to it. But this was different. In his eyes there was a look of… you honestly couldn’t tell if it was awe or hurt. But you’ve never seen an expression like this on his face before.

He still didn’t say anything. You started feeling uneasy, but tried to play it off.

“Or… I could swing by Ellie’s before you two finish and–”

“I gotta go,” Joel muttered suddenly. “I’ll… see you later.”

He turned to the exit, but you quickly went around him and blocked his way with a frown. “Hey, hey, hey, wait. I’m serious now, are you okay?”

Joel glanced at you again, but then averted his eyes almost immediately. You gave him a weird look when he turned his head, as if looking for someone to get him out of here, but then a grin spread across your face when you noticed…

“Is this… Are you blushing?” you asked quietly. Joel winced and your smile got even wider. “You are! Does that–”

“I really gotta go, dar–” he stopped himself and patted your arm in a slapdash manner, not meeting your eyes. “I’ll see you later, alrigh’?”

Before you had a chance to ask or stop him, he walked away quickly, leaving you behind.

Your shoulders slumped and the smile disappeared from your face.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

*****

He did not see you later.

In fact, you didn’t have a chance to talk to him at all that day.

Once you finished your shift, you went looking for him but Joel wasn’t at the construction site, nor could you find him anywhere in town. You tried asking Tommy and Ellie about his whereabouts, but while his brother was as clueless as you, the teen seemed suspiciously quiet, and the second you took your eyes off her, she disappeared as well.

He didn’t come to your house that evening, and as it turned out, didn’t have guitar practice with Ellie, either. You felt a little hurt by the sudden disappearance, but ultimately decided against going to his house and invading his space when he clearly needed it.

It wasn’t until the next day that you saw the man again, but you never got a chance to ask him about what happened.

Joel came unannounced to your house and – literally and figuratively – swept you off your feet, acting a little softer and more… well, handsy than usual, but still in his normal Joel-like fashion, as if nothing ever happened. He did apologize for disappearing but it also seemed like he was trying really hard to avoid talking about yesterday altogether. So eventually you let it go.

The only explanation you could come up with was that you scared him off. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he just wasn’t okay with it – whatever the reason, it was evident he didn’t want you to bring it up.

So you decided to respect his boundaries and let the topic go. At least for now.

*****

Almost a week has passed, and you didn’t call him that again.

And fuck, if Joel wasn’t dying to hear that word from you just once more.

What he felt in that millisecond in the stables was so sudden and new – this weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach when you called him ‘handsome’ – that he honestly was at a loss how to react. Yes, he panicked (he wasn’t proud of that) and then when you pointed out the traitorous blush on his cheeks… it overwhelmed him.

Avoiding you for the rest of the day was a cowardly thing to do, but he needed some time to think about his next move before he could face you again.

He screwed up, that much was obvious. Joel didn’t know how to fix it, but he did have an idea how to make you feel comfortable enough to maybe do it again. A chance for him to react accordingly this time.

So since then, he made sure to show and tell you more often how important you were to him and how much he loved you, even though he was dying of cringe at times. His efforts were rewarding, of course – your every smile, every look in his direction was considered a win and a blessing in itself – and it seemed you forgot about his freak-out from the other day.

But you didn’t try it again.

And Joel didn’t know what to do. He’d never ask anyone for advice (God forbid Tommy ever finds out how big of a deal it was to his brother), and talking it out with you seemed like the most unattainable and impossible idea in the world.

You continued calling him by his name – and he couldn’t exactly complain when his name sounded so fucking perfect in your voice – but hell if Joel didn’t wish you try something else.

It didn’t even need to be this ‘handsome’ one you used. Any stupid nickname you come up with, he’d revel in it and this time wouldn’t chicken out.

Jesus, he had it bad. It was almost pathetic.

It wasn’t a life-changing, world-moving issue, though, and Joel wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about shit like that. There was still work needed to be done in Jackson, he and you still had your own lifes, and… days passed.

It was just over a week later, when Joel came back home from a late-night job to find you asleep in his living room, that he thought about it again.

His heart swelled with adoration when he saw your form curled up on the couch. You must’ve been waiting for his return, but neither of you expected his work to take this long.

Joel bent over and put one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around your body, grunting at the pain in his back. You inhaled sharply when he picked you up, grumbling something incoherent.

“Shh, babygirl, it’s me,” he whispered soothingly, cradling you against his chest. “I’ll put you in bed. Or do you want to go back home?”

You made a noise of disagreement and breathed him in deeply, not opening your eyes.

“You’re late,” you slurred instead of answering him, nuzzling into his chest. Joel sighed tiredly.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “The guys needed more help at the construction site.”

“Alright,” you mumbled again. “M’just glad you’re home now, honey.”

Joel’s feet stopped moving – gradually this time, not putting you at risk of being dropped – and he took a deep breath to tether himself before continuing his way to the bedroom.

You were asleep, he told himself while he was laying you down. It would be wrong to wake you and talk about it now. It could wait. He could wait.

Joel paused, then crouched at the head of the bed where he put you down, and delicately brushed some hair out of your forehead. His face was stoic, though those thoughts raged on like a hurricane inside his mind.

He had no idea how to do this. How to talk about this.

But he knew two things – he knew that his heart belonged to you, and that he didn’t want to settle for those pet names you accidentally muttered when half-awake, all because he was too much of a coward to admit what he wanted.

“Darlin’?”

“Hm?” you hummed, snuggling into his pillow.

Joel’s heart was beating so damn loud, he thought it was about to jump out of his chest. He took a grounding breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek softly.

“Say that again,” he asked quietly in a raspy voice.

You made a face, keeping your eyes closed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Joel swallowed hard and he was so nervous, he had to remind himself to unclench his jaw not to break all of his teeth.

Fucking Christ, he could take on the swarm of infected any day without losing his cool, so why was admitting stuff like this so damn difficult?

“Not now. Before. The…” he cleared his throat with embarrassment. His tongue felt like it was made of lead, and his face like it was shoved into a campfire, “pet name.”

That word finally got your attention. In a blink of an eye you were wide awake and lifted yourself on your elbows, rubbing your eyes. Joel almost regretted having said anything.

“Pet name?” you repeated, and then a shy, uncertain smile crept over your face. “Oh… I thought you said you didn’t like it.”

Don’t run, don’t you dare run now…

“I never said that,” he grumbled and furrowed his eyebrows, angry at himself that he made such a big deal out of it, that he had to talk about it now, a whole week later. You winced sheepishly.

“Well… Yeah, you didn’t, but the last time…” You sat up straight on the bed, rubbing your eyes again like you wanted to make sure you were entirely awake and focused for this conversation – which made Joel wishing even more that he had kept his mouth shut. “You ran off and I thought… I dunno, that…”

You shrugged, but you didn’t need to finish, for he understood how it must’ve looked.

Joel sighed heavily and put his forehead on your knee with fatigue. He felt your hands smoothing the shirt on his shoulders and back, and once again wondered what he did to ever deserve you.

“What do you say we don’t talk ‘bout this?” he proposed softly, feeling like a goddamn fool now. “Just… It felt nice. Good. And I want you to do it again… sometimes.”

“I want to talk about it, though.” You cupped his cheeks and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. A thought ran briefly through Joel’s mind about how fitting it was – he on his knees, looking up at you like the miracle you were. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“What do you think?” he whispered, looking away, though your hands kept his head in place. He raised one of his own to cover your fingers with his, keeping it there. “It’s… goddammit,” he swore and closed his eyes, squeezing your hand faintly. “It’s all just kinda new for me, too,” he said at last. “As dumb as it sounds.”

You swiped your thumbs over his cheekbones. “It’s not dumb.” He didn’t say anything, and after a couple of seconds you sighed. “Okay, we don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. Just… maybe try to give me a sign next time,” you offered gently. “I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You were trying to lighten the atmosphere, bless your kind heart, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards despite the turmoil in his heart.

“Darlin’, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do for the past week. I’m not good at talkin’ but I… shit, I don’t know, I thought that if I start callin’ you like that more, it’ll… prompt you to do the same, I guess.”

At that, your hands slid off his cheeks and your face turned blank.

“Oh,” you breathed. Joel lifted his eyebrows in question and you added hurriedly: “I thought you were doing this to… I don’t know, let me know that you feel more comfortable calling me that than getting called…”

It was Joel’s turn to look at you blankly.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he whispered with disbelief clear in his voice. “I tried to somehow show you that it’s fine. Do you…” he paused when you slowly started to giggle, which soon turned into a fit of laughter at the tone of his voice. “Do you have any idea how embarrassin’ it was for me at times? And not once–”

He tried to sound accusatory, but your bright smile was too contagious and soon Joel was grinning, too. He covered the bottom part of his face with his hand, trying to regain his composure, and shook his head while muttering under his breath.

Then he felt your hands on both sides of his head again when you leaned forward and, still with that big, gorgeous smile of yours, started peppering his face in kisses. He tried to swat you away but it didn’t take long before he gave in to his fate.

After a couple of seconds of this sweet torture, you pulled back a little, leaving the tingly feeling of your lips all over his face.

“So, just to make sure. I can call you that?” you asked semi-shyly, though there was a mischievous glimmer in your eye, which made Joel smirk lopsidedly.

“Already told you, beautiful,” he murmured in a low voice, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone lovingly. “But nothin’ over-the-top, alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, just as quietly, and then leaned in to kiss him lightly.

The suffocating coils of embarrassment in his stomach disappeared the moment you touched him. Joel decided that if suffering through those moments of vulnerability would end up with you in his arms and his lips on yours, he was able to survive them.

“Now come to bed, handsome,” you whispered against his mouth with a smile. Your voice had that downright sinful tone to it, which you knew was driving him insane. “I got cold waiting for you all alone.”

Little minx.

He gave you a smirk before crawling on top of you and scooping you in his arms. The sound of your laugh filled the room as he rolled both of you over, pulling you closer and onto his chest.

“Whatever you wish, sweetheart.”

[charlottecutepie]

𐙚 How was your date, doll? (William Afton x fem!reader)

In honor of reaching >200 followers, this is a little gift from me <3 thanks for your feedback, comments and reblogs, it means a lot to me!!

After a bad date, your boss William Affon is more than glad to help you.

tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex, pet names, doggy style, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degrading and praising, dirty talk, dumbification, sir kink, manipulations, secret filming

You have been working for William not so long ago, but you have already become his most beloved employee. He treats you in a special way, even forgiving you for being late. He likes to hand you a cup of coffee in the morning when he sees his beloved girl yawning adorably, still sleepy on the morning shift. He likes to stroke your hair gently at the end of the day, thanking you for your work. He truly appreciates you.

He has been watching you for a long time, noting your habits, your communication style, your gestures. You're so friendly, even already found friends in the team. William saw that many people liked you, visitors and colleagues, of course, such a good and smiling doll. He often wondered if his lovely girl had a boyfriend. Most likely, yes? You're so pretty and sweet, your eyes, lips, nose, everything is so beautiful about you, of course you have a boyfriend. William must be an idiot if he even allowed the idea that his girl was single.

But there was still hope, so he decided to test the water.

“You look so tired, doll. How about I give you a ride to your house?” he killed two birds with one stone. A pet name and ride offer. How will his baby react? William is holding himself together, nothing superfluous, right? It's just goodwill. You're so tired, barely standing on your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Mr. Afton,” you look at him in surprise and the corners of your lips rise. “yeah, please, I'm so exhausted and my feet hurt.” It's the first time you've got in his car. Doubts crept into William's mind, if you had a boyfriend, you'd turn him down, right?

It's so interesting to talk to you, you're a good listener, and William has a lot to tell you, and at the same time ask you a couple of questions while you're sleepy. Just to make sure that his girl isn't in a relationship.

As he drops you off at your house, William tries his best to look casual. “Goodnight, doll,” he whispers softly, gently stroking a lock of your hair behind your ear. And here's another action that you didn't reject. If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't let other man touch you like that, would you?

More time has passed, and with it more names have been added to you, more touches, more glances from Mr. Afton. You got along pretty well, William always found an approach to people. However his affection for you only grows stronger, but your personal life is changing too, just yesterday one person invited you on a date. If only William knew.

He's suspicious; something about your demeanor today isn't quite right. You're obviously acting more cheerful than usual, wearing makeup for the first time he's seen you which somehow makes you even more beautiful. You whisper to your friends, giggle softly, covering your mouth with your hand, a slight blush on your cheeks. Who are you talking about? William's gut tells him there's something different about his beloved girl today. What are you hiding?

“Mr. Afton?” his thoughts and assumptions are interrupted by your voice, he adjusts his glasses, slightly lost, he clearly wasn't listening to what you asked him a minute ago. He politely asks you to repeat it. “Uhm. . . I was wondering if I could leave early today?”

William raises an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Why exactly? Work isn't over yet.” a small smile tugs at his lips. “Unless there's some emergency. . .”

“It's just that I have an important meeting today.” your palms sweating slightly and your voice doesn't sound as confident as you want.

He raises his eyebrows, an amused gleam in his eyes. “A meeting, huh? Sounds interesting. Who is it with?”

And that's when you can no longer fight the feeling that you're lying to a person who trusts you a lot. Your excitement is becoming more noticeable and William already understands that this isn't an ordinary meeting. He's not stupid, but his jealous nature didn't want to believe to the last that you'd sooner or later find someone. And that's when he hears from his sweet girl, “I'm going on a date, sir,” fuck, the way you say it in such happy and naive tone, as if yourself can't fully realize it yet.

He doesn't want to let you go, he hates the idea of someone touching his beloved girl, kissing your lips, having. . . sex with you?

But everything changes the very next day, when you appear at work with your head down, your sweet face is tinged with sadness. You're distracted, silent, thoughtful.

“How was your date, doll?” a question when you don't expect it at all. The shift was already coming to an end, and you, all confused in your thoughts, didn't even notice. You give him a sad look, hoping that he'll read the answer in your eyes. But William still looks worried, even though he knows what happened, he needs his girl to admit it.

You look around. “I don't really want to talk about it.” you mumble.

You're just shy because you don't want anyone else to hear, William knows. That's why he leans towards you, too close. “Let's go to my office.” he offers, his voice tempting.

When you find yourself in his office, he closes the door behind you and sits down on a small couch in the corner, beckoning you to join him. You feel a little stiff and insecure, but as soon as you sit down next to Mr. Afton, your anxiety evaporates, and you feel a bit better. You trust him very much, you really need to hear a second opinion, especially from such a mature and experienced person as William Afton, who, although divorced, was married anyway. It's hard to hide your emotions, especially when you're new to this experience and relationships overall, when it's your first kisses, touches, hugs.

That's when he looks so sympathetic, interested in helping you and says, “Tell me what happened.” you obediently blurt out everything. You explain to him, your voice quiet and sometimes you're silent, as if afraid to say too much. You tell William everything, how your date started out sweet, romantic, how good it was in the beginning, and then when he started touching you, kissing not only your lips, but also your neck and collarbone, you stopped liking it. It became unbearable, uncomfortable, you didn't want this person, you felt no desire. It's an inexplicable feeling that you've experienced. And in some way, you even blame yourself for rejecting your so called boyfriend.

“I was lost, so I let him touch me. I knew that sooner or later we would go further, but for some reason I didn't want to do this with. . .” you pause thoughtfully. “him.”

“Did he touch you here?” William puts his hand on your thigh. You shudder, such a strange question that you definitely never expected. But trusting William, you think that's the way it should be and nod. “Was it unpleasant or uncomfortable?”

“I didn't feel anything,” you shrug helplessly. “and then it felt like he didn't understand my signal and started kissing me more aggressively, it was too much for me.”

“It's completely normal to feel this way,” William explains, stroking your thigh. “Some people just can't be physically attracted to certain partners. It's not a reflection on you. The important thing is that you listen to your own body and emotions, if something doesn't feel right, trust yourself enough to speak up.” he's trying to ease your discomfort, as he talks, his fingers move slowly higher on your leg, gradually reaching closer to a forbidden zone.

You get goosebumps, immediately there's a feeling of warmth that spreads nicely through your body, such an acute reaction to William's touch, something that you never experienced with your boyfriend.

You're his naive little bunny, so trusting, sweet, blinded, yet curious about his opinion, craving his advice and help, support. “Your body knows what it wants, princess. You felt weird because your gut told you he wasn't the right one to satisfy you. On a subconscious level, you realized that he's not the person you would like to give yourself to. You need someone who understands your body. Someone capable enough to pleasure you, doll.”

William notices something much more than just guilt in your eyes, something sparking in them. That's when he catches your gaze on his lips, your eyes dreamy, as if you're not listening to him at all.

“I can give you that, darling. You deserve to be satisfied fully, someone who knows what they're doing and won't disappoint you.” you contemplating his words, comparing him to your boyfriend; William seems more understanding, experienced and dominant than any man you knew. “because I'm well aware of how to pleasure a girl like you.”

You don't pull away and let William kiss you, his hand squeezes your thigh, causing you to moan softly into his mouth. This is the first time you've felt so sensitive, you gasp when finally his hand slides to your clothed pussy. Your brows furrow and you let out a sudden “ahhh” as you pull away, lips parted. William continues moving his palm all over your core, his fingers rubbing you through panties, your skirt hiking up.

“You're wet just because I kissed you, doll. Was it different with him?”

“Much different,” you breathe out. “this. . . feels better.” your pussy throbbing in anticipation as his fingers push the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing you to his hungry eyes. “Sir, i don't know if—"

“I want to help you figure this out. We're already halfway there, we've already found out that your body doesn't want him, honey. I don't want you to get upset about yourself or men, I don't want you to think that sex is something unpleasant.” he understands that his little girl still in doubt, that you're shy, your face is confused, your lips are pursed, you're afraid to make a moan, but your eyes speak for you. So pleading, so needy, begging.

His thumb caresses your sensitive bundle and you whimper, grinding subtly against his finger, wanting more of those new sensations. Your curious gaze drops lower, noticing a distinct bulge in William's pants. “He had one too when we kissed. . .”  you mutter. William gently guides your hand towards the outline of his erection through his pants.

“Of course he did,” he husks out. “It's impossible not to get hard around someone as beautiful as you.” William feels like his dick is about to explode right in his pants as your hand hesitantly starts stroking his bulge. You've never felt anything so hard before; he notices his little girl's eyes widen at the size of him, making you even wetter. “That's right, babygirl. Let your hands explore, feel just how much you affect me.”

“Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

“No, i couldn't. . .”

“Then let me take care of that.” William doesn't stop rubbing your little clit with his fingers, moving in smooth circle movements, what makes your head spin. You spread your legs wider due to overwhelming bliss, breathing heavily, your hand no longer on his bulge as you hold onto his wrist instead, as if trying to stop him or control, but not really, yourself don't know what your doing.

“Ahh— Nn, that feels weird!. . .” your body writhing beneath his touch. “S-sir, wait, wait!” you moan, he never stops stroking your wet folds.

“Just let go, babygirl, it's okay, you're supposed to feel that way.” he purrs in your ear. The sounds you're making are too loud, but beautiful for a man like William, so he doesn't give a fuck, rubbing your clit just a little bit faster to bring you to orgasm. As you cum, your body shudder uncontrollably, your hole clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl.” you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the gasps escaping your lips, because you've never felt anything as this before.

His erection aches painfully in his pants at the sight of his girl coming in his arms. You just realize what happened. “S-sir. . . That—”

“Didn't expect you to cum that fast.” he smirks and continues stroking your sensitive clit even after your orgasm subsides, making you jolt. You feel embarrassed at this comment now. “Now that's what happens when you're in hands of experienced man, princess.”

His words and especially calm yet dominating tone of voice have your pussy throbbing with need again, your mind hazy. You blink couple of times, still trying to come to your senses, but it's so fucking hard when his hands never leave your body, caressing you, even groping you. You bat your eyelashes at him as his fingers teases your wet entrance.

“Your body didn't react that way to him, did it?”

“No. . . ” you whisper.

“That's what I thought," he hums, finally slipping one finger inside your warm, wet cunt. You immediately gasp, feeling sudden stretch, William takes a deep breath as you squeeze his finger. “such a tight little pussy. No wonder your boyfriend couldn't get you even wet.” he pumps his finger in and out of you, watching your face contorted with pleasure.

“Sir, ohh. . .”

“That's it, keep calling me that and I'll make sure to train this pussy cumming only on my cock and fingers,” he growls, adding another finger inside your already wet slit while kissing a trail along your neck. He pinches and rolls your clit between his fingers. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be out there as a dried up little bitch who never got any satisfaction.”

“No, oh!. . .” you babble and glance at him in surprise, not expecting such degrading words, but as soon as your messy pussy clenches on his fingers, he can't help, but laugh. “Too much—”

“It's okay, bunny,” William curls his fingers up inside you, pressing on that sweet and sensitive spot that have you choking on your moans. “I'm just giving you what that prick of yours supposed to, making you squirt over my fingers, feels good, hm?” that's when he picks up a speed, finger-fucking you in fast rhythm, a small puddle forms on the couch under you.

“Waittt!. . . Ohh god, i can't! It feels so weird, sir,” there's panic in your voice as now this feeling is definitely not comparable to the previous orgasm, you sob and maintain eye contact with William, too shy to look down. He's pumping his fingers in your tight pussy, reaching deeper. “Please, wait!”

Your mouth hangs open and eyes roll back as you coat coach under you and drip on his fingers. William enjoys that cute scared and confused look on his little girl's face, he can feel the hotness of your cunt as you squirt, wet sloppy fucking filthy sounds it makes. You look absolutely hot and there's no way he's that lucky to finally have you in his hands.

“Damn it, doll, you should be grateful that I'm here teaching you how to properly fuck.” William pulls his fingers out, a satisfied smirk as he looks at the mess he created. “I bet you don't even know what an orgasm feels like until I gave it to you.”

Your eyes full with tears, body weak as you watch how William sucks his fingers clean, groaning at your heavenly taste. He manhandles you, putting you on all fours, slipping your panties off and unbuttoning your shirt to have access to your bare breasts. You don't even get what's going on, it's like your brain has leaked out through your pussy, but you love the way he behaves. That's what you needed. You press back into him and then hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, you nervous, but still glance over your shoulder with puppy eyes, lips pouty and cheeks burning. William pulls down his pants and reveals his cock.

“Tell me, princess, did the thought of his dick turn you on?“ you shake your head, he sighs. “You made a mistake, admit it, you stumbled, but you know, you're still a good girl because you came to your senses in time. You came to me, as a good girl should, that's because you know you need something better than him.” William's words make you almost cry at how true they are. In fact, you didn't like your boyfriend, you just didn't want to admit it, just was happy someone noticed you and liked you, but having a man like William around, it was hard not to succumb.

“It didn't feel right with him, as if there should have been someone other. . . Not him.” William teases his tip against your slit, rubbing sensually, you grip the couch, too desperate to finally feel him inside.

“You made the right decision, doll, you know that I'll always help you.” he tells you, while his hands carefully and gently fix your hair, all this time you feel his swollen cock runs through your folds. “It's good that you came to me, because someone else could just take advantage of you. But not me, sweetie, I'm here for you.”

“Please, sir, put it in, please—”

“You didn't beg him like that, did you?” his hands grabs your hips, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.

You shook your head, feeling a real fire igniting inside as your body doesn't obey, but begs for what it didn't receive on yesterday's date. A real good fuck.

“That's right,” he smacks your ass, pushing only tip inside of you, but that already enough to make your eyes widen and choked cry escape from your mouth. “you should feel lucky that I've taken notice of you and offered my help. Imagine if some other filthy jerk had gotten ahold of such clueless doll like you?”

“No, mr. Afton,” you're not yet able to realize what that feeling is, because you simply don't know, you're mindless, but every nerve is on edge, you're trembling with desperation. “i don't want anyone else, just you!”

“Fuck, you're so fucking hot inside, bunny,” William groans huskily as he pushes his length fully, your walls welcoming him with warmness and crazy tightness. Your knees weak, but William's hands wraps around you, not letting his precious girl fall. He leans towards you, almost pressing you into the couch, his breath on your skin. “sh, sh, babygirl, don't cry, don't cry,” he mutters in your ear while slowly starting to move. He frowns, trying not to moan loudly himself, but how can he hold back when your little pussy is so perfectly wrapped around his dick? So wet, warm and— “oh fuuuck, bunny!. . .”

You're shaking under him, mewling loudly and drooling as you cum, just from having his cock inside. Your eyes filled with sweet tears and nonstop “ohmygoood” slipping from your lips.

“You're full of surprises, dear.” William smiles and presses your head into the couch to shut you up. You can't make noise in the workplace, the most important rule. And that's when he fucks all the air and the last remnants of the brain out of you, starting to slam into your throbbing cunt. “Your taking me so well.”

William's dick presses deeper into you, your back arches. He knows what he does to you, but you don't, not yet. You swear you can feel his cock already penetrating where it's impossible, so deep in you that it begins to cause discomfort and pain. But you can't stop the madness that's going on, completely forgotten even your boyfriend's name, and what happened yesterday, as if no date ever happened. As if everything is as it should be, William Afton balls deep inside you, fucking your brains out, as it should be. All you can do is feel his cock filling you up, as it should.

“Nnggh— that feels, ohh— please!” you say through watery eyes, trying to wiggle your ass to draw him deeper into your pussy, but his grip on you is firm, so you have no choice but to just let yourself be used as a fleshlight.

Oh, poor little helpless and needy doll, William thinks. He sees how you grip the couch tighter, your glassy eyes, vision blurry, head empty, but cunt filled.

“You shouldn't have ignored your desires before.” he groans. “You're such a good girl, you deserve my dick, every fucking inch of it. I'll make you my little slut, who'll come to me at the end of the shift to have her pussy well fucked and filled with my cum. Every weekend at my place, where you can scream as loud as you want as I ruin your pussy.”

“That, nnngh— sounds so beautiful, sir.” you turn your head slightly towards William and give him the perfect view of how messy you are, dumbfounded, with silly smile on your peachy face, brows furrowed, drooling, your gaze isn't focused on him.

He thrusts roughly into you and you cry loudly when his tip reaches your cervix. He fucks you into oblivion. You're nearing your orgasm, your pussy preparing to cum one more time. William ruts deep into you, having no mercy on his girl as he lets his cock slide along your walls. The beautiful sounds your pussy squelching, your muffled cries and begs, of skin slapping filling his office.

“Yeahhh, I'll take care of you, don't you worry.” he grunts, you're breathless and limp in his arms, but when his hand travels down, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it, your closing your legs, shaking. “Spread them.” he commands you, but you can't really obey as your clit is way too sensitive and overstimulated. “I said spread your damn legs, doll.”

