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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

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The Heartless Giant Pt. 3

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: You try to get the cigar for the giant, and uncover a few tidbits from the past that leave you with more questions than answers....

Notes: Smoking. Uhhhhh don't smoke if you don't want to I know I made it sound cool here but do recognize they're not that cool and also that you don't need to smoke. Reader is kinda convinced to try it once.

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

Procuring a cigar would not be difficult to achieve. Procuring a cigar that your father would enjoy, however, was a different matter. You had heard your brothers discussing the outrageous costs of them before- they were so expensive and special that other royal or noble families had presented them as gifts or tributes to your father. He rarely ever smoked, but on the few occasions he did, it was always with those expensive cigars.

You knew where he kept them, in a small, cedar humidor in his study on the third shelf. That was the easy part but taking them from the box would be difficult. The humidor was locked with a tiny key, a fact you knew after your brothers attempted to steal from his stash when they were young teenagers. Considering your father was almost always in his study, it would be hard to sneak in and look for the key.

For a moment, you thought about just giving the man in the cell a cheap cigar to stave him off. Surely, he wouldn’t know better, would he?

You sighed and shook your head at your own foolishness. The man was in the lowest cells and could kill you without flinching. Why were you going to test his patience by giving him an obvious fraud? You walked past the door to the study, contemplating what to do next when your father stepped out of the office with a raised brow.

“Ah, (Y/n), good afternoon,” he smiled as his eyes met yours.

“Father, good afternoon,” you smile back, before the gears in your mind start spinning as an idea forms in your head. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll around the gardens. Care to join me?” He asked politely.

“Sorry, I have to decline today. I was going to read,” you fib to throw him off. “May I see one of your diplomacy books?”

Your father shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Feel free to, the books are always for you to enjoy.”

You grin and thank him, waving him off as he begins to descend to the gardens. You close the door to his study and breathe a sigh in relief. What good fortune you had to have gotten the study clear so easily. You wait a brief moment to make sure your father doesn’t come back before you grab the humidor from the shelf and then rummage through his desk. On top is a bunch of files and reports talking about budgets and possible forecasts- rain should be expected soon as well as a bountiful harvest- and his “lucky” pen he adores so much.

In the drawers is nothing but mementos of you and your brothers. Stationary. More pens. Clips, stamps, ink, folders, and old papers. No key.

You sigh and get frustrated as you open the last drawer, gasping as you see only a flintlock pistol inside. The pistol is shiny, obviously well-kept and maintained. You’ve been into this office many times, yet you never knew such a weapon would be kept here.

It made sense, you tried to assure yourself, but the fact your father always had this pistol and maintained it made a shiver run down your spine. You closed the drawer without a second thought, not wanting to think of the implications of such a thing being in there.

Still, no key. You frantically looked at the shelves for any sign or hint of a key. Nothing. You glanced at the humidor and angrily tried to pry it open with force. Barbaric? Perhaps. It was similar to something your brothers would do, but you knew you didn’t have much time to waste if you wanted to get the answers your mind was screaming for.

Damn that man and his need for expensive cigars!

As you were continuing to scuffle with a box, the door to the study opened wide as your father stood at the door.

You gasped and flung yourself back, accidentally bumping into an armored statue that he had near his desk. You knew you had been caught, your hands were all over the crime scene and the guilty look on your face did nothing to give you even a semblance of plausible deniability. You nervously raised your eyes from the ground to look at your father, but instead of an angry or accusatory expression, he seems quite amused.

“My, my, I didn’t expect you would be so bold as to snoop through my office like that,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, knowing your cover has been blown. He hadn’t been gone long at all, barely even a few minutes, yet the way he snorted seemed to confirm everything he needed to know.

“You were that desperate to smoke?” He asked.

“No…” you begin.

“Ah. Were you attempting to get them for your brothers?” Your father questions. Your eyes widen when you realize you couldn’t deny it, since he’d get more suspicious of your intentions.

“Maybe,” you lie.

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to smoke,” he rubbed his chin. “Then again, I guess it would be silly for me to assume you would remain the same as when you were a young child. Although, lying to me to sneak in did hurt me a bit.”

“How did you know?” You ask. Your father chuckles again.

“You and your brothers have been acting suspicious all day. I figured something must have been going on. I also know that you have plenty of books on diplomacy, many of which I already own here. You would not gain anything new, so I wanted to see what you were really planning.”

You sigh, forgetting that your father- although a noble and gentle man- could be so observant and calculating in his plans. “Well, you weren’t called the ‘Hero King’ for nothing, I suppose.”

“Now, now, I may be your father, but even when I was a young lad, I too liked to indulge in some bad behavior,” your father says, walking over to his shelf. “If you would have looked a bit closer…”

He pulls out a red book titled A Key to Diplomacy and hands it to you. The book is rather light despite its size.

“I don’t really need this-”

“Just open it,” he sagely nods. You’re confused by what he’s trying to do before you open the book and find the inside of it is hollow. In the hollowed book, there is a small key. You pull it out and your father nudges his heads towards the humidor.

“I had it hidden in there since I doubted your brothers would ever try to open a book like that.”

You laugh at the absurdity of this situation as you open the humidor. Your father leans over to grab two cigars and a cigar cutter.

“Two?” You comment, while your father begins to light one up.

“I figured since you were so curious, I could allow you the chance to try one. Lord knows I need one.”

He brings the cigar to his mouth while he hands you the other one. You watch as he inhales the tobacco and exhales a large puff of smoke. The smell is strong, wafting and covering the room in a short amount of time. It’s a bit intimidating, but you continue to watch.

“Do you really feel better after smoking one?” You ask curiously.

“I think I do. Maybe it’s the fact I’m doing something else besides paperwork that eases me. Or maybe I put it in my head that it does. I can’t be certain, but I can assure you that a nice cigar does relax me when times are tough,” your father admits, tapping the cigar against the ashtray.

You look down at the cigar in your hands as your thoughts drift to the man in the cellar. Is that why he was desperate for a cigar of all things? Does it really ease his mind?

“You’re off thinking again,” your father comments.

“What?” You ask, focusing back on your father.

“You’ve had a dazed look on you since the morning. Are you troubled by something?” He asked with a gentle and sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Oh… no, I just was thinking of… things,” you try to say.

“Do you wish to speak of these ‘things’?” “No, father. I’m sorry. I’ll get over it soon,” you reply. After all, once you get the man’s name then… perhaps you can rid him in your mind. Your father shrugs casually and smiles.

“I understand. Do know that I’ll always be there to help you, dear. You are my precious child, a gifted one that I am lucky to have,” his face softens. The compliment makes your cheek flush and your lips curve upwards.

“Thank you, father. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, my child. Now, since we have a few moments to spare, why not catch up with me?”

The talk with your father lasts for a while, with you two discussing random topics of interest. He muses on his rebellious youth, admitting he was a troublemaker. He says he once enjoyed fighting anything and everything, a habit he was lucky to have grown from.

“It might seem strange to admit, even whilst I charge headfirst to battle, but the best weapons one can wield… it is your mind and your heart.”

“Mind and heart?” You say, unconvinced. You do value your mind, but something about the way he said that makes you curious.

“Yes. If I had no conviction or love for my people and kingdom, there would be no kingdom left standing. If I was simply a violent tyrant who enjoyed blood for the sake of blood, there would be no happiness or joy in here. That is what separates humans from beasts. I love with all my heart, proudly and without fear.”

You let his words sink in and mull over them.

The giant below… does he count? Is he worthy of love? Can he love?

“Do you think everyone is worthy of love?”

“Now that’s a good question,” your father hums, looking less like the wise king and more like a regular man with every second of this conversation. “Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. As the king, I make tough choices every day. I would love to be able to forgive and pardon everyone. I would love to have no enemies, no strife, no war- I would love for my position to simply cease from existence as we explore what the world has to offer.”

Your eyes widen as you hear your father’s admission. “You don’t wish to be king?”

“It is a heavy burden, my dear child. It weighs down on you constantly. And deep down, no matter how much I dream of being the ideal king, the best ruler, the kindest and noblest man in the world…” he stands up, pushing his cigar into the ashtray as he has his back face you while he looks out the large window behind his desk. The shadow of his figure covers you, shielding you from the bright light of the evening sun. He reaches his hand out to caress the suit of armor.

“But you are that king, father. You are that- to the people, to me-,”

“You do not understand, my child… once in a while, I think back to those battles, to those wars I’ve fought. I’ve slain and nearly been slain countless times,” he sighs. “I think of the way I was near death, near exhaustion, bleeding, bruised, broken. Sometimes…”

He glances back to you, with a somber smile and blank eyes that sends a chill down your spine. “I miss it.”

You gasp as your father’s eyes return to the warmth it once had as he sits back down.

“I am not the perfect man. That has always been true. But I can do good, and as such, I choose to do so, no matter how the monster within me screams. I am a father, a king, and a leader- I no longer work for myself. I work for my people. And that means I must be stricter with myself.”

Your hands tremble as you grip the cigar and look down at your lap. You don’t know what to think of what your father just said, admitting to the fact that deep down, he enjoyed battles and killing. The gun in his desk, was it for protection, or was it possibly for his desire to return to the days of his old glory? You try to exhale. Your father wasn’t so careless and bloodthirsty. Even though he admitted this, he had also said he restrained himself for his duty.

And yet… why did the thought of his true nature repeat over and over in your mind?

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Your father asks sweetly.

“Y-yes. I am. I asked a question and you answered,” you try and force a smile on your face. “I never knew you thought that way.”

“It does run through my mind on rare occasions. But I do not let it stop me from doing my duty. I truly do love what I do and my life. That is why I fight for it.”

You nod along, eager to take a break from here. “Thank you, father. I think I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Oh, dear, you’ve made my day better. I enjoy talking with you and listening to you. It makes me feel I’ve done right as a father,” he grins. You feel guilt inside your heart as you glance at the cigar in your hand, knowing you only talked to your father in order to give this to his sworn enemy.

“Father, here,” you give the cigar back to him, not feeling worthy of the smile he has given you. After what he discussed with you, perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. Your father, however, pushes your hand back to you and shakes his head.

“I’ve no need for all of these cigars. Please, keep it, whether you intend to light it or not. At least as a memento of my trust for you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you nod feebly.

“Thank you. I’m happy you trust me.”

Your father chuckles and hands you a cigar cutter and lighter. “For whenever and whatever you decide to do. I will always support you.”

You grip the items in your hand and thank your father again before leaving to your room.

Guilt, guilt, guilt- it eats away at your heart while your mind screams for you to not continue with your plan. There is no point, no worth, no use to seeing that man. Oh, but your heart… but what if he is different than what once was assumed? What if he was simply in need of love? What if all he ever needed was just one more chance?

Do it. No, don’t. We don’t need to be in more trouble.

But can’t we? Why would we?

Oh, damn you! Don’t you see this is difficult?

The two sides of you disagree and argue, until you huff in frustration and grab the items.

Forget it, we’re going.

You sneak back into the dungeons, not even noticing the chills due to your anger at your torn feelings.

You’re an idiot, (Y/n). What good is this? Father said he trusted us, and now look what we’re doing!

“You think too loud,” a voice cuts through your inner thoughts as you look up to come face to face with the giant. He’s smiling, eyeing the things in your hands.

“What do you mean?” You ask in an accusing tone.

“You look as if you’re in a fight, dear. Are you always this lost in thought, your highness?” He mocks you.

“Oh, quiet you, you’ve put me in a rather big bind. You should be thankful I’m even giving them to you,” you frown, holding the singular cigar and cigar cutter to him. He waves his hook dismissively while his one hand expertly cuts the cigar.

“Yes, yes, thank you very much. My… your father really must have an eye for quality. These are perhaps the best cigars out there,” he says as he examines the cigar. He curls two fingers in a repeating motion. “Lighter,” he commands.

You fumble with the lighter in your pocket and shakily try to ignite it. The man rolls his eyes at your incompetence and guides your hand with his hook to the cigar. The flame slowly roasts the cigar as he takes a deep inhale of it. He immediately throws his shoulders back and lets out a pleasured sigh.

“Ah… oh how I missed this,” he mumbles, his body relaxing.

“Well, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” You fold your arms.

“Patience. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate to get to know me,” he teases, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. You grimace at the scent while the man revels in your disgust. His hook reaches through the bars again and tilts your chin up. He gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk. “You look so stressed, your highness. Why don’t you relax?” “I’m not worried about that right now. Besides, I’m fine,” you huff.

“Nonsense. Here, let me help,” he twirls the cigar around to you and holds it in front of you. You glance between it and him while he hums. “What? Never smoked before?” “No,” you admit to him.

