#my 18th birthday is on sunday

[exeunknown]

Mousse my beloved ohhhh

Several other sketches etc i made, the doodles i made by suggestion and I couldn’t add all of them due to the limit but it’s most of them

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

"I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader."

- Godzilla

[malachitezmeyka]

I’m still running a little hot and my cough has transitioned into a cold so I decided it’d be better to not go to school tomorrow and to cancel the plans I had with my friends bc I don’t wanna get them sick too. So… now it’s looking like I am gonna spend my birthday alone after all, and that thought is hitting me harder than I thought it would

[aryxchse]

percy doesn't know.

— leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader.

inspired from the song ;; scotty doesn't know by lustra

summary ;; percy is oblivious about leo fucking his sister at every chance he gets.

warnings ;; nsfw stuff i guess, no full smut though. percy is being oblivious as hell, reader is sneaky and leo's a little bastard <3

a / n ;; wish my english was good enough to actually write some good smut, but please don't kill me because i just implied it 👐🏻 OH and they're aged up, obvi.

Percy doesn't know that y/n and me

Do it in my cabin every Sunday

She tells him she's in lake but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Percy doesn't know

y/n l/n, percy jackson's precious little sister. she was only a year younger than him, but he still acted like she was a baby. he tried to protect her at all costs and sweared that he would kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

and when she told him that she was dating with leo, he couldn't help but get even more protective. but he did not have the right to say something, because he was happily in love with annabeth. and y/n just wanted to live that kind of love too, she deserved it.

so when she told him she was going to lake, to swim and meditate a little, he believed her. she was too soft and naive to do something secretly behind him anyways. at least, that's what percy told to himself.

little did he didn't know was that y/n, was going to bunker 9.

"finally," leo breathed out when he saw his perfect girlfriend y/n. "thought percy didn't let you be alone."

y/n smiled mischiefly as she approached to him, already seeing him hard. it looked like it hurt, and she would do anything to make her sweet boyfriend satisfied. "doesn't matter, i'm here right? let me help you with that." she said, pointing his arousal.

leo only smirked when she got down to her knees.

I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

y/n's got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

"h-hi, perce. what's up?" she said, trying to hold her voice stable.

she wasn't going to open the phone, really. but leo, being a little shit he is, insisted. appearently he wanted to see how much his girlfriend was capable of holding herself.

besides, leo was too heated at the moment that he didn't even cared when percy called. she was close, he was close, they were so close to having the feeling of paradise. percy would enter the room and leo would still keep pounding into her, that's how hot he was. he couldn't stop.

leo bited back a laugh, thrusting into her more. he bended her over at his working table, the metal stuff throwed on the ground long ago. she tried to scratch the table but of course, failed.

"no, thank you i don't want anything." she said, arching her back more as leo kept his speed. she was so close to exploding that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to muffle her moans like she did now.

percy was on a date with annabeth at the amusement park and he was catching some plushies now. and he knew how his sister loved plushies, especially sea creature themed ones. "well, m-maybe you can get the shark one, thanks perce." she said, tears rolling down as her voice shaked a bit.

"okay, love you too. kiss annabeth for me." she said before hanging up, and releasing herself with a loud cry. she screamed all of the voices she kept inside while she hit her orgasm, panting on leo's desk. it didn't take much longer for leo to cum after her, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

"you did so well, princesa." he panted, kissing her back.

I did her on his birthday

percy doesn't know

percy doesn't know

percy doesn't know

it was august 18th, percy's birthday. everyone of their friends were invited, so it was normal for leo being there too.

the house was full of people, that percy couldn't even look or talk with his sister more than two minutes. everyone congratulated him on his new age and how handsome he turned out. bla, bla, bla.

y/n wore a white skirt with a blue crop top that leo got her at her birthday. he didn't said anything while he handed it to her, but the low neckline was making her boobs look gorgeous. and he don't even mention of how hot that top looked with that skirt.

leo held her hand as he whispered in her ear. "i need you, right now." he whispered in a desperate tone, a tone she couldn't say no to.

"leo we can't— the house is too crowded and-" leo kissed her neck secretly, only making her squirm under his touch. "that's why no one would notice." he whispered in her ear.

percy was talking with annabeth when he saw y/n taking leo's hand and dragging him to somewhere. "y/n!" he called, making the couple turn around.

"w-what's up?" she asked, trying to sound not too panicked. percy didn't noticed, thanks to gods. "where are you two going?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. which annabeth was going to be mad at him for it later.

"i gotta pee man, and she's leading me to the bathroom." leo explained, hiding behind her so that percy won't see his boner. percy was going to say something, but was intrupted by annabeth.

"okay then, we wouldn't want leo to pee in his pants on your birthday, right babe?" annabeth asked, not caring if percy was going to answer or not. and not waiting for it either. "but-" percy tried to say.

"great! be quick though, we're about to give him his presents." annabeth said like she knew, she winked to the couple. y/n gave her a warm smile, in a way only she could understand what she meant behind it. thank you, you're the best!

annabeth dragged percy to the kitchen while the couple got upstairs, making out the moment they entered the bathroom.

a / n ;; thanks for reading, you really survived to here fr 🫶🏻

[sgiandubh]

Oh my you have it all wrong (again) regarding Lee Schrager. In no way he met him after the birthday party in Miami! After that birthday party he went straight to NYC promoting LA. And wtf are you babbling about BCAC going on about a ballerina? The nonsense you spread - smh

Just take a good look back, or maybe just use BCAC's timelines, than it would have save you half an hour or more, and prevent you from making these mistakes.

He met Lee Scharger on December 5th 2022 after his first bottle signing in Miami December 3rd 2022, not after his birthday party with the guys in 2023. As said after the b-day he went to NYC for LA promo and right after that back to Belgium for TCND filming. No time for Mr. Schrager

If he had been smart he already participated at NYCWFF last year, but hey a comped vacay to Nevis was more important!

Get your facts straight before you start bullying other bloggers who do post facts.

Dear Get Your Facts Straight Anon,

I am not very sure what you do hope to achieve with this submission to my account. Because I am a Stupid, Stupid Shipper, I can only think of two possibilities:

A - you probably thought I was about to burst into tears, not publish a word, throw in the towel and disappear for ever from your obsessive screens. Something that would have perhaps ingratiated you to Marple until the end of time

OR

B- you probably thought I would publish it and look like a zero credibility, lying idiot and lose all my readers and throw in the towel and disappear for ever from your obsessive screens. Something that would have perhaps ingratiated you to Marple until the end of time.

Same objective. Placing people between a rock and a hard place. Killing them quickly and brutally with venomous words and be done with someone that you perpetually seem to choke on from June 2023 until the end of time.

At any rate you were wrong, 'Anon'. There are better, more civilized ways to correct people, there are more subtle ways to ridicule them. No doubt, this is what you tried to achieve, here. And well, there we are: you are still Anon and I am still owning my game. How about that, pumpkin?

The first post about Lee Schrager has been published by me exactly one (fucking) year ago: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/730746701530431488/labor-of-love?source=share. During all this time, there have been zero comments or corrections about it (I have even blocked an Anti, @justagirlwithspirit, but NOT about that point). You waited. Fair enough. I owe you a corrigenda and I also owe @bat-cat-reader and all the people who commented under those posts about Schrager my deepest apologies. I have diligently scoured the socials, checked my archives, relistened to Mark Gillespie's podcast and no, I could not find any trace of a lunch with Lee Schrager end of April/early May 2023 (I arrived in this fandom on June 18th 2023, mind you - that does not excuse anything, but perhaps it could explain a bit).

You were correct to point out December 5th, 2022, as the day of 'a quiet Sunday night dinner' with S and the SS team. For anyone with a bit of time on their hands, this is obvious - why disingenuously deny?

For the life of me and with the best intentions in the world, I cannot remember how did I incorrectly connect those two episodes. I don't know what happened, how it happened and I feel quite angry at myself, to be honest. Again, you (all of you!) have my deepest apologies, knowing that it doesn't really change anything in the great scheme of things. It greatly pisses me off, surely. But it will not make me stop. You are not that powerful.

Your accuracy stops here, however. The ballerina (or 'dancer', as she called it) was something Marple heavily insisted upon, when she posted that footage from the restaurant where S was celebrating 'with the guys'. I hope you can read, Anon:

Perhaps it's her humor. Perhaps she has zero humor, as I tend to think. In any case, this kind of insinuation lacked class and taste. It was unnecessarily disparaging and could even be construed as downright cruel by some. But if three posts on the same totally irrelevant topic in the span of two hours and a half do not resonate as 'heavily insisting' with you, then I certainly can't help you see her intentions, here.

'If he had been smart, he would have already participated at NYCWFF last year, but hey a comped vacay to Nevis was more important!' Grammar will always betray you, 'Anon'. Always. But rest assured, your dirty little narcissistic secret is safe with me. I won't give you more time, nor space than basic ethics allow. The rest is your problem. It is absolutely clear the Nevis trip was not 'a comped vacay', as you so carelessly write. I have posted at length about this #ad hashtag, not once, but twice. In the hope you guys across the street would write less garbage about it - to no avail:

[October 25th, 2023: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/732163733760163840/y-seguimos-para-bingo?source=share]

[October 29th, 2023: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/732463933939728384/bigotry?source=share]

I am many things, Anon. I am a short-tempered woman and I take no prisoners. But I am no coward and I am no fool. I might sometimes mix up my 'timelines', but I am not a vile, obsessed troll, with a big grammar problem. Ask your Caporegime why did she insist I have no legal education, until the day I got angry enough to post one of my well, several diplomas from Paris? How is that called, Anon?

It's not just 'spreading nonsense', no. It's calumny.

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices (Book 2 of 3 BTR Series) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 25: Maybe..

March 1st, 2025 2:11 PM

Jey worked out in his home office, sweat dripping down his back as his feet pounded rhythmically against the treadmill. He’d set the incline high and pushed himself hard, his focus on maintaining his stamina and strength despite his limited in-ring schedule.

Rhea was out with her parents, shopping in Stamford. It wasn’t often her parents visited, so Jey had encouraged her to spend the day with them. Meanwhile, their home buzzed with its usual chaos. Jesse and Jeremy made their rounds outside the property, ensuring everything stayed secure. Jeremiah watched as Bella and Barry, the playful dogs, were running around the yard, occasionally barking at nothing in particular. Storm, the aloof cat, was nowhere to be found—probably off scheming in some hidden corner of the house.

Jey’s focus was abruptly shattered when his phone began to ring on the desk next to the treadmill. He slowed the speed to a walk, breathing heavily as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face before glancing at the caller ID. Jonathan’s name flashed on the screen.

With a sigh, Jey accepted the call. “Hey, bro,” he greeted, his voice still slightly breathless.

“Hey, man,” Jonathan’s voice came through, casual but warm. “We were thinking about coming up to visit for a bit. Trinity said a weekend wasn’t enough time, so we figured we’d come up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jey said, stepping off the treadmill and stretching his arms. “I don’t mind. What day you thinking about flying in?”

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, as though gauging Jey’s reaction. “We were thinking Tuesday. Jaciyah’s birthday is Friday, so we figured we’d stay till Sunday.”

Jey froze, the words hitting him like a freight train. “Fuck!” he blurted out, his hand immediately running over his face in frustration.

On the other end of the line, Jonathan’s tone turned incredulous. “Wait, wait, hold up—you forgot your firstborn son’s 18th birthday?”

Jey groaned, pacing the room now, his frustration with himself growing. “Man, it’s been so hectic lately. Between Rhea’s pregnancy, Rhea still not opening up, her parents being in town, and everything else going on, it slipped my mind. Damn, Jon, I feel like shit.”

Jonathan laughed softly, though it carried a tone of disbelief. “I get it. But come on, this is Jaciyah’s 18th. We gotta do something good.”

“I know, I know,” Jey muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll make it up to him. I’ll plan something special.”

“You better,” Jonathan said, his voice lighter now. “We’ll help out when we get there. Trinity’s already thinking about what to buy for him.”

Jey let out a breath, grateful for his brother’s understanding. “Appreciate it, man. I’ll figure out how to make this the best birthday he’s ever had.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Definitely.” Jey said, cracking a small smile. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

After hanging up, Jey leaned against the desk, staring at the blank wall in front of him. Guilt gnawed at him. Jaciyah was his firstborn, his pride and joy, and forgetting his birthday—even amidst all the chaos—was a blow to his own sense of responsibility.

Jey began to pace around his office, phone in hand, as he called his son Jaciyah. The line rang a few times before Jaciyah finally picked up. Jey paused his pacing briefly..

“Hey, Dad,” Jaciyah greeted, his voice casual but warm.

“Hey, son,” Jey replied, his tone light. “How’s everything over at your mom’s?”

Jaciyah chuckled. “It’s going good. Mom made brownies the other day, and man, I had a dang sugar attack. I was bouncing off the walls.”

Jey laughed, the image of his son hyped up on sugar making him smile. “I bet you were. Listen…” Jey hesitated, trying to find the best way to steer the conversation. “So, I hear someone’s got a birthday coming up soon.”

There was a pause before Jaciyah cut straight to the point, his voice brightening with excitement. “I want Rhea to make a triple-layer yellow cake with chocolate icing, I want a BBQ, and I want you to meet Daya.”

Jey blinked. “Hold up—who’s Daya?”

Another pause hung in the air before Jaciyah’s sheepish voice returned. “The girl you caught me with.”

Jey leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, so that’s her name. Alright, alright.” He chuckled softly, but his tone shifted to something more serious. “You sure about introducing her to the family? That’s a big step.”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m sure,” Jaciyah said confidently. “She’s important to me, and I want her to meet everyone.”

Jey nodded, respecting his son’s decision. “Okay, I hear you. So, no big party? Just a BBQ and cake?”

“Yeah,” Jaciyah replied. “Just something small with the family. Nothing too crazy.”

Jey smiled, a wave of relief washing over him. A smaller gathering would make things easier to manage, and he liked the idea of keeping it intimate. “Alright, son. I’ll make it happen. It’s gonna be a birthday to remember.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Jaciyah said warmly. “Oh, and tell Rhea I’m counting on that cake.”

Jey chuckled. “I’ll let her know. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Hanging up, Jey leaned back in his chair, already making mental notes of what needed to be done. He’d need to talk to Rhea about the cake and reach out to Trinity and Jonathan about the BBQ. And then, of course, there was Daya. Meeting his son’s girlfriend for the first time felt like a milestone of its own.