“No, no, sir, please— too sensitive, i can't!” you whine, your throat dry, but that only annoy him so he forces your legs open. His pace getting faster and his fingers rubbing on your bundle, what makes your mouth open in silent scream.

Soon his thrusts become sloppier, his dick twitching from how tight your clenching on him as if trying to milk him dry. William buries his cock deep inside you, low quiet moan leaves him as he spills his seed against your cervix, claiming you as his. Your orgasm hits you in next seconds, right after William's, what makes him laugh almost mockingly when he sees how his little doll becoming shaking mess, your hips moving in smooth circles as you cum, feeling warmth of his sperm inside you.

“Th. . . Thank you, mr. Afton.” William pulls out and his cum starts leaking of your used hole little by little.

You close your eyes and weaken, falling onto the couch fully now. Your panties on the floor, which is already stained with your juices mixed with his sperm, you don't even want to look there. No, right now you're not ashamed, not embarrassed, you just don't give a fuck, you felt so good that you won't be able to come to your senses for a long time. Even the glass of water that William handed you with big care won't bring you to reality. You're so tired that you don't even notice William turning off the camera in the corner of his office.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[polyamorousmood]

I have a new bf, we've got together 6 months ago, but considering I have a relationship of 15+ years with someone else, it feels new still to me. He is not the first addition to the polycule, as I also have a girlfriend for 3+ years. The long-term partner and the girlfriend are both nesting partners, and considering the new boyfriend lives on the other side of the country by himself, I have been going there practically every other weekend for "alone time".

I have two challenges, though:

* the boyfriend is new to polyamory and struggles with not being my only partner, but tries his hardest for my sake

* the girlfriend seems to have some serious issues with jealousy and fear of being abandoned

The long-term partner has been the real MVP through this all. They have mediated between me and my girlfriend and shown their utmost support when I wanted to go away.

Meanwhile, I have been trying my hardest to make the change of my allocated time easier on my girlfriend by giving her some extra quality time in the form of dates and gaming sessions and movie nights. It never seems to be enough though.

She has been acting out every time I go away, spiralling in self-deprecating pits of despair or being overall catty and mean towards me. This has led to the new boyfriend feeling like she hates him personally and him not wanting to visit me because she's there. Moreover, it doesn't exactly sell him on the whole idea of polyamory. The long-term partner is also getting exhausted by this: they can recall having struggled when we first opened the relationship, but, as they themselves say, "they weren't this bad."

I am a little lost. Have you got any ideas on what I can do to improve this situation?

Cheers, 🧜🏻

Heya,🧜! So first I'd like to summarize what's happening. You had two partners, and things were pretty good. But the addition of a third who requires special consideration has destabilized the relationship with one of them. Its an over-simplification, but in its simplest form, this is the problem.

Second thing is should also glance over this post from my jealousy tag. Not 100% will apply to you, but there's a lot of overlap. And yes, it does link to 6 other things. They are also likely helpful.

Third thing is all these names for partners does NOT jive with my brain. So for the purposes of answering this ask, I'm going to call Long-Term Partner "Lit" (LT from long term, with a vowel to aid in pronunciation), and newest partner I'm calling Newsboy, because that's the funniest nickname based on the information I have available to me, lol. Out of fairness, girlfriend will be called Gif (GF, with a vowel added for pronunciation [except not really because of the Gif vs Jif debate]).

There are a LOT of things here. So many that even I, with my extraordinarily long answers, cannot get into all of them. Therefore, I hereby present The Bulleted🚅 List of Things to Keep in the Back of Your Mind🧠:

Regardless of how well you can address Gif, polyamory may still "not be for" Newsboy.

Even if someone can do poly, doesn't mean they can enter any polycule. It is no one's fault if a given relationship isn't a good fit. No one here is a bad guy.

Just because no one's a bad guy, doesn't mean everything is reconcilable.

Judgement is rarely helpful.

Nothing I say is gospel. It is my perspective. Consider whether it makes sense for you and how yourself.

Got it all safely shelved and accurately labelled in the mind back? Good. Okay. Now onto the shit to actively think about. Some of that shit may seem to be opposed to some of those points. I'm going to ask you, as the reader, to find the balance/middle ground/duality of man where applicable.

Lit 🕯️

You are, I'm assuming, least worried about Lit. That's good, blah blah blah. Just make sure you're not taking them for granted. You seem like you're in good communication and shit, so I won't spend too much time here, but their feelings of getting kinda burnt out on this is important too. Consider offering them a deliberate respite of some kind from this drama. (ex: 48 of not mentioning it; relief from mediator duties; etc). In any case, continue to check in with them.

Newsboy📰👦

6 months is long enough he's got an idea of what's up with the poly shit with regards to what he's chill with and what's really difficult. If you aren't already, I'd probably start talking the realities of what a relationship long-term would look like. This helps him both set his expectations appropriately and negotiate any major points. I would include shit from the next section, like what you expect Gif to be doing and what you guys are trying to work on that. You don't have to include every gory detail, of course, but he should know its a WIP.

Gif 📷

Gif clearly has work to do if she's going to stay part of an expanding polycule. Your role in supporting her doing that work will include but is not limited to: offering additional reassurances where you can (sounds like you're doing this) and having tough conversations.

And what a can of worms that is. Therefore, I hereby present, in no particular order, The Bulleted🚅 List of Bullet-Biting Discussions💬🗨️ You're Gonna Have to Have:

What can reasonably be achieved at this stage in your relationship. What changes might need to be made to your relationship, expectations you both hold in the relationship, or how might the ideal vision differ from the constraints of reality?

What behaviors of hers are out of line. With actionable steps on how she can do better. There's only so much she can do about her knee-jerk feelings, but she is in control of her actions and might need to put more work into curbing the cattiness or dealing with her emotions more independently, for example.

What behaviors of yours you can improve for her. With actionable steps on how you can do better. You did say you were trying to work with her, but maybe you're going about it in a way that doesn't really help, or you're missing some key component. Maybe what you're terming "cattiness" is Gif trying to drop hints and she's annoyed you don't seem to care, for instance.

These will probably be recurrent in your life for a bit. But as always, how you have the conversation matters. In addition to my usual advice, I want to emphasize here that it will, based on my understanding, likely be a tough thing to navigate. It sounds like everyone needs Gif to do a better job managing things, and I don't think its helpful to seriously undersell that. But at the same time, you can't be coming at her like she's the snake in your otherwise perfect polyamorous garden. I hope you find a way to approach the conversation that finds the balance between support and accountability. What I have found helpful in this, personally, is to make it clear that while, yes, its tiresome for you, you also really want it to feel good to her. Offer suggestions as things that might help her first and foremost. But, y'know, if this were an easy conversation to have you wouldn't be asking my advice, so...

You 🫵

While you're working on this, accept right the fuck now its going to suck a lot of the time. Progress is necessarily difficult. Make your peace with the fact that Gif is going to be pissy every other weekend when you leave, and you'll have to deal with it. Make your peace with the fact you're going to have to revisit these problems. Make your peace with the mess. Progress can be made, but first it has to be difficult, so roll up your sleeves and do the work. Pay attention. Praise your partners when they handle something well (or even just slightly better than usual).

Remember always: We love this life. We do it for love. 💙💖🖤

[writerastray]

Dancing in the kitchen

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

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-> Word count: 4.6k

-> Relationships: Lee Felix/afab!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Non idol Au. Romance Au. Fluff Au. Trip Au. Angst (just a little bit). Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Best friends to Lovers.)

-> Warning tags: Alcohol, Explicit Sexual Content. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: You and Felix got both of your hearts broken and decided to go on a healing trip. It turns out that things don't quite go as planned. 

The thunderstorm outside made you jump in bed. For one second, you were lost as to where you were, then you remembered. Trip, Felix, vacation ruined.

The first thing you noticed was that Felix wasn't in his bed in the room across from yours, but you heard a humming and dishes clashing coming from the kitchen. You closed your eyes again and stretched out in bed until you sighed and opened your eyes to see the storm outside.

The motive of this short trip was to heal from the end of your relationships. How are the odds of both breakups happening in the same week?

The worst thing was that you two were also sad for each other. Felix was your best friend, and you hated seeing him with a broken heart. It hurts you too. So instead of one pain, it was two, which was clearly not helping any of you get better. Especially in those moments when one of you would finally manage to smile just to look by their side and find the other crying.

After two months, you decided that you couldn't keep living like that. You needed to move on. And Felix needed to. So, one night, the idea came. "Let’s go on a trip," you said. 

For a moment you hesitated, thinking he would be upset, afraid Felix and you weren't syntonized anymore like you both used to in the past, but then he answered, "Close to the beach," with a soft smile at you.

The impulsiveness drew you two over, and you and Felix searched for a nice place to stay and prepared the bags. It took two whole days to get everything ready. You let your family and friends know at the last second that you and Felix wouldn't be home.

The place was a simple, cozy house by the beach in the south. The first night you two would go have dinner out in a fancy restaurant, the next would be a lazy day on the beach, and both would go to some nice spot around the city later at night. Then you would probably sleep the day after to finally go home in the evening. This was the plan.

Everything went smoothly. Too smoothly. 

Of course, luck couldn't be by your side all the time, and you and Felix completely forgot about the weather. You saw the sky closing some hours after getting in the house, but it was summer; it rains all the time, so you didn't think much about it. 

Turns out, the day the vacation came, a thunderstorm struck. The storm came strong; some establishments were forced to close temporarily, including the restaurant Felix had reserved, and, according to the news, the storm would take at least two days to pass.

Now, you'd be stuck in a house for two nights and three days, hoping at least you could have fun in the last one.

You got up from bed and went to wash yourself, feeling worse than before and regretting every decision that made you come here.

It was 8 p.m. when you went to the kitchen, and the scene you saw made you chuckle. 

Felix was dancing with a spoon as a microphone. The melody he was singing was familiar. The smell of cookies made your stomach grumble. Felix's cookies were the best. He was so out of it that you couldn't resist the idea that came into your mind. I'm gonna scare him.

Stepping silently, you hold your breath and place your hands quickly on his waist–

A lightning strike too close to the house.

It made such a loud sound that both of you screamed your lungs out, and Felix, not knowing you were there, jumped to the floor, bumping his elbow into a bag of flour. 

A moment passed where you both just took a breath and calmed down before exchanging a look, and then you were cracking up at each other.

You extend your hand, and instead of pulling Felix up, he pulls down again, catching you by the waist. Your body between his legs and face close to his.

Your laugh fades away as you look at his brown, gentle eyes, which now have a little amusement in them.

"Were you about to scare me?"

You shake your head with a smile playing on your lips. "Of course not. Never." 

He closed his eyes and smirked, his tongue in his cheek. You laughed even harder.

"You think it’s funny?" He said, with eyes staring at you like a hunter at his prey, and before you could run, he tickled you, making you laugh until your belly hurts. You screamed for him to stop, and once Felix was satisfied with his job of making you helpless on the floor, he stopped. Laughter transformed into slow chuckles and breaths.

Felix was on top of you now, his hand resting on your body, making your heart skip a beat. He could be dangerously beautiful. The thought made you slightly embarrassed. 

Quickly, you both get up and start cleaning up the mess. There was flour spread on the counter and a little on the floor, and as you cleaned, you glanced at your friend. His concentrated face, big lashes, and pretty freckles you wanted to kiss—

Hold on. Breathe. He is your best friend. Don't let Minho's words ruin your friendship just because he was jealous.

You look at him again. There was flour on his cheek now. You went closer to him, putting your hand on his face and turning him toward you. 

"There's flour on your face," you said, voice coming out softly that you intended to, hand already cleaning.

You can feel his eyes on you, and you bite your lips. When you look at his eyes, you see him staring at your lips. Your heart feels like it's going to burst as your gazes lock again.

"I'm done," you said, wanting to distance yourself, but your body didn't obey you.

A tiny shake of his head brings his attention back to what you just said. "Sorry, my mind was somewhere else."

He went to the other side of the kitchen to get a broom, and you felt like you could breathe again.

What just happened? Your brain scans a bunch of reasonable possibilities that are not the ‘he might like you’ phrase screaming in your head. No. This was your stupid heart talking, not your brain. Your brain says, "He must be thinking about Hyunjin." They used to cook a lot together. Something similar must have happened before when they were still together, and he must have remembered the scene.

 Once both of you are done cleaning, you sit on one of the chairs close to the counter. "What are we gonna do now? It's raining non-stop."

He sighs and sits by your side, thighs touching each other, shoulders side by side. You felt comfortable and gently leaned your head on his shoulder.

"We can have fun in the house."

You look at him with an arched eyebrow.

"What?" He said, arching his eyebrow too. "We used to do this all the time in the past, remember?"

You do remember. Watching movies every Saturday night, waking up late on Sunday, sleeping on the sofa, playing video games and cards, baking his famous brownies, or ordering blueberry cupcakes from your favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood. How could you forget? Once you started seeing other people, you both started hanging out less and less.

"What do you want to do then?"

Felix smirked and made your heart quicken. He got both of your hands as he stood and kissed your knuckles. Next, he pushes you toward him and whispers in your ear, lips slightly touching your skin. "Let's dance."

"Dance? What about the cooki–"

He turned you around in the kitchen. "Don't worry about it. I wanna dance with you."

You giggled and turned around again. "I'm pretty sure we can't dance without music."

He let go of you to get his phone and played the familiar song that you had discovered to be Frank Sinatra's. He tilted his head and smiled at you, extended his hand, and, giggling, you accepted.

He pulls you to him, and you feel his warm hands resting on your waist. Both of you spin in a waltz, and he laughs at your clumsy movements.  Felix distances himself to turn you, and when he pulls you back, your back is pressed against him. 

You feel his hands going to your hips, making you shiver. His face nuzzles in the curve of your neck, giving you a gentle kiss and making you relax on his touch. You swirl from side to side on the rhythm of the song, but you wish to close your eyes and relish in his warmth.

Then he spins you until your chest hits his. Felix is humming the song, and his voice is soothing and melodic. You always loved his voice. 

Your arms rest around his neck. Your fingers caress his soft hair until he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on yours. None of you needed to say anything, but you both smiled. 

Your phone rings in your room, and like a broken spell, you distance yourself from Felix to get it.

You see a notification of a missed call from your mom. Once you called her back, explaining everything was fine and that none of you would go out in the storm, she calmed down. There were a few messages from your friends and one message from Minho.

Are u ok? You're on the beach, right? Stay home and safe. Don't go out in this storm.

You scoffed. Did he really think you were that stupid? You sighed. The memories of your time together rushing through you. Minho wasn't just a boyfriend. He was your friend before that. Your fingers were itching to answer when your gaze accidentally fell on the dress on the side of your bed.

Tonight you were supposed to have a fancy dinner, which was ruined. You look at the pretty dress sitting in the corner of your room. You put the dress against your body, cell phone already forgotten, and look at yourself in the mirror. You were so excited to wear it.

"Why don't you put it on?"

You jumped slightly. Felix leaned on the side of the door. You watch Felix through the mirror. His eyes on you made you a bit nervous, but you liked it.

"We are at home, why would I?" You shrugged. The slightly high tone in your voice made you wince.

You didn’t want to look disappointed. Felix was happy today. He was dancing, making cookies, and wanting to have fun. You wouldn’t ruin the moment just because you couldn't wear a silly dress.

"Why not? Let's dress up," he said, walking to you.

You turned to stare at him and see if he was joking. "For no occasion?" 

"There's a very important occasion today." He said, and stood behind you with his hands on your waist. "We are together, with time to waste and no obligations, so again, why not?"

You smile at him and shake your head, agreeing anyway.

As you change, you hear him say he would let things ready beforehand downstairs.

You put on make-up but leave your heels in the corner of your bed, choosing instead your slippers.  You heard Felix run to his room to change too.

When you two meet in the hallway, your breath gets taken away. You knew Felix was handsome, but in all those years of friendship, you never saw him in such attire, instead, he was usually in his sweater or jeans. He looked like a prince dressed in a black suit, and you couldn't take your eyes off him.

Till you looked at his feet and saw slippers on them. You chuckled, showing your slippers too, but Felix’s gaze ran over your body as he grinned.

"What a beautiful lady I encountered tonight." Then he looked at your feet and snorted. "With lovely slippers."

You slightly punch him in the shoulders and walk a little faster so he doesn't notice your embarrassed face.  

The living room was illuminated by candles. At the coffee table there were two more candles, snacks, cookies, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. Netflix was on TV, and blankets were over the sofa. You looked at Felix beside you and said, "It's perfect."

He shrugged with a little smile on his face. You made yourself comfortable and started to choose between a romance or horror movie when you heard Felix get his phone.

You look at him out of the corner of your eyes. He was frowning and biting his lips; his knuckles were white. Something was wrong. You wrapped your hands around his.

"Everything alright?"

He didn't say anything at first, and you waited until he answered. "He called and messaged me." He looked at his feet with a frown between his eyebrows. 

The motive behind Felix's breakup was unknown even to you. And he never felt comfortable talking with you. It hurt you at first, but when the time came and your heart was the one that got broken, you understood him. Sometimes it was difficult to talk with a broken heart. It hurts too much.  

Your body moved before you let yourself think, and you grabbed his phone from his hands. First, he was startled, but he quieted down when you said softly, "Why don't we put our phones down, hm?" You put his phone on the other side of the couch and came closer to say, "No need to worry about them right now."

You look him in the eye. You were so close. He has the most beautiful eyes. You cup his face and kiss his forehead. He nodded and said, "Thank you, Y/n."

"Don't thank me for this. It's what friends do."

You cuddled with each other and went back to deciding what movie to watch.

When Howl’s Moving Castle was over and you two were full of food, you both just stayed there on the couch.

There was still a storm outside. The silence between you and Felix was good, comfortable, and safe. 

When you were alone in the silence, memories of Minho took hold of your head. The dates you went, the nights you spent with him, his smell and taste, and then you went to the doubts. Where did it go wrong? Were you not enough? Was there a problem with you? And then to his last words. Words you wish to not remember.

But tonight with Felix, you let yourself drift away, daydreaming about a sunny day with both of you at the beach, eating ice cream, swimming, and sleeping all afternoon.

You feel Felix place his hands slightly on your lap, making you jerk a little before relaxing into his touch. It was strange to be physical with him again. When you dated Minho, you stopped being so close to Felix this way, and maybe you didn’t realize it then, but you missed being like this with him. Maybe Minho saw this before you.

His hands were warm, and you liked the feeling of them against your skin, circling his finger in random patterns. You felt comfort in it, even though, now and then, your heart raced. As it had always done with everything related to him. Ever since the first year of college. 

The first time you met Felix, it was like you two just clicked, like you knew him from a previous life. An old soul friend. You used to have feelings for him once, but you always hold them back out of fear of ending your friendship. I don't want to lose him, you thought.  The day he told you he fell in love with someone else, your heart broke in silence. You were already friends with Minho, and with time, you fell in love again. Felix was just a crush in the past and a friend of forever.

Felix moves close to your ear, and runs his nose through your hair, breathing the aroma of your shampoo. "Wanna go to bed?" With his voice so near to the crook of your neck, he made butterflies flutter in your stomach. I shouldn't be feeling this way. 

You nodded, humming a yes, and got up, a little dizzy from drinking all night. You go to the bathroom and try to calm your heart while changing into a large t-shirt and underwear before getting ready for bed.

Once you're back in your room, you grab your phone and answer Minho with an ‘I’m okay. bye’, making a promise to yourself not to message him again. After you message the rest of your friends, Felix enters your room, already in his pajamas.

"Wanna cuddle?"

You snort, even if your heart skips a beat. You pull the sheets off your bed, giving him space, and he giggles, making you roll your eyes.

He climbs into bed  and hugs you on the back, making himself comfortable. You can feel his breath in your neck, nuzzling his face into you. Chills rushed down your spine as your eyes fluttered. He chuckled behind you.

"Are you cold, Y/n?" You could hear the teasing in his tone.

"Asshole," you said. He gives you a kiss on the neck. Something twists in your stomach. It's been so long since you did this with Felix.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, surprising you. He was always comfortable asking you anything. So you turn around to face him.

"Of course."

He stared at you before gently stroking your cheek. "You never told me why you and Minho broke up?"

Your body stiffens at the question. Why is he asking me this? Sighing, you turn to look at the ceiling, but your hand is drawn to his silky hair.

"You never told me why you and Hyunjin broke up either?"

He doesn't answer, so your gaze goes back to him. Your heart sank when you saw the anguish in his eyes. You gently put your fingers between his eyebrows to stop the frowning. "You don’t need to force yourself to talk."

"No, I think it’s time. I want to be honest with you," he said. So, you stay there, looking at him and appreciating every detail instead of freaking out. You saw his resolution, and when he closed his eyes, he said, "He thinks my heart belongs to someone else."

You cover your mouth with your hands, your heart beating faster, before asking, "Someone else? Who?"

He gulped, and the seconds he waited to say appeared to be an eternity for you. "You. Hyunjin said I have feelings for you more than for him."

You look at him without believing what you just heard. You take a deep breath, trying to process what he just said. Was fate playing games with you?

"I– Why would he even think that?" You said, knowing deep down that these words were not only about Felix's situation but yours too.

When your gazes meet, it feels like you finally became conscious of what was happening. You and Felix were with legs intertwined, his chest turned almost entirely to yours, and warm hands on your waist.

He was too close, and your hands were trembling, heart pounding against your chest.  "And do you think that is true? What do you think about that?" You insisted, with hope flourishing inside you. Felix licked his plump lips before answering.

"I think I have spent a lot of time with you in my head ever since I met you. And when you crossed my mind, it was not only as a friend."

Your heart stopped for a second. Your thoughts didn't work, and the words didn't come. Did Felix just confess? That wasn’t possible. He always saw you as a friend and never did anything that could make you think otherwise. Right? 

Time seemed to slow down. There was no storm outside, no sound of wind coming from the windows, no exes, nothing. Only you and Felix.

Your body moved for you, fingers touching Felix's face, tracing his cheeks, his lovely freckles. Felix closed his eyes at your touch and pressed his face against your hands.

"Y/n, why did you and Minho break up?" he said, and you saw his eyes squint in his confusion. You only shook your head, denying everything in front of you. You didn't want to talk about that.  The realization that Minho was right all the time made you even more confused. You'd really hurt your ex, and that breaks your heart. But it doesn’t break fully enough to not accept the happiness that Felix just offered you. His feelings. 

When Felix sees your lack of response, he gets even closer, the weight of his body pressing on yours. Your hands went to his hair, as his lips were in your ears. "Y/n," he said softly, "why did you two break up?"

At this point, you already have tears almost falling. You need to be honest, just like he was with you. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Felix put just enough distance between you two to look at you. I need to say it.

"He said I still have feelings for you."

Your eyes don’t leave Felix. You noticed all the small changes. His eyes closed before opening wide, a small tilt of his head—all the little expressions that showed he was confused.

"What do you mean, still?"

"What do you think I mean?" You said, frustrated that you needed to be brave about your feelings. "I liked you for a long time, Lix. But then you were in a relationship, and then Minho came, and I really believed I left my feelings for you in the past, but—" and you breathe deeply before letting the last words fall. "It seems I’m still in love with you."

In a heartbeat, Felix's lips were on yours. His lips were warm and soft on yours. He nudges your lips to open and tastes you, his hands going down your body, dragging you in closer.  Felix’s kisses felt right. They made you want more and more. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours. "I can’t believe we’ve been in love with each other this whole time.”

You felt him shake his head, your noses bumping lightly against each other. You could only smile, not believing it was real. He has feelings for you. Felix. Your  best friend. 

"Say it again?" You say, almost in a whisper, with fear that you'd shattered whatever was happening at that moment.

"What?"

"Your feelings for me, say it again?"

He held your face and said, "I’m in love with you."

You brush your lips against his, heart racing, euphoria rushing through your body.

"Again, Lix" 

"I’m in love with you," he said, and you threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed him passionately.

Felix let out a low sound as he grabbed your hair and pulled your neck back, kissing you down your throat. His hands moved smoothly over your stomach, fingers brushing your skin and making you shiver. Your hands traced the shape of his body, and you felt the warmth through his shirt and the flex of his muscles.

You pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the ground, and Felix did the same. His gaze travels down to your naked body and back to you.

He bends down and kisses you in the temple, on your cheek, and at the corner of your lips. When you search for his lips, he smiles before giving in. 

He kissed you deeply now, his tongue sliding against yours. Your fingers go to his soft hair as the thunder rumbles again.

Felix’s hand wanders to your breast, and he circles your nipple between his fingers. You plunged towards his neck, breathing against his skin as your lips grazed back and forth, licking his skin, exploring just below his ear, then kissing and sucking all the way to his shoulder. The second Felix's cock hardens against your thigh, you moan against his skin, and you drag his lobe through your teeth.

You put your hand on his cock and feel the heat. The head swells, and you drag your thumb over the slit. You smirked as he let out a growl, pleased with his reaction.  That you were the one making him feel like this.

You shudder when his hands find their way between your thighs. You felt his hands go higher and higher until they found the place you needed him the most. Then, fingers slide in your pussy making you arch your back. 

“Dripping wet for me already.”

He slides his fingers, caressing your pussy and dragging his knuckles over your clit, making your hips shake with his teasing. He dragged two fingers in his mouth before rubbing your clit with them. You inhale sharply when he sticks his fingers deep inside of you. 

Felix’s lips encounter your throat, brushing gently, then biting and licking as his fingers explore inside you, making wet sounds and leaving you slightly embarrassed. But you love it. You love that it was him doing that to you. 

"Please, Lix, I need you inside me.” You whine to him, seeing his eyes smile with affection. 

"So needy, hm?” He said, angling you toward him. Your pussy throbbing.

A swear slips your lips when the head of his cock comes to your center. 

"Oh, Fuck," you cried as you arched your back.“You’re so hard.”

Your skin was stretched, and it hurt a little, but it was so fucking good, too.

A moan escapes from him when he moves in and out of you slowly. The pressure in your clit increases as Felix's pace quickens  and your body tenses. Soon, you're wriggling beneath him, looking for any type of friction. 

"Felix," you groaned as you rolled your hips. The house was filled with sighing and moaning and the sound of his skin hitting yours. 

Felix's gaze meets yours, and lust flickers in them. “Fuck, I love you so much,” he says, as his fingers find your swollen cunt, swirling two fingers around your clit. Your stomach tightened until you couldn't hold it any longer. 

You cry out and let go. 

Your body burst into pleasure, and you clenched around him. 

His hands sink to your hips, and he slams into you, making you scream his name. Felix rides through his orgasm, a growl so loud coming out of him that goosebumps cover your body, until the last of his cum fills you up.

You are both panting when he pulls out of you.

