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fauustic · 9 months

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don't cry, my treasure.

soft miguel o'hara x gender-neutral reader drabble

had to write this and get it out of my brain before i post my miguel series..

summary: you accidentally stir miguel awake while you're dealing with insomnia, he decides to take care of you. fluff. comfort.

warnings: brief mentions of previous injuries (fighting crime is serious business!!), just miguel being a silly little thing.. i love sleepy miguel sm.

words: 3k

Sleep came in waves, pushing against the lid of your eyes and taking you away in its current just to spit you back out into reality.

You were always tired, you've realized as you stretched your aching bones and rubbed your swollen cheek– spider suit catching your eye as it was thrown haphazardly on your bedside chair like an afterthought.

And nightmares, nightmares kept you up like a stalker always two steps behind– waiting, preying on your frazzled mind like a parasite constantly leeching off your sanity. So here you were, grasping at the sleeveless sleep-shirt as it clamped onto your sweat-sleek stomach like a second skin.

Shallow breaths escaped from your trembling lips like you were just dumped into a pool of ice-cold water, spider senses lit aflame with the abrupt, irrational fear stabbed through your heart.

You tried to stay quiet, you didn't want to be any more of a burden when you knew how much your lover struggled through insomniac nights as well– he had just gotten back from countless hours stove away in his dim and dark lab after a few days of power naps and caffeine. Miguel was downright exhausted, snores meeting your ears whenever you'd wake up from a dark turn in the dreams you do have.

But this time was different, as you shied away from his back that you were latched onto like a koala. Your skin peeled off his, and if you were with anyone else you would have thought it was gross. But Miguel loves closeness, the affection you just can't help but give and he takes and takes like a starved man. His muscles on his shoulders rolled and neck cracked as Miguel stirred, a breathy little groan hissing past the fangs he unknowingly had on full display when he shifted on his back– scarlet gaze screwed shut as his hands reached towards your usual spot on your shared bed. The pads of his fingers melted into your hip, little claws kissing the unveiled flesh from the lack of control he had over himself from still ebbing away the sleep hazing his mind.

Your name rolled off his tongue like a blessing, raspy and a bit puzzled; "Everythin' alright?" Miguel slurred, face barely leaving the pillow as his tied-back hair came askew; the little tendrils, that usually would never see the lines on his forehead, brushing against his eyebrow and curling ever so slightly. Call you love-struck, but you swear the curl shaped a little heart. "Miss you so close already," he huffed into the domestic atmosphere, thumb swirling imaginary shapes into the canvas of your skin.

With every month passing by, the intimacy came easier; Miguel's thoughts came and went in the bubble of security you brought him. The clinginess you never would have expected from the man who has the Spider Society at his beck and call rivalled the mimicry of a grizzly bear secretly being a very soft teddy bear. And with you, he was nothing less than a man who acted as if every drop of love you had for him was his last.

It took a long time for him to open up his heart for you to create space for yourself, but as you leaned back into his space to cup your palm into the angle of his jaw– everything felt worth it. Like you belonged here.

"Bad dream." Was all you said, kissing the ridge of his nose like Miguel was the most fragile thing in the world. And he practically became putty in your hands, eyes fluttering open accompanying a subtle frown. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharp canine peeking through the plush of his lips. Though he looked like he had just woken from hibernation, his features glazed with gentle understanding.

"That's no good," He murmured into your touch like a prayer, sitting up until the duvet pooled in his lap. Miguel hogged most of the bed unintentionally with his almost seven-foot self, the height that had many opposed to him on their knees in angst, but when he sat up and leaned towards your form like a magnet– Miguel was nothing more than a man who worshipped you. "Déjame cuidarte, ¿de acuerdo? (Let me take care of you, okay?)"

Before you even had the mind to protest, he pulled forward until his lips met the damp hair curled against the back of your neck. "Migs, you need rest–" you began but to no avail, he was already adjusting his boxers and shuffling towards your bathroom with a slumped posture. It had your stomach churn with butterflies even after all these months, the sweetness he's learned all over again despite the trauma he's endured leaking into your daily life and becoming something you absolutely adored about him.

Silence enveloped the apartment amidst the sleepy fumbling from within the washroom, flashes of vibrancy peering into the curtains you had against the windows that took up the wall closest to the busiest flow of air traffic. A memory was brought to mind as you peeked through the fabric, met with the city of stars and man-made comets passing by the skyscraper your home is within.

Funnily enough, you had wanted to live in the underground district of Nueva York, finding yourself more enraptured by the architecture that hid machinery and structures that kept the top afloat. But that was before you met Miguel and was thrown into the ring of being a part of the Spider Society– so you just made Miguel come along with your weekly trips to the landmarks hidden away.

"C'mere, muñeco." The fallen angel on your mind interrupted the delicate quiet of your home, calling through the cracked door after a moment of the water running, warmth seeping into the bedroom and tickling the flesh peeking out from your loose-sleepwear.

When you pushed through the threshold and granted with the presence of Miguel bent over the tub and testing the temperature of the water mumbling to himself, you were already in the process of ripping off your shirt– but you couldn't help but stutter to a halt in a flustered mess when he turned his attention to you– glasses framing his sleepy eyes like a weapon within itself. Breath hitched and sweat coating your palms in lovesick anxiety, you fumbled into the dim light of the washroom.

Clumsily, you bumped your hip into the counter as your shirt finally came off, an uncharacteristic yelp coming from you and surely you expected to meet the cold tile floor until a pair of hands settled on the curves of your hips– claws indenting on the skin barely above his boxers holding into your figure for dear life.

"Easy now, mi sirenita." Miguel practically cooed into your ear, kissing the shell of it before trailing down the column of your neck– nibbling into the blemished canvas of your clavicle. A faint bite mark etched your skin like oil paint, muddied with purple and red hues. Just as it was fading away, Miguel's lips grazed the dent with admiration before settling his blunt canines into the desired point and biting down. You gasped breathily, heat pooling your cheeks and your knees threatening to give out.

The unspoken desire of his want to care for you was written in your hips when Miguel caressed into where you had hurt yourself from your clumsiness, yet his lack of self restraint was symbolized through the bite just below your neck– very rarely absent without the pierce-marks of fangs. But he wanted to be delicate with you tonight, treat you as one of his most prized possessions when he truly just loved you a little too much.

Pushing him away with the palm of your hand on his chest, a gentle scold resting on your tired expression like an empty threat. "Ew, Migs. That's too cheesy." You whined, allowing him to slip the briefs from your body before taking your hand in his and leading you to the tub. You sunk down into the sudsy, bubbling water with a splash that had him sighly fondly. Drips of bubbles coated his frames and before he had the chance to wipe them off, your hands wrapped around his neck just to tug him closer to the edge of the tub.

Miguel furrowed his brows at your antics as you kissed his cheek, his hands finding purchase on the edge so he didn't take the risk of slipping into the bubbly water. The thought makes you giggle as his fingers cup the angle of your jaw, calculated and a bit sorrowful. Miguel hated seeing you hurt, so knowing that your miscalculations in a mission with him had a right hook land on your 'good side,' he felt as if he had failed you. Didn't change the fact he pummelled the pesky little anomaly in your honor – but you didn’t miss the misty eyes he held so sadly for you as he patched up your bleeding nose.

And here he was, kissing the corner of your lips with so much delicacy that you could almost cry.

A faint whimper left his lips as they grazed the sudden wetness dripping down your cheeks, the sleepy look in his eye blanketed with haste concern as he checked your body for any other sores inflicted from the bad feud– and as Miguel’s kisses were met with bubbles and blemished skin, he whispered against your flesh like a saint worshipping their holiness. “No llores, tesoro, por favor no llores.. (Don’t cry, treasure, please don’t cry) Hate seeing that look on your face, can’t stand it.” He breathed into your neck, any care about getting wet was out the window of your apartment when a strangled choke erupted from your throat like a hiccup.

“Just missed you,” You admitted as you shifted into the water that submerged your legs, leaning into his warmth as close as you could. A sniffle had Miguel folding into your damp hair, his own tied-back curls kissing your forehead.

Miguel shuddered, the stoicism he was able to keep up in your presence throughout the daylight behind black sunglasses and a subtle pout in the rare moments where he leaves his lab crumbled the moment he heard you express your craving for him. “I.. missed you too. Shock, I missed you too–” Miguel breathed into your lips, his face angled towards you in a way that ruined everyone else for you. His lashes drooped addictively as you let out a stifled giggle at his lingo he’s never been able to shake.

“Come join me,” you murmur as you escape his space and instead sink lower into the bathtub. You swear he practically whined, his fang peeking just slightly into your view as Miguel’s face scrunched into displeasure. His bottom lip rolled against the pointy canine, something he was always a bit self-conscious of– but with you it was like he never needed to think that he was anything different.

“You know last time– I could barely even fit in the damn thing,” He complained yet he still stripped off his loose sweatpants nonetheless, shameless as his free hand, middle finger specifically, pushed his frames up with a steadiness that proved alone he was the leader of such a "pretentious" society. Had you mentioned the thought aloud, Miguel's signature frown and deadpan stare would have replaced that sweet look in his eye in an instant. So you just smiled and opened your arms in a warm welcome.

Miguel grunted in response, faux annoyance coating his tone when you could depict the subtle curl of his lips– he was always more than content with himself whenever he was able to get as close to you as possible. You scooted forward to allow some kind of space for him, and soon enough his chest was used as a pillow for the back of your head and your hims were encompassed by his legs, feet dangling from the tub because he was right; Miguel’s stature was never fit any anything deemed for the average person. And Miguel was anything but normal, and he hated himself for that.

You could hear the mumbles of curses that slipped from his tongue when he slipped further into the bubbly water, shoulders hunched and arms resting on the cusp of the tub. It was a tight fit, your back nestled into the heat of his abdomen as his chin rested on the top of your head– and by the way Miguel shifted and oozed with insecurity you could tell your wishes he so easily obliged was backfiring from his poisoned trauma. From the mirror in the washroom, you could see the scrunch of his nose as he laid his glasses aside, atop the lid of the toilet just beside where you two sat intertwined.

Reaching back, you found his hands and clutched onto them as if he was a fading star, gentleness contrasting the explosion rumbling in his throat as his thoughts laced with venom swarmed his very being. It reminded you of the first glances you got of him when you first was recruited to the society, a downcast stare always miles underneath the horizon and a frown that never left his face. But as your fingers found comfort within his bruised knuckles, washing away the tainted sin the moment you brought the bruises to your lips and left fluttering touches– Miguel melted into your bared soul like a stray desperate for love and affection.

To you, you were his food. He feasted on what you gave, that warm feeling that curled into his ribcage and soothed his aching heart and whatever else is rotted in that dark imprisonment. Miguel took and took and took, nestled into your physicality as you ceaselessly gave and gave and gave.

But for you, all you needed to see his eyes blink into reality, grounded by what he was so depraved of growing up. Miguel’s tension left his cheeks, softening as you intertwined your hand into his and the other brushing against the fat of his thigh– squeezing reassuringly. Like a switch was turned on, Miguel devolved into a puddle around you as a huff of relief caressed the shell of your ear.

Miguel’s shins kicked up water, splashing your nose and drenching your nostrils with the scent of bubblegum. And you laughed heartily as his chin met your shoulder– nibbling so softly as if he was chewing the stress from his mind. His arms that once rested on the edge wrapped around the underneath of your arms, cupping your waist before he finally settled his hands on the core of your stomach. His deep breaths filled the silence of the bathroom, and you could practically hear snores before you broke the sweet quietness.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured into his cheek when you turned towards the chin digging into your shoulder and then you feathered your lips onto the bone of his cheek, “such a pretty thing. My sweet thing.” Praise rolled off that sleepy ooze of warmth inside your heart, and when you felt Miguel shift and his mouth that once formed an “o” contort into an upside down close-lipped smile, you knew you hit gold.

He shook his head in disbelief, breath meeting the nestle of your neck when his cheeks lit aflame and sputtered in broken Spanish. A whimper rumbled against your bare skin, and soon enough purring vibrated your back like a cat knowing it’s being spoken to. “Sabes, eres... eres increíble. Too much, you’re too much. Christ.”

Bubbles popped around the two of you, the lights set on the lowest option so Miguel didn’t develop on one those terrible migraines that pounced the moment he was at his most vulnerable: a rare dinner date he had reserved, making out in the luminescence of his lab’s technological panels, the first time you had spent the night at his own apartment before you had moved in together.

You hummed as he begrudgingly separated his hands from you, only to lather the shampoo you love in between his fingers and starting on your scalp. He was too tender with you tonight, but you needed this treatment more than anything. Your love for him leaked from your pores and intermingled with his muscles, relaxing the both of you without even needing to say anything. But you felt the urge to tell him, to tell him everything on your mind that very moment. Yet, sleep was a fickle thing and you were exhausted, so you only huffed out a whisper before submitting to the skilled massage on your muscles.

“Love you, honey.” You breathed into the domesticity of it all, his claws peeking from the pads of his fingers just the way Miguel knew you liked against your scalp. The purring in his chest only increased tenfold, scooting closer to your back if that was even possible. The both of you hold these memories close to your intertwined hearts, knowing you only had so much time together outside of your shared second lives. You haven’t been able to reassure your feelings for him in quite a few days, and despite not needing to really say your affections aloud– Miguel preferred physicality anyways, you still caught on that vocalizing your feelings for the other had you running laps around his mind every minute and every hour of the day.

He only kissed the back of your head, just upon the mole you didn’t know you had. Without a word, the sudsy kisses trailed further down until it met where your spine began, and he bit down just faintly.

“I’m so glad I found you,” He murmured into the soap pooling down your shoulders, soft but echoing around in the walls of the bathroom like a promise, a truth that will forever hold its meaning. Within this city of stars, the only celestial he had eyes on were you.

“Te amo, mi tesoro. Te amo mucho, cuidaré de ti para siempre (I will take care of you forever).”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara comfort #x gender neutral reader #x comfort #x fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x reader

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lowkeychenle · 6 months

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Empire State of Mind [PJS/LMK] (M)

Description: Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him.

