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suddencolds · 3 months ago

Text

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks.

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around.

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says.

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

“He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this…

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him?

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return.

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will.

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that.

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe.

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #i wrote the majority of this on 4.21.2024 😭 initially with the intention of writing much more #(atypical occurrence part... 3?)#but i think it feels most fitting to just end it here :') that is what i have the stamina for in any case #i feel the need to apologize for how short this is + for the fact that vincent is entirely absent #you can maybe see why i hesitated for almost 7 months before posting it #a couple notes:#mikhail (yves's former college roommate and current best friend) is mentioned in the first installment i ever posted #but he shows up most substantially in foreign home #i am fond of their friendship dynamic... is it obvious? 😭#yvverse #my fic

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sweetteainthesummerx · 9 months ago

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THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (6)

In which some fans speculate on a post...

series masterlist

Notes: hey ya'll! This is just getting started for real. I just realized that this is going to be so long :p so leave a comment (love those they raise me from the dead) and if you want any specific trope let me know!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang I cannot believe that Pelt has won the Best Screenplay for London Film week. Thank you to everyone who made this film possible (on a budget) and especially for all of the women out there who have experienced the trials and tribulations of simply being. I hope that someday a young girl will stumble across this and feel comfortable in their skin, or their pelt. Thank you again, London Film Week! You were unforgettable 🎥

tagged: londonfilmweek, dior.n.goodjohn

liked by walker.scobell, londonfilmweek and 900,782 others

dior.n.goodjohn YEAH BABYY NEXT TIME WE WIN BEST FILM 😤

user1 im crying they deserve everything the film slapped so hard

-- user2 i can't believe they didn't win best film

-- user3 summed up girlhood for me bro

aubreyyboo WOOO THATS OUR GIRL (shes so real for the budget comment 😅)

oliviarodgrigo QUEEN NEXT FILM LET ME WRITE THE SOUNDTRACK 😩🙏🏼

-- aubreyyang PLEASE PLEASE

-- user3 omg collab??

olliebearman congrats the film was phenomenal

-- aubreyyang thanks ollie!! good luck tomorrow 💪

-- dior.n.goodjohn ayo she giggling and kicking her feet

this comment was removed

-- smoothoperatorrr55 HEY I SAW THAT

-- dior.n.goodjohn paddock passes when?

-- user4 HAHAH not her leaving a incriminating comment then asking for paddock passes I LOVE HER

-- olliebearman ill see what I can do

-- aubreyyang no haha dw about shes joking

-- olliebearman Ferrari would love to have you there!

user5 ARE WE GOING TO IGNORE THIS

olliebearman posted

olliebearman P1 and P2! Two reds on the podium this race. Congrats to @charlesleclerc.

charlesleclerc I won P1 but it looks like u won

-- olliebearman ?? I don't know what your talking about

-- alexandrasaintmleux don't worry his ears are clogged with champagne right babe

-- charlesleclerc 😏

-- user1 WHAT IS HAPPENING

aubreyyang woohoo 🏆 (I still have no clue how f1 works)

-- user2 shes so relatable girly pop womanhood just a girl core

-- olliebearman will draw u a diagram and explain later ☺️

-- user3 THIS IS NOT A DRILL THIS IS NOT A DRILL

landonorris congrats ollie I was not aware of your game

-- olliebearman 😅

-- user4 THIS IS SO CRYPTIC WHAT

smoothoperatorrr5 ARE WE IGNORING THIS BLATANT FLIRTING

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: 🍝

macecoronel replied to your story

babe I miss you

aubreyyang

dude. no.

macecoronel

please can we talk

aubreyyang

why don't u talk to ur costar WHO YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH

olliebearman replied to your story

Aubrey you just exposed me please send the Ferrari nutrition team a strongly worded email that ITS JUST GRAPE JUICE

aubreyyang

you're across from me just speak??

olliebearman

ive been muted by your beauty

aubreyyang

you're so cheesy 😭

dior.n.goodjohn posted on their story

caption: celebrating w the girls

tagged: lilymhe, aubreyyang, alexandrasaintmleux

f1wags posted

f1wags NEWS! Aubrey Yang and Dior Goodjohn were seen with Lily Muni He and Alexandra Saint Mleux today in the paddocks at the Silverstone Circuit.

liked by lilymhe, f1wagsupdatenews and 9,700 others

view all comments

user1 NO WAY AGAIN??? PLS?? AFTER HER STORY TOO WITH THE MAN IN THE BG HER AND OLLIE HAVE TO BE TGTHER

-- smoothoperatorrr55 justice for me 😩😔 IVE BEEN SAYING

user2 I WAS THERE I SAW HER

-- user1 AJWORJ

-- user 2 she was literally so nice I got a picture with her and dior and she asked us if we were enjoying the race

-- user3 SHES SUCH A CUTIE now ik why they call her Hollywood's sweetheart

-- user2 ikr and then I saw her later with ollie Charles and Alex while they were leaving

-- smoothoperatorrr55 WHAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT

f1wagupdatenews posted

clip one: the video is filmed on an iPhone, the camera is grainy and blurry. The flash isn't on, and the only source of light is the coloured leds of a popular club in London. The camera pans to the dj platform, where Lando Norris is passionately mixing a pop song. Lily Muni He and Dior Goodjohn, only recognizable by their outfits posted earlier on Dior's story are dancing. Then, the camera shifts over to the bar nearby. Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend are next to each other, celebrating his P1 win. Next to them, Ollie Bearman is leaning against the bar, wearing slacks and a white polo, the first two buttons popped open. Beside him is Aubrey Yang, facing the opposite direction. She's wearing a short black minidress and thin black heels. She gathers her hair away from her neck as he speaks. He's explaining something to her, waving his arms and hands around. She watches his with amusement - or is it adoration? The video cuts.

clip two: this video captures Aubrey and Ollie at nearly the same angle, but this time they're both facing the camera while Charles and Alex have their backs to it. The older couple slightly obstructs the view, but it is evident that Ollie has his arm slung across the bar behind where Aubrey is standing, and she's leaning into him as she converses with Alex.

f1wagupdatenews Ollie Bearman seen celebrating this weekend after the Silverstone circuit with Actress and director Aubrey Yang. Could a new wag be entering the paddock? 👀

user1 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

user2 hes sm better than that mace dude THEIR SO CURTEEE

-- olliebearjeart GUYS MY SISTER WAS THERE WITH HER BF and she told me that they arrived later than everyone else (I think the guy in Aubreys story really is him) and they were together the whole night

-- user1 im actually praying

f1vroom88 didn't they both just get out of longterm relationships

-- user3 like half a year ago people are allowed to move on 🙄

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12

#f1 drivers #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #charles leclerc #alexandra saint mleux #dior goodjohn #original character #slow burn

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thatmexisaurusrex · 2 months ago

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Okay, so people have probably already thought about this AU, but... pulls out pitch notecards... Dear Abby BuckTommy AU.

Picture this.

Abby Clark writes a Dear Abby column. Buck, lonely and just moving to LA, finds himself reaching out to the column once and Abby responds. Liking the rapport he has with Dear Abby, he seems to send any little problem over to Dear Abby, becoming almost his own popular little subcolumn within the usual advice column.

However.

Abby's love for her own column has been dwindling for a while. Half the time, it ends up becoming her editor Tommy Kinard's job to finish the articles he should just be editing.

However, Tommy and Abby had been good friends, ill-advised lovers, fiances, then friends again. They still live together. Tommy has history with Abby. He covers for her as she goes through a particularly rough patch when her mother finally dies.

So.

It isn't every time, but slowly but surely, Tommy takes over more and more of Abby's correspondence with Buck - with "Bucking Love". Until it's practically a half-flirtatious conversation with Tommy despite Tommy trying to stop Bucking Love's ministrations.

Then.

Abby disappears. No letter of resignation, no word to Tommy, no nothing. She packed up everything she could, sold the rest without telling Tommy, and based on her social media accounts, had left the country to go on a globetrotting adventure without even a goodbye.

Tommy's distraught.

He comes clean to the magazine, who seem to just give him the Dear Abby column on top of all his other editing because he was already doing the work anyway.

And.

Feeling like it is unfair to allow Bucking Love to continue to email his questions without fully understanding the situation, against the advice of the magazine, Tommy emails Bucking Love for once - emails a man named Evan Buckley. And briefly explains the situation to Evan while also offering to meet with Evan if he wants a further explanation.

Which is terrifying.

Because Tommy knew that it would be dangerous to tell a man that he may or may not have been flirting with another man without him knowing for a good chunk of the time he had been sending questions in as Bucking Love.

He needed to tell Evan, though. Before the paper came clean about it and turned the column into "Dear Tommy". It wasn't fair to Evan if he didn't know.

Evan does ask to meet.

And.

Tommy meets Evan at a bar.

Tommy talks about Abby.

Her life story - how she became the advice columnist for the magazine, how her mother fell ill, how she was bound to do something like this at some point, how she did love her talks with Evan, she truly did.

Tommy explains his entire story with Abby.

Their friendship at the magazine, his work as her editor, their own love story, his coming to terms with being gay, how they lost their friendship after the engagement but rebuilt it, how they had been living together up until Abby left to see the world.

And it's a lot.

It's so much for Evan to wrap his mind around. It might be too much for one sitting.

Evan talks about his own life story.

How his sister left him alone with parents who only acknowledged his existence if he was hurt or if he screwed up. How he ran away from that hoping to bring his sister along with him, but his sister could only offer her jeep. How he traveled two continents searching for happiness and a place to belong only to find himself in LA.

How he found a job that made him feel worth something with the LAFD. How he found true friends and family at his station.

But how he never quite got love.

He wasn't sure if something was deeply wrong with him or maybe he just didn't know how to find it because how could he? When he's never experienced it?

Then.

He started writing Dear Abby.

And maybe it was stupid of him ("It wasn't stupid, Evan"), but he found himself falling for Abby. The correspondence they had made him fall deeper and deeper into wanting to know Abby, meet her, know here. Which he knew was parasocial ("You say that like you barely know what it means" "I really don't. I'm not online a lot. My friend's son taught me the word"), but it happened.

And.

Tommy said there had been a connection. Abby had thought about finding Evan and just talking before. Tommy and Abby had talked about it.

And.

Tommy doesn't tell Evan that there had been a connection with him as well. How Tommy had almost instantly grown excited for every email that came from Bucking Love. That it was a highlight of his day. That sometimes, if he let himself feel it, he wished he was Abby so that Evan could love him.

But.

Tommy couldn't tell that to a straight man. That would be terrifying. He didn't know if Evan would be okay with it. He didn't know if this would all go terribly wrong if he told Evan that.

So.

He doesn't.

Tommy doesn't tell Evan how he started to have feelings for Evan too.

That almost instantly, Evan's Bucking Love emails became the highlight of his days. That every email he sent made Tommy fall more and more into a love he knew he could never have.

He talks about enjoying their conversations. But never talks about his feelings.

And.

It almost feels as if Evan's waiting for something. Waiting for more from Tommy. And it doesn't even seem as though Evan knows what he's waiting for, but there was something more Evan seemed to have wanted that he just didn't get from Tommy in that conversation.

But.

Surprisingly.

Evan asks if he can keep emailing. If it was okay if Bucking Love kept sending in questions even when it changed to "Dear Tommy".

Tommy didn't understand why Evan would want that. He wouldn't be talking to Abby anymore.

But all the same, Tommy tells him yes.

That he could.

So, the Bucking Love subcolumn for "Dear Abby" continues with "Dear Tommy".

And.

Maybe it was because of the honest conversation they had. Maybe it was because Evan was reaching out to someone he had actually met before instead of someone he placed on a pedestal.

But.

The correspondence felt more genuine. Some of the artifice of charm and flirting fell to the wayside in favor of a softness; of dorky jokes and - and a sense of longing. A yearning to talk more and more. And Tommy, despite himself, couldn't help but write back.

Then.

Tommy saw it on the news. A natural disaster. Firefighters hurt while helping.

And one of them?

Was Evan.

And Tommy shouldn't be doing this. He wasn't Evan's friend. He wasn't Evan's anything. But he found himself rushing to the hospital to see if Evan was okay.

And.

Tommy finds himself meeting the 118, the fire family that Evan talked so lovingly about. He meets Evan's sister, who seems to know all about Tommy. Hell, he even meets Evan's niece.

He finds himself oddly accepted into the group of people confused mostly as to why Tommy was even there, but okay with Tommy's presence; all of them waiting to see if Evan will be okay after an intensive surgery.

And.

Evan seems surprised that Tommy showed up. It almost makes Tommy leave immediately, like he shouldn't have come, but Evan stops him.

Because.

Evan almost died.

And.

He would be damned if he lived another second without shooting his shot and asking Tommy out.

Which felt weird.

Because the man was definitely not leaving the hospital anytime soon. But there was no way Tommy was telling him no. Because all Tommy wanted to be was by Evan's side; getting to know him in person.

And.

Tommy decides to stay with Evan until he's out of the hospital. It's not as if he couldn't work while keeping Evan company. And they hang out, laughing a bit as Evan watches Tommy writing his "Dear Tommy" column.

#bucktommy #911 abc #tommy kinard #evan buckley #abby clark #buckabby #abbytommy #dear abby au #getting together #getting to know each other #bucktommy fic #sort of

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genyawritesshizz · 8 months ago

Text

A Hum of Time. Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Part 6

-Technically 5.5, shorter chapter

Summary: An innocent relationship between two workaholics could not possibly be that eventful. Just two individuals finding comfort within each other's company and the occasional cup of coffee. What happens when a secret that could ruin both of their careers brings the whole thing crashing down? In a heart wrenching decision, you must do what is best for all three of you and brave the future alone. Will you ever tell the truth? You might not have a choice. Amidst the fallout an opportunity arises, one that could perhaps benefit them all. A coup to send All Might into retirement once and for all flourishes amidst unsuspected old friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you want to check this out on AO3 lemme know, ill drop the link in the comments

3272: word count

With a deep sigh, Toshinori could remain silent no longer. Waiting for Chiyo to step out, for he knew the older woman would forbid him from transforming after such exertion, his guilt prevailed through stain.

As the hours ticked by and the sun long casted down behind the hill at which the school rests atop, the moment of opportunity presented itself as she ventured into the hallways. Glancing to his prodigies bedside wary of objections, the young man slept soundly. With a puff of smoke and fatigued muscles straining All Might emerged.

Approaching tightly drawn walls with a deep sigh, a labored stretch of his smile and clearing his throat as to announce his presence he prepared to face the emotionally vulnerable mother beyond.

However, the moment thin fabric slid within his grasp his mind felt fuzzy.

“Sleep”

Catching a peek through pulled barriers as his mind hazed, though the two figures within blurred the faint sight made his heart drop…

‘(Y/N)?’

Ending credits rolled and a quieted theme song jingled throughout the silenced room. Wrapped snugly within each other's embrace, sleep tugged at the edges of tired bodies. It had been months since time had allowed such a night, savoring every second spent together neither wished to depart.

“We should go to bed my love, it's getting late.”

“You go ahead, I’ve got a couple emails I should check up on be-”

“It can wait. Please Toshi.” Grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the couch he could not refuse.

Led to your shared bedroom you sat him atop cooled sheets.

Though dark, the seldom moonlight allowed gazes to meet, seemingly glowing cerulean swam with admiration looking up to the woman before him. Cherished and dear to his heart, he would never grow tired of such a sight.

‘Beautiful’

A gentle thumb slid over the hollow of thinned cheekbones and down to his jawline. Wandering further, to massage the tense muscles of his neck and dip under the neckline of his shirt to brush over protruding bones of his vertebrae. A sensual shiver of ecstasy ran through Toshinori with each swipe of warm fingertips and an almost silent sigh had his head lulling back. A now familiar yearn grew hot within tightening trousers. His palms outstretched, holding your hips within their wide grasp, fingers squeezing into the supple flesh of your behind. Lowering over the loose fabric of his collared shirt, you carefully undo each button as they pass. The wide expanse of his chest presented itself, mindful of his scar, your expedition continued.

Both sets of hands grew hungry, though unrushed, as clothes drifted off, discarded to the floor for further exploration. Basking in the soft touches of the other, the need to be closer pulled you in.

Climbing on top, within the cover of darkness, without worry of work, without the weight of the world, love bloomed and bursted between them. Bodies conjoined, moving in sync, hushed praises arose as pleasure flared. Whispers of ‘I love you’s’ flew between moans of rapture. It had been far too long since they’d been allowed such a time together.

As his peak reached deep within you the two collapsed. Rushed breaths mingled, heart rates thumping and arms never untangling. Resting within your shared bed, contentment settled. With eyes closed his arms tightened, pulling you closer.

“That was-”

“The last time.” Thin eyebrows scrunched, your tone sounded distant. Catching his breath he hummed, confused by your statement.

“What do you mean?” Finally opening his eyes to look down at the woman within his arms he's met with nothing but balled up knots of blankets. The euphoria evaporated within an instant. “(Y/n)?”

