#I finally feel like I’ve accomplished something for the first time in a long time

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place. 

For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?” 

“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with. 

“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”

“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”

“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry. 

You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?” 

“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”

“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly. 

“I’ll-”

Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head. 

He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”

You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?

“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off. 

Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”

You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up. 

Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”

You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now? 

“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”

“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him. 

Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take. 

“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”

Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.

You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”

“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”

“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed. 

Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street. 

“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”

You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.

“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”

Instead of trying to kill yourself.

“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”

“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.

His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.

You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.

Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!” 

“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain—I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?” 

You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”

His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.

“I-”

You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.

“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”

And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.

You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.

“So,” he says, “about that date?”

“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”

You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”

Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him. 

“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”

Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him. 

He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place

Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down. 

“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.

“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?” 

“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.

“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”

Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic. 

“Oh god, we have to-”

You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.

He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours. 

“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”

Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”

“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”

The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.

“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?” 

You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.

You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.

You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.

“Never again.”

Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.

“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.

“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”

“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly. 

“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”

Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”

“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining. 

“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”

“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall. 

Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly. 

Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile. 

“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”

Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.

“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”

Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”

Dazai looks thoroughly offended.

“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."

Dazai gasps. 

Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”

You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair. 

You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”

Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”

You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”

You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”

Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”

Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.

“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint. 

“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”

Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”

“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida. 

“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile. 

“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”

You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”

“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”

Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.

“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.

“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm. 

He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay. 

He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you. 

“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him. 

It is.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair. 

You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.

You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand. 

“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?” 

There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.

You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later. 

Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”

Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall. 

“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost. 

“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”

“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”

He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency. 

“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”

“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”

“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on. 

You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist. 

“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”

“Stop.”

Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again. 

“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”

“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.

“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.” 

Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.

“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.

Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile. 

Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down. 

He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this. 

“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”

He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.

So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off. 

Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy. 

Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity. 

But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.

You consider it a win.

Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble. 

His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?

And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter. 

But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.

When did he start to…

He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved. 

Not for who he is.

Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-

“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?” 

Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having. 

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”

“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”

Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it. 

He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”

Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.

The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-

Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you. 

Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly. 

“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.” 

Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.

Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.

Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.

Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this. 

Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him. 

Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights. 

“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”

“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”

The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away. 

You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.

You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”

Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”

The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless. 

“Deal.”

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[lilybug-02]

Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨

I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨

It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…

Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞

Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!

(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)

I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐

You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐

Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥

—

My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.

I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.

Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!

Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!

I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)

Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao

#chara is literally built like a rectangle. idk why ive never noticed that #a thick greenbean #and Asriel is kinda half and half when it comes to standing on his toes or regular foot. He has a more top heavy approach to his balance #bread #undertale #deltarune chara timeline #my art #chara #asriel #character sheets #character references #art #deltarune #happy 2 year anniversary!!!! #college chara #college asriel #darkworld

[cupcakeslushie]

sorry for nagging you but i wanted to ask if you have some tips on making comics. I’ve trying making many comics but i always lose motivation and can’t seem to get past even the first panel sometimes.

I did make a pretty long post here, with some advice for starting out! But that’s more technical I guess, and it sounds like maybe you’re looking for some motivational advice? So in addition to that post, I’d say…

Don’t look at these panels where you’re stuck as failures. Look at them, instead, as first drafts!! Keep the early planning stages loose, so it doesn’t feel like an arrow to the heart if you have to make changes. Many artists need to see their thoughts collected somewhere before they can refine things and move on to the next stage. Another big thing is learning to be okay with throwing those drafts away when they become more of a roadblock than a step towards that awesome, final version you’ve got knocking around in your head.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent an hour plotting the composition of a panel…or maybe I’ve gotten too focused on the little details of a character’s expression, but the rest of the shot has just….idk died. I’ll copy and paste what I did like, and delete what’s not working or I’ll completely start over, no fuss. Wipe my hands of it and refuse to look at it as a failure. If I drew it once, I can draw it again! Practice isn’t time wasted, it’s time invested into growing! Drawing is drawing!

It’s always good to look back at your work, so you can see your improvement, but only focusing on your unfinished pieces might be doing more harm than good.

And maybe, you don’t have to draw a full 10 page comic from the get go! Try experimenting with shorter form comics! You can tell quite a number of stories in just a few panels! Learning the ins and outs of something new is a lot easier to accomplish when it’s done in smaller increments. That way you can have that feeling of success more often and it’ll motivate you into not giving up!

When I started EW, I was doing parts in like, one or two pages! Because I was still nailing down the comic techniques I wanted to employ. I was gathering brushes and learning how and when to use them! Learning how to create compositions that worked around dialogue bubbles! All the boring parts of comic creating lol. But then, the more comfortable I became with those techniques, the less time they took, and I could really go wild with the creative aspect! Now my updates are much longer!

It’s just a process. But at some point, all the advice and resources in the world can only help so much. You have to be willing to put in the time!

I’d say it’s kinda similar advice they give when you start working out. When you’re first starting, and you try to do more than your body is comfortable with, you’ll be in a lot of pain and won’t want to continue. It’s easy to give up if you’re not seeing results and you feel like you’re wasting your time. But if you start in a reasonable place, and let yourself learn as you go, then you can gain good habits and it’ll get easier!

And only then, when it’s easy, that’s when you challenge yourself! Not when you’re already struggling with just starting! Or it won’t be fun and all of your drive will disappear!

And that’s really what you’re doing this all for, right? For fun!

#ask slushie #rottmnt #slushie rambles #art reference

[7-wonders]

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Life has never been the kindest to you, and you've come to expect only the worst from it. But when a golden-eyed stranger shows up at your place of work and promises you that all your dreams will come true if you just trust them, how are you to say no? Get ready—a ball in the Dreaming awaits.

(Based on the below ask)

Word count: 14.2k

Notes: A couple of housekeeping notes before we get into it! First, this is very heavily inspired by the "Season of Mists" plot from the comics. In the wider universe for this story, this replaces the events in that comic arc. There are no spoilers for the actual comics, though. The only thing you need to know about SoM is that there's an event that brings basically every important magical being to the Dreaming. This isn't super important, but I wanted you guys to be aware of the thought process behind what I did.

Also, for all my nonbinary and male readers—this fic features a gender neutral reader! I sincerely hope that everybody enjoys this.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round (but especially comments and reblogs), so if you enjoyed, show a gal some love!

Desire of the Endless

Desire of the Endless is facing a problem.

For the first time since…well, they can’t remember, actually, that’s how long it’s been since they felt the need to apologize for anything.

Desire has always prided themself on being completely and unapologetically them. If somebody didn’t like that, or if someone’s feelings got hurt, then too bad. That was their fault for not knowing what they were going to get into when they made Desire’s acquaintance.

However, Desire can also recognize when they’ve taken things too far, which is a very steep bar to hit. Practically everything that Desire does, they can justify it completely. This time, though, they finally can’t justify what they’ve done.

So an apology it is. A simple apology, however, is not going to cut it in this situation. Not that it should! But still, it would be a lot easier to patch things up if all it took was a “sorry.” 

Oh well, Desire would just have to get creative in coming up with the apology to end all apologies. Thankfully, they had their dearest twin to turn to when they needed help with a little brainstorming, which is how Despair ends up lounging on a shiny red settee created from the very fabric of the Threshold.

Said anthropomorphic personification watches as her twin continues to pace, back and forth and back and forth, the heels of their shoes clicking against the floor for maximum effect. They perk up every so often before muttering something and shaking their head, discouraged once more. Despair, apparently having finally had enough, lifts her head from the armrest to give her full attention to her twin.

“Your despair is too much for even me to bear, Desire. Please, what is it that troubles you?”

“Our brother troubles me, and not in the way that he normally does.” Desire takes a seat next to their sister. “I find that I…regret the way that I have treated him over the past couple of centuries. I went too far.”

“Was it the ‘helping to trap him in a magician’s basement for a hundred and sixteen years’ or the ‘impregnating a sleeping woman in an attempt to make him spill family blood by killing the new Vortex’ that went too far?” Despair asks dryly.

Desire bares their teeth in a teasing warning, but Despair merely shrugs as if daring their twin to do it and rip her throat out. Desire sighs, knowing that they won’t be able to rattle her, they’ve never been able to accomplish that, and continues. “Regardless, I realize now that I went too far, and I want to make amends with him. Apologize to him.”

“And how are you planning to do that? I doubt a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will patch things up between you two.”

“I realize that too, which is why I seek to give him something to prove just how sorry I am. That’s where you come in, my dearest Despair. I’ve been brainstorming for days, but I have absolutely no idea what to give him as an apology.”

“Hmm.” After a moment, she nods. “I see your problem. Dream’s never exactly been easy to give a gift to.”

Despair begins to think, absentmindedly digging her fish hook into the skin of her face before dragging it down and repeating the process. Desire has always found themself morbidly fascinated by this compulsion that their twin has, unable to look away from the jagged skin that hangs open and the black ichor that drips sluggishly from the wounds.

The hook comes to rest on Despair’s lap, a sign that she’s finished thinking. “Most of your transgressions against our brother have involved you seeking to destroy the two things that control him most. His realm, and his loves. His realm is his duty, his function, his responsibility; he must have control over that, for it’s who he is.”

“Yes, Dream is nothing if not a stickler for his silly little rules,” Desire agrees.

“True, but you’re forgetting that second piece of the puzzle I mentioned. What has Dream always wanted more than anything?”

What was the one thing that Dream wanted, needed, desired, more than anything? The answer, though Despair already said it, hits Desire in the face. “Love,” they gasp. 

Love! A mere step away from, and more often than not, intertwined with, Desire’s very function. 

“But I cannot make somebody love him. Desire him, yes. That’s easy. Though the two are similar, love is something that even I cannot meddle in.”

“I’m not saying that you make somebody love him, nor that you even use your function to acquire this gift.”

Desire’s brows raise from the intrigue of what’s just been said. “Then what?”

“We both know that you’re extremely talented when it comes to meddling in others’ affairs. Instead of using it to harm this time, use it to help. Find Dream’s true love, and make it so that they come together. I believe mortals today call it a ‘meet-cute’?”

At first glance, it seems difficult, if not impossible. While the idea of true love is not rare (at least, to higher beings that know such a thing exists–mortals are still attempting to figure that out for themselves), true love among the Endless is, as of yet, still undiscovered. What if Dream doesn’t have a true love? Even if he does, how is Desire to find out such info—

Their train of thought screeches to a stop as they remember the function of their other brother. Of course! Destiny surely has it in his stupid Book whether or not Dream has some poor soul destined for him. And if he doesn’t, and the rest of his life is meant to be a string of shorter, passionate loves, then it would still be written down. Desire can bring him that happiness sooner as a show of good faith, a way to prove that they’re truly ready and willing to make amends. It’s growth, baby, and Desire’s entering a new era.

So yes, the task does seem difficult. But if there’s one thing Desire loves, it’s getting to play matchmaker. Getting to play matchmaker while meddling in the life of their favorite/least favorite sibling? Even better.

Slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin spreads across their face, and they press a kiss to Despair’s cheek, who begrudgingly accepts the affection. “You, my sister, are a genius.”

“I know.”

After seeing their twin back to their realm, Desire begins their second favorite hobby of scheming as they try to figure out how they’re going to trick Destiny into giving them a peek at his Book. Tough, considering the Book is literally chained to Destiny, but Desire has never been one to back away from a challenge.

Their chance at trickery comes sooner than expected, a mere two weeks later at the first family dinner held since Dream was deposed. None of the six remaining Endless are particularly thrilled to be in the Garden of Forking Ways, and it shows in the guarded way that they hold themselves as they stand around the room and wait to be summoned to the seven-sided table that sits in the middle of it. 

Well, all except for the youngest are guarded. Delirium sits upside down in her chair, creating multicolored butterflies that fly out of the palms of her cupped hands and lazily around the room.

As the shades that serve Destiny move in and out of the room with various platters of food and drink, said Endless finally motions for his siblings to sit down along with him. Even then, they remain in an awkward silence. This family dinner is such a sudden event that none of them are entirely sure if there’s a reason behind it, leaving all feeling a little wary.

Destiny, being the eldest and the host of tonight’s festivities, is the first to speak. Naturally, it answers what none had been brave enough to ask. “I suppose you must be wondering why I called you all here.”

“Yes,” Dream says, even though it’s an obvious question. Of course they’re all wondering why they’re here. 

“The Book has determined that we must meet.”

“Obviously,” Despair sighs. “But why? What are we meant to do while we’re here?”

“Rainbow butterflies!” Delirium throws her hands up into the air, releasing a swarm of rainbow butterflies. “Has everybody been watching the butterflies that I’ve been making? They’re pretty.”

Everybody simply watches the youngest sister, none saying anything. Finally, Destiny shakes his head. “No matter why we’re meant to be here. It clarified much that, previously, made little to no sense. Something important will happen. Something that sparks a chain of events, causing much change and upheaval.”

“And what is that occasion?” Death asks.

“This meeting. That is all.”

“Explain this further, my brother,” Dream prompts. “What must happen?”

“No. I have told you all I tell you. I have brought you all to this place. The rest is up to the five of you. Drink the wines. Eat of the fruit of my garden. Talk. It has been centuries since we were all together. We must have much to discuss.”

Desire sees their opening and takes it. “Mm, I bet we do. Why don’t we start with…Dream!”

Dream looks across the table at his sibling suspiciously. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell me...” 

Desire is tempted to say something about his scorned lovers, but since they’re trying to work on making amends and not taking things too far, they refrain. One of the most difficult things they’ve ever had to do, truly.

“Killed any more of your unruly dreams or nightmares lately?”

What? They can still try to get a rise out of Dream in ways that won’t cut so deep. By the way his nose flares as he sits up straighter at the table, they know they’ve accomplished this mission.

“It needed to be done, and I will not take criticism from you on the choices I make regarding my realm,” Dream spits.

“Okay!” Death, ever the peacemaker, attempts to cut the tension. “Why don’t we talk about a different subject. Anything exciting happening for you, Dream?”

“Yes, actually.” Dream sits up in his seat a little straighter. “There is to be a ball in the Dreaming on the next full moon, to celebrate the return of my realm to its full strength. You are, of course, all invited.” 

Ah, so Dream is to show the other monarchs and higher beings, gods and goddesses and deities, that his power has returned and that he is not to be trifled with. Desire can appreciate a good power play, and this is really all that the ball will be. A chance for the Dreaming to pull out all the stops, serve their finest food and drink, offer the most raucous and extravagant party so that every realm in existence will know that the King of Dreams and Nightmares has returned and is more powerful than they will ever be. 

“Oh, how fun!” Death claps her hands together. “I remember when those used to be a regular occurrence in the Dreaming. Your dreams and nightmares do know how to throw a proper party.”

“I like parties,” Delirium chirps, hands chasing after the butterflies. “I’m gonna wear a princess dress!”

The rest of the dinner is fairly boring, compared to other family dinners in the past. Talk of Dream’s visit to Hell and the potential concerns there, minor gods ceasing to exist in the memories of mortals and thus returning to nothing, the problems that the Endless face in their daily lives as they continue their functions: it’s too normal for Desire’s liking, but they’re truly trying their hardest to not cause any major spats. Plus, they need to remain in Destiny’s good graces if they wish to have a chance at momentarily separating him from his Book.

When the dinner finally ends–Death is the first to excuse herself, with an earthquake calling for her to return to her function–the siblings begin to trickle out slowly, one after the other. Desire motions for Despair to go on without them, and while she would normally cause a fuss at having to leave without her beloved twin, she knows that they have an ulterior motive tonight and nods before disappearing back through her portrait.

When Delirium finally tumbles her way into her realm, it’s just Desire and Destiny left remaining in the Garden of Forking Ways. Desire sidles up to their older brother, who sighs wearily and looks with his unseeing eyes at his sibling.

“Desire, shouldn’t you be back at the Threshold by now?”

“Brother Destiny,” Desire coos, trying to seem as laid back as they usually are. “Doesn’t that book of yours ever get too heavy to carry?”

“You’re not going to fool me,” he says. Desire grits their teeth and curses under their breath. “For reasons beyond my understanding, however, the Book dictates that I do this.”

“Do what?”

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to, but Destiny holds his Book out towards Desire. They can’t believe their luck, and quickly snatch the book from their brother before he can say that the Book said something different and take it back. Their nails–red, of course–run along the plain brown cover before they flip the Book open.

There, laid out as plain as can be, is the answer to Desire’s query. Dream does have a true love, much to Desire’s utter delight, and said true love is a human. A human! If the Universe didn’t want Desire righting their wrongs, then they wouldn’t make Dream’s other half the same species of being as the one whom Desire first meddled with all those years ago.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” Destiny asks, making Desire remember that they’re not alone. When they look up from the Book, they notice their brother’s hands twitching as he fights to snatch back his most precious belongings.

“Yes, I did.” Desire hands the Book back, and Destiny cradles it as if it’s been missing for months and not like he was inches away from it the entire time. “Thank you very much, brother mine. I believe I’ll be going now.”

After all, they have a lot to do between now and the full moon.

You

You’re attempting to sneak a couple of quick bites from your shift meal when the door chimes to signal that it’s been opened, and you sigh before setting down the french fry you were so looking forward to enjoying. Though you want to be disappointed, you know better than that.

Life has taught you better than to enjoy things so that you can find yourself inevitably disappointed by them.

Maybe that’s a little pessimistic for one just entering adulthood. Still, when you’re kicked out and left to fend for yourself in your teen years while your peers are only worrying about homework and if their boyfriend will still be their boyfriend by the time the school formal rolls around, cynicism feels a little warranted. 

You’ve worked anywhere from two to four jobs at a time just to have enough money for a place to live. While you’re now down to only two jobs, which you enjoy, for the most part, it still means that you’re far more stressed and tired than you would wish to be. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’ll seemingly always have to fight to enjoy any quality of life…well, you’ve mostly made peace with it. There are times, like now, where you’re exhausted and hungry and you just want to scream and rage at the cards life has dealt you.

Instead, you just put a smile on your face and get ready for your next customer. When you make your way to the end of the restaurant’s bar where the newcomer has seated themself, they’re already watching you expectantly. Their eyes, golden and piercing, make your skin crawl in the way that it does when it feels like someone knows more about you than you’ve cared to divulge.

“Well, hello,” they greet.

The newest bar patron grins at you with dark purple-painted lips. They’re stunning, and also insanely overdressed (seriously, a fur coat?) for a casual bar. You’d think that they were just coming from a party if it weren’t for the fact that it’s 7 p.m. on a Wednesday. Going to one, then? Mid-week parties are rare, but they seem like a person who just naturally gets invited to every and any party.

“Hi there, how are you?” you greet, cringing at the worn-out sound of your customer service voice after almost 12 hours of using it.

“Oh, just swell.”

“Great! What can I get for you?”

“Hmm, gin and tonic?”

You nod, hands already reaching for the required ingredients. Though it took forever to really get the hang of bartending, it’s kind of like riding a bike; once you learn, you can’t forget. “I’m on it.”

Your patron gratefully takes the glass that you slide across the bar to them, taking a long sip before letting out a satisfied noise. “My, you do know how to make a good drink.”

“Hah, thank you. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, but I’d love it if you could spare a moment to chat.”

“Um–” You scan the bar in a quick check of your other customers, of which there are few now that the dinner rush is over. Just a couple of regulars, so you really have no excuse to say no. “Yeah, sure. Just for a moment, though.”

It’s not uncommon that people want to talk with you. Whether because of your job, that you’re a captive audience, or the fact that you’re providing them with a steady stream of alcohol, customers love spilling their guts to their bartenders. This customer, however, gives you hesitance. They just look like they’re up to no good, like they’re hoping to use you for something that you don’t want to be a part of.

Regardless, you put away the bottles you were using and turn your full attention to the customer, who’s savoring their drink in much smaller sips than they did previously. Although you’re a great multitasker, people think that you’re not fully listening when you’re doing other tasks. And though you try to get your busy work done during your shift so you can get out of here the second you’re scheduled to clock out, you also know how to maximize your tip potentials. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

When they finally do speak, you’re not expecting them to say, “You look like someone who wants more out of life.”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, but you’ll bite. Not the first philosophical patron you’ve had. “I mean, who doesn’t? I feel like life is just constantly seeking…more. More money, more knowledge, more connection.”

“A very interesting way of considering the meaning of life. But you, specifically. You have not had a very easy go of things, have you?”

You narrow your eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“You wish for adventure. For a purpose bigger than that which you’ve been led to believe you’re destined for. For something great.”

Swallowing harshly, your pulse thunders in your ears as you grip the wood of the bar, suddenly feeling extremely disconcerted. It could just be a generalization, one that most people would relate to were they called out on it, but it seems like the customer knows you, knows your innermost desires, just from looking at you. Finally, you slowly nod. Their grin somehow seems to grow even bigger.

“Mm, I thought so. Take this.” From within the sleeve of their coat, the stranger produces a business card. “It will help make all your…dreams come true.”

Hesitantly, you take the piece of paper from them. When you look down at it, expecting to see the usual business card information like a name and a phone number, you’re surprised to see that it’s completely blank. Even when you flip it over, the blank back greets you.

“But there’s nothing on—” Your sentence trails off when you look back up, the nameless customer long gone. In their place sits the empty glass, stained with their dark lipstick, of course, and a ten-dollar bill. Other than that, an intoxicating perfume is the only sign that they were even here in the first place.

An indeterminate amount of time passes as you try to figure out what just happened, with the only thing snapping you out of your stupor being the calling of your name. Tate, this evening’s line cook, stares at you expectantly.

“You okay?” she asks. “I’ve called your name three times now, but you’ve just been standing there like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um.” 

Are you okay? Spooked, yes, but there’s nothing that you can really do about that now. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Tate nods, still not looking too convinced. “Table seven’s looking like they’re ready for the check.”

“I’m on it.” 

And you are. Like the good, dutiful worker you’ve always been, you push down any of your actual emotions and thoughts and put on your service face, smiling and ready to accept anything thrown your way.

By the time your shift is over at 11, the encounter with the nameless customer is long forgotten. All that you can think when you finally make it home is about going to bed and sleeping until you have to be up for your other job tomorrow morning. 

Just unlocking the door and stepping into your tiny apartment has your shoulders releasing the tension that had been built up in them all day. Yeah, your apartment is tiny and probably not the best in terms of quality. But it’s yours, and it’s home, and that’s what matters to you. You’ve made the very best of it, and for now, nobody can take that away.

It takes almost all of the remaining energy you have to strip off your work clothes and do some semblance of your nighttime routine, and you mentally thank Tate for insisting you eat something while on the clock. You don’t think you could stay awake long enough to actually eat something right now. When you fall into bed and pull the covers up around you, your only thought is that you hope that you have the type of deep sleep that doesn’t produce any dreams or nightmares. Lord knows you need it.

The hopes that you had are promptly crushed when you open your eyes to find yourself standing on a bridge that leads to a large palace. It’s the oddest place you’ve ever seen, an amalgamation of palaces from all sorts of cultures. Domes and spires and turrets make up the outside architecture, and though it sounds like an eyesore, it’s actually quite beautiful. Strains of music spill out from the open doors, and guests in a variety of finery make their way inside to join what appears to be a party. 

You should be wondering why you’re here, as well as how you’re currently having the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, but all questions seem to be answered by the logic of it being a dream. Of course weird things are going to happen; it’s a dream. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll wake up and think about just how strange the dream actually was. But right now, you’re just going to go with the flow, even if that flow is, apparently, a royal ball.

“Hello, mortal,” a voice as sickly-sweet as honey croons next to you. When you look to your right, you find your golden-eyed customer from earlier in the day standing next to you. This still doesn’t concern you, and if you took the time to be concerned, you’d still just chalk it up to the nature of dreams.

“It’s you!” you exclaim.

They hold their hands out and wave them in an effortless jazz hands. “Yes, it’s me.” 

They’re somehow dressed even more elegantly than they were at the restaurant, wearing a silver corset tucked into a pair of wide-legged, black trousers. Their heeled boots add a couple of inches to their already-tall figure, and you have to look up in order to properly look them in the eye.

“I was beginning to get a little concerned that you weren’t going to take my offer.”

“Uh, sorry? I just got off of work a little bit ago.” 

They wave a hand dismissively. “What, didn’t tell your boss that you had better things to do?”

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the details,” you mutter. Your former customer begins to take long, purposeful strides towards the crowds waiting to get into the palace, and you hurry to catch up. “Wait, where are we?”

“This is the Dreaming and you, my dear, are about to attend a ball.”

“What, like in Bridgerton?”

They scoff, obviously offended by your reference. “Please, this is miles better than anything Bridgerton could even hope to come close to. But yes, I suppose so.”

Panic floods you, but not for the reason you’d think. “But I’m not even dressed for a ball!”

They raise a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at you. “You’re not?”

When you look down at yourself, you find that you are, in fact, dressed for a ball.

An entire galaxy has come down from the heavens in order to settle itself on the champagne-colored fabric of the most fancy clothes you’ve ever worn. The golden stars, all different sizes, shimmer with each twist of your body that you make in order to properly catalog your outfit. The best part of this ensemble, by far, has to be the cape that you’re wearing that’s held on your shoulders by three delicate chains clasped together across your chest.