Genre: Angst/SLIGHT fluff (like you REALLY have to squint)/SMUT

Content Warnings: LOTS OF rough, explicit unprotected sex (don't do this LOL), counter sex, car sex, use of pet name 'Princess' (Jisung), use of pet name 'pretty girl' (Mark), INFIDELITY (reader), do not read if infidelity is a trigger for you or if it pisses you off. It pisses me off too, I just like drama. Also, neither man knows the other exists so do with that what you will.

Word Count: 7,158

Pairing: Park Jisung x Reader // Mark Lee x Reader

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Author's Note: Is this what I'm supposed to be working on? no of course not, however, I do think this is pretty good so no one judge, also HELLO FIRST JISUNG FIC??????? AM I OKAY (no)

In a city as busy as this one, it’s normal to wake up to music playing loudly outside. The not-so-gentle melodies flood through the window, the faint lyrics of Empire State of Mind just barely enough to pull you out of your slumber.

Things weren’t like this before. You remember a time, somehow far off, where you were happy. When simple things like this didn’t bother you. When waking up meant you woke up next to him, too.

Now you’re next to another, but it’s not the same. It’s never the same.

Days blend together. Weeks become months. Honestly, you have a good relationship with Jisung. He’s loving. He takes care of you. Loves you in ways you’ve never been loved before. But something is different. You didn’t start out comparing him to your ex—even though you don’t call him that.

Mark is more than an ex. He’s the first person you truly loved, so of course, it’s normal for him to have a place in your heart, right?

Even two years after your break up, however not-painful it was, you find it’s hard to go an entire day without thinking of Mark. You sit on your shared couch with Jisung, playing with his hair while his head rests in your lap, and you’ll be thinking of him. The movie passes by as unwelcomed background noise.

When your eyes flutter open, you groan and blink a couple times, seeing the city skyline on the horizon. You’re far up here, but you’ve never felt more at rock bottom than you have lately. Maybe it’s the gradual descent into perpetual sadness that has you clinging to Mark. Maybe it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with who you were when you were with him.

Jisung’s arm is slung over your waist, but his soft snores tell you he’s still fast asleep. The extensive noise of the city bustling around on a Saturday morning doesn’t bother him in the slightest. You gently remove his grip on you, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. The hardwood floor is cold against your feet, but you welcome the feeling.

It is a feeling, after all. You don’t get very many of those lately.

The full length mirror sits directly across from you. Jisung has insisted you two find a better place for it, but the tiny apartment doesn’t exactly give you many options. You stare at your frazzled hair, at the way the sun gleams off your skin.

You look tired. Sad. Like life is passing you by. And at this point, it really is.

Jisung is good to you. He makes you happy, but the happiness you feel with him always seems…temporary.

Sighing to yourself, you get out of bed, grab a pair of shorts from your clean laundry basket, and tug them up your legs. Jisung’s T-shirt sits too large on your frame, and as you brush your teeth, you take notes of the subtle marks he left on the conjunction of your neck and shoulder from last night.

He’s a good lover. An even better boyfriend, but everything is so monotone. The world has been drained around you, and the only thing you can blame is him.

You run a brush through your hair, and then you put your shoes on. One thing that’ll always make you feel better is sunshine, even though there’s a slight lack of it in the city due to the high-rise buildings lining the street. You pay them little attention. As you leave your apartment, head into the elevator, and eventually make your way to your freedom, you take a deep breath of air.

You don’t know how life became bland. No part of it makes sense to you, but you don’t fight it. How can you fight it? Instead, you let it engulf you, and you know Jisung is hurting because of it. You wonder how long he’ll be able to put up with it.

Walking through crowds of people somehow relaxes you, as you know you’re nobody to all of them. Not a single person around you expects anything of you. In a world full of disappointment, expectations, and emotions, it’s nice to be a small speck of dust on a much wider spectrum.

You find your usual coffee shop, pushing the door open and waiting in the little line that’s accumulated. After you order, you wait off to the side, frowning when you feel your phone vibrating. Looking down at your screen, you recognize your friend, Jiyoon, is calling you.

“Hey,” you answer, putting the phone between your shoulder and your ear. “What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry,” she starts off quickly. “I wasn’t supposed to work today and they just hit me with this giant assignment, I can’t do coffee today.”

She’s already late. Not that it matters.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “(Y/N), seriously. You know I love you, and if I didn’t have to do all of this bullshit, I’d never miss out on one of our coffee dates.”

“It’s fine.” You nod, accepting your drink from the barista with a smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see you next week.”

“Alright! I’ll make it up to you. I’m buying next time.”

“Ah, yes, thank you for offering to pay for my three dollar coffee, that’s quite an extravagant—” Your smile falls as you turn around to exit. The sight almost has you dropping your cup, too. “I gotta go.”

You scramble to hang up your phone as you make eye contact. It’s been at least a year since you’d seen him last, but he still looks the same. Mark’s eyebrows slightly furrow as he recognizes you, his head tilted to the side. And that’s when a smile breaks out on his face. The smile that still has your heart plummeting into the depths of your stomach. Attached to the man that you spend everyday thinking about.

Your lips part, almost as if you’d be bold enough to say something, but you snap them shut equally as fast. You have no idea what he thinks about you, what he must be feeling at this moment, but your relationship didn’t end horribly.

Things weren’t right. You both wanted different things.

“Wow,” he says, resting the small of his back against one of the booths. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

You’re speechless. How do you say anything to him, when he’s as perfect as he was, and the remnants of the past explode across your mind like fireworks? Your heartbeat is much faster than normal, hands fidgeting. What the hell are you supposed to do?

“Sorry, was that bad?” Mark scrunches up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, not bad.” You shake your head. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you today.” Or ever.

“Honestly, I usually take a different way to work, but I put the first coffee shop I could find into my GPS.” He shrugs.

“I see you still try to brave the big bad city with a car, huh?” A real, genuine smile tugs at your lips.

He bites back a laugh. “Not as much as I used to.”

“Ah, so some improvement has been made,” you tease him. The tone of your voice surprises you, as you actually sound light-hearted. When’s the last time you spoke to someone this way?

“You know what they say. Time does wonders.” He tugs his fingers through his hair.

“Well,” you begin, dropping your hand against your side. “It was nice seeing you, Mark. Really. I’ve gotta get back.”

“Right, of course.” He nods and gestures toward the door. “I don’t mean to keep you.”

You sip your coffee and make your way past him, and as you reach out for the door, you hear his voice again.

“(Y/N)?” He waits to continue until you look at him. “My number’s still the same, in case you wanted to catch up.”

You shouldn’t want to. Jisung gives you everything you could ever ask for, and even strives to be better every day. He brings you home flowers, he cooks for you. Even after all that, you’re thinking about how nice it would be to be in contact with the man in front of you again. Mark was everything to you at one point, and now you’re meant to feel that way for Jisung.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you give him a warm grin, turn, and leave the coffee shop behind. As embarrassing as it is, you do have his contact saved. And you know he wants to hear from you, so it’s only going to make this nagging feeling worse.

As you walk back down the sidewalk, a new sort of happiness is awoken. For the first time in a long time, you finally feel like yourself again. You’re practically skipping down the street. When you get home, Jisung’s in the kitchen, leaning on the island while he finishes his buttered toast and takes a drink of his water.

He regards you warmly as soon as he sees you. “You left early this morning.”

“Sorry, Ji,” you say, approaching him and kissing his cheek. “I woke up pretty late and wanted to make sure you’re getting rest.”

His arm wraps around your waist and tugs you flush against him. He delicately chews on his bottom lip as he scans over you. There’s so much love contained in his pretty brown eyes, you find yourself wishing you could get lost in them.

“Have I ever told you how good you look in my clothes?” he hums, tugging the bottom hem of the T-shirt.

“Maybe once or twice.” You beam and tilt your head to the side. “I think I look better when it’s off, though.”

The shock is clear on his face—between the way his eyebrows jump upward and the slight parting of his lips. You never say things like that to him. Typically, you wait for Jisung to initiate, and he’s most likely always written it off as you being shy.

You’ve never had a problem being attracted to Jisung, so sex isn’t your issue. He reaches spots inside you you never thought possible, and he seems to know what you want before even you do. And as you hoist yourself up on the counter, you wonder if your sudden craving for Jisung has anything to do with him at all. Guilt pangs briefly, but the second he’s between your legs with his gray sweats sitting low on his hips, you fend off any sort of bad feelings.

Jisung chuckles, cupping your cheek and stroking it with his thumb. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“Is it so wrong to want my boyfriend?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, tracing your finger down his chest. “I’m just wondering what it’s gonna take to get you to fuck me on the counter.”

“If this is how you’re gonna come home to me, I’m sending you out with Jiyoon more often.” He wastes no more time, leaning in to kiss you. You sigh against his lips, rolling your hips toward him.

You feel him starting to harden through his sweatpants. His hands move down to your thighs, his long fingers gripping you roughly as he pulls you to the edge. You secure your legs around him, grinding the growing heat between your thighs against his length. He lets out a quiet groan and thrusts toward you.

“Fuck me like this, Ji,” you whisper, kissing down his neck. “Just like this.”

“I gotta take these off.” He tugs at the bottom hem of your shorts, leaning his head back.

“Takes too long.” You shake your head and nip on his skin. “Please.”

His breath shudders, and before you know it, his hand pushes the fabric aside, touching along your entrance through your panties.

“Shit, princess, you’re so wet,” he groans and presses against you, fingers grazing your clit.

You rub along his clothed length, squeezing him and shuffling closer to him. At the end of the day, you know Jisung deserves better than this, but the second he moves the sticky fabric covering you to the side, any regret or guilt fades quickly. You can’t see him taking his cock out of his pants, but you note the way a sharp breath passes through his lips and his gaze darkens when he jerks himself slowly.

He lines up with you, tip already applying pressure, and kisses you roughly before pushing inside. You tighten your legs around him, head falling back against the cupboards at the sensation. He’s already throbbing, the thickness of his length stretching you to your limits. Reaching up, you grip his hair and roll your hips.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, gently rocking back and forth. “Hear that, princess? So fucking wet, I’m sliding right in.”

As soon as he deems you adjusted to him, he thrusts. His cock rubbing against your walls at this pace has you trying to find something to hold onto to ground you. Your mind is completely blank other than your pleasure.

And when your eyes roll back and you close them, the last thing you expect is to see Mark through the darkness. Oh, God, if you weren’t in such heaven right now, you’d feel horrible. Between the slick sounds of your wetness, his thickness stretching you to your limits, and the soft grunts falling from his lips, you allow your brain to put the other man in Jisung’s place. As long as you’re staring at the back of your eyelids, it’s Mark fucking you on the counter.

And for some reason, that thought has you skyrocketing toward your high. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and like he knows what that means, his hand reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit with ease. Your hips jolt, the feeling borderline too much for you.

With Mark on your mind, you finish so much faster than you usually do.

You even have to bite your lip to stop his name from escaping you. Instead, you force Jisung’s out, whining as your vision blurs. He fucks you through your orgasm before his own pace becomes erratic. He lets out a long moan, and one more thrust has him spilling deep inside you.

Finally meeting his gaze, you give him a fucked-out smile, wishing away how bad you feel about imagining your ex fucking you instead of your boyfriend.

He kisses you sweetly, humming. “What spurred this on?”

“You just…look really good today,” you mumble and press your lips to the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He grins and gently pulls out of you.

After he adjusts himself in his pants, he scoops you up off the counter, bringing you to your shared bedroom. He cleans you up with a towel, but not without admiring the way his load leaks out of you.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jisung says, grabbing you a new pair of panties and shorts.

“What’s that?” you ask, accepting the new items and changing into them.

“What do you think about getting married?” he whispers, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I mean, in general. Nothing definitive with us, but I just want to see where your head is at before I get ahead of myself, you know?”

You should’ve expected it, honestly. With the couple years you two have been together and the way you’re not getting any younger, you’re more than sure his parents have been pressuring him into marrying you. Your heart sinks further in your chest when your mind immediately jumps back to Mark.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” you tell him.

It’s not entirely a lie. You’ve just never thought about marrying him.

“Would being married to me be a bad thing?” he continues, gaze scanning over your face for any sign of emotion.

“No, of course not.” You shake your head, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. “Nothing about you is bad, Sung.”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that.”

The pang of hurt flashes across his features so quickly, you almost miss it. He recollects himself, as if he wants to hide the emotions from you in the first place.

You’re sure after that, everything will return to normal. For a while, you hoped the sighting of Mark and its effect on you were a one-time thing, if not for your sake, then for Jisung’s. It’d crush him to learn how much Mark’s presence threw you off course.

Things almost worked out in your favor. Almost.

Until you went back to that coffee shop and saw him again. It was odd that you’d gone so long without seeing Mark, and now he’s suddenly in your favorite place in the city almost every time you’re there.

It has to be on purpose, but the last thing you’ll do is correct him.

The second time you saw him, you stayed to talk to him a bit longer. You somehow convinced yourself you weren’t doing anything wrong, considering he was the one showing up to see you.

After the third time, you caved and began texting him. You weren’t sure if he knew about Jisung, but you never brought it up. All you were doing was talking—there’s nothing wrong with talking to Mark, right?

Maybe that would have been the case if you told Jisung about him. If you’d told him that you were texting someone else daily, almost instantaneous replies. But every day you physically saw Mark, it awakened something in you.

But it’s okay because you never planned to see him…right?

Jisung was still in bed when you got back from getting coffee. He smiled at you as you walked in, and when you tossed your phone aside and straddled his lap, he didn’t even hesitate. Something about seeing Mark had your insides turning, and Jisung was an outlet. It didn’t help that every time you closed your eyes, you pictured Mark filling you instead of Jisung. It got worse and worse as time went on.

