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dickgraysonsbitch · 1 day

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Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc robin #jason todd x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood imagines #cinna’s asks #dickgraysonsbitch

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 11 hours

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your ghoul fics have me in a fuckin chokehold 😭😩 there's nothing i love more in life than a scary sexy man w questionable morals

not to be horny in anon but like... imagine the reader, after having been traveling together for a while, being an insufferable brat for a couple days, just tap dancing on coop's last nerve- but he's not gonna get rid of you, he's seen you in action, despite his lone-ranger status, you're too useful. too skilled. too good at surviving in the wasteland as a vaultie for this not to have been destined. at least that's what he tells himself to avoid facing the fact that, well, poor bastard caught feelings. basically this is a long winded way of me saying boot riding as punishment, cause the man deserves a free polish 😶

Grunt Work

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller Reader

Word Count: 3,920

Warnings: smut (18+), BDSM-style dynamics, boot riding, masturbation (male), begging, mild hair pulling, mild cum play, Cooper is a softie (but a pissed off softie).

Notes: Anon, I wish you would've been here to see me read this request for the first time. I think a small part of my brain exploded. How did this become 4,000 words? It may have turned out softer than you envisioned (not the first time I've given that preface/apology and it certainly won't be the last; The Ghoul is soft deep inside and you cannot tell me otherwise!), and if so, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you for reading!

Every day with this girl was an exercise in self-restraint.

Granted, the type of self-restraint varied greatly from day to day, hour to hour. From the moment he had agreed to do business with the vaultie, she'd been testing his patience, his boundaries, his sense of what was normal.

Generally, he quite liked it. It was actually endlessly refreshing, he found, to spend time with someone who treated him like he was human, who he felt comfortable enough to actually relax a bit around. Someone who still had some sunshine left in them. Slowly, agonizingly so, they'd developed a bit of a rapport, then a genuine trust, which had eventually (and somewhat recently, given the scope of all the months they'd been traveling together) bloomed into more. What you'd call that "more", he wasn't really certain.

It had been the first time he'd allowed himself any sort of dalliance in that area since he'd divorced Barb all those years ago, and it had been both amazing and heartbreaking. Establishing that new attachment with his little vaultie had been the first time in lifetimes that he truly felt connected to his humanity, the way she'd kissed him and clung to him and sighed his name just like one would with any normal man.

He really had forgotten how wonderful it could be to be with someone, to let them get as close as they possibly could, even though he looked the way he did, acted the way he did, and refused to take off anything besides his duster, his gloves, and his hat.

He knew, deep down somewhere, that she wouldn't reject him simply for what his body looked like. Not at this point. Unfortunately, her feelings about his body didn't really change his feelings about his body. Still, getting to feel her and hold her close had been even better than he'd imagined.

But that new moment of connection, that next and first step, also meant he was fully closing the door on his time with Barb; he'd always been faithful to her, even after they'd split, since he'd really had no interest in dating again in the time after the paperwork was finalized. Then the world had ended and wasn't even a thought in his mind for ages. It had taken him months to even see the advances the girl had been making towards him, months more to reciprocate them.

As asinine as it would seem, becoming this close, actually giving himself to someone else physically and emotionally, made his two-centuries old divorce finally feel real. His ex-wife could still well be out there somewhere, as far as he knew, but they'd never be together again, even if by some wild chance they were reunited. Those special feelings he'd once held so deeply for her were no more.

When his companion had finally fallen asleep that night, tucked naked and warm against his side and wrapped in the tail of his duster, he had shed a few tears, something he genuinely didn't believe he was still capable of.

She didn't seem to be sleeping as deeply as she typically did that night, but if she'd overheard his incredibly vulnerable moment, she never let on or brought it up, and he was endlessly grateful for it.

Maybe he was just growing soft with old age.

She was also quite the burgeoning Wastelander, a shockingly good scavenger with a sharp eye for value and utility, small enough to fit in places that he couldn't, her little hands quick at hacking terminals and picking locks. But, despite her small size, she was quite strong, able to handle herself far better in most fights than he'd ever expected a vault-dweller to be capable of. He didn't necessarily need to watch over her every single second, but the urge persisted, nevertheless. Seeing her safe, seeing her happy, those things gave him a strange sense of inner peace that he hadn't felt in ages. It had become second nature to hover around her.

Besides, as of late, keeping an eye on her every second seemed to be his best bet to stay alive. He was genuinely unsure if his girl (Was that what she was?) had been dealing with an especially bad streak of luck over the last week, or what, but she was rapidly grating on his nerves much more usual.