Jey couldn’t help but smile to himself. This birthday might’ve caught him off guard, but he was determined to make it a special one.

—

Rhea entered her and Jey’s house, bags of baby clothes in tow, her heart light with the excitement of the day’s shopping. The air felt comfortable and familiar, but there was a slight tension in her chest as she walked toward the living room, where Jey was waiting for her. He rose from his seat and kissed her cheek as she handed him the bags. Jey smiled as he saw all of the contents and set the bags gently on the coffee table.

“How was the trip to the mall?” Jey asked, a soft smile on his face.

Before Rhea could answer, her mother interjected, holding up a small onesie with a white and grey dinosaur design. “Oh Joshua, I brought the perfect onesie for my grandbaby.” Rhea’s mom was beaming, her eyes filled with love as she held up the gift, a pair of white booties and a matching beanie in her other hand.

Jey took the items from her mother and examined them with a smile. “It’s cute,” he agreed, his tone affectionate. He put the items into the bag and sat down on his spot on the couch.

Rhea, feeling the weight of the day catching up with her, collapsed onto the couch next to Jey. Her body ached from shopping and the long day, but seeing her parents’ happiness made it worth it. Her mother smiled at them both before excusing herself and Rhea’s dad, taking them to the guest room for some rest. The house settled into a peaceful quiet, just the two of them now.

Jey’s gaze was lingering on her with a mixture of affection and concern. “I forgot Jaciyah’s birthday,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt.

Rhea looked at him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the underlying frustration. “I know you did, but I didn’t,” she replied softly.

Jey looked at her, confusion flickering across his face. “How?”

“I remember birthdays better than you,” Rhea teased, but the humor didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her tone held a hint of frustration, an emotion she had been carrying for days now.

Jey ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “What would I do without you?” he asked, his voice sincere, though a little playful.

Rhea’s smile faded as she leaned back against the couch. She exhaled deeply, her gaze distant for a moment before she spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “I don’t know… maybe think about that before you say something stupid like what you said to me in Titusville.”

Jey’s expression softened, his eyes searching hers. “Babe, I love you, but you’re still not over it?” His voice held a trace of frustration, but more than that, there was concern. He didn’t understand why this one thing was still lingering in her mind.

Rhea looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Joshua, what you said really hurt me,” she said, her voice steady but thick with emotion. “If you can’t see why I’m not letting this go…” She trailed off, feeling the weight of her words.

There was a long, heavy pause. Jey opened his mouth to say something, but Rhea cut him off, shaking her head. “Forget it,” she muttered under her breath.

Without waiting for his response, she stood up from the couch, her movements brisk as she grabbed the bags and turned away from him, heading toward the stairs.

Jey watched her, his heart sinking as he processed her words. He had hurt her, and despite his love for her, he couldn’t understand the depth of the pain she felt. He heard her footsteps fade as she ascended the stairs, leaving him alone in the quiet of their home.

Rhea, on the other hand, made her way to the bedroom, her thoughts racing. She didn’t want to let the hurt fester between them, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that what Jey had said in Titusville had exposed something deeper. Something he didn’t fully understand about her—about their relationship.

She laid the baby clothes on the bed and sat down beside them, her mind still on the conversation. She needed time. Time to process, to breathe, and to find a way to heal from the hurt.

For a moment, all she could think about was the weight of everything—the baby, her future with Jey, and the small things that seemed to pile up without resolution. Rhea sighed heavily, trying to find a way to center herself.

Meanwhile, Damian descended the stairs, his casual demeanor slightly dampened by the weight of the conversation he knew was coming. He took one look at Jey and, with a shrug, said, “What’s up?”

Jey sighed, his frustration clear. “Rhea again.”

Damian couldn’t help but laugh, more out of disbelief than amusement, as he grabbed a Sprite from the fridge. He sat down on the loveseat across from Jey and took a sip. “You really pushed her with that shit you said,” Damian remarked, his tone more serious now. “And you know what? I don’t blame her.”

Jey ran a hand through his hair. “I fucked up,” he admitted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I know that. I’ve admitted that. But why can’t she just forgive me and love me?”

Damian set his drink down, the weight of his words catching Jey’s full attention. “You do realize this is like the fourth time you kinda fucked up, right?” he said, his voice even but firm.

Jey shot him a confused glance. “What the hell do you mean?”

Damian leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Well, first there was Portland, where you pushed her. Don’t even try to deny that one. Then there was keeping Jeyce from her after Takecia threatened you. She almost killed herself, Jey. She nearly ended it all because she thought she’d never have a chance to be your wife or be a mother to Jeyce. That’s not just a fuck-up. That’s something you need to really own. Thirdly, there was that argument back in January, when you called her out… if I remember correctly she needed to learn how to stop running away from shit.” Damian paused, his eyes narrowing. “Fourthly… Titusville.”

Jey looked down, guilt washing over him as each instance rolled off Damian’s tongue. But Damian wasn’t done. “And that’s not even mentioning the shit you did when you two weren’t together,” he added. “Like asking her to leave Matt while you stayed with Takecia. That shit? Took the cake. It was messed up.”

Jey winced, his chest tightening as the full weight of his mistakes hit him. “Okay,” he said quietly, trying to process everything.

Damian sat back, his tone softening. “Man, I get it. You love her. I can see it, but the way you’ve been treating her—it’s been a lot. And she’s been through enough shit already. She doesn’t deserve to keep dealing with your mistakes. You have to show her, not just tell her, that you’ve changed. That you’re not going to keep repeating the same shit over and over.”

Jey didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of everything Damian had just said. He wanted to argue, wanted to justify his actions, but he knew Damian was right. Every word cut deep, and he couldn’t pretend that things were as simple as just saying “sorry” and hoping things would go back to normal.

Finally, Jey spoke, his voice hoarse. “I just want her to forgive me, man. I don’t know how much more I can do.”

Damian sighed, his expression a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You can’t just expect her to forgive you because you say sorry. You have to prove it. You’ve hurt her in so many ways, and she’s been loyal to you through it all. But now, she’s at a point where she’s probably wondering if you’re ever going to change. If you’re going to keep breaking her heart.”

Jey slumped further into the couch, the weight of it all bearing down on him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love her, but… I don’t want to lose her.”

Damian gave him a stern look. “Then stop making excuses. Stop taking her for granted. You’ve got to show her that she’s your priority. And more importantly, you’ve got to show her that you’ve learned from all this.”

Jey nodded slowly, taking in the advice. He knew deep down that Damian was right. He had taken Rhea for granted more times than he could count, and now it was time to prove that he was capable of doing better. If he didn’t, he feared he might lose her for good.

“I’ll do better,” Jey muttered, more to himself than to Damian. “I just need a chance to show her.”

Damian stood up, stretching out his arms. “Well, it starts with not making the same mistakes again. She deserves better than that, and if you really love her, you’ll show her that.”

—

Later on in the day, Jey gently tended to the roses in the greenhouse, carefully trimming away the dead petals, when he heard the familiar creak of the door opening behind him. He turned around to see Rhea’s father stepping inside, a look of quiet admiration on his face as he gazed at the barely-blooming sunflowers.

“I hear from my daughter that you have a green thumb,” Rhea’s father said, a slight smile on his lips as he took in the rows of plants.

Jey chuckled softly, wiping his hands on his jeans before straightening up. “Yeah, my mother was the gardener. Had me and my twin helping her every weekend morning growing up. It’s a bit of an inherited skill, I guess.”

Rhea’s father nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. “Where’s your father in all of this? Was he around to help?”

Jey’s expression shifted as he thought back to his childhood. “My father was having a wrestling career,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I only saw him about two months out of the year. So it was mostly my mom, us kids, and the garden.”

Rhea’s father frowned sympathetically. “I can imagine how that must have been tormenting.”

Jey shrugged slightly, trying to push the old memories aside. “I managed,” he said simply.

The two stood there for a moment, the peaceful hum of the greenhouse filling the air as Rhea’s father moved to admire more of the plants. After a beat, he looked at Jey again, his tone a little more somber. “I believe you are the one for my daughter.”

Jey froze, a curious but cautious look in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

Rhea’s father glanced over at him, his eyes softening. “A few years ago, Rhea took care of her mom by paying for her entire cancer treatment,” he said quietly. “That woman was on her last leg, and Rhea… she did everything she could. Every month, without fail, she sent money for everything. I couldn’t afford it on my own because my retirement wasn’t enough to cover the medical bills. But Rhea, she kept us afloat. She did all of that without ever asking for anything in return.”

Jey’s expression turned somber, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment as the weight of the conversation sank in. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t realized how much Rhea had been shouldering on her own, all the while dealing with everything in her life.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Bennett had cancer,” Jey said quietly, his voice full of genuine surprise and sorrow.

Rhea’s father looked at him, his eyes distant for a moment as he remembered the hardship. “Breast cancer. Almost took the love of my life away,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Rhea’s father sighed, taking a step back to admire the plants again, as though the memories were easier to face this way. “My memory does serve me right.. yup.. for about four years, every month, Rhea would send money. We couldn’t have made it without her. She worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known, and she never let us feel like a burden. Even when it was hard for her, she never let it show.”

Jey stood quietly for a moment, processing the gravity of what he was hearing. Rhea’s strength, her loyalty, the burden she carried all on her own for so long—it made everything that much more profound.

“She’s in remission now?” Jey asked softly, almost afraid of the answer but needing to hear it.

Rhea’s father smiled, though it was a bittersweet smile. “As of April 2022. Thank God,” he said, his voice heavy with relief.

Jey let out a soft breath, the weight of it all sinking in. “Thank God,” he repeated, as if to himself. He could hardly imagine the pain Rhea had gone through, and now it made so much more sense why she was the way she was, so fiercely independent, always carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“She’s a hell of a woman,” Jey said quietly, his voice filled with admiration.

Rhea’s father looked at him, nodding slowly. “That’s why I trust you with her,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You love her. And I can see it, Jey. But you have to understand, there’s a lot of hurt she’s carried. She’ll never show it, but it’s there.”

Jey met his gaze, understanding the silent warning. “I know,” he said softly, his voice determined. “I won’t let her down again.”

Rhea’s father studied him for a moment longer before giving a slow nod. “Good. She deserves everything, Jey. Don’t forget that.”

Jey nodded back, his heart heavy with both the responsibility and the love he felt for Rhea. This was his chance, not just to prove himself to her, but to truly understand what she had been through—and do whatever it took to make things right.

Jey stood there, the weight of the conversation pressing deeper into him. Despite hearing the story of Rhea’s strength, something still gnawed at him—something he couldn’t quite shake.

“Did Rhea ever speak of me when she was with Matthew?” Jey asked quietly, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of lingering doubt.

Rhea’s father paused for a moment, his gaze distant as he seemed to search through his memories. Then, with a slow nod, he responded, his tone thoughtful.

“She did,” Rhea’s father said, his voice laced with a heaviness Jey hadn’t expected. “I didn’t know this at the time, but at their wedding, my daughter asked us if she chose the wrong person.”

Jey’s breath caught, his heart tightening as he processed the words. He could almost hear Rhea’s voice asking those questions, torn and uncertain, just like the woman he knew.

Rhea’s father let out a long sigh, his expression softening. “I didn’t have it in my heart to tell her yes,” he continued. “So, I just told her that whatever she decided, we would be beside her.”

Jey swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in his chest.

Rhea’s father walked over to one of the sunflowers in the greenhouse, absentmindedly brushing his hand over the petals as he spoke again, his voice low and reflective.

“On her 27th birthday, I tried to talk to her about Matt’s behavior. I tried to tell her she deserved better, but she didn’t listen. She was stubborn, as always,” he said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips despite the seriousness of the conversation. “I love my daughter, I do, but sometimes she has to make a mistake in order to learn. And when she falls, I’ll always be here to help her get up, to help her learn from it.”

Jey absorbed the words carefully, understanding the deep care and frustration in Rhea’s father’s voice. It was a painful reality—that Rhea had to go through that period of uncertainty and heartache on her own, trying to find answers, trying to make it work with someone who wasn’t right for her.

Jey’s heart began to sink further. He had always believed in Rhea’s strength, but hearing how her family had witnessed her struggle, her father’s silent support, it hit him harder than he had expected.

“You did the right thing,” Jey said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “Sometimes we have to let them make their own mistakes.”

Rhea’s father turned to face him, his gaze hardening slightly but filled with understanding. “I believe that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I could see it in her eyes when she married him. She wasn’t fully sure. She was still running from the choices she had made, even though she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t.”

Jey nodded, the truth sinking in deeper. The guilt of not being there for Rhea when she needed him was still a heavy burden, but he knew now more than ever that he couldn’t dwell on the past.

“I’ll make sure she never has to feel that way again,” Jey promised, his voice firm.

Rhea’s father studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod of approval. “I hope you do, Jey. But remember, it’s not just about the promises you make now. It’s about showing her every day that she can trust you, that she can count on you when it matters most.”

Jey’s chest tightened with resolve. “I understand.”

Rhea’s father gave him a nod of approval, then returned his attention to the flowers in front of him. “Good. I can see she’s in good hands. Just don’t break her heart, Jey. I’ve seen her hurt enough.”

Jey stood still for a moment, reflecting on the weight of his words. He knew what he had to do now, not just to make things right with Rhea, but to prove to her family, especially her father, that he was the one she deserved.

—

Later on in the night, Jey was searching for a good birthday gift for Jaciyah when he heard laughter. He put his iPad down and got up, heading down the hallway. He spotted a room door ajar and quietly peered inside. He could hear Damian and Rhea talking, and although he didn’t want to eavesdrop, the soft sound of Rhea’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

“That little thunderstorm you have brewing in your stomach is going to be in style,” Damian said, his voice playful.

Rhea’s laughter echoed through the hallway, and Jey smiled to himself. “You would get my baby a Judas Priest onesie,” she responded, amusement in her tone.

Damian chuckled. “Have you thought at all about who would be the godparents?”

Rhea sighed. “I wanted you and Kayden, but more than likely Jey is going to convince me for Jon and Trinity.”

Damian’s voice grew softer, and Jey’s curiosity deepened. “You have a say in this, you know. It’s not just Jey’s kid, it’s your baby too.”

Rhea’s response was filled with an unspoken sadness, and Jey felt his chest tighten. “I know, but I might as well just do what Jey says. Don’t want to get him angry.”

Damian’s tone became more serious, concerned. “Rhea… mamas’, you have to start caring about yourself.”