You sink down on Jisung’s length, throaty groans falling from his lips as his hands grip your waist. Giving yourself a few moments to adjust, you let yourself loose after that. You ride him desperately, the feeling of him deep within your walls making you delirious. He didn’t even need to guide you, your excitement allowing you to ignore the ache in your thighs as your wetness drips down them.

Jisung has no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but he fucking loves it. He’d gotten used to the way things were, and seeing you take charge and want him was doing things to him, too. You’d had more sex in the past few weeks than you had in the months prior, and Jisung was living for it.

But he doesn’t know.

God, it should make you feel bad, but at this point, all it does is send another burst of wetness down your thighs. He reaches behind you and squeezes your ass, watching you in a form of awe as your tits bounce in his face and your nails leave crescent-shaped imprints on his shoulders.

You close your eyes, imagining it’s Mark’s fingers connecting with your clit. Mark’s cock fucking into you as you sink down. Mark’s face contorted in pleasure. The sight in your brain is enough to have you shattering, your orgasm ripping through you at an impossible intensity. You scream, Jisung—Mark—sitting up just in time to catch your crumbling body.

He thrusts two more times before he’s filling you to the brim, chest heaving as he cradles you to him. Gently scratching up and down your back, he kisses your temple.

You’ve been insatiable lately, but you can’t deny how much better life has been. Mark has made your life better, even with short conversations and texts. Not to mention the guilt has all but disappeared. There’s no harm in talking.

You pull back to kiss Jisung, a quick peck on his lips while you grin widely. “I’m gonna shower. Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He chuckles. “Have fun, my love.”

You grab new clothes and your phone and head toward the bathroom, sending one more smile his way over your shoulder before you lock the door behind you.

The next morning, you’re awoken by the pleasant surprise of Jisung’s head between your thighs. You weave your fingers through his hair. While he’s under the blanket, he’s Mark. And that thought makes everything melt around you.

“Wh—what are you doing?” you breathe out as his tongue flicks your clit.

“You’ve been so good to me lately, princess,” Jisung mumbles against your thigh. He nips your skin. “Figured I’d return the favor.”

You shouldn’t let him, but the way his mouth works expertly against you has any logical thought escaping you at a record speed.

So, instead, you close your eyes and pretend the man between your legs is the one you’re yearning for, and you fade into the pleasure. You grind up against his face, chasing a high that’s never too far off when Mark is on your mind.

This goes on for months. As much as you hate to admit it, you see Mark at least three times a week. You’re not the one going out of your way to see him, and you’re not setting up meetings, so it’s still okay. You’re not doing anything wrong. Jisung wouldn’t even be mad at you.

Things start to fall apart for you when your perfect illusion of everything crumbles. When Mark begins asking to see you, and you still oblige. You make excuses to Jisung about why you’re out more, saying Jiyoon invites you over. He never questions you. Jisung trusts you, and you use that to your advantage.

Being around Mark erases the uniformity of life, and the monotonous days are far, far gone. He makes you feel alive again. Like you can do anything, and like happiness isn’t too far out of reach.

You love Jisung. You love the way he treats you and you’re happy with him, but something’s missing. That something is this—the brief time you spend with Mark, as innocent as it may be. He never touches you or tries to kiss you or anything like that, you just sit and talk. Your soul has always vibed with Mark’s. Something about him has every part of you alive and thriving.

Mark lives in the same apartment building. When he invited you over, you were hesitant. You walk in with the resolve that it’ll be like any other time you’ve seen him, that being alone instead of in public won’t change the way you interact with him.

He hugs you, and you nearly melt into the scent of his all-too-familiar cologne. You’re surprised by the way you want to linger. This whole time, you thought your feelings and actions with Mark were innocent, and that they didn’t affect the way you were with Jisung. The slightest warm touch from the tips of Mark’s fingers are almost enough to send shivers up your spine, almost enough to ignite a fire in the pit of your stomach.

Why are you here? Why did you agree to go to his place?

He hands you a glass of wine before sitting on his couch. You join him, sitting on the opposite end. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you’re seconds away from telling him about Jisung.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Mark says, swirling his wine. “Like this, I mean. You’ve always looked good in here.”

You sip the red liquid. “You’re just saying that.”

“Not true. Walking away from you was a mistake, (Y/N). It’s been years and I still think about you and how hard you tried. I’m really sorry I wasn’t enough back then.” He scoots closer to you, dangerously close. His scent infiltrates your last barrier, and his brows pinch as he scans over your face.

“Mark.” You let out a weak chuckle. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Even if I mean them?”

“Especially if you mean them.”

His chest deflates. He purses his lips and gulps. “How else do I tell you I want you? We could be like we were before. Better, even.”

Your heart races in your chest. You scramble for words, knowing you should shut him down immediately, but nothing comes out. You don’t want to.

Jisung. You have to think of Jisung, and you have to get the hell out of Mark’s apartment. Jisung would be hurt if you entertained this. The talking he could handle. He’d brush it off without a worry, but this? You being so close to another man and aching to—

“Don’t you agree?”

“Mark…” Yes. You agree. You’ve never agreed with something more, but you can’t. You can’t.

“What’s holding you back?” He grabs your glass from you and sets both on the coffee table before coming back, cupping your cheek with that warm fucking hand. “You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you again.”

“M-Mark…” That steel wall suddenly becomes kinetic sand, and it’s crumbling fast.

“You wouldn’t have come here if at least some part of you didn’t want me.” His thumb strokes your skin.

Your chest constricts, and right when you feel the last brick tumble, your phone vibrates in your pocket. Springing away from Mark, you grab the device and look at the screen.

Jisung: hope you’re having fun with jiyoon! i’m going to sleep. love and miss you

Tears well in your eyes and you jolt up off the couch, tugging your fingers through your hair. Mark follows you, reaching out for your wrist. You jerk your arm away and shake your head.

“I need to go.”

As you rush out of his building, everything hits you all at once. Everything you’ve been doing is wrong. Talking to Mark at all should never have happened, especially without Jisung’s knowledge. You’re barely able to breathe by the time you make it to your car. You rest your head against the metal. If you hadn’t left when you did, you would’ve caved. Who knows what would’ve happened? Would you have slept with Mark?

Right before you get in, Mark is behind you, grabbing you and turning you to look at him. You gasp, but as soon as your lips are parted, his mouth is on yours. Instantaneously, you melt, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you’re surprised by how right it feels. It makes the guilt you were feeling disappear once more.

Suddenly, Jisung doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just you and Mark, and the craving for him you’ve always had. You whine into his mouth, and the next thing you know, his jacket falls to the cement with a quiet plop. Pulling away from him, you stare in shock, stunned you would even do something like that.

“Come back upstairs,” he whispers, panting. “I need you so fucking bad.”

“In the car,” you say. “Get in the car.”

His eyes darken, and he steps back to open the backseat for you. He glances around before following, and then you lock the doors. Climbing on top of you, he kisses you gently. Mark has always fit perfectly between your legs, and you were convinced back then that he’d been made just for you, and having him in this position again makes you start to think that again.

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, soft gaze trailing over your face.

You reach up and trace along his cheek, humming when the faint blue light of the night around you two shrouds him in a graceful hue. He’s the only thing on your mind. The only thing that matters.

He grips your leg and lifts it over his hip. Pinning it to the seat, his hand trails under your skirt, tapping gently along your thighs. The simple touch sets you on fire, and you know your panties are embarrassingly soaked and only getting worse. You’ve never needed someone like you need Mark Lee.

He rubs you through the lace, sighing. “Fuck, I knew you wanted me, pretty girl. So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Do something.” You seal your fate with those words, but when he slides the fabric aside and slides his fingers inside you, you don’t even have time to think of the consequences. He catches your whine in his mouth. The slow pace drives you crazy.

Slick sounds fill the car, and you’re glad he left your skirt on. It’ll hopefully stop too much from getting onto the upholstery.

“Mark.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “I need you right now.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, and once he retracts his hand away from you, you hear the tell-tale sound of him unbuckling his belt. You hear the zipper and him pushing down the fabric, and the next thing you know, his cock is lining up with your entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asks, leaning down to kiss your cheek, your forehead, and then the tip of your nose. “We can take things slow.”

“Please,” you say. “Please.”

You moan as he slowly pushes inside, and you relish in the fact that you don’t have to close your eyes to see him. This really is Mark on top of you, really the one between your legs, and the one who’s stretching you to your limits.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, rocking his hips gently.

He stops when he’s completely seated inside you, the feeling already making your thighs shake. His hips push against yours, and you wish more than anything you could be naked and in his bed. He’s so deep in you, your head lolls back and you push up toward him.

You repeatedly whisper his name, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him down to kiss you. Despite the situation, it’s been so long since someone made love to you. Your activities lately had all been rough with quick endings. Mark gives you time to enjoy him inside you while he gets lost in the constant flutter of your walls around his still cock. He doesn’t move. All he does is kiss you, the motion sweet and soft.

When he pulls back, you whine both from the slide of his throbbing length against your walls and the loss of him so deep. He intertwines your fingers, smiling as he truly begins. His pace is slow, but mind blowing nonetheless. You feel every inch of him, every twitch once he’s buried inside.

You’re floating on a cloud, gripping his hand like your life depends on it. It’s rewarding, as if everything you’ve gone through in your life has led you to this moment, to this backseat with Mark.

This is what you’re missing. Life has been off because you don’t have Mark, and now you know you can do anything. All you need is him.

He sits up on his knees, pulling you closer by your hips. With one hand gripping you firmly, the other moves to rub circles on your sensitive clit. His thumb teases you, and then his thrusts pick up speed. He’s proven how he feels, and both of you are ready to finish even if you never truly want this to end.

You hold onto the seat, but every thrust has your head smacking into the door. It has your mind whirling and your high looming scarily close. Your back arches as you shatter around him, and a scream pours from your mouth. He curses, hips stuttering before his hand slams into the window. The glass is fogged, and as his palm slides down, a squeak follows.

He pushes deeper, so, so deep, before spilling his load inside you.

You sit there with Mark a bit longer than you should. Once he pulls out of you, you truly realize what you’ve done. You kiss him, letting him know you have to get home. He tries to clean you up the best he can, but you reassure him you’ll be okay. With one last kiss, he leaves you alone in your backseat after you promise you’ll text him.

You lay there for a moment, tears pricking your eyes as you slap a hand over your mouth. Jisung will take this car to work tomorrow. The back smells of sex, Mark’s hand print is on the window. Your skirt is most likely ruined, not to mention the lace of your panties. Another man’s cum drips from your entrance while your boyfriend is sound asleep at home.

You drive yourself home in discomfort, quickly doing all you can to get rid of any evidence. The windows are down on the way back, the cool air doing little to help you. You fix your hair as much as possible once you’re parked. Straighten out your skirt. Check the mirror to see if your makeup is smudged. You wipe the excess lipstick, tears flooding down your cheeks. How could you let this happen? Everything was innocent. Nothing was supposed to happen with Mark.

When you walk into your apartment, all the lights are off. You have to walk through your bedroom to get to the bathroom, and you desperately need a shower. Quietly, you try to get through your bedroom without waking the peaceful, sleeping Jisung. He’s innocent in all of this. He deserves better, but you won’t tell him. You can’t hurt him like that.

Right as you think you’ll make it to the bathroom, he stirs. Luckily, he can’t see your state through the dark.

“Hi, baby,” he hums, voice thick with sleep.

“Hi, Ji.” You try your best to hide anything other than neutrality. “I’m just getting in the shower before bed.”

“You’re not gonna kiss me first?”

If you don’t, he’ll find it weird. He may even wake up fully and figure you out in an instant.

If you do, the guilt will tear you apart limb from limb. How could you kiss Jisung right after Mark’s tongue was in your mouth?

“Sorry.” You fake a chuckle. “Of course I will.”

You make your way over to his side of the bed and lean down to press a quick kiss to his lips. He closes his eyes and smiles at you, intertwining his fingers with yours, the same ones that latched with Mark’s a mere half an hour earlier.

“I’m so glad you’re going out and having fun,” he mutters. “Love you, babe.”

Your breath hitches. “I love you, too, Ji. Always.”

You get in the shower, furiously scrubbing your skin as if it’ll erase your actions. Silently, you cry until the tears no longer form. You sit on the tile, legs clutched to your chest as you rock back and forth.

This is all your fault. You let it get this far, and now Jisung will be the one to face the consequences for it.

Unless…

Unless he never finds out.

You’ll stop talking to Mark, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened. Jisung will never know, and you can continue your life with him as it has been.

You calm yourself down, get out of the shower, and get in bed with Jisung.

Even then, you wish it was Mark.

The next morning, Jisung goes to work before you wake up. Your resolve to ignore Mark fails as soon as he texts you. Mark is everything you’ve ever wanted or needed, and regardless of anyone’s feelings, you feel an overwhelming connection to him. But you can’t leave Jisung. You just can’t.

Over the course of the next few months, you continue to see Mark when you can, and Jisung stays unaware. There are some nights where you sleep with Mark, and then come home and sleep with Jisung. Oddly enough, your life feels complete this way. Everything is good, and the guilt of sleeping with another didn’t last. Jisung doesn’t know about Mark, and Mark doesn’t know about Jisung.

Or so you thought.

A few months with both isn’t long enough for you, but one night, when you go to Mark’s, you’re not expecting to find Jisung awake when you get home. Not only is he awake, but all the lights are on, and he’s sitting at the kitchen table. You frown, setting your purse down.

“You’re not in bed?”

“No, (Y/N), I’m not.” His face is cold, not a single emotion portrayed. “Where were you?”

“I was with Jiy—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Your heart sinks, and you let out a shuddering breath. You’ve been so careful. How did he find out?

“I…” You gulp, fists clenching at your sides.

“Who’s Mark?” That one question has your world burning down in flames, and the tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

“Ji…”

“Don’t lie to spare my feelings.” He laughs bitterly. “I’ve seen the texts. Not to mention the fact Jiyoon told me a while ago that she hasn’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and a tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Ji, I really never wanted it to go this far—”

“What the fuck did you think would happen?” He scoffs, hands slamming against the table. “What did you honestly think talking to a random fucking guy would turn into? Clearly, you had some sort of idea because you never said a damn word about it to me.”