First, she had managed to nose her way into a yao guai den and set the thing off chasing her, resulting in him taking a pretty nasty swipe to the side before they could put it down, several foot-long tears in his already worse-for-wear coat. However, she'd apologized profusely, spent a few hours that night mending and patching up his coat. He found it impossible to stay mad at her through either.

Then, she'd done the exact same thing a few days later, but with a pack of nightstalkers. He'd nearly lost a finger helping her fight them off, the shitty little things infinitely more tough than one might expect. After that, she was officially no longer in charge of picking where they slept, an arrangement he hadn't been fully aware he'd entered into until he'd had to put his foot down about it. Whatever, she'd pouted a bit and insisted it wasn't her fault. He didn't love how little she spoke to him when she was pouting, and her resolve for keeping at such things was irritatingly strong, but what bothered him more was how well it worked.

Eventually, he'd apologized for snapping at her. That night, she chose where they slept. He tried to not think too long on why he'd let her.

He didn't fully understand why he found himself acting this way around her, and only her. All he knew for sure was that he'd be devastated to lose her, as chagrined as the admission made him, and so he did his best to make things pleasant to keep her around.

What she'd pulled today, however, had managed to officially piss him off.

After a long week of iffy sleep and more scrapes with wildlife and fiends than usual, they had both been a tad testy by the time they'd reached the shabby little trading outpost at the edge of the Wastes, one of the last places you could reliably stop for clean water and supplies in this section of the desert going the way they'd come from. It was also a reliable place for him to obtain vials, and had come in handy to a life-saving degree more than once.

The girl had gotten slick-mouthed with the proprietor over the price of some fancy machine parts she'd scrounged up, insisting that they were worth far more than he was offering her. Granted, she was right; the man was attempting to swindle her, to some degree, but frankly, the damn things were cumbersome and heavy and he wouldn't even call the price she could theoretically get for them worth hauling them around in the heat. If it were him, he wouldn't have dragged them all this way, and would certainly ditch them now.

For reasons he couldn't fathom, though, her solution to the man offhandedly threatening to just keep the damn things had been to pull her pistol on him, which, of course, had set off an entire chain of unnecessary events. The owner's gun had come out, as well, then Cooper's, despite him actually trying to talk the situation down for once.

The man wouldn't relent, however, and he had been forced to shoot his hand off to end the conflict without her blood being spilled. Well, maybe not completely forced, but it certainly felt that way at the time. That particular trading outpost had been incredibly useful to him for well over a decade, and now he wouldn't be able to return.

If it had been anyone else, he probably would have shot them.

Not probably. He would have shot them.

But instead, here he was, tucked into a creaky old UV-eaten lawn chair, smoking and trying to disguise how unsettlingly happy he was to finally have some safe alone time with her beneath his annoyance at being inconvenienced. If there was one thing he hated, it was being inconvenienced. But, if there was one thing he greatly enjoyed, it was her company, so he was at a bit of an impasse.

It was moments like this where he wondered if he'd finally poisoned his brain with too much Jet or any other number of substances, the haze that consumed him every moment around her thick. Even now, when he was angrier with her than he'd ever been at any point in their travels, he couldn't focus on his legitimate grievance because he wanted her so badly. It was the single most irksome thing he'd ever experienced.

She was quickly sniffing out this weakness of his, perceptive little minx that she was. Increasingly, she was quick to soothe his bad moods with little touches and kisses, and it made him melt embarrassingly every single time. He'd been livid and silent as they'd trudged away from the building, both of them covered in rapidly-cooling blood spatter, when she'd brushed her hand along his back softly; a sort of apology, he supposed. Since then, his main source of anger had been himself and his lack of resolve when it came to this particular woman.

The old cowboy was determined to teach her a lesson today, though.

He'd spent the better part of an hour checking their perimeter once they'd come across this place, and the little sniper's nest where they were holed up had a great view of the area. It certainly wasn't much, little more than a rusty metal panel jammed between some rocks, a mattress, a chair, and a radio. But for the first time in a few weeks, things were safe, quiet, and calm. They had plenty of rations between the two of them, and water wasn't as much of a concern as it had been on their way in. She was so comfortable that she'd actually shed her boots and socks, her dainty little feet curled up underneath her as she nibbled away at something under the ramshackle "roof".

