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teejaystumbles · 2 months

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Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend!

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it.

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again!

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

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i was thinking about that reddit post about the guy who married a friend out of mutual convenience and came to reddit asking for advice on how to start actually dating his husband (twitter link because the original is deleted, https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1241613092875841536?s=20) and you know what. dreamling au? dreamling au.

like. just imagine? prince dream who's being pressured constantly to marry, every single time someone high-enough ranking visits the palace he's dragged off to be introduced to their daughters, he's so tired of it. hob's parents are the king and queen of a neighbouring kingdom, dream's parents have been trying to get a solid treaty established for years, so when they make an offer that includes a generous trade deal and the marriage of dream to their daughter? it's agreed on before dream even has a chance to argue.

dream's fully prepared to have a loveless marriage that's amicable at best, but when he meets his new "wife", well... hob's hardly what he expected. he's very clear on the point that he's not a woman, for one. he's prepared to pretend in public if he absolutely has to but he's not and won't pretend he is in private -- and he doesn't seem to quite know what to do with himself when dream tells him that he's really very fine with that? he's not sure how much he can do for hob at court, he only has so much power as a prince, but he promises he'll do what he can to let hob be comfortable in their private lives.

turns out, dream can do a lot more than that. the king and queen die only a few months after dream and hob are married, and dream promptly sets about revising a few marriage and gender laws. and when hob can finally come to court and present himself as dream's husband... he's so happy, dream's never seem him smiling so much, and dream looks at his husband who's finally able to be himself and dream realizes he is. maybe having. some feelings.

-🐈‍⬛

I’m so in love with Hob “call me a girl and I will cut your dick off” Gadling.

He’s terrified by the prospect of this marriage and has very low expectations of his future husband. Dream is a very pleasant surprise, considering what Hob was imagining! He can use his proper name, he can dress as he likes, he can be a man! Finally! It’s a life he never dreamed of having, even if it can only happen in private.

And then Dream actually changes the world for him, and Hob can’t quite believe it at first. He thinks it must be a joke when Dream asks him to help ratify certain new laws. But Dream doesn’t make jokes like that, and he wants to be sure that he uses the right words and that these laws will last forever. And of course Hob does his best to help and offer up his own opinions on how things should be changed. Dream listens to him carefully and it’s like he’s making Hob’s dreams come true all over again. All he says is that Hob is his husband. Of course he wants him to be safe and happy.

How can Hob help falling in love with Dream? This man has gone above and beyond what’s necessary to make him happy. He’s accepted Hob for who he is, and he’s made damn sure that everyone else accepts him too. Hob wants to kiss his perfect, serious little mouth every hour of the day. He’s never been in love before, and now he’s falling more in love with his husband as every day passes.

They sleep together in same bed (it’s big enough for at least six people), and although they start out on opposite sides of the massive mattress, every single morning Hob wakes up with Dream in his arms. Somewhere along the way in the night, they gravitate towards each other and end up snuggled in one little ball of repressed feelings and not-really-unrequited love.

It’s only a matter of time before Dream leans up and kisses his husband good morning. It happens accidentally, when he’s still half asleep, but it finally breaks the seal on their mutual pining. Hob smiles and pulls the covers up over both of their heads, making a cozy little nook in which he can press Dream backwards and finally kiss him properly.

(Hob was always terrified by the idea of consummating a marriage. But now Dream calls him Robert, beloved husband, it doesn’t seem quite so scary anymore.)

#🐈‍⬛ anon #the sandman #dreamling #trans hob

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seiya-starsniper · 10 months

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Could I humbly request a Dreamling 1 or 19 for the Soft™ fic prompt meme 👉👈

1. slow dancing or 19. ‘it made me think of you.’

I somehow managed to fit both prompts in here 👀 👀

Sorry for being slow about this one friendo, work’s been kicking my butt lately but hopefully this was worth it! <3

Fic could be considered a companion piece to this fill, since I'm such a sucker for weddings ahaha.

—----------------

“Please welcome the newly wedded Gadlings!”

Hob pulls Dream excitedly through the entrance to the ballroom as soon as they’re introduced. They’re both flushed with excitement (and wine from the Dreaming) as they wave at all of Hob’s friends from his current life.

The crowd for their wedding reception is sizable, not nearly as large in attendance as their wedding in the Dreaming, but still large enough to cost Hob quite a bit of money in food and alcohol. He doesn’t care. The glowing and easy smile on Dream’s face is worth far more than any worldly currency.

“And now,” the DJ announces once they’ve reached the center of the room, “it’s time for the newly wedded couple’s first dance.”

The lights dim everywhere except for where they are standing. Hob pulls his husband (his husband) flush against his own body and wraps one arm around Dream’s waist, the other settling into his open palm. They move easily together once the piano intro begins to play, and Lionel Richie’s voice echoes throughout the room.

My love There's only you in my life

“You’ve always had a strange sense of humor,” Dream says, brow raised in amusement as they sway and step easily around one another. Hob knows Dream’s body like he knows his own breath, and it is little effort for him to step back and easily maneuver Dream into a quick twirl.

“Excuse you,” Hob says with mock offense as he pulls them back together. “Endless Love is a classic wedding song.”

“Is that so?” Dream asks, eyes literally glittering with stars and mouth turned up in a challenge.

Hob nods assuredly. “It was Diana’s Ross’s best selling single,” he says, diving into his encyclopedic memory for music. Dream’s expression lights up as he continues to talk.

“Couldn’t escape this song on the radio back in the 80’s,” Hob continues. “It was nominated for a lot of awards. too. You could say it’s one of the defining songs of the decade,” he adds, then wrinkles his nose. “Film’s absolute shit though.”

“You say that about many films,” Dream notes, probably remembering the time Hob had given him a twenty minute mini-rant on the origins of Tears in Heaven. Or maybe it was Can’t Help Falling in Love. Come to think of it, most of Hob’s favorite records were tie-ins to terrible movies.

“Yes, well,” Hob shrugs before he pulls Dream closer to him. “Sometimes great music is made for shit films.”

“So I take it ‘Endless Love’ is not on the list of your ‘must see films’, then?” Dream huffs, tilting his head playfully towards Hob.

“Not even close,” Hob grins before he leans and captures Dream’s lips with his own. The crowd around them erupts in applause and cheers.

When they pull away, Hob twirls Dream once before, before he tilts the Endless backwards into a dip. Dream’s back arches beautifully, and it steals Hob’s breath for a moment before he remembers to pull Dream back up. When their bodies are pressed together once more, Hob dips his head and admits a secret against Dream’s ear.

“I also may have picked this song because I’m a sap,” he whispers, grinning as he feels Dream shudder beneath him. “It made me think of you a lot, you know.”

“Did it?” Dream asks, pulling his head back to meet Hob’s gaze.

Hob nods as he begins to mouth the next verse, his focus solely trained on Dream:

And love, I'll be a fool for you, I'm sure You know I don't mind 'Cause you, you mean the world to me

“I think I’m beginning to see the appeal,” Dream says before he kisses Hob once more.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #the sandman #seiya drabbles #seiya writes #am I a sap for 80s and 90s love songs yes yes I am #are most of them tied to terrible movies lost to time? ALSO YES #thanks for the request friend! <3 #seiya writes dreamling

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kydrogendragon · 4 months

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Dec 17 - Decorations

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

“I think that’s the final box,” Hob says, setting down the plastic storage box on the ground next to the others by the tree. Morpheus was kneeling down, already sorting through the various boxes and tissue protected containers full of ornaments that Hob had collected over the years.

It used to be, for most of Hob’s memory of actually decorating a tree during Christmas, that they’d place fruits and nuts and candles on the branches. Even some small presents or little handmade decor pieces were found in his trees of the past. Nowadays, it’s almost always little figures or glass works or something branded as Hallmark.

Hob watches as Morpheus pulls out a small, crocheted cardinal out of a bundle of long-worn tissue paper.

“My girlfriend of the time gave that to me, back in the 1830’s or so. She made it herself. Was one of the first non-perishable ornaments I’d ever had.” Hob says, taking a seat next to Morpheus on the floor. He watches as his friend trails a finger down the length of the delicate red yarn of the bird’s back. It was well done, all things considered. The yarn was definitely fraying in a few places. Hob did his best to do repairs (with no crochet knowledge), but he knows that the little birdie probably doesn’t have much longer to live. It was sad to think.

“It is well made,” Morpheus says, turning the bird around on the tips of his fingers. “Shall we hang this one?”

Hob smiles. “Yeah, go ahead and find a good spot for it.” Morpheus turns his gaze to him, his brows pulled close.

“You do not wish to hang it yourself?”

Hob waves a hand. “Nah. Go for it. You can have the honors of putting the first one up.”

Morpheus nods and stands. He looks the tree over, moving from side to side, appraising each branch for the best spot. Hob works on unpacking some more ornaments and baubles from the boxes while his friend deliberates.

Finally, he hears the shuffling of needles and looks up to see the bird perched towards the top on a branch, hanging proudly against the dark green foliage. Morpheus turns to him, expectantly. Hob gives him a thumbs up.

“Looks good!” He says, holding up another ornament for Morpheus. “Want to hang up another?”

Morpheus looks at the figure in Hob’s hands. It was a little bear dressed as a knight, riding on top of a horse. He’d gotten it from a co-worker a few years back. Said it was the closest they were able to find to anything medieval themed. It had made him laugh at the time and always gets a spot on his tree.

They go through the boxes, slowly. Hob explains the story behind each one as he goes. He knows that Morpheus enjoys hearing their histories. There were a few that were more special to him than others. One was the first bauble he’d ever owned. It was a certified Lauscha Glass silver bauble he’d gotten way back in 1853. He’d traveled down to Germany to the actual town and bought it. He has a similar one, but much more modern, back in the late 1990’s from the same place.

There was quite a collection of ornaments revolving around his various jobs over the years. There were at least seven different teaching or history themed ones: stacks of books, laptop, Best Teacher mugs. There were three bulls and two bears back from his stock market trader days and even one little wooden chair back when he attempted carpentry. That job hadn’t lasted long. Turns out he was decent enough for his own personal woodworking uses, but utterly unskilled in a professional capacity. He’d also racked up quite a few soldier related ones, both for surviving the first one and some “in memoriam” to his “son” during the second war.

There was also a stained glass ornament depicting a robin sitting on a branch. He’d found that in a market in France in the 1970’s. He hangs that one himself beside the small bauble with an engraved E in delicate script. Subtle enough not to be called out by people in his lives, but clear enough that he wouldn’t ever forget.

Hob rubs his thumb over the smooth glass front and presses a light kiss to its surface before he hangs it on the branch. Morpheus watches him at his side, silently. Hob repeats the motion with the E on the front of the bauble before placing it next to Robyn’s. It never does get easier, the loss. It’s easily the hardest part of his long life. Loving people, that was always easy. Too easy, in fact. It made it that much more painful when they eventually left. There’s other ornaments, memories, to those he’s held close over the years.

In another box, there’s a small ship in memory of Peggy and their adventures on the sea when she’d been younger, an orange tabby for Audrey because she always had a soft spot for those crazy beasts, and a variety of other figures and baubles of lovers long past. Hob’s tree wasn’t simply a tree. It was a time capsule of his life, in a way. Memories of those in their graves, of lives he’d once lived, and times he barely remembers - they’re all here, immortalized in glass and clay and yarn.

There’s a hand in his. Hob turns to a blurry Morpheus whose cool hands hold his. Ah. He’s crying. That explains that. And explains why his hands are shaking. He sniffs, raising his free hand to wipe away the trails of tears from his cheeks and eyes.

“Sorry,” he manages through the thickness in his throat. “Forgot how emotional some of these here can get me.” He tries for a laugh, but it comes through sounding more forced than he wanted.

Slender arms wrap around him and black hair fills his vision. Morpheus is warmer than he thought. Hob winds his arms around his friend, holding him close. It settles some piece in him, Hob thinks, knowing that the person here in his arms isn’t one he’ll have to say goodbye to in a decade or two. He gets to keep him, keep Morpheus. Even if his friend decided to head out, explore the world in his own time and take his life in his hands, he won’t be gone. Not like the others. Not like he thought he was after the funeral in his dreams before he’d seen Morpheus standing outside his door with Death beside him. No. No, he can keep Morpheus for longer. For as long as him, if that’s what Morpheus wants.

Ah shit, he’s crying harder now, isn’t he? He feels Morpheus’s hold on him tighten and it just squeezes Hob’s heart knowing his friend, his old stranger, his one constant in life, cares for him so. A shaky sob breaks free from his mouth as he ducks his head into Morpheus’s shoulder. The soft padding of the black cable knit sweater hugs his skin and absorbs the salty tears that pour from his eyes. Hob can vaguely make out Morpheus saying something as his slender hands rub circles into his back.

Minutes pass and the worst of it seems to fade. Hob stays there, enveloped in his friend’s hug and warmth. With a deep breath in to steady himself, Hob leans back, letting his hands raise to rub away the wetness and dried trails of tears from his face.

“God, sorry for that,” he says with a more convincing chuckle this time around. He does feel lighter, though. In hindsight, Hob’s pretty sure he hadn’t taken any time to process this change to his life until now. He’d gone to bed, dreamt through his best friend’s funeral, woken up knowing it was true deep in his gut, then was greeted with the sight of his very much alive friend who was now a human. No time for processing the death that still occurred. Guess a bit of a breakdown had been brewing for some time.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Morpheus says, still eyeing him with concern. “You have told me many times that tears are nothing to be sorry for.” Hob smiles at that.

“Still. Probably not what you were expecting, I’m sure.”

Morpheus hums. “No, but I do not blame you for it. These decorations hold many memories. Memories have always been excellent catalysts for emotions, both happy and sad. And bittersweet.” He gives Hob another once over before placing his hands on Hob’s biceps and guiding him to sit on the couch. Hob lets him and lets him pull a blanket over his form, tucking it over his shoulders. “Now sit and stay. I will make us tea.”

That gets Hob to laugh. “Thanks, duck,” Hob says, smiling to his friend. “You’re becoming a true Brit.”

Morpheus shoots him that small smile only reserved for him, a good book, and cats, before disappearing to the kitchen and it sends a lance through his heart. God, he really loved him. Maybe one day, he’d even tell him that.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

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slaymitchabernathy · 1 month

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Field Mouse

It's nearly dinner time by the time he gets back from the Seam. Coriolanus walked her back to the house but he wasn't invited inside. "Next time," she'd told him, lingering in the doorway, "when my family isn't home."

He hadn't quite known how she meant that. Did her family not like Peacekeepers so she felt it was best to keep them apart? Or did she want the house to herself to do...other things?

He was hoping for the second option.

Smiley hopped out of the bunk the second Coriolanus walked in, "How'd it go?" Coriolanus shrugged, not wanting to give out too much information, "It went fine. I didn't know the Seam was that bad."

His bunkmate chuckled, "Poor people in District Twelve are the poorest people in all of Panem, at least you found a pretty one."

Coriolanus hadn't thought of it that way, how Twelve was technically the bottom of the barrel when it came to the Districts, ranking all District Twelve citizens at the very bottom. Below the bottom if he was being honest. In the dirt sounded better.

He sat down on his bunk and mulled over it even more. What would his friends say if they saw him running around with some poor girl with tattered clothes and a sagging house? He'd be the laughingstock of the Capitol for sure. He'd have to keep this under wraps. He couldn't afford any loose ends if he left for the Capitol. When he left for the Capitol was more like it. He was getting out of here, one way or another.

"They're having an officers test tomorrow if you're interested," Smiley says, pulling Coriolanus from his thoughts, "gotta be Capitol to qualify so I figured you'd be interested."

Becoming an officer meant higher rankings, it meant actual pay, a salary, and possibly being relocated to a higher-ranking District, closer to the Capitol.

It was all lining up for him. He had everything he could need right now. The girl, the job, the hope.

"I am interested. Thanks, Smiley," he says before grabbing his towel, he ought to shower before lights out, wash all the sweat off of him.

He could smell the whole day on him as he scrubbed himself down under the shower water, it was mostly sweat and dirt. But a hint of vanilla lingered. He'd see her again at the Hob on Friday, maybe steal a few kisses and slip his hand under her dress.

Coriolanus fell asleep with a content smile on his lips. It was all lining up for him. Finally.

꧁ ꧂

The results from the officer's test still weren't posted. Granted it had only been two days but still! Coriolanus had been one of two people to take it and the other guy walked out halfway through it. Needless to say, he was a shoo-in. If not for his impressive skills both physically and academically, then it was by default. And he was okay with that.

Still, it bothered him. Bothered him to the point where he'd asked Commander Hoff about it. He told Coriolanus that the test was reviewed in the Capitol so it would take about a week to get the results back. A whole week to find out if he passed even though he knows he passed. Ugh.

He didn't let it sour his mood as he walked into the Hob though. It was Friday night and he planned on having a good time. Music was already playing and people already dancing. He scanned the crowd for Soarynn's blonde head of hair and found her dancing with her cousin Jett. Even though they were family, Coriolanus couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. She should be dancing with him.

