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avtrbee · 2 years

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love game. i

summary: he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind

pairing: morpheus x love!reader

tw: dark!morpheus hehe, mention of rape is you squint but i kinda emphasized that its not? toxic relationships (?)

a/n: gif aint mine. idk where this is fic going. this is the literal example of head empty, no thoughts just my love for men groveling at my feet. hopefully you like them too

“Where is my wife?” he asked, glancing at Lucienne. “Had she abandoned me too? Surely she has sensed me by now…”

His librarian gives him an uncertain look. “My lord, my lady will only come if you summon her. It has been that way for centuries.”

He looks up the ceiling of his palace. There were holes where the roof has fallen, letting sunshine through the throne room. On the damp corners, weeds had slipped through the pristine walls that he had built. His palace looks like a broken heart, thrown away and abandoned. He wonders if this is what she felt like. “Then I summon I shall summon her.”

You came a few seconds after he had said the words.

Lucienne is the first thing you see. She is standing up straight with her hands behind her back- the perfect picture of formality except on her face was a smile wider than you have seen her in a century. Lucienne does not cry, professionalism forbids her so, but you know that if she could he would have tears running down her face in joy. Her heart tells you so. Lucienne’s heart tells you more- the love for her master who has some back.

She bows to you, and steps aside. You cannot help the relief in your face as you see your husband. You blink twice waiting for him to fade away just to be sure. “You’re back,” you whisper in awe, walking towards him quickly. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, my lord, I had to make sure.” Your eyes widen a fraction at your mistake. “Not that I doubted you, husband, I-”

You meet his eyes and you halt. “Are you alright?”

The Dreaming stills. Even in its decaying form its realm remembers its master. Not a single dust threatened to fall, and every speck of dust held its breath. “I was captured.” Dream stares at the ground as he speaks. His voice was a quiet rumble with anger evident in his face.

Captured? You wanted to ask, along with the thousands of questions that bombarded your head. How in the world did an Endless become prisoner? But you held your tongue. Knowing your husband, his pride is wounded and irritable. He is frustrated to retreat to the Dreaming to lick his wounds, and even humiliated that he came back significantly weaker than when he left.

Instead, you swallow the concern down your throat and settled for the sight of him. He looked the same as he had always been, but something has changed. This you are certain.

“Welcome back, Dream Lord.” You greet with a smile and a small bow. It was a smart statement. No mention of his time in absence or your misplaced concern, only your relief that he is back in the Dreaming. You turn your heel to leave, when he spoke up.

“You’re leaving already?”

Your eyes snapped back at him suspiciously. From the corner of your eye you see Lucienne exit the room, but you did not dare to take your eyes off the Dream Lord. He has never complained of your departure before. Some days you think he wishes you left as soon as you arrived. “Yes,” you nod. “I have my duties to attend to. You have called and I have come. I have done your bidding.”

“I-” Something passes in his face, like a shadow of sadness. “That is not what I meant.”

You look at him, confused, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Then how can I serve you, my lord?”

The dream lord looks at you like you had caused him pain. “Love,” he says, and you almost flinch in surprise. He had never said your name so gently before. In fact, you realize that this is the first time you have even heard him say your name. You were only ever ‘wife’, never ‘Love’, you were…nothing. “I…I apologize. I have not been a good husband to you.”

Your mind flies back to the wedding you have blessed before he had summoned you. The groom and the bride looked so happy, so in love. With your blessing you knew their marriage would be a successful one, the kind that would last until the end of their lifetime. If only yours were the same.You quickly shook the thought away from your head. You are not the naive girl you once were.

Instead, you shake your head. For a moment, you wonder if he would forgive you for taking a step towards him, but you decided against it after recalling what had happened last time. “You are not a cruel husband, Dream.”

You have seen first hand what cruelty is. Men and women pray to you constantly to make their spouses love them, if only they would stop hurting them. But your husband had never hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. And you would not let him.

He gives you a rueful smile. “Then what kind of husband am I if my wife can’t even take a step towards me?”

You suck up a breath. So he had noticed that. The king of dreams is not cruel, but he is cold. You had tried once, when you were first married. Arranged marriages rarely bared fruit to love, but there were some exceptions if they tried enough. You had greeted him, every day, sat beside him every morning to break your fast, walked along with him despite his obvious annoyance. For a few years you visited his realm everyday, had greeted his mornings with the sweetest kiss and at the end of your night, opened your legs when he saw fit, letting him take you whenever he wanted. But eventually, you have resorted to only come when he calls you. He never calls because he misses his wife. More often than not, he has a command to give and expected you to obey.

“I realize now that you did not ask for this marriage, and I had forced you into it.” In a surge of courage, he held out his hand silently asking for yours. For the first time in a long time you saw nervousness in his eyes, anxious to see your response. You knew that you had every right to stand still, and no one would fault you for it. But you slowly gave your hand anyway.

You were surprised to know that your husband’s hand was warm. Had you expected him to feel cold? When was the last time you had even touched him? When was the last time he had touched you?

Relief was splattered in his face. Dark eyes lock with yours as he ever so slowly raised your palm to his lips. “How callous have I been to subject Love to a loveless marriage?”

“You did not force me to do anything,” you insist, eyes locked at your hand on his, at the spot his lips had kissed. “You didn’t wish for this marriage either.”

“But I did not have to be so unkind.” Slowly, he dropped your hand to your side and took a step back. You did not know how to feel at the loss of his touch. “In my cage, I had plenty of time to ponder on the things I have normally ignored. I had often wondered how cruel my captors were for keeping me inside my cage for so long but haven’t I done the same to you?”

You gulped.

“Have I not made you feel unwelcome in a realm that is yours as much as it is mine by law? Haven’t I made the Dreaming your cage, Love?” He asked, eyelashes touching his cheek.

“My lord,” you say in alarm as you process his words. “The Dreaming is a haven compared to what you’ve went through. The Dreaming is a haven compared to anything.”

It did not go unnoticed by you both that you did not deny Dream’s first statement. The Dreaming has never felt like home to you for it has given you nothing to be tied down to it. Its wonder had never failed to welcome you every time you visit, but you do not stay too long. Home is warmth, and the Dreaming has always been so cold to you. Home is your own realm, an endless pink sky like a never ending sunset across the horizon.

“Forgive me,” your husband whispers. And to your horror, you watch in shock as the King of Dreams bend down on one knee followed by the other. This time you touch him, not caring about the consequences. You grip his arms and attempt to pull him back up, but he stubbornly remains rooted on the ground.

Your head whips to the exit Lucienne left at and to any other possible entrances to his throne room. It is simply unheard of to have an Endless kneel to someone who is lower to them. You have never even heard of an Endless kneeling before. Your mind races at the thousand possibilities of who might witness your husband beg. Oh, what if Desire came in- ?

“There is no one here, they’ve all gone away in my absence” Dream says, his voice steady like he wasn’t down on his knees for you. “Lucienne is in her library absorbed in her work. You’re all I have left. You’re all I’ve always had. Forgive me, Love.”

Flashes of forgotten cooked meals, cold nights, deserted company and a millennium worth of loneliness flashes in your mind. You have always been so neglected. Is this it, then? Were you to throw away everything because he learned humility after a century?

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord.” You say, eager to get this conversation over and to have your husband just stand up.

“Morpheus,” he corrects with a sad smile. Your response echoes in his head and he did not need confirmation to know that it was a lie. How are you still so loyal? “Then forgive me anyway.” He compromises on your behalf, even when kneeling. He knew you would deny your lie if he asked.

“Alright.”

Your shoulders sag and sigh in sheer relief when Morpheus finally stands back up. You can him from head to toe just to be certain he is well before reminding yourself that your hands are still gripping his leather sleeves. You release them immediately, but he caught you wrists before you could pull away.

You flinch, and his eyes soften in regret. I am not scared, you want to say, I’m just not used to you touching me.

“Have I made you fear me so?” His grip on your wrists in gentle. If you wanted to pull away he would let you. But you let him hold your wrists at the thought that this might be the last time in a long time you will feel him. Might as well relish in it. “I will do better,” he vows. “I will be kinder, more gentle. I will do right by you this time.”

You tug your wrists away from his grasp slowly. “I must return to the waking world, my lord. My duties await me.”

Lie. You hear no prayers, no human calling for your help.

You’ve seen this trick before. You’ve seen mortal men promise the same sweet things to their wives only for them to hurt them once again. A few pretty words is not enough to erase a millennium of memories.

You turn your heel and walk out of his throne room. Morpheus lets you.

want more? check out my masterlist

next- love game. ii

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

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writingsonsaturn · 21 days

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Tim's fiancee gets arrested when a cop (let's say Lucy or someone) (this is after they are rookies) arrests her because she looks like a suspect they already caught, his fiancee told them she was engaged to Tim but they didn't believe her and Tim gets mad at the officer - <3

wrong place, wrong time - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: very sorry about how long its taken me to write, had a lot of stuff to do this week lol! this ones a little short <333

word count: 850

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Waking up with Tim being gone was normal, even after he had left the military his day continued to start at 6 am sharp. Although on weekends he would cut himself some slack to hold you until you were ready to get out of bed and begin with your various tasks you two needed to get done.

Today didn’t start off any different, waking up only a few hours after Tim had, at a ripe 8:30am.

Rubbing your eyes you flung your legs to your left, your warm feet chilling almost immediately at the cold wooden flooring of you and Tim’s shared bedroom. A shiver shot through your nerves and up your spine, you sighed lightly at the shift in temperature and made your departure to the bathroom.

The spring air seeped into the sunlit room, the fresh morning breeze filling your soul with flowers and bright colors. Music filled the house whilst you finished your morning routine making breakfast and feeding Kojo.

You started out your afternoon deciding to head to the local library, wanting to return a book you had borrowed before you were charged with a late fee.

The library wasn’t full since it was the afternoon and school was still in session, “hello! i’m here to return a book” you said in a chipper but quiet tone. The librarian smiled and took the book, checking it back into the system and sending you on your way.

Your next stop was a supermarket, you had only a handful of items that were needed. Tim had run out of coffee filters this morning and you needed more shampoo, you also opted to get a new water bowl for Kojo, not that he needed one, you just thought it was cute.

As you walked out to your car you were stopped with a taser pointed directly at your torso, “get on your knees with your hands up!” a woman yelled.

Your confused manor caused your reaction to be delayed, causing the police officer to yell once again. “Get down on the ground with your hands up, now!” you immediately get down to your knees and put your shaking hands up.

“You got the wrong person, I swear! Call Tim Bradford, he's my Fiancé!” you pleaded, the cop with the name ‘Chen’ on her shirt just scoffed and laughed you off while stuffing you in the back of her squad car.

The ride to the precinct was uncomfortable, the cuffs were digging into the skin of your wrists. “Officer please, I'm not whoever you think I am. All you have to do is call Bradford, he’ll tell you exactly what I'm telling you know” you tried to plead your case once again, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Tim doesn’t have a fiancé, he was my T.O, i think i would know a big detail like him having a girlfriend” she laughed, feeling as though it was ridiculous to even entertain your words.

As you were brought into the station to get your picture taken and be put into holding, Chen passed you onto another officer and went to tell Grey about her catch.

To Lucy’s surprise everyone had already been packing up the evidence and started paperwork, “what’s going on?” Lucy questioned, “we caught the killer, she was at her parents place shooting up when we got there” Tim explained. Lucy was confused, “so if you caught the killer, who do i have in holding?” the question hung in the air, Tim looking at her with perplexed eyes.

Lucy walked Tim over to holding and that’s where Tim saw you, “oh thank god!” you exclaimed seeing Tim. He hurried over to you taking your cuffs off and waving off the other officers. “Chen, why is my fiancé sitting here in cuffs?” Tim sternly asks, Lucy looks down, stuttering and trying to explain herself.

“Tim it’s fine, she was just doing her job” you did your best to defend Lucy, “No y/n, this is not okay, if it had been anyone else this would be a lawsuit” he turned his body at you but his tone was directed at Lucy.

“Tim i’m sorry, I didn’t know we had already caught the suspect and she looked exactly like our suspect” Lucy tried to explain, stumbling over her words.

“You are going to go to Grey and explain everything, lucky for you, y/n isn’t going to file a report against you” Tim assigned Lucy, to which she scurried away. “Are you okay? oh christ your wrists,” his questions and concerns came at you with speed.

“Tim, baby, I'm okay,” you smiled trying to calm him down. Tim held your wrists in his hands, and kissed them. He hoped his love would be enough to soothe your angry red skin, “i’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened” he persisted.

You shut him up with a kiss, “drive me to go pick up my car” your smile made him relax. “Yes ma’am” he laughed, telling Grey where he was going, and walking out hand in hand with you, still profusely apologizing.

#tim bradford x reader #reader insert #the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you

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rustedhearts · 3 months

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the old house (boxer!steve harrington x librarian fem!reader)

summary: steve's world is shaken when his father unexpectedly dies.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1995) ✶ record store

✶ the library

tags: death; mention of childhood abuse/trauma; daddy issues; manhandling; grumpy (for good reason) steve; ansgst; hurt/comfort; not edited so ignore any mistakes.

“i would rather not go back to the old house. there’s too many bad memories.”

— back to the old house, the smiths

california, september 1995

LOCAL ATTORNEY FOUND DECEASED IN OFFICE

Sept. 12, 1995

HAWKINS, INIDANA — Local attorney Richard “Rich” Harrington was found dead in his office Thursday evening.

Police dispatched to the office on Main St when his assistant called with concern for his well-being after the phone went unanswered for over 12 hours. When the door to the office was unlocked on arrival, his assistant, Ms. Betty Nesbourne, knew something was wrong.

Emergency services found Mr. Harrington at his desk. Police have confirmed the cause of death was a heart attack.

A well-respected attorney, Richard Harrington had a practice on Main St for 20 years before his death, and won countless cases for those in need in Hawkins. Friends and family recall him as a “kind and loving man.”

Mr. Harrington is survived by his wife, Catherine Harrington and son Steve.

Steve dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table with a sharp slap. His hand came to his eyes to soothe the ache that gathered there, knee bouncing against his chair. His fist rattled where it sat on the placemat next to a vitamin you set out for him. You handed him The Hawkin’s Post—still folded and in its sleeve from delivery—with a kiss on his cheek and a beautiful grin.

He never expected to find this when he opened it.

“Honey, have you seen my Nike hat? I don’t want the sun in my face today,” you called from the top of the stairs, readying yourself for the day.

Steve lifted his head, inhaling sharply. He cleared his throat and pushed his fist against his knee to stop it from jostling.

