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mrs-pondwater19 · 1 year

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You Remind Me of Her

Spike Spiegel x Fem Reader SMUT

Watched and finished Cowboy BeBop and thought it was pretty good. Which means it's time to write an angsty, smutty one shot. It's a really, REALLY long one so settle in. Things get a lil spicy in more ways than one but it's all good. Spike is a sweet, broken baby and he deserves all the love. Minor's this is NOT for you, please walk away. Enjoy my dears.

WARNING: 18+, Minors DNI, SPOILERS, TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst, heated conversations/arguments, smoking, talk of past traumas, slight gaslighting, STRONG mentions of past abuse, breakdown, angst to fluff, reconciliation, reassurance, soft foreplay, fingering, oral (m receiving), comfort sex (p in v), praise kink if you squint, all the lovey-dovey stuff, cum on body, cuddles.

It was supposed to be a quiet night, with Jet out looking for info on a bounty, Faye blowing all her money at the casino, and Ed and Ein on some wacky adventure of their own. You figured you'd have the Bebop to yourself and that Spike would tag along with another one of your comrades. But being the stubborn man he is, he stayed back, wanting some time to himself as well. For a good bit of the night, you both kept to yourselves, he took a cat nap, and you cleaned up the Bebop.

While you were cleaning the kitchen you thought you might try and spend some time with Spike rather than avoid him, seeing as it might come off as rude if you ignored him. After you finished cleaning you put on some comfy clothes in place of your work ones and made your way to the living space. You saw Spike was still lightly sleeping on the couch. You gently bumped his leg, jolting him awake from his dream. He furrowed his brows as he looked over to you.

"Was that really necessary?" he grumbled, annoyed that you woke him. You chuckled to yourself as you sat on the floor next to him, now being at eye level with him. Telling him he shouldn't sleep the entire day away in hopes to lighten his mood. That only seemed to make things worse though. He gave an exasperated sigh as he sat up and pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He blatantly stated that he didn't want to be woken up and that he would've preferred to keep sleeping. You furrowed your brows,

"Well there's no need to be a jerk about it," you pulled yourself up from the floor. You looked at him and crossed your arms, wanting him to talk about what was bugging him, even though you never outright said it. He looked at you with bitter-cold eyes,

"Well maybe if you left me alone there wouldn't be an issue," he spat as he flicked his lighter and took a few puffs until the end burned a bright orange. You sighed heavily, your fingers gripped the sleeve of your shirt to keep yourself calm and collected,

"Im sorry if I bothered you, I just wanted to spend some time with you. Feels like its been a long time since the two of us spent any time together and just hung out you know ."

You two weren't super close, but close enough to where you'd hang out, talk, and occasionally hook up to pass the time. You both knew it would never lead to anything, but you stupidly developed feelings for the floofy-haired man anyways. You wanted to be the one to support him. But he never really showed interest in having a relationship with you, or anyone for that matter. The only time he showed any interest in anything was when his past was brought up, and especially when a certain someone was mentioned. It was those moments where he would either would open up or close off completely. And at that moment you could tell he was thinking about her and his past as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, clearly irritated with you.

"Yeah, and?" He didn't look at you when he asked. You felt the heat of anger and resentment rise in your cheeks, finding it hard to keep your composure.

"And I thought we could spend a little bit of time together, is that such a heinous request," you spat back at him.

"Whenever you want to 'spend time together' it usually means you wanna sleep with me, and im gonna pass on that." Your arms fell to your sides and clenched into fists. You took an audibly deep sigh,

"Believe it or not I don't always wanna sleep with you, sometimes I do just want to talk," you rebutted. He took another puff, and exhaled heavily, still not making eye contact with you,

"Heh, could've fooled me," he mumbled, the cigarette never leaving his lips as he spoke. You scoffed in disbelief and crossed your arms over your chest once again, scowling at him. Spike had always been a bit snarky, it seemed it was just in his nature, but the comment he made was pure spite.

"For the love of Christ what the hell is your problem?"

He adjusted to a position where he was slouching and one arm rested crossed on his thigh, while the other reached for his half-smoked cigarette,

"I already told you," he said before taking in another long, exasperated drag. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics,

"Don't give me that bullshit Spike, we both know that's not true," you bitterly spat.

You both were getting visibly frustrated at that point. Spike's leg began to lightly bounce up and down and your fingers tapped against your arms.

"Even if something was bothering me it's none of your goddamn business," he said finishing his cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray beside him.

"Spike, please, I just wanna-" you were cut off by Spike standing up abruptly, now fuming with anger in his eyes,

"Fine, since you wanna know so fuckin' badly I'll tell you! When I sleep, I'm never at peace with myself, if it's not one thing from my past it's another. Not that you would understand." He said sitting back down, defeated and frustrated. You sat next to him, hoping he would allow you to comfort him,

"I might understand it more than you think," you said as you reached for his hand, only for him to pull away.

"No, you don't understand. You don't understand what it's like to lose the one person who loved you for what you were, even though they knew you were inherently bad. You'll never know what it's like to have to just walk away from the life you knew and the people you loved and cared about. You'll never know what that's like, ever." Angered by his remark you rebutted,

"You have no right to say that whatsoever when you know very little of what my past was like. Not once have ever implied that kind of attitude towards your past and what you experienced. Do not say I don't understand, because, believe it or not I do know what it's like " you said getting up and preparing to leave the room.

"You're the one who just had to push. This is what you wanted to know, and you got what you asked for," he snapped as stepped in front of you, blocking your way to the exit.

"At least I'm not a hypocrite. How you always say that we should let our pasts stay in the past. But as soon as she's brought up that philosophy is out the window and is suddenly the only thing that fucking matters. But when it's one of us it shouldn't be bothered with and we should leave it alone and move on. Just because she keeps popping up in your dreams doesn't mean we get to put everything on hold to chase after you chasing after her," you said as you struggled to push him aside to make your way to the bathroom, but he remained still.

"At least I still care about the people in my past. I didn't just up and leave and abandon the people I loved because I wanted to. That's the difference between you and me, I was loyal to the ones I loved-" Before he could get another word in you slapped him, hard. Tears began to swell and threatened to fall from your eyes as he brought his hand to his face and attempted to rub the sting out of his cheek. But you would never let him see them, not like this.

"How dare you? You have no right to bring that up. Because you don't know the whole story of what happened. And I didn't abandon them, if we're going to bring up abandonment, Julia is a perfect example. She abandoned you, Spike, and if she really gave a damn about you she would've showed up that day and ran away with you. But she didn't. So, as you always say, let it go and move on," you said, pushing him as hard as you could, finally getting him to move aside. He stared at you in awe as you made your way to the door,

"She would've never abandoned me," he stated lightly as he reached for another cigarette.

"Could've fooled me," you replied harshly as you exited the room and made your way down the hall to the bathroom.

You slammed the door and locked it behind you, you took a deep breath as you made your way to the tub. You turned the knobs and let the water fill the porcelain vessel. Tears began to fall as the water ran, drowning out the sounds of your stifled cries. The feeling of guilt set in the pit of your stomach as memories began to flood your mind. Particularly the ones that were brought up in the argument.

You sank down in the steaming water, shuddering at the warmth that rushed through your body while pondering on the past. Tears continuing to stain your face as you wondered deeper into your thoughts.

You were part of a family at one point in time, to a home where a couple took in lost, orphaned, or abandoned children. During the early years of being there you never felt the need to run away on or be your own, you always felt incredibly safe and secure. You helped out around the house, did your chores, and got along well enough with your housemates. Until you got a little older, and then things began to change. Your father began acting differently toward you, more aggressive and irritable. And it only got worse after his wife passed away unexpectedly. He would start taking his aggression out on you and some of the of the other girls living in the home. It started off small, whether it was pushing you aside harshly or random flicks on the head to keep you in line. Then it progressed in to hitting, manhandling, and kicking while you were doing chores or playing with the other kids. It was to the point where it was everyday that the abuse took place. You and a few of your housemates were bruised, bloodied and beaten to the point of unconsciousness, while other housemates were used for more sinister acts. Anyone who fought back was either beaten senseless and kicked out, or never seen again. No matter what it was something would set him off and he would go into uncontrollable rages, and you had no choice but to take the beatings. You were young, defenseless, and had nowhere else to go, therefore you had no choice but to endure the constant abuse.

Until one day you found your out.

You were able to save back enough woolongs from odd jobs to get a one way trip off world, but you alone. Woolongs were hard to come by in the household and being able to build up what you had seemed like a miracle in itself. You planned to make your escape late into the night, after everyone was asleep, and taking only what you needed to survive.

When the time came you were quick and quiet about it. Woolongs and suitcase in hand, you quietly walked down the stairs and out the front door. You looked behind you saddened and guilt coursing through your entire bod. You wanted to bring them all with you and give them a better life. but unfortunately it just wasn't possible. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to go forward. But you found the strength deep within you and walked away, never looking back after. The memories of your housemates flooded your mind as you made your way on the ship alone, blocking out all the sounds of the station. You found yourself a seat and watched as the ship began to take off, and you looked down on that planet for the last time.

You submerged yourself under the water, hoping it would help shake off the memories of that dreadful place. As much as you hated to admit it, you and Spike were similar when it came to your pasts, but you both reacted much differently from one another. You would find yourself entranced in fear and guilt, afraid that you made the wrong decision or that you didn't try hard enough to help yourself and those who you left behind. Remembering the abuse you endured, as well as being reminded of emotional and mental scars that were left for you to carry.

Reemerging from the lukewarm water for air, you couldn't handle the thoughts that were running rampant in your head. The quiet tears that had been falling now turned to violent sobs of anguish. You couldn't hold it in, after all the time that had passed, you couldn't find the strength hold it back anymore. It hurt to think about it, to think that you turned your back on them, even though you didn't have any other choice.

After you rode out your breakdown you finished your bath and pulled yourself up and out of the tub. Grabbing a towel you wrapped your body up and went to the sink to wash your face. Looking in the a mirror, a red, swollen, puffy eyed face looked back at you. Sighing heavily you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would help with the redness and swelling.

After drying off and putting your clothes back on you looked at yourself again, still puffy and red. It seemed it was going to be a bit before it went back to normal.

Slipping quietly out of the bathroom you made your way across the ship to your room. You let yourself fall back onto the bed, hoping you'd just crash, and you that's exactly what you did.

...

Weeks passed since the argument between the two of you. Neither one saying much to the other during that time. You both tried your best to not think about what happened, ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. You were courteous when you interacted with him, which hadn't been often. Whether it was during missions or at meal time. You could tell it was bothering him though, he wanted you to say something, anything, to be angry and upset with the way he spoke to you that night. But you felt it was best to move on from it rather than bringing it back up and continue a senseless conversation.

It had been a hard day for you, you lost a bounty and Jet had been harping on you to keep up with the rest of the gang, seeing as you'd been slipping behind lately. During those weeks you spent most of your time in your room laying in bed crying, overthinking, and sleeping, so you didn't get as much training in as you should. You didn't want to cause a fuss with your shipmates thought so you kept to yourself and tried to do your best to get through your fragile state. But Jet being the kind of man he was, he could see right through you,

"I don't know what's going on between you and Spike, but you gotta figure that shit out and get your head back in the game Y/N," he said as you were traveling back to your room after returning from the failed mission. You gave him a sadden expression,

"I know, I'm sorry Jet, I just need to get some things figured out before I talk to him is all. But don't worry about me, I'll be ok, really ," you said giving him sad eyes with a forced smile. He gave you a sympathetic expression and put his metallic hand on your shoulder giving you a pat of reassurance,

"I hope so kid, if you ever need anything I'm here for ya. Just get back to being the Y/N we know and love, ok?"

You pulled him into a quick but loving hug, fighting the urge to cry,

"Thank you Jeb, you're the best." Pulling away you gave him an appreciative smile and made your way to your room, not realizing a certain someone had overheard the interaction.

...

You spent the rest of the day in your room, cleaning up and reorganizing to keep your mind busy, but when you couldn't clean or reorganize anymore you stripped down and crawled into bed. Though it was difficult, you were finally able to drift off to sleep.

There was a loud banging on your door that caused you to jolt up from your slumber, groaning in frustration you wrapped yourself in your blanket, pulled yourself out of bed, and walked to the door. A stoic Spike was waiting on the other side when you opened up,

"Hey," you said still half asleep. You looked at him groggily, he was shirtless and in a pair of light grey sweats, but you didn't pay too much attention to his attire considering the circumstances. He grunted lightly and pushed past you into your room, almost knocking you down. Sighing deeply you closed the door behind you and followed him into your room. He sat down at the foot of you bed while you walked to the head and sat, putting some distance between you both.

"It's late Spike," you said while fiddling with the blanket that clung to your body.

"Yeah, " he replied while flicking his lighter on and off. A bit of silence passed until you spoke up, your breath getting caught in your throat while asking,

"Why are you here?"

"I wanna talk," he stated in a whisper. Spike adjusted so he was now sitting cross legged on the bed and pulled a cigarette out from his pant pocket,

"You mind?" You shook your head in response, knowing it wouldn't matter if you did. Once he lit his lighter and took a puff the room began to fill with smoke, and a stoic expression fell on his face once again.

"What did you wanna talk about," you asked while turning your face the other way as to not inhale the smoke directly. He grumbled at your question, holding back what he wanted to say. It took some time, but after a few more grumbles and mutters to himself he finally spoke,

"About that night, when we argued," your head snapped back in his direction, unsure and anxious of where the conversation was headed.

"I've been thinking a lot about what was said from both of us, but mostly what I said. And even though a lot of the things that were said were true, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the things I said and how I treated you. It wasn't right of me to do that" he said gritting the cigarette between his teeth. You frowned,

"What do you mean by that?"

"What?"

"What do you mean by a lot of things that were said were true," you pried at him as you clutched the blanket. The smoke in the room was getting heavy and you began to cough, he sighed and put the cigarette out, seeing as it was clearly bothering you.

"What I mean is that some of what you said was true, like how I always run after her when I get even the slightest hint of where she is. And that whenever anything is brought it becomes the only thing that matters. It's one of those things I can't explain," he said falling back on to the bed. Your body relaxed, you looked at him as he laid there, lost in thought and an expression of confliction. You were about to speak, but he beat you to it,

"And I feel bad about what I said to you. It wasn't fair of me to assume what happened, and throwing it back in your face was wrong. I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice. His hand ran through his hair as he shuffled. He wasn't used to being this open or soft with anyone, anyone that wasn't her. Feeling you could open up to him now in this moment, you spoke calmly,

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pushed as much as I did. I lost my temper and said things I shouldn't have. I just wanted you to be open with me, like you were with Julia. And when I didn't get that, I lashed out at you, at that wasn't fair of me to do. I shouldn't have expected you to be as intimate with me as you were in your past. I'm really, truly sorry Spike," you said wholeheartedly as you pat his shoulder lightly. He jumped slightly in surprise but soon relaxed into your touch. He furrowed his brows as he turned his face towards you,

"You remind me of her, you know. To the point where it hurts," he said as he placed his hand in yours.

"How so?"

"It's the little things you do. The way you handle situations so calmly and treat everyone with compassion. But mostly it's the way you look at me. You have that spark in your eyes that she had, and its like seeing a ghost that continuously lingers. I know you're not her, and I don't expect you to be. And Im not sure how to manage these feelings I have, but I'm trying to be better." He sat up and turned to face you, his hand never leaving yours. His eyes finally meeting up with yours for the first time in weeks. The soft glow from the stars flowing into your room from thewindow illuminated the uniqueness of them. Captivated by his features you found yourself at a loss for words,

"Y/N, I promise that no matter what, I'll never use what happened in your past against you ever again. And I want you to know that when you're ready, I'll be more than willing to listen to all of it," he said as he softly cupped your cheek with his free hand. A few stray tears fell down your cheeks and he gently wiped them away as you spoke,

"Thank you Spike. You don't how much that means to me. And I promise to do the same for you whenever you're ready," you whispered softly to him. The glittering his eyes from the soft light shifted in something in you, what little bit of anger you had left for him melted away. And then a new feeling bubbled up inside you, a feeling you hadn't experienced in quite a while. You felt yourself drawing closer to him, feeling a bit bold, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek,

"Thank you again Spike," you said as you gave him an expression of gratitude. He smiled softly in response, but you could tell he was still holding something back, something strained. His hands moved from your tear stained cheeks down to your bare shoulders, his eyes hazy and a faint dusting of pink in his face. You felt the heat rising all throughout your body, and your self control depleting with each passing second. Lust overcame your better judgement and you closed the space between you with a soft kiss. It was loving, yet needy all the same as your hands slowly ran down his shoulders and to his chest. You expected him to pull back, but instead he deepened the kiss and tightly gripped your shoulders. Pulling away to take a breath, your lips flushed and slightly swollen, you felt a spur of guilt in your chest,

"I'm sorry Spike, I shouldn't have done that," you stated disappointingly as you turned away from him and took your hands off his chest. Only to be met with his hand bringing your gaze back to his,

"Do it again." His eyes dark and glassy with desire as your lips gently crashed on to his once again. You slowly fell back on to the soft mattress. You slowly snaked your arms down his back in attempts to pull him closer, his calloused hands wandering down to your waist to do the same. He gave a slight groan as the kiss got more intense and sloppy, the need for his touch coursing through your veins once his grip tightened on your waist. He pulled away with a gasp for air as he looked at you, your face red as a rose and eyes half lidded with want,

"You're so pretty," he said in a breathy whisper.