Now was the time. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

"You've been quiet since we left the traders." she said after a while of companionable, though mildly terse, silence. It wasn't a question, but at the same time very much was, and the casual, roundabout way she was addressing what was her own actions made him scowl slightly.

"You've been a pain in my ass these last few days, sugar." he said flatly, glaring at her as best as he could from under the brim of his hat. "Should be happy I've just been quiet now."

She actually rolled her eyes slightly, but clearly didn't think he'd seen it, keeping silent as she continued to eat. Increasingly bold for someone within grabbing distance. Cooper let a few seconds pass, studying her.

"Y'know, when I was in the marines, if you were a little shitheel, they'd make you do grunt work." he said eventually, voice matter-of-fact.

She pursed her lips at that, finishing up the can of beans she'd been steadily tucking into.

"I don't think I know what that is." she replied almost absentmindedly.

"It's the shit work no one ever wanted to do, so being assigned to it was intended as a punishment. Scrubbin' floors, toilets. Peelin' potatoes. Polishin' boots."

She chuckled at his anecdote as if it were meant to be entertaining, but the way he let her laugh hang in the silence, staring her down as she sat there curled up beside him, said otherwise. After a moment, she sort of narrowed her eyes at him, her tone low, almost conspiratory, when she asked:

"What're you playing at, cowboy?"

"I'm sayin' you're in trouble, cowgirl." he replied, reaching out to hold her chin solidly in his grip and watching her pout. "I'm sayin' that I think a little grunt work would do you and that attitude of yours some good, and I'm sayin' that I think you should polish my boots."

"Polish your boots?" she repeated, wrapping her tongue around each of the words like they were foreign to her.

"Pretty sure there ain't a functioning toilet within a hundred miles of where we're sitting, and I ain't got any potatoes. So…"

"You can't be serious." she said, her eyes full of curious suspicion as she looked him up and down.

Releasing her chin, the old ghoul set to removing his gloves, tugging his second hand free and using his naked pointer finger to draw a little 'x' over his heart.

"Serious as the grave, darlin'."

There were a few pregnant seconds of them staring one another down, waiting for the other to bend, to flinch. She even lifted her chin towards him, just enough for him to pick up on, an unspoken challenge. God, she was so like him.

"Now…be good and take your clothes off." he smirked, brows raising when she made to argue in response. Her lips worked their way between her teeth as she hesitated before slowly dropping all her armor from her arms and torso, then drawing the dirty shirt underneath over her head.

"Is that better, Coop?" she asked, letting her hair down out of the knot she'd tied it up into on top of her head, the strands framing her face as she worked him over again with those eyes of hers. Pulling herself up into a standing position, he did his best to ignore the way her bare breasts moved and dipped with gravity.

"Mmm. I think it would be more fittin' if you called me 'sir', frankly."

"You cannot be serious." she groaned indignantly as she slid the zipper on her trousers down, her tone making him chuckle despite himself. She just didn't know when to quit, and it was fucking adorable.

"Am I ever unserious?" he asked, ignoring the look she shot him back in favor of watching her slowly work the worn pants down over the curve of her ass, dropping them into a pile around her feet and leaving her standing there as naked as the day she was born. He felt his already-stiffening cock twitch slightly, resisting the urge to rub himself through the faded pinstripes of his pants. This was supposed to be a punishment for her, and doing that would give her too much opportunity to distract him.

"Aww, c'mon, boss." she sighed, pressing at a hidden button of his, cocking her head and sending that silky curtain around her face glinting in the light.

"I mean it, missy. You fucked up pretty bad today, and you need to be punished for it. And what did I just say?" he responded, fighting hard to keep his voice even and body still.

"Well…what else would you have in mind as a punishment, sir?" she purred as she stepped back towards him, batting those long, dark lashes his way. He managed to keep his eyes on hers and off of her body, a task that felt herculean as the ache in his gut grew more intense. For a split second, he wanted to give in to her, to pin her to the ground and fuck the attitude out of her like he'd wanted to for days. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

"I promise you that if you knew your other options, darlin', you'd choose this." he replied, finishing his smoke and tossing the butt away. Digging his inhaler out for a quick puff, he finally removed his hat and set it aside, reclining just enough to allow his feet to stick out a few inches in front of him.

She huffed at her little ploy failing to work, crossing her arms and cocking her hip slightly. Cooper's teeth dug into the inside of his cheek to keep back a grin.

"Well, are you gonna take them off?" she demanded.

He couldn't hold back his smirk at that, his head cocking as he continued to stare her down.

"Just how long are you gonna keep playin' dumb? You know it's gonna get cold when it gets dark."