“I’ve just been…I was sad, okay? Everything was so boring, and—”

“Oh, right, so you cheating on me for months is because I’m boring you. Got it.” His jaw quivers, but he quickly sets it. “And what is it, exactly, about him that gets you so fucking excited?”

You’re silent, but more tears pour down your face.

“Now you want to be shy? You want to feel remorse? Answer the fucking question. What could he possibly fucking have that I don’t?”

“It’s not like that, Ji, you’re not lacking.” You approach the table. “I’m so fucking sorry, none of this is your fault.”

He holds his hand up to stop you from getting closer to him. “Something else I noticed. You know, I wondered what had gotten into you before, when you would get home and immediately jump on my dick. It was unlike you, but looking back after reading those texts, the dates are just…oddly similar.”

“That’s not fair—”

“No, (Y/N), what’s not fair is learning how my girlfriend has been f—” His voice breaks, but he shakes his head and continues, quieter this time. “How my girlfriend has been fucking someone else behind my back because she finds me boring.”

“Please, let me fix this. I need you, okay?”

“No.” He wets his lips, taking a deep breath. “I was a little skeptical at first when Mark came up to me, you know. Didn’t want to believe you could do something like that. But then he showed me the texts. All the times you told him you love being with him. In a few months, you were ready to tell him you wanted to marry him, but after two years with me, you’re not ready?”

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the opportunity.

“The texts before you got physical with him were all reminiscing about your past relationship, and how much you miss it. How much you wish you could have it again, your life’s so bland, blah, blah, blah.” He chews on his bottom lip, hurt finally showing in the swirls of his brown eyes. “All my stuff is gone already. I wanted to tell you that I at least had the decency to leave you instead of leading you on while I fucked someone else. When I walk out of that door, I don’t want you to fucking text me or call me or anything. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Jisung, please…”

“Go ask Mark. You’ve apparently asked him for everything else the past few months. Although, I don’t think he’ll be too keen on answering you either.” Jisung stands, palms still flat on the table. “I fucking gave you everything, and you think it’s boring. And I hope you realize everything you’ve just given up.”

He reaches into his pocket and tosses a small, black box on the table.

“I bought that months ago. Months ago. You can keep it. Not like I have any fucking use for it anymore.” He leaves you standing in shock as he walks to the door and puts his hand on the knob. “Fuck you. I hope the rest of your existence is even a fraction of how miserable I feel right now. I deserve better than this.”

As he slams it shut behind him, you fall to your knees. Tears pour down your face. Mark told Jisung? How did Mark even find out about Jisung? Why would he do that to you?

You pull your phone out of your pocket, frantically typing out a message to Mark. It doesn’t even reach delivered status. You call him one, two, three times, and each one immediately sends you to voicemail. Time passes as you sob to yourself against the hardwood, but you’re unsure how long you’re truly there for.

You’re not sure which hurts worse—the sting of Jisung’s words or Mark being the one who told him everything.

You eventually make it to your feet, and you grab the black box. When you open it, more tears fall. Jisung asked you how you felt about marriage because he wanted to marry you. He’d bought a ring before that conversation, and he’d been holding onto it ever since.

You ruined him. You chewed him up and spit him out all in the name of keeping Mark in your life.

And now, they’re both gone.

That night, you crawl into bed—the one that still smells of Jisung and his cologne—and stare at the ceiling while you sob. Despite him telling you not to, you also try texting and calling Jisung, but those don’t go through either. Even Jiyoon doesn’t answer.

You don’t sleep. You can’t.

And as the sun rises and light infiltrates your windows, so do the faint lyrics of Empire State of Mind.

This time, there’s no Jisung. There’s no Mark. No arm around your waist, no plans to go get coffee. Your face hurts from crying so much, and it hits you then: you did this to yourself. Nobody’s at fault except for you, and you must reap what you sow.

Maybe life was boring before, but at least you hadn’t been alone.

As more tears form, you stare at the ceiling and whisper an apology to Jisung, words he’ll never hear.

He’s gone.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #park jisung #mark smut #mark angst #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #jisung smut #jisung angst #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst

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talkdutchtome · 8 months

Text

Glitch - teaser

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

warning . . . tbd )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . this is a little section of the first chapter as a little teaser for what's to come. hope you like it )

“Mason why did you and Y/N come in together, aren’t your places on opposite sides of the city?” Ben asked his best friend already knowing the answer to his question. Despite the fact that Y/N worked for Mason as his assistant, the pair were close, very close; so when they arrived to the party in the same car, Ben didn’t have to wonder too hard about the reason why. “Oh, she was at mine for a movie night last night and she was too tired to go home so she stayed.” Mason told his friend matter-of-factly, not seeing what the issue was or why his friend in front of him looked so annoyed. Even if you took away the widely inappropriateness of an employer having his employee stay at his house, there was the small issue of the fact that Y/N was madly in love with Mason and had been for years now. As much as she tried her best to keep it hidden, the only person in their circle that didn’t seem to know about it was Mason himself. Ben and Reece had a conversation a few days before, discussing whether they should tell Mason as from an outside perspective, even if it was unintentional, he did seem to be leading Y/N on; they both knew their friend extremely well, so they knew that he didn’t have the same feelings that she had for him and they knew that if Mason knew the full story there are aspects of his relationship with her that he might change.

“Look mate,” Ben started, unsure of exactly what to say but knowing he needed to say something. “I think you should know that Y/N has feelings for you” Mason’s brows furrowed, completely taken aback by his friends' blunt honesty. “What? No are you sure?” he asked him, truly hoping that he was mistaken or playing some kind of prank. “I’m 100% sure, it’s obvious to be honest with you mate. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, she really truly loves you. Having her stay at your place and being that close to her, it’s going to make her think that someday you two could be more than friends, so if that’s not the case then you really need to reconsider doing things like that as it isn’t fair on her. Y/N’s a good girl, you know that she deserves to be happy.” Ben’s words make Mason’s head spin. Y/N was more to him than just his employee, she was one of his closest friends, but he really didn’t see her as anything but a friend. “Oh, fuck Ben what should I do?” Mason asked with his brain completely frazzled at this point, 15 minutes ago he was feeling great, he had just had a great day with one of his best friends and then then he came to a party to blow off some steam after a very stressful week, but now it seemed like everything had come crashing down. “I think you need to speak to her, make it clear that you value her friendship but you don’t see her as anything else, let her down gently.” he told Mason who simply nodded before starting to walk towards the girl in question who was at the bar talking to one of the other players girlfriends., the second Ben realized what he was trying to do he put a hand out to stop him from going over there, causing Mason to look back at him with a puzzled expression. “Maybe telling her right this minute isn’t the best idea though mate, considering you’re in public. Not to mention the fact we’ve all got that trip planned for the Spanish Grand Prix in a few days, maybe you should wait until after that. If things don’t go well that could make the whole trip so awkward.” Ben pleaded at his friend, but he could see on Mason’s face that his words were going in one ear and out the other. “Fine go, but be nice to her and you better not ruin the race for everyone” he relented, taking his arm off of his friend and letting him walk towards the unsuspecting girl.

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Mason asked with no regard for the fact that she was already deep in conversation with somebody else. His bluntness combined with the pained look on his face made her recognize instantly that whatever he wanted to talk about wasn’t likely to be lighthearted. She hesitantly followed the man as he gestured for her to come along to a quieter part of the bar. Before she could ask what was going on, Mason had already asked her a question that made her stomach sink - “Do you have feelings for me?” She had absolutely no idea how to answer his question, of course she knew the answer; she had been pining after him for years at this point, but she just wasn’t ready for him to know that yet. “Will you please just answer my question?” he almost demanded, his harsh tone making her freeze. Looking up at her best friend with tear filled eyes she muttered the last thing he wanted to hear - “Yes”. Her voice was so faint that it didn’t come out as anything more than a whisper but to Mason it was the loudest thing he had ever heard. Y/N had imagined having this conversation with Mason so many times, imagined herself finally telling him that she loved him but in all her fantasies, in all her daydreams, he had never flinched like he had done just now. “Mason I -” she started but stopped in her tracks when she saw tears forming in her best friend’s eyes. “How could you do this Y/N, why would you ruin our friendship like this?” he asked her in genuine disbelief. Mason watched the girl stood in front of him stumble over her words, clearly not expecting to be asked that question, before putting her almost full glass down on the table and running out of the bar.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #football x reader

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

Text

when your anxiety spikes — inosuke, genya, sanemi

Author’s Note: just a lil fluff to end my evening (#writer is TIRED lol). ☺️😴

when your anxiety spikes — inosuke, genya, sanemi

Hashibira Inosuke x Reader, Shinazugawa Genya x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: anxiety/panic disorder, death content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: This is going to be such a strange emergency request so feel free to ignore 😭 all day I’ve been smelling blood like an iron smell and it’s making me so unsettled😭 idk if it’s a nosebleed that won’t come out or if I’m Tanjiro now but I’m so unnerved by this

If you could write a little preference of sanemi Inosuke and genya calming down an anxious reader I’d appreciate it because I’m convinced I’m dying 😭

~faqs~

“Why’re you all jittery?” Inosuke mutters, placing a firm palm on your knee, “I’m hungry too y’know.”

Swallowing a wry chuckle, you rest your hand on top of his, reveling in his steadiness, “I’m not jittery because I’m hungry.”

“Then why’re you all wiggly?” he asks again, scowling with confusion, “You’re not usually this wiggly!”

“Only you would call feeling anxious wiggly,” you snort, amusement softening your gaze as his eyes widen in realization.

“Well why didn’t you say so?!”

Promptly shoving aside the imminent prospect of dinner, Inosuke’s full attention radiates intense and warm on your clammy, tired skin.

“Surprisingly, when I’m feeling anxious, I don’t feel like announcing that I’m feeling anxious,” you mutter quietly.

“But you still manage to be as sarcastic as ever,” he huffs, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been smelling blood all day.”

“Blood?!” he nearly growls, “Are you injured?! ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“Inosuke,” an alarmed giggle forces itself through your nose, exasperated appreciation for his concern tamping down your still stirring anxiety, “You’re not helping.”

“Oh,” he immediately switches gears, suddenly so serious that your giggling continues, “I’m sure you’re fine. Stop overreacting.”

Silence fills the dining room as you slowly raise an eyebrow, goosebumps raising on his arms… 1… 2… 3…

“I’M SORRY, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO HELP.”

You burst out laughing at the gruff anguish in his voice, quickly pecking his cheek to soothe his own panic, “That’s quite alright, Inosuke. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you for caring.”

“Of course I’m going to care! I love you!” he declares loudly, clearly disgruntled toward himself.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head fondly, nodding toward the entrance as the door slides open, and the aroma of dinner seeps into the space, “And I love you. You’re probably right, I’m probably fine,” winking boldly, “And I know you’ll be here for me if I’m not.”

Aaand now Inosuke’s torn between scarfing down dinner or carrying you to his room for a cuddlefest.

SHINAZUGAWA GENYA

Genya’s composure cracks when your anxiety spikes — in a very soft, delicate, really-unlike-him manner. As soon as your breathing becomes uneven: his eyes narrow, he immediately mutters Bye to whoever he’s talking to (literally mid sentence too), and stalks over to your side. To anyone else, he likely appears pissed off, but the gentle way he covers your hand with his, guiding you away from the crowd (while glaring at anyone who seems even slightly curious about whatever’s occurring) — he’s the opposite of pissed off.

He’s quiet as he asks, “What can I do for you?”

He’s warm as he brushes your hip with his thumb, reassuring you of his physical presence, “Do I need to get someone?” Teach someone a lesson?

And devoted as he nods once, “We can go home. I was bored before we arrived anyway, everyone else sucks.”

And even though you’ll admonish him Genya, they’re our friends! They do not all suck, he’s more than content to play up his own disdain for social events and overwhelming spaces if it means getting to see your frazzled stare melt back to its usual sharpness — a tiny sliver pulsing with adoration whenever you decide to look at him.

“I smell blood all the damn time,” Sanemi grunts, “So what?”

“It’s not about the blood,” you sigh, arms crossed.

“Then what’s it about?” he sighs louder, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s about how the blood makes me feel.”

You feel a little silly attempting to explain your anxiety to him, but you know he means well… and you also know he really won’t understand unless you’re patient with him.

“I just feel anxious smelling it. Like, is there something wrong with me-”

“-no,” he can’t help interrupting, his affection for you slipping through.

You smile despite yourself, nudging his shoulder with a satisfied sound—he’s absolutely not blushing thank you very much he totally is—before continuing, “Am I imagining it? Is it something simple that will go away? Am I dy-”

“You’re not dying,” he interrupts again, this time with an eye roll, “I’d know if you were.”

The sincerity, the darkness, of his tone freezes you, somehow reassuring even as it seizes you.

“Not to be weird,” he grimaces, backtracking quickly as dread threatens to cloud your gaze, “I just- … you mean a lot to me, so I’d know if you weren’t okay. Physically. I’d tell you to report to Shinobu.”

“Tell me?” you ask lightly.

“Carry you there myself,” he smirks, confidence overcoming the heat in his face, “Because you mean a lot to me.”

“Ah.”

“Does that help?” he murmurs softly.

You gulp, calloused fingers squeezing your wrists as he guides you closer.

“Knowing that you mean a lot to me? Knowing that I’m looking out for you?”

You nod, smiling now as you meet his earnest stare, thrilled by his unexpected gift of vulnerability and sincerity — by his revelation of tender intent.

“You help,” you whisper, shyly kissing his chin.

“Good,” he whispers, kissing your forehead in return, “I’m trying my best.”