He pulled you in close and his head dipped into your neck. His hair tickled your neck as his flushed lips make contact with your sensitive skin. A shiver flowed through your body as he began to sweetly suck on the skin, holding back your moans for the sake of your shipmates. As he left them one by one down to your collarbone he lightly tugged on the blanket still wrapped tightly around you. Pushing him up and off you for just a moment so you could get into a better position, you teasingly peeled the blanket off of you, slowly revealing your flushed skin. The way the stars light fell on your naked form left Spike breathless. Though he'd seen you naked many times before, the way the light fell on you, the expression on your face, and maybe just the reassurance that you understood him in that moment made him see you in an entirely different light. You held out your arms to him, coaxing him to come back to you. His hands caressed the plush skin of your thighs as he continued to leave hickeys down your collarbone and to your chest. Your heavy breathing and stifled moans filled the small space as he began to suck on the soft flesh and slowly moved to the hardened bud. As he took your nipple in his mouth, one of his hands moved to the other and began to roll and pinch it between his nimble fingers. You yelped at the bursting sensation coming from your chest,

"Spike," you quietly moaned out to him. Gripping his hair lightly as a way to keep you grounded from losing yourself. Everytime the two of you did this you found it very easy to lose yourself in the heat of it all and fully surrender yourself to him. But this time you were reluctant to do so. Not because you were afraid, but because of what you knew. The nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach knowing were never going to be her, not matter how hard you tried to be. He would always want her, and that hurt you,

"Hey, what's wrong," he said, concern lacing his voice.

"It's nothing," you sighed lightly as you twirled his hair between your fingers. He moved his hands to your face brought your gaze to his,

"Talk to me pretty girl." You tried coming up with a plausible excuse, but he could see right through you,

"You're thinking about her aren't you?" You nodded your head and looked away from him, shame spread across your face. He smirked at you lovingly and his hand moved down in between your thighs and rubbed against your sensitive, slick nether regions. A surprised, pleasure filled moan escaped you as he spoke,

"Don't think about her Y/N, right now the only thing I want you to think about is me. Because what I'm thinking about in this moment, the only thing I care about right now, is you. I want to please you, to touch you, and make you feel loved. Shes in the past, and you're here with me, and I want it to stay that way for as long as possible," he said as his pace became more intense, pleasure surged through your body in blissful spasms. You found a sliver of comfort knowing that he wanted you as much as you wanted him in this moment, and at that point you let yourself go completely. You couldn't hold in your moans and ragged breaths as his pace became almost too much to bare. His slender fingers slowed a bit as he moved down your slit and inserted a digit in to you. You covered your mouth and moaned sinfully into your palm as he went slowly in and out of you,

"Uncover your mouth sweetheart, I wanna hear every sound you make for me" sincerity and need dripping off his tongue as he spoke. You moved your hand, but still tried to keep the volume minimal. He added another digit and his pace quickened once more. Your moans started to become more frequent as you felt your orgasm approaching steadily. He curled his fingers against your walls, earning a squeal from you,

"Spike, if you keep that up," you said pitifully in between gasps. This didn't stop him from slowing his pace though.

"I want you to cum for me pretty girl," he said sinfully as he kept up his pace. As if on cue, you clenched around his fingers and let your orgasm flow through you. The moan you let out was much louder than you would've liked, but you didn't care, you felt amazing. He pulled out of you, his fingers covered in your slick.

He wiped in on his pants before removing them hastily, revealing his painful hard cock. The tip a flushed rosy color and a bead of precum slowly dripping down. You crawled over to him and looked up into his eyes pleadingly. He gave a slight nod, his breathing hitched at the the thought of what you were about to do. You took the tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue it, tasting the salt from his precum. You teased the tip a little more, earning light groans and ragged breaths from Spike before taking him fully into your mouth. He let out a whimper as you began to take I'm entirely into your mouth and down your throat. His noises like music to your as you want painfully slow,

"Fuck, it feels so good," he groaned as he ran a hand through your hair, wanting to take control, but not giving in to his primal desires. He wanted to be gentle with you and made sure that you were as comfortable as possible. His fingers ran through your hair as you began to quicken your pace, feeling the tip of his cock lightly hitting the back of your throat. It wasn't enough to hurt you, but you definitely knew it would be something you'd feel the next day. You could feel him pulsating against your hollowed cheeks, knowing he would last too much longer if you kept this up. You found yourself in a rhythm that made him quiver and whimper everytime you took him fully, hoping you'd get him to finish as soon as you could. But, despite Spike wanting nothing more than to cum down your throat, he gently stopped you. His cock sliding out of your mouth with a pop,

"Not yet pretty girl," he said wiping away the little bit of saliva that dipped from the corner of you mouth.

He lifted you up to him and kissed you with heated passion, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he pushed you back on to the bed. His hand roamed down to your thighs and proceeded to spread them,

"You ready," he asked in a hot, breathy whisper against your ear.

"Yes Spike, please," you pleaded, your skin on flushed and sensitive as ever and your pussy aching. He slowly thrusted into you, you clenched around him as a reflex to the slight relief you felt. Both of you moaning at the initial thrust,

"Fuck," he cried out. He brought you in close and began to slowly thrust in to you once you were fully adjusted. His fingers traced circled on your shoulder blades and he placed butterfly kisses down your forehead and cheeks. Feeling him pick up the pace, your moans became more prominent and carried throughout the room. You found yourself submitting to him once more as your moans got louder and louder with each thrust, not caring who heard the two of you.

"I love the sounds you make Y/N," he groaned out. You gave an incoherent gasp in response. He brought his gaze to yours,

"You're so fucking pretty like this, taking my cock so well. You're doing amazing sweetheart," he said losing himself to your gaze. The look of pure love and lust in your eyes was nearly too much to bear for him. He always thought you were an attractive person, even before you two started doing this. But as he got to know you, he thought you were one of the prettiest people he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. And when he first saw you writhing under him, he thought he'd met an angel. The way you shivered under his touch, the way you looked at him with your starstruck eyes, eveything about you when you two were together made him admire you even more.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he said to himself. Lost in the thought of you being with him like this. You gripped at his lower back harshly as he began to bottom you out, losing control of his rhythm. His whimpers and your moans filled the room like a symphony, he whispered sweet nothing in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were and how much he loved being with you. You felt his cock pulsing once again against your slick walls, he was close, as were you. Your moans turned into pure, sinful squealing once again and you felt another orgasm threatening to wash over you,

"Spike, I-" He cut you off before you could finish.

"I know sweetheart. Just a little longer, please" he said said kissing your forehead sweetly. He lost complete control at that point and was fixated on making you cum with him. His thrusts were sporadic and needy, and his cock harder than ever as he continued to fuck senseless. His whimpers were now rhythmatic as he finally moaned out,

"Cum for me pretty girl." You gave out a pleasure filled moan as you came all over his still thrusting cock. The clench from your swollen pussy and the now dripping slick was more than enough to push him over the edge,

"Fuucckk," he drew out in an absolute sinful whimper as he pulled out of you and let out thick spurts of hot cum all over your inner thighs and pussy.

He stroked himself a few times to get all his cum out while taking a few deep, draw out sighs of relief. He must of been holding it in for a while because it was quite a load he let out, not that you cared, you were just happy you were able to be with him. You sighed in relief as he grabbed some tissues off your nightstand and cleaned you up then in turn cleaning himself. When he finished he threw the dirty tissues away and crawled into bed with you, covering you both in the blanket and pulling you in close for a sweet, loving cuddle. You began to drift off to sleep from exhaustion when you heard him say,

"I'm happy to have someone like you Y/N, " he whispered. You turned to him and kissed his cheek as he began to drift off,

"Same here," you said as you pulled him into the crook of your neck and the two of you fell asleep soundly in one another's embrace.

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imwriting0verhere · 6 months

Text

Absolute Bliss

As you’re making your way up the few steps to your front door, you can’t wait to finally be home with your fiancé. Sam was back from promo interviews and a photoshoot down in London the last few days, but you had spent all afternoon and evening celebrating one of your best friends’ birthday. You two only had a quick ten minutes together before it was time for you to leave. And as you unlock the door and quietly step inside your home, you cannot wait to spend the rest of the weekend in your own little bubble, at home with the love of your life.

Quickly putting your keys into the decorative bowl and taking of your heels, you begin to make your way towards the living room. Expecting Sam to have spend his evening there. To your surprise, all the lights are turned off except for the one in the hallway where you’re currently still standing. The man of the house nowhere to be found.

You check the time on your phone and note that it’s only just gone past 10pm. For both of you, that’s a fairly early bedtime, especially during the weekend. Strange, you think to yourself, as you turn towards the stairwell and make your way upstairs.

As soon as you step into the bedroom, a smile forms on your face and you’re itching to close the distance between you and Sam.

He’s sprawled out on his side of the mattress. Only clad in his black boxer briefs, the thin blanket covering his torso. One hand next to his head as the other one rests on his chest, ever so gently rising with his relaxed breathing. You can even hear him softly snore.

Both of your bedside lamps, as well as the floor lamp by the window are turned on and plunge the entire room in a soft yellowy-golden light. This is the definition of bliss, you think. And you almost don’t want to disrupt it, but being away from Sam for almost a week helps you make up your mind. You take the few steps towards the bed and carefully sit down next to his peacefully sleeping form. Reaching your left hand up into his soft hair, you brush some of the strands away and admire his handsome face. Starting to cares his face and slowly down his neck, your touch has the desired effect and Sam begins to stir and wake up. As your hands come to a stop on his naked chest, he carefully opens his eyes and lets out a sleepy groan

“Hhmmm…Y/N/N” a smile instantly forms on his face and as he wakes up more he moves the hand next to his head and engulfs your fingers in his.

“Fuck, what time is it? I was gan wait up for you”

“God you’re so fucking cute” you mumble to yourself as you can’t hide the grin and blush his statement sparks in you

“It’s quarter past ten or something, not very late yet. I’m honestly surprised you’re in bed already” you tease him.

He looks at you, slightly offended but you know he’s only levelling up to your teasing.

“Aye, a’ve been on the train all day, after a week of promo. Give us a break reet” he challenges you with a spark in his eyes, but you can see the lack of sleep and exhaustion clear on his face. And honestly, you’re just as ready to get into bed and have a restful night’s sleep.

“Alright” you say as you squeeze his hand and stand up “I’ll quickly get ready so we can sleep”.

Before you’re out of reach Sam playfully slaps your bum and sends you off into the direction of the adjacent bathroom. You quickly brush your teeth and clean your face after taking off your makeup, and not even 10 minutes later you emerge in only your knickers and bra, discarding the latter as you make your way to bed. Sam looks slightly more awake now and he eagerly opens his arms for you as you finally re-take your rightful place next to him. As soon as your head hits the pillow, Sam pulls the blanket up around you and turns your body into his side. Your head in the crook of his neck and half resting on his chest, one leg thrown over his. You lazily run your fingers over the soft patch of hair and start playing with his necklace that is perched atop. And you feel Sam start stroking his fingers through your silky hair absentmindedly, his other hand drawing patterns on your arm, your back. Every part of your soft skin that’s in reach for him. And you just lie there for a few minutes. No words being spoken. You’re just enjoying and refamiliarizing yourselves with the other.

Being away from each other because of Sam’s job is always hard, and over the last four years you’ve learned how to manage those times. But after spending almost an entire year with Sam at home because he had taken a break and just used that time to write and record, and him asking you to marry him just a few months ago, this week apart was harder than it ever felt before.

“Hope you had a good time tonight” he nuzzles softly into your hair

“It was lovely! The food was so good, Rachael made the birthday cake of course. She’s such a genius” you both chuckle at that, thinking back to all the tasty cakes, cupcakes and desserts she had conjured up over the years. “And Evie loooved the present we got for her. She actually couldn’t believe we’d all chip in for a trip to Venice this summer”

Sam plants a loving kiss onto your skin before he responds

“She’s really got the best friends aye” to which you lift your head up so you can look at him

“Guess she does aye” your voice gets softer as you mimic him and for a moment you just look at each other.

Sometimes you can’t believe you actually get to grow old and spend your life with Sam. You both grew up in Shields, being around the same friendship groups you have basically known each other all your lives. But once Sam started music and his career took off you’d never expected him to be interested and wanting to spend his life with someone from his small hometown.

But Sam always thinks he’s the lucky one. Never in a million years did he think he’d get to make music and have the most amazing and beautiful girl he’s ever known fall in love with him, and wanting to be with him despite his crazy work.

He gently cups your face in his hand and pulls you towards him. Leaving a soft peck at the corner of your mouth, he finally closes the distance all the way and presses his soft lips firmly onto yours. You sink into the kiss and move your hand from his chest around to the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. A soft groan leaves your lips and Sam uses the moment to dip his tongue into your mouth, softly nip at your lip before breaking the kiss completely. Still dazed you just whine at the loss of contact and open your eyes to look at him

“I love you so much” he looks back at you so sincerely and full of love. You can feel that familiar flutter in your belly that he always seems to elicit.

“I love you so much Sammy” you connect your lips with his again, needing him to feel how much you adore him. As you pull apart after a while, you tuck your head back into the crook of his neck and nuzzle as close into him as possible. Turning off the light and casting the two of you into darkness, Sam thinks back to the events of his day and how lucky he is that he gets to come home to you. Absolute bliss. For the rest of his life.

#sam fender fanfic #sam fender imagines #sam fender #sam fender fanfiction #sam fender x reader #sam fender fluff

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thebardisabird · 1 year

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This afternoon I’m thinking about ex-boyfriend Osomatsu.

The same kind of ex who can’t let you go. And while he tries to be amicable, he makes it clear that he’s got issues he needs to work on and that ends up being what hurt your relationship in the first place. You try very hard to be friends and for the most part it works…but you often catch him stealing glances at you; looking at you with longing and a pinch of regret.

And forget it, when you even mention another person who takes interest in you he gets irrational. It becomes a means for him to poke fun at whoever this person is, highlighting their faults and making it seem like they’re not good enough. So when you finally get annoyed and snap at him saying, “Oh so what, you think you’re what’s best for me?” He meets you at your level and shouts, “Yeah, actually I fucking do!”

That’s when it hits you - he never got over you. This entire time he’s been knocking every person that’s come into your life after him so that you would see nobody could compare. Your eyes well up, hurt pooling deep in your chest. He immediately reels back his anger, panic now setting in as he’s unsure what to do. His hands shake before clenching into fists, and his eyes squeeze shut to block out your oncoming tears.

“Fuck it,” he spat, “Yeah. I said it. No one will ever be good enough…they don’t know you like I do.” He turns away, his back to you now, “They won’t love you like I do.”

The tears fall freely now. Your chest burns in agony because all you’ve wanted was for things to work between the both of you. There’s love in you that belongs only to Osomatsu and it takes everything in you to hold the words back when you’re together, but you’re not together. But there’s no overlooking the hurt in himself that caused you anguish when you were. His trust issues, the arguments you would have that would turn into pleas begging you not to leave, the way he was never careful with the things he said and would spew vicious things when he didn’t mean them in the slightest. At some point you knew you had to self preserve - and that meant ending the relationship.

Memories resurface, and recall all the times you’ve laughed together. The times you two spent late nights bullshitting around Akatsuka, the roof dates, the incredibly messy (and surprisingly good) sex…it’s what all tied you to him so strongly. Why even though the relationship was damaged, you didn’t have the heart to let him go yourself. Osomatsu was brash, a sleaze, and did so many things without thinking…but he was honest. He could be incredibly sweet, and he was dependable for the things that counted the most in life.

Osomatsu loved you deeply. Which is why he said what he did without abandon. Nothing’s changed about his feelings for you - the only difference in your relationship to him was that you didn’t have sex and you didn’t say ‘I love you’. But to have you close to him still, not having those aspects mattered so little. He would give anything to have you in his life. Even if that meant swallowing down the hurt of not being to tell you how much he misses you or how he lies awake at night sometimes wondering what the fuck happened and realizing the problem was always him. So he stands here now, heart out in the open, spelling out everything he’s been holding back for months. Because if Osomatsu’s anything…it’s honest.

#idk why but ex boyfriend Osomatsu angst is a life fuel for me #osomatsu san #ososan #osomatsu #osomatsu matsuno #osomatsu x reader #x reader #drabble #angst #maybe a part 2 to this??? idk I’m in my car rn on a work trip and I gave myself like 20 minutes to just chill and did this lol

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aralezinspace · 7 months

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Summer Knight Part 6

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

Dividers by cafekitsune

Chapter 10

Hob’s fever finally broke just after breakfast time. Lucienne had brought Morpheus his meal on a tray, along with some bread and water for when Hob woke. She gave the Prince a knowing look as he took the tray- Lucienne always knew. She could tell the Prince had stayed awake all night and had not left Hob’s side for a moment.

The Prince watched over Hob while nibbling on his breakfast. Some of the color was coming back to his cheeks, and he looked much more at ease. He had even started to snore softly; Morpheus laughed the first time he heard the sound. With all their close proximity, how had he never noticed?

Hob’s eyes finally cracked open around mid day. Morpheus had been doing his level best to stay awake, but found himself nodding off, his head hanging and eyes heavy. Adrenaline jolted him awake when he heard the drawn out, whining groan coming from his bed, followed by several choice swear words as Hob tried to sit up.

“Hob!” He placed a gentle hand on Hob’s good shoulder and applied the slightest pressure to encourage him to lay back down.

“Fuck… Morpheus?” Hob rasped, throat dry and scratchy. “Water?”

