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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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The Sandman and the Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 6: Friends As Endless and Constantine As Mine

REPOSTING! Sorry all, my app is glitched to shit so I'm reposting to fix the missing read more issue! If you can just like and repost or something to boost this one I'd appreciate it since the other will be deleted! <3

TW: angst, depression, slight horror, slight blood, slight gore (sorry for the late posting, technical difficulties are a bitch) BUT here are all 13,039 (aka 34 pages) of chapter 6!

1934

I was floating in an endless sea of stars, the ebb and flow of cosmic waves wrapping me in an ethereal warmth. For the first time in a long time I felt free. I should have known it wouldn't last. The stars around me took shape, a hand cradling me within it as it lifted me upwards. The sea of stars pulled together, swirling around two glowing eyes until they formed the vague shape of a woman.

You do not belong in the Sunless Lands, not now, not ever.

The voice was all around me, made of the stars themselves. I didn't understand.

Two tethered stars cannot survive this world alone. One must have the other or chaos and ruin shall reign.

It didn't make sense, but I could feel the weight of impending cold beginning to seep back into the air as the hand began to lower me down. It got colder and colder until it felt unbearable. No. Please.

So upon your head I give a gift. The blessing of the Night.

The cold bit at my skin and settled deep into my bones as I pulled myself from the river and collapsed along its edge. I was shivering, shaking, so violently I almost couldn't move as I forced my stiff body to roll. The stars were back in the sky clear and bright and warm and far away. A shuddering breath left me as I looked up at it in awe and wept. It was an odd sensation, feeling both disappointed and glad. I hadn't intended to survive and after everything I'd been through, death seemed like the last way out. Yet here I was, alive?

"Hello!" A voice startled me to my feet, but as I tried to move, to run, I started to fall. Two arms wrapped around me, helping me stand. "Oh, you poor thing, you look so lost."

"Y-You could say that," I replied in a shaky voice.

"I'll admit, I'm a little lost too. Well I wasn't, but now it seems something's changed."

When I had finally regained my balance I turned to the stranger and squinted. "Do I know you? You look very familiar."

Her smile was warm and full of comfort, something I hadn't felt in so long it felt foreign. "I get that sometimes. But I don't think you're supposed to know me, not yet… At least that's what it looks like."

She was beautiful, elegant and regal even in the simple clothes she wore. The gold of her pendant glistened in the moonlight as she shrugged off her shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders, rubbing slightly to try and warm me. I could feel the heat rolling off her and before I could stop myself I'd curled up under her arm, leaning into her, soaking up every second of that warmth that she'd let me.

She held me tighter and we walked along the edge of the river, back towards the dim city lights. "I should probably give you my name since I'm curled up on you like a cat."

"You don't have to," she said. "And I don't mind, I always liked cats."

"I'm Penelope." I gave her the name anyway, though I'd gotten the sense she didn't need it to know who I was. I looked up at her, her arm thrown over my shoulder as we walked. I knew her face, but I just couldn't place where I'd seen her.

She glanced down at me. "Don't strain yourself, Penelope."

At the sound of her saying my name, the familiarly sweet voice hit me. "Death." She smiled. "You were here for me, weren't you?"

Nodding she tightened her arm around me, shielding me from the chilled breeze. "I was."

"What stopped you?"

"You did." We were just minutes from the city now, just minutes from the world I'd longed to be part of for eight years of hell. The world I no longer knew anything about. I was scared, absolutely terrified, to leave the warmth of Death's side. To be forced to face the unfamiliar life that now waited for me.

The air around us grew colder, a sign that our walk was almost over. "Why?"

She pulled us both to a stop and with the most loving eyes she pressed my hand to my chest. The beating of my heart hummed under my palm. "You feel that? That's a beating heart. Your beating heart. You are here, heart beating, lungs full of air. You, Penelope Barlow are alive. You're alive."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. "What if I don't want to be?"

Death's smile was sad, but her eyes were soft. She tucked my hair behind my ear. "We don't choose when our time is up, not me and not you. I know you think I'm the only way forward, but I'm not. I'm the end, love. I know it hurts, I feel it hurting, but in time that will fade."

"What if I can't do it?" I asked, holding back a sob. "What if I can't move forward?"

"I can't tell you what's certain for you. Hell, nothing might be certain for you, you are special." She wiped a tear from my cheek. "What I can tell you is that even though you may not want life now, you will again. In a year, ten years or even twenty! Time changes things, heals things. It won't always be this painful, it can't be, not when there's so much love and beauty here, you just need to find it again."

"But why? Why me?"

"I don't know," she admitted sadly, sad that she couldn't help me further.

I wiped my eyes and looked out at the looming cityscape of London. It looked so foreign. "I don't know what to do now."

She grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. "You live. For all you've lost and all you have yet to find, you live."

"Will I see you again?" I asked, squeezing her hand back.

With a shrug she smiled brightly. "When it comes to you, I don't really know."

"Then I guess we'll see."

"Guess so." She pulled me into a warm hug. "Goodbye Penelope. I might be seeing you."

As she walked off into the night I waved, whispering a faint goodbye. "I might be seeing you too, Death."

1946

I could feel the heat of the fire rolling across my skin. Shouts and sirens echoed in the streets, the neighbors rushed from their homes, running in a frenzy of panic. But I remained still, frozen in place as I watched it burn. This was my fault, I told myself. They wanted me… If I'd just-

Two firm hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me away from the building. Everything spun. The fleeting faces of the crowd swirling together like melting wax. The hand I'd been gripping onto slipped from my grasp. "Penelope! God damn it, Penelope, move your feet!"

Move your feet. Had I stopped? Move. I didn't remember doing that. Move. The ringing echoing in my ears had finally started to dull, slowly being replaced by my loud heaving breaths. MOVE! I stumbled forward just in time as the car flew past me. Hands grabbed my arms again, pulling me forward into the solid chest that smelt of ink and steel.

"I did this," I sobbed into him. "Olethros…"

His firm voice wrapped around me like a blanket. "No you didn't, this isn't your fault."

Wails and screaming echoed from down the street. The sounds still made my mind twist, threatening to pull me back to that room, to the haunted memories of the asylum. I cried harder as Olethros' hands covered my ears, blocking the sound from bringing me further pain. He pressed a kiss to my hair and said something I couldn't hear before he moved my hands to replace his and lifted me up into his arms.

He ran, we ran. The further we got from the blazing flame the more the pit in my stomach sank. I'd failed him… Again. The past eleven years were all wasted, because of me. Because I'd gotten too comfortable. The house… Everyone inside… Their blood was on my hands.

I was soaked in it, stained, in the blood of all the innocent people my rebellion had caused. All the people that chose to help me, chose to love me. All of them were gone. And it meant nothing. The Sandman was still trapped, our plan never being able to take shape. The cult once belonging to Roderick Burgess had gained more power than ever and the Institution… A weak sob left me. The institution knew I was alive.

Everything I touched I ruined. Everything I said turned to ash. And everyone I loved either burned in the flames or withered away by my side. Long life, perhaps even eternal life, had not been the gift I hoped.

I clung to Olethros' broad shoulders, held onto him, the last piece I had left to remind me I wasn't alone. "Rest, Inky, we're almost there."

The warmth of his nickname spread through me, lulling me to sleep with thoughts of what our life would be like in America. He could paint, I could collect antiques, and my friend and I would never have to be alone again. When I woke the ground was swaying side to side. Salt filled the air and the sound of waves hammered against the wood walls that surrounded me. I sat up in the swinging hammock, eyes darting around in search of the familiar tall burly redhead. Panic filled me when I found nothing.

"Oh good you're awake!" An old man wearing a sailors uniform said as he made his way across the room to me. "Thought you were dead for a bit!"

"My friend, where is he?" I asked, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"Friend?"

"Big guy, red hair, you can't miss him."

"Ahh yeah, he dropped you off."

Despair filled my lungs. "Dro...dropped me off?"

The sailor nodded. "Yeah, he brought you on board, told us you were goin to America and left."

My jaw clenched. "No... No. We were supposed to go together, he's supposed to be here."

"Sorry lass," was all he said as he turned and left.

Alone. I was alone again. My chest ached with the crushing weight I'd long avoided, the weight of the nothing that looked over me. White walls, endless halls... NO! I'm not there. I'm here. I'm here. I pressed my hand to my chest, holding it tightly over the heartbeat. I'm here. I'm alive.

God it hurt, it always hurt. Tears streamed down my cheeks but these were different. These tears weren't out of fear or loss or sorrow, but of anger. I was angry. Angry at everyone that had just kept taking and breaking down all I worked to build. Angry at Olethros, so angry, that he just left me here, after everything. Fire burned my throat as I screamed, throwing whatever I could get my hands on at the wall. But when the fire faded I was still alone. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees as I cried, the ship rocking me back and forth with the waves.

1968

America was just another shit hole to me. The anger I'd clung to had served me well, for a while, but as anger always did it burned out slowly. It faded with each year that passed, with each brick I'd built up once again from the bottom. My life here hadn't been difficult, the inheritance I'd kept from my family's estates and whatever I'd been able to save from what Olethros and I had accumulated, kept me comfortable, but the small surrounding comforts of a lonely life meant very little to me.

Truth be told I was scared. Scared to lose anyone else. Scared to be betrayed again. Scared to do anything but sit on the rickety bed and stare at the hideous wallpaper. A chill ran up my spine as a low, guttural moan filled the room. "This feels different. Your despair."

In the shadows the figure of a woman stood. "God not again," I said with a sigh. "Look, I'm kind of over the hallucinating so if you don't mind just fucking off right back to where you came from, please."

She shuttered. "You're so much meaner than I thought you'd be. But, he can be mean too sometimes… Oftentimes."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, lady, I really don't want to do this."

"You don't want anything." She said sadly. "That's why I'm here. It's why I can feel all the pain boiling up inside you."

"That sounds disgusting."

"No!" She cried, a glint of metal flashing in the pale light. "It's beautiful! I've never seen pain so beautiful before! You're special."

"Fuck me," I groaned standing and pointing a finger at her. "If I hear one more person tell me how goddamn special I am I'm going to throw someone off a building!"

The glittering fish hook dug into her face as she smiled. "Oh they're going to love you! But you'd best be nicer to them, they like to hold a grudge."

Anger swelled in me as I turned, grabbing a lamp off the desk and raising to throw it, but when I turned the figure was gone. I sat back on the bed and looked down at my shaking hands. I need help. The realization was colder than I expected, but it was more than I'd felt in a while so I welcomed it. He would hate you, I told myself looking at the wall. He would hate what you've let yourself become.

1989

Our lips were hot and wet as they moved in a poorly choreographed dance. My fingers had curled in his hair, his had done the same. I should have felt more... Pressed up against another warm body, the light buzz of alcohol, this should have been better. But it wasn't.

I pulled away, setting a hand on the stranger's chest. When I looked up, with my vision slightly blurred, his hair was dark and hungry starry eyes stared down at me. I blinked and it was gone, the dark hair turned light, his dark eyes looked down at me with confusion. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." I sighed. "I just need a minute, I think."

"Okay, well come find me later, yeah?"

"Sure," I lied.

Dragging my feet I returned to the bar of the old tavern, sitting in the stool the bartender had brought out for me. He gave me a look, the same look he'd given me two other times this week. Why was this so hard? I wanted to scream. Why did it always feel so hollow?

"My, my, aren't you just the belle of the bar," a light teasing voice cooed beside me.

The bright red lips caught my eye first as I turned, the cheshire grin sending a chill down my spine. The golden eyes and skin tight black leather of their outfit were both close seconds though. I shook off my surprise and met their gaze, a hum of something rolling from the honeyed depths. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh no need to apologize, little petal." They said twirling a strand of my hair on their finger. "You, it would seem, are the most desired creature in this place."

I glanced around, confused as to who this was and why they'd spoken with such familiarity. "I don't understand."

A throaty laugh. "Yes, that much is obvious." Wow, rude. I thought, clenching my jaw. Their fingers brushed over it gently. "Oh come now, I'm only teasing. I was hoping you'd be more fun than him, my twin told me you had spark, but now I'm not so sure."

"Look, I don't know you or your twin nor do I particularly want to, so can you just tell me what you want so I can go back to my night?"

The gold in their eyes swam with glee. "Oooh, there's that fire! I like it!" With a long, languid look around the bar they sighed. "All these people either want to fuck you or be you. Their desire is so... Simple." They looked back at me. "But you, you I can't seem to read. So, petal, what I want is to know... What do you desire?"

They'd moved closer, just an inch away from my face. "Some personal space."

Another long laugh. "I do love the attitude, but let's not kid ourselves into thinking it's aimed at me."

"What?"

"All that fire, all that venom and nowhere to put it. How tragic." They purred. Pressing a quick kiss to my cheek they turned to leave, but not without throwing one last insult over their shoulder, "If you ever decide he's too self important for your tastes, do remember my doors are always open for you, petal."

Through the crowd the shimmer of the black leather vanished. I did my best to brush them off. They obviously had me mixed up with someone else. The bartender set my drink down and arched a brow. "You doin' okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just an off night."

"Looks like you ain't the only one," he said nodding toward a man alone at a table. I watched him for a moment, taking in his dark hair and sad eyes. Yeah, he's definitely not having the best time. As the crowd thinned he came to the bar, leaning against it trying to hide the sigh. "Whisky please."

"Oh, you'll have to be more specific," the old barkeeper said. "We have a menu now."

"Oh," he said, taking the plastic lined paper and giving it a half glance. "What's the oldest you've got?"

"I've got a Glen Grant old enough to be your father!" He answered.

A chuckle and a look, amused and cocky, filled the man's face. His eyes stayed sad. "I'm older than I look."

The barkeeper filled his glass, sliding it towards him. He lifted it to his nose, our eyes locking as he took a long sip. He wasn't ugly, quite handsome in fact, but I was far more curious about the sadness he seemed to carry so, before I could think better of it I asked, "You waiting for someone?"

He pulled the glass from his lips and smiled that same smile. "I think I’ve been stood up.”

“I’m sorry.”

With a shrug he looked into his glass, swirling the liquid around a bit. “We had a fight. Last time we were here. It was my fault. I wish I could say I was drunk at the time, but I was just an idiot.”

I smiled, taking a sip from my own glass. “Well, you do look the type. No offense!”

“None taken.” He said, clearing his throat slightly. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He looked around as if the question had been outrageous. “You’re by far the most beautiful girl in this place and here you are sat alone with me and the barkeep.”

“If I’m with you and the barkeep am I really alone?” I countered, nervously stirring my drink with the straw.

“A fair point, but my question remains the same.” He slid closer. “What’s your sob story?”

I bit my lip, trying to fight the smile that started to spread. “That’s a very long story, stranger.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Is this your move?” I teased. “You make up a little story about being stood up by a friend and then come over to hit on lonely girls at the bar?”

With a boisterous laugh he shook his head. “That would be rather pathetic, wouldn’t it?”

I took another drink. “Eh, I’ve seen worse.”

“So, why are you lonely?”

“That is the question of the hour.” I had the answer, but I refused to acknowledge it. The pain of such an admittance would drive me back to where I’d been thirty years ago, and I wouldn't go back there. Not back to the hallucinating and the constant state of fear and pain that had all but consumed me. I owed him more than that.

"Well, lonely stranger," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Hob."

It was an odd name, but I placed my hand in his with a smile. "Hello, Hob, I'm Penelope."

He pressed a kiss to my knuckles and winked. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "So, you think your friend is still mad at you?"

"More than likely, he's the type to hold a grudge."

The barkeep chuckled, butting into the conversation. “I’ve seen plenty of friends get in fights in pubs. Even more of them laugh about it together later!”

Hob looked over the counter and smiled again, more amused this time. “Maybe in another hundred years.”

“Ah, you’ll have to have found a new pub by then. This place has been sold to make room for new flats.” The horror that filled his face was something I wasn’t expecting. Had it meant so much to him? Perhaps to his friend? "The borough council are trying to stop them, but if you've got enough money in this country you can do whatever you bloody want."

I sat with him for another few minutes before the place needed to close. He was still upset, still for whatever reason worried as we stepped out into the night. "Would you like me to wait with you, while you call someone or?"

"It's alright, I walked." I assured him just as the rain began to pour down from the starry sky. With a sigh I looked up at them, wishing to see the blue pair of eyes looking at me once again.

"Need an umbrella?" Hob asked. "I'm sure I have a spare."

I smiled at him, a smile that reflected his. "And miss out on the rain?! Absolutely not!"

"You are the strangest girl I've ever met, Penelope."

"Strange," I hummed, mulling it over in my head. "I quite like that."

"See you around?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe in a hundred years."

The phrase seemed to light something in him as a smile, a real smile spread on his face as he tipped his imaginary to me. "A hundred years then."

2017

I pulled up to the club, tires screeching against the asphalt as I skidded next to her car. God damn you Johanna Constantine! I cursed, ripping my belt off and slamming my door. A hooded man leaned up against her car, flipped casually through the pages of his book.

"You're too late," he said in a rich slightly scratchy voice as I drew closer.

"Excuse me?"

The chains that seemed to bind him to the book clacked against the hood of the car sending a shiver of unpleasant memories through me. "You're too late to save the girl. Or perhaps you're right on time… It likes to change for you."

I kept walking toward the door, dread filling me at the way the man's weighted words clouded around me. "JOHANNA!" I all but screamed. The smell of smoke and burning flesh was pungent in the air. No. Not again.

I ran, ran through the double doors and almost slammed into the back of Logue, a man I'd only met once before and absolutely hated. He stared down in front of him, wailing, feet planted in place. I shoved him to the side and felt my heart fall into my stomach at the sight of my friend, frozen on the ground, clutching the hand of the girl, Logues daughter, that had no doubt been lost to his stupidity.

"This is your fault," Logue spat down at her and I didn't hesitate to whirl around and punch him.

The sound of his nose breaking beneath my fist was music to my ears. As he stumbled and stuttered out cries I stood over him. "If you want your nose to be the only thing I break you'd better leave now. And I don't want to hear a goddamn word from you ever again."

He ran out, but I didn't focus on him, couldn't, not when Johanna was sat there unmoving and practically wheezing. "Jo..." I tried in a soft voice.

Nothing.

I knelt down beside her and carefully moved the hair from her face. Her lip quivered. "Johanna." Her eyes had begun to water, tears already spilling over as I rubbed a soothing hand over her back and gently held the wrist of the hand that still held onto the girl. "Johanna, you have to let go."

Her chest heaved. "I... I can't."

"Yes you can," I assured her. "Let go."

The arm thudded to the floor and I pulled her into my embrace immediately. As was the Constantine way she resisted, tried pushing her pain back down and me along with it, but I still held her.

I knew this pain, knew it well, knew it wasn't one you could push down. So I held her as she pushed and shouted and raged in my arms. Eventually the fight left her and the heartbroken sobs filled the room as the remnants of fire and brimstone crackled beside us.

"I've got you," I whispered, blinking the tears from my own eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Jo. I promise."

This promise was one I intended to keep. After all, Johanna Constantine had been my only constant in recent years. The only one I had to call upon if I needed help, so in turn I was there for her. Most would have called such a thing friendship, but she'd hated that word, so we'd called it a beneficial alliance, something she still hated but at least allowed. But, I had no trouble admitting that Johanna Constantine was my friend and that I wouldn't abandon her to bear the pain, no doubt ahead of her, alone.

Present Day

The rain had begun suddenly and had only worsened as the afternoon drifted to night. I saw the flash of white, her signature coat, in the crowd ahead. "Johanna!"

She, thankfully, heard me and stopped. I opened my umbrella, running out from my covered spot to catch up to her. She smiled as our umbrellas knocked together. "Didn't know you were out and about today."

"I was just looking at a few antiques from a collector." I replied, falling into step beside her.

"Were they shit?"

"Absolutely!"

She shook her head. "It appears you still hold the title of greatest antique in London!"

I scoffed and smacked her umbrella. "Bitch."

***

London. The city that he had been doomed to, bound to, for so long the mere air left him tasting ash. He hated it. The loud crowds of humans, the cars and trains and constant rain. This city is cursed, he deducted as he waited for the Constantine girl to arrive. She wasn't far, that much he knew, but it appeared as if she was running late.

As he stood out in the dreadful city he felt… Hot? An odd sensation filled him, one he shoved down as the black cab pulled into view and this Johanna Constantine stepped out. She paused across the road, speaking to the woman he knew as Mad Hettie, one of his sisters immortals. He waited for her atop the stairs, somewhere she'd be forced to speak to him in order to pass and when she finally turned and approached him he was surprised by how closely she resembled the Constantine he'd known.

She stopped a mere four steps away and looked up at him with a tilted head. "Constantine."

"Do we know each other?" She asked, taking a step up.

"We have business, you and I." Was all he said, all he was going to say, if there was one thing he hated more than this city it was the forced pleasantries mortals seemed to be so fond of.

She sighed. "Get in line, bruv. I can't keep God waiting."

He was baffled at her words, more so at the way she just waltzed past him. It would seem that while in captivity the humans had grown far more impetulant than even he remembered. So the king of dreams watched Constantine bicker with the priest about the royals and her fee. It was only when the demon tore its way from its host that he intervened.

"You talk too much," the demon growled.

Constantine tilted her head and smirked. "Tell me your name and I’ll stop.”

“And why would I do that? When there are far more enjoyable ways to make you stop.”

Now standing at the top of the steps, looking down at the demon and the one trying to send it back he called out, "His name is Agilieth.”

“I’m flattered you remember me, Lord Morpheus, after all your time away.”

Constantine looked up at him with furrowed brows and a pensive look. “Lord Morpheus?”

“He is.” Agilieth answered, not once breaking the stare of the king. “Though I confess, I almost didn’t recognize you without your helm.” Dream’s glare darkened. “I wonder where your helm could be.”

A test perhaps? To see how much he knew of what had happened to his tools while he was imprisoned. “I presume it is in hell, with the demon to whom it was traded.”

“Yes, but which demon?” He smiled. “Give me the princess and I’ll tell you.”

Dream considered it. After all, what was one mortal princess to an Endless? What was one mortal in exchange for finding his tools, restoring his power and his realm? Constantine began her chant once again. “Wait!”

She did not stop. The ring of fire circled around Agilieth. “Fine, Fine! I’ll tell you where your helm is, just don’t send me back.”

“Constantine stop!” He called out. Still she continued. “I command you!”

“Dream of the Endless commands you!” the demon shouted.

With a smile, smug and rebellious she replied, “Run along and fuck off back to hell.”

He watched as the fire encased the demon, sending it back to its home in ashes. He glared down at her. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“I’ve just tripled my fee,” she answered simply as she turned and began shouting at the priest about how to receive her payment.

He was annoyed, though he probably should have been expecting the outcome from the close proximity to a Constantine. They, no matter what era he’d come across them, were a difficult force of nature. As he stood outside the church, listening to the ramblings of Mad Hettie a pang of guilt filled him as he thought of the cold and callous thoughts he’d had. *She* had been just one mortal, hadn’t she? Had things turned out differently would he have so easily thrown her life away?

