#despite this and what he may feel deep down;; he's sort of long given up the idea of loving and being loved

[darabeatha]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 — 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 .

  𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 .   [ love as ravenous desire, love as something fragrant and home-built ] when florence welch said "we all have a hunger" and when jenny slate asked "who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?" and when violet trefusis wrote "I want you hungrily, frenziedly. passionately. I am starving for you..." and when anne carson asked "what are we made of but hunger and rage?"

Tagged by: @ardenssolis​​​ (THANK U FOR TAGGING ME IN SHIII 💖🤝 )  /  Tagging:

[kissitbttr]

“my baby” you murmur softly against his skin. hands cradling both side of his face gently. “my sweet, sweet baby”

toji hates to admit how that makes his heart tremble with pure love, and how the simple act is the sole reason for the crimson color risen within his cheeks,

“that, i am” he mutters with a small smile playing on his lips, tugging you close by the waist. “you love me?”

a small gasp escapes your lips, as if you’re offended by that question. “i can’t believe you have to ask! of course i do” another kiss presses against his temple and down to his cheek bone,

he suppresses a cute giggle from it, not wanting to be embarrassed if you ever caught him letting out such sound. it’s quite fascinating how you are the only person who has a way to make him feeling flustered. as if you’re looking at a teenage boy who finally scored a date with his first high school crush,

“just making sure” toji finds comfort against your naked chest, feeling himself melt under your touch while your fingers toy with his raven haired. he frowns and lets out a boyish groan when you pull away,

“noo, noo” he whines, taking your hand before plopping it back down on top of his hair. “don’t stop. keep playing it”

a confused yet amused frown make its way towards your face, a small giggle heaves out of your mouth,

“look at you. my big boy” the nickname just sends shivers down his spine, causing his grip around your waist to tighten. he loves it when you call him that. “touchy today aren’t you?”

he responds with a hum, letting his eyes close for a while as you continue to play with his loose strands of hair. he’s so comfortable like this. being with you is his favorite place. no large house nor king sized bed could ever compare if there’s no you in it.

he’s dreamed of this for far too long. when his wife was taken away from him years ago, he didn’t think that he could find a solace in someone else’s arm anymore. he had given up on love and pour his frustrations out in a very toxic way. drowning himself in alcohol and getting into fights was his way of coping.

then you came a long,

with your pretty smile, pretty aura, pretty hair, pretty voice… pretty everything. knocked the wind out of the man, he couldn’t even form the right words when you stood in front of him.

‘s-shit—wh-what were you saying?’ he laughed nervously when he realized he was staring at you for far too long,

it was an adorable sight. you really did have some sort of power to make men weak in their knees

his heart bloomed when he heard you giggle, ‘i said… did you come here with someone?��

‘oh! n-no! not at all’ he scratched the back of his neck while looking down on his drink, ‘all alone’

‘oh—well then’ you took a seat beside him at the bar, his eyes didn’t move an inch from you. ‘guess we can be alone together’

“my sweet big boy—wouldn’t even dreamed about leaving you”

and that’s enough to make him feel at ease. to let go of the fears he had been holding back. to let go of the past that had corrupted him in more ways than one. to finally say goodbye to his long gone wife and say thank you to you instead for being here. for being so patient. for being so stubborn despite the times he had pushed you away. for not backing down because he knew how much he needed you, he just didn’t have the guts to tell you.

what’s that saying about the song you had shown him? if life is a movie, then you’re the best part?

yeah. that’s the one. but he knows deep down that you’re better than a movie.

because after all these years, toji fushiguro had finally found you peace,

and may lord helps anyone to those who will try to take you away from him,

maybe toji will remove fushiguro from his last name and take yours instead in the near future

[zayne-li]

Cross posted on AO3, may be edited in the future, it was written very shortly after the game actually came out.

Explicit, MDNI.

Zayne gets injured, MC saves him, and Zayne has very normal feelings about it.

Feelings like: femdom, etc.

"Zayne! Zayne! Can you hear me? Come on, get up, you have to get up, we need to go now!"

The world is fuzzy at the edges, and there's a tinny sort of ringing in his ears, but he hears his hunters voice. She's upset. Why?

Arms stronger than they should be tug at the lapels of his white doctors coat, dragging him up off the concrete, and he blinks hard several times. His head is swimming. 

Zayne groans, deep and low as his awareness slowly returns, able to blearily look around and recall that right, yes, we were at my favorite sweets shop... And then...

"I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now." That's her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There's blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all. 

It occurs to him that it's concerning he can't recall what exactly has happened. Was it Wanderers? Some sort of accident? A weak cough escapes him as his shoes scrape across the loose pebbles on the road. 

Everything hurts. Like one giant bruise all over his body. But he is slowly regaining his senses. He does have at least that.

All around them is destruction: rubble and dust and shouts for loved ones piercing through the fog. The air smells and tastes metallic as his hunter helps him up onto shaky feet, hoisting one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapping the other around his middle.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to Akso now."

Her pupils are blown, and eyes wild. It's a look he hasn't seen on her before. Despite the pain and danger they are in, there is something about her in this very moment(maybe the blood, the adrenaline, this demeanor he's never seen before) that makes his gut clench.

Ought to dissect that later, he thinks. Then again, perhaps not.

"Akso?" His voice is rough, throat sticky with dust.

"Yes, you broke at least two of your ribs in that explosion, you need medical care, do you understand?" 

His eyes drop down to hers, and he realizes just how much they are touching in this moment. All the way from their feet to her head, becoming a long line of heat down the right side of his body.

What timing, Doctor Li.

"I understand." He confirms to her, and plants his gaze firmly ahead of them, forcing his attention onto the task at hand rather than the way that look in her eyes makes him feel.

--

Weeks later he is still recalling that day, though who can blame him, confined to bed rest as he is? Three broken ribs and a full month of leave from the hospital, it's difficult to find ways to entertain himself. 

Zayne closes his eyes and he sees her covered in sweat, that single minded determination carving deep lines into her face. If she'd had to, she would have dragged his limp body to the doors of the hospital. It was a look that told him, "I'm not losing you too. Not today." It was that look that had given him the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

It aroused him deep in his gut, somewhere he hadn't even known existed. 

It was disturbing, in more ways than one. 

He'd begun to have dreams. 

Dreams of her coming home to his apartment, the door closing with more force than necessary, her dirty boots crossing through the kitchen with purpose. And when she found that purpose, she would have that same look on her face. In some of the dreams she'd still have blood on her face, and she'd lick the droplets away, just as she did while she labored to save his life that day. 

She would grab him by the knot of his tie, stifling his surprise with a bruising kiss, plundering his mouth like a woman starved, using her unexpected strength to push him back against the wall, to cover him with her smaller frame. He would moan into her throat and her lips would curve into a smile against his. 

One night, he wakes around four in the morning after dreaming of his hunters battle lust and he finds himself in an uncomfortable, sticky mess.

Zayne knows he loves her. He has since he was a boy, that has never changed, but through the years, his crush has waxed and waned, but remained fundamentally childlike. It hasn't been until they reconnected this past year that he'd even begun to let his thoughts drift to more unsavory places. And now... Well he determines that this new... Discovery of his remain well and firmly hidden. 

Her presence in his life is too precious to waste with his depraved imagination. 

After all, while he's been bored and cooped up in his apartment, with strict instructions from every person in his life to "Sit and rest, for once!" She has been visiting him almost daily. Usually not for long, as her own work keeps her extraordinarily busy(he supposes he's never noticed just how hard and much she works before, because he himself is often entrenched in his own), but always with an easy smile and some sort of treat for him. Chocolate, or cookies, one afternoon a little fruit tart from a vendor she passed on her way to see him.

Most of the time, it is no challenge for him to recognize that her friendship is far, far too valuable to risk losing. 

Today, she knocks on his door, and when he opens it, he almost forgets. 

She's a mess. 

There's a fairly large, but shallow cut across most of her face, from her cheek down to her chin, her hair is pulled up haphazardly, the leather glove she normally wears is missing, and her clothes, though neat, have small tears across one of her knees, and her shoulder. 

Zayne swallows before he greets her. 

"Difficult day?" 

She exhales a chuckle. "Just a long one, sorry. I was going to go home to clean up, but by then it would have been pretty late, and I was already nearby when I finished, so I thought I'd just uh... Drop in." 

She's sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, and Zayne forces himself to look away, making eye contact with the corner of the wall instead. There's a chip in the paint. 

"Really, you needn't trouble yourself on my behalf, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You require rest as well as I." 

What would it feel like, right now, to have her press up against him? Warm. Solid, he thinks. Would she grab him by his jaw? Turn his face this way and that? 

He imagines how she would taste. Salty and metallic, he thinks, especially now. His hunter, shoving him onto his back in his bed, she would be impatient, barely taking the time to undo their pants before sheathing herself on his cock, using her palms on his chest for leverage to fuck herself as she pleased. 

"Yeah, well then we might as well rest together, huh?"

She pulls him from his depraved thoughts.

Zayne realizes that the heat between his legs, if not controlled soon, will become a much larger problem(no pun intended).

"You have quite the knack for turning phrases, you know." His tone stays even, and he turns away, inviting her inside without another word, his excuse being the television in his living room that needs muting. 

"And you never have this much time off. It's kinda fun, really." 

He hears the click of the door shutting, and the turn of the lock. 

"I brought you something, too."

Thud on the kitchen counter. Whatever it is, it sounds hefty. While he pretends to look for his remote, he adjusts himself in his pants, burning with shame for this predicament. 

"What is it this time?" 

"Brownies! Salted caramel flavored. They're my favorite."

She appears quite suddenly in the corner of his vision, and he jumps, feeling his face grow hot. 

"Thoughtful as always." He smiles, and hits the mute button on another story of wanderer attacks. 

His hunter frowns, leaning her body around to get a good look at him. 

"Something's wrong. What's wrong?" Her tone leaves no room for arguments, and Zayne's eyes go a bit wide just for a moment. 

"What makes you think anything is wrong? Other than my broken ribs?" He doesn't realize it, but he imitates her in the way he tilts his head. The mirth in her eyes makes his chest ache. 

"You're blushing, Doctor Zayne." Her tongue pokes out from between her teeth with her smile. 

"Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever." He counters. 

She squints, but moves away, rolling not just her eyes, but her whole head. "Oooh-kay. Then perhaps I should leave, huh? Keep you from spreading your virus all over Linkon?" 

His mouth opens, but he has no immediate response. 

"Uh-huh." She oozes with smugness. 

God he wants her. Whether in his dreams, or right now, either will do. He's wanted her for so long. And now she's so close. Zayne feels his entire chest go tight with longing. He wants everything with her. For her. 

He wants her to be with him always. If he could put a tiny little hunter in his pocket and keep her there he would, just so he could pull her out when he likes to soothe the ache in his soul that she both creates and fills in equal measure.

He wants her just like this, messy and stinking of rain and sweat and blood, he wants her sweetness, her humor, her easy charisma.

And God he wants her to claim him. He wants the battle lust, her fingernails deep in his scalp, the stinging on his back. He wants her to take whatever she likes from him, his body, his soul, his everything. 

"I wasn't blushing. You are mistaken." Somehow he keeps his voice even and calm, though inside he fights to keep from pouncing on her. 

Down, boy.

Recognition flashes across her face. 

And then a flurry of emotions he has trouble naming. Confusion, shock, and something else he can't define, but it reminds him of the day they were in that explosion, and she became someone he didn't know. 

His hunter steps forward, further into his space, and on instinct, Zayne steps back, his swallow loud in the quiet apartment. 

She must see something on his face. Fear, he thinks. And her expression of bewilderment changes as her gaze flickers rapidly across his features, first his eyes, his mouth, the bob in his throat, the fist clenched at his side, and then back to his mouth.

Her movements are slow as she takes another step forward, as if she's afraid to spook him, like one would a wild animal. She grabs the front of his shirt, and he swallows back a whine. 

His hunter sees this too.

"Why haven't you said anything?" 

"You frighten me sometimes."

Do I, Doctor Zayne?" Her eyes are dark, and she pulls him down to her, tilting her head just so, and holds him a hairsbreadth away from her lips.

He can taste her breath. It makes his knees weak. God, if you are there, don't wake me from this dream.

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (7/?)

(Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6. Also on AO3)

Sometimes, it felt like the whole world was against her.

It was especially evident in Batman's pissy attitude and his insistence on her quitting her night job, despite how he allowed Tim and Dick to do whatever they wanted.

She may not have been trained like those two, but it didn't mean that he couldn't step up and teach her, right? She had to rely on her own wits and Tim's sporadic (and admittedly rather lackluster) moments of teaching in order to know how to defend herself without a weapon.

So yeah, now that she had an opportunity to rub it in Bruce's face that he was wrong to dismiss her, she wouldn't let this opportunity go!

At least, that was what she was thinking before the harsh reality of being stuck to Batman all the time hit her.

Quite literally.

Robin groaned, rubbing her sore shoulders after another day of patrol with Batman. She messaged Tim with one hand while the other started taking off her cape and belt. She started peeling off her mask as Tim responded back.

Girl Wonder: tim

Girl Wonder: howas ur day

Boy Loser: Fine

Boy Loser: How was yours

Girl Wonder: pandil

Girl Wonder: painful*

Boy Loser: Lmaoaoaoao

Stephanie sighed again, as Tim started teasing her about the spelling mistake. Sometimes, he would let it go and sometimes, he had to rub it in her face. Usually, she would just roll her eyes fondly and take the ribbing, but today, she just wanted comfort.

After Tim had been forced to shelve Robin after his dad found out about his secret identity, he has given her the role of becoming Robin. She had taken it with great reverence, but Batman clearly wasn’t ready to let go of Tim yet, because he was an absolute asshole while training her.

She felt like perhaps he was seeing someone else through her (either Tim or someone else…?) but it was so tiring and infuriating that she didn’t mention it, only wanting to quit Robin after a few weeks of this near-torture.

Batman was oddly petty for a man who spent his life fighting crime.

… wait a minute.

Stephanie sighed again.

Boy Loser: ... Steph? You alright?

Stephanie pursed her lips as she realized her uncharacteristic lack of reply was now worrying Tim.

Girl Wonder: yea

Girl Wonder: B is being a dick

Boy Loser: ... I wish I could make some sort of Dick joke but I feel like it won't be appreciated rn

Boy Loser: What happened?

Stephanie chuckled a little and continued to reply.

Girl Wonder: nthing but he keeps putting me down

Girl Wonder: it pisses me off

Girl Robin: im robin now! i dont deserve this

The three talking dots popped up as Tim began typing out his reply and Stephanie waited, suddenly wondering if she had been too whiny and he was annoyed. After all, how many people got to say that they were handed the Robin costume by an actual Robin and then allowed to be Batman's sidekick? She needed to be grateful, but it was difficult when Batman was being a little bi—

Okay, deep breaths.

Stephanie shook off her thoughts, just as Tim finally replied.

Boy Loser: How about going to meet the cluster?

She blinked.

Girl Wonder: the wut?

Boy Loser: The Phantom Cluster? All Robins got a star bonded to them. Like mine, remember?

She paused again.

She didn't know much about the Phantom Cluster. All she knew were that they were a group of cursed children who were forced into becoming sentient stars. They were considered all-knowing, but relied on a Robin in order to exploit some unknown loophole in their curse and grow up past their frozen ages.

At least, that was what Tim had explained to her.

Girl Wonder: ... can i do that?

Boy Loser: I'll come and bring you to them?

Boy Loser: I want to see my star anyways.

Wow, she almost wanted to feel jealous, but she had already been long aware of his obsession with his star and now it was just funny to see how close he was to them.

Girl Wonder: ok

Boy Loser: Sweet. Stay there

Her eyes widened.

Girl Wonder: right now??

He didn't respond. Only 10 minutes later, as Stephanie debated between taking off her uniform or leaving it on to leave a more professional impression on the stars, did Tim scurry into the Batcave with a breathless smile.

"Let's go!" He said. "I snuck past my dad and Bruce for this."

Stephanie laughed, "You're so excited! Don't you have camera feed of your star? It's not like you haven't seen her in a while."

"Nothing beats seeing her in person," Tim grinned. "C'mon, I'll show you how to get to the cluster."

He directed her towards the tube and began explaining its mechanisms and codes for various locations. Stephanie listened carefully, although there were butterflies in her stomach as she thought about meeting the cluster.

Would they hate her?

After all, no matter how much she wished she was, she wasn't like the other Robins. If all of the previous Robins had a star, would she be considered different if she didn’t have one herself?

Suddenly, she felt nauseous. What if she wasn’t chosen? Would it be further proof that she wasn’t meant to be a hero?

She suddenly felt a hand slide into hers. She blinked and looked up as Tim gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. They’re nice.”

Stephanie returned his look with a shaky smile and then the two of them went into the tube, and off they went.

When they landed, Stephanie barely had a moment to bounce back before Tim was pulling her through the metal halls. They walked for a while, and Tim finally burst from the silence.

“Did you read the files about the Phantom Cluster?”

“They’re locked to me,” Stephanie replied. “I only know what you and Dick told me and that they’re a group of sentient stars.”

“That’s because Bruce can get… irritated and try to delete or edit the information. We locked it so only Robins know the passwords,” Tim explained. “But the Phantom Cluster is a group of sentient astronomical bodies, such as several stars and planets. There’s six of the main ones, but there are also a few other planets that can occasionally communicate with them. However, they’re not as sentient and only the six in the middle is— actually, I’ll just let you see for yourself.”

Stephanie followed him and when he finally opened the doors to the command room, she stopped in place and stared.

The room they were in was shaped like a half circle, and all of the walls were covered in glass, allowing ample view of the stars outside. In front of the glass were several machines and computers, silent as they flashed with notifications and alerts about the readings of the stars.

A soft song was playing, one made entirely by voices. It was angelic, like that of a choir and it sent a shiver down Stephanie’s spine as the chilling and seductive music wrapped around her like a siren’s call.

But she wasn’t too focused on the singing.

No, she was focused on the stars.

They were beautiful.

Dick had mentioned it once, how much he loved looking at them. Tim had also mentioned it several times, of how he visited them just to watch them and to see his star.

With the way they spoke of them at times, Stephanie sometimes wondered if they were brainwashed.

But now, she could understand.

Humans had always been fascinated by the stars. It was what created astronomy, telescopes, stories of constellations and space travel and aliens, it was what created NASA and the moon landing and astrology and rocket ships.

She could understand it now.

In the middle of space was a cluster of stars. Four of them whirled and twirled around each other with various degrees of energy. One in particular spun and slowed down in intervals, like doing a skip during a walk because it was so excited that it had to jump a little, but it still wanted to keep pace with the group.

There were also two planets, one covered in clouds and the other was a red and yellow sandy looking planet with wide rings surrounding it. They circled the stars quickly, but carefully, like trying to keep close but also not wanting to bump into the hot balls of gasses. A variety of asteroids and other smaller planets then circled them at a distance, as if not wanting to get closer.

Stephanie could quite literally see the personality within all of them, as they orbited one another.

Tim grinned. “They’re amazing, right?”

“You weren’t kidding,” she breathed.

Tim pulled her to the window and then pointed at a large, bluish star. “That’s Dick’s. We call it Nightwing’s star or Dick’s star. He’s one of the oldest and also the largest. He can be kinda mean, but he protects Dick a lot.”

“How can a star be mean?” Stephanie wondered. She watched as Dick’s star spun and then directed the pretty pink and purple clouds towards two other astronomical bodies.

“You’ll know what I mean,” Timothy said, before pointing to another celestial body. This time, it was a swirling, bow-tie shaped thing that was funneling gas and dust. There were two of them, but this one was distinctly colored blue and was smaller than the other.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah. That one is my star. Well, she’s actually a baby star— a protostar,” Timothy proclaimed proudly. “Isn’t she beautiful? I call her partner.”

Stephanie stared with a mixture of amazement and endearment. “She’s pretty cute. She’s smaller than all of the others!”

“Yeah. She’s the baby of the cluster.” He pointed to the other protostar. “And that one is… Jason’s.”

Stephanie stared at its enormous, funneling body and nodded slowly. “… it shows that he’s alive, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s the big sister of the cluster. She’s Jason’s star, and we don’t know how but… they’re back.”

Stephanie nodded again. She knew of this. Before Tim quit and while she was still Spoiler, she would occasionally babysit Gotham whenever he left with Nightwing in order to search for Jason.

“…. At least they’re both back?” She offered awkwardly.

Tim nodded. “At least they’re back.” He pointed to a small, faintly glowing blue and green ball that was following Tim’s star. “That one is the King. He takes care of the other stars and he’s a neutron star. He also used to be a hero, like us, before he died.”

“How young was he? Do we know?”

Tim met eyes with her.

“He was fourteen when he died,” he said softly, and Stephanie pursed her lips.

The amount of child heroes who died before 16 was quite uncomfortable.

The atmosphere was suddenly awkward, but Tim forcibly changed the subject and pointed to the two planets. “And lastly, these are the other two planets. They’re part of the ones singing as well as the main six of the cluster. That one is a rocky planet and that one has life on it, but we haven’t been able to touch down on either of them.”

Stephanie blinked and leaned closer to the glass in awe, squinting to try and see past the thick clouds. “Life? Like Earth? Why can’t we land?”

“They won’t let us. Sometimes, we can fly along their orbit, but when they get mad or want to stop us, they’ll push us back. The stars will help and send out solar flares and if they get really pissed, well, it’s not pretty.”

Interested, Stephanie asked, “What happens?”

Tim shrugged. “I'm not sure. But there were some people who betrayed the Justice League and tried to come here to take over. The stars took them out.”

Stephanie’s eyebrows rose.

She looked around for an invisible camera.

Did Timothy Drake, once Robin, just tell her that the stars killed people?

“Wait, what? How?”

“One ship got pulled in via the gravitational pull and then exploded on Dick’s star, and another ship had an asteroid hit them and a hole appeared in the hull. They all died.”

Stephanie recoiled. “Wait, seriously? They all died?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. The Justice League was pissed. Dick argued that the stars were just defending themselves and—“

“The Justice League was mad at the stars??”

Stephanie felt like she was learning too many things at once. She was almost dizzy from the confusion.

Timothy gave her a light glare for interrupting him again but said, “The Justice League was angry since they had deliberately killed people. Even the asteroid was intentional.” He shrugged then. “But what can they do? Punish the Cluster? Dick fought for them and they’re still here as allies to the Justice League and to the Robins. But that’s also why you don’t see any other heroes here. They kinda stopped coming after that, though Superman does visit sometimes.”

“… wow. That’s so messed up on so many levels.”