Morpheus quickly poured some water into a small tankard and held it up to Hob’s lips. His other hand cradled Hob’s head so he could swallow more easily, and Hob drank the entire thing down in a few seconds.

“Fuck,” Hob swore again as he lay back down. He turned to Morpheus, and this time his mind fully registered where he was, who he was with: he was in the Prince’s bed, and Morpheus was at his side. A big, dopey grin spread across his face, like he had never seen something so beautiful nor had been so happily blessed. “Feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse,” he slurred, “But this is worth it.”

Morpheus chuckled and took Hob’s hand in his again. He kissed the back as Hob weakly squeezed his fingers. After a few breaths, the Prince became serious again. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Hob’s grin faded as he tried to concentrate through the fog in his mind and the insistent aches in his body. “Um… We got to the palace, I fell out of the saddle… That’s all.”

Morpheus nodded and adjusted Hob’s cloak around his shoulders. “That is the long and short of it. The healer treated your wound and you had a fever in the night.” A pause, his voice dropping to nearly a mumble. “You’ve been asleep for almost a full day. I.. I was worried.”

“A whole day?” Hob repeated incredulously, his uninjured hand flying to his forehead. “No wonder I’m starving.” He flashed Morpheus a roguish grin. “Think you could help me with that?”

Morpheus rolled his eyes affectionately as he ripped off a chunk of bread and handed it to him. It was a massive relief that Hob seemed so much like his old self just moments after waking up. That pleasant warmth began to bloom in the Prince’s chest, staving off just a little more of the cold that still lingered in his core.

Hob spent the next three days in the Prince’s chambers recovering. Morpheus had Lucienne and Matthew bring all his work and letters, as well as their meals. He finally convinced Morpheus to call for a bath, and the Prince had agreed, but only if Hob would join him. They spent several hours scrunched up in the copper bathtub, gently washing away the dirt and last drops of blood until the water was cold and smoky. Afterwards, they lay in front of the fire on furs taken from their beds in their nightclothes, continuing to caress and talk quietly.

Hob couldn’t reach back to braid his hair, so he talked Morpheus through it. The first few attempts resulted in knots and tangles that the Prince had to then unravel, gently working his antler comb through the brown and gold and amber strands, but eventually he mastered it. He may have intentionally tangled the sections once or twice just to spend more time combing it, once he heard the contented, purring hum that rumbled low in Hob’s chest.

Cain and Abel paid a visit on the second day, finding Hob seated in an armchair in front of the fire, reading a book. “Hob Gadling,” Cain cried in greeting as they entered the sitting room, “As I live and breathe, you’re actually alive.” He gave Hob a once over, taking in his generally worn and exhausted appearance. “You look awful.”

Hob chuckled as he closed his book. “You should see the other guys.”

The brothers joined him in front of the fire, and Hob immediately launched into the tale of what had happened. Their eyes widened when he got to his duel with Randall, both impressed and apprehensive. Abel actually gasped when he tugged at the collar of his shirt to show them the wound that was slowly but surely healing into a pink scar. As he finished his story, a little thorn burrowed into his mind: Chronos had sworn he’d be banished from the Dreaming if he survived rescuing Morpheus. Would he follow through on that threat?

“Holy hell fire…” Abel swore under his breath, armor clinking softly as he sat back in his chair. He shook his head with an incredulous grin. “The gods must have some big plans for you!” Hob just chuckled and shrugged non-committedly.

The brothers stayed for another hour chatting with Hob while Morpheus worked in the study. The Prince smiled to himself every time he heard Hob’s laugh from the sitting room, glad that his spirits were recovering quickly, even if his body was a bit slower on the uptake.

By the third day, Hob was starting to get restless. He paced the sitting room, gently swinging his arms back and forth, trying to stretch the healing skin and get some strength back without tearing the stitches- the day Lyta removed them couldn’t come soon enough. He grimaced and let out a little pained noise as one motion strained the skin and pressed his good hand over it, trying to keep the fire of pain contained.

Morpheus heard the sound from his study where he was once again working, or at least trying to focus on work. He immediately put down his quill and half sprinted to the sitting room, trying not to panic at the thought of Hob injuring himself further. The sight that greeted him had him chuckling as well as rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Hob was in a ready stance, a fire poker held in his left hand like a sword. He did a few advances and retreats before going through the basic attacks- low left, low right, high right, high left, overhead. He moved slowly, but the flow of the iron rod was smooth and controlled.

He took a breath and settled back into his ready stance for a moment before lunging and thrusting the poker into an imaginary opponent. He held the poker there, strained grunts mixed with deep breaths as the effort of holding its weight aloft pulled and tugged at barely healed skin and muscle.

“Hob,” Morpheus chided with a little smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, finally stepping into his space and gently easing the poker out of his hands. “I’m not sure Lyta would approve of this as resting and recovering.”

Hob sighed and ran his good hand through his hair. “I’ve been resting and recovering for two days, I need to do something.” Morpheus returned the poker to the rack next to the fireplace.

“I know,” the Prince replied in a sad murmur. The cracks in Morpheus’ being were starting to deepen. He had put on a brave face, shorn up the supports so that Hob could lean on him while he recovered. Now that Hob was out of danger, those supports were starting to crumble under their own weight, and the weight of all Morpheus had been through and had not started to heal from. The Prince’s limbs trembled as he braced a forearm on the wall above the mantle and leaned heavily on it.

Hob’s agitation immediately warped into concern when he saw how the Prince seemed to collapse in on himself. It occurred to him in a bright spark what he could do while his wound finished healing: pour everything he had into caring for his Prince, into helping him heal the wounds that may not be visible, but were just as deep and ugly, if not more so. Wounds that would leave scars as gnarled as his own.

Hob padded slowly to Morpheus and wrapped his arms around that slender waist, pulling him into a tender, protective embrace. He let his forehead rest on the Prince’s bony shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me, Highness,” he murmured into his neck. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Morpheus’ trembling grew more intense, now full body shudders and shakes. “I’m so cold,” he rasped into the stone of the mantle. “I can’t get warm. My mind thinks I am still in that cell, still waiting for Burgess and Randall to make their demands. Waiting for Randall to…”

Hob tensed. “Did he touch you?” He tried to keep the growl of cold anger out of his voice, knowing that his rage wouldn’t be of any help or comfort. Morpheus shook his head.

“No. He did not. He did tell me in great detail what he would do to me once we were wed. It was… disturbing.” Hob snarled under his breath; he definitely should have killed the bastard. Or at least made him suffer.

Hob held him closer and kissed the delicate exposed slope where his neck met his shoulder. “I’ll keep you warm, I’ll keep you safe.” The promise was whispered into pale skin that was indeed still chilled, despite standing in front of the fire. “Morpheus.” Hob gently turned the Prince around in his arms and pulled him back into his chest so that Morpheus could hear his heartbeat, ignoring the burn of the Prince’s head pressing into his wound. One arm stayed wrapped around his waist while the other threaded fingers into hair that was once more soft and silky with a wave of relief.

“I, Robert Gadling, vow to defend Prince Morpheus from any and all that would do him harm, from this moment forth. I vow to stand by his side, in the light and the dark.” Hob paused, the unspoken declaration of love sitting heavy on his tongue. No, not yet. Morpheus was still crumbling under the weight of his ordeal. “My life and my body are his blade and shield, until his Highness release me, or death claim me. By all the gods, this I swear.”

He could feel Morpheus struggle to keep the cries contained in his chest, caged by ribs and lungs. He closed his eyes and felt the moment that struggle was given up, heard the weak but deeply pained sobs. The Prince trembled and shook, only the strength of Hob’s embrace keeping him upright as he finally broke.

They stayed in the Prince’s chambers for another day, curled in each other’s arms. Just before midday, while they were resting on a sofa in front of the fire with Morpheus seated across Hob’s lap, Lucienne let herself into the sitting room, her ledger held to her chest. “Good day Highness, Master Gadling,” she murmured as she closed and locked the door behind her. They both replied just as softly, the Prince’s slightly more despondent and spoken into Hob’s chest.

Lucienne’s heart ached. The two had been through something dreadful, and obviously cared very deeply for each other, but they were past the point where staying cooped up would help their recovery. “I trust you’re feeling better?” she asked with a knowing quirk of a brow. Hob nodded as he stroked the Prince’s hair. Lucienne sighed.

“Highness, may I speak freely?” she asked, clipped yet not unkind.

“You may,” Morpheus replied, flat and nearly dead.

Lucienne let out a breath through her nose as she gathered her words. “It’s been four days since either of you left these rooms, you must get out. Even if it’s just to the library, or the gardens. A change of scenery would do you good. And, it would put rumors to rest.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Lucienne,” Hob responded with a wry smile as he pulled Morpheus closer. “I’m banished.”

Those words shook Morpheus out of the stupor he had found himself in. “Banished?” he whispered, “What for?”

Hob kissed his forehead. “Nothing you need worry about. I’ll handle it.” Morpheus frowned, but let it drop, curling back into Hob’s chest. Hob turned back to the Prince’s right hand. “Thank you Lucienne.” The librarian knew a dismissal when she heard it. Her face fell, but she quietly left the room.

“Morpheus?” Hob murmured, giving the dozing Prince a little shake. “I’m sure you know this, but she’s right. We should at least walk around, let others see we’re alive and somewhat well.” The Prince just hummed softly snuggled further into Hob’s chest. Hob smiled softly and kissed the top of his head. “Alright, later then.”

Morpheus awoke from his nap roughly an hour later, limbs creaking and cracking as he stretched like a cat. When he found himself still draped across Hob’s lap and curled against his chest, bleary eyes looked up, and dear gods Hob was like the sun- warm eyes and a gentle smile lighting up his face, golden skin glowing in the firelight and midmorning light. If only he could wake up to that sight every time he fell asleep.

Morpheus groaned as he sat up and rubbed his forehead. Hob stretched his own limbs, sore and stiff from sitting in one place. “Not sure if you were fully awake, but Lucienne stopped by, said we should get out for a bit. Get some fresh air, let people know we’re still alive.”

“I thought you were banished.” Morpheus was now sitting up and staring intensely, anger and worry competing on his face. “Why?” Hob sighed and ran a hand through his hair. So he had been awake.

“I told you I’d handle it, you shouldn’t be worrying about anything other than getting well-” he held up a hand to stop the Prince interrupting him, “-and absolutely necessary business from Fiddler’s Green.”

“Tell me,” Morpheus demanded. So far, anger was winning. Hob sighed again and averted his gaze.

“Chronos didn’t want me going after Burgess to rescue you. He said that if I went and survived, I’d be banished. I don’t know for sure, but… I think Chronos wanted to try to bargain with him.”

Even the normally cheerful crackling of the fire sounded ominous in the silence that followed. Morpheus was dumbstruck, barely blinking as his eyes filled with violent rage. “My father banished you,” he repeated, voice shaking with incredulous anger stronger than an earthquake, “for coming to my rescue.” Hob nodded. The Prince started to crumble again.

“Yes. Morpheus.” He held the Prince’s face in his hands, the gesture tender even as his eyes blazed. “I would do it again in an instant. How could I regret saving the best thing that’s ever happened to me? Hey, look at me, please?” Morpheus had tried to avert his gaze and pull away, but Hob wouldn’t let him. “Morpheus.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “None of this, is your fault. Not Burgess, not your father, and no, not me agreeing to be banished for rescuing you.” He paused and gathered his words. “I swore an oath, I promised to protect you, and I failed. No force in this realm or any other could have stopped me from getting you out of there.”

More tears welled in the Prince’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “I do not want to remain here if you are not by my side,” he growled, watery and weak but insistent. “I will speak to my father, and he will rescind your banishment.” He spoke the words with such assurance that Hob was sure his banishment had been lifted in that very moment.

“Oh Morpheus,” he gasped. “You incredible man.” He pulled Morpheus into a loving kiss, hot and wet with tears. Once again the impassioned declaration of his love sat heavy on his tongue, just barely restrained. Instead of speaking them, he wrote the words into Morpheus’ mouth once his tongue slipped past rosy lips. One day, he swore to himself as they continued to kiss and caress, One day I will tell him.

They found themselves occupied with each other for the remainder of the afternoon and evening, and so didn’t follow Lucienne’s advice of getting out until the following day. They took breakfast in the sitting room again, but once they were bathed and dressed, they took a stroll through the halls of the palace. Morpheus held tightly onto Hob’s arm, more than happy to play up his weakness and exhaustion if it meant being this close to him.

Everyone they met smiled and expressed their gratitude that Morpheus had returned unharmed. But it was once they started to walk away that the rumors and gossip began to air: brief retellings of Hob’s heroism, some more accurate than others. Rumors that he had been banished, ‘why is he still here’ phrased in a dozen different ways. Rumors that Morpheus was abdicating the title of Crown Prince. Hushed whispers that Chronos had wanted to bargain with Burgess for Morpheus and strategic parts of Fawney Rigg.

Even quieter whispers that Hob and Morpheus were in love.

Those were the hardest not to react to. Hob could choose not to respond with words or expressions, but he couldn’t stop the flush that rose to his cheeks, and just barely restrained the urge to gaze adoringly at the Prince every time they heard said rumor.

Morpheus didn’t fare much better at keeping his reaction contained: every time the whisper of love between them reached their ears, the Prince immediately became tongue tied, stumbling over his words in a way that was clumsy and adorable, but unusual for the normally articulate and eloquent Prince. Not to mention how he would repeatedly glance bashfully at Hob from under feathery lashes.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but a glimmer of light had taken hold in Hob’s breast, fuelled by the thought that maybe, just maybe, the Prince loved him in return.

Life slowly returned to normal for the Prince and his guard, or at least adopted a thin veneer of normalcy. Morpheus attended council meetings every now and then, but most days he requested a summary from one of the advisors taking notes. Most times the Prince felt numb inside, hollowed out and filled back up with ice. However, the thought of sitting across the table from his father and discussing matters of state made him boil with rage.

Meals were a thrice daily, almost impossible trial. Morpheus was expected to sit at the high table with his parents and whatever suitors or delegates from other realms were visiting. He could only muster the strength to go through the motions- carry on conversation even when his tongue turned to cotton, pick at his food even if he didn’t taste any of it, smile even if it didn’t reach his eyes.

Meanwhile, at the table closest to the dais, Hob was so frantic with anger and concern he could barely keep his food down. He hated seeing Morpheus drift through his days with flat, dull eyes, to continue on as if nothing had happened. He may have been breathing, his heart may have been beating, but the spark of life had left him, or was frozen deep in his core.

Hob wanted to stand atop the dinner table and bare his chest to show the fresh scar from Randall’s sword, physical proof he kept his oath to his Prince and his realm despite the threat of banishment. He wanted the King and Queen to rub the salve into Morpheus’ still healing wrists every morning and night, to confront the light but very present scarring that was a result of their inaction. To bend the knee and grovel and beg their son’s forgiveness.

He wanted to wrap Morpheus in all the love and warmth he could provide, then furiously brandish his sword at the entire world and decimate anyone and anything that dared touch his Prince.

At least the King and Queen had enough of a conscience to look deeply uneasy, every time they shared space with their son for more than a few moments. Hob glared at the King every time they crossed paths, and Chronos had at least enough shame to not meet his gaze. Nocturna seemed like she wanted to reach out, to offer what comfort she could, but hesitated every time.

Cowards, Hob thought venomously, Every one of them.

Hob had not slept in his own bed since their return; indeed he barely slept at all. Most nights he merely closed his eyes and rested, somewhere between dozing and sleep, ready to face whatever lurked in the dark that dared disturb Morpheus’ sleep.

Hob’s stitches were finally removed- Lyta had been stunned when she told him that while it would certainly pain him from time to time, he would likely regain full use of his arm and shoulder. Almost miraculous, she had said, for a wound like that. Hob’s first question was when he could start training again. Lyta frowned and pursed her lips, but told him he could start the following day if he took it easy. The eagerness on his face was reminiscent of when he had first become Morpheus’ guard, seemingly a lifetime ago- the Prince felt his core thaw just a little bit more.

Of course, Morpheus awoke the next day to find Hob once again practicing his forms with his fire poker sword, face set in a ragged, determined grin.

Winter settled in to stay over the next few weeks, thick drifts of snow blanketing the palace grounds. The paths through the gardens had been cleared, but all the plants were covered in sheets of white. Normally, Morpheus would have found it exceedingly beautiful; the sun reflecting off the snow, the crispness of the air. Now, it only reminded him of all he endured in that freezing cell.

Despite this, every other day or so, Hob would maneuver the Prince’s reluctant limbs into layers of wool and furs, thick socks and gloves, a cloak with a thick hood, and they would take a walk through the gardens. Hob let him take his arm, or would wrap his arm around the Prince’s waist if he needed extra support as they walked. And every time Morpheus was overcome by tremors and shivers that weren’t from the cold, Hob would press his lips to a pale temple and softly recite his oath in the Prince’s ear, along with reassurances that he was there, that he would keep him safe.

Most days were too cold to go riding, but some days they went to see Jessamy and Gregory in the stables rather than walk the gardens. Hob had never known horses to be so expressive: on their first visit, both animals both expressed unbounded delight at seeing them, but then promptly turned a cold shoulder, leaving Hob and Morpheus to grovel and plead and bribe with pets and treats.

That day was the first time something other than Hob had brought a smile to the Prince’s face.