“What a shame,” he bemoans, going back to take a puff of his cigar. “And here I thought we were bonding something special. Although, perhaps it’s good you haven’t taken up such bad habits.”

“Really?” “Yes,” he eyes you. “I wouldn’t want you of all people to end up like me.”

“True. Why do you like to smoke so much? You could’ve asked me for anything, yet you chose a cigar of all things.”

“It’s a hard vice to let go of. I once was free to do as I could. Forcefully being unable to pick up one whenever I chose drove me a bit… mad,” he laughs humourlessly. “I find it clears my mind. You look as if you desperately need that.”

He faces the cigar to you once more. You feel your previous conviction falter when he gives you that eager look and nods his head for you to try it.

“I guess once could not hurt…” you begin as you grab the cigar and put it to your mouth. You inhale a large amount of the smoke before you feel your lungs screaming. You remove the cigar quickly and cough out puffs of smoke, wheezing while the man pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You really are too much, sometimes. You don’t breathe it in to your lungs,” he chastizes you, grabbing the cigar from you. “You breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, let the taste settle on you for a few seconds, then exhale. This is expensive stuff, not a cheap joint.”

He shows you the motions and hands it back to you. You cough once more before trying it again, just the way he did it. You exhale some smoke, thankfully not choking, but not enjoying the taste.

“I don’t get it. It tastes like crap.”

“It’s an acquired taste. Maybe you should bring me another, and we could try again.”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to do all that again to try and smoke some lousy cigar. You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Crocodile,” he casually states. “Hah, hah, how funny. Be serious,” you frown. He shrugs and continues to smoke.

“Oh well. You don’t believe me.”

“There’s no way you are named Crocodile. That’s a ridiculous name. Not to mention, that was once from the hero of-”

“Alabasta?”

“Yes! Alabasta! And that…” your eyes widen as you see his shoulders bounce due to his laughter. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. It’s not my fault you don’t take my word.”

“Then why is a hero in this jail?”

“Reasons. Reasons you will not know or understand,” his voice evens out, looking down at the floor.

“What, am I supposed to give you something, then you’ll tell me?” “I’m afraid my motivations can’t be bought, my dear,” Crocodile admits. “Entice me with something, though, and I may change my mind.”

“I don’t think I have anything ‘enticing’ to offer.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong…” he leans in closer to you and eyes you up and down. “Perhaps another time.”

“What? What are you-”

“Mmm, nothing. It’s just a thought came to mind.”

You roll your eyes at his vague words. “Never mind, I can see how someone as cruel as you ended up here.” “And yet you keep coming down to talk to me, dear. Why don’t you give me your name as well, since it’s obvious you are interested in me.”

“I am not. I am just repaying the favor from before,” you quickly correct him.

“My mistake, yes, that’s what’s going on.”

“I don’t like your attitude!” Your face flushes as you fan yourself. “It’s (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)...” Crocodile repeats, like a prayer. “I will admit, it is definitely a beautiful name. Far better than Crocodile, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. (Y/n), it sounds like royalty. It fits you well, your highness.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure of why your heart is elated he was complimenting your name.

“Would you look at the time, your highness,” Crocodile states after a few quiet moments. “You should be getting back upstairs. I’m sure your father would be wondering where you are. He wouldn’t want to find you messing around down here, now would he?”

“Right,” you shake your head, pushing aside all the strange feelings inside you. However, despite him saying you should go, you find yourself reluctant to move from your spot in front of him. Crocodile chuckles and this time, reaches to you with his right hand. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and looks down at you.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit me, your highness.” “Who said I wanted to?” you lie.

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken your feelings again,” he plays along. “Although, you could always keep me company. It’s very lonely down here.” “No. You have nothing else you wish to share with me,” you retort.

“I did say if you entice me, I might change my mind. And what is more enticing to a prisoner trapped here for life than a companion?”

You shouldn’t do this. But then you see those dark eyes and you feel tempted to try and learn.

“I can see that…” “You’re very kind, (Y/n),” Crocodile says as he removes his hand from your face. “Now run along. But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #reader insert #x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #crocodile #the heartless giant #heartless giant

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galaxygolfergirl · 8 days

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Watcher's Expenses

I didn't major in accounting: I took three classes and it grinded my brain to a fine powder. However, after graduating with a business admin degree, being a former eager fan of their videos, and from a cursory glance over their socials, there's a lot to consider in their spending behavior that really could start racking up costs. Some of these things we've already noticed, but there are other things I'd like to highlight, and I'll try to break it down into the different categories of accounting expenses (if I get something wrong, let me know. I was more concentrated in marketing 🤷‍♀️). I'm not going to hypothesize numbers either, as that would take out more time than I'm willing to afford-- you can assume how much everything costs. Anyways, here's my attempt at being a layman forensic accountant:

Note: All of this is assuming they're operating above board and not engaging in any illegal practices such as money laundering, tax evasion, not paying rent, etc.

Operating Expenses

Payroll: 25+ staff salaries and insurance

Overhead Expenses

CEO/founder salaries

Office space leasing or rent (In L.A, one of the most expensive cities in the US)

Utilities (water, electricity, heating, sanitation, etc.)

Insurance

Advertising Costs

Telephone & Internet service

Cloud Storage or mainframe

Office equipment (furniture, computers, printers, etc.)

Office supplies (paper, pens, printer ink, etc.)

Marketing costs (Social media marketing on Instagram, Youtube, SEO for search engines, Twitter, etc. Designing merchandise and posters, art, etc. )

Human Resources (not sure how equipped they are)

Accounting fees

Property taxes

Legal fees

Licensing fees

Website maintenance (For Watchertv.com, Watcherstuff.com, & Watcherentertainment.com)

Expenses regarding merchandising (whoever they contract or outsource for that)

Inventory costs

Potentially maintenance of company vehicles

Subsequent gas mileage for road trips

Depreciation (pertains to tangible assets like buildings and equipment)

Amortization (intangible assets such as patents and trademarks)

Overhead Travel and Entertainment Costs (I think one of the biggest culprits, evident in their videos and posts)

The travel expenses (flights, train trips, rental cars, etc. For main team and scouts)

Hotel expenses for 7-8 people at least, or potentially more

Breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the crew (whether that's fully on their dime or not, I don't know; Ryan stated they like to cover that for the most part)

Recreational activities (vacation destinations, amusement parks, sporting activities etc.)

The location fees

Extraneous Overhead costs (not sure exactly where these fall under, but another culprit, evident in videos and posts)

Paying for guest appearances

Expensive filming & recording equipment (Cameras, sound equipment, editing software subscriptions, etc.)

The overelaborate sets for Ghost files, Mystery Files, Puppet History, Podcasts etc. (Set dressing: Vintage memorabilia, antiquated tech, vintage furniture, props, etc.)

Kitchen & Cooking supplies/equipment

Office food supply; expensive food and drink purchases for videos

Novelty items or miscellaneous purchases (ex. Ghost hunting equipment, outfits, toys, etc.)

Non-Operating Expenses

These are those expenses that cannot be linked back to operating revenue. One of the most common examples of non-operating expenses is interest expense. This is because while interest is the cost of borrowing money from a creditor or a bank, they are not generating any operating income. This makes interest payments a part of non-operating expenses.

Financial Expenses

Potential loan payments, borrowing from creditors or lenders, bank loans, etc.

Variable Expenses

Hiring a large amount of freelancers, overtime expenditure, commissions, etc.

PR consultations (Not sure if they had this before the scandal)

Extraordinary Expenses

Expenses incurred outside your company’s regular business activities and during a large one-time event or transactions. For example, selling land, disposal of a significant asset, laying off of your employees, unexpected machine repairing or replacement, etc.

Accrued Expenses

When your business has incurred an expense but not yet paid for it.

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

(If there's anything else I'm missing, please feel free to add or correct things)

To a novice or a young entrepreneur, this can be very intimidating if you don't have the education or the support to manage it properly. I know it intimidates the hell out of me and I'm still having to fill in the gaps (again, if I've mislabeled or gotten anything wrong here, please let me know). For the artistic or creative entrepreneur, it can be even harder to reconcile the extent of your creative passions with your ability to operate and scale your business at a sustainable rate. That can lead to irresponsible, selfish, and impulsive decisions that could irreparably harm your brand, which is a whole other beast of its own.

My guess at this point is that their overhead and operation expenses are woefully mismanaged; they've made way too many extraneous purchases, and that they had too much confidence in their audience of formerly 2.93 million to make up for the expenses they failed to cover.

It almost seems as if their internal logic was, "If we make more money, we can keep living the expensive lifestyle that we want and make whatever we want without anyone telling us we can't, and we want to do it NOW, sooner rather than later because we don't want wait and compromise our vision." But as you can see, the reality of fulfilling those ambitions is already compromised by the responsibility of running a business.

And I wrote this in another post here, but I'll state it again: Running a business means you need to be educated on how a business can successfully and efficiently operate. Accounting, marketing, social media marketing, public relations, production, etc; these resources and internet of things is available and at your disposal. If they had invested more time in educating themselves on those aspects and not made this decision based on artistic passion (and/or greed), they would have not gotten the response they got.

Being a graphic designer, I know the creative/passionate side of things but I also got a degree/got educated in business because I wanted to understand how to start a company and run it successfully. If they’re having trouble handling the responsibility of doing that, managing production costs, managing overhead expenses, and especially with compensating their 25+ employees, then they should hire professionals that are sympathetic to their creative interests, but have the education and experience to reign in bad decisions like these.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. What a shitshow this has been.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim #watcher tv #watchergate #accounting

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00127am · 2 months

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signed with love and forever yours, mark

postage. lee mark & gn! reader, mentions of death in the context of greek mythos cost to ship. 712 words

growing up, i never understood the tragedy of orpheus and eurydice. how, upon achieving the opportunity to bring back his beloved, orpheus squandered it all with a single look. it frustrated me, that after all that effort--every song he had written and preformed, compositions which moved all, even gods-- he abandoned all success with a single glimpse backwards. a second of a stare that only captured the whisper of eurydice's figure before she was dragged back to the depths of the underworld. i never understood why he looked back, why he had to fail when he was so close to the edge of triumph.

though i suppose that after meeting you, if i took the place of poor orpheus and you, my eurydice, i'm afraid that i would also lose you for a second time. that i would risk everything i had worked towards, everything that i had done just to see your face in that fraction of a second. to look at you, no matter the consequences. no matter what what i had sacrificed to get to you, no matter if i too would be punished for this singular stare. i would do so, even so close to escape, so close to having you in my arms again without a moment of hesitation. i, not only as orpheus but as mark--your mark--would do anything to spare even the slightest of glances in your direction. even if they would only forfeit half of a second of being captured in the reflection of your eyes and nothing more. for that half of a second, that split sliver in time, would be worth more to me than any hours of gazing upon anything else.

i find us to be more likened to paris and helen of troy. a story i've always understood, at any and all basic fundamentals of its core, though doubted. for how could anyone be so beautiful that others would begin wars over them? that their beauty would be more fair, more compelling than that of the gods? that men would be reduced to nothing more than spurned infatuation, fighting battles--killing-- for any brief moment spent within helen's gaze.

i wasn't sure that any such person could exist. but with you, i find myself to be playing the part of poor paris--destined, perhaps, to starting wars over the mere thought of you.

about mark's love letters.

mark's handwriting is rough and scribbled. oftentimes jotted down with whatever pen he has lying around, series of swirls and scratches at the top margins of the page where he attempts to get the ink to flow. his words, in a stark difference to the somewhat chaotic state of his slanted, all-caps writing, are carefully chosen. hand-picked with the utmost care, the upmost emphasis to ensure the quickening of your heartbeat. though short, his letters are poetic and always very true to himself. you can almost picture the look on his face when he writes them, a fantasy that does nothing but conjure heat into the full of your cheeks.

he first writes these down in his notes app of all places. thumbs frantically typing with every out of the blue strike of inspiration (something that happens rather often, both for songs and for you, though mark could argue that these two things are nearly synonymous). and when he does get the time (something he seems to be always running out of) he transfers these pretty proses to the whitened canvas of card stock. a firm choice, made to last. each one of his letters are signed with less-than-perfect stars and a drawing of whichever thing has recently caught of your fancy (usually him).

mark often sends them in the mail to you but prefers to give his letters to you in person. something he often finds himself regretting when you choose to read them outloud, burying his face in his hands as he begs you to stop. you don't and mark often finds himself begrudgingly thinking that you're much too like haechan for your own good (or his). it's not all bad though, not when the reward for withstanding such utter humiliation on his part is all of your affection. and mark would take anything in the world if it met just receiving one shred of your heart.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @chriscentric @trourevaille @firstdonutllamafarm @jenaisnte thank you for supporting me! ♡

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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Operation Apollo | 2.1 | Jake Seresin x Reader au

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synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, mentions of sex, mentions of plotted kidnapping, dark themes to follow, arguing, lack of communication on both sides. Smut (pinv) briefly at the end. 4k words

…

Awake long enough to see the full range of the sky’s gradient, an almost grey Steele colour to a powder blue brightened by the morning sun, Jake rubs a hand tiredly over his aching eyes. They hurt when he closes them, so he tries not to.