You close your eyes and let the waves of pleasure die until your hands find Felix’s–

A lightning strike made you and Felix jump. Arms wrapped around one another. You meet his gaze, and a second later, you two are laughing in bed. 

"These lightnings are going to ruin me," you said, and Felix's hands found your jaw and drew you to him.

"Not if I ruin you first." His lips brush against yours, and you kiss him once more.

The sun was rising when you woke up. You see Felix's chest. Then, his sleepy face. You get tempted to kiss him right there. Felix's arms are wrapped around your waist as you recapitulate what happened last night. A smile formed on your lips. Felix likes you, and he knows you feel the same.

Then you realize, maybe the vacation wasn't ruined after all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Author's note: Hi! This fic was inspired by the song dancing in the kitchen by Zachary Knowles! English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love <3

Copyright © 2023 by Writerastray

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: The team sets out on a rescue mission for Alexandria.

Word Count: 8.2k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: i'm happy to announce that this is the last angsty chapter for a while. i'm also super excited for the next chapter since i'm going to be introducing a new character 😏

warnings/tags: violence, blood

Series Masterlist - Chapter 7 → Chapter 9

AO3 Link For Chapter

The team, consisting of Natasha, Bucky, Steve, Logan, Storm, Hank, Emma, and even Jean and Scott, much to the elder’s dismay, got onto the X-Jet.

As the team boarded the X-Jet, the tension was palpable. Each member was lost in their thoughts, preparing for the mission ahead. The roar of the engines filled the cabin as the jet took off, cutting through the night sky toward the icy wilderness of Siberia.

Steve sat near the cockpit, reviewing the tactical plans with Natasha and Bucky. “We’ll need to approach this carefully. The facility is likely to be heavily guarded, and we don’t want to give them any warning.”

Natasha nodded, her face set in determination. “We’ll need to move quickly once we’re on the ground. We can’t afford to give them time to relocate or fortify their defenses.”

Bucky glanced at the others. “Storm, once we’re close, can you provide cover? We might need a blizzard to mask our approach.”

Ororo nodded, her eyes focused. “I can manage that. It should give us the element of surprise.”

Logan, sitting toward the back, was sharpening his claws absentmindedly. His thoughts were on Alexandria, and the idea of her being trapped in that facility was gnawing at him. He looked over at Jean, who was sitting quietly, her eyes closed in concentration.

“You pickin’ up anything?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.

Jean opened her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing yet. But if she’s being held, it’s likely they’re using some kind of mental dampeners. It’ll be tough to break through.”

Logan grunted in response, his expression hardening. “We’ll get her out. No matter what.”

Scott, who was sitting next to Jean, put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re ready for anything. We’ve dealt with worse before.”

Emma, who had been silent up until now, spoke up, her tone sharp. “Let’s not underestimate this situation. HYDRA’s not known for playing fair, and they’ve likely set up a trap. We need to be on our guard.”

Hank, adjusting his glasses as he reviewed some data on his tablet, added, “The cold will be another factor. We need to make sure our gear is optimized for the extreme temperatures. Frostbite and hypothermia can be just as deadly as any HYDRA agent.”

---

Alexandria’s head hung low, the restraints tugging at her wrists as she heard tsking from above her. She raised her head.

“Such power wasted. And for what Aleksi?” Mikhail sneered, kneeling down in front of her.

She coughed, her throat dry and raw from holding back screams. “There’s a difference between us, Mik. You opened your arms to them, I hated them from the moment I got here.” He stood up, almost angry at her words.

“I was 3 years old! I watched you, mama, and papa get shot right in front of me! Your blood soaked my hands and my clothes and then I was told that I would be cared for. That everything was going to be alright.” She glared at him as she met his gaze, “well, guess what. That was a fucking lie.” Alexandria hissed.

“They took care of us!” He shouted.

“They tortured us!” She corrected him. “This isn’t normal. This is torture, this is hate, and this is wrong. You’ve become so twisted by them that you can’t see that.”

Small objects around the room began to levitate off the ground, surrounded by Alexandria’s blue telekinetic glow.

“We’re both monsters, Mik.”

He looked into her hazel eyes, now softly glowing blue before huffing and walking out of the room. There were 3 men left with her, and lucky for her, they were new guys. Strong, yes. But not a trained assassin like her.

She dropped the objects to the ground, making a cluttering sound as they all landed, but not before levitating a thick needle to the back of her hands. Alexandria quickly unlocked the cuffs before standing up on unsteady legs and running to one of the men, stabbing him in the jugular.

They didn’t have guns, since they’re not supposed to kill her, but they did have two knives.

She grabbed one of the men’s wrists, turning it inwards to slit the vein on his wrist before kicking out the third man’s legs and kicking his head in. Alexandria grabbed the knife from the last guy and unlocked the door.

---

Storm glanced out the window, the snowy landscape of Siberia coming into view. “We’re getting close. I’ll start manipulating the weather now.”

As she began to concentrate, the sky outside grew darker, thick clouds gathering as snow started to fall heavily. The visibility reduced to almost nothing, making the X-Jet’s approach undetectable from the ground.

Steve stood up, addressing the team. “Alright, we’re going in hot. We’ll split into two teams. Team One will be Natasha, Bucky, Logan, and me. We’ll hit the facility’s main entrance and draw their attention. Team Two—Storm, Hank, Jean, Scott, and Emma—you’ll go in from the south and provide support. We rendezvous at the central holding area.”

Natasha secured her weapons, her eyes meeting Steve’s. “Let’s do this.”

The jet touched down silently, the snowstorm covering their arrival. The team moved out quickly, each group heading to their designated positions.

As they approached the facility, Logan’s senses were on high alert. The cold air bit at his skin, but his healing factor kept it at bay. He could smell the faint scent of fear and sweat from within the compound—guards, unaware of the storm brewing outside.

Steve signaled for them to move in, and they made their way to the entrance. Natasha moved to the side, readying her taser discs.

With a nod from Steve, Logan sliced through the metal door effortlessly, and they were inside.

The interior of the facility was stark and clinical, with bright fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. The team moved quickly, taking down guards with silent efficiency. Logan’s claws slashed through their weapons, while Bucky’s precise shots disabled security systems.

“We’re in,” Steve whispered into his comm, signaling Team Two.

Storm’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “We’re approaching the south entrance now. No sign of heavy resistance yet.”

Logan growled under his breath. “Too easy. They’re up to something.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Keep your eyes open. We’ve got to find Alexandria.”

They continued deeper into the facility, the hallways twisting and turning like a labyrinth. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of blood—Alexandria’s blood, Logan realized, his anger flaring.

“Her scent’s getting stronger,” Logan muttered, his pace quickening. “She’s close.”

Sirens started to blare throughout the building as HYDRA soldiers stood in front of them, guns raised.

The sirens echoed through the cold, sterile halls of the facility, their piercing wails bouncing off the concrete walls. Red lights flashed, casting eerie shadows as the team found themselves face-to-face with a group of HYDRA soldiers, weapons drawn and ready to fire.

Logan's claws extended with a sharp snikt, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "Well, ain't this a warm welcome," he growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Steve was quick to respond, raising his shield as the soldiers opened fire. "Take cover!" he ordered, his voice commanding yet calm. The team ducked behind the thick metal walls of the corridor, bullets ricocheting off surfaces with alarming speed.

Bucky, his expression cold and focused, leaned out just enough to fire a few precise shots, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. "We don’t have time for this," he muttered, his tone frustrated. "We need to find Alexandria and get out."

Natasha, always quick on her feet, rolled out from her cover, launching her taser discs with precision. They hit two of the soldiers square in the chest, sending them convulsing to the ground. "We’ll clear a path," she said, her voice sharp as she quickly assessed the situation. "Logan, take point. Bucky and I will cover you."

Logan nodded, his gruff exterior giving way to a fierce determination. He charged forward with a low growl, his claws slashing through the HYDRA soldiers with brutal efficiency. The soldiers barely had time to react before Logan was upon them, his claws cutting through their weapons and defenses like butter.

As the team advanced through the facility, the resistance grew thicker. More soldiers poured into the corridors, trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. But they were no match for the seasoned fighters.

Steve’s shield deflected incoming fire as he moved with purpose, taking out soldiers with well-placed strikes. Natasha and Bucky worked in tandem, their years of experience evident in their synchronized movements. Logan, at the front, was a force of nature, his rage propelling him forward as he cut down anyone in their way.

“Where the hell is she?” Logan barked, his frustration mounting as they continued to move through the seemingly endless corridors. The scent of Alexandria’s blood was stronger now, mixed with the sterile, clinical smell of the facility.

“She’s close,” Logan muttered under his breath, his senses sharp. “Just a little further.”

As they turned a corner, they came face-to-face with a large, reinforced door. The kind that screamed ‘important.’ Logan didn’t hesitate. He slashed at the control panel, causing the door to slide open with a hiss.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and blood. Three men were dead on the ground, but the blood was fresh.

Alexandria rushed through the halls of the building, stopping when gunmen walked in front of her guns raised. “You can't kill me, idiots!” she shouted in Russian.

The soldiers shared glances at each other before one of them barked out, “we need her alive.”

She walked forward slowly, like a predator staking out her prey before using her telekinesis to bring one of their rifles to her hands, quickly shooting at them, two of them falling to the ground.

The other 8 moved behind a wall. She blasted the corner of the hall, the wall falling down on top of 3 of the men and giving her a clear shot at 3.

Alexandria looked to the other side where the other two men where, calmly walking around the corner and kicking one in the knee and shooting his head, before using the butt of the rifle to smash the other man’s head in.

She threw down the rifle, the magazine was empty, before an arm wrapped around her throat and a knife at her side. “We’re both getting out of here.” Mikhail said.

“And going to another HYDRA base? No thank you.” She hissed, trying to get out of his grip but his super strength made it impossible.

“Manya and Artyom already made it out. We are going to follow.” He pushed her forwards, his arm cutting off a good amount of her air supply as they walked through the building.

Mikhail’s grip tightened around Alexandria’s throat as he pushed her forward through the dimly lit corridors of the HYDRA facility. His breath was ragged, betraying a mix of desperation and determination.

Alexandria’s mind raced as she struggled to breathe, her thoughts darting between escape and the shock of seeing her brother alive. For years, she had believed him dead, murdered alongside their parents by HYDRA. And yet, here he was, forcing her to go with him to the very people who had destroyed their lives.

She felt the cold metal of the knife pressing against her side, a constant reminder of how precarious the situation was. “You really think it’s safe us with them?” she choked out, her voice strained from the lack of air.

Mikhail didn’t respond, his focus entirely on maneuvering through the building. Alexandria could feel the tension radiating off him—this was no reunion, no joyful return from the dead. It was a survival mission, pure and simple, and she was just another piece in the game.

They neared an exit door, the faint outline of the snowy landscape visible through the small window. Mikhail slowed, his eyes darting around for any signs of danger. Alexandria took the brief moment of hesitation to try and twist out of his grasp, but his grip was ironclad.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. The knife pressed harder against her skin, a thin line of blood trickling down her side.

They reached the door, and Mikhail paused again, his gaze flickering between the exit and his sister. “This is our only chance, Aleksi. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

Before Alexandria could respond, a growl echoed from the shadows behind them.

Logan emerged from the darkness, his eyes locked on Mikhail. “Let her go, bub,” he snarled, his voice a dangerous rumble. His claws were already extended, gleaming in the faint light.

Mikhail tensed, pulling Alexandria even closer as he pressed the knife to her throat. “One step closer, and I’ll kill her,” he threatened, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Logan. “You think I won’t do it?”

Logan didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and unyielding. “You don’t wanna do that, kid. You let her go, and we can talk. But you hurt her…” His voice trailed off, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Mikhail’s grip tightened, and Alexandria winced as the blade bit into her skin. “You don’t understand,” Mikhail spat, his voice shaking slightly. “She’s my sister. I’m getting her out of here.”

“By holding a knife to her throat?” Logan’s tone was incredulous, but there was an underlying edge of anger. “That’s how you protect your family?”

Alexandria’s mind was racing. She could feel the tension in Mikhail’s body, the desperation in his voice. He was scared—scared of HYDRA, scared of what he’d become, and scared of losing her again.

“Mikhail,” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t the way. They’re the problem. You have to let them out of your head.”

His eyes darted between Logan and the door, uncertainty flickering across his face. For a moment, it seemed like he might listen, might lower the knife and let her go.

But then Logan moved—a slow, deliberate step forward—and in that split second, Mikhail panicked. His grip tightened, and the knife slashed across Alexandria’s throat, the movement quick and instinctual.

Blood splattered onto the floor, and Alexandria’s hands flew to her neck, her eyes wide with shock.

Before Mikhail could react further, a gunshot rang out. Bucky, who had been moving silently behind them, fired a single, precise shot. The bullet hit Mikhail in the head, and he crumpled to the ground, his body falling limp beside Alexandria.

Logan rushed forward, catching Alexandria as she collapsed, blood pouring from the wound at her throat. “Stay with me, kid,” he urged, his voice a mix of anger and concern. “You’re gonna be fine. Just hold on.”

Alexandria’s vision blurred, the world around her fading in and out. She could feel Logan’s arms around her, hear his voice, but it all seemed distant, like a dream she couldn’t quite grasp.

Logan moved Alexandria’s hand away from her throat and put a harder pressure on it, the blood still pouring out quickly.

Logan pressed down on Alexandria's throat with one hand, trying to stem the flow of blood. His other hand grabbed at his comm. “Hank! Get in here now!”

There was no hesitation in his voice, just raw urgency. Alexandria’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her eyes struggling to stay open. Her skin was turning pale, a sharp contrast to the dark blood seeping through Logan’s fingers.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” Logan growled, his voice low but commanding. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?”

Alexandria’s eyes flickered, her hand weakly clutching at Logan’s wrist. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Hank!” Logan barked again, the desperation creeping into his tone.

Hank’s voice crackled through the comm. “We’re almost there. Just hold on!”

Bucky spoke through the comms, “someone needs to get back to the jet and prepare for immediate take-off.”

“I’ll handle it.” Scott said.

Alexandria’s lips moved again, but no sound came out.

“Shh, don’t talk,” Logan muttered, his voice soft. “Just hang in there, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you patched up, and then you can tell me all about how much you hate me.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Alexandria’s lips, as she shook her head ‘no’, almost imperceptibly. Logan’s heart clenched at the sight, a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to but couldn’t deny.

“I- ” Alexandria rasped out, her voice barely there. Logan shook his head as she continued, forcing the words out no matter the pain it caused her. “I’m sorry.”

Logan's grip on her throat tightened just slightly, but not enough to hurt. His expression softened, something rare for him. "You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for, kid. This ain't your fault."

Her breath was shallow, each intake rattling in her chest. Alexandria's gaze locked onto his, desperate to convey what words couldn't. “Put you all at risk.” She slurred; her eyes drooping closed then opening back up slowly.

"Stop that," Logan growled, his tone more gentle than harsh. "Ain't nobody blaming you for this. HYDRA’s the one to blame, not you."

Her eyes fluttered, her strength ebbing away with each passing second. Alexandria’s hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to him, to hold on to something, but she didn’t have the strength.

A single tear slipped through her eye, rolling down to her ear. She can’t remember the last time she cried. Probably when she watched her parents be killed in front of her. Maybe the first few weeks she was at HYDRA.

Another few tears rolled out of her eyes. She blinked away the blurriness, from the tears and the blood loss. “I don’t-“ she was cut off by her gasping for air.

Bucky barked through the comms for Hank to get here quicker.

Logan felt his own throat tightening, “you’re not dying, you hear me?”

Alexandria’s eyes fluttered, her vision fading in and out as she struggled to focus on Logan’s face. “Can’t… can’t hold on…” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. The blood continued to pour from her wound, staining Logan’s hands a deep crimson.

“You can,” Logan insisted, his tone firm but tinged with desperation. “You’re tougher than this, Alexandria. Don’t you dare give up now.” He could feel her life slipping away, and it was tearing him apart in a way he hadn’t expected.

Alexandria’s grip on Logan’s wrist weakened, her strength fading fast. “Don’t wanna leave…” she murmured, her words slurred and barely coherent. “Not… now…”

Logan’s chest tightened at her words. For someone who’d been through hell and back, Alexandria had always kept her guard up, never letting anyone in. But in this moment, with death knocking at her door, she was finally letting him see the fear she’d kept buried deep inside.

“Then don’t,” Logan growled, his voice a mix of anger and something else—something raw and painful. “You stay with me, Alexandria. We’ll get you through this.”

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a silent plea. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not now, when she was finally starting to find a place where she belonged. But the darkness was creeping in, pulling her under, and she didn’t know if she had the strength to fight it.

“I’m… I’m scared,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her voice was so small, so fragile, that it made Logan’s heart clench.

Logan leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. “I know, kid. I know. But you’re not alone. You got me. You got the team. We’re not letting you go without a fight.”

Alexandria’s breath hitched, a mixture of fear and something else—relief, maybe—washing over her. She’d spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length, convinced that caring about someone was a weakness. But here was Logan, gruff and harsh as he was, refusing to let her slip away.

“Hank!” Logan bellowed again into the comm, the urgency in his voice impossible to ignore.

“We’re here!” Hank’s voice came through, and a moment later, he burst into the room, followed by Jean. Hank immediately dropped to his knees beside Alexandria, his medical bag already open.

“Move aside, Logan,” Hank ordered, his voice calm but urgent.

Logan hesitated for a split second before he shifted to give Hank access to the wound. His hands were covered in Alexandria’s blood, the sight of it making his stomach churn. He hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time, and he hated it.

He immediately assessed the situation, his hands moving quickly as he pulled out medical supplies. “We need to get her to the jet now,” Hank said, his tone calm but urgent. “Logan, keep applying pressure while I stabilize her.”

Logan did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Alexandria’s face. She was barely conscious now, her breath shallow and uneven. Hank worked quickly, injecting her with a sedative to ease the pain and slow the bleeding.

“We’ve got to move,” Hank said, looking up at Logan. “She doesn’t have much time.”

Logan nodded, his face grim. He gently lifted Alexandria into his arms, careful to keep the pressure on her wound. She was so light, too light, and it only made him more determined to save her.

“Hang on, kid,” Logan murmured as he carried her out of the room, Bucky covering their exit. “We’re almost there.”

As they made their way to the jet, the rest of the team was already in motion, securing the area and preparing for a quick departure. The snowstorm that Ororo had summoned still raged outside, covering their escape as they boarded the jet.

Logan laid Alexandria down on the makeshift bed in the back of the jet, his hands still pressed firmly against her throat. Blood was everywhere—on his hands, on her clothes, on the floor—and he could feel the panic rising in his chest. But he shoved it down, focusing on what needed to be done.

“Keep your hands there,” Hank instructed, pulling out a small device from his bag. “I need to close this wound before she loses any more blood.”

Logan nodded, his jaw clenched. He could feel Alexandria’s pulse, weak and erratic beneath his fingers. Every second felt like an eternity as Hank worked, his hands steady and precise despite the chaos around them.

Jean knelt beside them, her face tight with concentration as she used her telepathy to try and keep Alexandria calm. “She’s fighting,” Jean murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “She’s scared, but she’s fighting.”

“She better be,” Logan muttered, his voice rough. “Because I’m not letting her go that easy.”

Hank’s hands moved quickly, sealing the wound with a combination of advanced medical tech and a bit of mutant healing serum. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep Alexandria stable. For now.

“Okay, I’ve got the bleeding under control,” Hank said, leaning back slightly to assess his work. “But she’s still in critical condition. We need to get her back to the mansion’s medbay.”

Logan didn’t respond, his focus entirely on Alexandria’s face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, but she was still alive. That was all that mattered right now.

Scott’s voice crackled through the jet’s comm system. “We’re taking off now. ETA to the mansion is twenty minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Logan snapped, not taking his eyes off Alexandria. “She doesn’t have twenty.”

“We’ll do our best,” Scott replied, and Logan could hear the urgency in his voice.

As the jet lifted off, Logan finally allowed himself to take a breath. His hands were still pressed against Alexandria’s throat, even though Hank had already stopped the bleeding. He knew he should let go, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. It felt like if he let go, even for a second, she’d slip away.

“She’s stable, Logan,” Hank said gently, noticing the tension in Logan’s posture. “You can let go now.”

Logan hesitated, his eyes flicking to Hank before finally nodding. He slowly lifted his hands, his fingers stained with blood, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Jean placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, her touch gentle. “She’s going to be okay,” she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet confidence that Logan desperately wanted to believe.

Logan didn’t respond, just stared at Alexandria’s pale face. She looked so small, so fragile, lying there. It didn’t suit her. She was a fighter, tough as nails, just like him. Seeing her like this felt wrong.

“Logan,” Hank said, his voice pulling Logan out of his thoughts. “She needs to rest now. We’ve done all we can for her until we get back to the mansion.”

Logan nodded, his jaw still clenched tight. He moved back slightly, giving Hank room to work as he adjusted the monitoring equipment around Alexandria. The steady beep of the heart monitor was a small comfort, but it did little to ease the tightness in Logan’s chest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Jean offered, her tone gentle but firm. “You should get cleaned up.”

Logan looked down at his hands, still covered in Alexandria’s blood, and gave a short nod. “Yeah,” he muttered, though he didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on Alexandria’s face, as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he looked away.

Jean’s hand squeezed his shoulder lightly, a silent assurance that she had things under control. Logan finally forced himself to stand, though his movements were stiff, reluctant. He took a few steps back, his gaze never leaving Alexandria until he turned and made his way to the small sink at the back of the jet.

As he washed the blood from his hands, the water running red down the drain, Logan’s mind was racing. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—this helpless, this out of control. He was a man of action, someone who fought his battles head-on. But this… this was different.

He wasn’t fighting an enemy he could see, something he could take down with his claws or his fists. He was fighting something much worse—losing someone he cared about. And that terrified him more than any battle ever could.

Back at the makeshift bed, Jean was still sitting beside Alexandria, her expression calm and focused. She kept her hand on Alexandria’s arm, using her telepathy to keep her friend’s mind at ease. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Hang in there, Alexandria,” Jean murmured softly, more to herself than to the unconscious girl. “You’re stronger than this. You can pull through.”

Logan finished cleaning up and moved back to Alexandria’s side, ignoring the way his hands trembled slightly. He wasn’t used to this kind of fear, the kind that gnawed at his insides and made him feel like he was drowning. But he shoved it down, focusing on what needed to be done.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Jean said again, her voice firm as she met Logan’s gaze.

Logan nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He just sat down beside Alexandria, his hand hovering over hers for a moment before he finally took it, his grip gentle but steady. He wasn’t good at this—at comforting people, at showing he cared—but he wasn’t going to let her go through this alone.

Not when he’d finally started to see the cracks in her tough exterior, the vulnerability she kept hidden from everyone else. He wasn’t going to let her slip away, not when she’d just started to open up, to trust him.

“Don’t you dare give up,” Logan muttered, his voice low but filled with a quiet determination. “You’re a fighter, kid. You don’t get to quit on me now.”

The jet’s engines hummed softly around them, the only sound in the otherwise silent cabin. Logan sat there, holding Alexandria’s hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t quite name.

But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to lose her. Not now. Not ever.

---

As the jet finally touched down at the mansion, the team moved quickly, getting Alexandria off the jet and into the medical bay where the doctors were already waiting.

Logan didn’t leave her side, even as the medical team worked on her. He stood back, out of their way, but close enough that he could see everything, his eyes never leaving her face.

Hours passed in a blur of activity and tension. The medical team did everything they could, working tirelessly to stabilize Alexandria and repair the damage done by the knife.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, one of the doctors approached Logan. “She’s stable,” the doctor said, exhaustion clear in his voice. “She’s going to need time to heal, but she’s going to make it.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him like a wave. “Thanks, doc,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion.

The doctor nodded, giving Logan a tired but understanding look before heading out to get some much-needed rest.

Logan turned his attention back to Alexandria, who was lying peacefully now, her breathing steady and even. The color was starting to return to her cheeks, and the wound on her neck was bandaged tightly.

He pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down heavily, the weight of the past few hours finally catching up with him. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she woke up.

As he sat there, the others slowly filtered in, one by one, to check on Alexandria and offer their support. They didn’t say much—there wasn’t much to say—but their presence was a comfort, a reminder that they were all in this together.

Hours passed, and Logan stayed by Alexandria’s side, his eyes growing heavy as exhaustion tugged at him. He fought to stay awake, unwilling to leave her alone, but eventually, sleep claimed him.

He didn’t know how long he slept, but when he woke up, the room was quiet, the only sound the steady beep of the monitors. He blinked blearily, his eyes focusing on the figure in the bed next to him.

Alexandria was awake.

Logan stood up and pressed the button to call for Hank. He noticed her move her lips but clearly her throat was dry, so he helped her take a few sips of water before sitting back down next to her.

“You called me sweetheart.” She said, a small smile on her face, even though she looked to be in pain.

Logan’s eyes widened as he heard Alexandria’s voice. It was faint, but unmistakably her. He looked down at her, her pale face now lit with a smile despite the pain etched into her features. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or scold her.

“Sweetheart, huh?” he grumbled, trying to mask the relief that was threatening to overtake him. He glanced around, making sure Hank was on his way. “You know, you almost gave me a heart attack. You had me worried sick.”

Alexandria’s smile faded slightly as she winced, her hand gingerly touching the bandaged area on her neck. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it. Didn’t exactly think I’d be the one to worry you.”

Logan let out a gruff chuckle, though it was strained. “Don’t get used to it. You still owe me for almost making me lose my mind.”

Before Alexandria could reply, Hank bustled into the room, his medical bag in hand. “How’s our patient?” he asked, his gaze flicking between Logan and Alexandria.

“Woke up just a minute ago,” Logan said, his voice softer now but still edged with concern. “Still pretty groggy, though.”

Hank nodded and moved to Alexandria’s side, adjusting some of the medical equipment around her. “That’s to be expected. The procedure went well, but she’s going to need some time to recover. Make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

Alexandria tried to sit up, but the pain made her wince. “I’ve had worse.”

Hank looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Your throat was slit open, and you had 4 cracked ribs, a cracked femur, and not to mention dehydration.”

Alexandria tried to shrug, wincing with the effort. “I’ve had worse.” She reiterated.

Hank’s expression didn’t soften. “Well, you’re not getting out of bed anytime soon. I’ll need to keep you under observation for at least a few days. No arguing.”

Alexandria opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Hank’s stern look. Instead, she just nodded and sank back into the pillows. Logan, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of relief and concern, finally spoke up.

“Doc’s right,” Logan said gruffly. “You need to take it easy. I don’t want to see you getting up and trying to play hero anytime soon.”

Alexandria gave a weak smirk. “I’ll try not to. But you know me…”

Logan’s eyes softened slightly, though his expression remained serious. “Yeah, I do. And that’s why I’m gonna be keeping an eye on you.”