Another blizzard hit not even a week after that first snowfall. The snow came down in sheets, whipped about by biting gusts of wind. Even with the heat of the fire from the sitting room as well as the heavy drapes around his bed, there was a distinct chill in the Prince’s room. Shivering slightly, Hob got out of bed and padded to the sitting room.

The fire was low, but still burning. Hob tied his hair back into a low tail as he knelt before the fireplace. He placed two new logs atop the charred remains of the old ones and gently blew on the base of the flames, coaxing them back to life.

It took the better part of an hour, but he got the fire roaring again, and the sitting room quickly warmed. Pleased with his work, Hob went back to the bedroom to get Morpheus- if he didn’t wake, Hob would gladly carry him to the settee.

“Morpheus?” he whispered as he pulled back the drapes.

The Prince was laying on his back, his right hand tucked under his pillow, the left draped over his stomach. Hob could see the outline of his casually splayed legs under the sheets. He smiled tenderly at the Prince’s peaceful slumber; it almost seemed a shame to wake him.

Just as Hob was debating the best way to pick him up, the Prince’s brow furrowed, accompanied by a choked out whimper. Hob paused and waited. After a few moments, dark brows relaxed with a slightly heavier exhale. Hob relaxed as well and slowly peeled back the covers. “Morpheus?”

Hob put a hand on his shoulder, and the next few seconds happened in a blur. Morpheus sat up in a rush of pale skin and wild black hair, a deadly glint of silver in his hand flashed toward Hob- holy shit where and when had he gotten a dagger- snarling as the dagger came down-

Hob shouted as he caught the Prince’s wrist in his hand, just inches away from creating an identical puncture in his unwounded shoulder. “Highness, it’s me!” The blue eyes that stared back were crazed and frantic and unseeing. The dagger shook in his grip as he continued to try forcing it into his perceived enemy. “Morpheus! Morpheus, it’s Hob!”

Morpheus blinked. Some of the clarity returned to his eyes and Hob felt the pressure struggling towards him ease up just a tad. “Hob…?” he breathed, just barely awake and frightened to his bones.

“Yes,” Hob replied as he gently pried the dagger out of the Prince’s hand. “It’s alright, it’s me. You’re safe.” All the tension flooded out of his muscles in a gasp of horror.

“I…” he stared at his shaking hands in disbelief. “I almost stabbed you. I tried to kill you, oh gods-”

“No no no!” Hob immediately dropped the dagger and firmly held the Prince’s hands in his. “You were clearly having a nightmare and I tried to wake you, you did nothing wrong, it’s okay.”

Morpheus didn’t register Hob’s words and burst into anguished, panicked sobs. “Oh gods I’m so sorry, Hob-!”

Hob quickly folded the distraught Prince in his arms and held him tight. Morpheus was nearly screaming into his shoulder, Hob could feel the tears soaking through the linen of his sleep shirt. He rocked them back and forth, trying to soothe the Prince, or at least reduce his screams.

It took what seemed like an eternity for Morpheus’ cries to lower in volume and for his fingers to unclaw themselves from Hob’s back. Another eternity later, his cries were reduced to whimpers and he was slumped against Hob’s chest. Hob continued to rock them and whisper soothing nonsense until the whimpers faded into watery little hiccups.

Biting his lip against the strain and pain in his body, Hob slowly shifted the Prince to gather him in his arms and carry him out to the sitting room. He gently placed the tangle of trembling limbs onto the furs and pillows he had laid out in front of the fireplace and with a murmured assurance he’d be back, snatched every blanket from both his and Morpheus’ beds.

Hob laid down next to the Prince and covered their bodies with the pile of blankets before pulling the frightened, shivering creature that just barely resembled Morpheus into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his lank frame. Even through their nightclothes, he could feel the chill that clung to the underside of Morpheus’ skin and wouldn’t let go.

Morpheus finally came back to himself just as the witching hour started to settle over the palace. Hob had only gotten up once in that time to add more wood to the fire, to keep the flames burning bright in what seemed to be a losing battle to keep the Prince warm.

“...Hob?”

Hob’s name spoken in that low, flat tone devoid of any life violently twisted at his heart. With the Prince’s head pillowed on his chest just above the aching organ, he hoped Morpheus couldn’t feel it. “I’m here, darling,” he choked back. “I’m here.”

Bony fingers curled into the worn-soft fabric of Hob’s nightshirt. “I’m so sorry,” Morpheus whimpered, high and vulnerable and desperate. “I could have hurt you, or even killed you.”

Hob gently shushed him and carded his fingers through silky, feather-soft hair. “You don’t need to be sorry, Highness.” He paused to gather his words, and the strength to make his tongue work. “It was an understandable reaction, considering what you’ve been through. I’m not hurt, and I’m not upset. It’s alright.”

For a moment the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. When Morpheus spoke again, the words still sounded hollowed out like a long dead tree. “When they first ambushed us on the road, I tried to fight them off.” Hob didn’t say anything while Morhpeus went down the harrowing, brambled path of his memories. “I tried to fight them, as you taught me. I tried…”

“I know you did, love.” Hob’s words flared with his conviction as the fire cracked and popped. He may not have been there, he may not know all the details, but he knew deep in his bones that Morpheus Aeterna was not one to give in without a fight. He knew.

He took one of Morpheus’ hands in his and kissed the remaining scabs of chafed skin and light scarring from the manacles ever so delicately, as if afraid that touch alone could tear the skin open again. A shiver slid down the Prince’s spine at that tender touch. Hob searched his eyes for any sign that such affection was unwelcome- finding none, he repeated the gesture, letting his lips drag all the way around the circumference of the joint.

“You’re safe, Highness.” Hob’s voice shook with the strength of his emotion. “You’re safe here, with me. I won’t let anything hurt you, and if you’re afraid you’ll hurt someone else, or yourself, I’ll be there to stop you.”

Morpheus stilled, barely breathing. A stone statue would have had more give. Once again, Hob Gadling had proved himself a better than any other man who had wanted to take up this duty of care. Once again, Hob had shown without hesitation that his care extended all the way to Morpheus the man, not just the current Crown Prince. He shivered again, stronger than the first.

Hob watched his eyes flutter shut, tentative at first, as if afraid of what awaited him behind his eyelids, but soon it was clear he wouldn’t be able to keep them open. As he drifted off, his cracked whisper settled into the void just beneath Hob’s breastbone:

“Thank you, my love.”

The following morning dawned bright and clear. The sky was almost as blue as Morpheus’ eyes, the sun gleaming and reflecting off the mounds of freshly fallen snow. The fire was somehow still burning, even if it was closer to embers than actual flames, and sunlight beamed in through the windows, warming the nest of furs and blankets the two were still wrapped in.

Hob groaned as he slowly regained consciousness, his every muscle sore and protesting spending the night on the floor. Every ache was worth it to see the serenity on Morpheus’ face, still pillowed on Hob’s chest: his skin had some color back in it, the muscles were no longer crunched with tension. Lips that were once again plump and pink were parted slightly, the soft breaths coming from behind them warm and steady.

A tender heat so intense it made him shake settled between Hob’s breastbone and his spine before making a home just below his stomach and expanding. If he hadn’t been certain before, he sure was now: Hob was in love with Morpheus. Beyond his duty of care, beyond his obligations to the royal family and the realm. Beyond anything he had ever thought possible.

A giddy little grin split his face open. Hob let his nose rest in the tufts of the Prince’s hair and took a deep breath, unable to smell any remnants of their ordeal. Just herbal soap, and Morpheus. “I love you,” he whispered into the strands- gentle, amorous, besotted.

Despite his happiness, Hob’s muscles continued to ache, now starting to cramp. He winced; they should probably get up, or at least move to a softer surface, but once again Hob was loathe to wake his sleeping beauty, especially after what had happened in the night. Instead, he focused on his breathing, trying to find that almost-dozing place where he could just drift and not focus on his sore body.

He had just found his way there when Morpheus stirred. Just the slightest twitch of muscles at first, then elegantly limp fingers curling into Hob’s nightshirt. The Prince let out the tiniest, whining groan, and oh if that didn’t make Hob’s morning erection perk up even more. Hob tried to shift his hips so he wasn’t grinding into Morpheus’ thigh without waking him, but eventually failed.

Morpheus started awake in bits and pieces. First the aching soreness behind his dry eyes from crying. Then the warmth surrounding him from the blankets and fire and sun. Then the shape and heat of Hob beneath and around him and… oh.

He made a little sound in the back of his mouth when he realized just what was jabbing into his thigh, and his entire abdomen clenched. He froze, tensed, caught between cringing away and tentatively pressing forward for more.

“Good morning,” Hob greeted, the words thick and scratchy with sleep. Morpheus hummed in response, shifting slightly. His thigh rubbed up into Hob’s crotch, and the esquire shivered as tiny lightning bolts of pleasure shot down his legs. He felt the Prince tense against him, and canted his hips back as far as they could as he brushed his lips over Morpheus’ sleep-sweaty forehead. “You’re safe, Highness,” he reminded him in a rasp.

Morpheus relaxed ever so slightly and leaned into the kiss, forcing Hob’s lips to linger against his skin. He gathered the hazy, half asleep courage before it was fully lost to consciousness and tilted his head to meet Hob’s lips in a sweet kiss, no less so for the lingering scent of tears on his breath.

Hob hummed into the Prince’s mouth and let him take the lead, slowly and carefully moving his lips as he was directed. He pulled Morpheus closer, calloused hands lightly catching the threads of the Prince’s shirt as he ran them up and down the expanse of his back.

Morpheus pulled away to take a gasping breath and whispered, “Hob, I… I want…” Hob could tell how Morpheus had to force his lips to form the words ‘I want.’

“Anything,” he reassured the Prince as he brushed wild strands of hair away from shining blue eyes. “Anything at all, my Prince.”

Tentative fingers shaking with the slightest tremor caressed the bristles of Hob’s beard, carefully pulling free the long strands of hair that had gotten caught and pulled from his braid. “I want…” He swallowed hard. “I want to make love to you, Hob Gadling. I- love you.”

Hob stared dumbly at Morpheus for the several moments it took his mind to process the Prince’s words. “Love… me?” he repeated with giddy incredulity. Morpheus nodded, resolutely meeting Hob’s gaze as if he were staring down a dragon.

Hob couldn’t help himself: he laughed. Joyous and pealing and stretching the corners of his mouth. Morpheus’ face fell just a hair; Hob noticed and immediately forced the Prince to meet his gaze. “I’m not laughing at you, darling,” he assured him through his chuckles. “I’m just… amazed, and surprised, and so incredibly happy, because…” He stared adoringly at his Prince, committing every detail of his face in that moment to memory. “Because I love you, Morpheus, my Prince. Have done, I think since the moment I met you that day in the woods.”

Morpheus blinked, stunned into a stupor. He hadn’t quite thought of what he would do or say if Hob returned his feelings; he was so focused on getting the words out that the after didn’t occur to him. He gaped a bit then finally choked out, “You… do?”

Hob laughed again; Morpheus was just so beautifully adorable on the rare occasion he couldn’t string two words together. “Yes darling, I do.” The giddy incredulity passed on to Morpheus, until a shadow fell over his face. Hob immediately took the Prince’s face in his hands and brought him back to the present.

“Morpheus, love. Whatever is troubling you, let it go for now.” He pressed their foreheads together, the strength with which he held them there almost stinging. “Right now it’s just you and me in here. No duties, no realm to worry about. Just be here with me.” He lowered his voice to a delicate whisper. “Make love to me?”

Morpheus’ cheeks instantly flushed a glowing red; such tender words coming from Hob’s mouth shouldn’t have sounded so filthy, and yet… He attacked Hob’s lips with passioned desperation, kissing and biting and licking like he was afraid Hob would vanish if he stopped. Morpheus slowly positioned himself atop his guard, straddling his pelvis, hands braced on the floor to avoid putting pressure on his wounded shoulder. Hob groaned when he felt Morpheus’ erection starting to tent his undergarments and nightshirt.

Morpheus shivered- it was nervousness, it was excitement, it was residual weakness. “It’s alright,” Hob rasped as his fingers gently bit into the Prince’s hips. “I’m alright, you won’t hurt me.” Morpheus nodded and bit his lip, eager and wanting, but still clearly nervous.

It took some doing, but eventually Morpheus was able to help Hob wriggle and writhe out of his nightclothes, leaving him beautifully bare atop the blankets and furs. He once again straddled Hob’s hips, carefully supporting most of his weight on his knees as he drew his own nightshirt over his head.

Hob couldn’t help noticing the Prince’s shiver. “You don’t have to undress if you’re cold or uncomfortable.” His words were thready, breathy and gentle.

“I’m fine,” Morpheus immediately assured him. “I want to, like this.” Hob tentatively placed his hands on the Prince’s hips, carefully wrapping his fingers around the sharp protrusions of his hip bones. Morpheus was still too thin, the contours of his ribs and clavicles visible in bright highlight and deep shadow in the morning sun.

Hob’s throat closed up with emotion as he reverently glided his hands up and down Morpheus’ sides, letting his fingers stumble over each bump of rib. Even like this, cold and vulnerable, Morpheus was beautiful. “My Prince, my Morpheus” he whispered as his good arm reached up to draw Morpheus into a kiss, “Make love to me.”

Morpheus easily followed the direction of Hob’s touch and let him draw him into the kiss, languid and sticky-sweet in the sun’s warmth. Hob’s tongue lovingly traced the words of his oath into every corner of the Prince’s mouth. He pulled away just enough to worry that plush bottom lip between his teeth until it turned red, then dove back in to inscribe his love as deep as he could reach.

When his lungs cried for air, Hob kept the Prince close as he pulled in just enough breath to speak. “I swore my life and my body to you, my Prince. My Morpheus. They’re yours, to do as you will. As is my heart.”

Morpheus gaped at the man lying open and pliant beneath him. Hearing Hob give voice to the sentiments Morpheus could feel deep in his chest somehow made them all the more real. Not to mention the heated, besotted way Hob had been staring at him for the past ten minutes, like Morpheus had hung the moon and stars and for some unknown reason, had decided to gift such beautiful creations to Hob.

“Hob…” he breathed, tenderly brushing a few wisps of hair out of Hob’s face. He bit his lip against near desperate tears. “I… You know I cannot offer you the same. My life belongs to the realm-”

“I know,” Hob breathed back. “I know you have duties, and I will be beside you through all of it. All I ever wanted-” he swallowed hard, mustering up the strength to voice the desires he had kept close to his heart for the whole summer and longer. “All I ever wanted, was your heart.”

Morpheus let out a choked noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You have it, Hob Gadling.” He leaned over and passionately kissed Hob into the floor, letting Hob’s hips fully take the weight of his own. They gasped into each other’s lips when their erections rubbed together through the Prince’s loose linen trousers.

“Morpheus,” Hob pleaded in a breathless gasp. “Gods I want you.”

The Prince nodded, understanding what Hob was asking of him. He wriggled out of his trousers and tossed them aside. Now equally bare, he shivered slightly and curled in on himself, gooseflesh pebbling his limbs as he tried to make himself seem bigger and smaller at the same time.

“Hey-” Hob gently coaxed as he sat up with a slight grimace. He drew Morpheus even further into his lap and tenderly held his face in his hands. “You’re safe, my love. You’re safe, and-” his eyes raked over the Prince’s bare form. “-gods you’re beautiful, and I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Hob could see Morpheus process his words, see the wheels in his mind turning behind those icy eyes. The only warning he had was the slight twitch of his mouth into a devilish smirk before he was once again lying on the floor, Morpheus’ hands pinning his wrists next to his head as the Prince hovered over him. He wasn’t exerting a lot of force out of concern for Hob’s wound, just enough to set Hob’s blood on fire with the idea.

A groan was punched out of Hob’s chest upon impact, and he swore he could feel the blood in his veins rushing south. Morpheus let his hands slide from Hob’s wrists to his chest, avoiding the fragile pink flesh of his scar. Thumbs dusted over dusky nipples, and it was Hob’s turn to shiver. Morpheus repeated the motion, and this time he caught the twitch of Hob’s prick in response.

Morpheus continued to explore by touch, trying to pull Hob’s warmth into his body through his fingertips. He pressed into the muscles of golden flanks and watched with fascination as the flesh sprang back when he let up. He ran his fingers through the dark hair on his chest, and down the trail of hair to his groin, stopping just shy of where Hob wanted his hands.

“Morpheus,” he breathed, “I’m more than happy with you taking the lead, but for the love of all the gods, touch me.”

“Have I not been doing just that?” the Prince quipped back, the ghost of a smile briefly appearing on his face. “If you want something more, you will have to be specific.” His words were warm like caramel, breathy around a core of playful vulnerability.

Hob chuckled and intertwined the fingers of one hand with his. “Touch me?” he asked softly, guiding the Prince’s hand to his prick. “Please?”

Morpheus unlaced their fingers and ghosted his palm over the shaft. “How could I refuse such a request,” he rasped as his grip firmed and Hob bucked his hips. “Be still.” The coaxing order was breathless with desire.

Hob forced himself to release the breath trapped in his lungs and relax the muscles coiled in eager anticipation. Morpheus gave him a pleased little smile and continued his exploration. His free hand caressed Hob’s side while the one wrapped around his prick began to move slowly, the whisper of skin on skin mingling with the low crackling of the embers in the hearth.

Hob groaned as a thumb spread a bead of precome over the head of his prick then dug slightly under the ridge where tip met shaft. “Please,” he rasped, his hips writhing squirming towards and away from that delicious pressure. “My Prince-” Hob hissed and cried out when Morpheus let go of his cock.