“ALL MIGHT!”

Bolting up from the bed, nude, he ran through the house. Tearing each door open in haste, howling your name till his throat ran raw. Your yells became animalistic, echoing off each emptied room, tauntingly calling his name.

“All Might Please! Save Me!”

“I’m trying! Where are you?!” Padding into the living room he collapsed, inches away, yet just out of his grasp your body laid. Hero suit torn, your once loved form battered, bloodied, and lifeless…

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please…”

“Hey All Might!”

“Are you awake?”

“All Might?”

Back inside the far too small cot of the infirmary Yagi’s head swam, dazed, confused. Haunted by dreams of the past.

“All Might? Are you.. Crying?”

Snapping back into reality, a trembling hand swiped across gloom stricken features. Wetness gathering against thinned palms, mind struggling to find solid ground, and breaths puffed in rapid succession.

“Are you okay?”

‘What happened?’

Looking over to the once drawn curtains he’s met with a now emptied infirmary. The bed that once held his other student now striped and barren.

“Where did young Akeno and his mother go?”

“Oh, Recovery Girl sent them home a couple hours ago. She said we were also free to leave, but I didn’t want to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nice dream until… Are you okay? It looked like you-”

“I’m fine Midoriya. Nothing to worry about”

‘It was a dream…But I…’ Sighing as he shoved the memories back from whence they came and turned to his student.

“Let's go home.”

‘It was only a dream.’

Healed over the weekend class resumed anew Monday morning. Though with the looming shock of the attack still fresh on their minds, the students of class 1A buzzed with exhilaration.

“You guys, did you watch the news last night!”

“We’re totally big deals! Those news channels love us were basically celebrities!”

Amongst the chatter of premiering on television and All Might’s victory Midoriya’s mind swam with questions that had been burning to escape after his recent discovery. Finally spotting his blond haired classmate as he entered, he struggled to withhold his onslaught. The image he had uncovered seared into his mind. As much as he wanted to simply blurt it out, he knew such an important topic must be eased into. Instead opting for a more friendly approach, he greeted his classmate.

“Hey Akeno! How are you feeling?” Cerulean met Emerald and with a smile as Akeno took his seat, smiling wide as ever.

‘That smile.’

“Not back to one hundred percent yet, but I'm getting there!” His deepening voice still sounded scratchy, his throat raw and aching yet miles beyond the infirmary.

“I’m happy to hear that! Hey, so theres something I wanted to ask-”

“Attention homeroom, class is about to begin. Everyone, stop talking and take your seats!” Entering at top speed Iida stood before the podium, silencing the question.

“We can talk during lunch.” With a shaky grin Midoriya agreed, though his questions boiled, just below the surface, threatening to overflow.

“Morning class.” Muffled through layers of bandages Mr. Aizawa stood within the doorway, much to everyone's shock. As chatter picked up regarding his well being, it was quickly squandered by their teachers' unwavering stoicism. “What’s more important is your fight isn't over yet. The UA sports festival is about to start.”

Overflowing with excitement the teens all congregated on their shared aspiration for their upcoming performances. The questions brewing were almost forgotten within his own enthusiasm, yet as the bell rang for lunch his bustling curiosity repopulated.

“You guys go on ahead, we’ll meet you there!” Dismissing Uraraka and Iida the hallways cleared around the two aspiring heroes.

“Midoriya, you said you had something you wanted to ask me?”

Now alone standing before his friend, the boy fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, unable to maintain eye contact. Though he was curious, a part of him knew this was a touchy subject. One that could potentially change his classmates' life.

“Hey, is everything okay? You look really nervous. You know you can talk to me right?” His blatantly nerve stricken friend seemingly shrunk beneath him, trembling within his presence, and unable to meet his gaze. “If this is about the villain's attack? Don't worry about it! You did everything you could!”

“No…it’s not that.” Steadying his breaths and gathering himself, Izuku attempted to relax his tense body. If he was going to ask the one profound question that had been weighing him down, he must first present and validate his evidence behind it.

“You said your mom used to be a hero right?”

“Uh yeah, she used to be a sidekick.”

“And you said that she was hurt when you were younger, in America?”

“Yeah?” Worried confusion grew within Akeno, now it was he who shrunk beneath the other.

“How… how old were you when that happened?”

“Around four. Izuku, why are you asking me all this?” Fretted lines drew between furrowed brows and down turned lips. Each question sent the young man further into perplexity. “What does my mom have to do with anything?”

Slinging his backpack around and fishing within a pocket, Izuku withdrew his phone.

“That’s just the thing…” Finally, emerald met cerulean. Both gazes ardent, swimming with steeled perception. “given what you said about her being a hero in the past-”

“She was just a sidekick!”

“Even so, she used to be a hero here. Tracing back the history of female heroes that worked in Japan over the last thirty years with vocal quirks, filter out how many transferred to America in the last twenty and those who quit within the last decade… I-I found nothing b-”

“Then what was all this for!”

“Wait! I’m not done!” Sighing, Akeno nodded, annoyed at the suspended anticipation gnawing at his twisted stomach. “I could not find any heroes matching that description…alive. But I did find one that had passed and-”

“Izuku, my mother is alive! You saw her yourself. She was just here last week.”

“It’s just that… back when we were all in the infirmary and your mom came to visit, I think I recognized her.” Quivering fingers tapped at the now alighted screen, scrolling further into its archive.

“You recognized her? That's impossible, mom hasn’t been back in Japan in years.”

The world fell silent.

Revealed from a turned phone screen, a single photo sent Akeno’s world crumbling.

“It’s hard to tell since she’s wearing a mask, but doesn’t she look a lot like this hero? Her name was S-

“No.”

“B-“

“No. That is not my mother Izuku. I don’t know what you think you’re onto but it’s not true.”

“But I-Wait, where are you going?” Thunderous footsteps blazed past the baffled boy, heading down the hallway to hopefully catch the last minutes of lunch. Refraining from following, Izuku feared he had made his friend uncomfortable. All he wanted to know was if it was possible. Perhaps his assumptions were wrong after all.

‘It can’t be true. That picture has to be fake. It has to be.’

Silenced for the remainder of the day, Akeno’s mind drowned within its thoughts.

Far too scared to approach for fear of worsening the situation, Izuku allowed his classmate space.

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the day. As students flooded the hallways ready to be home Izuku was once again pulled aside by his mentor. Exchanging pleasantries and pouring two cups of tea, Toshinori sat rigid before his pupil. Shaking hands curled into the excess fabric of his suit as words struggled to form.

“Young Midoriya, there’s something I must ask of you. Though I hope you don’t find it too weird.”

“Of course All Might, what is it?” The boy's demeanor starkly contrasted the older man's gloom; his apprentice's charisma almost made him cringe.

“I-I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sucking in air through gritted teeth he almost recanted his curiosity though burning desire for the truth propelled the notion. “What do you know about Akeno’s mother?”

Emerald hues widened.

“Actually that's something I wanted to talk to you about as well. Did you happen to see her while in the infirmary?”

“No, I… I didn’t.” A sense of confusion clouded over once sharpened instincts.

‘I could’ve sworn I was going to try and talk to her…But then I… Fell asleep?’

“I know you spoke to her, who was she? Have you seen her before?”

“That’s the thing, she looked vaguely familiar to me. I thought I figured out where I’d seen her before but when I tried to talk to Akeno about it, he didn’t agree. Now looking back at it, I don't think my assumption was right either, it’s too far-fetched.”

“What was your assumption?”

“It…It was nothing, I really don’t think it could be who I originally thought. It wouldn’t make sense.” Refraining from showing his mentor the photo or divulging in his theory after reading more about Siren and her untimely demise, If he was wrong about this theory then telling All Might could upset him, especially if they were close.

“But, Akeno has told me a lot about her so maybe you could figure it out?”

Besides, surely if All Might actually knew this hero and if all the information he was about to give matched, he would tell him. Right?

“What has he said?”

Recalling every scrap of information to his mentor, Toshinori's thin brows drew together, thick wrinkled lines of contemplation forming the further he recalled.

“Does that remind you of anyone?”

“I… I don’t think so, sorry.” In reality the inner workings of Yagi’s mind went into overdrive, cogs grinding and turning with recollection.

‘It can’t be. Rationalize. It’s surely all just a coincidence… All a coincidence…It has to be. She’s…she’s dead…’

His feeble attempts to sooth his rampaging mind were not boding well, buckling with each new piece of information. Pushing them back was becoming overpowering.

Sighing in defeat Izuku came to the conclusion that his theory had in fact been incorrect, a simple fairytale that his fanboy mind had concocted.

‘It was just a theory.’

“Don’t worry about it, whoever she is, if it’s important I'm sure we’ll figure it out. Besides, you should be focusing on the sports festival!” Redirecting his pupils' attention as a way to forfeit his mind's own psychosis and dissipate the defeated look upon Midoriya’s face he pushed them back to the matter at hand.

“That kid could be your clone ya know.” Midnight laughed, the two sat alone within the teachers lounge, wrapping up the day's paperwork. Typically Midnight would talk about her day or problems while Toshinori only nodded, occasionally adding very little to the conversation. However today's topic of discussion had landed on the sports festival and their predictions on how it would go. Going down the roster of both 1A and 1B this one off comment seized his full attention.

The thoughts that had been plaguing him over the mystery that was Akeno and his origins resurfaced. It had been less than three weeks since his chat with Midoriya, ever since his mind had been spinning its wheels, desperate to find traction.

“Yeah no kidding, kid looks just like me” He attempted to play the comment off with a chuckle, however it struggled to come off genuine, the light quiver in his tone gave away his unease. In an effort to sooth rattled nerves a hand rubbed at the back of his sweat slicked neck.

“All Might!?” Midnight’s voice had raised in pitch, both eyebrows up in suspicion under her mask. “Do you have a secret child?” She practically yelled this question, voice high in excitement. Steam could’ve piped out of his ears and a thick haggard cough of blood spurted from his mouth at her brazenness.

“NO! Not that I know of.” His hands flew up in defense.

“That you know of?! So it’s possible!” She laughed “How promiscuous of you Toshinori.”

“Nemuri please, there is no way that kid could be mine. I haven’t…” He trailed off thinking back to the last he’d been active. It was with you. After all these years he had not found it within himself to seek out a new lover. Not that it was not offered to him, as All Might women practically threw themselves at him. He simply had no desire to, no want for sexual or romantic intimacy with anyone ever again. Sure there were nights when he felt lonely and craved affection but the mere thought of receiving it from anyone else made his skin crawl. Besides, he had learned from you that bringing anyone into his life, his personal life, was dangerous. For both himself and them.

“It’s been…awhile”

“ Common All Might, it can’t be that long. You’re a bit older but you’ve still got game! Tell me how long. I have to know now!”

He pondered her question. Then counted back the years in his head, sixteen…

‘Wait, how old is this kid? He’s in young Midoriya’s class so he must be’

OH.

He coughed, his mind ablaze with thoughts. A splatter of blood coated his hand, gasping for air, violent hacks surged through him. The seductive hero passed him a cup of water, with a few forced sips the fit subsided.

“Twenty” he lied through his teeth, revealing too much could lead her to the same conclusion. Midnight’s mouth hung open her eyes wide.

“TWENTY? What a travesty! Absolutely appalling! How can you go on without the touch of another?”

“Look, I'm not too comfortable discussing this. Can we please pick another topic?” Toshinori felt as if his whole world was spinning upside down. The train of thought he had tried so desperately to derail steamed down the tracks, now full speed ahead, barreling into a brick wall of realization.

The kid matched the age gap.

He was the spitting image of him.

He had your exact same quirk.

Given all the information Midoriya had told him earlier he was born in America, however his mother was originally from Japan.

‘That's where you moved after the break up.’

The boy's whole reason for being a hero was in his mothers honor who was attacked by a villain when he was young.

‘Deducting the years from the time you were ‘killed’ would put him around 3-4, far too young to remember crucial details yet aware of the situation.’

Too many ‘coincidences’. Too many dots connected. Yet the one gaping hole in this whole theory revolved around one central point;

‘His mother is alive, you are not.’ So he thought.

He needed answers.

Now.

Sneaking into the gyms locker room to most would be seen as nothing short of creepy and perverse, yet driven by the need for mediation All Might proceeded. Scrounging through every cubby until finally reaching the quarry. Unsurprisingly, as most teenage boys did, Akeno had not washed his pullover after their last training exercise. Pillaging the uniform he examined it carefully until his target was acquired, a singular piece of golden hair pinched between his finger tips.

“Tsukauchi, I have a favor to ask. It's urgent.”

Two strands of blonde hair sealed safely into ziplock bags were handed off to the detective.

As the hours ticked by awaiting results Yagi’s mind spiraled further, the facts at hand repeating themselves forwards and back until the jingle of his phone broke the cycle.

“Yagi, I have the results for the samples you gave me. It wasn’t easy convincing the lab to run it without prior authorization and on such short notice but since it’s for you, we managed to pull a few strings.” Toshinori’s heartbeat thundered into his ear, threatening to overshadow the man's words.

“It’s a 50% match. They’re either parent and child or siblings.”

‘Parent and child.’

“Yagi? You there-”

Hanging up, there was only one person he wanted to speak to right now.

“David. Tell me the truth.”

#fanfic #all might #all might x reader #angst #mha all might #mha all might x reader #tw depressing stuff #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #yagi toshinori #my hero academia toshinori #toshinori yagi x you #yagi toshinori x reader

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filth-burps-writing · 3 months ago

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Belly Flu

A diligent young man who usually abbors ungentlemanly behaviour gets influenced towards some gross habits while home sick with the flu by his slobby friend Alex.

Sunday

Robert Albert Lightley could best be described as old fashioned. He wore a perfectly pressed shirt to his college classes everyday and his work uniform (a janitors overalls) were also perfectly ironed. He ate every meal at his dining table/desk in his dorm. He was slightly underweight but he took that as sign to simply up his red meat intake. He was a pinnacle of male excellence … if it was the 60s. Unfortunately it was 21st century and he was frequently told to relax. He paid them no mind. A gentleman never gets his feathers ruffled by other’s opinions of him. He merely puts his best foot forward.

He thought of just how happy his life made him as he settled into bed with a book. A classic of course. He had loved reading ever since he was child. He had also insisted at a young age on only reading older books. He had always found that the children’s books from nowadays relied too much on toilet humour. However, now he was struggling to read and had a rising headache the more he tried. He rubbed his temple to ill effects. He got out of bed, took a pain killer, took off his glasses and went to sleep.

Monday

As the morning came he felt … off. His breathing was shallow. His head felt far too full. He nose felt itchy and blocked.He was so very tired. He had a cold. He got out of bed and started running the hot water while thanking his luck he had his own bathroom. He breathe in the steam and tried blow his nose. No luck. He waited a minute and blew again. Still nothing. He decided to get dressed, eat his breakfast and try again later. He quickly found the Herculean affair. His arms were too heavy. His legs wouldn’t move as fast as usual. Every time he tried to lean he felt like he was going to fall forward. After a while he got dressed and texted his friend to let the professor know that he’ll be late.

As he placed his toast in the toaster his dorm mate walked in. Alex had a very different reason for moving into the one building of single dorms on campus. Alex was a certified slob. He was always wearing the same large black hoodie and pair of pyjamas that had gotten increasingly stained and tight over his beer belly. Robert lived right next to him so got to hear all of his digusting noises first hand. “Hey bro you look like shit” Alex said while heating up his ramen. Robert responded “ I appear to have the flu thank you for inquiring”. “Then why the fuck do you have your weird suit on. Are you really in going to class? It’s post-COVID genius” Alex said as Robert’s phone dinged. He read the message and it told him to stay home. When he looked for notes in his email he found an auto-send that said he risked expulsion by going to class or to the library . “I cant go to class but it’s still a day and I’m going to try to be as productive *cough* as possible.” Robert said as he placed his toast onto a plate then onto a tray and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. “Dude you are sick. Very sick by the looks of things. You have the best excuse ever to loosen up for one day and relax!” Robert shot him a look and went to his dorm.

He nibbled on his dry toast while thinking about what to do that day. His rising discomfort aside he still had to be productive. He pushed his glasses back up for what felt like the billionth time before noticing his entire body was slick with sweat. His clothing was already soaked. He finished his toast before dabbing himself dl with a towel and taking another pain killer. Then brought his tray down to the kitchen and cleaned his dishes. The task took almost an hour and soaked him with water. Maybe for today he could wear something more comfortable. Or at least get changed out of his already unpleasantly wet clothes. He went back to his dorm and stripped off his clothes then looked around for something he might feel a bit better in. As he tried and failed to blow his nose the only thing he could think of was the vest and shorts he did his callisthenics in. But they were already dirty, sitting at the top of his laundry from a recent workout. It wouldn’t matter anyway he thought to himself. He would probably get whatever he wore sweaty anyway. He returned to returned to his daily activities slightly less distracted but still sick and struggling.