He pushed through the crowd towards her, leaving his friends behind as he went to claim what was rightfully his. Jett saw him before Soarynn did and he leaned down to whisper something in her ear before disappearing into the crowd. Soarynn turned around and looked up at Coriolanus, giving him a big smile, "You came!"

Coriolanus smiled back at her, that smile of hers was infectious it seemed. "I did. Hopefully, I didn't scare your cousin off."

Soarynn waved him off, "Jett's been keepin' me company till you got here. He's got his eyes set on some girl from town, keeps hopin' to bump into her but he never does. Too busy workin' I guess."

Coriolanus couldn't help but wonder what Soarynn did for work. She hadn't really specified but she didn't look like she did a lot of hard labor from the looks of it. "You wanna dance?" She asks, taking his hand. Coriolanus looked around, it was mostly miners dancing with their girls, but he wasn't used to this dancing, it was so...District.

He shook his head, "Let me buy you a drink." He pulled her along with him, leading them to the bar where he wrapped his arm around her, breathing in the scent of vanilla again. It used to be the smell of roses that brought him true comfort, the smell of his mother's silver compact. But that was back at home, so he'd have to settle for vanilla.

They waited a minute for their drinks and he watched the band on stage put on quite a show. There was a girl, tan skin, dark brown curly hair wearing some ridiculous rainbow dress up there twirling around and singing. She looked over at them, taking in the pair before her eyes found Soarynn's and she playfully wiggled her eyebrows. Soarynn snorted next to him before turning to grab their drinks.

"You know her?" He asks, looking back at the girl who'd already gone back to singing. Soarynn hummed, handing him his drink and taking a sip of hers. "That's Lucy Gray Baird, she lives a couple houses down from us with the Covey." He raised his eyebrows, the Covey?

"Is that some sort of band name?" He asks, casting the band another glance. None of them looked related at all. Soarynn watched them for a moment before responding, "Kind of. They're all cousins one way or another, not all by blood like me and Jett. But they're all related some way or the other. The little one's Maude Ivory, she's got real authority."��

Coriolanus shakes his head and laughs, looking down at Soarynn, "People in District Twelve sure come up with some strange names for their children." Soarynn gave him a small grin and shrugged, "We're strange people, Coriolanus Snow," she drawls. She's got him there, and she knows it. "I could introduce y'all if you'd like," she offers. As fun as that sounds, Coriolanus isn't too keen on meeting this band of musicians. He'd like to hear some other music for a change, like Soarynn's moans.

He shakes his head, "No thanks. I'd love to go somewhere more quiet though." She gives him a look that lets him know she's on the same page, "There's a shed out back."

The shed is more of a shack and it's dark, but Coriolanus doesn't complain. Besides, everything more fun in the dark. Soarynn leads them to a desk in the back corner and he wastes no time in wrapping his hand around her waist, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Soarynn responds just as eagerly if not more and her arms wrap around his neck, tugging him down to meet her height. He smirks at how low she needs him. His girl's on the shorter side, so tiny he could break her in half.

He picks her up and sits her on the desk, her legs dangling off the edge. her hands go under his shirt, those nails scratching his back lightly, "Take it off," she whispers against his lips, tugging at the fabric. He's never been with a girl this straightforward, who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.

He gives in to her request and his hands leave her waist to tug his shirt off, showing her his sculpted abdomen, Soarynn let out a low whistle, "My, my, they sure whipped you into shape, pretty boy."

Coriolanus rolls his eyes before grabbing her chin with her fingers, "I'd say it's only fair if you take something else off too," he challenges. Soarynn tilts her head and gives him a smile that's all too sweet, "You can take it off," she offers, gesturing to the pink dress she's wearing tonight. It's nothing fancy, old, and worn just like her other blue dress but this one has some embroidered flowers. Doesn't really matter when it's going to be on the floor in a few seconds.

He's quick to grab the hem of the dress and tug it off of her, baring almost all of her to him. She wearing panties, white and lacy. Her breasts are bare to him as is the rest of her torso and he finally takes all of her in. She's underfed his girl, with her ribs poking out and her waist narrow. She stiffens up when she sees him noticing her rough edges, letting him know that despite how confident she appears, she still has insecurities.

His hands go to her breasts, the perfect size for his hands and he leans back down to kiss her, rolling her rosy buds in between his fingers. Soarynn lets out a whine and her back slightly arches into him. He wonders how long it's been since she's been touched. "You ever been with anyone before?" He mumbles, pulling away to kiss up and down her jaw. Soarynn shudders when he pinches a little harder, "Does it really matter right now?" So she has. That's fine. He likes a girl with a little experience. He just hopes Soarynn's not a proper whore who's been run through by every miner in District Twelve.

He leans down to her collarbone and sucks hard, leaving a small bruise behind when he pulls away. "Nope," he answers, knowing he's never going to get a straightforward answer from her right now. His left hand lets go of her breasts and slips down to her thighs that are pressed together for obvious reasons but she immediately spreads them when she feels his fingertips.

"I like it hard by the way," she breathes, her own hands tangled in his hair. He has to swallow after hearing that. Any Capitol girl he's been with has only wanted it sweet and slow, but he supposes that he can be rougher with District girls who are far below any Capitol girl.

So he doesn't even take her panties off, her just tugs them to the side before wiping a finger up and down her cunt, swearing when he feels how wet she is. Her hips buck when he grazes her clit, her hands settling on his shoulders as he slowly parts her folds. He wishes he could see this, see better in the dark, but their options are limited right now and he's not one to complain when he's got a perfectly good and willing cunt right in front of him.

For a second he wonders if that's how she views him right now. A willing hand, a willing cock. Does she do this with other guys, other Peacekeepers? Just how much honey has this little bee had?

"Hurry," she whispers, getting him to focus once again. "You're so wet," he murmurs, teasing her entrance with his finger. Soarynn whines, her nails digging into his skin, "For fucks sake hurry up"

He doesn't like that.

He doesn't even think before he grabs her jaw, squeezing it hard as he forces her to look up at him. "Don't tell me what to do," he snaps, shaking her head for good measure. Her hand is on his wrist in another second and she digs her nails into his skin hard, she probably drew blood. He hisses and pulls away, glaring down at her but she's already glaring up at him, "I'm not one of your Capitol girls you can boss around," she tells him, sitting back on her hands, "if you're not interested there's the door," she juts her head towards the shed door he hastily closed when they got here.

He swallows, not used to this type of behavior from girls. "Suppose someone found you here," he says, gesturing to her current state, legs spread, cunt bared for him. She gives him a wicked grin, "They'd be welcome to have me."

She's a hornet. Not a bee. A fucking hornet.

He's slipping his shirt on before he knows it, not even sparing her another glance before he walks out of that shed, fuming.

He's moving so fast that he bumps into several people and the sound of instruments falling to the ground makes him cringe. "Sorry," he says, bending down to grab the closest thing he can grab which so happens to be a guitar. "It's all right, no harm done," a girl answers him. He stands back up to find it's Lucy Gray Baird, whom he's bumped into along with the rest of the Covey who's picking up their instruments.

She recognizes him immediately, "You were with Soarynn," she says like it's an accusation. "You're correct," he answers her. Because he was with Soarynn. As in the past tense. As in he's never going to see that little field mouse again. That mouse that likes to dance with snakes.

Lucy Gray looks behind him like Soarynn might be hiding behind him, "Well where is she?" The little girl, Maude something or the other pushes her way to the front and looks him up and down, hands on her hips like she means business, “Are y’all together? We saw you beat up Billy Taupe the other day. He had it comin’ though.”

At least these people haven’t lost all their senses. Coriolanus glances back at the shed, no signs of life coming from it, “She’s in there,” he nods in the general direction. Lucy Gray follows his gaze and she raises her eyebrows, “Ah, the shed.” What’s that supposed to mean? Was he really not that special? Was the shed her known place to take her toys?

Coriolanus is on the verge of spiraling when Lucy Gray pulls him from his thoughts, “Well I hope y’all had fun, but too much fun.” Coriolanus wants to tell her that he’s never going to go near her friend again for the rest of his miserable Peacekeeping service but he just nods before heading back to the Hob.

Ready to forget that little field mouse.

| Part 2. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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pocket-lin · 2 months

Note

9 and 10 for the fandom asks!

hi!! thank you!! I apologize if the formatting is weird for this, I wrote half of it on my phone notes app the the rest on the Tumblr site and also I just generally don't know how to do things hahah

(i'm focussing on the sandman cuz I think that’s the biggest fandom we share!!)

9. a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

so dreamling is my ultimate sandman ship, BUT. two other ones I love are:

dream/hob/corinthian aka hobrintheus. everyone go read @softest-punk’s fic self-abandon, and the confounding effects thereof !! hob humanizing the corinthian (calling him cori), the corinthian being so genuinely in love with hob, dream being being so very dream about the situation… pure excellence. I have a handful of other fics I can rec for this ship, too!!

dream/hob/daniel. this is 10000000% @moorishflower’s fault because their Beautiful, Strange and New series is fucking unparalleled (tbh everything they write is like a drug to me). the main fic was so incredibly fun to read while it was a wip!!! especially when the story gets to that part (ifkyk).

10. a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

okay this question is so hard to answer because I’ve only got back into any fandom in 2022 (long and kinda sad story) and I haven’t quite gotten up the gumption to talk to many people outside of commenting on fics. so!! I’m just gonna shoutout some more fics I love from the people I talked about in the other answer!

here’s a few more @softest-punk fics that I recommend, especially if you like alternate universes, a hopelessly-in-love hob, and support the Trans Agenda:

Catching Up - human/no powers au with alternating pov. all that post-fishbowl trauma goodness with an incredibly sweet hob who just wants to take care of his dear friend (who he is also hopelessly in love with but that's nbd)

Falling - another human/no powers au! strangers to friends to lovers story with extremely hot sex. i'm remembering how much I love this one and I'm about to go reread it!!

Half sleep, half waking- this is one of their most recents fics and it's a rivers of london crossover!! 1989 fishbowl rescue au (alternating hob and nightingale pov) where hob enlists the help of his friend (and ex-lover) dci nightingale to figure out why his oldest friend (who he is hopelessly in love with) missed their centennial meeting. I love hob's whole "thing" in this one–I have a personal head canon that he would absolutely have all kinds of rizz with the potentially less than human and/or immortal components of the world.

here's some more @moorishflower fics I recommend, especially if you like alternate universes, delicious angst, and extremely well thought out world-building! I don't know the best way to word this (fiction writing isn't my strong suit), but the way that this author describes things makes me go insane. they know exactly how to describe how things taste/smell/feel and it just completely transports me into the story.

iron, glass, bones, blood - monster4monster, love but the kind of love where you want to pin them to a board like a butterfly and find out what their blood looks like under a microscope, kink as a way to reclaim trauma... I literally cannot tell you how many times I've read this fic. it feels like it was pulled from the very depths of my subconscious.

On sexual dimorphism in C. urophasianus - (if you know me irl, no you don't) very lighthearted, non-traditional a/b/o, omegas are very empowered. they've only been together one week and it's still very new between them and now dream has to "court" hob because of his instincts going all crazy. very, very sweet!!

17th Century Knife Restoration - this fic made me cryyyyyy. hob watching a restoration video on YouTube and uh oh its his knife and uh oh now he has many feelings. to be loved is to be known, and also to be changed 💜

also their Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs series' most recent fic, Basic Needs, is currently posting and is making ME have many feelings!! check this one out if you want mutual pining of the most desperate nature, down and out dream and caretaker hob (oh and hob has a gigantic dick and dream is obsessed with it)

#fandom asks #ask games #fic recs #I've never done fic recs before #do we like this?#the sandman #dreamling

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virgo-dream · 1 year

Text

✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

SUMMARY: It’s been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream’s recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he’d been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for. read ch. 02: healing waters (2,3k+ words) here or on AO3 AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for the overwhelming amount of love on chapter one!!! For this chapter and the next one, I wanted to try a role reversal of one of my fav scenes from @avelera's absolute masterpiece, Giving Sanctuary. If you've read that, you'll know the scene when it gets to that point. :) happy reading!

The gentle warmth of Hob's arms and chest as Dream rests on them on his way to the kitchen is a feeling like none other. It matches the warmth of his soul, the one he'd seen shine brighter than any other on a poorly lit tavern back in 1389. He lets his head rest on Hob’s shoulder, curling into the safety of his hold. It feels right, somehow, and while he’s usually able to alter his physical form in whatever way serves a situation best, he doesn’t need to; Hob is willing to adapt for him. What a lovely feeling, to not be the one reshaped for the other. And how good it feels to have Hob want to fit with him.

That was, if that was truly what was happening. Dream had misinterpreted Hob's intentions multiple times throughout their centennial meetings, and while he had a feeling that in 1889 Hob had been inching towards something more than just friendship, Dream was not Dream. He was the Lord of Dreams, King of Nightmares. Mystery shaped as a man. Here, he was as weak as any other living creature. If he'd ever had a shot at anything more than friendship, it would have been back then, definitely not now.

"...Dream?"

Hob's voice snaps him out of whatever spiral he'd been currently descending. When he looks up, it's to find a pair of worried brown eyes, with brows knit upwards and a gentle smile. "Hey there. Still with me, mate?"

Dream tilts his head to the side, nose scrunching up a little in disapproval. Was mate some sort of term of endearment now? He knew Hob had not meant it literally. The twisted expression seemed to garner a chuckle out of his strong armed friend, who still had Dream tucked close to his chest. "Alright, I won't call you that. You okay?"

"...yes." It's an effort to speak, it really is. His throat feels dry, and he'd spent so long without exercising those muscles that his usual low register now seemed more like a faint ghost of its old glory. He cleared his throat, and Hob watched every little twitch of the little muscles on his face like he was cataloguing them. Certainly to be better able to predict his outbursts. Humans acted in self preservation, always.

It was hard to keep that belief when Hob's smile of relief didn't seem to unburden him of some deep seated fear of Dream's menace, but only of worry for him. "Alright, let's get you comfortable."

Dream noticed how all of Hob's efforts in his care were all planned quite thoroughly. He might not have been sure if Dream would want to eat in the kitchen, but Hob was an optimist, and had already left the chair pulled and placed one of the many throw pillows that usually adorned his brown leather couch on the seat as a cushion. When Hob helped him sit down, it was with incredible precision, as if he had experience tending to the injured. Maybe he did, Dream couldn't know. Well, he could have. He just never bothered to. Regret seemed to pile up in his chest.

Hob then reached for a blanket to place over Dream's legs, lastly grabbing a pair of fluffy slippers that he kept in the little shoe closet in the entry hall, then kneeling down to place them carefully on his feet. "Wouldn't want you getting cold feet." He says, and smiles up at Dream before getting back up on his feet and moving to turn the stove back on.

Dream liked watching as Hob went about his human motions. He knew of those things, saw them in dreams and in the rare visits he made to the Waking. He'd never experienced them first hand, which gave a whole new meaning to having a home cooked meal made for him. Not just for him, but made by Hob for him. It made him feel warm even before the bowl was placed in front of him and the soup poured into it, before the smell of well seasoned peas and of a plate of newly made slices of toast entered his nose, so different from the violence of the smell of iron blood. It's gentle and inviting. Suddenly, his stomach makes itself aware of its own existence, and he can feel his mouth fill with saliva. Dream reaches for the spoon, fingers still a little shaky, but not without warning. "Careful not to burn your tongue. It's still hot."

As his fingers take the cold metal of the silver spoon in hands, the weight feels completely foreign. Not as light as he remembered, not as heavy as it should have ever been. Of the many inconveniences of human existence, fatigue certainly was one of Dream's least favourite to experience. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to hold the spoon. How could he be reduced to such weakness? How could humans take so much from him, when all he ever did was give and give and give. Endless as he was, his patience was limited. He was limited. He could feel the shape of his sister's hands squeezing his chest, the weight of her palm pressed in the centre, sinking the bone in.

Dream?

He wanted to puke, but there was nothing in his stomach yet to fuel it. Maybe the bile of his own disgrace, burning his throat on its way up would better serve the purpose of his little pity party.

Dream…? Come back…

Far away, he could hear the sound of metal falling. Was it iron again? A clinking sound, ringing inside his ears, getting louder and louder.

"Dream. Come back to me, Dream."

Warmth substituted the coldness of the metal in his palm. It seemed to chase away the grip of Despair as well, with warm, circling motions on his back. Dream blinked, and the tears swelling on his eyes finally fell. Blue eyes as sacred as those of a doe targeted Hob. To be powerless and insist on emulating power.

"...is everything okay? Do you want to go back to bed? We can eat in bed if you'd like."

Such kindness, sweet as honey. But even honey can overwhelm the palate.

"...all is fine." A pitiful try at a lie. A merciful play of belief on Hob's part.

