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hwanchaesong · 3 days

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☞🍹First Drink: He has lost himself in the sea of vodka and rum, so, why don't you do him the honor of bringing him back down here on earth. 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Alone Again

wc: 738

genre & warnings: angst (heavy lmao), fluff, comfort, mentions of being high and drunk, cursing, pet name, Mark is a celebrity but not an idol & reader is a normal college student etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The loud bang of the door being harshly opened and shut jolted you awake, panicking for a second before you recognized the slurring voice of your fiancé.

You hurriedly went downstairs, worried for his well-being. It's unusual for him to come home drunk or high and cause a ruckus, and if it does happen, that means that something is bothering him.

"Mark?" you called, then you followed his humming, leading you to the kitchen, and there you saw his collapsed body on the floor.

Cautiously walking up to him, your hands went to his shoulders, and that seemed to wake him up from his misplaced slumber.

"Baby!" he mused, pulling you out of the blue, and that left you no choice but to stumble with him onto the tiled floors of your kitchen, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Mark." you plopped yourself up using your elbows, landing a palm over his chest that was heaving up and down steadily, "Is everything okay?"

His eyes shot wide open, gaze focused on you and it made you squirm, uneasy at his piercing glassy orbs.

"I'm tired of this bullshit." he mutters, devoid of emotion and you know that this is one of the nights where he's losing himself.

"Hm? Tell me more." you mumble, sitting up and gently cradling his head, putting it on your lap so he could be more comfortable.

He sighs in content, his mouth opening to speak whilst you tread your fingers in his inky hair soothingly.

"I am tired of people telling me what to do, how to act. It's like I'm only breathing for their satisfaction. I can't live with this fake life anymore."

He rambles and you listen, your heart aching at his hardships.

You will never fully understand the difficulties of being in the spotlight, as your life is as mundane as it could be.

You are a simple university student, studying hard to get your dream job that will pay for your expenses, born in an ordinary family and living in a medium-sized apartment.

He on the other hand is a famous guitarist and singer in a world-class boy band. He stands on top of luxury and stardom, and the pressure and expectations bring nothing but insanity.

That is where you come in, the normalcy in his hectic celebrity life, the main reason why Mark loves you so much.

You complete him in ways that no one else can. With you, he can say his inner, darkest thoughts and emotions without any doubts because he is secure in your presence.

Your hands went to his cheeks, massaging it tenderly before pinching it, making him whine in slight pain.

"Then rest here, breathe here, and live an honest life here with me." you say, and that's the only thing you can offer because there is no way you'd tell him to stop what he's doing.

Mark loves his job, you are well aware of that, so to give him advice about it is a big no no. That would be disrespectful for him and his ambitions.

This is the best option, to give him solace and joy when he needs it the most.

"I told you before, right?" you continue your mini speech of motivation for your beloved, "I am always here to support you. To make you feel safe. I am here to charge your battery when it's empty. After that, I'll let you go and have the time of your life performing."

"And if I get tired again?" he asks, his hands flying to wrap around your own.

"Then the cycle restarts. Come back home to me and I'll give you energy." you answered confidently, intertwining your fingers with his and resting it on his separate shoulders.

Appreciation fills Mark's heart, he would be lost if it's not for you.

"How will you do that?" he mused, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

You smile lovingly, leaning down and pressing a passionate yet soft kiss on his lips.

Beyond perfect, love personified is in the shape of you, and Mark wouldn't have it any other way.

You remind him of who he truly is, ground him back on earth when his mind flies a little bit too high, you heal his wounded heart and soul.

In this journey that he took, there would be times where he'll be left alone, but with you by his side, he's never lonely.

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @shakalakaboomboo @mystverse

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dragon-kazansky · 2 days

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Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Nine - Piece of me

☆☆☆

You stand beside Dream as you stare at the old depleted building. On your way here, Dream had explained to you Hob Gadling. Once a century, they would meet in this pub. Dream would ask Hob about his experiences and his life, seeing if he really wanted to continue living.

You were fascinated. It dawned on you that you and Hob had something in common. Both of you would live forever.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for." Dreak looks at you curiously.

"Still, this place meant something to you."

"The pub wasn't going to last forever."

"I suppose not..."

As you look around the fence, you spot a red line drawn right across the metal. You reach out and trace the words 'The New Inn' with your finger. "Do you think this is important?"

Dream reads the words and then follows the line with his eyes. He begins to wall in that direction. You follow him.

You end up outside a very pretty building. A little pub. There are people sitting outside in the garden having a drink in the sun. You smile slightly at the sight. It was fascinating to you.

"Do you think he's in there?" You ask.

"Perhaps."

Dream walks slowly toward the building, and you continue to follow him. Inside was nice and cool. You look around. The pub wasn't huge, and you liked that. The woman behind the bar smiles at you as you walk past.

Dream leads you further into the pub and comes to stop. You look up at him and then follow his gaze. There's a handsome man sitting by himself at a table grading papers in front of him.

The man looks up slowly and then smiles. "You're late."

Morpheus smiles, too. "It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."

Hob gestures to the chair opposite him. Morpheus pulls the chair out and then looks at you, offering it to you instead. You seem a little startled by that, expecting him to just sit down. You take the seat and watch Dream pull up another chair.

"And who's this?" Hob asks, smiling at you.

Dream speaks your name. You smile softly and feel rather bashful under Hob’s gaze.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too," you smile at him.

Hob turns to Dream and raises his brows up with a smile. Morpheus smiles back, not giving away anything else.

The two old friends catch up. Hob talks to Dream about many different things, and you listen with great interest. You had missed out on so much.

Dream shares his story with Hob. You find it hard to look at either of them while Dream talks. You're ashamed for what your family had done to him.

"Hey." You look up when Hob calls out quietly to you. "You're safe now. I'm sure he doesn't hold any malice toward you for what happened. Right?" Hob looks at Dream.

Morpheus looks at you. "I do not. You are not the reason I was trapped there. But being trapped there was the reason I found you."

You don't really know what to say to that. You stare at him. Your mind is riddled with thoughts and feelings.

Hob looked between the two of you and smiled softly. "Are you two together?"

You both turn to him.

"Yes." "No!"

You turn to Dream. "We're not... together."

He looks at you. "Are we not?"

"Of course not."

He leans forward a little bit and looks at you a little closer. "Are we not bonded?"

"Well, yes... but..."

"That is enough for me," he says.

"But..." The words die on your tongue. You feel a little confused by what he thinks. Did he assume that automatically meant you were both a couple?

"I think you've still got some things to figure out. Forgive me for asking," Hob says softly.

"It's alright..." You assure him.

Hob gets up to order a round of drinks, and you sit next to Dream awkwardly. He keeps his eyes on you while you both wait for Hob to return.

"Do you dislike me?" He asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you dislike me?"

"No." You shake your head. "I'm just not sure what it is you want out of this."

"I thought that was obvious," he replies.

"I meant we could be friends. Being soupmates doesn't mean we have to be in love or anything." You look at him. He sits there quietly, staring at you. "You're looking for a lover?"

"I've had lovers before. I want something... different."

"Different?"

"More," he clarifies.

You drop your gaze to the table and sigh softly. He wants someone he can love unconditionally without dear of them leaving him. You glance up to see he's still looking at you, and you're not sure what to do. Luckily, Hob returns. He places a drink in front of each of you and looks at you both.

"Are you against me having feelings for you?" Dreams asks softly.

"No. I just... I'm still learning about you. I haven't even really spent much time in your realm. It's kind of overwhelming being a human one day and then the soulmate of a cosmic entity the next."

Dream's lips curl into a tiny little smile.

Hob looks between you both again. He's kind of amused by his old friend. He never really imagined him as a romantic type, but it's clear he wants something with you.

"Do you hold no feelings at all for me?" Dream then asks.

"No, I... I'm curious about you, but I can't say I'm in love with you or anything. Are you lonely?" You ask.

"Perhaps."

"It makes sense why you want this to be more, but I don't think we're compatible like that."

"No?"

"You're just so... different." You look at him with a sorry expression. He can tell you're trying to be sincere.

"Because I am not mortal?"

"Because you're so closed off."

He stares at you for a good few long moments and then casts his eyes away. It's not like he doesn't know what you mean. He's just ashamed it had to be said out loud.

He just wants you to like him.

"You will stay in the Dreaming with me, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall ask no more lf you," he says, looking back at you once more. You look into his pretty blue eyes and find your heart skips a beat.

Hob picks up the conversation with Dream again, and they talk between them some more. You listen and chime in every so often, but for the most part, your mind drifts.

You wonder what will come of this bond you share with the Sandman.

☆☆☆

Once again, you stand in the palace within the Dreaming. This time, you have time to actually take it in. You can tell just by looking around that Dream himself designed every little part of his realm.

He was obviously proud of his work. The rook he gave you was designed by him, too. You can tell he went to a lot of effort to make sure you would be comfortable here. He clearly wanted you to like your new home.

Home.

The Burgess mansion never really felt like home. It became your prison. Now you had a home. A home unlike anything you could have imagined before. It made you feel warm.

A knock on your door makes you snap out of your thoughts. You turn and call out, letting the person know they could enter. Dream steps into your room and your heartbeat picks up.

"How are you settling in?" He asks kindly.

"It's a very nice room. I'll be quite comfortable in here."

"Good." He walks over to the bed where you're sat and stands about a foot away. You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to work out what he wants to say.