The rough sound of her approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts and he turned slightly. She looked, if possible, even more apprehensive than she had before. Hettie huffed. “I said the Sandman and I meant the bleedin’ sandman. It's good to have you back, milord. Don’t let her mess you about.”

He gave the old woman a polite nod, taking her warning more seriously after Constantine's rebellion back in the church as he turned to her. She smirked at him. “My gran used to tell me stories about you lot.”

“I’ve known your family for centuries,” he admitted, voice low, a warning.

“Then you know there's not one of us that can be trusted.” For a brief moment, Morpheus thought he saw a hint of sorrow in her eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “What do you want with me?”

“Something of mine came into your possession.” He said simply. “A leather pouch filled with sand. I need it back.”

“Oh, that was yours?” She pondered. “I bought it at a state sale. Didn’t even manage to get the drawstrings open.”

“Where is it?”

“No idea, could be anywhere.”

“We must find it.”

“Must we? Why is that?”

Morpheus felt his annoyance at her vague answers growing by the minute. Why did it have to be a Constantine? He sighed, hands in his coat pockets fisting in a poor attempt to sooth the hot emotion. “Because without it my realm will cease to exist, and if dreams disappear, then so will humanity.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No offense, but… I could do without dreams for a while. Haven’t had a decent night's sleep in ages.”

“Nor will you,” he insisted, stepping into her path as she moved to leave. “Until we find the sand. We must go. Now.”

“Does this approach generally work for you?” She snapped. “You just turn up and order people about?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” she replied, far too suddenly. Dream resisted the urge to make a face at the compliance. “I’ll help you find your sand.”

“Good.”

“First thing tomorrow, and I work alone.”

There it was.

“No.”

She ignored him. “Don’t want you and your little friend following me all over London.”

“My friend?” He asked. What sort of trick was this?

Her head turned and she gestured off to the side. “Is that not your raven?”

Morpheus turned to look, far too quickly, too eagerly. For a moment he saw Jessamy perched on the back of the bench. For a moment he’d gone back to a point in time where such a sight was not uncommon, nor painful. The little black bird watched him, waiting with a stiff body and confused eyes. He smothered the warm feeling of fondness already forming with the creature.

“My gran said Dream always had a raven,” Constantine said, eyes drinking in his expression, or lack thereof.

“Not anymore.” Was all he could say, and even that had been too much. He approached the bird slowly, speaking softly. “Who are you? Tell me your name.”

“It’s, uh, Matthew, sir.”

“Matthew, I've made it clear to Lucienne that I do not require a raven at this time.”

“Yeah, she told me you’d say that,” he said with a loud caw.

If I need assistance, I will ask for it.” A lie, one Lucienne would immediately see through.

“Uh, you do actually…” Another caw. “She’s getting away, sir!” He looked behind him where Constantine had been and now no longer was. With a sigh the bird looked down. “This is why you need a raven.”

“Go back to the Dreaming, Matthew,” he forced out, though it didn’t sound as harsh as he’d wanted it to. Dream didn’t even need to look at the raven to know he would not listen. Ensuring things went as she wanted was something Lucienne was quite good at when she found something she felt worth her efforts. He’d forgotten how much he missed it as well as hated it.

For a while he wandered the streets, thinking of how to find Constantine once again. It was a simple task, but with his mind so scrambled even the most simple thing felt miles out of his reach. Stopping beside a water feature he looked into the rippling depths, recalling how he’d seen her face in the waters of his realm. It was only one of the odd occurrences that plagued him. They shouldn’t have done that. Those waters had only ever shown him the darker version of himself before. Perhaps it was because he was now the darker version he always saw in the water. Perhaps the dreaming had sensed it and changed to accommodate… Had chosen her because she was all the good he’d had in him.

The raven, Matthew, landed beside him with an uncomfortable stretch of his wings. “I’m back.”

The glare the Endless sent to the bird would have been enough for any human to go running off as fast and far as they could, but the raven didn’t budge. “Yes, in spite of my telling you to leave.”

“I… I can’t. I… The boss lady told me-”

Boss? His mind hissed as the unsettling wave of anger and jealousy rose up in him. He was darker, he concluded then. Darker and desperate. “Lucienne is not your master.”

Matthew clacked his beak. “She told me you’d say that too.”

“Do you know who I am?” Dream asked, slightly less angry.

“Not entirely, but I… I don’t even know who I am anymore. A couple hours ago I apparently died in my sleep, and now I… I’m a bird!” He shifted from foot to foot, stretching his wings out. “I used to have thumbs. Now I have these things.”

“Yes. And now you must use them to fly back to the dreaming.” A hint of pain laced his voice when he spoke next. “This world is not safe.”

“You think I don’t know that? I lived my whole life here. That’s why Lucienne sent me to help you.”

Help me. The very idea was like a bitter wine on his tongue. He’d done nothing for the loyalty of the bird. He’d done nothing. “My last raven came here to help me.”

“Yeah? Where is he now?”

Blood, bones and feathers. The look of her eyes as she held the small creature in her hands. “Her name was Jessamy. She died, trying to help me.”

With a soft click of his beak Matthew sighed. “I’m sorry. Look, let me at least help you find this woman. If she’s asleep we’ve probably got five or six hours before she’s on the move again.”

Of course, he thought. “If she is asleep, then I know exactly where to find her.”

***

Johannas’ favorite restaurant had, of course, been busier than ever. Every time she asked me to go out to grab it the store was swamped., it was almost as if she planned it. Which, knowing her wasn’t that far fetched, especially if the job she was going off on was one she knew she needed help with. No matter how many times I’d told her about my durability she still refused to accept any help unless it included staying at her flat curled up on the couch with a book or laptop doing research.

I had no interest in doing what she did, but after all she’d helped me with, I felt as though it was only fair I offered her the same amount. The Constantines were stubborn and more often than not paranoid when it came to friendships and love. It made sense, their line of work being as dangerous as it was, I just wished that she’d let me help her more. I also wished to not have to hear about it for the next month as she bitched about my softness. Another thing she wasn’t entirely wrong about. I was soft, well I’d grown softer. The old wounds had started to mend and, though I knew the memories and pain would always be there I couldn’t help but think that Death had been right all those years ago.

It took thirty minutes to get our order, and with another ten minute cab ride back to the flat I was certain the food would be cold by then. Johanna wouldn’t mind, especially if her night had been a long one, which was almost a certainty at this point. I just hoped it would be enough for her to finally get some sleep. After what happened with Astra… I'd never been more thankful not to dream before, but seeing Jo struggle with the nightmares always put a pit in my stomach.

I'd seen violence and death before, and as fucked up as it was the bodies and blood weren't what I focused on, weren't what haunted me. No, instead I saw my friend in a spot I'd once been in, a spot where no matter how far ahead you looked the future remained dark and full of despair. Johanna was strong, resilient and seeing her actually break was what scared me the most.

A large shoulder slammed into me, nearly knocking me and the bag of food to the ground. "Watch it, asshole!" I hollered, but kept walking to catch the cab that had pulled up. The air around me swirled with a tang of something, but so close to the car I didn't pay it any mind as I hopped into the cab and gave the driver the address.

***

Dream stood in the darkened, cluttered apartment, looking down at the sleeping Constantine girl. He'd seen horrific memories plague humans dreams for centuries, hers had been cruel and painful, but he'd seen it all before. So, when she woke with a gasping breath and tears in her eyes he didn't react. When she finally noticed him standing in her living room she signed, "For fucks sake. How did you find me?"

"You were dreaming." He answered. "But it was not only a dream, was it? It is a memory. No wonder you do not sleep."

He'd meant for it to be a statement of understanding, but judging by the way she clenched her jaw and glared up at him he'd not done it properly. "Maybe I don't deserve to."

"Perhaps not. But, I could make it go away." A bargain, he thought, would be the best way to ensure her cooperation.

"Only if I help you find your sand." She finished, the look in her eyes shifting into a more contemplating one.

Glancing around at the shelves and piles of things he said, "Though finding anything in this place may require more magic than even you can muster."

Finally she stood, having made up her mind. "I'll look in the office. Try not to clean up while I'm gone."

"I'm coming with you." Was his simple reply. "You have a gift for disappearing."

She smirked. "You'll love my flatmate then, woman can vanish in less than a second. She certainly wouldn't need to distract you with a raven." He felt something, a warm tug, trying to coax the question out. But instead he stayed silent and watched her as she moved around him. "If the mess out here offends you, just wait til you see my office."

Dream looked at the mess of the small living space and sighed. If this is what she considers tidy we'll be here all night. He followed her and the sight immediately confirmed his worry. Piles of junk, boxes both full and empty tossed about, clothes hanging from every surface, this was a true disaster. The Constantine jumped into looking in the furthest corner of the room, tossing useless trinkets or empty bags over her shoulders. It was a wonder she got anything accomplished when she lived like this.

They searched, well she did as he watched, for a while before she'd, apparently, grown bored of the silence and decided to fill it with questions. "So, you seem pretty attached to this sand."

"It is a part of me." He kept his hands in his pockets and watched as she flew through the space like a hurricane.

"If that's true, then how'd you happen to lose it?" Another toss, one that sounded fatal to whatever the object had been.

The small lingering spark of rage twisted in his lungs. "It was stolen by another magic user called Burgess."

Recognition sparked in her. "Wait, not Roderick Burgess? The old demon king himself, eh?" Recognition shifted to rage. "Woman beating piece of shit, everyone said he had the devil locked up in his basement, wait how did you…"

He'd felt the unpleasant curl of the memories beginning to swarm his mind, but the look she held in her eyes was deeper than mere pity, a realization. "It was you…"

"Yes," he'd said in answer, but the look did not fade.

"No… You're him, the man in the glass."

Impossible. Darkness laced his tongue when he spoke. "How do you know about that?"

"Holy shit." She breathed out, searching quicker for something in the pile. "My flatmate, the one I mentioned, stayed at the Burgess house for two years before the bastard sent her up the river to the looney bin."

He'd stopped breathing. No. This was surely some cruel joke. "That's not…"

She pulled the picture frame out front under a stack of papers and held it up to him. "Does she look familiar to you?"

His fingers curled around the frame, digging into it painfully tight as he stared down in awe. It was her. Curled around Johanna Constantines back, smile wide… Happy and eyes filled with the joy they'd been devoid of their last meeting. How? How was this possible?

The sound of the front door closing restarted his heart and for the first time in eighty years he felt the mark on his arm burn. The tugging sensation snapped into a forceful pull as he turned and looked at the office door.

***

I shut the door with my foot, and shimmied out of my jacket, scratching the puffed up skin of my mark, sending a dull burn through it, as I went. "Johanna!" I called. "You home?"

"In here!" Her voice was muffled by the door, but I could still hear something off.

"I got your usual," I said, opening the door and rummaging through the bag. "But they forgot the… Sauce."

All the air left me as I looked up, expecting to see the face of my flatmate, only to see him, the man I'd spent so many years thinking of, wishing to see just one lsst time. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I wanted to pinch myself, or stab myself with one of the plastic forks but I couldn't seem to move, I couldn't do anything but stare at him. Had he always looked like this? So stoic, so powerful, so beautiful?

Johanna stepped around a pile of junk and grabbed the bag from my hands. "I'm gonna, uh, give you two a minute."

Once the sound of the door had announced her departure the Sandman drew in a breath and spoke the first words I'd ever heard him say, "Hello, Penelope."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I closed my eyes tightly. The sound of his voice was deep and rich, sending a wave of power and emotion through me like lightning. When I opened them again and he was still there I said nothing, closing the space between us and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. The scent of sea and what I could only describe as stardust flooded my senses, further cementing this as reality. My hands fisted in his coat and for a moment of his body remaining stiff I thought I might have overstepped, but then the touch came, soft feather light pressure of his hand on my back, holding me to him. I didn't know how, but somehow I managed to get the strangled greeting out, "Hi, Sandman."

We stood like that for a minute or two, frozen in the embrace of one another, an embrace I never thought I'd get, before I pulled away and wiped the tears from my eyes. His hand stayed on my back, putting slightly more pressure there as if trying to keep me from moving away any further. The star filled blue eyes I thought of so often finally stared down at me. The sound of his voice surprised me, after years of silence I definitely needed time to adjust to hearing it. Now I just hoped he wanted me to hear it more. "How?"

It was a difficult question to answer, even after all these years. "I don't really know."

"What happened?" He sounded angry, hurt even.

I sighed and pressed my forehead to his chin. Perhaps the gesture had been too intimate, but I didn't care, I just wanted to feel him for as long as I could, as long as he'd let me. "After the basement…" I swallowed hard, pushing the painful flashes down. "I wasn't going to go back… and the only way I could see to do that was to… Well…"

"Throw a car off a bridge?" He finished.

Looking back up into his gaze I shrugged. "I didn't think you knew about that."

"Paul told me," he answered as his eyes filled with pain. "He said you were dead… I thought you were dead."

I blinked away tears. "I think I was… For a little bit at least."

"Then how are you here? How do you look exactly as I remember?" His eyes trailed over my face, my body, honing in on the mark and then on the long jagged scar on the arm across from it, that I'd given myself so long ago.

Shame burned in me as I curled the arm into my chest, pulling at the chain of my necklace to try and hide the fact I didn't want him to see it. "I only remember pulling myself out of the river. Everything before is hazy." His eyes were still glued to my arm so I nudged him gently. "How did you get out?"

His eyes returned to mine. "Paul. He broke the summoning circle, which in turn restored a small portion of my power. I used that to free myself." Another strong pulse of something swelled in me. "I kept my promise. Alex Burgess pays for every second of torment he allowed."

It felt good to hear, and though it was probably terrible, I smiled. "Thank you." Is he angry, hurt, I never came back for him? The sudden thought filled me with dread. "I… I did try to come back for you. I did… But…"

A cold hand stroked my cheek. "Do not apologize. Freeing me was never your burden."

"Still, I wanted you to know I tried. I'd be the worst person ever if I just let you rot there without a second thought, Sandman."

"Morpheus," he whispered and a warm feeling nestled in my chest, like the answer to a question I needed to be whole. "My name is Morpheus, Dream of the Endless."

"Is it Morpheus or Dream?"

"Either, but…" He paused, "People call me Dream mostly, but in private I would like you to call me Morpheus."

"Morpheus," I breathed, tested with a smile. "It's certainly not as catchy as Sandy, but it'll do."

"I hated that name, just so you know," his eyes glistened with the playful tone of his voice. It was so much better than I could have imagined, all of it.

"Oh I knew, but that only made it more fun." I laughed softly, before the silence turned more serious. "I'm glad you got free, Morpheus."

With the smallest hint of a smile he bowed his head, brushing it against the top of mine. "I am glad you did as well, Penelope."

We're getting out of here. You, me and Jessamy. I promise.

"I um... I have something for you," I said, squeezing the glass vial in my hand and stepping around him to get to my desk, buried among Johannas crap. I opened the drawer, fingers stroking the soft bag before I opened it and retrieved the small black pouch. I turned, placing it gently into his hand with care. Morpheus stood looking down at the pouch curiously. "It's... It's Jessamy, well her remains."

His lips parted, shock and pain settling into his features, the feeling pulsing between us. "How?"

"I'm sorry if I've offended you," I said quickly, a moment of fear hitting me. "I didn't really know how you wanted... I was going to bury her, but it just didn't feel right, trapping her in that place. So, I burned her, or well, Paul did… and kept the ashes hoping that, well… Hoping we'd get to have this talk." I rambled nervously, twisting the vial on the chain.

For a long minute all he did was stand there, staring down at the remains of his companion. When he did speak it was quiet, pained but grateful. "You should keep it. To remember her by."

He pressed the pouch back into my palm. "Oh, I... I already have some pieces of her with me."

"I see," he said, lifting the necklace up closer, admiring the feather in the glass vial. "She would have liked that."

"Probably would have tried stealing it from me," I said fondly, the hurt of her loss at last beginning to shift into good memories. Turning our hands I pressed her ashes back into his and smiled against the tears that began to swell. "Now you can take her home. You can find a place she loved and set her free."

His hand slid out from beneath mine, fingers brushing along my palm. "Thank you, Penelope. I will not forget this."

"Don't thank me." I insisted. "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

"I'll not hold it against you," he said, smiling a little. His mouth… I strangled the thought quickly. "I do not possess your unwavering ability to hold a grudge."

I let out a breathy laugh, "You know I highly doubt that."

The air between us had shifted to what it used to be, comfortable, familiar. I was happy. Happy he was finally free, happy he was here. Yet, all the questions I’d long buried, convinced I’d never get to see them answered bubbled back up to the surface. A twinge of confusion, of a need to understand what this was connecting us, filled my chest, and I suppose in turn his. His eyes turned more serious and he nodded his head slightly. “You have questions.”

“Yeah, you could say that…” I muttered.

“I have some answers,” he admitted freely, “But…”

“Later,” I finished, feeling the words before he even spoke them.

“Yes.”

I kept his gaze a moment longer. “There will be a later though, right?”

“Yes.” His fingers grazed my hand. “I promise.”

A loud knock to the door was the only warning we got before Johanna barged in. I took a step away from him, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable under Johannas’ scrutinous stare. "I get that there's some history here, but I'd very much like to find this bag and be done with Mr. Sandman."

I rubbed my chilled hands together. “Okay, well what exactly are we looking for?”

“A bag of sand,” Johanna said bluntly as she began looking around the room haphazardly throwing and stepping on things, as I was certain she had been before I arrived.

While I looked around I could feel Morpheus’ eyes on me, watching every movement, every shift, everything. When I felt his gaze shift, I looked over my shoulder at him, eyes trailing down his fit form. He wore a long black coat that seemed to hold the stars inside it, black boots and well black everything. It looked good. He looks even better naked, I reminded myself. His head turned towards me, faster than I was prepared for. And his voice sounded deeper when he said, “It was one of the tools they’d stolen from me. I need it back.”

“So,” Johanna started, her signature nosey face looking up at him. “You were down in that basement all this time?”

I quickly threw an empty bag at her and gave her the glare I knew she hated. He didn’t bother answering her, but I could see the pain in his eyes as he looked down to a small roll of photos that stuck out of the box beside him. “Is this you?”

“Why?” she practically groaned. “Do I look that different? Or younger?”

She took the photo from his fingers and held it between her own with a gentleness that showed just how much she cared. “No,” Morpheus said. “Happy.”

Suddenly her hand dropped, still holding the picture. “Shit. I know where your sand is.”

“God no,” I groaned with a huff. “You left it with her?”

“I know,” she started rubbing her forehead. “I know.”

I leaned back against one of the desks. “How do you want to do this?”

She shrugged. “The only way we can.”

I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, so we’re finally offering you up as a sacrifice? I always thought it’d be to some demon, but I suppose an ex girlfriend is close enough.”

“Not funny,” she said, slapping my shoulder on her way out the office door.

Looking over at Morpheus I smiled, “It is funny though, isn’t it?”

He looked at me in a way I hadn’t seen before, his eyes so full of fondness… no, that was too tame a word for it. Adoration, I thought, but quickly pushed aside. He didn’t adore me, he barely knew me. After a minute his lips tugged into a smile, small and fleeting, but still there. “You can be quite amusing.”

“Hear that Jo! Sandy agrees with me!” I hollered, basking in the look of utter disgust and annoyance that spread across his face that the familiar nickname.

“You are not calling me that any longer,” he commanded.

“You gonna make me stop?” I teased, far more flirtatiously than I’d been intending, at least out loud.

He arched a brow, taking a step forward, looking down at me with a darker gaze than normal. “I could.”

Johanna cursed from the other room. “Pen, where's my coat?”

“Raincheck?” I asked softly.

“I suppose, so long as you bite your tongue the next time you feel the urge to call me Sandy.” A wave of heat rolled over me. God that voice, I thought and his eyes flared. I wonder what it would sound like when he- “You should be mindful of your thoughts.”

Heat rose to my cheeks and my eyes went wide, embarrassment filling every fiber of my being. “Can you?” He nodded. “Oh god.”

I caught a glimpse of his smirk before he erased it completely. “I can’t hear every thought, just the loud ones… the ones you can’t seem to keep to yourself.”

“How long have you been able to do that?” I demanded, unable to meet his gaze.

“The duration of this conversation.”

More heat as I covered my face with my hands as I recalled all the things I’d thought over the last few minutes. “Oh god.”

He said nothing, but I could feel the pride he felt, and could see the smirk once again before it vanished. Johanna popped back through the door. “Found it. You okay Pen?”

“Yep!” I cheered, quickly moving for the door. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll meet you there,” Morpheus said, voice full of amusement at my expense. I looked back at him, Asshole. The glint in his eyes told me he heard it.

Johanna and I stood on the corner, waiting for the cab, when she finally looked over and said, “So, you and the Sandman?” I opened my mouth ready to tell her it wasn’t like that when she shook her head. “Don’t even try to tell me it isn't like that. I saw you checking him out.”

“Jo,” I whispered. “It’s complicated.”

She pulled me to her side. “Look, I’m not gonna lecture you. You’re like ninety years older than me and we both know you wouldn’t listen. Besides, I’m not really one that should be giving out this kind of advice. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I smiled at her. “I’ve been through worse, Jo. And for the record I’m only seventy six years older than you, I’m not ancient.”

“Not like your boyfriend.” She didn’t waste any time with the dig.

“Shut up.”

***

Dream felt like he was on fire. He had since the moment she embraced him. His eyes watched her as she walked ahead of him and Constantine, humming with her hands in her pockets and a slight skip in her step. The simple dress she’d worn bouncing up slightly with every movement, raising just enough that he could catch glimpses of her thighs. Dream found himself unable to stop thinking of the heated thoughts she’d unknowingly shared with him, of how tame they were in comparison to his.

“Who is she?” He decided to ask Constantine, an attempt to clear his thoughts and remind himself of what his focus had to be. “The woman in the picture.”

“Her names Rachel, Rachel Moodie.”

“Does she deal in magic as well?”

She scoffed, slowing beside him. “God no. No, She’s actually a decent person. Proper job, nice family. She fuckin’ hated all the magic stuff.”

“And yet you left the sand with her.”

“I did not leave it with her. Sort of left it, and her.” The two shared a look, hers one of pain and guilt and his one of understanding, perhaps even sympathy if he was feeling generous. Constantine looked away and released a huff of annoyance. “I was staying at her place for a few months. She interpreted that as us living together, which we weren’t, so, one night I just went on a job and… never went back.”

“Why?” He hadn’t meant to ask it, but as he watched Penelope look up to the sky and smile the word just slipped past his lips.

"Because it never ends well, does it?" She looked over at him, following the steady gaze that fell on her flatmate.

"What? Love?" Dream looked down at her for a moment before his eyes returned ahead of them to Penelope. If one fact had remained true over the long years that had separated them it was that he did not deserve her. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people around me tend to get ripped in half or cast down to Hell.”

“Not all of them,” he replied.

Johanna smiled, looking over at the girl they both seemed to share a common fondness of. “She’s different. Pen doesn’t need me to look after her, not really. She’s been through far worse and somehow come out of it all still her… Still good. But Rachel, she wasn’t used to this kind of life. It was safer for her if I left.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.” She said as they finally neared the door. “I suppose I’ll have to now.”