Tim grinned.

“So, ready to introduce yourself? They’re waiting.”

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. Especially with all of the very nice, normal things he just told her about the stars.

Stephanie told him that and he laughed. She took that brief moment to allow the panic to sink in and then flow out of her as she took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she said, facing the main communicator, “I’m ready.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Tim said. He tapped the glass softly and then said, "Hello, everyone."

There was a pause as the hair rose on the back of Stephanie's neck, and she listened as the sound of angelic song slowed to a halt, allowing only ocean waves and TV static to fill the room with an energy that she could not place.

The crackle of static and burbling of water was the only sound for awhile.

And then—

"Hey, partner."

Tim beamed. "Hey, partner. It's good to see you. You're getting bigger, huh?"

The protostar gave a deliberate whirl, sparkling as gas and dust rubbed against each other within its accretion disks.

There was suddenly an angry, high pitched noise on the communicator.

Both Stephanie and Tim winced, although Tim also looked exasperated.

Dick's star, which had been silently following the orbital path suddenly froze in place. It turned slowly, seemingly facing in one spot before stopping completely, its edges flaring with bursts of light.

“Is… is that Dick's star glaring at you?” She said, bordering on a laugh. Tim’s star did a cycle around the other protostar and then did a loop around Dick’s star, as if trying to poke it into reacting. Dick’s star was still for a moment longer, before inching along their orbital path again without spinning, as if still trying to keep its eyes on Tim through the glass.

She burst into giggles, absolutely delighted in the way Tim looked exasperated and resigned of a star seemingly trying to antagonize him.

“Yeah. He’s like that a lot whenever I’m around,” Tim sighed exaggeratedly.

“That’s so cute! To be honest, I didn’t expect them to have so much personality.”

“Yeah, me too. But once you get to know them, they’re really fun. Even if Dick’s star hates my guts.”

Stephanie giggled again. “He’s like an overprotective dad.”

“Yeah, but at least I'm not the only one he hates. He also really— uhm.” Timothy paused in the middle of his tirade.

Stephanie blinked and turned to stare at him.

Timothy looked uncomfortable, but soldiered on and continued, “But I also heard that he disliked Jason too. Apparently, he was pissed when Jason got his star. He has a real complex about his sisters from what we know.”

Stephanie tried to imagine the image of a big blue ball throwing a hissy fit because his sisters were being taken away by human boys, and the absurdity made her laugh.

“Aww, poor guy!” She snickered. “He just wants you stinky boys away from his sisters.”

“Hey!” Timothy exclaimed with a playful glare. “I take showers!”

"Coulda fooled me!"

Tim huffed a laugh and then addressed the Cluster again. "Everyone, this is Robin."

There was a pause, and then the Cluster spoke in unison, a whispery coo, "Hello, Robin."

Stephanie breathed out a sigh of relief as Tim perked up, smiling broadly.

One voice in particular spoke up over the rest.

"Robin, I have someone who'd like to make a deal with you."

Its voice was soft and light, but there was a quality within that made her want to relax within its soothing reverb.

Stephanie couldn't help grabbing at Tim in excitement, who patted her hand with a wide grin.

"Would you like to accept?"

She coughed to calm herself down. "... who is asking?"

The communicator crackled and then the cluster spoke again, with the one voice leading in front, "Come into the space pod and you will be taken to him."

Stephanie met eyes with Tim. Timothy raised an eyebrow and then shrugged.

"Now what?"

"... I guess you go?"

She gulped. She looked at Tim for reassurances, for him to tell her— something, but he didn't.

He just stared at her and then smiled, a glint in his eyes that she knew was him knowing something that he didn't want to share.

Stephanie sighed.

She went into the space pod that was attached to the station with instructions to just stay still and let the Cluster's solar winds lead her to where she needed to go, and off she sent.

Stephanie sat in the space pod, watching the distant stars and galaxies while she was slowly led deeper and deeper into the Phantom Cluster. The communicator crackled with no words as she sat there in a drifting metal ship within the vacuum of space.

For a moment, she wondered if she was going to die.

She wondered if they were rejecting her and would then kill her via asteroid smashing into the pod or fire as they guided her straight into a star's surface.

She wondered if this was going to be the last thing she ever saw, stars and planets and galaxies in her eyes before her life ended, but when she blinked, she was sailing straight into the golden planet with rings.

Her eyes widened and she held on as the pod began to shake with its descent into a planet's atmosphere.

She yelped as the pod sank past the deep yellow clouds and then she was falling.

"Oh fuck!" She screamed, as she immediately tried steadying the pod.

But there was nothing. The buttons on the pod were not meant to let the driver steer, since it was merely an extension of the space shuttle that the stars were meant to guide themselves.

For a moment, she cursed Tim and Dick and all of the Robins and their insane trust in the stars for creating a death trap of a machine, and as her heart lurched into her throat, she was suddenly caught and the pod stilled.

She looked out the window and gaped.

Metal contraptions were floating in the air, attaching to the pod to slowly bring it down to the ground.

No, wait, it wasn't floating. The metal contraptions were part of the ground too. They looked like long tentacles that drifted from the ground to bring her down.

A shudder ran down Stephanie's spine.

What did this mean?

Had someone landed on the planet before the Justice League or the Robins had?

When she was guided down onto the ground, she hesitated.

She was not like Tim or Dick. Hell, she didn't even become Robin because she particularly wanted to or because Bruce offered. She became Robin only because Tim asked her to take care of Gotham while he was a civilian.

She was Spoiler before she was Robin. She was not like the others.

(She wasn't even a boy, or a particularly good Robin. Batman had never treated the other Robins like he treated her: carelessly, callously, coldly.)

But the thought of getting Batman's approval, of being a real Robin made her move. She pressed the button and the door opened.

For a moment, she worried that she wouldn't have been able to breathe, but before she could worry about lack of oxygen, something sand colored began crawling towards her at high speeds.

She screamed and immediately flew back to the pod, trying to close the door to no avail.

Looking closer, it was like some bizarre mix between a gold colored android and a mummy. It was the size of an adult man and looked half broken, like it needed repairing. It didn't matter though, because it was approaching the space pod rapidly and Stephanie was weaponless.

She shrieked again when the android climbed into the pod and started crawling after her. She kicked at it and it stopped moving when she started screaming and cried out, “What the hell!”

It twitched and then crept towards her again.

Stephanie waved a hand hurriedly. “No, no! Don’t get closer!”

It paused.

Stephanie almost could've cried.

Just what was going on?

The android twitched and then it pulled out something from a pouch on its waist.

It clicked and then laid the thing on the ground at her feet.

Stephanie flinched and moved away.

"What is that?" She asked, thankful that she did not stutter.

The communicator finally spoke then, and a voice called out, "That's a mask to help you breathe. If you don't want sand or glass in your lungs, wear it."

Stephanie blinked and turned her head, though she didn't take her eyes off of the android thing.

"Are you... the planet?"

The echoey voice of a planetary body made him sound wistful as he hummed, "Mhm. You should leave the ship."

"What about..." she did a vague gesture towards the mummy-android thing.

"He's a helper. He won't hurt you."

Stephanie hesitated for only a second before she moved. She took the mask and fit it onto her face. Then she carefully followed the helper. It crawled away and led her to their destination, but as Stephanie stared at it, she realized that its legs were broken off.

Was it damaged?

She didn’t ask, a little too weirded out by the entire situation. Instead, she observed the world around her.

The ground was dry with dirt and sand. A light wind blew the sand in billowing, gold swirls. She noticed that the mask seemed to protect her from the sand, since she felt none of the wind against her skin, and she narrowed her eyes before looking up at the red sky. Slightly visible above the yellow clouds, was the bright figures of the other stars, glowing brightly like white circles.

The air was thick, like she was breathing through a heavy, dry soup. The temperature was hot, almost scorching, but Stephanie persisted as the robot continued.

She swallowed, trudging carefully past the thick sand, and the robot thing led her to a blocky mobile home-looking machine. It stopped by the door and tilted its head.

Stephanie shivered. “Am I… supposed to go inside?”

It creaked and then nodded.

Stephanie cursed out Tim again and then stepped inside, pushing the heavy door with a grunt. Piles of sand covered the floor, making her feet sink as she walked through.

It was like a small cabin made of metal. Inside were tables and a bed, all crowded in unreadable papers and books. Wires and metal tubes covered the ceiling in a tangled mess, and a large supercomputer was attached to the wall at the end of the room.

The screen buzzed with static.

Stephanie stared, watching the faint light of the computer sparkle across the dark room, lighting everything with dark shadows before she stepped through the sand and approached like a mindless puppet.

When she was close enough to the computer screen, it flickered with a spark before turning black. Stephanie tensed.

The air began to feel heavy, like a pressure was being put on her, like eyes were beginning to watch her.

There was a hum, and then the screen crackled.

It turned black, and then pale bronze words began to type, one by one in quick succession.

“Hello, Robin.”

There was no sound, beyond the hum of machinery and the faint back-and-forth of rising tides, despite this place clearly being a desert planet.

Stephanie swallowed again.

“Hello,” she said carefully. She laughed a little, trying to shake off the jitters. “This whole thing is very creepy, y’know?”

“LOL, sorry about that. I’m glad you’re here, Robin.”

She laughed at the first statement, finding it surreal as to how a planet knew how to use words like “LOL”. At the second sentence, she bowed her head, a weird flare of happiness appearing within her, the humor quickly dying and being replaced by a sense of pride. “Glad to be here,” she mumbled. “Are you… are you the planet?”

The silence was brief, but oddly, she could tell that its personality was pleasant.

“Yes.”

Her mouth felt dry. She just wanted to confirm that the same being who spoke to her on the communicator was the one on the computer, but she still couldn't help but feel a sense of cold going down her spine.

So this was the strength and power of a celestial entity?

“… what is all of this? If you’re a planet, then… who created all of this stuff?”

The pressure grew heavier, like a hand was being pressed down on her. Stephanie tried to straighten underneath it, but it felt gentle and firm, like the hand of her mother when she wanted to scold her but didn’t have the heart to do so.

It made her feel cold and sleepy, but she was awake as the planet then spoke.

"Would you like to make a deal with me?"

The planet asked, and Stephanie hesitated.

Why did it not answer her question? Should she continue to press for answers?

She did not feel the same devotion and love that the other Robins did. She did not know if it was because she was not a real Robin or if it was because she was different from the others, but she just didn't feel the same blind trust for the stars.

(But…

She wanted the approval of Batman. Of Gotham. Of the other Robins. Of the stars.)

She decided not to ask again.

"What... what would it mean? To make a deal with you?"

"You'll be my host,"

Was the patient reply.

"How am I supposed to be a host? What does it do?"

"Just live. And be your true self."

She bit her lip.

But then she thought, what was she supposed to lose?

Every other Robin had a star. Only she didn't have one, and this was her chance.

She wanted to do good. To be good.

"Deal," she said, and the machine crackled. “I’ll be your host.”

“So be it.”

Stephanie had placed her hand carelessly on the machine’s surface, and in the next moment, her palms began to burn. She yelped, but it hadn’t actually hurt. The surprise of the heat made her pull back and she raised her hand to look at her right palm, where a four pointed star now bloomed into existence.

The highest point touched past the second knuckle of her middle finger, while the lowest point reached her wrist. Bronze yellow and wine purple blended together into something unique and beautiful and a flare of warmth spread throughout Stephanie’s body and into her chest.

No wonder the Boy Wonders were so devoted to the stars.

So this is what it felt like to become a host of the stars.

Cheerfully, Stephanie asked, “What do I call you? Is there anything you want me to do for you?”

“Call me whatever you like. And I’ll tell you if I need something.”

Another line appeared below that one.

“Thank you, Robin. For saving me.”

Stephanie blushed. “Okay! Uh, bro!”

“LOL. OK, buddy.”

Later, when her ship was guided back to the sky with the unexplained metal tubes, she was met back into the Phantom Space Station with a pacing Tim, who beamed when he saw her.

“How was it! Did you get it!? Who were they?! What did you call them?!”

Stephanie grinned and presented her palm to him.

Tim squealed.

————

Batman was not as thrilled, but nothing she could do satisfied him much anyways. Nightwing and Oracle were delighted to hear about her new celestial body, while Batgirl looked interested and curious.

Robin was just happy that she had her own celestial body to herself.

At first, it was awkward as Robin didn't understand the signs or signals that were given to her by her astronomical object, but Nightwing and Tim had no problem helping her understand how to interpret them. As time continued, they began to work together in amazing ways.

Whenever she dealt with any machinery (which was unfortunately a lot as too many people had access to bombs for some reason), it was always handled easier than before. She also felt no more fatigue or exhaustion from traveling in hot, dry weather, and had a minor immunity to heat and electricity.

Her abilities were not entirely unique, as she discovered that the other Robins also had shared abilities, but only she could communicate with her celestial body through her phone or computer.

She learned that he was a funny, easy-going individual who loved food and meat dishes and technology.

In many ways, he was so human that she often forgot that he wasn’t actually one.

It made her feel complicated, remembering how he was once a child, just like her, before whatever happened to him and the other astronomical objects.

But no matter how she asked or cajoled or coaxed, it was useless because he shut down every single time.

In the end, all she knew was this.

Whatever curse was placed upon the stars, only the Robins could save them.

So she just shrugged it off and continued to chat and use her planet’s help in being a better vigilante. With his technological help and his aid in guiding her, she was slowly learning new hobbies, better techniques, and more knowledge.

Robin was relearning her place in the hero scene as the partner of Batman, and with her celestial body by her side, she knew that she could do anything.

But all good things must come to an end. Like how great TV shows got canceled, like how the last day of childhood ended, like how everyone died eventually, like how the sea pulled back, like how stars evaporated from going supernova.

It had happened so suddenly.

She had thought she was doing well.

Robin— no, Stephanie bit her lip.

She wasn't Robin anymore.

Batman had fired her.

She fought back the tears in her eyes at the injustice of it all. She knew she made mistakes. She knew she wasn't perfect. But she just wanted to feel like she belonged, like she was doing good.

It wasn't fair how everyone else made mistakes, but she wasn't allowed. So that was why she decided that she had to prove herself.

She had thought that she was doing so well, but Batman had not thought the same.

It had not even taken him a second thought before he fired her.

He would have never treated any of the other Robins this way.

(Somewhere in the sky, the stars murmured to themselves, tending to their comatose sister.)

She was about to look into the files of the Batcomputer for a plan to implement and prove herself as a hero, when the keyboards sparked as she pressed her fingers down.

She paused.

The spark crackled and then flew into the computer with a fizzle. The screen glitched and then turned black and Stephanie froze as an intense wave of fear entered her, quickening her breath and heartbeat until she was frozen with terror, almost unable to breathe.

The feeling of being watched by an otherworldly being washed over her again, more pervasive than ever before.

The screen flickered and then coppery yellow words appeared. The fear began to fade like a lowering tide and Stephanie finally breathed as she read the words that began to type.

"Stop what you're doing."

The sound of space filled the Batcave with a hiss, the familiar crackle of technology struggling to understand the words of celestial objects and the ocean waves of outer space, washing over her like the unforgiving sea.

"... buddy?"

The keyboard moved without her input. Words were typed onto the screen by unseen hands.

"I'm here."

His words were reassuring, but the next sentences that appeared were anything but.

"Stop what you're doing, Robin. You'll kill yourself."

The stars could see the future. They often warned the Justice League of future events and dangers, and even the Robins were often given prophetic dreams when the stars could offer them. Jason was the best example, as the only Robin so far who could communicate with his star in dreams. Everything he had known from the stars were foretold as true.

This fact popped into Stephanie's mind.

Her vision began to blur from an onslaught of tears. Her breath hitched and then she sobbed.

Oh stars.

Nothing she did was right.

She covered her face and whimpered. Tears involuntarily flowed down her face and her cheeks felt hot with humiliation and shame. Humiliation for being caught at trying to hack the Batcomputer to come back as Robin, and shame as she realized that she would've inconvenienced everyone by dying doing so.

Was this a sign that she was actually supposed to abandon her life as a vigilante?

The keyboard tapped away again. She blinked the tears from her eyes and looked up through blurry vision.

"Don't cry. You're still my Robin."

Stephanie sniffed. Finally, she croaked, "What?"

"You were Robin once. But that's not your future. You have another identity, don't you?"

Spoiler.

Stephanie straightened her back as she realized what he was trying to imply. After a moment, as the realization set in, she reached up to wipe her eyes. She breathed in deeply and calmed herself down forcibly.

"Are you saying that... I should go back to being Spoiler?"

"You were never meant to stay as a Robin, bro."

The casual, flippant "bro" was so absurd that she giggled wetly.

She stood up from the chair and nodded, blinking the sting from her eyes.

But she felt better.

Sharp relief filled her and she shuddered at the swell of emotion that got rid of the dark negativity within her.

Suddenly, she knew who she was.

Like Nightwing, she had found her true calling. But unlike the others, unlike any other Robin, she was returning to her true identity.

A Spoiler of secrets and evil plans.

She wore purple far before she wore red, yellow, and green. She was a vigilante far before Batman. She was a Spoiler far before she was a Robin.

And just because she had changed her identity, just because Batman fired her, just because she had failed in one thing did not mean she had failed entirely.

Now she was almost embarrassed, but she just felt relieved more than anything. It made her want to go slack, but she took another deep breath to calm down.

"Okay," she said softly. "Okay. You'll be with me, right, buddy?"

She looked up as the keyboard clacks continued and golden letters started to appear on the screen again. Even though there was nothing spoken aloud, she could sense the affection in each word as her celestial body typed a response for her.

"Of course. I'll always be here for you."

Stephanie beamed and tidied up the Batcomputer before leaving the cave.

She did not need Batman to be a hero.

Just like she didn't need to be Robin to do something more with her life either.

The next day, as she put on her old uniform, dark purples and magentas and blacks, she checked up on her astronomical body with the tablet given to her by Tim and laughed.

A pale yellow moon was following her planet.

A gentle song came from the screen, soft and soothing, a sign of change and revival, like the rain after a period of drought, like the peeking flower buds underneath snow, like the moon's reappearance after a dark night.

In it, she could hear a third voice, a male voice that was lighter than Dick's star, one with a hint of teenage youthfulness and strength.

Stephanie smiled, touching the screen with her right palm.

“Is that yours? Are you in your final form?" She asked with a small smile. “Did that appear because I’m Spoiler again?”

The moon gave a little deliberate twirl and Stephanie grinned.

She pulled out her grappling gun and then opened the window to her apartment. She jumped out onto the roof and aimed the grappling hook. With a single shot, she hit a building and then jumped, flying through the air with a loud whoop.

The Spoiler was back.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Soooo much lore. I’m not sure who would’ve betrayed the Justice League, but knowing DC’s long history, there’s probably someone, right??

Nothing makes me lmao more than having Dan hate on Jason and Tim bc they’re too close to his sisters.

Tucker with the ability to communicate with Steph through tech!!

Him guiding her through becoming a hero on her own right without Batman 🥹 the reason why she feels different from the other Robins is bc she actually doesn’t feel different, she’s just doesn’t understand the feeling.

Also, has anyone noticed that a lot of the events that make a Robin who they are is basically Bruce being a jerk or an uncommunicative asshole? Like seriously, I'm struggling to make him a good dad sometimes.

Planet classification is not as fun as stellar classification… but Tucker is an extragalactic, chthonian, and desert or terrestrial giant exoplanet. Extragalactic = outside of the Milky Way, chthonian = a gas giant that’s been stripped of its gas layers and circles really close to its star, terrestrial = made of rocks or metals, exoplanet = a planet that orbits another star from the Sun.

…. Ik it’s a lot, but I had to get specific. In essence however, he’s just a terrestrial giant exoplanet. He’s big, but only around the size of Neptune or Uranus.

Why does Stephanie get saved but not Jason? You will find out :) writing these as one-shots mean that they take time, also bc I’m close to finals and my classes are getting harder.

[fatuismooches]

Hi Smooches!! I know a little while ago you said you were thinking about reader feeling ignored by Dottore and the segments, but that you probably wouldn’t write it because it would be too angsty. So please feel free to disregard this but… I’m thinking about Zandy throwing a fit on readers behalf. Like, storm into Prime’s office and stamp his little foot type of fit. And he gets upset about how he feels reader is being treated and ignored. And Prime and the other segments brush him off at first until the start making their own observations and realizing that something IS wrong with reader. Bigger angst is them being too stubborn and set in their ways to think a change needs to be made.

(x) It's funny to think out of all the mature adults you have as lovers, a child is the one who's able to understand your feelings the most. Sure, he probably can't understand everything precisely, but you're sad, and that's all that little Zandy needs to know. It's so simple for him and that's what makes it so endearing - he knows what it's like to be sad, it hurts really bad, and he knows you must be experiencing the same pain right now. The parent he loves so much! It makes his tiny chest hurt too. He can't let that be - you always comfort him and remedy the situation when he's sad, he must do the same for you! Even if that means confronting the big, bad... P-Prime, and the other segments by extension.

It's pretty hard considering they don't really want Zandy around in the first place, but for you, the boy is the most persistent child around. Initially, he just drops a few sentences about how much you miss them, and how much you talk about them (smart boy he is) to see if that'd do anything, if they'd maybe make one percent more of an effort. The child's experiment is a failure. Despite your insistence and fake smiles to leave it be, Zandy still pouts in dismay. You're the best grown-up ever, you had the kindness to give him a chance, why don't the others reciprocate that? He does try to listen to you and leave it be, but it makes the boy's poor heart ache too much to see you distracted and despondent. So in true child-like fashion, he throws a big fuss.

Admittedly, Dottore and the others are a bit surprised because Zandy isn't the sort of child to do this - when he has something to say, he usually ends up being mostly ignored, and then he just makes himself scarce. But nope, this time the boy is fully adamant about expressing his displeasure on your behalf, because you've given up apparently. Unfortunately... the brief feeling of surprise is again replaced with general apathy once again. Zandy probably cries by himself after that.

Still, eventually, they do take notice as to how their routines have slightly been changed, more like not disrupted for once - you're not popping up around them anymore, not fiddling with their items and notes, any acts of service you'd do, you barely even strike up a conversation nowadays, even when they're right there giving you medicine, you hardly even meet their gaze anymore. The more days that go by, the more the list grows. Dottore tries to ignore it, the pile of work in front of him isn't growing any smaller. He tries to justify the treatment in his mind, you've dealt with this for so long, you know his role, and you should be able to deal with it. Admittedly, he recognizes you didn't exactly sign up for this, but what can he do? He pushes your disheartened face out of his mind and believes you should find more to occupy yourself, just as he does. (Deep down somewhere, he knows he's in the wrong.)