"Are you alright?" You ask.

You see the way his posture straightens slightly. There was clearly something he wanted to say.

"I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?"

"A declaration if you will. I want to give you a piece of myself as a sign of my loyalty and devotion to you."

You stare at him in a mix of shock, confusion, and awe. "A piece of you?"

"A portion of my power. I offer it to you as a gift."

"You don't need to do that," you tell him, worried about what that would entail.

"I want to."

You look at him, really look at him, and see the way his eyes subtly plead with you to do this for him. You realise then just how much he holds you in high regard.

"Alright..."

Dream lifts his chin up a little and then holds out his hand. You stare at his pale hand for a moment before taking it. He pulls you up to your feet carefully and then pulls you a little closer to him. His hand remains clasped around yours. You keep your gaze on his face and watch as he closes his eyes. Your hand starts to tingle, and you look down to see what looks like golden sand around your entwined hands. You gasp softly as you feel a strange warmth bubbling in your chest and then as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

Dream opens his eyes and gazes at you. He holds your hand in his, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin.

"How do you feel?"

You look up at him and take a moment to think, to feel. "I don't know."

Dream lifts your hand slowly up to his lips and kisses your knuckles gently. You can't seem to tear your eyes away as he lowers your hand and let's go. You feel his fingers slip from your grasp like sand.

"I will teach you how to use this power if you will let me."

All you can manage to do is not quietly, unable to use your voice right now. You feel warm. You feel safe. You feel his love through your veins.

This was his way of telling you how he felt.

You look down at your hand. The sand is gone. The tingle is no longer there. However, you can still feel the phantom warmth of his hand in yours.

"What do I do with this power?" You ask softly.

"You help me here in the Dreaming." He smiles slightly. He is proud of this step He has taken.

You close your hand and look up at him. You offer him a smile.

He looks relieved.

This new life of yours starts now.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

#heart of the Dreaming #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #female reader #the sandman #dragon writes

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unganseylike · 1 day

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for others who disliked adams greywaren ending, what do you think about the part of his ending with transferring schools?

Personally, i can see arguments for transferring (in terms of adam not having his fantasized perfectly linear path to success), but i want to see him stay and deal with his lies and mistakes. ik that sounds mean, but i intend it in the kindest way possible. like it could be helpful for him to distance himself from the person he invented at harvard and try again, but i want him to contend with that and reconcile his invention with the person he really is; i don’t think they are mutually exclusive!

maybe this comes down to your opinion of his crying club- whether you think theyre really his friends or not- but to me, i don’t think this effort to build community was wrong, even though it was unhealthy that he had to lie about his background to do it. i think adam needs to think about why he had this drive to create a friend group and why he felt like he couldn’t be the same person he was in henrietta. i want him to feel like he can be honest with the crying club, or at least that he can his genuine self with people outside the gangsey. he doesnt have to suddenly dump the whole truth on them, but i wish he could slowly let himself trust them, as they have trusted him with their troubles.

Obviously it was important for him and his character arc to leave henrietta and for him to want to leave behind the person he was there (and the fact that everyone there knew he was poor and a victim of abuse), but i’d like to see adam stay in place somewhere and work through who he is there. I feel like if he leaves and starts somewhere new, he’ll still have that instinct to leave behind this old version of adam and reinvent himself.

what do you all think? i know we all hate the adam becomes a fed thing, but wasnt sure what opinion is on this part

#i think people see a lot of themselves in adam #ive seen people HATE that he goes to harvard and advocate for him to fully drop out #which at least in one case has related to poster not following traditional academic success #me on the other hand- i also really dreamed of going far far away for college and experiencing academic and personal success there #so i resonanted with adams dream of leaving henrietta for prestigious school #anyway. the scene that lives in my head goes like this #adam gathers the crying club to tell them hes tranferring #he says ‘i have to tell you all something.’#he opens his mouth to explain hes transferring and for some reason instead what he says is #‘im a psychic’ . theyre all like??#and suddenly he has to explain this statement. and kinda explain that he lied about breaking up w ronan #he doesnt tell them about abuse right away. but slowly truths start to come out and the lies slow down #and slowly realizes that once again he has friends that love him for being adam. not some phony perfect version of himself.

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destieltropecollection · 2 days

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 19: Two-Person Love Triangle

Mysterious You | @verobatto Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,003 Main Tags/Warnings: Teacher!Dean, teacher!Castiel, modern setting, coming out Summary: Based in the movie 'Love Simon', professor Dean Winchester wants to find out who the mysterious and charming man Angel is. Will he be able to know him in person?

Books, Pies, and Roommates | @seidenapfel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,731 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Two Person Love Triangle, Idiots in Love, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Professor Dean Winchester, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Bakery Shop Owner Gabriel (Supernatural), Friends to Lovers, blink and you miss a minor mention of Rowena MacLoad/Sam Winchester, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining Summary: Everything seemed easy when Castiel landed a job in Lawrence as a literature professor at KU. He even found a place to stay with his cousin in Topeka. But the daily commute quickly gets on his nerves and he begins looking for a room in town. When he finally lucks out on a house, it comes with a catch. His mysterious landlord/housemate works and lives in Topeka during the week, and will only be at home for the weekend while Castiel is back at his cousin’s to honor a promise he made. When Dean walks into his favorite pie shop, the new sales assistant takes his breath away. Steve is gorgeous, and part of the owner’s family. Dean doesn’t even mind that he picks up Gabriel’s stupid moniker for him. After all, Deano has one syllable more, and Dean will do anything to hear Steve’s voice just a little bit longer. Though, as breathtaking Steve might be, he isn't Angel. If only Dean's book-loving best friend weren't a mystery in himself — a guy who Dean has only met online, but who has slowly taken his heart away. And it seems that Dean isn't alone in his feelings. When the lines blur and fantasies merge three guys into one, disappointment and heartbreak seem to be inevitable.

Dear Western Red Cedar #2409 | @mittensmorgul Rating: Mature Word Count: 63,433 Main Tags/Warnings: Two Person Love Triangle, Park Ranger Dean Winchester, Librarian Castiel (Supernatural), Writer Dean Winchester, idiots to lovers Summary: For a decade, Dean had been living his dream life in Montana as a national park ranger. When Sam and Eileen followed him there a few years later, he had no idea how to tell them about his side gig as the author of a wildly popular series of novels loosely based on his own experiences. Well, minus the monster hunting. He never expected them to become bestsellers—or potentially a tv series, if his agent could only convince him to out his real identity. While Dean's also writing his latest bestseller on a deadline, a misunderstanding and his own social ineptitude leave him completely cut off, aside from his new pen pal who Dean only knows as Bluebird. Cas had spent the last two years desperate to hold Dean’s attention. Right when he felt they might be getting somewhere, Dean was called away on an emergency. Of course he had to go and lament about his troubles to a random tree, thanks to a distracting plaque inviting the public to participate in a new town project. To his surprise, he seems to hit it off— completely anonymously of course— with Western Red Cedar #2409. Through a ridiculous series of coincidences, it could be the best thing that ever happened to either of them.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #two person love triangle

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quin-ns · 1 day

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The blue V (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ was trying to grapple with the fact that you kissing him somehow resulted in an awful night. It should’ve been a dream come true, but then you took it back in an instant.

He made himself at home on Pope’s couch for the next few days following the movie night, not knowing how to face you.

He thought he’d ruined everything when he kissed you that night in your room, but then in the morning, you’d given him some sense of relief. You didn’t hate him, and you were willing to forget about it. It wasn’t exactly what JJ wanted and sure it hurt like hell to agree, but at least he hadn’t lost you entirely.

But then it seemed as if you changed your mind almost immediately, evident by you going out of your way to ignore him at the movie. JJ couldn’t blame you for that, he had a feeling you were only trying to spare his feelings that morning. You were so loving like that, but he should’ve known that you always saw him like a brother—then he wrecked that, like he did with most good things.

JJ resolved to hide out until the movie was over in an attempt to accept his fate, but then you came along… and you kissed him. He was so happy to be wrong, but then you decided you’d made a mistake and decided it couldn’t happen again.

Everything had become such a mess. JJ wished he could blame you, or John B, or someone that wasn’t himself.

JJ wondered where he’d be right now if he hadn’t kissed you that first time, if he hadn’t crossed that line that there was no turning back from.

He couldn’t come up with an exact answer, but he guessed it wouldn’t be on Pope’s couch, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to get up just yet. He liked to think he’d be with you.

“I know your awake,” his friend said, calling his bluff. JJ reluctantly opened his eyes to find Pope standing over him, looking down with a brow raised. “Maybe I’d be more sympathetic if you told me why you were sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” JJ argued. “I just know you’re gonna make me work.”

Maybe it was a believable enough lie, because Pope snorted.

When things got bad, JJ would usually stay at the Chateau. No adults around to worry about, and John B had the extra space for him—and you, on most occasions. It wasn’t like they weren’t on speaking terms, but JJ knew he overreacted and didn’t feel like apologizing quite yet. Plus, from what Pope mentioned, the other boy was busy anyway.

Or maybe it was just an excuse, he couldn’t know for certain.

He appreciated Pope for letting him stay, even if he’d begun to wear out his welcome. JJ could handle Heyward’s back handed comments, he’d dealt with worse. It was better than being at home, especially without you.