As 11am rolled around he was finding it hard to breathe. He went to over to the sink and tried to blow his nose using steam again. It didn’t work. He got an idea but it was so disgusting he dismissed it. But after four more tries it popped back into his brain. Just this once he said to himself. He started picking his nose. It felt like there was wall of dried snot in both his nostrils and if he could wriggle it free he be able to successfully blow his nose. He admittedly felt quite good as he pulled out a large booger in his left nostril. He immediately got to work on his right nostril and after thirty seconds of dedicated digging he unsheathed the critical booger. Feeling slightly gross but incredibly accomplished he blew his nose and to his glee the snot blocking his nose came out. He wasn’t completely clear but he could breathe and that was the important thing. As he blew one more time something gurgled in his gut and an almighty belch passed his lips. Usually he would’ve have stopped it but as he was busy blowing his nose he didn’t notice. It was loud. Very loud. He didn’t know where it had come from.

As he sat embarrassed and red, feeling sorry for himself a knock fell on his ears. It was probably his friend giving him his notes. He hoped he wouldn’t judge him for his shabby appearance. He answered the door but instead it was Alex. “That was incredible belch dude. I know you’re all polite and shit but game can’t help but recognise game ya’know? Hey you look comfy.” Alex grinned once he took in Robert’s sweaty gym clothes. “ I was blowing my nose and it flew out while my guard was down. Excuse me.” Robert got even more embarrassed. “Hey don’t be worried bud I’m impressed! Wait.. did you pick your nose?” Alex looked like he had won the lottery. Robert felt like he wanted to cross the gates of tartarus. “Yes I did. I couldn’t blow my nose and I wanted to get it clear so I could study. Can you leave now?” “ Felt so relieving though right? And really fun to get your finger up there?” Alex sat down on Robert’s desk chair. “ well yes. It was a one time thing I’m never -“ Robert was cut off by a tell tale gurgle in his gut. He rushed to the bathroom before another mammoth belch flew out of his mouth and even forced his lips open. He then slinked out, the colour of a tomato. “Holy shit dude that was awesome. No need to try to modest dude the whole building could hear that! And you need to clear out your guts as well as your nose. Don’t be scared bud.” Alex was excited at first but tapered off into something more gentle. “Really?” said Robert. “Yeah. Clearly there’s something up in there. Enjoy it! In fact I’ll be back.” Alex ran out the room as Robert sat on the edge of the bed.

Alex returned with a two litre bottle of ginger ale and a plastic cup. He sat noticeably close then poured Robert a cup. “ Ginger ale is a famous sick person drink. That combined with relaxing your gut will make you feel way better I promise. *BBUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPP* see I feel great!” Alex put one arm around Robert and put his other hand on his belly. Robert’s belly immediately felt better as Alex’s warm greasy hand started to rub gentle circles on his distended gut.Robert let out a rumbling fart. “Haha nice one. That’s it. I know you’re embarrassed but just let it all out.” Alex’s gentle even tone lulled Robert as a he took a few sips of the ginger ale then let out a short loud burp. He felt a strange warmth in his chest and couldn’t help but chuckle. Alex may be a horrid, disgusting person but he was … kind. Robert closed his eyes and relaxed his posture as Alex rubbed the gas out of his belly. “Don’t you feel better?” Alex said. “Hmm yes. But now I’m tired.” Robert eyes were heavy and he kind of wanted to lie down. “ You should rest then bro. I’m glad I could help.” Robert lay down as Alex tucked him in. “ why are you doing this?” Robert said. “ I love watching people act gross. Taking care of people when they’re sick is actually fun for me”. Robert would’ve usually sneered but he was grateful for the company so he just turned on his side and fell asleep.

When Robert woke up it was dark and his nose was full again. He thought about what happened with Alex earlier. So gross. So ungentlemanly. So … fun. So relieving. So loving. He felt the warmth in his chest again. As he felt his nose he sat up and looked at his already sweaty clothes. He picked his nose and picked out a particularly large booger then blew his nose into his t-shirt. It felt incredible. His nose was clear. He was happy. He felt a strange giddiness. Being gross is fun. He was missing out. No no. Being a gentleman was his duty! He turned and went back to sleep. He was allowed leeway for being ill perhaps.

#burp kink #burping #eructo #belly kink #fart kink #slob kink #burp #burps #eprocto #farting

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dailydemonspotlight · 2 months ago

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Hel - Day 140

Race: Reaper Arcana: Death Alignment: Dark-Neutral December 6th, 2024

Death is an inescapable part of life, for rather obvious reasons. We all die some day, and, like most natural phenomena, the people of ancient times tried to come up with a reason as to why we did- without the knowledge of how our bodies work, folkloric explanations rose for death and its relevance. Even now, people aren't sure what happens after, and for obvious reasons, too- one can't just ask a dead person what happened. This, naturally, leads to a lot of different beings related to death, beings that bring it and/or guide the dead to the afterlife, if there even is one in said culture.

On that topic, Nordic culture had a very unique take on death, and how it worked- similarly to Christianity, there were several major afterlives one could go to. However, in contrast to the pure Heaven and the pain-ridden Hell, the two afterlives in Norse myth related to how one died- one, Valhalla, was for the warriors who died in battle, and the other, Hel, was where those who died elsewhere went to rest. Hel was so named, finally, for today's Demon of the Day- the eponymous Hel, a jötunn with quite a lot of mystery surrounding her. A daughter of Loki, and a being with much importance, this long introduction finally gives way to Hel herself.

When it comes to Hel, there are two things named as such- the jötunn Hel, who isn't as much a goddess of death as she was the queen of the other thing named Hel, an afterlife also called Helheim or Niflheim in many secondary sources (which I'll also be calling Helheim going forward to make it less confusing). Helheim was the realm that those who died outside of battle went to upon their death, as Viking culture highly valued battle and the honor it brought. The realm was the home for those who died from age, illness, or were too weak or cowardly to fight, among other possible ways to pass. The realm itself was impossibly cold, though the presence of Níðhöggr, the serpent who chewed upon the roots of Yggdrasil, made sure that those passing into the realm became just as cold as the realm itself.

Níðhöggr would head to any new arrivals into Helheim , signaled by the howling of a dog sometimes believed to be Fenrir (which is another insanely complicated topic to get into) and would suck their blood out until they became completely pale, allowing them to be assimilated into Hel's army easier. Helheim itself was actually a rather hard nut to crack, as much of Norse mythology has been corrupted by the only primary source we HAVE for it, thanks Snorri, and it was incredibly likely that most depictions of Helheim were influenced by depictions of Hell in Christian faith rather than an accurate retelling. As always, Snorri has screwed us again. Wish I could get an accurate retelling for the price of sending an email...

Hel herself is an incredibly interesting figure, though she's mostly mentioned in passing throughout the Poetic Edda. As one of the children of Loki, and one he bared with a jötunn, she isn't a goddess- instead, as a jötunn herself, she's tasked with watching over Helheim. She's also the sister of both the world's worst good boy Fenrir and the giant snake Jormungand, though ironically she's probably the nicest of the three- she's not shown as actively malicious, simply cold and indifferent. The only main myth she stars in is the Death of Baldur, though it's also just... too long of a tale to get into right now, but she ends up messing with the Æsir and trapping Baldur in Helheim through the help of Loki. Still, as she's barely mentioned in the Edda, there's not much to go off of with her- she's cold, callous, and indifferent, but that's about all we know. Overall, though, she's an incredibly interesting figure- she represents the grave in a way that Valhalla cannot, and she ultimately likely may have played an important role in Norse civilization, though we can't be sure of either. (snorri when i catch you snorri)

Her design in SMT plays into the cold embrace of death and its aspects in how Helheim is presented, though, again, it's nigh-impossible to actually tell if the way she's presented is accurate to the original mythos. The cold encompassing her legs is a really nice touch, though, and it also plays into the fact that she is a jötunn, being literally a frost giant. I wish we had more to go off of with her, but this DDS is dragging on a bit and the lack of anything concrete that may have not been Snorrified makes this a rather frustrating entry to research.

#smt #shin megami tensei #megaten #persona #daily #hel

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the-fucking-cannibal · 6 months ago

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🌸Quick PSA for cyber safety, online diffamation and identity theft🌸

Hello my darlings, it's been a while since last time i've had the opportunity to hop on here a share a direct message with all my followers and anyone who might need to hear this on the internet.

In these last couple of days I've remained dreadfully silent about a very delicate and serious topic that's been affecting me and many other friends on this app for months to no end. I've stayed silent out of respect and out of maturity, I tried to move on and keep a positive outlook on things to avoid drama as much as possible, however my irl family and friends at home eventually made me realize that any form of abuse and cyber bullying cannot go silent forever.

I'm a victim of stalking, and my stalker is still freely lurking online on all social media platforms to this day. I tried contacting my aggressor multiple times with kindness and respect, begging them to please stop with their tormenting messages and obsessive, unhealthy behavior. I offered help for their mental health many times, I tried to be as comprehensive and understanding as possible to offer help since this person is clearly struggling with a severe mental illness. However I understand that a problem as severe and compulsive as this one cannot simply be solved with compassion and kindness.

Today I've finally found the strength to speak up and seek help from expert and reliable resources. I've been in contact with the Tumblr support team this morning through email and they'll get in contact with me shortly to discuss which accounts are responsible for stalking and nonconsensual identity theft and diffamation; in the mean time I'd also like to thank my father who works in the cyber security team and all of his kind colleagues who offered to help me handle this case in private. I've decided to take legal action upon this injustice and defend myself, as i will no longer be taken advantage of anymore.

We're currently gathering all the information we need for a proper report to the authorities, I've saved up many proof files of all the harassment, endless stalking, diffamation and MANY messages I've been subject to in these past few months (and these last couple of days especially) and hopefully everything will go well, thankfully all the proof we need is still up and public online for everyone to see and witness.

The list of acts i've been subject to include: Posting a picture of my IRL face on this site without my consent (my discord pfp), screenshotting and reposting my art without my consent for harassment purposes (art theft), sending infinite, obsessive and compulsive messages with foul language for many hours, insulting me and calling me names, sharing private information about my friends and threatening me and my safety, creating multiple fake accounts on many social media platforms to stalk me and message me even after repeatedly blocking every single one of them, spreading serious criminal rumors about me and my friends (criminal diffamation).

I'd also like to leave a message to all the people who might be or have been victims of cyber stalking: there's always time to seek help, it's never too late to report to a trusted friend or an authority. I know it sounds scary and dangerous, but finding the courage to take legal action is the safest choice you could possibly make, for your safety and the one of your friends 🫂

I don't know if I'll ever keep this post up in the future, as I'm trying to keep this account only related to art and my merchandise business as much as possible; however I will keep in touch in case anything new about this case comes up, thank you so much for listening and dedicating me a minute of your time 🌸

One last message to my stalker because I know you're reading this right now: I tried being your friend, i tried helping you many times, I tried offering you comfort and making you seek the help you needed because I know you're not mentally stable and are in a very dark place right now....but sadly this cannot keep going forever, and I hope you understand that what you're currently doing is wrong and not healthy, for both of us and for all the people around us too. I'm sorry it had to go this way, deep down I've always seen you as a friend who I could eventually reason and make peace with but i now realize that some people simply cannot be saved. You tried many times to destroy me mentally and emotionally, tried to shatter my spirit and my happiness, steal my light and ruin my friendships. But you will not rob me of my freedom, my happiness nor my right to live and create whatever i want however i wand. You have no power over me.

Thank you.

#this has been a psa #tw stalking #i will delete this soon #take care of yourselves #Kaeloo

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roseamongroses · 2 months ago

Text

with strange tenderness ch: 5/7

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting /Alternate Universe - Small Town /Artist Mel Medarda/ Muse! Sevika /Court Mandated Found Family/ Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough (Arcane: League of Legends)/ Retired! Sevika/ Parental Death/ Past Traumatic Events/ Past Violence & Stalking/ Mild Sexual Content/ Dog/Cat Dynamic/ Canon-Typical Exploitation of the Working Class/ no beta we die like Silco/ Vitiligo! Mel/ repeated silco slander/ Hurt/Comfort/ Past Child Abuse/ Past Neglect/ Domestic Fluff

[1]/[2][3][4]/[5]

ao3

Sevika’s arm itched.

That sensation--that ache, the skin-crawling pressure she could never quite scratch. After her arm was amputated, she took shit care of it. Too busy, too skittish, life was already too much. She didn't want to deal with smart-ass doctors. The pain persisted the same-way she did--with an uncompromising vengeance. The intensity came and went without warning, some days kinder than others, but it was always there.

Slow seeping, clogging her life in ways she never expected. Back pain, shoulder pain, joint pain--rashes. Some of it would’ve come naturally with age, but she surely sped up the process.

And today, it hurt like a bitch and it was that damn school’s fault.

“--Ma’am,” That scratchy voice drawled, “I’m afraid he’s on leave at the moment. Would you like me to transfer you to his line so you can leave a voice-mail? He’ll respond at his earliest convenience.”

“No, I would not,” Sevika curtly replied.

She’s played this game before.

The local Health Department was nothing more than a pretty building and an out of date website. Zaun Public School Administrators were notorious shit-heads-- some didn’t even live in the district. They commuted from nearby cities because the labor shortage was that fuckin’ bad. And it was well known that anybody who could send an email and smile could get past the interviews. The idiots multiplied and nested in their easy checks and incompetence.

And every time some bullshit happened, those rats scrambled for cover.

The bed creaked as Sevika adjusted herself, settling her weight against the wall, “When is he gonna be back?” she asked, preemptively exhausted by the answer.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information at this time.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, typical, “Can I schedule an appointment?”

“Appointments can be scheduled once he returns from leave-”

“-And when will that be?”

A lengthy pause--then the phone clicked, a droning beep signalling the end of the call.

Sevika inhaled sharp, gripping her phone tight.

She shouldn’t be surprised, they’ve been dodging everyone’s calls lately.

Meetings canceled, emails ignored, office scarce aside from those steely-eyed secretaries. Someone had posted in the parent group this morning--another kid violently ill. A few parents were starting to set up drives to fund alternatives to the free/reduced meals most people in the area relied on, which was good for the short term, but it didn’t solve the issue.

The bed creaked, the pile of blankets slow stirring, “...What did they say this time?” Mel asked, voice thick with sleep, muffled.

Sevika glanced back.

Curtains drawn, that early morning light was muted. Diffused shadows caressing the smooth expanse of rich, speckled skin peeking from under the covers and mountains of pillows.

Mel snuggled into the blankets, exposed legs rubbing together as she exhaled indulgently. Eyes still closed, her brow wrinkled at the silence, “That bad, huh?” she murmured, her foot eased against Sevika’s back, light as it brushed against the scarred skin, “Anything I can do?”

Sevika considered this--then she considered that trailing pressure along her spine, that voice floating pleasantly in her ear, and how her arm ached from only thinking about this mess. She sighed, rolling her shoulder, wondering where her shrinker went, “I don’t take handouts on the first date.”

“...Sevika,” Mel said her name like a sigh, rolling it on her tongue fondly as her eyes blearily opened,“I’m serious.”

“I am too,” Sevika reassured, “I know you--Mel,” An artist, a perfectionist, a woman who couldn’t help but try to please. Who held her laugh close to her chest, but didn’t hesitate to smile. Who picked bouquets to match her nails and matched outfits with her dog. Who breathes charisma as easily as air, but falters when faced with a crowded room. Who attended to her friend’s family home like it was her own, not a trinket misplaced, nor a corner undusted. Someone who persists, contradictions and all.

Sevika hasn’t known her for long, but those hands dug into her deep-- fingerprints smearing, painting her life bright--gold. And yet, “--I don’t know a lot about Mel Medarda.”

Medarda.

A family well known in the media, yet not known at all. The name was blazed across hospitals, schools, and skyscrapers. They weren’t wealthy--they were wealth personified. It carried weight, connections, and a lot of eyes--for better or for worse. People who’d lend a hand as long as you lent three of your own.

Zaun has seen a fair amount of philanthropic attempts--all good intentions, no practical ground work. Leveraging notoriety could be useful, could shake things up, but if they weren’t careful they could easily end up in media induced rubble.

As much as she hated this town--it was her home. The only shit-hole she could always crawl back to when everything else fell apart. She wouldn’t compromise it for anything.

She’d send the fundraiser over, but anything else was up to the discretion of the other parents and organizers--she told Mel just as much.

“...You’re right “ Mel begrudgingly accepted, blowing air softly from her lips.

“-I’m always right.”

Mel squinted at them, unamused. Her eyes shut as she buried herself under the covers.

Sevika chuckled, rolling over and sinking back into the bed, between her thighs. Their head rested on her stomach, breathing in that scent deep, feeling her hands cart through their hair, gentle and lulling.

Arm looping around Mel’s waist, they squeezed her tight. Sevika savoured that quiet moment, lingering at her side a little while longer.

