#instead of her father getting mad at her he instead just silently grounds her to her room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shamrockqueen · 7 months

Text

Father figure

Pairing : Best Friend’s Dad Bucky x Reader

Warnings : Angst, Bad friends, Older man younger woman Dynamic, (age references removed and reader is recounting it as an adult)

Word count : 2167

AO3 page Link

Chapter 1 link

Chapter 2

Things stayed quiet, but at least they kind of got better. It had been a week or two since you’d welcomed Becky and her family back into your life.

A pounding at your window around 12pm woke you from an already uncomfortable sleep. You looked over at the drawn curtains, waiting for the sound again.

A *Knock knock knock* at the window of your ground-floor bedroom.

You pushed out of bed, readjusting your messy t-shirt and shorts as you groggily walked to the curtains. You weren’t surprised to see Becky on the other side of the glass, her dark hair nearly blending in with the night.

She didn’t look very happy, and her frustration was even more evident when she tried to jerk open the locked window. It wasn’t a new sight to see an angry Becky trying to force her way into your room, a popular choice of hers for when she had been out doing something she shouldn’t have and needed a place to hide before absconding by midnight.

"Open up!" You could hear her through the glass before you finally unlocked the window and pulled it up, and she immediately crawled past you.

"You can’t be yelling this late at night; you're gonna to wake my mom up."

"Whatever!" She stomped towards your bed before throwing herself onto it and grappling at one of your teddy bears.

You have a huff before shutting the window and locking it again.

"What’s wrong?" You slumped back onto the other side of the bed as you tried to find what made her mad this time.

"It doesn’t fuckin matter." A classic Becky move, but you’d played this game before, and with enough prying, you’d get her to talk instead of sulking into one of your old teddy bears.

"Clearly it mattered to you because you were here at almost 1 in the morning instead of asleep."

"Shut up!" She turned and tossed the bear at you, clearly choosing to act more like a child than her actual age.

"Keep your voice down. You wake my mom up, and she’s gonna kick you out again." You seethed before throwing the stuffed animal back at her, only to miss and hit the wall beside the bed.

Becky dropped her arms from above her head to her sides, hitting the bed with a thump. "Everything’s just so stupid; it fucking sucks." She grumbled, but at least she made an effort to keep her voice down.

"What happened?" You ask tiredly, rubbing your eyes as you wait for an answer.

"I called my mom today." She answered meekly. Conversations with her mom often brought out the worst in her, making it unsurprising that she’d snuck out to blow off steam.

"What’d she say?" You asked worriedly, not waking to try to break the already weak foundation that Becky stood on.

"She said I couldn’t visit her this summer. She said that she and STUPID Mason and their STUPID kids already planned their vacation, and that she can’t just change her plans at the drop of a hat because I want her to."

You just laid beside her, silent in the dark, as a sob cut through the air, and you turned to see streaks of tears training down her face. Becky had such a complicated relationship with her mom, especially when she often thought she had to compete with a new family.

"Why do you want to visit her anyway? You hate the twins, and you hate your stepdad." You say this quietly as you sit up to look at your friend. "Every time you visit, you call me to tell me how snotty they are and how crappy they treat you."

He huffed a small laugh before answering, "I know, but…it’s just that she doesn’t call anymore. She doesn’t visit. She doesn't care." She hugged the pillow as her voice grew weaker.

"That can’t be true; all moms have to care at least a little. I mean, you're her kid; she can’t just forget about you." You always tried to reassure her, but her face just continued to fall.

"It feels like she’s trying to."

"You still have your dad." Your words rang in your ears just as you said them. The memory of that night is still heavy in your mind. Just the way his psyche must have shattered to propel him to do what he did made you shudder a little.

"There’s something wrong with him." Every word added a little more weight to your heavy heart as she spoke. You feared how much she really knew and who she would be mad at the most.

"What do you mean?" You didn’t turn to look at her as you spoke, not wanting her to catch a glimpse of guilt in your eyes, even in the dark.

"He’s just been acting really off lately, like…he won’t talk to me, and it just feels like he’s trying to avoid me now. Ever since that party, he’s just shut off."

You could feel your stomach knowing together as she spoke. You have a very good idea why he’s acting so uncomfortably, but it’s not something you could tell her.

"He just doesn’t want to see you get like that. I mean, he is your dad; stuff like that is going to upset him."

"It’s not the same. He’s never been this upset before. It’s like he’s shut down or something." Her eyes start to tear up as she continues, "Maybe this time I finally made him snap."

"No way. It just has to be a lot of stress on him."

"I don’t know. Something’s just wrong."

The crack in your nerves deepened painfully as she spoke. You knew very well what was wrong and why. Something was wrong, very wrong, and there was nothing you could do to fix it now. You just stared out at the ceiling, waiting for her to talk again.

Instead, she seemed to nod off before you found the ability to even find sleep. No, you were still so shaken by the new knowledge you had found that you lay there motionless instead.

A small light lit up beside you. A notification beaming out into your room from where Becky’s phone sat on your charger.

You leaned out of bed as your eyes adjusted to the new source of light to see Mr. Barnes’ picture blink across the screen as the silent call fell to Becky’s voicemail.

You look back at her and then back at the phone, just tapping the screen to see the number of messages her father left her.

She sneaks out a lot, but she more than often ends up sleeping off her night on your bedroom floor. This gave Mr. Barnes at least some peace of mind not to go running out into the night for his daughter, but he was still her father and had desperately tried reaching out to Becky.

The first few times Becky had snuck out, it had caused a lot of trouble, and he’d come speeding through the neighborhood trying to find her.

Now, he could easily drive by and spot her bike propped up against your mailbox, giving him some peace of mind to at least know she was somewhere safe.

You let her phone screen fade before letting your eyes readjust to the dark to find your phone next to hers. You unlock it and tap on your contacts icon to dig up her father’s number.

His contact photo lights up the screen. A happy photo from when he’d taken you and Becky out to see Jurassic Park. An undone blue button-up, a white tank top, and a pair of shades making him seem so much more striking than he was before. Even the loose bun that held together his once shoulder-length hair brought new definition to his smiling face; it made it seem like more and more of a shame that he’d since cut it short.

Shaking the thought away, you tuck your phone to your side before looking back at the still-sleeping Becky and slipping out of bed and snuck towards the door. Becky still snored on the other side of the room as you ducked into the hall and towards the bathroom.

The hallway is just as dark and more eerily quiet as you looked over at your mother’s room, which sat only a few feet in the other direction. You let your eyes fall on to the lightly colored wood, turned to a gray hue under the heavy blanket at night.

You quietly and carefully cross through to the bathroom before letting yourself lean onto the sink to take a quick and nervous breath. You pulled your phone from where you kept it clasped to your chest and tapped in your password to open it again. His picture lights up the screen once again before your thumb slides over the call button.

You held it to your ear as it rang for a spell. Each extra ring made your heart beat just a little slower as you waited for him to pick up the phone.

When the voicemail popped up, a heavy breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto escaped past your lips, and your heart sank into your stomach.

You ended the call without leaving a message, and you just leaned there before sitting back heavily onto the shaggy cloth toilet seat cover.

You took a few seconds before opening the phone back up and clicking the call button again.

The phone rang once, then twice…then it stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of the other line being handled before a familiar voice filled the phone.

"Hey. Sorry, I uh…missed your call." You heard him take a deep breath before continuing with, "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to let you know Becky’s here. She’s still asleep right now." You spoke in a whisper, making sure not to wake up anyone in the house.

"Oh, thank God. How long has she been there?"

"I think she came straight over. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner."

"No, it's fine. Thank you for letting me know." His voice didn’t seem fully relieved before he continued with, "D-did she tell you why she left?"

It was a question he hadn’t asked you before. He’d long since lost hope in understanding his daughter's misbehavior, but something in his voice seemed more fearful than before.

"I…um…just some drama with her mom, and…she." You almost couldn’t get the last few words out, as they choked up in your throat.

You stared at the tiled floor beneath your feet before finally finishing your sentence. "And she said that something seemed off. That you didn’t seem like yourself, I guess."

You could hear him swallow over the phone, taking a deep breath afterward before leaving an air of silence over the call.

"I am so sorry." He spoke so quietly that it almost couldn’t be heard over the phone. His voice was broken; it was so painful to hear it.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Your throat seemed to just close up as your fingers tightened around the phone until it shook a little in your hand.

"I…I can try to get her home after school tomorrow, Mr. Barnes." It’s all you could think to say. Anything to avoid discussing what had happened, how it had made you feel, and what the consequences would be.

"That would be a great help, but I can take care of it. Thank you." There was still something off with his voice, like a deep crack forming on what was once unbreakable glass. "Just make sure she gets to school, alright?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you; now just get some sleep, ok sweetheart?"

The term of endearment made your heavy heart flutter for a single second before you answered, "Okay, goodnight, sir." And the call ended with a quick click.

You hold your phone back to your chest as you take a shallow breath, remembering all that had transpired between you and Mr. Barnes. The memory still made you feel an odd but warm sensation along your body, as well as a deep ache at the thought of the same memory causing him misfortune.

A knock at the bathroom door startled you. Making you jump back and hit the tiled wall with the back of your head.

You panic and flush the empty toilet beside you, trying to create an alibi and not wanting either person in the house to know about your phone call.

You quickly tuck your phone into your shorts pocket, switch on the sink, and start washing your hands.

"Hurry up." Becky’s voice through the door made the terrible feeling in your stomach curdle even further.

Finally, you open the door to Becky’s tired face before she pushes past you with a grunted "gotta pee."

You speedily walk back to the bedroom as the bathroom door clicks shut behind her.

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wosowrites · 1 year

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Even Protectors Break Down (Sam Kerr (kinda) x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️mentions of death⚠️

a/n: so today has been the worst day of my life. but i promised i would get a fic out so here it is. couldn’t find the request, sorry.

prompt: in which the readers father passes away right before a game, and reader chooses not to tell anybody. The reader has a really bad game and when the team finds out why, they need to be there for the person that usually protects them.

The game was at 3:00.

You had to leave your appartement at 9:00

The call came at 8:37.

You had changed into your tracksuit and had done your pregame routine which consisted of making a breakfast sandwich and watching a scary movie. You were now standing in front of the mirror in the washroom, trying your hair into a tight messy bun.

Your phone, that was placed on the counter, started ringing just as you were looping an extra hair tie around your hair. You struggled to get it on, trying to not ruin your hair but also hoping you wouldn’t miss the call.

Mum, the screen read.

Your mother never called you. Your mother didn’t like you. All you had was your dad, family wise. He was kind, and calm, and loving, and never got mad at you for not being interested in the boys your mother set you up with.

You answered the call on the last ring before your mother would have given up.

"Mum?" you said, concern in your voice. Your mother answered with silence. "Mum!" you said, loudly and clearly.

"Your father got into a car crash. He didn’t make it. Funeral is in a week and I can text you is will. Or what you inherited from it. Which is basically everything. Good luck with the game today, versus Manchester City, right?" your mother said.

Good luck with the game, your mum had never wished you good luck with a game. She thought your career was stupid.

"No… no… it’s versus United," you said, calmly staring at yourself through the mirror. "Oh. My bad. Good luck," she hung up.

Processing your emotions seemed impossible. You wanted to scream, and cry, and curl up on the floor and never leave. But instead, you smiled at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

You usually blasted music on the way to Cobham, where you met the Chelsea girls before leaving for Manchester, but today, the car was silent. Silent other than for the sound of the ring you wore on your index tapping against the steering wheel.

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, which definitely wasn’t safe as you were driving on a highway.

A highway, your dad died on a highway. Probably. You couldn’t remember if your mother had specified.