“Uh…closet probably, baby.”

Your feet scampered away to search, and Steve sighed. His eyes glazed over the letters that made up his father’s name on the inked paper before him. He knew nobody was eternal, that death was inevitable.

For some reason, he never prepared himself for this. For his useless father’s death.

And right now, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

He wanted to be angry. Hell, he should have been angry. He had every right after they had the balls to call someone like Richard Harrington “kind and loving.” Anyone that ever came into contact with him knew he was nothing of the sort.

Angry, too, that Steve never had the chance to tell his father how he truly felt about him. That he never had the opportunity to dole out his own form of punishment; the punishment Steve had to endure growing up. Because he was bigger, stronger, grown. He could’ve put his father on his ass in five minutes flat.

But every time he drove past his childhood house, all Steve wanted to do was get sick.

“Honey?”

Steve’s head snapped over toward you peeking around the doorway, donning his favorite jeans that sat a little low on the hips and a tight half shirt You found your Nike hat, and it now sat atop your head. Even how gorgeous you looked couldn’t quell Steve’s sudden confusions.

“Yeah.” Steve cleared his throat again, folding the newspaper again.

“You ready to go? We’re gonna be late if you still wanna stop for smoothies.”

“Comin’,” Steve mumbled, standing from the table.

He took the newspaper with him, staggering toward the bedroom with apparent soreness from a healing bruise. You glanced at the vitamin next to his coffee and rolled your eyes.

Upstairs, Steve shoved the newspaper into one of his shirt drawers and slammed it closed.

✶ ✶

"Everything okay?"

You smoothed your hand over the back of Steve's hair in the Cadillac, top down to let in the beating sun. The wind ruffled his long locks, tickling at his eyes covered with a pair of Ray Bans. He had one hand on the wheel and the other dangling over the door—normally, one parked itself in your lap to roam and massage. It wasn't like him to opt out of touching, even on event days.

"Yeah," Steve replied shortly, pumping the gas to send the car jolting through a barely-green light.

You let your hand rest on his back, skin hot through a thin t-shirt. "Okay...you sure?"

"Yep."

You took your hand away, diamond ring catching a glint of sun on its journey to your lap. You fingered the stone absentmindedly, your next "okay" small and quiet.

The low hum of tires over the road and the occasional click of the turn signal filled what was otherwise an empty car. Sirens, car horns, the whoosh of a gentle, morning breeze.

A convertible of women driving alongside in the opposite lane recognized Steve, and passed him a carful of ecstatic waves. He didn't even acknowledge them. You offered them a smile, but it wouldn't soothe the sting. You knew that disappointment all too well.

Steve zoomed the car up to the curb of your local smoothie bar, slamming the door hard when he got out. He yanked your door open and stepped aside, winding an arm around your shoulders as you stepped onto the street—but it all felt mechanical. You peered up at his expression, and it was entirely vacant. He was pressed up right against you, but he felt lightyears away.

Something was wrong—why didn't he just say so?

He ordered your smoothies and leaned back against an empty table near the wall. You tucked your hands into your back pockets, eyes on the tops of your white tennis shoes. The urge to ask once more what was wrong gnawed at you with need, but you were fearful of his eyes cutting down too hard again. You hadn't been afraid of Steve and his moods in quite a while.

Not since he put this ring on your finger last year.

Attention directed downwards, you were oblivious to the bustling crowds strolling in after morning workouts and vigorous runs—until an elbow swung a little too close to your face, a body knocked backwards by an unsuspecting and friendly shove.

A young boy, no more than eighteen, spun around with pink cheeks and a sheepish grin. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

You all but looked away, soaked in shame from what you knew was coming next. Steve pushed off the table behind you, a heavy paw shoved against the younger boy's chest. He teetered off balance, eyes wide on his attacker and the glare marking him victim.

Keeping a sharp eye on the boy, Steve grabbed at you by the bicep and tugged you into him. More mechanical pushes and pulls, more hardwired roughness he worked hard to outgrow. But whatever grieved him, whatever he sat and stewed on, sent him spiraling back into a troubled boy.

Worse than the roughness was the absence of words that accompanied it. The lack of commands or reassurances. Just silent glares and hard-set jaws that said all they needed to say.

Strawberry-banana smoothie freezing cold in your hand, you trailed after Steve with a lump in your throat.

At the arena, he plowed past Big bidding him good morning and stomped straight for the dressing room. The coach's eyes slid over to you, throwing up his hands.

"What crawled up his ass?"

You gave a tiny shrug. "Been like this all morning."

Big huffed, returning to his task of wiping down the ring for morning training. Steve had until two o'clock, then would return home to rest until the fight at eight. You hoped at some point he'd calm down.

"Better get it out of his system before tonight," Big grumbled, shaking his head.

Your silence was agreement, and you hurried to the dressing room to tell Steve just that. When you pushed the door open, you found him seated on the leather bench with his back to the door, staring at his poster on the wall.

Clamping the door closed, you tossed your smoothie into the trash bin and huffed. “What the hell is your problem today?”

He shed his shirt sometime before you came, and the bare muscles of his broad back constricted and flexed as he wound a roll of black tape slowly around his fist. His eyes were steadily fixed on the wall, boring into his own face printed in red. More mechanical movements. More empty thoughts.

“Steve.”

He stopped rolling, a ribbon of unfurled tape dangling over his thigh. In the attached bathroom, an echoed water drip plopped. People were arriving outside, filing in and out of the hall. Conversation hummed through the door.

“Dad died.”

When you drop on a roller coaster, all the adrenaline in your body festers in one spot. It all squirms and sizzles behind your navel, bringing the rest of your body to a cold chill. That very feeling overwhelmed your body now.

“W-what?”

Steve tore his eyes away from the wall and placed them on his hand. “Thursday. Heart attack...found 'im in his office."

Your feet moved on their own accord, taking you to Steve where you knew you needed to be. Your arms collapsed around him, face buried in his neck with a hiccuped sigh. His hands remained limply in his lap, eyes casting a ghostly glance upon the tops of his shoes.

"Oh, Steve," you whispered, mouth squished against his shoulder.

Steve had one photograph of his family in the house. Hidden in a photo album behind a page of high school memories: his father in a grey suit, his mother in a turquoise dress with shoulder pads, fourteen year old Steve wearing a sweater to hide the bruises on his arms. It was his father's birthday, and the only time, Steve said, he pretended to love Steve.

But still, scrawled in a fourteen year old boy's chicken scratch across the back:

Mom, Dad + Me

For a moment, you stood there breathing into him. Feeling the size of his own inhales and exhales expand your arms and close them in. Lips pressed to his warm flesh through crisp cotton, thinned a little with sweat. Feeling him pause every few moments, as though to check that he were still, in fact, breathing.

"Saw it..." Steve paused again, and then deflated with a humorless scoff. "...in the newspaper this morning."

You lifted your mouth from his shoulder, chin pressing down in its place. Your adjusted your arms to tighten around him, cheek leaning into his. He was so warm, so suddenly small.

It suddenly occurred to both of you in this moment that his mother had no way to contact him. Even if she wanted to call, she hadn't had his phone number since he turned eighteen.

He scribbled it on a torn piece of paper the day he moved out and tucked it in her drawer. For months, he waited for her call. It never came.

"Isn't that fuckin' ridiculous?" Steve shook his head, a sigh shot through his nose.

You rubbed you hand over his chest, eyes sinking shut. "Jesus, Steve."

Are you okay? was the obvious next line of questioning, but it seemed silly in this moment. Of course he wasn’t. Steve might not have loved his father, might not have known the person he’d become (or stayed) the past ten years, but that didn’t make this any less painful. In fact, it likely made it more painful. To have your father die without truly knowing the man.

"Should I talk to Mikey? See if they can push—"

"What? No," Steve huffed, head craning closer to yours. "M' gonna fight."

You recoiled enough to meet his eye, brows furrowed at the determination in his gaze. "Are you sure?”

Steve clasped a big, warm hand over your own. A gentle pat, a barely-pressed squeeze. His eyes turned away, and he stood to his feet.

“Gonna head out. Stay close, ‘kay?”

He staggered toward the door, and you whirled around. “Wait, Steve—“

The door clamped shut, and the buzz of florescent light was all that filled the quiet.

✶ ✶

He fought, just like he said he would. You sat erectly in your front row position, every breath inhaled held too long in your chest. Your nails pierced divots into your palm from tightly clenched fists. Your legs hadn’t stopped bouncing against the seat.

Every bloody blow had you wincing, each narrowly-dodged swing pulling a gasp. By the fourth round, Steve was staggering to his corner and spitting an alarming amount of blood into his bucket. His left brow split open again. It took the gentlest of taps to rip the skin that never healed correctly. He’d probably need stitches, like he always did.

Under Big’s words screaming at him and a cloth firmly pressed into his wound, Steve’s eyes were empty. Glazed over, mouth lolled open, shoulders slumped forward. It wasn’t his usual huffing, brutish, bull-like performance. It was instinctual, but free of thought.

Right now, you knew Steve wasn’t there. He was in his head, far away in a mess of thoughts. The blinding lights, the frenzied crowd, your own worried face watching him—none of it even registered to him.

The bell dinged, and back in he went. His punches held half the weight, half the power and drive. His dodges and sweeping side steps were stuttered and skipped. It was a dangerous game to play, and sickening to watch. You had every urge to run in front of his opponent and block the next swing, knowing Steve would let it hit him where it hurt.

But you sat where you were, nibbling on the skin around your nails, stamping your heel vigorously on the arena floor. It felt like waiting a lifetime just for that victory bell to ring.

It came out narrowly in Steve's favor. Sculpted arm a limp, weak thing in the referee's hold, drooling blood down his chest. His eyes found a spot on the floor and never left it.

Not until he trudged his way to the dressing room, and he found you seated on the bench. His eyes lifted from the ground and peered into you: blown-wide and still bleary, but alarmed in a harrowing way. A breath shuddered through his cheeks, escaping him with bloodied spittle that rolled down his chin.

They hadn't stitched him up yet. Boils of blood beaded along his cheek and temple, splattered across his chest. His gloves were looped together and strung around his neck. They were the first thing you removed when you stepped forward.

"Hey," you greeted softly. Steve followed your movements silently, blinks slow and staggered. "You did good, baby."

He swallowed, and it came with winced difficulty. A little wheezed, a little struggled where his nose bent from crushing force. He'd need it set again. It sat in a bulging, crimson aggravation in the center of his face. Everything about him was puffed up, bleeding, and pulsing with pain.

But he was the smallest he'd ever been.

"You gotta get stitched up, baby," you whispered, manicured thumb wiping through a smudge of blood on his cheek.

His hands smoothed over your hips, tongue darting out to lick over the split in his lip. "In a minute," he mumbled.

His steps forward sent you backward, guided blindly toward the bench again. You sat instantly, hands braced on his arms still buzzing with heat and adrenaline. You had only a moment to glaze over the state of him before his head fell forward against your chest.

"Oh," you gasped, warmed immediately by the damp heat of his head and the weight of him pressing into you. "Oh, hey, baby, it's okay."

Arms looped around his shoulders, you let your cheek fall atop his head, pushing past the salty, musky scent wafting from the heat of him. Comforting him was the only thing that mattered right now.

Steve's fists pressed into the bench, bookended on either side of your body. His cheek squished against the cotton of your dress, staining the fabric with the blood weeping from his severed flesh.

On the other side of the door, shoes squeaked over polished floors in a bustle to get somewhere. There was an order of things after a fight, necessities and niceties that needed to be carried out. Right now, as you smoothed your fingers through his dripping hair and massaged the knots in his back, you knew Steve wouldn't be doing any of them.

"He'll never know me," Steve mumbled into your skin.

You sighed, eyes sinking closed. The ache that festered in your chest, you knew, was no match for his.

"He didn't deserve to."

On the other side of the door, cameras waited to click Steve's photograph. Fans waited for autographs, his coach waited for a celebration, his manager waited to plead for another endorsement. It was a money-hungry, vain soulless scheme.

In this room, pressed against your familiar frame, Steve knew the only real thing in this world was right here under him.

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington au #king steve #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve the hair harrington

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fatecantstopme · 2 years

Text

Let Me Remind You

Pairing: Morpheus x reader

Summary: Morpheus believes you have forgotten how much you mean to him, so he endeavors to remind you…

Warnings: A little bit of angst, a moderate amount of fluff, and a whole lot of smut.

You wandered around the library aimlessly, gently running your fingers along the spines of the books you passed, your mind somewhere very far away. You'd been doing this every day for some time now, and others had begun to take notice.

"My lady?" Lucienne asked cautiously from behind you.

"Hmm?" you hummed in response.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked gently. "You have been spending much of your time in the library as of late."

You turned to face her and offered a soft smile. "I am quite alright, but I appreciate your concern, Lucienne."

The librarian nodded, but was not quite ready to back down. "If I may speak freely, my lady..."

"You may always speak freely, Lucienne. You know that."

She cleared her throat softly. "It is just--I have noticed you have not seemed quite like yourself these past few weeks."

"What do you mean?" You knew exactly what she meant, but you weren't sure if you wanted to admit it to her, or even yourself.

"You have seemed, pardon me for saying, but lonely, perhaps?"

You released a gentle sigh. "How could I possibly be lonely when I am surrounded by the lovely dream folk? By your kind presence?"

Lucienne nodded. "Of course, my lady. I only meant to say that I know Lord Morpheus has been quite busy--"

"Indeed he has, Lucienne," you said gently, but firmly. "He is a king, and as such he has duties he must attend to. I cannot, in good conscience, fault him for that."

Lucienne bowed slightly. "As you say, my lady. I did not wish to offend."

Your expression remained soft as you observed your husband's librarian. "Do not worry yourself, Lucienne. You have not offended me." You selected a random book from the shelf in front of you, not even bothering to observe the title. "I think I shall retire to my chambers to read."

Lucienne bowed again. "Of course, my lady."

You did return to your chambers, but you had no desire to read the book you'd picked up. In truth, Lucienne's uncanny ability to notice your emotions had simply made you uncomfortable. She was not wrong, however. You missed your husband dearly. He had been incredibly busy since he'd returned from his time in captivity, and you understood completely. Although, you could admit to yourself that you craved his presence, his authoritative voice, his loving touch. You had not spent more than 10 minutes with Morpheus in weeks, let alone made love to him. While his distance caused you pain, you would not, could not, tell him. It would not be fair, to him or to the realm.