Sevika’s nostrils flared--a burning stench hitting as soon as she stepped through the door.

Briefly she considered turning around and waiting another hour before coming back. But considering she gave Jinx the whole spiel about responsibility last night, she decided to get it over with.

Taking off her coat, she assessed the damage.

T.V intact--couch intact--walls intact. Little Miss Scrappy Doo was passed out on the couch, snoring away. Isha waved from the kitchen table. She swayed in her seat as she blinked away sleep, a chunk of her bangs cut in the middle.

“Mornin’ Lefty,” Jinx called out from the kitchen, whistling a tune as she tilted the pan. A bubbling, burnt mass slid onto a paper plate.

Sevika’s stomach turned at the sight, wondering if she should open a window before the fire-alarm set off.

“What? You want some? ” Jinx asked, lifting the monstrosity in their direction.

“Fuck no,” Sevika said, flinching away, “Didn’t I teach you how to cook properly?”

Those first few weeks living together were rough.

The girl could handle a rifle like no-tomorrow, but nearly blew the microwave up several times trying to make ramen. Sevika thought it was intentional, but eventually realized she was genuinely clueless about shit like that.

“Yep,” Jinx nodded, dumping the hot pan onto the mountain of dishes in the sink, “This one's for sister dearest,” she said, tone unnervingly chipper. She then nodded her head towards the counter, two plates with perfectly cooked omelets cooling, “Those are ours--” she explained.

“...Are you okay?”

Jinx wiped her hands on her shirt, picking up all the plates in one flourish, “Nope,” she said, red-rimmed eyes distant, “I’m skipping tomorrow, don’t give me shit about it,” she set down two plates at the table--one burnt, one not. She ruffled Isha’s hair as she passed, disappearing down the hallway without another word--door slamming, shortly followed by her speakers blasting.

At the noise, Vi startled awake with a choking, snort. She fell from the couch with a thud, groaning as she stumbled up.

Sevika and Isha grimaced as she immediately hit her head on the coffee-table falling back down.

“I’m going back to school--” Vi explained between mouthfuls, swallowing the thick sludge unphased and noisily licking her fingers. Isha stared at her, disgusted, before she picked up her own plate and retreated to the living room. Vi picked up her coffee mug, chasing the slime, “I planned to tell Jinx after the concert, but the dickhead,” Milo, naturally, “Let it slip.”

Sevika’s coffee mug stilled at her lips, she sat it down, “Shit--really?”

Vi scowled, tensing, “The fuck you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Sevika honestly replied, “I didn’t know you were interested, that’s all.”

Thinking back to when she was that age-- certifications, classes, and higher education never came up. Her grades were fine, but no one asked if she was interested in anything else. No one expected much from her honestly.

And she didn’t care at the time--she only wanted out.

Vi relaxed, wiping her mouth, “I like school,” she explained with a shrug,“It was the only shit that felt normal in juvie. And when I got out I took some online classes, but I didn’t really have a plan,” she slumped back in the chair, “Life’s been shit lately, so I wanted to try again.”

Shit--was an understatement if the rumours were anything to believe.

Vi was fairly reliable when it came to her sister, but she had been undergoing what could only be described as an 'early-life crash out' these past few months.

She’d been swinging between various jobs of questionable levels of legality, which came to fruition after she knocked out her supervisor and got kicked out of the Enforcer Academy. She only dodged the charges because someone snitched about the freaky-ass hazing going on behind the scenes.

“I leave in the spring,” Vi continues, picking at the bandages on her forearm, “I know it's sudden, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it. About everything. Jinx graduates next year, she’s gonna leave and do great things and I’ll still be here doin’ fuck-all and--” she frowned, muttering, “I can’t pretend like I’m happy like this. I want to try something different, something that makes me feel good and does good. I plan on coming back. I’m not leaving forever--so I thought…” her face deflated a bit, “…I thought she’d understand.”

“...She does,” Sevika says with an odd certainty. Thinking back to Jinx’s odd behavior earlier--she was angry, but it was clear she was trying not to lash out again, “She doesn’t like it, but she gets it.”

Vi looked skeptical, “Then how do I make it--” she ran a hand over her face, struggling for a moment, “Less shit for us then?”

In moments like these--Sevika remembered how young they were, she sighed, “Make sure she knows she’ll still have a place in your life,” she says, fingers drumming against the table, “Schedule visits, holidays, phone calls--whatever y’all decide, just be consistent.”

She made a mental note to bring this up to Jinx’s therapist next week. She knew Vi was averse to therapy, but they could at least work out a plan. Sudden changes like this tended to bring up bad memories for them both.

“...Right,” Vi nodded, mulling it over as she picked over the remaining crumbs on her plate.

Then, Sevika asked, curious, “What’s the program?”

“Uh--” Vi blinked a bit surprised, “It's an Emergency Medical Service program. Someone… close to me recommended I look into EMT training certification and the idea stuck with me,” she admits, looking off, “The closest one was in Piltover, but the cheaper programs were further away, so I had to apply to those.”

Sevika raised her eyebrow, “Who recommended it?

Vi sucked in her teeth, pointedly avoiding her gaze, “...Ex-girlfriend.”

Sevika snorted.

Vi abruptly stood, leaving the table in a huff.

Mel’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, “What are you doing?” she said, looking up from her toolbox.

Sevika’s thumb hooked on the waistline of her briefs, “Changing,” she answered, smoothly tugging them down and stepping out.

Another twitch--Mel’s lips pursed, “I can see that,” she said slowly, eyes following the movement, “Why are you changing in here and-- where’s your robe?”

Clothes neatly folded and tucked away, Sevika reached for the straps attaching her prosthetic, letting them slacken, “I know you like watching,” she said, setting the prosthetic down with a heavy clunk, rolling her shoulder as she adjusted her weight.

Mel neither confirmed nor denied that, “And the robe?”

“Does it matter?” Sevika asked, falling back onto the love-seat with a groan and getting comfortable. She eyed the plate of fruit set out, considering her options.

“Yes, I need to set up without being…”

Blackened, split lips, dragging hot along the column of her throat, breath ragged. A twice-broken nose nudging between her thighs. Dark eyes, dark circles, dark nipples glinting with silver-- cold as she rolled her thumbs over them. Broad shoulders and a strong arm pinning her to the leather seats with their weight. Thick hair trailing down a firm stomach, a black leather harness snug around their hips and thighs.

“--distracted.” Mel finished, blinking away the memories, throat dry.

“We should do something about that,” Sevika agreed, picking a peeled orange slice and popping it into her mouth— tongue catching the trailing juice, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work.”

“Mhm…” Mel leaned back on the stool, lost in thought, “So, you’ll… put on the robe.”

“I will,” Sevika said, scooping up a few berries, idly feeding them to herself while she searched the plate, “Any other requests?” She had noticed something recently. Despite how naturally bossy the woman was, she always seemed to-

Mel hesitated, “...Yes,” she admits, looking off, “Our relationship is different now-”

Peaches drizzled in honey.

“It is.”

Caramel dipped apples, sliced to look like little bunnies.

“-And we both have…desires.”

Crushed berries staining her fingers, her lips, her tongue--

“We do.”

Sweet.

“So if I wanted to try something with you—”

“I’m all yours,” Sevika confirmed, licking her fingers clean.

“...I can do whatever I want?” Mel softly asked, scrutinizing her with a far more attentive gaze.

Sevika recognized the look--it's the same one Mel wore when she painted. A narrowed intensity--picking a part every detail and putting them back together. Her vision, her hands, everything just so.

Normally, Sevika was fine with going along with whatever whim Mel had, but that look gave her pause, hairs raising, “...Within reason,” she gruffly added.

Mel nodded with a small smile, “Of course,” she said, turning back to continue rifling through her toolbox, “We can discuss it further after our session today,” she said before meeting their eyes evenly, voice stern, “Go put on your robe.”

This time she wasn’t asking.

Sevika stood without thinking. She left to search for the damn thing--honestly she misplaced it last session and didn’t care to look for it.

Distantly she wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

Juice dripped down Sevika’s chin, fruit sweet, tangy on her tongue as she thickly swallowed.

Mel wiped the mess with her thumb, pressing another piece between their lips. She cupped Sevika’s face, tilting her chin up firmly as she kissed them, tongue chasing the taste.

Sevika groaned into her mouth, thick thighs straddling their lap, pressure rocking against her core as that wet mouth dragged down her neck, sucking, nipping, lapping, eager to clean her up. Sevika’s hand twitched to steady her then--her pulse jumped as nails curled around her neck, squeezing a warning.

Sevika’s hand stilled, gripping the cushion instead--remembering.

If Sevika touches her without permission--Mel will stop.

Mel hummed pleased, pulling back. Her thumb stroked Sevika’s lips, saliva gathering. Neither looked away---a desperate fondness holding them tight, breaths intertwined.

Mel reached for her pony-tail, pulling her locs loose, gentle waves framing her face as she moved from Sevika’s lap, settling on the floor between her strong legs.

Still fully clothed, those bright, wild eyes looked up at her, gleaming with poorly disguised humor as she reached for Sevika’s hand. Intertwining their fingers, she guided them to her hair, gathering the locs gently in their hold and out of her face once more.

Sevika watched, grip relaxed.

“No pulling,” Mel says, breath warm as her face disappeared between Sevika’s thighs.

A warning? No, a challenge.

"--Fuck."

Mel Medarda.

Stifled moans, gasping breaths. Her body jerked, an unrelentless fever. Hand shaking as she was desperate to keep her hold steady and gentle this time--

No matter how many times Sevika picked her apart--

Almond nails, neatly trimmed. Long enough that they sunk into her thighs, biting. Keeping her legs spread, not by force, but because--

“You’re so good for me… Can you do one more?” That treacherous mouth asked, but she knew the answer. She coaxed another moan from Sevika, wet heat fluttering everywhere, teasing, cruel as it set off every nerve, but didn’t quite land home. Not yet.

Burning— coiling tighter and tighter--that diligent mouth worked hard.

Sevika could never—

“ —lift your leg like this—Oh. Oh that's—perfect—“ Mel whispered, hips rolling as her head fell back, eyes closed. Little gasps, melodic. Her chest bouncing, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow. A lovely sight. Sweet oils and the earthen smoke, a heady mix making Sevika’s head spin as she surrendered again--and again.

—she could never understand that woman.

Bright eyes squinting up, a softly accented voice drifting over the quiet buzz, capturing her attention thoroughly even as she--

Sevika exhaled heavily, a pleasant haze settling over her body. Their nerves twitching and painfully sensitive, edging right into serenity. Mind blissfully blank as if she was floating.

Mel’s touch withdrew, a damp cloth wiping Sevika down light and quick. The love-seat shifted as she curled next to Sevika, gentle words bringing them slowly back to earth.

Sevika’s head flopped back against the cushion, worn, “...Mel?”

“Hm?”

“...You’re too far.”

As requested, a hand slid into her hair, soothing. Sevika leaned into the touch, weight settling into her side as she drifted off and--

Mel’s stomach grumbled, loud, cutting through the quiet.

Sevika snorted, eyes opening right in time to catch her face--eyes wide, embarrassed. Adorable, considering everything else she was decidedly not embarrassed about.

“Hungry?” Sevika asked with a toothy grin.

“...Shut up,” Mel muttered, hiding her face in their neck.

A hot pan sizzled, curling smoke filling the kitchen.

Sevika’s spatula stirred the vegetables in the pan, adding in more herbs, and glancing every-so-often to the rice cooking on the stove. The fact that Mel had a towel warmer, but not a rice cooker was criminal.

Mel poked her head into the kitchen, confused then concerned, “I could’ve ordered food,” she said, frowning a bit. She had showered and changed, hair tucked away in her bonnet while she wore one of Sevika’s shirts like a dress. The collar was stretched, sleeve sliding down her shoulder while the hem was tight around the tops of her thighs.

Sevika scoffed at the thought.

She was not letting Mel eat take out after that.

Feet padded into the kitchen, slender arms wrapping around Sevika’s waist. Mel’s face rubbed into her back, mumbling to herself as they cooked.

“So, Dr. Medarda,” Sevika started, turning the heat low on the stove.

“Is it later already--?” Mel let out a muffled groan as she resigned herself to the interrogation.

“Yes,” Sevika said with amusement, “What did you study?”

“Political Science with a minor in International Relations,” Mel rattled off easily, then added, “I attended Law School for a while before I dropped out--couldn’t stand it. I applied to Art History programs instead.”

“...And your Mother took that well?”

“As well as she always does,” Mel mumbled, weary at the thought, “She cut me off. My brother tried to send me money when he could to help me pay for school, but I mostly relied on grants and tutoring gigs to graduate.”

Sevika stirred the vegetables, “Does he still support you?”

“No, I make enough now and…” Mel squeezed tight, words rushing out, “She never took me out of the will.”

Sevika stilled for a moment, before she continued stirring, albeit slower now.

Mel let out a quiet breath, “It…helped cover the loans. I’m using the rest to pay for the house’s renovations and…and…”

Sevika set aside the spatula, turning off the stove. Their hand-covered hers, letting her take a moment. Quiet sniffling muffled into her back,

“...Aren’t you going to ask? Everyone always does…” Mel muttered, bitterly, “It was all over the news at the time, you don’t have to pretend.”

The news…

Sevika frowned, racking her brain. “When did it happen?”

“--Uh, two years ago?”

Oh.

Two years ago Sevika was--

Swimming in paperwork, fending off reporters, dealing with ‘loose ends’, and wiping bloody noses. She doesn’t think she even slept, much less followed the news at the time. It didn’t help that the shit always set Jinx off--hearing Silco’s name on every channel.

“I was--” Sevika struggled with the words.She was so used to everyone knowing about her past, that the idea of revealing that uginess to--her--made them uneasy, “Busy--in court.” she settled on.

“Silco v. L.O.L, right?”

“Right--” Sevika blanched, then sighed. Of course she already knew, “...Are you okay with that?”

“...Do you want me to be okay with it?” Mel asked instead.

And--Sevika realized, she didn’t.

She’s had partners who loved it.

Who sought her out solely because of her history, gawking at it like it was some sordid form of entertainment. Who thought it was silly that she was caught up on the past when she ‘got away with it all’. That there was no point in carrying it so close, no point in staring it in the eye and asking--why.

Mel hummed, guessing as much, “I’m not fond of most violence, “ she admitted, “I’m not sure I would’ve liked you much back then, but it's a part of you. I can’t….resent you for the life you lived. I’m sure it's hard enough living with it everyday, surely you don’t need my judgement. I didn’t know you then, but I know you now and…” she inhaled her deep, lips pressed against her spine, “I’m okay with this--with you.”

And--Sevika didn’t know what to do with that.

A deep ache pressed against her chest, sapping at her lungs. It didn’t make sense, yet it was a truth she easily accepted. That strange tenderness-- she didn’t deserve it, but didn’t want to let it go.

A little while later, when the two were a little less hungry, Mel reluctantly asked, “…Do you really not know what happened to me?”

“I don’t,” Sevika confirms, “And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

At that, Mel sighed, “It’s…a part of me. And…other then therapy I haven’t gotten to—“ she swallowed, eyes closing, “I’d rather you not find out from a news article. I want to tell you—”

- “I don’t know when it started.” -

Mel Medarda peeked around her Mother’s legs.

Eyes wide and wary, she looked up at the strange woman. Her Mother’s hand pushed her forward to say hello. The woman was tall, smelling like the flowers in her Mother’s garden, a curling rose embroidered on her suit lapels.

'She' stooped down to Mel’s height with a warm smile.

- “'She' was a family friend. For as long as I could remember she was always there.”

- “Brilliant,” 'She' said, smoothing Mel’s head, “My sister was just like you at your age—“ 'She' cooed.

“I didn’t see her often once I started school, but 'She' always tried to be there for me—even when my Mother couldn’t. Birthdays, graduations. 'She' helped pick out my first apartment—tutored me for the LSAT. 'She' wanted my life to be—perfect.“

“Your Mothers right, you know,” 'She' gently said.

Mel’s eyes raised, looking at the woman, appalled.

The woman chuckled, pinching her cheeks, “You can't get so distracted by silly boys—think about your future.”

“But it's not a—“ Mel’s mouth closed, she glanced away nervously, biting her lip, before she admitted, “It’s not a guy. You’ve met her before—Lest?”

The woman stiffened, “Your...roommate?” 'She' asked, brows furrowing, “How long has this been... This really isn’t like you Mel and you’ve never liked girls before.”

“Yes, I have,” Mel explained, shaking her head, “I just haven’t…”

“So you don’t trust me…?”

“No, no, that’s not the case at all--”

- “She was…” -

“You have to stay calm, dear,” 'She' chided, wiping her tears, “You can’t cause a fit every time a man makes you uncomfortable.”

Forever patient, forever calm, forever there.