“I’m a busy man, Seresin, I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

Matthew’s voice is stern on the line, there’s a monotony to it, like he’s already bored of speaking about this. They have had this conversation before, four times already actually. But Jake hasn’t grown bored of it. In fact, he can’t think of anything else.

Sleep-deprived and out of sorts, Jake’s heart aches in his chest.

“There’s just — there has to be another way,” Jake says gently.

Fiddling with a pen, taking it’s intricate insides apart and piecing it back together, Matthew stifles a sigh. He rubs a hand over his eyes and shoots a look towards his assistant, then shakes his head. The pause tells Jake what he needs to know.

“She’s never going to trust any of us again.” Jake insists, his voice quieter now than it had been before. Matthew barely notices, frowning as the pen bursts and ink spills out onto his fingertips.

“She’ll trust who I tell her to trust,” Matthew answers back, discarding the pen with little thought to the damage that it causes. Black ink seeping out onto hundred year old wood. Caring more for the mess on his hand, he reaches for a tissue and swipes the ink from his fingers. “Now, if you don’t mind, kid — I’ve got an important meeting to get to.”

The line clicks dead before Jake’s got an opportunity to respond. You hum softly and press closer to him, your cheek smushed into his abdomen and your arms draped loosely around his hips. He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he soaks in the image of you like this, sleeping so peacefully against him.

He follows the curve of your back as his fingers trail, featherlight, along the length of your spine. Ten days of knowing what he knows.

At first, he tried to take it in his stride. There’s no certainty in missions like these, there is almost always another way. Options exhausted and the gala fast approaching, he can barely bring himself to look you in the eye these days.

This is easier. Just this moment. Your bare chest lying against his front, sheets just covering your bottom half.

He knows that you’re on to him. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about his withdrawal. Yet, you’ve come sneaking into his bed for the last ten days straight without fail. Even if he hasn’t touched you since you left San Diego.

Almost certainly, that’s what last night’s display was about. Him standing by the balcony door, letting the fresh air soothe the strain in his chest, when you pulled open your balcony door. Wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of underwear, you had strolled right past him, looking him dead in the eye, and then slipped into his bed without a word.

Still nothing. Jake had stepped out onto the balcony to continue his conversation without fear of you hearing. When he had returned, you were already asleep. He can’t pretend that he wasn’t glad that you were.

His lips quirk softly as you hike your leg around his, shifting closer. He smooths his hand over the subtle v-shape your underwear makes, stretched out over your hips when you lie like this. It’s cute that you need his affection the way that you do. He likes giving it to you.

It just doesn’t feel right now. It won’t again until he knows that he has done everything in his power to keep you safe. As many options as he has exhausted, he can’t stop trying just yet. Two more days until he’s supposed to take you to the airport and let you attend that gala.

Jake smooths the backs of his fingers across your cheek softly. The action tickles your skin and makes you stir. Still deep in sleep, sprawled out across white sheets, one of your hands presses to his stomach like you’re checking that he’s still there. He exhales slowly, finding peace in watching you sleep.

He wishes he could join you, the two of you tangled peacefully in pleasant dreams. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately. Too busy trying to fix it. Hundreds of phone calls, emails, freedom of information requests and accessing confidential documents. And still, the man at the top says that his plan is the best.

Jake remembers starting this job and knowing that the danger you were in was so grave that it had to be kept from you. He remembers reading the letter that was on your pillow, his stomach churning at the lines and lines of detailed threats.

Reaching for fabric to unconsciously tug him closer, your fingers extend against the ridges on his stomach and your brows furrow slightly. Never one to deny you, even when you’re not awake to make the request, he knows you well enough to know what you want. Shifting down the bed slightly, he presses himself against your side and drapes an arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As you settle into this new position, Jake holds you a little closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head. Your heart beats steadily against his, the soothing rhythm almost enough to drag him into the sleep that he has been fighting. Still fighting now, he keeps himself awake by massaging your back, gently kneading and stroking your skin under his warm palm.

“Mm, feels nice.” You hum softly into his chest.

He damn near flinches at the sudden sound of your voice, even with its half-awake cadence and muffled start. Eyes widening, he pulls back to find you smiling sleepily with your eyes still closed. You scrunch your features, preparing for the morning light, beginning with a few soft blinks to adjust before you really look at him.

“Morning.” You smile, stretching your arms above your head. With Jake’s sudden change in attitude this past week, this affection is a welcome surprise. Almost ten days of downright glacial treatment from the blonde haired agent. He’s been working hard so you’ve given him a pass.

You’re not too sure with what but the elections are picking up speed now and things always get a little tricky around this time. That, and you’re going to be back in classes from next month.

“Morning.” Jake says quietly, like he’s ashamed to have been caught being so affectionate. The look on his face is hard to ignore. He has already withdrawn from this exchange before he moves to get up from the bed. You reach out and catch his dog tags, knowing that he won’t pull back hard enough to risk you breaking them.

He turns his head, glancing down at your fingers curled around the metal, slowly lifting his gaze to look at your face again.

“Stay in bed.” It’s neither a request or an order. It’s the first thing you’ve asked of him in a while. Releasing the metal, you smooth your fingers along the inside of his arm. Trailing along each inch of warm skin, following the veins on his forearm down until you can entwine your fingers with his and give a gentle tug.

“I’ve got a phone call to make.” Jake answers, giving a soft shake of his head. He squeezes your hand and moves to drop it. Pushing yourself up and supporting your weight against your palms, your face doesn’t give much away about what you’re wanting to say to him. But he knows anyway.

“Jake,” It’s quiet, almost like a warning — the look in your eyes tells him that it’s more of a plea. “Just stay for a little bit longer.”

His eyes trail downwards, his shoulder casting a shadow across the morning glow that has managed to soak the rest of your body. Wearing nothing but a white cotton thong, giving the excuse of last night’s lingering heat even with the sound of the air conditioning in the room muffling your words. The manufactured chill covers your body even now, his absence making it all the worse. Your nipples perked and goosebumps covering your arms. Jake trails his fingers over them, feeling your eyes on him. Waiting for his decision.

“This… it’s an important call.” He offers you no other consolation, no excuse, as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns his back on you. He can’t bring himself to touch you with such a weight on his mind. Until he has fixed this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“Jake.” You repeat. He doesn’t look at you, grabbing some shorts from beside the bed and pulling them up his legs. He has been showering in the downstairs gym so that there’s no chance of him bumping into you while you’re still laying in his bed. Exhaling heavily, he grabs his phone and moves for the door.

“Jake, if you don’t look at me right now, I swear to god, I’m going to start screaming.” Right back where you started, fighting fire with fire. It works and you’re met with an endearingly serious jade-coloured gaze. A silent warning from the man at the foot of the bed. He stares back at you. The almost naked girl in his bed with his heart in the palm of her hand.

Exhausted and already at his whit’s end with the careless decisions that your family seem prone to making, he shakes his head.

“Do what you want, honey.” Jake replies, tone calm and calculated. Knowing that you care for him too much follow through with your threat. He slips his phone into the pocket of his gym shorts and cranes his neck to the left. He’s wound so tight these days that it feels like his head might roll right off of his shoulders if he dares to stretch further.

Your gaze burns into his back as he curls his fingers around the door handle and tugs it open.

“What is the matter with you, you fucking asshole?”

Jake goes to ignore you. It’s his every intention. It’s even in motion, the door swinging shut behind him as he starts down the hallway. It’s only when he hears it bump into the wall as you swing it back open that he can’t call your bluff any further.

“I’m talking to you!” You insist.

Jake spins, green eyes blown exceptionally wide at the sight of you in the doorway. Two steps forward and you’ll be in the frame of the hallway camera.

“Don’t you dare.” Jake warns, squinting as he takes a step back in your direction. Immediately, he knows this was the wrong thing to do. There’s a glint in your eye that tells him he just played right into your hands. Either he comes to you or you go to him. “Put some fucking clothes on or something, anyone could—“

“I don’t care if the entire secret service sees! I said: I’m talking to you. Don’t walk away from me!” Your voice carries and the open-planned house doesn’t do much to stifle the noise.

Jake walks forwards so swiftly that instinct carries you a couple of steps back. Far enough into the room for him to slam the door shut and corner you against his dresser.

“Keep your fucking voice down.” He warns you, deadly serious now.

“I’ll let this whole neighborhood know what a dick you’re being if you don’t start giving me answers, Seresin.” You poke a finger into his chest and square your shoulders. Even with him hulking over you, there’s not a chance that you’re going to budge on this.

“It’s not my job to give you answers.” Jake answers back. The words spill from the inside of his mouth, cold and sharp. You squint at him.

“I don’t think it’s in your job description to fuck me either, and yet here we are.”

He inhales slowly and exhales even slower. You study his face, trying to find the answers you need between the furrows and creases in his features.

“Something happened in San Diego, and you’re going to tell me what it was.” You insist, standing up straighter so that he has no choice but to take a step back and give you room.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Jake replies swiftly, green eyes on yours without faltering in the slightest.

“If you want me to go over your head on this, Jake, then—“

He scoffs and pulls back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea is almost laughable, he truly has to stop himself from laughing at you. Something seethes through him, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he paces back. “Try it. Be my fucking guest. Call your dad.”

At least then it’ll be on him to explain this fucked up bet he has made, with you as the wager. In fact, Jake would enjoy that. The plan would fall through, you’d realise everything that Jake has been doing to keep you safe and he’d be able to start sleeping again.

Seeing him almost laugh at you changes the tone of the conversation entirely. You’ve been here before, and this feeling certainly isn’t unfamiliar. The only one who doesn’t know.

Such a bright girl. So clever. Such a bright future. Beautiful and smart. All of those compliments, all of those good grades — and there’s always still a man standing in front of you, trying not to laugh.

“Maybe I will call him,” You bite back, straightening up again like something will change and suddenly you’ll be the one towering over him. It sure feels that way with this anger surging through you. “I’m sure it would do wonders for your career if I were to speak to my dad today.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Jake’s brows knit together and he presses forwards. Your back bumps into his dresser before you even realize that you’ve stepped back. He gives you a quick glance up and down, then steps out of your space. “Put some fucking clothes on. Keep yourself busy today, I don’t want you bugging me for anything.”

This time when he goes for the door, you let him. You let it slam shut behind you and pretend that it doesn’t make you flinch.

Jake pretends that he doesn’t hear you screaming ‘asshole’ as he continues downstairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, several eyes are on him.

“Don’t you idiots have something you should be doing?” Jake bites, shaking his head as he continues past the living room and towards the gym. He spends the rest of the morning carefully maneuvering the house, making sure there’s not a chance that he’s going to run into you.

“I was surprised that you called! — it’s been forever.” Blake’s face is turned towards the sun as her long, slender legs sprawl along the lounger. Her martini glass rests against her stomach, droplets of condensation trailing along the stem and onto her fair, freckled skin.

Your posture attempts to mimic hers. Only, your fingers drum against the side of your hi-ball glass and the inside of your cheek has gone numb from all of the nervous chewing. It’s a while afternoon by this point, the sun is high and there’s a breeze soft enough to make the heat deceptively mild.

“Mm, well, I missed you.” You reply gently.

She doesn’t move, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her tanning position just slightly, “I missed you too. But you sounded kind of upset on the phone.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, your thankful that your sunglasses mask the realisation. All of those years of media training and your runway model friend can see right through it. You’re letting your guard slip. Your brows scrunch softly at the pain in your head.

“Just kind of a crappy week, nothing big. How’ve you been anyway?”

“I just got back from Italy actually,” “You know, the girls and I are going to Belize at the end of the month. You should come. I was going to invite you, but you’re kind of hard to reach sometimes.”

“I don’t think that would fly.” You shake your head quickly, shooting a quick glance to the rookie sitting up on the deck. He might as well have a pair of binoculars for how intently he’s watching the two of you.

“I’m sure you could strike up a deal with one of the men in black, right? — Get them to pull some strings for you?” She pulls her sunglasses down and winks. It’s just a lighthearted joke, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Until she sees the look on your face.