**********

Morpheus was standing in his throne room, bent over a table littered with various papers and books. What appeared to be utter chaos to the untrained eye, was completely logical to him. He was deep in thought, eyes glued to the page in front of him, when he felt the presence of a certain librarian. "What can I do for you, Lucienne?" he asked without looking up.

Lucienne cleared her throat. "Good afternoon, my lord. I wished to speak with you about something rather personal."

That got his attention. He straightened up and his eyes met hers, confusion evident in his gaze. "Personal?"

"Indeed, sir. It is about the Queen."

Morpheus quickly stamped down the panic that threatened to rise within him. "Is something wrong? Is she unwell?"

Lucienne shook her head quickly, wishing to dispel her master's concern. "Nothing of that sort, my lord," she paused. "May I speak freely?"

"Always, Lucienne."

"Well, sir, I believe the Queen may, perhaps, be a bit...melancholy."

His brow furrowed. "Melancholy? In what way? She has been most pleasant around me."

"When was that, my lord?"

Much to the dream lord's surprise, he found it difficult to answer her question. It dawned on him that he could not remember the last time he had really spent more than a few minutes with his wife. His starry eyes met Lucienne's, her own eyes confirming his fear. "She is lonely," he said softly.

"It is not my place to say, my lord, but I do believe you should speak with her."

Morpheus closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out into The Dreaming, seeking your presence. When he found you, he opened his eyes and said in a hushed voice, "I must go, Lucienne. You are in charge until I return."

Lucienne knew he intended to be away for more than a few hours. She simply inclined her head and offered him a knowing smile. "Of course, sir."

Before his librarian was even finished speaking, Morpheus had disappeared from the throne room, leaving his work behind.

**********

You were sitting on the window bench in your room, gazing out at The Dreaming below. The sun had begun to set, casting a beautiful pink and gold glow across the land. You wondered where Morpheus was, as you often had in recent weeks.

As if the dream lord had heard your thoughts, he materialized just inside the closed door. "My lady," he said softly.

You turned your head to look at him, giving him a warm smile. "Do you have time to sit with me for a moment, my love?" you asked.

It almost pained him to hear you voice such a question. As if he could ever not have time for you. "I always have time for you," he said softly, crossing the room to sit across from you, his back against the window.

You sensed his mood, but you were unsure of the cause. "You are upset, my lord. Has something happened?"

He shook his head. "I spoke with Lucienne just now. She helped me realize that I have not been the best husband as of late."

You looked surprised. "You are an amazing husband, Morpheus. I could not ask for a better partner."

He looked at your face and saw nothing but sincerity. "My love, have I not been distant? Have I not left you alone for far too long?"

"None of that is true, my lord. Yes, you have been busy these past weeks, but that is the nature of your role. You are the ruler of this realm, its most vital piece, the essence that keeps The Dreaming alive. Your role as king will always come first. I have understood and accepted that from the very beginning."

Your words brought pain to your lover's eyes, pain you did not understand. “Have I truly failed you so terribly, my love?”

“You haven’t failed me, Morpheus," you answered in confusion.

“I must have, for you to believe, for even the slightest moment, that anything could possibly come before you in my heart.”

You shook your head. “The Dreaming is your creation, my lord. It must come first.”

“You are my love, my heart, nothing will ever be more important. No duty, no kingdom, could ever compare.” His eyes seemed to burn as he spoke, passion igniting deep within them.

You were silent, words failing to come to you. Your husband had changed during his time in captivity, but it was evident his love for you had only grown.

“It seems, my beloved, I must remind you of your importance.” His eyes darkened as he spoke and you realized how he intended to remind you.

“Morpheus,” you said cautiously.

“You deserve to be worshipped, my Queen, and that is exactly what I plan to do.” Morpheus stood up and slowly removed his coat before taking your hand to guide you to the bed. His touch was gentle and warm, as it always was with you. "Lay down, darling."

You did as he asked, as you always did, but there was something different about this moment. He was always authoritative with everyone, even you, but his voice had a gentle, loving quality that you had missed dearly, long before his absence. "Morpheus?" you asked softly.

His eyes met yours and you almost gasped at their beauty. It had been ages since you'd seen them shine so brightly, like stars against a velvet sky. "Yes, my love?"

"You have changed," you whispered, unsure of whether you should utter those words aloud.

His brow furrowed slightly, and a look of sorrow clouded his face. "I have loved you for ages long since passed, though I did not always treat you with the love and tenderness you deserve." He seemed almost heartbroken as he spoke. "I wish to remedy my mistakes. I wish to ensure you know how my heart craves you, how my soul relishes in your very essence, how my body craves the touch of your gentle hands. I wish to worship you, beloved, as you deserve to be worshipped."

Your lips parted and your breath caught in your chest. Never, in your hundreds of years of marriage, had he ever spoken to you in such a way. The loneliness you had felt suddenly turned to desperation. You needed him, just as he needed you. You reached out a hand, silently pleading with him to join you.

Morpheus climbed onto the bed, taking your outstretched hand in his, kissing it gently before placing it against his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath his skin. "My heart beats only for you, my love."

You were unsure where the romantic words were coming from, but you were not going to complain. "I love you, Morpheus," you murmured softly.

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against your soft lips. "I know, as I have always known." He kissed you again, a little slower this time. "My love for you is as endless as I myself, am."

You let out a heavy breath, desire sinking into every fiber of your being. "Please, my lord. I need to feel you."

"As you wish, my lady." He kissed you deeply, holding your body close as he pressed down against you. Your clothes faded away into nothingness, as did his; a wonderful trick of his you had always appreciated.

The moment you felt the smooth silk of his skin against yours, you released a soft moan against his lips. He responded by tightening his grip on you, long fingers digging into your flesh. Your own fingers clung to his shoulders before finding their way into his unruly hair. You gripped his black locks tightly, earning a pleasured groan from your lover. You had not forgotten how much he appreciated your fingers in his hair.

His lips trailed down to your neck, seeking your most sensitive spot, nipping gently at your pulse point. It seemed the dream lord had not forgotten what you appreciated.

Your moans were soft, but your hands were firm against his skin, a stark contrast to the way his fingers gripped your soft curves. He held on tightly, as if you would simply melt away in his hands if he let you go.

He was more gentle with you than he had ever been, more adoring than you knew him capable of. Each movement, each caress, each kiss was reverent in a way you did not expect from the King of Dreams.

It was not, however, his touch, nor his affection, that made you breathless. It was the way he looked at you, eyes deeper than the deepest oceans, as vast as the universe itself, and brighter than all the stars in the sky. Those beautiful eyes of his never left yours. It did not matter where he strayed, he could not tear his gaze away from your face. It made you feel like a goddess, to be so clearly worshipped by an Endless in this way.

His lips came back up to yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. When he pulled away, allowing you a moment to breathe, he whispered against your ear, "What is on your mind, beloved?"

"You," you whispered in return, hands snaking up his torso, appreciating every muscle and curve of his body.

"Hmmm," he hummed quietly, sending shivers up your spine. "What about me has captured your thoughts?"

His hot breath and soft lips against your ear sent waves of desire through your body. "Your eyes, my lord," you murmured. "It is your eyes."

"My eyes?" he asked in slight confusion, lifting his head to look at you.

Yet again, his gaze took your breath away, but this time he took notice of it. He saw the way your pupils dilated, the way your body reacted to his presence, the halt of your breaths...but what he noticed most of all was the way you looked at him. As if he'd personally hung the moon for you and you alone.

"Your eyes hold the universe within their beautiful depths, an endless universe filled with wonders beyond my imagination. They have a beauty to them, and a softness, that I have not seen in many years." You sighed. "They speak without words, my lord. They tell of your admiration, your affection, and your love...all for a woman who had long since forgotten how it felt to be under your gaze."

His eyes turned glossy with unshed tears as he listened to your words. He truly had neglected you for far too long, even before he was captured by Burgess. He had loved you from the beginning, but he had not known how to express that love, but in this moment, he somehow felt as if he knew, as if he had always known, somewhere deep inside himself. "You deserve more than I can ever give you, my love, but I promise to try. I make this vow to you, that I shall always, for the rest of my days, endeavor to show you the love, affection, and admiration I have always held for you."

You laid beneath him, silent and still, afraid that if you moved even an inch, you would awaken to find this had all been a dream. But the way he looked at you, the way his fingers grazed your skin, the way his deep, velvet voice covered your mind and body, all told you this was real. As real as the man hovering over you with nothing but an expression of deep, passionate love on his face. As real as the endless love you had for him. As real as the feeling of his flesh against yours and the beating of his heart matching the tempo of your own. This was love in its purest form. A love from which you would never recover, not that you wished to.

"Morpheus," you said quietly, gentle hands rising to touch his handsome face. "It has been ages since we truly made love. That is what I wish for this night."

He moved closer to you, pressing his body into yours. "Beloved, there is nothing I would rather do, no pleasure I would rather give."

This man, who of course was no mere man, made you desperate in a way you never imagined, and when he touched your body in your most sensitive spots, he made you see stars.

His lips and tongue were gentle at first against your core, a teasing sensation more than anything. You whimpered at the feeling, hips pushing towards him, begging for more.

Morpheus could not help but indulge you (and perhaps, himself). His mouth was expert-level perfection as he feasted upon you. Every flick, every swirl of his tongue, each time he sucked or licked, gave you incredible pleasure. You made the sweetest sounds for him, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. He loved the feeling of your hand in his hair, fingers tangled in the messy locks; your other hand gripping onto his forearm, the only other part of him you could reach.

The whines and moans he tore from your throat began to increase in volume and pitch, an indicator of your impending release. The dream lord tightened his grip on your hips, forcing his face even deeper into you, his own moans sending vibrations through your core. He was as desperate to feel your release as you were to have it.

You chanted his name like a prayer as he took you to the highest heights before calling out his name as you fell over the edge. Your fingers dug into his flesh and tugged on his hair even harder than before, eliciting a groan from deep inside of him. His gentle mouth worked you through your spasms of pleasure, only ceasing when you gave his hair a gentle tug and squirmed away from his lips.

He rose up to look at you, mouth covered in your slick. He licked his lips as he stared at you, enjoying the lingering taste of you. "You taste so sweet, beloved. I could stay here all night, if you were to let me."

You chuckled lightly. "I do think I would pass out from sheer pleasure long before the night was over, my lord."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, my lady?"

You smacked his arm affectionately, a gesture you had not done since the early days of your marriage. For a moment, you worried you had crossed a line, but your concern was quickly dissuaded when the dream lord gave you a warm smile. "Perhaps another night, then," he said softly.

He crawled up your body, placing soft kisses on your skin as he moved.

"Mmm, perhaps," you responded, desire already digging its claws into you once more.

He paid special attention to each of your breasts, ensuring neither one felt neglected. "I have missed touching your body in this way," he said, almost to himself.

"Hmm?"

He seemed to realize he had spoken out loud. "I simply mean, I have not showed your beautiful body the respect it deserves in a very long time."

You sighed softly, hand slipping under his chin and gripping tightly. You gently pulled him towards you until his lips were mere inches away from yours. "Hear this, Morpheus, and hear it clearly. You have never shown me anything but love and respect in all our years together. Even when we grew apart, I always knew you cared."

He laid his forehead against yours, brilliant blue eyes swimming with emotion as they met yours. "I do like when you call me by my name," he murmured.

You turned your head to the side as you observed him. "As opposed to?"

"Words of formality or titles. I have always loved to hear my name on your beautiful lips."

You smiled and tilted your head up so your lips brushed against his. "Morpheus," you whispered against them.

He groaned softly and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss began as a gentle expression of his love, but quickly morphed into a passionate fire he could not douse.

There was something beautiful and new about this moment, this feeling between you both. Thousands of years of marriage, and yet neither of you had ever felt this before. It was a feeling you did not want to ever lose, nor would Morpheus ever let it die.

The kiss was all-consuming, a passion burning so bright it blinded you. You felt his hands caress your body, every inch of your skin set ablaze by his touch. Your own hands danced across his skin, sending ripples of pleasure through him.

Morpheus sat up, giving you a look you understood. You simply nodded and he wordlessly entered you in one slow movement. You sighed happily, the fullness a welcoming feeling you craved. As his hips began to rock, you moaned against the skin of his chest, teeth digging into his flesh gently as the pleasure overtook you.

He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and murmured his love for you against the sensitive skin. When your nails dug into his back, he gasped your name against your skin.

Everything about it was beautiful and raw, from the way he moved, to the way sweet sounds glided past your lips. Neither of you could breathe, the pleasure too great for any other sensation.

It did not take long for you both to reach your breaking point. The King of Dreams, however, was an exceptionally proud man, and he would never allow himself to feel his release before you. Your pleasure was paramount in his mind, nothing else mattered.

"I can feel you tightening, my love," he said softly. "I know you are close."

You nodded, unable to speak.

"I need to feel your pleasure, my darling, please. Let go for me."

As if all you needed was his permission, you suddenly tumbled into an ocean of pleasure, each movement sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body until your mind was clouded with nothing but him. "Morpheus," you gasped.

Your husband groaned loudly, the love-drunk way you spoke his name enough to give him his own release. His hips faltered and his breath caught in his chest as he emptied within you, giving you all he had to offer.

When he was done, he collapsed on top of you, covering your body in his own. Your arms wrapped around him instinctively, holding him close to you, one hand gently running your fingers through his hair. You kissed the top of his head and closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his skin against yours.

"I could stay here until the end of time," he whispered.

You smiled. "I would allow it."

He chuckled and kissed your skin softly. He seemed to realize suddenly that his full body weight was on top of you and he lifted himself up slightly. "Am I hurting you, my love?"

"No," you insisted, tightening your grip on him. "I quite like this feeling."

He smiled and settled back down against you, content to let you hold him close. He preferred to be the one holding you, to always be the one in charge, but in the comfort of his own room, he dropped his guard and let you take the reins. It was yet another way he reminded you of his love. There was no one else in existence with whom he would show such vulnerability, and it was a gift you cherished more than anything else he could ever give you.

#Morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader smut #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus smut #sandman smut

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seabirdtxt · 1 year

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Hello! Just recently found your blog, and I am in love with your fanfic, Glitch In Irminsul!

I honestly have no idea if I'm the first one to request on your blog, but I do hope this idea is okay with you!