When he was able to open his eyes again, Morpheus was sucking and licking around two of his fingers the way he would lick the glaze off a pastry, and Hob was unable to contain his groan of desperate want. Morpheus smirked around his fingers, thin strands of saliva starting to drip down them.

He released them with a pop as his free hand blindly felt around for a pillow or two to place under Hob’s hips. “I do not want to hurt you,” the Prince choked as his wet fingers tentatively hovered above Hob’s entrance, close enough that Hob could feel the residual chill. “Tell me if it does not feel good.” If Hob didn’t know better, he’d say the Prince was pleading with him.

“Of course,” he reassured him with a gentle smile. Morpheus took a breath as he slowly twisted and worked two slender fingers past Hob’s rim.

Hob hissed- his fingers were freezing against the heat of his insides, but he couldn’t deny it felt incredible. He swore low in his throat and Morpheus immediately stilled. “Don’t stop-!” Hob choked. “Gods love, don’t stop.”

Morpheus smiled, a quick, fleeting thing of bashful delight. He continued to press his fingers deeper, watching Hob’s face as he twisted and spread and curled, observing what reactions each motion elicited with the meticulous curiosity of a scholar. It gave him a rush of power like nothing he had ever experienced in his role of Crown Prince, seeing a man as capable and dangerous as Hob Gadling falling apart at his touch, and he practically shook with it.

He could feel the muscles of Hob’s inner walls loosening and contracting around his fingers as if trying to pull them deeper. Hob writhed and squirmed beneath him, holding on to the Prince’s bony shoulders for dear life as the pleasure continued to mount.

Morpheus stared in wonder as Hob eventually started doing most of the work, thrusting his hips into the Prince’s hand with more and more force. Morpheus could almost swear he felt the bones of his fingers start to thaw from the heat that surrounded them. If only he could slide his whole being into that heat and drive away the chill that refused to leave.

Morpheus removed his fingers when Hob started to whimper in desperation. He cried out at the loss, his muscles clenching around nothing, hips twitching as they chased the Prince’s hand, begging for more of that frozen heat. Morpheus took his cock in hand and gave it a few strokes, wincing slightly at the dry friction. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped uncertainly.

Hob jerked his head toward the washroom. “Get one of your bath oils. I’ll be here.” Morpheus nodded and scrambled to his feet. Hob’s eyes were reverently glued to the small mounds of the Prince’s ass as he strode briskly into the washroom. Hob panted for breath as he listened to the crackling of the fire and the clinking of glass jars as Morpheus rummaged through the cabinet. When he returned, a small flask of oil was clenched tightly in his fist.

He uncorked it as he straddled Hob’s hips again, and the smell of sandalwood mingled with the scent of the fire. He poured a little into the palm of his hand and set the vial aside before slathering it over his cock.

Morpheus braced himself above Hob’s body that was practically vibrating with eagerness and anticipation, taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful strength of the man beneath him.

“Morpheus…” Hob invoked his Prince’s name in a breathless whisper, and Morpheus hummed when he felt the ghost of air kiss the tip of his nose. He took a deep breath, letting that warm feeling expand and settle in his chest, and gently pushed himself inside. Hob hissed when the head of Morpheus’ prick half forced itself past the rim of muscle, and Morpheus had a jolt of fear that he had hurt him, but then Hob let out a long, decadent moan that could only be described as obscene.

Morpheus beamed, pleased that he had brought Hob to such a state, as well as from the pleasure coursing through him at the feeling of Hob’s heat surrounding some of his most sensitive flesh. He could feel the blood in his cock being warmed, then trickles of that warmth tracing his veins and slowly continuing to thaw the rest of him. He gasped at the small but sudden waves of warmth spreading through his body, a high, short, breathless sound of surprise, but then sighed in absolute joy and relief.

“Darling,” Hob half wheezed, “This feels incredible, but must I beg you, to make love to me like you said you wanted?” He couldn’t help a playful smirk, even as the rest of his face went slack from bliss.

Morpheus smiled, warm and loving, and gently pressed his lips to Hob’s. Once he had thoroughly kissed him, the Prince murmured, “You will never need to beg for my love, my Hob.” The weight of his promise would have felt solemn in any other circumstance, but as the Prince began to pull his hips back and gently guide them forward again, all Hob could feel was the warmth of his love. “As Prince, and eventually as King, my love will always be freely given.”

As if to seal his vow, Morpheus began to move with more speed and strength, driving into Hob as deeply as he could. They both knew that neither of them would last very long this morn, but that was alright, they had all the time in the world to savor each other. Hob could feel it in the air; they had fucked many times before, but this time they were making love, and that made the caramel-warm pleasure all the sweeter.

“Gods I love you, Morpheus-” Hob’s words were so breathless as to almost be a wheeze; his Prince had stolen the very air from his lungs.

“And I you,” the Prince gasped back, his normally deep and resonant voice high and watery with tears. “Hob, I’m so close-”

Hob cried out as his fingers bit into the Prince’s hips, deep enough to leave crescent shaped imprints in the pale skin. The coil of heat deep in his core was twisting tighter and tighter, ready to spring apart at any moment. Morpheus furrowed his brow and bit his lip in concentration as he slowed down just enough to experiment with the angle of his thrusts. Hob knew exactly what he was trying to do, and he squeezed those bony hips even harder.

When Morpheus found the spot he was looking for, Hob bucked his hips up and screamed as the bolt of hot pleasure slammed through him like lightning. He clenched hard around the Prince’s cock, and Morpheus almost came then and there.

Any tenderness from before was put aside in favor of ruthlessly chasing that hot ecstasy. Breathy sighs became punched out grunts, loving caresses became hard grips and red scratches, and it was Morpheus who snapped first. Three frantic thrusts saw him buried as deep within Hob’s body as mortally possible, and he would have gone deeper if he could; he would have sank all the way beneath Hob’s skin if he were allowed.

Morpheus kept jerking his hips into Hob even when it started to hurt, desperate to see him fall apart. Hob guided the Prince’s hand to his cock, straining and red and leaking. Morpheus quickly understood what Hob needed; he wrapped his fingers around the shaft and gave a slight squeeze before stroking firmly. Hob bucked his hips and clenched down even harder on Morpheus’ softening prick as he came, splattering the Prince’s chest in his spend.

It took longer than either of them were willing to admit to regain their breath and feeling in their limbs. When they could finally move, Morpheus purred, “Let me take care of you.” He heaved himself to his feet and once again went into the washroom, returning a few moments later with a warm towel. He gently cleaned around Hob’s groin before wiping the spend from his own chest and throwing the towel aside.

Long limbs folded in on themselves as the Prince laid down next to his still panting guard and curled up around him. After a few moments, he whispered in Hob’s ear as if sharing a secret, “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Thoroughly ravished?” Hob teased back, “I thought we achieved that in the forest.”

Morpheus gave him an affectionate shove. “No, you menace. I meant… thoroughly loved. And safe. That all of me, is loved and safe.”

Hob felt tears burning at the backs of his eyes at the Prince’s confession, but these were tears of joy, and so he made no effort to hold them back. One of the Prince’s thumbs tenderly brushed over his cheekbones to divert their paths. “You will never need to ask,” Hob choked, “for my love will always be freely given. My love, my care, my devotion, every last bit of me is yours.” He pulled Morpheus close to his chest and placed a gentle kiss in his hair.

Morpheus hummed with a soft smile. “As I am yours. My love, I feel… warm.”

Chapter 12

It took until roughly midwinter, but both Hob and Morpheus recovered from their trials at the hands of Burgess. The body healed faster than the mind, but both were undoubtedly on the mend. As Lyta had predicted, Hob’s wound pained him from time to time, the muscles cramping and seizing if he moved a certain way. Thankfully, it had yet to cripple him at an inopportune moment, such as during official business, or in the bedroom.

Morpheus returned to Fiddler’s Green once the snows began to melt, and this time Hob returned with him. He showed his esquire around his shire and immediately had Hob’s things moved into his rooms- they had no need to fear the kind of gossip that would circulate at court in Istoria. In fact, everyone seemed both happy and relieved the Prince had finally found a partner to share in the joys and hardships of life.

And so it came to pass that the realm of the Dreaming was thrown into a time of upheaval.

It was tradition and practice in the Dreaming since the dawn of the realm for the heir to assume the throne once married, at which time the previous monarchs would abdicate and serve as advisors. After his ordeal, Morpheus decided that was a practice that needed to be done away with.

He returned to Istoria with Hob and spent a full day locked in Chronos’ study with his mother and father. When they finally emerged in the late hours of the night, it was decided that Chronos and Nocturna would abdicate at the end of spring, and Morpheus would take the title of Dream King, despite not being married. No one knows exactly what the terms were, but Hob was convinced it was at least in part because Chronos had indeed intended to use Morpheus as a bargaining chip with Burgess.

One of Morpheus’ first edicts as Dream King was to declare Hob a knight of the Dreaming. It was a short, understated ceremony, despite the King’s desire for a much more lavish affair and disdain for much of courtly tradition. After dinner that night, Morpheus thoroughly worshiped and revered his sworn Knight.

Around the summer solstice, almost a year to the day the King and the Knight first met, whispers and murmurs began to trickle in to the Dreaming from Fawney Rigg and other surrounding realms. Rumors and rumblings that King Roderick was more desperate than ever to get his hands on the Dreaming’s crown- desperate enough to seek out dark sorcerers that most didn’t believe existed.

These rumors made Morpheus deeply uneasy. He knew that his break with tradition would leave the realm fragile and shaken; so he very strongly and publicly decreed that any action taken against himself or the realm would be taken as a declaration of war, and responded to accordingly. In private, he worked with Hob, Cain, and Abel to fortify the Dreaming’s defenses and increase the number of scouting companies that traveled the realm keeping an eye out for incursions and reporting back to Istoria.

Morpheus and Hob were married that autumn, in another private ceremony, this one at the lake where they first met, witnessed by Cain, Abel, Lucienne, and Matthew. They couldn’t have a honeymoon, not with war potentially brewing on the horizon, but they did take several days to set down and step away from their duties.

A veneer of normalcy fell over the Dreaming in the following months, but everyone could feel deep in their bones and the roots of the land that a storm was brewing, a siege was coming. Tensions were mounting between friends and families as they waited for the storm to break and hell to descend. And sure enough, hell would descend on the Dream King and his sworn Knight, with the fate of the realm in the balance.

This tale may be over, but the story never ends.

As you can probably tell by the ending, there is a sequel in the works! Not sure exactly when it will come, but I’ll be working on it along with my fic for the Dreamling History fest, Infinitas, and PDD

If this story inspires you to create something of your own, please share with me so I can keysmash and gush over what you make!

#the sandman #dreamling #centennial husbands big bang

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thewhumpcaretaker · 5 months

Text

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒱𝐼𝐼: 𝒞𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: addiction, relapse, cyberbullying I guess??

Summary: John and Vincent are falling into a routine. But they've gotten a bit too comfortable, and the Table has a new strategy that could lead to disaster.

Another night at the angel’s bedside.

Vincent didn’t fall asleep for hours. John could tell - he had already grown accustomed to his breathing. He allowed that little sound to transfix him in the darkness, almost inaudible beneath the music, but the loudest thing in the room to him. Measured, alert, changing pace now and then. What could he be thinking of? What memories and sorrows? At the foot of the bed, Dog whimpered in his sleep, dreaming of chasing something. Not long after, the Marquis’ breathing leveled out into softly cresting waves.

And then John had hours and hours to keep the vigil…to obsess, maybe, if he was being honest with himself. Vincent did desire him, in some way. It baffled him. And Vincent needed him in a way that made him sorry the man’s father was already dead. He felt the solid weight of the gun in his hand and knew, with a tiny rush of ecstasy, that he was doing something for Vincent even now. Goodness knows somebody should be doing something for him. John’s heart took up a perch in his throat the entire night, thrilling occasionally.

There was no nightmare this time, at least not that he could tell. Vincent slept through breakfast and John let him. They’d be fine with the food in the fridge. The less they risked going out, the better. And anyway, he needed it. A sliver of sunrise climbed over his pallid face in rosy, golden degrees and it occurred to John that Vincent had not seen sunlight all yesterday, apart from burning some papers outside and a short few minutes spent hiding behind the motel. He would not see sunlight today either.

John had to bring this to an end somehow. If it were himself in danger, he would have already sought half a dozen people’s help. But who would help him help Vincent? Winston? Caine? Sofia? The Director? No. No one. All of them wanted Vincent dead.

He tried. He texted Sofia, “I need a favor,” knowing that she’d be awake on the other side of the world. Her only reply was, “I know what’s going on. Don’t you dare.”

Better not to try the others.

If he could sleep, maybe he could think more clearly. He’d lied - the hour or so was not enough. His eyes were half closing when Vincent’s opened at noon.

“Finally a good rest.” He rolled over and grinned at John, his perfect combover tussled into soft spikes. He seemed to have woken up on the right side of the bed. “This will be the third day I have been with you.”

“Yeah.” John allowed their eyes to linger on each other longer than he should have. “Does that mean something?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just that my chest feels a little better today.” Something about the thought of Vincent feeling better under his care filled John’s body with helium, and it seemed very good that there was a ceiling above him to prevent him from floating straight through the atmosphere.

“I’m glad.” But there was still work to be done. Where he curled around one of the pillows, red had bled through onto the blue and white striped pillowcase. “…We should change the bandages again. Twice a day is good.”

Again, that long look held between them. He could swear Vincent tilted his head down just a fraction, to blink up at him from behind breathtaking eyelashes. “Oui.”

Everything was going to be so damn charged now, wasn’t it. Now that Vincent knew that John was…that he wanted…what did he want again?

He wanted to change his bandages, to make him “feel better” yet again. That much, he knew. They went to the bathroom and John moved very quickly this time. No lingering, and on Vincent’s part, no resisting. But the satisfaction of the act remained palpable.

There was some sense of normalcy forming, a routine. Eating together at the nightstand. Fighting over the remote control. It almost felt like it could last forever. Maybe, just as they had forgotten to keep running, the High Table would forget to chase them.

But they didn’t.

Only a few hours later, John was nodding off in the chair. The weather had turned dreary, and the sound of drumming rain against the window was only further lulling him towards sleep. Vincent tapped him on the shoulder and said, with deliberate casualness, “You can have the bed, if you want. When I’m not using it.”

“…Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, now wipe that look off your face and go to sleep. It’s distracting to watch you nod off and jump awake every couple of minutes.”

So John took the one non-bloodstained pillow and lay down, finally, in the warm nest of blankets that smelled like Vincent. There was a perfection to that mess of a moment. He let himself bask in it, and drifted away.

He should have known that to sleep in earnest was to leave Vincent alone, and that he was not, under any circumstances, ready to be left alone.

When he woke up, the room had darkened except for the fading blue of twilight. And it was far too quiet. “Vincent?”

There was no answer.

He checked the bathroom - no one, but clearly something had happened. There were paper cups and various toiletries thrown to the floor as if a whirlwind had passed through. A jolt of panic sent him straight to the window, checking for cars, but the parking lot held nothing particularly unusual, just the same vehicles that had been coming and going throughout their entire stay. Their own stolen BMW was still parked in its spot, untouched.

A light in the corner of the room caught John’s eye. The Marquis’ phone lay on the carpet with a cracked screen, still functional enough to light up with a notification. John snatched it up, and read what was clearly just one in a long stream of messages. They kept coming. And coming. From multiple numbers, seemingly every High Table member joining in a unanimous barrage.

“You cannot run. You have no one, Vincent. There is no one who cares about you.”

“Do you think John Wick will stand by you? What a laughable idea. He will kill you when this is over. He will kill you and take your place, because you are weak.”

“You can’t do this. You need it.” Need what?

“You were a fucking embarrassment to work with. Droning on and on in that horrible, thick French accent. Your English is terrible, and so is your German.”

“Your estate is being razed, Vinnie boy, with your stash inside it.”

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. A strung out serial killer playing emperor. Die.”

“I knew your father. He was a better man than you. Had some sense. If he were alive, he’d snuff you out himself.”

Those manipulative bastards. John felt the metal start to warp in his hand from how tight his grip had become, and stopped just short of crushing Vincent’s business phone into a pile of glass shards and fragmented microchips. He was shaking.

Shit.

A breath raked its way out of his lungs. “Why didn’t you wake me up, why? I could have helped you…” Dog whined at his feet, sensing distress.

Maybe the office, maybe someone saw something, maybe…

In another moment, he was out the door. A brief dash through the rain brought him reeling and dripping up to the front desk.

“Marjorie, could you please tell me - “

“Oh I meant to talk to you, Mr. Williams,” she broke in, calling him by the fake name he’d given that first day. “But you never came to breakfast.”

“I - What?”

“Yes.” She pocketed her bifocals and leaned forward conspiratorially across the counter, even though there was no one else in the lobby. “I wanted to let you know some people came around asking about you and your little friend yesterday. They seemed like bad news, so I sent ‘em on their way. But I thought you’d want to know.”

John’s brain was still racing. “…My little friend?”

“Don’t worry, I saw you sneak him in on the first night. Didn’t have the heart to stop you. The one who’s detoxing?”

Oh.

“No need to look so embarrassed honey, I see this all the time out here. I can spot it a mile away. People come up from Allentown, just looking for an out-of-the-way place. If you two need anything, you just let me know. Poor thing. He looked like a wreck last time I saw him, paranoid as hell, hiding in a bush. Can’t blame him, you know - with folks after him for…well, I won’t make you tell me that. Debts probably, god only knows. But if you need resources, I’ve got pamphlets for just about every rehab in the city, let me grab…”

The blue car. The blue car from last night had been outside.