You have had classes on this since you were a kid. Someone stepping on a nerve and you not flinching in the slightest. Yet, she barely even nudges the cover of your secret and your demeanor changes.

Turning your head, your gaze focuses on the pool as you shift. Pretending that it’s just to find a comfier spot rather than fidgeting with nerves.

“Oh my god,” Blake turns, setting her glass down on the table between the two of you, then propping herself up on her palm. Every fibre of her attention is on you — which is a rare occurrence from Blake. “Are you fucking one of them?”

The intrigue in her voice should be a dead giveaway. On a day where your head was a little clearer, you would’ve taken time to analyze exactly what it was about her tone that didn’t feel quite right.

Today, you’re alone and you’re wounded, and she’s looking at you waiting for her answer.

“Jake.” You nod quietly.

“The one who came to my party?”

You nod sheepishly at her, lifting your sunglasses off of your face so that you can study her reaction a little more closely. She grins wolfishly and leans forwards. Up close, it appears as intrigue.

“Girl, tell me everything.” She sounds giddy as she smiles across at you, reaching for her glass again. And the floodgates open. You start from the beginning and it’s hard to slow down from there. The first gala, the party, the break-in, and then Texas.

“This is the best posting I’ve ever had,” The voice is hushed just the slightest amount, no real effort is being made to. A couple of chuckles follow it. “God, look at that. God bless America.” More chuckles follow.

Jake rounds the corner, fresh off of a phone call with the head of security at the White House and not in the mood to be fucked with. Three of the rookies standing around the kitchen, staring out of the window, focused on the pool. They take no notice of Jake as he strolls past them to check the view.

You’re lying on your stomach, in a black bikini that’s more strings and ties than it is real fabric. Standing from where he is, he’s got just about the perfect view. The swell of your ass covered by the skimpy black material and the curve of your breast peeking out from the side of the top, too deep in conversation to notice that you’re being watched.

“God, I’d fuck her into the next century, man.”

Jake turns his head slowly and his gaze locks on the kid who just made the mistake of speaking. He stares calmly. He’s a little too still, just watching in a way that’s unnerving enough to have the young man fidgeting on his feet.

“What? — Like you wouldn’t?” The boy tries, swallowing and glancing around to the others for help. Jake’s lips quirk softly. He glances back towards the pool and the girl that he loves, and back at the shithead that was drooling over her.

“I catch you doing that again, and I’ll drown you in that pool.” Jake warns calmly. He takes his time to look between the young agents and nods, just to confirm that he meant what he said. “Now, move.”

They scuttle away like bugs. Jake sighs softly, leaning against the kitchen island and resting his head in his hands. His temples throb when he closes his eyes, that can’t mean anything good.

“Have you heard those little perverts?”

Not a moment’s peace, Jake lifts his head as Manny strolls into the kitchen. He hums a tired agreement. Manny rolls his eyes at their behavior and leans against the other side of the island.

“So?”

“So, what?” Jake mumbles, rubbing softly at his eyes, hoping that it’ll make the pain stop long enough for him to keep his eyes going.

“So what’s up with you and Apollo?”

Jake looks up, struggling through the pain behind his eyes, brows furrowed. He waits for Manny to elaborate before he dares to attempt at an explanation.

“You two screaming at each other this morning?” Manny prompts. Jake closes his eyes again and stifles a sigh. It’s hard to care about keeping a low profile when someone knows how to step on his nerves like you do.

“Told her to put some damn clothes on. She can’t keep walking around here half naked.”

“Yeah, not with those little vultures hanging around. Her dad’s gonna kill us if she winds up sleeping with one of them, you know that, right?” Manny breathed out, shaking his head softly as he checks out of the window to make sure you’re still where you’re meant to be.

Jake hums and pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn’t trying to avoid you that afternoon. Not like he was this morning. It just so happens that you don’t run into him again until the evening.

He closes the door to his room and almost frowns when he sees that you aren’t in his bed. Before he has time, he registers the sound of the water running. Locking his bedroom door behind him, he gently twists the bathroom door handle and lets himself inside.

You’re silent, aware of his presence but not looking at him. You lather soap over your legs as he rids himself wordlessly of his clothes. Your breath catches in your throat as his chest presses into your back.

Jake drapes one arm around your waist and pulls you back against him. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and leaves soft kisses against your damp skin.

“I love you.” He reminds you, working a string of kisses along the ridge of your shoulder. You lean back into his touch, silent. He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew.

Telling Blake had never been part of the plan. You hadn’t realised quite how much you had been holding in until you had started to let it out. It had felt so good to finally talk about it, to finally say it out loud. Such a relief, each word truly a weight off of your chest.

Now, a new weight presses heavy on you. Knowing that it’s only a matter of time. That you could’ve screwed it all up. That he’ll never trust you again. You whimper softly as he nips at the column of your throat. He snakes both arms around your torso and squeezes you tight in his arms.

Options exhausted, every box checked and each one of them a dud, there’s nothing that Jake can do but revel in the time he has left where you’ll believe in him.

You lean forwards and arch your back away from his chest as he sucks softly at your throat, squeezing his arms around your middle. Catching hold of his thigh for leverage, a small whimper slips your lips as you grind back.

Jake’s hand nudges between your legs, mouth working expertly against your neck. After ten days without his touch, you’re soaking his fingers in a matter of minutes, shivering against his hold even under the steamy water.

“You want it?” Jake breathes out as you grind yourself back against him. He kisses every part of skin that he can reach, keeping you pressed into his chest. You nod feverishly, humming a quick please that’s lost somewhere between the running stream of water and the soft groan that vibrates from his lips and onto your neck.

You gasp softly as he withdraws his fingers and presses the tip of his cock into you, a contented moan falling from your lips. Jake exhales slowly against your skin as he sinks in deeper until he’s buried in you completely.

“Missed you.” You breathe out quietly, trying to rock your hips. Jake presses a palm into the wall in front of you and grabs your hip with the other, nodding as he settles his forehead against the back of your shoulder.

“Missed you too, darlin’.” He murmurs.

…

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onelocket · 1 year

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Being Fyodor’s selective mute lover

Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader

PROMPTING GUIDE -- You’re Fyodor’s high-school lover, who is selective mute and uses notes to communicate. How would he tend to you in school hours?

INVOLVES -- mentions of violence, one mention of a feminine nickname (belladonna). not much warnings thankfully

I do want to mention that I am selective mute myself, but there may be points within this post that other selective mute people will not find relation to.

THEME -- mainly fluff, high-school au

WORD COUNT -- 2.3k

⚘

Fyodor always has his eyes on you

Of course, don’t take it the wrong way. He has other stuff to deal with than being a stalker of yours, and besides—you two are already dating anyway. What more will he not know about you? Even if you’re selective mute, he always seems to know everything. But moving on, whenever you and Fyodor share a class period, he will mainly spend that hour or two watching over you. And you don’t even know it.

Because his chair is always ‘seemingly’ behind you, he has more access to you than you do to him. Unless, of course, you wouldn’t care if he sees you turn your head to him every minute of class. But you do, and with the facts that the teacher could see you do that too—you pretty much.. never turn around unless needed. There will be times where he softly calls you, just to get your head turning around to look at him. You think there isn’t an exact reason for this, but what you don’t know is that Fyodor does so just to see your expression. One’s expression tells a lot about their current emotion, so he uses that as an advantage to at least see how you were feeling. Especially since you don’t speak and can’t get your thoughts out through words.

Even if you guys aren’t in class, let’s say; eating lunch or attending a school event, Fyodor will always be watching you. If not close to you, then from a distance. It’s to ensure you were safe, and also to watch whoever tries to talk to you—and he was always taking note of who they were. There are times where other students notice his pattern, but Fyodor will always be able to make up an excuse to trick their foolish minds, for he does not want to admit it to others. But for closer students like Gogol and Sigma, perhaps even Dazai, he admits the truth to them. And if he ever does admit it to Dazai? The look on your face can be so funny when you hear Dazai’s overdramatic words. "Hey belladonna, don’t you find it bizarre that your boyfriend still stalks you?" "…??"

Sometimes, when the staring becomes too much of a boring activity for him—mostly when nothing dangerous seems to be around to threaten you, Fyodor may end up walking close and hold your hand to let you know of his presence. Of course, you do not mind. It’s one of the many ways that he can comfort you, especially if wherever you would be was somewhere full of students.

Your notes are never thrown away

Since phones aren’t a common occasion in your school, your small little notepads are always the resort to your interaction. There will be very, very rare times that you willingly speak to continue the chat, but never had anyone received this treatment other than a selected few. And obviously, Fyodor would be one of that few. Yet for how rare it happens, it’s almost forgettable.

You tend to use your notepads to everyone, regardless of who they may be. Your high school is pretty supportive, well—at least that’s what their surface was to you, so the students and teachers take the time to let you write your reply or inquiry to them. Inquiry—because you’d never start a conversation unless absolutely needed. Paper can cost quite a bit too, you know? It would be a waste to use them on situations that aren’t even necessary to you, especially ink. You sometimes use pencils, but you always have pens rather than pencils in your pockets, so ink takes the majority.

Your boyfriend is no exception to the notes. Since you can’t bring yourself to speak every time, you have to use notes to continue a conversation with Fyodor. And he doesn’t mind, for he always replies afterward and even asks if you’re okay after the chat. He even helps you out as well, insisting that he can keep the paper so that no more trash would stay in your bag. Because whenever you’re done with an interaction, you always keep the notes in your bag to refrain from any ‘blackmail’ or have a stranger hold your notes, and he knows that too.

But what you don’t know is that your boyfriends ‘act of kindness’ is pretty much just to brag, if we’re talking surface level here. Fyodor keeps some of the many small notes in his desk drawer—especially those notes which held such cheesy and sweet words from you. For having classmates like Gogol and Dazai, it’s not avoidable to have his drawer opened sometimes. And whenever any of the two see your cute little "Can we head to the nearby tea shop after class…? I miss spending more time with you, Fedya.. ♡", it’s best assured that you’d receive teasing from the other party after. And Fyodor could only chuckle at the scene.

He speaks for you when needed

As stated, you always use notes to interact with others. Some don’t mind, some do. Those who don’t always seem to have their reasons as they either don’t genuinely understand why you’re selective mute, or are either just complete ignorant people. Nonetheless, being with those types of people always makes your stomach upset. While Fyodor was in the same school, it’s not every second where he’s always with you, so for times that you’re left alone with such ignorant people… oh, just how badly would you love to run away and find your boyfriend.

There are times where, while Fyodor wasn’t nearby—a student will ask you "Why are you selective mute?", and damn does it always make you nearly cry. With the quietest hiccup replying first, you look down, trying to not let them see the upset look you had on as your stomach formed uncomfortable knots. Oh god.. write faster.. You’d think, fingers shaking as they slide the ink on your paper to form words. You lift the paper up, "I’m scared to speak. Please don’t push this question further." earning them either a confused look—or an apologetic one as they become quick to say sorry for asking that. Of course, you always accept it..

But for situations where teachers take place, especially recitations, you have very little to use to keep your comfort. There are teachers that let you write down your answer, but there are those who will deny that alternative and pretty much demand for you to talk. As much as you hated speaking, Fyodor hated the sight of these teachers forcing you something you clearly could not do. If only he wasn’t a student with a reputation to keep, then perhaps he would have been yelling at them each time it happens to you. But of course, Fyodor was a man of patience and held a collected demeanor.

So instead of starting an issue, Fyodor raises his hand before standing up from his seat. Gaining you and the teachers attention, he will politely ask if he, as your boyfriend, can help and speak for you. Thankfully, because of his ‘position’ and valid reason, he’s mostly allowed to help you, the teacher letting him walk closer to you so he could ask what you want to say. Fyodor always kisses your worries off first, peppering them light on your cheeks without a care on what the other students will think of. And for the teacher? Well, he can always shoot back another valid excuse for his affection. And besides, it always seems to help, for you end up very quietly whispering to him what you desire to say, letting him say it out loud to the class with his hand tightly holding yours. These were times you were so grateful he can still be around you in this school, and that he’s not afraid to speak for you when you need it.

"[…], Keep his protectiveness to an extent, please."

While the majority of those who talked to you were respecting and kind, a school experience can never be complete without a conflict some way or another, can’t it? Poor you, not excluded from that ‘unspoken rule’. Well, you’re thankful that you weren’t a constant target of bullying, but there just has to be some students who think they’re so good, so you still end up receiving negative treatment sometimes.