Penelope hopped down from the step and gestured to the door. “It’s still her.”

“Bollocks.” She shoved her friend up to the box. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and she won’t be-” The sound of the door buzzing echoed in the small enclosed space and Constantines face fell. “Weird… She didn’t even ask who it is.”

“Johanna,” Penelope tried to interrupt.

“Maybe she’s expecting someone. This could get awkward. More. Awkward.”

“Do you want me to come up with you?” Penelope asked once the nervousness became too obvious to ignore.

“No, you lot wait here.”

“I’m coming with you,” he insisted, not wanting to risk her running again.

“No you’re not. Do you have any idea how much she probably hates me right now? Do you have ex girlfriends?” His jaw clenched. Yes, he had many… Many who would not be pleased to see him ever again. Many whom he would have to tell her about. No. He forced the cold thought. No, he would retrieve his tools, save the dreaming, give her whatever explanation he needed to in order to satisfy her curious mind and then he would let her go back to her life. The life she’d built without him, the one she knew and the one that would keep her safe.

“I will not wait long.”

“You won’t have to,” Constantine assured. “She’s gonna slam the door in my face.”

He and Penelope waited until the door slammed closed before looking at one another. She leaned over towards him, “How long do you think it’ll take them to get undressed?”

Tilting his head at her he smiled. “What makes you think this woman will be keen on reconnecting?”

She shrugged. “I just know Johanna.”

***

The rain had started not long after Johanna disappeared upstairs and as it began to come down harder a small black mass shot down from the sky and landed roughly onto the pavement. Morpheus looked down with a sigh. “Matthew.”

“This is a bad idea.” The raven shook off his wings and looked at Morpheus, then to me. “Uh, sorry, I thought it was just you out here.”

My eyes widened at the voice of the bird. “Oh… the raven talks.”

“The raven has a name,” he said grumpily.

Morpheus sighed. “Penelope, this is Matthew.”

I knelt down and smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Matthew. Sorry I’m just a bit new to talking animals, or spirits, or whatever it is you are.”

His feathers smoothed out. “I guess that’s fair. I’m kind of new to this too.”

“You’re a magnificent raven,” I said, holding a hand out. “Would you like me to hold you? So you don’t have to look up so high?”

“Well… Yeah, I guess that sounds nice.” He said slowly, hopping into my hand and gripping me tightly as I rose back up and held him out to Morpheus, who looked at us with a softness in his usual hard exterior expressions.

“Anyway, I say this as someone who was recently human.” I let the question go. Later. “Human beings cannot be trusted.”

“No.”

“If I were Johanna Constantine, I’d be up there cutting a deal with Rachel to keep the sand, then cut the dream sand with real sand and sell it to the highest bidder.”

"Johanna wouldn't do that," I assured him.

"Well you're not exactly impartial, are you?"

"Maybe not, but one thing to know about me dear Matthew is I'm very good at spotting monsters." I stuck my free hand out into the stream of rain, letting it pool in my palm and run through my fingertips. "And Johanna isn't a monster. She's just seen too much and lost even more."

I could feel Morpheus' eyes watching me and not the raven, but when I looked back up his eyes had shifted. “Well, I wasn’t the best person when I was a person. We can’t all be Jessamy, who was apparently perfect in every way.”

I giggled, earning a look from both of them. “Sorry, it’s just, Jessamy was far from perfect.”

“You knew her too?”

“Kind of.” I said leaning back against the wall. “She never spoke to me, I didn’t even know she could, but we spent a lot of time together.”

“So, what was she like then?” Matthew asked carefully, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.

“She was brilliant,” I began, noticing the sad gleam in the sandman's eyes. “Sly as a fox and fast as the wind in a storm. She also liked to steal my things, ribbons, rocks, anything I’d collected that she took a liking to. Jessamy was also quite a bitch,” I admitted with a laugh. “She was always picking at my hair and clothes and swooping down to scare me.”

Matthew sighed. “She sounds nice.”

“She was.” I said. “But, she was just like you. Not better or worse.”

Morpheus looked at the bird with a sigh. “Matthew I-”

“I get that you don’t think you need a raven, but if you’re out here, waiting for human beings to help anyone but themselves you’re gonna be sitting out here in the rain forever. Whatever they’re doing up there, they’re not thinking about you.”

“Oh they sure aren't,” I chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“Dear Matthew, I’m willing to bet they’re up there tearing each other's clothes off.”

“No way!” He cawed. “They’re definitely planning a doublecross.”

I looked down at him and smiled. “You want to bet on it?”

“I’m a raven, I don’t really have anything to bet.”

“True.”

“How about this, the loser buys the winner the meal of their choice.”

I cocked a brow at him. “Do you have a wallet hidden in those feathers?”

He shook his head slightly. “No, but I do have the tall guy.”

Looking up at Morpheus’ unimpressed stare I pressed my bottom lip out slightly, pouting. “Please, O great dream god!”

"I'm not a god." His voice was stiff. "I am one of the Endless."

"The Endless. Sounds very ominous.”

"The Endless are beings of great power that maintain the order of this world. Myself and my siblings," he explained.

I hummed thoughtfully. "You don't sound too fond of them."

He sent me a look. "There are a few that are... Troublesome."

"Just like in any family I suppose." I smiled. "How many are there?"

“More than enough.”

I shrugged. “Okay, well then, O great Dream of the Endless, will you please agree to the terms of our bet?”

He glanced down at the raven then back at me. “Very well.”

“Okay then, let's go. Prepare to lose, raven boy.” I said standing next to the door and hitting the buzzer. Nothing. I looked over at Morpheus whose face had turned sour. “That’s not good is it?”

“No, it is not.”

***

Upon finding Constantine in the hall Dream knew the only thing capable of this was none other than the sand they were here to retrieve. He stood back and watched Penelope as she attempted to soothe the dazed woman. With watering eyes Constantine glared at him. “What did you do to me?”

“It was the sand.” He was unsure of how to prepare her for what no doubt lay beyond the door of the bedroom.

“Where’s Rachel?” His jaw clenched, an act that only seemed to spur her into action. She pushed past Penelope and opened the bedroom door. “Rachel? Rach?”

“Jo? Jo, is that you?” The weak reply barely made it to the door as he followed in after the two women. “That’s such a wonderful dream.”

There, lying in the bed with hollow cheeks and skin clinging to bone, decaying in the bed of pillows was Constantine’s ex lover. She was barely clinging to life just as she clung to the pouch in her decrepit hand. He moved slowly, not wanting to disturb the unsettled quiet that had filled the room. Penelope stayed by the door, watching Johanna with a sorrowful gaze as her friend looked up to him. “What’s happened to her?”

“It was not meant for humans,” he said simply as he pulled the bag from her hand.

“No! Wait, please. It hurts,” She groaned.

He turned away, heading towards the door with a steeled expression. “We can go.”

“What?” Johanna demanded. “What we can’t go, we can’t leave her like this.”

It was Penelope’s eyes that he met as he spoke. “We can’t help her. The sand was the only thing keeping her alive.”

He could feel Constantine behind him, could feel her anger as she began speaking, but he didn’t care. All he saw was the sorrow in Penelope’s eyes, sorrow that he’d seen before so many times he’d lost count. But this time was different. This time he had no one to be angry with but himself. He had been responsible for this in some way, hadn’t he? He had been the reason the sand found its way into the mortals' hands, whether it was unintended or not it didn’t matter, not to him.

So he turned and gave Constantine a command, “Wait outside.”

He watched the woman apologize to her dying lover, watched her press a kiss to her forehead, an act that spurred his own memory of the goodbye he’d once thought was forever. And then, without a word to anyone Constantine left. He watched her go, eyes settling on Penelope for a moment before he spoke. “You should go with her.”

Facing the dying woman whom he had, unknowingly, put there he waited for the door to close behind her. It didn’t. Instead she moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Rachel Moodie, taking her frail hand and holding it close. She looked up at him when he didn’t move and gave him a soft nod. She was staying. Staying beside a woman she didn’t know? Then it hit him.

It wasn’t Rachel Moodie she was staying for, not really. And so he opened the pouch, grabbing a small handful of sand and sprinkled it over Rachel Moodie. The sand fell across her face, but some of it swirled in the air drifting towards Penelope and circling over her. As the life faded from Rachel the sand retreated and settled once again. Penelope pressed a soft kiss to the woman's hand and gently set it beside her as she fell into her final slumber.

***

Johanna leaned against the wall, staring out at the rain as Morpheus and I came down. He stayed behind, giving the two of us space to talk while he spoke with Matthew. She didn't look at me when she spoke. "Was it quick?"

"Yes. She died dreaming of you," I replied, recalling the beautiful sun filled vision.

Her jaw clenched. "I didn't deserve her."

Standing beside her, shoulders touching, I shrugged. "Maybe not, maybe no one deserves anybody, but she loved you all the same and I know you loved her too."

As Morpheus drifted closer I moved out of the way so the two could speak alone. I'd hoped Johanna would be less hard on him than she had been upstairs, but the wound was fresh, and Johanna didn't deal with loss as tactfully as others. I knelt down to Matthew and sighed. "In light of recent events I think we should call off our bet."

"Yeah, seems kind of in bad taste, all things considered."

"Next time I'll beat you though," I assured him.

He laughed. "Not a chance Penny."

"Penny?" I asked with a smile.

"Yeah, cause you're all shiny!"

"I'm shiny?"

"Yeah, at least in these raven eyes of mine you are." He looked at me, as if double checking. "You got a very nice… Glow… Thing going."

"Well that's weird," I replied. "But that's kind of just been the new normal for me I guess. It's a nice nickname. I don't think anyone's called me that before."

He took a tiny bow. "I am a raven of many talents!"

When I stood back up and dusted off the dirt Johanna and Morpheus both looked away from me. Her attention turned to the little raven as she instructed him to take care of his master then she unfurled her umbrella and stepped into the rain. "You comin Pen?"

"I'll catch up with you later," I told her, settling into the spot she'd vacated.

"Be safe," she called as she hurried off to the cab.

"How'd she take it?" I asked.

"Better than most."

I nodded. "Yeah, she's had her share of this shit. She'll deal with it, in her own way."

"How are you?" He asked softly.

"I'm alright." I shrugged. "I've gotten used to being surrounded by death."

"I suppose you have."

With a short glance at one another I asked, "I'm still perfectly fine with the whole later talk we need to have after you've got your tools back, but I have to know… did this," I gestured to my arm. "Did it keep me from dying that day?"

"No." He looked out at the rain and shook his head. "I am not even certain I have the answer as to how you survived. I'm just… I am glad you did."

I stepped towards him. "Oh? Would you have missed me?"

A pulse, strong and steady hummed between us. "More than you know."

I blushed. "You probably say that to all your friends." Friends. The word felt entirely too plain.

"I am Dream of the Endless, I do not have friends," he said lowly.

"Everyone needs a friend, Dream." I replied. "Is that not what we are?"

The blue of his eyes darkened. "I do not think that friends is a strong enough word to describe what we are."

"Best friends?" I whispered in a light teasing tone.

"Something like that," he said with mischief in his eyes.

"Well, best friend," I said. "Good luck getting your stuff back."

He looked out at the rain. "Are you intending to wait until the downpour ends?"

"And miss the rain?" I stepped out under the cold shower and smiled at him. "Never!"

"Goodbye, Penelope."

"Goodbye, Morpheus. I look forward to later!"

I danced through the rain all the way to the road, feeling his eyes on me every step until I faded from his view, where I called a cab to get me back to the apartment. Soaking wet footsteps trailed behind me as I walked through the door and got onto the elevator. A minute passed brfore the lights flickered and flashed for a seconds before the elevator stopped entirely. Soon the power cut out, flooding the pitch blackness of the elevator with red. "Great," I grumbled.

The pungent tang of sulfur burnt my nose and a wave of freezing dread filled me. In the distorted reflection of the elevator doors a shadow rose, twisted and deformed. A long gnarled hand reached towards me and then it fell like a pool of water, gone, at least from my sight.

Heart pounding I turned, checking every reflective surface, looking up the ground beneath my feet was nothing but bubbling darkness and my stomach dropped. "Fuc-"

Claws dug into my leg, pulling me down into the darkness before the scream could even form in my throat. I thrashed and clawed trying to find some kind of grip as whatever had grabbed me dragged me through whatever portal it had been capable of opening up. Sharp rocks sliced my arms and hands and dust... No, ash filled my nose.

The claws released me, dropping me into a straight plummet down. I fell for less than a minute before my body slammed into a cold smooth floor of black. On the ground, over my gasping and disoriented form, the shadow of two large wings unfurled. Every inch of me wanted to curl into itself, every instinct I had told me to run, to get as far away from here as I could.

"Well well, what have we here? A guest in hell?"

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cleosdiary · 3 months

Text

Chelsea’s Journal Entry

2/4/22

Another boring day at work and another boring dinner party. That's all it ever seemed to be these days, monotony. I was so tired of the endless routine that seemed to be my

life these days.

Being a single 30 year-old woman and a corporate accountant wasn't exactly the high profile exciting life I envisaged when I was at UM. Pompous senior accountants and executives seemed to have a way of ruining that theory.

Mr. Buntine, the CEO, has particularly requested that I attend tonight's dinner, asking that I take particular care to entertain Mr.

Cleo Goldman, who he was trying to entice over to our company. God, another stuffy old drone was all I needed!!

I headed out of the office about 6.00pm so that I had enough time to get home and shower and change before the taxi arrived at 7.00 pm

to pick me up.

I quickly bustled in the door to my apartment. Stella my cat was waiting to greet me. Leaning down and picking her up I said "Stella, I'd rather spend my evening with you". I knew though that life wouldn't be worth living tomorrow, if I couldn't tell Mr. Buntine

Knowing I was on a tight schedule, I quickly fed Stella and made my way to the shower. Standing under the steaming water was rather refreshing and had my skin tingling and awake in seconds.

I lathered my skin and as my fingers glossed over my breasts a yearning settled upon me. I rolled my nipples between my fingers and felt the sensation flow through my body, as my nipples became rather erect. It had been a while between drinks, if you know what 1 mean!

I knew that I didn't have time to stand there and satisfy myself, not that I would call masturbation total satisfaction anyway. It would just have to wait until later. I quickly stepped out of the shower, toweled myself down and padded naked into my bedroom.

Leaning on the wardrobe door, not at all enthusiastic about the eve-ning, I scanned my vast array of clothes and wondered what I should wear? Glancing about the room, I spied myself in the full-length mirror and began to analytically appraise myself.

I was only 30 years old and kept myself in very good shape. I was physically fit and enjoyed sport, such as tennis and yoga. I had shoulder length dark black hair, silky caramel skin and deep green almost oval shaped eyes. My breasts were rounded, but not too large, 32C. I had a rather curvaceous figure, definitely not model material, but I guessed I looked passable in most clothes I chose to wear, from the smart office suits to my casual weekend jeans and t-shirts. I was 5 feet 5 inches tall.

Standing there assessing myself I started to think "I'm only 30, 1 should be able to dress like I am only 30 and I am tired of dressing to please all the tired old bored men, who think you should be demure and basically seen, but not heard"

With a moment of abandonment, I withdrew a little black dress from my wardrobe. It wasn't exactly totally inappropriate, but at least it was sexy, if not a little revealing. It had narrow straps, which met the bodice just above the swell of my breasts. Although it wasn't really low cut, with my pushup bra it certainly gave me a nice cleav-

It tapered into my waist and molded my hips comfortably and fell to about three inches above my knee.

What the hell, I'll give the old boys something to ogle. As long as one of them doesn't go and have a heart attack, Mr. Buntine will never know. I'm sure stuffy old Mr. Cleo would think it totally inappropriate to mention my dress sense to Mr. Buntine and after tonight I'm never likely to see the old guy again.

After my moments of teasing in the shower I was feeling a little brazen and decided to wear some sexy lingerie. I opened the drawer and tossed a few items around, wondering which I should wear. What's it matter, really, who's going to see it, I said to myself. That's right I thought, "WHO IS GOING TO SEE IT?" What the hell, I grabbed my wondabra and a little black "G" string. I slipped into my dress, stepped into my christian louboutin, dashed on some make-up and lip-gloss and was ready for my BIG night out, with my boss's old school boys.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Arriving out the front of the 5 star restaurant I once again groaned about the evening ahead. I steeled myself against the smell of cigars, musty old suits and intoxicated old men and their toffy nosed wives and made my way inside.

I stood in the foyer scanning the crowd inside for familiar faces. I spotted old Mr. Augustus, but he'd hardly recognize me, as he can't see passed the end of his nose. There was Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal. The latter dressed to the nines, with her regal nose stuck in the air. I really was dreading making my way inside.

I was trying to fix a smile on my face, one that didn't look totally false, before

trying to find an excuse not to enter too?"

stepping on in, when a voice beside me said "Beautiful dress”

the man beside me must have been 5’11the biggest shoulders I had ever seen. His eyes had a glint as he gazed down steadily into mine. He was the most attractive latin man I had ever laid eyes on. He gave the impression of being solid rippling muscle. He was smartly dressed in a tailored black suit, but gave the impression he'd be more comfortable without one.

Glancing inside and surveying the crowd, he asked me "How did you get conned into attending a dinner with a heap of old folks?" Throwing caution to the wind I said, "I'm on a mission at the re. quest of my employer to sweet talk some old boy called Mr. Robin. son into joining our company."

He laughed out loud at that and I asked him why he was here? He said, "I couldn't think up an excuse quick enough to get myself out of it."

I asked, "Well, seeing we're both here under duress do you think we should make our way in together?" With a dash of ceremony, my newfound friend placed his arm out for me to take his elbow.

By the way he said, "My name is Cleo and you are?" I quickly replied, "Chelsea, Chelsea Anderson to be precise."

Cleo replied with a laugh, "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance Chelsea Anderson." The glint in his eye and the easy smile on his lips was almost breathtaking.

We'd no sooner entered the dinner room when Mr. Abernathy from our legal department called Cleo over and extended his hand

"Ahhh, Miss Anderson, I see you've already made the acquaintance of Mr. Cleo."

Oh god, I could have died. Hadn't I just stood in the foyer and told this man I was here to sweet talk him and called him an "old boy." I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. A reflex action made me attempt to pull my hand away, but I realized Cleo was gently gripping my hand, preventing me from leaving his side

My eyes flew up to his eyes and my checks were burning. There in his eyes was that glint that i seen carlet in the foyer. He was laughing at me, but was certainly enjoying the moment.

Cleo replied to Mr. Abernathy, "Yes, it was my pleasure to bump into Miss Anderson in the foyer." Looking down at me he continued.

"It does look like tonight is going to be enjoyable after all!" Again, my cheeks were red hot.

As chance would have it we were seated directly opposite during dinner and for some inexplicable reason our eyes kept meeting across the table. It didn't matter who we spoke with, our eyes kept wandering back.

I glanced up at one stage and his eyes were almost penetrating tight through me. It almost took my breath away. So much so that I took a large intake of breath. His eyes quickly diverted to the swell of my breasts. There was that ever present glint in his eyes again as he looked back into my eyes again. Oh no, I could feel myself blushing

again.

It was during dinner that I learnt that Cleo was an international banker and Mr. Buntine was pursuing him in a bid to represent him. How or why I had never heard of him before I'll never know.

He was a very impressive looking man and had the smooth casual style of someone very confident within himself, but didn't appear to have an arrogant disposition at all. He was obviously well educated and easily made conversation with everyone at the table.

It was the glint in his eyes and the raise of his eyebrow, whenever we caught each other looking towards each other that really had me mesmerized.

Cleo leaned across the table towards me and asked if I would care to dance. How could I refuse, not that I wanted to anyway, in front of everyone else? We stepped out onto the dance floor and he quickly engulfed me in his huge arms. He was a sensational dancer, gliding easily across the floor.

At the end of the first dance the band moved into a slow waltz and

Cleo pulled me tight against him. Our bodies seemed to melt gether as we gently swayed together.

I relaxed in his arms, but our bodies were touching from shoulder to knee. Before I really realized I had done it my body was push up close and hard to his, almost grinding my hips against his pelvis I heard Cleo chuckle and he leaned down and whispered in my ear

"You keep that up hun and I'll have to drape my jacket dor the front of me before I can return to the table."

I quickly tried to break away, not daring to look up into his eyes, but Cleo’s arms held me tightly pulling me even closer into his body. could now feel the definite hardness of his penis pushing against m stomach, as we continued to sway to the rhythm of the music.

All too soon the song finished and we parted slightly. Mr. & Mrs.

Cardinal were right beside us. Mr. Cardinal stepped forward and suggested we change partners for the next dance. It was my turn to chuckle, as I saw the fleeting glance of panic cross Cleos face.

I glanced up into Cleos eyes and gave him a quick wink, as Mr.

Cardinal swept me away across the dance floor.

After the song had finished, Mr. Cardinal led me back towards the table. As I headed towards my seat, I heard a whispered voice say,

"Don't think you can get away that easy."

Cleo draped his jacket over the chair and sat down again. Once. again seated opposite each other we couldn't keep our eyes off each other. There was definitely something happening between us. It was instant attraction. This big bear of a man just took my breath away and my heart was hammering in anticipation of what was to come.

Mr. Taylor, who sat beside me, was trying to engage me in a deep conversation on all the political woes of the world, when I jumped as if being scorched by a branding iron. "My Dear, is everything alright", he quickly asked? With a laughing that even sounds light and brittle to

me I answered quickly, "Everything was just perfect"

Cleo had removed his shoe and was trailing his foot up the inside

I could feel myself tensing all over, but it was a wonderful feeling. It was really quite exciting playing this private little game. Cleos toes were very definitely between my thighs now, inches my legs slightly apart. His toes continued to climb higher and I parted my legs even further to accommodate him.

Every fiber of my body was alive now. It was like I was electrified.

Wriggling in my seat I inched my skirt higher, so Cleo wasn't restricted in the path he was traveling.Higher and higher his toes traveled. I had to control my breathing, as my heart continued to hammer inside my chest. I was becoming very aroused and knew that I was starting to moisten between my legs. A little throbbing between my thighs was beginning to hap-

pen.

I knew Cleos leg must almost be stretched to the limit, but he still hadn't reached that magical spot. I slid forward in my seat using the excuse of reaching for the wine bottle to refill my glass.

For the first time Cleos toes reached that now electrified place between my legs. A small sigh escaped my lips, as his toes brushed my panties, but I quickly covered it with a yawn.

I placed a hand down below the table, as I tried to remain interested in Mr. Taylor's conversation. I grasped Cleos foot, guiding his toes with my fingers, so that they were now pushed up firmly against my

His wriggling, stretching toes gently began to massage my cunt, as I pressed harder against his toes making them massage and cares me in all the right places. I knew I was extremely aroused now and chat a very damp spot was forming between my thighs.

I could feel my checks burning and an odd glance from Mr. Taylor told me i wasn't answering his questions with any kind of sense.

That couldn't be helped. I couldn't concentrate on anything but Cleos toes.

The glint in Cleos eyes was now matched by a cheeky grin, but 1. could tell that he was more than a little aroused too. He was breathing a little hard too.