You arrived at the training ground, your brain cloudy, your hands shaky, and your body numb. You had told yourself in the car that you would be keeping this to yourself to make sure the team got the win without having to worry about you.

Ever since you were young, you had adopted the ‘don’t want to be a burden' mindset. And that’s the mindset you had chosen for today as you walked into Cobham, greeted by cameras and trainers.

You put on your best smile, the one that said 'my mother didn’t just tell me my father died less than 40 minutes ago!' and then waved at the camera.

The second they couldn’t see you anymore, you let your smile drop. Nervously running your hands through your loose hair (you had ripped the bun out in the car) you walked into the changing room.

Your throat felt blocked as you smiled a tight lipped smile to the girls who said hi to you. You sat down beside Sam’s empty cubby, she was always a little late.

Sam and you had… history. And by history you meant hookup history. Sam was just always there, all the time, especially when you felt the most alone. And she made you feel… not alone. But you had never been able to venture into anything serious with her, the timing was just wrong. Yet somehow every time you told each other that it was over, you woke up in her bed.

The world around you felt cushioned. It felt like you were lying under a weighted blanket, listening to a party going on on the outside, on the other side of the blanket.

You hadn’t noticed eyes on you, zoned out instead on Millie’s number 4 jersey.

"Y/n!" a voice yelled, snapping you out of your daze. You turned your head quickly in the direction of the voice. "Mhm," you said, looking at Guro. "Are you okay?" Erin asked, all eyes on you now.

You held eye contact with her for a while, biting the inside of your cheek, licking your lips, trying to think of what to say.

"Sam’s late again. Why is she always late? Do you think she’s okay? She should really not be late," you said, standing up quickly and pulling at your fingers.

Pernille try to make a step towards you but you walked off, back out of the changing room and into the Cobham hallways.

As you turned the corner, you immediately felt a familiar body colliding with yours. "Sam! Jesus why are you so late?!" You grounded the australian, walking backwards and away from her. "I’m like, ten minutes late," she said, checking her watch and looking back up at you, sorry visible in her brown eyes.

You held eye contact with her before turning away and walking back into the changing room, met with confused looks from your teammates.

But you were saved by Emma, who walked in and started debriefing you all. Only ten minutes later, you were walking out of Cobham to board the bus on the way to Manchester. A 4h37 minute drive was ahead of you. A drive in which you would try not to break down, and then you would warm up, and try not to break down, and then play the game, and try not to break down, and then-

"Stop yelling her name it won’t do anything! Y/n…" Sams voice broke you out of your trance, her tone changing from when she talked to the team and when she adresses you.

You spun your head to the side, looking at Sam who’s hand was on your lower back. "Sorry. Bus, yeah," you said, climbing into the vehicle.

you climbed into the bus, your head spinning. the idea of being in a moving vehicle made you ill. you could only think about the fact that your father was now gone due to being in one. but honestly, you being in the bus didn’t bother you, it was the fact that all your girls, your team, your rocks were here too. that Sam was here, that Jessie was, that Magda and P who had been like mothers do you. That was made you feel as though you were going to go insane.

But you sat down in your seat, and pretended as though you were calm. Sam sat next to you, and subtly, casually put her hand on your thigh, rubbing her thumb on it. You didn’t feel her hand leave the whole, entire drive.

When you got to the Manchester United stadium, you quickly ushered the australian out of the bus, not wanting to be there at all. The only time you had taken an entire, deep breath since getting inside the bus was when you saw that all your team and all the staff was out.

But when you weren’t worried about your girls, your brain went back to your father. "Y/n, what’s going on. Your eyes look foggy… and you look pale," Sam said, trying to talk to you discreetly so that Emma wouldn’t hear.

"I am fine. Im just nervous," you lied. "Don’t lie," Sam told you, seeing right through you.

"I’m not, Sam," you said sternly before walking away from her. You spent the rest of the pre warmup looking around the field, checking the changing rooms (even if you’d been there tens of times) and then you got changed. Once a crowd started to gather, you warmed up. And then, kickoff.

It all went wrong so fast.

Your passes were way off, and as a midfielder, your attacking was off, defenders were getting past you quicker than they got around a pilon, and you were just no help whatsoever. It was a miracle that you were tied 2-2 at half.

The second you tried to walk off for halftime, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Magda. "I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you need to pull it together. Like, 30 minutes ago. Whatever is wrong, leave it off the field, got it?" The swede said. "Got it," you said.

Why Emma didn’t take you off? Another miracle. But then things escalated in the second half. Three players somehow went down with injuries and had to be taken off, so suddenly there weren’t any midfielders that could be subbed on for you. The look on the teams face when they realized they would have to play the rest of the game with you on the field made you want to die.

But you did. You tried to create better, crisper passes, and you tried to even get a shot off. But nothing was working. Nothing.

Jessie managed to slot one in in the 88th, which ended up being the last goal of the game.

When the final whistle blew, you fell to the ground immediately. Your head in your hands, you just tried to control your breathing. No need to cry on the pitch. You felt a hand on your back for what felt like the two hundredth time today. But this time, it was a red.

"It wasn’t your day today, I see that. But I also see that something is wrong. Are you okay?" Classic Ona, classic sweet spaniard.

You looked at her with wide eyes for a second. None of your team was around you, no one wanting to loose it on you. "Welp. Considering I can’t tell anyone on my team. I found out my dad died about seven hours ago and I haven’t let myself cry… or fell anything since," you said.

And then you stood up, and walked away. Which probably wasn’t the best move as Ona looked completely lost.

But the second you walked into the tunnel, you were met with Pernille who looked on edge. "Oh! Okay just, hear her out. She’s really mad. She’ll be okay but-" Pernille started saying. But then Magda turned the corner and was storming towards you. "What the hell was that? What was that? I’ve never seen a girl on this team play so badly. I’m sorry I don’t want to ruin your confidence but that was so unprofessional. Never again. Never do that again. You hear me?" Magda said angrily.

You nodded once taking in the swedes anger. Her chest was heaving, her hair was messy, her pupils were small.

She looked you up and down and then walked back into the changing room, Pernille giving you an apologetic look before hurrying after he.

You did not make it back to the locker room, instead, you found a hallway, slid down the wall and started sobbing like you never ever had before.

Locker room

Magda and Pernille were the last people to enter the Chelsea changing room. The girls were happy about the win, but they all seemed lost, and thoroughly confused about what rhe hell had happened on that pitch. But they were about to get their explanation.

Emma walked in, looking pale and teary. "Okay girls-" she cleared her throat and her eyes darted around the room. "-she’s not here. Shit. Uhm… I just got a call from y/n’s agent. Her father… he died a few hours before the game," Emma said.

Right away, Sam’s eyes widened and she jumped up. "Where is she?!" she said, panicking. "I don’t know, uh, maybe the tunnel or-"

"I yelled at her. I said… not okay things to her," Magda said. "And all this time she-" Magdalena said, her eyes unfocused as they looked at the ground.

"I don’t care! Where is she?" Sam said, looking at the captain. "She was in the tunnel last time I-"

But the striker was already off. It took her five minutes to find you, five minutes in which she felt sick and desperate, and five minutes in which you had cried so hard your nose was plugged up.

When she found you, she basically threw herself at you. She wrapped her arms around you and gently guided you to her lap. For almost forty minutes, she stroked your hair, whispered words of love and reassurance to you, and just made sure you know she was there, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

#woso fic #woso imagine #sam kerr #chelsea fcw

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thatbxolivia · 1 month

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could you do one where the reader regresses during a mission? With clone wars era anakin?

🎀 anon

you have the best ideas omg

you woke up this morning feeling incredibly little. you pushed it down, not wanting to impede on anakin’s plans. he had this mission planned for weeks, needing you specifically as your father, a political figurehead on Tattooine, was making issues for the senate and giving troubling signs of separatist sympathy. you had no contact with your family, especially not your father, and preferred to keep it that way. however, you were beginning to feel useless and when this opportunity arose, you jumped at the opportunity.

you had tried sending a message to your father, asking him to PLEASE stop this madness, but you received no response. you knew he would be angry with you when he saw you, but anakin would be with you the entire time.

you sat in the passenger seat of anakin’s ship, silent as he manned the controls. he looked over at you.

“i will turn around right now, i’ll take you home. i’ll find someone to watch you, just say the word.” he told you, smiling softly. you shook your head.

“i feel kinda weird… but not enough to regress.” you lied. “i’ll be okay to wait til we both get home.” you told him, giving him a small smile. he nodded, you thinking he believed your lie. you felt better knowing he wasn’t worrying about you instead.

soon enough you landed on the desert landscape near mos eisley, departing the ship and tracking through the market to your fathers workshop. when you found it, you stood in front of the door, sighing.

“i don’t want to do this.” you muttered to yourself, hoping anakin didn’t hear. he did.

“i’m serious. anytime, even if we’re in the middle of speaking, just tell me. give me a sign, i will take you home and have someone watch you. i don’t care what the order says, you do NOT have to do this.” he said, grabbing your shoulders and making eye contact with you. you shook your head, not wanting to be a big baby. you stood your ground before, you would now as well. you were going to do this.

“no, anakin.” you said, and he backed off hearing his name. he nodded and smiled sadly at you, not used to hearing anything other than “daddy”.

“okay.” he said. “then let’s go, baby.” he said putting his hand on your back and guiding you in.

the workshop was small. roomy, but small. it was well lit with multicolored lanterns and lampposts, giving the room a very colorful view. you remembered it. you remembered being young, before your parents separated, and spending many a night in this workshop. you loved it. loved.

“most people use common sense when they don’t get a reply to a message and leave the recipient alone.” you heard a man scoff behind you. you turned around and deadpanned at him; lo and behold, in all his glory, your father. “then again, guess you weren’t very bright.” he grumbled.

“i’m very intelligent, thank you.” was all you said in response. “we’re here to talk about-“

“ugh.” he cut you off, exiting the room. “boring.” he called over his shoulder, making you scoff. anakin spoke up.

“you know of me?” he asked, holding his head high.

“the great hero of the order.” your father said sarcastically, not actually impressed. anakin’s response was to use the force to drag your father over to him, choking him in the process.

“i’m not as kind as your daughter. if you refuse to speak with her, you get me instead.” was all anakin said, keeping a dead serious expression. your father nodded, gasping for air when he was let go.

“these the kinda people you hang with?!” he asked incredulously. you on the other hand just shrugged.

“they’re nice to you when you’re nice to them.” you replied, earning a small snort from anakin. at least he thought it was funny, unlike your father.

“what do you even want?! why do you care where my allegiance lies?!”

“because your dragging this entire planet down a separatist sinkhole, i won’t have it, none of us will!” you said, raising your voice. “tattooine has for far too long been engulfed in war and slavery and the LAST thing it needs is separatist ownership. for fucks sake, dad, what the hell happened to you?!” you yelled, anakin behind you being dead silent. he’d never seen you this way. “you are my father-“

“i gave you life and that’s IT! you are no daughter of mine!” he yelled back, making you cry immediately.

“fine! die then! take the whole planet with you and die a lonely and miserable old man. i HATE you!” you screamed louder than anyone. the room fell dead silent.

“glad the feelings mutual.” he said with venom in his voice. “get out!” he pointed towards the door and kicked over a box. the noise startled you and you cried.

“daddy..” you sobbed.

“i’m not your father!” he screamed, pointing at the door again. “fucking go!”

you ran out into the streets, earning a few weird looks, but most people seemed sympathetic. your heart was breaking. what a stereotype, a young girl needing her boyfriend to be her caregiver because she has daddy issues. for fucks sake.

“i’m here. i’m not him, i’m here and i always will be.” you heard behind you, feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“i never should’ve come here.” you sobbed, shaking your head. anakin wrapped you in a tight hug from behind, his chin resting on top of your head.