“Now my sister went to this one back in her day, this tattoo is for her five-year mark, she’s been sober another ten since then, bless her heart.” She shoved a pamphlet into his hand.

“That’s lovely - “

“Well you know, it’s a passion of mine. People don’t understand, good folks get into this mess and can’t get out again. It makes trouble here at the motel sometimes when I let ‘em stay, but you know, I’d rather get a thousand noise disturbances than send somebody away and find out he died in some back alley. Anyway, you see the craziest things when you work with the rehab world, things you’d never believe. You and your friend are hardly the tip of the iceberg. I bet I even met a hitman once.” She finally took a breath, apparently just getting started.

“Marjorie, thank you so much. I need to go.”

“Yep, better ask him who they were, only don’t scare the poor dear. Good luck out there, sorry to keep you.” John was already out the door.

The blue car. The blue car. It was time for the blue car to cease to exist.

It was pulling out of the parking lot by the time he saw it. He switched directions and made a beeline for his own vehicle. On the way, he locked eyes with Vincent.

He was crossing the center of the parking lot, limping, his sopping wet figure blurred by layers of rain. They were maybe ten paces apart. Vincent froze.

John, on the other hand, did not even pause. “VINCENT! Get. Inside. And do not look at your phone, do you hear me? Do not look at your phone. I’m coming back.”

He didn’t wait long enough to see if Vincent obeyed. He was tearing out onto the main road after the person who’d seen the Marquis de Gramont, and fucked up his three day streak.

He held onto that pitifully rain blurred image of the Marquis and let hatred consume him. Hatred for everyone who had preyed on this sad little man, and twisted him up into what he was today. The dealers, his family, the Table. The god damn Table. Don’t touch him. Don’t fucking touch him.

He caught up to the car in minutes and rode its bumper, waiting for the right moment. Forest flashed past in the dusky purples of the fading light, the maples and birches of the Pennsylvania countryside rearing their branches against the wind of the gathering storm. Raindrops fell hard, already littering the road with torn off leaves.

And then the highway opened out onto a riverside cliff, and the gas pedal went to the floor, and his headlights slammed into its tail, the aftershock reverberating backward through his shoulders and through the shattering windshield that showered his face in glass.

He crawled out, tasting blood and airbag smoke, to lean over the mangled guardrail. The blue car smoldered dead on the boulders below, the river flowing through it. The BMW teetered on the ledge until something on its underbelly gave way and it followed after.

Well, that was done.

John tilted back his head into the rain, willing his breathing to return to normal. Lightning flickered over the ravine, smiting some distant sand to glass, and that image burned brilliantly in his mind’s eye: Vincent, blurred and beautiful.

Was he inside? Was he safe? The answer, of course, was sure to be no. John took one more steadying breath and started walking.

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#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers #// drugs #// relapse #// addiction

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syn4k · 7 months

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Hey I have a question for whenever y'all have the spoons to answer - you guys have chronic fatigue right? What can you do to not just straight up die? I don't have chronic fatigue as far as I'm aware but I've been ill A LOOT this past year and since then my energy levels seem to be permanently on sick mode. Got a better sleep schedule than I have in the past two years but harder time staying awake too. If you have any advice on how to avoid being so exhausted you're gonna pass out through halfway through the school day that would be appreciated, my grades are suffering </3

oh yeah

so our energy levels fluctuate but when referring to this chart-

but usually we hover around a 4 or 5. we tend to hyperfocus at school and blaze through all of our work and then get home, crash for an hour o so, and then be too tired to usually do any chores. the entire weekend is spent recharging.

there was a period of time where we had to use mobility aids to get around at school because our fatigue was just That Bad during the day. thankfully things are much better now that we have meds and now that we no longer have P.E (which was absolute and utter hell) but still we are never at full capacity energy wise. it's enough to take notes in classes and get our work done and then just coast for the rest of the day

generally, this is how we've been getting along lately:

our teachers are fine with us taking naps during class because we consistently get our work done and turned in by the time class is out

our teachers are also fine with us wearing headphones because it's written into our IEP (there are a couple of benefits to having an autism diagnosis).

we just kind of... seize the energy we do have to do things like laundry when we're home. candy is good for short bursts of energy. if nothing in the house is appetizing, grab yourself a protein bar or a glass of milk or something- it's better than nothing

somehow we got it embedded into our brain that part of our Daily Routine™️ is taking a shower nightly or else things get bad. on the rare occasion that we skip a night, we make up for it the next morning

group together tasks! if you need to go downstairs to do laundry or something then get yourself some ice water as well before headed back to your room. if you get the sudden urge to clean off a table or something, don't ignore it. just make sure you don't physically collapse in the middle of it

things have gotten way better ever since we've started taking our ADHD medication but the years before that were absolute hell so yeah, wishing you the best of luck anon <3 you'll learn your body's warning signs and limits soon enough and learn to work around them like we did. you'll be alright

#x's tag #answered

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rivetgoth · 8 months

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hey char! out of curiosity, how did you and angel get together? and whats one of your favorite things about her? :)

We met right here on Tumblr through this interaction :D

She followed me and I hadn’t followed back at the time (I really rarely check new followers) but after she sent this ask and I answered it I followed her back. After that we started interacting with each other in the comments of our posts and stuff, then we got each other on different social media, and after a couple of months she reached out on Instagram to tell me that she actually lived close by and inviting me to come hang out with her. We hit it off immediately and spent like hours and hours and hours talking, we kept driving from place to place around the city finding more things to do, we went to a record store, a little alternative store, we got food, we got coffee, and from there we started talking to either through text or on the phone literally every day. We’d spend HOURS on the phone together back then, like sometimes 8-9+ hours, just sitting there talking.

Like I love this screenshot, of us awake at 5:40 AM on the phone for 8 hours talking about Paul Barker 😭

We also would meet up pretty frequently in person too of course. Like one time that she stayed over the night before Record Store Day and instead of sleeping we stayed up the literal entire night into the next day talking about Nivek Ogre and Al Jourgensen. And then we moved in together before we were a couple about six months later. We were both looking to move anyway so the timing just worked out and we could kinda “test run” things since I was in a dorm room at the time that was much larger than it needed to be because my school didn’t know how to provide gender inclusive housing for transitioning individuals LMAO. We cohabitated really well and living together only made us grow closer. FWIW I was attracted to her right away, I remember the first moment I fully processed what she looked like was when she first messaged me asking if I wanted to hang out and I looked through her selfies so I’d be able to recognize her when we met and could not believe she really looked like that. I was like lol no way is this person this hot and asking to hangout 😳

Anyway. A little while after moving in together I think there was a lot of tension forming between us because she was (spoilers) attracted to me as well. So we started hooking up before we actually started calling ourselves a couple. The funny thing is neither of us really remember the exact moment we started formally considering ourselves a couple. We never had a big “what are we” convo where we put a solid label to things. We had a few conversations about how we hardly knew how to describe our dynamic because girlfriend / boyfriend felt almost juvenile for the level we were at, already living together and sharing finances and then also hooking up, but we started actually verbalizing stuff we were doing as dates, we’d been saying I love you etc for ages already, we started sharing a bed every night, and at some point us being in a relationship was just our reality. 🤷‍♂️

I love her so much. I feel like the luckiest man in the whole world getting to be with her and spend my life with her. Genuinely cannot believe she is so cool, smart and articulate, stylish, thoughtful, funny, with such good taste in music and everything else, and that she is my baby. It’s still so surreal. As for a FAVORITE thing, it’s so hard to pick just one obviously lol, but I think one of the things I appreciate about her more than anything and that I never ever want to take for granted is the way she’s always striving to learn and grow and form a fully consistent and logical and articulate worldview and ethical / philosophical system, like she’s always thinking about new things, reading new works, investigating the world around her, engaging with complicated subject matter, sharing her insights with me, trying to genuinely form a cohesive system for how to make the world a better place, and that’s inspired and driven me so much to do the same. She’s genuinely one of the smartest people you will ever talk to. I never get bored of our conversations and I learn so much from her all the time.

#thank you for asking btw 🥺🖤

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liskantope · 10 months

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Lately I've been thinking a lot more about my love of creative writing from when I was much younger (part of this was triggered by the recent experience of reading Almost Nowhere I think) and how I wish I could try to build such a skill as an adult, starting with short stories, but my main problem is not really any good ideas for even a short a fiction story. My brain has long (for around twenty years, I'd say) given up spontaneously trying to generate them by habit.

And then I had the craziest dream experience last night, where I found myself in the midst of an intricate social plot where one of the people involved turned out not to be real but a psychotic delusion which had been nonetheless affecting everything that happened. And I "woke up" out of it while still dreaming (I suppose you could say in a "shallower" layer of dream), reflected on the story that had occurred in the dream, and used it to concoct a complex plot that I felt would be perfect for a short story (something that I had to admit would be on the fairly long end of the spectrum of "short story"). The main hook of the story would be this imaginary person which only existed in the mind of the narrator -- I even came up with a name for this person which was Tom with a single-syllable last name that I thought sounded like a really good fictional character name. Besides the eventually-revealed-to-be-imaginary Tom and the rather ambiguous narrator, there were two female characters involved (one of them inspired on a more aesthetic level by a real-life friend). At every moment I was coming up with another connection that made the structure of the story more brilliant in my mind (while pleasantly aware that many details still had to be filled in), thought triumphantly "I've finally come up with a great idea for a story!"...

...and then I sort of woke up but was still not entirely awake, fairly lucid but still convinced I had found a wonderful idea for a piece of fiction writing (telling myself "it's not like those ideas that come in dreams that turn out to be garbled nonsense", also "I should report this in a Tumblr post!"). But I had immediately forgotten most of the details, including Tom's last name (ah, if only I saw a list of possible surnames I would remember which one it was, but I decided for now, well, that could still be salvaged by calling him Tom Roots even though I was sure Roots was not the original last name). I actually spent quite a while in that almost-awake state trying to rack my brains or bring back the dream so that I could remember the full idea before giving up and falling back entirely asleep.

In the morning it occurred to me that having a major character turn out to be a product of the psyche of the narrator/protagonist obviously isn't as original as I'd imagined in my partly-asleep state -- see Tyler Durden for instance -- although I still have the strong feeling that I was employing that plot device in a very distinct way somehow. It seems likely that my idea really was partially nonsense or at least largely incoherent, but hey, it was fun for a bit of last night while getting some sleep in to think I had exciting fodder for some original fiction.

#my dream #fiction writing #fight club

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celestial-robots · 1 year

Text

Finding Equinox

A Sun & Moon X Reader Story

Chapter Five: Night Shift

First | Previous

Word Count: 6980

Summary: It’s Friday night, and you return to the Pizzaplex later than you’ve ever been there before. You have two goals: to help Sun start the long process of getting the daycare fit for kids again, and to get Moon to open up. It’s hard to tell which one is more difficult.

Author’s Note: This turned out longer than I thought it would. Hope the word count doesn’t deter you guys, haha. I couldn’t find a good spot to cut the story in half. But it’s fine. This way the whole shift is in one part sahfjkl

------------------------------------------

Friday was your first night shift. Not just your first night shift at this new job, but your first night shift ever. You weren’t exactly sure what to expect or how to prepare. But getting a good amount of sleep seemed like a good place to start, so you slept until noon.

Once you were awake and ready, you spent the next few hours combing through the Internet for reports about things going wrong at the Pizzaplex Daycare. It was extremely boring. As terrible as many of these incidents were, it was easy to get desensitized. Your brain slowly started to go numb from the tedium of research.

You weren’t sure how many of the incidents were real and how many were made-up, fueled by Fazbear’s reputation, but you took note of the most plausible ones. And if these reports were to be believed, the Daycare wasn’t exactly... up-to-code, even from the start. But there was a difference between people complaining because the Daycare Attendant was scaring their kids, and people rioting because their kids were being hurt or even disappearing.

Why the sudden shift from being scary to being actually dangerous? Was your theory about a glitch correct?

Well, Sun didn’t know, so you’d probably have to figure that out yourself. You could try to ask Moon again. He hadn’t liked it when you brought it up before, though, so you should probably have a backup plan.

When searching through incidents got too draining to continue, you tried to take a nap before your shift. But your mind refused to calm down, even with the support of an extra-strength melatonin tablet. You fell asleep eventually but were awoken by your alarm only thirty minutes later, bleary and confused.

It was strange driving to work so late at night. The roads were empty, and the employee parking lot at the Pizzaplex was nearly deserted. The deep shadows and lack of people made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You couldn’t help but look around anxiously, your eyes tricking you into seeing movement in the darkness.

The front entrance was closed by the time you came in for your shift, which seemed like an oversight for all the night shift employees. But whatever. You went in through a back entrance that unlocked in response to your Security Level. Inside, the massive Pizzaplex was desolate except for some STAFF bots that served as patrolling security units. It was so strange. Even though your shift yesterday had gone past closing time, it was entirely different to walk in and see it all empty from the get-go.

Well. Your FazWatch wasn’t giving you any tasks right away. You could probably head to the Daycare.

And so, for the fifth time that week, you walked there, glancing around for people who were watching. Seth’s warning about the Daycare yesterday had made you paranoid. But there was no one there. Didn’t change the fact that you were probably on camera, but it made you feel better.

Sun was waiting for you today. You could see him through the glass surrounding the playplace, anxiously bouncing in place. That bouncing became much more excitable when he saw you coming. You chuckled and waved. He waved back.

The moment you walked into the play area through the big wooden doors, he started talking. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright, friend! I was reeeaally nervous after you had to sudden leave last night, heheh. But it looks like you’re okay! Well you still have those old injuries, which you really should get looked at soon, but nothing new! I-I remember what you said about Moon being able to roam the building. Did you—did you see him last night?”

“Uhhh, yeah, once,” you said. “Lean back a bit, bud, don’t loom over me like that.”

Sun had indeed been leaning over you, but he jerked back as soon as you said that. “Sorry! I didn’t know I was doing that, I swear.”

“Nah, I get it. You’re just worried about me.” You reached out and patted Sun’s arm. “No need, though. Like I said, I saw Moon, but only once.”

“Did he... do anything?” Sun asked.

“Nope.” You shook your head. “He grilled me about my sleep schedule, which was a bit weird. Then I mentioned that we wanted to reopen the Daycare. And for that to happen, we needed him to stop doing stuff like dropping people from bridges. Not sure how he felt about that.” You paused, gauging Sun’s own reaction. He wasn’t looming anymore, instead playing with his bells and ribbons again. Still nervous, then? “He said a few weird things.”

“Oh?” Sun’s face rotated to the side. “Like what?”

“Well, first, when I said I wanted to help, he said ‘you can’t.’”

“That’s a bit rude.”

You laughed. “I guess. He definitely sounded sure about it. Which... was weird. I-I tried to get him to tell me what happened. You know, what started the whole... incidents thing.”

Sun stopped fidgeting.

“You okay, bud?” You asked.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry.” Sun nodded. “Keep going. Did he say anything? D-did he tell you? What happened? Was it r-really a glitch?” His whole posture was tense. Waiting. Leaning forward again, as if he was desperate to hear what you said.

“He didn’t... say anything,” you admitted. “Just that ‘you can’t’ thing.”

Sun’s shoulders slumped, and his voicebox made a sighing sound. “I guess that would have been too easy.” He was clearly disappointed, but not surprised. If anything, he sounded... resigned.

“I guess, yeah.” You coughed. “Anyway. Is there anything you want to do today? I don’t have any tasks yet, but they could appear at any minute, so nothing that takes too long.”

“Oh!” Sun’s posture popped back up. “I was thinking about this all day, actually, but if we’re going to get the Daycare reopened we need to make sure everything is clean for the kids!” He spun around, gesturing at the whole play area. “We need to be sure everything is in its place!”

“Uhhh... I think we’ll need to do more than that, Sun,” you said. “I mean, I love how you’ve been keeping everything orderly in here, but we probably need to, uh... dust things and disinfect them and stuff.”

“Yes! That too.” Sun’s head and torso twisted back around to look at you. “I haven’t been able to do that because there were never any supplies in the places where I could still roam. But now that you’re here we can get some more!”

You nodded slowly. “Right. Hang on.” You check the map on your FazWatch, but, as usual, it was not very helpful. “Uh... I’m not sure where the closest storage closet is, but I can go look around. There has to be one in the area.”

“There’s a lot of storage area beneath the theatre,” Sun suggested.

“Great, I’ll check there first.” You looked up at Sun and gave him a little salute. “Be right back, bud.”

“Be right back!” Sun watched you as you turned and left.

By the time you found the cleaning supplies, loaded them onto a cart, and slowly dragged them back to the daycare, it was 12:30. There hadn’t been a single task assigned to you yet, which was super lucky, but you were sure the tasks were coming. Right now, though, you were more concerned with Sun and Moon. There was something else Moon said last night that you thought Sun needed to hear. You just weren’t sure how to bring it up.

“That’s a big cart of stuff, friend!” Sun held open the door for you when you returned. “Here, let me help. You shouldn’t be pushing something this heavy!” As soon as the cart was mostly through, he grabbed the front end and pulled it into the center of the play area.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” you said, letting go of the cart so Sun wouldn’t end up pulling you along as well. “And I know it’s a lot of stuff. I, uh... thought we’d need it.” You don’t even want to think about how much dirt and grime covers everything in this area. Though you’ll soon be forced to confront it. “Alright. Speaking of physical limitations, I don’t think I can clean the inside of the play structures. Can you get in—wait, yes, you can.” Moon had climbed inside the play structures on Tuesday when he was chasing you. Sun shouldn’t be any different.