That was another thing he learned from Pope, that you were basically living at Kiara’s. He’d crack a joke about great minds thinking alike if you were around. But you weren’t, and he still blamed himself.

JJ wondered if Pope got the information from you or Kie, but he didn’t let himself ask. It didn’t really matter in the end as long as you were okay, even if you weren’t talking to him.

After he stormed off from the concession building, leaving you behind, he convinced Pope to pack up and head out early, leaving you and Kiara to finish the movie without them.

The entire drive back to Pope’s house, he dodged his friends' questions, and suppressed the urge to run back to you.

He wasn’t used to fighting with you, or even being mad at you, and he hated it. But he held onto that anger, because he knew if he saw you and you asked for forgiveness, he’d break. JJ clung to the stubbornness because it was easier. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you had. It was bad enough feeling like he fucked everything up, but you giving him a taste of reciprocation only to regret it sent his mind in a spiral.

You told him that you couldn’t. Not that you didn’t want to. He reminded himself of that.

So if you did want to, what was so wrong about it? Really? He loved you, and you at least imagined a world where it was possible you could love him back the same way—enough to kiss him, at least. Maybe it only seemed wrong because of the way you two were acting.

You’d never been good at dealing with your feelings. That was something JJ learned the two of you shared.

JJ wondered what you were thinking right now. If it wasn’t for Pope practically dragging him off the couch to get ready for a day of grocery deliveries, JJ could’ve spent the entire day trying to guess what was going on in your head.

JJ wasn’t exactly thrilled that Pope drove them to the Chateau after all the deliveries were taken care of, but he didn’t protest, either.

Truthfully, he did miss hanging out with John B. The two of them had been best friends for what seemed like forever. Even he knew that the building resentment towards his friend didn’t feel right.

When JJ thought about it, like really thought about it, he bet that if he genuinely told John B to forget his feelings for you, his friend would try. He was a good guy like that.

JJ’s only problem was explaining himself, and that’s what kept his mouth shut about the entire thing.

John B didn’t mention it either, just greeted him and suggested the three of them go out on the boat to fish in the marsh.

There was a strange sense of relief JJ felt when John B didn’t apologize, because he wasn’t ready to either. The silent acceptance of one another’s presence was enough for them to get on with things.

It was late afternoon, so they’d be able to fish for a little while. They each had lines cast, sitting scattered along the boat. JJ happened to be on the front of the boat, while John B was on the right and Pope was on the left. They had to keep it balanced enough that it wouldn’t tip.

“He’s not so bad,” John B explained as JJ tuned back in. “He’s just really into his boat.”

Right, John B was talking about work.

“He’s paying you enough, right?” JJ piped up, looking away from his line to his friend. “To have you on call like this?”

“Not exactly ‘on call’, but yeah. Ward’s being fair,” John B explained with a shrug.

JJ smirked to himself as he looked forward. “I still think Ward wouldn’t notice if we borrowed his boat for the night.”

John B scoffed out a laugh.

“He definitely would, JJ, it’s not happening.”

“I’m not spending my summer in jail,” Pope joined in.

John B and JJ exchanged a smile over their shoulders, and everything seemed back to normal.

“We should’ve invited the girls,” Pope said randomly. “Kie would’ve made sandwiches and Y/N always brings her speaker.”

“Kie won’t let us keep anything we catch and Y/N gets bored if we’re stopped too long,” John B countered. He smiled to himself. “If Y/N were here, she’d already be jumping behind the wheel and driving way too fast.”

JJ found himself chuckling, because it was true.

“When she drives it’s like she’s trying to throw us all off,” JJ added fondly. “But we let her anyway.”

“It’s not like you can argue with her,” John B continued. JJ shared a smile with John B at the thought. “She always wins.”

“It’s ’cause you guys let her,” Pope joined in, causing both JJ and John B to turn and look at him. Pope shifted to face them. “What? It’s true. Especially JJ.”

JJ couldn’t argue because it was true, like Pope said.

A curious look appeared on John B’s face.

“You think the girls talk about us when we’re not around?”

The three of them shared a look at John B’s question.

“Probably not,” Pope finally said, turning back to his line. He sounded almost disappointed.

If Pope liked you too JJ might have to jump into the ocean.

John B exchanged a look with JJ before asking, “You good, man?”

JJ swore he noticed the same selfish worry on John B’s face, and it reminded him John B was supposed to be an obstacle.

“You think Kie even notices me?” Pope asked.

JJ felt a weight off his chest. Somehow he’d forgotten about his own suspicions about that. He’d been so caught up in his own self destruction, it was hard to keep track of everyone else.

“We’re all friends, man, of course she does,” John B supplied, but he knew that’s not how Pope meant it.

“Right,” Pope said. He got to his feet, evidently done with trying to catch anything. None of them had been successful yet. “Just forget it,” he decided, reeling in his line. “We have rules for a reason.”

No Pogue on Pogue macking. It was supposed to maintain all of their friendships with one another without anything getting complicated or anyone getting hurt. The more JJ thought about it the lamer it sounded. It was pretty useless now.

No one knew quite how to respond to that, because if John B and JJ told him to ignore the rule, things could get weird. If they told him to follow it, they’d be hypocrites.

As John B got up to go to the wheel after reeling in his line, JJ watched him. He wondered what John B would have to say about it when it came to you.

You were someone worth breaking rules for, JJ knew that all too well.

He tried to smother the sudden wave of jealousy that threatened to overtake him. Him and John B were cool now and he didn’t even have to address the argument. That should’ve been a win in JJ’s book, but he couldn’t help but think about what would happen the next time you all hung out.

It made his stomach turn to think he might have to wait a while for that. He hadn’t seen your face in person in days, hadn’t heard your voice in just as long, and he was going through withdrawals. Photos in his phone of the two of you together only made his heart ache when he looked at them before sleeping. JJ tried to dream of you, but when he woke up he could never remember the details. There was only a familiar pang in his chest that he took to mean he had.

Every time he zoned out, he remembered the kiss. Mostly the second one, where you had kissed him. Where you’d held him and he’d pressed his body to yours.

JJ cleared his throat, face growing flushed at the memory. If you hadn't rejected him, JJ wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop at just kissing you that night.

He looked out in the murky water, getting only ripples of his reflection. It looked wrong without you at his side.

Back at the Chateau, they lounged on the porch, now avoiding the topic of you and Kiara. They all did it in a not-so-subtle manner, but no one commented on it either.

JJ was relieved, because the longer he thought about you, the more he started to internally spiral. It didn’t help that John B was right there, sitting on the couch that fueled the fire not too long ago.

He wasn’t even sure you liked John B like that, but JJ still held enough overall doubt to keep him on his toes. He didn’t think you would kiss him either, or that you’d reject him right after. He was finding it harder to read you these days and it got to him.

“There’s gonna be a party on the beach tonight,” John B mentioned once steady conversation began to dry up. “Apparently everyone is going.”

Everyone. That could mean you.

For as far as he’d gone out of his way to avoid you to spare himself, JJ missed you. He wanted to see you. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without seeing you and it was becoming unbearable. Another part of him wanted to go to get an answer. If he could just talk to you, maybe he could get you to see his side of things. If he couldn’t… JJ didn’t want to think about it at the moment.

“I’m down,” JJ replied, already getting lost in his own mind, trying to formulate what to say to you. It excited him in a strange way as all the outcomes he wanted overtook his brain. He zeroed in on the positives, the ones where he got exactly what he wanted—to be happy with you. “How ‘bout you, Pope?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pope agreed with a nod. “I just gotta stop by my house first.”

Having dinner with Pope’s family was nice, but JJ was itching to get out of his seat the entire time. He should’ve stuck with John B so he could be at the beach party by now, but he couldn’t say no to Pope, and Pope couldn’t say no to his mother.

It was way past sunset when they finally got to the Boneyard, and the party was in full swing. People cluttered the shore, music blasted from a speaker somewhere, kegs were placed about, filling the red solo cups that nearly everyone carried in their hands, and a decently sized bonfire was lighting the entire scene.

The entire car ride, JJ had been preparing himself. He decided he was going to tell you everything. Maybe you had some idea (well obviously, he didn’t kiss you for no reason), but he was going to lay all his cards on the table.

Stupid things had good outcomes all the time, right?

They hadn't so far but he had a lingering bit of hope as he reminded himself you’d kissed him too. You wouldn’t do that for no reason, he was sure of it.

JJ actually felt pretty good when he crossed into the sand.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Pope announced, to which JJ just nodded.

He began to look around, knowing you were here. He had Pope text Kie to make sure. In hindsight it was a little intensive to Pope, but JJ could make it up to him later.

When he found you, you were sitting on a fallen tree trunk that had sunken into the sand since the last big hurricane knocked it down.

Just seeing you took his breath away, you always did. You didn’t seem real to him, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you in his life but he would be forever grateful.

And then, from a distance, he heard you laugh. He should’ve had the forethought to look who you were talking to, but JJ had been so distracted by the sight of you after many days without.

One flick of his eyes to the left and he sucked the air back into his lungs.

Right next to you was John B, sitting too close for JJ’s comfort. The two of you were talking and flirting, probably. JJ had eyes, he could see the way his friend was looking at you.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look away.

He didn’t see the point in watching any longer, a sour feeling was already building in his gut. Then, shocking even himself, JJ did something he had a hard time doing all his life.

He walked away.