Just as quickly as Cleos foot had arrived, it left. I quickly looked towards him, as I heard him say "Miss Anderson, you are looking quite flushed. It is a little warm in here. Perhaps a walk around the grounds might cool you off?"

He leaned behind himself and grabbed his jacket before he stood, draping it across his lap. It was an unusual action, but one I instantly understood. He was as equally aroused as me.

I quickly accepted the offer of a walk in the grounds, but making sure to adjust my dress before standing.

We almost strode towards the exit, bustling out the door. We descended the steps two at a time and rounded the corner into a quiet alcove. Before I could utter a word, Cleo grabbed me and dragged me into a deep embrace. Our hands were ravishing each other's upper bodies, as our lips locked and our tongues devoured each other's mouths.

We broke apart, both panting heavily. Cleo said, "Damn, you're a minx. I wanted to lean across that damn table and drag you onto my lap."

almost fell towards him, breathless saying, "That's nothing. I thought I was going to have an orgasm right in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Taylor."

Our hips were grinding together and our hands roved over each other's bodies. My chest was crushed against his, as we pushed hard against each other. I could feel his swollen cock throbbing against

me, almost bursting from his pants.

I slid my hand down and stroked his throbbing cock through his pants. He moaned deeply. "I'll be damned if I am not going to take you here right now, Miss Anderson."

I felt the skirt of my dress ride up over my hips as his huge hands frantically grasped at me. He was fumbling in his haste trying to remove my "G" string, when with a quick rip he tore it away and tossed it into the bush beside us.

I quickly grabbed at his pants and unzipped them, diving my hand inside. Oh my GOD, his cock was enormous. I struggled to release it from inside his pants. With frustrated hands I quickly dragged his cock out. Looking down I gasped, he must have been 8" long and my hand couldn't even circle his shaft. It was big and light brown and throbbing and veiny and the most awesome sight I had ever seen.

We stood for a second, his hands fondling the cheeks of my ass, when with a rush I said, "God, just fuck me with that HUGE COCK"

He quickly spun me around, so that my shoulders were against the brick wall and lifted me so easily into the air, like I weighed noth-ing.

My legs locked around his waist, and I reached between us and grasped his cock.

With a moan he said, "If you don't hurry up woman 1 am going to cum where I stand."

I furiously guided his cock to my eagerly awaiting and very swollen lips, as his hands on my hips thrust me down. It was like being impaled by this huge black serpent.

grabbed his shoulders and pushed down hard, driving him deep inside me. As he began to drive even deeper inside me, my shoulders hit against the brick, but I was almost oblivious to the pain.

"I need you to fuck me HARD," I moaned, as all 8" drove inside me. His hands were pumping my hips up and down his shaft.

"My GOD woman you're so fucking hot don't think I have known a woman to be so aroused," he panted.

We were as one, pumping, thrusting and groaning in unison. His lips were against my ears and I could feel his breathing as he said, "I'm going to explode inside you, like i've never done before?

I could feel my orgasm mounting deep within me, as with each stroke of his cock, he rubbed hard against my clitoris. I dug my fingernails deep into his shoulders and rammed down hard against his cock. Cleo knew instantly that I was almost beyond the point of return.

"Tell me how much you want me to fuck you," Cleo groaned out in my ear.

"Fuck me so damn hard. I want you to feel my orgasm quiver all the way down your shaft," I eagerly replied.

Faster and harder we thrust until I could no longer control my or-gasm. My legs locked hard around his waist. It took every ounce of my control not to scream out in ecstasy when my shuddering orgasm ripped through my body.

"Oh Godddddddddd, I am cumming," I moaned.

Cleo pumped harder as each wave of my orgasm wracked my body with spasms. I felt Cleo's body tense and his cock swell inside me, as with one long hard final driving thrust his own climax erupted inside me.

His body shuddered and he groaned from deep inside his throat,

"Ohhhhh Christ, ohhhhhhhh Christ." It was almost as if he was in pain.

My head collapsed on his shoulder, but my legs were still wrapped tightly around his waist. I wanted to savor the moment, his softening cock still deep inside me, as my heart started to beat less erratically Moments later we untangled, and Cleo gently lowered me to the ground on shaking legs.

He quickly put his semi-soft cock away, as from around the corner we heard voices, where moments before we couldn't have cared less.

The front of his pants were soaked wet with our combined juices. I adjusted my dress, but without panties I could feel the sticky moisture between my legs.

We leaned against each other both totally breathless from our expe-rience. I looked up to see that glint was still in his eyes. I hesitatingly asked him, "What now?"

"What now," he asked. "I can tell you what now. I am going inside to tell the dinner guests that you aren't well, a bit breathless, and I am going to see you home."

"And the minute I get you inside the limo, that your boss so kindly provided, I am going to repeat the exercise, until this time you beg me to stop."

I threw back my head laughing and said, "You, Cleo , can fuck me all night long and I'll still beg you for more."

#journal #late night #latina #erotxcism #adult entertainers

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trans-advice · 2 years

Note

I don't even know where to start, I'm sorry. This might be a mess.

I know I'm non-binary and typically transmac. Recently I've had a "gender crisis" and felt I am a trans man.

My mother's response was my biggest fear. I told her that I might be a trans man and was still figuring things out. There were tears but mostly because she was sad I was so scared and so stressed with trying to do what everything think I should even if it was a detriment to my happiness.

There was a huge relief off my shoulders but I suddenly felt embarrassed and foolish. I just kinda shoved that away. I had told my pattern and 2 other people I might be a transman. It was great but it settled in I'd never pass the way I want or be able to be out the way I want.

And I've come to terms with it. And as far as transition, I don't really want T or feel I need surgery. I'm fine with binding and just want to change my body with exercise.

So i came to the conclusion I'm just non binary transmasc. It easier. I don't have to worry about passing or explaining. I feel like non binary I can blend in better.

My boyfriend just came to the conclusion he is a trans man. He'd been thinking it over. He'd been thinking more and more and has come out definitely that they are a trans man. He's already gotten a T apt set up for either this week or next.

I'm supportive of this! I want him to be happy and fully encourage him to transition any way he feels he needs.

So why do I feel...upset? Frustrated? When they talk about T and coming out and transitioning I shut down and feel almost defensive.

What is going on? Am I jealous?

I did feel jealous when they told me about a friend who wanted tk give them an "it's a boy" cake. So do I just want the attention?

I do have trauma from an ex in a similar way to where I could even explore the option of non binary while my ex was constantly buying clothes we could afford, styling their hair and getting the best makeup for their transitioning.

So maybe I am just jealous. Am I just jealous becsuse I want attention?

Why do I not feel so pressed to pass when I'm non binary. I still want to look masc but I don't feel like I'm failing when I don't look like a guy.

Am I a bad partner? Am I transphobic?

I can't make sense of any of it.

TLDR: you need to get more time in contact with other trans people that you can be open about your identity with. currently your support network is only 3 people. you still have work to do on your transition regardless of whether it's medical, social, or legal. the gender you tell people you are in order to get gender police off of your back can be separate from your actual gender identity. (i've heard some posts call it the actual gender identity "a private gender". it's basically that meme trans people are a picture of ancient greek philosophers & cis people are a picture of preschool toddlers learning shapes.) so you need more people to get support from.

Am I a bad partner? Am I transphobic?

let's be blunt, you & your partner would have to discuss whether you're obstructing your partner's needs. (for relationship advice however i'll say the slogan relationship: 1 + 1 = 2 not (1/2) + (1/2) = 1.) also internalized transphobia is a thing & we live in a transphobic society, so I don't see that framing as helpful when we're talking about this specific thing. i think what i'm going to focus on is the jealousy, but i'm going to try viewing it as a thing that's informing you of needs that you need to meet within your transition.

So i came to the conclusion I'm just non binary transmasc. It easier. I don't have to worry about passing or explaining. I feel like non binary I can blend in better.

in order to address transitioning however, i also want to basically talk about the gender unicorn. (note however with the gender unicorn it conflates AGAB with physiological sex because it was meant to not only be done without looking into people's medical history, but it was also meant to be done in groups, like at high school or college gay-straight alliances).

as a non-operative trans woman, i can say that i have commonalities with nonbinary people due to my gender presentation & my incongruent physiology, because i literally have a beard & body hair that i shave off like everydays & i do have the option to present genderqueer. it's awkward because i'm still a woman (even if i'm a bearded woman). i can even say that i'm a genderqueer woman, and an incongruent woman & even both a trans & gender non-conforming woman. yes, the way i've decided to deal with my body emphasizes how the binary is geared for cis people, & other demographics marginalized by say beauty standards & gender conformity. but my gender identity is still a gal (like i knew i was a girl when i was 2 & i turned out to be a woman, so). i still seek to express my femininity.

the existence & presense of nonbinary people is extremely liberating & in fact, seeing genderqueer people whether in terms of gender identity or gender presentation helped me a lot with my transition & navigating my feminism.

also recognition of gender euphoria can also come with distress over recognizing transphobic trauma. i don't exactly care to trauma dump here, especially since i already have intersections that might not line with your experience. i will say though that when i began transitioning again (for like the 4th or so time) in 2016ish i would literally break out sobbing when i started passing more than 0% of the time.

there are a lot of words that would go into describing gender incongruence vs gender dysphoria vs the history of gatekeeping medical transition. it's messy so please forgive me.

like gender incongruence is basically synonmous with being trans. it's talking about gender identity vs assigned gender at birth. additionally assigned gender at birth is not the same thing as one's physiological sex (though due to perisex normativity, AGAB & physiology are conflated in some contexts). gender incongruence isn't neccessarily dysphoric, though dysphoria is related to minority stress & stereotype threat.

while overall medical transition can help our communities, the way it's been controlled historically by cisgender supremacists has been used to suppress legal acknowledgement of trans peoples' existences, as well as maintain amatonormativity & heteronormativity (as well as cisgender supremacism) in regards to the institution of marriage. that being said, i don't feel educated enough to comment about how bodily autonomy, ableism, and medicine interact, except to say informed consent is awesome & the social model of disability is awesome (especially as the social model gets into how marginalization is related).

so when i read

"Why do I not feel so pressed to pass when I'm non binary. I still want to look masc but I don't feel like I'm failing when I don't look like a guy."

this is very much kind of a thing I deal too with since we're both non-operative. like yeah, i get gender euphoria when i'm able to dress well & put on colorful cosmetics & such. whatever's the masculine fashions probably do the same for you. but when you talk to people, you talk about your gender presentation instead of your gender identity, and quite frankly, i guess you've suppressed some of that, and it's catching up to you. like even when you were talking to you mom you said she was focused on the tasks involved with transitioning. now i don't know your specific case, but checklists are not one-size-fits-all. (granted, there are legal transitions where the jurisdictions require medical transition. but i'm talking about the distress regarding things you don't consent to, at least at this moment.)

so what i'm gathering is even if you don't want & or need a medical transition, maybe you still have work to do with your social transition. like, you need more celebrations & pride about your situation. perhaps going to nonbinary, transmasc, trans men groups could help with the recognition you need for the social transition.

like due to the pandemic shut downs, there are organizations that have zoom meetings for lgbt+ people. look into those. hang out with trans people. look into some discords or something. i know subreddit lgbt has a public discord server. i know some lgbt+ organizations (& or organizations with lgbt+ specialty meetings) use meetup & facebook to find people.

like your partner is literally getting gender-affirming cakes & material support with his transition. you're literally stuck in a holding pattern with how to talk about your gender identity & transition goals, to the point that you've only spoken to 3 people about your gender crisis (your mother + 2 others). I don't know what your exact transition needs are, but perhaps "seeking the cherry on top" of your transition is important here. perhaps you need to do some touch up on the decor around you? perhaps get playful with hygiene products? screensavers? there's been various methods like that of dealing with gender dysphoria, and maybe those will help you too.

good luck, peace & love,

eve

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casspurrjoybell-19 · 13 days

Text

Does it Matter? - Chapter 22 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*

As soon as Dara was settled on the bed in Maric's room, Mathers began to get together medical supplies for Garrod to take to Brayan to treat the slave.

"Get him some clean clothes, too," Maric told Garrod.

"And a hot meal. This won't be resolved tonight, so we'll have to make sure he's taken care of in the meantime."

"Are you sure Brayan's the right choice for that?" Garrod asked.

"I like Brayan. He's a good Captain. Good at keeping people in line and on task. Not sure he really knows how to interact with people when he's not giving or taking orders, though."

"I think that's the first time I've seen Brayan try to turn down a job you assigned him just because he lacked confidence in his own ability to perform it," Mathers added as he packed the medical supplies into a small bag.

"It's certainly outside of his comfort zone."

"You didn't see the way the slave looked at Brayan when you startled him?" Maric asked Mathers.

"Brayan just saved his life. The slave trusts him. Maybe ideally that trust would be transferred to someone with better interpersonal skills but that's not possible. Of course if Brayan fails I will hand the task to someone else but I don't think he will. I have faith in him."

"He'll be safe with him, if nothing else," Garrod commented.

"Poor little thing. Don't know what inspired him to get himself in the middle of all this when his life is already as rough as it is."

Maric sat down on the edge of the bed and forced himself to look at Dara again.

In better lighting he only looked worse.

The blood and Dara's hair concealed a lot but Maric was fairly sure his skull was not the shape it ought to have been.

"Compassion, perhaps."

"Amazing that someone can be that kind when nobody's been kind to them."

Garrod took the bag of supplies Mathers handed him.

"Thanks. I'll go get some clothes together and check in on Brayan."

Maric nodded.

Now that he was looking at Dara again, he couldn't take his eyes away from him.

"The slave's to stay with him but I want you to make sure anything else Brayan needs is taken care of."

"Yes, sir," Garrod said.

Once Garrod had left the room, shutting the door behind himself, only Maric, Mathers and Dara remained.

Maric watched as one of Dara's fingers, which had been bent backwards at an unnatural angle, clicked back into the correct position.

"He will be okay, won't he?"

Mathers leant against the head of the bed and looked down at Dara.

"I believe so. If it were anyone else I'd say no but judging by what he survived last time and what he's told me since about his abilities, I would be surprised if he didn't recover."

Maric nodded.

That was what he'd thought, too but he needed the reassurance.

"What I don't know is if there's anything we should be doing to help him," Mathers said.

"Should we try to get food or water into him? Should we try to set his broken bones? Are we better off just monitoring him while his body takes care of itself? I just don't know."

"I'm scared to touch him," Maric admitted.

"I don't want to hurt him even more."

"Okay," Mathers said as he sat down on the edge of the bed a respectful distance away from Maric.

"We won't touch him."

"He keeps getting hurt when he's around me."

"He got hurt before he was around you, too."

"He should be safe with me. He deserves to be safe."

Mathers was watching Maric carefully.

"You care about him."

"That hasn't changed."

"I know. I had some idea but..." Mathers waved a hand as he searched for the words to express his thoughts.

"He's a healer. The most logical concern is that this incident will further set back any chances he had of regaining control of his ability but that doesn't seem to be where your mind is going at all."

"No, I suppose not."

Maric was silent for a long moment.

"If I'm honest with you about something, Mathers, can you keep it between the two of us?"

"Of course, Maric."

"I think I resent the fact that he's a healer. I wish he wasn't. Maybe he'll be useful to me one day and I'm certainly grateful he was able to save my life but I miss the way things used to be. I miss him."

"You know, I've been thinking," Mathers said.

"About the things you are and aren't supposed to do to a healer and about how long he was unable to use his ability and how, when you needed him, he was able to save you. Right after he almost died, too. On the surface, it doesn't make much sense. He shouldn't have had the stability he needed to do what he did."

"How do you think he managed it?"

"I think it was because he had you," Mathers said.

"I think he knows it, too. After that night, he seems to have simply given up on his ability. He has no faith in himself but why? Nothing bad has happened since then. The only thing that has really changed is the relationship between the two of you."

Maric shook his head.

"Even if you're right, what would you have me do? I have feelings for him. I don't know if I can conduct myself appropriately if I let myself get close to him again."

"I'm not so sure that's an issue. I was certainly taught it was but I can't say the evidence before my eyes is pointing in that direction."

Maric watched Dara.

His breathing didn't sound quite as laboured anymore.

"Maybe not."

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Hmm. Of course."

"Ask him what he wants," Mathers said.

"We can speculate all we like but he's the only one who really knows."

Maric let out a quiet huff of laughter.

"I'm not stupid, Mathers. I'm just cowardly. I've been afraid of what he might have to say about what part he wants me to play in his life. Or doesn't want me to, perhaps."

"Is avoiding the conversation really preferable if you're already acting as thought the worst possible scenario had come to pass?”

"Maybe I'm cowardly and stupid."

Maric made a face at the quiet crackling sound coming from somewhere in Dara's body.

"You're right. I'm not doing him or myself any favours by avoiding the situation. I'll talk to him when he wakes up."

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chaotic-noceur · 3 years

Text

malaysia truly asia

paring: Nanami Kento x Malaysian!Reader

summary: the story of how Nanami had come to know about Malaysia and his first trip to the country he had longed to visit

warnings + contents: food/eating, beach, multilingual reader (malay is mentioned, the rest is implied), malaysia references (contextual notes are provided!)

a/n: I never thought knowing the Malaysian slogan would come in handy but here I am. Words cannot express how excited my Malaysian heart got when Nanami mentioned Malaysia so I'm hurling this into the tumblr void for anyone interested :)

contextual notes + malay transalation

terima kasih = thank you

ringgit = Malaysian currency

tokyo is an hour ahead of kuantan

sunrise is around 7am in Malaysia, anytime from 4-6am in Tokyo (according to google)

roti canai = 'Indian-influenced flatbread dish' (wikipedia)

roti tisu = similar to roti canai, except thinner and shaped like a cone

pasar malam = night market, usually on closed off sections of road

flag erasers are often collected by school kids who purchase them from the on campus bookshop

"You're not from here." He says it with such assertion that there was no room to deny it, not that you were going to. You quirk an eyebrow up at him instead from your place on your bed. He nods to the english book currently in your hands as if it's a way of answer. Your head tilts to one side and he sighs before continuing. "Your Japanese is good, but you speak it with hints of... uncertainty, like it's not your mother tongue." I would know, he doesn't say. Your gaze falls from his bashfully and he seems to realise the implication of his words. "I apologise, I hadn't meant it as an insult. I was merely hoping to ask about your childhood."

Your mouth forms an o before you reply with a curt "I grew up in Malaysia and then my family moved here." He seems to consider your answer for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to his book. The pair of you fall silent, residual noise from Gojo's graduation party filters in to fill the gap. Before long, you notice his gaze flitting around the room as he shifts in his seat, a sure sign that he was looking for an opportunity to speak more. You chuckling lightly before putting your book away. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Your eyes narrow slightly to deduce if he's teasing. But his eyes hold nothing but genuine curiosity. It was rare for Nanami to ever display his true emotions but there was something about his eyes that was always readable to you. So you talk. You tell him about the road trips you used to take up the peninsula, showed him photos of your childhood, pointed out the few bits of home that were scattered around your room. He clings on to every word as you tell him about the near-constant summer, complained about the humidity, and reminisced about the food that you dearly missed.

Truthfully, you are surprised by his interest. Few people had even heard of the small, dual-part country, even fewer have shown any interest in learning more. Maybe this is the moment you fell in love with him. Or at least, it's the moment you accept your feelings for him as something beyond an passing crush but as something worth fighting for.

“I hope we can visit it some day,” he says when you finish.

We, not I, you think. Your heart flutters in your chest at the realisation. He is seemingly unaware at the implication. You reply with a simple “maybe”, refusing to give in to the false hope that he returns your feelings.

Some months later, you find him huddled in a quiet corner of the Jujustu High library engrossed in a book of Malaysian history, a small notepad open beside him. Where he acquired the book was beyond you. With nothing better to do with your rare moment of free time, you shrug your shoulders before heading towards him, making noises as you move so as to not startle him when you settle beside him.

You're flipping through your book in search of the bookmark when he speaks, "would you like me to read to you?" You turn to look at him so fast he's concerned you might have gotten whiplash. His cheeks are flushed slightly and he refuses to meet your eye. You blink at him for several moments and he clears his throat awkwardly. "I just - well, I was hoping to practice my English with you. It's um.." he rubs at the base of his neck, "it's been a while since I've spoken it."

"Oh," you begin for lack of words. For as long as you've known him, he has never once mentioned being multilingual. Then again, he rarely ever talked about himself. Preferring to let Yuu take the lead in conversations or to direct questions away from himself. "Sure, I'd love to help!"

"Te-li-ma kah-sir?"

"Te-ri-ma ka-sih," you correct as you swipe through the selection of in-flight movies. Nanami repeats after you and you nod before smiling at him.

"And what about 'where is the toilet?'"

Your tapping stops momentarily. "Formally, or informally?" He deadpans at you and you chuckle in response. "Di manakah tandas?" His pen glides along his pocket notebook before he repeats after you once more. "Love, you know you'll be fine with just English right?"

He drops his pen and takes a sip of beer from the clear plastic cup before responding. "I know, but it's a sign of respect to make an attempt to learn the official language." A soft smile graces your face before you resume your scrolling. You really are the luckiest human on the planet to be able to call him yours.

It's mid-afternoon when you finally leave Kuatan Airport. Travel fatigue begins to set in on the taxi ride to the beach resort Nanami had booked. You loop your arm with his before settling you head on his shoulder. Instead of telling you that you should've slept on the plane like he would've done if it was anyone else, he simply graces your forehead with a kiss before returning his gaze to the map on his phone.

Checking into the resort is a smooth process. Nanami makes quick work of talking to the receptionist before the pair of you make your way to your room, the resort porter guiding you. Nanami had been inclined to refuse but the porter rejected his offer. The pair of you make light conversation with the resort porter as you walk, Nanami using his arsenal of Malay when he can.

When you arrive at your room, Nanami takes your bags from the porter as you unlock the door. He settles the bags inside as you shake the porter's hand in thanks, passing along a 5 ringgit bill. They thank you with a bow before taking their leave. Nanami shoots you a look of surprise when he notices the action. "I wasn't aware that there was a tipping culture in Malaysia."

"There isn't, not to the extent that westerner do anyway. It's really just porters and housekeeping." You shrug.

He scowls at your slightly. "Regardless, you should have informed me," he grumbles. You chuckle at him before patting his chest lightly, avoiding his sunglasses that hang from the v of his button up.

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunities to leave a tip for housekeeping." You're staying here for two week after all.

As Nanami does a quick sweep of the room, you set up the wifi for your respective devices before making your way to the snack cabinet. You whoop when you find a packet of your favourite childhood snack. Nanami pokes his head out from the bathroom at the sound, only to raise a curious eyebrow when he finds you crouch on the floor, holding the packet as if it was your child. "What?" you exclaim, "I haven't seen these in years!" His arms shoot up in surrender before he returns to his checks, his lips curling into a smile at your antics.

When Nanami returns to the bedroom, he finds you asleep on the sofa, phone slipping from your grip. He removes it before it falls as he rubs at his eyes as the travel fatigue begins to hit him too. The long flight and layover hadn't done either of you any favours but he supposes that what he gets for choosing a city with a small airport.