Jey stood frozen in place, listening intently, unable to tear himself away. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do with the thoughts racing through his mind.

Rhea sighed deeply before replying, her voice quieter now. “I know, I know… but it’s not just about me. It’s about Jey and his kids.”

Damian’s response was firm, a steady reassurance in his voice. “They are your kids too, Rhea.”

Jey felt the weight of those words. His kids. He hadn’t realized that Rhea might still feel like an outsider, even now. The thought of her doubting herself hit him harder than he expected.

Rhea’s voice broke through the silence, her vulnerability more apparent now. “I just don’t feel enough anymore. I honestly think my hormones are getting to me… everything makes me feel sad.”

Damian’s voice softened, a comforting presence. “Don’t blame your doubts on your hormones, Rhea. You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling. But you have to start listening to yourself too. You’ve been so focused on everyone else—maybe it’s time you focused on you for once.”

Jey’s heart ached hearing that. He could feel his own guilt gnawing at him. He truly hadn’t realized how much Rhea was carrying on her own.

Just as he was about to step into the room, he stopped and Damian’s voice grew more distant as Rhea responded.

“I don’t know, Damian. I just… I can’t seem to get it right. It’s like everything is slipping away from me, and I’m just trying to hold on.”

Jey closed his eyes for a moment, pain and concern flooding him. Maybe today was the wake-up call he needed. Maybe he’d been so focused on his own guilt, on his own issues, that he hadn’t truly seen what Rhea was going through. He knew he had to make things right, and that started with understanding her—truly understanding her.

“Thank you for the gift, Damian, honestly,” Rhea said, her voice still carrying the warmth of their earlier conversation.

Jey quickly ducked back into the bedroom, hearing Rhea’s footsteps approach. He scrambled back onto the bed, grabbing his iPad, trying to act casual. He could hear her moving down the hallway, but didn’t know how much time he had before she’d come back.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Rhea stepped inside, holding the onesie in her hands. She walked to the dresser and gently laid it down without saying a word. Jey could see her silhouette in the soft light from the hallway, her movements deliberate but quiet.

She didn’t glance his way as she undressed, changing into her pajamas with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. Jey watched, his heart aching as he realized just how distant she seemed in that moment. She climbed into bed on her side and immediately reached to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The space between them felt suffocating.

Jey set his iPad down, staring at the back of her head as he lay beside her. He reached out tentatively, his hand moving toward her shoulder, hoping to pull her close. But just as his fingers brushed against her, Rhea’s voice cut through the stillness.

“Not tonight.”

Jey froze, his hand hovering in the air. His throat tightened, but he swallowed, trying to fight back the hurt. “I need my button nose back…” he murmured, trying to make light of the situation, hoping she’d soften.

But Rhea didn’t respond with the usual warmth. Instead, she swatted his hand away, her voice cold. “Jey, I’m not in the mood right now at all. Just don’t touch me.”

Jey felt a sharp pang in his chest, the weight of her words settling heavy in his stomach. “Rhea, please,” he pleaded softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying here. I just… I miss you.”

Rhea didn’t move, her body still facing away from him, the space between them growing. She exhaled deeply, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with something raw. “I don’t have the strength right now, Jey. Just please… leave me alone.”

Jey’s chest tightened, but he couldn’t let it end like this. He needed to hold her, needed her to know how much he loved her, even if she couldn’t feel it right now. He reached out once more, but the distance between them felt so insurmountable. “I love you, Rhea,” he whispered, his voice thick with vulnerability. “I love you so much.”

Rhea’s voice came out sharp, a small quiver of emotion beneath the anger. “I love you too, Jey, but don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Jey pulled his hand back slowly, his heart sinking. He wanted to respect her space, to give her what she needed, but the ache inside of him was unbearable. With a deep sigh, he turned over onto his side, his back to her, and let the silence fill the room.

Both of them were there—physically, at least—but emotionally, they felt a world apart.

—

The next day, Rhea said her final goodbyes to her parents at the airport, hugging them both tightly. “I’ll send pictures of the bump soon,” she promised, her voice thick with emotion. Her mom kissed her forehead, telling her how proud they were, while her dad gave her a final piece of advice to take care of herself.

After parting with her parents, Rhea hugged Damian, wishing him well on his return to RAW. “Take care of yourself, D. I’m proud of you.” Damian smiled, patting her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, and I’ll be keeping an eye on that baby bump.”

With the goodbyes said, Rhea made her way to the entrance of the airport, ready to head home. She walked out into the crisp air, spotting Jeremiah pulling in with her plum-colored Tahoe. She got into the passenger seat, offering him a tired but grateful smile. “Let’s go to Trader Joe’s,” she said, her mind already thinking of what she needed. Jeremiah nodded and quickly set the address into the GPS, pulling away from the curb.

Meanwhile, back at home, Jeyce and Jaciyah were glued to the PS5, completely absorbed in their game. Jey, on the other hand, was outside, making his way through the greenhouse, carefully tending to the roses. He wasn’t sure why, but he found comfort in the act of nurturing something. Maybe it was because it was something he could control in a time where everything else felt so uncertain.

As he focused on the roses, he heard small footsteps approaching. Turning around, he saw Barry, Rhea’s dog, trotting over to him with his tail wagging. Jey bent down, offering the dog a smile and a pat on the head. “I hope your mom forgives me soon,” he murmured to the dog, his heart heavy with the weight of his unresolved tension with Rhea. Barry let out a soft bark, as if in agreement, and Jey couldn’t help but smile.

Shaking his head, he returned to trimming the roses, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text message from Jon. It read: “Hey, we’ll be flying in on Tuesday. Our plane lands at 9 pm.”

Jey quickly typed back, offering his help: “I’ll pick you guys up at the airport. See you then.” After sending the message, he sighed, wishing he could find a way to make things right with Rhea. But for now, he focused on getting ready for Jon and Trinity’s arrival.

He glanced back at the roses, hoping that one day things would bloom again between him and Rhea.

—

Flashback: August 9, 2018 - 11:57 PM

The air in the hallway was thick with tension as Morris opened the door to the dimly lit room. Inside, the fiery redhead, Valerie, was lounging on a bed, her legs crossed and her attention focused on her phone. She didn’t look up immediately but continued texting as if the world around her didn’t exist.

Morris stepped into the room, his presence commanding attention, and the moment Valerie glanced up, her sharp green eyes locked onto his. “Why do you have so much regard for Black Mamba?” she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something dangerous.

Morris chuckled, a low, dangerous sound, and leaned against the doorframe, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. “When did you think it was okay to start asking questions?” His tone was casual, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable.

Valerie shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes flickered with the same intensity she had in her earlier question. “I’m just saying… my sister knows her, and she isn’t all that great in the—”

Before she could finish, Morris moved with lightning speed. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, pulling her face dangerously close to his. His breath was hot on her skin, and his grip tightened painfully.

“No one speaks about Mamba,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and threatening, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an iron chain. “Am I clear?”

Valerie froze for a moment, her eyes wide with the realization of just how serious he was. She swallowed hard, her defiance fading as fear crept into her chest. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, her voice strained but obedient.

Morris held her gaze for a beat longer, then slowly released her hair, stepping back as if nothing had happened. Valerie, still shaken but attempting to maintain her composure, quickly looked away, her phone now forgotten in her hands.

Morris gave a nod, his smirk returning as if nothing had transpired. “Good,” he said, turning to leave the room. “Remember, Valerie… some things are better left unsaid.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, the room was left in silence, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

[choicesfandomappreciation]

ChoicesFandomAppreciation Celebrates: International Fanworks Day — February 15

For the past ten years, on February 15th, the Organization for Transformative Works has hosted International Fanworks Day to celebrate fanworks of all kinds: fics, art, videos, sines, meta, and more!

This year's theme is 10!

Some "10" prompts

10 fandom things that are meaningful to you

A fandom highlight from the past 10 years (even if ours isn't that old!)

10 funny, exciting or noteworthy moments that happened in our fandom

Your top 10 favorite works of all time

Your top 10 Choices Books

Your top 10 Choices LI

Your top 10 Choices MC

Your top 10 Choices Friends

Your top 10 Choices Villains

Your top 10 commissions

Your top 10 songs that remind you of your pairings

Any top 10 of your choosing related to Choices

Send a supportive message to the last 10 people in your notification

Shoutout 10 fandom friends

Comment on 10 fanworks (challenge: 10 a day for each day of the event)

Create a fanwork with 10 Choices characters (can be a crossover)

Your favorite work from the last 10 days, 10 weeks, 10 months, and/or 10 years.

10 years ago, did you think you'd be here in the Choices fandom. What would you tell yourself about it? Where do you think you'll be in 10 years? Still creating fanworks (even if it's for a different fandom).

What did your pairings do for their 10 year anniversary?

What about their 10th birthday? (for MCs, LIs, or their kids)

Counting to ten (for any reason)

Include the number 10 anywhere lol

Summarize your favorite Choices book in 10 words (or even 10 emojis) Can we guess it?

^^^ same but make it a Choices LI instead of book!

Make a 10 second video/reel of your highlights from your time in the fandom

Your characters through the decades: create fanworks that highlight your characters in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, etc.

10 x 10 (x10) : Write an exactly 100 word or 1,000 word story

10 colors that represent your character(s)/pairing(s)

If you made a fandom time capsule, what 10 items would you include?

10 wishes for the fandom (moving forward)

10 favorite Choices quotes

10 tropes you love

10 fanworks you recommend

10 word poem about a book/character

Rules/Guidelines

Tag @choicesfandomappreciation and #ChoicesFanworksDay

While the theme is "10", you do not have to include 10. I will share/promote any fanworks that tag me for this event.

Because I know me and I know I'm not alone, one day events are SO hard with our busy schedules so while the official day is February 15, I'm hosting our event through Sunday, the 18th.

Be Kind!

Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions to make it better! I look forward to a great event!

Shoutout to @peonyblossom for bringing the event to my attention!

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed IV

Masterlist

It’s been days since the whole debacle. Every time I enter a room that Chris is in, Nate is sure to be there as well. Things have been tense. Chris barely speaks a word to me any more. None of us speak of the event that occurred days ago.

I pack my bag for my last weekend with my father. When I come back we’ll immediately be going camping for my 18th birthday. It’s a tradition we’ve had every year since I was one. We’d always go camping in my birthday, no matter what the weather was like. And since my birthday was in the summer, it didn’t bother Nate or my schedules at all.

Clothes, check. Changers, check. Computer, check. Phone, check. Headphones, check. I have everything I need for my weekend with my father. I swing my bag over my shoulder and slip my arms through the straps before walking out of my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

Nate must have noticed the solemn look on my face as he exited his own room, since he put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright.” He says. “It’s the last time you’ll have to spend a weekend with that guy.”

I laugh in response. “I know, but it’s still a weekend.” I sigh. “I hate being there.”

“I know you do.” Nate says as he pulls me into a hug. “It’ll be alright.”

“You don’t know that. We didn’t have the same dad, and even so, you haven’t seen your dad in over a year.” I pull away from the hug.

Nate kisses my forehead. “If he says anything, just let me know.” He says.

“It wouldn’t matter, I’m not seeing him again after this weekend.” I shrug.

“Does he know that? Did you discuss that with him?” Nate asks.

I look down at my shoes. “Well… he knows.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

I sigh. “He’s not really someone who listens to me.”

Nate gives me a half smile. “I know. But you need to tell him. He’s the one who wanted partial custody of you, so you know part of him cares about you as his daughter.”

I laugh. “Your dad might have cared about you. My dad just didn’t want to pay child support.”

“Y/n you can’t say that.” Nate sighs.

“You don’t get it. I’m trapped in that small room for two days doing nothing but occupying myself with my phone and computer. I have nothing there. No books, no video games, no movies. The room smells like cigarettes and the carpet is matted and the walls are stained.” I rant.

Nate shakes his head. He begins to speak but the sound of a car horn honking from our driveway stops him.

“That would be my dad.” I say. Nate pulls me into another hug.

“It’s just one last weekend. And you have to tell him.” Nate says as he holds me tightly.

“I know.” I mumble back. I give Nate one last tight squeeze before pulling away. We hear the horn honk once again. “I’ll see you Sunday night.” I say as I walk down the stairs.

“See you then.” Nate says.

I hug my mother goodbye before walking out the front door and to my father’s truck in the driveway. I get into the back seat and close the creaky door behind me. Neither my father or I speak a word to each other as he backs out of the driveways and leaves for his house.

I fiddle with my fingers as I think of how to tell my dad I’m not going to be going on these visits any longer. I bite my lip and look out the window. We’ve never been very close, he never really seemed to understand me, or even tried to.

He usually just calls me weird and lets me be. When I was a little kid and he had just found out I was his, he was happy. I remember that. Now I swear it’s like he’s disappointed in who I am. He was so much happier when I was a kid, excited to hang around me and have me for the weekend.

I think the change in his mood is my own fault. I think it’s mostly because I never seemed interested in staying with him when I was a kid. I know I was. I liked being around my father, I just never could show it within my words or actions. Not in a way he understood at least.

I must have been too lost in my thoughts to notice we’ve pulled into my father’s driveway. He opens the door to his truck and gets out, so I grab my bag and open my door to get out as well. I follow silently behind him as we walk to the house.

He opens the door for me to enter before he does the same and closes the door behind me. I stand to the side as he takes his shoes off, still twiddling with my fingers.

My dad looks up. “What is it?” He asks in a gruff voice. I know it’s nothing, but the sound of his voice always startles me. It’s just so deep and gruff, even if he doesn’t mean to sound mean.

“I… I need a moment to think before I can-“ My dad cuts me off.

“Only liars need time to think.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I just-“

“Just what?” He raises his voice a little.

“I’m just not sure how I want to say this.” I tell him.

“Say what? Just spit it out, it’s not that hard.”

I bite my lip and look back down at my feet. I take my bag off my shoulders and set it down on the couch.

My dad sighs. “Why is it difficult for you to talk?” He asks.

“I just don’t want to upset you in any way.” I answer.

“So you know you’re going to say something that’s going to upset me and you’re going to say it anyways?” My dad asks.

I look down. “I- I guess.”

My dad sighs once again, rubbing his eyes as he leans on the side of the couch, sitting on the edge. “Go to your room and think about what you’re going to say to me.”

“I-“

“Just have it figured out by the time I get dinner ordered.” He says and walks away.