Hank, busy adjusting the IV drip, glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to get a few more supplies. Logan, try to get her to rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. He sat down in the chair next to Alexandria’s bed, his gaze never leaving her. “You really did a number on yourself this time.”

Alexandria’s eyes, though tired, held a glint of defiance. “I didn’t exactly plan on it.”

Logan chuckled dryly. “I figured. But that doesn’t make it any easier to watch.”

There was a moment of silence as Alexandria seemed to gather her thoughts. “I’m sorry for… putting you through this,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Logan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re tough, and you’ll bounce back. Just… don’t make a habit of it, alright?”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, her eyes drifting to the side as she fought to stay awake.

---

After a week in the medbay, Hank finally let her go, although he said that she should take it easy, no lifting things or running around.

She listened, begrudgingly, but also because Logan had been with her through the entire thing. She’s pretty sure he now knows more about her health than she does.

Alexandria finished reading a few chapters of her book, she decided to read a book in English instead of Russian this time, to get better at reading English words and because she didn’t want to look or hear Russian for a while.

She put on her mind blocker and laid upright, her upper body against the pillows, just like Hank told her. Alexandria told him that it was uncomfortable but all he did was look at her before reviewing her vitals again.

---

“Alexandria! Take your jacket!” Her dad called out.

Alexandria stood by her bedroom door before going back into her room, “ok papa!” She yelled back, trying to grab her jacket from the closet. But she was too short to reach it, that’s why mama picks out her clothes.

Her brother stood over her, grabbing her jacket for her, “like this, Aleksi.”

“Thank you, Mik.” She said, as Mikhail ruffled her hair.

“Come on, let's go. You want to go to the zoo, right?”

Alexandria nodded her head fervently as Mikhail chuckled and led her out of her room after putting her jacket on.

Mama and papa stood by the door, quietly arguing. “I'm ready! Can we go now?” Alexandria asked, cutting off their argument.

Mama looked at her, “Sorry, Sashulya. We can't go. It's dangerous.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, “dangerous? Why dangerous?”

They heard a car screeching from outside of their small house as papa turned to Mikhail, “Hide your sister, right now.”

Mikhail nodded as Alexandria looked between her parents and brother, “but the zoo!” she pouted.

“Another day, Sashulya. I promise.” Mama said, before ushering Mikhail and Alexandria away from the door.

Mikhail picked her up and carried her to the staircase for the basement when armed men came through the roof. “Don't move! To the door, boy.” One of the men said as more stood around them.

Mikhail raised one hand, the other one still carrying Alexandria as he walked back to the door where mama and papa were on their knees.

“She's a child! Not a soldier!” Her mother called out.

“You have a problem with me, not her.” Papa said, hearing the footsteps of Mikhail until he was behind them.

The woman grabbed Alexandria from Mikhail’s arms roughly as one of the soldiers kicked in his knee so he was kneeling beside her parents.

“Even if you gave us what we wanted, there is nothing better than her..”

“Manechka!” Her dad growled, “don't you dare.”

The woman looked at the soldiers behind the three, nodding. “Kill them.” The guns went off, bullets going through each one of their bodies as Alexandria squealed and cried from the loud noises.

The sound stopped as she fought to get out of the woman’s grip. The woman set her down and she ran to mama. “Mama! Wake up! Please! Papa! Mik!”

---

She woke up with a start, the blanket falling down to her waist and her chest clenching in pain, from both the nightmare and her healing ribs.

Alexandria felt tears stinging her eyes but blinked them away before they fell. Her chest was heaving, and she couldn’t seem to get her breathing under control.

She grabbed the glass of water on her bedside and chugged the whole cup, setting it down with a muted thud.

It was like she forgot how to breathe, her throat was closing in, her heart was pounding, and her lungs were burning.

Her gasps for air started to hurt more and more, the memory of that morning playing like quick scenes in a show.

Without taking off the mind blocker stuck on her forehead she went to the only person she thought could help, even if it was 1 in the morning.

The walk down the hall felt longer than usual, each step sending jolts of pain through Alexandria’s ribs. Her feet moved on autopilot, the rhythm of her steps broken by the occasional wince. By the time she reached Logan’s door, she felt like her lungs were about to collapse.

Her knock was barely audible, just a soft rapping of her knuckles against the wood, but in the stillness of the night, it was enough. She stood there, her hand lingering on the doorframe, trying to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the pain that made her come here—it was the fear. The fear that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be able to keep the nightmares at bay on her own.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. Logan stood there, his face shadowed by the dim light from the hallway. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through her.

She tried to speak but instead her lungs continued to burn as she leaned against the doorframe and clutched her shirt’s material by her chest.

Her gasps for air and the terror in her eyes told him all he needed to know. He clutched her by the shoulders, telling her to follow his breathing, but her eyes were unfocused, as if she couldn’t hear him.

Logan’s grip on her shoulders tightened, not in a way that would hurt her, but firm enough to ground her. He crouched down slightly to be at her eye level, trying to catch her gaze. "Kid, look at me," he said, his voice low and steady, a tone he reserved for moments like this—moments when words mattered more than actions.

But Alexandria’s eyes were wild, darting around as if searching for an escape, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. It was like she was back in that moment, trapped in the nightmare, unable to pull herself out. Logan had seen this before—he’d been there himself more times than he could count.

"Alexandria," he said, a bit more forceful this time. "Focus on me. Just breathe. In... and out. Come on, you can do it."

Her chest heaved as she tried to follow his instructions, but the panic was too overwhelming. Logan cursed under his breath. He wasn’t the comforting type, never had been, but this kid had wormed her way into his life in a way he hadn’t expected. She was tough, sure, but even the toughest ones cracked sometimes.

He released one of her shoulders and placed his hand gently over hers, which was clutching her chest. "Feel that?" he asked, his voice softer now. "My hand’s right here. Focus on that. Just breathe with me."

It was a small gesture, but it seemed to do the trick. Alexandria’s eyes flicked down to where his hand covered hers, and for a moment, the frantic edge in her gaze dulled. She focused on the warmth of his hand, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly, deliberately.

"In... and out," Logan repeated, his voice a steady rhythm. "You’re not there, kid. You’re here. Safe."

She tried again, this time managing a deeper breath, though it was still shaky. Logan stayed right there, his presence solid and unyielding, as if nothing in the world could shake him. Slowly, her breathing began to even out, each inhale and exhale becoming a little less strained.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, Alexandria’s breathing settled into something close to normal. She blinked a few times, as if waking from a daze, and her eyes finally met his.

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "There you go," he said, his voice gruff but relieved. "That’s better."

She nodded, still a bit shaky, but the wild look in her eyes had faded. "I’m... sorry," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse.

"Don’t apologize," Logan replied quickly, almost harshly. "You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for."

Alexandria shook her head, feeling foolish for waking him up, for not being able to handle something as simple as a nightmare. "I just... couldn’t breathe."

"I know," Logan said, his tone softening again. "That happens sometimes. You did the right thing, coming to me."

The words felt strange coming from him, but he meant them. He wasn’t one for comfort or reassurance, but he knew what it was like to be haunted by nightmares, to feel like you’re drowning in them. If anyone understood, it was him.

She felt the betrayal of her own body, a few tears sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Alexandria put her arms around Logan's waist and buried her face in his chest. It wasn’t something she’d ever done before—this kind of physical closeness—but the need for comfort, for something solid to cling to, overpowered the part of her that still screamed to keep her guard up.

Logan stiffened at first, not because he didn’t want her there, but because it was unexpected. The kid was usually so tough, always trying to hold herself together, and here she was, clinging to him like she was drowning. It hit him hard in a way he wasn’t prepared for. But he didn’t push her away. Instead, he slowly wrapped an arm around her, holding her just tight enough to let her know he was there.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. It wasn’t something he said often—hell, it wasn’t something he said at all—but he figured she needed to hear it. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t say anything, just stayed there, breathing in the scent of cigar smoke and leather that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. It was grounding, somehow, pulling her back from the edge. The panic that had gripped her chest was starting to ease, replaced by a deep, bone-tired exhaustion.

Logan kept his arm around her, not saying anything more. He wasn’t the type to offer comforting words or platitudes; he never had been. But he understood the need for someone to be there, just to anchor you when everything felt like it was slipping away. So, he held her, letting her take whatever comfort she could from his presence.

After a few minutes, Alexandria finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t look at him, embarrassed that she’d let herself break down like that in front of him. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Stop apologizin’,” Logan grunted, but there was no bite in his tone. “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for. You’re goin’ through a lot. You’re allowed to crack once in a while.”

She nodded, still not looking at him. “I thought I could handle it,” she admitted quietly. “But… it’s hard.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, kid. It is. But you don’t have to handle it alone. That’s why you’ve got people here. You come to me, or Hank, or anyone when you need help. Got it?”

Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes still red-rimmed but calmer now. “Got it,” she whispered.

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Good. Now, you need to get some sleep. Hank’ll have my head if he finds out you’ve been up all night.”

She managed a small smile at that, the first one he’d seen in a while. “He’s already been nagging me about staying in bed.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what he’s good at,” Logan said with a smirk. “Now, c’mon. Back to bed.”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment, then said, “Can I… can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone.”

Logan looked at Alexandria for a moment, then gave a short nod. He adjusted the other half of the bed, setting the pillows upright and making sure the covers were pulled just right before helping her settle in.

“Alright, you get in, I’ll get the lights,” Logan said, his voice still rough but a bit softer than usual. He reached over and turned off the light, leaving only a small nightlight on the bedside table to cast a dim glow around the room.

Alexandria slid under the covers with a small, tired sigh, looking up at him with a mixture of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. Logan watched her for a moment before pulling a chair closer to the bed.

“You comfortable?” he asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question. He knew she’d probably say she was fine, but he had to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Alexandria murmured, her voice still thick with exhaustion. She glanced at him, her eyes a little brighter now, but still heavy with the remnants of her panic.

Logan took a seat in the chair, his posture relaxed but attentive. “You need anything? Water? Another blanket?”

“No, I’m good,” Alexandria said, shaking her head slightly. She pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to get comfortable. “Thank you for... you know, being here.”

Logan grunted, a noncommittal sound that was as close to a verbal shrug as he could manage. “Yeah, well, you needed it. Ain’t gonna leave you hangin’.”

Alexandria looked at him, her gaze softening despite her exhaustion. “I didn’t think I’d be so... weak,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s expression remained gruff, but there was a flicker of something—concern, maybe, or maybe just understanding. “Ain’t weak, kid. Just human. Even the strongest people have their breaking points.”

She nodded slowly, processing his words. “I guess. I just... thought I could handle it. I’ve been trying to...”

“Handle it all on your own?” Logan cut in, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a surefire way to run yourself ragged. You don’t have to do it all alone. Not here.”

Alexandria’s eyes met his, and she seemed to be considering his words. “I know,” she said quietly. “It’s just... hard to trust sometimes.”

Logan sighed, leaning back in the chair. “I get it. Trust ain’t easy, especially not for someone who’s had a rough go of it. But you gotta start somewhere. And you’re here now, right? You got people who care.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “I’ve been trying. It’s just... new.”

He nodded, understanding the struggle all too well. “Just take it one step at a time. And remember, if you need to talk, or if you need help, you come to me or anyone else. Don’t bottle it up.”

“Okay,” Alexandria said, her voice a bit steadier now. “I will.”

Logan gave her a small, reassuring nod. “Good. Now get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.”

Alexandria managed a faint smile, the first real one she’d given him tonight. “Thanks, Logan. For everything.”

He waved it off with a gruff chuckle. “Don’t mention it. Just... get some rest. We’ll talk more when you’re feeling better.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, the fatigue finally catching up with her. Logan remained in the chair, his eyes on her as she settled into a more peaceful sleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing.

[cairoscene]

do you have any fic recs? (anything w tim joins the batfam early or ghostbat or anything in general tbh!)

hello i absolutely do! i'm going to try to give a good scattering of different fics and hope one of these is new to you/what you're looking for.

for "tim joins the bat family early" these are some of my favorites:

5 Times Tim Spends the Night at Wayne Manor + 1 Time He Comes Home by motleyfam. this fic is inspired by Latchkey by goldkirk and birds fly in every direction by distracted_dragon, and all three are really excellent fics and great entries into this particular tag. all three of these fics are ones i turn to when i want prime hurt/comfort tim pangs with plenty of family fluff and shenanigans.

Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding. i read this one early on in fandom and i still laugh when i think about it. premise is that jason mistakenly answers tim's advert for a brother and ends up with tim paying him to be his brother. it's full of a very precocious and lonely tim trying his hardest to keep jason around, while jason is desperately trying to figure out how to get this kid adopted before he runs out of money. truly a delightful fic.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by Ultrageekatlarge. cw for child abuse and peril, so mind the tags but imo this is a work of art. genuinely one of the best paced and well-written fics out there. i suppose it's technically not tim joining the family early but rather an AU where jason never died, so tim never had the chance to replace him; instead he finds himself under the care of a horrible uncle after his parents die, and in desperation, he turns to the only person who can help: batman.

the Surveillance series by smilebackwards. cheating again bc technically this is just an AU where jason didn't die and tim is a civilian, so it's got the flavor of a different joining-the-family dynamic, plus added timkon delightfulness. this is my go-to for highly competent and extremely lonely tim drake content.

as for ghostbat, it's an extremely small tag, but it's got some excellent fics:

Miscommunication by OkayAristotle. pretty sure this is the first fic in the ghostbat tag, and somehow it got them prefect right from the start. the petty banter and ease with which they interact is phenomenal.

break me shake me devastate me by pendulum_north. some great angst with a small helping of comfort! as well as just a good overall look at the more tragic side to ghostbat.

i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now i only waste it dreaming of you) by nygmamale. bed-sharing! pining! banter! angst! there's something about how they both go out of their way to spite the other in this fic that really gets me.

The First Warm Thing by Noknowname. absolutely aching ghostbat domesticity and old men being gross and in love.

and i'll throw in a few of my other favorite random DC fics just for the heck of it:

A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacguffin. this remains one of my all-time favorite fics. tim gets stranded and chooses to freight-hop his way back to gotham, and guess who ends up on the same train? "baby wipes jason" is still spoken with reverent and hushed tones in my groupchat regularly.

Stargazer by lemonadegarden. my favorite comfort reread jason fic. jason breaks his leg and gets stuck at the manor while recuperating. honestly it's rare to find a fic that really lets jason feel as young as he is. i think he's 19 in this fic and he feels so very lost and young and hurt in a way that really heals me.

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies. jason gets temporarily de-aged, and bruce has feelings about it. one of my cornerstone jason and bruce fics, mostly bc it contextualizes bruce and jason's relationship pre-jason's death in a way a feel many fics don't bother with. it's really really heartwarming.

The Jingle Jangle Morning by audreycritter. robin-era dick goes on a field trip and bruce has emotions. i think about this fic all the time tbh. it really sells bruce as a young, committed, and sweet father who really just wants to make sure dick is okay.

Tap Out by coyote_nebula. jason gets poisoned. oopsie. this whole series is excellent but i love this one for the way it builds up jason as a brother and a son, and the flashbacks to jason's early days after he was adopted by bruce. i truly wish there were more fics about newly adopted jason but what this fic offers scratches that itch for me.

buy back the secrets by sundiscus. in case you haven't heard this is the Timkon Fic of All Time. a 5+1 of times kon saved tim drake that has everything. identity shenanigans! tim and bruce pangs! kon and clark pangs! tim being extremely competent and extremely lonely! kon being extremely lonely and also pretty competent. this is technically a wip so i hope you'll forgive me for reccing it but it's really great and also totally worth it bc fer is absolutely 100% going to deliver and it's just. very good.

[hrts4hanniehae]

Take a Chance with Me || nine

*there are written parts

she was so in love with him that it hurt. what went wrong 3 years ago? the day that seungcheol broke up with her, she lost her mind. they were perfectly fine on their second anniversary. she still remembered how they slept together, a perfect fit in each other's arms. where did it go wrong? where did she choke up along the way?

they made eye contact. the whole time, his eyes were glued on her. the tension was suffocating, for it reminded her of her pain. but the softness of his gaze made her miss him. how could one love someone so much, to the point where she began to cry on stage. it was always this song that made her cry. she wrote it 2 years ago when she was in her "Bargaining" stage of grief. oh how she wished that he would just appear one day and apologise for leaving her. but he didn't. she tried to put the song in her new album but couldn't bear showing the world her pain. now she felt that she should have released it early, maybe if she did, they'd have gotten back together. why was he here?

she wiped her tears as she came to to chorus. no one was laughing at her vulnerability. no one made fun of her heartbreak. no one did that. no one did what her ex-manager said they would do. they empathised with her. her fans cared.

a/n: hi guys sorry for not posting yesterday. my situation was cleared up much faster than i thought it would be so i'm glad to say i'm back haha... here's a longer chapter since i got my laptop back.

note to my taglist: please reblog and comment abt the chpt so i know that you're actually reading my stuff.

summary: 3 years after your breakup with seungcheol, you release an album to cope with your still-broken heart. you didn't expose his name but quickly, your fans and fans of svt begin to connect the dots to the past you wish you could relive. little did you know, the man you loved so desperately would begin to chase you back with the same desperation you so very much desired

inspired by: take a chance with me

pairing: idol!choi seungcheol × fem!idol!reader

genre: past relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!booseoksoon, smau, miscommunication, pining, 2nd chance

warnings: implied self harm/depression, hate comments, updates irregular but will finish because i cried when i thought abt this idea

started: 13.12.23

taglist: fill out the form in my pinned post to be added to the taglist (specify this smau in the pw section)

smau masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester @belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @atinybitlonely @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29

[astermath]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on carmen berzatto in which the reader is an italian girl her early/mid 20s who works as a waiter at the bear and is sydney's best friend. her and carmen meet through her and they start secretly dating. the rest is up to you

thank you <3

hi!! I simplified your request a little,, it's more like a blurb / headcanon thing than a oneshot because I'm working on a long chapter for my nemesis series rn lol, hope that's okay!! thank you for the request angel! ♡

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

tags: sydney being a matchmaker somehow, not so secret relationship, exactly what it says in the ask lol, normal size font below!

wc: 0.9K

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

+ when it comes to hiring waiters, carmen just wants someone who's experienced. someone who knows what they're doing and who can do it well. and quickly. this restaurant has to work, has to make everyone proud, and the staff has to reflect that.

+ sydney instantly thought of you as a reference. you'd worked at your family restaurant back in italy, and when you moved to chicago, had continued said occupation to support yourself in various restaurants. though none were as nice as "the bear".

+ so when your friend had called you up for an interview for a brand new restaurant with one of the most promising chefs of the country, of course you took the offer.

+ though carmen knew most waiters were usually... presentable, he didn't quite imagine you to be this fucking pretty when you showed up for the interview. he almost forgot every question he was meaning to ask when you walked through that door, all bubbly excitement and feminine flair.

+ he loved hearing you talk about your life in italy before moving to the states, your experiences working in the service industry, your passion for food and people... he almost forgot he was supposed to be conducting an interview at all, he just adored hearing you talk so much.

+ and sydney noticed too. she noticed the way he had such an easy time conversing with you, which is odd behavior for him, to say the least. she was just glad the two of you were getting along, and her friend had a chance of getting hired.

+ and of course you were hired. not only was carmy already hooked on you, but so was most of the other staff. your bright personality and quick witted comments were nice and refreshing when things got a little too stressful. plus, you worked fast and efficiently; what more could they ask for?

+ carmen’s interest in you remained. he knew it was a little wrong, since technically, yes, he is your boss. which is why he was a bit reluctant to do anything at first.

+ you were making all the first moves. giving him meaningful glances during quiet moments, helping him out with things that didn’t apply to your job position, staying later to help him close up and clean. even if it meant you’d be tired as all hell by the time you were home, at least you were spending time with him. to you, it was more than worth it.

+ and he seemed to think the same. carmen never thought the closing shift could be as fun as it was when you were there. these days he was almost fighting richie for it, claiming that it was more fitting for him anyways since it was his place after all.

+ late night shifts turned into walking you home. walking you home turned into hanging out at your apartment for a glass of wine. a glass of wine turned into kissing on the couch. kissing on the couch turned into staying the night… you’d fallen into a routine with him so easily, sometimes you forgot there was a time before carmen was in your life. it just felt so… natural. like it was always supposed to be like this.

+ and though you really liked carmen, you didn’t want to jeopardize your position at the restaurant. you’d finally found a stable, well paying job, it would be a shame if you lost it over a relationship with your superior. though sometimes, you wondered if it would be worth it. to risk it for carmen.

+ carmen agreed, and so the two of you continued to keep your relationship under wraps for the time being. it was for the better, and besides, it’s not like he talked much about his personal life to his colleagues either. well, except for sydney.

+ and boy did she have her suspicions. of course she’d find out eventually, she’s a very smart and observant person. she can figure out carmen so easily, so she’s definitely not oblivious to the sneaking glances and hidden smiles, or the way he always manages to stay behind with you at the restaurant. not even the hickey you tried so desperately to cover up with makeup slips past her radar.

+ but she doesn’t say anything, at least not for a while. she lets the two of you live out your little secret relationship, believing she doesn’t know, until she accidentally slips up about it.

+ you’re complaining about the noise in your apartment and your lack of sleep because of it, clearly frustrated, when sydney asks “why don’t you just sleep over at carmen’s again then?”

+ she doesn’t realise she’d revealed that she’s known all along, until you look at her like you just saw a ghost. you’re about to defend yourself and come up with some excuse, when behind your friend, you can see carmen standing at the bar, smiling to himself as he cleans the counter.

+ it brings you comfort to know that apparently, he doesn’t mind anyone knowing. the secrecy was more for you than for him if anything. you’re not his little secret, not at all, and that became very clear when he’d start talking sydney's ear off about you after. though she does find it annoying, she’s glad two very important people in her life have found each other and are making it work.

+ plus, it’s nice that you two always cover the closing shift.

+ though she has her doubts about what you two are actually up to alone in the restaurant past closing time.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar  @spr3id  @deadandstill  @777iii  @magicboytrash  @wiipes @sierrahhh  @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa  @astridyoo15   @rexorangecouny  @azxulaa @jointherebellion215  @wolfiealina @dogdevourer 

[kaurwreck]

hi! i really want to tell you that i love love love your blog. i feel so much joy when i see you've made a long post with your thoughts. i admire the way you engage with things you enjoy! you've genuinely inspired me to get back into reading. i've been struggling with migraines and after some time i started associating reading with suffering. i stumbled upon your blog because of bsd, and i got so fascinated with the way you communicate with the source material that i had a childlike realization: i want to have that too! and i picked up akutagawa, and i'm enjoying myself so much. i'm never not thinking about the post where you said that the trick to being clever is to stop obsessing over being right. life-changing, really. sending you so so so much love! p.s. as a russian-speaker it's a delight reading your thoughts on dostoevsky, especially seeing you use diminutives, for some reason. in russian slang we sometimes say, "ты так чувствуешь!" ("you are really feeling!") meaning "you really get it on an emotional level!" and that's what i think every time i read your thoughts on dostoevsky.

I hesitated to answer this ask because I wanted to covet it and hoard it and keep it tucked away where I could revisit it to my greedy heart's content without anyone noticing, but I'd rather you know that this ask was so delightful to receive and absolutely melted me in the best way, so I'm publishing it even though that means submitting to the mortifying ordeal of creating a tag so that I can more easily return to your kind words, and perhaps other, similar asks and posts that are emotional balms.

Also, I am so sorry, I'm sleep-deprived and I was so excited and charmed and delighted by your ask that I lost my mind and wrote you a veritable novel in response. Thus, I've added a readmore and headings (because WOW, I went on tangents, sorry!)

Returning to Reading

I'm so sorry you have migraines; I don't get them often, but I do occasionally get them, and it's some of the worst, least tolerable pain I've ever experienced. So, whatever it's worth, you have my sympathy and admiration, especially since returning to reading when you experience frequent migraines implicates some common triggers. (Never mind how annoying I know it is when you're in too much pain to read as a distraction either.) But I'm delighted you're reframing your relationship with reading separate from suffering, and that you're enjoying the process! I'm also returning to reading, and while I don't have the same challenges, I am also engaging in a process of relearning and recontextualizing reading for myself, so I'm always here to chat about it.

I'm especially thrilled that you picked up Akutagawa; Akutagawa is the author who also coaxed me back into reading literature (as opposed to comics or webnovels). He might still be my favorite even now that I've read several, several other modern Japanese authors.

Akutagawa Adoration Hours

[I apologize; I hyperfocused and wrote an entire multi-paragraph essay on how much I love Akutagawa below... I promise I come back to your ask!]

Akutagawa's literary voice is just so vivid, sharp, and intentional. He compels you to cling to the weight of each word with rich, clever language that cuts to the hearts of matters frankly, bluntly, and sometimes scathingly. But even when his authorial voice is ostensibly irreverent or lacquered with detachment, he cradles his most foolish characters, bundling them with naked affection for their sincerity, vulnerability, and childish conviction. They embody his unadulterated faith, and he reserves for them in the implication the same salvation he's convinced he's too sullied by shame, terror, and self-consciousness to deserve. Akutagawa does not squander the gravity of your attention, and even in brief vignettes in which humans become lice or have had their personhood severed from them by the untenable yet escalating demands of their responsibilities to others, there's humanity in his horror and absurdity, and closure in his ambiguity. I rarely feel as if there's certainty in Akutagawa's narratives, but neither do I feel as if nothing that occurred mattered.

Even when nothing has objectively changed for the characters, Akutagawa sources meaning from the subjective perceptions of the characters, the impact of which is rarely diminished by the objective or observable. Thus, the bleakness, horror, and absurdity of the characters' circumstances are sometimes interminable, but they shelter Akutagawa's fondness and latent certainty that existential meaning is inherent to humanity because of, rather than despite, our fragility, foolishness, and callous disregard for measurable truth.

His contemporaries criticized him for the detachment and perceived stagnancy lent by his polish and technical brilliance, but I've never read any of his stories and not felt an earnestness that persists entirely apart from the explicit narrative, as if someone is reading over my shoulder and murmuring "isn't she brave?" whenever a character is so simple in their sincerity that they become vulnerable to humiliation and abuse. And that's not detachment; that's Akutagawa relentlessly writing hope, love, and compassion into the creases of his own grotesque fear, and in doing so, filling spaces we perceive as empty in ourselves with the faith and devotion he was so certain he lacked.

You Said Childlike In Passing But Chapter 55 of the Tao Te Ching Rewired My Brain and I Was Lost In the Akutagawa Sauce So...