“even when you’re just a baby, you’ve always wanted to do everything yourself. i see it now, you don’t want to be big or anything like that. you want to be independent so if someone leaves you, it doesn’t hurt. but you can depend on me.” anakin said. “you can always depend on me, i am NEVER going anywhere. not without you.” he said, whispering the last part. you cried at his words.

“daddy,” you began. “i lied. i shouldn’t have come here i’ve been feeling off all day.” you fessed up. your daddy was not angry or upset with you, he had a very calm look on his face, very sympathetic.

“i know.” he said. “you needed to come to this conclusion yourself, there was nothing i could’ve said.” he told you. “but i’ll tell you what we’re gonna do.” he began, walking you forward, back towards the landing spot. “we’re gonna go home, i’m gonna get you in a bath and changed, then we can have kol come watch you, or maybe obiwan, whoever. and i’ll come back here and deal with this, and you’ll never have to hear about him again.” you both stopped. “sound like a plan?”.

“yes.” you said, kicking a rock. you felt better already, in your headspace and your daddy already making plans to help you out. your shoulders relaxed.

“good.” he said, continuing forward with you in tow.

“i hate him.” you said.

“no, you don’t. you love him and that’s why it hurts. you won’t heal until you acknowledge that fact.” your daddy told you softly. you knew he was correct.

“why is he so mean?” you asked, feeling tears form again as you walked. you could see the ship ahead of you in the shipyard. you sighed.

“i don’t know, that i wish i knew.” he said sadly. “but i do know that it gets better, losing a parent. or in your case, going no contact. the first few days are hard,” he confessed, not wanting to lie to you. “but i’ll be there. then, it’ll get better. and better, and better, until you learn to live with that loss. it will always hurt if you think too long about it.” he said. “but you learn to live with that pain, and you learn ways to cope.” he said, smiling and reaching the ship. he opened the door and let you enter first.

“daddy?” you called out, looking back at him. he had walked in and was packing something.

“hm?” he hummed, stopping packing and looking up. he always gave you his full attention. always.

“am i too much?” you asked and he smiled.

“never.” he said, knowing you needed to hear it. it was the god’s honest truth, and he’ll tell you any day you need to hear it again.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

#fanfic #archive of our own #star wars agere #anakin x reader #cg!anakin #anakin skywalker #daddy!anakin #star wars anakin #anakin x you

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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The Sandman and the Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 5: To Promises Kept, and Promises Broken

TW: Revenge, ANGST, Morpheus is broke yall, character death, The Fates (yea, these bitches get their own warning cause they a bit freaky)

In the glass cage Morpheus passed through the years in silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Five long years he sat, unmoving and unbreakable. When Roderick Burgess had slammed his head against his cage and fallen to the ground, never to get up again Morpheus turned to the younger, Alex Burgess, And for a brief moment he thought he might be free. But, as was common with the boy turned man, cowardice clouded his judgment. Though he offered him freedom at the price of a promise Morpheus refused.

He could not promise Alex the protection he sought. Not after all these years. Not after Jessamy. Not after her. So, he stayed in his silent cage not moving. Not anything. He thought of the girl… The girl whose name had become too painful for him to even think. Where had they kept her trapped all these years? Was she even alive? The mark on his arm had ceased all connection to her, something he didn't know if was the fault of his cage or because there was nothing left to connect to. The thoughts of her consumed him.

His rage burned hot. The hatred festering had overgrown him. Great unending wells of pain and sorrow flooded every spec of hope that dared remain within him. For the first time in ages Dream of the Endless felt nothing, for if he had let himself feel any of, it no matter how small, it would destroy everything and everyone. So, when the gates had opened once again he didn't bother to react. Not until he saw the flash of white, white he'd seen drag the girl from his side years ago.

He looked and immediately wished he hadn't. Dream felt his eyes water with repressed tears as he looked down at her, slumped against the pillar she’d once been tethered to. What had they done? She was more frail looking than he'd ever seen her. The white vest pinned her arms at her sides as her slow moving eyes took in the room before settling on him. With a soft, tired sigh she smiled, a sight that should have filled him with joy, but instead felt wrong. "Hey Sandy, it's been a while."

Anger filled his lungs. How dare they. He glared over at Alex Burgess, hoping with every fiber of his being that the man could feel the weight of it. But he did nothing in reaction as he knelt down to her. "She seems more relaxed than what was described."

"She is heavily sedated, sir."

Paul cursed under his breath. "Is that really necessary?"

"For all our safety, yes."

Alex leaned in closer to look at her properly and in the blink of an eye she slammed her head into his, sending him reeling backwards. Laughter filled the room, and though Morpheus could see it was coming from her, it sounded nothing like the laugh he knew. She was different in a way that made him ache. An air of madness surrounded her, something he'd seen before in his younger sister. In her struggle to beat the Burgess’ she'd been forced to the edge, closer and closer to Delirium. He feared she'd lose herself to it soon if she hadn't already.

Alex stood, and straightened up, speaking as if nothing had happened, but the red bump already forming on his head brought Dream a quick feeling of pride. At least that much hasn’t changed. "You see, she's here just as I promised." His face twisted with desperation as he looked in the cage. "Speak to me, please."

Morpheus' jaw set. He'd not been inclined to speak years ago and he certainly wasn't now. What was her presence to prove? That he’d not only allowed his father to send her away somewhere just as bad, if not worse than here, but had known where she was this whole time and still did nothing? What did the boy think his promise meant when even he couldn’t look at the frail girl he’d doomed to madness? Alex's voice shook when he next spoke, "Why won't you speak to me? I've not asked for gifts or anything, just one word."

Paul set a hand on his lover's shoulder. "Alex..."

"Can you speak to him?" Alex dared ask her. After all he’d allowed, he still had the gall to ask her for more. "Convince him to just talk with me?"

He couldn't help but frown at the bitterness of her laugh. "What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"That mark on your arm! He gifted you with it and you expect me to believe he did so without a single word to you, with nothing?"

"The years have truly made you just as paranoid as your father, Alex." She hissed. "I've told you this already. He hasn't said a single word to me, not when I got the mark and not a minute after."

"Then why?" The boy asked. "Why give you anything in the first place?"

He fought a growl at the assumption he'd in any way intended this. "I've answered that question before too."

"It can't have been an accident!" The boy insisted, his mannerisms shifting. He looked more like his father. "It just couldn't be."

"Look, this conversation has been just riveting, truly, but I think it's over. So, now what?" Her tone was venom, her eyes even more so as they seemed to clear of whatever drugs they’d given her.

Alex looked back at Dream, eyes searching for a change. "Now you go back to the institution."

He felt the raw unbridled rage fill her through the mark, a sensation that he’d not felt for five long years, but it was the sting of her fear that made his breath hitch. What had she been forced to endure all this time to result in such fear? "Back to my own glass cage? After all those empty promises of freedom?" She turned her head away from him. "Just as well I suppose, I was starting to feel left out."

"Don't. I fully intend to let you go, I just..."

"Just what Alex?" All the fondness she’d once had for the boy was gone. It had been gone, he suspected, for a long time. "Just intend to dangle freedom in front of me for another eight years? Twenty perhaps? Longer?"

Alex didn't answer, Dream assumed he didn't have one to give. The two men left, but with them gone another strange feeling settled in his chest, one that he couldn’t decipher. "When you do get out…" At last she looked at him. Her eyes were still void of all the joy she’d once held in them as sparkling tears rolled down her slightly hollowed cheeks. "Make them pay for it. Every second."

Her tears would have been enough for him to ensure ruin upon the Burgess house and all under its roof. But her plea, soft and full of rage and hurt, the hardened look of her eyes. That made him swear it. To her it appeared as a simple tilt of the head, but for him it was the sacred vow of an Endless. Looking into those eyes he realized then that all his attempts to push her away had failed. All that time he’d wasted pushing her away, trying to deny the simple and unbreaking fact that she was half of him. The half he’d been missing throughout the eons. She was his equal and he would deny her nothing.

The longer he watched her, the longer they looked into each others eyes, the more obvious it was that she had something planned. She was afraid, but he could feel the idea just out of his grasp was set in stone. It pushed a wave of fear through him, something he'd not allowed himself to feel since the last time he'd seen her. Oh what he wouldn't give to be free, to show the men in white what real power was, to take her far from here to the dreaming... home.

When the gate opened again it was Paul that went to her. Dream felt some measure of comfort as he watched the man help pull her free of the wretched thing that bound her. She made a strangled noise as she pulled him into a hug. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I can't do more," he said, pulling back and holding a small bag out to her. Something she recognized with glistening eyes. "I kept it safe for you."

"Paul." She pressed it to her chest.

"Don't. This is the least I can do. Now what? The workers agreed to let you out of the vest, but they won't be so inclined to just let you walk off."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan. I'll be okay." It was a lie, he knew it was.

Paul looked his way for the first time since he'd come down here. "I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill all your requests. It's just…"

"Alex," she finished for him. "I understand. Can I?"

He nodded, moving off to the side letting her move towards his glass prison. She moved slowly, and every fiber of his being vibrated with anticipation. The closer she got the more clear her cut covered bruised arms became. Who was the new Roderick Burgess in her cage? Who would he be hunting down upon his release? He moved closer to the glass that separated them.

She touched the cage gently, flattening her palm along the smooth surface. Dream didn't hesitate to lift his hand to press into the warmth that spread under hers. The mark hummed between them forcing a soft noise from her. The connection sparked a tiny flame in his chest. Hope. "I tried to bargain with them for you too…" His heart dropped and he could feel the tears fill his eyes. Of course she had. "I'm sorry it didn't work. But it's okay."

She pressed her forehead to the glass. He pressed his to hers, too eager to feel the warmth of her at least just this once. "You're going to be okay." She sobbed. You… Not we. "I know you will."

Muffled shouts echoed around the glass and she pulled away, looking into his eyes. She looked at him the way he'd seen countless times… The way that one looks at something important right before they lose it. Before he could fully feel the fear that it brought him, she moved forward pressing a kiss to the cage where his forehead rested. He leaned his head further into the glass, further into the faint warmth of her lips until it hurt. "Goodbye, Sandman."

Goodbye. It wasn't the word that caused the panic and sorrow to fully settle in his chest. It was the way she said it, soft... slow, definite. She had no intention of returning to the institution, nor to the mansion. The thought that had been just out of his reach unfurled before him. She was set on removing herself as a pawn in the Burgess' games with him. Set to end her part in his torment. Set to end.

He wished he could shout at her, beg her not to go through with whatever this plan was, whatever it was that would take her from him once again. Though, he knew her... Knew she wouldn’t listen even if he did beg. Tears slid down his cheeks. He wished he could tell her his name at least, or explain the mysterious pull she felt and that he did in turn. So she could understand why her life had been twisted into this, so she could understand why even through its abuse to torment him her life mattered more than anything. Yet he could do nothing, but look at her and commit her face to his memory before forced to watch her walk away.

Make them pay for it. Every second. Her words filled his head and he clung to the promise, to her final wish. He would ruin them, every last one of them that had hurt her even if it was the last thing he did.

The next day when Paul had slipped into the basement without his lover, he didn't utter a word, he didn't need to. Morpheus already knew. Penelope was gone, forever this time.

***

Eighty years had passed since he'd lost everything. The only thing that kept Dream going was his final vow to her. That vow glistened in the old and withered face of Alex Burgess as he stood in front of the glass.

"I could have asked you for wealth or power, like my father did. But all I ever wanted was to be free of you," the boy, now turned old, said. "Surely you want that too."

Want? Dreams thoughts hissed. He dares speak to me of want? He has no right to feign interest in my wants. Not when he'd sent the only thing he ever truly wanted to her death.