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queenpiranhadon · 3 days

Note

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry)

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips.

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high.

The only problem?

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training.

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it.

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter.

Nothing you could do could make him hate you.

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger.

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him?

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream.

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in.

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way.

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined”

You knew they meant well, but still.

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim.

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments.

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well.

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way.

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could.

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music.

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable.

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink.

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now?

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath.

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself.

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room.

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded.

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused.

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.”

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.”

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly.

“I love you dad.”

“I love you too, hime.”

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?”

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully.

“Dad!”

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abouttofillhisshoes · 16 hours

Text

If you're too shy // pt.2 - Matty Healy

A/N: shit banner because i've fallen off xx. Anyway this was written whilst listening to the arctic monkeys debut which is absolute SHIT by the way 0/10 i'd rather listen to margaret thatcher's sex tape thanks.

wc: 4k

content warnings: literally nothing happens its a bit said, body writing, teasing, begging, sub!Matty being pathetic as per use, cliffhanger because the google doc told me to

They say feeling diminishes over time, sensations are lost to memories, forgotten. What Matty was experiencing couldn’t be further from the truth. Hazy daydreams inhabit his every waking thought, dreams only more and more vivid as time passed. Time didn't diminish the feeling of your hands on him, hot skin against his. It only intensified it, a certain sense of longing plaguing him. Longing for you.

It’s an out of body experience, being in your presence. Your knowing glances when your eyes meet, an expression on your face only he can truly decipher. Matty dreams of you, so graphically that it leaves him panting in his bed, shaking hands running through unbrushed curls as he tries to collect himself, tries to push it down.

But his hands cant help but wander, tracing over where you had touched him, goosebumps spreading onto his skin as the scene plays back in his mind. You, above him, forcing him down onto the floor. The way his knees ached at the harsh pressure of the linoleum floor. Your fingers dragging past his parted lips, pressing down onto his tongue, relishing in the sounds that escaped him. The small glimpse of your skin, the dark lace against your thigh a constant reminder of what could've been. What could still be.

He doesn't know what you’re thinking, even if he yearns for your thoughts. You won't speak to him, you haven't since that day. It's painful, watching you live on like nothing had passed between the two of you, the only communication being a small, unassuming look, a brush of the hand. Nothing more, nothing less.

This lesson is no different, loud chatter filling the space as the class gets into groups, working on some assignment. Matty sits on his desk, feet scuffing the seat of his chair as Ross gestures at his latest hookup, staring at him from across the room. You vaguely recognise her from a few of your other classes. She’s meek and quiet, bordering on pushover with the way she lets her friends walk all over her, but quite kind overall.

His voice is loud, booming through the classroom as he laughs and jokes, refusing to pay any attention to the assignment despite the teacher's numerous attempts to get him to focus. His presence is altered in your eyes, different. The thing that had passed between the two of you can't be ignored just so, and you know he feels it too, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. It's when you unexpectedly turn around that his breath hitches, stuttering over a simple sentence. His little mistake going seemingly unnoticed, Ross keeps speaking, leaving Matty to stare at you, eyes darting all over your face, trying to read your expression.

You remain neutral, raising your eyebrows at him in a sort of silent question. Matty cocks his head in turn, almost like a challenge, deep brown eyes narrowing slightly. The scrape of that chair against the floor is piercing, though no one around you pays it any mind. Bending over the desk, back facing him, a piece of paper is ripped out of your fairly expensive notebook, the scratch of pen against it oddly satisfying, your handwriting forming loopy, inky blue letters. Your fingers feel over the writing, the dips where your pen indented that simple message feel rough against your skin.

People crowd the room, making it difficult to maneuver through it, bags hitting against your feet wherever you stepped. Muttering quiet excuses, your hand clutches the piece of paper, almost like it would disappear if it wasn't for your grip. Matty’s eyes follow you, intrigued, raking up your bare legs as you walk in his direction, staring him down.

To anyone else, nothing seems out of the ordinary in the way that you accidentally bump against the edge of the desk he’s sitting on, your right hand grabbing on to it for stability as you apologize to no one in particular. Only Matty sees the white, neatly folded note you had left right next to his hip, tucking it under a book you knew he never used. He shivers as your fingers make contact with his belt, something he wouldn't have even noticed if it wasn't your touch.

The whole world slows down as he snatches it from under the textbook, unengaged enough in the conversation at this point that he could turn his body away from the group unnoticed, unfolding the note. His heart speeds up as he immediately recognises your handwriting, eyes over scanning the words.

His body moves instinctively, getting up from his spot on the wooden desk, creaking slightly as a girl's voice asks where he’s going.

“Bathroom.” he mutters under his breath, his vague answer raising a few suspicions. The group's attention is quickly turned to the teacher standing a few feet away, sternly telling them off. Matty manages to slip away. You disappear out the door just as he looks up from the note, his feet carrying him after you.

6th period is always quiet, an atmosphere of calm falling over the school building as the light streamed in from the high windows, still most of the corridor fairly dark. Blue lockers adorned the walls, dented and damaged from decades of use by previous generations of students. The echo of your shoes against the floor fill Mattys ears, the sound only adding to the anticipation already coursing through his veins.

His mind races with jumbled thoughts, questions upon questions being asked. Where were you going? What were you going to do?

No, what were you going to do to him? A shaky exhale from Matty is loud in the silence of the hall, his fists clenching and unclenching at his ideas as he walks after you, keeping a few paces behind. You don't even stop to glance over your shoulder, almost like you knew he would follow you, not a single doubt in your mind. Matty realizes this, and it only makes him even more desperate for you to just acknowledge him, a slight turn, a look, anything.

The few moments you lead him feel like hours, your eyes darting past doors and full classrooms until you stop in your tracks, hearing the scuffle of Matty’s trainers as he stops behind you, unmoving. The door creaks as you twist the doorknob, an empty, darkened room greeting you. The air is cold, dust particles fly through it as you step inside, letting the door start to fall shut behind you. Matty runs in just as it's about to close, holding his palm flat against the wood, lips parting when his eyes finally land on you.

The note is warm in his hand as he recalls what he had read on the page, three simple words sending him into a spiral of all-consuming emotions.

‘Don’t be obvious.’

No context was given, none was needed. Matty knew exactly what you meant.

“Why are you here?” his voice comes out shaky and unsteady, meek. Unlike him. He knows the question sounds stupid, evident in the smug grin that spreads onto your face as the door falls shut behind him. Finally facing him, you lean against a desk, arms reached behind you, holding you up.

“Could ask the same for you.” you speak slowly, your inflection almost making you seem bored. Your hair occupies you as you twirl it around, eventually brushing it out of your face entirely. Matty takes a timid step forward, holding the now unfolded piece of paper up between two fingers, the ink now slightly smudged.

“You left me a note.” “I know.” Your response is quick, direct. Matty’s eyes are glazed over, the sight oh-so familiar.

Memories from that day rush through you, your body responding involuntarily. You can still feel his hands caressing your things, hiking your skirt up further, further, until he finally saw what he wanted. His mouth around your fingers, tongue lapping at your fingertips, eye contact remaining unbroken. The thought makes your head spin, a barely there blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Why?” you tut at him, getting up and standing straight as he continues slowly walking over to you, his hair falling over his face in the same way it did when he was knelt in front of you, looking up with those adoring eyes of his.

“You didn't really listen to me, hm?” Matty perks up at your statement, slightly confused. You run a finger up his arm, feeling goosebumps erupt on his skin. He twitches, his whole body reacting to your touch.

“I mean you weren't, were you? Not-obvious, I mean.” You watch as it finally clicks in his head. The note.

‘Don't be obvious.’

He had tried to not be, his half-hearted attempts at keeping his distance proving rather difficult as instinct took over him, not caring what he was ‘supposed’ to do.

You huff at his lack of response as he just stands there, looming above you. You aren't tall, not by a long shot, but somehow your difference in height doesn't play a role in the way he molds to your words, like putty in your hands.

“What do you want?” you scoff in his face, rolling your eyes. Your nails graze against his upper arm before pulling away completely. Matty watches as you circle around him slowly, like a predator watching prey, your gaze making every survival instinct dissipate.

“That's quite the loaded question, don't you think?” Matty nods in response, automatically. You watch him for a few moments as he lets the note drop to the floor. His breathing is unsteady as you get closer with every step, his body moving to keep facing you until his back hits the same wooden desk you had been leaning on.

“Are you nervous?” Matty clears his throat before answering, caught off-guard by your sudden question.

“What gives you that impression?”

You gesture downwards with your eyes, and he follows, growing red as he realizes what you meant. His untucked shirt is crumpled in his hands, fingers toying with the buttons as he mindlessly twists them around and ‘round, pulling at the fabric.

“That.”

Matty ceases his movements, his hands now glued to his side as you eye him up and down. The top three buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing his collarbones and neck, skin smooth and milky as your first instinct is to reach out and touch him.

“Do I make you nervous?” your voice cracks a bit towards the end, the illusion of calmness, of indifference, faltering. Matty just stares at you, his heart beating at a thousand miles an hour as you take a step closer, effectively pinning him against the desk. Now, he could easily push you away, putting distance between your bodies. But he doesn't. He doesn't want to.

“Answer me.”

A beat of silence.

“No, you don’t.”

You tut again, shaking your head in disappointment. Matty squirms under your touch as you trail your hand up his chest, popping a four button as you speak.