Hob squeezed Dream's hand before letting go, and the freezing cold that took his palm almost seemed to tell him damned if you do, damned if you don't. His caring friend let out a huff of air through his nose, trying to recompose his sunny disposition. He smiles, like smiles can wash all sins away– and maybe for him they do, because who wouldn't forgive Hob Gadling?– Taking the spoon Dream had dropped and setting it across the table. He reached behind him for a clean one on the top drawer, and turned back to Dream. Unwritten agreements. He'd help Dream eat, and wouldn't ask for permission. Dream would pretend it was for Hob's own benefit and not his own. Now in Hob's capable hand, the spoon made its way to Dream's lips, and when it finally entered his mouth, finally poured its content onto starved tongue, the dreamlord was reminded once again that sustenance is also about pleasure. He hums, and as the silver spoon escapes his lips again, he allows himself to look into Hob's eyes. The pride is there again, but Dream reads it as being proud of a job well done.

Hob finally lets a breath out; he seemed to have kept it in for a while. Humans forgot to breathe too, sometimes.

˜˜˜

Dream didn't know how many of these contracts of good faith the both of them had signed across the last 10 days. He was reminded now that it included, on Hob's part, an offering of unwavering patience and good humour, a gentleness in his motions and a carefully curated tone to his speech. Still, so much spontaneity; in how happy he'd get when Dream finished a meal, when he asked for a little more, and Hob would heat it up just perfectly, pour it in the white porcelain bowl before him. How he'd spread butter on Dream's toast, or brought a glass of fresh water to parched lips. He'd even clean the corners of Dream's mouth with as many napkins as needed, and not say a single thing about it. He didn't gloat, and he certainly didn't ask for any sort of boon. Dream's part of the contract was just this: allow himself to receive care. And while in previous days the Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares would be offended by the assumption that he needed assistance in being fed, or in anything else, really, that's not the entity sitting on the soft chair in Hob's kitchen. It was Dream, just Dream. His Dream.

The meal, as the others he recalled having while in Hob's care, was perfectly adequate. Perhaps, more than adequate. He'd maybe fashion dreams around him once he was in shape for it, if not only to be able to keep having those meals in the Dreaming. Hob would certainly not want to cook for him forever. Dream let out a little sigh as he was finally done eating, and Hob let his shoulders relax, putting the spoon down and reaching for his own, ready to eat his own dinner. It was time for Dream to watch him, as he used to do in centuries past. Study Hob, catch up with everything he'd missed, even though he didn't have to. Even though he could have chosen to stay.

It was difficult, chasing guilt away.

˜˜˜

Hob had sat him on the armchair next to the bed, by the open window. It seemed to always be open when Dream was awake, and the suspiciously good weather would usually make the Endless feel like there was meddling of some sort happening, but this was not his own realm, where his temperament reigned supreme. If anyone was lord of the Waking, it was Hob Gadling, and if the Waking bent to his will, sunny skies and soft summer rain would be all there ever was.

Dream could feel the softness of the last rays of sunshine crawling up their place in the sky, painting the room in gentle tones of gold and orange. The gentle summer breeze caressed his cheek, and he allowed his eyelids to close, resting his tired pupils for a bit. Hob's voice brought him out of it almost immediately, or maybe he'd fallen asleep, because the bed was fully made, sheets freshly changed once his eyes opened again.

"Hello, sleepy head." There was that smile, again. Sunshine as a soul, shining from within. "Thought I heard you snoring there."

Dream crinked his nose in his usual expression of disbelief, but there was no anger behind it. Maybe a bit of confusion. He was sure he'd only blinked. "I do not snore."

Hob shrugged, and reached to brush the loose strands of black feathery hair away from Dream's eyes, a mirror of what he'd done earlier. "You said you didn't sleep either, but here we are."

He thought to refute Hob, but there was plenty of evidence that he did sleep.

"Since we're being adventurous today, what about a bath?"

Dream tilted his head slightly, unsure of what exactly was adventurous about a bath. He would certainly not drown, and there was really no need for it. "My body does not require washing."

Correction: there usually was no need for it. If Dream were to use his powers to keep his physical form clean, he'd exhaust himself and sleep for the rest of the week.

Hob's expression showed an incredible amount of lovingness, almost as if he was watching a child trying to put together the pieces of a jigsaw, but one was far out of reach and he needed to hand it over. "It's not about your body, Dream, it's about your mind. I know you're probably the cleanest being in all of existence. But your mind could maybe use a bath, right?"

How one bathes the mind was clearly beyond Dream's grasp. Humans were funny with how they bent and reshaped their words into new meanings. "...alright."

He wondered if saying yes to Hob had always brought such wide smiles out. How he wished he'd stayed to listen when he had the chance. "I'll get the water ready then!"

The excitement in Hob's voice made Dream allow himself a smile too, and it seemed to stop Hob from saying whatever it was he was following with. How terrifying it was, to be seen. The smile was gone, and Dream's brows knit close. "Have I done something wrong?"

"–No! Of course not, my friend. It's just. Nice. Seeing you feeling better."

Hob's honestly felt like a caress to the cheek, and perhaps it was the warmth of the imagined touch of his hand on Dream's face that caused it to be tinted in a soft pink shade. Maybe Hob had felt the will of Dream's hand to reach for his cheek, because it now matched Dream's in shade. "I'll. Get the water started."

Dream watched as Hob hurried to the bathroom, and maybe there was awe in his eyes. His own frail palm went to investigate the warmth on his cheeks. I need to be more careful. I would not have him think I wish to take advantage of this arrangement. Of his kindness. Hob is my friend. Hob is my friend. Hob is my friend. I am his Dream.

The sound of water running underscored the speed of Dream's overthinking, and same as the tub, there was no release for the current of thoughts filling up his mind. Dream had always been very attentive and alert to his surroundings. It had been impossible to surprise him, because surprises were never good, and there was only so little distaste he could handle in one endless lifetime. Still, he never had to exercise attention for 100 years straight. That muscle was also strained. When Hob walked up to him, it took Dream a moment to realise he was there. "Hm?"

"Bath is ready." Hob's sleeves were rolled up over his elbows, and his hair was now loosely tied in a short ponytail. He reached out to take Dream's hand. The walk to the bathroom was much shorter than to the kitchen, and Hob had said before that Dream needed to make the effort to walk, even if just a little bit every day. "If you try to walk to the bathroom, I'm granting you with left side of the couch privileges for the rest of the week. You know that's my favourite side." Dream chucked, and Hob's expression seemed to melt, again, into a loving one. "I shall accept your most generous offer."

Their hands were linked once again, and Dream felt a lightness that had been foreign to him even before his imprisonment. He felt like if he was holding Hob's hand, there was nothing he couldn't do. It was time for a bath.

#may dream #dreamling #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #dreamling fic #the sandman fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #virgo dream writes

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mimisempai · 2 years

Text

I wish you could stay a little longer 2/6

Chapter summary

1589 : Hob is proud of what he has accomplished and is eager to tell it to his mysterious stranger...

Notes:

I feel really bad for Hob in this part.

On Ao3

Rating T

Here we were.

The long awaited day was here.

Hob looked around and looked at himself again.

He was clean and well dressed.

He looked perfectly respectable.

Nothing of the peasant he had shown the last two times to the stranger and he was looking forward to telling him all he had accomplished since their last meeting.

Hob checked one last time that everything was in order to welcome the stranger.

The table was overflowing with dishes, fine food and good wine.

Everything was perfect.

But even so, he felt nervous like the day he had asked her parents for Eleanor's hand in marriage.

He touched the small pouch on the table out of superstition to give himself courage and remain dignified.

But still, he couldn't stop his heart from beating a little faster when he saw the object of his thoughts walk through the door of the tavern.

He took a deep breath and raised his hand to call out to him, "My friend!"

The man walked slowly toward him, not smiling but Hob not letting himself be thrown off balance. His strange companion had already accustomed him to his reserved and unemotional behavior.

Hob stood up and pulled out a chair to motion for the man to sit down, "Sit down. Got in a couple of bottles of good wine for us."

Putting his money where his mouth was, he poured the stranger's empty glass and, refilling his own, added, "Already made a start on 'em."

The stranger sat down and muttered, "Hello, Hob."

"Hob?"

Hob was a little surprised, because, even though in his head he still referred to himself as Hob, it had been years since he was called by that name.

He explained in an emphatic tone to the stranger, "Faith, that takes me back some few years. It's Sir Robert Gadlen now, old stranger."

He made an exaggerated bow to emphasize his words.

His stranger remarked, "You've had good fortune, I take it."

Hob continued to explain, "The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bondsman."

Then he pointed to the dish in front of him, making a point of playing the perfect host, "Venison pasty?"

The stranger just shook his head, but Hob didn't let it faze him and took one for himself, "No? They're good."

He bit into it, humming with pleasure before recounting his life over the last hundred years.

"Let's see. Last we spoke, I was working with Billy Caxton. Made some gold from that. Put it to work in Henry Tudor's shipyards. I made a small pile."

He poured himself another glass of wine, after all, if the stranger didn't know how to enjoy the pleasures of life, Hob wouldn't be shy. He had been deprived of it for long enough and had worked hard to enjoy it.

He continued, "Then I went north for a year or so, came back as my son. Done that twice now."

He chuckled slightly at the memory and held the empty jug out to the servant before resuming his tale, "When Fat Henry had gone for the monasteries, I bought my estates, and a healthy gift of gold to the Crown saw to..."

Hob paused, sparing his effect, happy to announce one of his greatest prides, and announced grandiosely, "A knighthood."

The stranger nodded, a slight, very slight smile on his lips, which Hob decided was of approval and then continued, having saved the best for last, "That's not all. Here."

He reached into the small pouch on the table that he carried with him everywhere and pulled out a hand-painted medallion. He proudly showed it to the stranger and couldn't help his voice becoming soft and emotional as it did every time he spoke of his family, "My fair Eleanor and little Robyn. My first son born in over 200 years on this Earth, that I know of."

Hob couldn't quite decipher the stranger's expression, there was a strange mixture of approval but also a coldness he didn't understand.

Was there really nothing Hob was doing that didn't find favor in his eyes.

Couldn't he just be happy about Hob's happiness? Of his achievements?

Leaving these gloomy thoughts aside, Hob became serious again and said softly, "It's funny. This is what I always dreamed Heaven would be like, way back. It's safe to walk the streets. Enough food. Good wine."

He swallowed as he thought about the past two centuries, how far he had come, what he had been through, and added in an emotional voice, "Life is so rich."

The stranger looked at him for a few seconds, but suddenly his attention was drawn to a man who was declaiming near their table, "God's wounds! If only I could write like you."

His stranger turned his head away. Ignoring Hob completely.

Hob felt again as he had a hundred years ago.

As if all his efforts to become better were nothing.

So out of spite, Hob continued to eat and, when the stranger again deigned to care about his presence, he asked Hob, "Who is he?"

Hob replied, "His name's Will Shaxberd. Acts a bit. Wrote a play."

The stranger asked, looking at the other man again, "Is he good?"

Hob, irritated by the stranger's lack of interest, replied curtly, "No, he's crap." then pointing to another man sitting next to the stranger's new point of interest, he added, "Now, that chap next to him, with the broken leg, he is a good playwright."

In a last attempt to capture his stranger's interest Hob continued, "Anyway, I've saved the best bit for last. The queen herself slept at my house this summer. That was expensive."

But the stranger looked at him and raised his hand to silence him before getting up and joining this low-life author.

He had never felt such deep disappointment in two hundred years as he did at that moment.

What more did he have to do?

He had worked long and hard to get to where he was, all alone, and all he got was indifference. This parody of an author would arrive, declaim three verses and Hob would no longer exist.

What did he lack to ignite that spark of interest in the stranger's eyes?

And above all, why did Hob care so much?

Why did he wish from the bottom of his heart to capture the interest and receive the approval of such a mysterious man?

The maid pulled him out of his thoughts by asking, "Sir, do you still want the lamb, sir?"

Hob watched with bated breath as the stranger walked away with this Will Shaxberd, then looked at the table overflowing with food around him and replied, falsely cheerful, "Aye. Bring on the lamb."

Biting into a piece of chicken, he muttered to himself, "Everything to live for. And nowhere to go but up."

But he was not in the cheery mood his words suggested.

Not at all.

In the end, his stranger hadn't stayed, not even to hear the end of his story, or even to give him a heads-up that he would be there in a hundred years.

Would he still be there?

Even if it was only to continue his little experiment, or had even that lost its interest?

In any case, Hob will have a hundred years to recover from the disappointment.

Hob was stubborn and he, himself, would be there no matter what.

No matter what fate decided to put in his way, he would be there to meet him.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Other chapters here on my Dreamling Masterlist here

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #dreamling fic #centennial husbands #centennial boyfriends #morpheus #morpheus x hob #hob x morpheus

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boowanie · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst and fluff

Warnings: Minor character death and slight mention of a panic attack.

WC: 6.7K+

Summary: You never thought that the stranger you met one night would become someone special to you.

“What’s happening?” Wonwoo called out as soon as he set foot into the house he shared with his close friends. He could hear the distant shouting happening somewhere in the house, a possible indication of a fight occurring between his housemates again. And he was right, there stood Seokmin and Mingyu, throwing harsh words at each other; something to do with dirty laundry sprawled across the kitchen floor.

“Didn’t I tell you to do your laundry THREE days ago Seokmin?” Mingyu bellowed at the top of his lungs. Seokmin’s glare only intensified as he clenched his right hand into a fist. Wonwoo stood at the bottom of the stairs, worried eyes observing the two.

“You yell at me for nagging you but here you are doing the same thing!” Seokmin snapped back. Before Mingyu could reply back, Joshua came in between the two, stretching his arms out to separate the fuming boys.

“Alright boys, it’s just laundry. Seokmin do your laundry now and Mingyu, take a nap to cool off or something.”

Seokmin turned on his heels, rushing down the stairs to do as he was told, greeting Wonwoo with an apologetic smile. Wonwoo sighed, walking up to his room to get the rest he was yearning for for the past week. He closed his door, padding towards his window to move the curtains shut. Without any source of light coming into his room, he laid down on his unmade bed, sighing as his head softly hit the pillows.

Wonwoo didn’t realise he fell asleep until a gentle nudge awoke him from his nap. “Wonu, it’s dinner time,” Soonyoung whispered, afraid to frighten Wonwoo with his normal tone of voice.

Wonwoo hummed in response, nuzzling his head against the pillow, “I’ll be down in a sec, Hoshi.” Soonyoung patted his cheek gently before making his way out of the room while Wonwoo tried his best to sleep again. However, Wonwoo’s ear perked up to the sound of his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans.

He released an irritated sigh as he unhurriedly answered the phone. “Hello?” Wonwoo greeted with sleep dripping from his voice. “Wonwoo?” the person on the other line asked. Wonwoo’s sleepy eyes widened at the sound of Jiyeon’s, his ex-girlfriend’s, voice. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as Wonwoo sat up on his bed.

“What do you want?” he asked without any hint of friendliness in his voice. He heard something shuffle on Jiyeon’s end before she began to sob uncontrollably. Wonwoo could only roll his eyes at how pathetic she could be.

“P-please take me back, I promise I’ll be faithful to you and only you. He was a mistake, you have to believe me,” Jiyeon cried but Wonwoo remained stoic despite her pleas. He muttered a quick “no” before ending the call with her. He sighed for the last time before laying back down on his bed again.

—

Wonwoo devoured the pork belly Jeonghan left on the kitchen table for him since he took another nap after the unexpected call from Jiyeon. He began to ponder on the idea of getting back with his ex while he placed his plate on the rack. However, he quickly dismissed the idea after he remembered the pain he went through when he caught Jiyeon and her classmate in the middle of a makeout session on her bed. Wonwoo couldn’t believe his eyes and his first instinct was to punch the guy before fleeing the scene in tears.

But he couldn’t deny the hurt coursing through him after the phonecall he had with her but he also knew it was wrong to keep hurting himself like that. His eyes lingered on the washed plate, blinking once in awhile to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. Mingyu, who entered the kitchen not too long ago, watched him as he leaned silently on the fridge, careful not to scare him although it failed as soon as Wonwoo faced the door. The older male jumped, clutching his chest in the process. “Kim Mingyu, what the hell?” Mingyu waved at him from where he was standing, a sad smile on his lips.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo shook his head, knowing that he had already drunkenly poured out his feelings to Mingyu and the rest of his housemates for weeks after the breakup. He didn’t want to burden them more with his personal problems.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I just need to get some fresh air.”

—

He wandered around his university campus, finding the empty rooftop Mingyu mentioned the night before. Mingyu discovered it after a stressful exam where he walked around campus, trying to find somewhere to spill his tears. And that’s when he found the rooftop of the science building, empty and abandoned through the blurriness of his tears.