That was always a thing with my father. When he walks away the conversation is over, whether you’re actually done talking or not. I can’t count the amount of times he’s walked away when I was trying to talk to him. Explaining an interest I’ve had, the plot of a show I was watching, the backstory I’ve created around a drawing. Every time I tried to connect with him it always ended with him walking away.

I pick my bag back up and walk down the hall to my room. My bland, undecorated room. The room smells of cigarettes and there’s smoke stains on the paint of the walls.

I set my bag down on my bed and close the door behind me. I lay down on my bed, kicking off my shoes.

When I was younger I did everything I could think of to make my father pay attention to me. After I realized he had lost interest of course. At first the relationship we had was ideal. He was the perfect father, going to every school event I had, showing interest in my art. He would plan outings for our weekends together, going to a park or watching a movie or just a picnic. Anything. Now it’s nothing.

Over the last few years I’ve tried to get him to do something like he used to again. To pay the slightest bit of attention to me. I’ve tried to show interest in the things he likes, welding and cars and gory horror films. I’d research and learn all I could about the things he enjoys, and try to talk with him about it, hoping he’d enjoy it. Hoping he’d like me again.

It never worked. He was surprised I knew so much about something he liked at first. He’d listen for a while before walking away, meaning the one sided conversation was at an end.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts by my phone buzzing in a rhythmic fashion. I always hated every stupid iPhone jingle and I don’t see the point in buying one when I’d never like them anyways. So my phone has always been on vibrate.

I check the caller id. Chris. I answer immediately.

“Chris?” I ask, surprised. He hasn’t spoken to me for days since the events that unfolded.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you.” Chris says.

“What for?” I ask. He’s never wanted to ‘check in’ on me before.

“I just wanted to say sorry.” He says with a sigh.

“For what?” I ask him.

I hear Chris’s breath over the call. “Saying that, you know. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

I realize what he means and laugh. “I’m fine, really. It didn’t bother me.” In truth, it bothered Nate a lot more than it bothered me.

“I don’t want you to think I think about you like that, I don’t I swear. You’re like a sister to me.”

Ouch. That’s nice to know.

“I gotta go, Chris.” I lie.

“What? What’s up?” He asks, laughing a little.

“Nothing I-“

“What makes you have to leave?”

I sigh. Nothing. I stay silent. “I’m trying to think… how to tell my dad I’m not gonna come back here.”

“Oh, that.” Chris says.

“I don’t want to upset him.” I explain.

“I get it. Your dad’s not an understanding person.” Chris laughs.

“He’s not bad I just… I don’t think I’ll come back here since I don’t legally have to and I want to-“

“You don’t have to explain it to me.” Chris says. “Explain it to him.”

“He always either walks away or interrupts me.” I sigh. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He always takes what I say the wrong way.”

“I get it.” Chris says. “Do you want to practice with me?”

“What?”

“Tell me, pretend I’m your dad. It will make it easier.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Chris laughs softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @iloveneilperry @luvmxtt @blueeyedbesson @iloveurgf @mattswifr @that-chris-girl01

[rafecameronsgun]

heey so this is my very first post,i wanna knoww what you think,so please leave a comment 🙏🏻🤍

warnings: smoker!rafe,party, christian girl,dangerous rafe who ruinssss every part of reader

Always,always the bad boys…

Always, always, always, you hated boys like Rafe Cameron. The heartless bad boys. Always, always, always, it was the kind-hearted, devoted guys who swept you off your feet. The guys with the best grades in school, attending advanced math classes, constantly talking about science and how everything around us is a miraculous gift from God. The guys who ask if they can hold your hand. Always, always, always the good guys. The respectful, cute little nerds. Because you are exactly like that. You wear a bow in your hair like a little girl, if a skirt doesnt reach your knee, you put on tights... every day you read the Bible, go to church on Sundays... You only see the good in people, always helping everyone, and nothing irritates your nerves more than someone not appreciating education.

You were perfect. Until Rafe Cameron ruined you.

Your friend, Sophie, is celebrating her 18th birthday today, and she invited you to her birthday party. You ring the doorbell of a huge, white house with a gift in your hand. Loud music is playing inside the house, and through the window, you see rapidly changing colorful LED lights. You don't have time to turn back when you realize that this is not the kind of party you're used to.

"Hi there!" your friend opens the door and invites you in. The gift in your hand is quickly replaced by a red party cup. The loud music is pounding in your body, it scares you because you've never heard such loud music before. With trembling legs, still in shock, you cautiously venture further inside, walking along the wall, trying not to bump into any drunk youngsters. You don't even want to get into their line of sight. You want to disappear, but you can't be so rude to your friend. You can't leave her, you can't be so impolite.

Sophie grabs your arm and pulls you down onto a couch.

Your legs pressed together, you clutch your cup. Your stomach tightens to the size of a fist, your lungs betray you by not supplying oxygen to your bloodstream. You grip the cup tighter to hide your trembling hand. You want to get out of here, as soon as possible.

"Truth or dare?" a guy speaks in a deep, hoarse voice. You didn't think it was meant for you until Sophie nudges you. Shyly, you look up from your lap, and your gaze meets a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes. The owner is Rafe Cameron, but you don't know that yet. All you know is that he is very attractive. His massive body stretches out on the couch, lean muscles tense under the royal blue fabric of his shirt as he lights a cigarette. "Wh-what?" you ask in a soft, trembling voice. You look at Sophie, she raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for you to respond.

"Umm... dare?" you say, or maybe ask, you're not sure anymore, you just want to leave. The guy smirks satisfactorily, lets out a dark laugh, and moves up on the opposite couch. Leaning forward, barely 20 centimeters separate you, and then he says, "Sit on my lap!"

His jaw tightens, and you’re sure you saw a little flame flickering in his eyes as he waits for your reaction. He takes a drag from the cigarette, and you are still frozen in place. Sophie looks at you, raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for me to respond.

"And what if I don't?" you ask, now a bit indignant.

"Then smoke this cigarette!" he holds the substance towards you. In the Bible, it says not to do drugs. And not to fornicate. You don't know which is the heavier sin in the eyes of God, but before you can decide, Sophie pushes you into his laps

"Have some fun, Sleeping Beauty!" she laughs at you.

You freeze. Your legs on either side of the guy, your eyes pop open, your hand accidentally lands on his chest. You feel his loud heartbeat under your palm, his warm muscles as he leans back. He casually tosses his arn onto the back of the couch, using one arm to lift the harmful substance to his mouth. And then, in the next moment, you feel something that's the cherry on top of the cake. Something hard, very hard, is trying to penetrate the gap between your legs through your pants. Your eyes almost pop out of your head, you pull your hips back, and somewhere on his thigh, you sit down. He takes a big drag of the cigarette, then blows it into your face.You cough, withdrawing. The smoke fills your face, and you try to move away. He grabs you with one arm, lifting you back to where you were. Then he looks at you with an intense, intimidating look, and you find yourself gazing at the bulge in his pants...

He chuckles softly as he pulls you forward with one hand. You let out a soft gasp when you recognize the shape beneath you, and you'd rather sink into the ground in shame for finding this appealing.

"What's wrong, scared of a dick?" he laughs loudly, and the way he looks at you... he finds you pathetic. And so do you find yourself pathetic. You'd leap off him, but then he lifts you up with one arm, standing up with you, there's a height difference of at least 40 centimeters between you. And he love it. Taking another drag from his cigarette, you remain frozen. He leans down, until his face is about two fingers away from yours. You can't move, and you certainly don't want to. Rafe Cameron fascinates you. The golden chain around his neck sways as he leans down, his ocean blue eyes and his buzzcut... perfectly fitting the "dangerous bad boy" vibe.

He raises his hand to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb. Placing his palm on your cheek, his thumb separates your two lips, and what happens next... every cell in your body trembles.

He exhales the smoke into your mouth, and now you also feel the foul, tobacco smell in your own mouth. You start to cough, and he smiles with a menacing look, causing your knees to almost buckle.

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, then secures his strong arms around your thin, toned waist.

"I... I..." you can't answer because, the next moment, he squeezes both sides of your waist, sending shivers through your veins. You find yourself looking at his pants. You need to know if he like this situation as much as you do. And yes, he ENORMOUSLY love it.

After this, you became Rafe Cameron's mission. Every time you meet, every time he follows you, and every time he sneaks through your window at 4am in the morning to finger you, he corrupts you a bit more. And you find yourself realizing that, in just a few weeks, you've committed more sins in his presence than in your entire life. He intoxicates you at parties, demands you to smoke from his cigarette... in just a few weeks, he completely ruined you. And you fucking love him for it.

[thunderstorm3]

My 18th birthday is this Sunday and I’m thinking of going to see Mufasa so I can hear Mads Mikkelsen growl as kiros. HYPED UP 🙌

(Jokes aside his singing voice is so good)

Picture from itscutiemarie on Pinterest

[unpredictable-probabilities]

A Star's Respite

Part 1 of The Home That Waits Outside the Spotlight

Summary:

After not being able to see his dear sister for a long time, actor Morpheus Evermoore decides to defy his superiors' stifling schedule and leave to attend her birthday.

Meanwhile, times have fallen hard on The White Horse pub due to competition from new businesses. Owner Hob Gadling contemplates on closing it down, thinking it unlikely that a solution would present itself anytime soon.

Word Count: 11,799

Notes (more at the end):

For Dreamling Week Day 6: Monochromatic

[Read on AO3]

---

Morpheus made his way to his trailer as the film crew began packing up the equipment. They had just wrapped up the last day of filming for his latest movie, and he was sincerely hoping he would get at least a few minutes of peace. And possibly lunch. It was almost noon, but they’d been so busy that he hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast apart from the singular chocolate chip cookie that his assistant Matthew managed to shove into his hand a few minutes before filming.

He went into his trailer and closed the door behind him, taking his phone from the dresser and sitting on the small couch. He unbuttoned the front of his tuxedo and tried to settle down as best he could.

Usually he changed out of his film clothes immediately, in order to not risk damage on any properties of the costume department, but he owned this particular ensemble, and he had more pressing matters to attend to.

He unlocked his phone and viewed the notifications.

As he had expected, there was a message from his little sister. They had been having a conversation earlier before it was interrupted by his work schedule.

He opened the message.

Blysse: It’s okay if you really can’t come to my birthday. I understand. We’ll just see each other next time you’re not busy 💖

Morpheus sighed and ran a hand down his face. Ever since his career picked up a few years ago, he had missed so many important events in her life; school plays, ballet recitals, and most recently, birthdays.

Blysse never complained, which made it worse, somehow. Morpheus hated seeing how sad her eyes looked whenever he had to tell her on video call that he wouldn’t be able to make it home on time. He would rather her get angry with him if it meant she would not be so upset after.

Morpheus checked his schedule on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time this week. Blysse’s 18th birthday party would be on Sunday, three days from now. With the filming finished today and nothing else lined up for this week, he should have some time to himself. He already brought it up to his manager, but Mr. Fry didn’t want him leaving the city, insisting that he should start preparing for the press tour that would start in three weeks. There was a photoshoot on Monday too, and Mr. Fry didn’t want him to leave on Sunday and risk being unable to attend it.

Erasmus Fry had always been his manager, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful by arguing about the schedules. Yet there was an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he would remember that he hadn’t seen Blysse in nearly a year now.

His phone lit up with a notification. He opened it to see a message from Blysse.

Blysse: I made this for your birthday last year, it was supposed to be a surprise but you weren’t able to come home. Be here on your birthday this year so I can give it to you! ^_^

The attached photo was a painting of him, a rendition of his movie poster from his very first film, but Blysse had done it in her unique style using vibrant colours that seemed to leap off the canvas.

Morpheus bit the inside of his cheek to quell the emotions rising within him. Truly, Blysse deserved all the love and care in the world. He only wished he could give her even a fraction of it.

He looked at his schedule again and at Blysse’s messages. A determined frown creased his forehead and his mouth set into a hard line.

He slightly opened his trailer door and looked around outside. The film crew was halfway done with packing up, and Mr. Fry was nowhere to be seen.

He quickly grabbed his wallet and keys on the dresser, securing them in his pockets. He sent a quick text to Blysse:

Morpheus: I shall be there for your birthday.

He turned off his phone, slipped out of his trailer, and closed the door behind him.

He casually walked to the far side of the trailer to hide him from view of the film crew, and sprinted towards the direction of the main road.

***

Hob set down the mug on the rack after he finished polishing it. He picked up a second mug and started the process all over again. The White Horse wouldn’t be open for another two hours, and none of his staff are here yet, but he needed something to do. The pub hadn’t been doing so well recently, with new competition popping up all over the place and that mall that just opened down the next block. He was still able to pay the electric bill and rent for the building, but he wasn’t so confident about next month. He had enough saved up that he’d be able to move to some other, smaller place, and he could always go back to teaching, but he was worried about the staff. As the owner of the pub, he felt that he should be able to do more for the people who relied on him.

That was why he had gone here, behind the bar, cleaning dishware that didn’t need cleaning. He had to think of a way to promote the pub somehow. They still had loyal customers, so he knew that the quality of their food or service hadn’t gone down. The problem was visibility; it was difficult to gain new customers when most people don’t even know about the pub.

He didn’t want his staff to be suddenly out of jobs, and he had to come up with something soon. It wasn’t like the solution to all his problems would just barge through the front door.

A sudden sound startled Hob out of his thoughts.

He looked over and saw that someone was prying open the sliding window on the far wall. He tensed at the possibility of a burglary, but who would rob a place at high noon?

The slender figure slipped in through the window and slammed it shut, crouching low on the floor and peeking out the window.

By this point Hob noticed that it was a man, too finely dressed to be a burglar of any sort. His tuxedo alone probably cost more than Hob’s rent.

A group of men in black uniforms ran past, and the tuxedoed man ducked quickly out of sight. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat back against the wall.

He met Hob’s gaze, and his eyes widened.

Hob probably didn’t look any different; he almost dropped the mug when he recognized the man sitting on his floor.

Oh my god.

“I apologise.” The man quickly stood up and walked over to the bar. “I did not mean to break into your establishment. I was just…” he cast a worried glance over his shoulder towards the window before looking at Hob again. “May I stay for a few minutes? I promise not to get in the way.”

Hob had just been staring wide-eyed the entire time, his brain still catching up to the fact that a movie star had just climbed in through his window. There was no mistaking that deep voice; Hob had seen a few films of Dream Evermoore and this was definitely him. And okay, maybe he had seen a bit more than a few films. Maybe he had seen all of them. But who’s counting?