Fyodor is not a student council member by any means, in fact, he doesn’t like what kind of attention that role could bring him. However, people do know who he is, and what he seems to be capable of. Being once called a demon by the student council secretary himself, Dazai Osamu, a lot became wary and almost scared of his persona. And you were just another addition to peoples list. Well, maybe not as bad as Fyodors—since you were a very kind person to everyone nonetheless, so less saw you as a warning alone. Perhaps these less were even the people who decided to be offensive with you, unironically enough.

Even if you decided to go through with it to refrain from an angry assault, Fyodor always thinks otherwise of your decision. How dare they, insult and go on harassing you just because you can’t bring yourself to speak? Each hostile interaction made him angry. It makes him want to hurt the other party—which is a thought he never entertains. So somebody had to really be on their tail to have the demon do what he doesn’t like to. And Fyodor wasn’t the type to be afraid either, shooting the other side with such glare that usually makes them agitated and cause a larger ruckus with your boyfriend. But thankfully, you were there, somebody who’s able to try or at least make him discard any harsher words and actions until the situation was over. It wasn’t everyday somebody decides to be rude to you, and so would be his anger, so if you even let a portion of it escape Fyodor, best bet that you and him go straight to the guidance counselor.

But actually, it seemed to have happened once. One school afternoon, you were simply packing your bag in preparation for leaving before a teacher came close to you. A very close and friendly teacher, so their presence alone did not mind you. Until you hear them speak, "Dostoevsky is your boyfriend, right?" causing your head to nod and face them. They hum before they fell silent, looking away to watch the beautiful hues of sunset as they replied to you, "He has punched a guy that ended up bleeding just a few days ago, when you were absent. The other boy always defends himself by saying Fyodor shouldn’t be hostile just for his lover, which brings me here to you now. Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is.. keep his protectiveness to an extent, please."

Free time turns into ‘comforting time’

To end with some actual fluff—Fyodor’s way of comforting you is probably one of the bestest things ever set foot in your life, set aside him in general. You and him have a freer way of showing affection and communicating outside the school campus, but as long as you two were inside said building, there was a limit to it. And it made you upset, really. How comforting would it be to have your lover stay by your side every second in class and help you focus.. too bad you can’t have that.

But it’s evident enough that Fyodor sees the distress you feel, so he tends to bring you to secluded places during free time. You and his schedules weren’t so far off, so there was plenty of time to spend. He does want more than just watching you from afar, too. Whenever you two are presented with free time; usually during the afternoons, he will gently take your hand and bring you somewhere else that’s quieter—mostly the rooftop, which also has such a lovely view of the calming colors of sunset. If wherever you two first were was already quiet, then he doesn’t find need to bring you out the of room, but that finds itself to be rare because of the other students. But it does not bother you both as long as a relaxing space can be yours and his for a couple of minutes.

As Fyodor delicately presses kisses on your palms, he will occasionally stop to ask how today was going, and if anything negative happened while he had himself separated from you. He may also eventually cuddle up with you when your body seems to be asking for it. His concern was something that makes you melt, your heart beating as you reply to him with your notes. But there are times of these sessions where you feel comfortable enough to speak, starting off with a quiet voice calling his name, "F-Fyodor, I’m…okay.". And oh, just how bad his heart warms up to that too. He knows how difficult it is for you to even stutter a word, and for each word you manage to speak out—expect soft little praises from him. Nothing too major since he can’t have you overwhelmed more than you already would be, but enough to keep your face pink as he slowly tucks strands of your hair behind your ear, your eyes seeing such a faint smile that compliment his beautiful features.

Isn’t it a shock, somebody like you able to soften the heart of someone who was called a demon by your school’s student council secretary? Dazai was never known to be wrong, either. You’re a somebody who can’t speak to others because of your extreme fear, and for the eyes of others—you weren’t somebody worth to entertain even a minute to. Yet you manage to take in the attention of Fyodor, why could that be? You never knew, and maybe you never wanted to know. His love for you was enough in this high-school experience.

#krei headcanons #bsd dostoevsky #bsd imagines #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor imagines #bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x you #fyodor fluff #fyodor x y/n #fyodor headcanons

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smallgodseries · 1 year

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[image description: A very old (and somewhat ragged) book cover features a woman in medieval attire with a quill pen in its lower right corner. She leans back – as though exhausted – on a blue and gold checkered tablecloth where an open ink bottle rests. Her pen is dripping past the words ‘psst! do look about the WHOLE page, won’t you please’. The book is surrounded and held tight by a rubber band under which, a piece of worn paper reads, “170, Anne O’Tate – small god of the Footnotes”]

• • • • •

(* As we begin, Anne would like you to note that there is no footnote in her official portrait; she simply entreats all who enter her august presence to look at their surroundings with care, lest smaller aspects of the situation be missed. Do not trouble yourself in seeking something which is not there.)

Anne arose when the first storyteller realized that something had been omitted from their recitation. Something small but vital, while not vital enough to justify hauling the entire tale back to an earlier point in its telling. Something that could be popped in as a verbal aside, or later, when the tale was written down*, as a footnote.

(*Footnotes are so named because they historically appear at the bottom of the page, where they can all too easily be overlooked, rather than being included inline with the text, as they are here. You are permitted to deviate from the norm, when you speak of gods.)

Some consider her a pedantic god, devoted to a precision that is unrealistic when language meets the living, more concerned with the proper placement of punctuation than with the flow of narrative. Those people couldn’t be more wrong. She wants things to be understood, yes, she wants citations and credit where credit is due, but she removes herself and her additions to the text from the main flow of the tale so as not to disrupt. Were she pedantic, she would insist that what she has to say is all that matters. Anne has never done such a thing.

The footnote is a treasure, a crumb of context and additional information beyond price*. If her work is viewed by some as unimportant in these modern times, Anne will only smile and note that every hyperlink falls within her domain; she is archaic and modern at the same time, and she will endure long after many other gods of literary device are gone, faded into memory and prayer.

(* Although some editors will happily tell you the price of every single footnote, what it costs to place and typeset, why they are better left avoided.)

• • • • •

Please join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

WordPress: https://leemoyer.wordpress.com/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://smallgodseries.com

Mastodon: @[email protected]

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

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camilla-denniston · 4 months

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Blots

It gives me incredible joy that the academia aesthetics exist - that humans year knowledge so much that they create dream-castles about learning. But so many just 'wish they could run away to a school in New England.' Guess what - you can't.

But you know what you can do? Buy a fountain pen.

I have a Pilot pen that cost less than $25. Get that, a converter (mine is squeeze, but I can't seem to find the link; the screw should work just as well), and a bottle of Noodler's Ink, and you'll be set for pens for the rest of your life. Seriously. I've had my bottle for seven months now, written dozens of letters, marked up papers, and transcribed translations, and I've barely made a dent. Maybe I'll need to get more ink when I've worked my way through my BA, a Masters, and a PhD to boot. Maybe.

There's a reason fountain pens are fancy and pretentious. I suffer withdrawal when I use ball-point for exams and such - it's just not as smooth.

#soft academia #dark academia aesthetic #academia #chaotic academia #romantic academia #dark academia #fountain pen #darkest academia #light academia #academics #chaotic academic aesthetic

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monstress · 1 year

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hii. if u dont mind, could u please share that "change of attitude" towards journaling? i feel like i really need that.. since i myself changed my attitude towards drawing and have been much more productive and happy doing it this last year. however Writing About Myself its another beast completely.. hope u r having a nice day! 🍃

hope you're having a lovely day as well! anyways as i was typing this up, what starts as a small tidbit has gone off the rails so i suppose this is my blanket advice as a newbie in journaling:

the materials!

choosing the titular journal aka notebook:

soft vs hard cover - i didn't realize this is SUCH a deciding factor until much later. most people prefer soft covers since journals can get massive with use but it's very subjective. be tactile - if it just don't feel right in ur hands, it's not gonna be something u reach out for when u have free time.

size - the most common sizes are A5, A6 or regular aka travelers notebook. you have to think abt who you are as a writer. do u have a large handwriting that takes up pages and pages? do you like space or are you overwhelmed by a blank page? do you travel a lot and do u want something unobtrusive in your bag? choose something that will reasonable work as a part of your daily life.

paper texture - paper that is smooth to write in are a great source of pleasure. notebooks with 100gsm paper is a good benchmark.

price - pleaseeee do not break the bank to purchase a fancy notebook. an expensive notebook can become an unloved one. you'd be too stressed to ensure every entry is perfect and pretty enough and the notebook eventually becomes too intimidating for you to fill in. check out your local hypermarket or online stores for quality notebooks. moleskins are overrated--in my country, they are v v expensive so don't feel pressure to buy a certain stationary just bc you see them often on ig/tiktok like my journal cost me approximately RM10 (USD2.34) and my new one w 100gsm paper cost me RM17 (USD4) like affordable options are out there!

build a connection with your notebook - listen...this sounds strange but having an attachment with your journal and making it inviting as possible is a great source of motivation. personalize it: add stickers, doodle or paint the cover. get a fabric/pvc cover to keep it clean if you'd like (you can add lil papers/stickers on ur actual notebook cover before putting on the pvc cover! very cute and easy)

and your pens:

again: less is more! use any relatively cheap pens you like - be it for the ink or smoothness. if you want to journal a lot, expect to lose a few pens during traveling or just around the house lmao

for fans of darker inks like me, i use Uni-ball Signo Broad, M&G R3 retractable gel pen and my favorite: Faber Castell RX Gel Pen 0.38mm - which cost like RM1.49 (i dont wanna convert - it's change money in america)

final note: i don't use fountain pens so i'm afraid i'm not well-versed enough to advise in that department but i deeply respect (and a little in awe) of journallers who use them 🫡

the tenet!

purpose: what do u plan to use the notebook for? daily journal? art journal? planner? all three? it's your life! live deliciously! since i have a 9-5 job, i know i can't keep up with more than one journal so i've been using mines as a diary and i dump my daily activities/thoughts/reviews of all kinds of media i'm currently obsessed with and it fills up quick!

don't be too hard on yourself: if you missed a day or two of journalling, it's fine - take it back up. write down anything memorable you'd like in the past few days. if you come across a certain blank page your brain is blanking to fill, perhaps after a previous dark entry, skip the page. skip two pages if needed. don't be scared of blank pages. if it needs to be blank, let it be.

it doesn't have to only be words! add stickers, dried flowers, receipts, ticket stubs, other ephemera you collected in the day. be artful! go crazy on page decoration!!

if there's anything you take away from this post, it's this: if you truly want a journal that is used up quickly, do not have plans to share it on social media. personally, i find once you are in the mindset of sharing your journal for an audience's consumption, you get worried whether it's "aesthetic" enough or is it too boring or too ugly or too dark or that you don't upload regularly enough. social media can be inhibiting your creativity or motivation to journal like let your animal brain ruminate in private! stay free from the shackles of responsibility!

#answered #poseida #journals #journaling tips #also in return i need to know what u did to change your attitude with drawing! i need to get back on that horse!

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onereallygoodlambonastick · 3 months

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*knee-up are now 30% per extra char, not 50%! cool graphics made by the glorious @marianjos

yup. would like to humbly present some offerings. due to issues. i draw mostly in pencil and ink with some digital options, you'll get something physical in the mail for what should be <5 dollar shipping fee if you're based in the "us" chile or brazil, everywhere else is case by case. i'll do a lot this run, ocs down sloppy style, furries, gummies for the generous, short comic spreads for ur ocs and otps, etc except what i will not do. mutuals get xtras n things wink come talk to me to find out!

if at all interested please dm or email me at ohhbde(at)gmail(dot)com, thank you!😐👍🏼💕

🍵add. info below for serious onlookers🍵

i'll also do +10$< for brush pen as an add-on, forgot to add it in

soy has a history of drawing for: orv, link click, shl/woh, ajin, drhdr, jojo, code geass, witch hat atelier. jjk is glaring rn

soy would also luv to draw more for: golden kamuy, neuro tantei, blue period, hxh, inuyasha, your ocs!

sliding scale prices are open to under-resourced folks, especially folks of color, who still want something nice. pm me

i'm opening nsfw comms sloppy style to charas that i don't know or care about so note that is the risk you’re running. i'd love to make your ocs bang if that's what you want to see from me !

ill work on sketch-ups after gathering specifics which will then be sent for approval, wherein you may make changes. once a sketch is finalized no more changes can be made.

your commission will be mailed to you, and if you requested a digital add-on, the file will be emailed to you.

i'll draw ya 2+ gummies if you tip me $5+, which i will donate on your behalf to a person/org of my choosing

refunds only in the case i neglect the entire commission.

in order to make my business a lil more sustainable, i’ll offer a separate one-time exclusive use fee, which is permanent/specific to one person - which was previously built into all my prev commissions, but now you must pay to reserve the commissioned work for personal use. this is so i didnt need to hike up my prices across the board to account for what is essentially one-time use of a drawing, and so i may have the viable option to make merch w it to help offset the cost of offering cheaper comms. if i ever do end up making merch from it, you can request one from me for free or production cost.

if you'd like to commission a one-time use fanart drawing, thats 60% of the flat amount total added on. If not, you can still get the same, actually lowered than before, flat pricing for fanart comms - just bear that in mind! this fee does not apply to non-fanart, which have had their prices modified to reflect this. thanks for your understanding.