#preferences #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #hashibira inosuke #inosuke x reader #shinazugawa genya #genya x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader

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rustedhearts · 6 months

Text

thinking about sitting at your desk, tapping away in a mostly-dark room, lit only by the white brightness of your computer screen opened to a word doc. you’ve been writing for hours, and all that can be heard from down the hall is the occasional grunt and groan of displeasure.

when the bed gets too cold and feels too big, steve comes shuffling down in just a pair of plaid pants, curled over his feet and sat low on his hips. he threw his glasses on somewhere in the walk here, and he bumps them askew when he rubs his frazzled hair.

his feet sweep into the room. shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. you don’t even look up. you chew on the skin around your nails as your eyes scan the words you’ve spent the last few hours reworking and reworking until they all sound like mush. he comes behind the desk and hooks himself over your chair, arms looping around your shoulders and neck, chin tucked into the groove so his cheek touches yours.

“Come t’ bed,” he mumbles, lips squished into your skin.

you reach back and scratch at his scalp. it’s doglike, the affections he likes most—but they come second nature to you, almost. you don’t even tear your eyes away from the screen when you kiss his head.

“in a minute.”

he grumbles and huffs. “no, now.”

and he sounds so whiney and incomplete, like he just can’t sleep without you sandwiched up against him. nuzzled into his chest or turned away with your ass on his stomach. he doesn’t even mind that.

“steve,” you sigh.

he knows the sound of protestation too well. he flicks your computer screen down to snap it closed and yanks your chair back. you’re too tired to even argue, though you’ll yell at him tomorrow. a yawn splits open your mouth as he slings you over his shoulder, and he pats your ass like well-behaved herd marched off to bed. he had to sheep-dog you a little sometimes, just to get you to step away from that damn computer.

“you’ll write tomorrow,” he says, as if you aren’t already planning your next sentence out. you’ll wake tomorrow and immediately jot it down, and make him read and reread it until he assures you it doesn’t sound awful.

tossing you onto the bed, he makes quick work of assuming your usual positions. he tugs you into him like a pillow, arms wound tight. a kiss smacked on your head, quick and sharp.

“much better.”

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff

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marchsfreakshow · 1 month

Text

Just There [Colin Zabel]

Fluff / drabble

You were standing outside of the police station, waiting for Colin, when Mare comes out and quickly raises her own concern for you.

First Colin fic please be nice to me, this probably won't sound too great </3

No one's perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

A warm coffee in their hands, and wind blowing past. "...hey." They piped up when they heard Mare's voice. She still looked as frazzled as ever, with tired eyes, messy hair, and a thick jacket over her. Still holding that goddamn vape as usual.

"oh, hi Mare. Um, is Colin leaving work soon?"

"..yeah, he's stressed. I think. Kinda can't figure out this case we're doing." She sighed and gripped her vape, ready to potentially use it. They nodded understandingly but sighed again, and took a warming sip of their coffee. "Just go home and stay there until he comes home, seriously."

They shook their head firmly. "I'd rather be here and make sure he's alright now." A concerned feeling fell over their furrowed brows. Shivering in the cold spring, wearing a small coat, and thin jeans. Underestimating the weather yet again.

"That's your choice." And Mare went on her way. Turning on her car and driving away.

Only a few minutes went by before the door opened, and they turned on their heel, smiling at the man walking past. He didn't even recognise his significant other until he did a double take. An instant smile and they were wrapped in his arms, body heat warming them. Gloved hands holding their freezing face. It could've caused a blush due to how warm Colin felt from being inside all day. Kiss after kiss after kiss. "Suprise." They chuckled, resting a free hand on his chest.

"Definitely a surprise. Welcome one though." Rubbing their arms, he smiled widely and kept soft eye contact. "Let's get home okay? You gotta be freezing." A nod and his hand placed on their back as a quick walk to the car ensued. A small blast of wind made them both shiver, now sitting in the car just as rushed as the wind.

The car got turned on quick and the tiny radiator on as rapidly. "Ready?"

"Always." He grinned towards them. "How long have you been waiting out here for me?"

"ehhh, not long."

"how long?" The car started, and they drove to Zabel's place. His voice was a bit sterner, and staring over at them. A click of their tongue a chuckle.

"about like an hour and a half."

"of course you were." Zabel chuckled, rubbing their shoulder a bit as trees and roads zipped past them.

Comfortable silence until they got to Zabel's place. Sighs and slow movements while they got comfortable in each other's arms on the couch. Crackles and pops of the tiny fire. Sleepy stares at the flaming blends of red, orange and yellow. No words spoke, but so many thoughts were expressed. The room lull was added by soft kisses, one after the other.

Staying by each other's side, never leaving. Finding comfort in a room if the other was just standing there, minding their business.

"Love you.." sleepily mumbled, nuzzling into their neck.

"I love you more Colin." Whispered back, leaning against him. Falling asleep to the peaceful quiet of a fire and kisses.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @babygorewhore @slutforgarlogan @slvt4jamesmarch @coentinim @nahoyasboyfriend @bluerthanvelvet444 @tatelangdonsweater @fear-is-truth @newwavesylviaplath

#evan peters #colin zabel #colin zabel x you #colin zabel x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #x reader #fluff #mare of easttown #lord im so nervous

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

what you wanted<3

@itiscj frankly dear, it’s trash but here ya are:)

It was probably because it had been a bad day, but you just weren’t in the mood. Eddie was nipping at your neck as you halfheartedly tried to smile, tried to be into the moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips firmly. You needed to be in the right headspace. You grabbed his waist and pulled down his hips to meet yours, gaining a groan from him, yet nothing left your lips. You didn’t feel a growing coil in your belly or a tingling feeling down below. You just felt tired and lonely, even though he was there. You just wanted held.

But you didn’t want to disappoint him. You allowed him to take off your shirt and bra, leaving you in your underwear. He suckled on your nipples, his hand cupping your heat and drawing circles on your clothed clit. You didn’t understand why you weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t even wet!

By the time your panties were off and Eddie’s head was in between your thighs, you figured he noticed your lack of wetness, due to the tongue action he was giving you, but still nothing from your body. You laid on your back, hair flowing freely as you fisted the sheets. If anything, you felt tense and awkward. Your emotions were bubbling and you felt like you were being used. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know you were feeling this way. You needed to communicate, but you didn’t know what to say.

Your chest felt hot and your mouth filled with saliva. Turning your head, a tear slipped from your eye and you gritted your teeth. Eddie was adding this uncomfortable pressure down between your hips that made your stomach hurt. This was all so stupid. You loved Eddie and you loved the things he did to you, but you just weren’t into it tonight.

“Eddie,” You cried, shifting your hips. “I don’t-”

Your cries of pain, to him, sounded like pleasure. You felt exhausted and you just wanted to be held. This made you feel dirty.

“Eddie, stop, red, red!” You jerked up, using your safe word and pushing him away with screeching breaths.

“Hey, hey!” Eddie panicked, reaching out to grab you. “Honey, honey, what is it! Are you alright!”

“Don’t, don’t!” You pushed yourself back to the headboard as far as you could go until it smacked against the wall. “Don’t touch me!” You smacked his hands away, pushing him away.

Eddie stalled and threw his hands up from your hits. “Y/n, what did I do? I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t realize you weren’t-”

“It’s fine!” You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. Your face was beat red and your hair was frazzled. You had tear tracks on your face, a sheet over your body. You didn’t look happy. “Just shut up a minute.”

Shut up, he did.

He watched you until you started to cry again, your lip jutting out.

“I’m sorry.” You cried. “I just had a bad d-day. I just don’t..I don’t know, I just don’t-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, baby.” Eddie cooed, his hand ghosting your knee. “It’s my fault, angel, I should have payed more attention, I’m sorry, please don’t apologize. Let me hold you, honey, i’m so sorry.”

You let him gather you up onto his lap, resting your head on his bare shoulder. “Sorry. I feel ridiculous.”

“Don’t say that.” He held you tightly. “You’re not ridiculous. I’m just an idiot. I should’ve realized.”

You choked on a breath, kissing his chest as you closed your eyes. This was what you wanted.

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

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undertheorangetree · 8 months

Text

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Five- The Dinner

Summary- A family dinner results in an unexpected rendezvous.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Titty sucking. Handjob. Vaginal fingering. Cunnilingus. Smut. Alcohol consumption. Allusions to drug abuse. Severe daddy issues. My bitter and intense hatred for Viserys Targaryen coming through in my writing. Discussions of bad childhood/neglectful parenting.

Author's Note- okay I’m done teasing now. Shout out to modern AUs for letting me use modern terms in smut without it sounding weird to me. Find the rest of this filth on AO3 link below!

Series masterlist

divider by firefly-graphics

She watches mildly distraught as Alicent flutters around the kitchen, murmuring to herself as she sets pots and pans on the stovetop, pulling out an absurd amounts of ingredients from the fridge.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" she asks for what she thinks is the fourth time, hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Alicent looks up at her, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face with a tired smile. "I'm sure, sweetheart. Don't worry, Rhaenyra should be here within the hour to help me. You're on vacation, go and do something fun. I can handle it."

"I don't mind helping, really. Even if it's only until Rhaenyra gets here."

That earns her nothing but another thankful smile and a shake of her head before Alicent is ignoring her completely, mumbling about where she has left her biggest bowl. A part of her is worried that she's annoying Alicent but she still can't stop herself from asking. She looks frazzled, so much so that it is clear that she is not used to working in the kitchen like this. With her hair tangled in a messy red bun on the top of her head, she has a hard time imagining the Targaryen-Hightower household as a place known for nuclear family dinners. Not with the way Alicent seems absolutely wrought with anxiety.

"Oh, my love," Alicent calls out suddenly and she turns to find Helaena pausing on her way to the stairwell, an expensive looking Russian Blue cradled in her arms. Dreamfyre, she had learned the cat's name was, though she has only ever seen her in pictures on Helaena's phone. She is a reclusive little thing, spending most of her days basking in the sunlight in quieter rooms. Alicent waves Helaena over before jerking her head in her direction. "Take our dear friend here and tell her to enjoy being a guest. She's trying to be too helpful for a holiday."

Helaena huffs a laugh, adjusting her grip on her cat before holding her hand out to her, fingers grabbing at air like a child. "Come on then."

She's pulled out of the kitchen unceremoniously, obediently following behind Helaena, though she can't help but look back at Alicent once more, still feeling guilty.

"I don't know why she doesn't just bring some of the staff with her," Helaena laments as they begin climbing the stairs, still hand in hand. "She insists that she doesn't need them on holiday, but then she plans some big dinner like this and all it does is stress her out."

Out of all of Alicent's children, Helaena is the one she can most see herself befriending. The sweetest, the most down to earth, less obvious when it comes to her family's massive wealth. But it is moments like this where the blatant difference between them is abundantly clear. Her home had never had so much as a maid, much less a whole host of staff. She can do nothing but nod dumbly, agreeing with her as they make their way to the second floor.

"You lost this," Helaena says as she opens Aemond's door, smiling at them both and looking incredibly pleased with her own joke.

"You're so funny," Aemond says, voice completely deadpan, not so much as looking up from the book he has open on his desk. She doesn't have to look at the cover to know it's a textbook as her own copy is still sitting on her bedside table in her apartment.

She grins. "I know."

Helaena leaves and she has no choice but to make herself comfortable on their now shared bed, propping the pillows up against the headboard and sitting back against them. Aemond continues reading and she takes the opportunity to really look at him, uninterrupted by his own piercing gaze. The long sharp planes of his face, the strong jut of his nose, the line of his cheekbones. The ever present tilt of his lips, as if there is some secret or joke he’s struggling to hide. Even from here, she can see the way his eyelashes curl against his eyelids, the light blonde of them near translucent. His hair is the same almost silver blond and, fleetingly, she wonders how much effort he truly puts into it. She has heard the sound of the hairdryer when he locks himself in the bathroom but has never seen any of the products he may or may not be using. Nor has she ever been permitted to enter, the door locked tight since their post shower run in.

But it's his eye that truly catches her attention. She's sat on his sighted side and she can see the brilliant blue of his real eye even from there, admiring the way it catches the afternoon light. Only the dilation of his pupil sets it apart from the prosthetic and she realizes now how pretty they are when he’s not glaring at her or attempting to stare her into submission.

She nearly jumps when he speaks, pulling her harshly out of her thoughts. "You'll meet my father tonight. And Daemon."

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl @randomdragonfires @at-a-rax-ia @violetletovi @launotfound @helaenaluvr @solisarium

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut

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griffintail2 · 1 month

Note

do u take requests? if so, i ask for angel dust with a teen fem reader who’s in a relatively similar situation as he’s in with valentino, except it’s with mammon, like fizzaroli from hb, plz!

I do take requests! Congrats you're the first on this blog! :D Now I've never watched Helluva, yet. I keep meaning to. So I kept the concept of Mammon and Fizzaroli's relationship that I learned from my friend who HAS watched Helluva and changed Mammon to a sinner I made up on the spot. Same context still! I hope you enjoy!! ♥

Everything to Me

Pairings: Angel Dust x Fem! Teen! Reader

Warnings: Implied Manipulation, Light Angst, Val mentioned, Mentions of Minor Injuries

----

The teenager had come into the hotel, slightly frazzled to begin with but with time, she was a bright and cheerful sinner.

Angel was the one to bring it out of her, taking the kid under his wing. He…saw signs he knew all too well. It was easy for him to connect with her because of that and when (Y/N) became more comfortable, he was so happy to see the real her. It always brightened his days when he came back to the hotel to see the teen smiling genuinely now.

And for a while, he thought she was fine! It seemed like the kid had been holing herself in the hotel to escape whatever situation she was in. That was the one thing he couldn’t get the kid to talk about. She refused to talk about before the hotel, or even most things she did when out of the hotel.

It made Angel nervous when she didn’t tell him about what she was doing when out, but she always came back bright and cheerful. So, he had hoped she’d gotten herself out of the situation that brought her here in the first place.

Then a Saturday night came around.

Angel, himself, crashed on the couch in the parlor after a long day at the studio. Val had discovered a few new things he had wanted to try today and Angel just needed five minutes. Five minutes to get his head together before he tried to interact with people…

“Angel,” Charlie said above him.