"Alex…" Paul's frustrated tone dissipated with a sigh. As he stood beside his love with a wheelchair. "Darling please."

Eventually Alex relented, sitting in the chair offered. He spared a look at the caged being. "Take me upstairs Paul. I won't be coming down here again."

Even after all this time it still sent a dull ache to his core, the threat of another century trapped in silence. He watched as Paul rolled Alex away, and solemnly prepared to face the next years. But a thrum of something ran through him… A sliver of his power. How? Together he and Paul glanced down at the clear mark breaking the circle that had summoned him. They shared a long look before Paul finally nodded his head and took Alex from the room without a word.

Tonight he would uphold his promise. Tonight he would be free of this place once and for all. He honed in on the guards conversation, using what power he could to wrap around the man's mind and invade it. When the guard stood and began firing upon the glass he couldn't hold back his smirk and when the glass finally gave way and the waves of his power washed over him he felt all that anger and pain explode from within him.

The mind of Alex Burgess was exactly as he imagined. Trapped within the confines of this house, of his fathers shadow. Posing as the black cat he led the young man up the stairs and perched on the seat before revealing his true self. Alex looked at him in fear, and Morpheus wouldn't bother pretending he didn't enjoy it as he uttered his first word in a century. "Hello."

"It's… It's you. You… You're free…" He stuttered, taking a step back.

"I am." Slowly he stood from his seat, glowing eyes fixed on his prey. "Do you have any idea what it was like? Confined to a cage for over a century. Forced to be witness to the beating and breaking of an innocent girl? Do you understand the damage you have done to your world?"

He pressed into the door, desperate to hide from his judgment. "I… I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"I've heard your pitiful excuses before and seen your apologies for what they truly are." Morpheus said, voice deathly calm as the dream around them reflected his anger. "Tell me, Alex Burgess, how many times did you plead for her forgiveness only to stab her in the back? How many promises did you swear to her that you never fulfilled?"

"Please!" He cried out.

But he was too far past the point of pleading with the Endless. "When you learned of her fate, did you feel any guilt at all?"

Alex's lip quivered. "She made a choice…"

"Choice," Morpheus growled. "What choice was that? To return to her own cage until she withered away like you? Or to throw her car off a bridge just to free herself from the years of torment she suffered at your family's hands?"

"I didn't…" Slowly he shifted from the young man to the boy he truly was. "I didn't know."

"She's gone because of you." He said the words, but as they echoed in the dream he wasn't entirely certain they were aimed at the boy.

"I thought that sending her back would be kinder… A way to save her from memories of this place… A gift! I did... didn’t think she would…" His voice stopped with a strangled, frightened sob.

"A gift?" Everything shook at the sound of his voice, at his power. "Your punishment then shall be a similar gift. I give you this… The gift of eternal sleep." With one breath the sand wove around him, trapping him within the confines of his mind. Forever bound to the prison of his own choosing. Forever in his fathers shadow.

He let the boy's mind free of his grasp and sank into the swirling twisting call of home, of the dreaming.

***

Lucienne ran as quickly as her feet would carry her toward the figure of her lord. Sand crunched beneath every step, shifting in unpredictable ways, but she never faltered. "Sir! Sir! Oh my goodness!" She sank to her knees beside him, pulling him gently to his back. "Sir, it's me… It's Lucienne."

Dream opened his eyes, looking around dazed before finding the familiar face of his librarian. She took his hand in hers and he squeezed it, basking in the gentleness of her touch… The first touch he'd felt in over a century. With a smile he whispered her name, "Lucienne."

"Your home." She sounded so sad yet so joyful. "My lord."

"I am." He said, voice slowly regaining its natural sound. She helped him to his feet, holding his arms tightly as if he'd fall or perhaps disappear once more. The sound of the waves in the distance filled his ears. His few moments of joy were interrupted by the memory of her laying on that basement floor, her eyes closed as she spoke. Her voice, the memory of it came alive around him.

"A vast ocean beating down on black sand. On the edge of a grand kingdom, tall mountains and white gates intricately carved. The further you get from the gates the more you feel the perfect breeze, not too cold or too strong just enough to give you goosebumps while you walk and listen to the song of the sea."

He looked around at the black sands, the ocean, the mountains before his eyes fell upon the gates of his realm. He was home. And yet his thoughts filled only with regret. She never got to see it. Not this beach, not my castle, not fiddlers green. He turned his eyes back to the sea, taking a few steps towards it. She never got to dream. Guilt and shame filled him. What he'd said to Alex Burgess had been for himself more than he realized.

Kneeling down he took hold of the black sand, raising slowly to his feet he stood closing his eyes tightly. He saw her. His hope. Saw her smile and her bright joyful eyes. He heard her. His hope. Heard the sound of her laughter and the gentle melody of the song she had always hummed. She was here, in his mind, standing in front of him with that sweet smile on her face.

"We're going to get out of here. You, me and Jessamy. Together. I promise."

"To promises kept," he whispered to the figment of her in front of him as he let the sand fall between his fingers. "And promises broken."

Lucienne gave him an odd look when he turned back and walked with her to the gate, but his librarian didn't ask the question on the tip of her tongue. Staring up at the gates he felt relief wash over him, only a small measure but more so than he'd had in far too long. The smooth surface came alive under his palm, shifting, opening to him.

"Forgive me, sir, but…" He turned to her, the relief dissolving at the sight of her fallen face. "The realm… The palace. They are not as you left them.

As the gates opened, as he looked out upon the vast expanse beyond he almost fell to his knees. His realm… His creation lay in lifeless ruin. Everything as far as his eyes could see was gone, withered away into nothing. No, he thought. This cannot be. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord," she said from behind him. "You are the dreaming. The dreaming is you. With you… Gone… As long as you were the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents? The palace staff?"

She sighed. "I'm afraid most have… Gone."

Hurt filled his lungs. "Gone?"

"Some went looking for you," she said, an attempt to soothe him at least a little.

"And the others?"

"They thought that perhaps you'd grown weary of your duties and…"

"And what? Abandon them?" He asked brokenly. "Had they so little faith in me? Do my subjects not know me?"

"If I may, sir, it would not be the first time one of the Endless had just-"

"Enough. I will not have dreams and nightmares preying on the waking world. I will bring them all back. I made this world once Lucienne, I will make it again." I will not fail anyone else again.

He turned into the dead kingdom and started walking. One way or another, Dream would restore his realm and save the waking world with it.

***

He wasn't strong enough. Not without his tools. As he sat upon the steps of his ruined palace with Lucienne at his side he felt lost. His fingers traced the pattern of the mark through his sleeve, something he hadn’t realized he’s started doing until Lucienne spoke, “My lord, if I may inquire...”

“Ask, Lucienne,” he numbly instructed. “I know you’ve been wanting to.”

She sighed, stepping closer to him. “Something about you feels different... Something that it seems is causing you much pain.”

Without a word in response he lifted his sleeve, revealing the mark to her. She gasped, looking down at him with shock. Before she could ask the obvious question he answered, “It happened while I was in the captivity of the Burgess’.”

“How? There has never been an Endless with a soul brand before. It should not be possible.”

“I thought it a trick at first,” he admitted. “Thought that somehow the Burgess had learned of such sacred things and thought to use it as a way to force my compliance.” Dream held back his tears. “But it was real. She was real.”

Lucienne had picked up on the sorrowful tone of his voice. “What happened to her?”

“What happens to all mortals eventually,” he stated, pushing his pain back down. “I suppose I can at least find comfort in knowing she has passed to the Sunless Lands.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” She whispered.

With a faint, pained smile he said, “You would have liked her Lucienne.”

His librarian smiled back for a moment before shifting the focus back to their current worry. “Perhaps, just this once, you could call upon the aid of your siblings? The other Endless.”

He sighed at the suggestion. “My siblings have realms of their own to attend to. And we do not interfere in one another's affairs.”

“Yes, but given the circumstance...” She stopped. “If, perhaps, you told them what happened to you...”

“I am quite sure they know what happened to me.” Dreams voice sounded far more pained than he’d meant it to. “And not one of them came to my aid.”

She bowed her head and let silence fill the decrepit remains of his throne room. How could he rebuild his realm if he could not retrieve his tools? His power. One ugly and unpleasant thought entered his mind. Lucienne was not going to like it. She hadn’t, but relented to his plan. The Fates, he'd decided, was the only way and even that path was paved in pain.

The closer he got to the familiar houses of Cain and Abel the worse he felt. It was no small object he'd have to take back, but an old creation and a beloved friend. Dream felt the weight of his duty clawing at his chest, but as king of this realm he had no time to let it slow him. No time to mourn what he'd already lost or what he'd yet to lose. He simply had to keep going, even if he didn’t want to.

In the sky he could see the magnificent creature as it hopped onto the rooftop and not so gracefully leapt to the ground. "Cain! Abel," he called out just as they'd rushed to meet him and Lucienne.

"Lord Morpheus!" Cain said, removing his glasses.

Abel smiled. "You've come back!"

"At last!"

"I told you he'd return," Abel mumbled to his brother.

"Oh I never doubted it," Cain replied. "Come in my lord, and you, Lucienne! To the house of mystery."

"Or the house of secrets," Abel added. "I have tea!"

Cain glared at his brother. "I have tea! And biscuits!"

He'd missed them and their constant bickering, though he'd never outwardly show it, but after this he doubted he'd get to see them. Not for a long while anyway. Lucienne stepped forward. "Gentleman, I'm afraid this is not a social call."

"What's happened?"

"Is something wrong?" Abel asked.

"What is it?" Cain continued.

With a heavy heart he spoke, "For the sake of the dreaming, I must take back a gift I gave you long ago."

It had gone exactly as he expected, Abel ever understanding and Cain cold and angry. Dream watched Gregory toss the ball in the air and gently kick it between his feet. She would have loved him. He thought before he could help himself. And once he started he couldn't stop, his walls having long crumbled when it came to her. She would have loved all of them, every dream and nightmare.

He picked up the small ball and walked toward the creature, holding back the emotions he felt gnaw at him. Gregory stood to meet him, his ears pulling back as he purred softly. "I need your help."

With a noble bow of his head the king had his answer. Cain, however, was not ready to let him go. “Gregory, stop. No.”

He stood in between them, facing Morpheus with a determined but sorrow filled gaze, a gaze so unlike him. Abel joined his side as he said, “Take me instead. Or Abel.”

“Yeah, take me, Lord Morpheus, please.” Abel’s desperate tone only drove the blade of duty deeper within Dreams heart.

“I cannot.” He said, though he wished he could. “I can only reabsorb that which I have created, and Gregory began as a nightmare.”

“Ye... Yes, but one of us now,” Cain said brokenly as his eyes filled with tears. “It’s not fair.”

Fair, he thought solemnly. None of this is fair. “No... It’s not.”

The brothers turned to Gregory, Cain only for a moment before walking off to the side to hide his hurt. Morpheus stepped back, allowing them time to say goodbye. Her voice echoed in his head again and his hands curled into fists at the sound, “Goodbye, Sandman.”

He watched Abel say goodbye with a long kiss to the Gargoyles beak. For a moment he felt the warmth of her lips through that damn glass. His fists clenched tighter as he fought to keep himself composed. Gregory approached Cain with a gentle nudge to his shoulder, coaxing the gentle touch out of him before his anger returned and he crossed Morpheus’ path with a hurt and angry declaration. “It isn’t fair.”

And once he was ready Gregory turned to Morpheus without fear. He knelt before the mighty gargoyle. "You have served this kingdom with great honor. You will be missed."

Holding out his hand he let the essence of Gregory shift back into sand and return to him. He felt the last fleeting feelings of his creation and the bittersweet surge of power that revitalized him. Once the last of the sand was gone he watched the red plants blossom beneath his feet for a moment before standing and beckoning Lucienne to follow.