“Um…” Hob finally found his voice. His wits were slowly returning to him, and he realised how worried Dream looked. The man’s eyes looked strained, and his fingers were tapping nervously on the bar. “Are you alright? Are you in danger?” Hob glanced at the window, but fortunately no one else was approaching. Was Dream being mugged?

Dream blinked at him, blue eyes bright with surprise. “I… I am alright, yes. Thank you. No danger. Apart from possibly being caught and reprimanded by my employers for sneaking out,” he gave a small smile. “May I sit?” he pointed to a barstool.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Hob said quickly, putting the mug away and clearing the counter of coasters and menus. He had so many questions, but he held himself back. Seeing Dream so distressed felt wrong, somehow, and he didn’t want to cause such a worried look on his face again. “Can I… get you anything? Coffee? Some bread?” He wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was for hosting an impromptu visit from a celebrity. A gorgeous celebrity he had admired for years. Sitting two feet away from him. God have mercy.

“Thank you, but you do not need to prepare anything. I would not like to impose any more than I already have.”

A rumble that suspiciously sounded like it came from Dream’s stomach interrupted before Hob could say anything.

Dream closed his eyes momentarily, his cheekbones going pink, and Hob had to bite back a smile that would have looked impossibly fond.

“Well, I haven’t had lunch yet, and I was just about to make something, anyway. Care to join me?” Hob asked, trying to keep his tone casual. He had no idea what celebrities like Dream liked to eat for lunch, but he had a feeling that Dream didn’t want to be treated like a celebrity right now.

Dream pursed his lips before nodding slowly. “You are kind. I will pay for the meal.”

“Nah, it's fine. I'm the one who offered it. Just wait here, it'll be ready in about 15 minutes. And the pub doesn't open until 2 PM, so no one will see you,” Hob reassured him. He turned to go to the kitchen.

“May I help?”

Hob turned back to see that Dream was standing again.

“I do not feel comfortable doing nothing while you prepare something for me, especially since you would not allow me to pay for it. I wish to help in the kitchen, if that's all right.”

“Oh, um…” Hob suddenly wondered if the kitchen looked neat enough for visitors. They always kept it clean, of course, but the idea of having Dream in it was making him feel a tad self-conscious. “Are you sure?”

Dream nodded. “I know how to cook, and I will not get in the way.”

There it was again. Why did Dream always assume that he would be seen as getting in the way? Hob might have expected the opposite for someone of his status. He pushed down his curiosity and smiled.

“Sure, come on,” Hob waved Dream over to join him in the kitchen.

Dream was quiet and just stood patiently by the counter as Hob prepared the steaks and got the potatoes from the pantry, but he was looking around the kitchen with such curiosity and wonder in his eyes that made Hob smile.

Hob had been working in this kitchen for three years, and he realised he might be taking it for granted. But seeing Dream react to it now—subtle though it was—made Hob see the place again like he did the first time, with pride and appreciation of the fact that he was able to make his dream business a reality.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Hob asked to make conversation as he laid out the ingredients. “Did you come from set?” he nodded to Dream’ tuxedo. Now that he was calmer, he recognized it from the trailer of Dream’s latest movie.

Dream nodded. “There is catering provided for lunch, but I left right after we filmed the last scene.”

“Wait, did you run all the way here?” Hob frowned. “On an empty stomach?”

“It is only four blocks away.”

Hob had no idea they were filming so near his place. But more importantly, “You had breakfast, right?”

Dream blinked. “There was a chocolate chip cookie.”

Hob raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Oh my god. Start chopping these, we gotta get some food in you quick.” He passed the bowl of potatoes over to Dream.

“I assure you, I’m all right,” Dream took the bowl with an amused smile. “It is hardly the first time I had worked for hours without eating.” He began to peel the potatoes.

Hob raised an eyebrow. “You realise that’s worse, right? Is that why you’re so thin?” He put the steaks on the pan and began basting them with butter and seasonings.

Dream’s smile turned fond. “It never seemed to be a problem. My employers actually seem to prefer that I am this slender; they said it is more appealing to the audience.”

Hob suddenly remembered his students at the high school he worked at before, how there was bullying about weight, and how fights and mental breakdowns occurred because of it.

Hob had to bite back a few choice words he wanted to say about those employers. Sure, he had always thought Dream looked beautiful, but he would never choose him being thin over him actually eating properly. And who decided anyway that being thin was the only way to be beautiful?

He let out a breath to calm himself and flipped the steaks in the pan. “Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that here. You’re appealing to me either way,” he winked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dream chuckled and glanced down for a second, and Hob immediately wanted to hear that sound from him again.

“You are kind,” Dream said as he set the potatoes to boil. “Do you always treat your trespassers this way?”

“You’re the only trespasser I’ve encountered so far,” Hob turned off the stove and transferred the steaks onto a plate. “And it’s really no problem, I do run a food business.”

“And yet you will not let me pay for the meal,” Dream arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“You’re helping cook it,” Hob pointed out. “That’s the payment.”

Dream smiled in fond amusement again and didn’t say anything more. He removed his jacket and hung it on a hook before rolling up his sleeves. “I gather that the cheese and seasonings you brought out are for the potatoes? I saw the baked potato option on your menu earlier. I would like to start the process, if you would permit me to use your oven.”

“Um…” Hob was too busy trying not to stare at Dream’s toned forearms to process the words immediately. “Yeah, go ahead.”

So Dream attended to the potatoes while Hob chopped the vegetables to go with it. They worked well together, and Hob was glad to see that Dream visibly became more comfortable around him as they cooked. His shoulders relaxed and his smiles came a bit more easily.

Soon enough, they had placed all their food on one of the tables in the pub. Hob set up the plates and prepared a glass of lemon soda for each of them. He had briefly considered serving wine but he didn’t want to risk Dream getting the wrong idea.

“What time do you need to start preparing to open?” Dream asked as he cut a piece of steak. “I would not want to overstay.”

“We got more than an hour left, don’t worry. And we can cook more food if you’re still hungry after that,” Hob said sincerely.

Dream took a bite of the steak and his face lit up. “You are a good cook. This is perhaps one of the best steaks I have ever tasted.”

Hob chuckled and glanced down, his face warming. “Thanks, but you’re probably just really hungry.”

Dream smiled, then he seemed to realise something. “I don't even know your name yet. I apologise. At first I did not think it would be polite to ask for it after I had trespassed into your property, and afterwards it had slipped my mind.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine, it slipped my mind, too.” Hob smiled and reached out a hand. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.”

Dream shook his hand firmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Robert. I’m guessing you already know who I am, based on our conversations earlier,” he said playfully before retracting his hand.

“I do, yeah. And I said my friends call me Hob,” Hob raised an eyebrow.

Dream blinked. “Yes, I understood you.”

Hob just kept staring at him, barely able to suppress a fond smile.

Dream’s eyes widened a fraction. “You… see me as your friend?”

“Yeah? If that’s okay…?” Hob smiled sheepishly.

A soft smile slowly appeared on Dream’s face, and the room became brighter. “It is. In that case, you may call me Morpheus, if you wish. Dream is merely my screenname.”

Hob froze for a second, his fork halfway to his mouth. Did Dream—Morpheus—really just give him his real name? He was a private person, and as far as Hob knew, no one referred to Morpheus by that name, not even hardcore fans on the internet.

Hob snapped his mouth shut and nodded, setting his fork back down. “I’m glad to have you here. Morpheus.” He smiled.

Morpheus opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes grew wide as he looked at something behind Hob.

Hob turned and saw three of his staff coming in through the door. They were having a conversation and laughing, and hadn’t seen either of them yet.

“I must go,” Morpheus said suddenly, standing up.

Hob stood up and grabbed Morpheus’ arm without thinking, then pulled him along behind the bar and back into the kitchen.

“There’s a fire exit through here but… will you be okay?” Hob asked. He didn’t know what Morpheus was running away from, and it didn’t feel like his business to ask.

Morpheus pursed his lips and looked reluctantly at the sign that said FIRE EXIT.

Hob remembered how worried he had seemed earlier, the tension in his shoulders as if he was scared that Hob was going to kick him out.

“You can hide in my flat upstairs,” Hob heard himself say.

“What?” Morpheus said in surprise.

“Just until you feel that it’s safe to leave,” Hob hurriedly added.

“Boss? Are you in here?” Lou’s voice came through the open kitchen door around the corner. “Should we clear your plates?”

Hob met Morpheus’ eyes, and Morpheus nodded quickly.

Hob pulled Morpheus silently out through the fire exit—belatedly realising he had never let go of his arm—and led him up the stairs to his flat.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and quickly opened the door.

“You can stay here for now,” he said as they went in and he closed the door behind them.

He turned around and was suddenly greeted by the state of his living room.

Books and magazines cluttered the coffee table among an empty teacup and sandwich wrappers, the potted plant near the window was turned over on its side, and enough clothes were strewn on the couch to dress a family of four.

“I am so sorry—” Hob hurried to the couch and began gathering items of clothing in his arms. “Took these out of the dryer this morning, been meaning to fold them tonight.”

He carried the bundle of clothes to his room and tossed them unceremoniously on the bed. Then he ran back to the living room and righted the potted plant; he had knocked it over on his way out of the door that morning, and he had been so worried about next month’s rent that he just vaguely made a mental note to straighten things up when he got home.

He went to tidy up the coffee table—

“Hob.”

He instinctively glanced up at the sound of that voice saying his name.

Morpheus had a small smile on his face. “It’s alright. Your home is lovely. You have your work to attend to, and your employees will be wondering why you disappeared halfway through a meal.”

“Right,” Hob nodded and ran a hand through his hair to calm down. “Have a seat, and help yourself to anything in my fridge. I’ll pack up the rest of our lunch and bring it up here.”

“You don’t need to go to such trouble. I’ll be okay just resting here for a while.”

“It’s no trouble, Morpheus. We cooked it so you could eat, right? I’ll be right back.” Hob went out the door before Morpheus could protest further.

***

True to his word, Hob had packed up their lunch and brought it to his home. They finished their meal together and Hob said he told his employees that he had a friend over, hence the dining set up for two people, so Morpheus didn’t have to worry about anyone knowing he was there.

Afterwards, Hob left to help at the pub, but not before quickly scrawling his phone number on the notepad on the counter. “In case you need anything,” he had said.

Morpheus still wasn’t entirely certain why the man was so kind to him, especially after he had broken into his establishment. Hob did not even ask why he was running away, and yet he trusted him enough to leave him alone here in his home.

No matter, he would find a way to repay Robert Gadling for all his help. For now, there were other matters that needed attending.

He sat on Hob’s couch and took his phone out of his pocket, turning it on and bracing himself for the barrage of texts and voicemails that were sure to flood his notifications.

There were several messages of varying politeness asking him where he was and when he was coming back, and a few threats from Mr. Fry saying that if he didn’t come back immediately he would lose his job. Morpheus read all of them with relative indifference, having expected the messages already. He didn’t reply to anyone apart from Matthew.

Morpheus: I am well. I will be coming back on Monday at the studio in time for the photoshoot.

Then he opened the text that he was truly looking forward to seeing.

Blysse: 😯 Really? What happened? They let you take days off?

Morpheus: I will tell you the details when we see each other.

Blysse: ‘Kay! Thank youuu! I’m so excited to see you again! 💞💞💞

Morpheus smiled, he could almost see the twinkle in his sister’s eyes.

Morpheus: I very much look forward to seeing you again as well 🖤🤍

A new notification popped up, and he opened it.

Matthew: You got it, sir. You’re out of the city now, right? Mr. Fry coordinated with the rest of the team and they’re basically combing the area looking for you.

Morpheus sighed. A few people were aware of his reasons for asking Mr. Fry to let him leave for the weekend, but only Matthew seemed to really understand why it was so important to him. Morpheus was glad to have at least one person he could wholeheartedly trust at his work.

Morpheus: Thank you for letting me know, Matthew.

Morpheus put his phone down and leaned his head back against the couch. He might need a bit more help from his new friend.

***

Hob removed his apron and hung it on the hook in the kitchen. Now that his shift was done, he wondered what he should make for dinner. He didn’t want to take any of the ingredients from the pub while there were still customers coming in, and lately he didn’t have the energy to cook for himself so he wasn’t sure what ingredients he still had at his flat. Maybe he would just order takeout again.

He leaned against the counter and checked his phone. Still no texts from Morpheus. Hob had been half-expecting to get a message saying that Morpheus was leaving already, but there was nothing. He couldn’t text Morpheus because he didn’t know his number, and earlier he wasn’t sure if he should ask.

“Boss, don’t forget your jacket,” Merv’s voice made him look up.

“That’s not mine,” Hob said without thinking, seeing Morpheus’ jacket on the hook.

Lou walked by bringing in a tray of dishes to the sink. “Maybe it belongs to his friend from earlier,” she said cheekily.

“Oh, is that friend coming back, then?” Merv asked, with the less-than-subtle implication of Can we meet him?

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Hob said good-naturedly and took the jacket before going out the fire exit.

Maybe Morpheus did leave already but just didn’t let him know, that was always possible. He had his jacket, though. Would Morpheus come back for it? Probably not, but Hob wanted to hope he would.

He reached the top of the stairs and tried the handle on his door. Locked. Morpheus really must have left and locked it behind him.

Hob sighed as he took his key out and unlocked it, trying not to be too disappointed.

He stepped into his flat and froze as the smell of something cooking reached him. Then he noticed that his coffee table had been cleared of clutter, the books and magazines neatly stacked beside each other. Even the bits of soil that had spilled from the overturned potted plant earlier were gone now.

In a daze, he closed the door behind him and walked towards the kitchen.

The unwashed dishes that he’d left in the sink this morning were now clean and placed in the drying rack, and he didn’t know what Morpheus was cooking at his stove but it smelled delicious.

Morpheus turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Hob. Good evening. You’re just in time for dinner.” He turned off the stove and transferred the contents of the skillet onto a plate. “I hope you don’t mind. You did say I could help myself to anything in your fridge,” he gave a small smile.

Hob saw that Morpheus had cooked buttered salmon with sautéed cauliflower and roasted peanuts, all lined up on the counter now.

“You cooked for me?” Hob immediately wanted to kick himself after saying the words. Obviously Morpheus had cooked for himself, and Hob just happened to arrive when it was done.

“Yes,” Morpheus nodded. “It’s the least I could do after all your help today. Though if you’ve eaten already it’s alright, I can eat by myself and refrigerate the leftovers.”