And it's childlike how, even when characters like O-Gin are debased and humiliated, Akutagawa yearns for their salvation enough to smudge the ink at the edges of his precisely rendered language so the silly, ignorant little fools might transcend the boundaries of the narrative that otherwise ruthlessly scorned and punished them for their guilelessness. His need for innocence is itself indicative of the keen sense of violation that prompts a toddler to indignation when his jejune reliance on fairness is first exploited and then provided as cause for exploitation.

Akutagawa was wise enough to know childlike conclusions are the most profound and self-actualizing insights we can have, but too certain of the inevitability of his suffering and too overly prescribed barbiturates to nurture and cherish his own salvific childishness. So, your realization was brilliant for its childlike wisdom, and I think it's both wonderful and meaningful that you then nurtured that wisdom by pursuing the relationship you wanted with the source material.

Being Right vs. Playful Engagement

I'm also so glad that the post about being clever =/= obsessing over being right was sticky and impactful! It's, quite frankly, immensely less fun and more pressure if you're hinging your enjoyment on whether you're right when engaging with media where "right" is subjective and layered, and where you're engaging with a foreign cultural context. I get the impression that centering your engagement on making and assessing the accuracy of predictions also lends itself to biases, defensiveness, disappointment, misplaced resentment based on unmet expectations, and incuriosity; at least more so than engaging with the story playfully and sincerely.

I'm also just extremely biased towards bsd and Asagiri's approach to storytelling; I think he's engaging in a challenging and layered approach to storytelling that is wholly unique to him. (At least, based on my own experiences with referential multimedia titles.) I'm so charmed by how Asagiri throws himself into creative challenges and engages in meaningful and remarkably substantive conversations with the source materials, his own portfolio of interlocking narratives, and his audience. I would kill to chat with him about his processes.

Everyone I'd Encountered Who Seemed Parasocially Obsessed With Dostoevsky Was Right

Before I get into this next babble tangent, I want you to know that your kind words and perspective as a Russian-speaker regarding my Dostoevsky thoughts mean SO much to me; I'm very proud if I'm able to do an ounce of justice to the text in my ramblings, and I'm so excited to know the appropriate phrase for what I'm experiencing right now because I am REALLY feeling.

I was admittedly a little nervous about reading his works with only minimal background, and I went into Crime and Punishment without first consulting any published critiques and analyses (which I sometimes do for foreign classics to bridge gaps in context). But, I was eager to start the story, so I decided to just get into it with the understanding I might need to pause for further research if I felt I was missing too much context to engage with the text meaningfully. But, wow, I was immediately consumed. I struggled to put it down for most of it, and I've been staying up too late and sneakily reading at work; things I haven't done since I was in middle school.

While I know I'm missing context, even with the attentive footnotes (and I absolutely will read so many academic papers on it once I finish these last fifty pages), I was pleasantly surprised by how not only engaging his writing and this translation are but also by how familiar with and connected I feel to the characters and circumstances and emotions and dynamics. He has rendered the human experience and specific flavors of People into such compassionate, teasing, sincere, frank, and sobering characters who I feel like I've had entire conversations with.

I love classic lit, but Dostoevsky is sincerely rekindling a joy I haven't felt in years while reading. Also, his frankness and compassion regarding alcoholism and parentified children and trauma and ennui and guilt and the contradictions we grapple with within ourselves and with who we are to different people are giving me a framework for reflecting on swaths of my trauma and childhood that I've struggled to articulate my thoughts and emotions around for years.

I'm so energized and excited about reading his other works, but, wow, I'm going to miss these characters so much.

Accounting For My Crimes Against the Russian Language

I have very little background in Russian, but I'm passingly familiar because in high school (i) I was obsessed with Russian history, particularly related to the USSR and swaths of imperial Russia (I actually taught the lesson on Ivan IV Vasilyevich in my Western Civ class because my teacher was pregnant and exhausted and I knew the material better than she did); and (ii) I studied Russian with a private tutor in my senior year of high school (very lightly; once a week, only for a year, I met with her and two French language teachers from my school who were also interested in Russian for hour-long lessons and to receive homework assignments).

So, while my experience with the language is shallow at best, I've always loved Russian diminutives. I'm obsessed with the sheer amount of information relayed in someone's name. It's incredible. Of the languages I'm familiar with, none have a comparably satisfying gradient range of (i) affection and (ii) disrespect.

That said, I use diminutives for characters I'm particularly fond of, to show affection, and to teasingly disrespect them since I think it's quite overfamiliar for me to take such liberties.

Also, while I try to check after myself to ensure I'm using them correctly, I have only a surface-level understanding of what I'm doing, and some language forum threads are more helpful than others, so I'm very, very sorry if I use any incorrectly, and I encourage you (and any other Russian speakers and learners) to yell at me if you notice I'm misusing someone's name.

So far, my approach has been to check general searches, forums, and Reddit when I've encountered diminutives in Crime and Punishment, and I'll continue to look up every single name variation in the Dostoevsky novels I'm reading, no matter how long it may take me to realize what I've been scouring for isn't a diminutive at all but instead probably (emphasis on "probably," because no one providing English explanations seemed wholly certain) the same name but spoken in the form native to a separate Slavic language than the languages anyone else in the conversation was using, not that it really seemed to matter, since the same characters within the same conversation each used multiple forms of the same, with only one remark on what was most likely the correct form, which everyone ignored/disregarded, including the remarking character. So if you have context on THAT dynamic, I would love to hear about the etiquette and conventions around language forms among the many different languages and dialects in Eastern Europe.

For reference, the diminutives I've been using re: Crime and Punishment and bsd, with more context:

Raskolnikov is "Rodya" unless he's naughty, in which case I call him "Rodka." Unless he's REALLY naughty, then he's Raskolnikov.

Avdotya is Dunya always; I do feel egregious because she commands grace and gravitas, and I respect her SO much. But I love her dearly and am very warm towards her and everything she does, so I call her Dunya as if she were my sister because if she were, I would treat her better than Rodka right now.

Razumikhin is Dima which may be wildly incorrect, both in form and historical context; the only reason I haven't confirmed it yet is because I had an OC named Dmitri in high school that I was very fond of and referred to affectionately as Dima, and I'm similarly fond of Razumikhin, so I've delayed confirming and correcting myself here, although that's very Rodka-naughty of me, I know.

Fedya is always bsd!Fyodor, and only when he has really wide eyes and is being adorable bunny Fedya. He is Fyodor when he is being nasty or squinting. I call the author by either his last or full name, although I'm sure I've carelessly called him Fyodor before too. I try to maintain some consistency in distinguishing who I'm referencing between the characters and their namesakes.

Tl;dr: I love Russian diminutives. The only other time I've come close to feeling the same amount of immense delight over names-as-love-and-violence is when my work mentor, who is Chinese, was providing me with her preferred titles (laoban ["old boss," old meaning "venerable" rather than indicating age], jiejie ["big sister"]), and my other coworker chimed in to say, "Wouldn't you be da-jiejie ["first/eldest big sister"], since you're the oldest?" If looks could kill.

[iheartjohnlennon]

Hii!! Do you think you could write a John lennon x assistant reader that's an enemies to lovers?💕

'You really got a hold on me'

London, '65

Word count: 846

Tags: Sexual Tension, Mild Smut, Developing Relationship

                   

In the recording studio, the late-night session had taken its deep toll on everyone, everyone except for assistant perhaps.

 

She had been whisking around happily since the early morning - papers in her hand, words in her mouth. A lot of words, all words to do with the boys. 

   

She busied herself with making tea for them before she left for the night. Paul and George lounged on the sofa, they exchanged tired smiles as they heard the kettle sound.

 

After moving gracefully out of the quaint back kitchen, she handed George a mug and gave his arm a rub.

 

"Here you are, George." 

 

"Cheers, love." He acknowledged, looking up for a second. 

 

Paul offered a warm smile when he took his tea. "You're a lifesaver," he added.

   

Now, when it came to John, there was a noticeable pause.

   

He sat in the corner of the room, an air of indifference about him, it intimidated her sometimes.

 

It was always like this between them since they had met, an underlying issue, not explainable. The others were good with her, and she was good with them.

   

John had always been a bit crude with her, nagging her. Nagging her way more than he did the other secretaries too.

   

She hesitated, glancing in his direction before deciding to skip him for the moment, well, she hadn't prepared a cup for him in the first place. 

   

Her decision wasn't lost on him, it pissed him right off. "Am I fucking invisible, then Y/N?" 

 

John snapped at her, a cold edge to his voice.

 

He put his guitar down, deciding his attention could now be focused on annoying her. 

 

She shot him a wry look and sighed before replying dryly. "Yes, John."

   

Paul and George exchanged glances, attempting to stifle their uncomfortable laughter as they took sips of their tea.

   

John wasn't one to back down, especially not to some assistant. She paced back and forth, his eyes followed her every step.

 

"Oh, right, I see. Everyone gets tea but me. Feeling the love, aren't I? Aren't I?" He challenged rudely.

 

She shrugged, feeling bored of his pre-rant.

   

"Well, it's not bloody rocket science, is it? Prepare tea for all of us or don't. That's what you're good at after all."

 

"What?" She asked angrily, hoping he didn't insinuate what she thought.

   

George and Paul exchanged knowing glances for the last time. With a shared understanding, they rose from their seats, leaving the room with a sense of practised nonchalance. The heavy door swung shut behind them, hopefully muffling out any more bickering. 

   

She sighed and retrieved a fag from her cardigan pocket. 

   

"Well, love, it seems it's just you and me now," he remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned against a nearby amplifier.

 

She shot him a sidelong glance, a mixture of scepticism and amusement in her expression. 

 

"Don't get any ideas, Lennon. I can handle myself just fine."

   

John raised an eyebrow, a sly smile forming on his lips. He walked towards her, becoming oddly close. 

   

"Oh, I'm sure you can, but where's the fun in that?"

 

He seemed to whisper. 

   

She rolled her eyes, and looked away from him, maintaining her composure. 

 

"You know, you're not as charming as you think you are."

 

She knew she was lying to herself. In spite of his frequent insults and rudeness, there was an air of eroticism in it, just an air.

   

John chuckled, unfazed by her retort.

 

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not here to charm. Just to keep you on your toes, y'know?" 

 

She sensed the sarcasm.

   

John seemed to be slowly closing the distance between them, their noses softly touching. 

   

His voice, low and teasing, sent shivers down her spine.

 

"You know, love, I can't decide if you're more of a nuisance or a temptation."

   

She was caught off guard by the sudden proximity, and his comment. 

 

Before she could respond, John closed the remaining gap, his lips roughly met hers in an unexpected kiss. The studio, once filled with the echoes of music, now carried the sounds of their smooches.

 

Their lips embraced and his tongue tasted her mouth, from the tip of her tongue to the back of her throat. Her back had pressed hard against the wall as his hands gripped his arms.

   

John pulled away from the heated kiss, just briefly.

 

His lips now traced a path along her neck, she exhaled softly and then let out a slow, breathy whisper. 

 

"John..."

 

Undeterred, he persisted, determined to leave a mark. 

   

She gently shoved him away, creating a small but deliberate distance between them. John leaned in for another kiss.

 

She chuckled, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. "No need to rush."

 

His lips hovered, a playful pout forming on his face. "I thought you liked a bit of excitement."

 

"Oh, I do, but let's savour the moment, shall we?" She said. 

   

John slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His hands squeezed her behind, and she gasped. 

 

"Savouring it just fine, love," he groaned.

[caffeinemachine]

The Girl Next Door - Part 1

A/N: Part 1! This part is really just to give you a clue into their relationship right now, as the following parts will be about the shifting in their dynamic! Hehe, I'm so excited for this series! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Series Chapter:

Prologue | Part 1

Jeremiah Fisher x OC! Isabella Sullivan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ella Sully <3

8:03 AM

J: You guys on your way?

E: 👍

just left Cambridge and stopped for coffee quick

J: 😊 See you soon then Sully

E: see you soon Fisher

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sat on their front porch by 9:30. Realistically they shouldn’t be getting here until 9:45-10:00 but with the way the Sullivans drive, I knew they could be arriving any minute. At 9:38 I watched as the Range Rover pulled into their rocky driveway. My face instantly lit up. The car was barely in park when she opened the door and ran to me. Her arms flew around my neck as I grabbed her in my arms and spun her around. 

We held onto each other tightly before I put her down, truly staring into her eyes for the first time this season. She looked a little different than when I last saw her, although that was just around winter break. In the past 6 months, she had lost a little baby fat from her cheeks, gained some new freckles, had grown her hair out and got it freshly highlighted, and her hazel eyes looked extra green today. 

“Well hello, Isabella.” I grinned down at her, arms still looped around her.

Her eyes glistened, “Well hello, Jeremiah.” If possible my smile grew, as I picked her back up into the air making her squeal. 

“I'm so happy you're here, I can’t wait for this summer!” I placed her feet back on the ground, and this time when I looked at her something shifted, our stare intense, the air between us thick. Suddenly I became aware of just how close I was holding her. I scanned her face, unable to help myself when my eyes lingered on her lips a beat extra. I could always read my Ella, but the look on her face right now was new, and it stumped me. 

“Jeremiah!” Spell broken. Begrudgingly I let Ella go to hug her mother. The older woman squeezed me tightly. My arms dropped as she moved back from me, her hand going to cup my cheeks.

“Wow, I think you’ve actually gotten taller since I last saw you! My my what a handsome young man you’ve turned into, don’t you agree Ella?” I smirked as Ella blushed from her mom's comment.

 Her eyes went wide as she laughed, “Mom!”

I gave my best puppy dog's eyes, teasing her,” What you don't agree I’m handsome Ella?” She just scoffed as she grinned back at me playfully. 

“That’s not important, but I know you well enough to know it's important I don't add any more fuel to your ego.” We all chuckled, and I saw her mom giving us a loving look out of the corner of my eye. 

“Let me help you guys carry in your bags!”

After bringing all their bags inside, Ella and I went to her room. I plopped on her bed while she put her things away. 

“So where's your dad?” I asked curiously. 

She glanced over her shoulder at me before continuing to put her clothes in her drawers, “He’s driving out next weekend, he has a conference in Boston this week.”

“Cool,” A comfortable silence stretched between us, “So, surfing?” She paused what she was doing, turning around to me as she leaned against her dresser. A smile graced her beautiful features, what a sight to see. I wondered if she smiled like this for other people or maybe just maybe her smile was something I got just for myself. Maybe I was the only one with the privilege of sharing a moment of such pure happiness with her. I could only wish. 

“Oh yeah.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post-ocean was my favorite time to see her. Her hair was gorgeously curly from the salt water, her cheeks tinged pink from the sun, and her freckles glowed across her face. We laid down on a towel, catching our breath from surfing before we trekked back up to the house. I turned to my side to face her, prompting her to do the same. I pushed the hair that fell while she did so behind her ear. 

“I'm so happy it's summertime, I missed you, Elle.” Her expression stayed at a relaxed state but the corners of her eyes creased a little extra.

“I missed you too J.” I smiled. Only she ever called me that, and even she did it only once and a while. 

I lay back flat and she scurried over to put her head on my chest. I could stay here forever- “Should we head back to your house, I still need to say hello to everyone.” It seemed she didn't have the same idea though. 

If I’m being honest, I'm growing tired of having to hide my love for her, tired of not being able to pull her that couple inches closer to me, tired of her not being mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a hello filled with a lot of hugs, Ella went home to shower before her mom and her came over for dinner like always. We all sat around the table, catching up on the past few months as we ate my moms cooking. After dinner Ella came upstairs to my room while I got ready for the bonfire. She came over ready, and was now just waiting for me, Steven and Conrad. She scrolled on her phone before flicking her eyes up to me. I held two shirts up to her, “Blue or Gray?”

She took a moment to truly consider it, her expression serious. “Blue, makes your eyes sparkle, it’ll boost you up with the ladies.” She gave me animated wink, giggling a bit.

I scoffed lightly trying my best to fake a smile, but nodded curtly following her word without question, blue shirt it was. Then I put my hands on the edge of the bed beside each of her legs, leaning in grinning, “You like my eyes?”

She fueled the fire, grabbing the sides of my face and staring straight at me with a smile, “Yes you were blessed with gorgeous baby blues Jere.” I laughed and backed away to strip off my current shirt to slip on the one she chose. I smiled to myself when I caught her lingering on my abs for a moment. Heat blossomed in my chest. I can’t blame her, I looked different than last summer but based on the sight of her in her bikini earlier, so did she. 

“Ell-”

Just then Steven came running through my doorway, “You guys ready?” Ella perked up jumping off my bed and out the door. I huffed, should be a fun night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who the hell was that?

I stood with some guys I've known from over the years, a can of soda in hand, DD for the night. But while I stood there, Ella sat on a towel in the sand near the fire with some guy. Some guy. Not me. 

“-Jeremiah? Ello, earth to Jeremiah?” I regained focus looking at my buddies who laughed at my distracted state. 

I glanced back at Ella, my Ella, I couldn't take it anymore, "I’ll be back.” I walked straight to her, paying no mind to the annoyed grunts and protests coming from behind me. The guy she was sitting with spotted me coming toward them first. I took Ella by surprise when I plopped down next to her in the sand, my arm immediately going around her shoulders.

“Wha- Oh hey J!” She melted into my side once she realized it was me. My eyes looked at her briefly, flashing a smile, before my face went straight and I stared down this random ass boy. 

“Hello Sunshine, and who are you?”

The guy seemed displeased by the situation unfolding in front of him, “I’m Finn, if you don't mind Ella and I were-”

I stopped him before he could even start, because I frankly didn’t give a fuck what he was going to say, “Alright Finn, thanks for keeping my girl company for me, see you around, maybe, probably not.”  He looked at Ella for a moment but when she made no objection he got up and walked away huffing as he went. 

I stayed silent, the reality that Ella might be super pissed for the stunt I just pulled dawning on me. Then she grabbed my face repositioning our spots on the towel so that we were face to face instead of side to side. Our eyes connected, and she pulled me towards her quickly, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. I had no time to process..is Ella about to kiss me? What should I do- well kiss her back obviously- but wait where is this coming from-

“Mwah!”

My cheek. Oh. She kissed my cheek.

“Thank you! Oh my gosh, he was such a douche! You know when we were little I hated how easily you could read me, but now it's like my own secret weapon to save me from situations I don’t wanna be in. Oh, and faking the ‘my girl’ card? Genius! Nothing seems to shut a guy up quicker than finding out she has a boyfriend. You put on a good act. Where were you even that you saw me? I couldn't see you?”

Her arms had dropped to rest on my shoulders. I didn’t know what to say. I should just tell her the real reason I came over.

“Elle I-”

Blue and red lights flashed in my vision.

Cops.

Fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@goldenmoonbeam

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 22

Chapters: 22/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Your wonderful vacation in the Dreaming came to an end as Morpheus bestowed gifts and boundless love. Upon arriving at Cape Kennedy, you learned that Lyta's child had already been born. Subtle changes had occurred in everyone's lives, unexpected transformations altering their paths forever. You, on the other hand, faced a tumultuous return to work, grappling with severe physical fatigue back in London.

Author's note: Hello! I hope you guys have been well. Here's another lengthy update for you. I recently realized that in the previous chapter, the name the Reader gave to the deer—Astra—is the same as the little girl Johanna tried to save and lost. This was initially coincidental, as I couldn't recall her name at all. However, it sparked a nice idea that I'll explain towards the end of the story. I didn't want to leave anything to chance, and since the name felt fitting, changing it seemed inappropriate considering all the research I put into it. Instead, I've found a clever way to explain this "glitch" in the narrative. It's not something huge plot-wise, just something that will justify the repeated name.

Now, this chapter delves deeper into the lore of Cape Kennedy's side characters, all of which I've created myself. I wanted to explore a few specific aspects here, as things might become a bit chaotic/dramatic in the next update. I need to ensure I've covered everything thoroughly.

Also, I'm currently revising the first chapters, improving the wording and adding some enrichment. While the story itself will remain unchanged, I aim to make it sound consistent and cohesive from start to finish. After returning to writing in 2022, I've dedicated time to studying and practicing, which has influenced the story's progression. It's hard to believe this fic will be two years old in December!

(The upgraded chapters haven't been uploaded yet. I'll edit each one as soon as they're prepared and ready for posting.)

Gazing at the magnificent Dreaming scenery before you, you heaved a sigh of displeasure. You were fully prepared—though not emotionally ready—to return to Cape Kennedy and depart from the enchanting realm of dreams.

It was absurd, really. You could visit Morpheus's domain every night in your dreams, and he'd even invited you to return physically anytime in the future. There was no logical reason for such despondency; this wasn't a permanent goodbye, after all.

Yet, as you contemplated going back to your normal life, a nagging feeling deep in your consciousness reminded you of the Dreaming's importance to your soul. Leaving it behind felt like bidding farewell to the most beautiful vacation of your life, your heart already aching for it before you'd even left.

Morpheus's arrival heralded your imminent exit from his world. As you turned to greet him, your eyes were drawn to a wooden box nestled in the crook of his right arm. Its intricate design lent it a substantial appearance, adorned with golden decorations reminiscent of your chamber's style and Morpheus' preference.

Curiously, you asked, "What is that?"

He stepped forward, cradling the box in his hands as he examined it. "This is a gift I have prepared for you."

"Another gift? Morpheus, you're truly being too generous."

He smiled, drawing closer to you. "You need only ask, and it shall be yours. All that you long for."

Overcome by a fresh surge of affection for this extraordinary being whom you cherished above all else, you gently cradled his face in your hands and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender, yet laced with unmistakable determination. "And here I thought nothing could top last night's surprise."

You leaned in for another kiss, finding yourself unable to stop, lost in the moment with the man from whom you could scarcely tear yourself away. Morpheus seemed equally content, returning your kisses with matching fervor until you were both satisfied.

"Do you not you want to see it?" he asked teasingly.

Clearing your throat, you reluctantly detached yourself, taking a deep breath. "Yes, of course."

Instead of opening the box himself, he offered it to you expectantly. You took it with extreme care, almost afraid it might slip from your grasp and shatter. As you held it, you were surprised by how light it felt compared to its sturdy exterior. When you unlatched the front lock, a warm pulse of power emanated from it, tingling your fingertips and running down your spine.

You lifted the lid, revealing the contents nestled on a black velvet cushion. Your eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before you: a luminous pearl-white moonflower that glowed like a living lantern, a palm-sized amethyst crystal of the deepest, most mesmerizing purple, a small glass vial filled with sand— its cap tightly sealed with a thin cord, and a golden bangle that looked tailor-made for your wrist, its surface embellished with tiny, star-shaped crystals that glimmered brilliantly in the light. 

"This blossom shall retain its ethereal beauty, forever in bloom, defying the laws of mortality even as it graces the realm of the Waking," he explained. "The amethyst, a stone of grounding, shall grant immediate solace upon your touch."

"What about the sand?”

"This sand, harvested from the very essence of your Dreamland, bears the same properties as that which resides within my pouch. It is a fragment of your dreams made tangible."

Morpheus's sand, granted to you as a gift…?

"Can I really accept this? Your sand is such a vital source of your power."

"Though but a mere fragment, I am confident in your discretion to safeguard it from unworthy hands."

"That goes without saying. I'll guard it with my life."

He raised his hand, gently brushing the box and allowing his fingers to meet yours in the process. "I have placed tokens of my devotion to you in this vessel of memories, eternal artifacts that shall evoke recollections of your stay in this realm."

Morpheus continued to surpass your expectations effortlessly, offering gift after gift without expecting anything in return. His boundless generosity left you feeling humbled and almost insignificant in comparison.

The bangle needed no introduction. Its aesthetic perfectly complemented the starry theme of the Dreaming while matching the bracelet your mother had given you. As you admired it, you eagerly anticipated wearing them together.

"This is beautiful," you whispered, gently closing the box and caressing its ornate surface. "Thank you, Morpheus. This means the world to me."

“Should you wish for anything else, I will provide it for you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's only one thing I'd love to bring home with me, but that's not allowed."

As you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his cool ones, Morpheus immediately grasped your meaning and responded with a subtle smile. "I shall be with you always, my love." 

“I know.”

"Are you ready, my love?" Morpheus asked gently.

“No.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he gazed at you with affectionate amusement. "Y/N…"

"Sorry, I'm kidding. Well, sort of. Maybe. Not really. But yes, I am ready."

Clutching the strap of your bag, you awaited Morpheus's magic. He gathered you in his embrace, his forehead gently touching yours as he closed his eyes, yours following suit instinctively. A gust of wind tousled your hair, accompanied by the soft swoosh of rising sand. You sensed your surroundings change, the Dreaming gradually fading into the distance, yet remaining forever tethered to you by an invisible thread.

As you remained motionless with your eyes shut tight, Morpheus called your name in a low, velvety voice. "Y/N."

“Mh?”

"We have arrived in the Waking World."

The familiar scents of Florida's natural environment and the subtle shift in ambient light confirmed your return to Cape Kennedy. Still, you found it difficult to release your hold on him, struggling to accept that the most unforgettable week of your life had come to an end.

It was childish, you reasoned, considering how much work awaited you in your waking life. You weren't truly separating from Morpheus or the Dreaming, but a part of you wondered if you could ever truly balance your existence between these two worlds, or if you were inextricably tied to just your own.

You were a mortal connected to an Endless being, with time's relentless march ever-present. Could you truly hope to make the Dreaming your permanent abode?

His lips grazed your cheek, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. "Do you intend to stand here indefinitely?"

“If I do, will you take me back?”

He tenderly caressed your jawline, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "My love, my heart longs to keep you eternally in my embrace. If only I could yield to such selfishness.”

With a resigned sigh, you finally opened your eyes to meet his countenance. "You could. I wouldn't complain."

He shook his head gently. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Everything." One hand clutched the memory box, while the other trailed along his chest, settling on his covered collarbones. "But I understand you have vital duties, as do I with my own responsibilities."

"Thank you, Y/N, for allowing me to bring you into my realm. Your devotion for the Dreaming is immeasurable, I cherish it with all that I am."

"The Dreaming is you," you said with a smile. "How could I not adore it?"

Every word you spoke to him, so honest and filled with humanity's most precious light, never failed to make him—the Lord of Dreams, an ever-darker creature—happier than he ever thought he deserved to be.

"I must leave you now, my love. Take heart, for I will seek you in your dreams.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. "I love you, Morpheus. You know that, don't you?"

"I do. And my love for you, my dear, transcends the very fabric of existence, encompassing all realms, both dreamt and waking."

He pulled you close for one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly letting you go.

"Ever the poet," you remarked with a grin. "Just one of the countless things I like about you."

"Are you attempting to keep me here with you?"

“Is it working?”