Wonwoo spotted the science building and made his way up through a secret passage that Mingyu instructed him to take. He climbed the rusty stairs that creaked with every step he took which alarmed him but he continued his way up anyway. When he got to the top, he found the door shut tightly which he nudged open with all the force he could muster.

When the door finally budged, Wonwoo heard a loud curse which made him panic at the sound coming from the other side.

“Who the fuck?”

“Shit I’m so so so sorry-”

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, help me up.”

Wonwoo blinked at you for a couple of seconds before your words registered in his mind. He let out a faint “oh right” before offering you his hand. You gladly took it, wincing at the shooting pain in your elbow which you were convinced was bleeding.

“Fuck, my elbow’s bleeding. Thanks a lot you idiot.”

Wonwoo reached out to grab your elbow in his hand. His eyes lingered on your bleeding elbow before taking some unused tissues that were shoved in his coat pocket. He dabbed the tissue on the bleeding wound, wincing now and again.

“You do know I’m the one bleeding and not you?” you scoffed, your eyes focused on his face rather than the blood trickling down your elbow.

“You shouldn’t have been standing there anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.

“So you think it’s my fault?” you questioned.

“No, why are you even up here at this ungodly hour,” he whispered, not wanting you to hear.

“I could ask you the same,” you replied. Wonwoo took out another tissue and asked you to hold it in place since he didn’t have any band aids with him, but you shrugged off his order and thanked him instead before taking a seat on the ground. You chugged the remaining beer in your can and crushed it with your hands.

Wonwoo watched you with curious eyes as you cracked open another can and handed it over to him. You stood up and gathered the cans of beer lying on the ground before making your way towards the door.

“Rooftop’s all yours.”

You were gone before Wonwoo could answer. He began to wonder who you were and what you were doing on the rooftop at this hour of the night but he realised that maybe you were here for the same reason he was; to get away from reality. He took a long sip of the beer you handed him, his eyes spotting a notebook where the crush cans were once scattered.

He reached out, reading the black ink across the cover of the notebook, y/n. he didn’t mean to flip through it but curiosity got the better of him and he opened the notebook to find art pieces scattered on the pages.

“Huh, aren’t you a mystery.”

—

You awoke the following morning to the sound of your roommate yelling at you. As soon as you opened your eyes, you instantly massaged your temples to soothe your throbbing headache but it wasn’t enough to calm the soreness you were feeling. Your roommate’s voice did nothing to help ease the pain and Seungkwan only worsened it by pushing your bedroom door against the wall with a loud thud.

“Drunk again?” he huffed, pinching his nostrils close to stop the smell of alcohol from making him gag. Seungkwan never liked it when you drank, he didn’t like the smell and he certainly hated the fact that you were slowly drowning yourself with alcohol to make the pain of losing someone go away. Seungkwan tried to convince you that he could help but you always turned down his offer with a lousy excuse that you “can handle it”. As a year passed by, your drinking habit only worsened but you still managed to ace your classes and somehow function with all the alcohol that was in your system.

“That’s the last time I’ll ever drink Seungkwan, I promise,” you stuck your pinky finger towards him, wiggling it as you waited for him to wrap his own around your finger. You really wanted to stop and this time, you wanted to keep your promise to your bestfriend to ease the worries he had for you and your health. Seungkwan could only sigh at his bestfriend as he took your pinky finger around his.

“I made you hangover soup y/n” is all he said after he turned on his heel and left your room with a quiet sigh. You looked around your room, the curtains still shut to prevent any source of light from shining through the window but the god awful smell of alcohol that reeked in your room was enough for you to stand up and pull the curtains open. You nudged the window with your hand and the sudden gust of wind had you almost stepping back by its force. You still welcomed it and as you cleaned around your room, the smell of alcohol slowly dissipated (with the help of some yankee candles).

When you entered the kitchen, the smell of bacon made your stomach churn and your nose wrinkle at the slight scent of burning food. “Seungkwan! your bacon is burning,” you yelled, walking over to remove the bacon from the frying pan. You heard Seungkwan yell something you couldn’t quite hear so you shrugged and turned off the hob. Your eyes landed on the hangover soup he made you and your stomach growled at the sight.

“Thanks for the soup, Kwannie,” you yelled out to him.

You were thankful for the fact that your photography lecture didn’t start until one in the afternoon so you had plenty of time to soothe your headache and plan out your night carefully without having to involve bottles and bottles of soju this time. You wanted to go up to the rooftop to retrieve your notebook that you forgot to take before leaving the handsome stranger all alone.

Your mind wandered back to him. You remembered the panic in his eyes when he saw the blood gushing down your elbow and it made you chuckle slightly. You lifted up your elbow to glance down if a scab was starting to form on the wound. Your grimaced at the sight and continued to eat your soup again.

“Hey, I found this in your jacket,” Seungkwan held up some bloody tissues with a worried look on his face. You shook your head at him, raising your pointer finger asking him to wait.

“I fell yesterday,” you finally spoke once your mouth was clear of any traces of food. Seungkwan quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands settling on his hips to wait for an explanation.

“I was up at the rooftop last night and some guy pushed the door open and I happened to be sitting right in front of it which was totally my fault,” you explained. You watched as your bestfriend sighed, walking over to the bin to throw at the tissues.

“You should be more careful next time y/n.”

“Sorry Seungkwan,” you picked at your food guiltily. You didn’t want to worry him all the time but you always manage to anyway. He watched you pick at your food for a while before making his way over towards you.

“Look at me,” he muttered softly, bringing his hand under your chin. You raised your head to look up at him. He gave you a small smile before pressing his lips on your forehead.

“You know I’ll always be here for you y/n, right?”

—

Wonwoo awoke not too long ago because of Seokmin and Mingyu yet again. He rolled his eyes when he heard Mingyu yelling as Seokmin chased him around the house. He stretched his arms above his head, his top slowly riding up to reveal a small section of his lower stomach. He grabbed his glasses that were sitting on his bedside table along with the notebook that belonged to you.

He mentally noted to ask Minghao if he knew anyone called “y/n”. It seemed like you were an art student so Minghao was the first person he thought of. He stood up from his made and made his way over to his bathroom to start getting ready for his morning lectures.

He brushed his teeth slowly, his mind wandering back to how you cursed at him last night which made him chuckle at the memory. He didn’t mean to continue flipping through your artwork last night but he was mesmirised by your pieces. He even found a picture of you tucked between the last few pages of your notebook and he admired the small smile that you gave the camera.

“WONU!” Mingyu yelled from outside, making him slightly choke on water as he gargled.

“Food’s ready downstairs!”

“I’ll be out in a sec Mingyu.”

—

You fished out your phone from your pocket, turning the flashlight on to help you see the rusty stairs better. The sound of the stairs leading to the rooftop creaked slightly with every step you took.

“These steps are going to break one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, keeping the cup of coffee near your chest to warm you up. The weather didn’t co-operate with you tonight. You were forced to wear something warm by your bestfriend and he even made you wear a beanie to protect your head from the cold.

As soon as you got to the top, you pushed the door open with your frame. When the steel door finally opened, you quickly heard a loud thud when it hit something or someone as soon as it opened.

“Shit,” you heard a deep voice say from the other side.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you began to apologise as you pulled the door shut to reveal the person that was standing behind it and to your surprise, you found the stranger from last night, clutching his arm tightly. You both gave each other a look of shock before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“You again?” you both said at the same time.

“I guess I deserved that,” Wonwoo said, sitting back down on the ground. You gave him a guilty look before sitting beside him.

“I’m really sorry about your arm,” you said, poking it before sipping on your hot coffee. He quirked an eyebrow at you, “I’m surprised you’re not cursing me out right now.” You gave him another guilty look, blowing on your coffee and taking another sip to before answering him.

“That wasn’t me yesterday,” you said, giggling as Wonwoo rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t even know your name,” you laughed.

“I remember you giving me a name last night though.”

“What?”

“Yeah, something along the lines of idiot,” he teased, watching as your eyes widened in surprise again.

“I’m so embarrassing,” you groaned, placing your coffee on the ground to cover your heating face with your hands. You heard Wonwoo laugh at your embarrassment, patting your back as you continued to mutter words to yourself.

“Don’t sweat about it y/n,” he giggled. Your ears perked up to the sound of your name leaving his lips, not remembering if you told him your name or not.

“How’d you know my name,” you asked, removing your hands away from your face. He gave you a shy smile before pulling your missing notebook out of his jacket. He waved it around before handing it back to you.

“You forgot this last night and I may have snooped around.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..I was just really intrigued by your art. They’re all amazing by the way,” he complimented, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at you.

“Oh no, it’s absolutely okay. Thanks for bringing it back to me and thanks for the compliments,” you shyly replied, picking up your cup of coffee again. Comfortable silence enveloped you while you both looked at the bright moon. You suddenly remembered why you were up here.

“Shoot,” you whispered, fishing out your camera that was tucked carefully in your jacket.

“Do you mind if I do something for my photography class?” you glaced at Wonwoo.

“No go ahead,” he smiled.

Wonwoo watched as you brought the camera up to face, adjusting the lens before taking multiple shots of the night sky. Wonwoo would be lying if he didn’t think the view before him was mesmerising. He didn’t know why the beating of his heart fastened when you looked satisfied at the shots you took.

“Can I ask for your opinion...” you started.

“Wonwoo.”

“Right, so can I ask for your opinion on these pictures Wonwoo?” you shyly asked him, tucking piece of hair behind your ear.

“Let me see them,” he scooted closer to you, leaning down to look at the pictures.

And that’s how you and Wonwoo spent the rest of the night, chatting about your art, his course and anything that you and him could think of. You and Wonwoo didn’t realise it was past one in the morning until Seungkwan texted you to come home.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, quickly standing up and gathering your notebook and the empty cup of coffee in your hands. Wonwoo also stood up, taking his phone out before thrusting it in your direction.

“C-can I maybe have your number y/n? I’d really like to talk to you more,” he asked, his ears turning red at his own question. You nodded, taking his phone to put your number in his contacts.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment if you want?” he offered.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you replied, chucking the empty cup into the bed as soon as you got down from the rooftop.

“Let’s get you home then.”

—

You tapped your fingers on your thighs, waiting patiently for Wonwoo to come pick you up from your apartment. It had been four months since you and Wonwoo met on the rooftop. You both realised how much you complimented each other. It was nice that he got you to experience some of his hobbies while you taught him the things you were learning in your photography lectures. He was also patient with you whenever you were in one of your moods while you gave him the space he needed whenever he was having a hard time with things he would rather not tell you, yet.

Seungkwan and Mingyu even thought that you and him were good for each other. You were barely drinking now and even if you did, it was always with Wonwoo at the convenience store, talking about everything and anything your minds could think of.

You’ve grown to love Wonwoo’s company.

Woo 🐱: I’m outside your apartment bld ☺️

You: Be down in a sec 💕

You yelled out to Seungkwan that you were going, slipping your shoes on by the door before leaving your apartment with a big smile on your face. You and Wonwoo decided to visit the museum outside your university campus. You were excited to to find some inspiration for your upcoming art project and Wonwoo just wanted to spend time with you.

“Hey,” you walked over to Wonwoo, giving him a side hug.

“Do you think you’d be able to come with me to the recording studio after going to the museum?” he grabbed your elbow before crossing the street to get to the bus stop.

“Yeah, are you and Jihoon recording a new song?” you hummed, taking out your bus card when you saw the bus approaching.

“Yeah, it’s for our music theory class. Jihoon wanted to put some vocals on his new track so he asked me to be his partner.”

You’ve never heard Wonwoo sing but according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, he sounded angelic whenever he sung.

“Can’t wait,” you tapped your bus card, taking a seat at the back by the window. Wonwoo followed you, sitting beside and leaning his head on your shoulder. He yawned, closing his eyes and nuzzling his head against your shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Just a little bit,” he yawned again.

“I’ll wake you up when we’re near.”

—

You walked around the museum in silence with your notebook in hand, doodling some pieces that sparked your interest. Wonwoo, on the other hand, read each and every information that came along with the art pieces. You found it adorable when he would tilt his head as he focused on reading the information. He would look at you whenever you giggled at him, smiling and nudging you with his hip.

Your eyes landed on the final artwork in the museum, a grin making its way to your face. It was a simple artwork of the moon but the different shades of dark colours to mimic the sky made you more and more interested in the artwork. Wonwoo finally caught up to you and stood by your side.

“I..i think this is my favourite out of them all y/n,” he whispered beside you.

“Mine too.” You took out your notebook again, doodling on your notebook while Wonwoo watched you. You didn’t notice that Wonwoo took out his phone and backed away from you slightly. He tapped his phone to get his camera to focus on you, taking a picture of you as you doodled on your notebook.

“Beautiful,” he whispered quietly.

You looked up at Wonwoo, smiling brightly at him.

“I think I’m done ‘Woo,” you finally showed him your drawing, his eyes looking at the artwork.

“You’re so talented y/n!” He ruffled your hair before placing his arm around your shoulder. Wonwoo and you looked at the artwork for the last time.

“To the studio we go?”

“To the studio we go.”

—

“If you keep staring at Wonwoo like that, he might melt,” Mingyu sneaked up from behind you. You jolted in your seat, clutching your chest as you tried to calm your beating heart.

“Are you serious Kim Mingyu?”

“I didn’t realise you were this jumpy y/n.”

You threw a piece of crumpled paper at his face which he dodged, knocking the spare seat along the way. This caught the attention of a couple of people that were quietly sipping on their beverages in the coffee shop. Wonwoo watched you and Mingyu bicker while he took another coffee order. He chuckled softly when he saw you throw another piece of crumpled paper at Mingyu’s face.

While you and Mingyu were bickering about your apparent feelings for Wonwoo, both of you didn’t notice Wonwoo’s face drop when his ex-girlfriend entered the coffee shop. Mingyu finally looked up to find Wonwoo arguing with Jiyeon at the side of the coffee shop. Seungcheol who now took over Wonwoo’s shift, glanced at the younger male with worry evident on his face.

You didn’t notice what was happening until Mingyu tapped your shoulder.

“C-can you do me a favour y/n?”

You hummed in response, looking up to see Mingyu’s face. You dropped your pencil immediately and gave all your attention to Mingyu.

“I need you to pretend to be Wonwoo’s girlfriend like right now,” he blurted out.

“What the fuck?”

He nibbled on his lower lip before pointing his finger at Wonwoo who looked distressed as he talked to a girl you didn’t recognise.

“Who-”

“Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend who cheated on him.”

With that piece of information, you stood up quickly and made your way towards Wonwoo. You looped your arms through his and placed your head on his arm.

“Baby,” you whined, catching both of their attention.

“I-”

“You have a girlfriend now Wonwon?” she sounded hurt as she looked you up and down.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Yeah, now please leave before my girlfriend makes a scene. And you wouldn’t like that. Trust me.”

You waved at her mockingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and dragging him where you and Mingyu were sat at.

“I want the ground to swallow me whole,” you groaned when you and the boys watched Jiyeon disappear from the coffee shop.

“You owe ME Jeon!”

“How about a free kiss?” Mingyu suggested making you and Wonwoo glare at him.

“How about an explanation? Meet me at the rooftop at 8 tonight?” he glanced at the clock, realising that his break was nearly over.

“I’ll see you later,” he placed a quick peck on your forehead, leaving you and Mingyu by yourselves again.

“Forehead kisses, multiple dates and rooftop sessions? And you two still AREN’T dating?!”

“Oh fuck off Kim Mingyu.”

—

“So she fucking cheated on you and now she’s asking for you to take her back?”

Wonwoo nodded, eating another cheeseball that you bought for him before coming up to the rooftop.

“And are you going to?” you asked nervously, not knowing why your heart hurt at the thought of Wonwoo taking back Jiyeon. It’s not like there was anything going on between you two, you thought.

You saw him hesitate, swallowing another cheeseball.

“I kinda thought about it but no, I’m never going to take her back. I don’t want to go through the pain all over again.”

You sighed in relief, “Good.”

“Why? You scared I won’t spend as much time with you anymore?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

Wonwoo watched you shyly eat a piece of chicken, avoiding his eyes. He scooted closer to you until your arms were touching. He placed an arm around your waist and placed his head on top of yours.

“Never, sweetheart. You’re very special to me, you know,” he whispered softly.

“O-okay.”

—

You were gasping for air once you woke up from your dream. You saw the look of disappointment on his face again, making your heart clench with sadness all over again.

“Not again,” you cried, placing your covers over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your hands were shaking at this point and you knew you were having an episode again. You tried to breathe calmly but memories of your time with him kept appearing in your mind.

“F-fuck,” you reached out to grab your phone from the bedside table. You dialled Wonwoo’s number, placing the phone on your ear. After the fifth ring, Wonwoo picked up humming as you called out his name.

“H-help me,” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to tell him the passcode to your apartment door.

“I’m on my way sweetheart. Please breathe for me okay? I’ll be there in no time.”

Wonwoo arrived ten minutes later, panting when he finally entered your room. He rushed over to your bed and removed your covers so that he could take you in his arms.