By the time the man realizes his part in the growing problem, it may be too late.

[thelampisaflashlight]

You Are A Haunted House

[Don't you just hate it when your boss places a curse upon you post mortem? Or, what happens when Bea gets promoted Sister Imperator. Feat. Mountain and Rain.] Below the cut.

There is a notion that all old buildings are haunted; That the creaks and groans are not that of the ancient wood settling, nails squeaking as it expands and contracts with the seasons, but rather the forlorn groans of those long since passed.

Whether these ghosts are real or the conjuration of of an excitable mind is left up in the air, no one has indisputable proof of life after death, and yet, so many hold to superstition, even if they are not wholly aware of it.

Those who hold onto traditions passed down through the generations, despite their original purpose being lost in the relative comforts of modern living.

Few have to worry about wayward spirits leading them astray in the forest, nor need to fear that the creature they are viewing prancing about the meadow is not really a deer, but we as human beings know almost instinctually when something is not as it seems.

And in those moments, even the faithless turn to God.

Beatrix Milne, however, turns to Mountain.

"It's fuckin' creepy is what it is."

Before the pair stands the ruins of the former "Little Chapel" -it never had a proper name before, always referred to as either the small or little chapel- that sits a ways into the forest surrounding the abbey's grounds.

Despite only amounting to a singular room with no roof or even a door to speak of, Bea finds the structure... ominous and dark, though not the sort of darkness she's grown accustomed to working around the abbey.

The forest is still here, and while Bea may not know much about the natural world beyond what is necessary to do her job, she knows this stillness, this deep, unsettling quiet, is not normal.

Mountain, too, is silent as he takes in the wreckage.

"...You think it's haunted?" Bea laughs nervously, trying to bring a little light to the situation, but the ghoul gives her a look that has her stepping just a smidge closer into the safety of his towering form.

"For such a brash young woman, you certainly frighten easily, Miss. Milne." Mountain chuckles, offering her his hand as he walks towards the burnt out building, dry leaves crunching under his cloven hooves, "Not all places touched by man are left with an impression of them."

"There are no ill memories in this place, save for that of its end."

Bea follows the ghoul through the narrow threshold, her boots finding stone where she thought she might hear the soft squeak of weathered boards or damp soil.

The interior of the building is not in much better shape than the exterior; Though, Bea supposes, this may still count as being outside, given the lack of protection from the elements.

A cold drop of rain water manages to make its way down through the dense canopy and lands directly in the space made by the hood of her jacket and her bare neck, causing her to yelp, and the earth giant to snort.

"Fuckin' cold!" she hisses, shaking her shoulders as she feels the water trickle down her back, "Remind me why we're out here again??"

"A bit of water isn't the end of the world." Mountain smirks, earning a harrumph from the small woman, "In order to properly care of the grounds in my absence-"

Bea narrows her eyes at him.

"-Which I know you're already doing just fine-" he adds quickly to avoid starting an argument, "You need to be more acquainted with the parts of the property that you weren't allowed to visit before."

"Now that Sister Imperator has..." he inhales deeply, "...gone to see the father... It has fallen to Papa... Frater Imperator to decide how the staff will manage things in her absence."

"...I don't know whether I'm being promoted or being set up right now, Mountain." Bea says after a moment of quiet contemplation, "Sister Imperator forbade me from coming out this way for the sake of my personal safety, I don't think Copia changing his title means I am any safer here now than I was before..."

"It's true that parts of the grounds are more dangerous than others, and that this place is no exception, but if you want to stay-"

"-I do." she interrupts, then frets, "I-Is that old man thinking of kicking me out??"

Mountain stiffens, "I, well... He..."

"Does he think I'm not capable of doing my job??"

"No, but-"

"Mountain, I can't lose this fucking job." Bea pleads, grabbing hold of the front of Mountain's shirt, "I can't fucking go back to-"

"Bea." Mountain grabs her shoulders, "I am doing this so you don't have to worry about that."

"...What... What are you going to do?" she asks, feeling the air around her grow cold, "Mountain, what is this? Mountain, I'm scared-"

"Just close your eyes and it will all be over soon..." he whispers, moving his hand up to cup her face, "...Just..."

"-Wake up already!"

Bea bolts upright in bed, her eyes searching the dark expanse of her bedroom, coughing a little as she groans and falls back down onto the mattress, cringing when she's met by the pool of sweat that had gathered beneath her in her sleep.

"Fuck..." she wheezes out, "That was a fucking stupid nightmare..."

She coughs again, pulling herself upright and kicking her feet over the side of the bed, "Water..."

Wandering over to the sink, Bea turns on the tap and runs it for a short while until the water turns cold, rinsing out the mug she used for her tea earlier before filling it up.

She stares out the window as she drinks, eyes trained on the lake beyond her garden gate.

Slightly obscured by the waves rolling over the water from, Bea can see the shine of Rain's scales growing beneath the surface, and stares quietly as the ghoul slithers about in his beastly form.

It's an oddly soothing sight for what it is; A monster, impossibly large and frightening making its presence known to her, because he somehow always knows when she's awake... but Bea will take comfort where she can find it.

Lately -at least since Sister Imperator's passing- Bea's been feeling... out of sorts.

She has to wonder if the spell the older woman had cast upon her were beginning to fade now that she was gone.

Bea thinks of her nightmare, and the many more that came before it.

Oddly specific, always featuring Mountain, always ending in... not quite death but something akin to it.

She's not sure how to describe the sensation.

With a spluttering cough, she is brought back to the present, having inhaled a bit of her water trying not to spit out the contents in her mouth, but unable to swallow.

She stands over the sink hacking and wheezing for a solid minute before she manages to get her lungs to cooperate with her, again.

She swallows and goes to pour the rest of her drink down the drain, when she notices a splattering of dark liquid standing out against the metal; Acrid and watery, so dark it almost seems black until she pushes herself away from the counter and her shadow moves, revealing the rosy red hue of it.

Blood.

She brings a hand to her lips, feeling it stick to her thumb as she tries to wipe her mouth clean.

It's not... She's not...

What is this?

Why is this...

Why is this happening?

And then suddenly...

"Mountain?" she calls out weakly, looking towards the door, and she can almost see him in her head, hand poised to knock, now frozen in confusion.

"...How did you...?"

And then she can see him.

As if she's standing on the porch beside him, like she's outside, she can even feel the night air on her overwarm skin, and-

"...Mount, I think I'm gonna throw up..."

[kodared]

☆ Welcome home Neighbor~! ☆

----------

Human Reader x Welcome Home!

Frank tries his best to guide you, but Home sees all.

Chapter 12/?

Word Count: 6,129 out of 41,493

----------

 You and Frank sat together on the hard and cold synthetic wood flooring of Homes replica for what felt like hours before Frank was finished removing all of Homes twine from underneath your skin. By the time he finished, you noticed tears had started to stream down your face and your teeth bit down on his bowtie hard enough to give you a headache.

After you were able to control your breathing a bit better, you raised a shaky hand to remove Frank's bowtie from your mouth and set it on the ground, you looked at Frank, giving a silent apology for messing up his tie before he gave a pity chuckle and spoke,

“Don't worry about it. I have plenty of others just like it, Now. What happened Y/N?..”

    His voice sounded warm and comforting as he moved out of his crouching position to sit beside you, his hand resting in the center of your back in a way that told you he was there to listen.

Your eyes tried to look anywhere but him as you recalled the memories of being trapped for what felt like an eternity, hell, it may have been eternity. You had no concept of puppet aging anyways, Frank could have literally spent years looking for you and you wouldn't know the difference.

   “...How long have I been here?..”           Frank took a deep breath and made a pensive face as he thought,

     “If I had to guess I would say a few Hours at least. Why do you ask?” You groaned and pulled your aching knees up to rest your head on them, your arms shaking as you desperately tried to will your body to obey what you were pleading it to do.

                          “Because I feel like I’ve been here for fucking years.”

You could feel Frank's hand stop moving on your back for a moment at your swearing, if he was going to tell you off for your foul language he clearly stopped himself. If you could find the strength to do so you would laugh at his reaction.

“..In all seriousness. Time doesn't feel real here. One minute I was in Wallys' living room feeling my skin seething, and the next minute, I'm here. Stuck to a chair with a body that won't even move when I want it to.”

Your hands moved to hold your head as you repositioned yourself to be turned more to face Frank, you desperately needed his logical comfort right about now, but he even seemed to be at a loss for words.

Frank, however, kept his hand moving in comforting circles on your back despite his lack of words for a minute, before speaking again.

“...So you don't know how you got here either?..”

You removed your hands from your face as you looked up at him finally, only to see his face as a mixture of confusion as he was lost in thought. “If I had to guess, I would say Home brought me here. They said something about making me a part of the neighborhood, and they went to a different room. Then I felt dizzy, and woke up here.”

    You groaned as you kept speaking,

“...But I would also have to guess they left me here as a punishment of some sort. This was the building I originally… broke into.. That made me appear in your neighborhood to begin with.”

You turned your gaze to Frank again, now curious how he got here. “...How’d you get here anyways?.. Did Home send you?”

You couldn't help the way your eyebrows furrowed in slight distrust, while you doubt Home sent Frank to get you, it didn't hurt to be suspicious. Especially given your circumstances. If Frank was offended at your slightly distrustful look, he hid it well, he even seemed angry at the mention of Homes name.

“Absolutely not. I was actually sent on a Rescue mission of sorts for you, And got transported here Somehow.”

His story made sense, especially since he and Eddie were the last to see you before you marched off to Home yourself, what a mistake that was. With a sigh you pushed yourself to stand, your shaky legs not doing you any favors.

“Well, we’re not gonna get anywhere sitting here, I think I'm good to walk now anyways..”       Frank still looked concerned despite you assuring him you could walk, but he let it be for the time being. He nodded reluctantly and stood to his feet, making sure to grab the flashlight he had propped up before leaving with you leading the way.             As Frank expected, when he went to open the front door from the inside it didn’t budge. He turned to face you,

                  “I got in through a Broken window, looks like that will be our Exit.”

        You didn’t have much say in the matter so you nodded and followed Frank out of the shattered window. Your shoes grind against the glass on the floor before hoisting yourself out with Frank's help.

                Once you both were safely out of the Replica Home, Frank quickly shined the light at your hands to make sure you didn’t get scraped before speaking and focusing forward,

          “…So you’ve been here before, any ideas on how to get out?.. Eddie and the others should be waiting for us,”  

You followed closely beside Frank as he spoke, looking around at the scattered papers and various boxes idly to occupy your mind.

                “Well… When I first came to the neighborhood it was like.. I fell?.. It was weird, everything felt like it was spinning and I felt the floor cave in,”

    You left out the feeling of being watched as you felt a shiver go down your spine just thinking of it. Frank seemed none the wiser to your discomfort as he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts before speaking again.     

     “Do you remember where exactly you felt this way?..”

       You thought long and hard before looking at your surroundings to see if you recognized anything, which was proving to be hard to do with Frank holding the one and only flashlight you both had.

       “It would help if I could actually see, and while I'm thinking about it Frank, where did you get that Flashlight?”

         Last time you were here you found no sign of Lights, much less a flashlight. Even if Home could alter and warp memories you feel like Home wouldn't wipe something from your memory as small as a flashlight.

     Frank looked a bit confused from what you could see in the light reflecting off of his face before he had a look of realization cross his mind as he moved to hand you the flashlight.

        “I found it when I first entered, I tripped on a box and opened it to reveal a few others along with it.”

    You gave Frank a hum of acknowledgment and shined the light near a wall instead of in Infront of you where it once was pointing. If there were going to be any clues as to where you where, they would be on the walls. You distinctly remember being in the director's office before you ran and passed out, so that would be what you looked for first.

       You kept a close eye on Frank to make sure he was following you as you walked closer and along the walls of the building, only rarely having to deviate from the path if there was a stray box in front of you.

          Before long your shoes ground against what felt to be shattered glass, which raised suspicion inside of you, making you stop in your tracks. Frank was quick to catch onto your concern,

        “What's wrong?.. Why did we stop, do you recognize anything?”

            …You didn't respond.

     Your memories felt hazy as you desperately clamored for your memories. Broken glass should signal the entrance of the building or at least a window.

       …But there was nothing in front of you but more concrete floors and walls engulfed in a sea of black.

          “…This feels wrong.”

     You finally turned to look over your shoulder to see Frank, his eyes meeting yours as he looked confused as to what you meant, you continued without him having to ask.  

        “..The front of the building, when I entered originally, had broken glass at the entrance. But as we can both see..”

      You shined the flashlight forward once more, only emphasizing the pitch-black space that surrounded you both, and seemed to stretch on forever.

         “There is no exit in sight, hell there isn't even a window or skyligh..-”

    Pointing the flashlight up towards the ceiling you cut yourself off in shock, Frank hadn't seemed to look up yet as he moved to put his hand on your shoulder,

           “Y/N..? Whats..-”

            “Be quiet.”

       You shushed him quickly as you motioned your head for him to look up, the sight making him take a sharp inhale.

   The ceiling wasn't normal, anyone could notice that, especially you and Frank. While there were still studio lights and rafters, it seemed they weren't held on by any old wires or scaffolding left around.

         Red threads were holding them.

     All with varying colors and sizes, they twisted around the broken electronics pathetically. Some looked as if they had rusted around the threads from how long they had been neglected. 

“...We need to get out of here, and fast.” 

You spoke quietly and urgently as you began slowly backing up, your other hand motioning for Frank to do the same. The red threads overtook the majority of the ceiling as you looked repulsed at how they overtook the old lights. 

Homes influence must have spread to this place after you left, or maybe you never left Home at all. In your mind this could all very well be another one of Homes tricks, but if it was why was Frank here?.. 

Your thoughts came to a halt as you were caught up in staring at the ceiling, you failed to notice the threads that now snaked their way to the floor. Successfully tripping Frank and making you stumble. 

Frank suppressed a yelp as he watched the thread that was once pulled taught to trip him wrapped around his ankle like a boa constrictor. 

“Y/N!..” 

Frank didn't have to call for your help for long before you quickly pivoted on your heel to pull him up, your other foot stomping at the thread that came from the ceiling all the way to the floor, aiming to snap it. 

Frank winced as he felt the string merge deeper with his fabric skin before it stopped and finally broke free from his ankle. You held Frank's hand tightly as you quickly ran away from the threads. 

The threads spread through the facility for miles it seemed, with you and Frank stumbling as you both tripped on various strings and papers scattered on the floor. 

Right when your running seemed all for nothing, you quickly felt a feeling of deja vu hit you like a truck as you passed a wall. Shining your light you could see a door that read,

“Directors Office.” 

Without a second thought, you stopped running. Making Frank trip for a second before you quickly pulled him steady, turning around to see the threads that hung from the ceiling, they swayed like loose spider silk. 

“Frank. This is where it happened,” 

Frank looked panicked and confused, his breath frantic as he desperately tried to speak, his hand tugged at yours, beckoning you to keep running.

“Wh-.. What are you talking about?!.. We-.. We need to get away from the threads,” 

You squeezed Frank's hand in an attempt to calm his anxiety, you could feel him growing more and more anxious, but you knew this was where you originally fell into the neighborhood. 

Now you just needed a Spark to get you there. 

Without much thought, you let go of Frank's hand and unscrewed the lens from the Flashlight. The small bulb inside felt warm against your hand as you held the top of the flashlight and dropped to your knees, Frank looked confused and downright sick as he stared at the threads that now snaked their way over to you both. 

You looked up at the strings and grabbed Frank's hand, you readjusted your grip on the cheap flashlight as you slammed the lightbulb directly onto the concrete with a few papers nearby.

A small spark flew from the broken bulb and the glass shattered with a sickening crunch. Thankfully, it doesn't take much for old papers to catch fire. The fire quickly spread to the threads that were now inches away from you and Frank and you both watched as they recoiled and the floor suddenly felt weak. 

“...What just happe..!-” 

Before Frank could speak, the floor released below the both of you. The last thing you saw was Frank holding tightly onto your hand as you both fell and hit something soft. 

…

….

The only sound that could be heard over your ringing ears was your own heavy breathing. So you kept your eyes shut and continued to squeeze Frank's hand. 

…

….

After a few minutes, you finally opened your eyes and you felt Frank's hand still intertwined with yours, and his heavy breathing was now slowed down. You both were calming down and coming to terms with reality. 

Frank was the first to sit up, not that you particularly minded. You kept your tired eyes on the dim sky, it seemed to be nighttime, Frank also was looking at the sky thoughtfully as he calmed down. 

“...So that was.. Your world?” 

You chuckled softly as you sat up and finally let go of Frank's hand, you both seemed to be in a field, much similar to the one you found yourself in when you first arrived. 

“Pretty much, though there weren't as many threads last time,” 

Frank gave a hum of an acknowledgment as he turned to look at you, his frown now being a small smile as he seemed to try to lighten the mood. 

“I don't think I like it as much as my world to be honest,” 

You let out a laugh and stood on your shaky legs, offering Frank a hand as you helped him get up. 

“You could say that again, now, didn't you say Eddie and them were waiting for us?..” 

Frank looked embarrassed that he of all people had forgotten, he quickly began walking in the direction of the neighborhood. 

“Indeed I did, we must tell them you are safe. Wouldnt want to keep them worried.” 

The dim moonlight lit your path as you followed Frank, not wanting to get lost in the forest this late. Thankfully Frank seemed to be quite knowledgeable on how to traverse the terrain, he led you back to the entrance of town with no problems. 

…However, one thing struck you as concerning. 

All of the lights were off. Granted there weren't many to begin with, but Howdy almost always kept the porch light on, even if the shop was closed, as did Eddie. 

But both were off. 

Even Frank looked a bit shocked as you glanced over at him. He stared at Eddie's shop before shaking his head and looking toward his house. 

“Eddie probably just went back to my house for the night. I'm sure he's alright,” 

You nodded and followed Frank in the direction of his house, keeping your eyes averted from Home and sticking ever so slightly closer to Frank due to your anxiety. 

Frank didn't seem to mind. But as you looked over at Home out of sheer curiosity, you saw Homes eyes were shut. Similar to the way they were in your world. 

You felt uneasy. So without much thought, you walked into Frank's house and practically collapsed onto the couch, Frank just stood in the doorway. 

“...Normally Eddie would be asleep on the couch by now..” 

You watched as Frank closed the door and looked at his coat rack beside the door, seeing no sign of Eddie's mailbag or Hat. 

“...Maybe he's with Barnaby or the others,”

You tried to provide any consolation to where he went, you tried not to think or mention how he could be with Wally right now. You both knew Wally was under Homes control. 

Before Frank could respond to you, someone knocked at the door. Making you flinch and Frank even jumped a little before composing himself and opening the door. 

“Ah.. Hello Sally.” 

Frank spoke with a small smile, and as you leaned on the couch to get a glimpse of Sally, something didn't feel right. 

You could have sworn her Blue eye wasn't always open. 

“Hello Hello, Frank!.. I just came to invite you and Y/N to the Play that's happening tonight!” 

Frank's smile slowly drooped back into his usual frown, looks like he also knew something was wrong with Sally. 

“...I thought you normally give a Weeks Notice to your plays?.. Wally scolded you last time for ruining his painting schedule.” 

Sally seemed to stall for a moment, like a computer that lost its connection before speaking through stuttered words. 

“W..Well!.. I just wanted to throw a surprise Play for the new neighbor!” 

Sally pointed in your direction, making you sink further into the plush couch cushions as Frank looked at you and scowled a little at Sally. 

“They’re not staying Sally, you and I both know we have to get them home. Now, if you'll excuse..-” 

As Frank moved to shut his door, Sallys' shoe stood in the way of the door shutting fully. Her eyes wide now with her smile only growing, as she stepped further into Frank's house, you could both see the swirls that overtook her eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as Sally looked right at you and pushed past Frank. 

“Oh don't be Silly!.. They're even wearing the proper clothes for the occasion.” 

You quickly stood from the couch and moved to put distance between yourself and the eccentric theatre fanatic. You knew very well that your outfit was similar to Wallys', you never changed out of the pants Howdy had given you. 

You were starting to feel as if that was intentional. 

You looked at Frank with a pleading expression, silently begging him to help before he grabbed Sallys' shoulder and stopped her from walking any closer. 

“Home. This is no way to go about things.” 

Sallys' breath caught in her throat as she craned her neck uncomfortably to the side to glare at Frank, her smile now looking strained and fake as her eye twitched. 

“Home? How silly Frank. Im, not Home.” 

Frank flinched as Sally slapped his hand off of his shoulder before briskly walking out of his house. Her shoes clicked against the brick porch Frank had. 

“I expect you both to be at the Play in 10 minutes. You wouldn't want to leave the Cast with an empty house would you?” 

At her final words, you and Frank both watched as the door seemed to close on its own. You didn't notice it but Frank did, Frank saw the red strings that came from Sallys' fingers and pulled the door shut. 

Frank now knew where Eddie and the others were. 

“Y/N... We need to get some things from Howdys shop. We wouldn't want to go to the play without Flowers?.. Right?” 

You were confused for a moment before Frank did an ever so subtle wink and opened his front door to go to howdys store, Home was eavesdropping and Frank knew it. 

“Uh... Yeah, I think I remember Howdy getting more.. Tulips and roses in a few days ago..” 

You followed Frank out of the house and walked to Howdys shop, the porch light being off still shaking you to your core. You hoped Howdy was okay. 

Frank didn't say anything as he moved to an aisle containing different scissors and wire cutters. He motioned for you to gather a few items yourself, you of course listened. 

You walked down a few aisles, you felt bad you couldn't pay Howdy, but you guessed helping him out was just as much of a payment as anything else. So without much thought, you picked up a pair of scissors. 

Just as you were about to exit the aisle, you saw something that caught your eye. 

A small spindle of Red thread, one similar to Homes own, just without the sentience attached to it of course. 

You grabbed it and shoved it in your pocket before meeting back up with Frank at the entrance. 

“Are you ready to go see Sallys' play?” 

Frank had a worried look on his face despite his voice sounding confident with a tinge of joyful energy behind it. You could tell his voice was a facade, but his eyes told you everything. 

“As ready as ill ever be.” 

Frank hummed in acknowledgment and left Howdys shop, you followed closely behind as you approached Sallys' house. 

Her studio lights in front of the house were on, you assumed it was a signal there was a play in progress as you heard various laughs and music playing inside. 

Frank looked sick to his stomach as he moved to knock on Sallys' door, Frank's knuckles hadnt even touched the wooden door before it swung open revealing Eddie. 