“Oh my god,” is all you can say, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from the complete transformation your wardrobe has undergone.

“Close, but not quite,” they say cheekily. “Though, I do enjoy being worshiped.”

You meet their liquid gold stare. “Why are you helping me? Why am I here?”

“Now that’s a long story. Let’s just say that I owe somebody an apology, and you’re a part of said apology.”

There are so many more questions bouncing around in your mind, but they turn on their heel before you can ask any of them, forcing you to keep up with them as they walk to the entrance of the palace. 

“Hello, Wyvern.”

The dragon (a dragon! You’re staring at a dragon!) bows his head at the greeting. “Desire.”

“Is that your name?” They ignore your question.

“You are, as always, welcome in my Lord’s domain.” The wyvern looks at you. “Your guest, however, needs an invitation to enter.”

“Go on, present your invitation,” Your companion prompts.

You furrow your eyebrows. “My invitation?”

Oh! The paper that they had given you back at the bar. But wait, where had you put that stupid paper? You have to think for a second before remembering, and any relief you had felt is washed away by the panic returning in full-force when you remember where it is. Looking at your mysterious benefactor with wide eyes, you grimace as you try to figure out how to explain this to them.

“I left it in the pocket of my work jeans.”

They sigh as if you’re a minor nuisance, which, maybe you are. “Check your pockets, dear one.”

Slipping your hands into your pockets, you’re already preparing an “I told you so” speech. After all, how could that business card have magically moved from one set of pockets to another? When your fingers brush against something very paper-like, you almost can’t believe it. Your mind has already worked out the whole “dream logic” issue, but teleportation seems to be too much even for that.

When your hand emerges holding the paper, your friend smiles smugly at you and nods their head in the direction of the large, mythical animals. “Now present your invitation.”

You hold the paper up towards what had previously been referred to as a wyvern. Even though there’s nothing written on it, he studies it for a moment before nodding. “I bid you welcome on behalf of my Lord. Enjoy the festivities.”

“Uh, thanks!” you say, manners winning out among the insanity of the evening.

The crowd parts for your friend as guests bow their heads politely, which makes you think that there’s a lot that you don’t know about this person who inserted themself into the middle of your life. What did I get myself into?, you wonder as you hurry behind them and into the ballroom.

You haven’t exactly seen very many ballrooms in your life before now, but even if you had, this one would be your favorite. It reminds you of pictures you’ve seen of Russia’s Imperial Palace during the reigns of the tsars, all cathedral ceilings and marble columns. One of the walls is just a line of windows that looks out over a picturesque valley, and breathtaking artwork from some of history’s most exalted artists looms overhead. The guests of this ball, all opulently dressed, mingle below, with many already dancing to the music that comes from an unseen orchestra.

At the top of a long set of stairs sits a stone throne, currently unoccupied. The ruler of this land must be really lonely, you think. Why else would they purposely place themselves so far away from everyone else, if not to feel the sharp sting of being alone?

The pièce de résistance of this entire room, however, has to be the ceiling. You’re not sure whether it’s magic or if the ballroom doesn’t even have a ceiling and instead looks straight up at the most striking view of the sky you’ve ever seen. You can’t tear your eyes away from the swirling galaxy that’s more beautiful than any NASA telescope picture could even begin to capture, and you’re sure that your jaw is hanging open and making you look like an idiot.

You’re so caught up in the wonder that sits directly over your head that you don’t notice when your new friend spots someone or something that they want to go check out. Apparently deciding that it’s a good idea to at least give you a little courtesy warning, they sidle up behind you.

“Have fun,” they whisper into your ear. 

When you turn around, they’re nowhere to be seen, which means you now have to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar situation. Not ideal, but you should be fine. After all, this is just a dream, right?

Since you were given the advice to “have fun,” you decide to try and actually do so. People watching is always fun, made even more so when everyone is dressed up in all manner of finery. As you study the crowd a bit more, you realize that “people watching” is the wrong term to use, because the vast majority of the guests here aren’t human people.

There are beings clothed in white robes with huge wings on their backs that surely must be angels. Some guests wear traditional regalia from Greek, Roman, Japanese, and other historic empires. The most unsettling are the ones that look human, beautiful, even, until you’re able to take an extended look at their faces and realize that the beastly masks they’re wearing, the horns and the snouts and any other combination of monstrous features, aren’t masks at all. Rather, those are their faces, heavily decorated with makeup, but terrifying just the same.

There’s a little girl in an oversized party dress and clown makeup clapping her hands as a gargoyle tries blowing up a balloon, and a literal void with faces in it speaks to a tall, imposing figure with golden curls and black wings. You’re pretty sure one of the guests is even a human-sized cat woman. Not Catwoman, like the supervillain, but a cat woman. You try not to stare, but it’s impossible, and your eyes keep finding your way back to her as you continue to walk around the outskirts of the ballroom.

Even though you’re completely and utterly normal, it’s impossible for anybody attending tonight’s festivities to not feel the sheer power that each and every being here seems to possess. It’s beginning to make you feel self-conscious: if you can sense the magic that all of the guests have, then surely they can tell that you’re not like them. Everywhere you turn, it seems like you’re meeting somebody else’s eyes as they judge you and how out of place you are.

Your chest grows tight as your skin pricks with heat, the room suddenly beginning to be far too crowded for your liking. There must be a way for you to get outside. You need air, or else you’re worried that you’re going to pass out in front of all these partygoers—after a moment of frantically scanning the room, you see the main hallway that you and your strange new friend had entered through. Knowing for a fact that this path will lead you outside, you set out with a determination to make it through the crowd.

This task, however, is much more difficult than you had previously thought it would be. Apparently, the room being so crowded wasn’t just a part of your panicked imagination; there are far more guests here now, and it’s almost impossible to move through all of them. The music, which just minutes ago seemed whimsical and charming, now sounds sinister in your ears as somebody grabs you and begins to dance with your unwilling form.

Like a doll, you’re spun from one person to the next, all of them ignoring your helpless pleas as you beg them to stop. Instead, much to your chagrin, they all seem to take joy in your panic as they laugh and leave you with no choice but to obey their whims. You’re dizzy and breathless, and at this point you can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or the anxiety.

The next set of hands that grab you are much gentler than all the preceding pairs, and they bring you to a stop instead of sweeping you into another dance. Finally, finally, it seems that somebody has taken pity on you, the poor human that’s become nothing more than a glorified plaything. When your vision finally rights itself, you note that your savior’s even managed to pull you out of the maelstrom of people that had so easily claimed you. You go to thank this person, only to have what little breath you’ve regained stolen from you when you look up.

The man standing before you is a classic study in contrast. His chalk-white skin stands out strikingly against his robes and his hair, both as black as pitch. The only difference in shade comes from the flames that you can see licking up the bottom of his robes like they’re meant to be there. Though, in this dream world, it makes total sense that flames would be a good accessory.

He’s objectively one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen, but his features are sharper than that of a normal human’s, from the stately slope of his nose to his high cheekbones that are completely devoid of the flush that normally hides behind skin. The biggest giveaway that he’s not like you are his eyes: black pools in which stars twinkle and sparkle. They should be frightening; after all, nobody should have eyes that look like that. Instead, you just find yourself enraptured as you try not to lose yourself in them.

“I do not know you.” The bluntness with which he makes this statement is so jarring (not even beginning to mention that he has the deepest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard) that it pulls you out of your daydreaming about his eyes, and you glare up at him.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He seems to realize that he came off like a major jackass, and quickly backpedals. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks curiously.

You look around the room to see if you can find your mysterious friend, but they’re nowhere to be seen. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods his head in the direction of a tall, willow-thin man with golden blond hair and pointed ears. If his pompous attitude wasn’t visible even from a distance, then his outfit, a coat and breeches with the same coloring as that of a peacock, would surely clue you in.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark solemnly.

The man laughs. It’s a harsh bark of a laugh, one that sounds like it comes from someone who both doesn’t know how to laugh and has never heard a laugh before. People in your general vicinity look your way in alarm and discomfort, but you can only watch with a delighted, albeit confused, grin on your face.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“If you were to meet Death, you would find that she is actually quite pleasant. It is…enjoyable…to spend time with her.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time with her.”

“I have.” 

His eyes grow soft and distant as he thinks of Death, and it’s obvious that he’s quite fond of her. He shakes his head slightly, pulling himself back to the present. 

“You did not look as though you were enjoying yourself, even before you were forced to dance.”

“So you were watching me?”

He suddenly feels the need to fastidiously study the galaxy ceiling, but you can see how his cheeks flush with embarrassment. To your surprise, it’s not the normal pinkish shade. Instead, it’s a light purple that spreads under his skin.

“You were!” you tease triumphantly.

“As I said, I believed that I knew everyone here. I was curious when I saw that wasn’t the case.” He looks back at you, those starry eyes twinkling. “You have not answered my question.”

It takes you a second to remember what his question was in the first place. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, everything here is so wonderful and fantastical! I guess I’m just not much of a party person. Never have been.”

“I must confess, I also find I am not too fond of these parties.”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Currently? I am attempting to avoid Queen Titania of the Faerie.” 

He nods his head in the direction of a woman with blue-tinged skin and some of the most frighteningly dainty features you’ve ever seen, almost like those of a china doll. She’s frocked in a midnight blue gown with puffy sleeves, and as she moves through the room in an apparent search for your companion, a whole entourage follows obediently behind her.

“She’s not as good of a time as Death, I’m guessing?” you ask.

A smirk is the only answer that you get from him, apparently deciding to be enough of a gentleman that he won’t outright insult anybody.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off over your head as you think over what he said. “Wait, Queen Titania, like the character from Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He looks immensely pleased at the connection that you’ve made. “The very same.”

“Huh. I wonder how Shakespeare met her.”

This seems to make him ponder something, and after a moment, he speaks again. “Where were you trying to go? Before you became an unwilling dance partner, that is.”

Oh yeah. You’ve so thoroughly enjoyed talking to this man that you almost forgot that you were on the brink of panic just a few minutes ago. “I was trying to find a way outside so that I could get some air.”

He nods. “Come, then. We shall get you some air, myself a reprieve from hiding, and I will tell you the story of how Shakespeare came to develop his cast of characters.”

When he holds his hand out to you, taking it is one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made.

Keeping to the walls is a much better strategy than what you had tried before, which was to forge your own path through the crowds and hope for the best. You duck through one of the stone awnings near the back of the room, one that’s partially obscured by a heavy curtain. When you’ve successfully made it out, your companion’s relief at not being caught by the Queen of Faerie is palpable, and it makes you giggle.

You walk with him through the gardens for the rest of the evening, enjoying foliage that absolutely doesn’t exist in the real world and the company of one of the most enigmatic creatures you’ve ever spent time with. Yet, as he asks you question after question about the most mundane of subjects in your daily life, listening with rapt, awed attention as you answer each and every one, you feel like you’re the one that’s mystical and worshiped across all cultures.

(Though he hasn’t said it outright, you get the feeling that he’s some type of deity, which is simultaneously frightening and fascinating)

The flowers continually pull your attention away from the conversation at hand, not that your companion seems to mind too much. He dutifully fills the air with facts about each of the plants that you stop at, which is why it’s such a surprise when you’re suddenly surrounded by silence.

Looking up from a variant of daisy that shimmers as it goes down a gradient of white to red, and back again, you notice that he’s watching you. You smile at him, waiting for him to launch into the tale of how this flower came to be in this garden, and when he still doesn’t move, you grow a little concerned.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask. He seems to finally rouse himself from whatever daze he had gotten himself into.

“Yes, I…” He trails off, continuing to stare, before he shakes his head a couple of times and looks back at the party. This time, when he speaks, his voice is somehow softer than before. “I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

When he finally does get around to telling you the promised story, it’s so much better than anything you could have imagined. The man is a truly gifted storyteller. You can practically see the scene as he develops it, of a man in a darkened pub being offered the tantalizing gift of inspiration for works that would live on well past his death. Did Shakespeare worry that he was making a deal with some sort of demon, or was the prospect of everlasting fame more powerful than any fear or trepidation he may have felt?

“Is it a true story?” you ask, when he finishes with the first performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream which was, surprisingly, performed for an audience that included the actual Queen Titania. Apparently, she was thrilled by her portrayal, and gave the play a glowing review.

A coy tilt of the head is the only answer that you get, leaving the true interpretation of the story up to you, the listener. Though you want to say that it’s fake–after all, Shakespeare making a pact with an immortal creature that then helped him to come up with plays that would forever change the course of humanity just sounds ludicrous–another part of you, the part that has spent this impossible night surrounded by Fae and gods and all other manner of fantastical creature, knows that this is, in fact, true.

“Are you the one that gave him inspiration?”

“Perhaps,” is all that he says.

“You’re frustratingly vague, you know that?”

This makes him smile, and he looks down to simultaneously rein his emotions back in (he does that a lot, you notice) and to pull something from the sleeve of his robe. 

“Am I?” he asks.

His pale hand comes up to present you with one of the color-changing daisies you were looking at earlier. Your breath catches in your throat when he tucks the flower behind your ear, and when his hand lingers against your cheek, you think you’ll never establish a normal breathing rhythm ever again.

“And what would you do, were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

At this point, you can barely do more than whisper. “On who the stranger is.”

Though you try not to, you can’t help yourself from looking down at his plush, pink lips. You dart your eyes back up to his face, worried about being caught, only to see that he’s done the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod softly, worried that any sudden movements will ruin the perfect little bubble that you seem to have found yourself in. Are you really about to kiss this powerful being, the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on? When he brushes his nose against yours, you know the answer is that yes, yes you are about to kiss him. Just as your lips meet his, a harsh alarm jerks you out of his arms and back to consciousness.

Rolling over in your familiar bed, in your familiar apartment, you hit the screen of your phone harshly until the alarm finally turns off. Laying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling and replay every moment of the dream you just had while it’s still fresh in your mind.

You let out a disbelieving sigh at just how wonderful of a dream you had. The giddy smile is impossible to remove from your face, and you run your hands over your flaming cheeks as you giggle.

What a dream. A royal ball, mythical creatures, a gorgeous outfit, and the most captivating man you’ve ever imagined. You already know that you’ll be thinking about your dream man, and the kiss you almost shared, for days to come.

A second alarm, the one that warns that you really need to get out of bed and get ready if you don’t want to be late, begins to sound from your phone.

“Fine,” you mutter to the inanimate object, sitting up and pulling it off of the charger. “You win. I’m up.”

As you get out of bed, you don’t notice the daisy petals that you leave behind on your pillow.

You go about your day feeling like you’re on cloud 9, unable to stop thinking about last night. Not that you want to stop thinking about any moment of your dream. By the time you’re back at the bar for yet another evening shift (only two more days until you have an actual day off!), somebody finally decides to ask what the hell happened to you.

“What the hell happened to you?” Reese, tonight’s hostess for the restaurant side of the establishment, asks. “You’re walking around like a Disney princess or something.”

You shrug. “Just…had a really, really wonderful dream last night.”

“Like a sex dream? I’ve had a few of those that I’d call ‘really, really wonderful’.” Tate pipes up through the kitchen window, meaning you have no choice but to reach through and shove him.

“Fuck off!”

He laughs and jumps back to avoid your ire. “So it was a sex dream!”

“No! It was just really sweet and romantic, y’know?”

“I get it,” Reese says.

You gesture to her gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Who was the lead? Mine’s usually Harry Styles.”

Though you both sigh a little wistfully, you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man before last night.”

“Isn’t it, like, a thing that you can’t dream of people whose faces you’ve never seen?” Tate asks.

“With a face like his, I definitely would have remembered seeing him while I was awake.”

“Fuck,” Reese grumbles when the door opens and a family walks in. “Can’t people be a little kinder and realize that we’re gossiping here?”

“Apparently not.” 

Everybody shares in a “we hate our customer service job” groan before breaking to do their respective tasks. Reese slaps on a big smile and asks “how many are joining you guys this evening?” Tate flips a couple of burgers on the grill, and you turn to check on your regulars that are enjoying a couple of after-work beers.

Sometimes, it really sucks that you can’t just daydream about whatever you want because you’re forced to work in order to survive. But as the night wears on and your plastic tip cup housed beneath the bar continues to grow more stuffed with bills thanks to very generous tippers tonight, you see the importance of not living in your head.

That is, until someone’s standing across from you at the bar and you smile at them in preparation to take their order, only to almost drop the glass you’re cleaning when you lay eyes on your dream man from last night.

He’s traded the long robes for a simple black peacoat, a black shirt, and black jeans, but he still manages to look regal in them. The wardrobe isn’t the main difference, though. That would be his eyes. Where last night they were black pools of stars, tonight, they’re a bright blue. Just as stunning, but in a completely different way.

The only thing about him that’s the same is his hair. The black strands are still just as wild and untamed as they were at the ball, and it makes your heart flutter to see. You have to hold yourself back from reaching across the bar to try and smooth them out a bit, but really, you just want to feel how soft his hair must surely be.

He’s smiling at you, that same shy smile that graced his lips while he was talking to you about plants. You realize that you need to say something, anything, but all you manage to come up with is, “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice still sounds like what you imagine melted dark chocolate must sound like if it could talk, and your cheeks grow hot from it.

“It’s you. You’re real!” You wince at the stupidity of that statement. Obviously he’s real, he’s standing right in front of you!

He looks very amused by this, and you don’t blame him. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.”

You come around from the other side of the bar so that you can actually be standing across from him without anything impeding you. 

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

It’s only when he says that that you realize that he’s right. You don’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know yours. A glaring oversight on both of your parts, but one that he looks ready to correct. 

He gently takes one of your hands in one of his, bending just slightly at the waist as he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

You entrust him with your name, and he grins so radiantly that you feel as though you’ve been standing in front of the sun. He repeats it back to you, and you could swear that you’ve never heard your name sound so beautiful before now. You’d give anything to hear him say it again and again. Hell, if the last word you ever heard on this Earth was this man–Dream! Morpheus!–saying your name, you’d die happy.

Even though you’re totally sure that this isn’t a dream (you know, you pinched your leg to make sure), part of you is still worried that either he or you will disappear again. Who’s to say that you’ll be able to find each other a second time? Just in case your fears come true, you decide to act before you can remember why you don’t act before thinking.

Dream’s still holding onto one of your hands, and you use it to pull him closer to you, close enough that your noses are almost touching as he bends his head just slightly to look at you. His eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to make your next move. Said next move consists of you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it at all. One hand rests on your waist while the other goes to your chin so that he can tilt your head the way that he likes–you’re certainly not going to stop him from doing that. 

The restaurant patrons all start cheering, and you can hear Tate and Reese wolf-whistling. It’s embarrassing, but you’re too wrapped up in Dream right now to fully care. Maybe after you separate. For now, since both of your arms are over Dream’s shoulders, it makes it easy for you to flip your coworkers off without having to interrupt your kiss. 

Later, you’ll have to see if you can track down your strange, golden-eyed friend and thank them for giving a blank business card to a stranger who worked at a bar. After all, they were right. That card has made all your dreams come true.

Dream of the Endless

Dream of the Endless is not at all thrilled to be playing host to beings from almost every realm that the Dreaming has even the most tentative of alliances with. He received his reputation as a recluse for a reason, and it’s certainly not because he loves being social.

But tonight is not for him, no. It’s for the Dreaming. He had been gone for far too long, even if it was against his will. Not only had the Dreaming crumbled physically, but its standing as one of the most powerful realms in existence had crumbled too. Now that he was back and his kingdom restored to its former glory, if not more powerful than it was before his departure, he intended to remind each and every naysayer just why the Dreaming commanded their respect.

Of course, right as he’s thinking that the night is shaping up to be quite successful, he sees a guest that he most certainly did not invite. He knows this for certain, because he knows everybody and their dreams just by looking at them. Even if he didn’t, when one is alive for as long as the Endless have been, one gets to know most everybody that’s of a higher rank or class of the various realms.

You, with golden stars swimming across your body, are entirely unfamiliar to him. Even more unsettling is the fact that he doesn’t just intuitively know his name, which means there are other forces at play here. And on this night, where the Dreaming is meant to be at its best, he will not allow his enemies any opportunity to take that away from him.

It’s obvious in your demeanor that you’re uncomfortable amongst the crowds, and Dream is not the only one to notice it. When the eyes of the Trickster God, Loki Skywalker, land on you, Dream can almost see the plan formulating in the Norseman’s head. He takes a couple of quick steps, and before you can even blink, he’s swept you unwillingly into a dance.

You’re immediately begging for him to let you go, your fists pounding against his arms as you attempt to free yourself from his embrace. Loki does finally acquiesce to your demands, but simply spins you into another’s arms. Those in the general vicinity all seem to be in on this little joke, all of them laughing and taking their turn to have your resistant self in their embrace.

Suddenly, you don’t look like a threat. You’re simply a person, scared and out of your element, a pawn in the games of beings much more powerful than you. Dream may not know your true intentions, but he can’t continue to let this happen under his purview. With a single thought, he’s across the ballroom and pulling you into his own arms and away from those hoping to be next in line for a dance.

You stumble over your own feet, your body still propelled forward by the inertia of the other dancers that came before Dream. Blinking furiously to try and clear your vision, you’re finally able to look up at him without getting dizzy. 

Dream watches you try to figure out something, anything to say, and in return he studies you as well. It’s still impossible for him to divine any sort of information about you, but he can’t sense any other being’s magic on you that would be blocking his access. Apparently, you’re simply an anomaly, and that’s not including figuring out how you got past the gatekeepers in the first place.

“I do not know you,” he finally settles on saying. Apparently, by the way that you glare at him, it comes out much harsher than he had planned.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He has to apologize, obviously. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks, wondering if this is the person that is blocking his access to you.

Though you look around the room, you don’t seem to find whoever it is. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Dream finds himself perturbed. Why wouldn’t he have helped you out of your less-than-ideal situation? It seems like common decency, but perhaps human society has decayed so badly that even this simple act warrants a heartfelt thank you.

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods towards the aforementioned Fae, who is currently strutting around looking for his next conquest. Behind him trails his sister, Nuala, just as fair as her brother but decidedly a much kinder creature. She whispers something in his ear, and he merely brushes her off before continuing his search.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark.

The statement, said with the confidence of someone who does not know that there are forces far beyond that which they may believe, is so humorous to Morpheus that he can’t help but laugh. How could anybody regret their time spent with Death? She is the literal oxymoron of her name; in fact, she should be the personification of sunshine instead of death.

Instead of shying away from him, because he does know that his laugh is truly horrific and thus wouldn’t blame you for doing so, you surprise Dream by grinning at the sound and looking rather proud of yourself for eliciting a laugh from him. Oh, he really enjoys this. 

He’s always found himself fond of those able to look beyond his function. As he continues to interact with you, he realizes that you apparently have no clue who he is. He also realizes that talking to you is not the same chore as it is to converse with the others that are here in his realm tonight.

Before he knows it, he’s offering to take you out to the gardens and tell you the tale of how a young Will Shaxberd came to be known as history’s greatest playwright. He shouldn’t be abandoning his guests, for that’s not what a good monarch does. However, it’s too tempting to not try and have you to himself. When you accept, he finds himself thrilled for the first time since before his imprisonment.

Dream takes great pride in the palace’s gardens. Much of the flora there had long since gone extinct, and the only thing keeping them alive in this moment was the Dream Lord’s memory (or, the memories of dreamers long gone whose knowledge Dream had leached from) of when they still flourished. He was happy to share those memories with anyone willing to listen, and you were proving to be one of the most engaged audiences he had entertained when it came to his garden.

Time is a fickle thing in the Dreaming, to be certain. Hours can pass by like minutes, or minutes can be days. It’s why he tends to keep appointments in the Waking to a minimum; he loses track of time far too easily, and often needs multiple reminders that he has an obligation in a realm not his own.

Never has Dream felt Time so keenly in the Dreaming as he does when he finally looks away from the path ahead and towards you, only for Time to seemingly come to a stop. The moon shines down upon you like an ethereal spotlight while you bend just slightly in order to fully study a daisy that was last seen in the Andromeda galaxy two hundred lightyears ago. Softly, so as not to ruin it, you gently run a finger along the edges of the velvety petals. Your smile as you do so is filled with so much kindness that Dream believes he could drown in it, not that he would mind in the slightest.

Dream had experienced love at first sight far too many times for his liking. A secret hopeless romantic, it was far too easy for him to immediately see the best in any potential romantic partner and offer himself up to them on a silver platter. Indeed, he had given lovers the finest jewels or entire worlds created just for them, and every single one had ended up spurning him in the end.

Perhaps that’s why this feels so different. This isn’t love at first sight, for he certainly had held no love in his heart for the strange intruder wandering wide-eyed around the ballroom. He’s had Time on his side, allowing him the chance to actually get to know you.

And after getting to know you, Dream wants. He wants to feel the gentleness of your touch on his skin, he wants your soft smile directed towards him. He wants to hear every thought that goes through your wondrous mind, he wants to know what you like and don’t like. He wants you, in every way that you’ll allow him to have.