“I’m here baby, i’m here,” he took you in his lap, and began to rock you body gently to soothe your cries.

“I’m right here,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, on your forehead and finally, on your cheek.

You gripped his shirt while you attempted to calm yourself down. You focused on his lips and then on his hushed voice.

“Woo,” you finally called out.

“I’m here y/n.”

“I’m s-sorry I called you here.”

“Don’t, you know I’ll always be here.”

—

After that night, you made it your job to avoid Wonwoo at all cost. You were embarrassed. You also realised how attached you’ve become to him. Seungkwan tried to get you to meet up with him and even Mingyu begged for you to stop avoiding Wonwoo.

“You’re leaving him in the dark y/n,” Seungkwan argued for the nth time. You sighed, leaning your canvas on the wall.

“I’m really busy Kwannie, can we not talk about this today?”

“Just admit that you’ve grown feelings for Wonwoo and you’re afraid that he might leave you!” Seungkwan blurted out. You dropped your paintbrush on the ground when Seungkwan snapped at you.

“I KNOW!” Seungkwan flinched as you yelled back at him.

“I’m scared I might lose him too but you can’t blame me for my own trauma Seungkwan! Now get out,” you picked up your brush again, turning your back away from him.

—

You knew you were dreaming. It had to be a dream because he was here. He was in your arms while you talked about your on going piece of artwork. Vernon leaned his head on your chest while he played with your fingers that were placed on his chest.

“I love you, you know that right?”

You gripped his fingers tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go incase he disappeared like he always did whenever you had a dream about him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to save you, Vernon-”

“Shh, what happened to me was not your fault y/n,” he got up from where he was laying on your chest and took you in his lap.

“Nothing was your fault, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“I shouldn’t have fought with you that day,” you mumbled, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. You gripped his shirt as he continued to whisper calming words into your ear.

“I want you to be happy. I’m at peace now, y/n.” Vernon kissed your cheek before he disappeared again.

You jolted awake, gasping for air again. Clutching your chest, you called out for Seungkwan who heard you since he was sweeping outside your door. He barged in with the sweeping brush in his hand.

“Vernon again?” You nodded, sniffling while you opened your arms for him.

“I know he’s watching over you y/n.”

You sobbed in his shirt, seeping the piece of clothing with your tears. Seungkwan’s heart broke when he continued to rub your back. He shook his head at how unfair the world could be. You didn’t deserve the heart ache of losing Vernon to a crash. You didn’t deserve to lose the man that was once the love of your life.

“What happened to Vernon wasn’t your fault, y/n.”

“I-i know,” you breathed out, “V-vernon told me it wasn’t. Seungkwan, he finally talked to me in my dreams.”

Seungkwan gave you a soft smile, soothing you with comforting words again.

“I know he’d love for you to be happy with Wonwoo.”

—

A month passed by when you saw Wonwoo again. It was only for a couple of minutes until him and Jihoon entered the studio. Despite only seeing him for a few minutes, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he looked at you.

You clutched the canvas tighter against your chest as you made your way to the arts building to go into the studio to finally finish your painting that was going to be included in the exhibition a few days. When you entered the studio, you flicked the lights on and settled your canvas against the wall. You rolled your sleeves up and began to prepare your paints and paintbrushes that were going to finalise your artwork.

It took you 5 hours to complete your painting, your cheek and denim overalls sporting splotches of paint on them. You stood back and admired your work of art. You fished out your phone and captured a picture of your painting to send to Seungkwan.

While you were cleaning your brushes, your mind wandered back to a memory that inspired your artwork.

You and Wonwoo were walking home after spending hours on the rooftop. He urged you to go to the rooftop after he had a rough day. When you arrived at the rooftop, Wonwoo was already sitting on the ground with a can of beer clutched in his hand. He heard you but he didn’t bother turning around with how tired he was. You leaned down behind Wonwoo and wrapped your arms around him, placing your chin on his shoulder. You remembered Wonwoo spilling everything that went wrong that day while you hugged him tighter to calm him down.

After spending hours on the rooftop, he decided to walk you home. He was back to his normal self, nudging you with his hip as he teased you about hugging him on the rooftop for hours. You giggled when he tipsily laughed at a joke you told him. You reached for your phone that was in the back pocket of your jeans.

You quickly took a picture of Wonwoo while he laughed at another joke you told him.

“Hey! No fair,” he whined, chasing you down the empty streets of Seoul.

—

“Hey y/n, are you inviting Wonwoo to the exhibition?” Seungkwan chewed on a piece of gum while typing something on his phone.

“I already did.”

“What did he say?”

“Left me on read.”

“I’m sure he’ll come y/n,” Seungkwan reassured, squeezing your hand.

—

It was the day of the exhibition and you were walking around the hall to look at your other classmates’ paintings. You chatted to some of them and complimented them on their work while they gushed about yours. They loved the idea of your painting of the moon and a boy who was admiring the night sky. You thanked her, smiling at her art work again.

The event was coming to an end but you saw no sight of Wonwoo. Mingyu, Jihoon and even Soonyoung dropped by to see your work of art. The three of them admired your painting for awhile until it finally clicked in their minds who the boy was. They whipped their heads towards you at the same time, wearing matching smirks to tease you.

“Wonwoo huh?” Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows making you chuckle at him.

“Do you know if he’s coming?” you bit your lower lip, fiddling with your hands as you awaited for their answer.

The three boys looked at you with sympathetic smiles, “We’re not sure y/n.” They bid you goodbye after you chatted with them for a while, leaving you on your own again. Some people came up to you to ask you about your painting, asking what prompted you to paint the moon and a boy.

“Just someone special,” you smiled at the old lady.

The event came to an end at 8pm and your professor thanked all of you for presenting your paintings to the public. You were beyond tired when you grabbed your back from the staff room, wanting nothing more than to pick up some food from your favourite takeaway shop and watch reruns of your favourite show with Seungkwan.

You were the last person to leave the hall as your other classmates have already left while you were grabbing your belongings. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t disappointed that Wonwoo didn’t come to the event. However, you knew it was your fault for pushing him away when all he wanted was to be there for you.

You started walking away from the hall, halting once you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. You froze when you heard footsteps nearing you. He was here, you thought.

You turned around to see Wonwoo with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled softly at you once he was in front of you. Wonwoo handed you the flowers and you gladly took them from his hand.

“I didn’t want to disturb you when you were talking to people so I decided not to come up to you and just admire your work from afar.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it y/n,” he stared at you, silence enveloping you both.

“Good, you were the inspiration for that painting,” you sheepishly revealed. He blushed at your words, tucking his hands behind the pockets of his jeans.

“How about I walk you back to your apartment?”

“I’d love that.”

You walked side by side in comfortable silence with only the noises of passing cars filling in the silence that enveloped you both. It was nice seeing Wonwoo again and you loved the new hair colour he was sporting now.

When you neared your apartment building, Wonwoo spotted the playground that he frequently passed by whenever he collected you from your apartment. He nudged your hip with his own, pointing at the swings nearby.

“Wanna chat for a bit?” You could only nod, following him as he led the way to the swings. You sat down on of the swings while he sat on the other, immediately pushing himself off. You watched in amusement as he got higher and higher, wanting to do the same. But you were too tired to even move your legs so you decided just to watch him goof off.

“Woo,” you called out.

He suddenly stopped, using his feet to stop himself from swinging any further. He turned towards you, raising his eyebrows to urge you to speak.

“I-i’m really sorry for avoiding you,” you started, fiddling with the flowers that laid on your lap.

“Wanna tell me why you did?”

You looked up at him, his eyes staring intently at you. You gulped, feeling nervous the more he looked at you with curious eyes.

“I didn’t want you to get to close..because I was afraid I’d lose you like I lost my ex-boyfriend,” you confessed, running your hand through your hair. You saw him furrow his eyebrows, probably confused as to why you were afraid of losing him when you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“H-he died after a drunk driver knocked him over,” you whispered, “He was going home after we argued at my apartment and that was the last conversation we had before he died the same night.”

Wonwoo gasped softly, standing up and kneeling in front of you. He tilted your head up with his pointer finger to get you to look at him. You didn’t resist, wanting nothing more but to look at Wonwoo. Tears started to form in your eyes once they met his.

“I’m really sorry Woo,” you sobbed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, both of you nuzzling your heads into each other’s necks. You and him stayed in that position until he his knee started aching.

“You gotta let go of me for a bit, baby, my knees are starting to ache.” With the mention of the term of endearment, your heartbeat quickened.

“Baby huh?” You asked, your eyebrow raised at him.

“Yeah, because you’re my baby now,” he teased, offering you his hand to take. You gladly accepted it, swinging it softly as you and him continued to walk to your apartment building.

“I’ve something for you to listen to before you go to sleep, baby,” he smiled. You turned your head towards him, seeing the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “What is it?” you asked. “I already sent it to you, you just have to play it when you get home okay?” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso. You rested your chin against his chest while you both stood outside your apartment building. You didn’t want to let him go nor did he want to leave you just yet.

“Wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” he asked, leaning down to peck your forehead with his lips. You nodded again, placing the side of your head against his chest. “I’d love to.”

“No more running away okay?” You pinched his back lightly before nodding again to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere again. Despite the fear of losing him in the future lingering in the back of your mind, you were only certain of one thing. You were completely and utterly in love with the man who pushed a steel door against your body that one strange night. He was someone that your heart was longing for and he was the one who helped you heal your heart piece by piece like you did with his.

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo oneshots #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you

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lfc21 · 2 years

Text

The perfect pancakes

Pancake day. What a day. You loved pancakes more than alot of things, since forever probably. Pancake day was the day you could eat as many pancakes as possible and try and make the coolest topping combinations and it got more and more important every year. Luckily jordan had quite a love for pancakes aswell as you, which made you seem slightly less crazy when it came to the love of them. Jordan had grown up knowing that pancake day was the day to end up in a food comer due to the serious amounts of pancakes being eaten.

"Jords I'm ready!" You shouted stood in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to help you with your pancake competition for the liverpool YouTube channel.

"Coming" jordan shouted rushing down the stairs aswell as trying to pull a hoodie over his head and body. He ran through the kitchen doors in order to start the assignment he had been given aswell as many other teammates, their wives and their families also. You often got involved with some of the challenges they had to do for the media as it was surprisingly very fun. Lockdown really showed the world how cute you and jordan actually where due to the live training sessions at home and cute challenges.

"Right come on then" you said walking over to your phone and placed it infront of you both giving a perfect view of you and jordan behind your kitchen island with all your supplies. You pressed record and instantly got a wave of nerves as you would be plastered all over the Internet without your control whereas on Instagram you had all the power to control what you let the world see of you.

"Hi guys so we have a challenge sent from klopp, we have to make the perfect pancakes in under 5 mins! I think it's going to be quite a difficult one" jordan explained to the phone as it recored his every move, you tried not to laugh as you could never take serious jordan very serious.

"Come on then captain" you joked trying to find your phone to start to the timer. Jordan grabbed it from the side and got the timer ready, far to excited for what's to come.

"3...2...1...go!" Jordan shouted quickly clicking on the timer to start the challenge. You quickly ran over to the hob and pored a whole load of pancake mix onto a pan and prayed for the best. You had become extremely quite as you concentrated on the real hard part of pancake day. You where placed in the background of the shot wearing Jordans hoodie and some shorts which was actually a cute hoodie and you of course knew the fans would pick up on the fact it is the captains hoodie.

"Shit babe help!" Jordan shouted over at you as he couldn't open the back of chocolate chips. You ran over in a fast speed not wanting to burn the house down with pancakes already cooking away.

"There you go you child" you laughed throwing them back to him causing a few to fall down onto the cabinet. Jordan sneakly ate a chocolate chip infront of the camera and placed his finger on his lips to keep quite as a joke. You hadn't seen what we was doing as you started to take real care flipping the pancake over which you couldn't do.

"Jordan help quick I cant do it!" You shouted with puppy eyes as he quickly ran towards you throwing the chocolate out of the way and landing on the floor behind him.

"I know we don't have long but let's be careful" you added again with a laugh at his quick and fire behaviour due to him grabbing the pan as quick as lightning. Jordan flipped the pancake perfectly feeling a huge amount of happiness knowing he hadn't smashed it into the floor.

"Babe 3 mins" jordan shouted noticing your phone dancing away with the minutes. You quickly ran over with the pan placing it down on the plate ever so gently. You hoped jordan had a good eye for creativity when it came to pancake toppings as you couldn't bare to loose this against his teammates and their partners, especially trent and your best friend who had been known for some absolute worldies when it came to food decorating.

"Hang on let me do something" you announced grabbing the can of squirty cream from the side proceeding to add lots of little blobs around the whole pancake making it look like a cloud.

"Ooooo that's effective" jordan said with a smile as he could very clearly see you where quite proud of yourself.

"A minute and a half jords" you said with panic. Jordan suddenly jumped onto the kitchen island with a packet full of sprinkles.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You questioned with a laugh as you had visions of him falling off the worktops or worst falling down onto the beautiful pancake. Jordan held his hand out to stop you talking and lightly sprinkled sprinkles making it look rather pretty. He looked quite scary as his head had to be bent so he didn't put a whole threw the ceiling due to his tall 6ft frame.

"Woooow it looks like a rainbow has threw up on it" you joked with a giggle as he jumped down and grabbed your waist. Jordan pulled your body into his with a huge smile due to him being rather proud of you both. You fell into him and stayed there for a moment in the comfortable silence. Until.

RING. RING. RING

"Times up" you shouted clicking the button to shut it up and giving jordan the biggest high five. You showed the phone your pancake and gently put it back down next to jordan. You had an idea. A perfect idea.

"Babe smell that cream for me, I think it's gone off?" You asked innocently pretending you where genuinely confused at what was going on.

"What? It can't be I bought it yesterday" he explained leaning Into the pancake. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the pancake causing you to keel over laughing. Jordan jumped up in shock feeling extremely stupid on how he hadn't realised you would do something like that.

#jordan henderson x y/n #jordan henderson x reader #jordan henderson imagines #jordan henderson imagine #jordan henderson #england fc imagines #england x reader #england team imagine #england imagines #lfc masterlist #lfc imagines #liverpool imagines

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years

Text

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 8

You have been back in New York a couple of weeks now. You had spent a few days recovering, at the word of Tony Stark, your boss, and then took on a few small jobs. They were jobs that didn't require you for more than few hours.

Standing outside nightclubs, escorting an official to a meeting, being present at an event. Nothing major like protecting a Baron from a group of individuals who wanted him dead.

If you were being quite honest, you were missing that assignment. You were missing him.

These little jobs were starting to feel dull. A part of you wondered if it was because you were worried. How were you suppose to carry on when you knew there were dangerous people out there?

Somehow, you just did.

Then one day things changed. You turned up at the headquarters at Stark's request. Everyone else was still stationed in Sokovia for the time being. You were beginning to miss them.

You check your suit out before entering the office, wanting to look your best for your boss. It always made you feel good to look good when working.

You knock on the door.

"Come in."

You enter the office and close the door behind you. Tony Stark is sitting at his desk. He had just got off the phone as you entered.

"Take a seat."

You sit down.

Tony places a folder in front of you on his desk. He sits back in his chair, links his fingers together, and looks at you.

You look at the folder, then at him.

"Open it."

You pull the folder open slowly and look down at the page in front of you. Now you were just confused. In front of you was a photo of Baron Helmut Zemo. The page looked pretty much the same as fine report you got last time.

You look up at Stark.

"What is this?"

"A job."

"You want me back on the assignment?" You ask, looking at him.

Tony shakes his head slowly.

"Read it."

You look down at the report and read it. The more you read, the more confused you became. The details were vague.

I, Helmut Zemo, request the presence of Y/N L/N at Castle Zemo, Novi Grad, Sokovia, immediately. Please note, they may refuse the invite and remain situated in New York.

He was asking for you.

You look back at Tony Stark. His expression doesn't give anything away as he remains seated in the same position looking at you.

"He is asking for me?"

"Yes."

"He wants me back on the assignment?"

"Maybe. I don't know. All I received was that file and strict instructions to show it to you."

You look back at the file.

"You can refuse."

You look at the Baron's name on the top of the page.

Helmut Zemo.

Was he giving you a second chance because he felt bad? The thought made your heart flutter.

You look up at Stark.

"I'll do it. I'll go."

Tony's expression doesn't change. You can't tell if he's happy about it or not. He just shrugs.

"Alright. I'll organise the flight."

He dismisses you right after that. You take the file and return to your room. So many thoughts are running through your head. Your should still ached, but you were confident you could go back and do the hob again.

You would happily take another bullet for him.

The very next day you were on the plane to Sokovia. Tony Stark saw you off himself and you sent a message ahead to your friends.

You: I'm coming back. The Baron has requested me.

You couldn't wait. You wanted to see them all, assure them you were fine, and most of all, find out why the Baron had sent out an invite like that.

You wanted to see him again.