He let out a breath before he opened his eyes, his smile a bit tight as he looked at Charlie, but his brow furrowed seeing Charlie’s nervous look, Vaggie just as worried behind her.

“What’s up toots?”

“We…Well, I went to go get (Y/N) for redemption activities while you were gone and she wasn’t in her room.” He was quick to sit up at that. “And we tried to call and text her to see where she was but she didn’t answer either.”

“So, you don’t know where she is?!”

“No.” Vaggie shook her head.

“Fuck, why didn’t you call me?” Angel took his phone out, dialing (Y/N). She never ignored his calls, but it just rang with no answer. “Shit! I’m going out to find her.”

“Everyone else is already out looking, we were waiting for you and seeing if she came back,” Charlie told him as they rushed to the door.

Angel didn’t know where to start, but he was going to look over the Pride Ring if he had to. Hours and hours passed, and it drove him nuts and exhausted him, but there was no sign of the teen. He had to be dragged back to the hotel when he refused to stop.

As he went back to the hotel, he gripped tightly to his arms. He’d gone everywhere he could think that the kid would go, running for hours between each place and asking around. Hell! He’d ignored calls from Val so he could keep looking. Consequences be damned, he’d find his kid.

Even though he was being dragged back to rest, he was only getting thirty minutes before he rushed back out to find the teen.

With that plan in mind, when he walked into the hotel, his worry and determination blossomed into several other emotions as he saw (Y/N) making her way up the lobby stairs.

(Y/N) stopped hearing the door open, eyes tired as her hands were tucked into her hoodie pocket, letting out one word and nothing more. “Hey.”

The exhausted pornstar could now only feel one emotion.

“Where the fuck have you been?! You weren’t answering your fucking phone! You didn’t tell anyone where you went! We’ve been all over Hell looking for your ass! And you’re just here!” Angel yelled as he came over to the teen.

“Angel-!” Charlie started.

“I just got back.” She muttered.

“You’ve been gone for a whole ass day! Without a single fucking word! What were you thinking?”

His brain slammed on the brakes when the teen teared up, looking at the ground.

“It’s-I—” She gripped the inside of her pocket. “I…I don’t know…I—”

She was fighting a sob.

Angel sighed deeply as he ran two of his hands through his hair.

“Look. We’re both exhausted.” Angel said. “We’ll talk about it later. Just…go sleep and we’ll talk.”

She nodded before rushing upstairs. Angel took a deep breath as Charlie put a hand on one of his arms.

“At least she’s here.” Charlie tried to look on the bright side.

“Yeah...” Angel mumbled. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

As exhausted as the spider sinner was, he lay in bed, eyes open as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the look of pain on (Y/N)’s face out of his mind. The more he thought about his regret for shouting, he realized how devasted the kid looked before he started yelling. Groaning into his hands, he got up and went to her room.

When he got to the door, his chest was tight when he heard sobbing inside. Taking a breath, he knocked as he opened the door slowly.

“Hey, kid.”

(Y/N) let out a shaky gasp she looked up at him as he came in, Angel freezing in the door seeing her with her hoodie off and able to fully see the bruises and scars and fresh injuries on her arms. He stepped in completely, closing the door, keeping his anger in check for whoever did this.

“Who did this?” Angel asked carefully.

“I um—I—” (Y/N) pulled her knees close to her chest, tears falling faster before she let out a shaky breath knowing there was no use lying. “T-The gang on the E-East end.”

“Why the fuck did they attack you?” Angel bristled, struggling to keep his anger in.

“…….Because I attacked them first.” She muttered.

Angel faltered at that, trying to make sense of why the honestly sweet teen attacked a gang.

“Why? What?” He looked at her confused as he went over to the bed.

She looked away, gripping onto the fabric of her pants, silent tears falling.

“Kid.” Angel sat next to her, gently putting a hand on her arm. “You can talk to me. I have no room to judge anyone.” He joked lightly, making the teen glance over at him. “I’m here for you. Just tell me what’s going on toots.”

She watched him before looking at the wall across the room. “I um…I-I was nobody in life…No one looked at me. No one saw me…Then I died and…it was happening all over again! There was no one…”

He gently rubbed her arm in comfort, frowning slightly when the teen gave a tiny, strained smile.

“Then Felix saw me. He saw me when I used my powers.”

Angel knew vaguely of (Y/N)’s powers. She was able to manipulate the ground, and even pull up part of it to use as weapons. It was pretty good shit when she was focused.

“He has such big plans! And he asked me to join him. Me. He wants to become an Overlord. And with my help, he can. He promises, he promises. When he does, I’ll be at his side and everyone will see me. I won’t be a nobody. I’ll be somebody.”

Her smile disappeared as she stared down at the bed with furrowed brows.

“We um…weget put in a lot of fights for the plans. He needs the territory to take over…This last one…I fucked up. I lost the fight and…He’s not happy with me right now and I…” She let out a quiet sob. “He got so angry with me and then you were angry and I—God I’m such a fuck up!”

She was startled as Angel took her shoulders with one set of arms and her hands with the other. Looking up at Angel, she could see a small fire in his eyes, anger that Angel knew was for this Felix brat. But, the rest of the look was calm and gentle for the teen he’d taken under his wing.

“Kid. I need you to listen to me carefully, alright?” Angel told her and she nodded slowly as Angel’s two other arms appeared, wiping away her tears. “You’re NOT a nobody. You’re somebody. You’re somebody to me, to Charlie, to Husk, to everyone in this hotel. And if anyone else thinks different, they don’t fucking matter. They ain’t worth your time. And this Felix cat, he’s the nobody. If he can’t make it without you, that should tell you how amazing you are and how shit he is. You understand me?”

Fresh tears rolled down (Y/N)’s cheeks, and Angel wiped them away immediately.

“B-But, what—”

“No what’s. Do you get me, kid?”

It took a moment but (Y/N) nodded before moving out of Angel’s hold to hug him instead. Angel held onto her tightly, sighing softly as he rubbed her back.

“You’re everything to me, kid. Don’t ever forget that.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x reader #teen reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #hazbin angel dust x reader

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8-rae-rae-8 · 3 months

Note

May I please request,,,, a itty ghost hurt/comfort (heavy on comfort) w cg soap? The demons got to me today and I can’t stop thinking about baby si just being inconsolable until soap comes and picks him up and gently rocks him-

-💖

YES U MAY

1.4k words

It was a bad day. A bad emotion day, as the 141 fondly called it. There were small disagreements that turned to full on arguments simply because Ghost metaphorically woke up on the wrong side of the bed. As far as the rest of them could see, he just needed to de-stress, they couldn’t see the darker eye bags underneath the eyeblack and mask. He needed what he refused to ask for; gentle love, care and rest. But mostly less stress. Johnny was right there, waiting for him to slip so he could catch him with open arms.

All day was spent mostly walking on eggshells until Simon crashed.

Crashed. Not slipped.

The man crashed in bed. Curled up into as tight of a ball as he could manage, and he slept. The nightmares clawed his brain till he tossed and turned loud enough to alert others. It was Soap who rushed in the second he was aware of the worrying sounds of the beds movement and the shuffling from behind the closed door.

Upon entering, it was clear just how distressed Ghost was in his sleep. His mask damp at the neck and forehead with sweat. Small whimpers fell from his lips, grumbles low in his chest added to the trembling of his shoulders. His eyeblack smudging away after each movement of his head that pulled his mask with it. A pillow was held tightly to his chest.

In an instant, as if he sensed Johnny’s presence, Simon jolted off of the pillows. Tears welled in his eyes, his eyes jumping from spots around the room until he saw Soap near the door. The sobs then fully came out, reaching out and grasping at air.

“Buu-uh-bba!!” He cried, the tears mixing with sweat and eyeblack that eventually soaked the eye of his mask. Simon grabbed at the air near Soap, cries only growing louder.

Johnny looked frazzled at the sudden cry and change in position, then again, he knew just how bad Simon’s dreams could mess with him. He could only imagine the hell that was happening in his head. He stepped forward and quickly scooped Simon into his arms. Even as tall and heavy as Ghost was, Soap couldn’t ever say no. He even went to the lengths to buff himself up enough to hold the little one and still be comfortable.

“Bubba’s here, Bubba’s got ye.” Soap softly settled Simon in his arms, all gentle love. Kisses were placed on Simon’s masked face as Johnny rocked him slowly.

Inconsolable for minutes at a time, Johnny barely managed to get his mask off and a pacifier in his mouth before he rushed to grab the rest of Simon’s regressing gear. A diaper was a must. Especially after a nap with nightmares. Holding Simon was certainly a task while the little one cried and cried.

Laying him down was even more of a nightmare.

Simon practically screeched as he was laid down, nonsense babbles of jumbled words came from him the second he was placed down. Lots of ‘up’s, and ‘bubba’s.

The little one didn’t quite see that he needed to be padded up in times like this. But Johnny worked fast, even with Simon kicking his weak, tired, legs. He was padded up in just a few minutes then Simon was back in his arms. Just a hoodie on to cover him, his hoodies being on the baggy side helped with that. Soap rocked with Simon in his arms, slow and stable movement.

“I know.. Bubba’s got ye now. It’s all okay..” Soap placed soft kisses along Simon’s face, wiping away the tears though it smudged the eyeblack.

Simon’s cheek mushed against Soap’s palm the moment he was close enough to get that contact. His cries became a bit more muted as the contact persisted. Johnny’s hand stroked away each tear that fell down his cheek.

“Yeah.. Bubba’s here.” Johnny whispered softly. “You’re so brave, M'eudail.. So brave facin’ those nightmares all on yer own, hm?” He praised as he kissed his nose.

A weak giggle was given to the kiss, teary and glassy eyes peering up at Johnny. The darkness in the corners of his eyes began to fade, brushing away all those monsters from his perception.

“Yeah! Bubba’s so proud of ye, ‘m so so proud.” The carer grinned down at Simon. “My wee lad.” He cooed.

Simon tearily looked up at him, tears steadily dripped down his cheeks till a stop. He babbled quietly up at Soap, putting his fingers in his mouth to chew on. The tears stained his cheeks with smudged eyeblack. He blinked up at him.

“Ah,” Johnny tsked as he chuckled, “No chewin’ on yer fingers, Si.” He removed the little one’s hand from his mouth, leaning over to the side table of the bed to grab Simon one of his pacifiers from the drawer. Seeing Simon calm down so quick just from being rocked by him warmed his heart.

The pacifier was gently popped into his mouth, and Johnny slowly began to sit down with him on the side of the bed. It only took a second for Simon to start fussing at that. The pacifier bobbed in his mouth as he began to wiggle in his lap.

“Ye just wanna be rocked, is tha’ it, cutie?” Johnny fondly shook his head. He grunted as he stood up with Simon, rocking him slowly once again.

It worked quickly, Ghost quieted down and rested his head down on Soap’s chest. Just over his heart like always, listening to the steady beat like it was a lullaby.

“Yeah… ye just wanna rock with me, hm?” He kissed his head gently. He could clean Simon’s face later, he just needed the boy to be comfortable before he added any tasks to their day.

“Bubba…” Simon babbled behind his pacifier, blinking up at him. One of his hands rested gently on Soap’s chest as he played with the fabric by rolling it between his fingers.

“What’s up, lad?” Johnny softly bounced him to get him in a more comfortable position for the both of them. He smiled down at Simon, giving a gentle hum of encouragement.

Simon didn’t quite respond, huffing a little and nuzzling up to him instead. He grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s shirt to hold tightly.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Mo ghraidh.” Soap kissed his head. He never stopped rocking him, swaying happily with Simon in his arms as he occasionally took a few steps to keep up with movement.

“Bubba p’omise..?” Simon murmured, hardly intelligible behind the pacifier.

“Bubba promises.” Johnny assured him. A sweet grin spread across his face as he watched Simon melt against him at that. “I’ve got ye, love, rest those eyes.” He rubbed his back in slow motions.

He couldn’t quite say no to that. Simon closed his eyes, despite fighting it the whole time. He kept his head firmly pressed against Johnny’s chest, listening for both the rumble of his voice and his heartbeat.

When his eyes shut, there wasn’t anything scary waiting to grasp him from the safety of his carer’s arms. Instead, he found warmth and safety in the void of nothingness. No hands dared to pull him under the water, nothing shouted to him, nothing clawed at him. It was all safe instead. Soap’s soft murmuring of sweet words and assurances kept him afloat, he even got a few kisses.

Sleep was far away. That wasn’t the intention. He removed the stressful excess stimuli that kept his head running a mile a minute and simply trusted that Johnny would keep him safe. To watch out for him. And he always did, always had his six.

“I love you, Si.” He heard Soap whisper to him while gently pressing their foreheads together.

Simon felt his gentle breaths against his face, relaxing further at the close proximity. Rather than forcing the words out, he babbled happy, but sleepy, nonsense in response. Of course with a goofy little smile as well, he couldn’t help it.

“There’s a smile..” Johnny purred, pulling back a little before planting a kiss to his nose.

The little one babbled quietly before he simply hummed. He comfortably settled, deep breaths filling his lungs again.

As always, Soap caught him when he fell. Picked him up when he broke. Ran to him when he was distressed and fixed him right up. Made the world right again.

This will probably be uploaded to ao3 later today !!

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod agere #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghostsoap #cod #call of duty agere #cod age regression #call of duty age regression #fandom agere #agere fic #💖

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cuubism · 8 months

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[[[I fanficced your fanfic, I hope you don't mind 😅 was craving soft/sad cryptid Dream. Feel free to post, delete, modify, ignore, whatever, as you will, it's your universe! And thank you for creating such a compelling one💜]]]

It’s an unremarkable day, meandering into an unremarkable night, when there’s a stiff, solitary knock at the coffee shop door. This, in and of itself, is still unremarkable. That’s how Dream knocks, and Dream comes by almost as many days as he doesn’t; but when Hob goes to let him in, he finds his friend looking— well. Remarkable, in a different way than usual.