Studying her face, he could see the faint lines of confusion there, and wondered if maybe she really didn't know what he meant.

"There's a reason I wanted you naked, honey, and it ain't just the view."

Though it certainly didn't hurt.

It took a few long, long seconds of her looking him up and down, wondering, but eventually the glow of realization lit up her face, followed by more brow furrowed confusion.

"How would that even work?" she asked, though her tone was more curious than argumentative.

"I suppose you'll figure it out, huh? Askin' an awful lot of questions for someone who's about to be freezin' their twat off in about half an hour." he said, watching with apparent glee as she fidgeted in place, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

Still attempting to make a stand, she didn't move, chewing away at that bottom lip as she hesitated there. He could smell that she was already turned on.

"Go on. Get to work." he ordered softly, exhaling smoke through his nose, staring into her eyes.

After a heartbeat, she seemed to accept her fate and slowly lowered herself down onto her knees in front of him. That, too, made his cock jump. Her cheeks had a visible rosy hue as she clearly struggled to arch herself at the right angle to make proper contact; after a few long seconds of her huffy sighs, he took mercy on her and tilted the toe of his boot more skyward, allowing her to begin to rub herself back and forth across the dusty leather in earnest.

He watched as her face slowly morphed from mildly confused concentration to blossoming arousal, the tint in her cheeks growing until it consumed her entire face.

"How does it feel?" he asked quietly, taking another long drag off of his smoke.

"It feels good." she huffed, a light sheen of sweat glinting on her soft skin.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair at that, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, her eyes flying open to gaze up at him, wide and wet.

"Feels good what?" he demanded. "Given you an awful lot of chances on that, kid. Y'know, insubordination usually calls for more severe punishment."

"It feels good, sir." she replied, her hips stuttering slightly as she struggled to move them with her head fixed in place, her eyes falling shut again. He found it a little surprising that the mild pain hadn't stopped her or made her complain more. If anything, she'd seemed to like it. He took note of that for later.

"Tsk. Well, it's supposed to be a punishment, but I guess I can't help it if a little freak like you gets off on polishin' my boots. Guess I did know a guy in the service who really liked bein' made to scrub the floor, but, between you and me, I think he might've had a little thing for bein' pushed around and told what to do." Cooper's voice fell to a secretive murmur as he spoke to her, watching her eyes dart away as he teased her.

However, as he watched her slide herself back and forth across his foot, he found it more and more difficult to resist the urge to touch himself. When her eyes didn't open for several minutes, focused entirely on the sensation, it would seem, he took the opportunity to palm his cock, his hips eventually beginning to rock against his hand. That movement caught her attention, her gaze burning into him as she watched; this was a button of hers for whatever reason. Feeling emboldened and somewhat sure that she was too distracted to cause trouble, he quickly undid his belt and fly and tugged his erection free, a shiver running down his spine as he gave himself a few experimental pumps in the cooling air.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated how coherent she still was, her head remaining low, but her right hand creeping up his leg towards his hand. He jerked his chin towards her, sending her jumping back a bit. However, she didn't look fearful, more chastened.

"Don't. You. Fuckin'. Dare." he growled, his hand not stilling for a moment. "If you touch me, I'm gonna put you over my knee and spank your little ass until you can't sit right for a week."

His threats only seemed to make her hotter, a throaty moan leaving her as she began to hump his boot with increased speed, all attempts at preserving any semblance of her dignity abandoned in the pursuit of her orgasm. The grip he was maintaining on himself tightened, and a growl ripped out of his chest in response as he fought to keep his eyes open and on her. If he could still sweat, he'd be pouring it just like her.

Cooper's leg jerked involuntarily as a particularly strong wave of pleasure shot up his spine, digging the toe of his boot harder into her weeping little slit, and she keened in response, her body beginning to twitch all over like it did when she was nearing her end.

"You close, honey? You wanna cum?" he asked feverishly, rapidly sprinting towards his own finish line.

She nodded rapidly, her breasts heaving with her strained breath as her nails dug into his thigh.

"Please, please, please..." she breathed over and over.

"Look at you, just cleaned the thing and you're about to make a mess all over it because you're such a needy little slut." he chastised, breaking down into a harsh whisper as he seized her by her hair once more, his cig hanging loosely from his lips. "Go on, baby. Cum all over my boot."