He let out a soft chuckle. "I am afraid not. But wherever you go, I will follow."

"That's enough, I suppose."

For a moment longer, you looked deeply into each other's eyes as a wordless understanding passed between you. Then, Morpheus's sand reappeared, rising from the ground at his feet and gradually swirling around his form. You stepped back, giving his powers room to work, as a cloud of grains swallowed him completely. In an instant, the sand twirled and dissipated, leaving no trace of Morpheus as he vanished back to his realm.

You exhaled, feeling a complex blend of satisfaction and wistful melancholy.

Hal's B&B stood just a few feet away. As you retrieved your phone from your bag and powered it on, you were astonished to find that barely a few hours had passed since leaving the hotel in Georgia. Morpheus had mentioned that time flowed differently in the Dreaming, but it was still mind-boggling to realize you'd spent seven days in his company, only to essentially travel back in time.

With a final loving glance at the box, you carefully tucked it into your bag and set off. The house's door stood unlocked, and as you entered, Hal's voice greeted you warmly as soon as you crossed the threshold.

"Welcome back!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "How was the Cereal Convention? I heard it was brimming with fascinating events."

If only he knew the mayhem you had witnessed there. "Fascinating? That doesn't even begin to describe it.".

You wondered if the news had reported anything about the man who had taken his own life in the car, or if they had even remotely mentioned the rest of the cult, now cursed by Morpheus to a lifetime of regrets.

"I bet," he said mischievously. "Rose told me you got quite a pleasant surprise."

You blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Come now, no need to be coy, sweetheart. You know secrets don't stay hidden for long in this house."

You realized Rose must have concocted a story to account for your absence. Whatever tale she had spun, you found yourself at a loss for how to navigate this unexpected situation. 

“Well…”

"Your boyfriend showed up unexpectedly to pick you up, didn’t he? Now that's what I call romantic!"

Oh.

You had to admit, that wasn't entirely inaccurate. "You've caught me red-handed."

He graciously helped you remove your jacket as you clutched your bag tightly, guarding it as if it contained your most precious possessions, which couldn't be nearer to the truth.

"No wonder you look radiant. I'd recognize that glow anywhere."

"What can I say? He has a flair for dramatic appearances."

As you entered the dining room, you found only Chantal and Zelda at the table, their brunch plates cleared. An unusual hush blanketed the house, a stark departure from its typical bustling energy.

“Hey girls.”

“Good morning, Y/N,” Chantal replied cordially. "Zelda says hello as well."

"Where's everyone else? Have they not risen yet?"

Hal joined them, gesturing invitingly towards an empty chair. "Ah, you've missed quite a bit. You won't believe what's happened."

Taking a seat beside him at the table, you narrowed your eyes. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, no, quite the opposite. You see... it's about Lyta; she's given birth."

Your jaw dropped so suddenly that you half-expected it to clatter onto the floor. How could Lyta have delivered her baby so quickly? Could her time with her husband in the Dreaming have stretched longer, similar to your own experience with the King of Dreams?

“What…?”

"I know. Crazy, right? Did you even know she was pregnant? I don't think Rose ever noticed either."

"I didn't," you replied. "It's generally not something you easily miss... though, I've read about cryptic pregnancies before.”

"Yes, but can a belly grow that big overnight? It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen lately, but…"

You pursed your lips, wracking your brain for a plausible explanation for such an extraordinary occurrence. Yet, try as you might, no rational justification presented itself.

"Rose and Jed accompanied Barbie and Ken to the hospital," Chantal interjected.

"We're heading there in a couple of hours,” Hal said. “Are you free? You're welcome to come with us."

You agreed without hesitation. "Absolutely. I've got plenty of time before my next appointment with Andrew, so I'm in."

"Great! We're all eager to meet the little one."

Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your mind, you chose to set aside your confusion. There was little point in fixating on inexplicable events, especially since you'd come to understand that the Dreaming's magic and uniqueness often transcended conventional reasoning.

Eager to keep your mind occupied, you insisted on helping Hal with the cleaning, brushing aside his protests. After your ample rest, staying active appealed to you more than idling about in the living room. As he washed the dishes, you meticulously dried the tableware and set everything neatly in its place. Hal hummed random songs intermittently, his voice filling the kitchen with cheerfulness and positivity.

"So, this boyfriend of yours. Does he travel often?" Hal inquired, passing you a freshly washed glass.

"Mm, you could say he's practically omnipresent," you replied with a knowing smile.

"He must have quite an important job," Hal observed, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"It's vital, indeed. His work shapes the very fabric of our existence."

Realizing you had inadvertently revealed more than intended, you bit your tongue. Fortunately, Hal didn't seem inclined to pry further.

"I admire people like that. Those who can truly change the world."

"You have that power too, in your own way."

"I'm not so sure about that," Hal replied modestly. "Though I must admit, I'm finally considering selling this place."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're going to sell your grandmother's house?"

Hal chuckled. "I've been thinking; dreams can really change your perspective. No matter how bizarre they get."

You gave his upper arm a friendly squeeze. "Whatever path you choose, I'm confident it'll be the right one for you."

"I haven't made any final decisions yet, but I'm now open to giving my career a real shot. Who knows? Maybe next year you'll hear my name as the greatest Broadway performer of all time."

"I can absolutely see that happening. You shine on stage, Hal. I'm sure I've mentioned that before."

The conversation flowed naturally, weaving through various topics, from Hal's future aspirations to your creative pursuits and life in London. Amidst the discussion, he brought up the unusual dream experience that he and the others had collectively undergone, featuring Rose and the Vortex in action. Remarkably, they all vividly recalled the events leading up to Morpheus's attempt to halt Rose's power, but none of them could adequately describe or explain why—or how—this dream had manifested for all of them at once.

His willingness to openly discuss the event with you, regardless of your apparent status as an outsider and his unawareness of your actual involvement, left you astounded. Although he intentionally kept his descriptions vague, they unanimously agreed that Rose had been rather special since her arrival. 

You refrained from confirming or denying it. While the truth was irrefutable, you were reluctant to raise further questions about a girl who had already endured so much on her own.

The dream had left an indelible mark on each of them, sparking a self-reflection and personal development. Apparently, cracks had begun to show in Barbie and Ken's relationship, and Hal was confident it was only a matter of time before it crumbled completely. This revelation didn't surprise you, as you'd harbored reservations about Ken from your very first encounter.

As the late morning wore on, you carved out a private moment in your room. Seated on the bed, you gazed at Morpheus's gifts, a broad smile illuminating your face and a bright sparkle dancing in your eyes. You picked up the golden bangle, turning it over in your hands to look at its minimalist design. Despite its simplicity, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you'd ever seen, with its diamond-like stars twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight. As you slipped it onto your wrist, you marveled at its perfect fit, neither too loose nor too tight. It sat snugly against your skin, complementing your mother's leafy bracelet perfectly, as if it were crafted specifically for this pairing. Considering Morpheus's particular attention to detail regarding your appearance, you realized that this harmonious combination was no accident, but rather a deliberate choice on his part.

You missed him deeply, craving his presence with an intensity that eclipsed even your need for breath. It was natural, given that you had been virtually inseparable during your time together, except for the brief absences he was compelled to make. 

Still, you found yourself contemplating your relationship from a new angle, considering the prospect of deepening your bond with him. Was it even possible for a mortal to unite in marriage with an Endless?

Theoretically, given the universal rule that barred Nada from being his lover, you might conclude the answer was no.  Nevertheless, Morpheus had speculated that your Goddess DNA could have shielded you from the dreadful fate his ex had endured as punishment for her transgression.

Ruminating on the matter excessively would only result in mental fatigue.

Shortly thereafter, you journeyed to the hospital with Hal, Chantal, and Zelda, feeling strangely fidgety since leaving the house. You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden unease, yet you were convinced it wasn't tied to any specific ill omen. There was simply an odd, indecipherable voice in the recesses of your mind, somehow linked to Lyta and the newborn child. You sensed that the baby's unusual conception, coupled with the Dreaming's essence flowing through its small body, had heightened your innate sensitivity, likely stemming from your deep affinity with Morpheus's realm and the Dream King himself.

Upon arrival, you found Rose and Jed already visiting Lyta and her newborn son, while Barbie and Ken waited patiently in the lobby for their turn. Barbie's characteristic cheerfulness and signature smile masked an entirely different story lurking behind her eyes. Ken appeared oblivious to her distress, his nonchalant demeanor indicating either genuine ignorance or—more likely—a callous disregard for her feelings.

Men like him were utterly contemptible, nothing more than walking deceptions.

The door to Lyta's room creaked open, prompting Barbie to spring to her feet and stride forward, Ken trailing behind. Rose and Jed emerged from around the corner, looking refreshed; their nightmarish ordeals hadn't been enough to break their spirits.

“My turn!” Barbie chirped, her laughter bubbling up.

"Prepare yourself," Rose noted with a smile. "He's pretty cute."

Ken exchanged a playful, masculine handshake and fist bump with Jed. “Oh, we are ready.”

From your seated position, you caught a glimpse of Barbie vanishing around the corner. Her voice dropped drastically, taking on a serious and resentful tone. “Uh, it’s one at a time.”

Ken's face fell, and you couldn't suppress a flicker of satisfaction. Bravo, Barbie!

“Wha… Oh, come on. Babe! Baby, it was just a dream!”

Glancing at Hal, you noticed he was equally captivated by the unfolding drama. "See? I told you," he whispered.

"Do I really want to know what he's referring to?" You asked.

"Oh, that he was caught being literally blown by another woman in his car? No, I don't think you want to know."

Your jaw clenched instantly. "Well, I'll be damned."

Chantal and Zelda, as composed as ever, exuded the aura of gothic countesses in their distinctive black dresses and veils. You'd grown accustomed to their dark appearance, finding them both incredibly beautiful and sophisticated.

Rose and Jed joined you in the waiting room, the girl’s eyes meeting yours with a silent understanding.

“How are they doing?” Hal queried, adjusting his position in the chair.

“Great,” she answered. “The hospital’s releasing them tonight and then we’ll fly home tomorrow.”

“Oh, so soon?” Chantal exclaimed.

Indeed, it felt as if no time had passed since you first met Rose. You'd grown so attached to her that it seemed you'd known her for years, not mere days.

“To New Brunswick,” Hal concluded. “How far is that from New York?”

“Mm, less than an hour. Why?”

“I don’t know, I had this dream last night and now I’m thinking, what if I sell the house and move back?”

Evidently, Hal's indecision about his future plans had dissipated, and his mind was now set on a clear course of action.

Rose's eyes lit up with delight, while Zelda and Chantal exchanged a meaningful look. Words were superfluous between them; Zelda's face, though usually expressionless except for her shy smile, conveyed all her companion needed to know with subtle nuances that only Chantal could interpret.

“We’ll buy the house,” she declared.

A collective gasp of shock rippled through those present, with Hal himself rendered speechless by such an unexpected announcement. The initial bewilderment quickly gave way to joyful smiles as everyone recognized how perfectly all the pieces were falling into place.

Your heart swelled with joy as you beheld the radiant expressions adorning the faces around you, a sight that filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

As time wore on, Hal, Chantal, and Zelda took turns visiting Lyta and her unnamed newborn. Barbie's despondency had resurfaced, even as she tried to hide it from the others. Ken persistently badgered her to accept that he meant no harm, but any self-respecting woman would banish a man who dreamed of another straight to Lucifer's hell.

As you approached the vending machine for a drink, Rose excused herself and followed, clearly seeking a private conversation out of earshot from the rest of the group.

“Hey.”

"Hey," you answered with a warm smile. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. I'm still a bit shaken when I think about everything that happened, but... Jed's here with me. That's all that matters."

"He's adorable, by the way," you commented.

"You should've seen him when he was five."

You cracked open your favorite caffeinated beverage, offering Rose one as well. She declined with a shake of her head, her eyes fixed on her feet, revealing a nervousness about what she wanted to say.

When she remained silent, you broke the awkward moment. "Thank you for covering for me," you said gratefully. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I figured they'd ask where you went. I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."

"I must say, you're quite talented when it comes to coming up with excuses on the spot."

Rose laughed softly.  "It wasn't easy. I also had to tell them Gilbert returned to his country due to an "urgent family matter."”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

You leaned against the vending machine, sipping your drink as another silence settled between you. Rose crossed her arms, shifting restlessly with her foot—an anxious tic that only accentuated her growing discomfort.

You sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Rose, it's okay. Whatever you want to ask me, go ahead."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

You shook your head reassuringly. "It's fine, really. I imagine you have quite a few questions."

"I hope I'm not overstepping, but... is there something going on between you and Lord Morpheus?"

While the question didn't catch you off guard, you considered your options. You could have lied, keeping your relationship with the Endless private and shielding your love from potential judgment. Rose had likely witnessed only the darkness surrounding the Lord of Dreams, unaware of the heart of gold it concealed; a heart heavily scarred from suffering and betrayal.

Ultimately, you decided against it.

A faint smile played on your lips. "Yes, Rose. We are together."

"Oh. Wow, I... I had a feeling, but..."

"You didn't want to jump to conclusions."

“Yeah.”She paused, collecting her thoughts. “It’s just… there's so much I don't understand. When Dream said Jed and I are ‘Children of the Endless’, what did he even mean?"

How could you explain it to her, considering her great-grandfather was one of the cruelest entities in the entire universe, willing to callously manipulate their own sibling and any mortal they came across?

"Is it related to the golden-eyed man Unity saw in her dreams?"

"I'm afraid I can't provide a definitive answer to that," you confessed, feigning ignorance. "In a way, you and your brother are very special, Rose. That’s all I know.”

She mulled over your words, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation, yet accepting it as sufficient for her current needs.

"He's not… really that bad, is he? Morpheus."

“No. He’s not.”

"I know he didn't really want to kill me. I was damaging his world without even knowing what I was doing. It was all my fault to begin with."

You gently touched her elbow, your hand warm against her skin. "You didn't ask to become a Vortex, it was just an unexpected twist of fate you didn't deserve."

"Yes, but I still hurt my friends. Lyta, Hector... even Jed, Hal, everyone around me."

Your hand slid along her wrist as you took her hand in yours. "It was the Vortex. Not you."

"But I was the Vortex. When Dream took Hector, I hated him. I thought he was a monster. Lyta was suffering, and I blamed him for it."

“And now?”

She hesitated, contemplating her response. "Now… I don't, really. It was harsh, but I was the one who set all this in motion. He did what he had to, I guess."

Your smile widened. “Rose…”

"And Unity," she continued. "She gave her life just to save me."

The pain she endured defied consolation, and a persistent guilt would likely shadow her for the foreseeable future.

"She was happy, you know," you revealed. "And very proud of you."

“Unity…?”

"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling right now. The trauma you've endured is not something that can be easily erased. But I can tell you this: your great-grandmother is at peace.She made her sacrifice for you without any regrets.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Having weathered numerous losses throughout her life, Rose had honed the ability to remain resilient in most situations, a strength she maintained not only for herself but also for those she held dear.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Her voice quivered, and you pulled her into a comforting hug. She gratefully melted into your embrace, finding solace in the warmth she could no longer receive from her mother's arms.

“You’re welcome, Rosie.”

Lyta's baby was a true delight, innocent and tiny, with cheeks so soft they resembled the most delicate confection. You could feel the Dreaming's traces on the infant, yet to anyone else, he appeared perfectly human.  The moment you drew closer, his little hand instinctively grasped your finger, awakening an unexpected maternal, protective instinct in you. Lyta simply smiled, observing how you'd make a wonderful mother someday, a comment you met with a nervous laugh.

The strange gut discomfort you felt vanished as soon as you left the hospital. You had the impression that something about Lyta was not ordinary, but you couldn't quite discern what it meant. Perhaps it was a consequence of your travel between the Dreaming and the Waking World, causing unusual perceptions as you readjusted.

That evening, Lyta and her newborn son were discharged as expected. While Hal finalized the house sale with Chantal and Zelda, you joined the group for a pleasant conversation in the living room, idly toying with your new bracelet as you slid it up and down your wrist. You thoroughly enjoyed your time at the B&B, appreciating the company of wonderful people (with one notable exception) who helped brighten Lyta's mood. The loss of her husband had left an indelible mark, and you admired how everyone tactfully avoided the sensitive subject, refraining from asking questions about the baby's father.

Barbie looked somewhat distracted, her face less vibrant than usual, a subtle alteration that seemed to go unnoticed. She maintained a facade of joy and vivacity, barely interacting with Ken, who sat uncomfortably close to you on the couch. You felt urged to speak with her, but that would have to wait for a more appropriate time.

Despite the tragedies and misadventures he'd faced, Jed was an incredibly adaptable and optimistic kid. His face beamed with smiles, clearly overjoyed at being reunited with his beloved sister. At some point in the evening, you engaged in an enthusiastic discussion with him about popular superhero movies and comics. Rose playfully teased Jed about how, under Gault's influence, he had impersonated a Marvel-esque version of The Sandman. Her lighthearted comment drew genuine laughter from both of you, and Jed rolled his eyes, insisting he had been incredibly cool and powerful in that form.

As night fell, everyone retired to their rooms. Lyta excused herself first, cradling her precious newborn away from the adoring eyes. Rose followed shortly after, and Jed was offered the vacant attic room, formerly Fiddler's Green's quarters. 

Sliding beneath the covers of a bed that wasn't the grand canopy in the Dreaming felt oddly unfamiliar to you. You longed for the soft caress of your enchanted nightgown, the mesmerizing sparkle of crystals, and the soothing ebb and flow of gradient waves on the walls. It seemed paradoxical to long for a place you visited nightly, yet a strange void persisted inside you, like an emptiness you couldn't quite articulate.

With heavy eyelids, you succumbed to slumber, hoping to find Morpheus awaiting your return in the realm of dreams.

You felt weightless, adrift in an ocean of billowing fabrics that obscured the path ahead. Wandering without direction, you pressed forward into the unknown. A distant cry pierced the air, beckoning you closer. As you continued, the fabrics parted, revealing a crib in the distance. The surroundings were hazy and barren, bathed in an ethereal, blue glow.

The more you walked, the farther the crib seemed to get. No matter how hard you tried to reach it, it was as if you were walking on an infinite treadmill. The child inside was whimpering, pleading for you to arrive. 

You pressed on, yet the distance remained unchanged. Anxiety constricted your chest, making it hard to breathe, despite the absence of any visible threat. 

Then the crib began to fade, enveloped by a soft, nebula-like cloud, vanishing into nothingness. You were left uncertain about what you had witnessed, wondering if the baby represented Lyta's son or simply acted as a subconscious symbol; perhaps indicating fresh starts and possibilities. 

Unable to decipher its significance, you endeavored to interpret the dream's significance to no avail. As the vision continued, your consciousness gradually reasserted itself, and you immediately transitioned into an entirely new dreamscape.

You stood in an expansive, surreal forest where trees spiraled upward like great pillars, their trunks woven from shimmering threads of silver and dark purple. The sky above pulsed with colors you'd never seen before—streaks of emerald, amethyst, and soft coral flowing and colliding like auroras. A gentle mist blanketed the forest ground, and as you moved, flowers bloomed beneath your feet. With each step, you ventured deeper into the woods, where strange, beautiful creatures drifted past in the mist, unusual animals with translucent bodies and magical eyes. You felt at peace now, as if this place knew you, welcomed you.

Whatever the crib represented, it couldn't be anything sinister.

The fog lifted, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a figure nearby. From the shadows between the trees, Morpheus emerged, his presence both distinct and seamlessly integrated into the scenery. Clad in black that melded with the night's darkness, he seemed to carry the very stars in his eyes and attire. As he approached, the dream's colors intensified, responding to him like a lover's touch.

Your breath itched as he stopped before you, his gaze soft yet filled with an intensity that only Morpheus could hold. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing his cool hand. He took it gently, as though grazing something precious. The bracelet he gifted you gleamed golden alongside your mother's cuff. 

"Your dreams grow more beautiful with each passing night, in ever more resplendent tapestries," he murmured, his voice resonating through the forest.

A smile lit your face, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you to bring you into his loving casing. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The dreamscape reacted again, a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees, sending petals into a soft dance around you.

"Every time I'm with you, I feel complete," you whispered.

Morpheus tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes softened with a tenderness that was becoming more frequent. "Then let this moment last for as long as you're asleep," he said, his lips meeting yours in a kiss as warm and infinite as the dream itself. 

You cuddled against him, sinking into the tranquility and depth of your connection, as the environment continued to pulse with revitalizing energy. 

As you parted, he held your face in his hands, his cerulean irises tracing your every feature as though etching this moment into his memory. "I am bound to you, in dreams and beyond," he uttered genty. "No place, nor time, can keep me from finding you."

"Never cease seeking me. Please."

"Never, my love. And you, forever call upon my name, through the realms of fantasy and waking.”

It was rather striking to reflect on how Rose and Lyta had arrived in Cape Kennedy as a pair and were now departing the B&B as a quartet, a poignant example of dreams' transformative power. Their journey exemplified how the seemingly impossible can indeed materialize into reality.

Hal assured he would join them once everything was properly settled and his belongings were packed, ready for the grand opening of a new live show; the next chapter of his life.

While you couldn't reveal to Rose the book she'd one day write, you encouraged her to pursue graduate school, confident in her potential for extraordinary accomplishments. Your time together had been brief, yet saying goodbye to her tugged at your heartstrings. What had begun as a simple work collaboration in Florida had flourished into something far more meaningful; you'd cultivated new friendships that you hoped would stand the test of time, enduring long after this unexpected adventure.

In the blink of an eye, the house suddenly felt much emptier.

Throughout the day, you noticed Barbie's conspicuous absence from the common areas, rarely catching a glimpse of her around the house. Ken mentioned that Barbie was feeling unwell and had decided to recuperate in their room. The situation raised suspicion, especially since Ken seemed more intent on hovering around you in the kitchen, attempting to engage you in unwelcome conversation. Oblivious to your signals, he disregarded your curt responses and clearly disinterested tone, persisting in his efforts at dialogue.

"You know, I was thinking, you haven't seen much of Cape Kennedy, have you? I could take you on a tour one of these days."

You froze with your cup of tea suspended midair, staring blankly at him as Hal cleared his throat.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have work commitments," you replied, your tone icy.

"Ah, yes, of course. But maybe I could, you know, offer you a ride after dinner one evening?"

You felt utterly disgusted, the tea suddenly losing its flavor in your mouth. Ken's partner was confined to their room, claiming to be ill. But here he was, attempting to flirt with you behind Barbie's back.

His behavior was reprehensible. You abandoned your drink, pouring it down the sink and hastily rinsing the mug.

"Oh! What about dining out? I know a lovely restaurant by the beach."

Ugh.

You considered answering with more excuses to make him desist, but you knew such tactics wouldn't deter a man like him. Ultimately, you decided that a razor-sharp response was your only way out.

"Look, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate your persistence. And believe me, he's not the forgiving type."

Ken's grin faltered, though he still tried to maintain his charm. "I was just—"

"You're asking me out while your girl is sick upstairs. How considerate of you."

Hal, clearly intrigued by the unfolding scene, became more attentive, his eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You may be accustomed to women fawning over you, but let me be crystal clear: I wouldn't consider someone like you even if you were the last man on Earth."

Ken stood frozen, his smile fixed and hollow, utterly speechless. He seemed incapable of formulating any coherent sentence, caught off guard by your blunt rejection.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning on your heel and striding away.

Without looking back, you left Ken to contemplate your rebuff as you climbed the stairs, the kitchen falling into a telling hush. There was only one pressing matter you wanted to address now: Barbie. If Ken was failing to provide the care and support she needed, perhaps a friendly visit could lift her spirits more effectively than her inconsiderate partner could.

You recognized that Ken's intentions weren't specifically malicious, but his casual fantasizing about other women and viewing dates outside his relationship as normal proved he was incapable of full commitment. How Barbie had managed to tolerate him for so long was incomprehensible, but you couldn't help admiring her patience.

You paused before her room, knocking softly a few times, and waited for a response that never came. Though you surmised she might be asleep, an intuition whispered otherwise.

"Barbie?" you called gently. "It's Y/N. Are you all right in there?"

Soft footsteps padded across the floor, followed by the click of the door's lock. As it swung open, Barbie showed up, looking visibly drained. Her face, devoid of its usual makeup, and her refined clothes replaced by simple pajamas, presented a notable difference from her typical polished appearance.

“Hey!”

Her forced glee hit you right in the chest, totally unconvincing, with puffy eyes revealing recent tears.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" You inquired again.

"Yeah! It's just a headache. Nothing serious!"

You exhaled softly, your brow furrowing with concern. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's nothing, really! I just need some rest," she insisted with another artificial grin, her voice wavering slightly.

"Barbie, I know I'm still relatively new to you, and you might not feel comfortable opening up to me. But if you need anything at all, even just a listening ear, I'm here for you."

She looked at you in silence, her veneer of cheerfulness intact but slowly crumbling. Her smile faded, lips curving downward as her head dropped in defeat. “Would you like to come in?”

Relieved, you nodded. "If I may."

“Sure.”

She stepped aside, inviting you in. As you entered, the door closed behind you, cocooning the two of you in privacy. Barbie walked to the rumpled bed and sat down, patting the spot in front of her with the familiarity of an old friend at a sleepover. On one of the nightstands, an empty mug stood sentinel beside a few untouched, stale cookies.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," you said, settling onto the mattress.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping at all.”

"What's wrong? I promise you, anything you say will remain confidential."

Barbie let out a chuckle that quickly morphed into a sniffle. "I feel like I can't confide in anyone. People would think I’m silly for even considering this."

You moved forward, tentatively placing your hand on hers. "It can't be foolish if it's keeping you locked into your room."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes welling up as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "Have you ever felt like you've lost something important, something that doesn't even exist?"

“What do you mean?”

She released a desperate laugh, a hysterical sound that bore no resemblance to genuine mirth. "I... I used to have this beautiful dream. I had many incredible friends, talking animals that cared for and protected me. Can you imagine?”

You offered an encouraging smile, listening attentively.

"My closest companion was Martin Tenbones, a creature resembling a giant dog... or whatever he was meant to be. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Not at all. I'm intrigued and would love to hear more about your dream world," you replied warmly.

"It's hard to put into words. It wasn't just a fantasy, it felt like another life. A place where I could be more than just 'Barbie', but finally myself."

"You're speaking about it in the past tense..."

Her tears flowed more freely. "I’m afraid I can’t dream about it anymore."

Oh…

"Last night, I had no dreams. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but I can tell that something has severed my connection to that world.”