#jjk fanart #toji #link click #orv #satoru gojo #kento nanami #toji fushigoro #orv fanart #toji x shiu #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #jjba #jojo #jjba fanart #shiu kong #<-using with extreme consternation #my art

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ktzart · 1 year

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COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

hello, i’m katz, and my commissions are currently OPEN! if you’re interested in buying art from me, even something that doesn’t quite fit into any of the example templates, please message me about it and we can work something out!

further details below the cut!

WHAT WILL YOU DRAW?

most of my examples here are of humanoid characters, but i can draw animals, mech, anthro, objects, etc, etc!

i will draw blood, gore, nudity, and sexual content. i will also draw real people and fanart.

that said, i may turn your comm down if the subject matter makes me uncomfortable for any reason.

i’m totally fine with doing tattoo designs!

if you have any preferences for the materials i use or the style your comm is completed in (realistic versus stylized, for example, or digital coloring vs traditional), feel free to inquire!

HOW MUCH WILL IT COST?

busts: 20 USD + 10 USD per extra figure (a single drawing with two busts would be 30 USD)

partial bodies: 35 USD + 15 USD per extra figure

full bodies: 50 USD + 20 USD per extra figure

sketch busts: 10 USD + 5 USD per extra figure (a single drawing with two busts would be 15 USD)

sketch partial bodies: 20 USD + 10 USD per extra figure

sketch full bodies: 30 USD + 15 USD per extra figure:

first class shipping (postage and packaging) for clients within the USA: price of comm plus 2 USD

first class shipping (postage and packaging) for international clients: price of comm plus 5 USD

WHAT MAKES SKETCH COMMS DIFFERENT?

unlike my classic comms, sketch comms are not done with archival inks (they are far more susceptible to bleeding and fading over time), so they will NOT be available for shipping, only for downloading as a 300 DPI .jpeg file.

i do the underlying sketch with ballpoint pens and then ink right over the top. as a result, they will have a distinctly messier look than a classic comm.

#commissions #open commissions #artists on tumblr #ktzart #shoutout to me for fucking deleting this by accident

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 6 months

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 11

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Right when you feared losing the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, Ella's suggestion turned out to be the best decision you could ever make. However, as your relationship with Morpheus grew, more secrets about yourself began to surface. Secrets that you were still unaware of.

Writing a love letter proved to be more challenging than depicted in movies. Your pen hovered above the paper, frozen, and you repeatedly withdrew it when nothing came to mind.

You didn't struggle with knowing what to write, but rather with finding the right words to express what was inside you. Guilt, love, fear and shame were all swirling within you simultaneously, leaving you uncertain about which one to convey.

Ella had graciously given you permission to leave work a little earlier, solely for the purpose of going home, resting, and potentially writing that letter without any unnecessary delay. It may have seemed absurd to leave your job for such a reason, but your friend appeared unusually eager to learn about the progress of your relationship with Morpheus.

It took you several hours to compose the first paragraph, as you frequently left the table, pacing back and forth, and consuming at least three bags of calming tea in an attempt to soothe your nerves. Ultimately, you made the choice to release everything at once, beginning with the first thought that crossed your mind and the words you would want to share if Dream were standing before you.

After discarding approximately ten crumpled sheets that now littered the floor, you took a deep breath and resumed your seat. You allowed your hand to move with the same fluidity as when you were drawing with your pencil, letting your emotions be imprinted on the page in ink.

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒖𝒔,

𝑵𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔��𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅—𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅.

𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆. 𝑰 𝒂𝒍��𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒋𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏. 𝑴𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒔.

At the conclusion of each paragraph, you found yourself pausing and revisiting what you had written, carefully re-reading your own thoughts aloud.

𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.

𝑰 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑨𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏, 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒖𝒍𝒈𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔.

𝑫𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑰 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆.

The mere thought of losing him indefinitely, of never glimpsing his face again in your waking moments or within the realm of dreams, caused your heart to constrict with agony.

Your hands began to tremble, prompting you to slow down your writing in order to prevent any potential damage or smudging of the text.

𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒖𝒔, 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚. 𝑴𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒕 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖; 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. 𝑴𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆.

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚. 𝑰𝒇 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔.

You reminisced about the initial encounter when you first laid eyes on him, trapped in that glass enclosure, exuding an aura of desolation and defeat. The intensity of his gaze and the regal poise of his seated form left an indelible impression. You recollected how your emotions blossomed for him even before knowing his name or hearing the sound of his voice.

Maybe your love was deemed toxic, misguided, and unrequited, yet you couldn't fathom a life devoid of it. The thought of existing without the presence of that love was intolerable to you.

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝑰 𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓. 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆, 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔. 𝑨𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏.

You pondered whether your proclamation would be too audacious and inappropriate, but you were determined to follow Ella's advice and unleash the truth that resided in your soul.

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆.

𝑰 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒚. 𝑰 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔, 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒎. 𝑻𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆.

Once again, you felt the tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. You lifted your head and silently cursed yourself for being so sensitive and vulnerable, again.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒚.

A tear escaped, smudging the ink that had not yet fully dried.

𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒖𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈.

A self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips as you felt utterly pathetic and hopeless, writing a letter that you didn't even know how to deliver.

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏.

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆,

𝒀/𝑵

You read the entire letter once more, then twice, three times, and continued to do so until you lost count entirely. As the sun neared its descent, you clutched the sheet in your hands with such intensity that you feared you might inadvertently tear it.

A part of you believed that the letter was adequately written and required no further alterations, but you couldn't shake off the fear of him discarding it without even giving it a glance or, worse, scoffing at its sentimental tone.

In the end, you let your shoulders slump as you gazed at the folded paper with his name inscribed on the front. "Ridiculous," you muttered, rising hastily from the chair and making your way to the balcony. "It's far too cheesy. This won't work.”

You retrieved a lighter from one of your drawers, along with a small ceramic bowl that you positioned on the ground. The air outside grew colder, but you paid it no mind. Placing the folded paper over the bowl while holding it, you used the lighter to ignite the bottom corner. Your gaze remained fixed on the flame as it started small, slowly engulfing the entire letter in its embrace. Dream’s name vanished, taken by the transforming embers.

You allowed the remnants of the paper to slip from your grasp, watching as the fire consumed it completely and eventually diminished into the bowl. Sitting onto the armchair positioned in front of it, you kept your tired eyes on the flickering flames, captivated by their sinuous dance.

In that moment, you became acutely aware of your exhaustion from the lack of sleep. Struggling to stay awake, your eyelids grew heavier, making it increasingly difficult to resist the drowsiness.

You adjusted your posture and took deep breaths, but despite your efforts, your head gradually drooped to the side as the world around you faded away.

In an instant, you were engulfed by a profound sense of nothingness, until your surroundings began to take on a different form.

You found yourself unsure of your whereabouts. The environment appeared hazy and indistinct, yet you felt a sense of tranquility as you strolled along what seemed to be a lengthy bridge. Without hesitation, you continued onward, drawn towards the white light that awaited you at the other end.

As soon as you passed through the gate, vivid images began to materialize before your eyes. The place you arrived at seemed strangely familiar now, as if you had encountered it in your past.

In a sudden moment of realization, you identified it. The once shattered and deteriorating stained glass windows were now restored to their former glory, radiating an array of vibrant colors. The majestic throne above you stood with its grandeur, evoking power and significance. The curvaceous staircase at the center had been meticulously repaired and polished, exuding a newfound elegance. Even the floor beneath your feet was pristine, resembling a flawless opaque mirror, devoid of any debris or traces of dust. The Greek statues adorning the columns emanated an imposing and commanding presence, their eyes seemingly fixed upon you.

As you stood in the opulent throne room, you marveled at the lavishness of it. The embellished walls and the magical ambiance created a sense of peace and beauty, but a tinge of unease crept over you, causing you to fidget nervously with your fingers. You anxiously awaited either a transformation of the scenery or for yourself to awaken, fearful of the return of Morpheus and the realization that you were an uninvited guest in his realm.

You surveyed the unchanging nature of the dream, making a determined decision to take matters into your own hands. Perhaps by venturing far enough, you could escape the confines of the castle without losing your sense of direction.

You turned to leave, but before you could take another step, your progress was abruptly halted by the resounding voice of Morpheus. His commanding tone had a grave authority, freezing you in your tracks.

"Wait."

Sensing his presence growing nearer, you could hear Morpheus approaching with a composed gait, causing your anxiety to heighten. As he slowed down in front of you, your nervousness intensified. IIt took a moment for you to gather the courage to lift your eyes from the floor.

"I know I have no right to be here. It wasn’t my intention to come," you asserted.

“I invited you.”

As you finally forced yourself to properly meet Morpheus' eyes, your tense state began to soften. His unwavering stare mixed with yours, his countenance austere and solemn, yet there was a subtle undertone of sadness evident in the tightness of his jaw.

“You did…?”

Acknowledging your confusion, Morpheus nodded before speaking. "There is a matter that we need to discuss," he stated, his voice carrying a sense of heaviness.

You felt a spark of optimism, knowing that you still retained your connection to the Dreaming and that he wanted to communicate with you in person even after your earlier altercation. Still, the atmosphere was undeniably stressful, and you felt as if a knife was lodged in your abdomen, draining you of all your energy.

"I assumed you hated me for the things I said to you," you declared.

Morpheus was astonished and looked at you as if you had just told the most abominable joke in the history of comedy. "Hate you?”

“You don’t…?”

"My love, I may have given you the wrong impression," Morpheus said, gazing at you with a somber expression on his face. His eyes showed concern, while his features revealed a distinct degree of distress.

Once again, you were addressed in that affectionate manner, causing your stomach to flutter and turning you into a puddle of mush.

“Don’t call me that. You’re confusing me right now.”

“My apologies.”

Taking a deep breath, you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration and asked, "Morpheus, why am I here?”

The King of Dreams looked down and slowly opened his coat, reaching inside. This simple action revealed a breathtaking detail that you hadn't noticed in your dreams before: the interior of his garment was a cosmic marvel, adorned with twinkling stars and swirling galaxies that seemed to move in a mesmerizing parallax effect. Withdrawing his hand, he held a folded paper between his fingers. You observed as he contemplated it for a moment, then handed it over to you with a gentle, almost timid gesture.

"What's this?" you asked, taking the piece of paper from his hand and turning it to examine it.

Morpheus offered no response, and the way he looked at you made it clear that he wanted you to open it. The paper appeared strangely similar to the letter you wrote for him, until you noticed his name on the outside.

You quickly unfolded it and perused its contents. To your astonishment, you indeed recognized the letter that you set of fire just moments before drifting into sleep. It contained the very words that poured out from the depths of your soul, written in your own distinct ink and calligraphy.

A surge of intense embarrassment washed over you, causing you to wish you could disappear into a dark void. "This... how...? I burned it on the balcony, how is it in your possession…?”

"You are displeased. You have devoted effort into writing this for me, and yet you did not wish for me to read it?”

You stuttered. “No. Yes. I mean… I don’t know.”

"It is beautifully crafted. The words you have penned are remarkable in their composition."

"It's horribly cheesy."

"No."

"Yes."

"Then why did you write it?"

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. "You sent me away, and I thought I wasn't welcome here anymore.”

"Severing your connection to the Dreaming is not my intention," he expressed in a calm and measured tone of voice. “It never was. And it never will be.”

Unable to continue reading the letter, you folded it back up and tucked it securely into the pocket of your jeans. His pouty expression was incredibly comical and the cutest thing you had ever seen, resembling an offended grumpy cat. But as much as you wanted to lighten the mood, now was not the time to beat around the bush.

“You haven’t answered my question. Why am I here? Is it because of the letter?”

Morpheus paused for a moment, taking a step closer to you with a hint of hesitation in his words. "You have shown me immense kindness and concern. Yet, I repaid you with complete dismissal. I had no right to exile you from the Dreaming.”

You let out a sigh. "You told me to hold my tongue.”

"I... I did not give the situation the attention it required.”