The labored whine she let out as she lost herself all over him, and the blissful way her face contorted as she cried out, was more than enough to finish him off, his release spurting all over his hand and stomach. They both growled and groaned their way through their shared release, her collapsing against the inside of his leg as she panted heavily. Working to control his own breathing, he let his head fall completely back with a blunted "thud" against the frame of the chair, releasing his grip on her head.

After a few quiet moments, they both rather sheepishly peeked at one another. He held his spend-covered hand up in front of her face, the mess catching the fading light as he reached out towards her.

"You're gonna have to clean that up, too." he said softly, rubbing some of the slickness across her lips, barely holding back a groan when the little pink tip of her tongue darted out to lap at his fingers as they passed by.

"Mmm. Yes, sir." she responded, gently laying her temple against the side of his knee, those big, round eyes slowly slipping shut. Cooper reached out and laid his palm against her head, petting her now-rumpled hair with more affection than he'd like to admit, admiring her in the golden-red hue of the evening sun.

"Don't get too comfy there, sweetheart." he said after a few quiet moments, his cock beginning to stir again. "Don't forget, I've got another boot."

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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fraugwinska · 10 hours

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Hi! Hello! 🥰 first of all - big fan, of all your works, from angst through fluff to smut.

I have an idea for a potentially sweet oneshot:

Reader wants to make an album/photobook of all the residents of the hotel but of course Alastor is avoiding it since she's using her phone for it. She quickly notices and sets on a journey to get an old camera and when Alastor asks her why does she care so much about him being in the album, she without hesitation tells him that it's because he's a part of this family and she cares about him. :)

♡ thanks ♡

Heya my lovely ♡ I think we all need some fluff today, and your ask was perfect for it! Thank you so much for your patience and your prompt! I hope after all this wait this tickles your fancy ;> (2.3k words)

"Frank, no, the other left. A little more... Okay, yes, perfect! Now say 'Cheese'!"

The little eggs threw their hands in the air with enthusiastic vigor, chanting everything but 'Cheese' and you had to steady the hand holding your phone to snap their picture while you supressed a giggle. The little buggers sure did look as energetic in the photos as they were while taking them. You laughed as they stormed over to you, climbing over each other to look at the picture and promised them they'd all get a copy before you returned to your room.

You flopped on your bed and looked over your phone gallery - almost everyone in the hotel was in it. Some pictures were little snapshots you secretly took when nobody was looking. Those were your favorite ones: Angel and Husk laughing at the bar, Charlie and her dad, Lucifer, deep in conversation with a flustered looking Vaggie, Pentious and his Egg Bois playing cards. A selfie with Niffty made you smile, her petrified, empty-staring eye next to your smiling face. You had printed out the best of them, carefully working on putting together a thick, handmade photo album.

Taking photos was a passion you brought with you from your previous life - it made your heart all fuzzy and warm to capture precious moments, finding beauty in almost anyone and everything, if the angle was right and the light wasn't too harsh. With your phones' advanced camera app, that wasn't really a problem and most of the residents didn't mind being the object of your lense, Angel in particular was more than eager to get his picture taken. You accumulated so many portraits and body-shots of him, you could fill a whole album just with those alone. Charlie loved taking selfies with you, pulling anyone near her on their shoulders into the frame (mostly Vaggie, since she seldom left her girlfriends side). Husk had been hesitant at first, but after a while, he just grinned and showed off a tad more when you took photos of him mixing drinks - twirling bottles and winking into the camera with a sly smile. Seeing your work, even Lucifer himself agreed to a few goofy snapshots with his beloved ducks, joking that you would have made a killer advertisement worker with your way with a camera as well as your encouraging words. They, however, failed you with Alastor.

Usually content in your company, he, in an instant, was nowhere to be found whenever you snuck out your phone to secretly take a shot, and you could swear, there were times when you were sure he was actually avoiding you. And you didn't like that at all.

You liked him. He was handsome, of course, but also witty and quick with words, and his laugh was contagious, his smile a delight when it was not murderous, and his jokes (though a bit corny sometimes) were always on point and often had you giggling for minutes. You desperately wished you could capture him when he drinks his morning coffee, an image so sophisticated it made the aesthete in you cry, or immortalize the way he casually leaned on his cane when he was pretending to listen to Charlie's newest plans for group activities on film. Yet, you couldn't even so much as reach for the case of your phone before his eyes snapped to you, and he found excuses to escape you once again. It didn't take you long to catch on that his sentient shadow companion was the snitch, watching you and warning him if it sensed your intentions, the damn thing.