Eddie slumped over and engulfed Frank in a tight hug as Frank let out a happy gasp, 

“Eddie!.. Why are you at Sallys?.. Your normally asle-..”

As Frank moved to pull away from Eddies hug, he found that Eddie wasn't letting go. You and Frank looked at Eddie as he slowly lifted his head, 

His smile looked strained and his eyes bore swirls. 

Frank's breath caught in his throat in fear as he desperately tried to squirm out of Eddies tight grip, to no avail. From Eddie's hands emerged Bright Red threads that quickly wrapped around Franks arms successfully restraining him like a spider. 

Before you could move to help Frank, you felt two sets of hands on your shoulders and arms. 

You didn't dare to look up before you felt your consciousness fade. 

—------------- - - -  - - -  -   -  - - - -  -= -= - -  - - -

Your head throbbed as you slowly woke, waking with a gasp as you tried to stand from the chair you had been placed in, only to find your arms and legs bound by a tight Red Rope. 

Raising your aching head you could see a large theatre stage in front of you, most definitely belonging to Sally and her play that you had been invited to go see. 

Which posed a bigger question, where was Frank?.. 

Looking around your general area it was hard to see anything but darkness. The room was empty apart from you and the folding chair that you had been strapped to. The dim lights that hung from the ceiling that pointed to the stage provided an ominous hum in the otherwise deadly quiet room. 

Craning your neck back you tried desperately to see if there was any Exit, but before you could even get the chance. A loud squealing of metal was heard from the stage making your attention snap back to the large stage. 

The loud squealing you heard was followed by the wooshing of the large red curtains that hung from the roof on a pulley system. 

In the center of the Stage was the star of the Show. Wally Darling. Who stood bowing at you. 

Wally rose slowly from his bow and clasped his hands together before he walked closer to you at the edge of the stage. His shoes clicked against the hardwood floors and echoed around the dark theater. 

“Welcome Home Neighbor! So happy to see you could join us,” 

You squirmed against the ropes that held tightly against your skin as you lurched forward towards Wally. Your face in a scowl as you practically seethed with anger. 

“What did you do Home?! Wheres Frank!..” 

Wally only laughed at your anger. A soft, melodic, and robotic laugh bounced off the walls and made the feelings of a headache blossom behind your eyes. 

“My!.. You are quite good at jokes Neighbor. Maybe we could use that as your new passion!.. Yes, Yes I see it now! A comical jokester to go beside Barnaby! Oh how lovely,” 

Wallys' words made no sense to you, other than a clear underlying message that you needed to escape and find the others. It was clear you were the only one with common sense and free will... 

…You just hoped you could keep it. 

Wally continued to mumble quietly to himself as he thought, you took advantage of his distraction as you tried to shuffle and see if you could reach your pockets, to no success. 

Wally snapped out of his trance almost as quickly as it appeared, his hand motioning for someone behind you to move as he spoke. 

“Ah well, that can all be settled in Due time!.. For now, We must prepare the next Scene for your arrival! Julie can assist with your Costuming!” 

You felt a familiar hand on your arm as you felt your ropes being loosened, bracing yourself to take off running Wally seemed to think of this before you had the chance to put it into action. 

His hand shoots out towards you and red threads quickly burned into your ankles making your head snap back as you bit back a groan from the pain. Your legs now felt asleep and numb, you assumed you couldn't move them. 

Looking up as your ropes fell to the ground you could see Eddie and Julie, their faces blank apart from the pained smile they had and their blank eyes looking down at you. 

“And of course, Eddie will assist in getting you there. Wouldnt want our new Neighbor running off would we?..” 

Julie nodded as she moved out of the way and let Eddie lift you up bridal style. If you weren't in the current situation, you would say being held by Eddie felt somewhat comforting. 

Eddie carried you out of the main theatre room, taking you to a small dressing room on the second floor of Sallys house before setting you down in a chair, he moved out of the way after he set you down while Julie looked through a few outfits. 

“Julie.. Eddie?.. C'mon, help me out here..” 

You tried so hard to move your legs, but they wouldn't budge. Whatever Home had used in his threading rendered them useless to your own commands. 

Eddie looked down at you, and for a split second, you could have sworn you saw an ounce of guilt in his eyes before it was gone as quickly as it came. 

Julie walked over to you with a few outfits before she moved to pick up a hairbrush and brush your hair from your face. You don't remember it getting messed up but it did come with the whole ‘kidnapped’ territory didn't it? 

A memory of Julie quickly popped into your mind. Your hand moved to grab Julies wrist before she could brush your hair as you spoke to get her full attention. 

“Julie.. Remember the Spa day you, me, and Wally had? Remember how you brushed my hair then too?..” 

Julie's hand froze as she looked at you, her smile dropping a little bit as she zoned out at the memory, if Julie's mind could just break free of Homes grasp for one moment you might be able to free yourself. 

Eddie's eyebrows creased as he moved to put a hand on Julie's shoulder to snap her out of it, but you stopped Eddie's movement as you spoke to him now. 

“Eddie. Remember when you first met me and you had to grab me to stop my Running?.. Remember how confused you were?”

Eddie's hand stayed in the air for a moment above Julie's shoulder before he let out a small, barely audible chuckle. Your spirits quickly rose as you heard Eddie speak too, 

“Ha... You.. Bumped into me.. Was late to deliver Poppys mail..” 

You felt ecstatic. Your plan was working, and it was working well. You just had to speed up the process a bit before Home noticed and tried to put a stop to it. 

“Yes!.. You both remember me.. Why are we here? How did you both get to Sallys?” 

Julies hand went relaxed and the hairbrush clattered to the ground with a resounding clatter as the swirls in her eyes slowly blended into her naturally black eyes. 

“..We were… Looking for..” 

“Y/N…”

You felt like you could cry as Eddie looked at you with small tears in his eyes, Julie looked shocked as her hand went to her mouth. 

“Y/N… Oh my god Y/N!..” 

Julie practically fell on top of you as she hugged you, you tried your best to hug her back. Eddie put a comforting hand on your shoulder since Julie was taking up all the hugging room. 

“Y/N.. Are you alright? What happened? Where we?..” 

You wiggled one of your arms out of Julies suffocating grip as she giggled in delight so you could put it over Eddies. You nodded to confirm Eddie's question, 

“Yeah... You both were under Homes… Spell? Whatever it is. You know what I'm talking about..” 

You let out an airy chuckle as you looked up at Eddie, he still looked worried but he seemed happy to see you were doing alright. 

“...Are the others alright’?..” 

You gave Eddie a sad shrug, 

“I don't know… I just woke up a few minutes ago in a theater with Wally telling me how I had to get ready for… Something?.. He sent the two of you to get my ‘costume’” 

Julies giggling must have stopped sometime during you and Eddie talking because now she pushed herself away from you finally as she spoke,

“...And by Wally you mean Home?.. Right?” 

You nodded, 

“Well, then we oughta go find ‘em... There's no tellin’ what Homes got planned..” 

You watched as Eddie and Julie took a few steps towards the door before glancing back at you, clearly confused why you weren't following, 

You let out a small chuckle, 

“Yeah well… One problem with that… I can't move my legs, Home did something with their thread things and now I can't even feel them..” 

Eddie looked worried as he walked over and carefully picked up one of your ankles, sure enough, it went completely limp after he dropped it to the floor. You really don't know what he expected to happen but it's not like you assumed he knew much about human anatomy anyways. 

“Well, that just won't do… Lemme see if I can..” 

Eddie once again picked you up, this time in a much more comforting scenario than before, and you let him. You would happily take being carried by Eddie over stumbling around any day. These puppets were like big stuffed pillows when it came to hugs and such. 

…How was he so strong though?..

“This should do until we can get those Threads outta ya!” 

You nodded and looked at Julie who was now beside you and Eddie as you all walked out of the dressing room. 

“...Thank you, Eddie” 

You mumbled quietly for only him to hear, it's not that you were shy by any means, you were just trying to be quiet in case Home could hear. 

“.. It's no problem Neighb..- Y/N,” 

Eddie corrected himself once he accidentally called you Neighbor, not that you minded being called neighbor much. If it wasn't for Home being controlling as all hell, you may even consider becoming an official neighbor here. 

…Not that you would ever admit that of course. 

Julie spoke up from the silence quietly, seeming to pick up on the fact that Home could be listening as you traversed down a hallway on the upper floor of Sallys' house. 

“..Where should we look first?” 

Eddie seemed to have an idea as he looked down the upcoming staircase, 

“...We should go back to the Theater, Y/N, You said Home was trying to do some sort of Play?..” 

You gave Eddie a confirming nod and he sighed before continuing to speak, 

“Well then, looks like that's where we gotta go. Keep yer’ eyes peeled for Frank, he knows the most about Homes threads.” 

With one final confirmation from both you and Sally, you all began walking down the stairs before taking a sharp turn and facing the broad doors of the theater she had in her home. 

You could feel Eddie take a shaky breath, and disregarding your wonder about how a puppet can breathe, you also prepared yourself for what lay ahead. 

Eddie pushed the heavy doors open, and almost as if a wire had been tripped the large lights that hung from the ceiling brightened the stage ahead. 

…And in the middle stood Wally. 

The scene that lay behind him looked to be a repurposed Romeo and Juliet set, with a large Moon in the corner that was hung with scaffolding where Sally currently lay atop of. 

Despite your concern for Sally, you focused on Wally and watched as his smile looked wider at the entrance of you and the others. 

“Ah!.. My esteemed guests have returned!.. StageHands?.. Do show them to their seats.” 

Before you could even think about his words, Eddie stumbled forward and you all turned around to see Frank and Poppy ushering Eddie, Julie, and of course, you, inside. 

The doors snapped shut as you all backed up with a resounding boom, only furthering your feelings of anxiety until you felt a few items almost fall out of your pocket. 

Your hand quickly reached to grab them before they fell. You could feel the spindle of thread and your small pair of scissors, Home didn't seem to notice them yet thankfully. 

In the commotion you tuned out Eddies panicked words that he spoke to Frank in a desperate attempt to free him from Homes control. Julie as well looked like she was about to cry as Poppy ushered her inside with a blank face, which was eerie coming from the usually happy mother hen. 

Wally spoke from the stage. 

“Haha, What a lively audience we have today!.. Now. Neighbor,” 

You could feel your wrists burning as you felt something wrap around them from the ceiling. Quickly hoisting you up from Eddie's grip as he fumbled and desperately tried to protect you from Home. His arms however were quickly restrained by Frank.

You didn't have much time to focus on the others due to the fact you were rapidly approaching the stage. Wally dropped you on the stage with a thump before he moved back two steps and bowed, his face looking serious. 

But also ecstatic. 

“I'm positively thrilled to invite you to our Neighborhood, However, I must ask.. Do you have a preferred color?..” 

You moved your hair from your eyes as you looked up from your crouched position. Your legs still not listening to your aching pleas to run. 

“What the hell are yo..- I want to go Home. To my Home.” 

You felt angry. You felt wronged. All you wanted was to go and have some fun with your friends, and now youve been caught in a different world, with a demonic house. 

Home seemed to underestimate your anger issues. 

“Well no matter, I suppose green is just as good of a color as any.. Sally!.. Could you grab the Needl-..” 

Home couldnt get out another word as you quickly grabbed the scissors from your pocket, 

And threw them at his arm. 

The room was silent apart from your panting. You felt so tired. If Home really wanted to try and forcefully make you a part of his hivemind, he would have to learn very fast just how determined humans could be when it came to free will. 

Home stared at you with wide eyes before slowly reaching to grab the scissors that lodged into his arm, pulling it out in one swift motion. Stuffing fell on the floor, and as you looked up you could see that Sally now no longer had her wide smile. 

Turning around you saw Frank and Poppy looking at Wally with a almost horrified expression. It seemed that worked to snap them out of Homes trance. 

You felt a hand on your neck before you could fully turn around. Threads quickly came from the ceiling to suspend you in the air as Home pulled back his hand, and now held a small Build-a-bear type, plush heart. 

“Nice try Neighbor.” 

You clamped your eyes shut and braced for anything. You could hear Frank and the others behind you quickly standing to try to stop Home… 

…You also heard two sets of feet rapidly approaching from one of the side wings of the stage. 

Opening your eyes you were met with the sight of Howdy landing a swift punch to Wallys' face. Sending him to the other side of the stage, the threads seemed to glitch for a moment before dropping you, Howdy was quick to catch you and help you up with his other hands. 

“Don't you dare lay a hand on them.”  ----------

RAAAH ITS FINALLY DONE.

oh my god. this chapter is by far the longest out of this whole fanfic, and rightfully so Theres so much content in this one and im so happy with how it turned out, next chapter is the conclusion you've all been waiting for

As always im on Ao3! I cant wait to write the finales for this fanfic insert devious smile

[letstalktea]

Jules Soda is owned by @yogurtpop

Content: Jules Soda x Reader, Sadism/masochism, unhealthy relationships, there are cigarettes involved and Reader is smoking ‘em, burning (cigarettes), shotgunning, nothing about this is safe kink

Word Count: 0.8k

You place the cigarette between your lips and take a long, deep drag. You lean against the sturdy back of the leather chair, legs spread wide and feet planted flat on the floor. Jules, on the other hand, kneels on the ground before you, naked and vulnerable. His knees are pressed tightly together, squishing his balls between his thighs until they begin to turn red. His cock – disgustingly large even when it's soft – rests limply against his leg and his hands stay hidden behind the small of his back.

You lean forward to rest your elbows against your knees and hold the lit end of the cigarette in front of his face, a hair's breadth from his nose. The way his eyes cross as he tries to focus on the dimming red end makes him look stupid. You laugh at him. A dry, superior laugh. 

“Eyes on me,” you say, the brief moment of amusement no longer in your voice as it is replaced with authority, “and open up.”

Jules’ mismatched eyes flick up so that his focus is solely on you. He wears no glasses because you wanted to see his unobstructed eyes. 

Slowly, he opens his mouth wide and slides out his tongue. After sitting for long enough, drool starts to pool at the corners of his mouth, eventually leaking out to dribble over his piercing, run down his chin, and drip onto his thighs below. 

Without a word, you remove the cigarette from your mouth and press the lit end against his tongue.

The second the smoldering tip touches his tongue, he yips – a strangled sort of choking noise – and tears well up in his eyes.

You lift your foot and smash your heel into his half-hard cock. Before he has the chance to double over in pain, you grab him by the root of his hair – careful not to accidentally light his platinum hair on fire – and yank his head back so that he has no choice but to look up at you.

“Ash trays don't make noise and they don’t get hard.”

While still holding onto his head with one hand, you grab his tongue between your fingers of the other and press your thumb into the fresh burn. You can almost feel your stomach flutter with excitement as you watch him struggle not to scream as you torment his fresh wound. 

You let go of Jules’ tongue and hair, turn the cigarette around, and rest the mouthpiece against his lips. He closes his mouth around the cigarette.

“Do it right this time or I’ll put it out in your eye next.”

He inhales deep enough that the tip glows red.

When you suddenly pull out the cigarette, he closes his mouth quickly so that no smoke escapes.

Before anything else, you hold the lit end close to his eye to remind him that he may be losing one of them if he displeases you. He has no fear. Instead, the look in his eyes reminds you of a puppy lovingly waiting for its master to reward it.

You press your forehead against his and drop the other out of sight. Carefully, purposefully, you press the lit end against the base of his cock and grind it into his skin until you are sure it is extinguished.

The anguish on his face is unmistakable. The iris of his eye rolls back in his head and his muscles twitch like a dying frog. His cock remains mostly flaccid despite dribbling pre-cum onto his thighs. And, the entire time, he doesn’t make a sound.

You reach around to grab the back of his head and pull him forward so that his lips crash into yours. The smoke he is still holding inside spills out into your mouth as you force your tongue past his lips to lick at the burn you have given him. With the cigarette still in your hand, you wrap your fingers around his soft shaft and begin to pump him so fiercely that you know it has to hurt. Even so, he is hard for you immediately, cock twitching and leaking as you pay special attention to the piercing only you get to see.

“What do you say?” You ask as you break the kiss, letting a small string of smoke escape from between you both.

Jules looks drunk as he responds, “I love you.”

You laugh at him again. “Fuck. You’re pathetic.”

You bite his lip so hard that you taste blood before going back to kissing him and jerking him off until he makes a mess of your hand.

[glacialswordsman-a]

starter | @crimsononiarataki | plot call

"Drop anchor!"

The command shouted out from the captain of the ship carried out through the docks of Ritou and had garnered the attention of some while most others continued doing what they were doing on the piers. While the sailors of the ship busied themselves with mooring her, a person's head of midnight locks peeked out from below deck before they finally made their way up top. With a deep breath, a tanzanite-colored eye shaped into a crescent upon the sight that greeted the newcomer. The gorgeous reds of the maple trees contrasted beautifully with the deep emerald tiles that lined the buildings, and the clear blue sky above them hadn't a cloud in sight.

Kaeya's breath was taken.

The traveler had regaled him with tales of their adventures in Inazuma when they briefly reunited in Sumeru. He gave the blond outlander all his attention as they and their fairy companion animatedly went on about the trials and tribulations they endured; how they ultimately ended the war between the Shogunate and the Resistance, as well as abolished the Sakoku and Vision Hunt Decrees. This led the Cavalry Captain to ponder... he still has time that he could use up. He had finished all his work and cleared a couple backlogs that had been a thorn in the Knights' side, earning him vacation days. Usually he hates idling his time away, but this has been a nice change of pace, going on his own little 'world tour'.

Thus, here he is now. He had to hand it to the traveler, they really know how to tell their tales and spark wanderlust within the Cavalry Captain. It was a little frightening at first, going out on his own so far away from the place he's called home for nearly all his life; and yet, he no longer feels that fear now that he has made his way along the docks and towards customs.

Fishermen, merchants, sailors, and artisans alike hustled and bustled along the port of the entry island of Inazuma. Most people here seemed to be foreigners just like him, having set up shop in Ritou long before the Decree ended. It was a sort of comfort, knowing he wasn’t the only fish out of water. Well, he still is compared to people who’ve hunkered down here for a while, but he’s been reading up on some informative books upon the culture and language in Inazuma during his travels from Sumeru, to Liyue, and finally to the land of the Electro Archon. Hopefully he won’t stick out too much.

The process at customs was—not fun, to say the least. Despite the borders being reopened, the process itself to enter the nation was still grueling and tedious. It took nearly an hour, if only due to the line and how thorough the Kanjou Commission Ashigaru were when it came to checking luggage. The nation may be welcoming foreigners again, but they still seemed to be rather strict with making sure nothing illegal was being imported; rightfully so, of course.

Once he was finally freed from customs and given his welcomes to Inazuma, the Cavalry Captain released a long breath that had been buried deep within ever since the start of his voyage. It renewed his strength and excitement, his eye simply twinkling with near childlike wonder. He began to think on where to start, before hearing his stomach grumble loudly. Ah.

Perhaps lunch is in order.

[108garys]

Grievance

For some reason my Eric/Nick stuff always ends up being super kingkay adjacent pre build up to the point where I'm not sure how much it should be considered ship stuff given we don't make it to the docks but regardless here's a late ish, sort of birthday fic for Nick(does it count if it's not from his pov? lol)

At anyrate it's less than a month post game, Salim went home and Rachel was killed post infection

Eric sat on the edge of his bed feeling low.

Three days from now he'd be back home, three years past his life was altered by marriage and tragedy and three weeks ago he lost Rachel… First emotionally and then physically. Ending their relationship in favour of a new path… mere hours between reunion, the confession to her affair and the end…

He had seen what Clarice had gone through. He didn't want that for her… He could never forgive Kolchek for doing what had to be done, no matter how much of a mercy it was for both and despite it all he understood the necessity… It was a different world deep down in that hell, normal rules didn't apply, Salim was proof of that… he resents Jason but blames himself, everything came back to his failings… and Sargent Nick Kay? The other man. What can he say? He took his wife and then she died… He brought her there… He cut the rope and drove her away… They had attacked each other viciously, blaming each other… He cut the rope to save himself, he killed her in that moment of truth and he could not fault her choices… They all did what they had to do to survive but he wishes he hadn't.

…under the rage and grief and blame he had respect for the man… Despite it all he followed his lead, patched his wounds without hesitation, not mocking his broken heart and had saved him when it would be so much easier to get him out of the way… In time he may even have been able to be amicable…

He wonders if Nick had intended to survive placing the charges… He wonders if he would have, after everything he's not sure he would… It would be far more dignified to die in the line of duty, buried with his wife, remembered… Not a widower who failed and must carry the weight of wishing he was merely a divorcee… Day after day he is constantly surrounded by noise and people and questions and tests in repetition and yet the isolation was crushing, the others were friends, they would stay in touch and support each other and he'd have not a soul who truly knew what he went through-

A knock at the door pulled him from his spiral. He took a moment, breathing to compose himself, holding his ring to touch base before answering. "It's open." he calls out, getting up from the bed. "Colonel." Nick greeted, looking as bad as Eric felt. "Not for long after this." it was awkward, both were waiting for the other to scream and yell and come to blows but instead Nick clears his throat, his nose scrunched up in thought as he found the right words to say… "I know am the last person you want to see, well… ever, but I had to say it," he looks him in the eye, his eyes are red from recently shed tears. Much like Eric's own. "I owe you my life, you put yourself on the line for me even knowing what I did, even having every reason not to." Eric looks away for a moment, his own thoughts echoed back in such a surreal way as the Sargent continues. "It was brave and selfless and I… I'm sorry."

Silence filled the room, there was so much more to say, and just as easily he could scoff and curse and throw him out but he just stares at him, only now occurring to him that as much as the Sargent was close to Jason, that shot had likely felt just as cruel… He didn't know where to put this revelation… The object of his ire, THE other man, was the only person capable of understanding his grief… He could see it in his eyes, a complex storm of emotions in every response he could give, the instinct to deny it clashing with the desperate clawing need to break out of this oppressive loneliness. He nods. "You did the same for me… You're a good soldier," He couldn't call him a good man and truly mean it, still so raw and so he says something he does believe, his wording deliberate. "What you did down there showed courage."