You chortled softly, looking at him with teary eyes. "Is this your way of saying that you're sorry, by any chance?"

"Perhaps."

You shook your head. "You told me about Nada, revealing a significant detail from your past without me even asking. But then I pushed you to share something more, something you weren't ready to reveal. Not now, maybe not ever."

Your anguish highlightened the contrast between your humanity and his eternal lifespan.

"I hurt you, Morpheus.”

It was in the nature of the human species to succumb to temptation and fulfill their desires, often disregarding the consequences that mere curiosity could bring. Your fascination with the King of Dreams had veered onto an incorrect path, fueling an insatiable craving to uncover details about a past that Morpheus only wished to bury in the sands of time.

"You are mistaken," he corrected. "It was them. The Three that are One twist their words and reveal only what they want you to hear. They wield control over the threads of destiny, using their artistry to manipulate their stories as they see fit.”

"What do I have to do with them, anyway? Is it because of Paregoros?" you inquired.

He hesitated. "This, I cannot explain. They utilize their abilities to trade their knowledge for inexplicable gifts, and sometimes they make such deals purely for their own amusement.”

The machinations of the Fates seemed to be specifically targeted at Morpheus himself, and the idea of being manipulated solely to harm him stirred a furious and indignant sensation in you. The manifestation of such derisive insanity provoked both anger and loathing.

Nevertheless, despite being a victim of a similar form of control, the benevolent purpose behind your intentions remained unchanged.

"Morpheus, as I mentioned in my letter, it was not my role to determine whether you should feel guilty about what happened to your son.”

Morpheus looked downward, processing your explanation and giving you a silent permission to continue.

And so you did. "I know I shouldn’t have done that. Still, you can raise your voice at me, be angry with me, or even send me away if that's what you wish to do. But whatever your decision, know that I won't stop searching for you in my dreams."

His attention returned to your face, and his lips parted in a silent gasp as his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you still wish for my company? Even after everything?"

You shrugged. "Is it really so surprising to you?"

"Y/N, fulfilling my duties as Dream of the Endless is of the utmost importance to me. I am unable to provide you with everything that a typical human man is capable of giving.”

Your blood began to boil, and you let out a loud scoff. "Oh, screw that! I never asked you to forsake your role for me. Yes, I cherish our encounters in the Waking World, but I would never want you to jeopardize your realm again just to fulfill my desires. When I chose to be with you, I understood the implications.”

Your voice echoed off the walls and columns, carrying a power that exceeded your intention.

But you had more to say. "I know I can never be deserving of you. As a human, there’s no way for me to reach your level."

His expression softened. "Do you truly believe that I see you as unworthy of my time and affection?”

"I don't know, Morpheus. Sometimes, you make me feel like the most magnificent goddess in the entire universe. But other times, I feel like nothing more than an ordinary dreamer lingering in your realm.”

"Y/N, please listen to me.”

The tears that you had struggled to hold back finally broke free, cascading down your cheeks and wetting the floor below. They served as a symbol of your inherent emotional vulnerability and sensitivity, amplified within the realm of dreams.

You swiftly wiped away the tears with your fingers, erasing the glistening paths as soon as they appeared. "Fine, I'm listening.”

"Why are you crying...?"

You averted your eyes. "Nevermind. I said I'm listening."

“Y/N-”

You raised your hand, stopping his words from continuing any further. "Don't. Please. Just tell me what you need to say. I can handle it.”

Morpheus was rendered speechless, his attention fixed on the wetness beneath your tear-filled eyes. You wished to be seen as something other than a victim deserving only pity, but you feared that you were inadvertently giving him that very impression.

The sound of a heartbeat suddenly filled the space, starting at a faint volume and growing in intensity. It seemed as if the walls themselves were trembling with each pulse, coming alive and resonating with the steady sound in the air.

And then you realized that it was emanating from your own heart, beating so hard in your chest that the dream itself reflected its rhythm. All your emotions left you feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way that Morpheus had never witnessed before, not even during your brief moments of intimacy.

As the surroundings began to blur, the Endless moved closer, placing his right hand against your chest, maintaining contact.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice barely audible and becoming a distant echo. "Feel me.”

His eyes served as an anchor, keeping you suspended between reality and your dream, firmly rooted and focused on his aura. A surge of power burst forth from his palm, resonating in your heart and engulfing your entire being with warmth and calmness. As the sound of the heartbeat gradually grew faint, all your distress and uncertainties melted away. Your eyes remained locked on his face, and you clutched his arm tightly for reassurance and security.

You came to the realization that there was no better moment than the present to let out those essential words, regardless of the result, even though you were already convinced that it was evident from your letter alone.

“I love you.”

While you were certain that he was well aware of your emotions, a look of surprise still appeared on his face when he heard your declaration.

You smiled serenely and said, "Don't worry. I don't have any expectations from you.”

While the idea was heartbreaking, if you could have a small corner in the Dreaming and find solace in his embrace from time to time, you would be entirely content with what he could offer.

"I won't put pressure on you. I won't ask for anything you're not willing to share, either. Just... please, keep me by your side. That's the only thing I ask.”

You disliked how desolate you sounded, but in the end, it no longer truly mattered to you. The only thing you wished for was another chance with the man you loved.

His hand slid from your chest to glide through your hair and gently brush against your nape. His mouth drew closer to yours, almost grazing your lips but not quite touching them.

"The depths of my feelings for you surpass even time itself. If you truly desire me, then you shall have me. As the King of Dreams and Nightmares, as Morpheus, as all that I am.”

You quivered at his words, so profound and melodic, stirring both excitement and need. Your heart raced once more as you whispered in response, "That's exactly what I want. The real you, just as you are."

As his forehead gently touched yours in a beloved manner, your fingers tightened their grip on his sleeve.

Amidst a mix of hope and apprehension, you gathered the courage to ask the question that had taken shape. "Morpheus, do you love me...?"

You braced yourself, almost expecting a negative response despite his actions and the words he had just spoken.

Your assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

“Immensely.”

The brightest smile graced your lips as soon as you heard his admission. Your hands reached down and took hold of the edges of his coat, gently pulling him closer. As you kissed him, the Dreaming responded with a burst of vibrant colors pouring from the windows behind the throne, surrounding both of you in their radiant glow. Morpheus intensified the kiss, exerting more pressure with his mouth and hand on your head, deepening the bond between you. Your tongues entwined, and your breaths merged into one.

You could sense his love and remorse in the way he touched you. Dream of the Endless was a fervent lover, occasionally restraining himself, yet constantly prepared to give his everything during every intimate moment. Regardless of how he spoke to you and the emotions he evoked with his actions, the fear of being merely a temporary flame always lingered in the depths of your mind.

However, now, even with the uncertainty of a future together with an immortal being, you were resolute in cherishing his tenderness - embracing each other, locked in a passionate kiss, and feeling his closeness against you - an experience you were unwilling to interrupt.

He cherished you. And he longed to be with you as much as you wanted his presence in your life. This newfound understanding propelled you to heights of bliss and exhilaration, awakening your senses as you embraced him, your arms encircling his neck while his hands settled around your waist, holding you tightly. Time seemed to slip away as you immersed yourself in kisses and cuddles, reveling in each other's presence for as long as you could maintain your clarity.

Your lips traced a trail along his cheek, your knuckles gently caressing the contours of his face as you brushed his hair aside. He was entranced by the moment, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the lower part of your spine even further.

Morpheus was proud, hot-headed and quite impulsive. Yet he was also kind-hearted, generous, and unwavering in his integrity despite the obstacles and hardships he faced. You were determined to remain by his side until the end of your days, striving to shield him from sorrow or betrayal in a universe teeming with dangers beyond his grasp and influence.

Nestling your foreheads against one another again, you exhaled profoundly. "I suppose I am forgiven, then?" you queried him.

"My love, you have done nothing that warrants my forgiveness," he clarified.

When he pulled away from you, you felt that there was something he wished to share. You stayed composed, waiting for him to find the right words, holding his hands in yours.

"The words that I have spoken to you... I...”

You raised your index and middle fingers to his lips. "I know you didn't mean it. You were angry, and I don't hold it against you for feeling resentful.”

He tenderly grasped your wrist, holding it firmly as if attempting to prevent you from departing. "No matter. I cannot absolve myself of the guilt that stems from my mistake.”

Your lower lip trembled, not from the pain you had experienced, but from the sentimentality that his considerate words evoked within you. "And I reopened an old wound, pouring salt into it. We're even.”

His lips gently pressed against your fingers, the firmness indicating a strong need to hold them. "Perhaps, with time, I will share more with you - about Calliope, my son, my family... and myself.”

You smiled softly, but then shook your head. "Please, don't push yourself. I know you trust me, I don't need anything else.”

He released a silent sigh, his expression displaying evident relief.

"Listen," you told him, cupping the sides of his face in your palms. "I promise you, regardless of the Fates or any other obstacles, I will never let that affect me again. I want you to talk to me whenever you feel like it - if you ever feel like it.”

Morpheus maintained his gaze on you, remaining steadfast and unwavering.

"I don't need to know every detail of your past. What's important to me is who you are now, and I apologize for not realizing that sooner."

While you were aware that he wasn't flawless, your own imperfections nearly shattered your relationship. Morpheus had just as much to learn from you as you did from him. He was the missing half that made you feel whole, and you were the piece he had finally discovered for his eternal puzzle.

For the first time since you met him, you witnessed a genuine smile spread across his lips. It was a wide, sincere, and affectionate grin that made you fall even more deeply in love with him than you had ever imagined possible.

In response, you devoted yourself to expressing your feelings of love through your subsequent actions, showering him with quick yet firm pecks all over his face. Morpheus let out a brief chuckle, placing his hands on your neck and returning the kisses to your mouth, slowly but resolutely. His thumbs gently glided back and forth along your jawline, sending delightful shivers of contentment coursing through your body.

After placing one more gentle kiss on your forehead, Morpheus released his hold on you. The illumination around you took on a dreamlike quality, causing his eyes to shimmer with a mystical gleam.

As you moved your hands to your pockets, you noticed that the folded letter you had placed in your jeans had disappeared. You took a moment to contemplate the situation before raising an eyebrow in his direction, conveying your suspicion.

"Morpheus? What happened to the letter?"

He tried to conceal a smirk, but you could still catch a glimpse of it at the corners of his lips."I have no idea."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh, partly from amusement and partly from disbelief. "You're so sneaky! Did you put it back in your coat?”

With a playful demeanor, you reached for his coat again, gripping its lapels and opening it to take a peek inside. The celestial spectacle within was truly breathtaking, causing you to pause in awe and admire its beauty.

"What's on the other side? Does it work like Mary Poppins' bag?" you jokingly inquired as you peered into the depths of his garment, curious about what secrets it might hold.

"Why are you all so obsessed with this Mary Poppins?" Morpheus asked with a hint of curiosity.

"Mary Poppins is a timeless classic. Are you telling me you never watched it?”

"I did not.”

You gasped. "That's sacrilege! You know what, I can ask Hob if he wants to join us for a movie night. You absolutely have to see it, it's so delightful and heartwarming!”

His expression appeared so indignant that you had to stifle a laugh from escaping.

"I will pass."

"Oh, come on, it will be fun!"

"No."

You playfully pretended to judge him, adopting a serious expression and placing your hands on your hips. However, your self-control didn't last long, and you quickly abandoned your act, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. The force of your embrace caused him to take a step back as your bodies collided.

You erupted into laughter, utterly joyful. "I'm just teasing you, my love!”

Morpheus eased into your hold, his touch growing tender as he softly stroked your back, his hands gliding up and down in a comforting rhythm.

After sharing a flurry of affectionate moments, you loosened your grip around him and looked directly into his eyes. "You know I would never ask you to do things you don't want to, right?”

He nodded in agreement, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I do.”

"I still want the letter back, though," you stated firmly.

He grinned mischievously. "It belongs to me.”

“Oh, does it now?”

“It has my name on it.”

"I set it on fire!" you retorted.

"Everything that is written in the Waking World finds its place in the Dreaming. The library contains every book, every piece of literature, and every letter that has ever been created, or ever will be,” Morpheus stated.

“Lucky me,” you responded ironically.

“Why did you burn it?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, feeling a warm blush spreading across your cheeks as you remembered the weaknesses that had compelled you to write the letter. "I thought you wouldn't like it."

"It is a thoughtful and sincere gift. One that I have never received before," he acknowledged, his words filled with gratitude. They carried a certain charm, akin to honey enveloping you with its irresistible allure.

You made a clicking sound with your tongue. "Fine. I surrender.”