“I never took you for a liar, Matthew.” The condescension coating your words makes his eyes widen, looking down at you with a wanton look on his face, silently begging.

You reach down with your free hand, looping your fingers through his belt loops. Rather violently, you pull him towards you, pressing your bodies flush against each other. Matty’s reaction is delicious, a whimper spilling from his lips, the proximity making him hazy, wanting only one, single thing.

“D’you want me to kiss you?” you coo, your faces dangerously close as you tease him, his curls threading through your fingers as he nods vigorously, absolutely shameless.

“Please.” it’s high pitched, the word, only adding to the growing heat between your legs. Your knees feel weak as he reacts to you, eyes wide and rapidly blinking, darting from your lips back up to meet yours.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me again?” it’s mean, you know it is, but you cant help yourself. His horrified expression only feeds into your taunts, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You read him well, perfectly predicting the way you knew he was going to try to bring your lips together, impatient as ever.

His attempt is futile, your tight grip in his hair pulling him back, the sharp pain making him cry out.

“Ah, not so fast sweetheart.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips, not daring to move further. His breath hitches audibly as you skifully unbutton the rest of his shirt, his eyes never leaving your face even as you look down.

“I thought you were going to be good for me, what happened?” you say, the dissatisfaction evident in your voice. Matty stutters out an apology, tripping over his words as the sensation of your hand against his chest becomes too much at once, too hot.

He shudders as you feel him up, hand running through his hair to ground himself, hyper aware of the unlocked door of the classroom you’re currently in. His shirt fully unbuttoned, you take a small step back, eyes raking over his body, taking in the sight before you.

“Don’t stop– please– I want you.”

“Then be still.” Matty nods in response, shifting around until he finally sits on top of the desk, feet dangling slightly off the edge.

“So obedient now, what changed?” Your hands feeling around the pockets of your skirt, smiling when they come upon exactly what you were hoping to find.

“I-” Matty cuts himself off, words getting caught in the base of his throat. His voice is low, raspy as he tries to answer, but your fluid movements distract him too much.

“Go on, speak.” your tone is assertive, commanding even, only disorienting him more. Matty doesn't know what to feel, how to react. But what he does know is how to keep this from stopping. He doesn't ever want it to stop.

“You’re so pretty.”

He knows he sounds pathetic, but it's all he can muster, every fiber of his being telling him to lunge forward, smash his lips against yours, feel you against him.

“Well, sweetheart.” you giggle, pulling out a small object from the depths of your pockets, running your fingers over the cool metal. “Flattery gets you everywhere.”

A sigh of relief leaves Matty as your hands make contact with his neck, the feeling of your touch driving him insane. He arches into you, his chest pressing against yours as you linger, a thousand fantasies rushing through both your minds.

A high-pitched whine rips itself from Matty as your lips press against the hollow of his throat, biting into the skin harshly. Nipping at his neck, you relish in the noises he makes, his eyes screwing shut as you run your tongue over his collarbones, coating the skin in your spit.

The small click of a lipstick tube uncapping is deafening, his eyes immediately snapping the source of the noise. You grin at his reaction, hands gripping the edge of the desk he was sitting on so hard, you could see his knuckles turning white.

“What are you–” Matty starts, his body flushed the same shade of red as the product in your hand, complimenting it perfectly.

You shush him quickly as he looks at you and then the lipstick, his bottom lip bitten raw.

“I didn’t really know what this was at first, you know.” you speak, twisting the base of the lipstick, slowly revealing more and more of the ruby red. Matty’s full attention is on you, his chest moving up and down rapidly, trying to calm himself down. His watery eyes only spur you on, small pants leaving his lips as you resume your feather light touches, never giving him exactly what he wanted.

“You’re so responsive, I barely have to touch you.” you watch as he writhes under you, still taller despite being sat down. It didn't make a difference, the power he so willingly handed over to you making it all disappear.

“You’d let me do anything to you.”

It isn't even a question but a statement, because you know, and so does Matty. Sweat glistens on his bare chest, reflecting the little light in the room, making him appear to be glowing. You don't know how long you’ve been in that classroom, and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

“Please, I can't do this anymore. Fuckk– just touch me, properly, please.”

His words lick pleasure up your spine and you let him beg more, a small, cruel part of you wanting to prolong this even further. Knowing you couldn't, and that your teacher was most definitely noticing your prolonged absence, you sigh loudly, cupping his face with one hand, a sickly sweet smile making Matty’s head spin.

“If you even try moving, I’ll stop.”

Matty expects you to put your hands on him, run them over his body, maybe make him kneel again. He expects you to finally kiss him, feel your tongue against his as you take over him completely, barely letting him breathe.

What he doesn't expect is for you to drop to your knees in front of him.

The tip of the lipstick against his skin is cool, the product smearing over his stomach. Matty doesn't know how to react, his eyes peering down to get a clear glimpse of what you’re doing, not daring to move. He sees the distinct pattern of letters, the word you’re writing indiscernible from his angle.

“Perfect.”

You mutter as you watch the color glide over his skin, the contrast of red against it making your heart beat faster, hand shaking slightly. He can't control the small twitches of his body as you hold onto his thigh for stability, adding a small heart at the end of your little masterpiece. A single word.

Pushing yourself off the floor, Matty tried to make out the writing on his body, failing miserably. Your phone is heavy in your hand as you swipe right, opening your camera app. He isn't paying attention to you at all, watching in awe how the red on his stomach beautifully stands out, running a finger over it lightly.

“Smile.” you grin, his eyes snapping up to meet yours just in time for the camera to flash.

He looks breathtaking, shirt unbuttoned, his hair messily falling into his face. The flash darkens the background behind him, making him the sole focus of the picture. You admire him for a few moments, a fond smile spreading onto your face. He looks utterly fucked out, despite your touches being barely-therea at best, it was enough.

It’s only then that you finally kiss him, hand wrapping around the base of his neck as you lick into his mouth, greedily drinking in his soft moans of surprise. Matty’s hands find your lower back, moving up and down your sides before finally settling onto your waist, gripping it tightly.

The kiss is hot, desperate as Matty’s back arches, your other hand finding its place on his shoulder. The feeling of his hands on your waist shoots straight to your core, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to relieve some of that aching pressure.

You’re first to pull away, lungs burning for air. Fingers raking through his hair, you take your phone back out, flashing the screen at him. His eyes widen at the image of him, the word you had painted onto him clearly visible.

‘Sweetheart’ adorned the tensed muscles of his stomach, a small heart placed right after the word, your handwriting easily recognisable. Your fingers ghost over the writing, smudging the heart slightly, bringing it up to his lips.

Matty parts them instinctively, letting you brush the color onto his bitten and bruised lips, faintly red. The sight makes you stop dead in your tracks, and you suck in a deep breath.

“I think you look gorgeous, don't you think?” you whisper into his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth as you lightly bite down, greatly enjoying the choked gasp that leaves him. Matty is speechless, eyes glued to the screen now in his hands.

“We’ve been gone an awfully long time,” you breathe, gesturing at the clock that hung above the rusty chalkboard at the front of the classroom. “Better get back.”

Matty grabs onto you in protest, almost letting your phone drop onto the floor.

“Please, I can't–” you cut him off again, pressing a finger to his lips in a condescending manner, watching the look of hope vanish from his face.

“School is actually rather important to me, I can't have my grades dropping.” your words sound oddly sincere as you toy with the bottom of Matty’s shirt, slowly doing up the buttons again. The red disappears behind the crisp black fabric, completely unnoticeable to anyone else but the two of you. Your little secret.

Matty wants to argue, but he knows better than to contradict you, instead letting you fix him up. Your hands brush his hair out of his face, flushed an adorable shade of pink, making you smile. You even fix his collar for him, making sure it wasn't flipped up or open, your lingering fingers tracing his jawline tenderly.

“How else am I meant to tutor you if I don't know the material?”

Your words pierce through Matty’s thoughts, bringing him back down to earth. It wasn't just a statement, but a promise. Promise of more of whatever this was, a glimmer of hope returning to him. He wanted this more than fucking anything, even if your constant, deliberate, teasing drove him mad.

“Come to mine on Wednesday, i’ll show you how to do the assignment.” The way you speak is so casual, so normal, like nothing had just happened. Matty wonders if it had all been a weird, messed up daydream, but the phone in his hand proved him wrong. He hands the phone to you timidly, not wanting to let go of that moment.

Straightening out your own clothes, you take it from him, tucking it away in your pocket. Matty wants to reach out, touch you, feel you again. He stops himself, your back now turned as you walk away, hand resting on the doorknob.

You glance over your shoulder before you open the door, shooting him a tantalizing grin.

“Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.''

The pet name does something to him he can't describe, a floaty, disorienting cloud falling over his thoughts. Matty’s blush returns, his face hot.

Wednesday. He keeps repeating the sentence in his mind.

‘Don't miss me too much, sweetheart’

How cant, not when you leave him like this, desperate and wanting nothing more than any little bit you’d give him, every touch like pure ecstasy.

Five days.

Five incredibly long days.

One hundred and twenty hours until he finally sees the inside of your bedroom, until youre finally, finally alone.

Matty lets his fingers trace the word over the material of his shirt, heart pounding in his chest. The shrill ring of the bell is muted as he replays the scene in his mind, over and over again. Your hand on his thigh, kneeling in front of him. The lipstick against his skin, the bright flash of your phone.