“No, I haven’t had dinner yet.” Hob’s mind was still recovering from the whiplash of thinking Morpheus had gone and then seeing him having cooked for the both of them. “Oh, you left your jacket in the pub,” he held it out.

“Ah, that’s right. Thank you.” Morpheus took the jacket from him, causing their fingers to brush, and Hob wondered if the rest of his hand was just as soft.

“Shall I take these plates to the table, then?” Hob asked, a little louder than what was probably necessary.

“Let me help. I shall just hang my jacket on your coat rack.”

They set the table for their dinner, in a manner that was so similar to how they set up lunch just a few hours earlier, and Hob couldn’t help but feel that it was so domestic. How had his day turned out like this?

“You didn’t have to clean up, you know,” Hob said as they ate. “I’d say you didn’t have to cook either, but I’m not complaining about these,” he gestured to the food. The salmon was so soft it nearly melted in his mouth, and the vegetables were crisp.

The corners of Morpheus’ mouth lifted. “It’s alright, I did not have much else to do, anyway. And… I have one more favour to ask of you.” He glanced down, then looked up in hesitation at Hob through his eyelashes.

Hob found himself looking back in anticipation. He didn’t know what he was expecting—or hoping for—but he seemed unable to look away from those blue eyes.

“My assistant had texted me that my employers are actively looking for me; it would be more difficult for me to leave the city now. Would you perhaps be able to help me find accommodations for the night? I am not very familiar with the area, and I would prefer someplace where they would not easily find me.”

“Oh, well…” Hob frowned thoughtfully. He knew several inns that were a short drive away, but he wasn’t sure whether any of them would be inconspicuous enough. “What if…” he tapped his fork nervously on his plate. “What if you stay here? There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.”

“What?” Morpheus looked taken aback. “You don’t even know why I want to hide from my employers. How could you trust me to sleep under the same roof as you?”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to steal from me for whatever reason, you’ve had hours of opportunity already. If you wanted to harm me, you could have ambushed me when I came in or poisoned this dinner. I have no reason to think you’re dangerous.”

Morpheus blinked, then shook his head fondly. “How do you know I have not poisoned your food? Perhaps it is a slow-acting poison.”

“Just to keep me alive long enough to compliment your cooking?” Hob ate a mouthful of vegetables.

Morpheus chuckled. “I suppose, if I am to stay here, then I must tell you why I am hiding from them.”

Hob shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do that. It’s your personal business, really.” He didn’t want Morpheus to feel like he had to keep paying for his stay.

Morpheus looked thoughtful for a while. “I would like to talk about it. To a friend.” He met Hob’s eyes.

Hob felt a certain warmth in his chest at that look, and he smiled. “Then yeah, I’d love to listen.”

So Hob did. There was a gleam in Morpheus’ eyes while he talked about his two sisters who lived together, one older than him and the other one younger, though he was evidently upset that he wasn’t able to spend more time with them.

“I have no other obligations at work until Monday,” Morpheus added, somewhat defensively, after telling Hob how his bodyguards spotted him before he got too far from the set and chased him for four blocks before he decided to hide in The White Horse in a panic.

Hob leaned back in his chair as he took all that in. He had employees too, but he couldn’t imagine controlling their lives like that.

“Your manager,” Hob said carefully, not wanting to offend Morpheus. “Erasmus Fry? Has he always been like that?”

Morpheus nodded. “Yes. He was also the one who insisted that I have bodyguards. He had said it was for my sake, but as of late I have begun to wonder if he just wanted me to be watched at all times.” His voice had gone a little quieter, but he must have noticed Hob’s worried face because he put on a smile, though his eyes looked tired. “I will bring the plates to the sink.” He stood up and began stacking them.

“Hey, you cooked,” Hob reminded him, carefully taking the small stack of plates. “That means I clean. Feel free to use the shower in the meantime. I’ll lend you some clothes.” At Morpheus’ surprised look, he added. “You really wanna sleep in the same clothes you wore to work and your impromptu jogging?”

Morpheus pursed his lips. “I suppose not. Very well.”

Hob got some grey sweatpants and a brown sweater from his room and handed them to Morpheus, then went ahead and washed the dishes.

It had been quite a long day. When he woke up this morning and decided to spend some time in the pub by himself, he hadn’t been expecting for any of this to happen. It was strange; he knew Morpheus was a celebrity, had watched his movies for years, but when they were spending time together, it was almost like he forgot that Morpheus was an actor. They were just two friends having a meal, talking about their families.

“Where is your laundry area? I would like to wash my clothes.” Morpheus’ voice took him out of his musings.

“Oh, it’s just over…” Hob trailed off after he turned and saw Morpheus.

His damp ruffled hair was sticking up in places and falling across his forehead, giving his face a much softer look.

And then the sweater.

Hob had chosen that sweater to lend him because it was one of his most comfortable ones. He hadn’t considered the fact that because it had always been loose on him, it would be even more so on Morpheus.

Hob could see his collarbones, and the barest glimpse of his shoulders as the wide neckline hung loosely around him. The sleeves reached down to cover half of his hands.

Hob thought for a second that he had swallowed his own tongue. But he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. “It’s just over there, through that door,” he gestured to the back of the kitchen.

Morpheus nodded. “Thank you.” Then he disappeared to the laundry area.

Hob took a shaky breath and leaned against the sink. He had invited Morpheus to stay the entire night. Wearing his clothes. Looking like that.

God give me strength.

***

“You sure you don’t want the bed?” Hob said as he placed a pillow and blankets on the couch. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I’m the one who suggested you stay here instead of a fancy hotel, after all.”

Morpheus shook his head. “You have already been exceedingly hospitable, Hob. I will not take your bed from you. Thank you for these.”

“No problem, let me know if you need anything else. And um…” Hob shifted on his feet. “Say goodbye to me, before you leave? Just so I know you're alright and you didn't get kidnapped from my flat by your manager or something.”

Morpheus smiled. “Of course, and I will make certain that you will not get in trouble for harbouring a fugitive.”

Hob chuckled. “Alright, then. Good night, Morpheus. It was really nice meeting you.”

“And I thank you for today, Hob. I have enjoyed your company. Good night.”

Hob smiled and headed to his room.

***

Hob had no idea how long he had been staring at the ceiling, his mind too restless for sleep. He had never expected to meet Morpheus Evermoore, let alone befriend him. He was already lucky to have spent as much time with him as he had. And yet, he couldn't help but feel that it was too soon for Morpheus to leave tomorrow.

It wasn't just because Hob enjoyed his company—although he very much did—but also because Morpheus looked like he needed more rest. He seemed tired already after dinner, and given what Hob knew of his less-than-ideal eating habits because of work, Hob wouldn't be surprised if he didn't regularly get proper sleep either.

Hob sighed. He shouldn't get too invested in someone who he might never even see again, even though Morpheus had called him a friend. If Morpheus was so busy that he hardly found time for his little sister whom he clearly adored, then what more for someone he only knew for half a day?

Hob turned over to his side and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep.

It must have worked somehow, because the next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming in through his curtains.

He got up blearily and rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes. He was halfway to his door when he remembered he had a guest.

He immediately went to the living room to check on him, partly because he wasn’t entirely sure that yesterday wasn’t just a dream.

There he was, bundled up under the blanket, hair falling softly across on the pillow.

Hob felt himself smile. Morpheus looked so relaxed, no crease on his forehead as he slept soundly on the couch. Hob wished Morpheus could have more rest days like that.

He quietly went back to his room and got dressed for the day. He knew from checking the kitchen last night that he didn’t have much food anymore, and it was time to buy ingredients. He supposed he could order takeout for their breakfast, but he didn’t think Morpheus got to eat home-cooked meals often, and he could at least cook him some good food before he had to leave today.

The thought of him leaving made Hob’s heart sink, but he pushed down those emotions and just focused on making a mental shopping list.

He went back to the living room, making sure not to wake Morpheus. He got a notepad and pen from the counter and taped a note to the front door.

Went to buy food for breakfast. Be back in a tick.

Hob.

The shop was just around the corner, hopefully he would be back before Morpheus even woke up. He went out the door and locked it behind him, not wanting to leave a sleeping Morpheus to possibly be burgled.

He got to the shop early enough that he was able to buy what he needed without having to deal with crowds or long lines at the register. He checked his watch and was glad to see that he would have time to cook breakfast and eat with Morpheus before he had to go down to the pub.

“Sir! Excuse me!” A woman wearing a grey business jacket with her hair in a bun ran up to him. “Do you live around here? Do you work at The White Horse?”

Hob glanced at the ID hanging around her neck bearing the logo of a local news program. “Did something happen?”

“Some sources say that Dream Evermoore was spotted here early afternoon yesterday. Did you happen to see him? There are rumours that he ran away from set after their last day of filming.” The woman brought out a small notebook and pen.

Hob couldn’t contain the surprised look on his face, so he decided to go along with it. “Oh wow, Dream Evermoore was here? I did hear some people at the pub talking about how they saw someone who looked like him at the bus station. I thought they were just having a laugh, but maybe it was really him, huh?”

The woman nodded as she quickly scribbled down notes. “Bus station. Thank you, sir. Call us if you see him around,” she handed him a card. “We might film an interview in the future.”

Hob took the card and smiled politely.

As the woman walked away, Hob paid more attention to his surroundings. Other reporters and paparazzis were definitely all over the block in disguises of varying subtlety. There were even a few of the uniformed men that Hob saw through the window chasing Morpheus yesterday.

He made his way up the steps to his flat, resisting the urge to run. He unlocked his door and quickly stepped in, locking it again behind him.

“Hob?” Morpheus’ voice sounded concerned. “Are you alright?”

Hob turned to see him on the couch folding the blankets. “Yeah, I’m fine, just…” he opened the curtain a tiny bit and peeked out the window. “Yup, they’re still there. See for yourself.”

Morpheus frowned and went to look through the small gap in the curtain, his arm almost pressing against Hob’s. “I see. My assistant Matthew was correct. I saw his message when I woke up; apparently Mr. Fry believes I am still in the area, and has ordered my guards to look for me. I would not be surprised if he was the one who tipped off the media as well.”

Hob sighed and turned to look at Morpheus. “I’m sorry—” Morpheus’ face was inches away from his. Morpheus was still looking out the window, but Hob’s nose would touch his cheekbone if Hob only leaned a bit forward.

Hob looked down to avert his gaze but then his eyes landed on Morpheus’ bare shoulder, visible because of the sweater that had slipped down even lower. The slope of his neck was more noticeable too, fair and smooth skin all the way down to his collarbones.

Hob quickly stepped away and began walking to the kitchen. “Any chance they won’t be there anymore after we eat breakfast?”

Morpheus followed him and shook his head. “It is unlikely. I would have to find a way to get past them, and then find accommodations where they would not think to look for me.” He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

Something ached in Hob’s chest at the sight. All the stress that had seeped out of Morpheus since yesterday seemed to be coming back.

“How about— And tell me if you’re uncomfortable with this in any way…” Hob kept his eyes on the slices of bread that he was preparing to toast. “How about you stay here until Sunday morning, and I’ll give you a lift to the next city so you can get to your sister’s birthday?” His hands felt suddenly cold, but he was glad that they were working well enough to spread butter on the bread.

“You would do that for me?” Morpheus said in surprise.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re already here, so…” Hob lets out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I’m explaining it badly. I just meant…” he looked at Morpheus to hopefully force himself to find the right words, but Morpheus’ soft smile just disarms him further.

“I understand what you mean, Hob. Don’t worry. Admittedly I… I feel comfortable. With you.” He glanced down, his eyelashes catching the light. “Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, knowing that I didn’t have to worry about anything in the morning.”

Hob just stared and smiled for a few seconds before realising he should say something. “I’m glad to hear that, Morpheus. You’ll always have a safe space here. So, you agree with my plan…?”

Morpheus met his eyes and nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his own lips. “Indeed I do. Although, I might need to buy some clothes.”

“I can go down to the shop later. They’ve got slippers and underwear and soaps, but not really sets of clothes. You can keep borrowing mine, though, if that’s okay…?” Hob asked hesitantly as he put the slices of bread in the toaster.

Morpheus’ eyebrows lifted.

“Or— Or— I can go to the mall down the next block,” Hob stammered. “They’ve got a department store and—”

“Hob.” Morpheus was smiling in amusement, then his expression changed into a more somber one. “I do wish you would not be so nervous around me. Have I done anything to make you feel that way?”

“No, no,” Hob hurriedly said. “It’s just…” he sighed. “I’ve watched all of your movies. I’ve admired you for years. And now I just don’t wanna come across as creepy. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Morpheus.”

“You have not caused me discomfort in our entire time together, Hob,” Morpheus said, and there seemed to be a hint of sadness in his eyes. “And I suppose I understand better now. Why you are helping me. I thank you for appreciating my work.”

“Woah, wait,” Hob stepped closer to him. “To clarify, I’m not just helping you because you’re a famous actor, okay? You walked into my pub looking scared, of course I wanted to help.”

“I broke into your pub.”

“Because your manager’s practically holding you hostage,” Hob pointed out. “Morpheus, you deserve better than how he’s treating you. And I really hope you get out of that situation when you return to work. There’s gotta be a long line of managers wanting to work for you, right?” Hob hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but as soon as he said out loud that Morpheus had looked scared, it all came rushing out. He didn’t want to think of Morpheus looking like that the entire time he was at work.

Morpheus nodded and gave a small smile. “I did not want to seem ungrateful by replacing him, but you are right. It is time he realises that he cannot control my life nearly as much as he wishes to. Thank you, Hob.” He chuckled. “I did not think I looked quite so frightened yesterday. That must have been unsettling to see from someone who just appeared in your pub.”

“Not really. You also looking devastatingly gorgeous sort of balanced it all out,” Hob said to lighten the mood.

Morpheus looked at him in surprise and didn’t say anything.

“What?” Hob raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea how handsome you look?”

Morpheus blinked. “It is quite flattering to hear from one such as you. I would imagine you have some rather high standards. Considering what you see in the mirror every day.”

Now it was Hob’s turn to gape at him in surprise. Morpheus was looking at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and eyes shining with something that dangerously looked like banked intent—

DING!

Hob startled and stepped away. “That’d be the toast,” he blurted out, turning around to carefully place the hot slices of bread on a plate, feeling his face warm. “I’ll just fry some eggs and bacon, and breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Shall I make us some orange juice, then? I saw a juicer in your pantry last night.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Hob said, still keeping his back turned. He wasn’t sure if Morpheus had been joking, but the look in Morpheus’ eyes seemed all too real, and the fire it lit in Hob’s gut was definitely real. And it was all a lot to deal with before coffee. He didn’t want to risk misreading things and doing something stupid.