Dream looks, in a word, frazzled. In fact, it takes his eyes full, near-comical seconds to focus, before he peers around the empty shop interior. “You are closed?”

“To the public,” Hob assures him, and just in case that isn’t a clear enough answer, he gets a hand on Dream’s elbow and steers him inside and to a clean table. “What can I make you?”

“Nothing,” Dream huffs. “Thank you. There is— a book I must read. I only sought somewhere safe to do so.”

“Okay, well.” Hob smiles. “I’ve got some cleaning up to do down here that should take a while. And if I finish before you do, I’ll come join you. Or we can go up to my flat.”

“Thank you,” Dream repeats. His breathing has calmed, but his eyes have not. He’ll definitely need some cheering up, or calming down— or both— before too long. But for now Hob’s got a shop that needs tidying. And Dream, apparently, has a book that needs reading.

Hob leaves him to it. About half the tables still need wiping-down, not to mention the counters; the syrups need refilling, and tomorrow’s specials menu needs writing, and—

That’s as far as he gets before deciding that he deserves a break and a kiss, thanks. Assuming Dream’s up for that—

—which, it seems, he isn’t.

Sat quietly at the table where Hob left him, Dream is buried in his book’s yellowed pages; tears are streaming silently, though plentifully, down his cheeks.

“Hey.”

Dream’s voice is a croak. “Hob Gadling.”

“Good book?”

It’s a bit of a tease, but Hob’s got a reason for it: if Dream wants the chance to shrug this off, explain that he’s just lost himself in a tearjerker, he deserves that chance. But even as he offers it up, Hob knows it won’t be taken. Dream has not been moved to tender tears by a lovely story; he is properly crying, properly upset.

Hob gentles his voice, squeezes lightly at Dream’s shoulder. “Let me make you some tea.”

“Thank you,” Dream whispers, after a tired pause. His eyes finally move from the text before him; but they sink to the floor, instead of raising to meet Hob’s gaze.

Hob gives another shoulder squeeze, then jogs back to the counter.

Three minutes later he sets before Dream a mug of hot tea and a stack of paper napkins, one of which his friend seizes to wipe his now-dribbling nose. He’s reading again. Hob lets him be.

Hob’s calmer than he might have expected, as the evening progresses. His stomach, sunk at the first sight of Dream’s tears, hasn’t made it back to its proper place yet; and still his mind is steady. Level. Dream needed a safe place; and he came here.

He trusts Hob so much that Hob is starting to trust himself.

When the last of the chores have been completed, Hob settles in the chair opposite Dream. “Finished cleaning,” he tells him, and offers a smile.

“I will leave you.”

“Don’t be daft,” Hob replies, covering Dream’s free hand with his own. “I only wanted to ask if you’d rather stay down here, or go up to the flat? Got stronger stuff than tea up there. And proper tissues, and such.”

(The napkins, which had seemed a good idea at the time, have left the edges of his nostrils red and sore. Combined with his now-puffy eyes, Dream looks a great deal less ethereal than usual— though no less beautiful.)

“Come on,” Hob continues, encircling Dream’s hand now.

“You needn’t worry—”

“You need,” Hob replies, “a drink, and tissues, and maybe a nice blanket.”

Dream blinks. A fresh tear slips free; and he stands.

In his flat, Hob sets Dream up on the sofa, with a blanket across his lap and a glass of whiskey and box of tissues close at hand. Dream reads, and cries, entirely without sound. He’s such a quiet companion, in fact, that Hob must drift off for a while; because when he wakes, Dream has set the book aside, and poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle Hob’s sure wasn’t in his flat.

His eyes are dry now, albeit raw. When he senses Hob stirring, he looks up with a painful expression that's maybe supposed to be a smile.

“Finished your book?” Hob prompts.

“For now.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No. Thank you. Wine?”

“Sure,” Hob replies, taking the opportunity to come and sit at Dream’s side. Their arms brush, and Dream lets go a shuddering breath.

“I’m tired, Hob.”

“Yeah? Rest a bit. And you know you’re welcome to spend the night.”

“Only welcome?”

“Okay. You know I’d lose my mind if you spent the night. Although truth be told I wonder if you couldn’t use a good cuddle more than anything right now.”

Hob’s not sure if that was the wrong thing to say— or maybe the perfect thing to say— but in that instant fresh tears gather in Dream’s eyes.

“Come here,” Hob murmurs, setting his wine on the coffee table and then plucking Dream’s from his hand and doing the same. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Contrary to his usual reserve, Dream comes easily, wilting into Hob’s arms the moment they are opened to him. In small, uncertain motions, he snuggles close to cry.

It takes a minute for him to settle. At first he tosses about, leaving wet patches in four or five spots on Hob’s shirt; but eventually he makes himself comfortable. Sets about the business of properly weeping— no longer quite silently— and Hob rubs his back as he sniffles and sighs.

“You’re kinder to me than I deserve,” Dream murmurs, after a while of this. Hob spends another moment formulating his reply.

“Whether or not that’s true from your perspective,” Hob replies, eventually, “it isn’t true from mine. I think you deserve a lot of kindness.”

“I really don’t.” Low as it is, Dream’s voice still cracks. “But I thank you for saying so.”

When his tears seem to have run their course (for the second time), Dream lifts his head and regards Hob fondly. His eyes look all the bluer against the red around their edges. He captures Hob’s lips in a soft kiss, mouth barely open; he tastes like salt and chardonnay.

“Thank you,” Dream whispers, when they part.

“I’m just glad you came over, okay?”

He nods.

“Can I get you anything?” Hob asks, then quickly answers his own question. “I’m going to get you a washcloth. Your eyes look like they hurt.”

Dream does not agree aloud; but when Hob returns and dabs the dampened cloth against his eyes, he groans softly. “That feels good.”

“Yeah? Good. Crying helps. But, fuck, it takes it out of you, dunnit?”

“It— does.”

“Please stay the night,” Hob whispers, and lowers his hand so Dream can open his eyes. “My bed’s lovely. And you can borrow some pyjamas. It just kills me to think of you going and being alone right now.”

“I. Have no desire, to be alone tonight, either.”

“Good,” Hob says again, and presses another kiss to Dream’s lips. “We can do whatever you like. If that’s just cuddling up, hey, I’m all for it.”

The inflammation is beginning to fade, just a touch; but the exhaustion in those blue eyes is only growing. “Can we,” Dream asks, “just go to bed now. And decide in a little while?”

“Of course,” Hob cooes; but before he lets Dream stand he cannot help himself from reaching out and touching his face one more time. He forgoes the washcloth. Smooths the pad of one thumb along Dream’s salt-clumpy lower lashes; and Dream, though tiredly, smiles.

FANFIC OF FANFIC!! :D how delightful! and how flattering!

I love fic-of-fic, inspirations and interconnected fics, it reminds me of something Michael Sheen said once on twitter (I saved it) about fanfic being an infinitely branching tree of stories dreaming itself.

Cryptic book lore... cuddles... the cafe is open only to Dream... perfect 🥰 thank you for sharing it! <3

#i do love when dream's sad #she said sadistically #bookstore cryptid dream #bookstore cryptid dream EXPANDED UNIVERSE #ask #anonymous #dreamling

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valiantstarlights · 10 months

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[Wedding Planner AU] Part 3: Wedding Dress

Part 2: On the Restaurant's Balcony Area

I would like to thank @seiya-starsniper for reminding me about this AU, and making me realize that I had not, in fact, posted this chapter yet. 🙇‍♀️ It has literally been sitting (90% completed) in my labyrinth of notes since June 25. 😂

CW: just the usual 28 angsty stab wounds 😊

Being inside the Endless mansion is like being in a tomb.

Not that Hob has been to any tombs, since that would require a fuckton of money as well as the absence of common sense, but the air inside was noticeably heavier. No doubt the tangible weight of generations' worth of expectations and disappointments.

He remembers Dream not wanting to go back home for the holidays. How he took his sweet time packing, and even then he only packed light: a toothbrush bought from the convenience store near the dorms, a bottle of black nail polish, and snack sized chocolate bars enough to last him a month. He didn't take any of Hob's clothing with him, even though he wore them almost exclusively during the school year. He claimed that it was because they might get taken from him, but Hob suspected that it was because Dream had been ashamed of him.

Their eventual break up had proven him right.

"Mr. Gadling!"

Hob turns towards the pool area and spots Ms. Muse, wearing a bright yellow sundress and looking positively radiant. Meanwhile, Hob is a frazzled mess, having come straight from Constantine's main office all the way across London, making nonstop calls to catering companies in his car about the billion and one hors d'oeuvres Mrs. Muse and Mrs. Endless wanted.

"Ms. Muse," he greets amiably, and notices the distinct lack of her groom-to-be, as well as their overbearing mothers. "Is everyone else running late?"

"Oh, no," Ms. Muse says, and gestures to the comfortably padded wicker chair beside her. It seems that this meeting will be taking place in a less formal setting. Hob wonders if it is for his benefit or hers. Does he look as sleep-deprived as he felt? "Mother and Mrs. Endless are attending a soiree in Berlin, and Dream is working inside." She points to the side, where a dark figure is seated behind a desk, typing on his laptop, face set in concentration and earplugs in.

Hob remembers that face well. Dream is deep in 'the zone,' as they called it, back in the day. Hob remembers bringing him tea once in the early days, only to find it cold and untouched, and Dream apologetic afterwards. He had insisted on drinking the cold tea, but Hob took pity on him and drank the tea himself. After that incident, he would only make tea for Dream when he surfaces from his 'zone,' and it's a system that worked for them.

He wonders if Ms. Muse knows that, then mentally slaps himself. Of course she does. She's Dream's goddamn fiancee.

And more to the point, she would know Dream better than him, being in the same social class. They probably attended the same rich people parties all the time since they were kids.

Hob should just get this over with and leave. He still has more than three dozen calls he has to make before the end of the day, and an appearance to make at one of the junior wedding planners' small wedding receptions, to make sure that everything goes well, and to serve as back-up in case something goes wrong.

It's barely midday and he's already so fucking tired.

He takes out a stack of bridal magazines, since Ms. Muse expressed in her email that she prefers to flip through magazines rather than browse pinterest boards. Hob went the extra mile and got a couple of good vintage issues as well, in case she prefers the style of older gowns.

"Here," he says, and slides the stack towards the middle of the glass-topped wicker table between them. "Please feel free to browse and point out anything you like, even if it's just a color palette from a certain gown, the style of the lace, or the hairstyle of the model. We'll narrow down your choices later, and I will write and note down all your preferences. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me."

Ms. Muse dimples at him and excitedly flips through the topmost magazine on the stack. "Thank you for doing this, Mr. Gadling," she says. "I know it's not easy, what with our mothers' extravagant ideas, but you still manage to do everything so well and so professionally. I'm glad you're our wedding planner."

"Of course," Hob says, returning her smile, but doesn't say anything more. Lord knows what would happen if he were to speak his mind and tell her that all he's thinking about lately is foisting off the Muse-Endless wedding to someone else, preferably to someone who doesn't have a romantic history with the groom-to-be.

Hob notices that Ms. Muse is different when her mother and Mrs. Endless are not around. She looks more at ease, and instead of holding herself up so rigidly, she was slouching a little, one elbow on the table and one leg tucked neatly underneath the other.

She has told Hob that she definitely wants to have a simple, Grecian style gown made with light fabrics, and maybe a short train. She wonders if she could have a wedding gown that ombres from white to a dark orange at the bottom, while her bridesmaids (Dream's sisters and her own), could wear sunset-colored gowns to a style of their choosing that would fit their body type well.

"Delirium would definitely want to wear something like this, but have it ombre from a dark pink at the top to white at the bottom," she says, pointing to a Cinderella-style gown.

"Is Ms. Delirium Endless your maid of honor?" Hob asks as he notes down the page where the Cinderella gown is located, as well as the title and the issue number of the magazine where Ms. Muse found it.

Ms. Muse nods absently, waiting for Hob to finish his notes before flipping the page. "We have been friends since we were toddlers. I remember getting into so much trouble when she dared me to dye my hair bright green."

Hob chuckles. "I'm sure you looked like a very beautiful forest nymph."

"That's certainly one way of looking at it," Ms. Muse says, smiling. "But now I hope to repay the favor by making Deli look like a very beautiful radish."

Hob hums and reviews his previous notes. "Seeing as all the gowns of the wedding party are to be sunset-themed, I'm sure your mothers wouldn't take issue with it, if that's something that you're worried about."

Ms. Muse sighs happily. "I'm so glad we see eye to eye, Mr. Gadling. Oh, but please don't tell anyone about the secret meaning of Deli's dress!"

Hob smiles at her, this beautiful woman with a sunny personality. No wonder Dream fell hard for her. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Muse."

They talk about colors and fabrics some more, as well as the style of wedding veil that would pair well with her wedding gown. Ms. Muse, Hob is coming to find, is a very reasonable woman, very much unlike her own mother.

He just knows that she will be a good wife to Dream.

Hob had just finished answering her question about the feasibility of long wedding veils at a beach wedding and how detailed their embroideries can be, when Dream comes out from his office space and walks up towards them.

"Dream!" Ms. Muse says cheerily. "Are you going to be joining us after all?"

Hob makes sure the lines of his body are relaxed as he writes some more detailed notes, so he has the excuse of not looking up and greeting Ms. Muse's groom-to-be.

"No," Dream says. "I'm just taking a short break to get some tea. I still have emails to reply to and a meeting to oversee."

Ms. Muse nods understandingly. They really are a good match. Were it Hob in her place, he would have pestered Dream to eat something as well, and maybe rest his eyes and mind and hands for at least ten minutes. He would have asked Dream to lie down on his lap and stroke his hair until he falls asleep, then wake him up with kisses once his low-volume alarm beeps.

No wonder Dream got tired of him.

"That's too bad," Ms. Muse says. "But no worries! I'm having fun looking through the bridal magazines Mr. Gadling brought. Maybe we could even decide on what flowers to put in the wedding bouquet today."