The photo doesn't do him any justice. To understand just how fine of a man he is, you need to see him with your own eyes. It was incredibly unprofessional of you to be having such thoughts, but you couldn't help it.

The Baron is a very handsome man.

It was late in the day when you arrived. You had sent a message ahead to tell your friends what time you would be landing. Steve had replied to assure you the Baron was sending a car to pick you up.

Apparently, he had wanted to come get you himself, the Baron that is, but was too busy rearranging the meetings he was suppose to attend over the past couple of weeks.

Knowing that information made something within you stir.

The plane lands, you get your suitcase, and you head outside to find a sleek black car waiting for you. Bucky climbs out of the car with Steve and you hug them both, happy to be back.

Bucky takes your suitcase and Steve opens the door for you. You find it funny the way they are treating you.

"I'm not the Baron, you know."

"We know," Steve replies.

He doesn't say any more on the matter and gets back into the drivers seat. Bucky sits in the passenger seat and smiles at you over his shoulder. You get comfortable in the back.

"We are glad to see you back at work," Bucky says, smiling at you again.

"It's good to be back."

"Stark said he sent you on some small jobs."

"Yeah. They felt rather dull compared to what we have been through," you laugh softly.

"We've missed you," Steve says.

You smile.

"The Baron has missed you too," Bucky tells you.

You furrow your brow at him.

"He has?"

Bucky nods.

The Baron must really feel bad for the way he was with you. Everything indicates he was sorry. From him getting out of the car to check on you when you had been shot, to visiting you in the hospital, and now inviting you back to his estate.

You felt rather giddy.

The car pulls up the familiar drive with the bare garden and comes to a stop. Steve stops you from getting out on your own and opens your door for you.

You just roll your eyes.

Bucky grabs your suitcase and the two of them lead the way inside. They takes you up to Zemo's office, where Bucky then parts ways with you and leaves you with Steve.

Steve knocks on the door.

"Enter."

Steve opens the door and steps inside first. He steps off to the side and let's you enter after him.

"Y/N has arrived, sir."

Helmut looks up from the file he had been reading rather quickly. He stares at you.

Just as stunning as he remembered you.

"Leave us."

Steve nods and closes the door behind him.

Helmut stands up from his desk and gestures to the chair opposite him. You walk over and take a seat, looking at him.

He hasn't looked away once since you entered.

"I'm glad to see you have recovered," he says, starting off.

"Yes, it took some time, but I'm alright. Thank you for inviting back onto the assignment, sir."

He had discovered just how much he hated hearing you call him that. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips, but even when he had requested it last time, you had said no.

"It is my pleasure, though I haven't officially put you back onto the team yet. I have a proposal for you," he says, sitting back down.

"Oh?"

Helmut pulls out a couple of pieces of paper that been stapled together. He sets them down in front of you and gestures to them.

You could tell it was a contract.

You pick them up and look at them. Silence settles over you both as you read.

He waits with bated breath.

When you have read the terms you look back up at him with a confused glint in your eye.

"This contract..."

"Yes."

"You want me to be your personal bodyguard?"

"Yes."

"To leave Stark Industries and work for you?"

"Yes."

You look at the contract again. He was asking for your employment, not just hiring you from your current status, but to be his personal bodyguard.

"You can refuse and I'll have you sent home immediately."

Though he didn't want that. He wanted you to stay. He knew, after that day, that in tour hands his life was safe. He also knew that deep down he didn't want to be parted from you.

Zemo didn't want to call it a crush, but there was definitely something brewing. He liked you, he really did. It was more than just a crush for him. He wanted to know you and he didn't know any other way to get that other than employ you.

You would be living here, working here, every day.

"The contract would be effective immediately," he tells you.

"What about Stark? He would have to know."

"Well, of course. Would you rather phone him before making a decision?" He offers you the phone sitting on the desk.

"May I?"

"Please."

You set the contract down and pick up the phone.

Helmut sits back in his chair and waits, watching and listening. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

The conversation over the phone is short. You glance up at him several times, agreeing a lot to whatever Stark was saying down the phone. Helmut tried his best not to let it show just how eager he was to hear what was happening.

You agree once more before hanging up the phone.

You look at Zemo.

He sits up straighter in his chair, looking at you with curious brown eyes.

You smile.

God, your smile was a beautiful sight, and you were smiling at him!

"Do you have a pen?" You ask.

That wasn't quite what he was expecting to hear, but he nods and takes a pen from his desk, handing it over to you. You take it from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. You didn't seem to notice, be he did.

He lowers his hand slowly as he watches you sign the contract.

Rather uncharacteristically he wanted to jump from his seat, smiling and cheering, but resists. You have no idea how happy you had just made him.

He remains composed.

You put the pen down and slide the contract back over to him, smiling.

"It's my pleasure to be your bodyguard, sir. I am glad to know you have faith in my skills to do such a job."

He smiles.

Helmut holds his hands out and you take it, shaking it firmly.

He was holding your hand. His heart was having a rave.

You let go.

He feels the loss immediately. Your hand fit so perfectly in his, he felt it belonged in his grasp.

Why am I thinking about you like this?

You stand up and straighten your tie.

"Permission to go get settled before I officially start working?" You ask.

"Permission granted. I shall see you later." He had no idea how he had kept his voice so calm.

You nod and take your leave.

Once the door closes behind you, Helmut drips his face into his hands and leans against his desk using his elbows.

You worked for him now.

He would see you every day.

Every day he would have to pretend he was falling for your charm. You had no idea the affect you had on this man and it was driving him crazy.

Would he be feeling this way if you hadn't saved his life? He had no idea.

All he did know was that he was over the moon you had taken the job.

If he could help it, he would keep you out of harm's way. That might be difficult considering the circumstances, but he never wanted to see you hurt like that again.

He still saw it in his nightmares.

You made your way to your given room. You would be staying here from now on. You would make it your own in due time.

You sat on the bed and smiled.

His own personal bodyguard. You had more than proved your worth.

You were proud of yourself.

Thank you, Baron.

You just had just break it to your friends. Speaking of, Bucky was standing in your doorway looking at you.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, smiling softly.

"Something happened."

For a moment he looks concerned and enters your room.

"What happened?"

You smile as you look at him.

"He hired me."

"I figured he would, that's why he invited you back, right?"

"No, he hired me. I work for him now. I signed his contract. I'm the personal bodyguard of Baron Zemo."

Bucky stands in silence for a moment. You can see him trying to work it out in his mind.

"He hired you as his personal guard?"

"Yes."

Bucky smiles.

"The man is so in love with you, oh my god!"

You stare at him wide eyed.

"He is not!"

"He definitely is," Bucky grins.

"Is not! It just means I proved myself. He doubted me and I showed him I could do it. Feel proud for me."

He smiles softly.

"I am proud, but I'm also not joking. I think he likes you. Zemo missed you while you were gone, and he had been cold and mean after finding out you had been sent home."

You shake your head softly.

"Coincidence. He had been attacked, he has every right to be cold and mean again."

"Y/N, listen to me. He missed you."

You shake your head again and stand up.

"You're delusional. He just trusts me. This does mean we are only colleagues while you're here."

Bucky sighs softly.

"That's a shame, but I'm proud of you. This is a big deal."

"Yeah, it is."

Bucky hugs you before making his leave. He was going to let Steve know about what happened.

You let him go.

You're not sure why, but you had an inkling things were about to change. Something was going to happen and you were going to be happy.

Perhaps it was because you were starting a new chapter of your life here in Sokovia.

Bodyguard to the Baron, what an honour!

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles @apparrio @alex-the-nb @thewrongkhristol @hb8301 @the-chaotic-cow @mssennimatilda

#marvel #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #au #baron helmut zemo #zemo #bodyguard au

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gabessquishytum · 10 months

Note

Dream really do be having that previously neglected shelter dog rizz and y’all be putting him in Situations 😭. Please all I can see him doing is laying pathetically on the floor letting out occasional heaving sighs of sorrow as Hob just carefully steps over him (because Dream somehow always manages to be on the floor directly under where he’s about to step and Hob’s one more tumble away from just investing in a ceiling made of monkey bars).

So now all I can imagine is Dream post-divorce with Calliope (because let’s be real that man came out of the celestial womb divorced and mopey) who finds solace in Hob’s flat and Hob’s occasional attempts to heave him up both physically and emotionally. When Hob’s not frantically almost stepping on his dear friend and braining himself as a result, he’s just sort of resigned himself to the reality that Dream just kind of…lives on his floor now when he’s not in The Dreaming, so he’s like fuck it I’m just gonna keep going about my days. So Dream gets to watch Hob’s daily routines from a brand new perspective, maybe even catch a glimpse of Hob changing in his bedroom when he forgets (read: he did not forget) to close his door, and how he sings awfully in the shower, and loves burnt toast that’s practically char and makes Dream watch terrible human shows and movies all of a sudden Dream’s like oh no I’m in love with him

I just love the idea of Dream moping around looking like a lost dog caught out in the rain for so long that Hob just accepts him as a permanent fixture in the flat. He makes some room in the closet for all of Dream’s nonexistent clothes (he buys him some anyway), he gives him a cupboard in the kitchen and a drawer or two, he gets drunk and tells Dream about all his own failed relationships over the centuries. And when Hob finally snaps and tells Dream that he’s not unloveable and proves that to him by giving him a big sloppy drunk kiss, well Dream’s always wanted more than he’s got, and he can’t stop himself when he doesn’t let Hob pull away, hands gripping the thick meat of his upper thighs, teeth against teeth and gasping into each other’s mouths and suddenly Dream can’t even remember why he was so sad to begin with

I need you to know the phrase "shelter dog rizz" is sending me absolutely wheezing. Iconic.

And honestly? Yeah.

It takes a little while for Hob to get used to the man shaped creature who apparently now lives on the floor, but he figures that Dream has been Going Through Something for the last several thousand years so he probably deserves the opportunity to express his depressive episode in a relatively harmless way. He's still willing to talk to Hob, which is nice. Hob tells him about work and the pub and how he's in a hyperfixation over The Sims at the moment, which happens to him for a few week every year without fail. Dream sometimes talks about the goings on of his realm, and Matthew's shenanigans. A lot of the time he talks about how useless he feels and how, despite the fact that he ought not to feel fatigue at all, he's so tired.

Dream is surprisingly welcome company for Hob (who is lonely, though he would never ever dare to say that word to Dream again). Despite acting like a very strange rug, Dream is present and calming and when Hob lies down beside him on the floor, he feels absolutely peaceful.

Kissing Dream is absolutely the best drunken decision Hob has ever made (and there have been many). Dream melts against his body and the flicker of a smile starts in his eyes before finally quirking at the edge of his mouth.

Suddenly he's quite willing to spend less time on the floor... and more time in bed.

#the sandman #dreamling

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bill-y · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta mellark x male reader

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

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

Part one: Over there, buddy

Part two:You’re here right now. :)

Part three: Click here, pepperoni salami.

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

I separated with Gale and Katniss for a while, telling them I needed air. I sighed, leaping from branch to branch in the thicket of trees. Bread, not just bread, baker's bread. If I'm lucky I could get just enough squirrels for the baker, he had a taste for it but his wife was much of a witch, so he only buys it when she's not around.

I remembered how she found me stealing some burnt bread from the trashcan. I looked at her with wide eyes, frozen, I thought I was going to die, stealing was punishable for death, after all. But she just let me go, screaming about her frustration of Seams picking through her trash.

I got bread that day either way.

I landed on a sturdy branch, spotting a squirrel on the tree adjacent to me; it was quite huge, I'm sure he'd love this. Let's just hope the witch isn't home by the time I give this to him.

I crouched down, still as a statue as I watched the squirrel run up and down the tree. I pulled out the thin, glistening dagger, unwrapping its course, leather bindings, which became a makeshift thin rope. I felt my eyes unconsciously widen, watching the squirrel's movements.

My arm aimed, then with a simple flick, the dagger whistled through the air. The small creature was then pinned to the bark of the tree through its eyes. The dagger's blade was thin enough to not damage anything when aimed right.

I pulled on the rope, the blade coming back, dragging the animal carcass with it. A small smile tugged on my face, I can get bread.

Kunal was surely panicking, he was the type to worry about the smallest of things. He once stepped on a cat's tail, Buttercup, Primrose's cat and he bawled, nobody could calm him down. Until he was offered food, that is.

I chuckled at the memory, slowly pulling the blade off the head of the squirrel. I held it in my hands victoriously, a grin on my face. I whistled a small 3 tone song, the chirping mocking birds falling silent before they imitated the tone.

After meeting up, we went back home, passing by the Hob. It was sort of a black market, where coals are transported directly to trains. I disliked it here, the amount of coal dust always bothered me, so when I come here I tend to cover my nose.

We managed to trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for some salt. The lady who sells soup, the one that always glares at me because I've insulted her soup on multiple occasions, Greasy Sae: took half the greens we gathered, along with the dead dog meat that she calls "beef".

That's why I hate her soups, though it's not like I have much of an option, we can't afford luxury here. Unlike those obnoxious, entitled, privileged people in the Capitol. My jaw clenched at the mere thought of those scums.

We finish our business on the market, so we went to the mayor's house, who was particularly fond of strawberries. We knocked on the back door, his daughter, Madge opening it for us.

She's in Katniss and I's year sits beside us at almost every event because we don't really have groups of friends. For being the mayor's daughter you'd expect her to be an entitled brat or maybe a snob, but she was alright, she kept to herself.

I like that, I hate noisy people, They'll scare away the game, that and I've never really liked loud noises. I still remember the explosions in the mines, it was traumatizing, even though my father didn't meet death there. I really wished he had.

Madge didn't wear her usual attire, instead, she wore an expensive white dress, her blonde hair up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. I felt my face scrunch up, that day was supposed to be a form of celebration. It's more of a way for the capitol to show who's in control.

We were being punished for the crimes of the people who failed, disguised as some form of celebration. It's disgusting.

"Pretty dress," Gale complimented. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's genuine or if he was just being ironic. It was a pretty dress, but it was a waste.

She smiled, "Well, if I'm going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I clenched my jaw, "But you won't be going to the Capitol," I said coolly, my voice monotone. My eyes landed on a small, circular pin on her dress. Real gold. The testament to the fact that she probably won't be chosen. "You probably have five entries, compared to us, that's a blessing."

"That's not her fault," Katniss said. Madge looked slightly hurt, probably because I've never really spoken my thoughts to her, I try my best to be polite when she engages a conversation with me.

"I know," I responded plainly. Madge smiled towards me, though it was clear it wasn't exactly genuine. She then handed the money for the berries. She looked towards Katniss "Good luck, Katniss"

"You too," She responded.

We walked toward the Seam, I can't help but feel angry. Her? Going to the Capitol? What a joke. When you're twelve your name gets put in the pile once, thirteen twice then so on. Up until your eighteen, where your name is entered seven times.

But the thing is, the rich have an advantage. You can enter your name willingly in the pile when you're starving in exchange for some tesserae. I had been doing this since I was twelve, having entered my name 3 times, for my mother, brother and myself. Every year following suite, it has always been like this.

Now at the age of 16, I've entered my name twenty times, same with Katniss. Gale was in even greater danger, with a number of forty-two.

And she'll be the tribute this year? It can happen but it's deadly slim. I knew Gale felt the same way, listening to him rant about tesserae in the woods with Katniss was enough confirmation, along with the fact that I join in on the rants. Always end it with a promise to destroy the Capitol, somehow.

But what good does that do us?

Gale, Katniss and I divide our spoils, though it wasn't really the evenest distribution. Gale got more, understandably since he has more mouths to feed.

"See you guys in the square," Katniss said, Gale nodded, "Wear something pretty," he joked.

I decided to stop by the bakery, by then the witch should be home but I took my chances. There was Mr Mellark, sitting outside, watching the pigs. He saw me from the corner of his eye, he grinned. "Greyback!' he called.

"Mr Mellark, still up for some squirrel?" I ask, holding the fat one up. He nodded, "You're lucky my wife isn't here, yet. Hold on, I'll get the bread for Kunal," he said, rushing inside.

I walked to the backdoor of the bakery so that he wouldn't trouble himself that much. I waited awkwardly outside, looking at a small bird fluttering about. I whistled, holding my finger out.

The bird landed on my finger, making me smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw a boy, blonde, stocky. Could probably kill me, if I'm being honest. Even though I was fast, I wasn't strong.

Soon enough, the bird flew away with the arrival of the baker, with a loaf of sweet, savoury bread, hot from the oven. "Here you go, Greyback."

I nodded, handing him the squirrel. "Oh!" he hummed, "Have you met my son, Peeta?" he asked, a smile on his face, "You're in the same year, yes?"

I didn't know what to say. Sure, I know him but I don't know that well him that well. My eyes travelled to the boy, who simply waved and briskly walked away. "I don't think so," I answered.

"I better be going, Mr Mellark. Nal needs his favourite bread after all," I said, flashing a small smile before I left. A small pit of dread boiled in my stomach, something bad is going to happen.