Time finally restarts again, and Dream notices that you’re staring curiously at him. Distantly, a small part of him wonders how long you’ve been looking at him like that. A much larger part of him admires the color of your eyes.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes, I…” 

He really must stop staring at you, he knows that it’s already far past the point of politeness. Shaking his head, Dream looks back at the ball and tries to contain his emotions once more before speaking again. 

“I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

Dream didn’t earn the title of “Prince of Stories” for no reason. Still, it makes telling stories infinitely more enjoyable when the audience is interested in what he’s saying. You, however, are not just interested. You’re enraptured, hanging on to every word he has to say. This, by far, is his favorite type of person to tell a tale to. The fact that it’s you, the mysterious human who somehow snuck into his palace, makes it even better.

After his tale is finished, you ask him if it’s true. He can’t help but to demur, planting the seeds of doubt even though it’s very much true. After all, if he had wanted you to know that, he would have told you outright during the story.

“And what would you do,” Dream asks, suddenly feeling bold, “were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On who the stranger is.”

Dream really wants to kiss you right now. By the way that you whisper, and how Dream catches you looking at his lips, he thinks that you feel the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod, and Dream is so thankful that you do. He’s not sure that he could bear the rejection, not when you’ve gone and made him fall in love with you so effortlessly.

Dream has seen plenty of teenagers dreaming of their first kiss. Mere children on the cusp of adulthood, their emotions are always so palpable. The fear of messing up, of getting this wrong. The exuberance of finally getting to kiss the one they have not been able to stop thinking about. The burgeoning passion of young love, sealed, quite literally, with a kiss.

Right now, as your lips just begin to meet his, Dream feels much like those teenagers. He’s terrified that he’ll move too fast or make some wrong move to push you away, while at the same time, he’s thrilled that you want to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you. Underneath it all, the embers of something more promise to be fanned into flames once he actually kisses you.

Before Dream can actually do that, though, he feels your lips become less real, less firm, against his. He can only watch as your body fades from within his grasp and you disappear, presumably back to your Waking body. After you’re well and truly gone, with no sign of you falling back asleep and appearing in his embrace once more, Dream can only stare at the spot you once occupied.

When Dream comes out of his stupor, his head falls to his hands in disbelief, unable to believe his truly rotten luck. He remains in this position until the sky begins to grow light and he remembers that he has duties he must attend to, duties that include politely but firmly seeing all of his guests out of his realm.

As Dream nods his head at guests telling him how much they enjoyed the festivities and thanks others for coming and accepts quiet alliances re-formed by those who had believed the Dreaming well and truly gone, he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s somehow pulled himself together enough to not currently have a hurricane that reflects his emotional state sweeping through the Dreaming proper. It doesn’t matter that said hurricane will likely begin to rage the second the doors to the palace close and the hastily-constructed dam holding Dream’s feelings back breaks from the pressure. For now, he has it all under control.

At least, he has it under control up until he walks back into his throne room to find Desire lounging at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sibling,” Dream greets reluctantly, his patience wearing extremely thin. “Do you not have the desires of my guests to chase after and feed off of in your realm?”

“Don’t you worry, big brother, I’m on my way out.” They stand and stretch in a way reminiscent of how a cat stretches. “Great party, by the way. Why, you look really bummed out for somebody who just met the love of his life!”

It should not be nearly as surprising as it is that Dream’s sibling has once again inserted themself into his life, where they do not belong. Regardless, it is as surprising as it is rage-inducing. Between one blink and the next, Dream has Desire pinned against the wall with his hands wrapped around their neck. Desire simply laughs breathlessly.

“I should have known that you were behind that,” Dream spits.

“You don’t have to say it–” Desire’s sentence breaks off with a choking sound, courtesy of Dream squeezing even harder and resisting the urge to wring their neck. “–Like it’s a bad thing.”

“I told you that, were you to mess with me or mine again, I would not hesitate to spill family blood. Are you really so stupid as to disregard our last talk, so soon after we had it?”

Desire looks frightened, and they should be. Dream truly wants to kill right now, to unmake something with his bare hands and feel the carnage that he creates. “No, no, no, you have it all wrong!” they say. “I’m giving you a gift, sweet Dream. No strings attached, nothing you have to do besides say ‘thank you, my favorite sibling’ and accept it!”

“A gift.” Dream’s hands loosen around Desire’s neck, but still remain fixed in place.

“Yep!”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I really am sorry, Dream. Truly. I regret how I’ve treated you, especially over the past couple of centuries. You’re a pain in my ass–just as I’m a pain in yours, I’m sure–but you didn’t deserve what I did to you, and for that, I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t believe them, a fact that is plainly clear and causes Desire to roll their eyes. When they push back against Dream, he finally lowers his hands and takes a step back.

“We’ve been siblings for long enough, and you’ve felt my influence on—how many lovers is it? Tell me, did you feel any of that on your little dreamer last night?”

“No,” Dream admits.

“No, exactly. So when I was trying to figure out, ‘how can I say sorry to my beloved big brother and truly mean it,’ I thought it would be nice of me to find out if you had a true love, who said true love was, and then bring your true love to you! You can thank brother Destiny’s little Book for helping me there; he would have never allowed me to look and see if you had a true love if it weren’t for the Book telling him to do so.”

“What?”

This comes as quite the shock to Dream. It’s one thing for Desire to try something as outlandish as looking in Destiny’s Book; it’s another thing entirely for Destiny to let them do so. As Desire said, if the Book did not tell him to do something, then Destiny would not do that thing.

“Mhm,” Desire says, looking entirely too pleased at this situation. “The universe itself wanted me to give you this type of an apology.”

If Desire had used Destiny’s Book to find you, then that means that they know your name. “So, you know…”

“Your little lover’s name? Yes, I do. Why, did you not catch it?” Of course they know that Dream doesn’t know your name; it’s what Dream wants most right now, so naturally, Desire can sense it. “Were you two lovebirds too busy flirting with each other to remember to ask for names?”

“Tell me, Desire,” Dream snaps. He winces, feeling slightly guilty about letting his emotions get the best of him. Not that he’ll apologize, since it’s apparently Desire’s turn to do so.

“Sorry, I had to tease you a little bit.” 

Desire finally feels a modicum of empathy and tells Dream your full name, and a part of Dream that he wasn’t aware he was missing slots into place.

“Well, I suppose I should be off now. Lots of your party guests whose desires I have to chase after and feed off of. You know.” 

They grab the lapels of their opulent fur jacket and smooth out the wrinkles that their altercation with Dream put into their carefully-created ensemble. Dream will feel even more guilt about that tomorrow, he supposes. For now, you’re the only thing on his mind.

However, Dream would be remiss to not acknowledge the effort that they know Desire put into creating this apology. He can’t let his sibling go without having them know that he appreciates it, and so he calls after them. “Desire!”

They turn on their heels. “Yes?”

“Thank you. I…accept your apology.”

Desire grins brightly and nods, which is how Dream knows they’re thankful for this acceptance. They wave their fingers teasingly before continuing on their path out of Dream’s palace. “Have fun with your present,” they say over their shoulder and promptly disappear.

Dream is finally left alone in his throne room which, at the beginning of the night, was all that he wanted. Now, with the silence only 

He knows your name. Not only that, but he knows that you and he are meant to be together. It truly is the greatest gift that anybody could have given him, made more meaningful since it’s Desire who has done this.

There are a number of actual appointments on his docket that he must begrudgingly attend to, even though he wants nothing more than to rush to the Waking and find you. That would be neglectful of his realm, though, and Dream promised himself, back when he believed you to be a threat, that he would not allow you to ruin his realm. 

Now, he would gladly ruin his realm if you were to ask him, which is why he’s so determined to see to everything that must be completed. Though it all feels tedious, the tasks do eventually get completed. Dream leaves almost immediately after the last report, delivered by a young dream in the form of a talking dog, is escorted out of the palace.

(Matthew is extremely confused by his boss’s sudden change of attitude. Lucienne, who’s seen this plenty of times before, simply sighs and hopes that he knows what he’s doing this time.)

When Dream arrives outside of a small restaurant, evening has already fallen in the Waking. It’s been less than 24 hours since you first made your way into his palace, a little over 12 since you were jerked back to consciousness and away from him. Truly not long, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s felt like a lifetime to Dream.

Your attention is divided between one of your patrons, telling a story about a mishap at work and embellishing just slightly, and the drinking glasses you’re pulling from a tray and drying clean. Dream can’t help but watch you in your element for a moment, but Dream is not a patient man, and a moment is all that he can afford before he steps up to the bar and across from you.

A smile is already on your face before you turn to look at Dream, a smile that freezes in place when your eyes meet his. Your hands begin to shake, and the glass nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to firmly set it down on the wooden countertop.

The shock is understandable. After all, most dreamers do not expect to see someone in the Waking that they have previously only seen in their dreams. Dream just hopes that it’s a good shock that you’re feeling, and not the one that he fears.

Your smile turns into something smaller, softer, and those fears that Dream held evaporate when you greet him. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“It’s you. You’re real!” 

After having spent a few moments trying to figure out what to say next, Dream is amused that this was what you decided on. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.” And today, he is so glad that this statement is true.

You round the bar in order to be on the same side as Dream, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him to not immediately gather you up in his arms and sweep you back to the Dreaming.

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

Gently, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. By the surprised whimper that gets caught in your throat, Dream assumes that courtship rituals have changed since the last time he attempted a relationship. Interesting, and something that he’ll be sure to ask you about later.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

Though he already knows your name now, he still allows you to introduce yourself to him, if only for the pleasure of getting to see the starstruck way you look at him when he says it as if to confirm that it truly is your name. If there were any residual worries about your passion for each other not translating to the waking, those are promptly wiped away when you throw your arms around Dream’s neck and pull him to you for a kiss. 

Truly, this is a new age that Dream is entirely unfamiliar with if kissing in public like this is acceptable. By the sounds of patrons’ applause, it appears that it is. What a strange new world Dream has found himself in. Not that he’s complaining. No, he’ll take victories as they come. As he brings a hand to your chin so that he can tilt your face and kiss you even deeper, he thinks that this is the greatest victory he’s ever had, for this victory has brought him you.

His own dream come true.

Desire of the Endless (again)

Desire’s enjoying their second glass of ambrosia, courtesy of the Greek pantheon, when they catch sight of Death, tight curls bouncing around her head, marching straight for them. They look both ways in the hope that there’s some other being who’s about to receive their sister’s wrath, but unfortunately, it looks as though they’re the target.

“Sister, how wonderful it is to see you tonight,” Desire greets. “Are you thirsty? Let me grab you a refreshment.”

Death simply narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“What?” Desire holds a hand to their chest. “Me? What would make you say such a thing?”

“Mm, the fact that I’m your older sister and I know what you’re like when you’re up to something. You’ve had that look about you all night, the one that says that you’re just waiting for one of your plans to play out.” She nudges her sibling with her shoulder. “So? Out with it.”

“Fine. I’m in the middle of apologizing to our brother.”

“Oh gods,” Death bemoans.

“Don’t say it like that! This is a good thing!”

“When have you ever apologized to anybody for anything?”

“I apologize to Despair quite often.”

“Because she’s your twin.”

“And I’ll have you know, I also recently apologized to Unity Kincaid.” 

Now that gets Death’s attention, as it should. Desire, apologizing to one of their pawns? Death might need to go check and make sure that Hell hasn’t frozen over.

“Alright, then,” Death says. “You do know that apologizing usually involves going up to the other party and saying you’re sorry, right?”

“That comes later. First, Dream gets his apology gift.”

Desire gestures across the room, where you and Dream are currently involved in some sort of contentious stare-down after Dream had come to your aid when you were being forced to dance with anybody wanting a dance. Not the best start to a relationship Desire’s ever seen, but Dream’s always liked a lover that can challenge him.

Death doesn’t see it in the same way as Desire. All she sees is Dream talking to an unknown mortal, one that Desire brought here. Naturally, she gets the wrong idea.

“Oh Desire, you didn’t!” Death scolds. “Have you learned nothing from Alianora, Killala, Nada, or any of the others?”

“This isn’t like that!”

“Really?” Desire nods. “Okay, then tell me what it’s like.”

“I simply brought the mortal here for Dream to find! Those two are doing the rest.”

“And you swear that you have done no meddling to make them have any feelings for each other?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Death continues to glare at her younger sibling, which, okay, Desire supposes that’s fair. Doesn’t mean they have to enjoy the apprehension, though.

“Fine. I swear on my function, as well as the first circle, that I have not manipulated either Dream or the mortal.” 

Desire makes sure to swear on the most solemn and binding of things that an Endless can swear on, both so that Death will realize how serious they are and because they know that they’re not telling any sort of a lie. 

“All I did was find out whether Dream had a true love, which he does, and then I made sure that the mortal would have an invitation to tonight’s festivities.”

Death nods, satisfied. “How did you find that out?”

“Apparently, even the forces of the universe want Dream to get laid. Destiny let me look in his Book.”

Death lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, he must have hated that!”

“He gave me exactly thirty seconds before snatching it back.” Desire scoffs. “Not as if I could have done anything to it, considering it’s literally chained to him.”

“It’s like his security blankie!”

A harsh, frankly disconcerting laugh echoes from nearby. While others would simply shrug it off, Death and Desire know exactly who that laugh belongs to. When Death finally fails at trying not to spy, she and Desire both see Dream’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Next to him, you’re sporting a pleased grin from the reaction you’ve been able to elicit. It’s quite the sight, and most try not to look so as not to incur the ire of the Dreamlord. His siblings, however, are exempt from that bit of common sense.

“Aw,” Death coos, her eyes shining as she watches the scene.

Desire knows exactly why their sister has such a reaction. Never, even in the early days of his courtship with Calliope, which was easily the “best” of his relationships, have any of the Endless ever seen Dream smile so freely and openly towards someone. They’ve especially never seen him let his guard down enough to laugh–which is probably a good thing, because the few times Desire’s heard his laugh, it’s left them feeling a little unsettled for a couple hours after.

“So this is simply part one of your apology?” Death asks.

“Yes. I truly am sorry for how I’ve treated him, especially over the last couple of centuries. Dream would have every right to not accept my apology, which is why I’m not just giving him a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Instead, I decided to shorten Dream’s path to finding true love, and both find his true love for him and bring said true love straight to him. A genius plan, truly.”

“You decided?”

Damn their oldest sister for being, well, an oldest sister. “Despair gave me the idea.”

“That sounds more like what I expected.”

Desire’s about to go on a diatribe about how this family only ever sees the worst in them (mainly for the fun of it, not because they actually care), when Death squeals, smacks Desire’s chest, grabs their arm and points back towards the two future lovebirds.

Dream is looking up at the ceiling to try and hide the fact that he’s blushing. His cheeks are a light shade of purple, and you look absolutely besotted by the sight.

“Oh, this is going so much better than I could have hoped,” Desire says as Dream levels his gaze with yours once again, the two of you seemingly challenging each other again on something. If the Book hadn’t told Desire that you and Dream were meant to be, this interaction would surely let them know.

“Shut up!” Death smacks Desire’s chest even more when Dream holds out his hand, which you take, before the two of you begin to sneak off like a couple of teenagers.

“What did I say?” Desire posits triumphantly. “Those two are doing all the work.”

“He’s going to be right pissed when he finds out, you know.”

Desire nods, because they do know. They’re expecting all sorts of threats of bodily harm and promises to break the most sacred rule of the Endless, all so that Desire can finally get their perceived comeuppance. If Desire’s being honest, they deserve that rage that Dream will direct towards them. They just hope that Dream will actually listen to what Desire has to say.

“He’ll get over it once I explain it to him,” Desire says.

“For your sake, I hope so. Won’t be too much of an apology if he doesn’t forgive you because he can’t see the validity of it.”

“He will.” Desire’s sure of it, and they grin at their sister. “Even if he doesn’t today, they can both thank me for my hard work at their wedding.”

Desire has enough tact to keep their triumphant “I told you so” to a smug grin when, barely a year later, they find themself back in the Dreaming for your and Dream’s wedding celebrations.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman imagine #the sandman

[f1povs]

You’re safe with me

Pairing : Sergio Checo Perez x reader

Summary- y/n sister of Carlos Sainz. When he followed his dreams of being a f1 driver she followed hers and became a firefighter. After things went south on a call y/n decided to move in with Carlos.

A/n : so this is an idea I’ve had for ages and thinking of writing a whole story on this idea. This is my first time actually posting something as never had the confidence to post but after seeing so many amazing writers on here and other apps I thought I might as well try so please no hate or negativity. If you have any advice then feel free to share and if you think I should write a whole story then please say and I will do my best 🙏

Y/n watched the world go by as she sat in her favorite park, her gaze distant and unfocused. It was as if she was watching a movie play out before her eyes, with all the characters moving in slow motion. She knew everyone around her, the way they smiled, the way they laughed, the way they lived their lives. But she felt disconnected from it all, as if she were merely an observer in someone else's story. Her mind wandered back to the countless times she had watched her brother, Carlos, race his heart out on the track, cheering him on from the sidelines, her voice echoing above the roar of the engines.

She remembered the day she had decided to become a firefighter. It had been an impulsive decision, born out of a desire to protect those she loved and make a difference in the world. Little did she know that it would lead her down a path filled with heartache and loss, with every victory she achieved coming at the cost of someone else's suffering. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her accomplishments, even as she struggled to come to terms with the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending a shiver down her spine. Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who was staring at her intently. For a brief moment, they locked gazes, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. It was as if this person knew everything about her, all her secrets and fears, and they were offering her a glimmer of hope in return. But then the moment passed, and the stranger turned away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost. After sitting in the park for a while y/n decided that she couldn’t be here, in this town anymore. Y/n picked up her phone and rang her brother.

Carlos: hey y/n are you okay?

Y/n: um yeah I’m okay. Um I’m just wondering if… I… um… could come move in with you?”

Y/n held back the tears trying to escape her eyes as she spoke to her brother.

Carlos: yeah of course you can move in when are you coming I’ll get a room ready.

After couple hours flight, Y/n smiled as she spotted her brother, Carlos Sainz, standing outside the airport terminal. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed impeccably in his racing gear. Despite the hectic week of training getting ready for the race on the weekend, he'd managed to take time out of his schedule to pick her up from the airport. She hadn't seen him in months, not since the accident at work.

It wasn’t a long drive but seemed like forever. Carlos tried making small talk but y/n wasn’t really interested. She was in a world of her own as she stared out of her brothers car window. No one knew how bad the accident was. All they knew was that y/n was in an accident at work.

Finally y/n and Carlos arrived. The paddock was abuzz with activity, a whirlwind of color and motion that seemed to swirl around her like a dream. She had been away for months, as y/n stepped out of the car the familiar smell of racing fuel and burning rubber hung thick in the air, mingling with the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching. It was like being in a live-action painting, vibrant and alive with the energy of a thousand hearts beating as one. Y/n thought it was nice to be back with her f1 family. Everyone was excited to greet y/n but there was one particular driver who was more excited to see her.

As Sergio Perez turned the corner, his heart skipped a beat. There she was, standing by the lockers with her brothers and his friends, her back to him. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, and the familiarity of her figure was almost overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he walked towards her. His gaze drifted over her shoulder-length hair, the way it casually fell across her back, and the way she was hugging herself, as if she were cold. He fought the urge to run up and envelop her in a warm embrace, instead opting for a friendly wave as he neared.

“Hey, y/n!" he called out, his voice sounding a little more nervous than he'd intended. She turned around, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. But the usual sparkle in her eyes had gone. Before her eyes would sparkle in the fluorescent light, and Sergio would find himself blushing, but this time was different.

"Hey, Sergio," she replied, her voice soft. "It's good to see you ." She walked over to him, her steps light. He noticed that she was wearing the same perfume she had been wearing the last time they'd met, and it made his heart race a little faster. But as she got closer Sergio could see something was wrong.

Fast forward to race night

The sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing the grid in a warm, golden light. The race was about to end. Everyone cheered as the drivers rushed past the checkered flag. Max at P1, Sergio at P2, and Carlos at P3.

The three men stood on the podium as they celebrated their wins. The crowd cheered and shouted celebrations. Fireworks exploded overhead, their colorful bursts of light painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a beautiful sight, one that would have filled her heart with joy on any other day. But tonight, the sound of the explosions sent her spiraling back to that fateful night, the night of the explosion that had taken the lives of so many, including those closest to her. the fireworks only served as a painful reminder of the day that had changed her life forever. She couldn't help but shiver as she stood on the edge of the crowd, her heart racing and her palms slick with sweat. The memory of the explosion was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday: the screams of terror, the heat that seared her skin, the deafening boom that shook the ground beneath her feet.

Sergio Checo Perez stood on his podium and searched the crowd for y/n. As soon as his eyes landed on y/n, He could see the pain in her eyes, the fear that gripped her soul, and in that moment he jumped off the podium and raced to y/n in the crowd. His fellow drivers and his team was shouting for him to come back and celebrate the win but he had to do everything in his power to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved. He knew that the accident was more than a normal accident that can happen on the job like she had said. He knew there was more to the story, he knew that the the memories were painful, he knew what was happening as he has experience people he knew go through the same thing and he could never erase the memories that haunted her, the demons that tormented her every waking moment.

Now, as she sat there, on the floor in the crowd, watching the fireworks light up the sky, she felt him approaching, his presence a warm, comforting blanket wrapping itself around her. He knelt down beside her, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. "Hey," he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to go through this alone." She didn't know if she could believe him, but for some reason, she found herself leaning into his touch, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within her. "I know it's hard," he continued, his voice gentle and soothing. "But we'll get through this together, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to find peace, to find happiness again. And in that moment, she knew that she wasn't truly alone anymore.

They sat there together, watching the fireworks explode overhead, their fingers intertwined. As the last of the fireworks faded away, leaving the sky empty and black once more, Sergio leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're okay. You are safe with me," he whispered.

Y/n closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. She knew he was right. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze once more. There was something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something that told her that he was in this for the long haul.

As they sat there, the wind picked up again, sending a shiver down her spine. But this time, it felt different. It felt like a new beginning, like a promise of better things to come. And for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still goodness left in the world, still a reason to keep fighting, to keep going.

Hand in hand, they rose to their feet, the weight of memories and losses not so heavy now. Together, they began to walk through the paddock , their steps echoing through the darkness. As they walked, they talked, sharing stories and laughter, finding solace in the comfort of each other's company. And with every step they took, Y/n felt a little lighter, a little more at peace.

Eventually, they reached a small, secluded clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees just outside the circuit. Sergio turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for an answer. She knew what he was asking, and she knew what she wanted to say. Slowly, she nodded, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

As they kissed, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, their love for each other the only thing that mattered. And in that moment, Y/n knew that she had found her home, her place in the world after everything she had been through. She knew that together, they could face anything, overcome any obstacle. Because no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

#f1 fanfic #sergio perez #sergio perez x reader #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 x reader #checo perez #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 racing

[velvetstreets]

Can I request a Jack Harlow imagine where him & the reader (who is a famous actress) are broken up & in an interview that she does she hints how Jack is still the love of her life & later they see each other at a red carpet & he asks her about that & asks her out again & they start rekindling things. Smut is very much welcomed if you’re comfortable with that :)

A/N: girl you sent this so mf long ago, im so sorry for getting to this so late! But I loved this concept and didn’t wanna let it go. Hope I did this justice <3

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: lovers reuniting, drinking, swearing, smut!, oral sex (f! recieving) penetrative sex (f!receiving), creampie, mushy ‘i love you’s 

————————

It had been a little over a year since your public relationship with Jack ended. You both loved eachother dearly, but at the time, your lives were going in separate ways. He was constantly busy with performances and touring, flying all over the world; and your acting career had taken off, being dragged all around the country for filming. In the end, you barely saw eachother, and it just wasn’t working for either of you, so you both amicably agreed to end it. 

The heartbreak tortured you for a few months. You threw yourself into your work, wanting to cloud your mind with anything but Jack, yet somehow it made you think of him more. With some time and comfort from your friends and co-workers, you had felt the pain less and less, until one day you woke up and finally felt like your old self again. As much as you loved him, keeping him at arms-length via social media was too much for you. You’d send eachother ‘happy birthday’ dm’s and ‘congratulations’ texts for eachother’s accomplishments, but that was it. You didn’t allow yourself to keep up with him, only hearing things about him via industry talk and the radio of course. That was the one thing of him you allowed yourself to keep; his music. It was your guilty pleasure, something to remember him by. Though the heartbreak was agonizing, you were eventually grateful for it. Not only did it help you grow in your personal life, but it helped your work life as well. The performances you gave became critically acclaimed, earning yourself an Emmy and a Golden Globe. Because of this, you were offered more exclusive roles, bought a new apartment, and were finally feeling happy again; the first time in a long while. 

Currently, you were seated on a set, being interviewed by Vogue about your life and your upcoming projects; amongst other things. 

“So the rumors are saying that you might be starring in the next season of Euphoria. Is that true?” the interviewer asked. 

“I can now finally confirm, that that is true!” You said as she cheered and the two of you laughed together.