Dream wasted no time, finding the misty star-covered waters that he now stood gazing out at. On the edge of the pier, listening to the soft water and the creaking of the wood beneath him. Lucienne asked, worriedly, “Do you think you’re quite ready for this, Your Majesty? It has been quite some time since you last navigated these waters.”

His arms crossed in front of him he looked out at the vast cosmic darkness. “Do you think I have forgotten how?”

“No. But...” Her words died on her tongue with a sigh.

He turned to look at her. “I cannot ask The Fates for help without giving them something in return. There is nothing left to give from The Dreaming. I have to gather my offerings from the dreams of others.

“I understand,” she said clasping her hands together and squeezing them trying to ease her worry. “It’s just that, in your absence, these waters have become darker, treacherous, unsafe.”

He knelt down, holding what remained of Gregory in his palm. "These waters are as much a part of me as I am them. Gregory's sacrifice will not be in vain."

The reflection below him began as his own as he let the sand fall into its depths. Reaching towards it the reflection remained him, a darker vision, the king of the nightmare realms, but just before he touched the water it shifted, the face staring back at him was suddenly hers. The figure in the water pulled him in without warning and he fought against the raging current of nightmares. The vast underwater expanse roiled against him, but he fought commanding it until at last it bent to his will again. He collected his gifts for the Fates with haste.

The crossroads to meet them at.

The hanged man.

The gallows.

The serpent.

The egg, he’d not expected to find, but took it in hopes it would ease the pain he’d caused to Cain and Abel. An apology and a hope, one of the last he could offer.

"I, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless summon the Fates." Thunder and lightning filled the sky as a figure appeared in the mist. "The three-who-are-one." Closer. "The one-who-is-three. The Hecate." There.

There they stood in front of him, watching silently for a moment no doubt trying to gauge how desperate he was. The Maiden that spoke first. "Morpheus, it's been a while."

The Mother, "You look thin, love. Have you been eating? Are you hungry?"

The Crone, "He is but not for food! Look at him! He wants something."

He smirked, bowing slightly. "You've found me out. I do want something. I need your help."

"Help?" The Crone asked with a scoff. "Oh, listen to him. Like you helped us against Circe?"

"Circe is old business sister self," the Mother reminded.

"And he did bring nice stuff," the Maiden added.

The Crone held out her hand, and the snake within his coat leapt for her arm. The Mother admired the serpent. "You may ask us three questions." Her mouth opened and the serpent slithered inside. As its tail curled around their jaw and disappeared behind the mouth of the Maiden she continued, "And get one answer from each of us."

"Ask wisely," The Crone warned.

"Thank you ladies." He said earnestly. "My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?"

Before him a vision unfurled. He stood in the rain among a crowd of people, umbrellas knocking into one another. "It was sold in London. Last purchased by a magic user called Johanna Constantine."

The umbrella in front of him lifted, revealing the familiar face of the woman who shared much of her ancestors' face. “Constantine…" He said, voice trailing off. He almost missed the flash of the bright blue umbrella as it opened among the crowd. Almost missed the faint, nearly unintelligible voice that called after this Constantine. "Johanna!" A wave of familiarity hit him, but why. Why did it sound so familiar? The blue umbrella started to lift just as the vision faded.

The Maiden looked at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. Before he could even speak she softly reminded, "One question. One answer."

He shoved the question he’d wanted to ask out of his mind. His tools were all that mattered. "My second question."

The Mother appeared. "Go on, dear."

"My helm, what happened to it?"

The second vision showed him a room, a demon circle with his helm in the center. "It was traded away to a demon for the amulet of protection."

The vision warped, a second image unfolding behind the first. A home, cluttered and warm. A figure hummed around the corner, the shadow of her swaying softly to the tune. He knew that tune, didn’t he? Before he could even think to look further the vision faded. The Mother shared the look the Maiden had and reminded once again, "One question. One answer, love."

He'd forgotten how infuriating this was. The Crone now stood before him with an expecting glare. He ground his teeth together. "Last question. My ruby, who holds it now?"

The final vision filled his eyes, simple and clear. A mother knelt beside her child, twirling the ruby above him. "Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

Just as before it began to twist, pulling him into another, the least clear of them all. Light blinded him, warmth, laughter. He could make out the shape of a blurry figure as it held out its hand out toward him, beckoning him. Then just as the others it was gone. "What was that?" He finally asked.

The Crone smiled, her teeth razor sharp as their faces merged into one and thunder and lightning filled the sky again. "You have asked your questions!"

It was the Crone that said, "The pull is strong."

"Stronger than any before it." The Mother added. "How curious."

The Maiden smiled. "One must wonder whether he will lean or push."

Their laughter echoed in the darkness and just as they came they and their gifts were gone. Their odd words rolled in his mind all the way back to the docks. He'd dealt with the Fates many times before and they'd never left unpaid for prophecy. If that's even what it was. Still it stuck with him, playing over in his mind until Lucienne's voice called him from his thoughts. "May I ask where you're off to, sire?"

"London."

"Did you not just spend the last hundred years there?" He sent her a look. "Sorry. Why London?"

"The sand was sold there." He took a step towards her. "Once I have it back I will seek out my helm. In hell."

"Oh dear," she sighed. "Then will you grant me one favor before you go? Take a raven with you."

Flashes of Jessamy, broken and bloody being cradled in the shaking hands of the girl filled his mind. "I'm sorry." He steeled his expression. "No. No more ravens."

"If not for you, then for me. A raven can go back and forth between realms. Keep me informed–"

"I do not need a minder." He whispered. "I am Dream of the Endless."

She tilted her head at him. "Yes, and Dream of the Endless always has a raven."

"Jessamy was the last." He turned from her, twisting his hands and ordering the waters to part. "If this Constantine is anything like her ancestor she will serve me well enough. She is only human."

"As was Roderick Burgess."

He ignored the sting of her words and continued forward into the dark. I will not fail.

***

Thunder and lightning shook the glass window I leaned against. The back of the couch provided little comfort, but the view of the night sky even filled with clouds and lighting and rain was one I could never pass up. Staring out at the downpour I fiddled with the vial around my neck, the glint of the black and white feathers catching my eye occasionally.

"Pen," The frantic voice called from the office. "Penelope!"

I rolled my eyes at her impatience and hopped to my feet, dodging the piles of stuff, to help her. "Yes, sweet Johanna?"

She rolled her eyes and tossed a random shoe at me. "Where's my umbrella?"

"You’ve lost it already?" I asked. "We just got in!"

"Pen, I'm late, please!"

I grabbed my blue one from the rack, giving it a light shake. "Take mine."

She kissed my cheek, snatching the umbrella from my hand and blowing past me in the familiar whirlwind that was Johanna Constantine. "You're an angel Barlow!"

"Yeah yeah, get out of here!"

She threw on her white trench coat and smiled at me. "Would you be willing to pop out for a bit and pick up some food? I'll be late and most likely starving."

"I'll get something," I promised.

"That stuff from that one place-"

"Johanna go!" I hollered with a laugh. The door shut behind her as I tidied up the living space a bit, humming as I went.

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#the sandman series #sandman morpheus #dream the endless #sandman netflix #the sandman x you #morpheus imagine #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless imagine #dream x reader #dream x you #king of dreams #lord of dreams

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sawyer-is-not-my-name · 1 year

Text

Will Solace x Son of Ares reader

Will grimaced at your wound, he was currently patching you up. "Love, what'd I tell you about getting hurt?" he looked up at you waiting for an answer. "To try not to get hurt, but I didn't try this time. I wasn't planning on getting hurt, it just happened?" Will gave you a look before responding, "yes because physically fighting one of your siblings over something, isn't looking to get hurt." Sarcasm laced his voice causing you to grimace.

"I wasn't looking to get hurt, I was looking to win the fight." He rolled his eyes, "everyone goes into fights hoping to win them." You looked down, you knew he didn't like how many fights you got into, or how much you got hurt. You were trying to lower the amount of times it happened, and you had been doing quite well.

Until now that was, you had gone two weeks without being in a fight or getting hurt and then one of your siblings mentioned how they thought you were going soft for a son of Apollo. They said it with the intent of hurting you, you knew that, they wanted to get to you, they knew the way they said 'son' would set you off. Which meant you were gonna have to knock some sense into them.

But now you were wondering if they were right, maybe you're father wouldn't approve of your relationship. Maybe he'd have his own choice words to say about it, and that you couldn't stomach. You always felt like you had to prove yourself to your dad, and now maybe you were letting him down for something you couldn't change.

"You want to tell me why you fought them?" You looked at the ground, "they said something stupid." Will could tell it was a bit more than just that. "Baby, y'know regardless of what they said they're opinion doesn't matter." You didn't say anything instead you just wrapped your arms around his waist and put your head in chest.

The blonde in front of you, immediately holding you. "Angel, what happened?" You didn't respond instead you focused on any way you could not to cry. You tried focusing on his fingers running through your hair, or his heart beat, or the song he was humming to try and help comfort you. But you couldn't stop the tears that seemed to spill.

Will didn't say anything, he just held you close to him. He knew eventually you'd tell him what had happened, but right now you just needed a moment.

-------

When you had calmed down, Will gently wiped your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling back he sat next to you on the infirmary bed. "You ready to talk now love?" You put your head on his shoulder, as you began explaining what had happened.

And then you mentioned the way what he said had affected you. You wanted to word it differently but you realized there was no way to word it differently without making it about something else, so you just told him the truth.

"Love, you know it's not wrong to be gay, right? This isn't wrong. And I'm not upset with you for letting that get to you, sometimes people say things that only feed into fears we have." He gently kissed your head, you were appreciative that he wasn't mad at you for letting it upset you.

"I'm also almost certain that your father isn't disappointed in you, and his deciding factor would not be the fact you like kissing boys." He smiled as a laugh rolled off your lips. "There's that lovely smile I love so much" your cheeks tinged a pink, the smile on your face only growing.

--------

A little bit later Clarisse had made her way to the infirmary to see you. She had a warm smile on her face which meant you weren't in trouble. "Hey, I wanted to check on you. I hope you know we don't think you're weak, nor do we think your relationship is wrong. If you're happy, that's all that matters." You smiled at your sister before nodding at her, a silent 'thank you' that you both understood.

A part of you knew that your father wasn't disappointed in you for your relationship, if he had he would of made it apparent. Hell, he's the god of war, if he disapproved he would have done something about it. Then again maybe Apollo was keeping him from interfering in Will's love life.

"Angel, don't think about it all too much. You're only gonna upset yourself" Will gently kissed your head before leading you out of the infirmary and to dinner.

Will was right, you knew he was. Sometimes you just needed him reminding you of things you already knew. He grounded you, and calmed you down. He was your remedy.

#will solace x male reader #will solace #will solace x m!reader #will solace x m reader #will solace x reader #male reader insert #fanfic #pjo x m!reader #pjo x male reader #pjo hoo toa #pjo

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midnight-scrivener · 4 months

Text

Kids are wild, dude.

Couple days ago, me and Partner popped over to Disney Springs to a) buy some mead, and b) spend gift card money to go see the Boy and the Heron (10/10 so good).

I was chilling on a wall outside, waiting for Partner in the bathroom, and behind me, I hear a tiny, clear voice, filled with the plaintive ennui of someone who's been trapped in a time loop for aeons unknown, say, "just let me die."

*Freeze, slow turn*

Reader, allow me to paint you a picture.