Having witnessed your own dream beach reduced to an arid desert, you deeply empathized with Barbie's attachment to her personal subconscious place. Yet, you were fortunate to be with the Lord of Dreams, who could easily restore it to its original splendor, perhaps even enhance its beauty. Morpheus guided you through the Vortex's perils, extracting you from the Dreaming before your link to it could be irreparably damaged.

“I had a mission, something very important to do. And now I’m lost.”

“Barbie…”

"Ken wouldn't understand," she said with a hiccup. "He never does."

You squeezed her hand comfortingly, warmth spreading between your palms.

"I'm sorry. I told you this would sound stupid."

"Well, it's not," you replied with conviction. "As someone who understands the significance of dreams, I can tell you that your sadness is completely justified."

“Really…?”

"Yes. And please, forgive my frankness, but what do you see in a man like Ken?"

Her lower lip quivered as she wiped away her tears. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I thought we were perfect together, as ‘cliché as it can be, given our names."

You shrugged. "Names are just names. I doubt that's why you chose him."

"No. He made me feel special, loved… but I fear that was only a beautiful fairy tale. I knew he enjoyed flirting, but this? It’s just too much for me."

You hesitated to disclose Ken's invitation, fearing it would only exacerbate her distress. Considering her fragile emotional state, you couldn't bring yourself to be so insensitive.

"You deserve far better than what he's giving you. I can see that plain as day."

"I don't know. Maybe I set myself up for this. I should have seen the signs."

"We all make mistakes, we're only human. I've certainly had my share of faults in past relationships."

Barbie's lips quirked into a genuine smile, her first in a while. "Do you think I can find someone who'll treat me like a princess in the real world, too?"

"Not a princess. More like the magnificent queen you truly are."

Barbie chortled, and you joined in, feeling the atmosphere in the room finally lighten. "I mean it. You're beautiful, fun, sweet, and open to imaginative possibilities. You don't need a knight in shining armor, real princesses are perfectly capable of writing their own happy endings. Ken doesn't realize how lucky he is."

She swallowed hard, brushing away fresh tears with trembling hands.

"This is your life, Barbie, and I can't tell you what to do. I just hope you'll make the right choice for yourself. That guy's a perfect idiot, too immature to see how amazing you are."

As you stood from the bed, she sighed shakily, drawing her knees to her chest and curling into a ball. "Y/N… can I ask you something absurd?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I'll ever be able to dream again?"

As you opened the door, you glanced back at Barbie's huddled form. Without Morpheus' insight, you couldn't fathom the fate of dreamers severed from the Dreaming by the Vortex. Lacking this crucial knowledge, you found yourself unable to offer a concrete answer to alleviate her sorrow.

Nevertheless, your heart told you there was only one logical, compassionate answer.

“I’m sure of it.”

The moment you left her to her own reflections, Barbie silently opened the bedside table's drawer, rummaging for an object she had discreetly tucked between books. As she retrieved it, she stared at the rose quartz pendant in her hand, now cold and lifeless, its power inexorably spent.

She clutched the pendant to her chest, inhaling deeply before exhaling, her resolve crystallizing.

As your first week in Florida concluded, your collaboration with Andrew grew more intensive with each meeting. More briefs poured in, shaping the project's trajectory for its official launch. When the first prototypes emerged from the workshop, it became clear that additional revisions were necessary. You had to conced that some of your ideas hadn't translated from concept to physical materials as seamlessly as you'd hoped. Undeterred, you offered to refine the sketches, either by incorporating crucial missing elements or starting anew with concepts that seemed to spring effortlessly from your imagination. This time, Andrew's approval wasn't required; his expression alone conveyed that the newly sewn sets embodied the perfection he had envisioned.

Meanwhile, Ken avoided approaching you in the house, hanging his head like a scolded puppy and barely mumbling greetings in the mornings. The atmosphere grew tense as Barbie silently declared her breakup with him by moving out of their shared room and into Rose's and Lyta's vacant chamber. Unsurprisingly, Ken's futile efforts to win Barbie back were nothing short of ridiculous, every excuse failing spectacularly, as if he were hurling himself against an invisible, elastic barrier.

To compound matters, Hal—Ken's sole confidant—had finally summoned the courage to permanently leave. With newfound confidence, he was determined to reunite with Rose and her family, bolstered by his belief that he could make it on Broadway. 

You had to admit, upon seeing Hal fully prepared with his suitcase and giant bag, he would likely be the person you'd miss the most in Cape Kennedy. Although Gilbert had quickly become your favorite (for reasons that now made much more sense), Hal had treated you like a best friend from the instant you emerged from Andrew's vehicle, seeing past your 'celebrity' status and addressing the authentic you with complete naturalness.

Moved by an irrepressible need to repay his kindness, you offered to create the perfect costume for his Dolly persona in the future, a gesture that made Hal's eyes sparkle with pure excitement. The prospect of wearing your design on stage made him feel like a star, and you eagerly anticipated seeing him perform for audiences worldwide.

As the days passed, the house grew more solitary, transforming into an unrecognizable place. Even Barbie decided to depart for New York by the tenth day of your stay, unwilling to endure Ken's omnipresence and compelled to rediscover herself through a new beginning. One by one, they were all witnessing their lives completely turned upside down, for better or worse, by the hand of Destiny. A fate that was clearly set in motion by the Vortex's influence, affecting their Waking World just as much as their dreams.

"Thank you, Y/N. You're a sweetheart," Barbie uttered gently, embracing you on the threshold. Her hug was so tight it nearly squeezed the breath from your lungs. "Let's keep in touch. I'd love to see you again sometime.”

"Absolutely," you said, gently rubbing her back. "Take good care of yourself, Barbie."

“You too.”

As the taxi pulled up, Barbie strode out of the house without a backward glance. Inside, Ken slumped on the couch, his face a portrait of total defeat. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had royally messed up, with no hope of mending the rift he had caused.

Barbie radiated a diva-like aura with her impeccably styled hair, flawless lipstick, and chic sunglasses that gave her the stunning look often adorning magazine covers. She waved at you, Chantal, and Zelda before entering the car, occupying the backseat with the grace of a regal swan. A large pink pendant hung from her neck, one she had never worn before, glistening and glowing under the sun.

In fact, it shimmered more brilliantly than any ordinary gemstone, causing your own necklace to suddenly warm against your skin. Before you could take a closer look, Barbie was gone, leaving her former home behind for an uncertain future.

You shook your head, dismissing that persistent feeling of déjà vu. Your attachment to the Dreaming was simply playing tricks on your mind, causing you to see things that weren't actually there.

Probably.

During your final days in Florida, you toiled relentlessly at Andrew's workshop, scarcely finding time to return to the B&B for rest. Chantal and Zelda seemed now solitary figures, quietly enjoying their drinks in the hushed house. Ken often disappeared into town, presumably in pursuit of a new conquest to seek solace in new companionship. Yet they looked unperturbed, their sweet smiles ever-present and nary a complaint voiced. 

While they genuinely missed their friends, Chantal and Zelda were self-sufficient women who found complete contentment in each other's company.

On the eve of your return to London, you had another vivid dream. While the recurring image of a newborn crying in an empty, bluish space persisted, your nightly visits to the Dreaming were becoming increasingly lifelike.

Morpheus accompanied you on most of your explorations, walking beside you or standing amidst the evocative landscapes of his realm. He always welcomed you with the warmest expression the Lord of Dreams could muster, his subtle smiles illuminating his face at your arrival.

After much hesitation, you finally broached the subject with Morpheus about Barbie and how the Vortex had removed her from the Dreaming. 

"Is there anything you can do to help her?"

Morpheus shook his head, giving you a thoughtful but firm response, rooted in his views on the purpose and temporality of dreams. “Each dream has its time, its arc, and its end. Her connection to The Land was severed as part of a larger design, one that is beyond any individual's desires, even mine."

Noticing your crestfallen countenance, he elaborated. “Dreams are both gifts and lessons, my love. They are there to guide mortals, but they must also be let go when their purpose is fulfilled. To restore it now would be to disrupt the path she must walk."

"So, she's unable to return to her dreams?"

"One day, perhaps. A dream is alive only when it meets the dreamer’s true need."

You averted your gaze, allowing his words to settle in your mind. After a moment, you turned back to him, your eyes glistening with emotion. "If I were severed from this world and from you, it would be unbearable. I can't imagine my life without the Dreaming, I would probably die."

Your words deeply moved him, though he tried to conceal it behind his characteristic gravitas. "You would not be disconnected from me, my love. Not truly. No matter the forces at play, I told you I would always find you, in dreams or beyond them."

He reached out to touch your face, offering comfort and promise, acknowledging your compassion and worries without dismissing them. "If ever such a fate were threatened, I would bend the realms themselves to keep you close."

Your smile returned as your fingers toyed with the lapels of his coat. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Even the King of Dreams is not immune to the fear of loss," he admitted. "And you possess a unique quality that no other mortal will ever match."

"Are you implying that the Dreaming would suffer without me?"

"Not only the Dreaming. I am its ruler, yet above all, I am a being irrevocably bound to your heart."

That very heart raced with exhilaration, sending waves of warmth cascading through your body like a gentle fireworks display.

"You’re so sweet,” you expressed.

“Sweet?”

You tilted your head. "I know you're all powerful and mighty, and that 'sweet' isn't typically associated with you. But with me, you're so wonderful that I doubt any other being in existence could ever compare."

He grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with veiled intentions. “Perhaps I should remind you of my true nature, my love. As befits the King of Nightmares.”

You laughed, crossing your arms with a glint of curiosity on your face. "Oh? Is that a challenge? Because, Your Majesty, I'm not one to run away so easily."

For a moment, silence blanketed the space between you. The air grew still, charged with electric anticipation as Morpheus's posture shifted. An otherworldly darkness seeped into the scene, dimming the ambient illumination. Cold moonlight took its place, casting elongated shadows on the ground. The world around you transformed into a vast canvas, painted in shades of deep blue and ink-black, completely bereft of stars.

With a flick of his hand, Morpheus stepped back. The space stretched into an endless void, where whispered secrets echoed and your surroundings dissolved into an illusion of midnight sky. His form began to transform, subtly at first. His robes billowed like storm clouds, infused with silver strands that glinted like trapped starlight. His eyes glowed with pale fire, and his hair flowed freely, no longer tethered by gravity.

Despite the imposing figure before you, you felt no fear. In fact, the beauty of it—the raw, infinite greatness—thrilled you to no end and made you shiver in awe rather than terror. He embodied everything he claimed to be: powerful, enigmatic, and fearsome—yet he remained, undeniably, the man you loved.

He circled you slowly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned in from behind. His voice boomed, almost demonic, though unmistakably his own. "So bold… and so fragile. Will you not bend and yield to your Lord?"

You recognized this as an enthralling performance, a thrilling roleplay that left you completely spellbound.

"You are magnificent," you breathed, your voice brimming with admiration and something else. "Truly, I don’t need to tell you how willingly I'd surrender to you. You already know."

His hands wrapped around your waist, strong and secure. "It seems," he said with a wry smile, "that even the King of Nightmares cannot dissuade you."

"Never," you replied, tracing delicate patterns on his hands. "Not when I know that you'd never harm me."

His dark and menacing guise melted away, replaced by a soft chuckle as he reverted to his normal form. The inky blackness dissipated, giving way to the previously vibrant colors of the dreamscape.

With a touch of reverence, he lifted your hand to his lips. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I shall remain 'sweet' for you alone."

You threw your head back, sinking against his chest as laughter bubbled from your lips. Your eyes sparkled with immense happiness and love. "Now I wish I never had to wake up."

For the remainder of the night, Morpheus granted your wish, keeping you blissfully ensconced in the realm of fantasies.

As you settled into your seat on the plane home, you went through a curious distortion of time. The fortnight in Cape Kennedy and week in the Dreaming had passed in a blink, yet paradoxically left you feeling as though you'd been away for eons.

You were exhausted, the jet lag evidently taking its toll on you. Readjusting to your regular routine proved unexpectedly daunting, as you had to deal with frequent migraines and an unsettling tendency to nod off at inopportune moments throughout the day. 

You missed the friends you'd made, the cozy ambiance of the former B&B, and the tranquil Floridian nights that contrasted so starkly with London's bustling soundscape.

The newborn continued to make sporadic appearances in your dreams, but the crib remained just out of reach, its cryptic message undecipherable. Curiously, this recurring vision didn't unsettle you; upon waking, it often slipped from your mind entirely.

Upon returning home, you quickly established regular long-distance communication with Hal and Rose. They now shared a peaceful home as a family, along with Jed, Lyta, the baby, and an intriguing man—a friend of Rose's—who had seemingly won Hal's heart. Rose had finally submitted her college application and begun brainstorming ideas for her future book. Meanwhile, Hal was actively pursuing a career as a Broadway performer, eagerly anticipating news of a potential audition.

After carefully considering numerous options, Lyta finally settled on a name that perfectly suited her son: Daniel Hall.

Corbyn & Jones was busier than ever, inundating you with work the moment you stepped into the office. The company overflowed with orders and requests for new projects, which Ella presented as promising opportunities for the future. With the Fashion Show behind you and sales skyrocketing across online platforms, local stores, and social media, your friend decided to entrust you with an equally creative venture, one with the potential to become the company's crown jewel. Both figuratively and literally.

"Are you serious?" you asked, your eyes wide as you stared at her face in disbelief.

"I don't see why not. You've always had a passion for jewelry, and I distinctly remember you designing some back in high school."

"Those were just early experiments, hardly worth mentioning."

She grinned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You used to say the same about all of your sketches. Yet here you are." 

You sighed, massaging your throbbing temples and stifling a yawn. "Fine, you've got a point. But I'm wondering, are we really prepared to take on more work? It's not exactly difficult for people to find quality accessories from other sources."

"We've received numerous requests for jewelry to complement our products. It's a bold move, but we can't afford to ignore our competitors."

You brought your finger to your lips, contemplating. "I guess you’re right."

"Look, I know you've just returned from Cape Kennedy and haven't had a chance to catch your breath, I can see how tired you are. Still, you're the only one I can trust with this," Ella explained. "Whenever I scroll through my social media feed, all I see are the same products being marketed as 'exclusive drop collections' by different brands or influencers, simply because they're trending. I don't want to slap our name on a generic necklace, bracelet or ring and claim we made it. I want something special, something that only you can create."

Ella had always been fiercely competitive. Seeing an opportunity to make a real impact, her eyes lit up with a reinvigorated enthusiasm.

"I'm not asking you to do anything complex, I swear. You have an excellent sense of style, and you're very distinctive. You emanate this constant aura that's simply goddess-like."

You couldn't help but chortle, amused by the unintended accuracy of her statement. Whatever she saw coming from you was no longer a coincidence, now that you were aware of your true origins.

"I'll cover the material costs, and Oliver has connections that could help with soldering services and gem sourcing. Perhaps you could do some research? Visit a few places, gather inspiration, and compile elements you find appealing?"

As Ella elaborated, you found yourself increasingly drawn to the idea. You couldn't shake the concern about managing deadlines with yet another project on your plate, but it was worth a try if it meant outperforming competitors and surpassing market projections.

"I've already got a couple of places in mind for you to check out."

Your gaze drifted to your wrist, where your mother's bracelet and Morpheus' bangle gleamed under the artificial light. With these treasures as inspiration, you realized you might already possess the guidance needed to excel in this new endeavor.

“Fine, let’s do it,” you declared.

"Really? You're on board?"

"I mean, you're still my boss. We might be friends, but that's no excuse for me to slack off or neglect my responsibilities. Besides, you might be onto something here, and I'm genuinely curious to give it a try."

Ella slammed her hand onto the desk with such force that you nearly jumped out of your seat.

"Ha! Those businesses better brace themselves. We've got a secret weapon right here!"

"Come on, Ella. I'm hardly a secret weapon."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to us. And to me, because I've found my bestie again. I'm absolutely thrilled to be working with you!"

You nodded, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. "Right. Remember how we used to daydream about this when we were teenagers?"

"How could I forget? I always wanted to run my own company with you as my creative genius. You'd tell me it was too good to be true, but I never stopped insisting it was possible. And now, look at us!"

"Indeed, I was wrong. I must admit, I was quite the pessimist back then."

Ella rose to her feet, placing her hands on her hips with an air of confidence and satisfaction. "Yeah, and I definitely prefer this version of you."

"I could take offense to that, but honestly, I feel the same way."

“Yaaaaas! Slay!!!”

The office door swung open, and Oliver strode in, clutching a handful of papers. His eyebrow arched quizzically at the scene before him. By now, you were certain he'd grown accustomed to his wife's antics, yet the expression on his face was absolutely priceless, especially as he caught sight of her, arms thrust triumphantly skyward.

"What's all this ruckus?"

"Oops, sorry, love. Was I too loud?"

"I'd wager they heard you clear across the street," Oliver quipped, his lips quirking into a sardonic smirk.

Ella waved off his comment, taking the papers he offered. "Is this the list you mentioned?"

"Yes. I assume you've already informed Y/N about our new quest?"

"Indeed, I have. We were just discussing it."

Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, turning his attention to you. "Given Ella's reaction, I take it you've accepted our proposal."

Your friend’s bouncing movements reminded you of a cartoon character, the passage of years only enhancing her comedic charm.

You gracefully crossed your legs, settling into the swivel chair with your arms and back comfortably supported, ignoring the looming fatigue and headache. "When do I start?"

Once again, you found yourself wandering through an unknown landscape, a twilight meadow bathed in the deep, velvety indigo of night. The profound quiet was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as you stepped forward, drawn toward a soft radiance in the distance. Fireflies danced around you, their tiny lights twinkling like celestial guides along your path. The air carried a mysterious warmth, a gentle weight that felt both calming and comforting, as if something unseen were embracing you.

As you moved closer, the glow revealed itself to be a single flower blooming amidst the grass, its petals as bright and sparkly as moon dust. Intrigued, you knelt down, extending your fingers. The petals pulsed with a gentle rhythm, reminiscent of a soft heartbeat. Your hands hovered over it, sensing the energy of something alive, tender and delicate, yet infinitely strong. A deep connection stirred, an instinctive awareness that you were being entrusted with something precious.

When you touched the flower, warmth spread through your palms, wrists, and elbows, life itself flowing into your veins. You closed your eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and sweetness. An overwhelming tenderness rose inside your heart: a love you couldn't describe, a caring that was simply boundless.

A delicate whisper drifted through the meadow, a soothing voice that seemed to come from both earth and sky. "This light now belongs to you," it echoed. "Soon, it will flourish. And so will you."

The flower dissolved, sinking into your chest like a subtle pulse settling inside your heart. You tried to speak, but your throat constricted, silencing any sound. A thin layer of bright blue fog descended, and then you heard it again, the familiar cry of a child, the now visible distant crib beckoning you.

You attempted to rise, but were anchored to the grass as if you were a deeply rooted tree. Strangely, you felt no desire to resist or struggle. A flicker of concern crossed your mind, yet an underlying calm reassured you that there was no cause for worry.

This time, your voice emerged, speaking a single name, the only one that occupied your thoughts.

“Daniel…?”

The baby neither reacted, cried, nor moved. Suddenly, silence blanketed the scene, and everything around you faded into nothingness.

You awoke, the residual warmness from your dream still occupying your chest—a mysterious sensation yet to be understood. However, as comforting as it felt, the moment you pushed yourself into a sitting position, reality struck. You were drenched in sweat, your nightgown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. A wave of nausea surged from the pit of your stomach, twisting your face into a grimace. 

You dismissed it as insignificant, attributing it to the minor anxiety that had followed you from the realm of dreams into the Waking World. The recurring presence of that child in your subconscious remained an enigma, leaving you uncertain about its nature. As Morpheus had explained, Daniel Hall's conception during Lyta's dreams forged an unbreakable bond between him and the dream realm. Could the newborn be reaching out to you in Morpheus' domain for some unknown reason?

Despite wracking your brain for answers, you were simply left with even more questions.

You tried to lie down again, pushing aside the bedsheets as you took deep breaths. Unfortunately, the queasiness persisted. Instead of easing, it grew more intense, significantly so.

And then you felt it, that dreadful urge to expel whatever was churning in your stomach. You leapt out of bed with lightning speed, one hand clamped firmly over your mouth as you raced to the bathroom. You despised it and fought to contain it, but whatever it was, it refused to subside on its own.

Unable to hold it back any longer, you hunched over the toilet, your body convulsing as you violently ejected the remnants of your dinner. The ordeal continued relentlessly until you felt completely hollow, as if you'd purged every last morsel from your system—intestines and all.

When it was finally over, you relished the relief, washing your mouth and face to rid yourself of the sticky residue of sweat on your skin and the acrid taste persisting on your tongue. Your abdominal muscles contracted painfully, as if you'd just completed an intense set of sit-ups at the gym.

Good lord. You felt like a wrung-out dishrag.

Whether you had eaten something bad or were experiencing delayed symptoms of travel burnout, you desperately wished for this nausea to leave you alone. It had ebbed and flowed throughout the night, barely relenting even as you left the house. 

It was unusual, you rarely had digestive issues. Considering the whirlwind of your recent trip, flying to Cape Kennedy, physically moving in and out of the Dreaming, and then back onto the plane home again, it probably made sense that your body was finally feeling the strain. 

Fortunately, you made it through your workday without a repeat of your previous night's disaster, successfully keeping your lunch where it belonged. You convinced yourself it was just a random occurrence, a fleeting ailment that would pass as your body naturally recovered.

You pored over your sketches and scoured your Pinterest boards for further inspiration. With an array of gemstone pieces and chains spread across the table, you let your creativity flow, crafting designs that were both unique and original. Ella desired something innovative, jewelry that stood out from the current market offerings, and you were determined to exceed her expectations.

The process was unexpectedly enjoyable and fulfilling, surpassing your initial skepticism. Your research and material acquisitions produced impressive results, with several of your creations already sent to the workshop for soldering and welding. Weariness was a constant companion, testing your resilience and mental focus over the following days. Nevertheless, a few stifled yawns and tired eyes paled in comparison to the joy of seeing your efforts appreciated.

Just as you were ready to forget about your mysterious illness, the nausea suddenly resurfaced one day as you walked out of the shower. It lasted only a few minutes before subsiding, allowing you to sleep without feeling sick or making another dash to the toilet. 

Over a week had elapsed since your return, and with your appetite slightly diminished, you began to question whether your random symptoms were truly related to the trip and the tumultuous circumstances you had encountered in Florida. Ella and your colleagues appeared unaffected after your recent restaurant outing, yet you couldn't shake the suspicion that something on your plate might have caused potential food poisoning. 

On the other hand, you wondered if this physical disorder was merely a result of exhaustion. Your father had noticed your pallor and evident fatigue, expressing concern about how unsteady you seemed on your feet. With the new jewelry project underway you'd been bustling about, visiting stores and different studios to source new supplies. You hadn't exactly been cautious, willingly pushing yourself far beyond your limits.

During your walk home from a fruitful excursion, you had to stop multiple times due to unexpected breathlessness and lightheadedness. These strange manifestations left you feeling disconcerted, as your body behaved in ways you didn't recognize.

Ultimately, you dismissed your condition as a mere stomach bug or something equally benign. You saw no reason to fret over what you believed would be a short-lived malady.

Yet, was it truly so insignificant…?

You hadn't seen Hob Gadling since before your trip abroad, and your work subsequently left little room for socializing. In spite of his persistent invitations for drinks, you regrettably had to decline repeatedly. Hob, true to his nature, remained incredibly patient and understanding, encouraging your professional growth while reminding you to prioritize self-care.

Finally meeting him felt like reuniting after an eternity apart. His bright smile was better than any medicine, his company one of the most precious things in the world. To be honest, you felt so sleepy and generally under the weather that you were tempted to reschedule. However, you knew that finding a better opportunity in the near future was unlikely.

"Are you sure you just want tea? You're not ordering anything else? It's my treat, you know."

"I know," you replied. "It's just that I've been feeling a bit off lately."

"Oh, is that so? Sounds like you might be burning the candle at both ends again."

"My job keeps me busy, but it's nowhere near as hectic as when I worked in Wych Cross. I can sit for hours without being called away."

Hob bit into a piece of tart, humming in response as he chewed. 

"How are things going at school?" you inquired.

"Some students can be quite a handful,” he said after swallowing. “But you know how it is."

"You've become a role model for so many young people. That's something to be proud of," you observed.

"Well, when you've lived as long as I have, you inevitably accumulate quite a trove of useful experiences."

"It's not just your extensive knowledge that makes you awesome, Hob. You're intelligent, kind, and always attentive to those who need support."

"If you'd known me back in 1600, you might think differently."

"But I know you now, and I truly appreciate the man sitting in front of me."

His grin widened as he reached for your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Or maybe, I have the best influence right here."

"Oh, come on. You were already like this when we first met."

Immersed in the joyful atmosphere, you savored the shared laughter and companionship of a treasured friend. While you loved your creative job, having a day free from work finally gave you the chance to unwind and momentarily set aside thoughts of impending deadlines.

The afternoon progressed perfectly until an unexpected disruption occurred. As the waitress approached the adjacent table, a potent coffee aroma wafted through the room. The scent went straight to your head, compelling you to abandon the remaining of your tea as a sudden wave of sickness engulfed you all over again, reminiscent of a rising tide.

"Are you all right, Y/N?" Hob asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Yes, it's just... isn't this smell a little too strong?"

“What smell?”

“The coffee.”

Hob furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. He sniffed the air, taking a moment to analyze it. "I don't know," he said. "It smells like normal coffee to me. I don't find it particularly overpoweri—"

You abruptly sprang from your chair, weaving through customers and tables to reach the mercifully vacant bathroom. Stunned, Hob followed in your wake, gently rapping on the door and calling your name with apprehension. Curious onlookers paused their conversations to observe the scene, while the waitress craned her neck inquisitively.

You heard him, but couldn't respond. Doubled over and coughing, you felt your fluids rushing out uncontrollably. The malaise hit you with full force, dropping you to your knees as your body eliminated its contents a second time, leaving your throat raw and burning. 

"Y/N, please say something. What's happening?"

Only when you were certain you had nothing left to expel did you open the door. A searing pain shot through your forehead, and the entire path from your trachea to your stomach felt inflamed, as if ready to burst from the inside out.

"I'm sorry about that," you mumbled, your voice hoarse. "I'm fine."

"That didn't seem like 'fine' to me. Would you like me to drive you home? I think some rest might do you good, Shortcake."

Completely drained, quite literally, you nodded silently and returned to your table. You gathered your belongings, leaving behind your dinks, unfinished and forgotten. Each step felt leaden and sluggish as you made your way to Hob's car, shrouded in a thick, uncomfortable silence. With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the seat, shutting your eyes and clutching your bag's strap tightly.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized dejectedly. "I've ruined our outing."

"I'd rather see you feeling well than keep you out when you're sick to the bone. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have postponed it to another day."