“How was it working with Zendaya?” 

“She’s absolutely phenomenal. As an actress, as a person, as a friend, she’s just the best. Super super sweet and down-to-earth, and fantastic at her job. It was an honor working along side her and the rest of the cast.” 

“That sounds fantastic. We all can’t wait to see you join the story. Now just a little side-step from work; are you dating anyone? Maybe someone by the name of Mr. Omar Apollo perhaps? Or Drake? We’ve seen those cozy flicks of y’all together, are y’all just friends or maybe something more?” She pressed. 

“Oh no, I’m not dating anyone. I’ve kinda left the dating world for a little while, just focusing on me. Omar and I are good friends, nothing else. And Drake is like my older brother! I’d never date him, especially since he’s good friends with my ex as well, I could never do that.” You answered honestly.

“Speaking of Jack Harlow.., what happened, how did that end?”

“Let me put it this way; we both agreed to end things. Our respective careers were taking off, and we both agreed that it was just best for us at the time to not be together. It’s all love though, I think he’ll always be one of those people for me - I could never not love him. He’s a great person and was a great boyfriend to me, definitely showed me that I was capable of loving someone, as well as capable of being loved. And I’ll always be grateful to him for that.” You said, forcing the lump in your throat down. You felt hot after belting your heart out a little too loudly, but you pushed your anxious thoughts away, getting back to the interview at hand. 

--

It was now a month after the interview had aired, and you had let it wash off your shoulders. You were proud of your genuine honesty, and continued to focus on you. Currently, you were getting ready to attend the Billboard Music Awards as a plus one, courtesy of your close friend SZA. You were excited to let your hair down a little, as well as overjoyed at the possibility of SZA winning a few awards for her album SOS. 

SZA was dressed in a sleek black halter dress with a thigh-high slit, which accentuated her minimalist aura. You were styled in a black Mugler dress which had a plunging neckline, and different cutouts down to your hips - similar to that of Megan Fox’s. It showed a little more skin than you were used to, but it was absolutely gorgeous; and SZA declared she wouldn’t leave to the event if you didn’t wear it. So here you were, downing a couple of glasses of champagne in the back of an SUV with SZA, trying to calm your anxiety while singing and rapping along to her ‘get lit, get rich, make u wanna kiss’ playlist with her. 

“Are you sure about this? I could just sneak in the back and meet you in there-” you started to nervously ramble. 

“Bitch, are you kidding me? You look fucking phenomenal, ain’t no way in hell I’m letting you sneak off. This is a ‘need to be seen’ outfit, and you’re gonna be seen! It’s gonna be just fine, we’re in this together. Anxiety can’t get to us if we’re a team baby.” She reassured you. 

You smiled at her before bringing her into a hug; you knew she was anxious about the interviews she had to do on the carpet, and she knew red carpets always made you anxious, with all the pictures and yelling that there was.

“Love you.” You said holding out your hand to do your little friendship handshake you had with her.

“I love you more.” she replied, doing the handshake. “Now drink up girl, these events take forever so it’s more fun to be a lil’ drunk.” she winked at you. 

You cheered together, and continued vibing until you turned to corner and pulled up to the carpet. You got out and SZA took your hand, leading you to the carpet. She held your hand the entire time, poking at you and whispering jokes and comments to you, making you giggle and forgetting about the anxiety you had. You made your way down the carpet, pausing to be photographed every few feet, some alone, and some together with SZA. She did a few short interviews with you by her side, and you chimed in every so often a question or comment was directed to you. 

You were finally feeling a little more relaxed, and then you saw it. 

Small brown curls belonging to a tall figure making their way down the carpet; you couldn’t see them yet, but you knew who they belonged to. You heard the screams of his name from the paparazzi and fans, the flash of the cameras going off, and finally, a path cleared and you saw him in the flesh. 

He wore a sleek black suit and shoes - Prada most likely, his diamond encrusted PG ring gleaming in the lights, KY chain peeking out, and his dazzling smile. 

You felt like you were going to pass out. You weren’t ready for this, you had expected to bump into him at one of these industry events at some point, but it still caught you off guard. Your heart was pounding out of your chest at this point, and you felt panicked. You felt someone squeeze your hand, bringing you back to reality, and SZA gave you a knowing smile. 

“Just breathe, Y/N. I got you. Don’t forget you’re the motherfuckin’ prize. Whether or not he had you once before, you stay being the prize.” she told you. You looked and nodded at her words. “I’m the prize.” you reiterated and she nodded and smiled. “Keep that in mind, cause he’s coming over here now.”

‘Oh fuck. Okay, here we go.’ you thought. 

“Y/N?” his sultry Kentucky accent flooded your ears for the first time in a while. 

You turned around with your head tilted upwards, familiar with his height, and met his eyes. 

“Jack. It’s good to see you.” You said warmly with a soft smile. He bent down for a hug and you embraced him before pulling apart; his hands stayed curled around your wrists. 

“It’s good to see you too, been a while. You look beautiful.” he admired. 

“Thank you, so do you. No glasses?” You joked, noticing his favorite Prada glasses were nowhere to be seen.

He laughed and shook his head with a smile. “Nah, not this time. Felt a lil’ douchey of me to wear ‘em today. Plus, now I can admire the beauty more clearly.” He said, admiring your face and its features. You blushed, internally screaming at the warm feeling that erupted in your tummy. 

“Well it was nice seeing you, we should head inside-” You spoke, turning a little, insinuating to leave. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you in there. Maybe we can catch up a little.” He said hopefully. 

“Yeah, yeah for sure.” You said, smiling before saying goodbye and heading into the venue with SZA.

She gave you a teasing knowing look. 

“Shut up, don’t say shit.” You tried to hold a grin back from her.

“I ain’t say nothin!” She laughed at you. You rolled your eyes and laughed, giving her a small shove. 

--

SZA had won the three awards she was nominated for, and you couldn’t be more excited and proud of her. It was a true accomplishment, and you wanted to celebrate, so you told her you were getting her a fuck ton of drinks. She tried to stop you, telling you you didn’t have to, but you were set in your decision. 

You headed to the bar and ordered a bottle of champagne and a few shots. You checked your phone as you waited, until you heard a voice behind you. 

“I saw your interview.” Jack’s voice spoke. You turned around and saw him leaning against the bar.

“Oh you did, did you?” You asked. 

“Yup.” He said with a smile. 

“And what’d you think?” You asked, heart pounding against your chest. 

“Can’t believe you forgot to mention what a great chef I was too, besides a great boyfriend.” He joked. 

“Your peanut butter chicken says otherwise.” You giggled.

“I stand by that recipe! It’s a classic, your tastebuds just weren’t on my side.” he chuckled, stepping a little closer to you. 

“No but for real, I thought you were amazing - as usual of course.” He smiled at you. “I’ve missed you. Like alot.” he said fiddling with your fingers. 

“I’ve missed you too, Jack. Like alot.” you repeated his sentence. 

“I’ve done alot of growing since we broke up, had time to focus on my career and tour and all that stuff, and I know how to handle it better now.” He stated. “But I haven’t been happy. Not like when we were together.” 

“Jack, you just won two awards tonight.” You reminded him. 

“And I’m still miserable.” He countered. 

“M’not gonna ask you to just jump into a relationship with me again, that wouldn’t be fair. But, if you’re willing, I’d really like to take you out on a date. Privately, just us; I wanna show you the kind of man I am now. Show you what you deserve. And we can see where things go.” He said, eyes gazing into yours, his hands now in yours. 

You let the shy grin spread across your face. “I’d really like that, Jack.” you said, his face lighting up. He engulfed you in a big hug, kissing your forehead. You smushed your face against his chest, your hands gripping his back as you sighed deeply. You had missed this. Missed him. Missed his smell, how he felt, his voice, all of it. The two of you stayed like that for a little while before you pulled apart. 

You silently stared at eachother, re-familiarizing yourselves with one another. Your eyes gazed over the freckles that adorned his face, his perfectly trimmed beard, his soft brown curls that perfectly framed his face. 

“Fuck it.” you whispered, and pulled him into a kiss. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the butterflies in your stomach that gave you the courage, but you didn’t care at this point. You had missed him so much, and clearly so had he, so why deny yourself the simple pleasures in life?

You felt Jack relax into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face as the other one was set on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He hummed in relief, soft lips parting and meshing, parting and meshing, like he had been deprived of the meal that was you - which he had been. 

“Thank fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all night -  all year really-” Jack said inbetween kisses. You giggled, letting out a “me too” before kissing him again. 

The kisses started to get a bit heated, so you pulled away, reminding the both of you that you were at a public event. 

“Let’s get outta here.” Jack murmured, kissing and nipping at your neck a little. 

“Jack, you’re still up for another category, and I’m here with SZA, I’m not gonna just ditch her.” You huffed. 

“I don’t care, I’ll have someone accept it for me, just wanna be with you. Plus, looks like she already knows.” Jack nodded in SZA’s direction. 

You turned around, and saw SZA, now with Lizzo sitting next to her, the both of them smirking and winking at you. You grinned, and turned back around to Jack. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” you told him, grabbing the drinks you had ordered. 

“Go do your thing, I ain’t goin nowhere without you, baby.” Jack said, unable to stop grinning. 

You bit your lip, smiling at him before turning around and heading back to your table. 

“Hey girlfriend.” SZA and Lizzo said simultaneously, with a teasing tone in their voices. 

“Hey y’all-” you responded, setting the drinks down on the table. 

“Soo-” you started before SZA cut you off. 

“Girl we already been knew, go ‘head, get your man back.” She squealed at you. You laughed and hugged them. 

“Take the bottle too, have fun.” she told you. 

“No! I bought that for you! It’s your night-” You tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t having none of it. 

“I got my awards baby, I’m good. Now go get that man!” She urged you. You told them you loved them and said your goodbyes, champagne bottle in hand as you made your way towards Jack. 

“Ready?” he said, taking your free hand in his.

“Mhmm.” you looked up at him and he gave you a kiss before leading you out the venue. 

The two of you snuck out into an SUV, which would take you to Jack’s hotel a few blocks away. Jack popped the champagne open and gave you a sip before taking one himself. 

“Missed you, my lil’ Movie Star.” he said caressing your leg, leaning into your side.

“Missed you too, sweet face.” You smiled, kissing his cheek a few times, making Jack blush. 

--

Jack was on you the second the elevator doors closed. He quickly lifted you up in his arms, setting you on the small steel railing of the elevator, pressing you into the corner to hold you up as he attacked your neck. 

“Fuck Jack, so good-” you sighed, wrapping your legs around his hips, bringing him closer to you. 

“God, I’ve missed this so much; missed you so much-” he groaned, grinding his hips into yours. His mouth was everywhere, on your lips, your neck, your cheeks, your breasts, he couldn’t get enough of you. 

The elevator dinged, signaling you were at his floor. He reluctantly got off you, and you whined. 

“More-” you pleaded before he sat you down, heels hitting the floor.

“We’re almost there princess, cmon.” Jack took your hand in his and lead you out the elevator and down the hall to his room. He struggled with getting his room key out his suit jacket as you kissed his neck, licking and sucking, wanting all his attention. He finally pulled it out and opened the door, letting you in first. 

As soon as the door slammed, he was on you again in a flash. Your back was up against the wall as he kissed you; it was needy and passionate, just how you liked it.

“Cmon, cmon, bed sweetheart, bed.” He said, lifting you in his arms again, giving your ass a smack, and you squealed, laughing with him. 

He gently dropped you on the bed, and you laid there for a few seconds as he took in the sight of you. 

“So beautiful.. so fuckin beautiful, and all mine.” He said before climbing onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs, kissing you. Every kiss felt electric, like the second you were apart felt like you were losing energy, but when he kissed you, you were refilled again. 

“Jack, please, I need you.” You moaned. 

“Okay baby, I got you.” He promised.

He swiftly got you out of your dress, and got out of his suit. He gently hung your dress on the back of his door, after you pointedly told him to be careful because ‘its Mugler’. Jack walked back to the edge of the bed, and knelt down, his arms sliding under your thighs and pulling you closer to him. 

“God your pussy smells fucking delicious, can’t believe I’ve gone a year without her.” He groaned before leaning down and licking a stripe up your folds. 

“Oh fuck-” you squirmed in delight. 

He attached his lips to your clit and began sucking and licking, making a wet mess of you. 

“Missed this sweet pussy, you taste so good, Y/N.” he rambled. You whimpered at that, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, biting your lip so hard you didn’t understand how you hadn’t drawn blood yet. 

“Louder. Let me hear you, baby.” Jack ordered before going back to making out with your pussy.

You did as he wished, letting your moans free from your throat, completely falling into the feeling he gave you. 

“Attagirl.” He growled, nuzzling his face further into you. 

Your eyes rolled back when he finally fucked two fingers into you. The stretch of his girthy digits rubbing against your walls threw you into the deep end. 

“Fuck, yes! S-so close Jack, please, please l-let me...” you cried out. 

“Cum for me, cum for me pretty girl.” Jack commanded. 

That was all it took before you felt the tidal wave of your orgasm crash over you. You felt your legs shake, and writhed around in the sheets before your comedown approached. 

It was silent except for your heavy breathing, but you felt Jack move up into the bed next to you. 

“I wish you could see how you look right now.” Jack broke the silence. 

“How do I look?” You said panting, one eye opening and peeking up at his boyish face. 

“Ethereal.” he sighed softly before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Like an angel. My angel.” he said. 

He stared at you for a moment, and you could tell he was holding back a little, he wanted to say something, but was a little nervous about it. 

“You can say it. Tell me, Jack.” You reassured him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. You won’t scare me easily.” you smiled at him, kissing his bare shoulder. 

He took a deep breath before looking at you again. 

“I love you.” he confessed. “I love you, haven’t stopped loving you since we broke up.”

“Wanna know something?” You asked him, scratching his beard lightly, just the way he liked it. 

“Mhmm.” Jack purred, urging you to continue. 

“I love you too.” You said with a grin. “Never stopped.” You whispered before pulling him into a loving kiss. He hummed into the kiss, and you felt him smile as he rolled over onto you. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” he told you, kissing you deeply. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” you repeated back to him. You felt a weight off your chest now, reveling in the shared love between the two of you. Everything felt right again. 

“Off-” you whined, your foot digging at the elastic band of his boxers. 

“Anything, for you.” He declared, sliding his boxers off. 

Jack laid back down between your legs, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back into a sweet kiss. Jack started to grind his dick against your folds, tip hitting your clit over and over again. The room filled with moans and gasps, your slick completely coating his cock. 

“Jack, please, I need you, please put it in already.” You whined desperately. 

“Okay baby, okay.” he kissed you. 

He leant his hips back a little before slowly thrusting into you, his thick tip stretching you out deliciously. You let out a sigh as he bottomed out, and your mind went fuzzy. Jack stayed like that for a minute, letting you readjust to him as he kissed your neck and face, humming to himself and whispering ‘I love you’. He started to move, groaning at the way you squeezed him. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He praised, as he slowly thrusted into you. 

“God Jack, you’re so big- f-fuck..” you moaned, clawing at his back. 

“You take it so well; so fucking well. Breathe. Breathe with me baby.” he encouraged you, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Let me see those eyes. C’mon baby, let me see you.” He begged in his raspy voice. 

You opened your eyes to meet his, full of love, nudging his nose against yours before speeding his thrusts a little. 

“Fuck, just like that, yes Jack-” you cried out. His tip was hitting that spot in you, and you were close. 

“Good girl, I can tell you’re close Y/N, squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” he coaxed. 

“This is yours, all yours, you deserve this.” he kept babbling. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his praise, he always knew the right things to say. “Cum for me sweetheart, give it all to me.” He told you. 

You cried his name out as you felt your orgasm crash over you again. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye as you laid in the euphoric feeling. You could tell Jack was close as his thrusts were starting to falter, and he started to babble more. 

“Who’s pussy is this? Hmm?” He said, grip on your hip tightening as he pounded into you, brows furrowing in concentration. 

“S’yours, daddy. S’your pussy.” you gasped, encouraging him.

“It’s daddy’s pussy? S’daddy’s cunt, yeah?” Jack asked, tugging at your lip with his teeth. 

“Yes, all yours Jack, m’all yours-” you told him, keeping the eye contact. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, m’gonna cum-” He told you.

“Cum in me, Jack. Want you to cum in me.” you whispered, to which Jack let out a growl, his grip on you tight as he finally came with a broken groan of your name.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, heavy breaths and sweaty bodies, completely engulfed in eachother. Peaceful, that’s what it was. You felt peaceful as Jack left soft kisses up your neck and jaw, and you raked your nails against his scalp, making him purr. 

“I love you.” He finally spoke. 

“I love you.” you responded.

He kissed you once more before finally pulling out, and you let out a gasp as you felt his cum leak out of you.

Jack had a prideful smile on his face as he watched it happen. “So fuckin’ hot.” he smeared his cum against your clit, making you whine from the sensitivity. 

He laughed and got up, peed, and then came back with a warm wet washtowel. He cleaned you up, and kissed your knee whilst doing so. 

“C’mon, go pee.” He tapped your thigh, pulling at your arms to sit up in the bed. 

“Mmmm, tired.” You said, leaning your head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around you.

“We’ll cuddle after, I promise.” He said kissing your hair. “C’mon.” he said. 

You tried to stand but your legs buckled, much like a new born giraffe, and you fell back into his lap. 

“Oops. Sorry bout that, lemme help you.” he laughed, carrying you in his arms as he brought you to the toilet. He sat you down and you peed, cleaned up, and then he picked you up again, carrying you to the bed.

Jack wrapped the two of you up in the sheets, and snuggled with you, letting out a content sigh. 

“So much for taking it slow.” You giggled. 

“Don’t care, you’re mine again. Slow, fast, I don’t care however we do this, I’m not letting you go this time.” He laughed beside you, pulling you closer into him. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you too.” you smiled at him. 

“I can’t get enough of you saying that. Love it.” he gushed. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Jack.” you nudged his nose with yours, kissing him softly. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Y/N.” he repeated back to you, giggling and cuddling until you both drifted to sleep. 

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

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @jackharlows-world @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @dessmxsworld @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @thysagclub @harlowcomehome @rebelxsun @jackharloww @harlowsbby

#anon #jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x you #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic

[mint-yooxgi]

Victory - Yandere!Demigod!Minho

Yandere AU & Demigod AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Minho X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,848

Warnings: Implied murder, nudity, and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, he's supposed to be the son of Nike, the Greek Goddess of victory in this. I really like how this one turned out, ngl, it's just the right amount of unhinged and feral in my mind, so I hope you'll agree! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Sixth of The Feral Drabbles

Last night still feels so surreal, like a dream come true.

Of all the trophies I have won, of all the hardships and trials I have been put up against, none are as valuable as you. Yet, you are not another conquest. You are my forever.

The euphoric taste of victory has never been sweeter, and I will revel in it for as long as I possibly can. As long as it wasn’t all a dream, and that when I open my eyes, you are still sleeping soundly beside me in all of your naked glory.

Thank the Gods, it was real. It was all real.

There you lay, as still as the moon in the night sky.

So peaceful. 

So beautiful. 

And all mine.

I’ll admit, getting this far has been no easy feat. Tartarus below, getting you to even look in my direction had been a challenge. A challenge that I had been more than willing to win.

For me, there is no one else. Only you. 

All the others that demand my attention are so superficial, only seeing what they want to see. They only desire the Goddess’ son for what he can offer them, never for who I really am. They want the victories associated with my name. They want the fame and fortune I have worked so hard to gather. 

But not you. No, never you.

Long have you ignored me. Long have you expressed your desire, or rather, lack there of, of what I can offer you. You never cared about titles. You never cared about trophies, fame, fortune, or any of that shit. Who I am, or rather, who my mother is never caught your attention. In fact, you couldn’t have cared less about me before.

I won’t lie to you. It annoyed me.

It- it- hurt…

Sure, everyone who usually demands my attention is superficial and annoying. Yet, I cannot help but live for their praise. Attention is still attention, according to my mother, so I’ve always thrived in it. I always love it.

Maybe that’s what drew me to you in the first place: the fact that you seemingly didn’t care.

Why didn’t you? Hadn’t you heard of me? The famed Nike’s son who singlehandedly defeated the hydra beast when he was only seventeen? How about the countless olympic victories I’ve garnered through the years, numerous statues being erected in honour of my strength and valued deeds? Surely you had heard my name before, even if just a whisper on the wind.

Well, you had, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that I was born of the Gods. You didn’t care that I have valour or strength. 

You don’t even care about how attractive I am. Though, thanks to last night, I know now that you find me to be the most handsome of all.

Definitely doesn’t stroke my ego, or anything…

I can still remember how shy you became once you admitted to it. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve experienced something more euphoric in my entire life, or cuter for that matter. Knowing I have this effect on you is unlike any other, and I never want it to stop, and if I have my way, it never will.

We will be together for all eternity. I’ll make sure of it.

Anyways, I digress… finally, for the first time, I had found someone who wanted to get to know me for me, and not my conquests. All of my attempts to impress you through my grandiose accomplishments meant nothing. It’s the little things that truly mattered to you, like me helping that baker the one day when he broke his arm, or protecting that little girl from straying into one of the hidden labyrinth entrances. That is what seemed to make you notice me.

I’ll admit, for a time, I purposely did any and every little thing to make you look my way. It was worth it in the end, obviously. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be laying here with me in my bed after the night we had.

Oh, what a night it was! Even now, I cannot help the way my eyes flutter at the memories that consume my mind. You are so sweet, My Love, that I desperately long for another taste. For now, I’ll leave you to sleep. After all, you’ll need your rest if we are to continue on today just as we did last night.

I won’t lie to you, My Love, getting to love you, to cherish you and please you, is the greatest honour that anyone, living or dead, could ever bestow upon me. There is no higher pleasure I have ever felt in my entire life than the feeling of being locked between your legs. Your skin is softer than any finery the Gods could ever craft. Your voice is the sweetest song composed of melodies meant only for me. Not even Aphrodite herself could compete with your beauty, nor Thanatos tear you away from me in death. I would crawl through the River Styx and rain my terror upon Hades were he to even attempt to keep your departed soul away from me.

Nothing could keep me away from you. I love you.

I never thought I was capable of love, other than the desperate acceptance I sought through my many victories. I wanted to be loved, not be in love.

You changed that. You changed me.

Now, there is not a single thing that I don’t love about you. There is nothing I would change. From the way you smile at me, only for me, to the way you sigh my name so sweetly. To the way you comb your fingers through my hair after a long day, to the way you hug me so tightly when you’re seeking warmth. Your laugh, which is the most melodic symphony I have had the pleasure of hearing, other than your moans, of course. Your eyes, your nose, your body…I love it all.

I can’t fight it any longer, My Love, I need to hold you in my arms once more.

There. That’s better.

Just the way your body moulds against mine is perfect. We were made for each other, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, no one else can have you. No mere mortal could ever please you in the same ways I have. Not anymore.

You are mine, and I am yours.

My lips will forever burn searing kisses along your skin, singing your praise as long as I still draw breath. I will spend all of eternity composing poems of my deepest love for you, and you alone. Only you shall have the honour of hearing what your name sounds like falling from my lips, for only you are worthy. 

Worthy of my love. 

Worthy of my affection. 

More than all of that, worthy of me.

My hands shall grace no other’s skin, lest it is in defence of your honour. Then, I will never be afraid to reign my terror over them. My strength is unmatched, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, My Love, but when I set my sights on something, I do not stop until I have achieved my deepest desires.

My deepest desires…

You know, I never thought anyone would be able to understand me the way you do. How you can make me fall apart so easily - from just a single glance - escapes me. I have never experienced a love like this, and I hope to every God on Olympus that you haven’t, either.

I want to drown you in my love until all that you know, all that you can speak of, is me. I will surround you in me until you no longer can tell where you end and I begin. We are meant to be one, in this life, and the next, and all of the rest after that. I’ll make sure of it.

You are my greatest victory, and I will make sure to be your only prize. 

Let the others say what they want, they don’t matter. They’re just jealous, anyways. However, if I hear even one of them so much as speak one negative or malicious word against you… I will not hesitate to rip their tongue from their mouth and feed it to the minotaur. Maybe I’ll just gift you their heart on a golden platter instead. Offer it in placement of my own. Mine only beats for you, anyways.

Do you feel it? It’s thundering right now. I’m surprised the intensity doesn’t wake you from your slumber. Not even my wandering hands seem to affect you at all right now.

That’s okay, I was pretty intense last night.

You can’t blame me, My Love. I finally had the honour of making love to the woman who owns my very soul.

I can still feel the way my fingertips sunk into your flesh, grabbing onto anything and everything I could reach, just as they do right now. Of course, I’m much gentler for the moment than I was last night. I couldn’t help it, I just had to pull you as close as possible to me. I wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed against my own. I’ve been longing for your touch for too long.

You’re additive, did you know that? There is no finer wine, no sweeter ambrosia than the nectar that flows from between those luscious thighs of yours. Seriously, My Love, I could get drunk on you, and I wish you had let me last night. My tongue longs to be back between your legs, lapping up every last drop that flows from that precious cunt of yours. I need my lips on you, bringing you to ecstasy again, and again, and again.