There is a man, the daddest man perhaps ever to dad. He is wearing a visor. The visor says something like, "have a Disney day™️" on it in red swirly font. His hair is sticking straight up out of the top of the visor, like a mad scientist who forgot he was leaning on the Tesla coil when he told his Igor to throw the switch, henchman! This gives the distinct impression that this is not his visor, but rather was hastily thrust upon him, likely by a spouse who is also in the bathroom. It was cold out (for Florida anyway), so this man was wearing a heavy Patagonia fleece, and, in true Dadly fashion, little cargo shorts, pockets bulging, dragging the shape of the garment parabolically earthward, laden with the responsibilities inherent in being the Vacation Manager and Bearer of the Visor. His legs were covered in gooseflesh. But, reader, he bore it.

He had sunglasses, those iridescent mirrored kind that make you think of sport fishermen. But they dangled around his neck, so I could see his eyes, vacant, staring, lined with the patient resignation that can only come from loving someone who is A Lot To Be Around. His hand, large and calloused and properly Daddish, was clasped with another set of tiny digits.

Dangling from his arm with a comfortable drama that implied this was but one time of many, was a tiny girlchild, no more than maybe five years old, wearing a full length Rapunzel princess gown, light-up Sketchers, and pink, glittery mouse ears that had been knocked askew in the process of her collapse and gave her hair the air of waging a losing battle with a little bird.

This girl, with the face of a cherub and the serious manner of an elderly man of state, stared off into a slightly different middle distance than her father. Her sketchers trailed over the ground as she rocked slightly in his gentle-but-firm grip. She sighed, and reader, I felt that sigh. In my bones. No one who's never experienced the weight of deep debt looming over them should be able to sigh like that.

She opened her mouth and said again in that clear, innocent voice, "Please won't you let me die?"

Her father, aware that people had begun to take notice, shook his head. "We're just waiting for Mommy."

This did not satisfy the tot. Still without a shred of distress, just the solemnity of a gig worker with twelve different 10-99 forms to file come tax season, asked "Yeah, but why can't I just die now?"

Her father closed his eyes. He was silent for long enough that I knew on some level he was wondering the same thing about himself. People were Aware of the situation now. Eventually he took a deep breath and looked down at her, still hanging from his arm. "It's against the rules to die at Disney World," he said. "Even if you want to. But tell you what, if you wait until we get back home, you can die there instead. That way Mommy and I can both be there."

The girl's mood brightened immediately. She got her feet under her and straightened, beaming up at her dad. "Oh, okay," she said. "After Mommy comes can we go to Legos?"

There's not really a proper end to the story, Partner just came out of the bathroom and we went to the movie. But damb. I hope that little girl knows I'll think about her at least once a day for the rest of my life.

Don't die. There might be Legos in it if you stay.

#kids #disney #my writing #true story #tw suicidality #kind of #Disney springs #creative nonfiction #somtimes you just observe a little snippet of someone else's life and it burns itself into your brain and for them its like. Tuesday

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darkestspring · 1 year

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What if baelon ii lost his eye instead of aemond because he was just trying to stop a fight that gone wrong? how would everyone else react? he isn’t mad at Luke but appalled that the boy had a knife in the first place, so he solely blames rhaenyra for being careless. So far the greens are only enraged on his behalf, especially aemond.

Did I wait until i got home to answer this because i wanted to expand on it? yes, yes I did. So here’s my thoughts on this.

Baelon II Targaryen had been ten and two when his stepmother had died and he saw his father once again, and now he had two half-sisters. He had no interest in any of that. No interest in his father or his half-sisters. He was content never knowing his stepmother but he told Princess Rhaenys that he was sorry for her death.

My father ruins everything he touches, he had told her as bitterness filled his face as purple eyes connected with purple and he turned away as Alicent beckoned him over.

He had returned to his temporary room after escorting Helaena to hers, making sure of her safety but he couldn’t fall asleep, not with the feeling that something was wrong.

He left his room, only to be led towards the sound of fighting. Who could it be at this time? A fight after a funeral? Who was capable of such disrespect.

He got his answer soon enough as he saw Aemond, Jace, Luke and his half-sisters fighting. The glint of a knife caught his eye and out of a sense of loyalty to his cousin, he surged forward, just in time for the knife to slide of his right eye like butter.

Pain was blinding, blood gushed from him as his vision blurred, there was so much screaming.

“Baelon!” Aemond screamed, alerting a knight who gasped at the horror of what had occurred. The knife held in the tiny had of Lucerys had fallen in the boys own horror.

Baela and Rhaena could not contain their horror at the sight of their older brother as they held onto each other.

All of the were brought before the adults and other children. Baelon was mostly silent as his eye was stitched. Alicent held onto his hand as she looked on with tears in her eyes.

“It will heal, will it not?” Alicent had inquired with anguish in her voice as she held onto the boy she had raised since he came to them at six namedays. He had always protected her and helped her and yet the second they come to driftmark, he is maimed.

“The flesh will heal but the eye is lost.” The maester sorrowfully revealed as Alicent gasped in sorrow.

“Where were you?” She hissed at Aegon but refused to remove herself from Baelon as she tried to comfort him.

Baelon could still feel the pain but his anger was worse. This could have been Aemond, his cousin who had done nothing but yearn for a dragon.

“I care not for my eye.” Baelon dismissed the concerns as he slowly turned his head to look at Rhaenyra who had just entered with his father.

How typical.

“Why did a child possess such a blade. It matters not who started it or who brought it. Why? Princess Rhaenyra, why was your child aiming to kill?” Baelon didn’t even look at his father as his newfound resentment for his cousin came to life.

Viserys came forth from his spot to look over his nephew. “How could this have happened? To my own flesh and blood.”

“They attacked Baelon!” Aemond hissed, glaring at his bastard nephews with fiery distaste. His cousin, maimed by those animals.

Helaena stood off to the side, her purple eyes locked on Baelon with concern in her eyes even as he looked back at her as if to reassure her.

“He called us bastards!” Jace defended, still deathly pale. He didn’t mean for Baelon to get hurt, truly.

“Prince Aemond and Prince Baelon must be sharply questioned on where that idea came from.” Rhaenyra insisted, making bitterness grow inside of Baelon.

“Aemond, where did you get that idea.” Viserys forcefully asked.

Baelon glanced between Alicent and Aegon before answering for Aegon. “It was some men in the training grounds.” He lied, to save the person who had always cared for him after his mother.

Viserys nodded but Alicent wasn’t satisfied. “That’s not enough! Baelon has been permanently injured! Baelon, our blood. Our ward. Viserys.” Tears filled her eyes again as she choked back a sob.

Daemon watched with anger coursing through him, Baelon was his son, his blood. Not the blood of this Hightower cunt.

“Don’t mourn me, Aunt.” Baelon got up with Aemond’s help as he walked forwards slowly to grab at her hand.

Baelon didn’t want Alicent to be viewed as vengeful or evil for how far she might go to protect him against Rhaneyra. “Let’s go back home. I’m alright.” He rested his head on her shoulder briefly to calm her down.

His lone purple eye gazed at his cousin with resentment that had never been there before and it made Rhaenyra and Daemon flinch.

I will never forgive you or forget this. His gaze said. He pulled away before walking over to Helaena and leading both her and Alicent away. There was no need to stay here when he hated nearly everyone in this room. Especially his father.

#yandere hotd #yandere dad daemon #daemons son #THIS WAS LEGIT SO FUN TO EXPAND ON AND THINK MORE ABOUT

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jojomaxine · 1 year

Text

Modern Diopucci AU - fight ahre

Set in the Modern Diopucci AU

reminder: past divorced jonadio. I am here just being cringe. enjoy if you do, fuck off if it angers you.

Things had been tense for a while. The couple had never had as many arguments as they've been having lately.

—Dio —Pucci sighs, lowering Verdena to the ground. He looked like something had happened— You can't keep things like this anymore.

—"Keep" what? —Dio raised an eyebrow, a slight confused expression as he stopped looking at his phone.

—Your sons —Pucci explained, encouraging Verdena to go play with the toys and games left for her in the living room, before turning back and taking a seat in front of Dio on the kitchen table. Verdena obediently went her own way, a bit curious of the conversation that was about to delve but knowing that she always got bored with the dealing of topics she couldn't quite grasp yet. After the girl was out of sight, Pucci continued— You can't keep giving them money. It's not solving any of their problems. Donatello keeps getting fired because he can't behave properly at work. He knows he'll always get what he needs from you anyways. And Ungalo is not paying therapy. You know what he's spending that money on.

Dio seemed the slightlest irritated at that. Pucci was not one to hold back his complaints, and although it was something Dio deeply admired from him, it sometimes backfired and put him in bothersome situations as well. —What else do you expect me to do? They're adults. They're old enough to know what they're doing. I'm not gonna run behind them monitoring whether or not they keep up with their responsabilities.

Pucci's lips frowned more at that. He knew that Dio was fully aware of the way he was ignoring the logic.

—You're not taking care of them and I'm having to do it instead. You know it well, they always come to me. May I remind you who their father really is?

—Don't pull that on me, Enrico. I never asked you to do that for me. You're always like this, haven't you noticed? —Dio tsked, now fully setting down his phone on the table— You put weight you're not ready to carry on your back and you get mad with me when it doesn't turn out well.

Pucci breathed in. Dio was purposefully being obstuse. Pucci was not Jonathan. He wasn't going to fall into the way his partner twisted his actions to fit a story that was not true. Dio knew that, yet still tried to treat him as if he was as naive to fall into it as the Joestar was. He took a few moments to reply, just watching his husband in silent anger.

—You know that's not right, Dio. You asked me that one time. You asked me if I loved you with all of what you carried on your back. You asked if I was willing to share that weight with you, and I said I was. You may not ask me to do it directly, but it's an issue that will fall on someone sooner or later, and you only worry about your children or mention them when I am the one who gets so overstressed and stop worrying. And even then, you don't move a finger to make things better. —He was quick to accuse, delivering his words with a voice a lot more calm than what he was actually feeling inside— I congratulate you for being able to watch your kids destroy their lives in front of you and ignore it, but I can't do that too.

—Oh, for God's sake, Enrico. —Dio made a disgusted expression— Do not call them "children" as if they're not fucking grown ups. And of course I'm right. That's what you always do. —He insisted.

—Care explain what "always" is to you, Dio? —.

The older looked plainly angry now. He was being brought into an argument he didn't want to have right now, or ever. Being the impulsive asshole he often was, he couldn't shut his mouth before he said way too much.

—You didn't have to go "fix things up with Jonathan" for us, yet you did. You don't have to do that stupid, waste of time, Charitable Church thing. Heck, you didn't have to adopt your dead sister's baby when you knew your parents could have done it and saved us the trouble, yet you did. It's not on the rest of the world if you take care of things no one asked you for and get tired of them.

Pucci looked taken aback by that. He straightened back in his place, his expression pure disbelief and slight betrayal. He knew Dio was impulsive. Dio could spill venom when he truly wanted. But in those nasty moments he always was somehow being honest. Was that what he tought of Pucci's daughter? It took some time for the blond to notice he went overboard. When he changed from angry to regretful Pucci was already getting up.

—Wait- Enrico, dear —he had the decency of at least looking a little ashamed as he attempted to go after him. Pucci took a surprised but compliant Verdena in his arms again and made quick work of grabbing the keys the and satchel bag he always took outside, and only looked back to Dio with very cold eyes when he was at the door. —I don't want to see you right now. I'm gonna take some air and think. I advice you to do the same.

And it was that way that Pucci went to Donatello's shitty apartment to try and cool down, and Dio called Jonathan for advice again.

#diopucci #donapucci #verdena pucci #enrico pucci #jjba #stone ocean

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parttimepuff · 3 months

Note

Wow the last person I expected to diffuse the situation did! Surely nothing can go wrong after this, you’re just gonna talk right? I’m sure there’s a lot about rev to talk about, after all.