May I request this: Reader who is a comedian with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei, reacting to Reader making Cyno's bad jokes (quote on quote) "better"? You don't have to find a joke for Reader if you don't wanna :)

I'm a little obsessed with their dynamic as of right now. If you do happen to take this request, thanks :D

Also idk if you wanna take Anons, but if you do someday, is it alright if I claim "🎪 Anon" as my alias? Sorry if I'm asking too much! I hope you have a great day :)

hi!! thanks so much for your request, and your patience!! 🩵 i had a good bit of fun writing this for you, i love bad jokes 🤭

WC. 1092

----- ⚘ -----

As the General Mahamatra, and having been personally assigned to your guard by Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, it is Cyno’s sworn duty to attend to every need and whim of the almighty Creator.

And when the Creator demands that you tell them your absolute worst joke, the one that nobody has ever even laughed at yet, well, who is he to deny them?

“- didn’t realize that, at that very moment, a Hydro slime was praying to meet a lone, stranded traveler.” Cyno finishes the joke with a straight face, at the exact same moment that the door to the hut swings open, revealing Tighnari and Collei with several bags of groceries in their arms.

“Oh, Cyno, not the slime joke again.” Tighnari groans over the sound of your absolutely raucous laughter at the horrible joke.

“But the Creator likes it.” Cyno protests, gesturing to you hanging part way off the table and clutching your stomach. You honestly don’t find the joke itself all that funny, but the sheer confidence with which he tells it paired with the completely deadpan expression he has is sending you into hysterics.

“They’re going to eat each other!” You gasp, trying to sit back properly on the chair. A few lingering giggles hit you when you see Tighnari’s deeply disappointed expression. “Hahaha… but slimes don’t have a mouth, do they? How would it eat the person?”

“Exactly!” Tighnari says, pointing at Cyno with the hand not holding the groceries. “It doesn’t make any sense! Slimes wouldn’t-”

“And what did the stranded traveler say in that situation?” You add, confusing both Tighnari and Cyno into silence. Cyno blinks a few times, visibly wondering if there was a part of the joke that he forgot to tell, and he’s about to ask for clarification when Collei beats him to the punch.

“Your Grace, the traveler didn’t say anythi-” Collie begins, but you’re already on a roll.

“He said, ‘it must be slime for dinner!’”

You can’t help but erupt into laughter again at seeing everyone’s reactions: Collei’s slow realization, Cyno perking up excitedly, and Tighnari imploding with exasperation.

“You see, because ‘slime’ sounds like ‘time’-”

“Yes, Cyno. Thanks. I got the gist.”

You’re still gasping for air, leaning back in the chair and bracing yourself on the wall behind you. Tighnari’s frown falters a little, your joy infectious even if the joke is terrible.

“Slime for dinner, and sand for dessert!” You add, and Cyno chuckles even as he brings out his wretched book of jokes and begins writing an annotation in the margins, which Tighnari is sure the librarian will greatly appreciate later. “Get it? ‘Cause dessert, and desert?”

Tighnari is about to snarkily reply, when a surprising sound catches his attention. He turns with a horrified expression to Collei, who has her hand over her mouth and eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh no, Collei…” Tighnari says warningly, shaking his head, which causes the girl to snort again and she quickly puts down her groceries before she can drop them.

“I- I’m sorry, Master,” she fights through her giggles, which only spurs you and Cyno on. “It’s just… it’s so bad…”

“Come on, ‘Nari, it’s just a joke,” Cyno attempts to bring the Valuka Shuna in on the fun. “Think of it as a way to break the ice.”

“Yeah, Tighnari,” you add. “Snow fun otherwise.”

Collei lets out a full belly laugh, to Tighnari’s dismay and Cyno’s apparent confusion.

“You’ve never laughed at my jokes like that,” the general points out, and Collei can only laugh harder.

“We’re morally obligated to laugh at the Creator’s jokes, ‘lest Their Grace smite us with impunity.” Tighnari states tonelessly, completely opposing his own statement.

That’s about as much as you can take. You slide bonelessly off the chair, howling with laughter on the floor like some kind of hyena.

“Look what you did! You corrupted the Creator!”

“The Creator told that joke all on their own!”

While Cyno and Tighnari are bickering, Collei helps you off of the floor, steadying you in your chair as you both come down from your laughing. She checks you over to make sure you didn’t injure yourself on your way down, then grabs her bag and rummages through it before producing a shiny red apple.

“We brought snacks!” she announces, handing you the fruit proudly. “And we have the stuff for dinner tonight! We picked these fresh, though. They’re very sweet this season!”

You take the apple with a grin and rub it on your shirt to clean it before taking a bite.

“Wow, these really are sweet! Thanks, Collei!” You marvel at how good the apple tastes, somehow different from Earth’s apples, with a refreshing, sugary taste.

“You’re very welcome!” Collei beams at the praise. “I’m gonna go get Master Tighnari to stop griping and help me with dinner, now, though.”

You perk up at the mention of cooking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, gosh, no! You’re our guest, please let us take care of it!” Collei insists, then scurries over to the other two.

You decide to follow her just as she’s asking Tighnari for help with cooking. The botanist huffs with mild annoyance, his tail sweeping from side to side.

“I’m not sure Cyno needs dinner, Collei,” he states. “Since he wants to act childish, perhaps it would be best to put him in time-out for the evening.”

“That’s not very knife of you, Tighnari,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Why don’t you fork-give him for now so we can have dinner together?”

Tighnari squints at you, somehow sensing you’ve made a pun (or two) despite your straight delivery.

“... Are you going to stop with the jokes too, Your Grace?” he asks, his ear flicking.

“What jokes? Collei wanted to ask for your help with the cooking. How can you say no to dish face?” You sidle up behind Collei and use your pointer fingers to make her smile, which she tolerates with surprising grace. “Isn’t she adora-bowl?”

“...” Tighnari maintains his stance for a few more seconds, and then sighs in defeat. “I don’t have a counter to that. Very well, I suppose I can let it slide for tonight, since it’s for you, Your Grace…”

“Hehehe, counter,” you mumble, which causes Collei to erupt into giggles once more, and Cyno to look extremely pleased with your ability.

And Tighnari to make a noise of exasperation, throwing his hands up and stomping toward the kitchen on his own.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin isekai #self aware genshin #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari #genshin collei #sagau cyno #sagau tighnari #sagau collei #sagau x reader #seabird.inbox #seabird.txt #🎪 anon

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orionsangel86 · 11 days

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Lucienne/Lucien - How the Librarian Became the Chief.

In The Sandman Netflix adaptation Lucienne is a stand out character and second only to Morpheus in importance, screen time, and centrality to the story. Lucienne is Morpheus's loyal Librarian, second in command, ruler of the Dreaming in his absence, and often times a voice of reason and advice for our dutiful King of Dreams. She is so well respected in her position that the other castle residents consider her their boss and would rather go to her for guidance and command than Morpheus himself. She takes care of Dream's ravens and even appears to have the power to create new ravens from newly deceased mortals like she did with Matthew. She is clearly extremely close to Morpheus, and is one of very few people he seems to actually listen to and trust. Lucienne's role in this story can not be underestimated.

So it may come as a surprise to any fans of the show who haven't read the comics to learn that Lucien (as he is called in the comics) is afforded very few of the above traits. In fact Lucien is no where near as close to Morpheus even by the very end of the story, as Lucienne is at the beginning. It is this difference that has fascinated me since I first started diving into the comics after falling in love with the show, and its something I view as extremely important when considering how the story is being adapted into a kinder, more sympathetic universe surrounding our central protagonist.

Lucienne's role is expanded greatly from her comic counterpart, and her relationship with Morpheus is shown to be much deeper. This is evident practically right away at the end of episode one when Lucienne comes to greet Morpheus upon his return to the Dreaming following his escape.

The way she runs over to him as soon as she realises he is back, and lovingly takes his hand and is so pleased to see him is a far cry from the comic where the first thing Lucien does is bow.

So right at the start we see a very different form of relationship here. Where Lucienne is already displaying a level of care and devotion beyond the expectations of a servant, Lucien however, is exactly that.

The servant thing has caused a bit of contention among fandom in the past. I think the confusion could come from whether or not you see Lucien or Lucienne first. Lucien IS a servant of Dream. Lucienne is more like a vice president and royal advisor. Those are two very different things after all and that difference only becomes more obvious the further you go into the story.

Lucienne accompanies Morpheus throughout his return to his crumbling kingdom, helps him as he attempt to repair the damage, follows him to Cain and Abel, and watches over his meeting with the Fates. She is by his side from the moment he returns until the moment he leaves again for the waking world to begin his quest to recover his tools, and she is responsible for Matthew's reincarnation as the new Raven and instructs Matthew to stay with him because of her concern for Morpheus's wellbeing on his quest.

I cannot stress enough how much none of this is in the comics. Lucienne shows a level of care towards Morpheus that just isn't present in Lucien in the comics. After the first meeting with Lucien at the gates of the Dreaming, Lucien doesn't appear again until he is instructed by Morpheus to conduct the census of the Dreaming. He only appears again in the Doll's House very briefly and has no involvement in Morpheus's decisions during that arc, which takes place very rarely in the Dreaming.

That's not to say that Lucien isn't a very trusted servant of Morpheus. He is the closest to Morpheus of all the residents of the Dreaming except only Matthew. But I think a lot of what we see in the show of Morpheus and Lucienne's dynamic is inspired by much later in the comics. I also think that it speaks loudly to the change in Morpheus as a character. Show!Morpheus has people almost right away who care about him and want to help him, whereas comic!Morpheus is extremely isolated. It is clear in the early comic stories that comic!Morpheus keeps himself at arms length from basically everyone. He does not have a bond with Lucien, he did not have Jessamy, and at that early stage, he didn't even have Matthew. All of this of course was primarily to make show!Morpheus a more sympathetic and likeable character - you gotta give your protagonist people who care about them, it helps raise the stakes after all.

Taking Charge - Lucienne is the real boss

One of my favourite parts of the Dolls House episodes in the Netflix show is the conflict between Morpheus and Lucienne due to the other residence and Dreaming servants going to her for advice and instruction first rather than Morpheus. Bearing in mind this only takes place less than a year after Morpheus's return from imprisonment, it speaks volumes as to how Lucienne has taken the role of leader of the Dreaming in her stride.

But it also indicates how Morpheus' change in the show is coming at lightening fast speed compared to the comic. In the comic, Mervyn doesn't make these observations until the Brief Lives arc, and this is indicated at that point to be a very new thing - triggered by several years post fish bowl of having to face his past decisions and mistakes (and a string of scorned ex lovers one after the other ending in a horribly matched rebound relationship with a murderous witch that subsequently rejected him and triggered him literally seeking out destruction). Lucien was only put in charge of the Dreaming when Morpheus left to go on his trip with Delirium. It is during that trip that Morpheus realises how competent Lucien is and capable of running things without problem in his absence.

Mervyn's insights are made clear here:

This is the only time in the comic that anyone dares mention that someone other than Morpheus might be the boss - and it is in no way as directly spelled out as it is in the show. "You're practically running the place" and "you secretly run this place" are quite different statements. The first only makes an observation about Morpheus's current lack of interest (in Brief Lives) in actually running his realm. It implies that Lucien is doing Morpheus' job for him, but does not go as far as to outright call Lucien the boss. Whereas in the show, that's exactly what Mervyn does.

In the comic, Morpheus overhears Mervyn's speech and immediately points out his reasoning for leaving Lucien in charge, for promoting him and giving him more authority.

Because no one ever technically undermines Morpheus in the comic, there is no conflict here. Morpheus trusts Lucien as his loyal servant and gives him the power to rule in his stead (but only when he is absent) and there is no "secretly report to Lucien first" attitude among Matthew and Mervyn. We can perhaps interpret that this might be happening behind the scenes by this point in Brief Lives, or even just before the BL arc when Morpheus was distracted by his rebound murderess, but it is never actually directly stated that this is going on.

The tension between Morpheus and Lucienne in the show is born out of the conflict over Lucienne's position and Morpheus feeling undermined by his subjects, and its storytelling gold. But the only reason such a story works in the show is because Lucienne is so important to Morpheus in the show, because their relationship goes so much deeper than the relationship in the comic. Lucienne is not a servant, she's his god damn vice president and she knows it, and he knows it too. Throughout episodes 7 and 8 specifically he reaches out to her for her opinion and advice on the Vortex situation. He talks things through with her and seeks out her guidance. It is clear that he relies on her and it is only at the end of episode 8 when Lucienne disagrees with his punishment of Gault, that in his anger, he dismisses her.

Lucien/ne the Royal Advisor

Where Morpheus in the show seeks out Lucienne's advice and opinion frequently especially during the Doll's House arc, I have to stress that this never happens in the comic. Comic!Morpheus just does not have that kind of relationship with Lucien and does not seek his counsel at all, even though Lucien does try to give it on occassion, usually when Morpheus is about to do something extremely stupid and probably damaging to himself and the Dreaming. To name a couple times:

Season of Mists - before Morpheus returns to Hell:

Brief Lives - before seeking Destruction:

You'll note that in both these times Lucien's words of caution are completely ignored.

You'll also notice that in both times Lucien is taking a path of polite caution. Lucien very rarely speaks his mind to Morpheus, because he knows it won't get him very far to do so. The only time Lucien truly loses his cool and speaks freely is in The Kindly Ones (spoiler alert)

At this point in the comic story Morpheus has basically all but given up and accepted his fate and its fucking depressing AF. Lucien is well within his right to shake the bastard HARD and snap him TF out of it. I STILL think he was too restrained here tbh!

My point here is that Lucienne already speaks her mind quite freely around Morpheus in the show. She expresses her opinions and thoughts and gives him her advice. This is such a well established dynamic by the point of the argument that it is clear that Lucienne is offended by Morpheus's dismissal of her.

Take this exchange from episode 9:

Lucienne: "Rose is weakening the walls between realms" Matthew: "You gonna tell the Boss?" Lucienne: "No." Matthew: "No?" Lucienne: "It's none of my business." Matthew: "Er, since WHEN?" Lucienne: "Since Lord Morpheus reminded me that I'm merely a librarian and should concern myself with my books from now on." Matthew: "He said that?! What's wrong with him!" Lucienne: "Nothing is wrong with him. He's always been this way. He's just been away so long I'd forgotten. He's determined to deal with the vortex and the missing Arcana by himself. Without anyones help. So any news must be reported directly and exclusively to him."

It's worth pointing out here that whilst this is framed as Morpheus being a stubborn idiot, in the comic, he does in fact deal with the vortex and the missing Arcana by himself mostly and is not so much helped but saved at the last moment by Unity Kinkaid who realises what is happening in a dream and goes to save Rose, which also saves Morpheus from Desire's trap.