"I was an ass," Nick shakes and head and Eric can't bring himself to disagree, sitting back on the bed, taking a deep breath as he runs his hand through his hair. He shakes his head and laments. "I shouldn't have hit you, sorry." He concedes as Nick pulls up the only chair in the room to sit across from him, a humourless chuckle escaping him. "You've got a mean right hook, can't say it was undeserved." Eric smiles weakly, he looks up at the man across from him. "You gave as good as you got." He decides to step into this uncertain territory, seeing the familiar worn look on Nick's face, taking in the small freckles and small scrapes across his dark features. In the buried depths of himself he can understand it, her and them… But he's not truly ready to go there, not even privately. So he admits to what he can. "We were both out of line, maybe if we put our differences aside we could have been better prepared… Maybe Rachel…" He stops, the sentence too painful to finish, he looks back to his ring, pain flooding his being at the touch of the cool metal, he shuts his eyes, he can't do this, he can't handle it. He doesn't look up as he hears the scrap of the chair across the floor as Nick leans forward nor when he felt the other man's hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. How long has it been since he's received such a touch? "We don't know that! You did everything you could."

"I cut the rope, I killed her." the first tear slips down his face as he confronts his guilt, his voice shaking as it had then and instead of anger he is met with a grasp on his other shoulder, he looks up and sees his own grief mirrored. "You didn't, those things did." he continues before Eric can protest. "You did exactly what you were supposed to do, Rachel said it herself, you followed protocol… You didn't… Not you, not Jason… That damn parasite is the only thing responsible…" Nick looks down, his grip tightening on Eric's shoulders. Eric takes his shaking hands and places them over Nick's, the other man putting up no resistance as he takes his hands and holds them between them in silence, letting this feeling wash over him, entwining Nick's grief with his own. Simply being in this moment, no longer facing it alone… In a way he feels like it's what Rachel would have preferred. In this moment he makes a decision. Although his grief, his resentment and jealousy towards the other man feel insurmountable… Although he feels a complex mix of anger and almost need to be reflected, to be understood… Although he hasn't forgiven Nick or himself…

He's going to try.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @tinynightmarewoman

@eframschweigersskincells

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast

Author Notes: Content warning, but the CWs make it sound far scarier than it is. Unless you struggle with any of the topics its fairly lighthearted. 

Another finished a G/t July Prompt; Bird! This takes place after Sal and Mark meet for the first time (Loosely based on this comic that I will inevitably redraw) acting as a sort of Chapter Two. The Title for their story is still up in the air and I am more than welcome to suggestion. 

Word Count: 3184

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

CW: Adult language, mild gore (blood, hunting, animal death), derealization/questioning sanity

---

The warmth in the air was uncomfortably muggy. I could feel myself break a sweat and I’d barely started my trek to the outskirts of the property. It reminded me of whenever he got too close. The way he radiated heat… the way he seemed to use up all the air around me, leaving the air feeling used and wet with his breath. Stretching my arms skyward I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of the strange human; The shared shock as we saw one another, the way he fumbled over himself to assure me he wasn’t a danger… and that hilarious scream he’d let out at the sight of my innocent little spider. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. I’d never imagine I’d talk to a human, let alone spend the better part of an hour trying to get one to calm down!

The image of him, face flushed and sputtering had been comical. He’d been so embarrassed. Rightfully so. Why would a creature like him be scared of such a sweet little spider? Ridiculous. Picking up my pace, I began to jog towards the tree line, hoping those masked birds hadn’t yet found the berrying tree. Chewing on my lip, I found my mind being drawn back to the human. He’d called himself Mark. Once he’d calmed down he’d apologized up and down for his outburst. He was strange. I had sat down on his window sill as he asked question after question. What was I? Where had I come from? Why was I trying to get into his house?

His… Mark’s house had been empty for so long… was I not supposed to take my chance to see humans up close? There's something invigorating about even just being in the presence of people… When was the last time I’d even seen another being capable of conversation, let alone had a conversation? Sure, it's not like I planned on popping up directly in his line of sight, but … despite my better judgment, I found myself happy I did. I’d had my first conversation in years, and for some strange reason I was feeling as if it had left me bursting at the seams with renewed energy. Whether it was from the interaction or maybe from the strange food the colossal coward had given me… an Or-we-Oh? Was that what he’d called it? It didn’t really look like food… more like two disks made of soil with something unnaturally white between them. While it may have looked wrong, it had tasted far better than it looked.

My stomach growled at the memory. Whether it was the human food or the conversation, I’d made up my mind. I was going back. Though, not empty handed. These stupid tree-berries were always such a hassle to get. 

The trunk of the tree was thinner and smoother than what grew deeper in the woods making them profoundly annoying to climb. Worse yet, the stupid branches only really broke off in a convenient fashion after a sizable climb, and even then, they grew at an such an angle that I could never just stand. The lack of hand and footholds along the lower portion of the trunk always left me exhausted, but the deep red berries were, regrettably, worth the effort. 

Hand over hand and feet pressed firmly on the trunk I climbed up the tree, letting my weight hang downwards effectively anchoring my grip on the trunk. I grit my teeth. Climbing like this was always a pain. I could feel the muscles in my arms swell and ache as I made my way up the trunk. Better sore than hungry. I thought, as my hands finally gripped onto a branch. Hoisting myself up, I surveyed the scene. Those stupid birds had definitely gotten here before me, with one or two of them still darting on and off the branches. Even still, those smooth deep near purple berries were still relatively abundant.

Those stubborn pests ignored my shouts and attempts at shooing them away as I maneuvered along branch after branch, filling the sack I’d brought until it was nearly overflowing. If I had any hopes of trading that human for more of their strange food, I would need more than just a couple berries. 

I sat, letting my feet hang over the edge of the branch as I tied the mouth of the bag. This was weird, right? Wanting to see a human? To spend time with them? I shook my head, ridding myself of doubt as quickly as it came. Mark had been weird, sure, but he could talk!! An unwelcome thought seemed to bubble to the surface…

How long has it been since I’ve heard a voice other than my own? 

Yeah, no. Bad thought. No time for those. Rising to my feet, I heard the sudden flutter of wings as those pesky masked birds took flight, swooping away from me and deeper into the woods. Figures, they’d leave now that I- 

My thought was interrupted by a resounding screech.

Fuck. 

---

The sticky summer air struck like walking into a wall. I made my way out of the sanctuary of my air conditioned house, and into the frying pan my porch had become. Was this real? A tiny man... There had been a tiny man in my house. Sal… that was the name he’d given me. He was a rough looking creature, and I had no doubts after just one glance at him that he had been living outside. He had warm, sunburnt skin, and was covered in an unsightly layer of grime. I found myself wishing I had got a closer look at him, but there was no way in Hell I was getting within arm's distance of that creepy little spider he’d had accompanying him. I shuddered at the thought. The image of it crawling liberally all over him as we spoke made my skin crawl. 

He’d laughed at my reaction too, as if I was the one being weird. 

He’d told me he’d bring me back a treat in exchange for the Oreo. I’d half heartedly tried to tell him there was no need but… if I’m gonna be honest? I wanted him to have a reason to come back. 

I stared up at the sun. The strange little man apparently wasn't very familiar with the concept of hours and had told me he’d meet me when the sun was “around there in the sky” as he pointed vaguely at an angle that seemed to suggest sometime around noon? Maybe?? I took a seat. 

This was crazy. Was I crazy? I mean… a little man… a tiny yet full grown man had just pulled himself up onto my window sill? I ran my hands through my hair, my loose grasp on reality making my stomach knot. It had felt so real… but it couldn’t have been… and yet here I was, sitting on my front porch in this awfully muggy weather waiting to rendezvous with something, someone rather, straight out of a fairy tale. 

The minutes dragged on lazily, as if the muggy weather made time itself move sluggishly. Fuck, was I actually losing my grasp on reality? I mean, I had seen him, heard him, but I hadn’t touched him… I had no pictures, no proof to fall back on. I felt my brow furrow as I swallowed dryly. I’d fucking lost it. Staring up at the sky, I watched as a hawk circled lazily overhead. I’d go into town tomorrow and see if I could get in with a doctor. A solid two days away from the city and I’d managed to develop some form of cabin fever. Just fucking great. 

I closed my eyes and leaned back. Man, it was hot. Somewhere above, the hawk screeched, seemingly in agreement with my thoughts. I thought about going inside to get water… or better yet, a beer, but I couldn’t leave my spot. It was as if I was holding onto a shred of hope, desperate to prove to myself that the miniscule little man had really existed. 

The longer I thought about him, the more doubt seemed to surface in my mind. His voice, while relatively quiet, had been deep. Did that make sense? Surely someone that small would be pitched up? Thinking back, he may have had pointed ears, but everything else seemed perfectly human- 

A strange cacophony interjected into my rambling thoughts; another shriek from the hawk, although this time, much closer. There was the rustling of grass and the puffing sound from flapping wings. I cracked my eyes open and sat up. I knew they were skilled hunters but I’d never seen one in action, and although morbidly curious, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see the aftermath of whatever poor little creature ended up in its… talons.

Poor little creature…

SAL. 

I sprung up. Reality be damned. What if… what if he really was real… what if he’d been- 

I pushed the thought from my mind as fast as it had surfaced. Don’t think. Just go. I ran down the stairs and out towards where I’d heard the sound, begging that the hawk had just picked off one of the little finches or waxwings that flitted about the property. 

When I saw rustling in the grass it was as if my heart was trying to crawl out of my throat. No. No. No.

Please be alright… My head spun with worry as I moved aside the grass, heart sinking at the sight. A red tailed hawk moved awkwardly on top of something… something small. No feathers were scattered about, no flapping of wings beneath its grip... 

Oh God… 

My throat felt tight. I lunged at the creature, hoping desperately that whatever damage was done wouldn’t be fatal. 

A yelp. 

I nearly fell back from the soft sound of shock that came from beneath the bird. Everything seemed to slow as my brain struggled to keep pace with what I was seeing. There he was. That tiny little man… Sal… Covered head to toe in blood. I felt as my own blood drained from my face, bile rising up in my throat. He was soaked. Oh God, was it fatal? What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to call for help? How could I-

He smiled. 

His teeth were bright white against the gruesome crimson that covered him. Why was he… smiling…? The limp weight of the hawk in my hand suddenly felt a good deal heavier. I looked from the hawk, to him and back to the hawk. 

Had he…?

“Well?” He said, placing his hands on his hips and craning his neck to look at me, “Fair trade?”

Things were moving too fast for my brain to keep pace. To start, I wasn’t losing my mind. The tiny man was real… and he had killed a hawk… a dead hawk which I now held in my hand. I swallowed the urge to gag. What had he meant by trade… Oh- Oh no. 

---

His face. Oh man, his face. That near death run-in was worth every cut, scrape and bruise to be witness of the realization dawning across that massive face. He turned his head back and forth between me and the redtail hanging limply in his grasp in rapid succession. He looked uneasy. I felt my smile grow even wider. There was disbelief in his eyes. I liked that. I wanted his gaze on me to stay that way. Looking at the bird in his hands I could only feel my pride grow. Fuck those stupid berries, now that was a meal fit for a human. 

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the bird’s blood from my face, “I’m not that rude of a guest. I’ll prepare it for you. Can’t go bringing unfinished gifts, now can I?” 

I stared up at him, awaiting some kind of response. Wow Sal, that's incredible! Or Oh man, that's a pretty big bird, I doubt I can finish it all, or- 

“Prepare…” The colour drained from his face. I snorted. The last family that lived here hadn’t seemed to have to do much with their meat either. Sure, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience but someone had to do it. He crouched down, staring at me with a strange expression; his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. 

“Dude, that's gross. I’m not eating hawk?”

Oh. 

That simple remark seemed to puncture something in my chest. I felt deflated. My smile wiped away in an instant. Did humans not eat redtail…? Why... why was it gross? That strange expression on his face suddenly seemed to come into focus in my mind; disgust. 

Not wanting to look at that expression any longer, I busied myself with looking around the grass. 

“Ha, oh yeah, that’s… I had something else. Um,” I felt heat rise to my face. I didn’t get what was wrong with it? What was I missing? “It should have fallen around here somewhere…”

Fuck, I felt small.

I was all too aware that even as I cast my gaze downward, he could see every movement I made. His presence loomed over me. Small. What had felt like an insurmountable feat just a few moments ago was a dismissable nothing to someone like him.

A cruel voice seemed to rise from the ether within my mind. So are you. 

---

Shit. 

He had been really excited, hadn’t he? He’s done the equivalent of slaying a fucking dragon, and how do I react? By saying it's gross?? I mean, the idea of eating a wild hawk most definitely is gross, and questionably legal, but… My thoughts trail off as I stare down at the crestfallen little man. He doesn’t meet my gaze. That borderline uncanny confidence seemingly eviscerated by a single tactless comment. 

I chew my lip and groan, albeit, internally. 

“Sal…” he doesn’t look at me, but I catch him flinching at his name, “You know… Now that I think about it, it’s probably pretty similar to turkey.” His head snaps back to me, eyes full of hope. I offer him a smile. 

“I’ll give it a shot. Can’t let a great catch like this go to waste.” 

It’s as if a switch goes off, and suddenly he’s beaming, his cocksure grin even wider than before. It would be an adorable sight…  if not for the fact he was drenched in the blood of his prized catch. I cringed internally as I offered him my hand. He took a step back, as if unsure of what I was doing. 

“You can use my kitchen to prep the meat, but only if you wash yourself off first…” I paused, “Please.” 

His grin never faltered. 

“You got it, Tree-Top.” Despite absolutely dreading his meal, I couldn’t help but grin right back at him. 

He took a hesitant step onto my open palm, looking back and forth between my face and my outstretched hand as if asking if it was okay. I nodded encouragingly, repressing the urge to gag as I saw the tiny bloody handprint he left on my thumb. Gross. Gross. Gross. 

Instead I focused on the absolutely wild sensation of holding small… human…(?) in my hand. The sensation was beyond bizarre. Nothing like holding a small rodent or lifelike doll could come close to comparing. I could feel how intentional every movement was, as if I could sense the human intelligence behind each carefully placed step. The thought that I was quite literally holding a life in my hands was overwhelming, and I teetered back and forth between excitement and anxiety.  

I stood.  As he rose upwards in my cupped hand, he gripped onto my thumb with an unnerving amount of strength for a being of his size. Looking down at him, my own stomach lurched. With seemingly no instinct for any form of self preservation, he leaned over the edge of my palm on his hands and knees, watching with rapt excitement as the ground disappeared beneath him. He turned his attention to me briefly, shooting me a cheeky little cocksure grin, before going back to watching the ground pass by in awe as I made my way back towards the house. 

In those moments, I was all too aware of every item I had ever dropped in my life, and suffice to say it was more than a few. My heart felt as though it would beat itself out of my chest as he let himself nearly dangle off the edge of my palm. Slowly, I leaned my palm against my chest and curled my fingers inwards. Sal was unphased with the change in position, absentmindedly shifting to standing, his feet perched firmly on my pinky while he leaned precariously over my index finger.

His excitement only seemed to grow as we entered the house. His head was constantly on a swivel, taking in every detail he could catch. Which arguably wasn’t much as I hurried toward the kitchen counter, the sticky feeling of quickly drying blood on my hands leaving my skin crawling. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

“Stay right there.”

Placing him and the bird beside one another on the counter I hurriedly turned on the sink, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the rush of water cleaned my hands. The last thing I needed was a bloodied little man exploring the area where I made my food. I bit my lip, trying my hardest to keep the disgust from forming on my face, not wanting to upset my gruesome little guest. 

“Here,” I grabbed a table cloth and wet it, offering it to the little man. He didn’t hesitate to begin wiping himself down. As I went to lay out a cutting board, I paused, my stomach sinking. Fuck, I thought, am I going to have to … I grimaced. 

“Um, hey man, are you going to need me to-” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, shooing me away as he strode over to my knife block as if this were his kitchen. 

“No, no,” he said dismissively “I got it.” He smiled over his shoulder as he yanked out a serrated knife from the block. Nope. Don't wanna see this. I turned to leave, but a small shout made me pause. Sal stood atop the hawk, knife slung over his shoulder like an oversized video game sword, waving me down with his free hand. 

“Can you grab me a bowl?”

“Why do you-” he cut me off,

“Organs.” I gagged and silently prayed he didn’t notice. Right. Gross. I tried to hide the revulsion as I plopped a bowl down on the counter, averting my gaze from the carnage on the cutting board. I needed a beer. Or four. Not wanting to wait around in case Sal thought I could make myself useful I disappeared down the hall, now more thankful than ever that I had kept my college mini fridge as a beer fridge away from the kitchen. 

[acourtofthought]

My friend is an E/riel and she sent me a TikTok video about the theory that Elucien’s mating bond is fake because of the similarities it has with *TOG spoilers* rowan’s first mating bond.

What I don’t understand is why do they think SJM would do the same story again? It even has similar characters and I do give it to them that a lot of the language used is similar to Elucien, but I just dont understand why/for what reason SJM would copy and paste a story she has already written and explored.

Also, we really don’t have anyone in Acotar that would be obviously benefiting from the fake bond, like in TOG. I think this are just E/riels trying to grab into anything they can.

It disturbed me, what do you think?

Hi @bettdraws!!

It's interesting because I personally see no similarities between Rowan's fake bond and it's setup and Elucien's bond, E/riels just want there to be so it frees Elain up to have her one "real" bond with Az.

Maeve tricked Rowan into thinking he was Lyria's mate so that he would fall in love with Lyria and once Maeve orchestrated her death in order to break him, she trapped Rowan into swearing fealty to her. Then when Aelin was eventually born, Maeve had Rowan as a bargaining chip to force Aelin to do what she wanted.

If Elucien's bond is fake in order to keep Elain away from her true mate or use her real mate against her then hasn't that plan backfired? Elain and Lucien haven't been tricked into falling in love so it's not like their bond is forcing them to do something they wouldn't normally do, Elain is currently paying more attention to Az and Lucien is living with Vassa. So.......what exactly is the benefit to a a fake Elucien bond?

Rowan once said this of his bond with Aelin:

[Part of him had known that Aelin was his mate. And had turned away from that knowledge, again and again, out of respect for Lyria, out of terror for what it'd meant.]

"out of respect for Lyria, out of terror for what it'd meant". Doesn't that sound a lot like how Lucien was feeling about Jesminda in his POV (when Feyre slipped into his mind)? How Feyre notes he hasn't tried to bridge the gap in the novella?

Lucien is fully aware that Elain is his mate but his struggle comes from the knowledge that he believed for centuries that Jesminda was his mate, that she lost her life for loving him and that he'd never emotionally moved beyond that because of the guilt and sorrow of that loss. If Lucien was ready to run right into Elain's arms (regardless of what his instincts are telling him to do), that means he'd have to come to terms with the fact that Jesminda probably lost her life for nothing. If he had met Elain while Jesminda was alive, he may have given things a shot with Elain and Jesminda may have never been murdered because of him. There is probably a very big part of Lucien that feels he doesn't deserve to have his mate because Jesminda will never have the opportunity to have that happiness and it could cause some of his reluctance to try and connect with Elain (despite longing for her).

It also doesn't make sense for SJM to write a story where he was convinced Jesminda was his mate for centuries....only to reveal in book 2 that Elain is his actual mate.....only to reveal 3 books later that neither Jesminda OR Elain were his mates....he's got a third person being added into the mix!

E/riels try to pile so many tropes onto Elain and Lucien when they already have a super angsty setup (mating bond snaps into place while he thought he had a mate and lost her and she was currently engaged to and in love with someone else). That's a big story on all it's own but instead they want to tack on fake bond, rejected bond, etc on top of it. It's extremely unnecessary.

Rowan said this of Aelin (his real mate):

He'd leapt in front of her at Skull's Bay knowing it, deep down. Knowing mates aware of the bond could not bear to harm each other.

Lucien said this of Elain:

"I would never hurt her." A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

Aelin had known, though. That he was her mate. And she had not pushed it, or demanded he face it / because she'd rather carve out her own heart than cause him pain or distress.

That sounds a lot like Lucien right now doesn't it? He knows Elain is his mate not forcing her to demand she face it, he's not pushing her to give an answer, he's basically letting his own heart be ripped out so that she can take the time she needs.

Maeve said this of Rowan's fake bond:

"It was so easy to tug on the right psychic thread that day"

Feyre said this of her bond with Rhys:

I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside."

Elain and Lucien said this of their bond:

"Like you pulled on thread tied to a rib."

"There's a bond - it's a real thread"

Psychic thread (mental) is not the same as the physical thread Feyre, Elain, and Lucien felt.

Also, we never met Lyria so finding out Rowan had a fake mating bond with her doesn't impact the reader, she's not anyone the readers connected with.

Elain and Lucien have been on page since book 1 so their story does impact readers.

Having the author tell us that Elucien's bond is fake after 2.5 books would be along the lines of the question someone asked her about Danika in her last live interview.

Someone asked if she was really dead and SJM said that yes, she is dead. That to have her come back to life would minimize the suffering that Bryce has been through because of losing her.

We don't know Elain's thoughts but the bond clearly affects her. She wasn't eating, drinking, or sleeping for weeks / months until Lucien arrived at the HOW. Within 2 days she came out of her room for the first time. She knew who he was and could hear his heart (not just his heartbeat). A day after she began eating, drinking, sleeping again.

She left her room to stand at the top of the stairs as Lucien left for the Human Lands, not saying anything but taking a step towards him after he turned away. She invited him back to Velaris after the war then suddenly freaked out and stopped talking to him.

With Lucien, we KNOW he's affected. He left his home to make sure she was safe. He traveled through Autumn without his magic, risking his life to make sure she was safe. He entered what he thought was enemy territory in the NC, where the most powerful High Lord in Prythian history lived (a HL who allowed others to believe he tortured and was cruel) to make sure she was safe. He spent weeks devastated to see her despair, how thin she was, thinking of ways he could help her. He went on a dangerous mission by himself to support her vision. He fought in the war then RAN from the shore to make sure she wasn't harmed. SJM had Lucien get to know her father before his death. She has Lucien still longing for Elain 2 years after their bond snapped despite living with Vassa and Jurian.

Having their bond revealed as fake would completely diminish how much Lucien has been through for Elain and the struggles Elain has been dealing with as a result of the bond snapping (I mean, one of the reasons her fiance no longer wanted her was because she had a mate). Of course neither Elain or Lucien have been truly ready to get to know one another for about a hundred reasons and that's ok (I'd rather see that in their book) but I think people forget what a huge storyline this has been for not only Elain and Lucien but everyone else as well. The sisters worrying about what the death of Lucien could do to Elain after he left for the continent, Rhys and Feyre using Elain as a pawn (Feyre's words) in order to gain Lucien's cooperation, Nesta going from screaming at Lucien and pushing him as he held Elain in his arms to her finally beginning to accept him, calling Elain a wretch for sitting far away from him, and making conversation with him in SF.