Wednesday can't come any faster, but he still wishes it would.

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invis-o-william · 2 days

Text

Day 7: Mind Control

With a start, Tucker woke up, the memory of sand and pyramids fresh in his mind. After looking around his darkened room for a moment, he sighed and settled back into his pillow.

Ever since his encounter with the staff of Duul Aman, he kept having odd dreams. Of Egypt, ancient temples, and strange foreign words he could almost decipher but kept escaping his grasp.

Turning, Tucker looked at his bedside clock. It was 3:35 A.M. and there was no way he would be able to fall asleep again after his dream. He knew from experience that if he did the dreams would only grow in intensity. So instead he flicked on the light and grabbed his PDA from its stand.

He opened its journal app, and after tapping for a new entry began typing out what he could remember from his dream. It wasn’t much this time; a river boat on the Nile, an image of the Great Pyramids, and a few odd hieroglyphs, but nevertheless he recorded all he could. The journal was full of these dream entries. Sometimes Tucker could manage to decipher the hieroglyphs he saw in his dreams, but most of the time there were too few to gain any real meaning from them.

From what he could learn though, most of them were from spells. Spells reserved for only the highest priests to perform, often in secret. Spells that Tucker couldn’t help but wonder if he could use. He had used ancient Egyptian magic before hadn’t he? While it had been when his mind was in the grips of Duul Aman, it was still his body, his abilities. But he was still nervous to try. To do so would mean using the staff, letting its power course through him again, and Tucker wasn’t sure he could handle it.

He had long accepted that he was somehow the reincarnation of Duul Aman, living once more in the modern age. While that was true though, he also wasn’t Duul Aman anymore. He wasn’t a tyrant bent on power and immortality through any means, and he valued his family and friends more than anything else. What bothered him though was that version of himself still existed, at least within the staff.

Whenever he held it, it was hard not to lose his mind to the power that it contained. The staff would so easily overtake him and make him into the man he didn’t ever want to be that he was nervous to go near it.

If these dreams kept up though, he might just have to try. They were growing in frequency and intensity and Tucker desperately wanted to understand what they meant. Mulling it over in his mind, he sent a text out in his group chat with Danny and Sam which was appropriately titled “Boo Buddies” before beginning his research on the hieroglyphs from this night's dream.

. . .

The next morning at school he ran into Sam first, which was typical. Danny usually either ran into a minor ghost on the way to school, or was otherwise held up by his parents’ insane inventions.

“What did you mean by past life dreams Tuck? And in the middle of the night?” she asked straight to the point. Tucker sighed, he had been hoping she would at least wait for Danny to get there.

“Well, it's Duul Aman. Ever since the whole staff thing I keep getting dreams about him, and I want to try something." He kept his wording intentionally vague, half worried about her response and half worried about getting to class on time. “I’ll tell both you guys more about it at lunch, we should get to class.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, but followed to homeroom regardless as she saw Danny rounding the corner.

. . .

“You want to try what?!” Danny’s yell was swallowed by the cacophony of sound produced by the cafeteria.

“Keep it down will ya?” Tucker hushed him, “It’s not that big of a deal!”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, “Not a big deal? Tucker we’re talking about messing with Duul Aman’s powers. You know, the guy who kinda turned you into a megalomaniac for a bit? I’d say that’s pretty big.”

Sam shrugged, “I don’t know, I think it might be worth a shot.”

Tucker huffed a laugh. Of course, leave it to the goth to be interested in spells.

“But what if he takes over Tucker’s mind again and goes all Pharaoh-ey!” Danny said, waving his hand in a mimicry of Tucker using the staff.

“That’s why you guys will be staying with me.” Tucker swallowed, “Just in case I can’t fight it off, I want you guys to knock me out before I start going nuts.”

Danny looked at Sam for help, but she shut him down.

“You know if we don’t help he’ll just end up trying it by himself.” she said, and Danny couldn’t help but agree that she had a point there.

“Fine,” he sighed, “but I still think this is a bad idea.”

. . .

They met that night in Jackson Park by the treeline, Sam and Tucker on foot and Danny in ghost form with the staff. Ever since the Duul Aman incident he had kept it stored in the Ghost Zone with Pandora since she seemed the type to know how to care for ancient cursed artifacts.

“Ok,” said Tucker, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Did you bring a book Sam?”

Sam replied by pulling out a black leather-bound journal from her coat.

“Good, good. Ok so now I just need…the staff.” he looked hesitantly at the scarab topped staff in Danny’s hand.

“Uh, what spells exactly are you going to try? Just in case something goes wrong.” Danny asked, well aware of how the staff thrummed with power when Tucker looked at it.

“Right, um well, first I’m going to try a book protection spell that I found. I figure that should be pretty safe. And then, uh, there’s this one spell that’s for ‘opening up the west’. I think that one is to make a temporary portal to the afterlife, so like, it'll lead to the Ghost Zone? At least that’s if I read everything right.” Tucker’s nerves were really starting to get to him, but he had to try to do this and see if he was right. See if he could actually do it.

“I figure if I can make a portal then I could use it to help you when you’re fighting ghosts?” he asked.

Danny considered this for a moment. “The first one, yeah I can understand. The Ghost Zone though? I don’t know, there’s a lot of things that could go wrong there.”

“Which is why you’re here just in case!” Tucker said with as confident a smile he could muster. “Just, let’s try the first one and go from there.” he reached his hand out for the staff which Danny reluctantly handed over.

As soon as it was in his hand Tucker felt a wave of energy wash over him. That was okay though, he was prepared for it this time. Pushing back mentally against the power he cleared his mind and reached for his PDA. “See, I’m alright. Now Sam, we should probably have the book on the ground. Just in case.”

Sam nodded, “Right. Be careful with it, that’s my favorite copy of Dracula.” and laid the book carefully on the grass.

Tucker breathed deeply, feeling the staff’s power flow through him, pulled up the ancient text from his phone, and began reciting the words.

As he read, Danny and Sam exchanged a look. Tucker’s eyes had begun to glow golden but neither wanted to break his concentration by noting it aloud. Soon though that disappeared as he finished the incantation.

“Ok then,” Tucker said shakily, “that was manageable. Also, I think it worked. Danny, you should try and open it.”

Danny nodded and bent down to pick up the book. It seemed normal to him, however when he went to open it the thing felt like it had been glued shut. Raising his eyebrows he handed it over to Sam who was able to easily open the cover.

Tucker smiled, “Cool right, now only Sam should be able to actually open it!”

Danny had to agree that it was pretty impressive, and something he might think about using for his journal of ghost attacks as well. While he had hidden it in his wall for safekeeping from his parents he still wanted some extra security, just in case.

“Do you think you’re okay to try the next one? It’s okay if you need a break.” Sam said, both awe and concern evident in her voice.

Tucker thought about it for a moment. While it was exhausting trying to hold the power back from overwhelming him, he also couldn’t resist seeing what else he could do with this power. “I’m going to give the portal a try.” he said, and before Danny could protest he began the incantation.

Danny was more apprehensive about this spell. The book one was cool and pretty useful, but conjuring a portal to the Ghost Zone? That seemed like a huge leap forward for Tucker. But he wanted to be a good friend and trust in his abilities, so he watched as his friend started the next spell.

Tucker felt confident. He could do this, the first spell was a success and he was sure this one would be as well. As he spoke the ancient words he felt the power emanating from the staff increase, and as it washed over him he felt his mind slip to the power of Duul Aman.

Well, at least he had his friends there to stop him from creating another sphinx.

#dannymay2024 #dannymay #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction #fanfic #tucker foley #sam manson #tucker is a reincarnated pharaoh #actual Egyptian spells referenced #i kinda have an ancient egypt fixation

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tulipsforyourlips · 8 hours

Text

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (8)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 2.8K

WARNINGS: angst, violence, mentions of sex (only mentioned)

PART 8 ✧˖°.

Dream's coat pooled around the bottom of the stairs that led to his throne, while his head ached with past memories.

"Promise me"

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise."

And ached more as new joined them.

"You promised, Dream."

He had given up fighting the turmoil raging inside him long ago and let the madness consume him.

"You promised, Dream."

"I am not Hope!"

"You promised,"

"You promised, Dream."

"Boss!" Matthew's entry pulled him to the painful present.

"You summoned me?"

"I want you to keep a check on Hazel in the waking world," his voice was polished with stone as he spoke, "do not let her out of your sight unless I command you so."

"On it." After hesitating a moment, the raven asked, "she still hasn't visited the Dreaming?"

"No."

"If I may ask, what happened between you and her, boss?"

Dream lifted his head and the way his eyes glared, had Matthew realize he had gravely overstepped. Without squandering a second, he flew away.

You leaned your head on the wooden jamb of the window whose ledge you were currently perched upon. You dangled a feet below as you sucked in a breath, feeling the wind on your face against an effort to dismiss exhaustion away. Wounds from your week prior 'adventure' still marked your body. Set on your mission to avoid Dream, and stubborn as you were, you had completely forsaken sleep. Eyebags had begun painting the underside of your eyes a rueful purple that complimented the scar forming on your cheekbone. A pair of wings fluttered alongside you as your friend and raven dropped in your lap.

"You are looking cheerful," he cawed.

"Thanks Matthew. Did Dream send you?"