In the show, Morpheus has people who care enough about him and his realm to want to get involved and help him, not out of a desire to undermine him, but simply because they care about him. That is a drastic change from the comic at this point. Morpheus in the comic is constantly shown to be struggling under the burden of his own responsibilities and this is highlighted by the fact that he doesn't really get any support or assistance, and is far too prideful to ask for it. Lucien gets the promotion and chance to rule in his absence, but it is never framed as a job he shares with Morpheus - at no point does Lucien take the burden of his responsibilities off of him. This is no Samwise Gamgee "I can carry you" moment unfortunately. Lucien does not have the power nor the bond with Morpheus to undertake such a task because Morpheus keeps him at arms length throughout the comics - but Lucienne? Well, time will tell how that may change.

An Apology from the King

In a shock horror twist that comic!Morpheus would sooner die than do himself (ha) the great emo King of the Netflix universe gives Lucienne an apology for his behaviour (sort of).

Episode 9 displays the tension between Morpheus and Lucienne following their "break up" perfectly. Morpheus is clearly in the wrong, and Lucienne is clearly hurt by his dismissal of her support. Yet even after the fight, he still seeks out her advice in determining the cause of the disturbances in the Dreaming. He goes to her first before investigating himself (something that comic!Morpheus wouldn't even consider doing) and is surprisingly capable in swallowing his pride here even though it is clearly a struggle for him.

Later in the episode, once he realises that Lucienne was right about the disturbances, he seeks her out to tell her so, and to confirm that she was right and he was wrong. This is again something that I can't fathom comic!Morpheus doing, even nearer the end of the story I don't believe he does so, certainly not to Lucien. Fiddlers Green drums this point home when he says this:

Fiddlers Green: "... still his time there appears to have changed him as it has changed me." Lucienne: "How so?" Fiddlers Green: "Lucienne, he came to you and told you he was wrong. It was very nearly an apology. The Morpheus I knew was incapable of that."

This further reinforces not just how much Morpheus has changed in a short time, but also how much he respects and cares about Lucienne and their continued relationship.

Platonic Life Partners? Co Ruler and Closest Confident of the Dream King

When I set out to write this meta, it was with the aim to highlight Lucienne's elevated role from her comic counterpart. To try to stress the importance of her character in the show and what this means for the future of the story in the show. By the end of the last episode, Lucienne is practically granted co-ruler status of the Dreaming while Morpheus works on his creations. He asks her if she can "take care of things while he works" which she agrees "with pleasure".

I just... I can NOT stress ENOUGH how much comic!Morpheus needed this person in his life. Even though Lucien looks after the Dreaming whilst Morpheus is away in Season of Mists and Brief Lives, it is always as a last resort with Morpheus continuing to check in on Lucien during Brief Lives as if he expects trouble, and he always seems a bit confused when Lucien tells him all is fine. As if he can't quite understand how the Dreaming could be okay without him there (and I mean, after the trauma of watching your realm which is also technically a part of you crumble to dust I suppose you would be a bit attached to it!).

Comic!Morpheus constantly struggles under the weight of his responsibility. His entire thing is that he is desperate to step away and not be who he is but he simply does not have it in him to do that. He is far too bound by his rules and responsibilities. For Morpheus in the show to be given someone to support him in his rule as King and assist him with the burden of his responsibilities is actually a hugely mindblowing change to the comic, and could honestly have huge repercussions on the story going forward. Not only that, but the Morpheus in the comics is painfully lonely. He desperately needs companionship but he keeps everyone at arms length. He never allows his subjects to get too close to him, even Lucien. Even Matthew isn't afforded the same level of closeness in the comics as he is in the show. In the comics, the ONLY character who Morpheus is close to is Death. Which says a lot by itself. The second character he gets closer to as time goes on is Delirium. Which also says a lot. Think of the characters in terms of their concepts. Morpheus has no close friends in the comics (even his relationship with Hob Gadling in the comic doesn't have half the impact it does in the show) and keeps all those he interacts with at arms length except for Delirium and Death.

But show!Morpheus? He has a Matthew who is already so very devoted to him, a Hob Gadling who waited an extra 33 years on hope alone that he would return to him, and a Lucienne who rules by his side, offers him support, guidance, counsel, companionship and probably a good helping of love. How can this Morpheus possibly carry the same deep loneliness as his comic counterpart? How can this Morpheus be buckling under the weight of his duties when he already has his Samwise Gamgee right there by his side? It poses an interesting question for how the show will handle future story arcs, though it could all prove to simply make for a much more painful story, where we happen to have many more characters to react and show the deeply painful grief that we all feel at his eventual passing - or maybe, just maybe, this is a universe where Hope never died...

#the sandman #dream of the endless #lucienne the librarian #lucien the librarian #sandman meta #sandman analysis #sandman comic spoilers #sandman speculation #dreaming librarian day #lucienne the sandman #this got away from me a bit #and it is 1am and I am posting it #even though it prob needs an edit #but i set out to post today and i damn well will #well its still today in america anyway #I hope you all enjoy this #now i plan to go visit the dreaming #goodnight and sweet dreams zzzzzzz

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littledollll · 1 year

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Can I please request a Larissa X new teacher reader.

R has a much younger brother (r is in their early 20s while the brother is 4ish) who they take care of because their parents aren't great so r took full custody over him. R always leaves him with the librarian looks after him (everyone assumes she's his aunt since he calls her aunty) while r is working but one day he isn't having any of it as he misses r so goes to find her and ends up interrupting an important staff meeting and calling r mum (cause of the age gap and parental role r takes he views them as his mum rather than a sibling) r ends up getting really embarrassed and apologies profusely for him while the other teachers and Larissa are incredibly confused as they had no clue he was even related to r.

That evening Larissa requests r to come see her telling them that their "son" is welcome to come along so he isn't left alone in their room. R thinks they are going to be reprimanded by Larissa for messing up the meeting but instead Larissa is very soft and simply wants to know why r didn't inform Larissa of their "son" because Larissa would have gladly made arrangements for him to which r explains the whole story to her while Larissa and r both are playing with the little bro and at the end r makes a joke that they need to find a partner as good with kids as to Larissa to help out their their little trouble maker to which said troublemaker blurts put how r has a mash crush on Larissa. R dies for embarrassment but before they can apologise Larissa smiles and asks them out for coffee saying she's always wanted kids but thought her nevermore students would be as close as she'd ever get.

Thank you!!!

Lovely interruption

Larissa Weems x Reader

A/n: THIS IS SO CUTE??? Thank you so much for your request

Warnings: none, just fluff fluff and more fluff.

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It was routine by now, every day you dropped off your brother in the library with a lunchbox and a bag with a few essentials and some games, you’d thank your best friend (who was honestly family by now) profusely for keeping watch of him.

It was a staff only day. Which means meetings, markings, file organizing and all the other boring stuff, and he simply wasn’t having it. Usually, though his auntie had stuff to get done she still had time to spend time with and entertain him, not today.

He stumbled his way out of the library trying to remember your words. “I’ll be in the staff room if anything happens, don’t be afraid to interrupt I’ll handle it after.” Staff room. And that’s how he found himself wandering the halls looking at the signs above each door until he found it.

“Regarding the problem with the Jericho boys-“ Larissa was cut off by the door opening and your brother peaking in.

“Ma?” looking around for you and shyly walked your way once he found you, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Sweet boy what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with your aunty in the library.” you spoke in a hushed tone, not needing to cause any more disruption in the meeting and he pouted shaking his head. “it’s dark in there n aunties busy.”

You looked up at Larissa apologetically and thoroughly embarrassed while she and the other staff just looked confused. “I am so sorry- I hate to ask but, could he stay here for the rest of the meeting? He won’t say a word, right bub?” He happily nodded already settling himself on your lap.

“That won’t be a problem, welcome to the staff little one.” Larissa said, with a smile that immediately made you sigh in relief and made your brother giggle and sit straight like he was really ready to pay attention.

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The meeting went without a hitch, he kept to himself for the most part and stayed quiet unless Larissa or another member of the staff included him in the conversation. After the meeting ended you were held back for a second while your brother got smothered with cooes and attention by most of the staff which he was more than happy to receive.

Larissa approached you while you were watching over him and making conversation with another teacher. “Dear, I was hoping you could see me after dinner time in my office, there’s just some things I’d like to go over with you if that’s alright, your son is more than welcome as well, I wouldn’t want him locked up in your room the whole time.”

“He’s-“ you wanted to explain he wasn’t really your son but you cut yourself off. You’d clear that up later on the meeting, no point in holding her back now, plus you had to get both you and him something to eat. “Of course principal weems, I’ll see you then.”

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After dinner you anxiously made your way to the principals office, with your brothers bag in hand like always, you knocked on the door and made your way in once you heard her welcome you in, his hand was holding yours as he looked around the office completely fascinated with all the decore and fancy aesthetics.

He immediately ran off to look at ravens decorating her desk. “Wow hey! slow down, I told you to behave.” He only gave you a once over and continued on looking around. “I’m sorry this is probably the coolest place know to man right now for him.” You apologized as you stopped his hand from touching anything.

Larissa gave you a reassuring smile and shook her head. “The little trouble maker can touch all he wants, anything is replaceable.” She nodded his way and he excitedly jumped around to look at more stuff.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and sat down. “Now why would you encourage him?” “Listen- I’m very aware he shouldn’t have interrupted and I’m really sorry, he despises feeling alone though the little attention hog, so I couldn’t with a sound mind, force him to go back-“

Larissa only chucked and moved from her desk to sit next to you on the arm chair. “I’m not here to scold you, dear, I wasn’t aware you had a son? Had I known there are changes I could’ve made to make being here more comfortable for you both, I was under the impression he was family of our librarian?”

“Oh! I get by so I don’t know if that’s necessary, always appreciate the thought of course. Honestly she kind of is at this point, we’ve been friends for a long time and she offered to look after him once I started here.” You gathered yourself for a second and realized you left out arguably the most important part.

As you were about to speak he ran between the two of you, holding Larissa’s decorative owl in hand. “Look!! How cool is this, did u buy it? Where? How!” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to show you the damn thing or ask Larissa every question possible.

“Okay first of all don’t drop that. Second of all yes it’s very cool, bub. Maybe put it back and Ms. Weems can answer your questions without the stress of it possibly breaking?” He hesitantly listened, putting the owl back and running back to Larissa. “So!?”

Your conversation got cut off for a moment as Larissa found herself stuck in an interview with your brother, he was finally satisfied after she answered his every question and he ran back, probably to find something else he can interview her about. “Your kid seems to take after your curiosity.” Right, that.

“Well- he’s not really my son, we come from a tough family so I’ve been his legal caretakers since I turned 18. But he’s just my little brother, he started calling me mama when he was younger and it kinda stuck, it’s never been an issue before so I haven’t thought to correct him though maybe I should.“

“Nonsense! you are his maternal figure, if it causes confusion to him then maybe then it’s an issue, but don’t worry about anyone else, he seems comfortable and happy with it and if you don’t mind, I see no reason why you should correct it.” You hummed in agreement, followed by a quiet “thank you.”

It got quiet after that, a comfortable silence between the two of you that was interrupted by him coming back with more questions, making Larissa chuckle and of course give in to his antics. “I really need to get myself a partner that can handle this kid.” You said giggling and Larissa seemed to agree. Your brother however had matchmaking plans tonight apparently.

“I thought you liked Principal Weems! Is okay I like her too.” He nodded and gave you a pat, clearly very proud of himself while you were too busy dying of embarrassment to notice the smile on Larissa’s face. “I am- so sorry- you’d think he could keep that quiet.” You said, which made him gasp. “That was a secret!?”

Larissa chuckled driving your attention back to her. “Oh so it’s true? Because I can clearly handle this cutie as you can see. How about nice outing to the weathervane, I could get us all hot chocolate.” You turned to her suddenly feeling very chocked up. “I’m- are you serious?”

“Very. You’ve caught my eye since the day you joined us here, darling. Besides, I’ve always wanted a troublemaker to busy up my life, thought the students were going to be the best I get.”

Looks like his matchmaking had worked, and you now had a date with the woman of your dreams. One who would accept and take care of him as well”, what more could you ask for?

“Very. You’ve caught my eye since the day you joined us here, darling. Besides, I’ve always wanted a troublemaker to busy up my life, thought the students were going to be the best I get.”

#Larisaa weems #larissa weems fluff #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #principal weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems fluff #Wednesday weems #wednesday larissa weems #principal weems x reader

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pandenewie · 7 months

Text

37 - It's Giving Grease

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“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Y/n looks at their friends confused as they get into the backseat of Bahiyyih’s (brother’s) car. “Good morning to you guys too?” Y/n asks, eying the group suspiciously. “Are you sad again?” Eunchae asks, giving Y/n a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Um… not any more than usual?” Y/n is beyond confused.

“You’re dressed like a normal person.” Hikaru points out. “It’s gross.” Y/n screws their face up at her words, mildly offended at the comment. “Did you forget today's dress code protest?” Bahiyyih asks, causing Y/n to shrug. “No, I’m just not gonna do it.”

The three friends gasp at this. Y/n not participating in a protest? Something must be truly wrong. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal, okay? I know Jungwon’s probably gonna be super stressed out because everyone’s protesting and I don’t want to add to that.” Y/n mumbles, the end of their sentence trailing off.

“And what if Jungwon participates in the protest?” Hikaru asks. Y/n deadpans at this, a gentle roll of the eyes showing they are not taking their friend seriously. “This is Jungwon we’re talking about. He follows rules and does what he’s told - protesting doesn’t fit into either of those things.” Y/n states. “I don’t know… maybe he’ll surprise you.” Eunchae smiles.

The school halls are filled with students from all walks of life - banning together to protest the dress code. Some keep it more simple, with extra jewellery or mildly-graphic shirts whilst others show up in jaw-dropping outfits, breaking the dress code in more ways than imaginable.

Y/n gets a few stares as they make their way down the hallway - most likely due to their lack of protest. Given the spectacles Y/n has put on throughout the year so far - not seeing them participate is certainly a shock. Although Y/n is technically still breaking the dress code (they can’t give up their ripped jeans) it’s not the outfit people were expecting.

“This is what you get for being a simp.” Hikaru whispers, earning an eye roll and jab to the side from Y/n. “You’re acting like I don’t love the attention.” Y/n whispers back snidely. Hikaru goes to reply with another sarcastic comment but gets distracted by the sound of Bahiyyih calling out to Wonyoung and Ricky.