“Right, but Mother says I shouldn’t let them walk over m--,”

“Ambessa is a different woman then us, dear,” She gently says, “When she speaks--men listen. We have to take a different approach.”

And--she was right.

Mel wasn’t like her Mother. She'd never be.

Clarity--a sickening feeling churned in her remembering that meeting--their comments, but she couldn’t afford to burn bridges.

“—What should I do?” Mel murmured, blinking away her lingering tears.

- “She was always there.” -

Heels clicked-- a door slamming.

Mel left her Mom’s office, a bitter storm that scorched the halls, employees jerking out of her way.

It wasn’t about the money.

She didn’t give a damn about the money. It was everything--every award, every grade, every connection she painstakingly made and delivered on a silver platter was never enough.

And quite frankly, she wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Was it worth every missed date--every lost friendship? Was it worth the years she spent shunted off at some boarding school, spending breaks studying while everyone else got to go home--while everyone else got to see their family?

Would it all be worth it when she graduates? When she’s employed? When she dies?

Was she enough?

Did she do any good?

She had been meandering through life, led by her nose, with nothing to show for it but her name.

Mel was sick of it all.

“It got worse after I dropped out. My Mother and I weren’t on speaking terms for awhile and I didn’t want any part of her life at the time. I stopped attending events, answering phone calls. I wanted to get away from it all and…'She' took it personally.

Calls.

Day in--day out, the phone rang. Friends, relatives, classmates--but it was mostly 'Her'.

Mel eventually dragged herself from Elora's couch. She scrubbed her skin raw, massaging oils into her scalp. She tied her hair back and picked up the phone. She decided to listen to the voicemails--hoping to start picking up the pieces of her life.

“Dear, I know you get overwhelmed, but you should recons-”

And she listened--

“A lot of people have invested in you, please-”

And listened.

“Do you not trust me--”

Until, even the shrill ring of the phone made her sick.

“Do you not love me?”

Mel changed her number--again and again. Then it was messages, emails, packages, mail.

“You’re a sweet girl, it isn’t like you to be so… selfish-”

“She thought I was running away from her. I wish I did--“

Mel unlocked her office, flipping the light-switch.

Her heart dropped.

A neat bouquet of dark roses sat on her desk with a note.

'For my brilliant and beautiful girl. Do give me a call.'

Mel tore up the note. Hands shaking, cracked, and bleeding. She numbly stared at the broken pieces and scattered petals.

- “She was always there.” - It was another one.

Mel could pick them out easily.

Students who weren’t students. They were paid to keep an eye on her, take pictures, and videos. She’s dealt with her fair share of undergraduates with crushes, but she could always tell the difference.

She knew 'Her' well at this point.

- “She was always there--sticking her fingers into my life. Every event—every milestone. And everytime my life didn’t suit her fancy--she had to interfere. ” -

“Welcoming our guest speaker—“

Mel abruptly stood--smile like ice, heels clicking as she left. Her fiance followed, confused by her sudden mood swing.

“My Mother didn’t know how bad it was—no one did. I didn’t think…It had been going on for so long, I didn’t think anyone would care. I had gotten used to it all. Then--my wedding happened. It was a public affair. My family was becoming a major investor of my fiance’s rising start-up. Investors, celebrities, and the press were invited and-- my fiancé was running late.”

Mel pinched her nose, resigning herself to the resounding ache setting in as the seconds--minutes--hours past. He didn’t pick up the phone, didn’t send her a text.

She had sent her bridesmaids out to look for him. At this point she was too tired to deal with people--their prying eyes, their pointed words-- and retreated to her dressing room.

She didn't want to see anyone. She only wanted to see him.

She should’ve been angry--she wasn’t. A part of her was still clinging to hope that there had to be a reason why, but.

She wondered if it would matter--if there was a reason. If it was good, if it was bad. She wonders if that closure would stop this dreadful feeling. Yet, she knew the truth. This wasn’t the first time something like his had happened.

She knows she’d never be able to sleep at his side without feeling that all consuming dread. That fear that even in a marriage of her own choosing, she’d never be enough.

A knock at the door--and despite it all, Mel rushed to answer, nearly tripping on her train. That hope--fretful, fleeting, gone once she opened the door.

…

- “My Mom found me first.” -

…

“I— lost consciousness and--the enforcers were called because of the noise. My Mother didn’t—there was so much…It became a media circus for a long time. Two influential women died and I was the only person who knew why. My brother tried to cover it up, but the incident was too public. I couldn't go anywhere without cameras following me. Some people wanted to make a quick buck off the situation. They’d follow me and riffle through my trash to sell items. Then someone leaked my phone number-- then my address. Even after the all of that nonsense died down, I didn’t trust security anymore —I couldn't trust anyone. Lest reached out and offered let me stay at her old family home. She thought a change of scenery would help my nerves--”

Sevika bounced her leg, flipping through the T.V channels, eyes unseeing.

Shug slept at her feet, drooling. Behind her, Mel was snug between the couch and their back. Long legs hooked around Sevika’s waist, head resting on their shoulder as she enjoyed the pressure.

“It's getting late,” Mel murmured, hands tracing scant circles into their back, “If you need to leave…”

Sevika leaned back, squishing her further into the couch in response. She continued flipping through the channels, a thoughtless fidgeting that quieted her head as she sorted through her thoughts. She then asked, “Why did you offer to help with the situation at the schools?”

Soft breath brushed against the shell of Sevika’s ear, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Someone could’ve easily leaked your location. ”

“I…” Mel sighed, “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

Sevika glanced back, sharp, “It doesn’t have to happen. If you want to be involved--it doesn’t have to be public. I’m not compromising the safety of anyone in Zaun--that includes you.”

“But I’m…”

“You're stuck with me, remember?” Sevika said, “And I don’t date tourists—so you better get used to this shithole.”

Mel buried her face into Sevika’s back, holding on tight.

Ambessa Medarda crossed her legs, red silk dress slipping over her knee, red-bottomed heel pointed. She glanced away from the window, silencing her ear piece for a moment, “Mel.” she called, sharply.

“Yes ma’am?” Mel asked, wiping her mouth, eyes wide and guilty looking.

Her daughter sat on the other side of the spacious car, her frilly, red dress fluffed, a matching bow tying her locs in a high, neat bun. Her legs kicked, dangling from the car seat, part of her shoe falling off and one of her socks missing. Next to her Kino was slumped against the window sill, drooling. His suit jacket missing, a red tie loosely hanging around his neck.

Ambessa decided to choose her battles wisely for today, “Where’d you get those from?” she asked, squinting at the cookies clutched in her daughter's little hand--crumbs falling everywhere. She’d have to call the cleaners again.

“Uh…” Mel frowned, hands fidgeting--more crumbs-- looking at the ceiling, “…Kino found them?”

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, “Try again.”

Mel deflated—caught, “The Rose lady gave it to me.”

Ambessa racked her brain—her daughter always had odd little nick-names for everything. Eventually she relaxed, realizing what she meant, “You’ve met her before, shouldn’t you know her name by now?”

“I forgot…?”

Ambessa sighed . “She’s an important friend of the family. Try harder to remember next time and…” her brows furrowed, eyes straying to the cookies, “If you can't remember their name--if you don't know them, don’t accept anything from them. Not everyone who’s nice to you can be trusted. Understand? ” Her eyes softened as those bright eyes blinked back, confused. She sighed, shaking her head weary, “Do you understand me?” she restated, firmly.

Mel's cheeks puffed, she looked out the window a little annoyed, “...Yes Ma’am.”

#arcane #sevika #mel medarda #sevika arcane #mel arcane #melvika #mel x sevika #sevika x mel #fanfiction #writing

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v3nusxsky · 2 years ago

Note

I'm ill at the moment so I was wondering if you could do a lesso or larissa (your choice) where r is sick and tries to hide it by still teaching but the other notices and looks after them

Let me look after you| h&c

*Authors note~ I hope this provides some comfort for anyone who needs it, it's providing me comfort by writing it. Dt ~ rip ems🥺🤭*

Trigger warnings~ sick r mentions of being sick

Prompt~see ask.^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You hate being sick, that's a fact. But this time it was even worse because you couldn't find your special bear. You normally kept him on the shelf by your bed but you'd not been able to find him for the last week. It didn't bother you so much when you were feeling okay. But now you were sick you would be lying to say you didn't want to curl up into bed with him and sleep the aches and pains away.

Instead you decided to push through the pain, you woke up after Larissa left for her office, with coughs that were wrecking your lungs so much so you thought they'd collapse. Your nose running like a facet and your head pounding as if it was being beaten with a spiked bat. You tried to shift into a sitting position as your aching muscles protested your vision started to blur. How on earth did you think you'd get through the rest of the day?

You knew if Larissa knew you were sick she'd excuse you and herself from classes and work and she'd take care of you. But you don't like being sick and inconveniencing people especially Larissa. She loves her job and she is amazing at it, you know of the stress it brings so why would you bother her with a silly little cold?

You somehow dragged yourself from the sheets sipped on water and took some medicine for the symptoms, stuffing your pockets off tissues you set off for your class. Thankfully most had mid exams so you'd not have to worry about your scratchy throat being overused too much. You'd only got through one period and you felt like death warmed up. You were pretty sure you'd have no voice at the end of the day even with the minimal talking you were doing.

Your dry crackly cough was screwing with Wednesdays concentration, a quick glance around the room showed many other students shooting you concerned looks. So of course Wednesday had to be the one to abruptly leave the classroom before you could even finish your fit of coughing.

Larissa knew you were stubborn but to think of you struggling to work in your condition made her heart constrict at Wednesdays words. Despite her monotone voice and lack of facial expression, Larissa knew Wednesday was also concerned for your health. The young Addams seem to have a soft spot for you so she thanked her and went on her way to find you.

The class ended and students left before you collapsed taking in the papers, the sickness now raging on with a fever that was borderline dangerous. That's how Larissa found you. "Darling? Oh god my love you have to stop being so stubborn"she murmured scooping up your collapsed body. She gently carried you to your joint bedroom before sending a quick email to others letting them know you needed covering and Larissa would be working from "home."

You began to stir moaning in pain as you felt the uncomfortable heat of your fever raging on. "Ris" you whimpered before your eyes were even open. "I'm here darling can I take your temperature?" You whimpered allowing her to touch your forehead. "Darling, it's much to high let's go cool you off, get some medicine for you and you can sleep all cuddled up with me. How does that sound love?" Larissa didn't even wait for your sleepy hum of approval before getting you a cool bath and some medicine to fight the illness.

She was careful but quick and it wasn't long before you were cuddled up on her chest in one of her big t shirts that she would always deny owning if asked. "Mmm sorry mm sick" you whimpered only to be hushed by the blonde. "Hush sweetheart, sleep now okay?" You immediately clung to her in your feverish haze, "stay." Larissa couldn't help but chuckle, "of course darling, I'm here now rest."

Word count~ 739

#larissa weems #anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x you #weems #principal weems

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hachiibun · 2 years ago

Text

Commissions

I'll make this the official commissions post for now!

As a base, I'm offering a fully-coloured halfbody/thigh-up drawing for 50 USD. Additional characters will cost 40 USD per character.

Example: [1] [2] [3]

I'm also open to drawing a few watercolour-ish sketches (sequenced or not) on a page if you'd prefer. The prices for that can be discussed and will depend on the number of characters and the number of sketches you would like.

Example (1 character, 3 sketches - 85 USD): [1] [2] [3]

Example (2 characters, 3 sketches - 100 USD): [1] [2] [3]

And as for comics, I am willing do them either sketchy monochrome or fully-coloured at the prices in the examples, with a discount for additional pages.

Example (sketchy, monochrome - 100 USD): [1] [2] [3]

Example (fully-coloured - 120 USD): [1] [2]

These prices aren't inclusive of the paypal fee. If you're interested, message me here or email me at [email protected]

FAQ

Do I have to be 18+ to order?

Yes, I’ll only accept orders from people 18 and older.

How do I know when you have commission slots open?

I’ll have it on my bio and reblog this post when I get slots open. Of course, you can also message or email me to ask!

What methods of payment do you accept?

I’ll accept payment through PayPal only. That does mean invoices I send will include a fee for PayPal in addition to the prices listed above.

What are you willing to draw?

Characters must be over 18. I’ll need references, but in general you can ask me.

Fictional characters (anime, game, cartoon, etc. — feel free to ask)

OCs (you can ask for yours, mine, someone else’s even)

Furry

Kemonomimi (animal ears/tail)

Some humanoid fantasy races (elven, vampire — again just ask)

Snz (ofc)

Whump (characters feeling ill, feverish, injured, some blood)

What won’t you draw?

I can refuse commissions for any number of reasons. I hope you’ll understand.

Characters under 18

IRL people

Heavy gore

Other certain fetishes (please ask)

Note: For the following I’m just not as confident (I need practice)

Mechas, complicated machinery

Complex weapons/armour

Hardcore NSFW

Order & Payment

If you’re interested, you can send me a message (not an ask/submission) through Tumblr or email me at [email protected] and we can discuss your order.

When we confirm your order, I’ll send you the PayPal invoice. Payment will be due in 3 days by default. We can discuss this deadline, but I may refuse if the extension is too long to give others a chance.

I’ll begin working on your order only when I receive confirmation that the invoice is paid.

If there’s anything you need to change in the order, let me know immediately so I can make changes. If you want to add a character, I’ll send another invoice with the additional payment.

I’ll send you a rough sketch and wait for confirmation before doing the clean-up, line work, and colouring. You'll get further updates from me during the process.

I’ll show my finished work for a final confirmation. Minor changes may be accommodated, text can be added.

After the final confirmation I’ll send you the final drawing through a GDrive link. Then it’s all yours, and the order is complete!

Also if you like my drawings and are willing and able to do so, please consider pledging to my Patreon, or donating through ko-fi ☕! You're not obliged to donate, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really do appreciate it!

#hachiibuntxt #many thanks to the people reaching out to me abt comms #i appreciate you guys for your interest and patience <3 #if you're willing and able to contribute a bit every month the patreon is up rn #the free stuff i post here won't stop that's for sure don't worry #so i'm gonna plan additional things i can put on there #letting you guys know in advance

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 years ago

Text

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Warning: This chapter includes smut! Minors please dni.

For this update, I did some writing research to make my text better and richer, in order to avoid most repetition. Hopefully you will see me improve more and more with the future chapters.

Tagging: @number-0-iz. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

Ko-Fi (If you ever wish to support my work)

And just like that, you found out that your best friend was immortal.

Chapter 8

After your first full night in the Dreaming, instead of meeting Morpheus on the beach again, you discovered places from your childhood memories you had entirely forgotten about and hadn’t even crossed your mind while you were awake. Moreover, you experienced peculiar events that either reminded you of your teenage years, or conveyed something too abstract for you to comprehend. You assumed this is how dreams normally operate, given that everything transpired beyond your control.

Seven whole days passed and you had not seen him once. You were aware that restoring his realm posed many complications, and that with the substantial number of humans who were falling asleep all over the globe, you weren't expecting any exclusive treatment from the otherwordly ruler of the Dream realm. Nonetheless, Morpheus had promised to see you again ‘soon’, and you didn’t quite understand what this implied for an immortal being with an eternity to spare. You needed to stop dwelling on it as it was making you anxious and sick.

In order to divert your attention, you proceeded in browsing new job vacancies on the internet, applying to corporations with an appropriate visual profile that matched your style. You were constantly checking your phone (which was fortunate enough to remain pristine after that tumble on the sidewalk), refreshing your email inbox. At the end of the day, you felt demoralized, albeit slightly amused, observing the amount of irritating spam populating your account.

You couldn't have won the lottery since you never bought a single ticket for it, and you weren't interested in claiming fake Amazon gift cards or accepting a one million bitcoin donation on your non-existent digital bank. You also couldn’t care less about the man who seemed to be enjoying a yellow banana up his butt, Nancy Pelosi being absolutely disgusted with whatever you might have done, and a certain Kim Smitherd offering millions of dollars to make you as rich as 'Bull Gates' while your aunt was dying.

You had to give these scammers credit for their entertaining content, at least.

On the bright side, your father was appearing to be progressively recuperating, gaining weight at a rapid pace and finally spending a lot more time outside of the house. He had struggled with his health for two years straight, simultaneously as Morpheus had endured a century of seclusion, solitude and mental affliction without ever turning his back on humanity. They both inspired you to relentlessly chase after your ambitions, even if it meant reaching out to each and every company in town that could provide you an opportunity.

Even though your heart sank every time you awakened devoid of sighting the King of Dreams, you carried on with all you wanted to complete, working hard from day to late evening to create some momentum in your stagnant routine.

Ten days after that sensual night with the Endless, your nerves were about to get the best of you. It was an emotion that you recalled all too well from your previous romances, and you truly hoped to not go through all that again. Since Morpheus didn't have a phone, you couldn't text nor call the Endless to invite him out for a drink. Matthew had paid you brief visits throughout that period, but the only information he disclosed was regarding how hectic Morpheus was with the reconstructions of his domain.