"Sounds wonderful," Dream says, and he does sound like he means it. Hob wishes he could excuse himself without drawing any attention. He's sure Dream wouldn't even notice or care if he disappeared, but it would be rude to Ms. Muse if he just left.

Maybe he should just leave anyway so the bride and groom could have some time for themselves. Let them unwind for a bit and openly show each other affection without an unwanted audience.

"It is," Ms. Muse says brightly. "I was nervous because the task seemed daunting, but Mr. Gadling has been super helpful. He really knows his stuff, and he listens well and is very kind."

A pause. "He is," Dream says, and there's something in his voice that sounds unsure and vulnerable and maybe even a little hopeful. Hob quickly squashes that treacherous thought. Dream is about to get married. He would do well to remember that.

"Oh, hold on," Ms. Muse says, standing up. "Let me ring someone for tea. We could all use some, anyway."

She walks away, her yellow sundress waving like a flag behind her.

Hob does not have to look at Dream to know that he is staring after her.

Hob says nothing. He has nothing to say. Not now, when he is just the help.

"Thank you for assisting Calliope," Dream tells him, when Ms. Muse has disappeared from view.

"Of course, sir," Hob tells his notes, his tone bland and professional. "It's what I'm here for, you know. Gotta be helpful somehow or I'm gonna get fired."

The last part comes out bitter, and Hob doesn't know why he thought to say that. He should have just stopped talking after the first sentence and left Dream to navigate the awkward silence alone.

"Our mothers wouldn't dare to fire you," Dream says quietly. Gently. Hob grits his teeth as subtly as he could. "You are the best in your field. They would be hard-pressed to find someone better."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Endless," Hob says airily, and this time he looks straight at Dream when he says it. Dream looks taken aback when their eyes meet. Hob wonders if he could see the pain of the last ten, fifteen years in Hob's eyes. Hob hopes he does. Hob hopes he feels every last fucking glass shard buried in Hob's heart, still bleeding to this day. "I'm sure they would immediately find someone better to replace me with."

Dream looks like Hob just slapped him.

For a moment, there is pure devastation on his beautiful face. Lips slightly parted as if feeling the need to explain, eyes wide and wet, brows furrowed in hurt.

Hob has never seen him look like this before. They had never argued badly enough in the past to the point where Dream would be brought to tears.

Hob almost stands. Almost reaches for Dream to hold him in his arms, and allow him to hide his face against his neck while Hob pets his hair softly and soothingly, shushing him and murmuring against his ear that he doesn't mean it. That he's just hurt. That the last thing he wants is to hurt Dream.

But before Hob could do anything, decide whether or not to comfort the lost love of his life, Dream's mask reforms, and between one blink and the next, he is once again the picture of neutrality. "As you say, Mr. Gadling."

Hob opens his mouth. To apologize, perhaps, or to ask Dream how long it took him to move on.

'How long before you and Ms. Muse got together after we broke up?'

'How long before I'm only just another bad memory from the past?'

'How long did you really love me?'

'Were you actually in love with me, or was I just another way for you to rebel against your parents?'

He closes his mouth and says nothing. And for a few moments, he and Dream just looked at each other, Hob cataloguing all the ways Dream is still the same, wondering if he could have maybe done something differently that would have made Dream stay with him. Or maybe their relationship has always been destined to fail. They come from different backgrounds, after all, and Hob should have known to listen to fairytales.

Princes do not end up with paupers. They end up with beautiful princesses and live their lives happily ever after.

The only indicator of Dream's tumultuous thoughts is him raising his hand and almost unconsciously fidgeting with the ruby pendant of his necklace.

As soon as Hob's eyes drop to it, though, Dream stops entirely and places his hands on his sides, like nothing happened.

They were startled out of their silent staring when the door to the side opens, and Ms. Muse comes out like she brought the sun with her, as well as a fancy metal tea tray with three cups and a kettle that would not be out of place in 18th century Versailles.

"Mrs. Jones would be by in a bit with afternoon tea snacks," Ms. Muse says, just as Hob rises from his seat to take her burden from her. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Gadling. See how kind he is, Dream?"

"I have to return to my work," Dream says, and plucks the black teacup and its accompanying saucer right out of the tray that Hob is still holding.

Like Hob is just another goddamn servant employed by the Endless.

Then again, Hob thinks sardonically, that's exactly what he is, isn't he?

It's actually so nice to finally see that this is how Dream really sees him. Now Hob won't have to guess just what he is to him. What he always was.

Ms. Muse shrugs. "Sure. But don't work too hard, okay? Death will have my head if she finds out you're not taking proper breaks."

Dream visibly softens at the mention of his favorite sister. "Of course. I will see you later, Calliope." A colder glance at Hob. "Mr. Gadling."

Hob fights the urge not to bow mockingly. He settles for his default professional mode. Dream has just shown him where his proper place is, and Hob would do well to stay in it. "Mr. Endless."

Without another word, or indeed, another glance at Hob, Dream turns and walks away.

#wedding planner au #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #note to self: for everyone's sake please title your notes properly 😭🙏#oh and (hugs everyone) sorry for the angst #i hope you guys enjoyed it though 🖤

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tinyperson00 · 3 months

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You dont wanna train? - Toju and Akira fanfic

hm I wonder how this will happen •v•

Akira wakes up at her usual time of 5:45am and rolls out of bed. Tired as she is, she is very used to getting up and trainig this early in this morning. After-all, she's been doing it for a year or so every day. As she gets up and gets dressed in her uniform and Haori she starts to think of something. For the past 2 months of having her Tsuguko, Toju, in the house with her along with his little sister Katsu she has been paying very close attention to his every move. Akira is very observant and her hearing is equal to that of Zenitsu, so she practically knows everything that goes on in her mansion. She thinks back to how Toju sounds different around Her than around Katsu and other visitors to her mansion. For a while she just thought it was because she was his mentor, but after hearing Obani talking to Misturi and listening to the complete change in his sound she was beginning to think it was something else. Her thoughts continue as she heads down for breakfast with Katsu. Akira... can't cook. Not at all.. everytime she tried to cook it just ended up in flames, literally. Katsu prepared all the meals in the household to prevent it from being burned down by Akira. Katsu is placing the plates onto the table when Akira comes downstairs and enters the kitchen.

"Good morning Akira! I made some yummy breakfast for me, you and Toju." Katsu says excitedly while running over to give her a big soft hug.

"Good morning katsu." She responded with a soft and warm smile to greet her sister. "It smells amazing in here."

they both sit down at the table and wait for Toju to arrive. Sometimes he gets up a little late since he isn't used to getting up quite this early, though he has never missed breakfast even once and is always up by the time training is set to start. Sometimes Toju and Katsu will train with Akira together, but other times it's just him. Toju enjoys Katsu's company during training, but he prefers his time alone with Akira more. After about 7 minutes Akira starts to feel like something is up. He's never been this late to breakfast before, and she wonders if something happened.

"Hey, Katsu, you can start eating without me. Im gonna go check up on Toju" she says.

"alrighty. Ill warm your food up for when you get back." Katsu replies.

Akira gets up from the table and heads back upstairs where all the bedrooms are. She heads down the hallway, past her room, past Katsu's room, and finally reaches the room that Toju is staying in. She waits a second before knocking on his door. Akira listens to see if he is up or not. When a person is sleeping they give off a different sound than when they are awake. From what she hears it sounds like hes not fully sleeping, but definitely not awake. She knocks loudly on the door but gets no response. After about a minute she knocks for a second time. Still no answer.

"Toju? Are you up?" Akira asks through the door.

-silence-

She sighs, then slowly opens the door. Once the door is open, it reveals a covered up Toju still sleeping in his bed. Akira walks over to him and gently taps on his forehead to attempt to wake him up. When he doesn't respond for the third time Akira decides to just hit him in the arm. Though, as she is about to do it, he finally stirs a little and starts to wake up a bit. She gently taps him once more and then waits for him to open his eyes. When Toju finally opens his sleepy blue eyes, he sees Akira knelt down next to his bed. He jolts up and looks somewhat embarrassed as she just gives that blank expression with her eyebrows slightly raised.

"Ah! Shit- how long was I asleep for..?" He asks still in a frazzled state of mind.

"well your about 15 minutes late to breakfast.. do probably a while." Akira answers, "did you even wake up when the crowd called that it was time??"

"..oh.. well yea I did wake up.. but I shut my eyes and layed back down for a minute and-" he looks down at the floor, "Im sorry Sakuranbura-san"

"Just get up and get dressed now, breakfast is on the table. Katsu is heating ours back up." Akira says, slightly annoyed.

"Yes ma'am" Toju replies.

"Oh- and Toju, I told you just to call me Akira. I really don't like being called so formally."

"Oh yea right. Sorry Akira."

Akira leaves the room now and shuts the door. She waits for a minute as she listens to Toju. So she was right then, he sounds just like Obani did. Toju is still sitting there trying to comprehend what just happened. His face is still somewhat red from the sight of Akirs next to his bed. Akira heard him finally get up and begin to get dressed, and she heads back downstairs to rejoin Katsu for breakfast. A few moments after she sits back down and gets her food, Toju comes slowly and sluggishly down the stairs to the table. Akira just looks up at him, still in the same expressionless look with her eyebrows raised. he sits down at the table and thanks Katsu for the breakfast. Akirs notices the exhaustion lines under his eyes are somewhat darker than before. Had he not been sleeping?

"You seem pretty worn out today, Toju.. are you alright? Do you want me to go get Ushuu from the butterfly mansion?" Katsu starts saying kinda frantically.

"Im alright, Katsu.. Thank you though." He responds.

Akira is still watching him as they all eat their breakfast. Once finished, Akira puts her plate away then waits for the others to finish as well. Akira has always been a fast eater, so she often has to wait a little while afterwards for the other two to finish their food. A couple of minutes go by and they are finally done. Akira looks at Toju and kinda just says like 'its time to train get up' with her eyes. She is standing there, arms crossed with her same expression. Toju gets up and walks over to her, but instead of following her out to the training grounds he asks her a question.

"Akira.. could we do something besides train today..?"

Akira looks back at him with a confused look and just says, "why."

"im still pretty exhausted from this weeks, and it's been nonstop for 2 months with the exception of missions."

"Yes im aware." She blatantly responded.

"Could I please just get even one day to rest? Ill even go run errands instead."

"We are going to train today Toju."

Akira is not giving in one bit. It goes on like this for a few minutes before Akira finally turns fully around and starts to walk back to him. As she walks closer to him with an intimidating look on her face, Toju starts to backup away from her. This tiny girl is now driving Toju back into the wall. He hits the wall with a thud and Akira continues to walk over to him now that he has no where else to backup. Toji just so happened to end up right next to a pile of big heavy book stacked up next to him on the floor. Akira sees the books and gets a devilish Idea. This is most likely not going to turn out as you think she might be thinking. Akira now has Toju pinned down to the wall. Pinned down again.. Toju has a habit of ending up like this a lot. Akira, the tiny girl, pinning down Toju, the big muscular man. Its a sight to see. She looks up at Toju and gives him a little smirk before pushing the pile of books in front of him with her foot. Toju has no idea what she is doing, but just stays there not daring to move a muscle. Akira can be very scary sometimes and it's best not to move. She steps up on the books making herself now almost the same heights has him.

"You dont wanna train?" She says to him in a sarcastic tone.

He doesn't respond, but looks somewhat scares now.

She releases her grip on his arms and now grabs onto his shirt and scarf. Toju's heart was beginning to pound faster now with the increased proximity between them.

"Im very observant you know.. I know everything that goes on in this mansion." She states. "I have incredible hearing and I watch everything."

Toju doesn't know where this is going, but he still stays in the same spot not moving an inch.

Akira leans in a little closer now. She hears his heart pounding even faster now, and his cheeks begin to turn a little but pink.

She smirks up at him and states, "You think I don't realize? As I said. I know everything"

He begins to understand what she means and his face goes even more red.

"Don't think I haven't realized your attraction towards me~ I hear your heart rate increase every time Im near to you, I can sense the attraction you have towards me. I know you act differently with other people than you do with me." Akira smirks.

"I-" Toju tries to say before being cut off by Akira again.

"You know.. You're very attractive yourself Toju." She looks up at him

'Wait.. huh?' He thinks 'What does this have to do with me not wanting to train..? What is this girl planning..'

Akira pulls his chest closer to her, still maintaining her grip on his shirt and scarf.

"You asked for this.." She says in a low voice.

suddenly it makes sense to him now. She got him to hit the wall next to the books for a reason.. 'Smart little bitch-' he thinks.

Since Akira is so much shorter than Toju, she would need something to raise herself up with. Then, in an instant, she moved in and kissing him right on the lips. She gives him a long, soft, warm kiss. His heart is racing now. Then she pulls away again and steps off the books. he looks down at her as if asking for more.

Akira smirks at him, "Want more do you? Well then get out here and start training."

Her plan worked incredibly. Toju decided that he would go out and train with her now motivated by that kiss, and his attraction towards her. Akira is a smart and sly little Hashira, shes always one step ahead.

"If you do well, then maybe you'll have more kisses coming your way~ better work hard now." She teases and walks away, still with that same little smirk on her face.

She walks a few steps, then turns back around for a second.

"I win~" Akira says in a low tone.

She gives him the most devilish look yet. Tongue out, eyes narrowed, looking over her shoulder at him as she walks away to the training ground. Toju has a new found respect for this woman, even more than he already did.

'damn.. she's insane' He thinks to himself as he follows after her to go train.

-End-

Not proofread.. I apologize for any spelling mistakes •v• I hope you enjoy reading that :D

I didnt except it to last that long.. I was just gonna do a short little fic honestly lol but I think it turned out pretty well!

Lemme know what you thought of it :>

#demon slayer oc #demon slayer #bored #cute #drawing #avoiding sleep #digital art #Fanfic #Akira x Toju #Akira always wins

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