He changes you out of your travel clothes before moving you to the bed. Once he stashes your valuables into the safe, he freshens himself up before crawling in beside you. You smell of an airport and the mist the flight attendants had sprayed in the cabin but he doesn't care as he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

This is peace, he thinks. No missions, no curses and no Gojou Satoru. Just the two of you and a (mostly) endless supply of sunshine. He likes the thought of that.

When he wakes from his nap, you’re no longer by his side. He panics for a moment before he turns and finds you sitting out on the wooden deck, admiring the ocean view as the sun begins to set. Raking a hand through his hair, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to you. You smile at him as he sits down before laying your head against his shoulder, his arm looping around your waist.

“Sorry I threw us off schedule,” you say after a while.

You feel his head shake against yours before he says, “as long as you're by my side, there's nothing to apologise for. We’re on holiday. Let’s enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Afraid Gojou’s going to appear out of thin air?” you tease. He groans at the mention of his senior's name.

"Don't mention that name again. You'll jinx us." This time, you can't help laugh against him. You peck his cheek in consolidation and he think maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, Gojou will keep his meddling fingers out of things that are none of his concern.

The next two weeks go by in a blur of delicious food, sandy toes and a ridiculous amount of sweat. If there was one thing you didn't miss about Malaysia, it was the humidity. But it never stopped Nanami from intertwining his fingers with yours or ghosting a kiss onto your temple. The pair of you had quickly settled into fragments of a routine since you had first arrived.

Every morning, Kento watches the sunrise from the cushioned seat on the wooden deck. The first time it happened was unintentional. His body had become habituated to waking up early for work. That, combined with the 1 hour time difference and the fact that the sun rose significantly later in Malaysia, meant that he had woken up well before the sky had shown any indication of light. You were still fast asleep, unmoving even as he slowly untangled himself from you. So as to not disturb you, he made himself a cup of tea and read from his Kindle on the wooden deck until the sun had began poking out of the horizon.

Then it just became his own little ritual. On occasions where you wake with him, the pair of you take a walk along the beach. The ocean waves kiss your bare feet to the beat of a song you do not know as you talk about your plans for the day. You stumble across a sea turtle laying her eggs one morning and the pair of you settle onto the sand, far enough away as to not spook her, but close enough to marvel at the rare sight.

Nanami pulls out his phone after a while to record a quick video and sends it to Yuuji. Not long after, Gojou attempts to facetime him and Nanami turns off his phone without hesitation. You chuckle at their antics before you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Nanami declines all of Gojou calls for you and he gives up after 7 rejections. In hindsight, Nanami really should have seen that coming but he blames the cloud of holiday bliss that fogs his mind.

The rest of your days are spent enjoying the ocean breeze (or more often, the ocean heat), exploring the local attractions, immersing yourselves in the culture and best of all, devouring authentic Malaysian food. Nanami had made a list of the most recommended dining locations ranging from high end restaurants to road side food stalls and you make it your shared mission to visit every single one before you leave.

At each shop, he informs you of the best rated dishes but trusts your instincts/cravings for the most part. You point out any items that he 'has to try, at least once' and he asks questions about the items that pique his interest. More often than not, the pair of you will order a variety of dishes and share them, not able to settle on just one. Being the bread lover that he is, he takes a liking to roti canai. Although he isn't particularly unadventurous with his choices, always settling for a plain roti canai and opting for experimenting with curries instead. So, you take the plunge for him, knowing he'll likely be intrigued by the pointy hat shaped crepe that sits before you — he later learns that it's a roti tisu, or the stuffed roti that arrives. (He thanks you later.)

On your last night there, the pair of you make your way to the biggest pasar malam in the city. Nanami had a list of local fruits that he was hoping to buy while you had a list of souvenir ideas for the kids and your coworkers. You walk hand in hand, following the flow of footfall as your eyes scan the stalls. Nanami doesn't particularly know what he's looking for as he passes the snack stalls but he's enjoying himself all the same as he watches you converse with the stall keepers in a foreign tongue. He slips out of his daze when he feels a cold packet being pressed against his hand. "What's this?" He slips his wrist through the plastic loop and grips the tied-off section of the bag.

"Sugar cane!" you chirp, radiating an excited aura that rivalled Yuuji. Must be the atmosphere, he thinks. He takes a sip through the straw as you receive your change. Sweetness floods his taste buds but don’t overwhelm them. He savours the refreshing coolness it brings, contrasting the humidity. You look to him expectedly as you tug him further down the street. “Good?” you ask over the noise from the crowd.

“Acceptable.” There's a look of content tugging on his features that contradicts his tone and a soft smile tugs at your lips before you're promptly distracted by another stall.

When you finally arrive at the fruit stalls, you’re armed with a packet of cheap flag erasers for the students and an assortment of sugary snacks for the school staff room. The crowd had dwindled as you moved further towards the back of the market, allowing you a clear view of most of the stalls before you.

Nanami tugs on your intertwined hands before leading you towards a stall with mountains of rambutans and mangosteens. He nods politely at the elderly couple manning the store and accepts the plastic basket they hand him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the smile that tugs at his lips when they greet him in English. Undoubted pleased to be able to use his skills.

“I assume I should pick the ones that are not blackened and soft?” he says to you when the couple finish explaining the pricing. You nod in response as you begin carefully placing fruits into the basket. Nanami mimics your actions beside you before his attention is grabbed by the fruits to your right. “Is that what I believe it to be?”

You follow his gaze as he speaks. When they fall on spiky green fruits and packets of yellow, your eyes light up in delight. “Mhmm,” you hum before turning back to face him. There’s a sparkle of wonder in his eyes that makes you laugh before you turn to speak to the woman, “how much for a packet of durian?”

You look wistfully at the whole durians as the lady bags your items. As much as you would love to see Nanami use his 7:3 technique on the fruit (you can almost sense your ancestors rolling over in their graves at the thought), you know you won't be able to finish it off by yourselves. Besides, there is no guarantee that Nanami wouldn't hate it.

Rather uneventfully, Nanami does not hate durian on instinct — "the smell is uninviting, but the fruit itself is decent," he says as he helps himself to another. So, with the remnants of fruit juice clinging to your lips and the lingering smell of durian on your breath (despite your best efforts to get rid of both), the pair of you now walk along the beach's shoreline. Your pinkies are looped as you rejoice in the complete and utter sense of peace. There are no curses to be worrying about, no impromptu visit from a certain colleague. And for the first time in a long long time, Nanami feels like he can let his guard down. He feels like he doesn’t need to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He doesn't feel the weight of the country's safety settling in his chest.

“We should come back some time,” he says as the waves lap at your feet gently.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “not sick of fending off mosquitoes and melting in the heat yet?” There’s a teasing glint in your eyes and he chuckles along with you.

He smiles at you then — genuinely, without fear of showing his emotions, shakes his head and kisses your temple gently. “Maybe we can visit your family next time. You can show me where you grew up, your favourite places, where you had your first date...” You smack him across his chest for his teasing while he chuckles at the action.

“Maybe one day.” He interlocks your hands then and ghosts a kiss over your knuckles before looping it over your shoulder to pull you into his chest. One day... when you’re both rid of this curse-riddled life.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #asian!Reader #malaysian!Reader #**jujutsu kaisen #kay writes #this will get all of 5 notes but eh #it was self indulgent #food #food mentioned #eating #eating mentioned #beach

107 notes · View notes

bill-y · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

Tags:

@nin3s

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #male x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games ff #hunger games #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #peeta mellark #why are tags so difficult to fucking write #hello person looking at tags you should really get other hobbies #male reader insert #reader insert #long read #male reader series

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Love On-Set (Pt. 05 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

All The Right Signs

“Gaten, get it together! It's fake raining!” Finn yells as Gaten messes up the scene for the fourth time. Everyone just laughs as you brace yourself.

“Five minutes everyone!” James shouts and you follow the kids as they run out of the rain as the water is turned off.

Today, you're glad the scene is outside, with all the main actors. It's always fun, and you need to keep your mind away from what will happen tomorrow. You thought the kissing scene was too far away, but now it's just around the corner. And you didn't do as James said. Every time Dacre showed up to work on that, you'd just sit, watch something and talk. And you always have fun together. The director never asked about the video though, so you just decided to let it go.

But now, it's tomorrow. And you're trying hard not to think about it until it's inevitable.

“Are you cold?” Dacre comes to stand before you, messing up your train of thought.

“A little, yeah.” You answer, removing some hair from your face.

“Well...” He steps closer, his hands rubbing your arms. You immediately feel warmer, but you don't think it's because of the gesture. “If Gaten manages to say his line without bursting into laughter we'll get out of the cold very soon.”

You can't help but blush, staring into his blue eyes. “He is–”

A camera flashing gets your attention, and both you and Dacre look at the source. Millie tries to hide her phone as if the bright light didn't startle you.

“I can't wait for tomorrow.” Natalia comments.

Unfortunately, they will have to be here, because the kissing scene isn't the only one scheduled. You still don't know if it's good or bad. Probably bad.

“Alright, let's get it done.” As James speaks, the water is turned back on and it starts raining again.

“Let's go.” You say in a low voice, accompanying Dacre back to your positions.

It takes another four attempts for Gaten to finally say his line without messing up, and the rest of you are free to finish the take. Afterward, before you can run to your dressing room to shower and change out of the soaking clothes, the guys decide to make some silly pictures with everyone soaking wet. In the middle of the commotion to strike a pose, Dacre finds he's way to stand next to you, an arm either on your shoulders or around your waist. You try not to give it much thought, hoping Millie's phone camera won't get your blushing cheeks.

When it's all done, you take a warm shower before heading to the van and an hour later you're at your hotel room. But the day isn't over yet. The guys are coming here to finally start working on the Battle of Starcourt scenes. But you still have some time before they show up, so you make yourself comfortable on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders as you watch Jaws since you're in the mood for a classic movie.

A knock on the door startles you a little, and you notice you were too immersed in the movie. Dragging the blanket with you, you walk over there after checking your phone. There's still an hour until they come and you didn't order anything. But you unlock it and swing it open, biting your lip when you see Dacre. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He furrows his eyebrows when he looks down at you. “I absolutely love your dress.”

“Really? It's the last fashion in my living room fashion week.” Giggling, you step aside, closing the door shut when Dacre comes in. “You're early. Nobody got here yet.“

“Yeah, I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you would send him away. “I'm watching Jaws. So we can either watch it or put on something else.” Making your way back to the couch, you watch as he does the same, settling down beside you. “You want the blanket?” You decide to ask, just to be polite.

“Sure.”

That you weren't expecting. It's not cold. Well, not that cold. You just took the blanket to feel more comfortable since you're wearing shorts and a light blouse. “Ok.“ You mumble as you take the blanket from around your shoulders, fixing it on both you and Dacre.

Then you focus on the movie. Or you try to focus the best you can. Why is Dacre here? Millie's voice comes back to your head, her lastest advise making you bounce your leg nervously. She told you Dacre is giving all the signs he's into you. And you should do the same, or else he'll get the idea you're not interested and step back. Natalia assured it'll happen because Dacre is a gentleman, always have been, and he won't keep pushing you into something you don't want.

Taking a deep breath, you think about your options. You feel how Dacre's arm is touching yours, and you have an idea. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach going insane, you lean closer to Dacre. “Can I?” You ask, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Sure.” He answers, and after a few seconds of the most uncomfortable silence you've even been through, Dacre moves, putting his arm around your shoulders, what makes you snuggle closer to him, your head resting partly on his chest and neck. Your whole body is frozen for a moment, wondering what this is. Then he moves again, his arm sliding down to embrace your waist, and you decide to just end the small distance that was between your bodies, completely leaning on him. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes tightly shut as your cheeks start burning. “The shark is attacking.” Trying to ease the tension, you gesture at the TV.

“It is,” Dacre mumbles, and you feel his chest vibrating as he speaks.

As the minutes pass by, you feel more comfortable. And it feels good to finally allow yourself to do this. It's something so simple, so silly, but still, it feels right. You've been dying to do this and you didn't even know.

Unfortunately, the hour passes by, the knocks and the chattering announcing that your time alone with Dacre is over. Sighing, you leave the blanket behind and go open the door, hoping nobody will notice that Dacre was here already.

•

“Ok, ok. Positions...” Joe says after the coffee table and couch were pushed aside, leaving a free space in the middle of the room. You stand beside Millie, script in hand as you wait to find out what scene they'll start with. “You there. You can be... There.”

“Why do I have the feeling we interrupted something,” Natalia whispers as she walks by, tilting her head at Dacre, who's discussing something in the script with Sadie.

“Dacre just came to...” To do what? Did he even come to do something specifically? “He came a little earlier.”

“I didn't know you could get this red,” Millie exclaims, staring at you. “Oh, my God, I'm so happy I'll get to see the kissing scene.”

The kissing scene. Nobody in the freaking universe will let you forget it. As if you needed them to remind you that Dacre's lips will be on yours by tomorrow night. “I want to get it done on one take, so don't screw it.”

“You should ask us to ruin it as much as we can so you'll get to kiss him more times.” Natalia sing songs and you Millie laughs, nodding.

“It won't be Dacre and I. It'll be Billy and Amy. It's a scene, it's our job.” You don't know what gets to you, the words just roll out. And they're all true. It won't be a real kiss. It's not like you don't want to do it. You want to kiss Dacre, and this is making you nervous, but it just won't be real. “Let's just focus here, ok?”

The next hours are tiring. They were right to do this because the Battle of Starcourt will be chaos, and it'll be a lot better if you kinda know the dynamics before having to actually shoot it. But you're distracted, forgetting your lines so many times you have to just keep the scrip in hand and read it. You're thankful for the kids being so crazy because they make you laugh and forget your anxiety for a while.

It's past midnight then they leave, and as you're saying your goodbyes at the door, you notice Dacre falling behind. When he's by the door, the others are already disappearing down the hall.

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow.” You mutter, looking down at your feet. If it wasn't for a meeting James called with the whole cast in the morning, you'd have the whole day to deal with before going to the set. It's better this way though, you think.

“Yeah. I'd be down for another gym date but I have this job that won't let me.”

Giggling, you bite your lip. “You think it'll be about changes in the script?”

“I'm sure it will,” Dacre mumbles, giving a look at the hall. When you follow his gaze, you see three blurs in the shape of heads, vanishing into the corner. “We're being watched.” He lowers his voice as if you were in great danger.

“Hope it's not the Demogorgon. I'd hate to save your ass. Again.” When you look back at him, you find his blue eyes already set on you. It makes you sigh, wondering why your legs won't work, and make you step back, returning to the normal distance you should put between you and someone else. “I'll get some sleep... Rough day tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Another glance at the hall, but you don't have time to check if anyone's there this time. Dacre leans closer and places a kiss on your cheek, as he usually does. Only this time is different. It lingers, for far too long, and at the same time, it ends too soon. And you're sure you felt the corner of his lips on yours. “Good night, (Y/N).”

“Good night.” Whispering, you stand by the door as he makes his way to the elevators, giving one last look back before disappearing in the corner.

• • •

Your hands are shaking a little, and you blame it on the cold wind. But the wind isn't that cold. Is it?

You're already in your position, at Hawkins Community Pool's parking lot, next to this random car and your stylist is finishing with your hair and giving the final touches on your make-up. No lipstick. You can't imagine why.

On your left, you see many pairs of eyes set on you. After this scene, James wants to shot the sequence, when the kids find a Demodog in the pool, so everyone is here. But you can't think about that now, you have to focus. Amy needs to come to life today, and you need to act like a professional. You knew acting in Stranger Things would be huge, and difficult, but you'd never guess it would be this hard.

You take the deepest breath you can when you see Dacre coming your way. Mullets were an atrocity to humankind, you think, but damn, he did make it look good. How is it even possible? He shouldn't be allowed to do that.

“Hey. You–”

“Everyone ready?” James' thunder voice cuts him off, and you have no idea if that's good or bad. No time to figure out. “Clean the set, let's do this. Dacre, (Y/N), are you ready?”

Nodding, you force your mind to remember the lines. You're Amy now... Which sucks because by now, Amy is already in love with Billy. Nothing will help you, you just need to get it done, give the audience the show they want.

“Great. Alright then... Ready and... Action!”

You're not ready for that, but you move anyways.

“I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” Amy yells, walking fast to end the small distance between her and Billy. “There's a freaking Demodog in the pool!”

“It's dead. So why the hurry?” Dacre keeps the smug smirk, the one that makes you want to slap Billy. Just a little bit. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date? Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?” You punch Dacre hard on the chest, well not so hard, but he does give a tiny step back. This is Amy's jealously attack, and you make sure to make her look frustrated because despite the emotions overflowing, she knows she shouldn't be doing this.

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?”

“Because that's where you always are.” Jumping to conclusions. That's the way Amy found to keep her heart away from Billy. Didn't work though. “You know what, it doesn't matter. We have a bigger fish to fry.”

When you turn around to leave, Dacre gets his cue, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop and stumble back. “The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

“Let go.” Amy pleads, stepping backwards as Billy comes closer. That's the moment where she gives up trying. This thing with Billy has been going on for a while now, and, as in real life, there's just this point where you stop fighting it. “Seriously, I'm tired of this shit so let's just–”

“I know you're jealous.” He mutters, just when your back hits the car. James loves to have you trapped like that. “Just need to figure out why.”

“I've said it once, and I'll say it again.” It's hard to follow the script, it's hard to keep breathing normally. It's so damn hard to keep eye contact with Dacre right now. “I won't be one of your flings so back the hell down.”

It comes out too low, and you wait for James to stop the scene. And you want him too. You can't do this. You can't stop looking at Dacre's lips, you can't control the butterflies in your stomach. This is just a goddman scene, why can't you get it together?

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

That's it. It's happening. Dacre leans closer, so close that you have no choice but to close your eyes. He's saying something else, but you don't hear it. Your hands find their way to his chest, grabbing his jacket as if to steady yourself, to get a grip of reality. When his lips brush on yours, Amy is gone and you break character, taking a deep breath before pulling him closer, eager to end the small distance and finally–.

A loud noise, an explosion, makes both of you jump. One of the cameras near you come crashing down and if it wasn't for Dacre pulling you away, it would hit you. The whole thing moves like a domino effect, knocking a few more cameras with it. You barely hear James's voice, stepping further back, making sure you're far enough. The rest of the cast abruptly stand up from their chairs, worried.

“Everyone back off!” James shouts.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks and you simply nod, a hand on your heart.

James dismisses everyone while he and his assistants check what happened. You silently walk beside Dacre until you reach the rest of the crew, looking down and trying not to think about the kiss. Or the almost kiss.

“What the hell happened?” Joe asks, and everyone starts talking at the same time.

There isn't much to talk about. Four of the five cameras are wrecked, and the director is pissed. But still, you're too far away, your mind stuck in the phantom of the kiss you craved for so desperately. Dacre stands by your side, but you can't look at him right now. So you engage in the conversation, ignoring Millie's and Natalia's stares, hoping nobody will notice your blushing cheeks.

An hour later, the big news arrive. Well, they're big news fort he cast, not for James. After analyzing the damage, James will have to suspend the shooting for five days. Which means you'll have five days off. Everyone starts making plans, and the ride back to the hotel is filled with happy chattering about who will go where. But you already know what you'll do. You'll fly home and use these days to rest. And think.

“Hey.” Dacre gets your attention, following out of the van when you reach the hotel. “What are your plans?”

“Uhm... I'm flying home.” Shrugging your shoulders, you keep his pace through the main hall.

“Oh, you live in LA, right?” Giving him a quick glance, you nod. “I'm living there too, I don't know if I told you.”

This lights up a spark in your heart, and suddenly, you're not so excited to stay away anymore. “No, you haven't.”

“We can book our flights together... If that's ok.”

His hesitation gets you by surprise, but then you notice how distant you've been acting since the kiss. Damn, he might be thinking you didn't like it or something. That he made you uncomfortable. That's exactly what you don't want him to think. “It is. When do you wanna leave?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“That's fine by me.” You finally decide to look at him, and you immediately regret avoiding his eyes. Being nervous is... Normal. Maybe. But his eyes give you the reassurance you need. “I'll stop by your room in an hour so we can buy the tickets.”

“I'll be waiting.” His lips break into a smile, and you can't help but bite your lip and smile too.

“I'll be there.” You say as the doors open on his floor. Dacre mutters a goodbye, and right before the door closes again, you see when he winks at you.

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum

#dacre montgomery imagine #imagine dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery fanfiction #dacre montgomery #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine

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professorsnape394 · 3 years

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Twelve: Igor Karkaroff

A/N: This is the twelfth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2709

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creators

The sun rose in the horizon marking another weekend at Hogwarts. Saturdays were always bittersweet for Aria as she often found herself feeling alone without the pleasure of teaching to keep herself occupied. The majority of students usually spent the weekends at Hogsmeade and with the current situation of Severus not speaking to her, the castle felt lonelier still. Of course, she enjoyed her afternoon tea with Minerva and her short visits with Hagrid but other than that Miss Dumbledore found herself with nothing more to do than roam the grounds aimlessly. Though a lonely task, Aria loved discovering places she had never been before, and something could be said of the small moments of solitude she relished in.

On this particular Saturday Aria found herself with evening plans to occupy her nightly boredom, yet the day seemed long and there was much time to fill before leaving for Hogsmeade.

Looking out the castle window onto the vast land surrounding the building, a deep sigh escaped the woman's perfectly painted lips. Rain battered down the window, drenching and water logging the grassland that she had previously wished to explore. Today's going to be a long day. Aria thought to herself, turning away from the window and disappearing back into the castle.

After an hour of fidgeting and pretending to read in the arm chair of her quarters, Aria came to the conclusion she was not going to settle. The room was too cold, to dull and too empty to stay in any longer. Grabbing a sketchbook and quill the young professor made her way to the great hall. The sound of student's laughter as she approached the halls was music to her ears. Though not quite as full as it was at meal times the room was filled with students of all ages from both Hogwarts and the visiting schools. A small group of Professors were scattered around the room, most on duty, or else they would have chosen to spend their Saturdays elsewhere.

"Professor Karkaroff." Aria forced a smile. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."

"You are correct, my dear, we have not. Though I am very aware of who you are." He smirked, shifting to the edge of his seat to get closer to the young woman.

"You do?" She questioned, putting a little bit more space between herself and the Headmaster.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "Everyone has heard the rumours of Albus Dumbledore's granddaughter. But to see you in the flesh? Well that is a pleasure indeed!" He cackled, leaning further over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so, professor." Aria laughed nervously.

"Igor, please." He corrected, resting a heavily calloused hand on her arm.

"Is there anything I can do for you... Igor?... Now that we have been properly introduced." The potions apprentice spoke gingerly. Something about this man had always seemed off to her, and from the interaction she witnessed with Severus her suspicions only worsened.

"I have been watching you for a while." Igor lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "I have noticed you are close with Professor Snape, am I correct?"

The pair looked up to the Potions Master, who paid no interest in their conversation and continued to circle the students intimidatingly.