Feeling mentally fatigued and in need of some respite, you endevoavored to recuparate at Regent's Park, which occured to be your favorite area in London. In your childhood, your father frequently had you visit that place almost every weekend to relax and partake in a long walk amidst the captivating greenery and view the diverse species of birds that resided there. It was one of those locations that never changed, providing you with a pleasant sensation of nostalgia whenever you stopped by.

Arriving at the curved bridge over the lake, you set your arms upon the wooden railing and peacefully gazed at the ducks floating in the water, carried along by the calm flow. The discrepancy between the sounds of the natural world and the buoyant pulse of the streets was precisely what you needed, ideal for any mood you might be in.

In that particular instant, the rustling of leaves in the mild wind was consoling and harmonious. You were so lost in it that you failed to notice the woman proping herself on the guardrail beside you, observing you with a kind smile and waiting for you to acknowledge her presence. When you didn't, engrossed in your thoughts and fixated on the rippling patterns od the water underneath, she decided to initiate a conversation with a polite greeting.

“Hello.”

With a tilt of your head, you came face-to-face with a pair of dark, incredibly gentle eyes. The brown-skinned woman at your side left you struck with her voluminous black curls, so soft-looking that it almost made you want to touch them. The positivity that she exuded was immediately infectious - a rare quality in people that you couldn’t find often.

"Uhm… hello…?”

As she moved closer to where you were standing, her upper arm brushed against yours. Though the stranger's touch was in some way pleasant, it left you at a loss for words and with a bewildered look on your face. You searched your mind for any memories of her but couldn't find any.

Your brow wrinkled. "I apologize, but... have we met?"

The woman let out a brief chuckle, shaking her head. "No, but you definitely know my brother.”

You stared in confusion. "Who might he be?"

She didn't reply but kept gazing at you with the same friendly smile. Your eyes discended to the necklace she was wearing, an Ankh pendant attached to a long chain that sat comfortably on her chest.

You had read about the Ankh and what it meant in symbolism and in Egyptian culture; also known as "the key of life", it was generally used by ancient deities to represent their power and reviving human souls in the afterlife.

A symbol of life and death.

"There is Death, my sister. She is the one who greets the souls of the departed and guides them on their journey to The Sunless Lands.”

And then it hit you.

"You... you are her. Dream’s sister. You are Death."

Her smile broadened even more at your realization. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Y/N.”

Aftr the initial astonishment, you began to sweat profusely. What was the reason that Death herself had come to a random spot in London in order to meet a human who was lost in thought?

You were unable to contain it and said, "Please tell me you're not here to take my soul.”

She laughed. "Of course not. I just want to talk.”

Although her response relieved you, you recognized that Death was one of the Endless, a being of tremendous power and responsibility. What sort of communication was she intending to have with a mere mortal like yourself?

Unless…

The question came naturally, and the dread attached to it was quite weighty. "Did something happen to Morpheus? Is he okay??”

Seeing your concern, Death clasped your hand on the edge of the railing in a reassuring way. "He’s fine, this is not why I came here.”

You tried to make sense of it but nothing came to light. Death took both of your hands in hers, her eyes glistened as her bright expression shifted into something hollow. Her touch was gentle, but you could feel the strength in her fingers and the safety they transmitted.

Finally, she continued. "Thank you. For taking care of my little brother when I wasn't there,” she said, her voice low and slightly hoarse.

Your throat became dry, and you were unable to respond appropriately. Instead of addressing what she told you, you questioned her.

"Did you know that he was captured?"

Somehow, you quickly became accustomed to her touch, and when she removed her hands, you mentally protested at the sudden chill that enveloped your skin for the loss of contact, despite the warm temperatures outside.

She closed her eyes, confirming with a nod of her head.

“Why didn’t you help him?”

Death let out a deep sigh, turning her melancholic gaze towards the lake in front of the bridge. "The Endless are bound to certain rules that prohibit them from interfering with each other's domains. We exist in service to the universe and the living things within it, with our own tasks and realms to oversee.”

You were aware that you should have clamped your tongue and refrained from speaking so animatedly in the presence of a formidable entity, but the immense disappointment felt within your body urged you to give it expression.

"So, you couldn't step away from your duties even for five minutes? Maybe he was hoping that you or your siblings would come to his aid, to show that you cared and let him know he wasn't alone and forgotten by his own family. What's the point of rules when someone you care about is suffering like that?”

You were filled with regret almost instantly after speaking so fervently, despite the fact that you might not have fully grasped the situation. Nevertheless, her next statement only amplified your displeasure.

"Dream’s pride would have been damaged in ways that none of us would be able to repair."

"His well-being is more important than his pride."

The atmosphere became dense and solemn. You were so fervently protective of Morpheus that it clouded your judgment. Your knowledge of their existence in the universe was restricted, so how could you presume to teach them a lesson on what ought to be done based on your assesment?

You let out a frustrated sigh. "I apologize. I understand that it's not my place to judge. As an Endless, you certainly know better than I ever will from my humble human perspective. I just can’t see how leaving Dream to his fate and ego would make up for what he went through.”

Her smile once again beamed with warmth and joy, illuminating her entire face. "My brother means a great deal to you," she said.

Your cheeks immediately turned red at her statement, and she seemed to find your reaction amusing as she giggled under her breath. Without asking further about your feelings towards her brother, she nodded her head, gesturing for you to follow her. "Come on, let's take a walk.”

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her black jeans. Her equally dark tank top showcased her perfectly toned arms, with visible muscles lining them. Although she was generally slim, she was fit and a bit taller than you. Everything she did appeared human and ordinary, but the strength you sensed in her was enough to make anyone cower in fear.

Still, she had such a sweet approach that you could hardly believe she was the literal embodiment of a Reaper. Humanity had often portrayed these figures in inaccurate ways, prioritizing creativity over accuracy.

As you walked alongside her, the sound of children's laughter filled the park. Your feet moved in perfect sync with hers, while her imposing and confident strides in leather boots made your own sneakers seem small and insecure in comparison.

"You see," she explained, "my brother needed to learn a lesson about the consequences of his actions and how they affect others. He had to confront his captors and overcome the situation on his own to grow into a better ruler of the Dreaming.”

You swallowed your bitterness. "So you're saying that this was supposed to happen? That he brought it upon himself and therefore deserved a century of emotional torment?”

A gust of wind blew through her hair, but she didn't even flinch when a curly lock fell in front of her eye. She continued to look ahead as she spoke. "Dream could have summoned me. He was given a choice, and he didn't take it.”

This made you think. If Morpheus truly had the chance to be released early, why did he choose to stay in captivity for all those years? He remained trapped in that cage without a word of complaint, despite the pain consuming him inside, all because of that one missed opportunity.

Was it really just pride that kept him there?

However, you understood all too well what it meant to feel helpless and always afraid of burdening those you cared about. As a mere mortal, you struggled to accept that you could hardly succeed on your own, so you couldn't blame Morpheus for holding onto his ego. Being powerless and unable to escape his predicament must have been unbearable for a creature like him. All Dream wanted was a straightforward offer from Death, which explained the disappointment you had seen plastered onto his face.

Sometimes, all we need is a caring gesture from someone we love, even when our answer is no.

"Would you have set him free if he had asked?”

She seemed to consider your question carefully, but ultimately chose not to answer. "You didn't know him before. You only see him for who he has become as a result of that incident.”

You gradually decreased the pace of your strides, and when you came to a standstilll, she turned and regarded you with a questioning expression.

"They killed his raven and stripped him of everything he had. The ruby, the helm, even his clothes were taken and thrown away. I don't know who Dream of the Endless was a century ago, but how is any of this justified?" you asked.

Her smile grew even wider at your passionate response, and it seemed as though the sun itself had become brighter because of it.

How ironic.

"If he hadn't taken my place that day, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you could change the course of events, would you rather not have met Dream?”

You stood in silence, fighting to gather the correct response to give and conceding that she was in fact correct. If those particular conditions had not led you to cross paths with Morpheus, you probably wouldn’t have met the person who was bringing so much love to your existence. It pained you to realize that you would willingly choose to stay in the present reality, regardless of the implications, even if you were given the choice to shift to a separate timeline where he was not a component of your existence.

“This is so messed up,” you muttered.

Death softly squeezed your shoulders in a gesture of comfort, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. She already knew what her brother’s answer would be, and so she left him behind when he needed her the most. Their family was more complicated than you could imagine, with regulations and dynamics that were foreign to you and the world you inhabited. It was unfair to criticize their lack of intervention when you didn’t really know the depths of their connection. The only thing you could do was adjust to their nature based on what it was.

You took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be indiscreet."

Her expression softened. "You were not. You're sweet."

Instead of harboring resentment for something that nobody could control, you realized that there was a very important reason for you to appreciate her.

"You didn't take my father when I thought I was about to lose him. I should be thanking you, not cast judgement," you said.

You could see the kindness and empathy in her eyes, with no resentment present. "It wasn't his time. It won't be for a while," she reassured you.

Hearing those words from her put your heart at ease, as you still had that nagging worry lingering in the back of your mind.

Guided by your emotions yet again, you were unable to resist the impulse and surprised the Endless in front of you with a shy and hesitant embrace. But as soon as your hands pressed against her back, you no longer had a single afterthought.

Death's scent was distinct from Dream's but equally pleasant and grounding. Her hair and skin emanated a mix of jasmine flowers, smoldering swathes of woody incense, pink lotus, and saffron. She surrounded you with her enigmatic veil of mystery, but at the same time, her sweet and caring nature was warm and fulfilling.

The woman hummed in appreciation against your hair, combing through it as a caring older sister would.

"Am I signing my death sentence with this?" You asked her.

She laughed heartily at your question. "It doesn't work that way. And this actually feels nice.”

She didn't even attempt to extricate herself from your arms. She allowed you to keep her close, as if she required that form of affection more than you did.

You reckoned that Dream's role was tremendously difficult, being entrusted with preserving the delicate balance between humanity and his realm. Death's job was undoubtedly arduous too, guiding human souls to what Morpheus called The Sunless Lands. What would have occured if she was imprisoned instead? What would a world without people able to die be like?

There was something in the way she stroked your hair and rubbed your back. Everyone assumed that the Grim Reaper was a merciless being, marching through existense with a fearsome scythe and a black shroud covering its head. They didn’t know how elegant, uplifting, affectionate and empathetic the real entity was.

When you let go of her, the expression on her face was gracious and accomplished. As the pair of you resumed your stroll under the trees, Death draped her arm around your shoulder like an old friend.

You were uncertain whether she wanted to meet the woman who showed great interest in her brother or merely intended to confirm that you were trustworthy. Regardless of her reasoning, you discerned that your unexpected encounter with her was having a beneficial effect on you, despite its rough beginning.

You continued walking side by side as if it were the most normal thing in the world, until a sudden scream made you both freeze in your tracks. It reverberated throughout the park like a strangled cry, gathering a multitude of people in the vicinity. A girl was calling out a name, pleading and choking in desperation.

Death's face became somber as she looked at the scene. She assessed it in silence, but somehow, she didn't require any explanation for what was going on.

"I have to go. I can't miss this one.”

The wind gusted once more, enveloping you in a rotation of leaves that rose from the ground. She turned towards you for the last time, and with a tender caress of your elbow that was equally affectionate and apologetic, she bid you farewell.

"I'm glad I could meet you, Y/N."

You remained still, nodding, and feeling your heart pump more forcefully. "I’m glad too. Can you tell me your name?"

In spite of anticipating denial of your request, she sent off another smile and moved backward a few paces without taking her eyes off you. “You can call me Teleute, it you desire.”

Teleute. The name which had been used to portray Grandmother Death in the ancient Greek culture. Everything made sense in the framework of history and mythology.

She turned on her heels, walking away with her hands in her pockets. Within a brief moment of diversion to pay attention to the crowd that continued to increase in size, you completely lost sight of Teleute. She had disappeared in the blink of an eye, as if she was never there. Ethereal like the swiftest of avians, the most graceful angel.

You were spurred by a combination of curiosity and uneasiness to move forward. The girl was still crying and calling out for someone who was lying motionless in her lap. As you approached, you worked through the crowd of people who were standing there in shock. You spotted an unmoving man with his eyes half-open, his body stiff like a lifeless dummy, and his complexion gradually becoming ash-grey. His partner shook him repeatedly, searching for a vital sign.

"Robert! Please wake up, please!”

The pain in her tone was excruciating. causing your stomach to tighten and shudder with each utterance of the man’s name. A friend was trying to take her away, pulling her by the arms in a futile attempt to let her leave the body behind.

The man she loved was gone forever.

“No, no! He can’t! We were supposed to get married next week!”

“Linda, please… get away from him, there’s nothing you can do...”

“No!!!”

The ambulance arrived with a loud siren, and three paramedics ran to the body with a stretcher and defibrillator ready in their hands. You heard the sound of fluttering wings at your side, but when you pivoted to look at the origin, nothing was there. All you could see was the group of onlookers surrounding the pair and the expanse of green behind them.

The defibrillator wasn't working. The man's chest lifted and expanded with each electric impulse, but you didn't need to stay to see the outcome because you already knew it; Death had just taken him and he couldn’t come back.

Fighting to overcome the lump caught in your throat, you left the crowd and walked as far away as you could from that tragedy. Watery drops emerged at the corners of your eyes and dripped down, one hand pressed against your mouth to contain the sobs that erupted within you.

Two days later, you had agreed to spend some time with Hob, sharing the occurences that took place in your lives while working on your separate undertakings. The sun’s rays were shining gloriously in the azure sky, showering the idyllic views with a gentle beam. You could feel the breeze tousling your hair as you made your way to the modern tavern, the overgrown grass tickling the skin of your legs. The summer dress and half-sleeved viscose shirt that you selected for the occasion were soft and comfortable on you.

Upon entering the New Inn, your eyes quickly searched for Hob's usual spot. You saw your friend already seated at the table, clad in a stylish brown jacket over a white t-shirt. After greeting the enthusiastic waitress, you walked over to join him.

As you made your way past the other customers, you didn't initially notice that Hob wasn't alone. Someone was sitting across from him, and they appeared to be having an engaging conversation that caused him to display a genuine smile. Seeing Hob in such a relaxed and carefree state was a rare sight; he was frequently on edge, eager to reconcile with that old friend of his.

You immediatly wondered if the individual in front of Hob was actually him.

The man was wearing a knee-length black coat better suited for winter, and had dark hair that looked eerily familiar even from behind. The similarity was so striking that you decelerated as you moved closer to the table with your heart racing faster, incapable of making a sound and announce your arrival.

You could recognize those short, adorable, untended strands anywhere. You tried to get a better look at his face, but he remained turned away from you until you reached a distance that allowed you to be spotted.

Seeing you, Hob's expression immediately brightened. "Y/N!" he exclaimed. "Do you remember that old friend I've been telling you about? Let me introduce him to you.”

Hearing your name, the other man instantly swivelled towards you, meeting your gaze with his beautiful blue eyes. A flood of feelings engulfed you and it couldn’t be kept at bay as you looked at Morpheus’ features, struck by his exceptional appearence. He radiated an aura that could have made anyone fall to their knees in admiration.

Your face flared red with the notion that you had looked at him for too long. "It's you," you said, your tone coming off as more relieved than you intended.

Hearing your words, Hob looked back and forth between the two of you in disbelief. "Wait, do you two know each other?”

You finally diverted your attention back to your friend, giving him an affermative nod. "We do, actually."

"Bloody hell, what a small world!"

When the calmness returned to you, a strong epiphany surfaced. Morpheus was imprisoned in 1916, and according to Hob, they eventually experienced an abrupt separation, whereupon the Endless didn’t show up to their designated meetings any longer. This meant that Hob was substantially older than he had previously claimed, owing to the fact that Morpheus remained locked in that cage for more than a hundred years.

How many more astonishing truths were you about to discover? Hob had several explainations to give, but you decided to leave them for another time if you wished to keep the atmosphere untouched.

You weren't the only one making discoveries that day. Hob didn’t fail to perceive the way you looked at Morpheus, and he smugly raised an eyebrow with a devilish grin that held a lot of secret promises for later.

Afterward, Hob gestured for you to join them, pointing at an empty chair nearby.

While you were strongly enticed to snuggle with Morpheus, you chose to give them some required space to have a heart-to-heart talk on their own without your interference.

A little disappointed, but still compassionate and pleased for their reconciliation, you kindly declined his invitation with a smile. "It's all right, you two must have a lot to talk about. I’ll just sit over there and work."

You gestured towards an empty table next to the window, but Hob's expression quickly changed to one of guilt for the unforeseen change of plans.

"Are you sure? I invited you out, it's not fair to make you sit on your own, is it," he said, looking at you with concern.

You gave yet another nod. "Positive."

You looked at Moprheus who didn’t utter a single sentence, but you detected his subtle smile while he gazed at you from his seat. You gave his shoulder a light squeeze as a demonstration of affection, though maintaining secrecy. Your fingertips gently glided along his sleeve as you stepped back.