Pull my hair. Scratch my back. Moan my name. Scream your love for me, and say you’re mine.

Do it all over again until you are satisfied, because I fear I will never be able to get enough of you. I will claim you over, and over, and over again until I am satisfied, and Darling, when it comes to you, I’m insatiable.

Don’t think I haven’t notice how you keen into my touch when my arms are around you, pulling your body flush against mine. Don’t think I do not remember the way you begged for more as my cock buried itself in your tight little cunt. And don’t you think for one second I will ever forget the way I made you scream my name as you came for me.

I did that to you. I will continue doing that to you. Forevermore.

I will only ever be satisfied knowing that I have pleased My Goddess to the fullest extent. You will only know joy, you will only know happiness and love when you’re with me. My pleasure is your pleasure, and I hope that you can say the same for me. 

For if not…

Well…

Let’s just say you don’t want this to be the start of another competition. 

After all, I always win.

#yandere lee know #yandere minho #yandere stray kids #yandere skz #yandere kpop #skz scenarios #stray kids scenario #minho scenario #lee know scenario #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho smut #kpop scenario #kpop smut #kpop au #demigod au #chubby reader

[inkbyajm]

of forgotten people

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, hurt/comfort, age-gap

word count: ~860

author’s note: this is a short excerpt (maybe the first chapter?) of a story i’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks. this is just to establish the vibe of something that will probably turn into a series. i hope you enjoy a little melancholy.

————-　❈　————-                                         

“Joel.”

Tommy’s voice resonated in his brother’s ears. The eldest Miller was lost in his thoughts for what seemed like the 5th time in the past half-hour that they’ve been in the Tipsy Bison. He only responded by blankly looking up from his spot around the table.

“You alright, big brother? Wanna share what’s on your mind?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” Joel paused, hesitating whether or not he should be sharing his doubts. I mean, what a fucking coincidence would that be.

“I was walking around town today and... Jesus, I’m gonna sound like I’m going insane, which I probably am, but,” he let out another breath “I saw this person, this woman, standing in front of the barn and... it looked a lot like someone I knew back then. Before the outbreak, I mean.”

“Shit, didn’t think your memory was that good, old man.” Tommy joked, taking another sip of his pint.

That was the problem. His life 20 years ago and the one he was currently living felt like two different realities, he could have been mixing up his recollections. He wasn’t even sure he remembered her all that well, despite everything they’ve been through in a relatively short amount of time.

What he did know is that she was the type of person a kid would look up to: kind, passionate, crafty, incredibly smart and with a strange sense of humour. And while she was mature, she was also naïve, and indecisive, and petty, and emotional at times. But he remembered ardent feelings, feelings she displayed openly, without fear. The same couldn’t be said about him.

“Yeah, looks like all those hits to the head are finally taking effect.” he mumbled into his own drink, earning a chuckle from his brother.

“Listen, as long as you’re making sense, I ain’t complaining.”

                              ————-　❈　————-                                         

The two sat around for another hour, chatting to a few people that stopped by their table for a quick hello. Tommy was mostly doing the conversing as Joel still found it a bit hard to adjust to a life in a functioning community. While the former was busy talking about supplies for the new playground with Dennis (Danny? Dean?), Joel felt like he needed another pint and headed to the bar.

It was Friday night, which meant the Tipsy Bison was busier than usual, with everyone celebrating the end of the week. It took a lot of convincing from Tommy to get his older brother to go out for drinks. He rarely ever agreed, usually preferring to stick to the bottle of whiskey he was gifted when him and Ellie first arrived. Nevertheless, Joel felt like he was finally starting to recognise some of the faces around town, which for him was a small accomplishment.

Making it to the bar, he patiently waited for one of what appeared to be three bartenders to serve him. The conversations all around him were all blending together as a soft rock tune played in the background for more ambiance. But it didn’t stop him from singling out a particular voice, a laugh, among dozens. It sounded more mature than the one etched into the far back of his mind.

He looked up from his spot at the far end of the counter, searching for the source of the anxiety growing in his chest. It’s been twenty years. It cannot be her. You are working yourself up for nothing.

And yet he strained his neck to get a better view, and there she was. Her appearance had changed slightly, she looked more rugged, more...experienced. But it was her, or at least the older version of her. You’re losing your damn mind, Joel, snap out of it.

As if she were reading his thoughts, the woman turned her head and the two made eye contact. Her smile wasn’t the only thing that had dropped as the glass she was originally drying found itself in pieces on the ground. 

Joel’s ears began to ring and he found himself backing away from the counter, bumping into a few displeased townsfolk as his feet clumsily carried him out of the pub. He didn’t even realise how suffocated he felt inside until he took a big breath of the fresh evening air, leaning against a utility pole for support, not trusting his knees to hold him up. His thoughts were racing a million miles an hour, his heart was just about 10 pumps away from officially stopping.

“Mr. Miller?”

Her voice, faint and quavery, came from behind him. It ain’t her, you are seeing ghosts. Go home. It took everything in him not to run away, to get hold of himself and his emotions as the world felt like it was crumbling down on him. Finally, after what felt like hours, he braced himself and hesitantly turned around to face his past.

It was just the two of them stood outside in the dimly-lit streets of Jackson. The only sound that filled the heavy silence were the muffled noises coming from the wooden walls of the Bison. Her eyes, those pleading eyes, glistened ever so slightly with tears.

“Joel.”

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader

[storywriter007]

I Won't - Jason Grace x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n is done being jason's last resort

warnings: cursing, suggestive, emotional turmoil

genre: angst

word count: 858

.....................................................................

y/n felt someone knock on her cabin door. she peeked outside to see someone that made her stomach drop. nevertheless, she opened the door.

“jason? are you alright? what’re you doing here, it’s past midnight.” she asked.

this wasn’t the first time jason had shown up at odd hours in the night. 

on the surface, y/n and jason were friends. friends who got along because they were forced to hangout with one another so much. but somehow, every time they hung out, it always ended the same. y/n waking up next to a man who was hot hers.

“yeah, i’m fine i guess. piper and i broke up.” he sighed.

y/n felt bad, of course, but honestly, they were on and off all the time. they broke up every two weeks, would go without each other for a week, and then they would be back together. it was a never ending cycle. it’s easy to infer where jason ended up every time they broke up.

she let him in.

“i’m sorry.” she said, patting his back. “is it like permanent? you’re not getting back?” 

she knew that might’ve sounded harsh, but it was true.

“she said she’s ‘fucking done’ with me. we had this whole stupid fight, and she just ended it.” he explained. “i’ve never seen her so angry.”

“maybe she’ll change her mind? she could’ve just been stressed about something else.” y/n comforted, knowing her words were daggers that only stabbed her.

she really liked jason. like head over heels. sure, he’s a hero, and that made everyone want him, but what y/n loved about jason was who he was. a smart, kind, and caring man. she loved him, not what he had accomplished. but here she was, assuring him another girl would come back to him.

“maybe.” he agreed. 

a moment of silence passed between the two. 

“but, it kind of got me thinking about you.” he started.

y/n felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“what do you mean?” she asked.

“it got me thinking about how you’ve always been there for me.” he continued, leaning in so that he was barely inches away from y/n. “how long we’ve being doing..this.”

“where are you going with this jason?” she asked, her heart feeling heavy.

“if me and piper are really done, i think we should give you and me a shot.” he said, in a low, husky tone.

they were about to kiss. was y/n’s dream finally coming true? had jason finally realized she loved him? or was he just looking for a replacement. his words repeated in her head, and the more they played over, the louder another thought became: she was his second choice.

“jason.” she said.

“hm?”

she wanted to kiss him, she really did. but she held it back.

“you’re fucking insane if you think that’s how you win me over.” she spat coldly, getting up.

“y/n, i wasn’t trying to-“

“no, shut up jason! you were trying. you knew what you were doing, coming here every time you and piper broke up!” she said, anger filling her voice. “you knew that i liked you. you knew that i would do anything just for two minutes of your attention. you knew that i’d let you touch me because i was so desperate for you to say you felt someway about me!”

“how was i supposed to know? you never told me anything!” he argued, standing up.

“maybe every time i let you fuck me should’ve been a clue!” she persisted. “i’m sick of being your second choice! im sick of being your fuck buddy whenever you can’t have piper! i’m sick of you hiding me! i won’t continue to be the girl you come to whenever you’re horny or in a bad place with piper! i won’t fucking do it!”

“if you never wanted to do this, all you had to do was say something. you know i would’ve never forced you.” he said, angrily.

“yes jason but what part of ‘i was so desperate for you to notice me’ do you not get?” she yelled.

he shook his head.

“you’re blaming me for the fact that you decided to sleep with me.” he chuckled.

“i’m blaming you for toying with my emotions!” she shouted.

y/n composed herself, and realized jason was not worth all of this yelling and screaming. he was worth nothing but a goodbye.

“look jason, i’m done being your second choice. i won’t do that to myself because i don’t deserve it. don’t come to my cabin again, don’t talk to me for anything other than work, and don’t call me.” y/n finished. “you’re free to leave.”

he chuckled before making his way towards the door and leaving.

y/n took a minute to process what had just happened. and yes, she was upset she lost jason, but he was worth losing if his only interest in her was her body. six words echoed in her mind as she laid in the darkness.

i won't do this to myself

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace angst #piper mclean #angst angst angst

[dandydingo]

Why I’m Leaving Freelance Commission Work An essay about doing furry commissions by DandyDingo

Preamble  First and foremost I’d like to state that this is not a post geared toward complaining about commissioners or fellow artists in my industry. I’ve simply noticed a concerning disconnect between commissioners and artists about several topics and wanted to make something that explains, clarifies, and elaborates on some of those issues.

I love the community I’m a part of and would like to see it do better! Though it’s a meme that if you want to make money as an artist you should become a furry, it’s actually a double edged sword that I’ll be trying my best to pick apart and display. The following points I’ll be rambling about are also based on my personal experiences working in this type of career for 3 years. I am by no means the most qualified but I’m not the least qualified either; this to say please take what I say with a grain of salt. It won’t apply to all situations!

With those disclaimers out of the way, get ready for a whole lot of reading!

What is this job and how does it work? Typically when someone is referring to a furry artist they mean an artist selling illustration commissions on a freelance basis. There are many different kinds of independent creators though and this could include someone who sells merchandise, makes a living off patreon with comic work, or does fursuits. For the sake of staying focused we’re discussing artists who specifically sell illustrations and work one-on-one with commissioners to accomplish this.

As any seasoned commissioner knows, the way an artist’s process works can be varied but typically involves:

buying an open slot for a commission type (ex: a painting)

handing over your references, requests, and paying 

waiting for a work in progress image to approve 

receiving the final product

This process is the basic premise, an industry standard if you will. The artist gets the benefit of controlling when they can take on work and the commissioner has the opportunity to communicate what they want at multiple stages of the project.

But why are there so many variations to what projects an artist will even accept, what’s in their TOS, and how long it takes them to do it?

Specialization  The thing about many furry artists is we’re independent creators with little to no formal education in illustration. We’re not the type of artists you see putting together Magic the Gathering cards or developing a big title game. To expect that level of industrial standard with speed and quality would be ludicrous! This is what makes us appealing to commission though- you’re not going to find our product anywhere else and you’re supporting an artist you like directly. 

In fact, every furry artist is a unique snowflake with their own specializations. This is partially since art takes a ridiculous amount of time to get good at. An artist is almost forced to choose what they can offer and what they’re going to invest in trying to sell. This can even be out of our control! For example, one of the running jokes with my slice of community is the fact that after drawing a single bird furry there was suddenly an entire flock asking me to draw their bird sonas. 

Specialization directly rewards furry artists with more steady income / clients and thus they might have to restrict what they can offer. Again, learning to draw something new takes a lot of time. An artist who has never touched backgrounds will struggle a lot to suddenly try and include them in their work. This doesn’t mean it can’t be done or that an artist doesn’t want to. I would even argue this hyper specialization can often leave artists in a depressing loop they feel they can never escape from. If they suddenly draw something else it won’t sell, their personal interests have been buried by what actually works on the market.

Some artists do break this mold though and either enjoy the specialization they’re in or are experienced enough to draw whatever they fancy at a high quality. Perhaps even, their audience expects and celebrates an experimental approach from them which is something that’s true in my case. One of my most successful commissions were “surprise bags” where requests and edits weren't even allowed! Others are not fortunate enough to have that option though.

In any case, this is not the sole reason for the insane variety we see in furry artists and why their commission processes vary so much but it is a huge part of it. For context, the level of skill you see in my art took 5 years to get to and I would consider myself intermediate at best. It’s truly an underrated skilled trade.

Prices - Part 1 Cost of Living Money, everyone’s favourite non-controversial topic! So why is furry art so expensive? 

It costs a lot to be a living breathing creature with a roof over your head and food in your belly. We all feel the current effects of inflation and ridiculously high rent. This is definitely a big reason why art can / should cost a lot and believe it or not MOST artists do not make minimum wage.

This doesn’t just apply to furry artists of course and I would be beating a dead horse on something we all already know, the economy is in a terrible state right now. It depends on what country / area you live in, what your living situation is, if you have any pets or health issues, etc.

In general though, that $200 price tag for a reference sheet doesn’t make the cut in most places. It might be the single biggest reason why I cannot continue this work anymore, the price I can sell something for is only so high but my workload will remain the same. That reference sheet will take me 2-4 days to complete no matter what if I want to maintain the good quality a commissioner is (understandably) paying me for. 

Depending on what you're selling and where your experience level is at (the more experienced you are the less time it takes to complete something at an acceptable quality) a commission can take 1 hour to finish or it can take 12 hours. So… just do a lot of smaller cheaper stuff right? 

Prices - Part 2 The Great Artist Killer, BURNOUT If an artist cannot manage to sell a few big things to meet their monthly bills they might instead switch gears to sell lots of small affordable things. This can mean doing 20-40 commissions a month at a back breaking pace. While all jobs slowly drain the life out of your soul, art demands a level of mental focus that is often overlooked and in the case of this career, you only have you to do the work that is required. 

There is no one to cover your shift, there is no one to assist you, and if you don’t make your deadlines your reputation is at stake. The very same reputation of good work ethic that keeps your commissioners coming back the next opening. You must push through the burnout! You must work until your hand aches and bleeds! You must- there is no one to save you from this Hell!

If you try to be an affordable or high production artist this is the life you have to look forward to. Desperately churning out product as you retrofit your creativity and passions into a well oiled machine. Often to try and prevent this artists will raise their prices to something they can live off without breaking themselves or have a mix of high / low prices. A middle ground if you will, something that still doesn’t make the standard of living but isn’t a death march either. It’s a precarious and strange limbo with financial insecurity but hey… at least you’re not dead. It should be noted as well that most artists struggle with some form of mental illness and selling commissions might even be the only career open to them. This is not a topic I feel qualified to speak on but it does play an enormous role in experiencing burnout and the general struggles of this career. 

Prices - Part 3 Afterthoughts While I wish artists could push for an appropriate living wage, I understand the commissioners' side as well. Spending $100 that could go toward groceries is just not feasible for the vast majority of us and so when we see something that is actually in our range, a $20 headshot or $10 sketch, we often hop on it without a second thought on the ethics of paying that low. It is okay to buy a treat for yourself that is within a price range you can afford though! You should never spend what you can’t nor should you ever feel pressured or guilty to buy something.

If a commissioner is concerned about paying enough I would recommend saving up and giving as big of a tip as you can! Artists are almost always underselling themselves and even just a $5 tip covers the cut that Paypal takes or buys them a coffee to get through the day. Buying what’s reasonable for you is absolutely still supporting them and a little goes a long way!

NOTE : any artist can experience burnout or struggle with meeting minimum wage no matter what they’re selling; this is a hard topic to pick apart Making Art - Part 1 The Process So how does making art work? That might seem like a silly question but it’s hard to understand when you’re not the one creating it. Given how closely a commissioner and artist must work together in order to achieve a desired result I think it’s worth breaking down what goes into making a piece. Of course every illustrator is different but here’s how it generally works:

Hope You’re Mentally Well Art requires mental concentration, particularly for something complex such as a city. Often a bad mental state can be worked around but sometimes the process stops here- you’re just not able to focus enough to measure out that perspective or break down the complex anatomy that goes into drawing a hand.

Find References An artist may need to take an hour or so to find the right references or to make thumbnail sketches. Especially if your client asked for something specific (like a particular brand of whisky) you need to know what it looks like and how it will fit into the piece. For small quick pieces though this is usually a waste of time and skipped.

Sketching Here is often where the commissioner sees the first glimpse of work done- the sketch! Some artists are messy, some are neat and tidy. They might be drawing you a reference sheet or a headshot but either way you typically get to take a glimpse at their blueprint and ask for changes before the rest happens. Sketches are easy to change and can be redone from scratch with the least amount of time lost if needed. It is the optimal step to work with the client on making sure expectations are met.

Rough Render To keep it across the board for all types of art (painting, cell shading, lineless, etc) we’ll call this part the rough render. A commissioner may be shown the flatcolor swatch to ensure markings were drawn accurately, the lineart to double check all requested details have been included, the rough lighting to give an idea of the mood… the list goes on and on! Some artists skip this step entirely if it’s not needed, there is such a thing as oversaturation when it comes to communication.

Final Product This is simply where the commissioner and artist part ways once everything has been approved, the final product! It may have taken hours or days to get to this step but either way it’s been completed.

Making Art - Part 2 When It Doesn’t Go Smoothly Sometimes an artist’s workflow is so rigid even a single missed day from bad mental health or a life event can have a cascade effect that puts them behind schedule. Quite literally an artist can only draw for so many hours before their hand (or body in general) physically gives out. I’ve had work days where I’ve tried to push myself in order to catch up, to the point of rubbing the skin off my finger enough to make it bleed. In the long run this can mean career-ruining cases of carpal tunnel in the wrist or hand and like with any other desk job; your neck and back aren't very happy about the workload either. Artist work days are often shorter than what’s considered normal which adds to the general difficulty of the career as well. While some artists can certainly work that full 8-10 hour shift, others might only be able to handle 3-6 hours before they can’t concentrate or are in too much pain to continue (speaking in long term for that one, it took a few years of regular work before I started having real physical issues from drawing too much). Given most are stuck at certain price points for selling their art it’s almost impossible to charge more in order to compensate for these possible missed days. It’s an issue with other careers as well which I do want to acknowledge; missing even one day of work could mean less groceries that week or cost someone their job in extreme cases. We truly live in a society! It should be noted though that keeping an impossible schedule is a huge stressor for artists who are stuck having to produce more than they can mentally or physically take on. They often know they can’t do it but what other choice is there- not buying the medication you need that month? This always seems to lead to something public and discussed a lot in the community; the instances of being issued a refund out of the blue or seeing a lengthy mental breakdown post about suffocating in the stress of it all. The wear and tear on creativity is visible as well. An artist’s work may become monotone or lifeless as they sink further from the weight of impossible to meet expectations. They might struggle to produce what they used to be able to as time marches on or simply feel unbearably hopeless. If the unsustainable workflow continues for too many years passion becomes strangled and real physical consequences are apparent. 

Some are able to escape this or don’t have this issue! Others suffer in silence or might not be aware of the strain they are being put through, as is the case with plenty of other careers.

How Can I Support Artists? If you’re interested in making life easier for your favourite artist there are a few simple things you can do; specifically in regards to the commission process!

Read the Terms of Service This is not something you should skip over as it could detail how edits are handled, what an artist is willing to draw, etc. It's beneficial for everyone that the TOS is read.

Look Before You Buy Take a peek at an artist’s gallery and decide if you like their style before you purchase anything OR buy a small sample to see if you enjoy how they draw your character! I feel some commissioners don’t understand that an artist cannot change how they stylize on a whim (for example a semi-realistic artist isn’t going to suddenly draw anime). If you’re indifferent or you like experimentation then this isn’t something you need to worry about.

Have A Reference Sheet Although reference sheets are expensive, if you frequently commission artists and are able to afford it BUY ONE! It saves a huge amount of time and frustration- so much so that some artists won’t even consider accepting your commission without a proper reference sheet. Having to guess the body type or colors takes a lot of time and can easily be prevented!

Leave Wiggle Room Give an artist some room to breathe with a bit of artistic freedom! Do not expect them to get that exact #CCE5FF shade of blue you want or draw every single marking of a complex pattern. Lower your expectations if they’re that high, you’ll enjoy the piece more when you do!

Tip Particularly if you’re commissioning a character with a lot of detail or have very specific requests, leave a tip. Again all it takes is a $5 tip to make a difference!

Advice For Artists If you’re truly looking to get into this industry or have been in it for a while, here are some tips that can (hopefully) help make your job a little easier or get started. I don’t want to discourage people from this job by any means! We wouldn’t have the community we do without freelance artists. NEW ARTISTS

Start Small If you’re just starting out you’ll want to aim for the $10 - $50 price range with marketable pieces such as icons or chibis. You may have to heavily undersell yourself for a while to grow a client base. If you don’t sell anything at first don’t be discouraged! It’s perfectly normal to struggle for a while (even years) before you have anything steady.

Experiment Now is the perfect time to experiment and see what works and what doesn’t, what you like and what you hate. Try different platforms, different commission types and styles, whatever you fancy! The goal is to find a niche you can wedge yourself into, feel happy with, and work towards; not to fish around for immediate results.

Focus On Studying The more experience and tools in your belt, the better. For the first while you should be focusing on improving your art if you’re not at an intermediate level. Once hands don’t feel like such a struggle you know you’re at the right place! This will set you up to be more efficient and feel less frustrated down the road.

EXPERIENCED ARTISTS

Personal Time For the sake of your mental health you need to set aside time to do personal art, experiment, and relax. This could mean having a consistent day off, finding a new hobby, or making vent art just for yourself. Also, don’t be afraid to post personal art! You should not be apologizing for taking reasonable time to yourself.

Experimental Commissions Allow yourself to open weirder commission types from time to time. Maybe lately you’ve been really into drawing beach scenes, you could open a 2 slot commission that promises summer vibes. These could be filler between your bigger pieces or replace them every now and then depending on what you can get away with. Other examples I’ve seen are selling goretober calendar slots or $10 artistic freedom sketches. Just try to get yourself out of that repetitive loop if you feel like you need to, worse case it doesn’t sell!

It’s Okay To Quit Not all of us have this option given personal circumstances but there is no shame in leaving this career. Doing commissions even as a casual filler can rob you of the passion you once had for your hobby. If you feel genuinely unhappy with this job and come across the opportunity to safely leave, go for it! In my case I’m going from commission work to comic work, something within the same general field that I can do at my own pace. 

Afterword Although I tried to cover as much as I could with this, I know not every issue of the relationship between commissioners and artists was addressed. There are artists who take large amounts of money and then ghost their commissioner. There are commissioners who negatively nitpick at every step of the process and leave an artist feeling like a beaten down dog. The furry community is huge with lots of different folks, there will of course be bad eggs that make things harder for both sides. 

I simply hope this leaves commissioners with a better understanding of an artist's perspective and gives some well deserved compassion to the creative people that breathe so much life into our community. We as artists should also appreciate the clients that support us with positive enthusiasm. This special relationship doesn’t exist in a lot of places and I hope I've offered something to help furries have a better understanding of one of the biggest aspects of our community. 

Written with much love for the wonderful people that have cheered me on over the years and the community that has always shown it's full support toward me.

#furry community discussion #long post #essay #dandydingo

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Queen of the Halfpipe 🏂 | Jake Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x pro snowboarder!reader (romantic), the dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 10k

Requested 📨 yes/no—for @gizmodear 🤍 (rules for requests)

Premise: Dedication, determination, blood, sweat, and tears. That’s what athletes put in when they say they want to compete on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Years of hard work that come with sacrifices. At a young age Y/n L/n knew she wanted to be the best when it came to snowboarding, devoting herself to the Olympic dream. Love wasn’t something she thought would happen for her as she was so focused on her career. But, as someone once pointed out to her years after she did in fact find her happily ever after, she was living in her own little Hallmark movie.

Note: ah I’ve finally finished and I’m so happy with how it turned out! @gizmodear I apologize for the long wait (i think you sent this request at the beginning of February) but I hope you like this and I delivered with everything you could’ve imagined 🥹 I really love writing the athlete!reader x dagger squad paring fics so this was so fun to write. I did so much research to be as accurate as I could since I am not familiar with snowboarding. I did watch Chloe Kim in 2018 & 2022 so a lot of what reader accomplishes in this fic was inspired by her so I hope you don’t mind that I did that (except the ending since the 2026 Olympics hasn’t happened yet obviously 😂). Please let me know what you think!

——————————————

“So one last run, huh?”

“One last one,” she confirmed, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the slight sadness in her tone. All good things must come to an end.

“Better make it count,” he encouraged her. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about it-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do. That gold medal is calling your name.”

“I better go claim it then.”

“We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.”

Some people like the heat. Going to the beach and riding the waves of the ocean. Others enjoy the rain. The soothing sound of water hitting the pavement brings comfort to their ears. Then there are those who prefer the cold. Not as popular as the other two. People feel the only way to enjoy it is by staying indoors to sit by the fire and watch the snow fall through the window.