"I wouldn't say we are close, Professor Karkaroff, we are colleagues nothing more. And at the moment I'd say he pretty much despises me. If you knew Professor Snape, you'd know he doesn't like anyone very much at all." Aria puffed.

"You may not realise this, Miss Dumbledore, but I am very well acquainted with your Potions Master and I know what kind of man he is. Which brings me to why I am here talking to you. In all the years I have known Severus, no one has persuaded him to allow them to get close to him. I must know how you accomplished it!"

"Look, Prof- Igor. I assure you, you have gotten the wrong end of the stick, Severus is my mentor, we have to work closely, it's his job to train me."

"I have seen the two of you, every night you spend together-"

"Marking papers" Aria interrupted. Igor continued nonetheless.

"Despite what you may have convinced yourself Miss Dumbledore. Severus has no obligation to spend time with you out with teaching hours. Yet he does. Every. Single. Night. Ask yourself this, Aria; Why?"

Aria made to reply, once again telling Karkaroff he had gotten it all wrong. However, it was then they noticed the bat like professor spin on his heel and begin walking in their direction.

"What do you know about his past?" Igor pushed, rushing to get an answer quickly. "What do you know about his life outside Hogwarts?"

Aria sat; mouth agape, unable to process the questions he was asking. Her head was swarmed with thoughts and questions of her own that she needed answers to, but knew she would never get.

It was then Snape appeared behind Karkaroff, avoiding eye contact with Aria at all costs.

"Getting acquainted with my apprentice, were we Igor?" Snape spat.

"Simply introducing myself to a beautiful young witch, I wished to get to know." His mouth curling into a fox-like smile as he turned to face Severus Snape. A strong hand slammed itself onto Igor's shoulder, the grip to tight Snape's knuckles begun to whiten.

"A word, Igor. In my office. Now." He seethed through gritted teeth.

As the two men disappeared without explanation, Aria became unable to focus on what she had been doing before she was abruptly interrupted. Making a move to return to her chambers, Aria's eyes flickered to her page. She had been in such a trance she had hardly noticed the focus of her drawing quickly forming into the silhouette of the potions master as he walked among the blurred tables of students. A blush immediately rising to her cheeks it became clear to her that there was no way Severus would not have seen it. She simply prayed he would not bring it up again.

Aria's heart pounded in time with the click of her heels against the castle's cold stone floors as she made her way to the great hall for the second time today. She had changed in preparation for her date... well her "drinks" with Alexander, and she was nervous about how her new look would be received from the students and staff. She always tried to look professional around Hogwarts and dressed more reserved than she otherwise would but for once she felt like getting a little dressed up and feeling her age for the occasion.

As she further approached the hall, a layer of goosebumps formed on Aria's arms and a crimson blush rose to her cheeks. She regretted every decision she had ever made that led up to this moment as a feeling of dread grew in her stomach while she made her way to walk through the doors of the Great Hall. Her long back cloak successfully masked the majority of her clothing to the students but from face on it was impossible to miss her exposed body as she sashayed her way down the hall.

Severus stopped eating mid forkful as a blur of red making its way through the hall caught his eye. The clicking of Aria's heels echoed through the hall and she picked up the pace, hiding her face in her masses of hair. Severus' jaw dropped as his eyes travelled down her body. The silky red material clung tightly to her shapely body, exposing a small portion of her waist where her skirt and bralet separated. For the first time since their meeting it occurred to Severus that he had never really properly looked at Aria's body as she was constantly wearing oversized shirts and blouses tucked into a flowing floor length skirt which hid the curvature of her hips, though maintained her slim silhouette. Her long legs seemed to go on forever as she marched her way towards the head table and Snape found it impossible to pull his eyes away.

"Like what you see eh, Severus?" Karkaroff chuckled, nudging Severus' arm causing him to break from his trance.

"I advise you watch what you're insinuating there, Igor." Immediately the potions masters face turned sour, his jaw clenching furiously.

"How do you think Albus would react if he found out how you think about his granddaughter?"

"I do not think of her in any type of way." Snape insisted but could not help turning an eye in Dumbledore's direction.

Students continued to pour in behind Aria as she made her way up to the table, taking the only remaining seat between Minerva and Igor Karkaroff. Knowing the whole of the staff table had been staring at her the whole way up she was completely mortified by this point and just wanted to eat her meal then leave without speaking to anyone.

"You looking stunning, my dear, don't hide yourself away, own it!" Minerva leaned into her, whispering as she took a swig of her drink.

"I quite agree with you there, Minerva." Karkaroff chimed in, inching closer to a very embarrassed Aria Dumbledore. "She looks absolutely incredible. May I ask what the occasion is?"

"Nothing really." She shrugged. "I'm just heading to the Three Broomsticks after dinner for a few drinks with a friend."

Severus couldn't help but scoff at the woman's comment, catching the attention of his three colleagues.

"Something to say, Snape?" Aria retorted, finally finding her confidence.

Snape found it hard to even look the woman in the eye let alone respond, he simply let out a small huff and went back to his meal, though he couldn't help but listen in on Aria and karkaroff for the rest of the meal.

Karkaroff was once again whispering to Aria in hushed tones as he had caught them doing before earlier in the day, though this time he was a lot more pre-occupied by Aria's exposed cleavage and thigh which he could not keep his hands off. The professor hung over Aria, whispering closely into her ear so that no one around might hear anything he was saying. Thankfully, Miss Dumbledore didn't seem to be too interested in what Igor had to say. Her responses consisted of a few shakes of the head and the occasional one-word response, however, not once did Severus notice her complain about Karkaroff's hand placement or show any discomfort towards the man. The pair continued like this for the remainder of the feast, meanwhile Snape found it hard to focus on his meal for the thoughts that refused to leave his head turned the food bitter in his mouth.

As the feast came to an end and the children poured out of the great hall and back to their dorms, Severus let himself get distracted for a second and before he realised both Aria and Igor were nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for someone, Severus?" Minerva chimed in, noticing Snape looking around suspiciously.

"Not at all, Minerva. I was simply observing the rudeness of our shared colleague and one of our visitors. They have left rather abruptly, don't you agree? What do you suppose those two are up to anyway?" Snape questioned.

"There's no need to be jealous, Severus. I don't really think Igor is Aria's type. Besides if I'm not mistaken, I may have heard your name being mentioned once or twice, maybe Igor is just as jealous of you as you are of him." She replied coyly, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

"Don't play games Minerva, it doesn't suit you." The potions master snapped, getting up from the table.

Almost instantly as the feast reached its end Karkaroff pulled Aria away from the table and out into the corridor.

"Listen, Igor, unless you actually want to tell me what this is all about, I don't want to hear anymore of it." Aria groaned as they closed the door behind them.

"I need answers and you know him best, what has he been telling you?" Igor panted, throwing Aria against the wall and closing the gap between them.

"He's not told me anything, I don't know what you're on about. Honestly, were not as close as you seem to think, in fact, he practically can't stand me!"

"Mmmm maybe you're right." Karkaroff hummed, looking her up and down. "Maybe he hasn't told you. But he's definitely interested in you, I've seen the way he looks at you."

"You don't know him; he doesn't think like that." Aria shook her head.

"I know him more than you do, it seems." Igor leaned in, planting a hand on the wall beside Aria's head, so close to her she could feel his hot breath on her chest. "Tell me. What exactly do you know of his past?" He whispered into her ear.

It suddenly occurred to Aria that she did know nothing of the man's past. Besides what she had witnessed Aria knew nothing about Snape's life. What did Karkaroff know that she didn't? And who exactly was Severus Snape?

Almost on cue the door slammed open to reveal the man in question. Almost in shock he paused when he saw the pair in such close proximity. Rocking on the balls of his feet it was clear Severus' was deciding whether to speak or walk on. After letting out a scoff and a mutter of disgust the potions master chose the latter and made his way down the corridor.

"Severus." Aria called as she pushed Karkaroff off of her. The potions master failed to recognise her cry and continued to walk on. Refusing to be ignored Aria hastily chased after him, struggling to keep up with his pace in her heels.

Panting as she reached him, Miss Dumbledore wrapped her hand around the professor's bicep, demanding that he acknowledge her.

"Severus, I have to speak to you." She said, attempting to hide the fact she was slightly gasping for air.

Snape pulled away from her grasp the second her hand touched his arm, almost flinching at the woman's touch.

"Don't you have somewhere to be." He snapped, once again refusing to look her in the eye.

"This is more important. It's about Karkaroff." She pleaded, hoping this would make him stay.

"I see the two of you have gotten acquainted rather well today. However, who you chose to mingle with is not my concern. I have no interest in being any part of whatever games you are playing with these men."

"What?" Aria huffed confused, however with a shake of her head she chose to ignore this comment and move on. "This is your concern Severus. Can you please forget about why you're mad at me for two minutes and listen."

Severus slowly came to meet the young woman's gaze, getting lost in her eyes for second or two, before he took a glance at his watch and made a move to walk away.

"You're going to be late for your date, Miss Dumbledore." He informed stoically as he rounded the corner disappearing from her sight.

Defeated Aria ran a hand through her hair, but realised the potion's master was right and she had to get to Hogsmeade.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

@lizlil

#severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #Severus Snape smut #severus snape imagine #severus snape fluff #severus snape angst #severus x reader #severus x oc #severus x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #alan rickman #dumbledore #dumbledores granddaughter #potions master #potions masters apprentice

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hesesols · 4 years

Text

The Devil's Advocate

Day 19 and 21 of Ichiruki month 2020

Summary: Demons are a pain in the neck. Exhibit A: The pint-sized she-demon Ichigo’s stuck with until further notice.

Rating: T

FF/ao3

His mouth is bone dry.

Summer heat renders the humidity inside the tiny studio apartment stifling. Heat and sweat cling onto him like a second skin and the stupid electric fan does nothing to ease it.

It's barely three in the morning when he trudges over to his fridge and parks himself in front of the open doors. The blast of cold air hits his heated body nicely. He almost moans.

Instinctively, he grabs the bottle of orange juice from the side and takes a swig from it- only… it's empty?

He growls, "Rukia, what did we say about leaving the empty OJ in the fridge?"

The culprit spares him a lazy smirk from her end of the couch, violet cat-eyes gleaming from the faint glow of the TV. She tilts her head just so as she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Oops!"

Ichigo wearily sighs and slams the door shut, mumbling something about free-loading she-demons. His life is hardly picture perfect to begin with anyway with his job at the Metropolitan Police as a homicide detective. Work hours are long, and his mornings usually start off with unsolicited gruesome crime scene photos and a diluted concoction of coffee-water that is nowhere nearly as strong as he needs it to be.

Since Rukia moved in though, things seem to have gone from bad to worse.

His neighbours think she's his live-in girlfriend- sweet, albeit a little strange at times. Ichigo snorts. They don't know half of it.

The midget isn't even human.

Underneath a heavy layer of glamour, are two spiral-shaped horns- the colour of it blending near seamless with her nest of glossy black hair and of course, a very noticeable fork-tipped tail, flicking from side to side as she giggles at his obvious annoyance at the OJ-less situation.

Filling his cup with lukewarm tap water instead, he trudges over and nudges at her to move. Wordlessly settling next to her, he then proceeds to ignore her indignant yelp as he splays his long legs on the couch, taking up much of her space.

She huffs and glares at him, which earns her a careless roll of his eyes.

"What are you watching?"

Squinting slightly from the brightness, he scoffs as he realizes that she's watching a Spanish telenovela. Though watching may be an understatement in this case, Rukia is obsessed with them to the point where she becomes a little too invested in the torrid love affairs of the fictional characters on screen. By virtue of her otherworldly origins, she understands every language known to man and speaks in tongues; Ichigo doesn't and thinks it's a feat that he catches the names of the characters in passing.

He grabs the remote control, surprised when she viciously slaps his hand away and hisses, "Change the channel and I guarantee you won't live long enough to see the next dawn."

"I'd like to see you try."

Ichigo snorts and does it anyway. It's hard to take her seriously even with the whole glowing eyes business when she is so tiny that she barely comes to his shoulder.

As a demon, Rukia is surprisingly low maintenance- the most outrageous of her demands since she has gotten herself suspended in limbo in their plane of existence was for him to take her to a bunny café. That being said, she does however take her soaps and TV shows very seriously which explains her aggressiveness as she launches herself at him, her touch burning hot on naked skin as she grapples for the device.

"Give it back!"

Ichigo stretches, holding it in one hand just shy of her reach, taunting her.

"Why don't you make me, midget?"

Growling, she takes him up on his challenge. Violet eyes ablaze as she clambers over him on all four, chewing at her lower lip from the effort. It shouldn't even be possible Ichigo thinks, for demons to be this cute- ahem-fixated with earthly distractions but the press of her lithe body feels warm against him, deluding him into thinking for a second, that Rukia isn't some supernatural being from the nether realms powerful enough to send him flying with a snap of her fingers.

Sometimes, he feels she almost forgets about her inhuman advantages- on purpose. The puff of warm exhale from her makes his hair stand, the sight of her face so close to his jerks his thoughts away from his nonsensical musings. Her shirt hikes up and the collar that is way too loose on her easily falls off her shoulder, showing skin.

He bites the inside of his cheek. She needs to stop prancing around in his shirts.

She has her own clothes to wear. He bought her a full array of sundresses, pants, shirts and skirts. Ichigo thinks it's compulsion that makes her raid his closet and steal his clothes. It wouldn't have been quite so ridiculous if she wasn't so petite, making his worn-in T-shirts look more like dresses with the hem cut conspicuously shorter than normal on her thighs.

Ichigo looks away and takes a quick gulp of water. The heat is doing things to him.

He's not checking her out.

He swears. Honest to God.

He's not suicidal. He wouldn't put it above Rukia to claw his eyes out or alternatively damn him to the deepest pits of purgatories if she found out about him sneaking glances at her.

"Here!"

Ichigo throws the remote back at her, standing up abruptly without sparing her another glance. His skin feels warm- much warmer than it has any business of being under a demon's touch and his mouth dry. No touch of water will ever begin to quench this thirst and tame his racing heart but he is human enough to still try to run from the implications.

It's too hot to think. He grabs his keys and wallet.

"I'm heading out."

Rukia's voice rings up from the couch- cool, unaffected as always. Ichigo hates her a little for it, almost.

"This time of the day? Where are you going?"

"To get some OJ from the corner shop since someone finished it and couldn't even be bothered enough to replace it."

Her grin is impish, not a shred of remorse from her as she sighs and kicks back, reclaiming her sovereignty over the couch.

"Oh, could you grab some ice-cream while you're at it? I think we're all out too."

He grimaces, halts his process of shrugging on a shirt to yell back, "They're full of sugary crap. Too much of it and you're going to rot your teeth!"

Just before he sets foot outside though, he grumbles.

"What flavour do you want?"

The grin she flashes at him is annoying and indolent with her spread out on the couch, like a cat in the sun, pleased with her unchallenged access to her favourite soap and him running errands on her behalf.

The satisfaction practically purrs from her as she smirks and says, "Strawberries and cream."

His cheeks burn and he tells himself that he's too nice for his own good, staunchly refusing to even consider the possibility that she's got him wrapped around her pretty little fingers.

The streets of his neighbourhood are mostly deserted in the wee hours before dawn and the scarcity of people makes the air somewhat bearable despite the heat. He walks home in the dark, his groceries in a plastic bag hanging limply by his side.

Ichigo sighs. It's a horrible thing to be distracted by thoughts and downright disgraceful that it has taken him this long to realize that he's being followed.

He turns the next corner sharply and as expected, the heavy footsteps, the crunch against the gravel of the pavement follows. He hides behind the decrepit wall, bidding his time until the sound creeps close enough for him to make out the shadow of a hunkering man.

Now!

He leaps out from the shadow, swinging the heavily-laden bag like a weapon at his attacker.

The stranger decked from head to toe in black falters from the surprise attack. He is forced to take another step back as the weight hits him dead centre- quickly followed by a punch from Ichigo, letting out a pained groan as his world spins.

"Who sent y- the fuck!—"

The hood of his attacker slips off and Ichigo is more than a little shocked by the ghastly appearance of the creature underneath it. Whatever this thing is- it's not human. Yellow teeth- drool dripping from the corners of the gaping mouth and sunken cheeks make up the most sinister-looking skull-face he has ever seen. The thing's unfocused milky white eyes sharpened at him.

The creature throws itself at him, snarling with claws drawn out and aimed at his jugular.

Forced on the defensive, Ichigo doesn't hesitate. Instincts and years of experience have him throwing the bag of grocery at the ghoul as a distraction to buy him time. He takes off down the street in the opposite direction without looking back.

The bag rips, predictably; the contents of it spilling into the empty streets but it barely slows the creature down.

Outrunning him by a good minute, the creature lunges at him from his blind spot which he clumsily dodges. His back meets the wall of the alleyway, chipping off old paint and the uneven edges bite into his skin through his flimsy cotton shirt, drawing blood. He hisses in pain but there's barely even time to register it as the ghoul lunges again.

The strong jaw of the creature crushes the pieces of garbage Ichigo throws at it, rendering them into splinters. Its movements and attacks unrelenting and aimed to kill.

Weaponless as opposed to the creature's deadly bite and claws, Ichigo has neither the speed nor the agility to fully dodge the frenzied attacks. The odds are stacked against him and with every swipe and snarl; Ichigo feels his chances of survival dwindling.

He is crawling backwards on all four, back against the wall when his hand closes on a steel bar. He thanks the stars and whatever higher power there may be but knows that he is not out of the woods yet.

Grim determination sets in as his eyes harden.

He only gets one chance- one chance to get this right or he's dead and done for.

The ghoul rears up for its attack and Ichigo readies himself.

Mid-launch, the steel bar spears through the creature's twisted body. It gives a strangled cry, black blood oozing and dripping onto the pavement, over Ichigo's battered and bruised body. But Ichigo refuses to let go. He pushes it in deeper until he can hear the snap of muscles and soft tissues, and sees the metal protruding from the other side of the dead monster.

The ghoul flops over dead. Its weight settles on top of Ichigo and he eagerly hoists it off, eager to put some distance between them. The damn thing smells worse than the open sewage and rotten corpses.

Above him, there is an ominous roll of thunder and flashes of lightning that streak through the dark skies. Ichigo picks himself up wearily. He has no intention of being caught in the downpour.

Sharp pain shoots from his side as he hobbles. His hand comes up red and in disbelief, his eyes flit to the wound on his side, cut deep and the shred of cotton or what remains of his tattered shirt is soaked in the bloom of scarlet. The drip—drop of blood follows the pull of gravity, pattering onto the hot pavement.

He's been stabbed, he realizes belatedly and curses, that was his favourite shirt too.

Adrenaline fades and his legs give way from the blood loss.

A drop of something cool slides down his cheek before the torrent of rain follows, drenching him as he lays helpless on the deserted street, too weak to even yell for help.

He heaves a shaky breath, trying to make himself comfortable. The ache of the pain somehow dulling as the rain blurs his vision.

Cliché but he swears he sees his life flashing before him. And at the forefront of his strange musings and equally bizarre life cut short before his time, he remembers his first meeting with Rukia.

There's nothing quite like satanic cults and human sacrifices to brighten up the prospects of the day.

Ichigo grimaced, looking at the crime scene photos with a deep frown as he sipped at his coffee. He should have never taken up Ishida on his offer.

This case had all the makings of a ritual killing. Missing child, dead parent cut open with palms splayed, gruesome markings etched- he scowled; it reminded him too much of his own loss.

A tip-off from Anonymous led him to an abandoned warehouse not too far away from the Docks, the scene of the first murder.

"Don't do anything stupid," Ishida had cautioned him against it, "It's just another prank call. I sent a team out to canvas that area hours ago. There's nothing in that warehouse."

But Ichigo wasn't convinced. Gut instincts screamed at him to take a closer look at it but he also wasn't about to pick a fight when they should be focusing the bulk of their resources and time into finding the missing girl. The first 48 hours are crucial.

He's tough and packing. That made the second part of his decision a no-brainer as he slinked in past the locked gates and rusted metal fences— alone.

What he found inside the warehouse though was enough to make him balk.

"Nothing to report, my ass," he mumbled, carefully avoiding the pile of animal bones strewn along the doorway. He thought he heard the scurrying of rats and other critters as he made his way in deeper, unable to shake off the feeling of being watched.

There's something else in here. He could feel it in his bones.

He drew his weapon as he wandered into a room with what seemed to be a laid altar with offerings of dead flowers and questionable animal remains.

Heavy clouds of sulphur and incense filled the air, making his eyes water. In the centre of the room, was a circle, curious glyphs and runes drawn in red that he strongly suspected to be blood, candles with half-burnt ends flickering.

There's a pull at him towards the circle. He didn't resist it. The minute he crossed the threshold though, the candles were snuffed out and a blinding white light enveloped him. A strange ringing echoed through the room.

When his vision cleared, there was a girl with two horns and a tail standing in front of him, violet eyes searing into his as she bowed somewhat mockingly.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think that I'll waste away here for another week before someone shows up."

He stared, slack-jawed at her nudity or rather her lack of shame at her own state of undress.

She was unimpressed. Tapping her foot impatiently, she looked at him and said, "Well don't just stand there and gape. State the terms of your contract and we'll see if something can be arranged."

"Ichigo!"

The memory fades. The same pair of violet eyes are now boring deep into his.

"Rukia," he breathes. Talking is hard but he tries anyway. If it's to be his dying words, let them at least have meaning. Rukia- her existence and the events leading to her presence in his life are the only things that have ever made sense in a world said to have been created by an all-loving God and yet so full of injustice and hate.

"Stop talking! Damn it!"

He thinks she's smarter than that. He's lost too much blood now to ever come back whole. He is beyond saving at this point.

There's a light somewhere guiding him on. Maybe he'll see his mom after this; will she be proud of him- of what he's done with his life?

"I won't let you die."

There's a strange shimmering in the air. The shaft of light shining down on him is suddenly blotted out and he is falling-

Falling-

He slams back into his body and chokes.

The pain is a hundred times sharper and a million times more jarring than he remembers. Brown eyes snap open just in time to see Rukia's kneeling body enshrouded in a silver ashy glow of light; her hand plunged deep into his chest.

The rain plasters her hair to her face; her eyes an unholy combination of black sclera and violet irises. She growls from the effort as her fingers tirelessly trace rune after rune across his broken body. The burnished ring of gold on his chest glows and hums with each and every character added.

Ichigo can only watch on in stunned silence as a cascade of something iridescent is siphoned from her and pulled into him. He thinks he hears singing, sweeter than the song of a nightingale and so beautiful that he thinks he just might cry from it.

She grits her teeth.

"Do you trust me?"

He nods.

She presses her lips to his. He surges forward to meet her and tastes the saltiness of her tears, mingled with that of the rain. There's a cut on her lip from where she had been biting too hard and the taste of it- like honey, decadent and syrupy, lingers on his palate.

The pain- or rather the absence of it grows and he feels something being anchored into place.

His heart.

Her heart.

There's something between them that is beyond words and whatever she's done, Ichigo knows it's life-changing for the both of them. He knows somehow, staring at the identical marks of a glowing glyph on the back of their palm.

They're bonded.