You pouted. "I really wanted to see you today, though."

"And I want you to take care of yourself. I can't die, remember? I've got all the time in the world."

"I just don't get it,” you protested, your voice wavering. “I can feel fine for a few days in a row, and then suddenly I'm puking my guts."

"How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"

"I've been feeling a bit strange since I landed last week, but nothing major, really. Just the occasional headache, fatigue, that sort of thing."

The car halted at a red light, its engine rumbling in the quiet street.

"You mentioned the coffee smell was particularly strong."

"Yes, I don't know why. I could not stand it."

“Mh.”

Noticing his unusual quietness and the contemplative look on his face as he mulled over your words, you narrowed your eyes. "Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing, Shortcake. I've heard there's some sort of stomach bug going around. You might have caught that."

The car resumed its journey, winding through the thoroughfares of London as you gazed out the window, your eyelids feeling impossibly leaden. “Yeah. Could be.”

Morpheus strolled through the library, his presence as ubiquitous as the tomes on the shelves and tables, as if they were fragments of his very essence. He returned the volumes borrowed from Lucienne: various dream records he'd examined to evaluate his realm's current state and its power's impact on the Waking World following the Vortex incident. 

He scanned the spines of the books before him, striding along the rows of shelves with his customary regal bearing. A faint smile played on his lips, a testament to his renewed control, now bolstered by your unwavering support and endless affection.

His fingers glided along the leather bindings, caressing centuries—if not millennia—of transcribed stories. From across the library, Lucienne and Matthew's distant voices wafted through the atmosphere, lively and tranquil, signaling the full restoration of every fracture caused by the previous disturbances.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

Little did he know that his newfound self-assurance was about to shatter in the face of an imminent revelation.

As Morpheus turned to depart for the throne room, a whisper from behind arrested his attention. A large, weathered tome jutted out from the long row of books, awaiting the Lord of Dreams to hold it. The Endless paused, pivoting slowly, and gazed at the book with surprise as he approached. 

Its cover was pitch black, adorned with faintly scratched embroideries and devoid of any visible title. As Morpheus lifted it from the shelf, he was struck by its physical lightness, yet felt a spiritual weightiness emanating from it. Gingerly, he opened the volume, unsure of its contents. The title was emblazoned in large, inky letters on the first page:

Morpheus felt his blood run cold, his fingers turning even icier. He had heard of that name before, old tales circulating from one shaman to another, handed down to priests and storytellers until they remained nothing but a legend with no foundation. It was described as a book full of dire predictions, destiny itself written upon its pages, bringing forth catastrophic prophecies that were never proven.

Not once in his eternal lifetime had Morpheus encountered this book in the castle's library, or in any library, for that matter. He had long dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful myth. 

Its sudden appearance in the Dreaming could only mean one of two things: either it was a product of someone's vivid imagination, or it heralded an impending catastrophe. Morpheus dreaded the latter possibility, considering all that he and the Dreaming had endured over the past 106 years.

The second page lay blank, its rough, ancient parchment unyielding beneath his ethereal touch. He flipped it over, and the third one featured a Celtic-inspired illustration in black and gold ink, depicting a tarot-like tableau of a full moon reflecting on still waters, with a solitary female figure wading into the depths. In the center, a short paragraph had been inscribed.

Morpheus's entire form tensed as he continued leafing through the book, only to discover another image, a counterpart to the previous one. Instead of the moon, the sun now dominated the landscape. The same woman stood with her back turned, clad in a long gown, still traversing the vast ocean ahead. In the middle, another caption stood out.

Morpheus staggered, clutching the shelf before him for support. These images weren't unfamiliar; everything depicted on those pages represented only one thing—what he treasured most in the entire universe: you.

He pressed on, both terrified and desperate to uncover more. With each turn of the page, he saw more of you, and even himself, intricately woven into the written lines and painted details. The book revealed something he had never wished to know, yet somehow, deep in the core of his love for you, he had already foreseen it.

A once-distant fear, something he fervently hoped would never recur as it had in the past, now a tangible possibility.

As understanding dawned, Morpheus sank to the floor, his legs buckling beneath him. His chest tightened agonizingly, as if a hidden power sought to tear his heart from his body and destroy it. He was in agony, metaphorically shattered into countless fragments, as the mental image of you splintered like a fractured mirror, your radiant smile morphing into the deepest frown.

Sequestering himself in that spot, he read the enigmatic messages obsessively, only to conclude they portrayed the most unfavorable fate imaginable. One he was determined to protect you from, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing everything you represented for him.

And for the Dreaming.

Mere moments ago, he was elated at the thought of having you by his side, bringing out the best in himself, shaped by your unconditional love for all that he was.

The next, his eyes closed, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down his pale skin at the devastating prospect of what he had to do for your sake.

I'm sharing this for reference, so you have a clear image to associate with it; the bangle Morpheus placed in the memory box is essentially like this one. I purchased it online recently, and it reminded me of The Sandman and my fanfiction, so I've decided to include it. ✨

What did Morpheus find in the library just now??? 😱 😶 🙊 😭

Also, if you're wondering what I suspect you're wondering, the answer is… it could be either yes or no. 😏

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 23 (coming soon) ->

[hisui-dreamer]

through the endless daydream (part 2)

Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x gn!reader

Synopsis: There is a rumour that there is a hidden advisor of the Draconia family, who has guided the ruler of all fae for years. They say he is the one responsible for the peace established between humans and fae. What they don’t know, is that he has been doing so for millennia, cursed by the gods to be immortal as punishment for his crime of killing a human who was beloved by the gods—his very own lover, for whom he must forever repent until he can be killed by his true love.

Tags: angst, character death, brief suicidal thoughts, loss, historical, war, bot proofread

Word count: 4.4k+

Notes: I am honestly in disbelief of how long this fic is getting, but hopefully my motivation doesnt fade and I can finish it. By the looks of it, it'll be one chapter? ehehe

Part 1 ✧Part 2 (you're here)✧Part 3✧Part 4 (coming soon!)

Lilia had hoped the two of them would stay at the orphanage together and live their lives caring for the children while secretly caring for each other as lovers. It was the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship, one filled with love, trust, and a newfound sense of joy. But fate had other plans in store for him, which was made clear to him in the moment.

"Lilia, my dear general,” the Fae King greeted Lilia with a warm smile, but it quickly faded as he got straight to the point. “I'm afraid I have some grave news to share with you," he said.

The throne room was decorated in a gothic style, with black stone walls and ornate carvings that seemed to watch him as he walked. The room was filled with a solemn atmosphere, the only light came from the flickering candles with green flames scattered throughout the room. At the end of the room, on a raised dais, lay the Fae King's throne, carved from obsidian and adorned with sharp spikes and intricate, twisted patterns. Lilia had been in the room many times before, he remembered the times when he discussed war strategies with the Fae King, the times when he gave his all for his people, and the times when he made choices he wasn't proud of. This meeting would be different than any other he has had before, and the ominous atmosphere of the throne room only added to his apprehension.

Lilia had been washing bedsheets by the river when the guards of the Fae King approached him. His expression unreadable, he asked, "What brings you here?", trying to sound casual, but his voice was tense.

The guards relayed that the King summoned him to his court. Lilia could only accept, knowing that a summon from the Fae King was not to be taken lightly. After quickly casting a spell to teleport the laundry back to the orphanage, he closed his eyes and concentrated, the air around him shimmered and distorted. The trees and riverbank of the human world faded away, replaced by the familiar sights of his homeland. The sound of rushing water was replaced by the quiet hum of magical energy, and the air smelled of burning candles and fresh roses. He was in front of the King's castle when he opened his eyes once more.

Lilia knelt before the Fae King, his eyes fixed on the ground as he spoke. "What is this news you speak of, your majesty?" He sensed that the King's sudden seriousness might indicate that something was amiss.

The King replied in a low, menacing voice, "General Vanrouge, I have decided that we will wage war on the humans once again."

Lilia froze in shock as he heard the words. He had hoped that the days of war were behind them, that they could all live in peace now, and that he could continue enjoying his peaceful life with his beloved. He knew he couldn't bring himself to do it again, to face the devastating consequences of taking countless lives once again.

"Your Majesty, another war? Why must we continue this cycle of violence? Is there not a better way to coexist with the humans? We have already lost so much in the last war. Can we not find a peaceful solution?" Lilia pleaded.

"Peace? With those filthy humans? They will never stop until they have wiped us off the face of the earth. We must strike first, and strike hard," the King scorned in disgust.

"But your Majesty-"

"Silence, general," the King's face contorted in rage, his brows furrowing. His entire body tensed as he pounded his fist on the armrest of his throne, staring daggers into Lilia. You dare defy me? You forget your place as my general and my subject!", he hissed, resonating around the room with all the authority of a king.

Lilia kept his head low and continued to kneel. Knowing the King's temper well, he knew it would not be wise to provoke him further, but he knew he had to make a choice. Either he would obey the King's orders and risk losing everything he had grown to cherish, or he would defy him and face the consequences.

"Your Majesty," he replied steadily. "I cannot in good conscience wage another war on the humans. We have already caused them enough suffering. I will not take part in this war,"

The King's expression darkened. "Do not question my decisions, Lilia. You are a loyal subject of the Fae Kingdom and you will do as I command."

Lilia stood his ground, even in the face of the King's increasing wrath. "I am not just your subject, your majesty. I am a living being with my own conscience and beliefs."

The King’s eyes narrowed to slits as he glared ferociously, "What changed? What has caused this shift in your loyalty?"

Lilia hesitated for a moment before answering, "I have seen the good in humans, your Majesty. They are not all evil, and they do not deserve to suffer because of past grievances."

The King scoffed, "Is it the human you've gotten close to who has led you astray?"

Lilia was taken aback by his words, instinctively looking up, realising that the King had been keeping an eye on him in his travels. Quickly straightening his posture, he met the King's gaze head-on. "No, your Majesty. The human has only shown me kindness and compassion. They have nothing to do with my beliefs."

The King stood, his height towering over the general, step by step walking closer to him. "You have become soft, my general," he said with disdain. "You are a hypocrite. You have always despised humans, you were at the battlefronts annihilating the human forces, yet now you protect one of them. Have you no shame?"

Lilia looked directly into the King’s eyes as a shiver went through his body. "I have come to learn that my past actions were mistaken," he replied. "I no longer wish to continue down the path of destruction I once walked on."

The Fae King sneered. "Mistaken...", he spat. "Humans are nothing but weaklings. They are not fit to be with our kind. You have betrayed your people, Vanrouge. You have betrayed your King."

Lilia could tell from the force his boots hit the ground that he was furious as he continued walking closer, his eyes cold and calculating. "If you do not wage war on the humans, then there is only one other option," he said. "You must eliminate the source of your weakness. Kill the human."

Lilia's body shook with horror at the King's words. He felt sweat gather on his palms, his breath quickening.  After a few moments of silence, he spoke up, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Please, my King," Lilia said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I cannot do what you ask of me. I cannot harm them."

The King's eyes narrowed, "You will do as I say, or you will suffer the consequences. You are my general, and you will not show weakness. If you fail to end their life, then rest assured my dear general, I shall finish the job myself. Your disgraceful actions shan't taint our reputation as Fae."

Lilia felt a tear escape his eye as he realised the gravity of his situation. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts; he wanted to stand up to the King, to tell him that he wouldn't kill the human, that he wouldn't wage another war on the humans. But he knew deep down that he was too weak, that he didn't have the strength or the power to take on the King and his army as he was.

"I understand, my King," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lilia felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he rose from his kneeling position and turned to leave the throne room, knowing that he had just sealed his own fate.

He had no choice but to obey. And he only had himself to blame.

The moon was full, casting an eerie glow on the buildings around Lilia as he trudged towards the orphanage, feeling the weight of his mission heavy on his shoulders. Pushing the door open, he quietly crept inside, making his way through the dark corridors, the only sound being the soft patter of his feet.

Finally, he arrived at the room of his beloved. Lilia took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock, his sword held tightly in his other hand. But when stood there, the reality of his task hit him like an immense wave, making his resolve waver as his mind raced with conflicting thoughts.

"I can't do this," he whispered to himself. "I can't... take their life."

Just as he was about to lower his hand and turn away, the door creaked open, and his beloved appeared, confusion etched onto their face. The moment they caught sight of his sword, fear flickered in their eyes.

"Lilia, what are you doing?" they asked, stepping back.

Tears welled up in Lilia's eyes, blurring his vision. His sword shook as he tried to steady himself. "I... I have to do this," he stammered.

His beloved's expression turned to one of horror and disbelief. "You can't be serious," they gasp. But as they look at Lilia, they see the turmoil in his eyes and the way his hand shakes. "Please, tell me what's going on."

Lilia closed his eyes in an attempt to blink away the tears. He tried to push the sword towards them, but his hand refused to move. "I can't do it, my love," he cried out. "I love you too much to hurt you."

As Lilia looked into their eyes, he knew he could no longer hide the truth from them. "Beastie," he whispered, "I have to leave. The Fae King wants you dead, and I've been ordered to kill you. I can't disobey him."

The human was stunned, their body trembling in shock. "You... you have to kill me?" they echoed, their voice unsteady as tear began to flow freely from their eyes.

Lilia nods, his tears of sorrow continued trickling down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Beastie," he sobbed, taking their hand into his. "I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me, it's all my fault."

As Lilia stepped closer, trying to see their expression through his blurry eyesight, he was surprised to see acceptance in their eyes. "Lilia, it's okay," they said softly. "I understand."

Lilia stopped in his tracks, his grip on the sword tightening. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was the person he loved, and they were accepting their fate. "I can't do it, Beastie," he said, his voice breaking. "I love you too much to hurt you."

Their gentle smile, filled with care and affection as it always had only made Lilia's heart ache even more. "I know, Lilia," they said, their eyes filling with tears, their lashes wet and clumped together as the tears overflowed onto their cheeks. "I know... I love you too."

They stepped closer to him and wrapped their arms around his trembling form, forcefully leaning in and mashing their lips onto his. Lilia could only stand there frozen, eyes widened in surprise at their sudden actions. He felt as a warmth seeped onto his hands, and it is only then he realises what they have done.

He pulls back immediately, looking down at his hands coated in red, the scent of iron thick in the air. The sword is lodged deep into his beloved's chest.

"No, no, no," Lilia cried, his mind racing. "What... what have you done...? What have I done?"

All too soon, their strength began to leave their body, causing them to stumble forward. Lilia rushes to hold them in his arms, cradling them tenderly as he feels their life slipping away. Despite years of fighting on the battlefield, unwavering in the face of death, he now felt overwhelmed, the prickly sensation in his heart more intense than ever before.

"I did it for you," they whispered weakly, their breaths becoming shallower by the second. "I couldn't bear the thought of you having to choose between your duty and your love. This way, you don't have to."

Lilia's heart shattered as he heard their words. They had sacrificed themselves for him, and now he was left to face the repercussions alone.

"Why did you have to love me?" Lilia whispered, droplets of tears falling onto their face. "If only- If only I hadn’t gotten close to you..."

As Lilia turned towards them, he was met with a gaze filled with love and forgiveness. Their hand reached up and tenderly cupped his cheek, his tears leaving a moist trail on his skin as they wiped them away with the palm of their hand. "It's okay, Lilia," they whisper. "I forgive you."

Their words of comfort fail to bring him relief however, knowing that his actions have caused irreparable harm. If only he could turn back time, undo everything that led to this moment. Perhaps if he had not met them that fateful day, not stayed with them, not fallen in love with them, they would be living a peaceful life, never to be endangered by him. But it is too late for his regrets now.

"Lilia?" they murmured.

"Yes, Beastie?" he whispered, choked with emotion.

"I love you," they said softly, their arm lost its strength and began to fall to their side, but Lilia cupped his hand over theirs, holding it in place. "Will you… sing for me?" they whispered, eyes fluttering closed.

Lilia lifts his tear-streaked face to meet their gaze and nods solemnly, taking a deep breath. He holds them close and sings a lullaby, a melody that brings peace and comfort to even the most restless soul. The very song that he used to sing for them in the forest under the moonlight.

“Through the endless daydream,

I saw you on the way back.

There I walked with you in my arms.

Through the blurry darkness,

who's veiling on the twilight,

we've been far away from my fears...

Hush, now my angel,

I will always be with you.

In your pretty smile,

in a glow of tears,

out across the frosty night,

I'll be there with you...”

His voice is soft and choked with emotion, his heart breaking with each passing moment. But he continues to sing, pouring his love and sorrow into each note as the song echoes through the room, soothing and peaceful. It's as if time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in that moment.

As the song came to an end, his beloved took their final breath and passed away peacefully with a gentle smile, content in the arms of their lover. Lilia embraced them tightly, tears cascading down his face like rain, grieving the loss of his beloved. His hands trembled as he struggled to accept the reality of what had just happened. Despite his promise to protect them, he had taken their life. He had killed the person he loved most in the world, the one who had accepted his fate with open arms. He had failed them, failed himself, and failed everyone he had ever cared for. Lilia's heart felt as though it was being ripped from his chest as he let out a heart-wrenching cry filled with agony. He had never felt so alone in all his centuries of existence.

He had distinguished the only light in his life.

Nothing else mattered anymore.

For what reason could he live on, in a world of darkness without his dearest star?

In that moment, he made a decision. He couldn't live with himself anymore. He didn't want to live in a world without his dearest human. Eyes devoid of light, the same full red that stained his fingers, he pulled out the same sword that had taken his beloved's life and pointed it to his heart, ready to take his.

Suddenly, a gust of wind shook the entire room, and a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, splitting it in half with a deafening crack. A loud roar of thunder followed, halting Lilia in his actions. And then, he heard a voice—not from the Fae King, nor from his human, but from someone far more powerful.

The voice resounded throughout the sky, "You have taken the life of our beloved child. You have been bestowed the punishment of immortality. You will live forever, unable to die until you have atoned for your sin. You will wander the earth alone for centuries, seeking redemption for your actions. You will only be released from your curse when your true love ends you," it declared. With another roar of thunder, the gods disappeared, leaving Lilia alone.

Lilia felt a rush of power surge through his body. He closed his eyes, feeling the energy course through his veins, and he knew that he was no longer a mere mortal. His senses sharpened, and he could feel the world around him in a way that he never had before. The colours seemed brighter, the scents more potent, and the sounds clearer. At first, the sensation was overwhelming, and he clutched his head hoping for it to stop. But then, as he steadied himself, a sense of clarity washed over him. He would never be able to join his dearest in the afterlife, forever haunted by the memory of their death. He wondered how he would survive without them, how he would endure the weight of his guilt and the emptiness that now filled his heart. He wished with all of his being that he could turn back time and undo everything, but it could never be possible.

Lilia carried their lifeless body to the field where they first met, and with trembling hands, he dug a grave for them. As he placed them gently inside, he covered them with earth and flowers, whispering promises to them all the while.

"My love, I'm so sorry. I failed to protect you," Lilia said, his voice shaking with emotion. "But I promise to make it right. I'll honour your memory and ensure that your kindness lives on. Beastie, I'll love you for all eternity."

Lilia then made a vow to make amends for his past mistakes and to honour their memory by living a life of compassion and kindness towards humans. "I'll spend the rest of my immortal life working to make the world a better place and to make up for the pain I've caused, a place where innocent souls like yours wouldn’t be caught in war," he declared to the empty field.

And the first step he must take, is to stop the incoming war.

Once again, Lilia stepped foot into the King’s palace. This time, he had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. Lilia's heart was heavy as he approached the Fae King's palace, but he knew that he had to do what was right. He was determined to make things right, no matter the cost. He had to challenge the King and put an end to the cycle of suffering that had plagued their world for centuries.

At last, he arrived at the throne room, where the Fae King sat on his throne, surrounded by his courtiers. Lilia kneeled as was customary, his head nearly touching the ground, but his presence exuded power.

"Fae King," Lilia said, his voice steady and clear. "I implore you to cease your plans for another war."

"You dare challenge me, Vanrouge?" the King asked, his voice heavy with disdain. "It seems you have learned nothing from your lesson."

"I have learned that I cannot sit by and watch as you continue to put innocent lives at risk," Lilia replied, his voice steady despite the fear that threatened to overtake him. "I will not stand by while you inflict misery upon the humans," Lilia answered, unwavering as he rose to his feet. "For too long, we have lived in a world of violence and pain, of hatred and fear. It is time to put an end to it. I challenge you to a duel, Fae King. If I win, you will obey my orders as an advisor to the royal family. If I lose, I will serve as your general in this war as I had previously"

The King laughed, a cold, cruel sound that sent shivers down Lilia's spine. " A mere traitor and oath breaker challenging me? You are a fool, Vanrouge," he mocked. "But if you wish to die, then I will be happy to oblige."

With a wave of his hand, the King summoned his weapon, a sword of black iron that glinted with malevolent energy. The courtiers rushed to get away from the battle that would surely threaten their lives. Lilia drew his own sword, the same one that had been cursed with his immortality, and prepared himself for the fight of his life.

The two began to circle each other, their swords clanging against one another as they clashed. The battle was fierce and brutal, with both combatants fighting with all their might. Lilia was faster and more agile than the King, but the King's dark magic was a powerful force to be reckoned with. The clash of swords echoed through the throne room, and the air crackled with energy as the two opponents battled on, but the fate of the duel had been decided from the beginning. With his immortality, Lilia could continue to fight forever. Indeed, he would feel the excruciating pain of his injuries, but they could not end him. For hours they battled, until the fatigue finally weighed down the King, and Lilia saw his chance. The King had lowered his guard for just a moment, and Lilia seized the opportunity, his sword poised at the Fae King's throat. The King was defeated, and he knew he had no choice but to obey Lilia.

"Please, spare me," the King begged, panting for air. "I will do anything you ask."

"You have lost, Your Majesty," Lilia said, extending a hand to help the fallen King to his feet. In complete contrast, Lilia seemed completely unaffected by the long duel. "It's not too late to make things right. You can use your power for good, for the betterment of our people."

The King groaned. "Yes, yes, I will. Just spare me, please."

Lilia sheathed his sword. "The war ends today. And if you or any of your followers break your promise, I will be back to finish what I started."

The Fae King nodded, acknowledging his defeat, and Lilia walked away with a sense of victory, knowing that he had achieved what he had set out to do. From that day on, Lilia served as the royal family’s most trusted advisor. He would attend council meetings, offer wise counsel and guidance to the rulers, and utilise his expertise and knowledge to steer them in the right direction.

For centuries, Lilia dedicated himself to rebuilding the relationship between humans and the Fae. He worked towards negotiating peace treaties and fostering mutual understanding and collaboration between the two groups. As time went by, Lilia's efforts bore fruit. Humans and Fae started to interact more and more, and the tensions began to ease. Lilia watched with satisfaction as the world he had known for so long began to transform for the better.

Over time, Lilia became a trusted advisor to many rulers, and he played a key role in shaping the destinies of countless Kingdoms and empires. He used his knowledge and experience to prevent wars and conflicts, and he worked tirelessly to promote peace and unity among the people.

As Lilia walked through the bustling streets of the human city, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him. The world had changed so much since 5000 years ago. Humans and fae now lived together in harmony, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction. It was a far cry from the war-torn world he had known long ago. Humans and fae were no longer at each other's throats, but instead living side by side in peace and harmony.

He marvelled at the sight of humans casually using magic to go about their daily lives, the fae mingling freely with them. The once-gothic buildings of the fae had melded with human architecture to create a unique, vibrant landscape.

Yet, as he looked around, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. Despite all the progress made, he was still an outsider, a being that had long outlived his kind. He had seen so many faces and places come and go, while he remained a constant presence.

It was then that he heard a delicate voice singing, a voice that he believed he would never be able to hear ever again. He turned around, scanning the crowded street, but couldn't see them anywhere. He wondered if he was imagining things or if it was just someone who sounded like them.

But then, he heard it again, and this time he recognized the tune.

"But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream..."

It was the song they used to sing to the children at the orphanage. His heart raced with excitement and anticipation as he followed the sound. Upon arriving at the source of the singing, Lilia discovered a small park where people were enjoying the sunny day. In the centre of the park, he saw you sitting on a bench surrounded by children who listened to your singing with rapt attention. Lilia's heart swelled with emotion as he watched you. Your appearance had changed, but your eyes were just as beautiful as ever, and your singing was as angelic as he remembered. He longed to run to you and embrace you, but he hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

Instead, Lilia stood back and watched you from a distance, basking in the joy of hearing your voice once again. He knew he could not approach you, lest he ruin your new life as he had done before. As the song came to an end, Lilia took one last look at you and the children and turned to walk away. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grasped his wrist, and Lilia halted in his steps.

"Wait! Sir!" you said, looking at him with a perplexed expression. "I've seen you before. In my dreams! Have we met before?"

Part 1✧Part 3✧Part 4 (coming soon!)

[maochira]

Hi! Congrats on making it to 100 :) I’m not sure if you’re interested in writing this but feel free to delete/not respond if not! Could I request ShidouxReaderxSae hc? Where it was like unexpected they all fell for each other and how they would be together (fluff and stuff). Thank you!!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST mainly because I ship my Blue Lock OC with Shidou and I've thought about adding Sae to that ship a handful of times. Also thank you!! It's always a little funny and crazy at the same time to see people congratulating me for hitting 100 last week. BECAUSE RIGHT NOW I'M AT 250??? Also I only noticed after writing I forgot the entire "unexpected" part of the request I'm sorry I got lost in the excitement of writing Shidou LMAO

Masterlist and request rules

Tags: Shidou x gn!reader x Sae, established relationship, fluff

-you equal each other out perfectly in terms of differences and similarities! Especially when it comes to Shidou's craziness and Sae's calmness

-no matter if you're a soccer player like them or not, Shidou will ask you to play with him all the time. Don't expect him to go easy on you, tho. He'll use his full skill and tease you for losing

-in general, Shidou loves teasing you and Sae over literally everything. It's kind of his love language

-Shidou LOVES to annoy you and Sae. But you love him so much, even when he gets on your nerves a little too much, you can never be mad at him

-Sae gets pissed off because of Shidou sometimes tho

-Sae isn't that big on verbal affection most of the time, he prefers quality time and physical touch. Shidou's main love languages are physical touch and small acts or service like tieing your shoes or helping you pick out clothes (he also tries to be affectionate with words, but that's your main part in the relationship)

-when the three of you cuddle usually it's you or Shidou in the middle, Sae prefers being on the side but doesn't mind being in the middle every once in a while. Usually so you and Shidou can rest your heads on his chest and stomach and Sae gets to pet your hair

-you and Sae cook together fairly often. Shidou just watches and keeps asking over and over when the food will be done. You tell him to help but he usually declines