Y/n L/n loved the snow. Having grown up in the mountains of Colorado, she was used to blizzards and snowstorms. But she loved it mostly because of the sports associated with it. You know, the ones millions of people gather across the globe every four years to watch at the Winter Olympic Games. Athletes who’ve spent their entire life working to achieve their dream of glory. People who are not even patriotic rep their colors. Children watching for the first time think, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

That’s how it was for ten year old Y/n Ln watching the 2002 Winter Olympics on the small tv screen in the living room of her home. It was a special year of the Games. Hosted on US soil in Salt Lake City, Utah. Taking place in the months after the country was met with tragedy following the attacks on the World Trade Center in September 2001. Not a dry eye in the stadium or on those watching from home as the flag that flew on Ground Zero was brought into the arena by members of Team USA along with the NYPD & FDNY.

The Olympic torch was passed by members of the 1980 gold medal winning hockey team, coach Mike Eruzione lighting the cauldron. One of the most notable teams in US Olympic history. They were just college students up against the number one team in the world in 1980, which ironically enough, was also on US soil in Lake Placid, New York. Anyone who watched them play could recall the chills they felt when the buzzer counted down to zero with sportscaster Al Micheals yelling, “Do you believe in miracles? YES!” Winning that game didn’t deliver the gold medal, no, it only secured their place in the final match. There they defeated Finland 4-2, shooting themselves into history.

Y/n was familiar with many of the sports she grew to love watching. Her family owned and lived on a ski resort, so the art of skiing and snowboarding came to her at a young age. She was around four years old the first time she went down hill with her father. By the time she was around eight she could do it on her own with little help.

While her parents enjoyed skiing, Y/n was drawn to snowboarding. More specifically, the halfpipe.

At a whopping 11 to 22 feet in the air and slopes between 16 to 18 degrees, the halfpipe brings fast momentum to snowboarders allowing them to perform difficult spins and skills as they pass from wall to wall. For the Olympics, 22 feet was the typical height of the walls.

The first time Y/n attempted to drop in on the halfpipe was at the age of ten. After watching Team USA sweep the medals in the mens and watching Kelly Clark win gold for the women, Y/n was determined to one day stand on the podium and be crowned the queen of the halfpipe. Nerves were present, as they usually are when one tries to do something they’ve never done. With her parents and a snowboarding instructor present, Y/n became the little daredevil she was and tried her best.

Of course she couldn’t be bold and attempt spins and jumps just yet. Surely that would end her career before it could even start. No, instead they would work on getting used to traveling down the slopes first. On top of that Y/n would have to unlock her inner gymnast so she could do the flips when she got air.

Her preteen years were dedicated to training. Homeschooling became a thing. Everyday she was out working tirelessly to the point her legs would ache. Often there would be a bad run where getting up from the snow would take an arm and leg to do. Balancing a social life as a teenager was impossible. Y/n pretty much sold her soul to snowboarding. But that’s what one has to do when they dream of Olympic glory.

By the time Y/n was 15 she was already making a name for herself after joining the U.S Snowboarding Team. She won titles left and right that people were coming to her family's ski resort just to watch her train. A competitor of the Winter X Games at age 16, Y/n secured the gold after her second run in the women’s superpipe final with a score of 83.75. Rumors speculated she was going to go for the 2010 Olympic Trials. Having just turned 18, Y/n was a leading contender for the Games.

But you know how there are always bad runs? Yeah….the Trials seemed to give her that.

Y/n was hoping to be the first woman to land the 1080 in competition since no one had done it before. Men had been doing the trick since 2002, not as difficult as some of the other moves they were keen to do. While practicing Y/n had successfully landed it a handful of times. So once she felt she was confident, she planned to put in her trial runs. Her coach insisted she’d wait, but Y/n was determined.

And unfortunately it was going to cost her.

After failing to land on her 1080 on both attempts, Y/n was left at the bottom of the leaderboard even with the lowest and highest dropped from her scoring. Embarrassed and humiliated, Y/n made no effort to hide how devastated she was. Tears fell from her puffy cheeks, the cold doing nothing to help. She tried to avoid the cameras but they followed her everywhere she went.

“Y/n, what does this mean for you going forward?”

“Are you going to train for Sochi?”

“Can we expect to see you at next year’s Winter X Games?”

Returning home from the trials, Y/n spent the first week watching the footage back to see what went wrong. Her coach of almost ten years was with her, scribbling furiously on the white board the error and how to fix them.

“You opened too late,” he told her, circling the area in bright red where Y/n messed up. It made her glare at the spot. “When you do that you come in contact with the snow much quicker than you want—that’s why you lost your balance and fell. You didn’t give much time to stop the momentum from spinning. You need to hit this mark—,” another red circle appeared just above the marked one, “to land on time on your feet without losing balance.”

“You’re gonna make me run this at least twenty times today huh?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he flicks the cap at her, “Now go get ready—we’ve got work to do!”

And so for the next four years Y/n worked harder than she ever did before leading up to the 2010 trials. She’d been snowboarding almost fifteen years at that point, nearly seven at the competitive level. 1080s were what kept her up at night. One of the most difficult moves in women’s halfpipe, Y/n spent the four years working to perfect it. Kelly Clark, the 2002 Gold medalist and 2010 Bronze medalist, ended up becoming the first woman to land it at the 2011 X Games, Y/n taking second place and becoming the second woman to land it the following year.

“Remember what I told you,” her coach squeezed her shoulders just before her turn at the 2014 Winter Olympic Trials. “Let the snow and air guide you, don’t guide them. Keep steady and eyes open—you’ve trained for this and you can do it, Y/n. Just do what you’ve been doing the last four years.”

Taking the advice sure as hell paid off. When Team USA marched into the dome of the opening ceremonies at the Sochi Winter Olympics, Y/n was amongst the 222 athletes representing the red, white, and blue.

Qualifications were nerve racking, but Y/n put her blood, sweat, and tears into the competition. The 1080 had everyone buzzing since it was to be the first time competed in women’s snowboarding at the Olympics. “Just get on your feet,” she told herself, placing her goggles down as she prepared to drop in. “Don’t think about it too much, just do it.”

“And here is 22-year-old Y/n L/n from Aspen, Colorado gearing up for her first run in the women’s halfpipe qualifications. This has got to be a big moment for Y/n, having missed out on the Olympic team four years ago for Vancouver. Here in Sochi she’s a favorite to make the podium after great runs at the Winter X Games, becoming the second woman to land the 1080–which we’ll see her in a moment. Y/n’s been snowboarding since the age of four—as one does when their family owns a popular ski resort. We’re excited to see what she’s got for us today.”

“For those of you watching at home who are new to competitive snowboarding, here’s how the scoring works. The athletes are given two runs—or attempts to score big by doing tricks between each wall as they go down the slope of the halfpipe. A team of six judges will then determine the scores through amplitude, another word for height, difficulty, variety, execution, and progression. The highest and lowest score are then thrown out and the remaining four are averaged together for that run. The highest of the two runs is what will determine their position on the leaderboard.”

With her first run of 90.00 and second a 86.75, Y/n advanced to the semifinals along with Kaitlyn Farrington, and Hannah Teter. Kelly Clark secured her place in the finals as the top qualifying score after qualifications. During the semifinals Y/n brought in a 92.50 and 93.50. Her coach was jumping up and down, her parents screaming and Y/n ran over to them when the results came in.

She was heading to the finals.

A silver lining moment was what she was met with after claiming a score of 91.00 following her two runs. Team USA sweeping the podium: Kaitlyn with the gold, Y/n taking silver, and Kelly the bronze.

At the press junket following the podium ceremony, Y/n could not stop smiling. Even when she was asked the question, “How does it feel to be wearing the silver medal after what happened at the trials four years ago?”

“It feels amazing as you can imagine,” chuckles erupt from all sides. “I try to erase the 2010 trials from my memory, but ultimately that is what made me determined to work so hard these last four years. Being able to represent Team USA and bringing home the silver medal alongside my teammates Kaitlyn and Kelly, who I’ve admired my entire career—and watching Kelly win gold in 2002 is what kickstarted my dream of going to the Olympics…” Y/n pauses, grin growing wider, “It’s truly an honor. I-I’m still coming down from the high of it all.”

“Y/n over here!” The athlete points to a lady, who proceeds to stand from her chair to ask, “I know you’re going to be asked this a lot so let me be the first to, are we going to see you in four years for Pyeongchang?”

Biting her lip, Y/n gave a shrug though her smile remained, “I’m gonna train so the hope is you will see me in 2018, but you never know in sports. Anything can happen. For now I’m gonna celebrate with my coach and my family who traveled all the way from the States with me and then get back to the snow when I get home.”

When one already has established themself as a name in their sport, with an Olympic medal, several national and world titles under their belt, then going bigger is to be expected. Higher difficulty in tricks, more air and speed, fighting with gravity to not fall on your ass. Y/n felt the pressure.

“You want me to do back-to-back 1080s?” She nearly dropped her granola bar, staring at her coach dumbfounded.

“You can do it,” he said as if it were obvious. “You’ve been getting so much momentum on the landing that you’re getting massive height on your 720. You can easily go for the 1080 on that.”

It seemed tricky, but Y/n wasn’t one to say no to a challenge. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

The first time resulted in a face plant in the snow. The second time she lost balance and skidded the rest of the slope on her ass. Finally on the third attempt she managed to catch her feet, exclaiming “Holy shit! I did it!” Off to the side her coach was fist pumping, in a heap of joy for the athlete. Never had anyone successfully landed a back-to-back 1080. But Y/n did in a fucking practice run. “Pyeongchang, here I come!”

When Y/n landed the movements at the 2018 Olympic trials, she was the highlight of the competition.

“The 2014 silver medalist in this event, Y/n L/n dropping in. Great start—setting up for her 1080….beautiful landing—she’s been working hard to perfect and—-OH! Oh my gosh she just did another one!! Did we just witness what I think we did? Holy moly folks I don’t believe it—Y/n L/n has just done the impossible with back-to-back 1080s in a single run!! That’s gonna have a massive score I can already tell.”

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins like never before when Y/n came down from the slope after her final move. Giggling like a maniac, her hands covered her mouth as the crowd roared around her. Her coach was going crazy, as were her friends and family who came out to support. A score of 95.00 sent the audience into a frenzy. And even with her second run, there was no doubt in anyone's mind.

Y/n was heading for Pyeongchang.

“It was a successful Olympic Trials this past week with 241 athletes from across the country qualifying for Team USA in the upcoming Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea. Team USA will be competing in 15 sports, with many returning to the stage—including two time gold-medalist in the Men’s halfpipe, Shaun White, and 2010 Olympic champion of the women’s downhill in skiing, Lindsey Vonn. The women’s hockey team is looking to return to glory after not having won the gold since Nagano in 1998–the team claiming either silver or bronze in the past Games. There’s been a lot of excitement among supporters for returning Olympian Y/n L/n, who will be competing in the women’s halfpipe once again—L/n was the 2014 silver medalist in the event and became the talk of the trials when she completed back-to-back 1080s in her first run of the final competition, securing her place on Team USA with a massive score of 95.00. L/n has stated she will be attempting the 1080 duo at these Games. If she can pull out a score like she did at the trials of even higher, we could be looking at a new Queen of the Halfpipe.”

For the Games in Pyeongchang, each competitor would do two runs in qualifications and those who make it to the final will get three chances to produce a big score. It was smooth sailing to the finals for Y/n. Both runs received a score of 90.00, making her the top qualifier and securing one of twelve spots in the final.

February 13, 2018 was the best day of Y/n’s life.

It was a beautiful morning in South Korea. Sun beaming down with clear skies making the snow sparkle. Y/n was the last contestant in each rotation, spending the time in between her runs to keep her mind at ease. The playlist she made was blasting through the headphones she wore, a mix of genres that included artists like AC/DC, One Direction, and Beyoncé. Sometimes the cameramen would catch a glimpse of her dancing while mouthing the words to the songs, making viewers at home and the NBC commentators chuckle. Throughout the competition people were tweeting about the athlete:

@ sassycassie: @Y/nlikesthesnow is such a mood at the @Olympics. I wonder what’s on her playlist.

@TeamUSA✔️: we’re all jamming with @Y/nlikesthesnow.

@Marvelicious: Petition for the @Olympics to include music in the halfpipe from here on out.

When it came time for her run, Y/n rolled her neck, said a mental prayer, and dropped in once she was given the green light. Her heart was racing by the time she finished her first run, which did not get a good score due to falling on her second 1080. A rocky start to her competition, the number came back a 41.00.

Quickly the athlete brushed it off. “There’s still two more,” she told herself, approaching her coach who voiced the same thing. Two more chances to score big. All she needed to do was land the 1080s and get high altitude on her 720 and backside 900. Once that happened the gold medal was practically hers.

And she did just that.

On her second run, Y/n delivered what everyone was on the edge of their seats for. She screamed in victory going into her 720 because she had landed the second 1080 perfectly. Letting the remainder of the slopes guide her, Y/n finished her run with a beautiful 900 and shot her arms into the air, the people in the audience cheering. When she crossed the line she fell to her knees, board still attached to her feet and let out a cry of joy.

“Wow, wow, wow! That was absolutely incredible! She completed the back-to-back 1080s—I know we already saw it in the qualifications, but seeing it today was even better—and that 900 was massive, she could’ve thrown in a third! Look at Y/n, she’s taking it all in—the fans are going crazy, Team USA are already celebrating. And we still have one more run left! Remember the judges drop the highest and lowest scores and it looks like it’s gonna be……A 98.75!!! THAT IS HUGE—THE HIGHEST WE’VE SEEN YET!!”

Y/n was doing her best not to cry when her coach and parents hauled her into a group hug. There was still one more run to do, but it would be her victory lap no doubt. No way would anyone be able to touch her score.

Smiling the entire time, Y/n was effortless in her final attempt. One couldn’t even call it an attempt when she was already the gold medalist. The remaining competitors had already gone, none close to the number she produced in the second run. Tears finally flowed when she finished her 900, coming to the end of the slope and unclamping her board before dropping to the snow. The sound of the cheers was so loud she could feel the vibration.

Cameramen surrounded the athlete. Feeling giddy she made a snow angel, laughing the entire time.

When the score came back a 93.50, Y/n was officially named the Olympic champion of the women’s halfpipe. She wasn’t the only member from Team USA on the podium, Arielle Gold claimed the bronze, pushing out 2002 Gold Medalist Kelly Clark by nearly two full points. Liu Jiayu was the silver medalist.

At the podium ceremony Y/n felt like she was in a dream. Even when the announcer said, “Gold medalist and Olympic Champion, from the United States of America, Y/n L/n!!” With the medal placed around her neck and the sound of the national anthem echoing for all ears to hear, Y/n thought she’d wake up in her bed and it would have all been a dream.

But it was far from a dream. The press conference assured that. Reporters and journalists from sports magazines and media swarmed the place, Y/n more nervous about answering their questions than performing tricks in the air that were life threatening if landed wrong. Several questions were to be expected:

“Y/n, how are you feeling after your big win today?”

“Can you tell us anything about your plans when these Games come to an end?”

“Is it true you and actor Dylan O’Brien have been getting rather close?”

“Y/n, are you going to train for Beijing in four years?”

Exhausted and in need of food, Y/n kept her answers simple and minimum. “I feel like I could run a marathon—but mostly I could use some snacks. Oh thank you so much—,” A volunteer brought over an apple they had, and a reporter gave some crackers. “I feel even better now, thank you.”

“Well for one I’m gonna sleep at least a whole week,” chuckles rang out. “Then I’m gonna go see Black Panther since it comes out in three days—anybody gonna go see it? The trailer looked amazing.”

At the question of Dylan O’Brien, Y/n refrained from making a face, “Dylan is a good friend of mine—we met at the 2015 ESPY’s and he’s been to my family’s resort. Not to mention I was a fan of Teen Wolf when it was running. There’s nothing more going on, he’s a great buddy of mine and that’s all.” Internally groaning, Y/n could already picture the internet reacting to her answer. No doubt would they start shipping the two. Dylan would likely get a kick out of it, but like she said they were just good friends.

Responding on the topic of Beijing, Y/n said, “I’m very lucky to call myself a two-time Olympian and would love to continue my Olympic career so yes, I do plan to train for the next Games.”

The rest of 2018 was memorable for Y/n. She was invited to award shows and movie premieres, including Avengers: Infinity War, The Maze Runner: The Death Cure (which only fueled more speculation about her and Dylan) and Spider-Man: Into The SpiderVerse. She even filmed a cameo in the upcoming remake of Charlie’s Angels with fellow athletes Aly Raisman, Rhonda Rousey, and Danica Patrick. At the 2018 ESPY’s, Y/n was nominated for four awards: Best Olympic Moment, Best Female Olympian, Best Female Athlete and Best Female Action Sports Athlete. She took the latter three, in disbelief each time her name was called.

Her personality drew people in and many young girls were interested in snowboarding because of her. Within weeks she accumulated 500 thousand followers on instagram. People begged her to start a YouTube channel, wanting to follow the journey as she trains for Beijing.

“Hello friends of the interweb,” she waved to the lens of her camera. “You’ve been shouting from the rooftops and I’ve heard you loud and clear. Today is my first attempt at…vlogging? Is that what you call it?” Shrugging, she starts to walk down the hallway of her home. At age 26, Y/n moved out of her parents home shortly after her first Olympics—-having went pro—and bought a cabin on the resort so she could remain close with her family and coach. Plus it was where she trained—a nice little plaque on the entrance of the resort reading, “Home of Olympic Champion Y/n L/n.”

Fans loved seeing a more in-depth look at the Olympian. Y/n would do Q&As, give snowboarding 101 lessons, collaborate with Olympians from other sports she grew to become close friends with, and do daily vlogs of training.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled at the camera from where she was sitting, a pale pink background behind her. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed where I’m gonna be answering some questions while playing with puppies.” Clapping her hands excitedly, she grinned, “Let’s do this!”

“Was Snowboarding always your first choice when it came to sports?”

“Yes it was,” there was a tiny bulldog in her lap, drifting off to sleep while an excited lab pup was trying to chew at Y/n’s shoes. “When your family owns a ski resort in the mountains of Colorado, usually snowboarding or skiing is going to be the first sport you’re introduced to. In my case it was just like that and while my parents were more for skiing, I loved snowboarding because it was like surfing….but on snow.”

“Where would you be if you weren’t a professional athlete?”

“You know I haven’t really thought about this,” she makes a face that reads, ‘is that bad?’. “I’ve always loved animals so….probably a vet or a career that involved animals. Since I’ve started my YouTube channel I’ve grown to love creating videos and editing them—that whole process. I would not go as far as to say I’d be an Internet personality but I would maybe use those skills to go into film work. But in all honesty, I’d probably be running the resort with my parents. It’s the family business after all.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“I do,” flashing her forearm, the Olympic Rings inked her skin with tiny lettering that read, Sochi and Pyeongchang. “I got the rings shortly after returning from Sochi—already set on where it was going to go. The names were done after Pyeongchang. I have other tattoos on my legs and back, but this one is my favorite because it represents the dream I achieved.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Ooh we’re getting to the hard questions now,” she laughed, grabbing a puppy that was tugging on her sleeve to hold. “Ummm…..not really. While I’ve been in relationships I don’t think any has made me feel what love is supposed to be like. It’s probably why they didn’t work out,” again she makes a face. “I had a genuine care for them, but there’s a certain way people describe being ‘in love.’ And from what I’ve heard, none of my experiences would be like that. I hope that doesn't make me sound heartless,” Y/n shrugs, not embarrassed at all by being honest. “I got too much going on right now to be worrying about love though. When the time comes, it will.”

Well she was right on that. However she wasn’t expecting it to be sooner than what she thought.

Around December of 2019, Y/n had returned to Colorado after being in New York for a couple weeks for a friend’s wedding. Since becoming a bigger name in the world of snowboarding and in popular culture, the resort got more attraction throughout the year where bookings were full. During this time Y/n would help run things to get some stress from her parents. She’d train early mornings and late at night, leaving the middle of the day to assist in any way she could. Regulars who’d been coming before she was an Olympian would treat her the same, whereas tourists coming for the first time were usually starstruck.

Y/n loved interacting with supporters. Every smile she received and autograph she sighed was met with love. Kids would ask questions, the Olympian kneeling to their level to answer with full transparency. Adults would shake her hand and say they can’t wait to hopefully see her in Beijing. Those moments are what motivated Y/n to do her best with each session.

“Y/n, could you come here for a second?” her mother called out one night after Y/n finished her final run for the day. She’d just entered the lobby to say hi to her parents before heading back home when she spotted them with a group of people. One of whom looked very familiar.

Removing her scarf from face and pulling the hood down, Y/n was met with several pairs of eyes that immediately went wide. She could imagine why, considering there was a huge photo of her with the gold medal framed on the wall dedicated to the gallery of famous visitors the resort had.

Moving closer, she noticed that the group consisted of about eight people, seven of which were guys and one lady. The older gentleman who appeared to be roughly her father’s age was beaming at her. Quickly he was introduced by her mother.

“Y/n, I don’t if you remember since it’s been so long, but this is Pete Mitchell. He and your dad go way back and he’s visited a few times since we took over this place.”

Now the face brought memories with the mention of his name. Grinning, Y/n shook the hand that was extended to her, “Yeah, I remember. Maverick, right?”

“That’s right,” he smiled. “Wow, it’s great to see you again. Congrats on everything you’ve accomplished, Y/n. I’ve been watching you compete since your first trials.”

“Thank you,” she tries not to look flustered. “Sorry for looking so busted—I just finished a run and was not expecting a reunion so soon.” The words have the older adults chuckling. Glancing behind Pete’s shoulder, Y/n nodded to his companions, which had the pilot scurry to introduce them.

Pointing to each person, he lists off, “these are my lieutenants and members of my Top Gun striker team. Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha Trace, Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, and Jake Seresin.”

As he calls their names they each go to shake Y/n’s hand, saying, “nice to meet you.” When she gets to the last person, Jake, Y/n feels a light spark as their skin touches, making both of them flinch.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the tinge of a southern accent nearly makes her knees go weak, a dazzling smile to compliment the pilot.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she returns before moving back to stand beside her parents. “Thank you all for your service. What brings you to Aspen?”

“Well we’ve seen enough of the beach and ocean—now that we’re all stationed in Miramar—and thought we’d like a scene change,” Pete explained, gesturing to her parents. “I called your folks up after our assignment to book us a getaway since these guys were in need of a break. We’re here for the weekend to hit the slopes—and teach some of them how to ski.”

“Fun,” she hums, glancing to see some nervous eyes among Bob, Javy, Mickey, and Jake. When she caught Jake’s gaze he smiled at her, making her look away before she blushed. “Who all knows how to ski?”

“Reuben, Nat, and I do,” Rooster answered, “this is the first time those clowns are seeing snow.”

“I’ll have you know, Bradshaw,” Jake lifts a hand, giving a mocking glare. “I have seen snow, but seeing as I am a Texas man we don’t get it down there.”

“I get snow where I’m from,” Bob interjects, blushing a bit, “But I was the type to stay indoors when it did. I’ve never skied though.”

“Well there is a first for everything,” Y/n beams, “and once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty easy. Although I’m probably not the best judge…..since I pretty much live on the snow.”

“I personally wanna try snowboarding,” Nat admits, smiling when Y/n gives her a thumbs up and mouths, “good choice.”

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Mickey says and the two high five.

“Maybe Y/n can give you some pointers” Y/n’s dad suggested, glancing at her with a tilt of the head. “She’d be the best teacher here.” The Olympian smiles, offering a light shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Mickey and Nat nearly turned into school children right there, but where Nat was calm on the exterior, Mickey was unleashing his inner fanboy.

“If it’s not out of your way—.”

“Oh my God, to be trained by an Olympic gold medalist? Life goal complete.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at the man, “That settles it then. I hope to see you on the slopes first thing tomorrow morning. How does ten sound?”

“Shit that means we get to sleep in,” Reuben said in relief, the others making the same expression. At Y/n’s confusion he adds, “we normally all get up at four in the morning. Ten o’clock is a dream.”

“I know what you mean—I get up at five for training. So I would definitely want you all to get a good night’s rest. Hours on the slopes will have you running to your bed,” checking her watch, Y/n lets out a yawn, chuckling when she finishes. “Speaking of running to bed, I am beat if you haven’t noticed.” She goes to shake their hand once more, “It was so nice meeting you all and I look forward to tomorrow. Pete, it was great seeing you again.”

Saying goodbye to the group and her parents, Y/n waves one last time and heads to the door. The entire short drive to her home, her mind wanders to Jake. A warm feeling she couldn’t describe boiled in her chest, not sure if it was a little crush or just that she was attracted to him. With his green eyes, sun kissed skin, blonde hair, and dazzling smile, the man was a looker. She definitely could see him being a charmer, maybe even a playboy.

She didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Compared to her snowboarding career, relationships were something Y/n didn’t have the best record with. Yeah she dated, shared a kiss or two with someone she was interested in, but she never saw someone more than five to six months. It wasn’t easy to balance time and energy for a partner. Snowboarding was her life and she permanently lived in Colorado. She stopped dating people in Aspen because they usually were driven by what Y/n could bring them. Relationships with fellow athletes were more difficult since they were dedicated to their sport just like she was to hers. The one time she did get involved with an athlete lasted less than two weeks.

Then you had the people in Hollywood. Since winning the silver in 2014, Y/n made plenty of friends in the film and movie industry. Anytime she was pictured with someone it sparked rumors. Even when they were with a group of friends it didn’t stop the gossip. Y/n did, however, get involved with an actor that was a friend of Dylan O’Brien. He introduced them at the 2017 Teen Choice Awards where they hit it off. It only lasted five months but it was enough to get the internet buzzing with excitement.

Since then Y/n hadn’t been serious with someone, focusing solely on training for the Beijing Olympics. As the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe Y/n was determined to defend her title. There wouldn’t be any time for romance.

But that weekend left Y/n with a newfound feeling. One she wanted to keep the more she got to know Jake. Each night he was at the resort they’d meet at the lounge to have a drink, sometimes with a group, or by themselves. They’d catch each other in the mornings to get coffee, Y/n feeling the giddiness rise each time with every conversation. The boys caught on quickly what was happening, going as far to joke with Y/n about his history with women.

Her confidence dropped a bit, but Jake shut it down instantly, “I haven’t been with anyone in about a year. And I wouldn’t want something with you to be one and done, Y/n. I want to get to know you better and see where this goes.”

“Jake, how would this even work?” The two were sitting on one of the lounge couches the night before he was set to return to California. It was a good point to bring up. With him being in San Diego and her in Aspen, it would be difficult. “I like you and have enjoyed our time this weekend—a-and I’d love to see where this goes….but being with me isn’t easy.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, oblivious to her concern.

She gives him a knowing look, “Well first there’s the distance like I mentioned. But also I’m in a career where I prioritize that more than anything. I have to go out of the country for competitions several times a year,” her hand makes a motion to show emphasis. “This is where I train—and I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. My goal is to make it to the Olympics again.”

Jake is quiet for a moment. It worries Y/n, thinking that he was going to get up and leave without another word. But then he gently places a hand on top of hers that was resting on her lap, “I admire and respect you for being honest with me. Not many people are like that—hell, Lord knows I wasn’t five years ago. But even though it may be difficult, I don’t want to avoid it just because of the ‘what if’s’. So it doesn’t work out, that’s okay, but I’d like to at least try.”

Biting her lip, she looks at their hands, “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he smiles, “plus it gives me a reason to continue coming out here. I think I’ve fallen in love with this place,” glancing around the building, his smile gets bigger at the sight of the sun setting making the mountains look beautiful from where they were. “Being from Texas, we don’t get this type of scenery. I thought I wouldn’t like the snow but it seems to have grown on me in the few short days.”

“Well, Lieutenant, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you roll with me.”

“I think I can adapt well, darling.”

When the squad left the next morning, a little piece of Yn’s heart left with Jake. She didn’t believe in love at first sight but there was no denying the feelings swarming like butterflies each time they were together. FaceTimes became their thing. Usually a couple times a week with casual texting since both had busy lives. Jake then flew out a couple weeks later to spend New Year’s with Y/n, the two sharing their first kiss that sparked like the fireworks in the sky.

Y/n traveled to San Diego in February with Jake returning to Aspen in March. What was supposed to just be a weekend turned out to be Jake having to stay for nearly three months due to the world shutting down. The pandemic was something no one could’ve predicted. Both Y/n and Jake had to scramble to figure out what to do, her parents offering him a cabin to reside in since they had to close down the resort. The competitions Y/n was set to compete in were canceled, Jake having to work remotely with meetings through zoom. There was no indication if he’d have to return to San Diego and frankly he didn’t know how he would since airlines were shut down.

It was a blessing in disguise, however, because it brought the two closer. Jake and Y/n were able to do things together despite being confined to the resort. Since it was only them, her parents, and her coach on the premises, Y/n was able to still train and even taught Jake how to snowboard downhill. He told her about his career and what it was like being in the air competing against the speed of sound.

“It’s an adrenaline rush most of the time,” He explained one night as they laid by the fire, a random movie on the Tv mounted above the mantle. “You can probably relate when you do your runs. Not being able to really think and just let your body take over. Feeling a high that’s indescribable and praying it will end how you think it will.”

In the mornings Y/n would drop off breakfast and coffee to his cabin on her way to training. After his meetings he’d bring her lunch or dinner since she was practicing most hours in the day. The 2020 season was canceled, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t prepare for 2021. Athletes training for the Summer Olympics would have to wait a whole year, meanwhile the plans for the Winter Olympics in 2022 remained. Speculations already arose that by the next spring things would slowly go back to normal with the implementation of a vaccine. Jake returned to San Diego as soon as the green light was lit, mostly because the Navy was ordering him to. Airlines only allowed certain people to fly with regulations set to accommodate social distancing. It was a bittersweet goodbye for the couple, Jake promising to return as soon as he could.

Their relationship continued to be long distance for a long time. San Diego locked down several times preventing either from traveling to see each other. Y/n kept busy by training from sunrise to sunset, Jake running missions the Pentagon tasks the Dagger squad with and the two FaceTimed consistently. Luckily by spring of 2021 things did in fact calm down. A vaccine was introduced, both wasting no time to receive it, and making plans for Y/n to fly out to San Diego.

When she landed she was met with the clear skies and warm rays of the sun, catapulting into Jake’s awaiting arms after exiting the terminal. “I missed you so much!” She giggled as he spun her around.

“I missed you more, darling.”

Everyone welcomed her with smiles, the pilots excited to see Y/n again after so long. They took her to The Hard Deck to celebrate her and Jake’s one year anniversary and for her qualification in the 2021 Winter X Games.

“Excited to get back in the pipe, Y/n/n?” Reuben asked her.

“You bet your ass I am,” she clicks her beer glass with his. “Can’t wait for the world to see what I’ve been practicing.”

The squad cheered on Y/n from Fightertown during the Winter X Games, watching her claim the gold of the women’s Superpipe for the sixth time. Jake was the loudest, his reaction to her win captured by Rooster, “That’s my girl!!”

Flash forward to January 2022. The team rang the year in, Y/n joining festivities where she and Jake celebrated their third New Year’s before they all traveled North to Mammoth to watch Y/n compete in the Mammoth Grand Prix. The first completion of the year, it would be where the Beijing Olympic Team members were named.

By the end of the competition, Y/n was going to have to set an appointment with her tattoo artist to add Beijing to the list of Games.

“YEAHH!!!” The scream released, arms shot into the air as her name shot to the top of the leaderboard following her second run, the score a 96.00. On the ground Jake, her coach, parents, and friends were losing their minds. Rightfully so, they just witnessed Y/n make her third Olympic team.

“And there you have it folks, the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe is heading to Beijing in her third Olympic appearance. Y/n L/n has shown greatness this whole weekend, proving herself as one of the best in the sport. There’s been so much improvement in her form—the Winter X Games this past year was the last time we’d seen her since the pandemic shut everything down, but that didn’t stop Y/n from getting ready for Beijing. She is unstoppable. It'll be an exciting Games next month, not just for the women’s competition—Shaun White will return to the stage for the fifth time in an attempt to defend his gold model.”

A celebratory party was in store for the Olympian. Champagne was popped and music blasting in the restaurant the members of Team USA rented together. All their friends and family were there having a grand time. Y/n and Shaun got pictures together, the internet calling them the king and queen of the halfpipe. Pretty much all of the dagger squad, minus Jake of course, were chatting up with the Olympians—Bob received a thumbs up from Y/n when she spotted him talking with Mikayla Shiffrin.

Halfway through the night, Jake pulled her aside, “How you feeling?”

“Good,” she breathed, still coming down from the high of excitement. “Excited, nervous, internally dreading the long flight but overall I’m happy.”

“I’m happy for you, darling,” he kissed her head, “You deserve this. After watching you bust your tail these past two years, I can’t describe how proud I am of you.”

Y/n felt a wave of love course threw her, kissing him softly as a thanks. When they pulled away Jake asked what was next to which she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Well…I hear Italy is hosting in four years.” She made a sound of ‘Ahh,’

“That’s what you mean.”

Jake quickly explains, “I just wanted to know if that’s in your sights. You’re gonna get asked plenty next month, so see it as me wanting to be the first to know……and because I’m already planning on being there if you do.” Unfortunately due to covid restrictions, Jake and her family are unable to attend the Games in person. Only her coach was allowed to travel with Y/n, meaning everyone else would have to cheer from home.

Italy wasn’t even on Y/n’s mind. After a career of over fifteen years and having celebrated her 30th birthday, the next chapter was something she thought about often. Jake was her longest relationship, the two at two years and Y/n fell more and more in love with him each day. While the long distance was going well, it would only be a matter of time before one of them would want to settle. Marriage. Children.

Going for a fourth Games was possible—look at Shaun. Beijing was his fifth Games, and Kelly Clark competed in five.

“Confident you’ll be around by then? 2026 is a long way from here,” teasing at first, Y/n felt her heart skip by the look she received. It was one of love, determination, and admiration.

“I’m confident in a lot of things, Y/n. And when it comes to us,” two fingertips come up to hold her chin steady, green eyes boring into hers. “I see a cabin with a front porch and gorgeous sunrise over the mountains as we drink coffee and reminisce over our glory days before the little ones left the nest. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

February 2026–Livigno, Italy: Final of the Women’s Halfpipe in the XXV Olympic Winter Games.

“So one last run, huh?” Jake squeezes Y/n’s hand, easing her nerves as she feels the metal of his wedding band on her skin. She had yet to put her gloves on, waiting for someone to escort her to the top of the slope.

“One last one,” her tone was laced with sadness, not doing much to mask her anxiety. She was one run away from winning a third conservative gold medal. Beijing was already four years ago, Y/n adding a second gold to her collection to retain her title as queen of the halfpipe. She was met with international recognition following the Games. Her performance in Beijing resulted in the first 100.00 scored in the Olympics.

On the cover of Sports Illustrated and winning big at the 2022 ESPY’s, Y/n was on top of the world. Appearances on James Corden and The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon Y/n not only showcased her gold medal, but a diamond ring on her finger where she told the world her love story with Jake.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she waved at the camera, a MacBook in front of her and trying not to laugh at where Jake was sitting in his own chair beside the producer of GQ, videoing her with his phone. “Two-time Olympic gold medalist in the women’s halfpipe and I’m here with GQ, about to go undercover on the internet.” Opening the laptop, she shakes her head with a nervous grin. “This is gonna be interesting.”

Ironically enough, she chose the username Y/ndoesntlikethesnow. “I’m sorta scared at what Twitter and Reddit will bring. Just because….,” she makes a face, “I go on the bird app religiously so I know what that’s like, but also I’ve heard horror stories about Reddit.”

“I wanna know how @Y/nlikesthesnow managed to get up after planting face first in the snow at her first Olympic trials. On live television. If that was me I would’ve retired right then and there.”

The laugh that escaped Y/n was equivalent to a wheeze, sending Jake into his own laughter. Calming down, Y/n had to wipe her eye, “oh my goodness what a great start. Okay,” her fingers hovered over the keys, typing away with each word she spoke. “Thank you for bringing this memory up—it was truly a defining moment in my career I would say. Not only did it humble me, but had it not happened I probably wouldn’t have busted my butt as much as I did to get to Sochi. So it’s kinda sentimental now….though I do die inside each time someone tags me when they use the gif.”

Clicking send, Y/n clapped, “next!”

“Does Y/n L/n and her fiancé know they basically lived in a Hallmark movie? Guy comes to a small town and meets a local girl who’s family runs a ski resort and they fall in love in just a few short weeks. I think about that a lot.”

Both Y/n and Jake make a snort, “Jake is here with me now,” she points to though he can’t be seen. “We both love this question. And to answer it, you know it never crossed our mind that this was happening, but if Hallmark would like some inspiration for their next movie we’d be happy to give some.”

The wedding took place in fall of 2023. Shortly after Y/n made the decision to move to San Diego to be with Jake, finding an indoor halfpipe training facility to train in. She continued to dominate the 2023-2025 seasons. By the time she made her fourth Olympic team, Y/n became the most decorated female snowboarder in Winter X Games history and won the Mammoth Grand Prix for the sixth consecutive time.

Now in Italy for her final Olympic appearance, the pressure was on.

Currently Y/n was in last position, shocking many as she had multiple errors in her first two after being the number one qualifier. Eight years ago in Pyeongchang, her friend and former teammate Shaun White stunned the world when he went from the bottom to the top of the leaderboard in the final rotation of the men’s final, claiming his third gold medal.

People were itching to know if the same would happen to Y/n. Commentators and twitter alike saying it was deja vu happening.

Only Jake, the squad, her coach and family were the ones to know she would be retiring. Her last run marking the end of an era in snowboarding. With her first two a disaster, Y/n wanted to end on a high note.

“Better make it count,” Jake told her, cupping her face in his hands to stare deeply into her eyes. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about i-t-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do.” Kissing her forehead, he adds, “That gold medal is calling your name.”

Confidence filled her, Y/n lifting her chin high to show her determination. “I better go claim it then.”

Jake mirrored her grin, winking just as the volunteer was calling her name. “We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.” Giving one last kiss of support, Jake says goodbye to his wife, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she returns and he watches her leave before heading to the area where the others were waiting for him.

“How is she?” Javy asks him, adjusting the lapels of his coat. It was a cold but beautiful day in Italy. Perfect for snowboarding.

“I can tell she’s worried,” Jake takes out his binoculars, setting up to see Y/n take her place. “But she’ll pull through. She always does.”

“Welcome back to our coverage of the women’s halfpipe final here in Livigno, Italy. Y/n L/n, the defending two-time gold medalist is about to take her final run in this competition.” The title card appeared on the screen for viewers watching at home, reading: “Y/n L/n-Seresin—Gold Medalist: 2018 & 2022, Silver Medalist: 2014–Hometown: Aspen, Colorado, USA.

“It’s been a rocky day for L/n—failing to produce a big score on her first two attempts: 39.00 in the first and 49.00. She’s got one more chance to beat the 92.25 and is currently in last position. If you can think back to 2018 Shaun White was in the same position, managing to come back in his final run to take the gold. In just a few moments we shall see if Y/n can do the same.”

It’s said that your heart beats on average 60 to 100 beats per minute. That’s a normal heart rate. Throw in emotions such as anxiety and you’ll find it increasing. If a doctor were to place a stethoscope over Y/n’s chest as she secured the clasps of her snowboard, pulling the goggles over her eyes, they’d find the number of her bpm to be at least 110 maybe even 120.

“Don’t think,” Jake’s voice echoed in her head, bringing a sense of calmness. “Just do.”

“Don’t think,” she repeated under her breath. “Just do.” Maneuvering her board once she was giving the go, Y/n starts her decline into the halfpipe, dropping in one last time. Unlike her previous runs where she focused too hard that led to the mistakes, Y/n moved effortlessly like the board was in control. Back-to-back 1080s, her signature move. Getting high in the air she spun. Backside 900 and frontside 700. Opening at the right moment to hit the snow correctly and set up for the next trick. Showing off her talent as one of the greatest athletes of her generation.

Thinking back to her first time her feet touched a board, Y/n felt the nostalgia in her veins. It was comforting, masking the nerves it soon replaced. She was in her element. Picturing the mountains of Aspen and the snow she grew up on.

She could hear the crowd getting louder with each move. It fueled her, pushing the Olympian to get higher in the air, spin faster, and land perfectly. When she came down on her 1260, a difficult move usually seen in the men’s competition, Y/n felt her heart stop as she hit the snow.

It was a golden finish.

A roar ignited from the crowd, Y/n’s hands flying to her mouth, making her final descent down the pipe across the line and falling to her knees like she did back in 2018. It was so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, audibly shouting, “Oh my God!” Desperately searching for her husband, she found Jake jumping up and down with the squad, screaming like their lives depended on it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, Y/n throwing off her goggles and unclamping her board from her feet to run towards them. The fucking aviator broke the rules and hauled is ass over the barrier to meet her in the middle, catching Y/n when she jumped into his arms. “You fucking did it!!! You did it!!”

Suddenly their little hug was interrupted by her coach, parents, the squad and members of Team USA joining in. The score hadn’t even come in, but it didn’t matter. Y/n just pulled the comeback of the decade. Going from the bottom to the top in the blink of the eye.

“All eyes on Y/n—here she goes dropping in. Good start on the grip to gain momentum as she sets up her first trick. Here’s her signature move as we’ve seen time and time again…two 1080s often called ‘the cork’ and she’s had trouble all day with this—well no problems right there that was beautiful. Now with the backside 900….looking good—if she maintains this then the gold medal is hers. It’s gonna be that last trick, the McTwist, that could make or break this run…..no problems on that frontside 700. All there’s left is the 1260–very difficult we don’t see it in women’s halfpipe but Y/n is determined to land it—can she do it for the gold medal…..AND SHE’S GOT IT!! She landed it—oh my goodness that was incredible! That’s gotta be enough—there’s no doubt in my mind, Y/n L/n has just won her third consecutive gold in the women’s halfpipe after being in last place for two rotations—putting on a show stopping performance in the final run.”

“She knows it too. Members of Team USA and Y/n’s support team including her coach and husband are celebrating with her. She needs higher than a 92.25 to take the lead—will it be enough? It has to be…..A 99.75 SHE’S DONE IT! A QUARTER OF A POINT AWAY FROM PERFECTION, Y/N L/N HAS WON HER THIRD GOLD MEDAL IN THE WOMEN’S HALFPIPE HERE IN ITALY. THE QUEEN OF THE HALFPIPE REMAINS ON THE THRONE.”

Y/n’s lifted onto Jake’s shoulders when the score comes into the uproar of cheers around her. American flags wave in her face, a sea of red, white, and blue against the glistening snow. It was a scene she would remember in the years to come following her retirement from snowboarding.

The Olympic Rings staring back at her along with the American Flag rising to the sound of the national anthem. Gold around her neck, the heaviness leaving a lasting mark as it would be the last time she would be crowned the Olympic champion. Jake clapping with tears streaming down his face as she waved to him in the crowd. Her parents crying with him, the guys and Nat are whistling and jumping up and down. Pete in a side embrace with her coach and former teammates beaming like they were witnessing history.

In fact it was history. Y/n became the first woman to win the gold in three consecutive Olympic Games. From a little girl with a love of snowboarding who missed out in her first trials. To become a silver medalist and most decorated Winter X Games title holder. To a three-time Olympic champion.

She truly was the queen of the halfpipe.

………….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black

#Spotify #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #athlete!reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #hangman fluff #glen powell #dagger squad imagine #Olympian!reader

[writingquestionsanswered]

I have this problem that finally showed up after many years, I'm a few chapters away from completing my book. After almost 5 years writing this through happy times and sad times, I'm finally done! Yet, I can't move on. Instead of being happy to finally complete my passion project, I feel myself grieving the eventuality. I spent years building my world, story, characters etc... and now I don't want it to end, I don't want to complete it. Suffering from success if you will.

Do you have any tips on this fear of completion? My book is set up as a stand-alone, so making a sequel wouldn't work.

Have you ever had this "completion grief" and if so, how did you move on from it?

Thank you

Dealing with Creative Grief When Story is Done

It's normal to feel grief upon completion of a story, especially one that you've been working on a long time and/or has been emotionally demanding. Here are some things you can do to help work through this feeling:

1 - Be Proud of Your "Baby Bird" - Your baby bird has flown your now empty nest, but take a moment to recognize the beauty of this moment... this project you've worked so hard on is now complete and ready to fly away. You've done everything you can for it, so now it's time to let it spread its wings and live a life of its own. As much as it's sad, it's exciting, too. And it's a huge accomplishment!

2 - Find Closure with Celebration - Many creatives find celebration a helpful way to find closure when a project is finished. This can be something small, like ordering pizza or enjoying a glass of champagne, or it could be something bigger, like having a nice dinner out with friends, or even throwing a little party. Having any sort of event to mark the occasion can help it to feel more final, but in a way that is happy and comforting.

3 - Start a New Project - With one project finished and out in the world, you may find it helpful to start planning a new project, or at least start thinking about one. Throwing that leftover creative energy into something new helps with that sense of emptiness, distracts you from creative grief due to the finished project, and heals your heart with enthusiasm for a new world, new characters, and new plot.

4 - Schedule a Future Visit - Sometimes it helps to plan to revisit the completed project in some way at a future date. That could be reading it at some point, if you're able to read through finished projects and enjoy them. It could be creating a collection of mood boards for the story and characters and sharing them with your readers. It might be doing a reading of the first chapter on an Instagram live, or--hear me out on this--writing a companion story. Now, I don't mean writing a sequel or even a story that you'd share necessarily, but more something for yourself, kind of like fan-fiction of your own work, just as a way to get into your story and revisit the characters and world. And truth be told, if you plan to do this--say on the six-month anniversary of when your story was finished--it will give you a sense of the story living on that will help you get through your grief now, but by the time you get to that point, you probably won't need to do it anymore.

5 - Wait for It To Pass - Of course the hard thing about any kind of grief is there's not a whole lot you can do to make it go away. For the most part, you just have to acknowledge that it's there and give yourself the grace needed to get through it. Most of the time, it passes more quickly than you might expect, and you'll be onto something new in now time.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[ashisill]

Starting over 2

Warnings: mentions past relationship trauma, protected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering,

~

The next couple weeks you were the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You haven’t seen your roommate in a while since you’ve been sleeping over at Josh’s. Not that you really wanted to see her. Considering how she was always ditching you for a guy. Canceling your plans for a guy. Bringing you places then leaving you for a guy. You’ve been waiting to break away for a while, but after your breakup she was all you had. You’re glad you met Josh or you would’ve been in the same situation as him that night. Even though she’s technically the reason you met Josh, but he’s the only good thing that’s came out of that friendship.

You were afraid of bothering him, and everyday you offered to go back to your house. Give him a break from you, but everyday he’d say “I don’t mind”

“Josh I think I’m gonna head home. I don’t wanna bother you”

“Oh I don’t mind. I enjoy your company. Coffee?”

“Josh do you think I should go home? It’s been a week I’ve gotta be getting on your nerves”

“I don’t mind darling. You don’t bother me at all”

I when you finally decided to run home he called you. He woke up alone for the first time in weeks. You texted him saying that you were gonna run home before work. He didn’t mind until you mentioned you were sleeping at your place. He called immediately worried that he did something wrong. You were already stressed trying to get ready, but answered the phone.

“Josh I’ve got work what’s up?”

“I noticed you left, and I got your text. Why aren’t you coming back?”

“Well I figured since I’ve been practically living at your house. I would go home, and give you a break. I’ll come back I was just giving you some space”

“Oh. Did you need a break?”

“No, but I just thought maybe you did. I was also worried that you were too kind to kick me out”

“I was quite satisfied with our arrangement. It feels strange to be alone”

“Why do you talk like that?” You giggled over the phone. “Just say you miss me like a normal person, and your not alone you live with Jake”

“Okay I miss you, and I hope you change your mind. Also Jake doesn’t count. There happy?”

“Yes. Why don’t you come to my place after I get off?”

“Really?” He said sounded a bit giddy. He cleared his throat trying to play it off.

“Yeah silly. My roommate won’t be home either. That means we’ll finally be alone”

You hung up the phone quickly shocked at yourself. Josh almost choked on his coffee, and tried to keep himself busy. He waited and he waited. He debated on showing up to your work to bring lunch, but didn’t want to run you away.

“Josh what the hell are you doing?” Jake said after watching Josh do everything, but quite literally accomplishing nothing.

“I’m cleaning what’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re a mad man. You’ve vacuumed like four time, and that spot your scrubbing. You’ve cleaned at least twice. Why are you so frantic?”

“I’m just waiting for her to get off work. I’m going to her place tonight”

“Oh”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“It’s gonna be weird without her here tonight that’s all” Jake said trying not to be nonchalant. However when you’re as close as those two they can’t hide it.

“Why do you care Jake?”

“I don’t”

“Oh but you do. Jake I swear don’t you dare-”

“Chill out. I’m just saying she’s been here for a while, and it will feel weird because we’re all used to her being here. That’s all Joshua”

“I just afraid of you pulling your shit again”

“That was a long time ago. It almost tore us apart, so calm down and go get ready. She gets off in an hour”

“I really like her Jake. Can’t you see that?”

“I know Josh I know. Just go”

Maybe one day they will tell you about their first love. The woman that almost ruin the twins. The girl that they both fell for, fought for, and loved. She wasn’t the best to them, and when she got bored she left them both. It was only then they promised to never let a woman come between them. Maybe it was just teenage love, but to them she was everything. Now they resent her with everything they have.

~

Josh knocked on your door and with flowers in hand. He was dressed far too nice to be chilling at home. You decided your low rise sweats, and a cropped shirt would be lovely.