But even the very word seems inadequate to express this shimmer between them. There's a sliver of her- something inhuman— nay, a dark voice whispers, better than human— within him and it makes the world incomprehensibly sharper in his eyes, the taste of the summer air sweet on his tongue and the warmth of her skin so achingly perfect against his own as he holds her.

Pink flesh peeks through his tattered shirt. He is once again healed, whole, rendered into something new in her presence.

"So," he licks his dry lips, "did Hector ever managed to tell Maria that he loves her?"

"You idiot!"

She is shaking her head, calling him names for his recklessness. At length, she stops, and heaving a sigh of deep relief, grins at him, canines showing.

"Welcome back to the world of living, Master."

FF/ao3

The 'I-accidentally-summoned-a-cute-demon-and-now-I-think-I'm-in-too-deep-to-let-her-go' AU

Also detective! Ichigo who solves crime with some help from the occult world- courtesy of his soulmate/familiar/contract partner demon! Rukia.

As always, review, like, reblog, comment or send me an ask to share random thoughts.

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #irmonth2020 #Day 19: all my demons have your smile #day 21: supernatural #supernatural AU #fanfic #mine #the devil's advocate

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shhhhyoursister · 5 years

Note

that last hc about trans staff was amazing i can't stop reading, your writing is so good 🤯 thank you so much for that!!!! when you have time I'd love to read about what matteo said that hurt david and david walking shirtless but just when you can, don't worry :) again tysm

es hi hi yes okay idk why im very in the mood to write this suddenly i watched like a tiny snippet of the last clip again to look for something and this is totally unrelated to that but i remembered that i got this ask and felt filled with motivation for a minute despite my,,, total and complete exhaustion so sorry if this isnt great i just have feelings!!! im also probably going to write the angstier part of this another time, i was just really in the mood for cute fluff!!!!

The first time David did it, he was alone. Laura had left the flat for the weekend to do something for her job, and David had been excited to spend every single hour of that time with his boyfriend. He had been disappointed to find out that Matteo was busy that first night, and despite how badly he wanted to, David wasn’t going to try to pull him away from a movie night with Hans. He resigned himself to an evening spent ordering a pizza, lying on the couch, and watching movies while waiting for Matteo to text him.

He had gone back into his room to change after putting his freshly delivered pizza on the table, and he was taking his binder off as a thought crossed his mind. He had been feeling pretty good that day, body-wise. He had been having more of those days since Matteo, and he looked down at himself, shirtless and wearing a pair of what he realized were Matteo’s boxers, and put his binder gently on the bed. He glanced towards his hamper full of clean clothes and grabbed a shirt off the top, but didn’t put it on. He took a deep breath and clenched the shirt tight in one hand as he walked up to the door to his bedroom, turned the knob, and stepped out.

The first thing he noticed was that he felt a little cold. Not an uncomfortable cold, really, but cold in a way that was...very different than he had ever felt before. He shivered a little as he walked further into the room, and sat down on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions a little and shifted his shoulders against the fabric, feeling the way it rubbed on his bare skin. He smiled a bit to himself before leaning forward again, and grabbing a slice of pizza out of the box. He turned the TV on and selected the movie he wanted, and kept smiling through the whole beginning, despite the grim scene unfolding on the screen in front of him.

After he had finished eating way too much of the pizza to feel comfortable, he let himself slide onto his back on the couch. He rested a hand on his stomach and one behind his head as he watched the end of the movie, and he laughed when he noticed a little bit of the sauce from the pizza on his stomach. He wiped it away before selecting another movie with a grin. He ended up falling asleep about halfway through that one, and woke up to a text from Matteo asking when he should come over that night.

David’s mood carried with him throughout the day, heightened by the fact that his boyfriend was coming over that night. He even cleaned a bit, made sure his room was a little more presentable, and he was just straightening the blanket on his bed when Matteo texted saying he had arrived. He jogged to the door and pulled it open, and felt how dumb and big his grin was when he saw Matteo standing there with a bag over his shoulder.

Matteo gave him an amused look and leaned in for a quick kiss, and David tried to make it a little less quick but Matteo was already pulling away to put his stuff in David’s room. David followed after him, not ready for him to leave his sight, and after Matteo dropped his bag onto the bed he dropped himself into David’s arms. David grabbed him around the waist and squeezed him tight, and Matteo laughed in his ear.

“Miss me?”

David pulled back so he could kiss him on the cheek and then pulled away completely so he could see Matteo smiling at him, and he beamed back, before saying, “Literally anytime I’m not with you.”

Matteo blushed and rolled his eyes before leaning back in so they could kiss, and David pulled Matteo’s body into his and chuckled a little when Matteo made a surprised noise into his mouth.

“You seem happy. Did you enjoy your night all alone?” Matteo said after they had pulled away again, his cheeks a little pinker. David shoved his equally pink face into Matteo’s shoulder and smiled into the skin there.

“Would have been better if you were here, but it was okay.”

They quickly ordered and ate food, and Matteo stole a piece of the leftover pizza when David mentioned he had gotten it the night before. They settled down after a little while to watch a movie, Matteo on his back and David lying on his chest, but after only about 15 minutes Matteo started wiggling uncomfortably under David.

“Fuck, why is it so hot? Move for sec?”

David sat up with a whine and Matteo rolled his eyes again before sitting up and whipping his shirt off. David smirked and wiggled his eyebrows just to see Matteo laugh, and he did, with a, “Stop that, you’re a fucking idiot.”

He settled back down on Matteo’s chest and watched the movie for a few more minutes, before realizing how warm he felt himself. He sighed a little and rubbed his face into Matteo’s skin.

“I did that last night.”

Matteo hummed at him to prompt him to continue, so he sighed again before saying, “Took my shirt and binder off, and hung out on the couch.”

Matteo hummed again, and said, “And how was that?”

David thought for a second, before turning his head and propping his chin on Matteo’s chest. Matteo looked down at him and ran a hand through his hair, and David closed his eyes before saying, “Really fucking nice, actually.”

He opened his eyes to see Matteo grinning down at him. He blushed a little and turned his face back into Matteo’s skin, and felt Matteo’s other hand in his hair as well, and Matteo tightened his fingers and pulled his head back.

“Why don’t you do it now?”

David’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he saw the sincerity in Matteo’s goofy smile. He had been shirtless with Matteo before, a decent number of times. Never when they were just relaxing, however, and he admitted that it was a nice idea. He shrugged a little, and sat up again.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, it’s really warm. You should do it, Laura isn’t coming back until tomorrow night, so it’s just me.”

It was just Matteo. It was just Matteo and David, and David didn’t have to worry. He was still feeling so good, and the idea of feeling his boyfriend’s skin against his own was too tempting to refuse. He nodded a little, and said a quiet, “Okay,” before tugging his shirt over his head and lying back down on Matteo’s chest.

Matteo was warm, but not in the same uncomfortable way the room was. His skin was soft, and David knew that, but he had a new appreciation for it in that moment. Matteo’s hands dropped onto his back and his fingers started tracing random shapes and what David thought might’ve been words onto his skin.

He took a breath before letting it out in a long sigh, and he pressed a quick kiss to Matteo’s chest before saying, “This is good.”

Matteo looked down at him and smiled, running one of his hands up David’s spine and over his neck before sliding it through his hair, running through the curls and moving in such a calming way that David felt his eyes drooping closed.

He woke up a few hours later, and looked up to see Matteo snoring lightly above him. He was a little shocked that he had managed to fall asleep twice on the couch without meaning to in two nights, but he couldn’t stop his body from melting completely in Matteo’s when he felt their bare skin pressed together, and he smiled a little as he drifted off again, only waking once more, hours later, when Matteo tugged hard on his hair because he had gotten tired of watching David sleep.

#davenzi fic #davenzi fanfic #druck fic #druck fanfic #davenzi #david schreibner #matteo florenzi #matteo x david #hhhhh trans stuff???#dare i say #some slight gender euphoria????#damn dude i just love him so much #me: sleeps shirtless after writing this

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hardforbenhardy · 4 years

Text

love at first sight | rogerxfem!reader

summary: roger regrets offering to help out his band mate after waking up with a hangover. though it all washes away when he meets a woman who he thinks may just be the woman of his dreams (i’m awful at summaries i’m so sorry)

warnings: none really, mentions death like the tiniest bit but tbh it's just fluffy

word count: 3.3k

this was one of the first fanfics i ever wrote, and i don’t know it got to this but i’m posting them! i’m always a little nervous to post because i’m afraid people will never read them but oh well, i enjoy writing and i’m kinda proud of them soooo here we go :) i hope you enjoy it

rogers outfit inspiration ^

Rogers POV

Of all the favours I have ever done for John, hauling his children to and from school for the next week may be my least favourite so far. Veronica just having given birth to Laura, and having to look after Michael at the same time all by herself because John had gone on a stag-do holiday (which I, the life of the party, still don't understand why I wasn't invited); I gracefully offered to take Robert, who was now 4 years old, to nursery and pick him up. Robert had said it many times before that I was the best uncle he had, which of course I knew was true; and I can't deny that Robert was my favourite nephew. He listens to me much more than Jimmy or Michael, meaning it is very easy to sway him into becoming the coolest little kid, just after his Uncle Roger. Though, I swear Brian has hardwired his child to be the most boring human ever; all he does is read books and act polite.

Of course, Monday came around quicker than I realised, meaning I had 30 minutes to make myself at least a little bit presentable, for any hot single mums I may run into in the playground of course, before picking Robert from his house. It didn't help at all that I had a tumultuous pounding residing in the back of my head after a night out with Freddie and Brian the night before, and I had woken up to find I wasn't alone in my bed; which was truly expected of myself. The woman, who laid spread across the bed, was snoring lightly as her bare chest rose up and down with every nimble breath she took. I gazed at her up and down, taking in the sight of her flowing blonde hair which was pressed against the material of my silken pillows. Not a bad pull, Rog. Knowing I had to leave in what was now 25 minutes, I grabbed my notebook and pen which I always kept in my bedside table, and quickly scribble a note.

Good shag - call me ;)

Keys under the mat; lock the door behind you babe

I was a little wary to leave this complete stranger in my house and trust her to not steal anything and lock the door behind herself, but I wasn't about to let John and V down because I had a good shag; even though I wanted oh so desperately to maybe go for another round. I paced over to my closet, searching and scanning through the racks and racks of clothes, finally settling on a black and pink striped blazer that I threw on a black shirt and some blue pants. I looked amazing. Ruffling my hands through my hair, I ensured it looked as perfect as it usually did, before rushing down the stairs to save Veronica from the little terror that is Robert.

By the time I had made it to their front door, I could already hear the cries of little Laura and Michael, the shouting of Veronica and the tune of Robert playing his violin. I knocked on the door, in which it immediately swung open revealing the woman who literally looked like she had just given birth again.

“Sorry I took so long V, woke up with a bit of a hangover" – Of course, I was under exaggerating, I could still feel the migraine in the back of my head, and the scratchy sound of the strings on that shitty little violin was not helping.

"Rog, thank you so much for offering to take him – I don't know how I would have coped with all three of them in one morning." She smiled brightly, despite her dishevelled appearance. She moved to the side slightly, allowing me to walk through the door, though I didn't bother removing my shoes as I now knew I had only 10 minutes to drive Robert down the road. She was holding Laura in her arms, rocking her gently back and forth as she attempted to calm her from whatever trouble she was in; Laura was much feistier than the first two, constantly being awake and always crying about something, and it displayed well in Veronica's appearance. "Michael, would you please stop crying! I'll come and change you in a minute!"

"I'd learn to cope – Deacy's been talking of having another!" I chuckled, seeing V roll her eyes and scoff at even the suggestion of having more than 3 children. In her eyes, why would anyone have more than 3? She would never go beyond it. "Fucks sake, of course he is. Robbie, Uncle Rog is waiting – will you please put that blimming thing down and put your shoes on!"

"Robert, come show me your violin – maybe we can start own band!" I shout through, grabbing Robert's attention immediately as he pulls his shoes on extremely quickly and races towards me, wrapping his arms around my tightly as I squat down to his level.

"Unca Wog, you'wl never guess what happened wast night – I was watching TV with mumma, and we had popcorn and bwankets and evewything, and she said I can get my own dwum kit so I can wearn drums just wike you Unca Wog! She said I have to pwove I can wearn how to pway the viowin first (because she thinks I'wl get bored of it but mummy is vewy siwwy to think that!)" Robert exclaimed, whispering the last bit into my ear before giggling slightly, before picking up his backpack and shoving it into my arms. My heart melted a little at the way he was unable to say his l’s so he replaced them all with w’s. I chuckled lightly, ruffling my fingers through his curly, brown hair – which he claimed to be growing out just like his father because, and I quote, 'Daddy has the coolest hair in the world!' – "That sounds absolutely amazing Robbie, we have a mini Roger in our midst!"

"You are still okay to pick him up?" V smiled, now holding Laura over her shoulder and handing over Robert's surprisingly heavy violin case. "Of course – 2 o'clock?"

"Yep, and Robert will show you where to pick him up from. Just let Miss Y/L/N know you'll be picking him up as well for the rest of the week, just so the school knows."

"Miss Y/L/N?" I questioned, the name having such beauty and elegance to it. I thought I may be recognised the name from somewhere, but I couldn't put name to face until I had properly met her for the first time. "Yeah – she's Robert's teacher and supervisor. Oh and Rog, try not to flirt with her"

I nodded my head slightly, taking in her words; does that mean she's good-looking? And now she's 'off bounds'? I drove Robert down to the school, it not being too far away – thankfully, considering we were running slightly late. Robert dragged me over to the classroom door, where I looked through the window to see around 30 young children running around screaming and laughing. How anyone could do this job I had no idea, I could barely handle Robert alone, as much as I loved him. I opened the door, the noise and energy still remaining despite the interruption. I looked to Robert, who hung his bags on the coat rack before joining a group of boys who looked familiar; one had scruffy, blonde hair (although he totally rocked it), one had untamed, curly brown hair, and the other was a young Tanzanian lad who seemed extremely flamboyant and a character in his own right. Then my eyes were drawn directly to who seemed to be the only adult in the room. She was squatting down beside a young girl, plaiting her delicate blonde hair carefully, ensuring she didn't pull too hard and hurt the small girl. The girl was giggling lightly, eyes flicking between the woman and Robert, while the woman wrapping the hair band around the tail of the plait one last time, before rising. She ushered the girl towards the group of boys, who were air playing all kinds of instruments, making up their own tunes and singing. Though my eyes remained solely on the woman now heading towards me, who I could only describe as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long Y/H/C locks were flowing down her back as her brow-grazing fringe shaped her face perfectly; especially since they emphasised her mesmerizing gold-flecked eyes, the type you could stare into for hours on end and never get bored. She had the most gorgeous beam of a smile, which made my stomach drop at the sight. Clothed in a floral yellow summer dress, it perfectly sculpted her curvy body, showing what I would consider too much skin for a nursery teacher – but then again, I certainly wasn't complaining. I was snapped out my trance when she finally reached me, holding out her hand – "You must be the famous Uncle Roger?"

"That's me" I breathily chuckled, rubbing my hand on the nape of my neck, using my other one to shake the woman's hand. I never struggled to speak to women, it was a natural skill of mine and everyone knew it; yet here I was, barely able to look in her direction without feeling overwhelmed. She smiled brightly again, which sent shivers down my spine and butterflies to my stomach. "And you must be the famous Miss Y/L/N"

"Famous, eh? Call me by Y/N – much less formal" She laughed, taking her hand out of mine and tucking them in the pockets of her dress. The dress in which I was desperately trying to pry my eyes away from. "I assume you'll be collecting Robert after school as well?"

"Oh, yeah – for the rest of the week. V said she mentioned it?"

"Oh my, of course! How could I forget – John's away on some stag do right? Well, I'll be looking forward to seeing you again this afternoon, but I should get back to the kids before they end up setting a fire or something!" She giggled, smiling at me before wandering back into the mass of small children, who immediately crowded round at her feet as she sat cross-legged on the plush carpet. I watched them carefully, seeing how she so easily interacted with the children and kept their undivided attention while Robert retold the story he had told me earlier. The children's laughter suffused the room, one child setting off the next like a chain of dominoes. I noticed Robert was sitting next to the small blonde girl, cuddling quite close and his cheeks blushing when she complimented his brightly patterned button-up shirt; a shirt in which he had begged V to buy for him after seeing the same one in my closet.

When the time came around to pick Robert up, a wave of excitement washed over me as I realised I would get the chance to see Y/N again and maybe ask her out. When I arrived, all the other parents had picked up their child already and left, leaving just Robert and the little girl Y/N was plaiting the hair of earlier; though, I was 5 minutes late. I jogged over; worried I was keeping Y/N behind for longer than needed, scooping Robert into my arms as he hugged me tightly. "Hey Unca Wog!"

"Hey Robert – how was school?" I asked, smiling brightly at his adorable antics to immediately come over and hug me. He squealed loudly, a grin spreading across his face as his brain racked to decide what he should tell me about first – "Wewl, Miss Y/L/N told us a stowy, and we did some painting, a-and I wearnt to count awl the way to 20 – I don't even have that many fingers, I had to use my toes!"

“That's amazing! You may have to teach me, I don't think I can get past 10 yet!" I chuckled, seeing Robert cover his mouth in shock and giggle at the idea he knew something I didn't. He zipped open his Flintstones backpack and pulled out a large piece of card, which was when I noticed the remnants of paint that had stained his hands a bit matching the image on the card.

"Miss told us to paint our hewoes – so I painted daddy and the band! Look there is your messy hair, and that's your dwum kit, and that's all the giwrls daddy says you go on pwaydates with!" Robert exclaimed, pointing out each aspect of the painting that I could only describe as... abstract. I grinned at Roberts painting, realising just how much impact we, as a band, had on younger children. Though my eyes widened at the innocence of his last point, feeling slightly embarrassed considering a beautiful woman was standing just behind us. "Oh, and this is Wosanna! She's my best fwiend!"

Robert turned and pointed at the young girl, who was anxiously hiding behind Y/Ns legs, peeking her head around them and letting a shy smile grow on her face. "It's very nice to meet you Rosanna; I'm Roger – Robert's uncle" I politely grinned, holding my hand out to shake hers and hoping not to frighten her away. She bashfully accepted the offer, her petite hand wrapping around two of my fingers and shaking lightly, her cheeks blushing from sheepishness and giggling lowly at the attention.

"Come on Wosanna; wet’s go play on the swings! Uncle Woger, please can we stay a wittle wonger?" Robert begged, pouting his lips and batting his eyelashes in an attempt to sway me, though I just laughed. Rising back onto my feet, I nodded towards Robert, seeing him shoot off over to the swing set with Rosanna hot on his heels, making me laugh breathily at his urgency.

"I believe we have a budding romance in the works" A soft voice behind me bubbled, making me jump slightly, having forgotten Y/N was stood behind me. "Rosanna told me she has a secret crush on Robert, and I promised not to tell anyone but it's just too adorable not to share. I have a feeling that Robert might like her back, but that's for you to find out"

"It is very adorable, I must agree." I chuckled, going to stand next to Y/N and placing my hands into my blazer pockets.

"Have you any of your own?" She asked, nodding over to the two toddlers who were racing after each other around the playground, turning to face me with a gorgeous grin plastered from cheek to cheek on her face.

“No not yet, I guess I haven't found the right woman to settle down with yet, you know." I explained, feeling slightly defeated with the knowledge I had met the right woman, but it had only been a day of knowing her and it seemed a little forward to already ask her to practically marry me; no matter how much I wanted to. "What about you?"

"That little one is mine" she conceded, gently pointing to the blonde girl playing with Robert. My eyes widened at her admittance, not expecting her to have children when she seemed so young.

"Oh really? You look quite young to be the mother of a child that age" I exclaimed, hearing Y/N giggle beside me. "Well, I did have her at quite a young age, I'll admit, but I think we had her at the right time. I'm so lucky to have her"

"We?"

"Me and my husband" She expanded, and I felt my heart drop. She's married. "Well, my then husband." I furrowed my brows, looking at her with a face of confusion as I tried to decipher what she exactly meant - she was divorced? "He passed away a few months before I gave birth to Ro, I never got the chance to tell him the news. But Ro and I have moved on, you know. Or at least I thought she had - she asked me the other day if she'll ever get a daddy like all the girls in the class. I had no idea what to say, I mean I'd love to find someone new, Ben has been gone for years now. But I'm just afraid of finding someone and then having the exact same thing happen. I couldn't bare to go through losing the one person you love most in the world for a second time. And I don't want Ro getting her hopes up in finally getting a father. God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start being all sentimental like this, it's just nice to have someone to talk to about it y'know"

"I'm so sorry, no one should have to go through that" I comforted, turning to see a tear or two rolling down her smooth cheeks which she quickly swiped away with the sleeve of her baggy teal sweater she had pulled on over the top of her dress as the day went by. I pulled her in for a consoling hug, rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her. She shortly pulled away, not too much further though as I felt head rest on my shoulder. "Rog?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this might seem a bit weird, considering I've only known you for a day, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like you go out for a drink tonight? It's just, like I said, I've wanted to get back on the dating scene for a while and you seem like a genuinely sweet guy and I was just hoping to get to know you a little better, plus Ro seems to really like you, I know she may have seemed nervous but she only does that when she really likes someone and she's afraid they won't like her back, a little like me I guess right now except she's usually a lot more quiet whereas I get very chatty, and I tend to talk a lot, which I know can get a little annoying but I guess it's just a force of habit by now and sorry this is probably really weirding you out, forget I even said anything-"

And with that, I planted my lips urgently against Y/N's, a wave of passion and lust washing over me as I realised the one thing I had wanted all along; she liked me too. As our embrace finally met, I felt the whole world around me fall away. It was slow and gentle, soothing in ways that words could never be. And what was even better was that she didn't hesitate, didn't pull away; she deepened the kiss, placing her little hands on the nape of my neck to pull me in closer. I never knew a kiss could so good, so perfect. The kiss was broken by the cheers of the youngsters from the other side of the playground, the sounds of "Go Uncle Woger!" and "Yay mummy!" ringing in our ears as we broke apart, chuckling softly at the animated reactions.

"I'll see you tonight then?" I breathed, staring deep into her enchanting eyes as she gazed back up at me. She beamed widely, nodding and taking out a small notebook from Rosanna's backpack and jotting down her phone number, before scrunching it up and placing it gently in my hand.

I had heard the saying a million times before. John always said it about Veronica. Brian about Chrissie. And I always thought it was complete and utter bullshit. There was no such thing. But I was proven wrong. I guess it truly is love at first sight.

#roger #taylor #rogertaylor #roger taylor fluff #imagines #oneshots #my writing #queen fanfiction #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #fluff #queen fluff

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d-p-f-m · 4 years

Text

Take it easy |🥁|💕|📌|✔|

Seokjin x Reader |🥁|💕|📌|✔|

I love love love writing Seokjin prompts, so thanks again @btsfangirl1999 for requesting it!

Sorry for taking so long but I promise I'm working on everything as soon as I have time and inspiration!