Beep idly tapped her claws, knowing they were right and waiting on her father to take action. Reverie himself was made all the more nervous by the reminder. "Ah don't like agreein' with these people, but they got that much right. We're not done yet. Ya haven't answered my last question." Dedede pointedly remarked. "nnnnnn" The Dream Fae groaned, curling in on himself. Moving to his side, Gremlin spoke up. "…Rev, I know it's not easy for you to look back on it, but he does need to know. Better to hear it from you than someone else." He gently pointed out.

"Hey, it’s easier than when you told me, no one’s forcing you this time." Beep added. "it, still feels like that…" Reverie mumbled, unable to meet anyone's eye. The king shrugged. "Technically ya don't, but it'd really help yer case if ya did." He bluntly responded. The Dream Fae cringed, falling silent for a moment before he found it in him to speak again. "…if I tell you… h-how do I know you won't just…" He stumbled, trying to finish his thought. "…react like he did..?"

Dedede's expression grew more stern. "…Reverie. Ah am not him. Ah can't guarantee ah'll be happy with what yer hidin', but ah can say ah'm not gonna hurt you over it." He told him. Beep narrowed her eye at that. "you better not." She flatly stated. "Y'all have my word that ah won't." The king promised, just as serious. The Dream Fae fell silent once more. Carefully, Luna placed a nub on his wing. "We're all on your side, ok, Rev?" She assured him, her friend looking from her to each of the others in turn before taking a false deep breath. "o-ok."

"The king had it out for me, because he'd… heard my reputation before I got there…" Reverie began, hesitant. The king lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Beep watched him, cautious. "I-I… I mentioned I have a history of, relationships going badly. I would meet someone a-and want them to like me, so I'd… offer the only thing I can. Dreams. And I don't… I'm not good at, saying no to people. S-so when they kept asking, even though they were… sleeping more than being awake… I still gave them what they wanted." He confessed.

Beep now turned to look at her father instead. Dedede was clearly concerned, but still silent. His feathers puffed up, but he couldn't just stop now. "A-and they'd tell other people about me and what I could do and they'd tell more… I-it's hard to, to turn down so many people. Especially after they started to get, mad. But eventually, I'd slip away. And promise I'd never let it happen again." Reverie's eyes welled up, staring at the ground. "…and then it would happen again."

Something clicked in Beep's mind. "He didn’t want you to do it to his people…" She realized aloud, the king's eyes widening. "…I can't… really blame him for wanting to protect them… from me." Reverie mumbled, drawing into himself further. "Let me just get this straight here. Yer tellin' me he wanted you gone, because you were connected to, how do ah say this, dream cults? Is that what yer sayin'?" Dedede pressed. The Dream Fae's response was just to nod, now visibly shaking.

A beat passed before Beep broke the silence. "Well, I can blame him. What a loser." She remarked, maybe trying to take some of the attention off her father. "Rev won’t let me go beat him up-" She added. Despite what he'd just learned, the king chuckled. "Heh… yeah, ah can picture that." He replied. Turning his attention back to the Dream Fae, he spoke up. "Rev." Reverie flinched. "Well, ah was right. Ah ain't happy to hear that. This pattern ain't gonna start up here, right?" Dedede questioned.

"N-no, it won't! You have the Fountain, no one really needs me for that. A-and I… I have, a little more backbone now." Reverie insisted. Dedede crossed his arms, then nodded to himself. "…ok then." He responded. "Ok..?" The Dream Fae echoed, confused. "Ya don't sound malicious in the least about this cult stuff. Ah've seen a cult before and they did not act like that. My honest opinion is that yer the kinda guy who's easily taken advantage of, but yer more of a danger to yerself than anyone else." The penguin expressed, not pulling any punches.

"I-that's-should I be happy about that..?" Reverie asked, insulted, but relieved. "Take it however ya wanna take it. Bottom line is ah don't think you're a threat to Dreamland. So if you want to stay, you can stay." Dedede stated. "w. rev can stay?" Beep asked, a smile quickly growing on her face. "DAD YOU CAN STAY!!!" She shouted, zipping up to and around him. Reverie blinked, completely stunned. "I can stay..?" He repeated in disbelief.

"Did ah stammer? Yer welcome here, feathers." Dedede replied, grinning. Reverie paused a moment longer before he started to cry. His daughter grabbed his head and hugged it. "YOU CAN STAY YOURE GONNA BE OKAY!!!" Beep exclaimed, over the moon. "I-I'm gonna be ok..!" Her father sobbed. Deep down, he'd thought Beep had a better chance at being accepted than he did, but they were both here. They were both going to be ok.

#ic #ask #anon #King Dedede #Reverie #Gremlin #Beep #Luna

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unfortunate-brat · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄

(LOVE WILL TEAR US APART BLURB)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Latina!Reader, Elijah Munson x Latina!Reader

W/C: 1.1k

Summary: Eddie reflects on how you were never really meant to be his.

Warnings: 18+, Child Abuse, Slight Jealousy, Bullying, Depression, Heavy Angst

A/N: @munsonsbelova got mad at me for this one but its worth reading i promise. and i’m open to blurb suggestions and questions in my inbox !!

You watch him mingle with the cheerleader, strawberry blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders as she tosses her head back with a laugh. Sure, he’s funny but never that funny.

Nevertheless, it makes your lips turn into a frown. Should you stare longer, today’s breakfast might try to escape in an unpleasant manner. So with a slightly harsh swing, you shut your locker and head out into the parking lot. Missing the way his eyes follow your frame before returning back to the other girl before him. Truthfully, he wanted to pull you back into a tight embrace, kiss you all over and make things right but there was no way to make those words from a week ago disappear. You had every right to be upset, hell he was too after arriving home.

“ I was thinking we could go to the drive in? Halloween is around the corner and they’re putting Alfred Hitchcock movies on!” You didn’t want to rent it out from Steve’s job, not when sitting next to Eddie in his van, munching down on snacks and making jokes about the other people around watching the movie was much more entertaining.

“I can’t.” Was his response, and just as your heart sank, he decided to add more weight. “ In fact, I can’t hang out with you anymore.”

At this point, he had stopped at a red light and it was taking forever to turn green. Which this street was always guilty of but Eddie felt like this time was on purpose. “ Despite seeing what he does to me, how he treats my friends and everyone else he doesn’t like, you still choose to talk to my brother. You wear his jacket at parties and his games. You do study dates and probably make out in private. You continue to tolerate someone who’s done nothing but make my life hell. I can’t continue to act like its fine. You even stood me up multiple times for my performances when you promised you’d go. But where do you decide to go instead?” Eddie pauses, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Sure, he’s implying something and yes it hurts saying these things but it does bug him. It seemed like it was getting to a point where the only way you’d ever understand is by pure honesty on his end. And he didn’t wanna spill at first but you need to get the message that he can’t be around anymore.

“ So, go ahead and cancel any plans or ideas for us to hang out.”

Now it was your turn to speak, a part of him hopes that you’ll fight back and realize that he is worth more than his preppy brother. Its quite selfish but Eddie has never been good at anything, not even coming up to second best.

You simply remain silent, grabbing your bag and opening the door. Not really caring that the light was now green and you could get hit. Feet hitting the ground, you slam the door shut and head towards the sidewalk. How you managed to keep your cool till you got home was a mystery. But you had ignored Eddie’s shouts to get back in and that he can still drive you home.

Since then, Eddie knew the bond had been severed. This is what he wanted to do anyways right?

He had hoped that in his speech, you’d find that Elijah was truly the antagonist and cut him off completely. Though if anything, its made your bond to his twin stronger. Just at lunch, he caught the pair of you sitting together at the popular table. You sporting a smile and laughing at something, wearing his jacket once again. Funny how life continues to work against him.

Doesn’t make things better when Chrissy is the one to tell him that Elijah was gonna plan to introduce her to his father. Eddie would claim that its their father but that old man never liked how Eddie resembled his mother growing up. Kicking him out and stating that he can’t come back.

Poor Wayne, he didn’t have to take in the 8 year old covered in bruises and a buzzed head sleeping on his doorstep. He could have kicked him to the curb too, just like his own brother. However, Wayne knew what it felt like being the black sheep of the family and made Eddie know he wasn’t alone.

It took Eddie five months to talk about what happened that night, and a whole year to accept that he was worthy of love. Doesn’t mean he didn’t struggle sometimes to this day, but tries hard not to.

And though his father hasn’t spoken to him in years, never called or said happy birthday, nor cared to be a good parent, he had cornered Eddie in the parking lot and said that Elijah was his only and favorite child. So whatever opportunities he had, whatever his most treasured son wanted, he would receive, and that included you.

“ Remember Edward, you are nothing. You ought to know better than to go after my son’s girl. You’ll only corrupt her with that satanic bullshit and antichrist mindset.” His meaty finger had pushed into Eddie’s chest, sending the younger male back a few inches. “ Stay the fuck away.”

And as much as Eddie wanted to stand up to his old man, he stayed quiet. Kept telling himself that he was worthy of your time and you’d never become Elijah’s girl. Maybe instead of you having to accept certain facts, its time he accepts these ones instead.

Chrissy squeezes his hand. “ Don’t get lost in those thoughts, it’ll only hurt more.” In the years she’s known the Munson twins, the realization as to why they despised each other came to light little by little. Chrissy would like nothing more than to go back in time and take them to Wayne’s together to grow up in a non toxic home.

“ You know what’s funny, Blondie? I’m the fucking oldest. I have the same exact face, I have the same DNA, same everything and somehow I’m entitled to being treated like shit. Old man thought my brother was perfect when he came out and just tossed me to my mother to handle. How do you choose a favorite seconds after one is born?” He can sense the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes but Eddie continues to hold them off.

HOW CAN I CONTRIBUTE TO THESE WORKS?

Providing feedback is the best way to support this series and the writer, as content creators we are struggling to get our work out there and produce what we love for our own enjoyment and for others. By commenting, you help us pump out fics such as these and continue writing. So please, leave comments with your reblogs. Don’t just like and forget about the fic. Nor just ask for part two and be demanding !!

#Eddie Munson x Latina!Reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x F!Reader #heavy angst #child abuse #depression

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roadtogracelandx45 · 1 year

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Chasing Angels| 1| Top Gun Maverick

@prettyinpayne @luckyladycreator2

The third time is a charm with this.

Being a Kazansky wasn't easy, especially going into the academy, and it was even harder when your other grandfather disappeared on a mission. But Bianca Kazansky is ready to prove that she is more than just her name and help Maverick try and rebuild their family before Iceman dies. Because they all knew that Maverick always messed things up and hopefully his daughter can help him fix it before it was too late.

masterlist

0.01

“You excited about this?” Bradley Bradshaw’s voice echoed through Bianca Kazansky’s bedroom, he had called her to talk while she was packing to go to the academy.

“Kind of. I am more worried about leaving my dad.”

“Still having problems with Mav?”

For the first time in ages when he said Mav it didn’t seem as bitter and she didn’t want to ruin that by dumping the drama on him.

She sighed and paused in folding her t-shirts, “I don’t want to drive that wedge again Brad.”

“Bee, he isn’t important. You are and Ice is.”

“There were some problems with the possibility of Mav cheating on Papa with Penny. Like there were a couple of blowout fights. Aunt Sophie and Igor took me to Los Angeles to get me out of the line of fire.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, “There were a lot of hurtful things said.” He was silent almost waiting for her to say something else. “Mav wasn’t ready to have a kid, Papa was.”

“Jesus Bee.”

“Yeah.” Bianca sniffed back the tears that rose up again, “Kind of heartbreaking. My own father didn’t want me. I have never seen Papa that mad before.”

“Mad like how he was when he found out we were together or mad like when Steven crashed Slider’s car into the house?”

Despite her sadness, she laughed and ran the back of her hand under her nose, “I don’t think he will ever forget that night he walked in on us.”