But then again, it's Reaping day, nothing good ever happens.

Word count: 1.3k

Tags:

@nin3s

:)))

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games #male x male reader #male reader #x male reader #katniss everdeen #gale #male reader insert #gale hawthorne #Katiniss #Hunger games x reader #what the fuck is tumblr's layout i am so fucking confused.

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the marathon

Part 7 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Mentions of PMS in this chapter! I’ve also given Y/N a couple of interests to add a bit more to the story to help it progress

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

You’d been doing your best to dodge Bucky as soon as you felt your body's usual symptoms start to develop. It started as it always did with feeling bloated before the short temperedness set in. Bucky was sweet and kind and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your temper so you opted out of your usual Friday night pizza with him, giving the excuse of being called into work which he accepted with disappointment.

Saturday morning came and as usual, painkillers did nothing to soothe the ache in your lower gut. Traipsing into your kitchen, you filled the kettle up with water before putting it on the hob and started to root around for your hot water bottle whilst you waited for the water to boil.

A knock on your door interrupted your hunt and rather reluctantly, you made your way over to the door, unbothered by your sleepwear attire.

Swinging the door open, you instantly regretted not ignoring it.

“Hey doll”

It was upsetting seeing Bucky look so good on a morning when you felt so rotten. Even worse, you were fully aware of how you currently looked - unbrushed hair, no make up and Bucky’s t-shirt which only just covered the tops of your thighs. Self consciously, you eased the door closed a little bit and shielded your body from view.

“Hi Bucky, what’s up?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Can I come in?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to catch more of a glimpse of you.

“Now’s not a great time…” You grumbled, feeling guilty as you saw the smile drop from his face.

“Are you avoiding me?” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them.

Taken aback by his forwardness, you paused for a moment, your jaw opening and closing as you didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’m sorry, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just I heard you in your apartment last night crying but you said you were at work and I was worried-”

He started to ramble as he panicked he’d overstepped the mark so you swiftly cut him off. “Don’t be, you’re right, I have been avoiding you.”

“....oh” Bucky's eyes shot down to the floor as he nodded his head. Your admission cut deep and every insecurity Bucky felt rushed to the surface as he processed your words. “I thought-” he started but not quite knowing how to finish his sentence.

You cursed your inability to think before speaking as you reached out towards him, no longer caring about your appearance as you took his metal hand in yours. “It’s nothing you did, I’m just not myself at the moment, I’m not exactly great to be around when it's my time” You emphasised the last bit, hoping he’d get the hint without having to spell it out.

You were wrong.

Bucky lifted his head and looked back at you, confusion etched across his handsome features. “You’ve lost me”

“Remember how you got that scar on the back of your head?”

“Yeah my sister threw a book at me”

“Uhuh, and do you remember why she did that?”

“I ate the biscuits she saved for when she- oh!” It suddenly hit Bucky as to what you’d been hinting at and suddenly he felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Safe to say me and your sister have the monthly mood swings in common” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well...um… if you need me, you know where I am”

“Thanks Buck” You smiled up at him and tried not to swoon on the spot as he leant towards you, his lips pressing against your forehead, gently kissing you as he cradled the back of your head with his hand.

His thumb stroked the back of your neck as his lips left your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, I thought I was saving you”

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse” He joked, tucking one of your many stray hairs behind your ear. It suddenly dawned on you what your current state of attire was and you hastily tried to flatten your hair and pull the t-shirt down to cover more of your bare legs.

Bucky tried his best to avert his eyes from your state of undress, not having taking note of how you donned his t-shirt beforehand, too focused on your wellbeing but he found himself failing miserably. You were too cute with your bed head hair sticking up in random places and slightly dark eyes where you’d not completely removed yesterday's mascara. And then there was his t-shirt. Fuck - he’d nearly lost it when you’d warn it the night you’d gotten locked out of your apartment but thankfully your legs were covered. But now? It was driving him mad seeing inch upon inch of bare skin, his t-shirt barely covering your underwear. He wanted nothing more than to shove you against the wall and run his hands over your impossibly soft skin.

The sound of your kettle boiling over snapped him out of it and he watched as you darted over to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, facing away from you as he was positive he’d be able to see your ass as you walked.

“I’ll come back doll”

Before you had a chance to respond, he’d already closed your door behind him.

Hastily, you made up your hot water bottle and quickly jumped into the shower, unsure as to when he would return.

Half an hour later, Bucky was back at your door, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve brought you a few things for... y’know.”

Opening your door wide for him, you chuckled at his awkwardness and gestured for him to come in. “You really didn’t need to-are those Peanut Buttercups?!” Rushing towards him you grabbed the bag out of his hands and began rummaging through his purchases.

Laughing at your response he left you to it as he hung up his jacket next to yours as he usually did and took up his spot on your couch.

“I remember what Rebecca was like and figured you might appreciate a bit of sugar.”

You could only moan in response as you devoured your chocolate treat. Grabbing your hot water bottle from the side table, you made your way over to the couch and sank into the seat next to Bucky, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Any plans for today?” You asked, holding up the last bite of your candy bar.

“Nope” Leaning forward, he took the chocolate from you using his teeth as he finished it off.

“Then you’re in for a treat” You sunk deeper into the sofa as he lifted his arm up, resting it along the top of the couch cushion, letting you lean further into him. Bucky also took the opportunity to pull the blanket from the couch down onto you, tucking you into his side.

To say Bucky was excited when you told him there were sequels to The Hobbit would be an understatement. For him to then find out they were turned into movies was almost too much.

He was in heaven. He was watching Middle Earth come to life, just how he imagined it would be whilst cuddled up against his favourite girl.

He wished it could be like this all the time, when he was with you the memories of who he was before subsided, along with all the guilt and shame. Even when he was in Wakanda, he hadn’t dared to dream of having any sort of normal life, he’d accepted it just wasn’t on the cards for him. That he’d always be alone.

When Steve left, that only solidified his belief that he was destined to be alone. Part of him was okay with that, this way he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. But the other part of him, the part that even Hydra couldn’t wipe out, longed for a companion, whether it be platonic or romantic.

Finding you was a miracle. You were so carefree, so honest, open and kind. You put up with his old fashioned ways, you didn’t make fun of his odd quirks or question why sometimes he needed to just be on his own. You both also had a lot in common, you both enjoyed modern technology and sciences and often found yourselves watching documentaries and educational pieces on TV together. Bucky was also delighted to learn you were obsessed with motorcycles and was planning a road trip for you both for when you next had some time off work - a surprise he was having a hard time hiding from you.

Half way through the first film he felt you nodding off, having come down from the sudden sugar intake. Pulling you tighter against him, he kissed your head and lowered the volume on the TV, not wanting to wake you.

As the second film started, you stirred awake, the cramps returning with a vengeance. As you opened your eyes you realised you’d snuggled into Bucky, nuzzling into his chest, leaving a small amount of drool on his black t-shirt. Jolting backwards, you hastily wiped your mouth and tore yourself from his arms in embarrassment.

Bucky’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the TV as he remained completely emerged in Middle Earth.

“Sorry I didn’t realise-”

He quickly shushed you as he continued watching the film. However he did miss your warmth and spread his arms wide, inviting you back into your previous position. “C’mere”

Trying not to read too much into it, you smiled and sank back into his arms, sighing as they wrapped around you, his right hand resting over your stomach, soothing your cramps.

It was well into the night when you finished your movie marathon, both of you enjoying every minute. You knew friends didn’t cuddle - not like this. They didn’t make your heart race like Bucky did. They didn’t make butterflies erupt in your stomach every time they so much as looked at you.

You were in trouble.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #romance #fluff #slow burn #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #tfaws spoilers #tfawts #tfatws

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capseycartwright · 3 years

Text

but at the cost I payed, I'm pretty sure I got screwed

buck wasn't exactly sure how to process the fact he'd been lied to, his entire life - that his parents had forced maddie to keep such a fundamental part of his past, his life, from him. but - at least he wasn't alone.

or - eight conversations between buck and his true family as he comes to terms with the existence of the brother he never knew he had. set post 4x04

ao3 link

i. albert

Buck had forgotten that Albert would be home, when he managed to stumble through his own front door – breath catching in his chest as he tried to process the bombshell Maddie had just dropped on his life. Maybe – maybe it was rude of him, cruel to forget that he shared his apartment with the younger man, that Albert lived on his couch, but Buck had forgotten, and how he wasn’t sure of a kind way to tell Albert that if he had to have a conversation with another human being, there and then, that he would scream.

And he might not be able to stop screaming.

Albert was looking at him with genuine concern written all over his face, sliding the pan he was using to cook off the hob, so it wouldn’t burn. “Are you okay, Buck?” he asked, and Buck knew he could talk to Albert, and he would try to understand; burdened by his own family issues in ways that would make it easier to admit the insanity of the Buckley family aloud.

But Buck couldn’t.

“That’s kind of a loaded question, Albert,” Buck managed to choke the words out, anxiety clawing at his chest.

Albert inclined his head slightly. “Okay,” he conceded. “Are you well enough to be here, alone – or as alone as you can be with me, here,” he grinned slightly at his own words. “Or do you need me to call someone?”

“I don’t think I know,” Buck admitted, forcing himself to sit at the kitchen table, his blood thundering in his ears as he tried to process everything.

He had a brother. He has a brother – even if that brother wasn’t alive, anymore. Buck had a brother – he wasn’t the only Buckley boy, like he’d believed for so much of his life. For twenty-nine years, he’d thought Maddie was his only sibling, but she wasn’t, and Buck’s entire world felt like it had been spun on its axis and nothing made sense, anymore; but somehow everything made more sense than it ever had before, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

Albert pushed a glass of water toward him, a kind look on his face.

“I don’t think I can talk about it, yet,” Buck admitted, the cool condensation dripping down the side of the glass – a housewarming gift from Hen and Karen, glasses nicer than he’d ever buy himself, if he was being honest – grounding in the way it reminded Buck that he wasn’t dreaming, the glass wet to touch.

“That’s okay,” Albert shrugged. “I can talk, instead, if you want.”

Buck could have cried, with relief. “Yeah, that would be great, Albert.”

Albert grinned. “Okay,” he nodded, moving his pan back onto the hob. “So – I had an online class, today, and one of my classmates, they were clearly not paying attention, but as it turns out, they had taken a series of photos of themselves, and were playing it as a video……..”

Buck forced himself to focus on Albert’s words, his roommate talking about the perfectly mundane happenings of his day, how his online classes went, how their neighbour down the hall still firmly believed he and Buck were a couple, and how its quite sweet, really, because she’s trying her hardest to make sure that they know she accepts them, and she’ll be dropping by a loaf of banana bread, in the morning.

It wasn’t until Albert set a bowl down in front of Buck, a simple pasta dish that made Buck’s stomach growl in acknowledgement of how hungry he was, that Buck spoke, looking at his roommate – his friend – with watery eyes.

“Thank you,” Buck managed to sputter out.

Albert shrugged. “You need to eat,” he said, pushing a fork toward Buck. “My grandmother – she always said that the problems of the world looked a little less daunting, when you looked at them with a full stomach.”

“I don’t just mean for the food,” Buck croaked, though he was grateful for the food – because he wasn’t sure if he had the mental energy to try and make himself dinner, to remember how to cook any of the ingredients that sat in his well-stocked kitchen. “I mean – for taking me out of my head, for a minute.”

Albert smiled, in that endearingly sincere way he always did, Chimney’s brother always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “What are roommates for?”

ii. bobby

It’s not as though Buck particularly wanted to tell Bobby, about what was going on – but after the incident at the fire, after the way Buck had been acting, he knew he had to, he knew that he had to admit to his boss what was happening. He’d been insufferable to work with, Buck knew, and his boss was owed an explanation.

What Buck hadn’t expected was Bobby’s reaction. It wasn’t – it wasn’t the reaction of a Captain, a professional acknowledgement of a personal trauma that Buck wasn’t able to compartmentalise and leave at home, like he was supposed to, it was the reaction of a friend, Bobby pulling Buck in for a determined, bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was calm, against the sea of static that was buzzing in Buck’s head, something Buck could cling to as he stood, still as a statue, in Bobby’s embrace.

“You didn’t do anything,” Buck found himself saying, confused.

Bobby pulled back, hands on Buck’s shoulders. “I can be sorry, even if I didn’t have a role to play in this,” he said. “Buck, I’m sorry for you as your friend – what your parents hid from you, it was cruel. You didn’t deserve to be lied to like that.”

Buck swallowed his tears, focusing his gaze on one of the photos hanging on the back wall of Bobby’s office. “Their kid died,” he said, voice robotic as he voiced the sentence he’d practiced over, and over. “I can’t blame them.”

“Yes, you can,” Bobby’s voice was fierce. “Buck – I had to bury my own children. That is a pain I will never forget, and one I will live with for the rest of my life. I can’t even begin to describe to you what that grief, the grief of losing a child, feels like, and I hope you never, ever understand it,” he said. “But I have never put the burden of that grief on May, or Harry. Your parents had no right to force you, and Maddie, to bear their grief in the way they did. It was wrong. It is wrong.”

Buck hated how easily he was crying – how easily he’d always been reduced to tears, too soft, too emotional, not enough of a tough guy to please his father. “It was?” his voice was tiny as he spoke, unsure if he could take Bobby’s words at face value. Was Bobby saying that just to placate him? To make it so he could suck it up, and work?

“Yes, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was firm. “It was wrong – and no one in this team is going to begrudge you the time you need to process this. We’re your family, and we’re here for you. Okay? I’m here for you Buck, whatever you need.”

Buck hadn’t been hugged a lot, as a kid – not by his parents, at least. That was a pitifully sad thing to admit, but it was the truth – for all the ways Maddie had been kind, and affectionate, pressing kisses to Buck’s curls and hugging him close, his parents had been cold, and physically distant, never giving Buck more than a pat on the shoulder.

He knew why, now. They looked at him and all they saw was Daniel – all they ever saw was the son who would forever be twelve, frozen in time. They had watched him grow up, and maybe he was tolerable, when he was younger, when he was going through all the same phases that Daniel had – but as soon as Buck had turned thirteen, and lived longer than the brother he didn’t know existed, his parents had kept their distance more, and more, and then Maddie had left, and Buck had been left to crave physical affection, taking that intimacy wherever he could get it, regardless of the impact it had on him, regardless of how it would all leave him feeling even lonelier, when it was over.

But –

Bobby was a dad.

Not his dad –

But someone’s dad.

“Could I…” Buck cut himself off, embarrassed. “Could I have another hug, Bobby?”

Bobby’s eyes were sad, and full of sympathy – but not pity, Buck noted. “Yeah, kid,” Bobby said, pulling him in for a hug, Buck forced to stoop a little, to match Bobby’s height, comfortable in the embrace, this time. “You can have a hug.”

iii. hen

“Hey there, Buckaroo.”

Buck looked up to see Hen approaching him, doughnut in hand.

“You were missing out on the sugar delivery,” Hen explained, hanging him the plate. “So I snagged you your favourite flavour.”

Buck wanted to cry. “You didn’t have to do that, Hen.”

Hen shrugged, sliding down the wall so she was sitting on the concrete next to him, the bright sun of the Los Angeles afternoon beating down on them, the corner they were sitting in slightly secluded, distant from the noise of the firehouse that Buck normally thrived in – just, not today.

“I wanted to,” she said, taking a bite of her own doughnut – cinnamon sugar, Buck noted, her favourite. She’d always been the one to support Buck’s belief that simple was best, when it came to doughnuts, never making fun of Buck’s preference for plain old raspberry jelly flavour; unlike Chimney and the rest of the team, who favoured the hipster doughnut place around the corner from the station, and all the weird flavours they sold.

“Because you feel sorry for me?” Buck found himself asking.

“Because you’re my friend,” Hen corrected, nudging Buck’s knee with her own. “And I can see you’re hurting, Buck, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Buck knew he didn’t look the best, rocking up to their shift that morning – his eyes were red raw from crying, because he was in that stage of processing it all, now (Dr. Copeland had assured him that crying was a perfectly healthy trauma response, but Buck was tired of Albert’s quietly concerned looks, because apparently even crying alone in his shower didn’t guarantee privacy in the tiny space they co-existed in.)

He just hadn’t realised he looked that bad.

“I guess you know, then,” Buck murmured, poking at his doughnut. He’d given Bobby permission to tell the team, if he felt it was appropriate – he just hadn’t been able to face the prospect of telling them himself.

“No,” Hen’s voice was firm. “Whatever is going on with you, is your story to tell, Buck. Unless you want to tell me, I have no intention of finding out what is happening.”

Buck shot her a confused look.

“Chimney, he gave me the impression that whatever you’ve found out, is something that was kept from you by the people you love most in the world, and you didn’t have a choice in who found out, because Maddie told him first, and when – and when you got trapped, in that fire, Chimney panicked and told some of the team,” Hen said, explaining what Buck already knew – what Chimney had already desperately apologised for, terrified that Buck’s newfound knowledge of his dead brother had pushed him from resident daredevil to on the verge of suicidal.