Also thanks to my lovely beta for reading through this mess I call my writing. I'd be lost without you, girl❤🔥

Hope you enjoy!💞

Prompts:

A.) 94. Why the hell are you on the floor? + 95. I'm so tired, it hurts when I close my eyes

Word count: 5783

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The distant ringing in the back of your mind has you writhing underneath the comforting cover of your blanket. In a silent act of protest you instictively wrap the soft fabric tighter around your body, burying your face in your pillow in hopes of drowning out the annoying noise. Obviously though, the torture doesn't magically stop on its own.

About three more minutes in and you finally admit defeat. Groaning in dispair you rip the sheets off of you in one swift movement and slowly roll on your back to extend one arm in the general direction of where your phone is supposed to be.

Without actually being able to see what you're doing, it takes you a few seconds to locate it and press the power botton on its top to cut the alarm off for good. Sighing in content at the peaceful moment of silence you allow yourself to simply lie there a bit longer before you eventually sit up straight, so you won't be tempted to just fall asleep again.

Forcing yourself to pry your eyes open you blink against the blinding screen of your phone to check the time. There is still about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for university, thank God. With all the willpower you're able to muster you heave yourself out of bed and waddle through the corridor leading to your bathroom to proceed with your usual morning routine.

Examining your puffy face in the mirror while brushing your teeth you make an unsatisfied noise in the back of your throat and grimace at your reflection. You don't have time or motivation to conceal your sleep deprived expression with make-up and usually you don't care much about things like that anyways, but seeing the dark circles under your eyes you really wish you could just crawl back into bed and hide from your responsibilities until you're finally well rested for once.

Hearing your phone buzz on the side of the sink you look at the message that popped up on screen and sigh. With finals week coming up there is usually no space for personal life already and you knew it was a stupid idea the moment you agreed to help one of your friends to plan the project for one of their classes but you just didn't have it in you to tell them no. They'd do the same for you when you need them someday. ... right?

While rinsing your mouth you brush your hair absendmindetly and stare blankly at your reflection, thinking about your plans for the day. You'll need to meet up with your friend after classes and then you have to work the evening shift at the café before rereading your notes for the first exam coming up next Monday. You can do this. No problem. You've gone through worse things in your life.

Still, as you set aside your hairbrush and reluctantly make your way downstairs to the kitchen, you can feel how every muscle in your body protests with just the tiniest movement. Walking down the circular shaped staircase has somehow made you a bit dizzy and you have to take a moment to lean against the nearest wall for support when you feel a light headache spread from your neck upwards all the way to your forhead. Probably because you've pulled an all-nighter last night again.

Seokjin would definitely scold you if he found out, he always tells you to slow down when you get like this. Of course you never listen. Good thing you didn't actually see each other the last few days even though you live together, because you're both too busy with your own lives. The only time you would have the chance to talk to each other is either in the morning before heading out, or on rare occasions at lunch break when you don't meet up with anyone else.

It seems like you've missed your chance for today though because it's so silent around the house that you assume the acting major is already out and about again and even though you don't want to admit it, you're starting to really miss having him around all the time.

It's not common for two university students of the opposite gender to be roommates and you often have to endure judging stares or rude comments about your undefined relationship with your handsome friend.

You don't mind, though. If they're nice enough to ask you about what's going on between Seokjin and you, you'd gladly explain that you're just very close friends, for the time being at least, and if they prefer side-eyeing you from afar then you'd simply ignore them. It's not their business anyways.

Yawning, you turn on the coffee machine and then make your way to the fridge to search for something to eat that will hopefully get you through most of the day. To your surprise there's a box with food placed right in the middle for you to see, with a bright blue sticky-note attached to its lid and you instantly pray that it's what you think it is.

You take the box to read the note to make sure the contents are really meant for you and not reserved for your roommate since he's the only one who could have put it there and you don't want to risk getting into a fight over food with Seokjin of all people. You only tried to get away with stealing his food once and decided right after that it wasn't worth the eventual consequences ever again. You actually value your life, thank you very much.

One look at the note is enough to tell you that the food is in fact meant for you though. It's even your absolute favorite and at the thought of your roommates' skilled cooking, your mouth automatically starts watering. Maybe your day won't turn out to be as draining and horrible as you originally thought it would. Seokjin made apparently more on purpose so, and quote: 'your lazy ass doesn't starve before you pay me back for the last seven months of living at my apartment for free'. His choice of words makes you let out a huff in amusement.

When he had taken you in after you got kicked out of your old dorm in favor of someone else without any warning beforehand you both had come to a silent agreement that you wouldn't speak of how much you owed him, since you can't effort even half the rent to his apartment. It's clear to you that you'll pay him back as soon as you have the chance and Seokjin knows this too, even though he probably doesn't actually expect you to.

Silenty thanking him for his life saving food you pack it into your bag and then grab your phone to thank him via text as well so you won't forget. After hesitating for a short moment you also decide to ask him when he's going to be home today. If there's even the slightest chance you're going to be able to see him for dinner or at least a few hours of lazing on your couch just talking while watching some random movie, you're sure that it'll give you enough motivation to get through the day.

Seokjin immediately opens your message and you can't help but smile when you see that he's already typing a reply. He's always been like this. Always quick to answer your texts or calls, always down to go with every single one of your random ideas that tend to pop up in your head at the craziest of times, just... always there for you when you need him.

Being close friends for so long you know that's just who he is, of course. You know he's a good person and a really loyal friend but still, that little voice in your head keeps whispering that maybe, just maybe, he's so considerate because it's you. That it's not just your wishful thinking and he actually cares about you as much as you care about him. That he'd somehow realize how whipped you are for him and return your feelings instead of trying to let you down gently like he does with all the girls that confessed their crush on him in the last three or four years.

Shaking your head to get rid of your cheesy thoughts you stumble back to the coffee machine to get your mug while still squinting at your phone screen where Seokjin's message just popped up. As expected he's pretty busy today as well and he doesn't know how late it's going to get until he gets home. He tells you not to wait up for him with dinner if it starts getting too late but that he'll try his best to make it on time.

Sighing you brush your hand through your hair before finishing your coffee and putting your mug down on the kitchen counter to clean it later. It wasn't a 'no'. So it could happen, ... right? You decide it's not going to be of any good to think about it too much and instead make your way back upstairs to change into some proper clothes. It's almost time for you to leave for university anyway. You try to think positive and tie your hair into a ponytail before putting on your shoes.

You'll just have to survive the next 11 hours, then you'll finally be able to rest. And maybe you'll even see Seokjin again and have dinner with him tonight. So with this promising thought in mind you eventually step out the door of your apartment to get on with your day.

Stepping inside your own four walls you almost start crying in relief when you're finally able to get out of your shoes. You're burned out. The only thing on your mind right now is to sleep for at least 12 hours straight before even thinking of anything else. Unfortunatly though, you still got a few things on your to-do list for today, so you'll have to settle for a quick power nap.

Shrugging out of your jacket you just drop it on your way to the couch, not caring about anything else other than your well deserved rest. You grab the remote and turn on the TV with low volume to let the background noises lull you to sleep and then drop yourself backwards on the couch. Or that's what you thought.

Having misjudged the distance between you and the soft cushions you only scratch their surface before your fall continues and you land on the hard floor with a loud thud. The impact has you holding your breath in shock and while your mind is trying to catch up with your body you instinctively reach up to hold your head in your hands a few moments before the pain even kicks in.

You let out a pathetic groan and slowly roll over to lie on your back, swinging one arm over your face without moving a second time, too tired to try and get up again. It's what you deserve for not being more aware of your stupid surroundings anyway. And the ground's not even that bad, you tell yourself. There can't go anything else wrong if you don't move, right?

Allowing your heavy eyelids to finally rest for a while you stretch your legs out completely in an attempt to get more comfortable and huff, a little disappointed, because it's not working. The noise of the show that plays on TV is actually stressing you out more than helping you relax so you just press the power button on the remote that's still in your hand since you fell down to turn it back off before you finally admit defeat and just wait for sleep to take over.

That's how Seokjin finds you.

You don't know how much time has passed since you first slipped and fell to the ground just to stay there without moving a muscle when suddenly the front door to your apartment opens, accompanied by the very familiar jingle of keys and a heavy sigh sounding almost as tired as you're feeling.

The urge to stand up and greet your roommate comes up for a moment but the second you try to even so much as shift a bit your headache gets worse and a scorching pain shoots through your neck causing you to let out an almost inaudible groan in defeat.

You pray to every entity your brain comes up with that Seokjin won't find you like this, that he'll just grab a snack from the kitchen and then go upstairs to his room to study or whatever. But of course, like most of the time when it comes to Seokjin, it doesn't go the way you want it to. 'Hey y/n, you there? I'm home!' You can't help but cringe at the loud noise coming all the way from the other side of the room.

It's not because of his voice, you love his voice and on any other day hearing him say your name with so much hope and anticipation coloring his words would have caused your heart to go into a frenzy. Right now, however, you just want him to go away and leave you there to suffer alone until you're feeling better.

As much as you want to call out and tell him where you are, you can't bring yourself to actually answer him. The incredible pain in your neck and the merciless pounding of your head aside, the potential humiliation of him seeing you like this, completely vulnerable and pathetic has you biting your lip as if that would help you to make as little sound as possible.

There's a moment of heavy silence in the room before you can hear him let out a disappointed sigh, probably because he's assuming you aren't there and you immediately feel bad. It's the only choice you have to protect your dignity though, so there's no way around it. You decide you'll make it up to him with breakfast tomorrow instead.

His footsteps seem to lead him in the direction of the kitchen, away from you and you're starting to relax a bit but then he suddenly stops, presumably in the middle of the room. It's silent again and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Your brain is trying to come up with an explanation for what could have made him pause like that and when you hear the shuffling of clothes it suddenly clicks. Your damn jacket.

You dropped it on the ground on your way to the couch. Cursing yourself you press your arm tighter over your closed eyes and bite the inside of your cheek while anxiously waiting for Seokjin to move again. After a few seconds the rustling of clothes picks up again and your instincts scream at you to curl into a ball so he won't be able to find you.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you by his surprised gasp of horror coming from almost right beside you and you can't help but to click your tongue in defeat. 'Y/N?! Oh my fu- ... y/n, are you alright?!' He's by your side in an instant, kneeling at your feet and touching one of your legs oh so delicately to check for any signs that you're alive and well.

Even in your hazy state you're still able to appriciate how careful he's being with touching you. 'Shh... shut up, Seokjin.' Hearing your raspy voice he pauses his attempts to softly shake you awake and even though you don't open your eyes to look at him you know he's probably staring at your covered face like a confused puppy.

'You're alive?! Why the fuck- Do you think it's funny scaring me to death?!' Groaning at the volume of his voice you move one of your legs to kick against his knee softly. 'Unfortunatly, yes. But could you please be quiet, my head hurts like crazy.' Amused by his overly dramatic reaction your voice automaticly takes on a softer tone to show him you're fine and it's then that he finally relaxes a bit.

You can feel his hold on your thigh become weaker and you immediately miss the warmth of his touch when he shifts to get a better look at you. 'Well... I mean I've been told my looks are able to bring girls to their knees and while I'm aware of how easy it is to fall for my handsome face, I'm pretty sure I'm not the reason why you're wiping the floor with your shirt. So why the hell are you on the floor?'

It's kinda funny how he's trying to lighten the mood without even knowing what's going on, you think. His voice is barely above a whisper though and you let out a soft hum to let him know you're going to answer in your own time. He still hasn't moved and you're wondering if he just doesn't know what to do in this situation.

Sighing, you move your arm from your face and reach out to search for him. Once you can feel the rough fabric of his jeans under your fingertips, you pat his thigh reassuringly while thinking of what to say next. 'Mhm... it's nothing, really. I just thought it'd be nice to get to know my surroundings better. You know? Bond with the floor, so it doesn't get lonely. Turns out it's really nice to talk to. Found my standards here so I didn't feel like getting up again.'

The amused snort he gives you as an answer is enough to get a content smile out of you as well. You give his thigh another friendly pat and subconsiously lick your dry lips. Something to drink would be nice. You make a mental note to go to the kitchen the moment your body is ready to function again. 'Give me a few minutes, yeah? You can go upstairs and I'll be there in a bit. Honestly, I'm so tired, it hurts when I close my eyes.'

There's silence for a while, like your roommate is contemplating what to answer and if it wouldn't be for your hand still touching his leg, you couldn't even be sure if he's with you anymore.

Suddenly, you feel him shift away from you and your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought of him actually leaving you here to go upstairs. There's still no way you'll open your eyes to confirm your suspicions though. The throbbing right behind your temples got worse while you were talking and you won't take the risk of provoking a full-on migrane just because your stupid feelings tell you it's absolutely necessary to look at your etheral being of a roommate right now.

You don't know what you were expecting at this point but the sudden noise right beside your ear was definitely not it. Feeling your head being lifted carefully you make a confused sound in the back of your throat but before you can actually react, it's already over and you're lying on something far more comfortable than the cold linoleum of the floor.

'You're an idiot. You know that, right?' Seokjin's voice is just a hushed whisper against your ear and you can feel him wrap his arm around your waist when you try to get up on instinct. 'Wha-' You don't really know how to react to his sudden proximity but as you open your mouth to respond he just pulls you closer until your cheek is pressed against his shoulder and hums quietly to effectively shut you up.

'You could have just said you weren't feeling well. There's nothing wrong with taking a break when you feel like you can't keep up anymore, you know?' His words make you let out a resigned huff. He always says that. And he's right, of course. Theoretically. But thinking back to the pile of notes on your desk you've still got to rehearse to be able to pass the exams next week, you can't help but disagree with him.

Seokjin seems to know what you're thinking because he sighs in an almost frustrated way, like a parent trying to reason with his stubborn toddler and leans his forehead softly against the top of your head, burying his face in your hair while stroking your back with his free hand as if trying to soothe you. He has you pretty much caged in his arms and even if you wanted to, there'd be no way to get up now. You're not complaining though. It does soothe you.

It feels nice to have him hold you like this. Like he actually wants to be here, with you. Like he wants to protect you from anything that's trying to harm you in any way. Like... you mean more to him than he says out loud. From time to time, the fingers caressing your back find their way up to absentmindedly play with strands of your hair and you can't stop your heart from jumping a bit when you feel him subtly shift closer.

You're so close you can hear Seokjin's heartbeat and while the steady rhythm calms you, it's still kinda strange. It's not like you never cuddled before. The actor's a pretty affectionate person and so it's actually common for you to be constantly hugged or held in his arms or pulled into his lap when you two hang around each other. Still, there's something about the way he's holding you right now. It's so loving and gentle, as if he's scared he'd hurt you if he isn't careful enough. You've never felt so at ease before.

Seokjin suddenly stops playing with your hair and after another moment of silence lets out a small huff. 'Don't think I didn't notice that you weren't feeling well for a while now. Still... I didn't exactly stop you from letting it get worse, so I guess I'm a bit at fault as well. I should have known you'd strain yourself... you really are an idiot.'

The tone of his voice is a mix between cockiness and genuine worry, so instead of complaining about him calling you an idiot you just grumble into his chest and murmur something that's supposed to sound like an apology. A small laugh escapes his lips at your childish behavior. 'What was that, princess? I couldn't hear you.' He gives your shoulder a soft push to get you to lean back and look at him and not able to resist any longer you comply.

You carefully blink open your tired eyes and when they finally adjust to your surroundings you see Seokjin smiling down at you so fondly your breath hitches. The words you wanted to say won't come out and you clear your sore throat when you see him raise an eyebrow in question. He casually licks his slightly opened lips and you can feel the blush creeping up your face when you realize your eyes followed the movement without your consent.

You're pretty sure he saw you staring for a second and not being able to look into his eyes after that, you press yourself up against him and wrap one of your arms around his waist as well to cuddle into him more. 'I missed you,' you whisper instead. The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them and they're so muffled through the fabric of his shirt that you hope he couldn't understand you.

It's kind of embarrassing how needy your voice sounded just now and when he tenses against you, you immediately regret saying it, scared he'll take it as a joke and laugh at you for being dramatic or worse, understand what the real meaning behind it is and reject you for good. But instead of teasing you like you expected he just hugs you closer to him and lets out a sigh. 'I missed you too, y/n.'

Maybe it's because you're feeling so tired and vulnerable or maybe it's the tender way he just answered you in but hearing him say it back has a wave of pend up emotions suddenly crashing down on you all at once. Your eyes well up with tears and before you know it you're sobbing into his chest, gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline. 'N-no, you don't get it. I missed you, I always miss you and it's so stupid because I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. I'm stupid, so stupid.'

You don't care if you're crossing the invisible line you had drawn from the moment you started living with him right now. You're tired and cold and you can't think straight with that fucking headache drumming against your skull. All you can think of is how warm Seokjin is and how good it feels when he tightens his arms around you in an attempt to calm you down.

Not really knowing what else to do Seokjin slowly sits up and pulls you into his lap. You bury your face in his neck and clasp at his shoulders while he hums a low tune and rocks you from side to side, one of his arms securely wrapped around your waist to hold you in place. 'Shh... it's fine, you're fine.' For the past eight years you've know him, Seokjin always tried to avoid emotional confrontations by cracking a joke or playing dumb but right now he seems completely serious and you're thankful that he's not withdrawing himself from you even though seeing you like this probably makes him uncomfortable.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know how dramatic you're being and usually you'd be embarrassed to let him see you like this, but the way he's cradling you in his embrace like you're something precious to him has you melting against his chest without a second thought. You're allowed to be weak sometimes too. Seokjin is always here to remind you of that and it makes you love him even more. So maybe, just maybe, you can allow yourself to show him what's really on your mind from time to time.

Your roommate hushes you for a while until you're not crying anymore and as soon as he's sure you've calmed down he turns you in his arms so he's able to stand up. 'Come on, let's get you in bed. The floor's going to make me get sick and if my handsome face gets all puffy because of you, you're going to pay.' The comment makes you snort in amusement and glancing at him from out of the corner of your eyes you see him smiling at your reaction. Would it be too much to tell him that his puffy face looks extremely cute? Probably. Better not take a chance after what happened just now.

He carries you up the stairs as if your body weighs nothing. The actor isn't even the slightest bit out of breath when you arrive in front of your room and you're reminded of how build he actually his, despite him joking about becoming fat all the time. You silently study his face while he lets you down on your bed carefully. His eyebrows are furrowed in thought and he's looking down at the mattress instead of at you.

You can't really tell if it's out of respect for you or because he can't bring himself to look at your miserable state, and you actually don't want to know if you're being honest. Sighing in bliss at the feeling of your soft covers being pulled over you, you snuggle deeper into the fabric and look up at your friend through heavy eyelids to see him give you a warm smile. 'I'll be right back, don't fall asleep on me already, hm?'

You let out a quiet hum in agreement and watch him leave your room to go somewhere downstairs. His absence gives you time to think about what happened in the last few minutes and your heart squeezes painfully when you remember what exactly you told him while you had your little outburst. Is that why he was so stiff and quiet just now?

Does he understand your feelings towards him and needs time to think about a way to reject you without making things awkward? Fuck. You really don't know if you're ready to hear him say it. Suddenly you can hear his footsteps coming back up the stairs and on instinct you close your eyes to pretend you're asleep. He can reject you all he wants tomorrow when you're emotionally stable enough. Right now you just want to fall asleep and pretend today never happened.

Your roommate comes to a stop beside your head and just stands there for a moment, probably looking at you. After a few seconds the mattress sinks down at the level of your waist and your breath hitches when you realize he's now sitting on your bed, softly brushing your hair from your forhead. 'I know you're awake. Nobody blushes in their sleep, not even because of me. Now open your eyes and let me feed you, so I know you're not going to die in your sleep.'

Clicking your tongue in annoyence you comply to his order and blink your eyes open. He's holding a glass of water out to you and you let out a short hum to thank him, eagerly accepting it while you sit up and lean against the headboard of your bed. You empty it in one go and hand the glass back to Seokjin for him to place it on your nightstand. He offers you a slice of an apple but when you try to take it from him, he lightly presses it to your lips instead, the look in his eyes daring you to refuse him to feed you.

Your face starts burning again but you know he won't take no for an answer so you just open your lips and let him slip the slice into your mouth without complaint. Seokjin makes a content noise in the back of his throat at your obedience and pats your knee over the covers with his unoccupied hand to reward you.

'You want some more?' Shaking your head at his question you lie back down and pull your blanket up to your chin before he can press another slice to your lips. 'Wanna sleep, 'm sorry,' you manage to croak out and thankfully he relents right away. 'The plate's right here if you change your mind. I'll be in my room if you need anything, yeah?'

He makes an effort to stand up and leave but you immediately shake your head and grasp the sleeve of his shirt to stop him before he can get away. 'Stay, please? I could use your cuddles right now.' Your roommate blinks at you a few times as if unsure of how to react but when you silently lift your blanket in invitation, he finally gives in and gets under the covers next to you with a small sigh.

Pressing your body against his you shift two or three times and then yawn happily once you're comfortable. Neither of you talks for a long time, Seokjin just lets you lie with your head hiding in the crook of his neck and affectionately brushes through your hair to help you fall asleep.

You're just about to let his breathing lull you to sleep when he suddenly smiles against you as if he remembered something and whispers in an amused but husky voice. 'Your actual confession is going to be a bit more romantic, right? I'm thinking something like a restaurant or a movie night with take out and lots of cuddles to set the mood.'

Tensing up a bit at the sudden question you slowly pull away to look at him with your eyes already bleary from how tired you are. 'Who said I liked you?' Seokjin grins cockily at your terrible attempt to play dumb and the mischievous glint in his eyes tells you that whatever happens next, everything is going to be just fine.

'Oh please, it's so obvious you're whipped for me. I mean, who wouldn't be? It's me we're talking about.' You roll your eyes at him and grin back but you can't come up with a sly response right away since what he says is one hundred percent the truth, so you settle for not answering at all until you know what he's getting at for sure.

Seokjin looks into your eyes for a moment longer, the content smile still prominent on his face. Then he's shifting forward until his nose brushes against yours and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his breath on your lips. 'So how about that dinner? I think I deserve something fancy for our first date. It's what first comes to mind every time I think about how to ask you out, you know?'

By now your heart is already threatening to jump out of your chest from how wildly it thumps against your ribs. He already thought about asking you out? More than once? So he actually likes you too and it's not just your hopeful mind playing tricks on you?

When you think you're finally able to form a coherent sentence and tell him you'd gladly go out with him, Seokjin suddenly closes the remaining distance between you both to press a loving kiss to your slightly opened lips. Gasping in surprise against his pillow like lips you don't even get the chance to return the kiss before he's already leaning away from you again.

He's smirking at your dreamy expression and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you as close to his side as physically possible before speaking up again. 'Movie night would be fine by me too, though. Tell me tomorrow, yeah? You gaping at me like a deer caught in the headlights made me kinda sleepy and you need your beauty sleep. Let's get comfy, hm?' Wow, the nerve of this guy. As if you'd be able to get any sleep now.

'You're an idiot,' you say amused and cuddle into him further to get comfortable again. He pulls a funny face in response and sticks his tongue out to you before he chuckles. 'That's my line, idiot.'

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