"What? No! What, a friend can't check up on another?"

"Sorry, I just am really not in the mood to endure him."

"You won't tell me what happened, will you?"

You sighed. "It's complicated."

"Never heard that before," he retorted. "He misses you, you know?"

Like hell he does. "I don't care."

"He needs you Hazel, I need you, the Dreaming needs you."

"Yeah okay."

"Listen! I don't know what the fuck happened to make you both so hurt but you cannot turn your back away from humanity and let it simply perish because of a feud between two emo people," Matthew gushed. "Please,"

A bitter smile gripped your lips. "I wish I could help, Matthew I really do."

"Then-"

But the raven never completed his sentence and disappeared into the wind.

"Did Edwin mix something in my morning coffee or were you just talking to a crow?" Charles squinted his eyes.

You were about to correct him when you realised you probably shouldn't. "The former." You swung your legs inwards and jumped onto the floor. "It's 3 in the morning, why are you up?"

"I am a ghost. Why are you up?"

"Back to my healthier sleeping schedule. Heading to bed."

"Brills."

Charles looked like he wanted to ask something but then apparently decided against it. There was still a simmering tension between you both, following the events from that day. Reduced colossally, but visible in the air of the room.

"Goodnight," was all he said.

You tossed and turned in your bed, pretending to be asleep as you had been for the past couple of days so as to not arouse more suspicion. The boys had relatively left you alone and you were grateful for their patience. You knew you had to tell them, you couldn't hold it off forever. Just needed some more time. Fatigue powered by sleep deprivation numbed your senses as you slowly began to lose yourself to it. No, you shook your head and tried to keep your eyes wide open. Even after your stamina dwindled down to nothing, you kept fighting sleep.

The library of the realm of dreams encompassed your puny figure. Oh god, you must have fallen asleep. There was no use in trying to go back, you knew the limit of your abilities. Before you could panic over the possibility of encountering Dream, muffled voices reached your ears. You approached the gates offering passage to the throne room through the library. The voices became more distinct. At the sound of Dream's, your heart skipped a tiny beat. You had missed him, despite your relentless reluctance to admit so. The second voice belonged unmistakably to a female, but you knew Lucienne well enough to recognize it if it were hers. You chased the gap between the doors and you and listened intently.

"I can't do it sister, I won't."

Sister? Were you eavesdropping on a conversation between two Endless?

"Dream, you have to tell her."

"She's not ready, we can wait."

"You mean you can. The world cannot."

"We will manage without her having to know."

"You cannot be serious Dream," the other endless groaned. "Either you tell her or I will."

Zero chance the 'her' was you, right? right?

"Please, I can't." The crack in Dream's voice made something uncomfortable crawl in your stomach. "I can't go-" you couldn't make out the rest. Stupid gigantic doors.

Silence haunted the room on the other side. You pressed your ear against the gateway to better understand the heated discussion when the gates suddenly propelled outwards. You hastily hid behind a towering bookshelf. A woman appeared in the library. From your place, you couldn't make out the details of her appearance. The doors swung shut behind her. You watched as she huffed a breath. It must be a task having Dream as your sibling. Your mind was racing, trying to solve the puzzle of which Endless was she.You stepped your foot backwards, and big mistake, a pile of stacked ledgers came undone on the ground and with a rapturous noise. Brills. You peeked your head out from your poor hiding place, and with a jolt, your eyes met Death's. It seemed the puzzle was solved and your heart accompanied your mind in the sprint.

"Hi," you squeaked.

"Hi,"

You emerged from behind the shelf, fully revealing yourself. It felt weird, being this close to the Endless, one that you had been running away from for years.

"I'm-I am Hazel."

She studied you for a moment before making any indication that she had heard you. Seeing the colour on your face whiten, she said, "Relax, I am not here to take you."

"Yeah-no no I know. It's just that-" What? Were you scared? Were you starstruck? Seriously Hazel, woman up for once in your life. "It's an honour just being in your presence. You are Death," you enunciated her name. "How does a mortal like me deserve to have that chance?"

Death smiled and in that moment you knew why she was chosen to assist souls in their departure. Who would fear Death when it smiled upon you with such kindness? "The honour is mine, Hazel."

And with that confusing statement, she walked away, leaving a befuddled you alone in the library.

"Wait!" You called. "My friends, um two ghosts- Charles and Edwin, why do you spare them?"

Death turned in your direction. "Question for another time, darling."

The carpet cushioned your head as you flipped through the pages of some ancient text Edwin had handed you over to decode while him and Charles talked with their client. You thought you heard a fluttering of wings and you looked outside but you were received by an empty sky. You'd told Matthew to quit following you everywhere all the time but you still had your suspicions that he hadn't listened to you. You stretched your legs up in the air and they stuck against something, followed by a crashing sound as a jar tumbled onto the floor, its lid strewn away. And to your horror, the jar was very familiar. It was the same vessel Charles had trapped that one demon into. Why the fuck wouldn't they dispose it of instead of keeping it as a trophy in the living room? A hideous creature emanated from it and began panting right overhead you. It reeked and you felt revolted to your core. You swiftly scanned Edwin's desk for incantations that could banish it away and located some papers scribbled with them. You swiftly got up on your feet and were about to grab the papers when claws tightened around your ankles, dragging you back. You tried to hold on to the edge of the desk, but its brute strength was no match for yours. Your back collided against the coffee table and a groan escaped you as glass shattered beneath you. The demon pushed you against the floor, and hardened its clasp around your neck, strangling the breath out of you. Your hands flailed around and you grasped a piece of broken glass. And plunged it into its chest. Blood dripped from its mouth onto your face and you grimaced in repulsion. You threw its body off you and got up. Just as you were about to clean your face, a gurgle sounded and you whirled around to see the demon back on its feet. The audacity of this bitch. It advanced towards you at a frightening speed and you closed your eyes, thinking Death would not have anticipated such an early reunion. But when the contact never happened, you fluttered your eyes open to see Dream standing in its place, a worried expression lacing his face. There was no trace of the demon anywhere, well, except the mess of broken furniture he had left behind.

"The blood's not mine," you said timidly.

He was mere inches apart from you and closed even that distance as he wiped the blood off your face with his sleeve.

"Thankyou, for saving my life, again."

"You need not thank me for it."

He stepped away once you were rid of the blood and you missed the warmth of his closeness.

"Hazel, I am sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault."

"No, it was." He took your fingers in his. "But I tried Hazel. I couldn't locate you. I opened portals everywhere while I searched for you. I am sorry it took me so long to reach you, and I am so sorry I put you in such a situation in the first place." There was a pleading in his eyes, for you to believe him.

And you did. It wasn't everyday the Dream Lord apologized to a human, or to anyone in general. "Dream, I, I am sorry I got mad."

"You had-have every right to be."

"No," you smiled softly. "I am not anymore."

Just then, the mirror glass distorted as two ghosts tumbled into the area. You dropped your hands in a flick of a second.

"Woah, which tsunami hit this place?"

"The demon escaped." At their alarmed state, you added, "but not to worry, the threat is contained."

"And who the hell is this wannabe goth?" Charles piped.

You coughed. "Hey guys can I talk to you for a sec?" You tried to holler them away from Dream's intimidating presence.

"Is he? Is this him?" Edwin quizzed.

You slightly nodded your head in the affirmative. "Now, if you both could-"

"You aren't that old," Edwin assessed him from top to bottom.

"He does have an aura about him. Personally, I dig this look." Charles motioned to his choice of wardrobe.

He was talking to an endless! "Guys!"

Dream whispered to you, "Should I-"

"No! Do not dissipate into thin air. You will just spook them and leave all the explaining to me," you hissed back.

"Introduce him, won't you?" Edwin raised his brow.

"This is Dream,"

"Who the fuck names their kid Dream?" Charles questioned.

What sins had you ever committed to deserve this? You balled up your hand into a fist, itching to punch him right in the face.

"He can hear you!" You whined to Charles.

Unbeknown to you, Dream had never been this thoroughly amused in his life.

"Oh. He can see us?"

"Yes. He's been through some pretty traumatic experiences. Don't ask."

"Sorry mate, hi, nice to meet ya," he told the Endless. "It's just that you had really taken us off guard. Because with her reluctance to ever let us meet you," As you can see why, "I thought she had just made you up. She doesn't shut up about you by the way," Charles winked.

Why would he say that? Your eyes widened and red poured into your cheeks.

"Not that I blame her, you are a decent looking fellow and-"

"Charles! Charles! Another time, we were just heading out anyways." You pulled on Dream's coat.

"Yes, we were."

"But I made coffee." Edwin appeared with three mugs in his hand.

"How-When did you even-forget it," you gave up.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Everybody drinks coffee," Charles stated as a matter of fact.

"I do not require mortal sup-" You elbowed him in the ribs. "What I mean is, I would love some coffee."

"Thankyou," you mouthed to him.

"So, what do you do?" Edwin began his interrogation.

"He works in finance, yeah, he's a finance guy."

You took a sip from your coffee.

"I have to ask mate, how does a handsome rich guy like you date someone like her?"

You choked on your coffee and Edwin patted your back as you wheezed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I am fine." You shushed him away.

Charles bloody Rowland, count your hours.

A smile tugged at Dream's lips.

"It's a lengthy story," he replied.

"We have the night."

"No, we do not. Don't you two have cases to solve?" You tried to steer the conversation to anything but this.