Buck didn’t blame him, really.

“I didn’t hear the secret, at the fire,” Hen said. “And I asked Bobby not to tell me. I want you to be able to tell at least one person, on your own terms, if you want to tell me. And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay too – I just want you to have the option. I’m happy to be the friend who doesn’t know, if that’s what you need.”

Hen’s sincerity was making Buck want to cry again, his friend looking at him earnestly as she spoke. He knew that if he asked her, Hen would do her best to never find out what Buck’s secret was – Hen was good with secrets – and Buck wasn’t sure how to voice his appreciation out loud in a way that felt appropriate for the magnitude of what Hen was offering him.

Peace.

The power to take control of his own situation.

Buck hadn’t felt in control from the moment he had picked up that photograph of Daniel, and Maddie had admitted who it was, but now, for a second, at least, he felt in control.

“I had a brother,” Buck admitted, hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. “I had a brother, and they never told me – they kept him from me. For my whole life, they kept him from me, Hen.”

“Oh, Buck,” Hen’s voice was thick with emotion as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I know – I know it wouldn’t have change the fact he died, when I was a baby,” Buck continued, managing to talk about it, even just a little, for the first time since he’d found out. “But I deserved to know, Hen.”

“Yes, you did,” Hen was fierce in her agreement. “They had no right to keep his existence from you, Buck.”

“It explains it, you know,” Buck glanced at Hen, the protectiveness that was written all over her face making his heart twist in his chest. “Why they never loved me, not really – I was never Daniel.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand your parents,” Hen said, wrapping her arms around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him close, running a hand through his curls, the same way Maddie used to, when he was younger. “But I’ll tell you something for nothing, Buck; I love you. I love you like a brother, and I know its not the same, but I love you. And loving you has been damn easy, from the moment you stepped into this fire station – because you have a heart of goddamn gold, Buck. And your parents inability to see that is not your fault.”

Buck let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into the comforting embrace Hen was offering him. “I’m not sure if I believe you, Hen.”

“That’s okay,” Hen reassured. “I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

“You will?”

“I will,” Hen confirmed. “Because that’s what family does, Buck. Now – eat your doughnut before we get called out.”

iv. chimney

Buck hated the tentative way that his friend – and teammate, and future brother-in-law, probably – approached him, looking nervous. He hated it – and he hated how he didn’t have it in him to put a stop to it, just yet.

“Hey, Buck,” Chimney greeted.

Buck paused what he was doing, the chrome of the ladder truck already gleaming from the thorough polish he had given it. “Are you here as my sisters boyfriend, Chimney, or my friend?”

“As your friend,” Chimney answered without a second’s hesitation, which Buck had to admit he appreciated.

“Okay,” Buck put the polish down entirely, nodding. “Because I’m not ready to talk to Maddie about this yet.”

“She knows,” Chimney nodded, quiet for a second. “I wanted to talk to you as my friend, Buck, because – and I would walk through fire for your sister – you were my friend before I ever met Maddie, and I don’t want you to forget that. I care about you as more than just my girlfriends brother, Buck, and I’m – I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Buck didn’t have a reason not to believe Chimney – really, he didn’t. “I’m still angry,” he admitted. “That you knew before I did. You had no right to know before I did, Chim.”

“I know,” Chimney agreed, rocking forward on his heels as he spoke. “I wish I didn’t know, Buck,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t found out before you. I – I said, from the moment I knew, that you deserved to know, but as much as it wasn’t my place to know before you, it wasn’t my place to tell you. It needed to come from Maddie, and your parents.”

Buck nodded. It was true – that it would have been worse to hear it from Chimney, and not Maddie, or his mom and dad. Of all the people to hear it from, Chimney would have been the worst one. It should have come from his parents, really – from the people who’d forced a child, their daughter, to keep their older brother’s existence a secret their entire lives. Maddie had been nine, when she’d been forced to pretend Daniel had never existed. She couldn’t have possibly understood the consequences of their parents refusal to acknowledge that Daniel had been a part of their lives, once.

“I know,” Buck said finally. “I know, Chim. I just – I can’t pretend like I’m feeling all that logical, about all of this. I’m trying – I’m just not there yet.”

Chimney’s expression was genuinely understanding. “You don’t need to be logical about this, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re entitled to deal with this and grieve – and be angry as hell – in whatever way works best for you. I just – I wanted to know that I’m here for you, that I’m your friend. And if you need to talk to me, I can be your friend – and just your friend, not Maddie’s boyfriend. What we talk about, it stays between me and you, Buck.”

Buck gave Chimney a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chim,” he said, awkwardly wringing his polish rag between his hands, twisting, and pulling, the material taut in his hands. “I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about it with anyone, yet.”

And that was the truth of it –

Buck wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone, not his friends, not Maddie, not even with his therapist – not yet.

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Chimney said, grabbing another polish rag, smirking at Buck. “Like your terrible polish job.”

Buck glared good-naturedly at Chimney. “I’m not a probie anymore, Chim, don’t start this.”

Chimney whistled cheerfully as he started to polish, grinning. “You’ll always be a probie to me, Buckaroo.”

v. athena

Buck hadn’t seen Athena in a while – their calls didn’t actually crossover, all that much, so it wasn’t all that unusual to have not seen her in a few weeks. A part of Buck was glad – and not because he didn’t love Athena, but he wasn’t sure if he could cope with seeing the anger she carried on his behalf in person. Buck didn’t like when other people felt burdened by his issues.

“Buck.”

Buck paused, halfway back to the truck. He couldn’t exactly ignore his Captain’s wife – or anyone, for that matter. Maddie (Maddie, always Maddie, not their parents) had raised him better than that, had raised him to be polite. “Hi, Athena.”

“I know you’re not ready to talk about it,” Athena said, hands on hips, stance fierce and protective and everything Buck never had in a mother. He was glad, May and Harry had her, at least. “But I wanted you to know – parents shouldn’t lie to their children the ways yours have lied to you. It’s cruel, and I’m sorry it happened to you, Buck.”

Buck didn’t quite know what to say. “Uh – thank you?”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” Athena raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not your mother. I’m your friend, though, Buck – and I’m someone’s mom, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that your parents did all this out of some twisted sense of protection for you, and Maddie. Parents – however hard – should teach you how to grieve. Not teach you to be invisible as a punishment for something you never knew happened.”

Buck nodded, shaking hands gripping tightly to his halogen. “You’re a great mom, Athena,” he said quietly.

“And you’re a great man, Evan Buckley,” Athena gave his elbow a squeeze. “I just thought you should hear that from someone today.”

vi. christopher

Buck had an armful of Christopher the second he walked through the front door of the Diaz household, the little boy flying at him, crutches and all. “Oh, hey, buddy,” Buck laughed, easily scooping a wriggling Christopher up, easing his crutches off of his arms so he could hug him properly.

“I’m glad you’re here, Buck!” Christopher said, grinning widely at Buck, his new braces glinting in the soft light of the evening, reminding Buck of how grown up the kid in his arms was getting – on the cusp of his teenage years, all too soon.

“I’m glad I’m here too, buddy,” Buck replied, holding Christopher close. He wasn’t even the kids dad – and he couldn’t imagine ever lying to him, like his parents had to him, couldn’t imagine doing anything except loving the little boy with everything he had.

“Dad said you’ve had a bad week,” Christopher said matter-of-factly. “So we have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Buck gave Christopher a watery smile, flashing Eddie a confused look.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “It was all this guy,” he said proudly. “I just did the driving.”

Buck laughed, looking back at Christopher. “Where are we going, then?”

“Kitchen!”

Tossing a giggling Christopher over his shoulder, Buck made his way to the kitchen, Christopher chatting excitedly as he moved. Buck felt like he was going to cry – really, properly cry – when he spotted the feast of all of his favourite things on the Diaz kitchen table.

“We got all your favourites!” Christopher explained. “Popcorn, and chocolate – and pizza! And we’re going to watch Inside Out, because its your favourite film, and me and dad, we’re going to make sure you feel better, Buck.”

Buck wiped roughly at his eyes. This kid. “I already feel better, buddy.”

Christopher’s brow was furrowed. “But you’re crying.”

“People can cry when they’re happy, Chris,” Eddie explained, running a soothing hand down Buck’s back. “It doesn’t always mean someone is sad.”

“Your dad is right,” Buck confirmed. “I’m crying because I’m happy – and I’m very grateful to have such a thoughtful kid taking care of me.”

Christopher grinned again, patting a sticky hand against Buck’s cheek. “You’re gonna be o-kay, kid,” he beamed, and for the first time, Buck almost believed it.

vii. eddie

“He’s out like a light,” Buck said softly, half closing the porch door behind them – enough that they wouldn’t wake Christopher, with their conversation, but still open enough that they’d be able to hear if Christopher woke up in the night.

Christopher had insisted on Buck being the one to put him to bed, that night, despite how hard Eddie tried to get Christopher to give Buck a break – but Buck had enjoyed the routine of it all, if he was being honest, Christopher’s happy snorts as Buck (badly) danced around the bathroom while Christopher brushed his teeth making him forget the car-wreck his life was for a few minutes, at least.

Eddie nodded, nudging a beer toward Buck. “You spoil him, you know,” he said, not a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I know you read him two chapters of his book, not one.”

Buck hummed gratefully. “I know,” he said, voice dropping. “Kids deserve to be spoiled, a bit at least.”

“How are you doing Buck? Really?” Eddie asked, and Buck felt a dam inside him break – he’d kept everything he was feeling so bottled up, for so long, and all of a sudden, on his best friends back porch, it all came pouring out, tears cascading down his cheeks.

“I had a brother,” Buck hiccupped out, bordering on hysterical as he cried, Eddie moving quickly so he was crouching in front of Buck, soothing hands on Buck’s knees. “I had a brother, Eddie.”

Eddie’s face was twisted, a mixture of heartbreak and sympathy. “I know, Buck,” he soothed softly, gentle hands wiping at Buck’s tears, taking Buck’s hands in his own, grounding Buck in the new reality he had found himself in, the past few weeks – a world where he was suddenly the youngest of three siblings, the third Buckley, not the second.

“I always wanted a brother,” Buck admitted out-loud for the first time, unable to stop his tears, gripping tightly to Eddie’s hands. “I love – I love Maddie, but I always wanted a brother, too, and I had one, and I didn’t know, and I can’t stop thinking about how different life might have been if he was still around. He was ten years older than me.”

Eddie was quiet.

“His name was Daniel,” Buck said, shakily voicing his brothers name out-loud for the first time to someone other than maybe. “His name was Daniel, and he was ten years older than me, and I’d have been a really good brother to him, and that’s all I know, and I just – I wish I knew more.”

“You know,” Eddie’s voice was soft, and reassuring, comforting and grounding in ways that Buck wasn’t sure how he ever lived without before, his best friend the kind of anchor Buck needed, in his life. “I bet Maddie knows more.”

“Eddie….”

“I know it hurts,” Eddie squeezed Buck’s hands, his expression encouraging as Buck forced himself to look at the older man. “And it’s going to hurt for a long time, Buck, and I’m sorry for that – but you’re not alone in that hurt. Me, Chris, Hen – the others – we’re here, and we love you, and we’ll do our best to understand, but there’s one person in the world that shares this hurt with you.”

“But she knew, Eddie, she knew all along, and she didn’t tell me – and I know she was a kid and it wasn’t her fault, but it still hurts, because she got to know him and grieve him, and I didn’t.”

“Did she?” Eddie countered, wise as ever now he went to regular therapy. “She had to pretend he didn’t exist. To grieve properly – you need to talk about the person, about who they were, and Maddie didn’t get to do that. As much as she can help you get to know who Daniel was, you can help her grieve the brother she wasn’t allowed to remember. I can’t help you do that.”

Buck tightened his grip on Eddie’s hands. “I can’t, not yet,” he admitted hoarsely. “Not tonight.”

“No,” Eddie hummed his agreement. “Tonight its just you and me, and the rest of these beers, and as much crying as you want. Okay?”

Buck laughed. Back when he first met Eddie, he could never have imagined their friendship getting to this point – to where they could sit, and talk, and drink and cry together. Somehow, somewhere along the way, they’d created this safe space, together, and Buck had never been more grateful for his best friend than he was, there and then.

He had a brother.

And tonight – tonight was the first time he’d said that out loud and hadn’t felt bitter, and angry, about it. Tonight had been the first time he’d said those words out loud and wondered who the person was, who Daniel had been – instead of focusing on the lies, the hurt of it all.

That was progress.

Swallowing thickly, Buck wiped at his sore eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he directed his question at Eddie.

“Anything?” Eddie’s lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Anything,” Buck confirmed.

Eddie grinned. “Did you know - nearly three percent of the ice in Antarctic glaciers is penguin urine?”

Buck snorted, the sound outrageously loud in the quiet of the evening. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

(He knew – of course he knew. Eddie was the only person who knew exactly how to bring Buck out of his own head, with odd facts and quirky news articles, anything to distract Buck from the overwhelming noise of his own thoughts).

Eddie took a swig of his beer, smiling contently. “You’re not the only one who can know weird things.”

viii. maddie

When she opened the door, Maddie greeted Buck with a relief he didn’t feel deserving to be on the receiving end of.

“I’m sorry, Maddie.”

“No,” Maddie interrupted, pulling him close, clinging tightly to his shoulders, refusing to let her pregnant belly be an obstacle to squeezing the life out of Buck – and he couldn’t say he was opposed to a bone-crushing hug from his sister. “You don’t need to apologise, Buck, not to me – not about this. I should be apologising to you.”

Buck pressed his face into the material of Maddie’s cardigan, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. She’d worn the same one since she was a teenager, and in the years when they weren’t in contact, Buck – well, he’d sometimes go to the perfume section of the department store, and sneak a sample, desperate to feel close to his sister, even if Doug had long since cut her off from him.

“I can’t hear you,” Maddie admitted, her voice soft as she ran a gentle hand through Buck’s hair.

“I said,” Buck pulled back slightly, Maddie’s tears reflecting his own. “I know we’ve got a lot to talk about – but uh, Maddie, will you tell me about him?”

Maddie brushed away a few stray tears of Buck’s before they had the chance to drip from his chin, nodding. “I’d really like that,” she confirmed, tugging Buck toward the couch. Her baby box was still on the coffee table, a photograph of Daniel – the same one Buck had found – propped up against the wood, another one next to it.

Of the three of them.

Buck looked as though he couldn’t be more than a few weeks old, in the photograph, Maddie proudly holding him in her arms, a little boy who was familiar, in so many ways, hair blond and bright like Buck’s had been, as a child – and unfamiliar in so many others, a kid who would forever be twelve years old.

“Is that us?” Buck asked, doing his best to fold his long limbs, curling himself up against Maddie, thinking back to when they were kids, and all the evenings they’d do the same – Buck curled up in her lap as they watched TV, or as Maddie soothed his tears after a fight with their parents. Her belly got in the way, a bit, and a part of Buck’s heart ached with the knowledge that someone else, his niece, would curl up in Maddie’s lap the same way he used to, in just a matter of months, but he pushed the thought aside.

“I told everyone you were my baby,” Maddie said, sounding like she was smiling. “Oh, I loved you so much from the moment you were born, Buck, and I wouldn’t let Daniel go near you – because you were mine.”

Buck didn’t try and stop his tears, now.

“He loved you just as much,” Maddie continued. “He would tell dad, how excited he was to be able to teach you to play soccer, one day, and ride a bike.”

All the things Maddie had taught him, in the end, Buck thought to himself.

“He picked your middle name,” Maddie continued. “Because he had a best friend called EJ, and he told mom and dad that you should have the same initials – Evan James - because you were going to be his new best friend.”

Closing his eyes, Buck let Maddie’s words wash over him, painting a picture of someone he would never have the chance to know – but loved, Buck thought, all the same, because Daniel couldn’t have known, how life would turn out without him, because he had only been a kid, when he died – and he wouldn’t have understood.

“He’d be proud of you, I think,” Maddie said quietly, pressing a kiss to Buck’s curls. “Because I am, Buck, I am so proud of you. You are not a disappointment. You are the greatest man I have ever known and I am so proud of you, and I love you, and I’ll tell everyone the same thing I told them when I was eight and I held you for the first time. You’re mine, Buck, not theirs.”

Buck nodded, not trusting himself to open his eyes. “I love you, Maddie.”

“I love you, little brother,” Maddie sounded like she was crying too, now. “We’re going to be okay.”

Buck –

Well, he didn’t have a reason not to believe his sister.

He wanted to believe her.

And maybe –

Just maybe.

He already did.

Yeah.

They would be okay.

#911 fox #evan buckley #maddie buckley #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #this is what i did instead of working this morning yes #don't @ me i;m overflowing with feelings after that episode

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