“You guys all look so cute! Wait, you aren’t protesting Y/n?” Wonyoung asks, her attention turning to Y/n and their outfit. “Y/n’s trying to be a goody-two-shoes to impress Jungwon.” Eunchae says, nudging her friend playfully. “I’m not doing it to impress him.” Y/n rolls their eyes. “I just don’t want to stress him out more than he already is, and participating in the protest would do that… no offence.”

“Wait, but Jungwon’s the one who-” Ricky is immediately cut off as Wonyoung slams her hand over his mouth. “Jungwon is probably stressing his poor little heart out. Maybe you could go talk to him, Y/n?” Wonyoung says, a stark contrast between her harsh glare at Ricky and her gentle smile at Y/n. “Uh… yeah, okay? Let me know how the protest goes.” Y/n says, waving goodbye to their friends before taking off down the hallway.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes.” Wonyoung immediately scolds as soon as Y/n is out of sight. “I’m sorry, I forgot they don’t know Jungwon planned this.” Ricky states, defensively. “You just need to stop talking in general.” Hikaru rolls her eyes. “Sorry, it’s not my fault I'm so talkative and charming.” Ricky smirks - letting out a yelp as Hikaru slaps his chest.

Y/n thought they knew exactly where Jungwon would be - but as they look around the library confused they see no sight of him. “Um… excuse me ma’am but have you seen Jungwon at all?” Y/n asks the librarian, who immediately lets out a sigh as their eyes scan Y/n up and down.

“Nice to see you’re finally cleaning up your act… but I better not see you two skipping class in here again.” She warns. Y/n nods obediently and the librarian points towards the far tables, where Y/n and Jungwon commonly sit. Y/n’s brows furrow - didn’t they check there?

Y/n thanks the librarian before making their way towards the back of the library. Only one student is sitting there, with their back to Y/n. The bright red hair throws them off for a second but as their eyes land on the schoolbag next to their feet - they immediately recognise a familiar cat keychain.

“Jungwon?” Y/n asks, unsure. The student turns around at the sudden voice - and Y/n immediately recognises him. After all, no one has ever looked at them the way Jungwon does. “...hi.” Jungwon says, biting his lip nervously. Y/n continues to look at him with wide eyes, their gaze locked on his fluorescent strawberry locks.

“...do you like it?”

Like it? He has the audacity to sit there, smiling innocently as if he doesn't look like the hottest new anime character and then ask if Y/n likes it?

“Are you serious right now? Won, you look amazing.” Y/n exclaims in disbelief, pouting slightly as someone a few tables down shushes them. They don’t look to see who the person is - their eyes are busy fixating on Jungwon’s hair. How badly they want to reach out and touch the fiery strands.

As Jungwon suddenly stands, Y/n’s gaze flickers to the rest of his outfit. He’s wearing baggy distressed jeans - covered in rips and pins and cute little doodles. They hang slightly low on his hips, exposing the band of his boxers. The pants are paired with a loose graphic tank top which, as Jungwon stretches his arms slightly, Y/n immediately notices is mildly cropped. All things that the dress code certainly does not allow.

Y/n is rendered speechless, which doesn’t happen very often. Jungwon almost laughs at the shocked, slightly dazed expression on their face. He takes a few steps forward until he and Y/n are standing face to face.

“I’ll take amazing.” Jungwon smiles. Y/n’s face is screwed up with confusion, as their eyes dart between Jungwon’s hair and his outfit. “I’m... so confused… you’re doing the protest?” Y/n asks, causing Jungwon to chuckle slightly. “Y/n… I started the protest.”

Now Y/n has officially short-circuited. Jungwon - the guy who messaged them all those months ago, asking them to follow the dress code; the guy who watched them get detention over and over again for breaking said dress code is standing in front of them with bright red hair and an outfit that doesn’t follow a single dress code rule. Is it some kind of alternate universe?

Meanwhile, Jungwon is eating this up. He expected some sort of reaction (a small part of him was hoping Y/n would immediately leap into his arms but that’s just the delusions talking) and this is certainly a reaction.

“I see you’re not participating.” Jungwon points out, gesturing to Y/n’s outfit. His gaze is playful and Y/n bashfully moves to wrap their (Jungwon’s) jacket tighter around their body. “I didn’t know you were the one who planned all this and… thought it was gonna stress you out… so I didn’t do it.” Y/n mumbles, their voice trailing off. “Cute.” Jungwon smiles, taking note of the subtle blush that spreads across Y/n’s cheeks.

“Why are you protesting? I thought you were okay with the dress code?” Y/n asks, changing the topic. “Well, yeah but you aren’t… you’ve done so much for me Y/n and I wanted to do something for you in return. Something to show that I care about you.” Jungwon says, causing Y/n’s heart to flutter slightly. “You did it… for me?” Y/n asks, an unfamiliar tone in their voice. Jungwon nods wordlessly, his eyes widening as Y/n’s fill up with tears.

“But I was so bad to you. I basically used you and now you’re just giving me what I wanted. What about you? What do you get from this?” Y/n asks, sniffing in an attempt to stop the tears from rolling down their cheeks. Jungwon’s heart clenches at the sight and he immediately reaches forwards to pull Y/n into his arms.

“You weren’t bad to me. You made a mistake, yeah. And it hurt but it also taught us both a lot. I can see, even from your reaction right now, how guilty you are and that shows me you’re different now. I forgive you, Y/n.” Jungwon whispers against Y/n’s head, having to physically hold himself back from pressing gentle pecks to follow his words. “And I’m not just doing this for you, it’s for everyone. There’s nothing wrong with breaking some of the rules, I learnt that from a certain someone.” Jungwon smiles, causing Y/n to giggle slightly against his chest.

Y/n pulls back slightly to look at Jungwon’s face, glancing at his hair and outfit once more in the process. “So… bad boy Jungwon is here to stay?” Y/n asks, causing Jungwon to laugh. “I’d hardly call this bad boy… more like slightly less uptight Jungwon.” Y/n playfully scoffs at this, finally bringing their hands up to brush through Jungwon’s hair. “I don’t know… dyed hair, ripped jeans… what will the teachers think?” Y/n asks sarcastically, squealing slightly as Jungwon pinches their waist. “I don’t care what they think.” He mumbles, pulling Y/n even closer so their faces are only inches apart.

The two fall silent as they stare into each other's eyes. It’s similar to how they were a few nights ago, at Jungwon’s house. Although this time the atmosphere isn’t stiff or awkward. It’s comfortable - like this is exactly where they’re supposed to be.

“I really miss you, Y/n.” Jungwon whispers, his breath gently blowing against Y/n’s skin. His eyes flicker between their eyes and their lips, completely unsure of where to look. “I miss you too.” Y/n whispers back, lowering their hands from his hair to rest securely around the nape of Jungwon’s neck. Y/n can practically see the sense of relief fill Jungwon’s eyes, as his body completely relaxes against theirs. Jungwon leans forward to press his forehead against Y/n’s, his eyes closing for a few moments of bliss before opening again.

“Do you… think we could date for real this time?” Jungwon asks, his eyes full of hope as they stare directly into Y/n’s. It’s almost overwhelming, their closeness. Every sense, every thought, every feeling solely focused on each other - as if nothing and no one else exists in this moment. Y/n takes a second to process Jungwon’s words, their heart and brain working rapidly rushing around to form some kind of response. As the words get stuck in their throat, Y/n resorts to an enthusiastic nod of the head, a quiet whispered “please” following soon after.

That one word was all it took for Jungwon’s eyes to flutter shut, a staggered breath escaping his lips as they stretch out into a dimpled smile. He moves to gently nuzzle his nose against Y/n’s, their lips ghosting over each other’s ever so slightly. They both know what is about to happen but there’s no rush, allowing themselves time to experience being together again. Finally, a few simple words escape Jungwon’s lips before they are fully engulfed by Y/n’s.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

And he does. And it’s electric. Their mouths move together perfectly in sync, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle - as cheesy as it sounds. No amount of proximity is close enough as they pull each other closer and closer as if they won’t be happy until every inch of skin isn’t being touched.

It’s only when their cheesy grins get far too wide to hold back, that the kissing stops. Jungwon switches to pressing gentle pecks against every part of Y/n’s face. Their moment of bliss is quickly interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing, causing Jungwon to pull away slightly.

“Skip class to makeout?” Y/n asks, smirking. “When I said it’s okay to break some rules, that’s not what I meant.” Jungwon fake scolds. “I was just kidding. You’re not the only one who’s changing, I haven’t skipped class in weeks.” Y/n smiles. “Well… let’s not fall back into old habits then.” Jungwon says, leaning down to press one final kiss against Y/n’s lips before grabbing their hand and going to walk them to their class.

“Did you see Mr Jeon is wearing ripped jeans?”

“Wait, what? Like for the protest?”

“I guess so… kind of cool for a teacher to back us up.”

The intense conversation at the lunch table is cut short as Jungwon and Y/n approach, hand in hand. Bahiyyih spots them first, her eyes widening as she notices their intertwining fingers and she immediately points towards the two.

“You’re holding hands!” She exclaims, causing the rest of the group to turn and look at the couple. All hell breaks loose when their eyes land on the couple - you’d think the pair were celebrities with the way their friends are acting.

“I always knew you two would work things out.” Niki smiles innocently, earning a few confused looks from the group. “You put vomit emojis every time we mentioned Y/n for like, weeks.” Jongseob points out, causing Niki to wave him off nonchalantly. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“Wait, so are you two like… dating, dating?” Eunchae asks, her eyes filled with hope. Y/n and Jungwon look at each other for a moment before nodding, causing the group to erupt into a fit of cheers.

“I think they’re more excited than we are.” Y/n mumbles, quiet enough that only Jungwon can hear. “Perks of being the only relationship in the group.” Jungwon replies, his voice purposefully louder to gain the attention of his friends.

“Hey! I could get a girlfriend if I wanted one!”

“As if anyone would want to date you.”

Sighing, Jungwon turns his attention fully to Y/n. “I don’t know if I can deal with this right now… wanna hang out in the library?” He asks “God, yes.” Y/n sighs, reaching to grab a fry off Bahiyyih’s plate. “We’re gonna go, I’ll see you in calc.” They say. “So, it’s back to you ditching us for your boyfriend?” Hikaru teases. “Only sometimes.” Y/n replies before walking out of the cafeteria with Jungwon.

“People are staring at us.” Jungwon comments, as the two walk through the halls. “Probably because your hair looks like a firetruck.” Y/n jokes, causing Jungwon to look at them with a deadpan expression. “I thought you liked my hair…” He mumbles. “I do! But you can’t deny that it sticks out.” Y/n reasons.

As the two turn around the corner towards the library, they are stopped by Mr Jeon walking down the hallway. “I was wondering when I would run into you two.” He says, his eyes subtly flickering to their intertwined hands. “We need to discuss some things… could you meet me in my classroom? I just have to drop off this printing to Mr Kim.”

“Of course, we’ll head there right now.” Jungwon smiles, bowing goodbye to Mr Jeon before dragging Y/n down the hall. “Are we in trouble?” Y/n asks, causing Jungwon to shrug. “I’ve never gotten in trouble with Mr Jeon before. But he is the teacher in charge of the student council so… it’s probably something to do with the dress code.” He says. He notices the nervous look on Y/n’s face and squeezes their hand reassuringly. “It’s gonna be fine… you’re not even really breaking the dress code so if anything, you’ll just watch me get yelled at.”

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

Jungwon and Y/n visibly relax at his words, causing Mr Jeon to chuckle slightly. “We do need to talk about the dress code, though… more specifically, the protest.” Mr Jeon continues. “Since Jungwon was kind enough to email me about this in advance, I wasn’t blindsided by today’s events. And Y/n, I understand that you had nothing to do with this but, given your past involvement I hope you can see the importance of your inclusion in this discussion.”

Mr Jeon is certainly a teacher - even his speaking mannerisms show that. Y/n can’t tell if he’s practised this statement or if this is just the way his brain forms sentences. In all honesty, half of the words went in one ear and out the other, so they just nod along silently and hope that they didn’t just agree to something insane.

“Good. Now, Jungwon. You know I have great trust in you as our student council president and I know you wouldn’t do something to this extreme if you didn’t believe it would benefit the students at our school. With that being said, if you are not clear about what it is you want changed, the change will not happen.” Jungwon nods at Mr Jeon’s words. “I know that completely getting rid of the dress code is unrealistic but there are a handful of the rules that the students believe are unfair - those are the ones we would like changed.” Jungwon says. “I sent an online form to those who are participating in the protest to ask what rules they disagree with, then I was planning on making a presentation and taking it to the school board.”

Mr Jeon’s eyes light up at Jungwon’s preparation and planning. “We have a school board meeting this Friday after school, I would be more than happy to support you with this.” Mr Jeon smiles. Jungwon turns to look at Y/n, who just looks back with a slightly confused expression. They’re still not 100% sure why they’re here. “Okay… I guess I’ll start preparing then.” Jungwon says, smiling slightly as he feels Y/n squeeze his hand reassuringly. He’s got this.

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @latriii @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3 @flamiricky @hanniesss @grayscorner @wonqr @neozon3nha @beomgyusonlywife @ahnneyong @lani-heart @jayujus @str4wb3rizz @yunwonie @danielleismyname @spilled-coffee-cup @jaylans-stuff @oceanmsxoxo @j-wyoung @mrowwww @lazy-miya @shinsou-rii @minkyungseokie @s7noo @beatr2x @thatoneembarrasingmoment @soobawrz

@miumiuoi @lucyinthesky-00 @wrapmeinatortilla

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 year

Text

I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING

Pairings: Ajax Petropolus x Fem!reader Summary: your power to talk to animals leads you to a specific clueless boy Warnings: none

your power didn't really have any use in Nevermore, there wasn't many animals around, other than your bunny rabbit they let stay with you.

so when you hear little voices you don't think much of it, thinking it's just people around you whispering or something.

you were talking Enid when you heard little voiced, you couldn't make out what they were saying as there were so many voices

"do you hear that?" you asked the bubbly girl

"hear what?" she inquired

they started talking again quietly

"that" you reponded

she listened for something but heard nothing interesting

"there's nothing other than the wind, unless you're taking about the cute birds singing" she pointed to the two of blue birds in the tree above you

"That's probably it" you sighed

"oh are you hearing voices again, is that what this is about!" she smiled brightly

"yeah" you nodded your head

"I'd love to talk to animals, you have an amazing power!" she stated in excitement

"I guess it's cool" you looked down sheepishly

"It's not just cool, it's awesome!" she scoffed playfully

you laughed quietly and shrugged the noises off

you're powers only go to a certain extent so when you heard it during class, it left you confused.

they were louder than before and you could make out what they were saying.