"Unfortunately we do," Edwin admitted.

"Alright then, bye bye."

"Rude," Charles muttered.

But you couldn't care less. The boys went to the study, leaving you alone with the Endless. You stood up, wanting to get out of here, but as you did, a searing pain shot up your leg.

"I can't make the trip down the stairs with my injured leg," you told him.

He looked at it with concern. "We could go to the Dreaming,"

"Are you-how would it look if both of us just vanished into nothingness?"

"Fair enough."

Having no other option, you led the King of Dreams into your bedroom. As you were closing the door, Edwin popped up his face in the space between.

"Don't do it in here."

"Woah okay, calm your horses."

"Don't listen to him, Haz," Charles whispered from behind him.

"I am not having sex with him!" You shouted in a whisper.

"Just use protection," Edwin advised.

"All the best!" Charles gave an excited thumbs up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" You whispered.

"Be-"

"Okay bye!" You shut the door in their faces.

You turned around and exhaled a breath. "Sorry about them,"

"I quite enjoyed myself." Amusement glinted in his eyes.

You found it difficult to wrap your head around the fact that an Endless stood in your bedroom, which was littered with books and clothes. You rounded up a handful of them and shoved them quickly in your closet.

"Sorry about the mess. I usually-no never have people over."

"Like a date?" He perked up his brow playfully.

His question took you aback slightly. "I am sorry, it was- I needed a cover for why I was always absent."

"And so you told them we were dating,"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Relax mortal, I am simply messing with you."

You rolled your eyes. "Funny,"

A dry chuckle left his lips and that and irregardless how short lived, your ears had never heard a sound more beautiful. It was a drug, because you wanted to hear it again and again till the end of eternity.

"Dream,"

"Yes mortal?"

You gazed into his eyes, that mirrored the stars outside. The same way they did when he had first turned up in your room, a stranger, that you were bound to fall for.

I love you.

Dreamwent stone rigid before you, his features hardened and his teasing smile gone.

You shook your head. "Nothing."

Dream was set in statue, the only proof of his living the slight twitch in his jaw as he spoke, "You love me?"

"What?" Your heart was about to explode in your chest. Could he read your mind?

"You just said,"

What? Had you said it aloud? Oh no. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Hazel, do you love me?" He lightly gripped your elbow. A sheen of glimmer coated his eyes.

You didn't respond, hoping the yearning in your eyes would be answer enough. Dream took a step back and with the next tick of the second hand on the clock above him, he was gone.

Shit.

Back in the Dreaming, Dream's fingers trembled as he held his sister's sigil.

"Death, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. I need you."

She appeared in a moment's notice.

"What happened little brother?"

He turned around to face her. His voice was hoarse with unshed tears. "She fell in love with me." A solo tear glided down his cheek. "Again."

A/N: lol i'll let you guys figure out what that means. this was funnnn I had been foreshadowing it for the past seven chapters and i finally got to write it! ps: not proofread.

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

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lamponellatempesta · 2 days

Text

JWCT COUNTDOWN

DAY 5: Roadtrips

For this prompt, I've decided to write the first encounter and trip of Ben with his red Jeep (thanks @gingericywolf for putting this headcanon in my head) I hope you will enjoy it!

(Countdown gently created by @campbenji)

"Hey wait wait!" Ben said, late, as he ran towards the bus, "One more second please!" His pleadings were not heard, and the bus resumed its run to the school, with the boy staring at him as he vanished at the intersection, without him on board. Ben cursed, running for the next stop was useless and he couldn’t miss another day of school, he had already lost enough, the only option he had left was to continue on foot so, reluctantly, he started.

He decided to vent his frustration by hitting a rock along the way. "For once I do a late night, This is the result. On foot. Because some stupid driver doesn’t want to wait for someone who’s practically yelling at him. Of course. Pfft. If I only had a car I wouldn’t have these problems, am I late? No problem! I’d go with the car and I wouldn’t have to run after a stupid bus!" he said, hitting the rock harder while talking to himself on the way. He’d got his driving licence for a few months now, but his mom wouldn’t get him a car because she said he had to earn it, work it out with the money he was earning from his summer job at mantah corp island and the delivery job he did on the weekends during the school year; He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was saving it to get the car he wanted. He wasn’t too pretentious, it didn’t need to be new or luxury like Kenji’s, he just needed it to work.

He looked through the cars he saw parked along the street to see what he might like, even though he already knew it; a jeep had always been one of his dreams since he had driven one for work on mantah island, he had literally fallen in love with that kind of car and he would have really wanted to have one of his own so he could go around camping, be in nature on his own and facing roads not easily passable would have been a thousand times easier with a Jeep than with any other type vehicle. He’d been looking at car ads for months, hoping to find one in vain. Those who owned one apparently held tight on them and envied those he saw in the driveways and sighed.

He had almost arrived at school, when he noticed one in particular in a parking lot; it was not very well put, the red color had some rust and some scratches, the right mirror was broken and the front bumper almost seemed to come off, the wheels were a little flat. Ben scrunched his nose, "Who is owning such a beautiful car in this condition?! I understand that you may have lived it to the fullest, but at least some care!! If I had it it wouldn’t be in this condition-" the boy interrupted his complaining on the owner of the car when he noticed the most important detail, onw he had not noticed at the first glance; the jeep was for sale and at a price he could afford. It was a golden opportunity. He couldn’t miss it. He looked at the school on the horizon and the jeep again.

The choice was not difficult.

Not even an hour later Ben was in his "new" jeep and was taking her for a ride to see how she behaved on the road, "Please don’t explode, you’re doing well! Just a little bit more and we’re home and I’ll starting to give you a nice setup." Ben said as he squeezed the steering wheel all happy; finally he had a car! And it wasn’t an ordinary car, it was the car of his dreams, a jeep! And it was also red! He couldn’t wish for anything better! He had to find a name for it.

Luck was with him and he managed to bring the car to their garage, where it made a bad noise and died suddenly. Ben sighed; he would have a long morning ahead of him, but it would be worth it.

The boy did not even notice the hours spent in that garage replacing, cleaning and fixing the various pieces of the jeep, following old video tutorials made by Brooklynn on her channel, until his mother found him, "Benjamin!!!"

Ben was cleaning the interiors and slammed his head against the roof. "Owww! What?! Oh... mum! Hi! Eheh.. hellooo," Ben said while trying to look cool behind the wheel.

"What is this?! And You should be at school!"

"Uuumh, that’s..uh.. well.. my new car??"

"And you couldn’t pick it up after school?!" She retorted, with Ben getting out of the vehicle.

"I couldn’t miss this opportunity mom! Look how beautiful she is! It was a unique opportunity I couldn’t let go! Look!" And Ben started to go around the car dragging his mother with him to show her all the changes and improvements he had already made, while his mother was not so convinced of the result, but smiled anyway, proud of her son, "You’ve done a really good job, Benjamin, I guess you are skipping school today. Only for today, though!"

Ben smiled all excited and made jumped of joy, "Accompany me to try it out!! Come on!" He said jumping to the driver’s seat without leaving his mother time to respond. She sighed and then climbed into the passenger seat, "Are you sure... sure it's safe?"

"Of course! I checked everything Brooklynn said to check in the video! I’m 90, maybe 85%, sure!" Ben exclaimed all excited as he turned it on, with some difficulties, as the engine made some not so reassuring sounds and Mrs Pincus grabbed the handle for the passenger, which detached and remained in her hand; she turned to look at Ben who giggled nervously as he got out of the garage. He was ready for his first official ride in his jeep!

He decided to make her go around the neighboring blocks, honestly even he didn’t trust her to go long distances yet but heck it was so nice to feel independent, the feeling of the rough skin of the steering wheel under the fingers and the distorted radio sounds, he should have changed it but he didn’t care, he was happy. He already dreamed of future roadtrips.

"Everyone has to see my new ride! Mom, isn’t it great!? I love her!"

"Don’t get distracted!!" And he took a corner a little too wide because of the worn tires that had no grip on the asphalt "Need to change them yeah. Eheh." "Benjamin, you are a crazy child!" She said with a nervous laugh and smiled, "You want to go get some take away, you won’t even have had lunch focused how you were." Ben still had a smile on his face, "You’re right, I’m hungry... Take away! Let’s go Jolene!" And he turned steering wheel, which again made some uninviting noises, "Ooops. Sorry,"

Mrs Pincus held to her seat and then looked at him, "Jolene? You gave her a name?"

Ben blinked, he hadn’t even noticed, he unconsciously had already chosen the name, and it was great. "Of course! Every car must have a name!"

"It’s a nice name, but be more careful and don’t strain it too much!"

"I’ll treat her like a princess mom don’t worry!" And the two continued on their journey to fast food and continued to talk and laugh among themselves.

He felt happy, this was the first of many trips with Jolene, and he could only reward himself with some food.

Later he sent some photos to the campfam groupchat while eating his reward sitting on the hood of the jeep,

"We will make many trips together, Jolene. And you will be the best jeep of all. I assure you."

#jwctcountdown #day 5: roadtrips #jwct #jwcc #jurassic world chaos theory #chaos theory #jurassic world camp cretaceous #ben pincus #ben fitzgerald pincus #Jolene the red jeep #with beta reader #I really like how this turned out!#Ben is hilarious all the time in this story #The story of a boy and his jeep #lampo writes

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