So one day, when you were both alone in the kitchen, him stirring the stew he was preparing for dinner and you, cutting apples for the apple-crumble as dessert, you outright asked him if he would take a photo with you.

"HA! No, I don't care for this frivolous digital tomfoolery, dear." the Radio Demon said simply, his shadow sneering at your disappointed expression, and that had been that. And even though you wanted to respect his wish, it felt like something major was missing when you flipped through the pages of the book, seeing the faces of everyone within the hotel except for his. Incomplete.

'And to hell if I can't do something about that!' you thought as you stubbornly turned off your phone and left it on your dresser, determined to go out and find an old fashioned analogue camera. Maybe, with a little luck and another cautious effort of yours, you could convince Alastor after all if the picture was a physical, tangible piece of paper instead of some abstract pixels on a screen.

On to the streets you went, enjoying the strange but picturesque scenery Hell provided. It's colors, shapes, people you walked by. Your keen eyes automatically looked for nice backgrounds and motifs you could maybe capture, and you also were a little excited to return to analogue photography. As convenient and simple as your phone's camera was, the difference in experience was immense. There was a special kind of magic around capturing moments with an old, clunky thing and developing the films yourself you just couldn't artificially replace.

The Voxtech store was a bust from the beginning. Of course, you already suspected that hell's equivalent to Apple probably wouldn't sell anything older than the 'V-Phone 34.2', but to be outright laughed at had been uncalled for. "Analogue camera? You must be shitting me, girl." the clerk said, not even bothering to turn his head from the TV behind the counter to acknowledge you. "Nobody uses that outdated shit-tech anymore."

You left the store in a bad mood and with the strong urge to flip off the guy through the window, but settled for kicking the dumb grinning cardboard cutout of the store's flatscreen-faced namesake, advertising for the 'V-Phone 55.1' instead. Smug piece of shit.

Your search continued through the streets, but with every store you visited - offbrand electronic stores, thrift shops, even a sketchy looking flea market - your hope dwindled. No one seemed to have a single analog camera to sell, and your options ran thinner by the seconds. Feeling defeated, you finally decided to return to the hotel when a store caught your eye. The wonky wooden store sign just said 'Old Crap', displaying a black pentagram globe, a medieval looking longsword under a big porcelain crane and a cathedral radio on a pedestal in the shop window. With a last spark of hope, you entered the shop, ready to give your last penny if needed if they had what you were looking for.

You ran the whole way back home, cheeks flushed and with hell's biggest grin on your face.

The bag on your shoulder bounced and swayed with every step, the newly acquired Polaroid 100 in it's pocket knocking heavily against your hip, and you clutched the small, paper parcel with the packfilm to your chest like a treasure.

"I did it! I found one!", you shouted into the lobby when you entered, immediately catching the attention of a surprised Alastor standing in front of the lobby's fireplace. "Where have you been? You missed dinner, dear." he asked, eyeing you curiously as you ran over to him.

"Out. I don't really know, and it doesn't matter, because look, Alastor, LOOK!" you repeated, almost jumping up and down on the spot as you rummaged through your bag, and his smile faltered a bit as he tried to make sense of your erratic babbling.

"Easy now...What are you going on about, darling?" he asked, confused, and you proudly pulled the camera out, presenting it to him like you found the holy grail.

"See? It's an analogue camera! The only one in hell, apparently, since I spent the whole day combing the entire goddamn city for it.", you explained, and the deer demon's eyes widened at the sight of the vintage gadget. He hesitantly reached out to touch the camera, carefully brushing the tarnished silver metal frame with his fingertips. His brows furrowed as he eyed the device in your hands, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but you were too excited, cutting him off before he could speak.

"I thought maybe this would be a good compromise, you know, to get a photo of you without it being digital, since you really don't like that! I've never used one like this before, though, but the seller told me how it works! It's easy, really. You put in the film..." You did what you said with nimble fingers, almost shaking with anticipation whilst Alastor just watched you silently, his hands folded behind his back and a curious tilt of his head. "… then you pull the tab here, and it's ready to use! Like this!"

You pointed it at the fireplace, making sure the Alastor could see that you didn't direct it at him as to not spook him away before you really convinced him, and pressed the shutter, the proud smile still on your face.

With a long whining squeak, the whole thing fell apart in your hands, and you stared in horror as the pieces of what once was your camera clattered through your fingers to the ground and tiny screws rolled in different directions. You didn't move a muscle. You didn't even breathe. All that had transpired in the span of the last few seconds was too much for you to process, and you were on edge of tears as your face fell. The initial shock was quickly replaced with despair, and the welled up tears finally fell from your eyes. You felt incredibly stupid. How could you be so naive to think that was a good idea, when clearly, the whole goddamn universe was telling you otherwise?