A warmth spread through her when he laughed.

“I miss you, Bee.’ He admitted, he had been thrilled when he found out that she was going to be a few hours away instead of the numerous expensive plane tickets, they had to avoid talking about their relationship status, mostly to stop one of them from getting hurt. He had casual girlfriends and she had gone on dates with boys at her school. But nothing seemed to match up with them.

“I miss you too.” She returned, “Three more days and I will be out there. Papa is insisting that he and his staff come out there with me.” This is the furthest she would be from her father since he started going up the rank ladder and she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it.

“You will do fine baby, once you are away from everything.”

Bianca went quiet for a moment, “I hate it when you are right.” He laughed again, he had told her repeatedly that he was right about this kind of stuff and she had a hard time believing it. “Did I tell you that Stella and Stacey have been staying here too?”

There was a thud that sounded like a textbook hitting the ground, “They are what?!”

Stella was Ice’s former girlfriend from before he went to Top Gun and Stacey was their daughter. A daughter that he hadn't been involved with due to Stella running after she found out about Ice being with Maverick. And having a baby that he was excited about on the way. And about 2 years ago they showed back up and threw everything in their almost perfect little world upside down.

“Baby, you should have led with that.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to jump all the way into the drama. The stuff with Maverick seems tame compared to this.”

“What are they doing now?” Being the closest person to her that didn’t have an opinion on everything, he had heard all about the drama and how Stacey tried to take her room over when they first showed back up.

“Same thing as always, Stacey is thinking that because she is going to be a year ahead of me at the academy that it will make her, Ice’s favorite. And Stella is trying to change everything right off the bat. She tried to kick out the grandparents, Alex and Ana.”

Bradley laughed at that. There was no way in hell that Ice would kick out his family for a woman.

And especially not one like Stella.

“She came storming into my room when Mav and Papa were having that fight and Sophie was trying to get me out of the house and away from everything. And she freaked on me.”

“Please you didn’t go all Mitchell on her.” The laughter was still clear in his voice.

“Bradley, you know me better than that.” She laughed, “I was very calm and collected until she thought you and I were dating and started reading me the riot act like she was my mother.”

“Bee.” Both Bradley and Bianca had deceased mothers and it was a tender subject with both so he understood if she lost her cool at Stella.

There was a knock on the door stopping Bianca from answering. “Yeah?” “Time for dinner Bee.” Alex Kazansky’s voice came.

“Okay, I will be right there.” She returned, “I got to go, see you soon?”

“Of course.” Bradley returned, “call me back later if you need to talk.”

The familiar words of telling him that died on the tip of her tongue.

“Of course.” With that she hung up her phone and stood up from the bed.

“Please let it be a fighting night tonight.”

#ash writes #top gun maverick oc #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagines #series: chasing angels #oc: bianca kazansky

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binarybuns · 1 year

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Something happens and I'm head over heels...

The fair grounds were loud — busy with screaming children, overworked mothers, and apathetic fathers — and it was easy for Merrin to get lost inside her head, fighting against the overstimulating feeling that was screaming at her to turn tail and run right out of there. She knew the Roane County Fair was going to be overwhelming, she had been anticipating it since the night prior, imagining the crowds of people surrounding her on all sides and slowly consuming her, but despite having her reservations about showing up, it never crossed her mind to cancel. There was one thing keeping her there: one thing that was worth suffering through the madness for. She felt a hand curl around her shoulder and squeeze, prompting her to jump slightly as she whirled around to face her companion. Smiling down at her with a cheeky grin was the one thing — or rather, person — who she was still there for. “Cotton candy, for the lady.” Eddie Munson held up a cone of pink, sugary fluff between them. In a low, gravelly voice he promptly added on, “Shit was expensive though, so we’re sharing.” Merrin laughed at that, a genuine one that made the edges of her eyes crinkle with joy. “You didn’t have to buy any, y’know.” Eddie grabbed a fistful of the cotton candy and promptly shoved it into his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for sweet things.” His gaze settled on her for a moment longer than it should, a heavy weight falling over them as Merrin silently questioned whether there was a deeper meaning to his words, while Eddie wondered if he was being too forward. When the silence ensued for a beat too long, Eddie cleared his throat, trying to move the conversation along. “Mayor Kline is a damn criminal for charging $2.00 for this.” Merrin reached forward to rip a piece off, leaning towards him as she lowered her voice. “Should we egg his house after?” Eddie let out a loud, booming laugh, tossing his head back in surprise. Eventually his laughter turned to brief chuckles, having to wipe away a few stray tears, as he peered down at her again. “Who are you and what have you done with Merrin Holloway?” Merrin just grinned back at him, a faint flush painting her pale cheeks. It was endearing, and made Eddie’s lips shift into a soft smile of his own. “I fear I’ve been a bad influence on you, Sweetheart.” Merrin didn’t think so. Merrin was pretty sure that Eddie was the only reason she felt like a human being again, felt like her life had meaning and that maybe there was still hope for better days to come. He helped her through some of the worst moments of her life, and he did so without complaint or acting like she was a burden. Eddie Munson had brought her back from the dead. But she didn’t tell him that. Instead, her lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “You’ve been a horrible influence, Eddie Munson.” But I wouldn’t trade you for anything...

I cannot thank @ziorre enough for bringing this concept to life and being so pleasant to work with. I highly, highly recommend her to anyone who is thinking of commissioning artwork!!

#i will never get over this #it is so beautiful and makes me emotional every time i look at it #oc: merrin holloway #stranger things #eddie munson #art #stranger things oc #ziorre #ship: merrin/eddie

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heartxfkyber · 2 years

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Because I am EBIL, I ask not one, but *two* things of that touch ask game >:') 45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together for Jango and Zam, and 33. ‘picking them up’ hugs for Jaster and Jango ! *ebily cackling away*

Being ebil—I didn’t expect any less from you, my friend! 😆 Have some fluff:

Prompt: comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

Rating: [none required]

Characters: Jango Fett & Zam Wesell

Warnings: pure fluff, idiots having feelings for each other and not admitting it

The job was supposed to be simple. Somehow, it hadn’t been.

Where they sat in the Slave I’s cargo hold, Zam and Jango were not in the best of moods. Jango was fuming. Zam could see it, ebbing and flowing in the mahogany of his irises like pulsing embers as he focused on polishing up his armour, which was blackened with the dust and rubble of the now-collapsed casino they’d left behind. And sure, maybe Zam shouldn’t have thrown those thermal detonators. Maybe she should have checked that Jango had given her the go-ahead first. But it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and it saved both their backsides from being annihilated by the team of mercenaries already waiting for them! Zam really didn’t think the silent rage of her partner was quite justified, seeing as she just saved their lives.

But whatever.

There flew another few minutes of agonising quiet, the air around both of them supercharged with the force of Jango’s foul mood, and Zam finally rolled her eyes, sighed, and set down her blaster with a loud clang. Jango glanced up. She glared back. “What is it?” she demanded. “We just pulled off the job. We’re gonna get paid. Why are you so mad?”

Jango looked at her like she was particularly dense. “We could have been killed,” he finally said quietly, and his tone was dripping with venom like poison-laced honey. More than that…“You could have been killed.”

That made Zam pause, and she looked over to him, stormy eyes slightly wider than before. He…cared about whether she lived or died? Never before had Jango said or demonstrated anything like this. Never before had he explicitly stated that he worried about her.

It made something in Zam turn into a mess of butterflies and sparks and soft sighs of bliss.

“But we’re okay.” And now, her voice was quiet. A pregnant pause. “I’m okay, Jango.” He didn’t say a single word, and he was looking at his armour again…but he wasn’t polishing anymore. He wasn’t doing anything at all. Zam, in that moment, took a chance. She leaned forwards and gripped his hand in her own. “I’m okay,” she repeated.

And now he looked at her, dark eyes finding hers and holding, and Zam let herself get lost in that smoky gaze. He didn’t drop her hand, didn’t pull away. Instead, he raised their conjoined hands and splayed his palm wide, eyes tracking as Zam’s gloved hand, smaller and more lithe, mirrored his pose so that her palm was pressed against his, fingers stretched out against his own. There was silence, and then their eyes met once more in a moment of starlight and quiet.

Right now, with how gentle and grounding his touch was, it was hard to believe that the hand pressed to Zam’s was capable of all the bloodshed it had caused over the years. It was hard to believe it had been anything but soft. Large and warm and soft.

“Your hand’s big,” she found herself blurting, just needing to say something.

Jango didn’t let go. “Your hand’s small.”

“My hand is average, thanks very much.”

He almost smiled. Almost. His lips nearly pulled up a little at the corners, something in his dark eyes nearly setting them alight with sparks. “Small,” he repeated, and his gaze flickered again to their hands. Slowly, oh-so slowly, he curled his gloved fingers, entwining them with hers.

“Average,” Zam retorted, but her voice was a whisper of stunned quiet.

This time, when Zam’s own fingers gently locked themselves around his, Jango really did smile.

And now have some father and son cuddles 😭

Prompt: ‘picking them up’ hugs

Rating: [none required]

Characters: Jaster Mereel & Jango Fett

Warnings: more tooth-rotting fluff, Jaster being a proud dad, Jango being a cute son

The first time nine-year-old Jango Fett had managed to hit the target with his blaster, he’d gasped. The shot hadn’t been precise, hadn’t been too clean, hadn’t been particularly impressive, but the ruby bolt had seared straight into the cardinal ring of the target plastered to the roughened bough of the lumbering tree used often for training. Jango had stared at the smoking hole left at the edge of that target with huge dark eyes, feeling the most pride he’d ever felt. It bubbled in his chest like rising embers, the warm pulses of heat washing their way through his veins like a safe embrace, and he’d turned to where Jaster stood behind him—and he’d smiled.

Jango smiling had been a rare occurrence. Jango being this elated had been something as uncommon as a myth coming true; the boy had yet to fully let himself trust in the Mandalorians around him, but Jaster had known he was getting there. And so to see his son this joyous, this proud, wasn’t something Jaster Mereel had taken for granted. He’d beamed right back at the boy, whose eyes had been sparkling with a happiness so pure and illustrious that it seemed to light up the entire sky above both their heads. And so, when he had strode forwards to pluck the child off the ground and embrace him tightly, Jango had readily leaned into the touch, actually laughing in glee.

When Jango had passed the trials at age thirteen, he’d been just as elated as that day he’d first hit the target. When he’d turned again to Jaster, a dazzling smile on his dirt-streaked face, the Mand’alor had wrapped his arms around his son and spun him around in glee—and Jango had laughed all over again. That joyous, happy laugh that never failed to have Jaster laughing himself. It didn’t matter that in the eyes of Mandalorians, Jango had become an adult—to Jaster, Jango would always be his boy, and every time his father had picked him up and twirled him about, Jango had known as such.

When Jaster had returned from a solo scouting mission, he’d found his sixteen-year-old son waiting eagerly for him at the entrance to the camp. When Jango had run to his father, already a few inches taller than Jaster and a good deal more built, the Mand’alor had once again thrown his arms around his son and effortlessly lifted him into a warm embrace. It didn’t matter how old Jango got—Jaster would never stop hugging him like this, because Jaster Mereel loved his son, and his son loved him.

And now, at age thirty-four, when Jango sat on the cream couch in the apartment’s living room as he rocked his own son to sleep, he found himself thinking of those moments with Jaster. He looked down at the infant in his hold; if he imagined hard enough, he could hear that familiar deep chuckle, and for a moment, Jango thought could feel a strong pair of arms spinning him around in glee.

#thanks for asking!#jango fett #zam wesell #jaster mereel #star wars #ask game #touches ask game #nyx answers #mnmovdoom #nyx writes

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