"it's A! the answer is A idiot!" you heard. you were doing a little quiz for class

"no, B!" they said again

you forgot about it as you assumed it was just people whispering because an animal would have no reason to say something like that.

you looked beside you to see him, the boy you've liked for ages. the two of you never really talked, only sharing little HI's in the hallways and smiles

"this boy is oblivious" you heard again.

"guys, look! there she is!" you heard

"she's so cute!" another one said

"no wonder Ajax likes her" another squealed

you looked around but saw the whole room was silent, writing answers down on their papers

"are you alright?" he said beside you, making you turn to the boy

"mhm" you hummed in response

"you seem on edge" he stated

you denied it and turned back to the paper, writing the answers

"she's so nice!" a voice whispered

you continued to look down, oblivious to Ajax trying to get his snakes to stay in his beanie.

---

you were sat in the Library, studying for an exam in anatomy, and apparently someone had the same idea.

Ajax was sat across from you, reading his book- although your thought it would be hard to read when the book is upside down.

you got to the part where you would get the most information when you started hearing the voices again

"there she is!" they whispered

"huh?" you lifted your eyes to him

"what?" he raised his eyebrows, looking up at you

"what did you say?" you questioned

"I didn't say anything" he shook his head

"oh" you licked your lips.

"you ok?" he asked nicely

you nodded your head and smiled nervously

"this is so awkward" another voice said

"tell me about it" you muttered

"what?" Ajax smiled up at you

"nothing" you replied quickly

"have you gotten anything, from reading?" he inquired

"a little, I assume you haven't" you smirked

"oh no, this book is very informative, I think I just got smarter" he stated happily

"really? cause I'm just wondering where you learnt to read upside down, I think that would be informative" you giggled under breath

he focused his vision on his book and his face flushed red as he flipped the book right side up

"it happens over time, you 'know. sometimes you just hold it wrong and suddenly you can read it that way. it's like a second language" he tried playing it off

"oh yeah, I bet" you smiled

"fucking idiot" he cursed. but you noticed that his lips didn't move

"honestly this boy is so stupid sometimes"

"and in front of her? embarrassing"

"I know, she's so pretty!"

"he'll never get a shot"

it was only the two of you in the library, other than the librarian, so it wasn't any of you.

it made you look out the window to see birds in a tree and think it was them.

you focused on them and they started talking

"I'm hungry" one of them chirped

"then you should probably eat" another one answered

you looked down at the book and turned the page, trying to go back to studying.

you looked at the image beside the text for the anatomy of a gorgon. looking at the way the snakes slithered out of their heads

"snakes!" you yelled out in realisation, making the poor gorgon boy look up at you concerningly

"pardon?" he stuttered

"you have snake on your head, how could I not realise! that's what I've been hearing!" you cheered in victory

"I'm sorry? what are you talking about?" he furrowed his eyebrows

something in your mind finally clicked and you stood up, closing the book

"oh my god, snakes, your snakes" your eyes widened as you scurried out of the library to your dorm.

"no, where is she going?" another one whined

"he scared her off" another huffed

you were laying down on your bed, watching The Ugly Truth as you snacked on candy when there was a knock on the door.

you groaned, pausing the movie and sitting up to get it

"I swear if this isn't important, I'll have you know, you are interrupting a great movie and I swear-" you swung the door open to see his standing there with a nervous smile on his face

"hi" he greeted

"hey?" you answered confused

"did I do something, you kind off just stormed off the other day without a word, you looked a bit mad. is it my snakes?" he questioned

"I wasn't mad, it's just your snakes- they haven't done anything wrong, I mean they're perfect- well I don't know- they're great, well they stone people so maybe not amazing but- it doesn't matter, I'm not mad" you rambled

"ok" he nodded, shocked at your little outburst

"well, have a good day" you began shutting the door

"stop her!" one of his snakes squeaked

"wait, are you avoiding me?" he held the door

"no, I just really want to get back to the movie" you smiled awkwardly

"oh, ok" he licked his dry lips

"hey, I'm sorry for my snakes, by the way. They've been really annoying lately, I can't get them to stay in my beanie" he sighed

"hey!" they all yelled

"you know I can talk to them right?" you questioned sheepishly

"huh? oh yeah, right. you can talk to animals" he realised

some of them came out of the beanie to look at you, telling you to tell he sucks. making you giggle

"what? what's funny? did they say something?" the boy panicked

you shrugged with a small smirk

but they told you something else that made Ajax think you were mad about

"how about that?" you smiled

"what now? I'm really sorry for them, they're liars, don't trust them, everything they say it's the opposite" he groaned, pulling his beanie over them

"oh, so you hate me then?" you asked

"what- no, I-"

"well that's what you said, and if they're not trustworthy then, I can't trust them" you teased him

"no- no I like you" he hurriedly admitted

"do you now. cause apparently that's not what they said or meant" you crossed your arms

he was silent for a minute, stumped at what to say

"please, he's too nervous to say it" his snake came out, another following

"he's swoon, he's just too nervous, trust us, we share the same brain as this working progress" another hissed

"oh really?" you grinned at them, reaching to stroke them

"aren't you guys beautiful" it they leaned into your hand

"they're not beautiful, they're ugly" Ajax looked down

"hey! they're apart of you, if you call them that, you call yourself that, and you are anything but that word, they're gorgeous, and so are you" you confessed

"you think so?" he blushed

"oh come on, don't tease the poor boy, he's too shy for this" one of his snakes whined

"is he now?" you tilted your head

"what? what did they say?" he gulped

"nothing that concerns you" you shook your head, reaching up to hold his cheek

"yeah, well I'm concerned" he worried

"stop worrying so much" you batted your eyelashes at him

"stop doing that, it's not fair" he pouted

"do what? what am I doing?" you bit your lips cheekily

"that, now what have they been telling you" he demanded cutely

"fine, they've been saying that you hate me and that they think I deserve better" you lied

"what! no, I like you. I mean you do probably deserve better but please believe me, I really like you" he ranted

"I know" you beamed up at him

"what" he blinked

"you're adorable" your nose scrunched

"you're mean" he whispered

"kiss him already, we're all waiting" they all whined

"no, I'll kiss him when he kisses me" you said out loud just to tease him.

suddenly his lips were on yours, kissing you passionately as he grabbed your waist.

you smiled against his lips as he walked you back into your room, kicking the door shut behind him as he lead you to your bed.

"why'd it take you this long" you mumbled, leaning back for air as your cupped his cheeks

"I don't know" he pulled you back in

"maybe he did have a shot" one snake giggled

you felt a few of his snakes curl up to your skin, one making nest in the crook of your neck an a few licking your forehead and cheek as you kissed him

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

#ajax wednesday #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus #wednesday addams #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #wednesday 2022 #short imagine #imagine #cute #fluff

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necronatural · 2 months

Note

how come you're a "Dante was never real and is a construct made by Angela" truther? idk nothing about that theory or why it's supported by dante's (heh) meltdown

It's not just the meltdown, it's the specificity of their rescue of aeng-du and the kind of lore we're getting.

dante is instructed to extract someone for information.

dante comes across aeng-du and identifies her as the person they need based on "gut feeling". they do reason that the basis is of their feeling is because of how the company tends to set them up, so the way my thoughts switch hard on this was a conspiracy theorist brain pretzel. My thinking is that they identified her because she was a book in the library, and it's why Dante specifically should be the one to pick her up.

aeng-du explains 2 things: the library and the location of kim. because limbus company already had information on kim, they wanted her extracted to get a firsthand account of the library.

iori was the one who suggested the distortion-centric fixer company, yet she is presumably the one who sent those people to kill dante, the presumed manager of a division of that very company. what gives? (my previous theory was that they stole a branch from her. <- LOL)

until this point it was kind of self-evident that the branch is giving dante freaky spacetime powers due to direct access to the Light. but we witness dante having a full-on meltdown. One thing that stuck out to me is the mundanity of it. The cast has either an intimate or a superficial understanding of everything Dante is saying. So why is it important? It isn't a crazy word slurry.

It sounds like they're reciting an eroded text.

And finally, the end of the story update, Vergilius mentions offhand that he himself is waiting for the lore drop; he is depending purely on Faust, who seems singularly responsible for the LCB, and what info she's deigning to give.

Overall, the update was about the mechanics of Limbus Company, from Acquisitions to After to Distortions, and what they prioritize; Distortions and information on the Library, which is the cause of distortions.

Conclusion?

Dante is a construct made by Angela. Constructs cannot leave the Library, but they are being artificially sustained by the Light present within the branch. They're a construct of a separate person, and the facsimile deteriorated due to the improper use of ■■■. The rewinding death function is also the core gameplay loop of Ruina; Dante is using that same process on their own crew. They resemble the Outskirts clock monsters intentionally; Faust - who is dropping anvil sized hints about being an ex-lobcorp employee - is a Librarian, and witnessed these monsters personally. Iori doesn't want Dante doing anything too crazy because they aren't real; there are not a wide array of universes where they exist. She would know them exclusively in terms of the purpose they were built for. This significantly thins the avenues of attack, and Vergilius would put a lot of faith in that, even if he's never been told why the fuck Dante is a free radical and is kind of annoyed and confused this is who he's working with.

I don't think this is a theory that explains everything, or even most things; who was Dante made out of (carmen without a doubt funniest possible option), what is ■■■ (may be library/도서관), what is the "aspect" Dante is trying to carve, how this helps the library, all of that is very ????. But isn't the tension delicious when you think about it that way.

#asks #limbus company

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rosie-b · 4 months

Text

Centuries Overdue

Summary:

Long ago, an evil Darkness spread across Europe, claiming the lives of many in the magic community. Trained by Plagg himself, Adrien made it his mission to stop the Darkness before it snuffed out the lives of more Mages and Talents, as it did to his own parents. Though he seemed to succeed in his mission, the pages of his old journals tell a different tale.

In the modern world, Marinette is a fashion student, working at a small library for the summer to earn extra credit. She’s never believed in magic before, but when she finds the old Agreste journals in her library, her beliefs about reality begin to crumble. Determined to find the truth, both about magic and the unsolved death of one Adrien Agreste, Marinette begins on a journey that will eventually lead her deep into the city’s catacombs, where an ancient force sleeps, but is ready to awaken once more…

Read chapter 1 on AO3 or below! I hope you enjoy 💕

Excerpt from the eighth journal of Adrien Agreste, written at Sassolungo Castle in Italy, on the first of November 1809.

There are times when I think myself unfit to be called a Traveler, much less an Adventurer, for my Heart longs for the feeling of Home above all these foreign cliffs and castles. Still, at times like this I am reminded of how necessary my Travels are and why I must continue them.

At first, my only desire was to honor my Parents. That was the Feeling, the unabating Urge, which drove me to the treacherous Forests of the Harz Mountains, to the Supljara Cave, and to even the farthest reaches of Europe, but with Time’s passing a new Desire grows within me.

There is something wild growing in the Darkness; when I close my Eyes I can feel it growing. It is a most disturbing Feeling, and one I am not alone in noticing. The Mages of Tikki and Plagg have felt it also, and have noted its Growth. It cares not for the Moon, nor the Stars, nor the Sun, but its Presence continues to spread unchecked at all times.

I fear if we do not find its cause ere the spring festivals’ start, it will prove too powerful to be Destroyed, and so I have made it my business to uncover its Secrets. This Darkening is surely a sign of a stronger, more sinister Magic, and I fear that there are things darker and still more guileful to come of it. I must make all Haste to prevent its growth, which is why I must journey to the edges of Light, to the place where my parents died…

_-*-_ _-*-_ _-*-_ _-*-_

It was Marinette’s first day at work.

The small library was much bigger than Marinette had expected, or at least it felt that way. In half an hour’s worth of shelf reading, she’d only gotten through four shelves, not nearly as many as she’d hoped to check. She had decided to blame it on the call numbers; the way they were printed on the books varied depending on when they had been added to the collection, and she was finding that made older ones difficult to read. Those numbers, written in fading black ink directly on the books’ covers, were the hardest to make out, and she’d wasted several minutes trying to tell 8s and 6s apart.

But it was almost time for her lunch break, so Marinette jotted down her progress on the chart the head librarian had given her and returned to the circulation desk, where an old man was insisting that the new computers did not work, or if they did, they were far too confusing for an eighty-year-old to understand.

“I’m just trying to log into my email account, but I can’t even find the right button to turn the thing on,” the man said, tapping his cane on the floor emphatically.

“I can help with that!” Marinette folded her paper and set it down. “If you’ll just lead me to the computer you were using, I can get you signed in, no problem!”

The other library intern, whose lunch break came just before Marinette’s, smiled gratefully at her. She grinned back. Some people didn’t like this part of the job, but to Marinette it didn’t seem so bad. Then again, it was only her first day as an intern.

“Oh, thank you!” The man seemed very relieved, and he slowly began making his way over to the computers. He lowered himself into the third chair from the left with a heavy sigh. “I’ve already tried jiggling the mouse, but I don’t know if it’s even connected, because nothing’s happening.”

Marinette frowned and glanced at the monitor. The power button was hidden at the back of the screen, so she carefully turned the monitor around to check. As she thought, the button wasn’t glowing. She pressed it once and waited for it to turn green, and within seconds, the monitor was displaying its login screen.

“There you go, sir. Log in as a guest and let me know if you have problems getting to your email. Okay?”

The man smiled and clapped his hands together, knocking over his wooden cane. “Thank yo— oh! Thank you again, miss,” he laughed as Marinette picked up the cane and handed it to him. “Don’t know why they’re hiding the important buttons behind the screen these days. Made me look like a fool, didn’t it?”

Marinette smiled. “It just takes a while to get used to. And don’t worry, I was happy to help!”

The old man waved as Marinette turned to walk back to the desk.

That wasn’t so bad, she thought cheerfully. At least I’m doing some things right at this job.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not a librarian, nor did she have any intention of becoming one. But it was summer break, and she wanted to get a head start on internship credits for university. All the fashion houses in Paris had already chosen interns; luckily, it didn’t matter where the internship was as long as it provided some of the same skills working at a fashion house would, which this position did. It wasn’t even hard to get, since most people looking to work at a library applied to the François-Mitterrand Library, ignoring this smaller location, which was a mere municipal library not part of the BnF. The position paid decently well, and it guaranteed Marinette the extra credit she needed to give her a boost at university.