“A wise decision, my dear.”

You couldn't help but chuckle and replied, "Just as long as you don't hang it on a pillar or a wall.”

"I might decide to frame it."

"Don’t you dare!"

Since your last visit, your father couldn't shake the sound of your question about your origins from his mind, and the pain that he had painstakingly tried to erase for many years came rushing back into his heart with full force.

In truth, since you left to pursue your independence, he found it incredibly difficult not to reflect on what he once had, and the experiences that you, regrettably, never had the chance to partake in. Taking care of you on his own had never felt like a burden, but there were moments when he believed you would need your mother more than anything else in the world.

A movie played on the screen in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. He sat on the couch for quite some time, lost in thought, as his mind and heart battled each other repeatedly. He understood that he had no alternative, and every action he took was solely for your benefit from the very beginning. However, the fact that you had dared to seek further information about your family lineage was a perilous path, one that he knew he couldn't tread alongside you.

Almost instinctively, as if guided by an unseen force, he reached for the wallet tucked in the back of his trousers. Carefully unfolding it, he slid two fingers into one of the compartments, retrieving an old Polaroid picture filled with cherished memories from the past.

In the picture, his younger self was beaming at the camera, while the face of the woman next to him was barely visible. Somehow, the only photograph he had of the two of them together happened to capture the woman he loved partially obscured by a peculiar rainbow-like reflection, rendering her features unclear.

Even so, he still remembered the woman as vividly as if it were yesterday, and the resemblance you bore to her reminded him of her beauty every time he laid eyes on you. It was bittersweet, yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the woman you had grown into. So courageous and resolute, so resilient and selfless, never letting go of your dreams despite how much his illness may have hindered your progress.

He found himself chuckling softly, wiping away the tears that welled up in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. However, his moment of solitude was interrupted when a knock sounded at the front door, loud enough for him to hear it in the living room. He startled slightly on the couch, clearing his throat and wondering who could be visiting at dinner time. He certainly wasn't expecting you.

Your father hesitated, contemplating whether someone had mistakenly arrived at the wrong house. However, a second, slightly louder knock resonated through the corridor, convinving him to rise and investigate for himself. He paused in front of the door, his gaze fixed on the polished wooden surface and his uncertainty growing. Nevertheless, a voice within urged him to trust his instincts, to open the door and welcome whoever was on the other side into his home.

His heart pounding, he slowly undid the locks and gripped the cold handle in his hand. He had to take a deep breath to steady himself before turning it and opening the door, the faint squeak echoing in the air.

As soon as the door was open enough for him to catch a glimpse of the visitor at the entrance, he felt his breath catch in his throat. His eyes widened in shock, and his fingers involuntarily slipped away from the handle. He had to take a step back to reassure himself that he wasn't hallucinating, his hand instinctively covering his mouth as a fresh wave of tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.

There she stood, the only woman he had ever loved, the one he believed he would never encounter again. She looked exactly the same as the day they first met, so flawless and otherworldly, without a single wrinkle marring her smooth skin.

She smiled, suppressing the pain and blinking rapidly to hold back her own emotions. Her voice, like a forbidden song, whispered his name.

"It's been a long time, my love."

Since your sweet reconciliation and the officialization of your relationship, Morpheus felt as if he could walk on clouds. The ongoing work to repair the damages caused by humans in his realm was still keeping him and Lucienne busy, and while balancing his duty as the King of Dreams and your increasingly demanding job, he couldn't spend as much time with you as he wanted.

He cherished every moment he could be in your company, feeling his love for you grow with each passing second. You were a beacon of light in his dark existence, an anchor in the storm, and his hope to shape a better future for himself.

But despite the strong, unusual positive feeling he had in his heart, the weight of an undisclosed secret was starting to be a problem to him. Morpheus knew that you would have wanted to be informed, and didn’t wish to continue deceiving you when you always shared yourself openly without any hidden agendas.

Unfortunately, just as he made the final decision to reveal what he had discovered, he received an urgent request for a meeting in the Waking World. The fact that your realm had been chosen for the occasion was quite unexpected, and he couldn't help but anticipate that things wouldn't go in his favor at all.

He sat in front of a pond, watching the ducks swim peacefully. His hands were crossed in his lap, and he pouted in concentration as he waited for his interlocutor to arrive. The two of them had never crossed paths before, although they were well aware of each other's roles and reputations. However, what worried him the most was the clear subject of their impending conversation, as he was no longer welcome on that specific side of deities.

Beneath the surface, the Endless felt restless. His greatest desire was for you to maintain your happiness and well-being, but this was one of those rare moments when he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

As Morpheus looked up from the water in front of him, he was struck by the remarkable resemblance the approaching woman bore to you. The sound of heels hitting the pebbles grew nearer, each step calm and steady. He became completely still, hardly even meeting her familiar eyes.

She sat on the bench beside him, maintaining a certain distance between their bodies. For a brief moment, silence enveloped them as she calmly brushed her hand along the grey cardigan she wore. Everything about her was flawless, from the meticulously styled hair to the perfectly manicured nails.

At first glance, one could easily mistake her for an ordinary human being, but Morpheus could discern the unmistakable divine aura radiating from her presence.

"Greetings, Oneiros. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dream Lord." she said. He immediately detected a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Greetings to you, Paregoros, Daimona of consolation. I’ve heard you wanted to speak to me.”

The deity smiled, crossing her legs and resting her hands upon them. "Indeed. We must discuss something that we both consider to be of utmost importance.”

Morpheus swallowed, stealing a quick sideways glance at her. “I suppose.”

"Let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point, then. What do you say?”

“Very well.”

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and straightening her posture. "I'll be blunt with you. I am fully against your relationship with Y/N.”

He pressed his lips together, his expression growing tense. "Is that so?”

"You can't possibly blame me for that, can you? Or have you conveniently forgotten what you did to Calliope?”

His knuckles turned white as anger surged inside him again. "May I remind you that she was the one who abandoned me?”

"You destroyed her life, Oneiros. Rest assured, I won't let you do the same to Y/N.”

His eyes darkened, and the tension between them grew palpable. The air crackled with electricity, to the point where the wind picked up its pace, as if two forces were clashing.

"It is not for you to decide," he retorted.

"Perhaps you're right, but I won't stand by and watch her crumble because of you. She’s not a Goddess, Oneiros. She deserves someone who can truly appreciate her, a mortal man who can grow old with her, devoted and unwavering.”

His heart sank. As much as Morpheus was deeply and completely in love with you for who you were, he knew that you were destined to leave him behind, your mortal flame getting extinguished.

"Is there any other reason for you to meet me here?”

Paregoros nodded affirmatively in response to his question. "Indeed, there is something else that we need to address.”

"Then speak clearly.”

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the bench. "She must not know about me. Under no circumstances should you reveal the truth to her.”

Morpheus turned to face the woman completely, and as their eyes met directly for the first time, the gravity of the situation became apparent in both of their expressions.

"Are you asking me to deceive her?"

"Isn't that what you excel at?" She retorted, her tone laced with bitterness. "You create dreams and nightmares, twisted realities that are aimed to distract the human mind.”

"I will not do that to her," he asserted firmly.

For a moment, Paregoros appeared taken aback. "If… if you genuinely care about her as you profess, then you must."

"And yet, you had the audacity to tell me that I am not allowed near her.”

His words stunned her, and he could see the sadness in her eyes as she averted her gaze. "Do you think it was easy for me? I had to sacrifice everything I held dear. You, more than anyone else, should understand the weight of fulfilling your duty.”

"As a matter of fact, I do," he replied.

"Then I trust your judgement, Oneiros.”

Could he truly face you, knowing that he was keeping such a significant secret from you? Would he be capable of looking into your magnificent eyes, pretending that the truth you had always known was the only reality?

"The consequences of her knowing could be dreadful for Y/N," she explained. "She would search for the truth, for me. She might not find peace until she uncovers it, losing sight of her own goals in this realm. She would begin to question her own nature, overwhelmed with a sense of confusion and disorientation.”

Morpheus couldn't deny that what Paregoros was describing had some truth to it. But at the same time, he had immense faith in you and your resolute determination.

"You are underestimating her, Paregoros. After all, she has accepted me despite everything I have done.”

Her focus shifted back to him, her eyes widening and her mouth slightly ajar. She pondered his words for a moment, deep in thought, before a gentle chuckle escaped her lips.

"You might have a point, Dream Lord. It appears that I don't know her as well as I believed.”

He remained silent, sitting there motionless, waiting.

“Still, there are rules that we all must adhere to. Isn't that correct?”

As someone who had broken those rules multiple times, Morpheus understood their significance.

“Yes.”

"Then I hope you won't let me down," she said, her voice filled with a blend of uncertainty and entreaty. "I know who you are, but please grant me this one request.”

He sincerely wished for an alternative solution, a means to inform you about the most significant aspect of your existence. While you never explicitly discussed your family with him, except for your father's illness, Morpheus had the power to delve into the depths of your dreams and unearth aspects that you may not even be aware of yourself. There was something missing, a part of you that you had never dared to explore, believing it to be lost forever.

In the end, he had no option but to submit to the will of the deity, even if it meant suppressing what he knew in your presence.

“As you wish. Your daughter will never discover the truth. Not from me.”

Without waiting for a response, he rose from the bench and walked away, never once glancing back at your mother. The woman’s eyes were brimming with sorrow and despair, etching holes into his retreating figure.

The following night, Morpheus took you to a place you had visited together before. It was the forest he had created for you on your first full time in the Dreaming, complete with colorful flowers and magical Moonstone rocks. Everything appeared exactly as you remembered - not a single glassblade was out of place, and the minerals glowed with increasing intensity as you both approached the majestic clusters. Everything looked like a scene straight out of an RPG, with its fantasy-inspired aesthetics and breathtakingly surreal visuals.

Morpheus remained strangely silent, his gaze locked onto the Moonstones, which greeted him with a dazzling brillance. He raised his hand towards one of the rocks as you stood closely behind him, observing his actions and marveling at the enchanting scene. His right hand was bathed in a gentle, light blue energy as something became clearly enclosed within his palm. When he turned towards you, it was apparent that he was clutching one of the stones in his fist. But as he extended his hand and unfurled his fingers, you were shocked to find a beautifully crafted necklace delicately resting against his skin.

The Moonstone was noticeably smaller compared to the ones embedded in the clusters, yet its intricate details were still mesmerizing to behold. A soft blue glow swirled around its pearly surface, adding to its magical allure. A silver pendant securely held it in place, connected to a short chain of the same color.

Morpheus patiently awaited your reaction, and it took a moment for you to comprehend that he was actually offering the necklace to you.

"It's absolutely stunning," you whispered, gently brushing your fingertips against the smooth surface of the Moonstone. "Did you make this for me...?”

"This Dreamstone will provide you with protection. A part of me resides within this jewel now.”

You looked at him in complete shock. "What...? Morpheus, no. I can't accept this," you protested, gently closing his hand again and pushing it away.

"Why not?" he asked, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. He seemed genuinely perplexed by your rejection.

"I can't take your power away. You need it," you explained earnestly with concern.

"My love, the fragment of my essence that I infused into this Dreamstone is not nearly enough to weaken me. I am far more powerful now than I ever was," he reassured with tenderness and sincerity.

"But... why...?”

"Because I need to know that you are going to be safe even when I am not beside you," he answered softly, his words laced with emotion and a deep sense of care.

Your heart pounded heavily in your chest. "Oh, Morpheus.”

He took a step closer, gently grazing your cheeckbone with his knuckles. "If you keep this with you at all times, I will always be there to protect you," he murmured. “Please, accept my gift.”

You couldn't help but notice a hint of desperation in his request, and the last thing you wanted to do was to fuel his worries with your unjustified refusal.

You smiled brightly, brushing your hair away from your neck and turning around. "Will you put it on for me?”

Morpheus responded with a soft hum, and you could feel the coolness of the metal against your collarbones as the Moonstone descended and settled delicately underneath. With the necklace securely fastened, he lovingly traced his hands along your shoulders and upper arms, planting a gentle kiss on the side of your head. The stark contrast between his sweet, affectionate gestures and the angry version you had recently encountered was striking. Yet, you found yourself growing to appreciate every facet, every aspect of his entire being.

You turned to face him, and the moment your eyes met, an irresistible urge took hold of you. you gently cradled his face in your hands and bestowed upon him a passionate, longing kiss on his soft lips.

"Thank you. I will never take it off."

"You should not," he responded with a subtle smile before leaning in to kiss you once more.

Little did you know, that pendant was about to become the key to saving your life. And much more.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 12 ->

#the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #lydbyd chapter 11

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