I think if E/riels would read the book out of the E/riel moments, they would realize that the Elucien setup has been one of the major storylines from book 2 (way more page time given to it than any setup that was given for E/riel) and understand why it makes absolutely no sense for it to be fake.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 31: Resolution (Aftercare)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic’s aftercare routine for you

Tags: Aftercare, brief smut, degradation, bondage, overstimulation, gentle, soft, praise

Word Count: 2.3k

The Masterlist

“You’re trembling so much, liebling. Are you really enjoying this so much?” Medic teased you as you shuddered beneath him, tugging desperately at the ropes binding your wrists to the headboard. All the while he kept up a merciless pace, thrusting into you hard and fast.

You had clearly already been through a lot. Finger shaped bruises had formed on your hips from how roughly Medic had gripped them. Even now he held them firmly, pulling your body against his to meet every thrust. You bucked your hips, shaking, whining, and barely able to say more than a few coherent words at a time.

“Sir, please!” You moaned between gasps, desperate for some sort of respite.

“You beg so pathetically. How many times have you come by now, hm? You’ve lost count, haven’t you?” Medic asked, delivering an especially harsh thrust, hitting you deep and relishing the way you whimpered in response. “And still so desperate for more. You’re such a filthy little schlampe, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir! I want to come one last time, please! Please, may I?” You practically screamed, so eager for release despite the overstimulation, despite the tears actively rolling down your flushed cheeks. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, pulling Medic further into you in hopes of appeasing him.

“Oh Gott, I love hearing you cry out like that,” he growled. The stinging sensation of his nails being dragged down your sides made you squirm and moan even more. “Go on, kleine Hure, come for me!”

Those skilled fingers on your clit was all it took to bring you over the edge within seconds. You sobbed as you felt another orgasm set your nerves alight. The feeling was overwhelming, bordering on painful, yet you writhed in ecstasy all the same.

Medic followed close behind, hips stuttering and finally going still as he finished with you. He groaned, finally allowing himself some kind of release after taking his sweet time bringing you to your peak repeatedly over the past couple hours. The way you trembled beneath him now, your body limp and thoroughly spent, made it all worthwhile.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, shuddering as you rode out the final aftershocks of your climax. What you did know was that your wrists had been freed from the headboard, yet you were barely aware of Medic untying them. By the time you had come to your senses he had placed the rope elsewhere and was laying beside you, reaching out to touch your arm tentatively, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath.

“Liebchen?” Medic whispered in a tone so starkly different compared to the way he was speaking to you mere minutes ago, soft and a little bit concerned. His hand rested on your shoulder, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to touch you any more than that. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, especially after such an intense experience.

“I’m alright,” you assured him after a few moments of trying to steady yourself. Your heart was racing though, and you knew your voice still quivered as you spoke. “Just give me a moment.”

“Of course. Deep breaths, darling. You did so well.” Medic moved to hold your hand and you let your fingers intertwine with his. It was just enough physical contact for you to ground yourself, to remember you were safe and cared for. When your breath finally evened out, you rolled over to nestle fully into his embrace, letting him pull you flush against him.

“Did you enjoy yourself, liebe?” Medic asked, beginning to run his hands gently over your back. He was eager to touch you, to soothe every aching part of your body.

“Absolutely,” you said, glad to find that your voice wasn’t shaking anymore. Although it was comically muffled given that your face was effectively pressed against Medic’s chest. You heard and felt him chuckle softly in response.

“That’s good. You had quite a strong reaction tonight,” he said, pulling away slightly and bringing a hand up to your face. His thumb ran along your cheek, wiping away the damp remnants of tears. “I was afraid I may have overdone it.”

Medic was always so observant of how you acted during a session. Tonight was quite intense. It was true, you had never been reduced to tears before. In the moment, you hadn’t even realized you had started crying. It was surreal.

“I guess I got a little overwhelmed, not in a bad way, though.” You reassured him with a smile. “I trust you to push me to my limit, and I would have told you to stop if it was too much.”

Medic returned your smile, looking relieved that you had indeed enjoyed yourself. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your still flushed cheek. You relaxed as he continued to whisper soft words of praise in your ear.

“I love making you feel good, liebling. Let me know if you need anything at all,” he said. You would have been content to stay cuddled up in the doctor’s embrace all night, but, now that he mentioned it, you did need something.

“I am a little thirsty,” you admitted, not wanting him to leave, but also unable to ignore just how parched you were. You were no doubt dehydrated from the combination of sweat and tears you had shed. Not to mention your throat felt like sandpaper from all the begging.

“Ah, of course,” Medic said, sitting up suddenly. You couldn’t help but whimper a bit when you were no longer in his arms, no longer nestled against his chest and relishing the pleasant warmth of his skin on yours. He brushed his hand against your cheek, consoling you. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just relax here and let me take care of you.”

As if you even had the strength to move. You were pretty sure if you tried to get up right now you would collapse, perhaps after stumbling for a few steps on still shaky legs. You heard Medic moving about in the adjacent room, and the familiar sound of a sink faucet being turned on. Soon enough he had returned with not only the water, but an extra blanket as well.

“Here liebchen, drink. Staying hydrated is important,” he said, handing you the glass. You sat up with a wince, suddenly very aware of just how sore you were. Medic gave you a sympathetic look, leaning over and caressing your back as you grasped the cup in still-shaky hands.

Despite the pain, you couldn’t hold back a small laugh, finding it funny that one of the few times Medic acted like a professional doctor and gave accurate health-related advice was right after he nearly fucked you through the matress. That said, his knowledge of the human body did make him a master at determining exactly what you needed. He wrapped the extra blanket around your shoulders as you lifted the glass of fresh water to your lips. You didn’t even need to let him know that you were cold.

“Thank you,” you said after taking a long drink. The water soothed your throat and your mouth felt significantly less dry.

“Don’t mention it, meine liebe. Now, you’re probably sore, aren’t you?”

“A little bit.” You spoke between taking sips of the water, noting the rope marks on your wrists. While they bore some of the most obvious marks, the minimal stinging pain there was nothing compared to the ache in your back and shoulders. Being stuck with your arms above your head for such a long time certainly took its toll. There was also the general ache that permeated throughout your body, the kind that you knew would feel worse in the morning.

Medic nodded, reaching out to run his fingers along the rope marks and also noticing the faint bruises beginning to form elsewhere on your body, the outcome of either hickeys or a belt that you had begged Medic to use on you. Needless to say, the results weren’t disappointing. He looked you over like that for a while, observing and taking note of every mark and sore spot on your body.

“Just let me take care of you, schatz. Turn around for me,” he whispered, and you didn’t hesitate to do just as he asked. Medic brought his hands to your shoulders, rubbing them in gentle circles that felt heavenly, even through the blanket that you had now wrapped firmly around yourself to keep any precious warmth from escaping. You sighed as he worked over your back as well, applying just enough pressure.

“That’s nice,” you said dreamily, feeling warm and fuzzy beneath such meticulous attention. Those hands did wonders for your aching muscles. He sought out any tension and eased it away patiently and persistently. Areas where you felt pain began to ebb away to a dull ache, barely noticeable after being worked over by that firm, skilled touch.

“I kept you restrained for quite a while, didn’t I?” Medic noted, watching with satisfaction as you melted under his touch. “You did so well, letting me play with you and tease you for so long. Mein gutes mädchen.”

With a sigh, you leaned back until you found yourself falling back onto Medic’s chest, his arms wrapping securely around you once again. He took the now empty glass from you and placed it on the nightstand before gently maneuvering you, letting you lay on his chest as he reclined against the pillows.

“Comfortable?” He asked, adjusting so that he could run his fingers lazily through your hair as the two of you laid together. You nodded in response, sighing as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and over your collarbone every so often. You knew he was now admiring the marks he had left on said skin. Darkening hickeys decorated your neck and even some of your chest, red and bruising, telltale signs of how Medic had laid claim on you tonight.

He cupped the back of your head, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. He was gentle and slow, again showing such a sharp contrast to how merciless he was with you before. How quickly he could switch from one state of mind to another amazed you.

“You look so beautiful like this.” Medic brushed a strand of hair out of your face, admiring what he saw. “That flush in your skin, your body so relaxed and satisfied, and knowing that I made you feel so good… ich liebe dich.”

“I love you too.” You may not have known a lot of German, but you had heard that particular term enough times to recognize it.

Honestly, you almost savored this more than the sex itself, resting in the arms of your lover, going on about how much you enjoyed making each other feel good. The intimacy of these moments were unmatched. Yes, the two of you could physically satisfy each other to no end. Medic could pleasure you and make you come as many times as he wanted, but the gentle touches and reassurances that transpired afterwards fulfilled you both on an entirely newfound level.

“If you’re willing, I could continue to pamper you tomorrow.” Medic’s voice lowered, giving his offer a more suggestive implication. You had a feeling he was recommending a bit more than just another massage and a glass of fresh water. He went on, and your suspicions were confirmed. “It will be something much more vanilla, I promise. Nice and gentle, I know you’ll still be sore.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of being vanilla,” you said with a playful smirk. Honestly, Medic was probably perfectly capable of ‘normal’ sex. It just happened so rarely that it had become a kind of inside joke for the two of you.

“Oh liebchen,” he said breathily, now occupying himself by kissing his way down your jawline before finally deciding to respond to your teasing little remark. “As much as I enjoy binding you to the headboard and ravaging you until you can’t think coherently, I am quite capable of making love to you as well.”

You blushed and tried to hide your face against Medic’s chest. Right when your body was finally starting to calm down, he hit you with a comment like that. And you completely swooned for it, drawn in with ease as always.

“God damn!” You laughed, trying to resist the urge to fan your flushed face with your hand. “Don’t get me worked up all over again! I’m too tired and much too sore for that!”

“Orgasms are a natural pain reliever,” Medic said with a wide grin, yet again adopting the tone of a professional doctor. Whether he was trying to be humorous or not was unclear, but you chuckled anyway.

“You are insatiable,” you said, sounding exasperated, but still maintaining a bright smile. That insatiability was just one more thing you loved about him, after all.

“I can’t help it. I simply love spoiling you.” Medic pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Especially after you’ve been such a good girl for me.”

Damn, even as you were falling asleep, those words went straight to your core. You swatted his shoulder playfully, laughing through the exhaustion that was rapidly setting in.

“So, is that a yes for tomorrow?” He asked again, smirking at how easily he was able to leave you a blushing mess with just a few words.

“Maybe… if you continue to ‘spoil me’ with breakfast and a warm bath in the morning,” you said, barely opening your eyes, but grinning all the same. You heard and felt Medic’s low chuckle as you laid against his chest, the gentle vibration lulling you to sleep.

“Consider it done, meine liebe.”

[aldbooks]

Some Elucien angst for you..

I fully blame @sunshinebingo for this after her heartbreaking little Gwynriel scene this morning. Feel free to blame her too 😝

Elain brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of the rich red wine while surreptitiously studying the fire haired male standing as far across the crowded barge from her as he could get. The one she knew still watched her with longing even as he put more and more distance between them and longer and longer periods of absence between his visits. The one her soul called out to in the silent, lonely hours of the night.

He was giving up on her. She knew it with a certainty that she did not need her powers of sight for. The same cauldron damned powers that had led them to their current position.

She’d had many visions of Lucien over the years. Of him, of her, of them together. Nearly all of them had been good. Beautiful, lovely dreams full of light and love and laughter. But it had only taken one- one dark, horrifying image, to bring it all crashing down.

The vision of Lucien lying broken in her arms had only come to her once, though it had haunted her ever since. 

There had been a time once, when she had been intrigued by him, had wanted to know him, to consider pursuing all those lovely, dreamlike visions. A part of her still wanted that, if she was being honest. But each time she thought of it, that vision would resurface in her memory causing her to turn away from his earnest attempts to earn- not even her affection, just her acknowledgment. 

The girl within her that had always longed to be seen for more than her beauty wished for him to push past the barriers to put up. To fight for her and push her past her own inclination towards reticence. To make her want to try despite the inevitable heartache. But she knew very few people, male or female, who would subject themselves to the sort of pain and humiliation she inflicted on him with each visit, and still prevail. Even the most resilient had their limits and Lucien Vanserra, she was sure, was rapidly approaching his.

Yet, he kept coming, no matter how infrequent those visits were becoming, he still came, heart in his hand as though compelled to do so. She could feel his pain through the bond, could also feel his reluctance to experience more of it, and yet he came.

And perhaps it made her a coward- no, she knew it did- to keep turning him away out of fear for a fate that was not certain. But she had known loss before. Losing Graysen had sunk her deep into despair, and losing her father had been almost unbearable. How much worse would it be to lose him?

She did not have to imagine. She had heard Feyre’s screams when she had nearly lost Rhys after remaking the cauldron. She’d seen the anguish in Rhys’ face when Feyre and Nyx had lay dying before Nesta had saved them. She already knew, if she opened herself up to the possibility, just how deeply she could fall for this male who was tethered to her soul. She had seen it a thousand times. And she knew that losing him… it would destroy her.

If there was one lesson she had learned in her short life thus far, even as a human, it was that nothing was promised. They were owed nothing. Not a moment of happiness or content. It could all be gone in an instant. And while she knew that her visions did not always come true, that the future was constantly changing, that vision was still one possible future. Given how slowly the fae aged, it had been impossible to tell if that scene had been a year away or a hundred. She did not know how much time she might have, and none of it was promised.

So the only question that mattered was, was the love she saw in all those other visions worth the price of the loss she might one day face?

She knew what the others would say if she asked them. Rhys and Feyre, with all the adversity they had already faced together would say- unequivocally- yes. Nesta may never admit it out loud, but her sister would agree and her mate who wore his heart on his sleeve, would hand the blade to his executioner, content in the knowledge he had some small part of her, no matter how much more he might have wanted. Morrigan, the optimist who had fought so hard for her own bit of happiness would smile and nod without hesitation. Even Azriel, who still sought love so desperately, would agree.

But Elain… she lifted her eyes, meeting a mismatched pair from across the room and held them only briefly, absorbing the frantic pull of the bond for just a moment before quickly turning away… She was a coward.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

💯🎵

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

Cepheus- star music is his favorite. Ofc they differ from court to court.

In terms of human music I think if he were living during our times he’d be a MASSIVE fan of David Bowie and Prince.

Asha- I imagine she’d have a wide yet structured taste of music that she likes to listen to depending on her mood (the side of Rosa’s where she’s from exposes her to a lot of different music while she grew up like Flamenco, and a ton of music from all over the world that sort of developed her tastes and Rosas' musical identity.) As a child, Asha always participated in school plays especially musical theatres, so a lot of her tastes in music also stem from there (she tends to like dramatic or dynamic music). ((Her favorite instrument is the violin!)) In modern times, I imagine that she'd love to listen to anything ranging from classical music (like Swan Lake, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata) to smooth jazz, to even Gorillaz (her favorite album is a tie between Demon Dayz and Plastic Beach- but I can see her leaning towards Demon Dayz).

Valentino: loves heavy metal- (jk)

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Lol I'll give you six because I'm feeling strangely creative today.

Asha:

-Asha is a better fighter than you think she is. Growing up as the granddaughter of the captain of the guard, Asha's been practically training in self-defense for as long as she could remember. Sabino's taught her a variety of stuff- but the martial arts she uses is heavily based off of those that many warriors from Rosas' predecessors learned. She's pretty good at it (I honestly hope she'd be at this point, considering that she's been training in it since she was 5) but there's a reason why Safi, Nachos and Dario would not want to square up with Asha, despite all being bigger than her.

-Asha invented Nachos cookies! (This will probably be revealed in the story) So in one chapter Asha reveals that when she was sick the prince came to visit. She was devastated that she didn't meet him (yes- a younger Asha did have a crush on Ignacio) and when he came back, she stayed up all night to make Ignacio cookies. Long story short, he ended up spending the whole day annoying Dahlia and never got to try the cookies. (Asha then lost her crush on him)

-Asha hates astrology. No seriously- integrating magic with astronomy? It irks her to no end, which was probably why Magnifico tried to make her study it along side magic. When he found out that she had no potential for magic, he stopped trying to teach her. If you ever want to make an enemy out of Asha just tell her astrology > astronomy.

-Young Asha always dreamed of being a princess. Now when she was super little, it was admittedly for the castle, adventures and sparkly dresses. But as she grew older, it was not necessarily for the affluence, but simply because deep down, I think she saw it as a 'it's not the treasure, it's the quest sort of ordeal.' I believe that in this world, royalty has always had a sort of 'divine' connotation to it. You're given the right to rule via birthright through divine power- (Magnifico will talk about this in the upcoming chapter) so there are people born into this world to lead and the rest to follow.

Asha as a peasant girl didn't really buy into this idea- simply because she looked up to her father- a man void of all noble blood, but was crucial in helping Magnifico establish Rosas. Which, not to go on a tangent is another reason why his loss hurt Asha so much. Her father was pretty much an inspiration to Asha that you didn't need to have a rank, wealth, or magical powers to help and impact those around you, something which she aspires to do now, even though she's more or less assimilated the classist views into her self-perception.

But let's get back on track to the princess part, shall we? As a child Asha admired princesses, because of what they did to either become a princess or achieve a goal. They always defied the odds to save/inspire those who they loved or change things for the better.

I'm not sure if this dream persists- as the discovery that she couldn't do magic along with the passing of her grandmother/father definitely took a toll.

Asha's grandmother taught her how to sing! When Asha was little her grandmother would take her outside and teach her to sing!

-Asha sleeps with weapons underneath her bed.

Cepheus: (only 2 facts here because I really can't spoil anything)

-Contrary to popular opinion, Cepheus did not like Asha that much when they first met: Now I know you're probably thinking- wait but wasn't he super friendly and curious when meeting her? Yes. He was. But I'm talking about that night on the ship when after reuniting, Asha fell asleep. Cepheus is finally left alone with his thoughts and begins thinking about his situation/Asha herself. None of which I can really divulge because it's rather, ya know, spoiler-y. But I can confidently say that his opinions on her has changed.

But they're still complicated.

-Cepheus is on good terms with his nannies now. It took a lot of time to track them all down and apologize, but they're 'even' now.

-Cepheus says that annoying Asha is like six months of therapy for him.

Geeze....That's literally the only things I can share.....*nervously glances at Ceph's legal team*

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 4

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Note: I had to split the chapter in two parts because it was getting way too long, so I'm posting Chapter 4 and 5 at once!

I also wrote something that you may recognize if you listened to the Dreamcast tracks on Spotify!

WARNING: This chapter includes an attempted assult with some minor physical consequences due to what it led to! It's actually nothing major and Reader will be totally fine, but if you get triggered by this sort of stuff, feel free to skip that part the moment you reach it!

Chapter 4

You fell in love with a God. What could possibly go wrong?

Another month had quickly passed and it felt like it had gone by the blink of an eye.

You would find yourself heading down the basement whenever your work schedule permitted it, growing more and more fond of Dream of The Endless despite his well known stoic presence and the one-sided conversations. The sense of companionship made you feel a little less lonely each time you visited, there was never a feeling of boredom or irritation coming from his stillness and it was a comfort to be around him even in the silence.

Unfortunately, it was also foreseeable that Mr. Burgess would call for you in his study at that given time.

You walked up to the door with slow, almost dragged footsteps. You took a deep breath as Mr. McGuire opened it for you, leading you into the antique room filled with more relics from the past and a set of wooden furniture that perfectly matched with the rest of the house.

Inside, Mr. Burgess was sitting on his large leather chair behind a mahogany desk and you began to feel the weight of the pressure that was now resting on your shoulders.

Mr. McGuire walked to his husband to gently lay a hand on the back of his neck, the tension within the room was palpable, creating an atmosphere of solemnity. You could feel Mr. Burgess’s eyes on you from across the study and you went rigid the moment he finally spoke. “Miss Y/LN, thank you for coming. Please have a seat.”

As you sat in the chair facing your employers, Mr. McGuire gave you a reassuring smile. You could barely return his comforting gesture with his husband’s cold gaze intensifyng your anxiety.

Despite this, you ignored the trembling in your hands and maintained a composed demeanor.

“I am sure you know why I called you here,” he said. “Pressuring you is not in my intentions, but you’ve been talking to Dream of The Endless for quite some time, even more so recently. I was wondering if you might have some… good news to share with me?”

Mr. Burgess wanted a statement of assurance from Dream that he would not seek revenge if they decided to release him. However, you were unable to offer that as Dream had not spoken once, also at your request. Though Mr. Burgess was providing The Endless with an opportunity, it seemed to also function as a bargaining tool in much the same way his father conducted business before him.

Their safety was of paramount importance, but it was unacceptable that Dream was still locked into the cellar for his silence. While he could not guarantee they’d be left unharmed, what Mr. Burgess was giving him was a cruel and unfair ultimatum that violated The Endless’s rights. Over the course of his century-long incarceration, Dream had been forced to undergo immense emotional suffering. He deserved to receive his freedom with no exceptions and yet it wasn’t happening because of an old man’s whim.

It was risky, yes, but what would the alternative be?

You straightened your back. “Well, he trusts me enough to accept my presence and handle my boring speeches almost every day. You have to let him go, Mr. Burgess. There’s no reason to still keep him where he is.”

The man didn’t respond, so you continued. “I’m sure it’s going to be okay, if you do so.”

Mr. Burgess took a few calming breaths to ensure he maintained his composure. Mr. McGuire gently placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it while looking at you in a supportive way.

“So, he didn’t tell you anything at all?”

You gritted your teeth. “No Sir, nothing.”

“No progress, then. Just as I feared.”

You sighed heavily, unfiltered statements were delivered (in)voluntarily. “You didn’t receive a single answer from him in over 80 years of try. Did it not occur to you that maybe he can’t even speak, or doesn’t really want to for obvious reasons? And even if he did, you can’t be so sure he wouldn’t just say what you want to hear. People would do anything when they’re desperate, Mr. Burgess. Even Gods, I’m sure.”

The man rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Yes… yes you’re right, of course. But, you see… the guards have told me the way he reacts whenever you’re around. Based on this fact I was thinking…”

“You were thinking you were finally close to get what you were hoping for.” Your frustration had returned with great intensity. “Don’t you think it is time to give him the freedom he deserves? Didn’t he suffer long enough?”

He considered your suggestion with thoughtfulness, then responded. "I guess.”

You knew there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Called it. “it’s not me I am worried about, Miss Y/LN. Paul and anyone else involved in this matter, if not the entire house, might suffer from my inconsiderate decision. Even you.”

You clenched your fists and your knuckles turned white. You found it difficult to keep the anger at bay as it seemed to be mounting with each breath you took.

“How much do you know about Dream of The Endless, Mr. Burgess?” You asked.

“Enough to say that his power could possibly doom us all.”