“Hi Josh” you smiled opening the door. “Oh my gosh you didn’t have to do all that”

“It’s for you. You look very pretty. Your eyes are sparkling dear”

You realized in that moment this was the first time someone has genuinely saw beauty in you. Not lust, or “hot”, or drunken compliments. He truly thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.

You didn’t know how to respond to a compliment like that. You studdered and began to embarrass yourself. Your face turned bright red, and you lost your words.

“Did I leave ya speechless?” He giggled at you being so flustered.

“I’ve just never had anyone do anything like this. Im very sorry I don’t know how to respond” you laughed. Trying to play it off as if your love life wasn’t sad and traumatic. Except he already knew he saw right through.

“Kiss me ?”

“Seems appropriate” you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. His arm gently held your waist. While his hand rested softly on your face. With both your faces being bright red you welcomed him in. You showed him around your small home. He was very interested in every detail. Even when you stopped in fear of talking too much he encouraged you to continue. When you got to the kitchen you found a vase for your flowers.

“Oh I forgot to tell you. I got off early so I made dinner. Also there’s cookies in the oven”

“And you tried to say I did too much by bringing you flowers”

“Well you’ve done a lot for me” you looked down at your feet.

He walked closer to you and pulled your chin up. He didn’t speak until you looked him in the eyes. “Do we not remember how we got here? You saved me that night. You’ve done plenty for me darling. Although dinner looks delicious” He laughed at himself

“it is”

You brought the food to the table along with a pitcher of tea. He thanked you over and over. You promised it was nothing, but he continued to reassure you.

“You know I realize I’m a bit overdressed” he laughed his face turning red again.

“Maybe a bit. I’ve got some sweats that would probably fit you”

After dinner he went to change while you picked out a movie. The moment he walked into the room with your clothes on your heart skipped a beat.

“You could keep those if you’d like. They look good on you” you smiled softly.

“Look at you coming out of your shell”

“What?”

“You’ve been extremely shy do you know that? I knew you’d get more comfortable”

“No I haven’t”

“Love I asked if you were hungry one day, and you said no then your stomach growled.”

“Did not”

“Every time I give you compliment your whole face turns red, and you can’t look at me. When your afraid that your bothering me you get quite and look down at the ground. And never once have you bothered me pretty girl”

“I don’t do that” you said with red checks and eyes glued to the floor.

“Yes you do silly girl. See there you go again”

You covered your mouth in shock. He notices every little thing about. He’s memorized them before you even had. You quickly changed the subject “Movie?”

The moment you clicked play the tension was strong. You and Josh haven’t had intimacy or anything close to it. A kiss and a hug was as far as it’s gotten. A part of you really wanted him. To feel him all over you. For his scent to cover the sheets. To have his tongue against you. To see his beautiful skin dripped in sweat. To hear his breath pick up while he’s against your ear. To feel his hands in the places others didn’t care to touch. To be loved gently for the first time. To make love rather than feel like your being used. Another part of you is afraid that once he sees you he won’t feel the same. That same beauty he sees will be gone.

He put his arms around you, and cuddled in close. After a while you laid down on your side. He followed your lead, and laid with his chest against your back. You felt him harden against you. He quickly moved back in fear of making you uncomfortable. Instead you pushed back against him. His hand found your waist as he started grinding against you. You pushed back again feeling him close to you. When you let out a soft gasp he stopped, and leaned close to your ear.

“Come out of that shell pretty girl”

“Take me to my bed”

He picked you up like a baby and carried you to the room. He laid you against the bed and started kissing your neck. Naturally you started breathing heavy, and you squirmed beneath him. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, and your nose. “Can I taste you?”

“You mean?”

He teased his tongue against your neck. You hesitated, and he quickly realized you’ve never had this.

“No ones ever went down on you sweetheart?”

You shook your head completely embarrassed. “I’ve asked for it, but every time they make me feel like its gross”

“I won’t make you feel gross. I’ll make you feel really good” his fingers danced over your clit making you shiver. “Can I take them off?”

With your nerves taking over you couldn’t answer. You nodded your head, and he could sensed your nervousness. “I’ll be gentle with you I promise”

He raised up your shirt to kiss your stomach. Placing warm kisses all over you. He slowly raised your shirt up to reveal your breast. You closed your eyes scared of his reaction.

“Baby your bearutiful”

He took his time kissing everywhere he could, sucking on your nipples, and leaving small hickeys on you. You were already a wreck. The way he was taking he time to make you feel good rather than rushing to get to his needs. He already had you wrapped around his fingers.

He made it down to your waist and kissed the band of your sweats before gently sliding them down. His teased your thighs before kissing you through your underwear. Making you gasp out again.

“There you go sweetheart”

He slowly slid your panties down, and once again you covered your eyes. “Open your eyes I want you to watch. Watch me while I show you how your supposed to be treated”

“Oh fuck” you said it before you even realized.

He licked you once letting you adjust to the new sensation. Then again and again. Then he set a slow pace as you cried out. As hard as you tried to stay still you just couldn’t. He held your legs and followed as you moved. Your stomach felt warm and it took you a minute to realize. You were about to finish.

“No fucking way”

You sat up quickly he grabbed your legs pulling you closer. “Josh I think I’m gonna”

You fell quiet as your legs and core shook hard. This was nothing like you’ve experienced before. Your eyes rolled back, and you gripped his curls. You shoved his head away you quickly overstimulated.

He teased a finger against your entrance before sliding it inside you. Then another you felt like you might be explode, but when his tongue touched your clit. The noise that came out of you was shameful. “I can’t Josh I can’t”

He slowed his pace trying not to overstimulate you. Regardless you came hurdling towards another orgasm. You couldn’t form words to warn him. Your mouth dropped, and your entire body shook again. Rather than stopping right after you finished. He let you ride it out by slowing his fingers down and giving your clit kitten licks. Letting you experience a full orgasm.

He licked his lips, and wiped his mouth. “Oh my god. Come here Josh”

You started playing with his waist band. “Are you sure?”

You assured him you were and he pulled the condom out of his pocket.

“Magnum?” You questioned him.

“Yes” he looked at you confused. “I won’t hurt you pretty girl”

You nodded your head, and he pulled them down. You wanted to cover your mouth he was big. “Josh your-” you stopped yourself real fast.

“I know honey, but don’t worry”

He teased your clit with his tip. “Are you ready?”

“Yes please”

He slowly slid himself inside you. Only the tip before you asked him to slow. “Tell me when”

You adjusted and asked him to continue. Once he bottomed out you were already clawing at his back.

“Josh” you whispered.

“I’m here. I’m right here”

You whined out for him, and he was quick to remind you it was okay. “Josh fuck it feels so good”

“I know it does sweet girl. You’re doing so good”

He grabbed your wrist and held them above your head. His pace was slow but he was so deep inside you.

“I’ve got you pretty baby”

“I think I’m close again. Cum with me Josh”

“I got you just let go for me”

“Cum with me baby”

“God you’re so damn beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking”

“Talk to me”

“Oh I’ll talk you through it sweetheart”

“Please Josh”

I’m so proud of you. You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl. Do you know that?”

“Oh fuck”

That all it took for you to snap. Your back arched off the mattress and he held you close. He spoke to you softly as he finished with you. Not used to having an orgasm so strong you laid there trying to recover. He pulled out, and started tending to your needs.

“You okay pretty girl?” He gently brushed your hair out of your face. You nodded your head still not able to form a sentence. You tried to pull the covers over you, but didn’t get very far. You whined out from your lack of strength. “Shh shh I’ve got you”

He pulled the blankets over the two of you, and you laid against his chest. Before you realized it you were passed out in his arms. He let your body rest while he laid there with you. Staring at the ceiling thinking about you.

“God I hope you stay” he whispered into the night.

~

The next morning you were surprised he was still laying next you. You thought surely he’d be gone after last night. But when the sun came shining through the curtains, and woke you from your sleep. You rolled over to find him sleeping peacefully next to you. Your thumb gently rolled over his cheek. Skin soft so soft you wish you could curl into him. His eyes fluttered open, and his beautiful brown eyes lit up when saw you. No words were said as you laid there admiring him. He really is so beautiful. If only you knew he was thinking the same about you.

“I love you” he spoke.

Your eyes widened as his words. Surely he doesn’t love you. He’s just having a moment there’s no way he loves you.

“You do?”

“With all my heart love”

“I love you too Josh”

#gvf #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #josh gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka fic #joshua michael kiszka #joshua kiszka #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf smut #gvf smut #greta van smut #josh kiskza smut #gvf fic #greta van fleet fluff #josh kiszka imagine #Josh kisz #jake kiszka gvf #jake gvf

[fearfulachilles]

8. gossip & uncertainty.

chapter eight to buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: you finish the week learning you'll be scribing for the mysterious dr. geto and hearing new gossip regarding kento. meanwhile, kento finished the week with being handed an offer he never thought he'd hear.

The clinic portion of the hospital is only open on weekdays, but Satoru had mentioned he’d like to open it for seven days a week in the future. You hope you’re off in med school when the time comes.

You work with Dr. Gojo again before the week ends. You’re fascinated by neurosurgery and he notices it. He tells you about his favorite surgical case during his fellowship here at Jujutsu Hospital and how he developed his own technique that helps reduce risk during brain surgery by 85%.

“That’s amazing.” You say, starstruck.

Satoru doesn't feel like a boss at times, he's easy to talk to. You ask when was the last time he had to use his technique and he says a year ago, around the time he last performed surgery.

There’s gossip of Satoru’s lack of surgery hours that you’ve heard…well, Nobara heard and told you. Some rumors say it’s because of malpractice and others say it’s because he’s been banned from the operating room by the chief of surgery. Satoru doesn’t hide the fact that he hasn’t been in the operating room in sometime, but he usually brushes it off it with a joke and never explains further.

You bite your lip and take a chance. “Can I ask why it's been so long?”

“You’re kidding, right? I have my hands full with this clinic. Surgery will be there when I’m done.” He answers, then changes the topic quickly after.

That's when Satoru shares information regarding your schedule next week. You’ll be scribing for Dr. Geto. 

“He's filling in for me, just for a day. I’ve got some bullshit meeting to go to.” The young doctor explains, rolling his eyes. 

When Satoru stopped performing surgery, Dr. Geto took over all his surgical cases, causing his surgery schedule to double. Because of that, Dr. Geto doesn’t have time to be in clinic, other than when Satoru absolutely needs him to be there.

It’ll be an exciting start to your week.

_________

You decided to Google Dr. Geto once you got home. You don’t know much of the physician, not even what he looks like. When pictures of him show up, you were taken back by how pretty Suguru Geto was. Was every doctor in that hospital good looking?

Then something catches your eye.

“Have you guys ever read this article? 'Dr. Satoru Gojo renounces titleship to famous Gojo technique.'” You read aloud to your roommates. “He gave credit to... Suguru Geto? It’s called the Geto technique now.”

“Weird. I wonder why he'd do that.” Yuji commented. 

“Maybe he stole it from Dr. Geto and finally got caught.” Nobara speculated. She always loved a scandal or drama that didn't involve her personally. You couldn't blame her, you did too. 

“I heard they're close friends, I doubt that happened.” Megumi chimed in. 

From your reading you learn that Suguru is also a gift to medicine, similar to Satoru. He was a couple years older and accomplished many things in med school, alongside Satoru, and during his fellowship in a Kyoto hospital.

Nobara decides to bring up some more gossip she's heard, her voice filled with juicy intention of trapping you into the topic. “I heard that Dr. Nanami was left on his wedding day.”

You take the bait.

“He what?” You whip your head around from your phone screen to look at her. 

Nobara nods. “Yup. He was getting married to some pharmaceutical rep, but she never showed.”

“That's probably why he looks so grumpy all the time.” Yuji says.

“Where did you hear that from?” You ask intrigued. 

“Maki told me. She's the cute nurse I told you about. She used to work there, then she quit, but Dr. Gojo hired her again.” Nobara explains. She met Maki Zenin when she got lost on her way to the cafeteria in the hospital on the very first day. Since then, the two had been texting. 

You've never bothered to learn the dating history of your past flings, but this was different. Being engagement and left at the alter are serious. You think, is he using me as a rebound?

You shake off the thought because you're not supposed to care, but you still feel something tugging deep within you. You ignore it.

_________

It had been the slowest week of Kento’s career, mentally. He had back to back surgeries scheduled and he stayed at the hospital until the early morning hours, busy with operative notes, but it had felt long and nearly tedious because you were on his mind.

The week is over and he arrives home tired. He drags himself to his kitchen and looks through his fridge. Kento feels the motivation to cook real food for the first time in a long, long time. He used to cook all the time, having a passion for it and always experimenting with new recipes.

He lost that side of him long ago, the side of him that looked forward to the things in his life and enjoyed them, as if he outgrew happiness. He thought he would never find it again. It had strained his relationship deep enough to be left stranded at an alter he never wanted to be at.

Then he met you, he talked to you, kissed you, and touched you. He saw the vibrant color of your hair, eyes, and body. He tasted your lips and felt your skin on his. It felt like he had been holding his breath for years, waiting for something to come along. Then, you came along. He made you laugh in that bar and thought this is how it feels to breathe again.

His microwavable dinners from the frozen aisle and instant coffee weren't enough to get him by anymore. He missed the spices of his home cooked meals and the richness of his favorite coffee beans. His days weren't dull anymore. He appreciated the rising sun in the sky on his way to work and the sound of chirping birds outside his bedroom window a little more. Your touch brought his senses back.

In the midst of his thoughts of you, he thinks back to when you mention your mother had Cordis Aneurisma, a slow killing disease of the heart and a medical mystery. The only fact known was that it is genetic, primarily in women, with a 50/50 chance of a mother passing it to her daughter.

Kento never really enjoyed taking chances like that. Though, he took one with you.

He had told you he didn't want anything serious, something he'd never done before. He was raised to be a traditional man, primarily by his grandfather. So, he worked towards a good and stable career with a great salary, and he was going to get married and settle down. After being with you, he knows he doesn't want to go return to that, even if it meant breaking his traditional values he was raised with, all for a chance you'll let him stay around for a little longer. He hopes you do.

He cooks something quick and easy for him before he digs up his old med school textbooks and begins searching for anything on Cordis Aneurisma. Two textbooks turn into five, and when his sixth one doesn't have anymore information than the others, he moves his research on to his laptop.

He doesn't hear the knocking on his front door until it's loud enough to bring him out of his thoughts. When he opens it, it's Asami, his ex-fiancée.

She greets him with a smile, but Kento stares blankly at her, blinking his eyes. He didn't expect her to come by today, but she has made it a habit of showing up unannounced, which usually led to them fucking on his couch.

Asami walks past him and makes herself at home, and he doesn't stop her. She places her handbag on his counter and walks further inside.

“Did you just get home from work?” Asami asks.

Kento looks down at his attire to see that he's still wearing his scrubs. He looks over at a clock in his home and realizes it has already been a few hours since he got home. He lost track of time reading up on the genetic illness.

She moves on, not taking notice of Kento’s cooked dinner. Asami was never good at noticing the small things in him. She peeks at all the opened textbooks and then over to what is on his laptop. “Do you have a patient with Cordis Aneurisma? How sad.”

Kento hadn't spoken a word yet. His face had turned back to the one Asami had known very well now, neutral to everything.

“What are you doing here?” Kento finally asks, speaking his first words to her. He dreaded thinking she was going to finally explain herself to him on why she left that day, something they both had been avoiding to acknowledge.

Asami steps her way over to Kento and places her hands on his broad chest. She's smaller than you, he doesn't like it. “I wanted to talk. I miss you.”

I miss you. She said that last time she was here, in the middle of sex. Kento had thought it was just in the moment of bliss, he had hoped it was.

“And I've been thinking about us…getting back together. I-I think we should try again.” Asami continues, sounding eager and unsure all at once. She's fidgeting with her fingers on his chest.

Her words make Kento run cold. He looks down at her face, uncertain of what to say or think. He spots her engagement ring on her finger, she had recently began putting it on again.

“We don't have to talk right now, I just wanted to tell you in person, but I'd like you to think about it.” Asami smiles with her lips closed and with a sense of uncertainty. She can’t read his face, he hardly gives her any sign of what he was thinking.

Asami removes herself from him and grabs her bag from the counter, knocking off the parking ticket Kento had taken from you. She picks it up to place it back, and reminds him, “oh—don't forget to pay that, Kento.”

She comes back to him, slipping her hand into his larger one and pulling him over to his front door once again as she makes her exit. She meant for this to be a quick visit. “You will think about it, right?”

Kento doesn't say anything in return, he just slowly nods at her words. She nods back, taking a chance and tugging him closer, raising herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. He kisses back for a moment, but all he could think about were your lips.

He didn't like comparing women to each other, but the feeling of you still lingers on him. He could only think about how much he would rather kiss you again instead of her. He abruptly breaks the kiss, pulling away, and it leaves Asami taken back.

Words don't need to be exchanged for what she felt as Kento pulled away from her, so she leaves him to think about her offer alone.

#jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami #kento nanami fluff #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x you #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #afab reader #break us on purpose #fearfulachilles #buop

[camojacketfag]

when do you stop feeling like you're waiting for your life to start? im 22 and ive accomplished nothing, it feels like im at a standstill.

Well, for starters, I had a breakdown in a meijer parking lot at 8:15pm yesterday, sobbing to boygenius as I was telling myself that I’ve paused my life for the past four years to try and heal from crippling childhood trauma and therefore I haven’t really had the chance to truly have fucking fun and live life man.

My 20s have been a lot of healing and slowing down as life continues to move past me so fucking quickly. I told myself I was gonna have fun this year and instead I got my heart broken, I relapsed in my OCD, I cut ties with a shit therapist who invalidated me time and time again and I played far too many video games. Through out it all I also lost so many friendships who don’t fully understand how debilitating OCD truly is and my current social life consists mostly of imaginary conversations I have inside my head. But hey, we’re still fucking kicking! What really defines an accomplishment man? Whose timeline are you comparing yourself too? Most of the lives constantly being lived so publicly are led by neurotypical people with such big opportunities very different from lives like ours man. Therefore you’re doing yourself a disservice to try and compare your life to theirs. Acceptance is the hardest pill to swallow. I truly despise patience. Yet I also have to come to terms with the fact that I move at a much slower and methodical pace than everyone else around me. I know in the long run I’ll be grateful I decided to heal now as opposed to later but I still feel so fucking robbed man. Of time. And opportunities. And life. Time that I may never get back. Time in which others my age spent developing their careers or social relationships, I was stuck in my little room listening to sad lesbian music and having no one around but my dog and the obsessive thoughts that felt intensely unavoidable. I’d say life, or at least the life you’re talking about, will never truly start man. That life is just a piece of fiction. I guess what I’m trying to say is that life has already started, it’s just waiting for you to notice. Your perception is just warped, much like mine, but I know that although I can list all of these awful things that have happened over these past four years, I know that nudged somewhere in between it all, I’ve still lived. I saw some sick ass concerts, I gave myself my first stick and poke, I got drunk and shared to much, I allowed myself to question love and it’s mechanisms and meaning, I started a photo blog and have steadily worked towards creating what I see everyday in to something others can relate or come back to, I got punched in the face, I busted my lip trying to open a bottle of vodka, I drank to much caffeine and felt like I’d ascended to a higher state of consciousness. After I relapsed, I felt broken man. So much new trauma I’d have to go back to and stitch up all caused by trusting a professional who only made me believe that my own personal experience of the things I’d gone through was actually wrong. Yet somehow, it ended with me finally believing myself once more. And vowing to never let anyone make me feel like she did ever again. 11 years of trauma and hard work doesn’t deserve to be so easily destroyed just because you have a degree and I don’t. Still, I believed myself again. I believe myself now. And I know going forward that if we continuously compare ourselves to lives being lived that will never cross paths with ours then all we’re gonna do is spend eternity wondering when it will ever finally fucking begin. I promise you, it already has, and although I don’t know you, and you might believe that it’s been more bad than good, or that it’s not as valuable when compared to others achievements at your age, it’s still yours, and there’s still time, and it’s always been there, it’s just waiting for you to notice.

#one of these days I’m gonna just reply lol I don’t know to everyone’s asks lol #just kidding #if I have something to say you better believe im gonna say it #anyhow #asks #revelations

[munv]

BONDS BEYOND RECOGNITION

For @cupids-chamber my sworn homie thru thick and thin ⭐️⭐️

I’ll be leavin a lil letter at the end of this <33

IT’S been 3 years since the distinguished Cupid has entered NRC. So many memories made along the way, so many people met and lastly so many bonds. The year is finally over and out last chapter ends with graduation. The 3rd years and old dorm leaders are all gone, and new heads are to be appointed for the dormitories.

So much has happened for the past few years that’s sometimes it just feels as if it was yesterday that she woke up in a coffin and met grim. Feels just like yesterday that she had gotten in trouble with her 2 best friends Ace and Deuce and it’s not like it’s only them either, everyone has grown and learnt from their mistakes and from one another as well.

“Hey prefect you gettin’ all moppy ‘n emotional on us now?” Ace nudged her teasingly. Cupid sent him a light glare but it wasn’t a spiteful one, just one that would shut him up a bit. Just then speaking of the whole group, here comes the rest of them

“I’d hope your not bothering her again Ace!” Yelled deuce from beside sebek who was supposedly glaring at ace. “Wha? You guys are such bullies y’know!”

“It’s gonna to be our last time here for a long while..so we might as well make it worth it” Epel said following closely behind along with Jack. “Exactly, we gotta make it worth it!”

Grim who came out of nowhere jumped on Cupid’s shoulder with a can of tuna “hey henchman! Guess what the headmaster gave me!” He exclaimed boastfully, and before even giving her the chance to answer he shoved multiple cans of tuna into her face, how he balanced all of that? No clue. Grim may be questionable, but he just shouldn’t be questioned in general.

The group before her started bickering, and whenever Cupid tends to close her eyes, the group before her goes back to their first year. Everything is nostalgic in a way actually, wherever she looks she sees memories. The once dimmed and dark hallways are decorated with lights and much more. Cupid slips away from the group with Grim hot on her trail. “Hey! Where ya goin?” He asked jumping on her head. “Nowhere in particular, just walking around.”

“Really takes you back doesn’t it?” She couldn’t tell if grim was really paying attention considering how he tends to get whenever he has tuna. He grumbles out a response with the food still in his mouth. “I guess..” Grim was never really this quite considering his personality so she could only assume he was thinking with what had become of his brain—at least what was left of it if there even was one.

Feeling tears on her shoulder she looks up to see grim hiding his face in her hair “stupid henchmen making me tear up..” he muttered. She then flashbacks to what the headmaster had talked to her about before sending her off to talk with everyone else.

#EARLIER

“I see you’ve finally come!” Crowley said happily from his chair. “Don’t be shy now and stand at the door, come in!”

“It’s been a few years since you’ve been here, yes? And I’d like to say something to you, not as a headmaster but as someone you could trust.”

He continues with a stern voice yet a soft expression. “You’ve come a long way and we have watched you grow for a long while now and I’d like to say that..I truly see you as my family. Yet as a headmaster I’ve come to recognize your accomplishments and everything you have been through. So, as of today I have a last request for you.”

Cupid raised her brow and looked at Crowley intently staying silent for a while, “which is?”

“Please, don’t forget us.” She didn’t expect this, a letter maybe or even a errand to make the last day of college better for everyone but..this was not something Crowley would say just lightly. He got up from behind his desk and got up to hug her. “I see you as family..everyone does as well, so carry these memories with you throughout your life here whether you find a way to get back or not”.

“That to you, is my request.” Before she could even get a word in she was abruptly pushed out of the office. “Now off you go! Make the most of your time, for I am gracious!” He then shit the door and Cupid let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Make the most of my time left huh? What a day.”

Unbeknownst to her, Crowley took off his mask and was almost on the verge of tears behind the door. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a sigh, “what a wonderful few years this was..”

BACK to the present, she opens her eyes and finds herself with grim in her lap and everyone else in the garden having a picnic. “Thank you..” cupid said under her breath. “What was that prefect?” Asked Epel leaning in to hear her more clearly. “Nothing Epel, here, how about you carve me something?” She tossed him an apple and he swiftly caught it.

“It wouldn’t hurt to carve me something as well!..right?” Sebek said. Epel softly chuckled “don’t even gotta ask! I’m on it!”

#LETTER:

I’m here to say throughout all the time of being your friend cupid you are the most reliable and amazing people I’ve met. It was truly a honor to know you and it still is. Through all the time I’m proud to say you are more than a friend but you are family to me. I’d like to thank you personally for coming into my life and everyone else’s. You have influenced so many people is so many good ways and even on hiatus I wish to continue to support you through your life if you would allow me.

You are such an amazing person and so much more. It’s a honor to know you as a person, and I continue to thank you yet again for gracing us all with your presence. As a homie and someone who continuously harasses you with fun anons..I just can’t thank you enough

I bid you a farewell for now, friend ⭐️⭐️

#FROM: The One and Only MAKI

#{-muxis writes #x reader #headcanons #headcanon #oneshots #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #good luck cupid! #love you homie #twst first years #twst grim #disney twisted wonderland #twst oneshot