Alastor's ears flicked when the first quiet sniffle broke the silence, and he glanced over at you. "I don't suppose it was meant to do that?"

You didn't say anything, just shook your head, trying to hide the wet streaks on your face. Alastor patted your hair lightly in an attempt to console you.

"Mh I see... it's a pity, really. I hope you didn't invest too much in that old thing, sweetheart."

You laughed humorlessly. "Only my savings."

The hand on your head froze still. "You surely mean part of it, right dear?"

"All of it."

He looked at the pile of loose leather and broken metal, then back at you. "All of... Why would you do such a foolish thing, darling?"

The question hit you harder than the door had slammed shut behind you when you stormed out of the Voxtech store earlier today. You shrugged.

"I just thought... I guess I just really wanted to get a picture of you." you confessed, wiping your face. It sounded so silly, when said out loud. "It's so nice, to have everyone I came to love in my album, like a family. And I felt like you were the only one kind of... left out, and I just..."

You had trouble explaining to Alastor exactly what was the motivation behind your thoughtless purchase - it all came together so naturally inside your head, but now that you tried to convey it out loud, your reasoning felt childish and embarrassingly naive. You lowered your head, tears blurring your sight, when a hand softly brushed over your cheek. You looked up at him, startled, as the back of his hand brushed away stray tears.

"Your heart was really set on this, wasn't it?"

His voice was gentle and soft as he spoke, and you could swear his eyes had a weird gleam when you barely nodded. You felt your cheeks blush and attempted to turn your head to avert your eyes, but he suddenly pulled you into his side, his face pressed against yours as with the flick of a wrist, an old folding camera appeared in his hand that he held, lens pointing at the both of you.

"Smile, my dear."

A poof and a flash later, and he held a developed photograph in his fingers, handing it to you with a smile much more genuine than you've ever seen. "There you go. I hope this'll do."

The picture was crisp and in stunning, vibrant colors, and you couldn't tear your eyes from the way his red irises seemed to come alive and the how it perfectly captured the pink hue on your cheeks, face flustered and yet oddly beautiful next to his own gleeful, picture perfect face.

"It's perfect." you breathed out, pressing the picture to your chest as tears, this time ones of gratitude and something warm and entirely unknown to you, threatened to spill over again. Alastor tutted at the wet sound, his long fingers tenderly wiping them away before they could fall.

"There, there. No more tears now."

You nodded, unable to lift your head as the feeling of his touch lingered on your cheek and you shyly looked away, hands still firm on the photo and over your racing heart. He cleared his throat and brought a fist to his mouth in a quick not-cough, and from the corners of your eye you thought you saw the faint traces of a blush on his face before it was already gone.

"Come now, there's still dinner left to be had, dear, and I am very interested to know who sold you this..." he picked up a piece of the shattered device from the floor and held it between his thumb and his index finger, the expression in his red eyes unreadable, and there was a certain intensity to his gaze you couldn't interpret, but it certainly made your heart race a little faster. "faulty device. I fear he and I need to have a little word."

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #sir pentious #egg bois #quickfic #fluffy as hell #lucifer hazbin hotel

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cadashhh · 15 hours

Text

can't stop thinking about a poly 141 au where the reader is a librarian and the guys attend your library's free veterans programs at least once a week. they're always in the conference room by the time you clock in, chatting lowly over cups of steaming coffee and donuts from the local bakery.

(notes: mostly fluffy, some sexual implications. minors - please do not interact or you will be blocked. i have never played a call of duty game in my life so this is bound to be out of character. mentions of skirts and dresses but i tried really hard to keep the gender wishy washy lmfao. shout out to all the fat librarians/book lovers/nerds!!!!)

you know john price as the leader, the one who makes the reservation and pays the security deposit out of his own pocket. at least once a month he will stay late after the program and help you reshelve books, carrying heavy stacks behind you as you put them back in their proper places. he admires your kindness and patience and always sneaks you a donut, muttering about how it's your "little secret" with a wink. while you work, his eyes track the skirt bouncing around your plush thighs, wishing for a breeze or fan to catch the material and reveal what lies beneath.