You got settled in, requested a cup of tea and retrieved your tools to initiate your work alone. Your attendance was not necessary during that time as Hob and Morpheus had a lot of things to catch up on. However, being close to the one you adored and had been waiting for, yet remaining temporarily out of reach, made it challenging for you to keep your focus.

You inhaled deeply, plugged in your laptop and let your hand drift unrestricted across the pages of your sketchbook.

A few minutes later, you were completely immersed in your own realm of creativity.

"I saw that," Hob spoke, his countenance exuding approval as he regarded Morpheus.

The Endless decided to feign ignorance. "What did you see?" he asked.

"The glim in your eyes. The way you looked at her says it all, my friend. You like her!"

Morpheus became rigid, reclining back in his seat and directing his eyes downward, maintaining silence.

"Who would have thought that after all this time I've known you, I would finally see you in love?"

In the past, Dream of The Endless would have denied Hob's assertion with unruffled temper yet seething rage, storming out of the inn to digest his private humiliation. This time, Morpheus involuntarily shifted his gaze towards you, silently admitting to the truth. The radiance of the sun illuminated your profile, and he couldn't refrain from taking note of it due to its ethereal appearance.

Hob's smile was kind. "She's a great woman, you know. Seriously, the most incredible human being I have encountered in this century. She works tirelessly to achieve her goals, and she's both intelligent and compassionate. You won't easily find someone like her in the next era.”

Although he was still in the process of comprehending your nature, to Morpheus, that wasn't difficult to believe

"Don't break her heart," Hob suddenly warned, catching him off guard and immediately drawing his attention back to his serious face.

"I know you're not a bad guy, and surely you don't need me to tell you what to do. But I care about that girl over there like family, and she's been through enough hardship to deal with more complications.”

While Morpheus was aware that Hob could decipher him with ease, he continued to keep the same calm demeanor in order to conceal his sentiments. He was not inclined to let them be made obvious or to exhibit his softer side, even to his friend.

Hob’s voice was filled with determination. "I would go to hell and back just to ensure she can be happy."

With a minor lift of his eyebrow and the edge of his lips, Morpheus replied, "That is quite admirable.”

Hob took another sip of his beer, his shoulders raising and lowering in a quick shrug. "Judging by what she told me about this 'mysterious guy she's been seeing lately,' it's clear that she really cares about you. Honestly, I believe I've never seen her care so much about any other lad before. They were all a bunch of idiots, but still.”

His eyes remained nonchalant and blank, but the usual slight bob of Morpheus's Adam’s apple definitely gave his feelings away. "So she did talk about me, then?" he asked, sounding flat but curious.

"Aye, but she was very reserved about it. I didn't get any clue that it was you, of all people, " Hob straightened from the comfortable wall sofa and directed his look towards you. He showed a smile of great pride at the sight of your hand gliding effortlessly across the page of your sketchbook without a single interruption.

Morpheus felt the urge to watch you from a distance, examining your actions and admiring the absolutely adorable way with which you seemed to bite your lower lip while tracing your pencil along the page.

The Endless was eagerly looking forward to meeting you in your dreams that night, yearning for the occasion after his extended absence to fully restore his kingdom. Morpheus wasn't expecting to meet you in the Waking World before the scheduled time, let alone find out that you and his old friend would share a special bond as well.

Eventually, the conversation with Hob took a different turn, yet Morpheus found his mind constantly drifting back to you.

You lost track of time again as you drew. It could have been an hour - maybe even two.

You observed that Morpheus was still deep in conversation with your best friend, seemingly frozen in the same position as when you first spotted him. Despite his composed and dignified demeanor, his discomfort around humans was evident from the way he watched people warily out of the corner of his eye and stiffened his shoulders when others came too close.

It was understandable, given that those who were supposed to admire him had instead ensnared him and exploited his possessions.

You closed your sketchbook and began scrolling through your emails, deleting any messages that didn't seem important without even opening them. Doing so, you almost missed an email from the CEO of a company you had reached out to in hopes of finding a job. Despite them not currently accepting new applicants, the man took the time to send you a polite response, wishing you good fortune for the future. Though it wasn't exactly what you were hoping to see, the kind and encouraging words still managed to brighten your mood.

Hob rose from the couch, stretching his neck before turning to say a few last words to Morpheus. As he approached you, a beaming smile lit up his face, though he was clearly remorseful about not being able to spend more time with you. Nevertheless, he seemed content and at ease, a state you hadn't seen him in for some time. With everything now resolved between him and his friend, the last thing you wanted was for him to apologize for something that you didn’t perceive as a lack of attention at all.

You knew there was a long conversation and explanation waiting for the two of you, but for the moment, you simply watched as he strode out of the pub and vanished into the trees beyond. You couldn't help but wonder which century he had originally come from, but given his extensive knowledge of history, it was impossible to pinpoint his specific era of birth.

Reflecting on it, you were feeling a bit daunted by the sheer number of changes and developments he had witnessed in the world, as well as deeply saddened by the loved ones he had lost and left behind. It now made sense why he had always been reticent to discuss his family history, clearly it was a delicate topic for him.

You shut down your laptop and put away your belongings. When you looked up, you noticed that Morpheus was silently and intently watching you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. When he came closer to your table, you realized that his attire was reminiscent of what he wore in the Dreaming - all black and enigmatic - but tailored to fit the style of the Waking World. The fabric was structured and gave him a modern look, while still retaining his signature mysterious edge.

“Hello.”

His low voice was like a vibration, a resonant melody deliciously flowing through your bloodstream. When you stood up and got inches away from his face, you had to keep yourself grounded and resist the urge to kiss him on the lips in front of the other customers (and the waitress, who was already glancing at you with piqued curiosity).

The immediate attraction was undeniable, stirring something in you that was definitely not appropriate for public display.

Hey you," you replied with a smile. "It's good to see you." "I've missed you," you were tempted to say, but the words caught in your throat and you couldn't bring yourself to say them.

"Are you busy at the moment? Do you need to leave?”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I can stay, for now," he replied.

Your heart fluttered with excitement, producing a series of backflips in your chest. "Would you like to take a walk with me then?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

Your request may have been simple, but it seemed to work in your favor.

"With pleasure.”

The sensation you felt was spine-chilling, causing your skin to prickle and making your hair stand on end. The genuine and happy smile that you gave him caused the corners of your mouth to pull up painfully, but you allowed your emotions to show without restraint. Walking on air, you paid for your tea and bounced out of the inn.

You sensed Morpheus following silently behind you, his cryptic expression giving him an air of caution. He stood tall and firm, his eyes narrowing occasionally as he observed his surroundings. The warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze enveloped you, while the distant sound of car horns and the chatter of passersby filled the air.

As you stepped away from the entrance to let a few more people inside, his hand lightly brushed against your upper back for support. The contact left a tingling sensation across your covered skin the moment he withdrew it. Clearing your throat, you tried to shift your focus to a new topic, hoping to distract yourself from how much you longed for more of his touch.

Thankfully, you had just the right thing to break the tension. "So, Hob Gadling? I had no idea that you were the old friend he was waiting for,” you remarked.

Morpheus looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Nor did I know that the two of you were close.”

"He's like a brother to me, really," you explained. "But I never would have guessed that he was, like, super bicentenarian or something.”

"We first met in 1389," Morpheus revealed.

And so you stopped in your tracks, unable to wrap your head around what he just told you. "Wait what? You're kidding, right?"

"I assure you, I am not.”

Your mind boggle at the thought. "But that was over 600 years ago!"

Morpheus seemed amused by your astonishment. "You look quite shocked,” he observed.

"I'm practically a baby compared to him," you admitted. "I can't even imagine what it would be like to live for so long.”

Morpheus studied you thoughtfully as you walked together, considering what he was allowed to reveal. "I must admit, Hob Gadling has proven to be remarkably persistent.”

“Persistent? You mean he actually had a choice?”

Morpheus nodded. “He did. And, he still does.”

When you turned the corner of the street, Morpheus slowed his already leisurely pace and glanced at the building to your right. It was a large complex that had been standing for centuries, refurbished into a more modern-looking bar around 1989. Throughout all the changes it went through, its original name, White Horse, and location remained perfectly intact.

The tavern had been visited by many notable figures, including William Shakespeare himself. It was one of those timeless landmarks steeped in history and wonder that had been passed down through the generations until it was eventually sold. Now, it looked more like a disquieting construction site, with all the windows covered in scribbles and the old, decaying roof under repair for an indefinite amount of time.

According to Hob, the New Inn had been founded as a replacement for those who had fought to keep the old tavern running.

"It all started here," Morpheus said.

You looked at the dilapidated structure, trying to imagine what it may have looked like in medieval times, but found it difficult to picture Hob in anything other than his usual fashionable attire (or Dream with a different hairstyle).

"How?" you asked curiously.

"I was intrigued by his...experience," Morpheus replied. "I wanted to know how long a mortal creature could crave such a long life, convinced that he would beg for death within a century.”

You were captivated, a grin spreading across your face. "And?”

"Even after 300 years, when I found him in misery and starving for food, he still claimed to have much to live for."

You burst into a loud, genuine, joyful laugh that echoed throughout the area. Holding onto his coat, you doubled over, unable to contain your exuberant reaction. Your belly was hurting and you could barely breathe as your laughter didn't cease.

"What?" He asked you, furrowing his brows in confusion.

As you tried to recover from your guffaw, you literally convulsed with tears forming at the corner of your eyes. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your forehead against his chest, subconsciously clinging to him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," you said, wiping a tear from your eye. "That just sounds like him. It's hilarious!”

You continued to shake like a bowlful of jelly, breathing in and out a few times to regain your composure.

"If you find it amusing, you shall ask him to share more of his adventurous tales with you,” he suggested.

You let out a contented sigh. "I think I will.”

Your eyes met again, and the intensity of his gaze immediately captured your attention. Despite his outward stoicism, his expression seemed more relaxed than it had been at the inn. The mischievous, subtle smile you were becoming accustomed to only confirmed that he was enjoying your spontaneous hilarity.

You looked down at the metallic barricades, where someone had sprayed the words "The New Inn" in red with a long arrow pointing in its direction.

“Hob did it, didn’t he? For you. So that you could find him,” you concluded.

“He did.”

Despite the fact that 133 years had passed since that renowned argument, their connection had survived unscathed, filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth.

"I don't know what your fight was about, but he's been remorseful about it for a long time.”

Morpheus continued to pierce you with his stare, pouting slightly at the recalled memory.

"He cares deeply for you,” you added.

His gaze returned to the building, and his eyes narrowed with an inscrutable, impassive look. He didn't respond right away, simply staring off ahead as a few seconds went by.

"He is a good man, despite what he may or may not say. One who speaks very highly of you."

You were stupefied, tilting your head quizzically. “You… talked about me…? After more than a century apart?”

"I suppose you had a certain influence on him," He answered cryptically.

You offered Morpheus a kind smile. "I doubt that I had any influence on him. You, however, have undoubtedly made him a better person, according to his own words.”

Their friendship had begun as a challenge - a game, if you may - devised to test Hob's endurance as an immortal among humans. A mere curiosity that gradually deepened into something more meaningful. Over time, Morpheus came to regard Hob not just as a subject of study, but as a true friend that he valued despite his usual aloofness.

You found yourself adjusting the collar of his coat, feeling the stout, yet very yielding and plush fabric against your fingers. Once satisfied, you gave the front of his shoulders a gentle pat and wrapped your arm around his, holding him loosely but tenderly.

Morpheus was unruffled, but his unwavering gaze on you made you feel somewhat self-conscious. At one point, he even seemed to anticipate something as he moved his eyes downward until they rested on your lips momentarily.

Although you were in close proximity and a small push from you would have been enough, you decided to respect his reservedness when people started passing by on the street. Therefore, you resumed your trek, leaving the antique tavern behind and reaching the park in the distance.

A great number of individuals of diverse ages were appreciating the weather that day. Elders were stationed on the benches with their eyes shut, couples relaxing on a large sheet for their impromptu picnic, adolescents engaging in football on the grass and children running about in circles.

“Do you see these people? Have you ever appeared in their dreams or interacted with them?” You inquired.

“I do not always interact with dreamers. When they rest, my realm mirrors their waking lives, their wishes or their fears. Only when they seek guidance or require advice, I might grant them my aid,” Morpheus said.

And there you were, walking alongside the King of Dreams, whether it be in the Waking World or the land of dreams. Maybe you did possess a unique consideration from him, after all.

You looked at all the carefree activities in the vastness of the park. "It's strange. I never thought about it, but I now realize that what you Endless do is essential for this world. It seems like nobody is aware of that, or if they are, they don't show you the gratitude that you deserve.”

Morpheus halted along the way, fixating on your eyes anew. When you turned in his direction, your countenance was overflowing with sadness and compassion. "Every person we see right now has a dream that propels them through life. They receive inspiration, ideas, and realizations from you, but they don’t even know that the source of it all is standing right here in front of them.”

“Humans forget in waking hours,” he noted. “It is not my purpose to make them remember me.”

You disagreed, shaking your head. "Even so, this world wouldn't even function without you and the rest of your family. It's incredible how nobody acknowledges what's truly happening behind the scenes.”

Morpheus appeared to give your statement a moment of contemplation. “I am the personification of ideas and concepts that are tied to life. I do not wish for mortals to acknowledge me.”

You pondered his utterances, and the only thing you were capable of doing was to accept his reasoning. You smiled, caressing his chin with the pad of your thumb and forefinger. "Then I hope you at least accept my praise, Dream of the Endless.”

As you pulled back, Morpheus tracked your hand’s movement to understand your actions. He portrayed a grin with a certain trace of self-satisfaction on his face. “Very well.”

You examined him with utter amazement, feeling as if you were standing before a lifelong hero. In a sense, that was indeed the truth.

A group of teenagers assembled in the vicinity, talking and chortling noisily as they advanced. When a young girl walked past Morpheus, you quickly noticed his awkwardness and out-of-placeness amidst such a jolly atmosphere. The girl promptly retreated when she noticed his darkened face, dragging her friend along and whispering to her in concern. Observing her troubled response, Morpheus turned away and stared at the ground.

You proceeded to move forward, slowly bringing your lips to his cheek and delivering a brief, tender, and affectionate peck on it. He exhibited a look of surprise and confusion the moment you broke the kiss, but you maintained your sweet smile in his direction.

“Look,” you gestured, turning your head slightly to check on the two girls.

As if by magic, the pair of youngsters were now grinning at the two of you, giggling with delight and hurrying along with the rest of the bunch. They went from terrified to appreciative in an instant, relishing your sudden display of affection and forgetting the momentary tension they felt.

You clasped his hand and tugged upon it. "It’s interesting how easily our perception can change, isn’t it?”

And thus, Morpheus understood that you had done it exclusively for his sake, in order for him to cease feeling like he would not fit in, like no matter what he did, the humans would consistently be alarmed by his presence.

You felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment, repositioning yourself at his side and walking forward with your hand firmly clasped in his grip, which Morpheus didn’t object to. He permitted you to retain your fingers around his, accompanying you to whichever place you wanted to go.

On the path leading to your apartment building, you disclosed about your interaction with Teleute. You presumed that he was aware of it, but it turned out that his sister had not informed him about that matter in any way. Fortunately, Morpheus didn’t express any sign of dissatisfaction or annoyance in relation to that revelation. Since he had lived close to his family for a span of billions of years, he obviously knew Death well enough to understand her inclinations and motivations.

You definitely had nothing to hide, and he listened to you extolling her mildness and empathetic gestures.

It became obvious to you that she was the one he cherished the most amongst his other siblings. It seemed like they held a particularly strong bond that, regardless of the unfavorable occurences resulting from Roderick Burgess, caused them to continue believing in one another’s loyalty.

Nevertheless, Morpheus was still reluctant to reveal any significant information about his family, so you decided to stop pressing upon the topic and continued walking along the sidewalk.

Eventually, you arrived at your building with an immense sadness growing inside you, knowing that you had to part ways with Morpheus. Your fingers slowly unfastened from his hand, and a chasm formed in the pit of your stomach.

You smiled at him, trying to conceal your increasing disappointment. He didn’t speak, continuing to cast his sharp gaze upon you. He put his hands back into his pockets and awaited for you to say anything.

As you thought to yourself, "Don't go" and "Please stay with me", you desperately wished to spend more time in his company. But given your past mistakes that led your previous partners to consider you overly clingy, you ultimately let those sentiments go.

“Thank you for indulging me,” you said. “I hope I didn’t keep you from your responsibilies for too long.”

“No,” he replied, his voce low and deep. “I owed you as much.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Morpheus.”

He attempted to reply, opening his mouth, but quickly closed it, unable to vocalize whatever thought he wanted to share.