Fortunately, breakfast went by pretty smoothly. They talked like usual, and Hob felt more relaxed now that Morpheus had said he never felt any discomfort around him. Hob did feel maybe very slightly disappointed that Morpheus hadn’t made any similar remarks or advances like he did earlier, but eventually he managed to brush it off and just decided to enjoy Morpheus’ company while he was still here.

Before he went down to the pub, Hob reminded Morpheus that he had free reign of the kitchen, as well as the telly and any of the books.

Hob ate his lunch at the pub like usual, and packed up some food to bring Morpheus, just in case he hadn’t cooked anything for himself yet.

“Oh, thank you,” Morpheus said when Hob brought him the barbecued lamb with chips on the side. He took the paper bag and frowned. “This is a lot. Have you eaten yet?” he glanced at Hob.

Hob opened his mouth to reply. “No,” he heard himself say. “No, uh, not yet.”

Morpheus smiled. “Then you can share this with me. Come on.” He led the way to the dining table and began setting up the food.

Hob followed, grateful that he didn’t eat a lot for lunch a few minutes ago.

“I’ll be going to the shop later to get your supplies,” Hob said as they ate. “Do you have any allergies to certain soaps?”

Morpheus shook his head. “Anything will do.”

“Any preferences for clothes, then? I can hand them to you before I head out so you can shower if you like.” Hob remembered something. “Oh, you usually wear black and white for your interviews and events. Was that your choice or is it more of a branding thing?”

Morpheus smiled. “It is my choice, yes. I’ve always leaned towards monochromatic colours ever since I was young, and fortunately I was allowed to continue that. They even decided to incorporate it in some of the roles I play, like the mainly blue colour scheme of that prince character two years ago, and the tuxedo in this latest film.”

Hob nodded. “I think I’ve got some black and white clothes you can borrow, yeah.”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly. “You would accommodate even that? You are very kind to me, Hob Gadling.”

“Or maybe you just look really good in those colours and I like seeing you in them,” Hob teased.

Morpheus chuckled. “Then I am fortunate that you look good in any colour, and I am allowed to enjoy the view frequently.”

Hob looked down at his chips to hopefully hide the flush on his cheeks. “Do you have to one-up me everytime?”

Morpheus laughed a bit louder this time, and Hob had to look up again in order to not miss it.

“Oh, speaking of the shop.” Morpheus stood up and got something from the counter before returning to his seat. “I will give you some cash for the supplies. I’d hand you my debit card but my name’s on it and I’d rather not drag you into this whole manhunt for me.” He took a few bills out of his wallet and held them out to Hob.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Hob said, not making a move to take them. “I offered to help, remember?”

Morpheus shook his head. “You are already feeding and housing me for free. Surely I can pay for a few socks?”

“You can, but you don’t have to.”

“Hob Gadling, take these or I will leave.”

Hob was taken aback for a moment, but he narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

A smile of amusement appeared on Morpheus’ lips. “Yes, I am. Take the cash, anyway?” He tilted his head slightly to the side and batted his eyelashes.

Hob took the money with a playful huff. “That’s unfair. You’re using your looks to get what you want.”

“Did you not do the same when you asked me to stay here?”

“What? I thought you said it was my kindness that got you to stay!”

“It is several things.”

They both laughed, and their borderline flirty banter came up again a few times throughout the entire meal, and Hob was glad to see that they were both perfectly comfortable with it.

***

“I do not remember why I ever liked this game,” Morpheus said jokingly as Hob’s knight took his bishop.

After they had finished dinner and prepared for bed, he had spotted a small magnetic chessboard among the books on Hob’s shelf. He made a passing remark about how he used to play chess with his two sisters when they were children, but had not had the chance to do so again in recent years.

Hob asked if he wanted to play now, and that was how they ended up on the couch with the chessboard between them. Hob was in a light green shirt and blue sweatpants, while Morpheus was wearing a black shirt with a white-and-grey checkered pyjama bottoms.

“You don’t?” Hob said in an equally playful tone. “Well I’m having a lot of fun for some reason.”

“Could the reason be because you are eviscerating my team with yours?” Morpheus arched an eyebrow.

Hob grinned. “I would have thought you’d be amazing at chess, seeing as it’s monochromatic.”

Morpheus shook his head fondly. “Your mind’s logic continues to fascinate me.”

Hob chuckled and proceeded to be merciless in how he took over the board. Morpheus stared at him at every chance he could. Hob had a certain warmth to him that Morpheus had not seen in anyone else, and everytime he smiled it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

He knew that Hob recognized him when their eyes first met, and Morpheus had just been hoping that he wouldn’t call the police on him for breaking and entering.

When it didn’t seem like Hob was going to do any of the sort, Morpheus expected the usual reactions of people running into him: asking for autographs, selfies, or a blurted out, Oh my god, you’re Dream Evermoore!

But Hob’s first reaction was to ask if he was alright, which admittedly took him off-guard. He told himself it was an understandable reaction if Hob had seen him being chased, but then Hob offered to cook for him, and didn’t ask any questions about his new film even when Hob voiced out recognizing his tuxedo as coming from set.

Hob clarifying this morning about his reasons for helping Morpheus was honestly sweet of him, and Morpheus could not help the remark he had made about Hob being handsome. It was a sincere remark, one that he had worried might have been an overstep based on how Hob seemed to keep his back turned on him afterwards, and so he was relieved when Hob continued such banter during lunch.

Their chess game ended soon enough, with Hob as the unsurprising victor. They put away the board and decided to watch some cooking shows, at Hob’s recommendation. Morpheus had learned to cook for himself as soon as he was living alone for his work, but his skills were nowhere near what the contestants on the show were displaying, and he was fascinated to be learning a lot.

As the evening grew later, Morpheus’ eyelids grew heavier, and he found himself leaning against Hob’s shoulder.

He immediately sat up straight as soon as he realised it. “Sorry,” he rubbed his eyes. “I did not mean to use you as a pillow.”

“I didn’t really mind, you can keep doing that while we watch. Unless you want me to turn off the telly instead?” Hob reached for the remote on the armrest.

Morpheus considered it. “No, I would like to keep watching. You are certain I can lean on you?”

Hob gave a soft smile. “‘Course. Anytime.”

Morpheus lay back on his shoulder, shifting into a more comfortable position. He thought he heard Hob’s breath hitch, but his mind was too sleepy to be sure, and he trusted that Hob would voice out any discomfort if there were any.

The cooking show went on, and Morpheus vaguely remembered wanting to cook some of those dishes for Hob before sleep overtook him.

***

Hob woke up to what sounded like an ad for a vacuum cleaner. He blinked himself awake and squinted in confusion at the telly. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, his muscles stiff from sitting all night.

Then something shifted beside him, and he looked to see that Morpheus was sound asleep on his shoulder.

Hob was tempted to nuzzle into the soft hair tickling his cheek and inhale, but he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if it woke Morpheus.

Another, louder commercial blared from the telly, and Morpheus flinched awake. Hob reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

“Were we here all night?” Morpheus asked sleepily. “Did I keep you here? I’m sorry, you should have woken me,” he stifled a yawn with his hand.

“Nah, I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,” Hob said, which was true. Morpheus snuggling against him kept his heart rate up for a while, but eventually he relaxed into it and apparently fell asleep. He stood up and stretched his stiff muscles a bit. “Breakfast?”

Morpheus nodded. “Please.” He lay back down on the couch and curled up, his eyes closed again.

Hob smiled at the sight before heading to the kitchen.

***

They were lounging on the couch again after their nightly routines, and Hob suggested another game of chess, which Morpheus wrinkled his nose at and politely declined.

Hob flipped through the channels, looking for something they could watch. He didn’t want to go to sleep yet, knowing this would be their last night together. He eventually landed on one that usually streamed reruns of films.

“Oh look, it’s you,” Hob said to Morpheus as the character of The Sandman appeared on the screen. “This was about three years ago, right?”

Morpheus nodded. “The fantasy genre was quite popular at the time, and the writing team suggested I play my namesake from the myths.”

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever watched this movie properly. I was just starting the pub when it came out, so I didn’t have time to go to the cinema. One of my buddies held a watch party when it was released for a limited time on streaming sites, but I was only able to stay around for the first half.”

“We could watch it now,” Morpheus offered.

“Really?” Hob said in mild surprise. “It wouldn’t be weird?” 

Morpheus smiled and shook his head. “Not at all, don’t worry. Besides, I rarely get the chance to see my own work for myself. I should like to know if I did any good.”

“I can guarantee that you did good in the first half.”

Morpheus chuckled. He looked so comfortable and at home, leaning back on the couch wearing a black hoodie and white sweatpants. Hob almost just stared at him instead of watching the movie.

Morpheus got up to make some popcorn, insisting that Hob stay on the couch instead of helping him in any way.

And so they watched the movie together with a bowl of fresh popcorn between them and some cans of soda.

“That was not half bad,” Morpheus said as the credits rolled.

“Are you kidding?” Hob turned to him. “It was incredible! I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this sooner.”

Morpheus smiled and glanced down for a moment. “I’m afraid you might be biased, my friend.”

“No way.” Hob put the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table and brushed off any crumbs from the couch. “It’s one of your most popular films, right? So clearly I’m not the only one who thinks it’s great.”

Morpheus smiled at him. “Thank you. And it was indeed quite fun making it.”

“I bet. And how did you do the voice? Was that like, special effects or something?”

“The voice?” Morpheus tilted his head in confusion.

“The Sandman voice. How was it done?”

“Oh. That was just my voice, there were no special effects necessary.”

“Wow. Can you still do it?”

Morpheus fixed him with a gaze much like The Sandman’s, and Hob could almost imagine his eyes being all black and dotted with stars. “You are asking if I can still speak like The Sandman?”

It instantly dawned on Hob just what he had gotten himself into, and he couldn’t look away as Morpheus practically crawled across the small gap between them on the couch.

“Would you like to know if I can see your daydreams, Hob Gadling?”

Hob felt the armrest behind him and realised he had been leaning back, and now Morpheus was looming over him.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Perhaps we have already met. In your dreams. But men forget in waking hours.” Morpheus’ voice was quiet, his nose almost touching Hob’s.

“Morpheus…” Hob managed. He could feel that his face was flushed, and it was difficult to string together a sentence with Morpheus looking at him with flames behind his eyes, his breath warm on Hob’s face.

Some hesitance appeared on Morpheus’ features, and he pulled back slightly. “Am I causing you discomfort? Tell me and I shall stop.”

“No,” Hob gripped the front of the hoodie, so tightly his knuckles paled. “Don’t,” his voice came out a whisper, and he met Morpheus’ gaze, showing with his eyes what he couldn’t articulate with his words.

Morpheus’ breath hitched, and he descended on Hob, capturing his lips.

Hob’s hands went up to Morpheus’ hair, and he groaned at how impossibly soft it felt. Morpheus put more of his weight against him, and Hob arched into the touch. He angled their mouths to deepen the kiss, and Morpheus welcomed Hob’s tongue with his own.

Hob sighed at the sensation of the heat in Morpheus’ mouth, tasting of buttered popcorn and the comforts of home. Hob could have spent the entire night like that, being pressed into his couch by Morpheus with their tongues gliding against each other.

They parted only enough to catch their breaths, their foreheads pressed together.

“Do you…” Hob’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “Wanna sleep in my bed tonight? We don’t have to do anything, we can literally just sleep. Before I drive you out of the city tomorrow…?”

Morpheus smiled down at him, and any embarrassment that Hob might have felt in that question dissipated in the face of that brightness. “That sounds lovely.”

So they did just that, though they continued to make out for a good long while before literally just sleeping in each other’s arms. Hob had no complaints.

***

“I have a press tour coming up, for the new film. And I will be busy for around two months. But afterwards… might I be able to visit your pub again?” Morpheus asked as they drove out of the mall parking lot.

The crowd of people looking for Morpheus had fortunately lessened enough that they were able to get into Hob’s car and have a quick shopping trip at the department store to buy Morpheus some clothes for his sister’s party.

“Of course,” Hob said, then he remembered something. “But, ah… The pub might not be there anymore at that time, and I might be living somewhere else. But we can definitely still see each other, I’ll text you my new address.”

They had cuddled for a while before breakfast, and shared a few soft kisses after, but neither of them had brought up any labels of sorts for what they might be now, and Hob was happy to know that Morpheus still wanted to see him in the future. Morpheus even gave his number to Hob without Hob having to ask.

“Hold on,” Morpheus frowned. “You’re shutting down The White Horse? Why?”

Hob’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, it was something he avoided discussing even with his other friends, as it made him feel like too much of a failure. “It’s… well, it’s not making enough money. I might not be able to make next month’s rent for the building, and I’d have no choice but to close down the pub and move somewhere cheaper.”

“You brought me food from your pub for three days,” Morpheus sounded horrified. “For free! Hob, why didn’t you say anything? I could have paid for all of those—”

“Hey, hey, now, none of that,” Hob chided him. “Like I said, I offered to help, remember? And calm down, love, it’s not like you’ve driven me to homelessness. I’ve made arrangements with my staff, I’ll be helping them find other jobs before I close down the pub. And I can get back to teaching again while I figure stuff out.”

Morpheus was silent for a while, and Hob’s eyes were on the road so he wasn’t sure what Morpheus looked like, but when he spoke again he was much calmer.

“You told me that it was your dream to own a pub. Am I remembering correctly?”

“Yeah, but, you know…” Hob shrugged, though he felt touched that Morpheus remembered him mentioning that in passing during dinner. “It’s just how it is, sometimes.”

“What seems to be the problem? Your food is excellent, and I like to believe the service is commendable as well.”

“Too much competition,” Hob said, unable to keep the tiredness from his voice. “I mean, I’ll still do what I can, but there’s lots of new restaurants in the area now, and then there’s the mall. It might be better if I just focus on finding new jobs for the staff.”

“So the main issue is visibility, yes? You need to be known by potentially new customers?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll be working on when I get back home.”

“I see.” Morpheus pulled out his phone and began typing. “I don’t suppose you have any objections if I post on my social media pages that I’ve had a good dining experience at The White Horse and tag its location?”

“What?” Hob looked over in surprise at Morpheus before turning his eyes back on the road again. “Morpheus, you don’t have to do that. You don’t owe me anything, really.”

“I am aware. I simply want to help out a friend. We are… friends, yes?”