I already have a robust resume anyway, she had told herself when she’d been debating whether to apply to the little Bourgeois Library or not. Being Jagged Stone’s favorite costume and album designer has to count for something! And my designs have been featured in Style Queen a few times, too. Next year, I can have my pick of Paris’ fashion houses to work at.

It was time for Marinette’s lunch break, so she clocked out and grabbed the lunch her mother had packed. Normally, she would have gone somewhere else to make the most of her break, but she wanted to explore the library a bit more. There were lots of rooms on both levels of the renovated building, and she wanted to be able to guide patrons to the right section of books when they asked without getting lost.

With this in mind, Marinette finished her reheated croque monsieur and ventured off to explore. There were still forty minutes left of her break according to the new watch on her wrist — plenty of time to acquaint herself with the building.

The children’s area was downstairs, a colorful section full of picture books, games, movies, audiobooks, and bright-colored bean bag chairs. It wasn’t as full as it usually was, the children’s librarian said, but on weekends especially there were dozens of children and parents at a time filling the area.

On the far side of the basement was the young adult area. It hadn’t been renovated along with the rest of the building, and the gray shelves of books, old video games, DVDs, and three comic books looked unappealing to Marinette, and apparently to the rest of the young adult population, as there was only one person in the area. They sat in the lone, wooden chair by the poster advertising the youth group’s fall meeting schedule, looking at something on their laptop.

Marinette squinted as she made out the lone tuft of white hair on top of the visitor’s head. At least they’re young at heart, she thought with a shrug.

Back upstairs, there were three big rooms and one smaller one, with a central area where the laptop and computer desks sat, as well as the circulation desk, several sofas, and wood tables with cushioned chairs. Then, the three larger connected rooms — the North room held the nonfiction area, the West held fiction, and the East room had everything from large print to a kindle station to an open dictionary.

The last room Marinette visited was the smallest. It had a red carpet, large south-facing windows, a wooden globe atop a low shelf of foreign-language books, and a small, one-sided shelf of old, leather books facing the sun. On the other side of the shelf, there was a lone, wooden table in front of one red velvet chair.

Marinette walked around the room, gave the globe a couple spins, and stood by the central shelf to examine the books. A golden metal sign on it read that these were part of a special collection, and were not able to be checked out, although anyone could read them while within the library. They’d been donated by the Bourgeois family at the start of the library’s usage, and had remained there ever since.

But there weren’t any more librarians in the Bourgeois family; they had moved on to politics halfway through the last century and hadn’t looked back. Marinette supposed they were happy being richer, but a single library donation in the 1800s wasn’t enough charity work to persuade her to vote for Mayor Bourgeois in the upcoming election.

Marinette looked closer at the collection of books. Was it just her, or did it look like the old books were rusting? Small piles of red dust sat at the edges of the shelves, and the spines of many of the books were cracked, allowing her to see the threads that were binding them together.

She gingerly picked a book off the shelf, noting the cloud of dust it created; the way the spine threatened to crack in two at her touch; the brittle, yellow pages; and, with a look of disgust, the way it seemed to instantly suck all the moisture from her skin.

She immediately put the book back. Her hands were now covered in red dust from the cover.

Marinette rubbed her fingertips together, trying to get the dust off, but it seemed to have sunk deep into the lines of her skin.

Wonderful.

Marinette headed to the bathroom and washed her hands (and then washed them again when the dust didn’t come off the first time). Her break was almost over, anyway, so she might as well head back to the desk. Before she did, she stopped in the South room one more time, looking for the name of the book’s publisher so she could know who was responsible for her mishap.

The Journals of Adrien Agreste, vol. 3, read the half-attached spine of the book, which apparently had no publisher and was more of a diary than anything else.

Well, who would put that in a library? Marinette wondered. No wonder you can’t check it out. The first thing anyone would do with it after they left the building would be toss it in the trash just to spare future patrons.

And she walked back to the desk, taking long, confident strides and silently cursing this Adrien person for writing in books that would fall apart so easily. She wouldn’t be returning to that room anytime soon.

_-*-_ _-*-_ _-*-_ _-*-_

Excerpt from the eighth journal of Adrien Agreste, written in Munich, Bavaria, on the fourth of November 1809.

Being an Orphan is less tragic than one might expect. It puts me in good company, and it guarantees a kind of Sympathy from most people I meet. Emphasizing the sorrowful Look of a young Orphan helped me secure many a meal when I was younger and traveling, often Alone, back to Plagg’s cave after my parents’ death. Nevertheless, when I am by myself, I am struck by the Guilt and Sorrow I felt on the day I lost them… Some wounds take too long to heal.

Since to the best of my Memory I have never written about the Disaster before in these journals, I suppose I should put it here. It wouldn’t do to let it be forgotten, after all, and it may aid me in recalling the Dangers of Blå Jungfrun, the destination of this journey.

My mother’s Spirit was more adventurous than my father’s; the voyage to Blå Jungfrun was her Idea. There used to be a circle of Mages on the island, but an inhospitable Darkness drove them out. My mother wanted to see if, since much Time had passed since then, the island was safe once more, and she planned to do this using her Talent. My father was against the idea at first, arguing that neither of them had the ability to use Magic, only to detect and defend it through their Talents.

At that time, it was unknown to me that I had a Mage’s Gift, not the simpler Talent my parents had. They were afraid of the dangers Mages face, and tried to spare me from Harm by holding the knowledge of my magic back from me. Untrained as I was, I could not even sense Magic, and I was completely dependent on my parents to sniff out Curses and other Evils for me. My father mentioned this, too, but my mother was unswayed.

To her sensible mind, the Talents of my parents were more than enough to protect themselves and me from lurking Dangers. And no-one had visited Blå Jungfrun in nearly a century. Whatever Darkness once lived there, it had nothing to sustain it. Surely, it must be dead, she told my father.

Wanting to please his wife, and trusting in her own trust, he agreed to take me to Blå Jungfrun, island of the Blue Maiden.

The journey through Sweden was pleasant from what I remember. There are two groups of Mages in the South of that country, Ravlunda’s group being the largest. I plan to stop there on my own journey, which I pray will not be as ill-fated as my parents’ was.

Departing for Blå Jungfrun from Oskarshamn, my parents took a small boat, protected by Charms given to them by the Mages of Ravlunda. I went with them, and my clothes were similarly protected by Charms for extra safety, while my parents did not wear charms on theirs. There was one Mage from Oskarshamn who came with us, and she had the foresight to wear already-charmed clothing. That is how she and I escaped from the Dark Island.

The Island itself is nothing special. There are trees and rocks covering a large hill, which is otherwise barren. The locals have long feared that place, and call it the Mountain of Witches. They are not far off, except in time, since the Mages have long abandoned it.

The Ocean’s strange waves had floated the Boat a little way from the Shore; since there was no dock to tie our boat to, this had been expected. My parents and the Mage waded out to the boat where I still was, having spent less than five minutes on Shore, and that is when the Darkness struck.

It had sensed our Presence, and gathered into a Storm, fully visible even to me, and too powerful to be banished by the Mage. It was all she could do to keep the boat, and me in it, afloat as it threatened to capsize and was pulled still further out. By now my parents had to swim, their feet unable to touch ground under the water, and the Mage as well. I was frightened and did not know what to do, though I strove with all my might to row the boat back to my parents, and all the while the Darkness was growing until at last a Tendril reached out from the storm and dragged my mother fully under the waves.

My father dove in after her, thinking to save her, as the Mage climbed into the boat and cast a protective Spell just strong enough to create a sphere of safety in the Storm. We searched and searched as the Storm raged on, hoping to find my parents resurfaced, or to see their forms in the water and haul them into the Boat. But they were forever lost to the Darkness. We never found them, and for our own safety, the Mage determined that we must head away from the Island, which was the only place the Darkness seemed to draw power from.

I went back to Plagg’s cave, which is hidden in the Harz mountains, and stayed with the Mages there until I was old enough to take up my parents’ mission and travel again, recording the Darkness, keeping peace between Mages as their countries went to war again and again, and eventually learning of the Magic that was hidden inside me.

I have been lucky enough to take lessons from Plagg himself during his visits to the Cave, however impossible to understand and often of little help to a peaceful traveler like myself said Lessons are.

But now, if the Darkness is spreading, then I will need all the spells he taught me and more.

As I set out to the Blue Maiden, I plan for my journey to be a slow one. This is only in part due to the Ocean not being safe during winter. I will stay in Bavaria for a while and take lessons from the Mages of Mullo. Then I will move on to Leipzig and Berlin, should the fighting (for there is always War now) allow it, and finally to Świnoujście and from there to Sweden. Along the way, I hope to gather a small group of stout-hearted Mages to aid me in my Fight.

I must take the Time to carefully prepare to face whatever twisted Mage is at the heart of this Darkness, for I grow ever surer that there is one. Darkness does not move on its own, but it relies on Servants to work for it.

Let those Servants beware, for if I find them, I will not show them Mercy.

Author’s note: This is the first chapter of my fic for the @mlbigbang!! There are eight chapters total and I’ll be updating weekly, on Thursdays. I’d like to thank all the mods for helping this event go smoothly, my three beta readers (Angel, Helios, and my sister @poorschilpad) for keeping me on track, and my two amazing artists, @acise and @nireu-art for their crazy cool work. You guys are the best! 💕

#ml fanfic #rosie-b writing #miraculous ladybug #ml au #centuries overdue #i do recommend viewing it on ao3 because i used a super cool work skin so it looks superior to this version

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starhvney · 1 month

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my first time w this but can I rq zenix x short fem reader? one shot or hc or anything atp i can survive off crumbs alone

(mystreet and maybe they have a playful banter dynamic? (dying i am so shy)(if no then thats okay u can delet this :3))

𝐏𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐀𝐊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: zenix x short!fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he won’t let you exist without giving you the daily reminder that you’re short

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slice of life, zenix and reader playfully argue and banter, zenix doesn't know how to admit his feelings ever

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: yes, i can! this is so cute, anon! i went ahead and added headcanons and a small drabble to this. it’s not super long, but i hope i was able to write what you wanted. you’re my first request so thank you, i hope you enjoy! (i might make a one shot going more in depth on this dynamic but i wanted to get this out asap for you :))

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

☆ it doesn’t matter what age you two met, he’s always going to tease you for your height

☆ in high school, before he could ever admit his feelings for you (because that would be so lame and not hardcore), he would use teasing as a way to talk and flirt with you while still keeping his composure and pride.

it was so close, yet so far out of reach. you strained your calves as your fingers barely brushed the top shelf.

“c’mon!” you quietly groan to yourself, hopping and once again missing the book above you.

a quiet snort can be heard from behind you, causing you to narrow your eyes and turn to the noise. zenix leans on the bookshelf, his hand covering his nose and mouth as looks up through dark lashes at you with a poorly concealed grin. his eyes crinkled and lifted up, and the tenseness in his shoulders gave away that he was really trying not to laugh.

“what? aren’t you gonna help me?” you accuse, pointing a finger in his direction.

he drops his hand, the amused smirk on his lips annoyingly prominent as he crosses his arms and lifts his chin up, another annoying laugh leaving his lips.

“no, i think i’ll just watch from here.”

your eyebrows pinch together and your nose scrunches up in annoyance. with narrowed eyes you look him up and down. what was he even doing in the library?

“whatever, you probably can’t read the title anyways.”

“…what?!” his voice raised in confusion. his little smirk is gone as his jaw drops and his eyebrows furrow.

“besides, i may be short, but that doesn’t make you tall. you’re probably also too short to reach this book.” you continue to taunt, satisfied at the annoyed red hue growing on his cheeks.

“WHAT?!” he exclaims, this time much too loud for the library.

“you two, out of my library now! you’re being way too loud. you’re old enough to know basic manners in a library.” the librarian appears from the end of the aisle, an annoyed look on her tense face as one hand rests sternly on her hip and the other points at the door.

“but, i wasn’t-“

“now!”

you two silently walk out of the library doors, before you turn to zenix with narrowed eyes.

“that’s your fault.”

“huh? no it’s not, you started it!”

“no, you did!”

“no-“ he cuts himself off with an annoyed groan, shoving something in your face rather abruptly.

grabbing on to it, you move it away to see what it was. it was the book you were trying to reach. you look back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“what?! you said i couldn’t reach it, but i could, easily!”

“but it’s still not checked out, so you stole it.”

“borrowed without asking.”

“well, you still did what i asked you. for someone so much taller and cooler than me you’re pretty gullible, huh?”

his face turns red again, mouth stuttering open before snapping back shut. he narrows his eyes at you before quickly snatching the book up and taking off down the hallway.

“hey! zenix, what the hell!” you take off after him.

“see if your short legs can keep up!”

he landed you two in more trouble soon after for running and yelling in the halls.

☆ sometimes he’d slip up, showing how he really felt about you… in his own, zenix way.

“your hands are tiny.” he suddenly notes. burnt, red-brown eyes narrow down at your hands.

“huh?” you stretch your hand out in the air.

zenix’s larger, warmer hand meets yours, palm to palm as he compares the difference. it’s enough for the tips of his fingers to curl a bit over yours, you glance back at him with raised eyebrows. his messy brown hair hangs in his face, but doesn’t hide his softened expression as he concentrated on your hands touching.

he makes eye contact with you, cheeks bursting into flames as he fumbles for an excuse.

“it must be because you’re so short.” he blurts out.

“feeling bold today, zenix?” gene’s voice startles the both of you, your hands both shooting back down to your laps.

“what- i don’t know what you’re talking about!”

☆ as you two get older, it eventually evolves into much more playful banter, and everybody is used to this just being your dynamic.

☆ you don’t get as irritated about it, but zenix still loves making use out of your height difference.

you two stand in line in the coffee shop, eyes squinting as you read the menu, when you feel the weight of zenix’s arm on top of your head. rolling your eyes, you glance up at zenix with a half-assed glare as he leans on you.

“really?”

he barely spares you a glance from the menu, raising an eyebrow as if he was confused what your problem was.

“what?”

you roll your eyes before looking back up at the menu.

"you're not even that tall."

"i'm taller than you, pipsqueak."

a huff leaves your lips. you stiffen your hand straight, before ramming it quickly into his side. he grunts as he hunches over, his arm leaving your head to clutch his side. he finally shoots a half-assed glare back to you, before moving his arm back up to rest on your shoulder instead. this time you don't complain.

“what are you getting?”

“…caramel macchiato.”

“…yeah, same.”

#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #mystreet x reader #x reader #zenix x reader #aphmau zenix #mystreet zenix #zenix

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