“Exactly, possibly. Which means it could also go differently.”

The air around you seemed to be growing thicker and thicker by the second.

“Sir, I understand your concern. But the longer you keep him trapped into that bowl, the higher the risk for you, or us, will be. I honestly do not see how you could make it better this way.”

The potential consequences Dream’s power could cause were indeed an alarming possibility, but would he really wipe the entire mansion out of existence without batting an eye? While it remained unclear just how far such power could reach in fruition, you were confident that his capabilities would never result in a widespread destruction.

“Miss Y/LN,” Mr. Burgess’s voice was sharp like a razor. “You would tell me if he talked to you, right?”

‘Of course not.’

“Of course.”

Mr. McGuire called for his husband’s attention with a subtle throat-clearing gesture. “Come on darling, there’s no need to be hasty. She’s trying… and she did a better job than we could manage in such a long time.”

You stared back at Mr. Burgess with equal fervor, but the man appeared more relaxed after his husband’s words. “Yes, okay.” He removed his glasses to massage the fatigue from his eyes. “My apologies, Miss Y/LN. Please keep up the good work.”

Mr. McGuire was an invaluable presence in the workplace. He had consistently shown you great kindness and support, his level of patience and understanding was incomparable. He was greatly contributing to a welcoming environment even at the most difficult times and you were really grateful for it.

You forced a smile, slightly bowed your head in respect and politely said your goodbyes. As you stepped out of the study and the door shut behind you, their muffled voices resumed the conversation and carried on in your absence, but you were too disheartened to try and listen in.

With another long and deep sigh you continued walking, shaking off that hideous feeling from your chest and knowing for certain now that any form of persuasion would end up failing with someone as stubborn as Mr. Burgess.

What were you even thinking? Of course it wouldn’t be easy. 106 years did absolutely nothing to convince the man that leaving Dream imprisoned to the bitter end was not the right way to guarantee a prosperous future to his family. Clearly, speaking from the heart had proven to also be ineffective.

Dream needed help and the only solution seemed to be unconventional. Despite your reflective thought and effort, no plan presented itself except for direct action. You racked your brain over it, but anything that wouldn’t involve you smashing the glass to pull him out seemed futile and a waste of time you didn’t have the heart to invest into, for his sake.

They say that when all other options have been exhausted and no alternatives remain viable, a last resort may be the only remaining choice. Your entire working career may have depended on that choice, as sabotaging one of your employer’s “possessions” would have been counterproductive for your Resume.

You didn’t want to resort to taking an unfavorable path, but ensuring that Dream was released from captivity had become your own personal quest. You had multiple responsibilities to attend to and many pressing issues to prioritize, but you were also risking to neglect the most critical aspects of your life while juggling too many things at once and allowing your feelings to get the best of you.

As the days went on, it became increasingly difficult to control them. Thoughts of Dream occupied your mind constantly and you would often zone out while in the middle of a conversation or activity at work. His captivating eyes, full lips and one-of-a-kind aura simply left you spellbound.

You were falling in love with a being who wasn’t quite a man, drawn to an otherworldly creature who would never truly be yours. You knew you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you welcomed the joy and exhilaration of being in his presence despite the inevitable pain that laid ahead.

For as long as you could.

Paul McGuire walked down a long hallway, past the various rooms and relaxation areas the house had to offer. He was looking out the windows to admire the beautiful colors of the sunset sky, but he came to a halt when his attention was quickly taken by your working figure in the garden.

You were wearing your outer suit consisting of light-colored jeans, sneakers, a short-sleeved shirt and a sweater that was carefully tied around your waist. He studied your activity as you planted a new batch of seeds, occasionally brushing a few strands of hair out of the way. Dirt and moss soaked into your clothes and your bare hands sank into the ground. Paul couldn’t help but smile, reminiscing about his days as a gardener. Your fingers smoothly glided through the grains of topsoil, memories filling his own nostrils with the scent of wet earth and fresh grass. He never was one to shy away from hard work, tending to orchards and vineyards, chopping wood in the blazing sun or in the midst of violent storms. The physical exertion of those tasks never frightened him, whether it meant breaking a sweat or braving the freezing rain. He was always up to the challenge, taking pride in his ability to push himself to his limits.

Alex often watched him while pretending to read a book, barely knowing the written summary or the title itself. It was fun, nothing short of invigorating and thrilling, creating a sense of excitement and joy that was hard to ignore.

You stood up from the ground, brushing the dirt off your hands and ensuring that the seeds were ready to grow. With that task complete, you moved to the bushes in front of you that appeared to need a bit of trimming.

Paul noticed that you had a preference for spending your day outdoors instead of doing your work inside the house, but he also observed that you approached each job with the same level of dedication, performing to the best of your abilities. Your punctuality and willingness to take on even the most difficult assignment did not go unnoticed by him. He admired your unwavering commitment to your goals and the sacrifices you were making to achieve them with tenacity and ambition.

At the same time, he felt a pang of sadness at the thought of such an extraordinary woman potentially giving up a better future for herself. From the moment you first stepped into their house, Paul was struck by your beauty, bravery, intelligence and compassion. You exuded those qualities in everything you did and he found himself enjoying your presence more and more each passing day.

If he had a daughter, he would have wished for her to possess the same spirit and good heart.

As he walked on, Paul could hear the guards chattering outside the basement. You were justified in disliking those two, given how often they seemed to slack off and treat their job so unprofessionally. Upon his arrival, they immediatly reverted from their relaxed and carefree behavior to their vigilant conduct. They regained their composure, but the embarrassment for having been caught was evident when they greeted him, lowering their heads in defeat.

Paul nodded, allowing them a brief respite before beginning the night shift in the next hour. He swiftly opened the metal door once the guards departed, proceeding towards the elevator and discending into the damp depths of the cellar without hesitation.

Dream was as still as a statue and in the same sitting position that Paul had found him in when he first went to the basement. The man felt apprehensive seeing Dream’s meneacing frown as he stepped onto the platform, the only recourse left open was for him to try and fix his own mistakes.

“Hello Dream,” he said with a smile, which the Endless plainly overlooked. He gazed at Paul inquisitively, his being there alone without Alex was an unusual event none of them ever experienced before. “I know… I’m not exactly the one you where hoping to see.”

Dream averted his gaze out of resentment.

“I’m not here to ask you to talk, I just want you to listen to what I have to say.”

Dream’s eyes seemed to reflect a sense of weariness, the lines on his face told a story of their own, each one representing a struggle he had faced and overcome. Although he managed to keep his head held high throughout it all, the weight of his experiences was heavy on his mind.

“Alex is a broken man, ruined by the cruelty of a father who left a deep scar into his soul.”

Dream’s fists clenched tightly and his eyes blazed with a fiery intensity.

“I should have tried harder to convince him the first time, but I let him handle it the way he wanted. I should have also freed you myself when I realized he wouldn’t do it, but I just allowed this to consume the both of you because I wasn’t brave enough to stop him. I chickened out whenever I felt like taking matters into my hands and I failed him, just like I failed you.”

Paul’s voice was laced with sorrow, regret and guilt poured out of him as he spoke. He had let fear and indecision hold him back for his lover’s sake, to the detriment of Dream who saw his freedom further denied and stripped away.

“Y/N had nothing to do with this. Alex involved her out of desperation and that poor girl is really trying hard for you. She wants your freedom more than anything else now.”

Dream moved ever so slightly hearing your name and Paul noticed it. “You like her.”

Dream adverted the man’s gaze once again. Paul interpreted the silence that followed as the confirmation he was looking for.

“She won’t be here forever, Dream. She deserves better than the whole ordeal she’s been dragged into.”

He had witnessed first-hand the debilitating effects of consumption and mental exhaustion on his husband. Despite the presence of Dream, which kept them alive for an extended period of time, the toll on his partner's physical and mental health had been significant.

Paul had noticed that you were intentionally disregarding Alex’s wishes and doing what you believed was best for Dream. You were traveling between Whych Cross and the city every week to check on your father, in addition to managing the stress and anxiety caused by the Endless's situation while overworking yourself around the estate. Paul was concerned that you were pushing yourself too hard, risking your well-being for something you shouldn't have discovered to begin with.

He sighed. “I am at fault, too. I begged her to do as he asked and forced the pills into her hands. I don’t expect you to forgive me, what my husband did to you is undoubtedly wrong and I went along with it.”

The sound of his voice was like a dam breaking, unleashing years of hidden guilt and suffocated pain. Every word he spoke was filled with the weight of his suffering, a burden he had carried for far too long by himself. It was as though he had been holding back a flood of emotions, now pouring out in a torrent of raw and unfiltered truths.

”Maybe I was afraid to admit it to myself, but I realized that I owe you at least an apology.”

Dream wasn't looking at him, but the man could tell he was listening. Paul knew that apologizing for 106 years of confinement was not enough to solve the problem, but he hoped that Dream could at least understand where he was coming from. Paul's ultimate goal was to find a meeting point with him to put an end to that madness once and for all without having to involve someone else in the futrure.

“Seeing how strongly she cares about you, you could say that Y/N kind of inspired me.”

Your dedication towards Dream had motivated Paul to become a better person. The passion and affection you had for the Endless reminded him of his youth, when he would gaze at Alex from afar and lose himself into his own fantasies. Your feelings were infectious and Paul couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He began to approach life with a renewed sense of purpose and he wanted to live his remaining years with the man he loved without any string attached to their necks.

“If it comes to that, I assure you, this time I will take care of it myself.”

Dream pressed his lips into a pout and lowered his eyes once more. Paul knew the risks that could come with his release, but at that point in his life, he was willing to face them without cowardly running away. The alternative was not any better; his husband was already doomed and drained by something that had always been too overwhelming for him to handle. Paul weighed his options, and despite understanding the fallout he could cause, he was still willing to take the chance at the right time.

Paul didn’t want that responsibility to fall on you.

With his eyes filled with fear and determination, he turned on his heels and left the Endless in the familiar silence and coldness of the cellar that had sucked him in for over a century.

As you walked towards your old bookshelf, a sense of excitement built inside you. Your father was lying comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket and holding a warm cup of tea.

The bookshelf held many stories of adventures, tales of love and lessons of life. All those books had shaped, taught and inspired you countless times, undoubtedly becoming a part of you. You could almost hear the characters whispering, inviting you to join them on their journey once again.

However, your attention was focused on just one story that day.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Your father asked.

“Do you remember the book you used to read to me when I was a child?”

“Ah, the King of Dreams? You loved that one!”

You inspected the books with eager eyes. “I thought I took it with me when I moved out, but I can’t find it anywhere. Perhaps I left it here?”

“I can’t say. It’s been a long time since I last went through those books and we've added so many over the years.”

The bookshelf was a treasure trove of memories, a portal to different worlds and a reminder of the person you used to be. Your father's presence was comforting and you could feel his warm gaze on you as you picked up one book after another, just like the old times.

As you knelt down to check the last books on the third row, you noticed one that had fallen behind and become wedged between the wall and the stack in front of it. With caution, you carefully removed it from the tight space, breathing a sigh of relief when you realized it was the volume you had been looking for.

As you brushed your fingers over the title, more memories of your childhood came flooding back at once.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓶𝓪𝓷: 𝓐 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼

Your father noticed your sudden quitness and craned his neck to see what you were doing.

“Did you find it?”

You smiled brightly, turned around and held the book in front of him with satisfaction.

He observed your expression and his laughter erupted effortlessly. "That face right now..." He paused to reminisce. "It reminds me of when you were still a little girl.”

He was mentally transported back to a time when you were innocent and carefree, a time when he took pride in being your protector before everything turned upside down.

“Come,” he said, motioning for you to sit next to him on the couch. “Let’s read it together.”

Just like a happy child, you threw yourself onto the soft cushions and grabbed a piece of blanket for yourself. It’d been a long time since the two of you had enjoyed a peaceful moment, relaxing in front of a good book without him being in constant pain.

It was difficult to determine whether the medication was working as intended, or if a miracle had simply occurred after a prolonged period of suffering. Regardless of what fate had in store for your family, witnessing him regain his appetite and spend more time out of bed was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

You took a deep breath and opened the book, reading the first lines aloud.

“He is said to sprincle sand or dust into the eyes of children at night, to bring on sleep and dreams. You have met him before and he has many names. He is the King of Dreams and Nightmares, he is Dream of The Endless.”

Those were the words you remembered the night you met Dream for the first time.

“He is The Shaper of Form, with the ability to control the subconscious mind. Be wary, my child; respect his power and always be mindful of what you're dreaming about when you fall asleep. The Sandman is watching and waiting to take you on a journey through your wildest dreams, or your darkest nightmares.”

As you turned the pages of your treasured book, you noticed the slight darkening and roughening of its once pristine appearance. The story was not new to you and it could only be just that - a story. Or a gateway to a world beyond your own.

Perhaps it was the intricate details of the Endless' dimension that made it feel so real, or the vivid descriptions of his powers and abilities. Whatever it was, you found yourself captivated by the possibilities that laid within its pages.

“He is a story, an idea, the anthropomorphic embodiment of dreams and imagination. He is that which you do not know and he is that which you can not know. He is a mystery to some, a legend to others. He rules his realm between the living and the dead. He needs no such things like food and water, or any other human emotion like sadness, anger or love.”

As you repeated the phrase "He doesn't need love" in your head, it was worth considering whether that statement was actually true. After all, isn't love something that every being deserves, regardless of their identity or status? Whether you're a human or a God, the need for love is universal. It's what binds us together and gives our lives meaning. Love has the power to heal wounds, bridge divides and create connections that transcend all boundaries.

Dream was unlike anything you had ever seen or experienced in your entire life. His eyes were full of emotions - fear, pain, rage, loneliness. Was it possible for a being like him to be bound to live his endless existence without any form of love?

‘It is not your love that he needs,’ those words echoed through your mind. ‘You are not like him, you will never be.’

Your heart cracked right in that instant.

You continued to read. “He can sense something deep, something that you need, something you want. What is it, child? What is the one thing you wish for, more than anything else in the world? Say it out loud and it will be yours. Speak, and the King of dreams shall make your world into paradise.”

You were so engrossed in your book that you almost jumped at the sound of your father's loud snore. Looking over, you saw him asleep like a baby himself and you couldn’t help but smile despite the disruption. You gently placed the book on your lap and adjusted the blanket on his chest. After settling him comfortably, you resumed your reading.

“Everything around you can shift, twisting like smoke. The Sandman's influence extends beyond the realm of dreams, as he is capable of affecting reality itself. His powers are vast and mysterious, many have tried to understand or harness them, to no avail.”

You thought of Dream, imprisoned in a glass sphere by a man who sought to use his powers for personal gain.

“There is no limit when you dream. The Endless can show you wonders unseen, take you on a tour of the infinite, to the stars within the stars.”

You felt yourself swept away by the idea of limitless possibilities. The thought of exploring the unknown and seeing things that had yet to be discovered was uplifting.

“Worlds beyond worlds, dimensions that you do not yet understand, universes so strange that they would shatter your mind.”

But as you continued to read, your eyes began to droop and the text in front of you started to blur.

An unusual sense of fatigue was creeping over you. Your hand slowly lost its grip on the side of the book, letting it slide onto the couch.

It felt as though your body was shutting down, the caffeine and sugar you ingested weren't helping you to stay awake.

And then, everything went black.

As you walked through a dark and misty forest, you felt transported to a different reality. The towering trees reached out with skeletal branches in the hazy atmosphere, but you didn't feel afraid and continued on to take in the sights and the rustling sounds of leaves moving in the breeze.

The mist was so thick that you could barely see where you were going, listening to the occasional hoot of an owl following you. The damp air clunged to your skin and hair, your senses on high alert.

You didn't know your destination, nor how and when you ended up in that place. All you knew was that you wanted to continue walking and get out of the forest to find what was waiting for you ahead.

As you sprinted through the woods, your heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline, you saw a glimmer of light in the distance. You picked up your pace, your feet moving faster and faster until you burst out of the forest and into a natural clearing with a suspended bridge, stretching across a murky swamp.

Two brick houses stood on either side of the bridge, looking like something straight out of a medieval fairytale. The sky above was filled with clouds that danced and converged into a sort of twist, creating a mesmerizing pattern that you couldn't take your eyes off.

You crossed the bridge and were immediately struck by the gloom that surrounded you. Dry leaves crunched beneath your feet, fallen branches littered the ground and decaying ornaments were scattered throughout the area. The overall effect was one of abandonment and you started to wonder if you were alone in that unknown land.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and explosive roar, which echoed through the sky not far from where you were standing. You saw a dark figure plummeting towards you when you looked up and you couldn’t immediatly make out what it was. As it drew closer, it shaped into a winged creature unlike any you'd ever seen before.

The animal landed heavily on the ground, which shook under its claws. You took a few steps backward, but in your panic, you found yourself stuck in the garden with nowhere else to go. The creature’s wings were not particularly big, but the head was massive and you could already feel its hot breath as it moved closer.

Desperately trying to get away, you stumbled over a branch and fell on your bottom almost comically (but strangely, you felt nothing). You were rendered inert by fear the moment the creature approached you, sniffing your clothes with its large nostrils and stopping just a few inches away from your face.

Your heart was about to explode, but you didn’t react, unsure of what to do. The strange animal watched you with curiosity, its big and shiny eyes looked almost human-like, not at all threatening. You decided to take a chance and tentatively reached out your hand to touch its nose. Its skin was thick and rough, warm and bumpy. To your surprise, the creature responded with a happy, guttural sound that filled the air, smiling at you and jumping up and down.

You let out a sigh of relief and chuckled in amusement, it was surprisingly cute! You lifted yourself from the ground and stood before the animal, it was big and tall even if it wasn't fully standing on its legs. The creature bumped its nose against your chin and you laughed, taking its head between your hands and gently brushed them along the reptile’s face.

“Gregory! Is everything all right?”

You heard footsteps approaching from behind the creature. Two men appeared in the garden and froze on the spot, staring at you with surprise and confusion. It was clear that they weren't expecting anyone to be trespassing on their property, but they didn’t seem dangerous or hostile.

Both of them had slicked-back dark hair and long beards. One was dressed in a sleeveless green vest with a white shirt underneath, while the other wore a grey jacket and a red scarf around his neck. Their suits looked like they belonged to a distant era, quite a strong contrast with your modern attire.

“Hello,” you greeted them politely. “My apologies for the intrusion. I think I got lost.”

They were completely stunned, to say the least. They gazed at you as if you were a mirage or some sort of illusion. It took them a moment to answer you.

“We… we have a visitor…?” The man with the jacket said.

“It cannot be…” Said the other.

You laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t be here, I’m sorry.”

As you turned to leave, one of them spoke up. “Wait! Please don’t go. We’ve been alone here for so long… We’re not used to visitors anymore.”

Your eyes moved back and forth, from one man to the other. “What is this place?” you asked.

The man with the sleeveless vest responded. “This is the Dreaming, Milady. ”

Didn’t you already hear that before?

“The Dreaming…? Am I asleep?”

They both nodded.

You stood there lost in your own thoughts, gently caressing the face of the animal beside you.

“Have I been here before?”

The man with the jacket took a step forward. “Not here with us, no. Things are a little… different than they used to be without Lord Morpheus.”

“Lord Morpheus…?”

Again, you had a feeling that you'd heard that name somewhere else, but you couldn't quite recall the details of when or where.

"The King of Dreams abandoned us a long time ago and the Dreaming has been deteriorating ever since. No more dreamers have shown up at our door.”

The man with the vest's face began to visibly show anger, while the other seemed to be more sad than resentful.

“But today is a good day, because someone did show up!”

You smiled at them. The creature responded with another happy jump and a pleased growl, as if showing its approval for your arrival.

“Ah, our Gregory seems to like you!”

“Gregory? That’s a nice name. What kind of animal is he?”

The man in the jacket walked closer and tenderly patted Gregory on the back. “He’s a gargoyle! Such a good boy, isn’t he?”

As you stood in front of Gregory, you felt a sense of adoration for the magnificent creature. Despite his size and initially daunting presence, he approached you with the excitement of an oversized dog, eagerly welcoming you into his presence.

The man in the jacket spoke again. "I'm Able, by the way. This is my brother, Cain."

Cain smirked. "Greetings."

"Y/N," you replied, pondering whether their names had any connection to the well-known biblical figures, or if their mother was simply inspired by their original story. Since you were aware that you were dreaming now, nothing seemed particularly out of place in your thoughts. That’s just how dreams are, right?

Cain motioned for you to follow him to his home, which was one of the two enigmatic buildings you had spotted while crossing the bridge. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You took a deep breath and let yourself relax as your host guided you into his home, with Able walking in after you. The moment you stepped inside, you were enveloped by the warm and inviting aroma of freshly baked biscuits and tea. The inside looked rather spacious, it felt intimate and cozy with the woodsy scent of the room adding to the feeling of comfort.

As you settled in front of the fireplace, the warmth emanating from it wrapped around your entire body, providing a much-needed respite from the cold and damp weather outside. The sound of distant thunder grew louder as a sudden downpour erupted from the raging sky, the raindrops pelting against the windowpanes in a rhythmic beat. Looking out one of the small windows, you caught a glimpse of Gregory running away from the rain and disappearing somewhere into the garden among the trees.

Able sat next to you. “It’s really nice by the fire.”

Cain snorted. “Of course it is, powder brain. It's exceedingly cozy.”

Able shrugged and reached for the teapot on the wooden table. "Here's your tea, just the way you like it," he said with a smile.

And he wasn't lying. As you gently took the mug he filled for you between your hands, you were hit by the familiar scent of tea that you regularly had in the real world.

“You can take your shoes off, if that's more comfortable for you.”

Cain snapped. “Absolutely not, this isn't a barnyard!”

You could feel the warmth of the tea on your palms and the hot steam on your face. Your senses were heightened and everything was more vivid than you thought possible in a dream. The taste of the tea was just as good as what you would expect in reality - perhaps even better. It seemed to have a depth of flavor that you had never experienced while being awake.

The two men were nice too, welcoming and friendly.

Cain took a seat in front of you by the fire. “Now that everyone appears to be settled, we can tell you the first story. Our story begins-”

“Oh, our friend here already knows who we are,” Able interrupted him, looking at you with a pleased expression. “You look smart, even sleeping.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you smiled.

“Yes, yes I can see,” Cain continued. “Well, I was a farmer.”

”And I was shepherd,” said Able.

“We were competitive, as all brothers can be.”

“I don’t think most brothers are like you at all…”

“You are ruining the story!”

Their random bickering was entertaining to watch, their presence offered you good company in an unfamiliar world.