“Alright, I can start on that right away, then!” Sun began examining the cleaning products, picking each one up before putting it back down. “Hmm... I think this will work! Oh, and I see you brought a mop and bucket!”

“Yeah, I would’ve been here sooner if I wasn’t filling that up.”

“That’s okay, friend, it’s more important to be thorough the first time! Okay, you use the mop and start cleaning up the floors. Be sure not to trap yourself in a corner!”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll be careful.” Then you checked your FazWatch. Still no new tasks. Huh. Strange. Well, you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Keep in mind, I could need to leave at any moment.”

“Keeping it in mind!” Sun gave a little twirl, then headed off towards the nearest play structure with two bottles of cleaning products and all the washcloths you’d brought. “Clean up, clean up!” you heard him chant as he headed out.

“Clean up, clean up,” you repeated absentmindedly, and started pushing the mop and its wheeled bucket over to the back of the daycare.

For a while, you just mopped, putting on your headphones and turning up the music to keep your mind busy. It didn’t fully work. You were still thinking about last night’s brief talk with Moon. Hard not to dwell on it. He hadn’t said much, but what he did say was so weird...

You were so concentrated on the memories and the mopping that you just about jumped out of your skin when something moved in your peripheral vision. Shrieking, you spun around—only to see Sun also jumping back, raising his hands in a “don’t shoot me!” sort of gesture. “Jeez, Sun.” You paused your music. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m sorry, friend! I thought you could hear me!” Sun said. “I guess your music was really loud. You shouldn’t turn up the volume so high, you know! It can damage your hearing, and besides that, what if someone else was sneaking up on you? Someone wh-who wasn’t... so nice?”

“All very good points,” you muttered. “Anyway, did you want to talk to me or something?”

“Ah, well you see, friend, after yesterday I’ve been keeping a close eye on my internal clock, to not lose track of the time,” Sun explained. “I thought you should know it’s currently 12:45! Ten minutes until lights off.”

“Ohhh right.” You nodded. “Thanks, Sun. I’ll set a timer for five minutes. Then you’ll want me to leave the daycare, right?”

Sun nodded back. He was swaying back and forth in an almost absentminded way.

“Alright.” As you set the timer on your phone, you decided that this was as good a moment as any. “Speaking of yesterday... Moon said something else strange when I talked to him last night.”

“O-oh?” Sun’s face rotated to the side. “What is it?”

“He said...” You hesitated. “He said that you hate him.”

Sun stopped swaying.

“I-it was almost completely unprompted, too. I mean, I was talking about how we wanted to help, a-and that ‘we’ includes you, too, and he just... said that. And I just...” You paused. It was hard to ask this. “I just... want to know... why he said that. If he thinks that for a good reason.”

No answer. Sun looked down, staring at his hands as he clasped them together. You simply waited for him to say something. A solid few seconds passed before he did, speaking in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use. “Hate... is a... strong feeling. I-I don’t think... Moon’s not exactly the easiest person to like, but... That’s such a strong word.”

You stared at him. “I know you’re scared of him,” you said quietly. “It’s okay to have... other strong feelings.”

“No, no, I-I don’t think I—! Oh, i-it’s so hard.” Sun shook his head and folded his arms. He kicked at the mats on the ground—slightly more colorful now that you’ve wiped away some of the dirt.

“Feelings are hard,” you admitted. “It’s fine to not have them all figured out.”

“Did Moon say he hates me?” Sun asked quietly.

“...No. All he said about you was that you weren’t scary.” You paused. “Do you think he hates you?”

The lack of an answer was answer enough. Then, suddenly— “Oh goodness! I almost forgot I was cleaning!” Sun’s head popped back up, and he jumped into a straighter, more energetic pose. His voice was cheerful again. "I should get back to that! Remember, friend, you have to be out of the daycare before lights out! But you should come back later, too!”

“Wha—”

And before you could say anything, he was gone.

...How did an animatronic that big move that fast?

And then your timer went off. You sighed, and walked towards the wooden doors. “I’m heading out now, Sun!” you called.

Sun shouted something back, but you had trouble figuring out what it was, since it was echoing from inside one of the plastic play tunnels. Maybe “be safe” or “be careful.”

“I’ll be back!” you shouted, and then left through the big wooden doors.

You sat down at one of the tables—the same one where you’d taken that lunch break on your first day—and took your sketchbook out of your pocket. The one you’d been using to take notes about the weird stuff around the Daycare. You wanted to quickly review what you already had. The list of plausible incidents, mostly. You frowned as you scanned them. If even half of these were true, would anyone want to come back to the Daycare if you somehow managed to get it opened again?

And then the lights went out.

At the same time, you heard a ping! “New task added!”

You groaned. Seemed you wouldn’t be able to head right back into the daycare to clean some more. Not just yet. You took your company-issued flashlight out of your bag and turned it on, lying it down on the table so the beam was pointing at the wooden doors but still lighting up the table area. Just in case a certain animatronic wanted to stick his head out. Then you checked the glowing FazWatch screen. And groaned again, even louder. It seemed you were required to transport some endoskeleton parts through the utility tunnels to Parts and Service. Great. That wouldn’t take forever at all! It was totally a reasonable request to ask the person with an injured back and ribs to push heavy carts down long, winding tunnels! You couldn’t believe that Sun had been more considerate when he’d taken the cleaning cart from you earlier. A literal robot had more empathy than whoever was handing out these tasks.

Anyway, you should probably explain to Sun why you disappeared while the lights were out. Otherwise he might have a panic attack. God, were you really worried about a robot having a panic attack? Yes. Yes you were. It felt like a valid worry to have.

You looked up and stared at the wooden doors for a moment. No sign of Moon opening them. So you turned your attention back to your sketchbook, took a pencil out of your pocket and wrote on the nearest blank page: Got a task. Will take a while. Be back later. See you then :) You signed your name, then carefully tore the page out and stood up. You picked up the flashlight and walked up to the playplace wall.

It took a moment to find a spot where the note could be pressed against the glass without any tape, but eventually you slid it into a small gap between the glass and a decorative cloud. You turned back around, the flashlight beam swiveling in a wide arc—

And landing on Moon, crouching on the table you’d just left.

“Holy shit!” You started, making the flashlight beam jerk. Moon jumped into the air—and just kept going up. Before he completely disappeared into the darkness, you noticed the hard-to-see black wire attached to his back. Oh. So that’s what the loop on their back was for. Made sense. You vaguely recalled Sun mentioning “flying trips” being “forbidden for a while.”

But how did Moon leave the daycare without you noticing?!

You hurried back over to the table, flashlight darting around. You used it to scan the walls, the ceiling, everywhere you could see.

And you caught sight of Moon again. Now he was back in the daycare, clinging to the mesh netting that covered the top of the play area. Like some freaky spider robot. The moment you noticed him, he turned and scuttled head-first down the mesh, disappearing into the daycare. “...alright, Dracula,” you muttered. “Lizard-crawling man. Er, animatronic? Ah, whatever.”

That wire must have somehow transported him in and out. You weren’t sure exactly how it worked. Maybe there were tunnels of some kind? Moon had seemed familiar with those wall-tunnels in the West Arcade.

Whatever. You had a task to do. The sooner you got it over with, the sooner you could come back. You reached down to grab your sketchbook... and noticed something strange. There was more stuff on the page with the list of incidents. Writing. Definitely not yours.

Moon had been at this table when you’d turned around. Crouching right on top of it like a little gremlin. Was this... his? The letters were cramped together in a sharp scrawl, written in that darker gray that you got when you pressed down harder on the pencil. You could make out three phrases in this new handwriting: DIDNT HAPPEN, NOT REAL, WASNT ME. Each seemed to be connected to one of the incidents on the list via a drawn line.

...Interesting.

You closed the sketchbook, picking up your pencil and putting it back in your pocket as you walked out of the Daycare area. This warranted further examination. But after you finished your task. You wanted to take care of that as soon as possible, because god knew it would take a long time.

And indeed it did. In fact, it took the whole hour. It could have taken a shorter amount of time, but you had to go slow. You know. On account of the injuries that you’d explicitly told management about. Did they think that two days was enough to recover ? Because it certainly was not. Maybe you could do some of the lighter tasks, but something like this? Loading a cart full of endoskeleton parts, then pushing that cart through the utility tunnels with these weird doors you had to constantly open and close, then unloading the parts inside Parts and Service... It was a bit more physically intensive. You had to take frequent breaks to catch your breath and recover. Maybe you should have brought that ice pack again, but you thought it would be fine.

You took a shortcut back up to the surface of the Pizzaplex: the showtime elevator. It was kind of cool to come up onto the stage. You knew how to get to the Daycare from here, but you were still exhausted from pushing a heavy cart through narrow tunnels. Time to take a short break.

The nearest place to sit was inside one of the photo booths dotted around the floor, so you climbed inside one and took your sketchbook back out, turning it to the list of incidents Moon had vandalized. It seemed like he’d decided to correct you by nixing out two of the incidents as fake. And the last one as being apparently “not him,” which surprised you a bit. That one was about a parent getting their arm broken by the Daycare Attendant. Was Moon lying, or was that...?

Suddenly, the lights outside of the photo booths went out. Right. It was 1:55, time for the hourly five-minute darkness. Guess you were staying in the booth until it was done. Though, actually... you had an idea.

You took out your flashlight and pencil and wrote a note on a blank page of your sketchbook: You’re not messing with me about the incident list, are you? And if you’re not, is it just those three you have a problem with? Were the rest really you? Why?

And then you leaned out of the photo booth and placed the open sketchbook and your pencil on the floor next to it.

About a minute passed before you heard the distinct mechanical noises of the Daycare Attendant’s movement. Sounded like Moon had gone out into the Pizzaplex. Maybe looking for you. And, judging by how the noises were right outside the photo booth, he’d found you.

For the next few moments, you wondered if it had been a stupid idea to corner yourself inside a small room with a dangerous animatronic right outside. Then you decided it probably had been. And you mentally cursed yourself. It was your own damn fault if something happened.

You could actually see the red glow of Moon’s eyes coming from around the curtain. The glow brightened for a few seconds as he turned to look at the photo booth. And then the side of the curtain moved. A mechanical hand inched into the gap, easily recognizable as Moon’s. The hand waved... and then disappeared. The red glow faded, and the mechanical movement sounds vanished.

Your heartbeat slowed down and you let out a deep breath. The trill of anxiety you’d felt was now fading to annoyance. “You’re real funny, Moon,” you muttered. “I swear, you did that just to freak me out. ‘Hey look at me, I’m a scary animatronic,’ that’s not gonna stop me from getting weirdly attached to you and Sun.”

The lights turned back on, and you pulled back the photo booth curtain. Outside looked the same. Your sketchbook and pencil were on the floor where you’d left them. But you could see that something had changed. More dark writing, taking up half the page. Carefully leaning down, wincing as the motion hurt your back, you picked up the book and pencil and read what was written there.

NO. YES. YES. YOU SHOULD BE ASLEEP.

...Well. Moon had answered three of your four questions, and then told you off for being awake at night again. Was that in his programming or was he just being irritating on purpose? You were more and more convinced it was the latter.

You weren’t surprised that Moon hadn’t answered your “Why?” question. But you were disappointed.

You were also disappointed that he’d used half the page to write seven words, wasting a lot of the space, but that was a different issue.

Closing the sketchbook again, you left the photo booth and headed back to the daycare.

“Hello again, friend!” Sun immediately greeted you as soon as you walked in. “You’re really back!”

“Yep, I’m really back,” you said. “What, did you think I’d just leave?”

Sun gave a little laugh. “Well, it was a while, after all! And the lights went out, and I-I was—Anyway, while you were gone, I kept cleaning!”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Sun seems to have left most of the floor alone, perhaps leaving that for you to do, but you could see the gleam of water on one of the plastic play structures. Sun must have wiped it down. “There’s still a lot to do, but great job!”

“Thank you!” You could hear a smile in Sun’s voice to match his face. “Still a lot to do, a lot to do, but progress is progress!”

“We should try to get as much done as we can before the weekend.” You dropped off your backpack behind the security desk—which you notice is still as dusty as ever—and headed over to where you’d been mopping earlier. Sun followed you, hovering close behind. “I mean, I guess you could keep going on your own, but you wouldn’t be able to go get more supplies if you run out, so you should be careful.”

“The... weekend?” Sun repeated, latching onto those two words.

“Well, yeah, I’m not gonna be here to help you,” you said casually. The mop was standing right where you left it, and you picked it up. “I don’t have any shifts.”

“But you could come anyway, a-as a guest!” Sun suggested.

“I guess I could, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get in,” you explained. “Apparently your security permissions are turned off on days you don’t have shifts. Something about safety from past employees, I dunno, I didn’t really pay attention to the reason part of the email. So I’d need a pass to get in, and I doubt they’d sell ones to get into the daycare, since it’s closed...” Sun was being pretty quiet. You looked back at him. He’d stopped following you. “Sun? You okay, dude?”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Sun perked up and skipped over to where you were. “I just—o-of course you wouldn’t be able to get in, I-I don’t know why—of course! Of course.”

You stared at him. Guilt curled around your stomach. Sun had been stuck here for months, with seemingly no visitors. No wonder he was so clingy. No wonder he depended on you coming every day. No wonder he was worried you wouldn’t come back earlier. “It’s going to be fine,” you said quietly. “It’s only two days. I’ll be here on Monday.”

“I know that.” Sun nodded. “You don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well...” You weren’t sure how to finish that. Was there anything you could do? “What if, uh... Would it help if you had something to do while I was gone?”

“I can clean the daycare! Do anything we don’t finish today!”

“No, I mean like—besides that,” you said. “Uh, do you still have that bin of colored pencils and stuff?”

“Well it wouldn’t disappear into thin air, would it?” Sun put his hands on his hips and shook his head playfully. You got the feeling he was laying it on a little bit. “Here, if you want it, I’ll go get it!”

“That’s not why—aaaaand you’re gone, of course you are.” You sighed. You wondered if all animatronics in the Pizzaplex could move that fast, or if it was just Sun and Moon. There was no way for you to know until the Glamrocks were finished being repaired. Well, while Sun was gone, might as well continue mopping.

He was back in just a few minutes, of course. “Here you are, friend!” he called. “I’ll put this right by the desk. We wouldn’t want to get any paper wet, or get the newly cleaned daycare dirty!” And he did so, then skipped back over to where you were standing and waiting.

“Thanks, Sun, but uh... I was wondering if you wanted to do it,” you said.

“Hmm? Me?” Sun’s face rotated to the side. “Why would I need to use the crayons?”

“Well, maybe you won’t need to, but it might be a good way to pass the time while I’m not here.” You looked down at the floor as you wiped the mop from side to side over the same colored tile. “I’d like to see what you draw.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as good as anything you’ve done!”

“I’d still like to see it.” You shrugged. “Skill isn’t the thing here. I think you’d have fun. And that’s what matters. If you don’t like drawing, of course, you don’t have to, but I just thought, you know?”

Sun didn’t answer. His face rotated back to normal. You could have sworn he looked thoughtful. “I didn’t usually do the drawing, that was mostly the kids. The supplies are for them! And for any other guests, of course. So I didn’t want to use them up! But sometimes one of the little ones would ask, and I would try...” He trailed off. “Are you sure, friend? What if I end up using the supplies all up? We’ll need them for the daycare!”

“I don’t think you’d use them all up,” you reassured him. “Maybe if you spent two days straight drawing, but that’s not what I’m suggesting. Just... a few pieces of paper, you know?”

Sun nodded. “Alright. I’ll try! I’ll make you proud!”

You laughed. “Don’t worry about that. Just do what you want.”

“I will! Oh, but right now, we need to keep cleaning!” He spun around and ran back to the cart. “It needs to be all clean! All clean!”

“All clean,” you repeated, nodding. It would be a while before the daycare was close to ‘all clean,’ but as Sun said earlier, progress was progress.

You spent most of the rest of your shift in the daycare, trying to get the dirt off everything. Emphasis on trying. Nine months of abandonment had really done a number on the place. You were getting the surface layer of dust off everything, but there was grime around the edges of the room and play structures that wouldn’t go away with simple soap and disinfectant. This was definitely going to be a multi-day project.

Sun continued to take care of the play structures, leaving the floor, walls, and desk area for you. The two of you didn’t talk too much, as you turned on your music again. But you did let him know once when you were going to refill the mop bucket with some clean water. And he let you know when it was getting close to 2:55 and the hourly lights-off.

Not much happened during that five minute period. You sat at the same table you’d sat at earlier, outside the daycare, and watched for signs of Moon. He was being a real cryptid today. You saw him climbing on the mesh nets again, but he didn’t do anything beyond stare at you for a few seconds before disappearing. Was he avoiding you? Or... avoiding seeing you in person, at least? He didn’t have any trouble getting close to you a couple days ago. Was this related to...

“You can’t.”

Those words were burned into your brain. Something about the denial, the refusal to accept help, made it hard to forget them.

You took your break once the lights turned back on. Today, you’d packed your own lunch, since you weren’t sure if the restaurants in the Pizzaplex would be able to make food during the night shift. And then it was back to cleaning. It was starting to get tiring, but you weren’t about to leave it all for Sun to do. Your pace had definitely slowed, though, so you spent this hour trying to dust and organize the security area, a fairly easy task. And one where you could duck under the desk and take a break every couple minutes.