When he remained silent, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder and firmly wrapped your hand around the strap. Your mind was in chaos, torn between your emotions and reason, leaving you uncertain about what action to take next. A single kiss couldn’t be the end the world, and it’s not like you’d never done it before. You continued to persuade yourself that it wouldn't be harmful in any conceivable way, but the more you tried to convince yourself, the less you wanted to take the risk.

And so, you permitted yourself to only touch his elbow, giving it a light squeeze. "See you in my dreams?" you asked him.

Morpheus assented with his head. "I will see you in the Dreaming."

You stepped back, turning on your heels and retrieving the keys from your bag. As you flipped open the lock of the main entrance, you glanced back to where he had been standing, but in the blink of an eye, he had vanished, nowhere to be seen in the alleyway before you.

As you made your way from the lobby to the elevator and your dwelling, you scolded yourself repeatedly for missing the opportunity and allowing your past to hinder you once again, despite having declared that it was long gone. You were not supposed to feel afraid of sharing a kiss with the one you loved, especially after spending a night together engaging in deep and passionate lovemaking. In the Dreaming, he was the one who initiated the contact, capturing your lips in that sweet, electrifying kiss that you didn't openly ask for.

Things were different for him in the Waking World, however, whether it was due to the traumatic ordeal he endured or because it was a place in which he felt like he didn’t belong. Morpheus was not a human being; rather, he was an entity of extraordinary might and prominence. Was it really feasible to be yourself beside him without holding back your feelings?

As you shut the door, a heartbroken sigh slipped out of you. You tossed the keys on the tabletop, let your bag slide to the couch, kicked off your high heeled sandals, and stripped off your shirt, only remaining with your sleeveless dress on.

You almost made it to your bedroom in a nervous stride, but suddenly halted. Your mouth fell open, and your eyes widened as soon as you noticed Morpheus standing in the parlor area, watching you with a pair of eager and yearning eyes.

In that fleeting moment, your determination to subdue your fondness for him disintegrated from your consciousness. That glimpse in his eyes was irrefutable; he desired you as ardently as you needed to feel him against you.

No words or spoken affirmations were necessary. He kept looking at you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat, barely blinking as he stood still, waiting for your move with anticipation.

That was the indicator you were looking for. Throwing away all your reservations, you dashed towards him without thinking it over, seizing his face with your hands. You pressed your lips onto his and kissed him, feasting on the taste of his mouth with an intensity that surprised even you. It felt like the only thing that mattered, as if you needed those lips to breathe.

Morpheus instantly moved his hands out of his jacket and took hold of your midriff, pushing his palms against the small of your back as he kissed you with equal passion. His tongue shot forward and encountered yours whilst you lifted your feet to deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

You pulled away to catch your breath, panting and quivering, but still clinging to him tightly. “You came back,” you whispered.

“I never left.”

You chuckled in delight, once more locking your lips with his.

“You did not ask me to stay,” he noted. “Why? Is it not what you wished?”

Of course he would notice.

Your lower lip sank under the light pressure of your teeth. “It is. I just… I didn’t know how to ask.”

He smiled. “Have no fear, my love. I will not leave your wishes unattended.”

My love…?

Those words caused your heart to leap in your chest, as it was a lovely way of addressing you that nobody had ever used before.

"I don't want you to fulfill my needs at the expense of your own, though,” you stated.

“Do you truly believe that I do not want this just as much?”

“Well no, but-”

“Then allow me to prove it to you.”

You became soft and pliable in his embrace as he kissed you again, enveloping you in a hazy and semi-bewitched state with his delicious fragrance.

Unlike the cologne that your previous partners favored, his scent was a subtle aroma that didn't fill your lungs to the brim, but was just enough to make you feel like you were surrounded by a welcoming oasis.

As you continued your make-out session, you gradually pushed him towards your bedroom. Morpheus silently followed your lead, kissing your neck and moving to your collarbones. Once you arrived at the bed, you sat down in front of him, causing the edge of your dress to slide up and reveal a peek of your thighs. It didn't take long for him to climb onto the mattress and press against you, positioning himself between your legs. His cold fingertips caressed the line of your leg, starting from the area around the knee and ending at the upper region of your thigh. It wriggled under the cotton material of the skirt to hoist it higher, gripping your skin and making you jolt.

Normally, you would take your time, letting your sensations grow with his touches, kisses, and pleasurable foreplay. But this time, your desire for him was so strong that you couldn't wait any longer. You immediately brought your hands to the button of his pants, eager to get to the point.

But before you could undo it, Morpheus caught your wrist and pulled both of your hands up beside your head. His grip was firm as he held you down on the mattress. Your faces were very close, and you could feel his breath tickling your mouth as he gazed down at you with a fiery look.

You made a small effort to keep your breathing in control.

“What is it that you want?” He uttered softly, his tongue just barely touching your lips. “Speak clearly, and I shall satisfy your needs.”

Your heart pounded rapidly, and your mind grew clouded with a steadily escalating craving.

“Morpheus… please….I beg of you…” you entreated with a quavering voice, your request filled with an air of desperation and longing.

“No.”

“I-”

“You must say it out loud.”

You let out a small mewl when you felt his hips push forward, the hardness in his pants already evident and wanting.

"Morpheus…" you pleaded.

"Say it," he demanded.

“You!”

“Oh?”

You gasped hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him as he held you in place, pressing himself against your body.

“I want you. I need you, please.”

A faint smirk appeared at the corners of his lips, conveying a small amount of triumph. “You need me? How?”

What a mischievous, teasing, and absolutely gorgeous creature.

‘Two can play at this game’.

You smiled, raising one of your legs and looping it around his waist. You pulled him even closer against your core, much like a python coiling around its prey.

You were pleased to hear the low, throaty groan that escaped him.

"Do you seriously need me to spell it out?" you teased. “You know what I want, Dream Lord.”

His sister had described him as the most prideful member of their family. According to Teleute, he was so proud that he wouldn't have even accepted her help if she had offered it at the right time. And yet, your challenging attitude was clearly amusing him to a noticeable extent.

"I will give you that, and more," he promised, his voice filled with lust and eagerness.

He removed his hands from your wrists, trailing them along your arms and closing around your breasts. Even through the fabric of your bra and dress, you could feel the way he squeezed them, causing your back to arch.

It was so little and yet too much, your inner walls clenching irrepressibly. You couldn't stop looking at the clear protuberance in his trousers, urging you to be set free. So you tried again, rapidly reaching for the button to unfasten and the zipper to pull down. A moment later, he was grasping your buttocks from under the dress and angling you exactly how he wanted, pulling his erection out and hooking his index finger under your panties. Slowly, as if he was unwrapping the most awaited gift of time, he moved your damp undergarment aside and revealed your glistening entrance. He swallowed hard at the sight.

He pushed himself inside of you in one swift motion. The entry was rough, but he managed to slide in without any resistance, making you gasp and moan as his tip hit the perfect spot inside you. You wrapped your limbs around him as he delivered strong thrusts with his impetuous pelvis, moving in and out and increasing his tempo. He fixated his hungry eyes on your face, driven by his growing need to make you come undone.

Even though the both of you were practically fully clothed, you found the scene absurdly arousing. That coat looked absolutely wonderful on him, and you loved the way his shirt rubbed against your clit, creating the perfect friction you needed to let loose. Morpheus emitted deep, rich grunts as your walls tightly enveloped his length, providing a heightened sensation of suction and pressure. Your room was filled with the sounds of sex, as skin met skin and your bodies moved together.

Just like the first time, you latched onto the back of his hair with your hands, grasping a sizeable portion of his strands without pulling, but maintaining a stable position. You continued to whine and sigh, matching his rhythm and responding to the kisses he delivered.

"The sounds you make are marvelous," he expressed, a small grin emerging at the corners of his lips.

“What can I say?” you replied with labored breaths, still reeling from the impact of the intimate and heated encounter. “You are just that good.”

With so many centuries of experience, he must have had countless lovers in the past. This made you feel a bit envious and possessive.

Morpheus was relentless, sliding in and out of you with incredible stamina. You could feel your orgasm approaching, ready to ignite a powerful firework. As he felt you tightening around him, he slowed his pace. His fingers left your thigh and moved directly to your clit, brushing it with gentle and light strokes.

You gasped at the pleasure it caused, throwing your head back as he continued to circle the small tip with his index and middle fingers. He wasn't even applying that much pressure, but the sweet stimulation combined with his girth meeting your G-spot was absolute heaven, even if it was torturous.

You were so close now. A part of you wanted the experience to carry on for hours, but the urge to feel that exquisite sensation was becoming impossible to control and withstand.

"Please, harder," you muttered.

Morpheus complied with your request, delivering precisely what you were asking him to provide. His hips pushed forward, then almost fully out, and in again to the base. As you adjusted to his thrusts, you felt your muscles tensing from the effort involved, but you didn't plan to stop. You consistently met him halfway, tightly gripping his hair with one hand and his back with the other.

His fingers maintained their position on your clit, pinching and massaging it deliciously. Your moans grew louder, and you chanted his name like a prayer.

You came with a convulsing jerk of your hips, pulsing around him as his erratic movements urged him to reach completion and follow you to your high. Your orgasm was earth-shattering, draining you all of your strenght as it coursed throughout your entire body like a massive explosion. Your legs were trembling and tingling, while your chest and cheeks turned into a scarlet and blazing mess from the waves of heat.

It only took a couple more thrusts for him to reach his peak, groaning and stiffening as he released his essence into your depths.

It was hot, grounding, and fulfilling. It was something significant that went beyond the mere physical satisfaction. To you, it was a way to fortify the connection you had established with Morpheus, the outcome of the deep affection that was continuously expanding inside your being.

You took shallow and short breaths, taking a moment to appreciate his expression above you through your hazy state. He was throughly satisfied, gently pressing his lips against yours to prolong the moment of bliss.

As your nails scratched the back of his head, gently intertwining with his short strands, you let out a contented sigh. Your legs weakened at his sides as he pulled out, and your underwear snapped back into place.

“I must return to the Dreaming,” he voiced softly, barely above a whisper.

You signaled your acknowledgment with a slight nod of your head. “Sorry for keeping you here.”

“I was not kept here, my love. I chose to stay,” he clarified, carrying an affectionate tone towards you and an air of assurance.

You genuinely beamed, grasping his head with your hands once more and delivering a quick yet vehement peck on his mouth.

"Thank you for staying, then. And for healing my scars. Oh, and for the shell too,” you told him, emphasizing your words with a look of gentleness and gratitude.

Morpheus’ expression depicted complacency. “The Dreaming will always be there to welcome you, just as I will.”

You breathed out in a relaxed fashion. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Why should I not?”

When you attempted to steer clear from falling too deep into your usual overthinking, your smile slowly started to diminish.

“For a number of reasons,” you stated, the self-depreciating words falling out of your lips with an air of bitterness and pessimism. “Maybe one day you’ll get tired of me and leave me. I’m not deserving of having you in my life.”

In an instant, his face also changed, brows knitting together as he looked down at you. “Y/N, what-”

"Don’t mind me," you interjected. "My emotions tend to get all over the place. I didn't mean to ruin the mood.”

“You did not.”

You felt uncertain concerning the underlying cause for your sudden outburst. Perhaps it was the fear of not being enough for any committed kind of relationship. Or maybe you were scared of the notion of seeing your happiness destroyed again, despite your intuition telling you to proceed forth without hesitation.

Unlike before.

A faint chuckle escaped your throat as you tilted your head upward and kissed him one more time, maintaining an innocent and reserved touch. Your eyes were gleaming with a mixture of sorrow and joy, but you refused to be overtaken by your negative thoughts.

With a playful tap, you pushed his chest lightly. "You should go now, or I won't be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Morpheus grasped your arm and hauled you up with him, moving both of you away from the mattress and bringing you close.

The moment you stood on your feet, you could feel a few drops of his essence dripping down between your legs.

"That does sound quite tempting," he said. "But I cannot stay longer.”

“It’s all right,” you vocalized, a touch of sweetness creeping up in your voice. “See you soon?”

“Yes.”

He sealed that promise by applying a delicate and loving peck to your forehead. His hand slid off of yours and brushed against your skin, lingering on your fingertips before drawing away. You stepped back slightly, watching him carefully as he retrieved the pouch of sand from his coat. You waited patiently, your eyes fixed on his every move.

“Please say hi to Matthew for me.”

He nodded to your words, the golden powder immediatly encasing him, embracing and providing him the much needed comfort and warmth that he was accustomed to.

You stared at the sand slowly fading away, vanishing from your sight and leaving only some particles that sparkled around the room.

The sun had set below the horizon, and night had fallen over London. Ella Corbyn tapped her fingernails in an anxious manner on the top of her desk as she re-read the message on her phone, her eyes staring at the screen as she tried to process the unwelcome development.

She walked through the halls of her workplace, passing by the empty offices and stopping in front of the CEO's door. She knocked softly and entered, greeting her husband with a tired expression and a sense of exhaustion.

Oliver Corbyn remained at his workstation, taking a quick glance away from his monitor to check on his wife.

“Darling, are you okay?”

Ella sighed deeply, shook her head, and looked at him with concern all over her face. 'We have a problem.”

Oliver took off his spectacles and placed them carefully on the table. He then moved his chair back and said, 'I don't like the sound of that.”

As she considered the best way to reveal such disappointing news, Ella decided to simply reveal the truth as it was.

“It’s about Isaac. He left.”

Oliver reflected on his wife's words, blinking a couple of times. “What do you mean he left? I thought he was sick.”

Ella started scratching the back of her hand and a red patch began to emerge from the rough contact with her nails.

"Yes, well. It turns out that was just an excuse. He actually sent his resignation to my email an hour ago.”

Oliver's face turned ashen, and he quickly leaned against the edge of his desk for support. “And the reason?”

“Apparently, he decided to move abroad and live with his family in the US.”

He cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief and frustration. “I can’t believe this.”

Ella crossed her arms in front of her chest, adopting a firm stance to refrain from scratching her skin even more. 'What do we do now? We are officially without a fashion designer. We need to find a new one, and soon.'”

“I know.”

“The show is in three months. How are we supposed to make it?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Ella started to walk back and forth around the office, moving her legs in a repetitive motion. "Gosh, I can't stand this! Isaac was so good. Will we ever be able to replace him?”

Oliver was quiet, spacing out and absentmindly scratching his chin.

“Oliver?”

The man’s gaze widened abruptly. The sudden insight that struck upon him appeared to have a significant impact on his overall perspective.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” he muttered, lifting his index finger into the air as he expressed a sense of urgency.

Ella looked puzzled. “What?”

Oliver promptly ran back to his computer, rapidly typing some words on the keyboard and clicking around with the mouse. “Look.”

Ella stepped closer to his position, standing beside her spouse and shifting her emerald eyes down to the monitor.

"A few days ago, we received an application from this woman. Her portfolio was quite impressive, but with Isaac on our team, I thought we were covered. So I politely rejected her this morning.”

As Ella observed the numerous illustrations on the display, her eyes settled on the exceptional detail, accuracy and artistry that was put into every single piece, a style that was rather unique and captivating.

No one else was capable of producing such clean and mesmerizing drawings except one particular person.

“What’s her name?”

Oliver closed the PDF document and went back to the email he retrieved from the archive, going to the bottom where your signature was.

“Y/N Y/LN…? My goodness!”

Oliver was taken aback by the transition of his wife’s demeanor, somewhat amused by the way in which she started to jump up and down and laugh out loud.

“Love? Do you know her?”

Ella raised her hands to the top of her head and gazed at the ceiling while breathing out a sigh of relief, her feelings of worry slowly evaporating as a sense of calmness descended over her.

“We were literally best friends in high school!”

Notes:

• I didn't come up with the full description of Death's scent. Full credits to this site.

• In case you're wondering if the Reader will meet the Corinthian again, the answer is yes. All in due time.

• I was planning to add the revelation about Nada and Morpheus' son in this chapter, but in the end, I just couldn't fit those parts in. The Nada segment will definitely be added in the next update though, while I came up with something interesting regarding the truth about Calliope and Orpheus. There will be some drama and angst because of that, but this is all I can say without making spoilers.

• How many times do we sense something, but our brain and/or heart gets in the way? Sometimes we are confused and emotional, to the point we cannot make sense of what we truly feel anymore. I wanted to portray this aspect with Reader's state of mind.

• The timeframe I set at the start of this chapter is most likely inaccurate. I tried to find some proper information about the amount of days or weeks that pass between the end of episode 5 and the beginning of episode 6, but I couldn't find any. If someone knows, please correct me and I will edit the chapter!

• In my mind, even if Death never told her brother that she met the Reader in person, she most likely mentioned something about their relationship. Initially, I wanted to include that in the chapter as well, but I decided to cut it out to reduce the amount of text. Maybe I'll add a bit of it as a written memory.

• Yep, time to add some original characters into the story! :D Ella will play a very important role in Reader's life.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 9 ->

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#the sandman #the sandman morpheus #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #smut #the sandman fanfic #story: let your dreams be your wings

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