Cain let out a deep sigh, his eyes transfixed on the raindrops that were sliding down the windowpane, tracing their path as they went. The pitter-patter of the rain against the glass seemed to fill the air with a melancholic melody that matched Cain's mood.

Able followed his brother’s gaze. “It's really coming down out there.”

“I'll brew another pot of tea,” Cain stood up, breaking his trance from the rain. He picked up the half-empty pot and turned around, making his way to the kitchen to prepare a refill for the three of you. “it's a boring story anyway. I've told it a thousand times.”

You believed there was no such thing as a boring story, but you failed to express your sentiment and your mind started to feel clouded.

Able shook his head. “Don’t mind him. You stay in dream as long as you like.”

You wanted to express gratitude, but found yourself tongue-tied. You set the mug down on the table and your vision became unclear, everything around you lost its sharpness and your fingers looked incredibly weird. Although Able was speaking, his voice seemed too far away and you felt as if you were submerged underwater. The distance between you and Cain's house was growing, you were floating in a sea of confusing images, shaping and moving uncontrollably.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the bookshelf in the living room and your father's snoring was loud in your ear. You blinked several times to focus and shake off the disorientation. You were certain that you had seen something, dreamt it even… but the more you tried to recall it, the more it slipped away from you. The name "Gregory" was the only thing that remained vivid in your mind, along with the lingering taste of tea at the back of your tongue.

Strange, considering you didn’t make any.

You took a deep breath and retrieved the book that had fallen onto the cushions. Although your insomnia still troubled you at night, you had begun to notice a pattern of random naps during the day. Maybe your body was so fatigued that it seized any opportunity for rest and relaxation when you didn’t have work to do, or maybe Dream's influence in your life was more powerful than you had imagined.

Somehow, you were inclined to believe it was the latter.

As the days passed, you found yourself remembering fragments from your forgotten dreams. These recollections were sporadic, a sudden flash of images passing before your eyes like distant memories.

Did you actually see those things at all, or were they just some metaphorical visions from your subconscious mind?

You knew Dream wouldn't answer any of the questions that had been plaguing you for weeks, but he was the only living being that could at least understand what you were trying to put together.

During your last visits, the guards had stopped granting you the privacy you had requested. Upon further inquiry, you found out that Mr. Burgess himself had directly imposed a similar restriction out of nowhere. Given the growing suspicion he was developing against you, that sudden decision didn’t exactly come as a surprise to you. Any excuse related to your well being was beyond ridiculous, but you could only comply with what he wanted.

Despite the added pressure of being watched, you continued to visit the Endless whenever possible, keeping your voice low in hopes that they wouldn’t hear you.

During your most recent conversation with him, you described the detailed images that kept recurring in your mind. Although you weren't certain if those were actual dreams, he was taken aback by your descriptions and you could tell that he knew exactly what you were talking about. Somehow, that also led you to believe that you had gained access to something really big, something you didn’t even know how you could reach after a lifetime or dreamless nights with him sealed away.

You didn't want to be delusional, but Dream's eyes always seemed to soften whenever you were around. It was a truly inexplicable experience; you intuitively perceived his thoughts and managed to understand him just based on his body language and the way he looked at you. You had never felt such a strong bond with someone you hadn't even heard speaking once, it was a compelling sensation that continued expanding with time, leaving you longing for more.

But it also amplified your discomfort for your total inaction. Despite asking for his trust, you failed to provide anything that would warrant his faith in you. This lack of follow-through on your part was leaving you with the sense that you had let him down in some way and it was devouring you from the inside.

In an effort to address the situation, you decided to apologize to him. You expressed your regret, explaining that you had attempted to convince Mr. Burgess to change course, but your efforts had been unsuccessful. You were even contemplating rejecting the money they were still offering for your assistance, as it made you feel like you were just as bad as Roderick Burgess, gaining profit from his imprisonment.

You lowered your gaze and let out a shaking sigh, placing your forehead against the cold material of the sphere. You weren’t expecting much in return, but to your surprise, you saw his hand moving towards the glass. Witnessing this gesture of empathy, your heart warmed up and you could barely contain the joy coating it.

You smiled, sliding your fingers up to where his were waiting and let them rest just there. Your hand against his appeared small and delicate, which only made you desire to feel the contact of his skin. You longed for his fingers to intertwine with yours, bringing you closer together. You yearned to feel his heart, assuming he had one like humans do, and brush the tip of your nose along his cheek.

It was as if you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

Dream stared back at you without blinking or smiling. And yet, his eyes glistened under the dim light above and his Adam's apple bobbed, leaving you with no doubt about the honesty of his feelings.

The intensity of the moment was so strong that you literally snapped out of it when the guard called you from the other side of the platform.

“Oi. Get a room, shall ya?”

You rolled your eyes, cleared your throat and reluctantly moved your hand away from the glass. Dream did the same, looking away and clenching his jaw.

You turned slightly, glaring at the guard from afar. “Why, are you jealous?”

At least this time he didn’t point a gun at you.

The man didn't respond, but instead, snorted and crossed his arms in a pompous manner. The woman sitting next to him was giggling like a schoolgirl, adding to your frustration.

You gazed at Dream, disappointment and resignation written all over your face. His posture revealed the desperation he had been suffocating for many years.

"I should probably go," you told him, your lack of enthusiasm was evident in your voice. “See you tomorrow.”

Parting ways with him always felt like torture, knowing that you were leaving him trapped and mistreated every single time. You just wanted to free him from his cage and hold him close, feeling his warmth, scent and breath on your lips.

And yet, you found yourself turning on your heels once more, leaving Dream alone with those two individuals who only saw him as nothing more than a cash cow.

But as you walked away, you didn't notice a bit of paint from the bounding circle had ended up under one of your shoes. Dream, however, was looking at the very subtle smear that was starting to form on the ground, causing the left corner of his mouth to rise up.

Another month went by and your life had become awfully repetitive.

You were working in the mansion from morning until late evening, running back and forth between Wych Cross and the city, serving guests and venturing down to the basement over and over again. But your salary was something to be more than satisfied about and your father's health was only improving with each passing day. These factors, combined with Dream being a stable part of your daily routine now, made all your efforts and physical exertion worth it.

That was, until one fateful night.

Mr. Burgess's and Mr. McGuire's "friends" were partying in the main resting area, enjoying drinks, snacks and various conversations about things that only made you cringe the more you listened to them.

There was a guest in particular who seemed to be captivated by your presence. He was in his mid-40s, showing up with a new branded suit every time. You couldn't ignore the fact that his eyes were constantly searching for you, and he even tried to strike up a conversation whenever you stopped next to him to clean up.

You had to politely turn him down at least three times, using your duties as a pretext to avoid his annoying advances.

The man was a regular visitor to the mansion, but before that moment, he had never shown any interest in you. Perhaps he had too many drinks and lost his lucidity, or maybe you had been too naive to even notice his glances the times he was there.

Things took an unpleasant turn when you went to the kitchen to refill the tray with fresh food and a couple more bottles of prestigious wine. He took advantage of the loud chattering and general distraction in the other room and followed you through the corridors like a silent predator. Sneaking into the kitchen, he stopped just a few inches away from you without even announcing his presence. When you turned around, you almost crashed into him and barely avoided splattering the food all over your uniform.

He was too close for comfort, staring at you with a pair of darkened, hungry eyes.

The chef's shift had finished half an hour before, leaving you alone with that man now who didn’t seem to have good intentions at all.

"Sir, you shouldn't be here," you told him firmly. "If you want something, I can bring it to you in the living room."

He snickered evilly. "Oh come on. Don't pretend to be all innocent now."

"I'm sorry, but you are misunderstanding," you said.

He moved closer and placed his nasty fingers on your waist. "Misunderstanding my ass. How about we have a little fun?" The smell of booze coming from his breath was nauseating.

You held the tray with all your might and tried to slip away from his grasp. Despite how drunk and unbalanced he appeared to be, his grip was quite strong on you and he started to push you against the wall.

"Sir, please let me go," you protested.

But he didn't want to see reason, forcing you to walk backward and causing the tray to fall with a loud crash. The bottles broke instantly, covering the floor with glass shards. The food was ruined, scattered everywhere as the wine spread into a big red puddle that almost resembled blood.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You squirmed between his arms, but he refused to let you go.

He sniffed your neck like an animal, ready to taste its victim. "Stop pretending. I know you want this."

You started to panic. The hard wall against your back was rather painful, so you finally threw away all your professionalism and shoved him off of you as hard as you could.

"Get away from me!"

The man stumbled, his expression immediately switching to full rage mode. "You damn bitch!"

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it so hard that you could feel it twist and crack slightly. The force in his gesture pulled you forward and knocked you down onto the floor, soaking your shirt and the tips of your hair with wine in the process. You felt a sharp sting on your back, indicating that a piece of glass was most likely piercing your skin through your clothes. Smaller shards were scratching your arms, pricking you like a bunch of small needles.

For a moment, you couldn’t even breathe from the impact. Judging by the way you could still move your limbs, there didn’t seem to be anything broken, but your wrist was burning like fire, your shoulder was most likely dislocated and some drops of your blood were staining the already dirty tiles, mixing with the wine.

You didn’t know what to expect. His state of utter confusion made him horribly aggressive, assaulting you out of nowhere and without warning. At that point, you didn't want to consider the possibilities of what he could have done to you.

But before he could kneel down and climb on your inert body, Paul’s voice boomed into the kitchen from the entrance.

“What is going on here?!” His tone was filled with authority and concern.

The man froze, looking at Paul and then back at you. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair and nervously adjusted his partially undone tie. "I-uhh.... She... she tried to jump on me. I-I didn't mean to push her so hard," he stammered.

"What?!" you exclaimed in disbelief.

"And what were you doing here in the kitchen?" Paul asked skeptically.

The man was sweating profusely. "Well, I... I wanted to get a drink-"

"This house is not a place for you to explore without permission."

You pushed yourself up with your elbows, your head spinning and your wrist throbbing with pain.

"Paul, my friend. Come on, you wouldn't seriously believe that I'd do anything bad," the man pleaded.

You saw Mr. McGuire take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. If looks could kill, the man would have been dead right in that instant.

"Get out of my house," He said, his voice filled with so much anger that it almost shook you.

“B-but I-”

“I’ll bid a cab. You take your leave and never show your face again. Is that clear?”

The man was stunned. He dropped his head and nodded silently as Mr. McGuire escorted him out of the kitchen. He promised to return with Mr. Burgess's doctor right away, so you were left sitting on the floor, your heart beating like a drum and your body shaking uncontrollably. You held your wrist tightly against your chest, trying to steady your breathing and ease the pain in your shoulder that felt like it needed a good pull. You could smell the wine all over your clothes, feeling it seeping through the fabric and sticking to your body.

When Paul returned, he crouched down next to you and gently placed a warm hand over your good shoulder. The doctor took hold of your wrist and examined it carefully, twisting it slowly and causing a pained groan to escape from you.

They helped you stand, accompanying you to your room for better care and examination. It was discovered that your shoulder was indeed partially dislocated and although the procedure to fix it was quick, it wasn’t entirely pain-free. Your wrist was sprained due to the man's hard pull, so you were advised to use good bandages, an ice package and a pain relief cream to help with the healing process. With a sling also put on your shoulder, you needed to let your whole arm rest for a few days.

The piece of glass that had injured your back was stuck between the uniform and your skin, the thickness of your shirt preventing it from going deeper. Although the cut wasn't severe, you were certain you'd be left with a small scar there.

The tiny scratches on your arms were cleaned and disinfected properly. The doctor didn’t need to cover them with a bandaid, but your skin appeared as though it had been grated.

After the woman left, an awful silence fell over you. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to say or do. Mr. McGuire took a seat on the chair next to you, his face was etched with pain, guilt and apprehension.

You sensed that he wanted to say something, to break the tension that had settled on the room. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and you turned your head to look at him.

"Y/N, I am so sorry for what happened. This is entirely my fault.”

You noticed that he had called you by your name for the first time, without even using "Miss" to address you.

"I've been inviting these people over because I wanted Alex to socialize," He explained. "He never considered them close friends, and we always knew they were only interested in what we could offer rather than our company. But you see, I was at least hoping that he could take his mind off all the things that are troubling him.”

You sighed. “Mr. McGuire-”

“I should have protected you. You are working for us and keeping you safe is our responsibility. But I allowed that to happen because I was so lost in my own head that I didn’t even notice he was following you,” Paul lamented.

“Sir-”

“Please forgive me. I wish I could say or do something better, but I can only apologize to you.”

“Paul.”

You thought to yourself that now was not the time to be formal with someone who had proven to be a good friend more than a common employer.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t imagine he would do this to me," you reassured him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am supposed to keep an eye on you."

"You talk as if I need protection 24/7. You hired me to be a housemaid, nobody expects you to be my bodyguard and keep my every movement in check," you pointed out.

Paul was distraught, his left foot was rapidly jumping up and down, as if he wanted to make a hole in the wooden boards. "I just wanted you to feel comfortable here with us. Knowing that one of my guests assaulted you like that..."

You bit your lower lip. "What's done is done. And what that man did, or tried to do, isn't really your responsibility. "

He chuckled. "I'm not sure I deserve your kindness after tonight."

"Why not? You stopped him."

"I'm not the good man you think I am, Y/N."

"Yes, you are.”

Paul surrendered, letting his back rest against the chair as he finally relaxed after a long and emotionally exhausting day. The silence that followed was complicit, an unspoken agreement that solidified the mutual respect you had for each other.

You could tell that Paul didn't want to leave you alone after the traumatic experience you had endured, but what you really needed now was a shower to get rid of the wine that had already dried off and was making you smell like a vineyard from head to toe.

After stepping into the shower, you were grateful for the privacy of the bathroom in your own room. With caution, you removed the sling and turned on the water, ensuring that your bandage and medication around the wrist did not get wet. As the water ran along your hair and slid down on your body, it washed away the wine, but not the misery and disgust that still lingered on your aching frame. The cuts were already healing, but they were extremely painful under the hot jet.

It became clear that Fawney Rig was not the place for you, not after that night. The environment and culture were not aligned with your values and aspirations and paying a rent for an apartment you weren’t even using was a waste you didn’t really want to further prolong.

Having the rest of the evening to yourself, you thought about going to Dream to satiate your need for comfort. You decided against it though, because you didn't want him to see you in your current physical and emotional state.

You put on your nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around your hair, the sling back in place. You took out your phone and checked the message that Hob had forwarded you a few days before, as he was the person you truly wanted to talk to at that moment. Although you promised him that you wouldn't disappear again, you failed to maintain proper contact and even forgot to answer his last text. Hob never tried to call you, nor was he the type of guy who texted people over and over again until they finally reached out to him. You knew he was worried sick about you and you wanted to let him know that you were at least okay.

But were you really okay? Your body being a little worse for wear was one thing, but the bottles of wine weren't the only things that broke into a thousand pieces. You felt empty, completely lost and utterly devastated. Your pride had been immensely damaged and your entire self-confidence had crumbled like a sandcastle.

You tapped on your phone and opened the first conversation. Hob’s profile picture appeared at the top left corner, looking as charming and professional as ever. There was a time when you thought you were developing a little crush on him, but eventually, you realized that he was more like family to you than a potential lover.

You read through his text again, figuring out a way to answer.

You began typing your reply, but then stopped midway. You contemplated what you wanted to say, deleting your words and trying again with a newly formed sentence. On your fifth try, you closed the conversation and opened your contact list directly, selecting his name and initiating a call. You heard the sound of a free line as you placed your phone against your ear, waiting for him to pick up.

Assuming he was already in bed considering the time, you let out a pained sigh and lowered the phone when he didn't reply. However, before you could press the red handset to end the call, you heard a familiar voice coming through the speaker.“Y/N?”

Your heart sped up and you immediately brought the device back to your ear. “Hob?”

“Bloody hell, Shortcake! You left me on read, where have you been?!”

You smiled, his caring nature managing to fill your heart with excitement. You needed it now more than ever.

“Hey. Sorry for going silent again. Work’s been keeping me rather busy.”

He let out a long sigh. “My dear, you sound tired as fuck. Are you okay?”

You wanted to tell him that you were absolutely fine. You wanted to reassure him and lift the worry he constantly carried for you. You parted your lips, ready to deliver the most positive answer you could think of, but the words just didn't want to come out.

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “Yes,” you finally said. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, seriously now. Don’t think I didn’t notice that pause. What happened?” He asked.

You were practically an open book to him, and you were absolutely terrible at hiding the way you felt.

The truth was that you wanted to scream, to cry, to punch something so hard that the entire house would fall down. There was so much you wanted to tell him, but you absolutely couldn't reveal all of it. Having secrets with the ones you cared about was something you could barely handle, so you only revealed the part that didn't need to be kept secure.

“Well, you see, there was an accident,” you confessed.

“What? What accident? Are you hurt?!” He was literally panicking now.

“I’m okay... sort of. Just a few scratches here and there, nothing to be worried about.”

You could feel his nervous laughter coming through the speaker. "Are you kidding me?! Of course I'm worried! Tell me everything. Now.”

Your mind went back to where everything started — to the glances that man gave you throughout the night, to the way he followed you to the kitchen, drunk and reeking. To his nasty hands over your waist as they pushed you against the wall and him abruptly grabbing your wrist, pulling you face down on the dirty floor.

You told him all that and more. You opened up about your fear of failing every time, about how much you tried to fit in, to ignore the differences between their world and yours. You admitted your strong desire to pack all your things and walk away, only kept at bay by something else you needed to take care of.

Hob listened silently until you were done. After a moment of evident shock, his voice came through the phone, louder and more agitated than before. “Y/N, are you crazy?! You can’t stay there, what the hell?!”

“I know Hob. But like I said, I can’t bring myself to leave just yet.”

“That bloody asshole assaulted you in your workplace and you got injured because of him! Do you really want to stay in such a toxic environment, only because they pay you more than anyone else would?”

You sighed. “Actually, it’s not that. Not anymore.”

“Then what is it?”

Maybe, just maybe, you were allowed to alter the story a little bit.

You closed your eyes, breathed in deeply and let your feelings spill out like a raging river. “Hob, I think I’m in love.”

You could almost hear the sound of his jaw hitting the floor. “You what?!”

You chuckled. “I know, it’s absurd.”

“Hold on a second. Shortcake, what are you talking about? Did you actually meet someone in that shithole?”

If only he could have known.

“I did.”

"And you want to stay, because of this lad?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. You were feeling foolish for admitting it out loud. "I know it's silly, but I can't help the way I feel.”

Dream had become such an important part of your life without even trying. You were in awe of him, mesmerized by his power and enigma. He was more than a God, the King of Dreams and Nightmares who you only read about when you were a child, then again when you retrieved that book from your old bookshelf. A being so powerful that he could literally shape an entire world from the ground up, so extraordinary that his grandness was far from your reach. His presence alone was enough to fill you with wonder, as if you were standing before an unfathomable force of nature.

He was a friend, a confidante, a source of comfort in times of need. Somehow, he was inspiring you to reach for greater heights, and you wished he could follow you in your journey for many years to come, guiding you through the twists and turns of existence.

But it was just a beautiful daydream. As you were on the cusp of closing that chapter of your life, there came a point where you could no longer ignore the inevitable approaching. You had to face it head-on, acknowledge it, and find a way to move forward on your own legs.

And it hurt you tremendously. “I love him, Hob. I really do.”

Love is a complex emotion that has the power to lift us up to the highest of highs and bring us crashing down to the lowest of lows. It is both beautiful and dangerous, bringing with it joy and happiness as well as heartache and pain.

You were feeling both ecstatic and terrified experiencing this new form of love after a long time. It was as if you were on top of the world and standing on the edge of a cliff simultaneously. Despite a part of you feeling complete and alive, you knew that this love was bound to end before it could even begin.

“Oh, Y/N.”

Hob was incredulous, but your sincerity had moved him deeply.

“I’ve known you for quite some time now and I’ve never heard you speak so fondly of someone before.”

So far, he had only witnessed a very brief flirtation with a man you had dated for a short period of time. Whenever he offered you the chance to meet one of his friends or coworkers, you always turned him down in fear of another waste of time you didn’t have the mental strength to deal with once more.

“I’m not going to lie to you; things are complicated between us right now. But there is something I must do before leaving, or I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could hear him smiling, breathing softly into the speaker. “I’ve been in love too. I know exacly how you feel.”

Although your story was far-fetched, Hob didn't want to pry and no questions were asked about the man who made you fall so hard.

The shock and dejecton were crushing you from within, but instead of wallowing in those emotions, you spent the next hour on the phone with your friend, who provided you with the perfect balance of humor and support. His jokes and words of encouragement were just what you needed to ease the burden weighting on you, his presence and the way he always knew how to make you feel better were absolutely indispensable.

When you noticed the tiredness in his voice, you thanked him for the company, wished him a good night and hung up the call, letting his uplifting words sink in.

He reminded you of your courage, allowing you to fight through your hardships instead of drowning in them. You were sensitive, compassionate and caring. You had nothing to reproach yourself for regarding how things turned out at the Burgess mansion.

Despite knowing this, there was still a voice in your head telling you that you could have tried a little harder, especially with Dream and the entire situation surrounding him.

Now you were injured and uncertain about the future, wondering how you would even face him looking like a total wreck.

After removing the towel, you brushed your hair with one hand while the sling kept your other arm firmly in place. You then got under the covers without bothering to use a hairdryer, as you massaged your sprained wrist in a circular motion. You could feel the nerves protesting and pulling under your skin, your upper arms stinging from what seemed like little electric shocks and the fabric of your nightgown rubbing against the small cut on your back, which made it burn unpleasantly even with the coverage that had been applied. Despite your efforts, you couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't make your body scream and twitch uncomfortably.

The more you thought about it, the more it resembled a movie that you had been watching from afar. It had happened so quickly and suddenly that you were still trying to come to terms with it all.

Objectively speaking, you had many things to be grateful for, especially now that you were succeeding in accomplishing what you truly wanted when you accepted to work for Alex Burgess. However, apart from the environment not matching your standards and being away from the city almost all week, something inside of you had clearly changed drastically since meeting Dream. It was more than just the feelings you had developed for him, more than a simple crush for an attractive “man” that you thought about all day. He was the answer to the many questions that formed in your mind about life and humanity, someone you had so much to learn from and were looking up to.

A creature you still knew so very little about, someone you weren’t even allowed to touch.

You closed your eyes, slowly falling into a deep sleep as your body finally started to succumb to exhaustion.

That night, you had no dream, floating into nothingness and sucked into a dark vortex.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (currently reading) Chapter 5 ->

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