The 3:55 light-out was pretty much identical to the last one. Afterwards, you went back into the daycare and tried to continue cleaning the desk area. But there was still a lot to do, and you were exhausted. Maybe you should take a break. The desk area didn’t have any chairs, so you sat on the floor beneath the desk and closed your eyes...

Ping! “New task added!”

And then you jolted awake, neck and shoulders stiff, to that familiar notification sound. What the...? What time was it? You checked your phone. 4:47 am. Nearly an hour had passed. Huh. Maybe Moon was right. It was past your bedtime.

But, unfortunately, you needed to keep this job, so couldn’t just nap the whole time. You shook your head of sleep and checked the new task on your FazWatch. They wanted you to... move endoskeleton parts to Parts and Service. “Are you Faz-fucking kidding me?!” you shouted. That was the exact same thing they made you do earlier! What the hell?!

“Friend, is everything alright?” Sun called from inside one of the play structures.

“Yeah, it’s fine!” You pulled yourself back up using the desk. It was easier on your injuries than just standing up unassisted. “I just got another task. It’s gonna take a while, so I won’t be back before my shift ends.”

“Oh. Alright! Wait one second!” Loud thumps came from one of the play structure’s slides. You saw it shudder slightly, and then Sun rolled out from the end, head over heels in a somersault. He kept rolling and stopped not too far from the desk, immediately springing up with arms extended overhead.

“Nice!” You clapped, impressed. “That was like a circus trick or something, how you just jumped up like that.”

“Yes, thank you, thank you.” Sun bowed to an imaginary audience. Then he walked over to the plastic bin of drawing supplies by the desk, bending over and opening it. He took something out, then leaned over the desk to hand it to you. “Here you go!”

“Huh?” You took the offered item. A twelve-pack of colored pencils. Clearly used, given how one of the cardboard flaps was torn off and the pencils were all different lengths. “Why’re you giving this to me?”

“Well, I thought you could use it!” Sun said, standing up straight. “Though it does belong to the daycare so... you might want to bring it back on Monday. So nobody gets in trouble!”

You raised an eyebrow. Was this Sun’s way of making sure you came back? It was harmless enough, so you didn’t mind. “Sure, Sun. I’ll be back to drop these off on Monday.”

“Please do! W-we don’t want anyone to get in trouble.” Sun gave a nervous little laugh. “I’ll see you then, then?”

“See you then, Sun.” You smiled. “Promise.” You picked up your backpack and headed out. “Goodbye for now!”

“Goodbye friend!” Sun waved as you left. Even once you’d left through the big wooden doors, you could see him continuing to wave as you left the whole Daycare area.

The lights went off as soon as you found one of the stairwells down into the utility tunnels. That wasn’t unexpected by now, but you felt uneasy walking down flights of stairs in the dark. Even when you were armed with a flashlight. So you leaned against the wall and took out the sketchbook. If earlier tonight was any indication, Moon would be trying to find you—even though he didn’t seem to want to talk to you. But he was fine with writing earlier, at the photo booth.

After about a minute of thinking, you write down, Is there any particular reason you don’t want to explain anything to me? Or are you not going to explain THAT, either?

And then you opened the stairwell door and set the sketchbook on the ground outside with your pencil. And waited.

You were starting to get worried that this plan wasn’t actually going to work when you heard the sound of mechanical movement outside the door. The noise died down for a while, almost disappearing. You saw the door start to creak open, but then close again, and the noises started again before fading away. So... Moon wasn’t going to try and scare you this time. While you were grateful, you were also confused.

Inevitably, the lights returned. You opened the door and picked up the sketchbook and pencil. There was a response to your writing, but it wasn’t very long... or very helpful.

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

“I most certainly will not,” you said. And then you felt strangely embarrassed for saying that out loud. Why? It’s not like anyone could hear you. You were alone in an empty stairwell, feeling self-conscious for no reason.

Quickly, you put the sketchbook back in your backpack. You still had that task to do. So you headed down into the tunnels.

Even though you didn’t understand why the fuck someone would want you to do the same exact thing only a few hours apart, you did it anyway. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe they needed more parts than expected. Or maybe you brought the wrong ones the first time. Whatever it was, you hoped that reason was worth the two long, difficult trips. Why didn’t Fazbear have robots to do this sort of stuff?

By the time you arrived at Parts and Service, your legs and arms were aching from the effort of pushing the cart. Not to mention the stitch in your side that was sending pain up your bruised ribs every time you breathed. Maybe you weren’t as good at manual labor as you thought you would be. Or maybe it was the injury slowing you down. Damn it, Moon!

You didn’t even bother to take the parts off the cart. Instead you just left it by the room entrance and left. If someone needed these parts so urgently, surely they wouldn’t mind putting everything away. They would be more qualified than you.

It was 5:50 when you found yourself back in the main lobby. You were about ready to just head out, but the main doors were still closed. Rather than walk all the way through the Pizzaplex to another entrance, you decided to wait, and sat down on the little ledge around the giant golden statue.

You wanted to relax, but somehow, you found yourself pulling out your sketchbook again. You reread what Moon wrote. STOP ASKING QUESTIONS. Why was he so touchy about this?

It probably wasn’t a good idea to push a hostile animatronic too far, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know what was going on. Why? Were you just excited by the mystery? Or did you actually care? You knew you cared about Sun, even though you’d only met him a few days ago. But did you care about Moon, too? Was that it? If it was, what was wrong with you? Why were you feeling bad for the robot that dropped you from ten feet in the air?

Hesitantly, you wrote something new down on the page. There was still plenty of space for it.

I want to help. And it’s hard to do that when I don’t know what’s going on.

Because you did want to help. It wasn’t fair that Fazbear had abandoned Sun and Moon. Even if the daycare had been closed for a reason, you couldn’t believe they would just leave them there. They seemed so human. How could anyone leave them to rot like that?

The lights were about to go off. You left your sketchbook open on the ledge, along with the pencil, then swung your backpack onto your back and stood up, walking around the statue and sitting down again on the other side of it. You took out your flashlight and waited.

The Pizzaplex went dark. You moved your flashlight around the area, the light catching on some of the STAFF security bots. A couple minutes passed. You couldn’t hear any of those mechanical noises—

A snarl came from behind you.

You jumped, swiveling around and instinctively pointing the flashlight towards the sound. On the other side of the statue, you saw a familiar moon-faced robot duck out of sight. Okay. So Moon was right where you wanted him to be. Doesn’t mean that sound didn’t scare you, or that you weren’t nervous as you slowly turned back around.

Who programmed an animatronic to make that noise? Why the hell would you do that?

More sounds. Growls, this time. Your shoulders raised, and you glanced back over your shoulder without pointing your flashlight. Moon’s glowing eyes weren’t focused on you. He sounded... angry. No, wait. Frustrated.

Then you saw him fly into the air again. He was gone. And only a couple minutes later, the lights turned back on.

You stood and slowly walked back over to where you’d left your sketchbook. As expected, Moon had written some more, but this time... they weren’t words. Just scribbles. You could make out the vague shape of letters beneath them. Combined with the frustrated growling earlier, you assumed that Moon hadn’t been satisfied with what he was writing, and decided to just cover it all up.

Not all of the scribbles were in regular pencil. Apparently the packet of colored pencils Sun had given you fell out of your backpack when you stood up, and Moon had decided to use one. The purple one. It was broken in half now, but you could see the evidence on the page. You couldn’t quite tell what Moon was trying to write. It didn’t look like words beneath the purple scribbles. Just some shapes. You could pick out two tall loops, but nothing else.

This was all so weird. Unfortunately... you couldn’t stay to check it out. It had been a long day. You needed to go home and go to sleep. Surely Moon would approve. So you collected your sketchbook and pencils, put them in your backpack, and headed out through the front doors.

As you walked out, you almost didn’t notice the front entrance’s new decoration. Almost. But then you glanced back over your shoulder at the right time and saw the large banner stretching over the doors. Large blocky letters read THE GIRLS ARE BACK! with smaller letters beneath them listing Monday’s date. On either side of the words were cartoon drawings of two of the Pizzaplex’s animatronics: Roxanne Wolf and Glamrock Chica.

So the Glamrocks had been repaired? Or, some of them, at least? Cool. Neat. Strangely enough, you weren’t as excited as you thought you would be.

You were already looking forward to seeing a different animatronic again on Monday.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #x reader #y/n #sundrop #moondrop #findingequinoxfic

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thatshadowgastwhore · 4 months

Text

The hours of sleep deprivation, and how your brain/body interprets them with helpful, objective language for other writers and/or Tim Drake enthusiasts

by me, Mags, aka thatshadowgastwhore, a person who regularly stays up for multiple days at a time and is very self aware, but has no relevant medical degrees.

Disclaimer that I don’t have chronic fatigue/or illness, and my experience isn’t universal. Also, the way caffeine affects me, I’ve found, is not the same most other people have described it to me.

Second disclaimer: you should sleep when you are tired. I just so happen to not really feel tied until I’m awake for around forty hours. You should not push yourself to sleep deprivation regularly for funsises. I know what it’s like to be awake 60+ hours because I used to do so as a coping mechanism that I realized later on was actually a form of self harm!

Hours 1-8

Mostly irrelevant for the discussion at hand. Alertness, awareness, focus, and attention are at their normal levels. Energy levels are consistent. Caffeine consumed at this point does not affect my awareness in any way, only ability to hold focus on a task for longer periods of time and attention to detail.

Hours 9-12

Alertness, awareness, focus, and attention are still at normal levels. Energy is likely the same, unless strenuous activity was done in the first third of the day. At this point, I have been awake for half a day, the majority of which was spent at work. I also do not normally consume food until this time of day, or I have not consumed very much food until this point, so the energy gained from a meal resets energy levels to about where they were hours 4-5. Caffeine consumed at this point has no effect on energy levels, again, just to focus and attention.

Hours 12-18

Very similar to hours 9-12 for me, as someone who regularly misses nights of sleep. For any character whom this is not the case for, this is when tiredness will absolutely set in, if it hasn’t already. Depending on how many hours of sleep you get on the regular, that is when lethargy will become unavoidable without proper stimuli. Pushing yourself past this point isn’t a good idea. If the reason for sleep deprivation is not voluntary or the reason isn’t a fun one, emotions are harder to avoid. Like any baby, your character will be cranky and prone to annoyance.

If you’re like me, this is not the case. Yet. At this point, you’ve hit your second wind; with proper stimuli, these are the most enjoyable hours of your entire extended period awake, productivity is at its height, energy levels are still fairly level. Fluctuations are likely occurring in attention; either details consume you, or they do not matter to you. Caffeine at this point will mostly affect ability to focus, but will start affecting alertness as well to some extent. This is also more accurate to the way this time would affect someone who doesn’t regularly stay awake very long, but is voluntarily staying awake for an exciting reason; New Year’s Eve, a party, a fight, etc. Stimuli are likely high and extremely relevant to the primary motivation for sleep deprivation in such a case.

Hours 18-24

For those who don’t stay awake regularly, (and do not have enough stimuli to keep you energetic/excited) you are so. So. Tired. Ability to focus at this point is nonexistent. Things you should not be doing are: making major life decisions or operating heavy machinery. While you likely feel physically fine, if you’re still trying to accomplish things, they take way longer than usual and the quality isn’t as good. Things that are normally easy take actual effort in a way this is beyond frustrating.

If your character is regularly awake this long, the biggest thing they’ll notice at this point is hunger. We’ve crossed an interval of time in which, during the day, you’d eat another meal. Unlike delaying/skipping meals during the day, they really do need to eat at this point, or the hunger will become painful quickly. Attention to details at this point is starting to slip, but is overall okay. Alertness is declining, but not at an alarming rate. The deck e is gradual at the point. It is at this point that caffeine has some impact to my level of alertness, but still mostly affects ability to focus.

Hours 24-40

Unfortunately at this point, I don’t have a great frame of reference for how other people experience these hours awake, so I’ll be continuing just with my perspective of this.

At this point, caffeine does become necessary for me to keep focus on things; without it, during these hours I become incredibly spacey and even more prone to distraction than normal. At this point, lack of sleep has little to no effect on my mood. I am still perfectly capable of driving and my judgement is still sound, although I will concede my bar for emotions is lower than usual. The only physical feeling I would cite at this point is how it affects my appetite. I am hungrier than I would consider usual (for me), UNLESS I consumed caffeine on an empty stomach, in which case my stomach probably hurts, and is making it harder to tell that I am hungry.

Hours 40-44

I can comfortably remain awake without feeling tired for 40 hours. This is the first point that I will start to feel tired. My mood is absolutely affected at this point, things that are mildly annoying become incredibly frustrating and things that are kinda funny are incredibly silly. I also begin to lose my filter, things that are normally inside thoughts/observations become things that I have to tell someone Right Now. My best friend had received enough unhinged rants about ridiculous things, that if it is at a certain time, she might ask, “how long have you been awake” as a relevant follow up question. I desribe this time as “loopy hours,” the point at which I have full awareness why I am doing what I am doing, that I am behaving slightly irrationally, and that the reason is because I haven’t slept. It doesn’t mean the silly thoughts aren’t still there, but I know the origin and scope of them. Because of this, I don’t consider this to be when my sense of judgement as being impacted yet, because I can still be logical about my illogical thoughts. What is affected is my sense of alertness and ability to focus, both of which have declined further.

Hours 44-48

At this point, my energy levels take a sharp decline. Caffeine at this point is assisting my energy and alertness more than my ability to focus. These are some of the worst hours if you are voluntarily staying awake (it’s not actually linear the order of badness, surprisingly) because it comes directly after the loopy hours, and you are facing a bit of a crash after that period. Emotions are high. I can start to feel trapped within my own body. I both detest and long for sleep. I know that if I let myself lay down, I will inevitably pass out, but I can’t because I know I’ll be so dead to the world that I won’t hear my alarm and I’ll miss work (which is why I only allow myself to not sleep for more than 40 hours starting on a Thursday morning, so I can tap out at this point if I need to) I’m hungry again in the middle of the night, and I am very, very tired. But. With enough stimulants (for me, caffeine) and enough stimuli, I can remain awake past this point. This is the hump that needs to be passed. If you can stay awake 48 hours, you can stay awake 60 hours.

The best stimuli for keeping mental awake was and focus are other people and movement. Staying still is a recipe for closing your eyes, and closing your eyes is a recipe for accidentally falling asleep. If you can stay around other people who are awake and aware, and if you are doing anything that requires movement (not slow and repetitive movement, obviously, remember you are a cranky baby, so not rock yourself to sleep) your chances of staying awake are better.

Anything that gives you a sense of adrenaline at any point hereafter is going to make you even more tired than expected as soon as it wears off, so if your character has been doing anything high stakes and is just now calming down, they are going to pass out the MOMENT they feel safe enough to. It’s kinda inevitable, which is why I consider loud, sudden noises to be some of the worst things to try to use to keep yourself awake.

Hours 48-56

The gradual decline from that started eight hours ago becomes steeper during this time. My sense of judgement is not good, I am liable to consider truly ridiculous ideas as entirely serious enterprises. I should not operate a motor vehicle, but with enough caffeine I am able to if absolute need be. I need to be consuming caffeine and be around people and not be staying sedentary for more than an hour at a time. I am lethargic as all get out. I want to sleep so badly. My attention span is shot.

Hour 56-60

At around hour 60, normal auditory hallucinations (for me. I am aware most people don’t have “normal auditory hallucinations”) are annoying loud, and I experience visual hallucinations, at which point I generally refuse to operate any heavy machinery/drive.

I cannot emphasize enough: my sense of judgement is not good when I am this sleep deprived, ESPECIALLY for my own limits and abilities. I have a notable propensity to misjudge how much work I can take on, and make plans doomed to failure from the start when awake this long. I gain the confidence of someone staring at a piece in a museum and saying, “pfft, I could paint that,” but then actually going out; spending to much on art supplies, trying and failing immediately, (obviously) and becoming so overwhelmed in disappointment that they vow to never paint again, and now they’ve wasted money on all these abandoned paint supplies.

This is a time similar to the loopy hours, but less fun. I call them the delusional hours. Physically, your eyes are so tired that you feel constantly dehydrated. You start to space out and lose visual focus quicker. You probably are hearing a ringing sound just from how badly your brain is blue screening.

Hour 60+

Everything experienced in the previous two intervals gets worse. Time slows down. I’m probably quite cold (I generally have poor circulation, so I don’t usually notice being cold at this point, so I find this significant.) My awareness outside of my own body is almost gone, and my ability to focus is nonexistent. I am probably shaking. I feel physically ill, probably nauseous. My chest is tight due to the amount of caffeine I’ve had to consume. I am so beyond exhausted that I could fall asleep standing up. My emotions are out of my control. I will cry over anything. I will laugh hysterically over anything. Time slows down. I’m in control of the time stream, no….Im outside of the time steam (delusions that start mild and become worse over time.)

At this point, your character’s motivation for staying awake this long better be pretty damn good. The longest a human has ever stayed awake for is about eleven days, but as listed above, symptoms of psychosis will set in by about 72 hours, so remaining focused on that goal will start to prove difficult.

And thats it! I haven’t stayed awake longer than 79 hours so that’s where my experience ends, but I’m hoping that my objectivity on what this feels like both mentally and physically helps someone with writing a character who definitely should go to bed soon.

#writing #writing reference #sleep deprivation #tim drake core #Tim Drake

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