There was a hesitation in Morpheus’ voice, and Hob couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted Hob to say that they were more than that, or if he was hoping that Hob would take the hint that they were just friends from now on.

“If that’s what you want,” Hob said and gave him a smile, figuring it was a safe enough answer.

“What I want is to be an investor of The White Horse. Once I get a new manager, they will be in contact with you about the details while I am on the press tour.”

“What?” Hob said incredulously as they stopped at a traffic light. He turned to look at Morpheus. “That’s— Isn’t that too much? You don’t need to do all of that.”

“I have some very fond memories of the place, and I’m afraid I have grown quite attached to it,” Morpheus smiled. “You have my word that I will back out at any point once you feel that it can stand on its own again, and you will remain the sole owner.”

“That’s not even what I’m thinking about! Morpheus, are you sure you really wanna do that? Not just because you feel like you have to return the favour or…?”

Morpheus reached over and placed his hand on Hob’s. “You are dear to me, Hob. That is why I care about your happiness. And I meant what I said about the place holding fond memories for me. Will you allow me to help?” he held up his phone to show Hob what he had planned on posting.

There were a few pictures of The White Horse from the internet, Hob recognized them as the few they had uploaded as ads. And Morpheus had captioned them by saying that the food and service were excellent, and he would definitely come back from time to time.

“You haven’t posted it yet…?”

“I will not do so without your agreement,” Morpheus brushed his thumb across the back of Hob’s hand.

Hob was almost overwhelmed by the absolute care that Morpheus put towards his feelings, and he had to take a breath before he could speak again. He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Morpheus smiled and let go of Hob’s hand as the traffic light changed and they had to move again.

They spent the rest of the short ride in comfortable silence, with Morpheus tapping away on his phone.

A few minutes later, they arrived at what looked like a fancy restaurant, complete with a garden and a fountain in the middle of it.

“Is this the place?” Hob said as they parked.

“Yes,” Morpheus nodded. “We used to go here often as children, and my sister wanted to celebrate her birthday here.”

They got out of the car, and Hob walked Morpheus to the entrance.

“I guess this is it, then?” Hob tried to sound casual, but even he could feel that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you for everything, Hob Gadling,” Morpheus held his gaze. “Truly, you have been a wonderful companion in our short time together.”

“I could say the same thing about you. I’m glad you chose my place to break into.”

They chuckled, and then there was nothing more to say. They stared at each other, neither one willing to be the first to leave.

Hob steeled his nerves and moved towards Morpheus’ lips—

“Morpheus! You’re really here!”

Hob flinched away and saw a young woman in a beautiful dress run out of the doors to embrace Morpheus.

“Blysse,” Morpheus returned the gesture. “You have grown so tall now. Any more and we would be of the same height.”

Blysse laughed and pulled away from the hug.

“This is my friend, Robert,” Morpheus smiled at him. “He has been very kind to me. I might not have been able to be here without his help.”

“Don’t say that,” Hob returned the smile, then looked at Morpheus’ sister. “Your brother really wanted to be here, I’m sure he would have found a way no matter what.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Robert!” Blysse beamed at him. “Would you like to stay for the party?”

“Oh, really? I’m not sure I’m following the dress code,” he chuckled, looking at the siblings’ formal outfits.

“I have some spare clothes in your car, you can borrow some,” Morpheus said.

“Great!” Blysse smiled. “I’ll see you both inside! I’ll tell Tia you’re here!” she said to Morpheus before running back inside.

“Morpheus,” Hob said uncertainly. “I know you borrowed my clothes, but I’m not sure it could go the other way around.” His shoulders alone are significantly broader.

Morpheus smiled playfully. “I think you’ll find that there is at least one suit in your car that is your exact size.”

Hob looked at him in surprise. “You set me up,” he said accusingly, but he was already smiling.

“Perhaps.” Morpheus’ eyes were twinkling. “And I believe we were interrupted earlier.” He stepped forward and pressed their lips together, his hands holding Hob’s face.

Hob held Morpheus’ waist, their kiss soft and lingering with the barest brush of their tongues.

“Hob,” Morpheus said quietly, still holding Hob’s face. “You have truly been a beautiful presence in my life, and I will not ask you to wait for me—”

“I will,” Hob said, meeting Morpheus’ gaze. “I’ll wait anyway.”

Morpheus looked at him with something like awe before kissing him again. “I think you better get dressed now before we get too distracted to attend the party.”

Hob chuckled. “Good point.”

They got the suit from the car and headed inside to the bathrooms.

“Since I will be an investor for your establishment, it only makes sense that we would be in constant communication with each other.”

“I thought you said your new manager will contact me?” Hob raised an eyebrow playfully.

“They will, but I like to be hands-on about my interests,” Morpheus said pointedly.

They reached the bathrooms and Morpheus stopped just outside.

“You’re not coming in with me?” Hob teased. “I wouldn’t mind you being ‘hands-on’ in there.”

“Believe me when I say that if I go in with you, I will not be helping you put on any clothes,” Morpheus said evenly, a smile playing on his lips.

Hob chuckled and went inside.

He took a good look at the suit for the first time, smiling as he saw the colours.

Monochromatic black and white. He would match with Morpheus. 

---

Notes:

This got away from me in so many places and grew to be about three times longer than I initially thought it would be, so I finished it a bit late 😅 I really like how it turned out, though 🖤

Thank you so much to @patchyegg87 for all the help in brainstorming and beta-reading, and for keeping me motivated throughout this whole thing especially when I was doubting whether I could still finish it~

And thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! ^_^

Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments!

---

Part 2 ->

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[ladykailitha]

Posting Schedule and Story Update

I know, I know I don't have a posting schedule, not really. At least in terms of what gets published when, only the days of the week stuff gets posted.

Well for the next four weeks there will be one:

Never Hold Back Your Step...- Sundays

Well Met By Moonlight- Tuesdays

Icarus- Thursdays

Special- Saturdays*

But I'm also getting worryingly low on my backlog (like I'm about dip into single digit range) and I hate having it that low.

So what I usually do is take a week or so off posting and build it back up. And I would normally take the week of my birthday off (Aug 14) to play catch up, but...

Yeah, I'm planning on posting the final chapter of Well Met By Moonlight (werewolf Steve) on the 13th. One year after it's release and since I'm releasing on that day, it doesn't make sense to only post that day and none of the rest of the week.

Also depending on what I am doing on the 14th (as whether or not my husband works) will decide whether or not I'm doing WIP Wednesday that day because if I'm not really doing anything, than I would prefer hanging out with you guys and writing. But I'll keep you posted the closer that gets.

But if he does have it off, I'll take it off and have two days the next week to make up for it. It would also be that week that I would take off posting and probably the next week as well. It depends on how much I get done.

But here's the exciting part, during this time between now and Aug 18th I will continue to work on the exotic club one and will have a ton of fun chapters to share when I get back from my break.

I will still be doing WIP Wednesdays and posting ideas and meta and headcanons and all that fun stuff. And maybe some fun polls too.

Also it is looking like "Never Hold Back Your Step..." (boy w/a bat) will be only 17 chapters long (maybe only 16 depending on how much of the Mind Flayer fight I put in it). I'm hoping it'll be only 16 really so that it can end the same week as Well Met.

I think a lot of people are hoping for their favorite parts of season 3, but this story was never meant to re-write canon. It was just meant to look into the idea that Eddie picked Steve up as a lost sheepie between season 2 and 3. Something that at the time there wasn't a lot of.

We'll see.

But expect to see me start posting again on Sept 1st for sure or on Aug 25th, if I have a really good week. And I'll be kicking it off the exotic dancer one, which I'm really excited for.

*Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate will be finished this Saturday. Leaving the Caged Bird Still Sings (sugar baby!Steve/sugar daddy!Eddie) to take its posting slot on Saturdays.

Tagging my permanent list to make sure everyone who needs to see this can.

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[not-poignant]

April 2024 - Update Schedule

April chapter update schedule:

(Tier+ = This tier or any higher, as every higher tier accesses all rewards in lower cost tiers)

-

Tuesday 2nd - Constellations 05/08(AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Gary&Efnisien Tier+)

Thursday 4th - Underline the Black 85

Sunday 7th - A Stain that Won't Dissolve 35

Tuesday 9th - Birthday Spotlight: Caleb Crawford

Sunday 14th - Underline the Gold 07/08 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

Wednesday 17th - Birthday Spotlight: Ohlo Ohlo Temsen

Thursday 18th - Underline the Black 86

Thursday 18th - Birthday Spotlight: Crielle ferch Fnwy

Sunday 21st - A Stain that Won't Dissolve 36

Sunday 21st - Birthday Spotlight - Janusz Bodanowicz

Tuesday 23rd - The Nascent Diplomat 43/44 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

Thursday 25th - Underline the Black 87

Sunday 28th - Underline the Gold 08/09 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

-

We're switching to Underline the Gold for the next two months and I'm super excited about it! It's time to see how Flitmouse and Anton are holding up, and how the early stages of their relationship is continuing.

The Sunday-to-Sunday break continues. During this time I catch up on writing, editing, comments, and anything else that needs doing.

~

Stories with updates as yet undetermined: Palmarosa (Apologies to my Palmarosa peeps! I have wanted to work on this story so badly, but the new Stardew Valley update has eaten my entire life lol)

Most chapters go up between 6-7pm GMT+8 (or the time that you’re already used to me putting chapters up, lol). For those who are anxious to know when chapters are updating, hopefully this helps! If there’s ever an emergency, or a scheduling issue (like a surprise family dinner) I generally put up stories a day early and not late.

[agrownupgeekgirl]

4 days after my 18th birthday I had my daughter. I asked at the time for a permanent birth control option, a tubal ligation. I was told no. I was too young. I would regret the decision.

No.

3 weeks before I turned 20 I had my son. I asked for a permanent birth control option. I hadn't changed my mind since the first time. I was told no. I was too young. I would change my mind. What if "god forbid" something happened to one of my kids? 

No.

So with no other options I went with an IUD. At the time it would be good for 10 years. Then maybe they would consider giving me a tubal.

10 years later my periods were so bad, because of the IUD, that I would bleed through a tampon and a pad in the night and wake up with stained sheets. I went to the Dr and said "Can I please have the tubal now? I've not changed my mind since I was 18."

Problem. At the time I lived in Miles City, Montana and the only hospital was a Catholic St. Vincent's and because they were a Catholic hospital they would not do a tubal because it was birth control. So at the clinic in town they could do an ablation on my uterus to stop my periods and at the same time put implants in my tubes that would act like a ligation. Those blocks were Essure Tubal Blocks. They were a "safe" permanent alternative to the tubal I had been asking for since I was 18. So I said yes.

Yes.

14 years later I start bleeding. Cramping. I go to the Dr. Apparently ablations done before a woman is 40 can actually heal so I needed an ultrasound to see if that's what was happening. 

In the ultrasound the nurse said that my uterus was fine, no regrowth but asked if I had a coil? I said not anymore, that it had been removed when they did the ablation and put in the Essure blocks. The blocks are actually very small coils as well, and it turns out one of mine is missing and the other is moving out of the tube towards my uterus.

I looked it up and found this:

Essure Tubal Blocks Lawsuits

The ultrasound was Friday. They said that I'd need an X-ray to see if they could find the missing coil.

Sunday I started bleeding again, so Monday morning I went back to the Dr. He said he'd order an urgent xray, then called last night to say I could go into the hospital as a walk in to get the X-ray. So I went today but they said it wasn't put in as a walk in so I'd have to wait until I got a letter with an appointment.

Wait.

I'm so tired and so overwhelmed and so angry. 

26 years ago if they had done what I asked this wouldn't be happening. 

24 years ago if they had done what I asked this wouldn't be happening.

14 years ago if they had done what I wanted this wouldn't be happening.

If I had ever had any say over my own fucking body, if I had ever been more than just a body that could give birth, this wouldn't be fucking happening!

Im scared and I'm tired. I wish I had been a person.

[dickarchivist]

404th Celebration Q&A!!

Hello and welcome! In Honor of ME!!! (it's my birthday this week!) I will be hosting a Q&A for Grave Squad and the rest of the 404th beginning Thursday, April 18th, at midnight, and ending Sunday, April 21st at midnight!

You are more than welcome to send in Asks starting TODAY! But keep in mind I will not answer them publicly until the event begins! Anon is on for this celebration!

If you send an anon with mature themes, you must include an @ mention of your blog or the anon will not be answered! This is to keep minors from sneaking in, thank you for your understanding.

Thanks for celebrating with me!

Participating OCs under the cut:

- Jedi General Dax'Malkin Valka and his Padawan, Athena Bello

Grave Squad of the 404th, the boys you all know and love!

- CC-1313, Ghost

- ARC-1404, Phantom

- ARC-1551 Specter

- COS-1666 Banshee

- CM-1789 Wraith

Introducing: THE COLD COMMAND

- CC-1312, Stone Cold (introduced in the NYE event)

- CC-1300 Zeros

- CC 1330 Shiver

- CC 1328 Frost

- CC 1332 Winter

Stone is General Ops, Marshall Commander of All the 404th

Shiver is in charge of their ARC troops and other stealth ops (he trained Phantom and Specter)

Zeros is medical, he's the chief of medicine, and the oldest clone in the 404th.

Frost is ground troops and tactics.

Winter is explosives and demolition

Tag List!

@anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga @atomickidsoul @moonwreckd

[writebythecside]

Posting the cover art for my Ghoulcy Week fic here so I can snag the image url and embed it on AO3.

Fic coming Sunday!

New Moon Over a Wasteland

Lucy hasn't seen any member of the Howard Vampire Coven since Monty broke her heart and yanked away her chance of eternal life the day after her 18th birthday. A decade later, and now a deputy sheriff in a small town in the middle of Nowhere, Maine, Lucy's life is dramatically different. When Cooper Howard, the coven's patriarch, arrives at a crime scene as the new Medical Examiner, Lucy can't help but wonder if he's connected to the string of steadily growing murders, and if he ever discovered the secret she's kept for 10 years.

AKA, my fic for the Ghoulcy Week October 2024 Day #4 Vampire prompt, AKA the Ghoulcy AU fic that bravely answers a question we have all definitely asked ourselves: "What if Ghoulcy existed in a New Moon/Twilight AU where Bella realized Carlisle was a DILF, the Cullens still peaced out but there was no trips to Italy so Bella moved on with her life, until she reconnected with Carlisle years later for a small town murder mystery, and they ended up banging?"