johnny mctavish unabashedly flirts with you from the moment he sees you, complimenting your dresses and asking if you've done your hair differently. he keeps up to date on your current read, seemingly interested in whatever program you're planning next. he could listen to you for hours, quite frankly, and he's dying to ask you on a date away from the library. he wonders if your dresses stay pretty and professional after hours and if you'd mind if his hand slipped under your hemline. sometimes he gets a bit too loud and excited to see you and you have to remind him where you are, then he always makes an offhand comment about how his "mother raised him better" so it's easy to forgive him.

the library was made for simon. silence, no obligation to socialize, and plenty of material to keep him busy and occupied for hours. he's one of the few veterans that actually uses the library services, frequently checking out books on the history of war and military strategy, maybe the occasional memoir or autobiography. you start requesting interlibrary loans that you think he'll like, keeping them behind the desk so only you can give them out, specifically to him. it's a big hit and for the first time you see the promise of a smile in the twinkle of his eyes, despite the lower half of his face being covered by a black surgical mask. in time, he starts suggesting books for you, too. you know he doesn't read the genres you prefer, but the fact that he took the time to research makes you all the more fond.

gaz is the sweetest patron you've ever had -- and possibly your favorite. hell, he's the whole town's favorite library patron. he'll entertain grade school children when their teacher deals with an incident, help an elderly gentleman with the copier, replace the burnt-out light bulb in the tech closet, AND still ask you for a volunteer form so he can "give back to the community." gaz is another veteran that uses the library for all it's worth - he almost always checks out the monthly book club recommendation, whether he attends the discussion or not, and takes the time to check out your newest displays. he offers to help you with any military exhibition or displays and, in time, gets to know your library's genealogy specialist to help other veterans trace their ancestry.

and even then, after all of that, you're still shocked when they ask to take you for lunch after a meeting in autumn. they promise it's just a thank you for all your hard work and support and though you insist you're happy to help, they won't take no for an answer. flustered but excited, you say yes and walk with them to your small town's main street for a bite.

outside of the library, it quickly becomes apparent they all know each other - and quite well. you listen to their service stories and notice every intimate touch or flirtatious glance shared between them, smiling widely when soap kisses gaz's cheek affectionately during their meal. you don't even realize they've been showering you with compliments and asking you curious questions about yourself. it all feels so natural, like you've been friends for ages.

you seriously don't recognize this as a date until you get far too captivated in one of soap's stories, leaning back to get more comfortable and meeting the warm skin of john's arm as it rests on the back of your chair. you begin to apologize, but john's smirk nearly punches the air out of your lungs before he shifts to briefly massage your neck with a firm grip. suddenly, an even larger palm slides over your lap until it can squeeze your thigh through your floral sundress. when you look back, you'd swear the stoic ghost is smirking at you as well, but you can't tell with his dark mask obscuring the bottom portion of his face. your next thought is to look at gaz and soap, to gauge their reactions, but when your eyes flicker between theirs you find dark, dilated pupils. soap wears a salacious grin, as if he's already picturing ways to split you apart.

#john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #i have no idea how to tag things anymore #idek why i did this lmfao #mine #s/o to my girlfriend as always for reading over this for meeeee

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allisluv · 3 days

Note

finnick nsfw alphabet perchance 🥹🥹🥹

thank you for your request anon!

cw: smut, fem!reader, not proofread as per usual

A — aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

finnick is super sweet after sex. he asks how you’re feeling or if there is anything he can do to help. he carries you to the shower, washing your hair before cuddling you back to sleep.

B — body part (their favourite body part of theirs or their partners)

finnick likes his abs and his stomach (i literally don't have a single reason to back this this up i just know that he does LMAO 😭)

as cliche as it sounds, finnick likes everything about you and that is the god honest truth. he couldn't pick one thing that he loves bc you're just a goddess to him.

C = anything to do with cum

i think finnick prefers to come inside of you rather than on you. he likes feeling you clench around him as he pumps his seed into you. he enjoys the closeness of it all too.

D = dirty secret

he once came in his pants like a teenage boy when you gave him a lap dance. who could blame him? you looked so pretty dressed up in your lingerie!

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they are doing?)

we all know finnick is experienced and that's all i'm going to say on that matter. although he has had plenty of romantic encounters in the bedroom, he doesn't know how to be vulnerable when he has sex. its something that the two of you would have to work through and it definitley requires quite a lot of patience on both sides.

F = favourite position

finnick is a simple man and by that, i mean he adores missionary. i think he likes to see your face. thats really important to him. it tells him what you like and what you dont like. in saying that, i do think he likes when you ride him. he likes surrendering that little bit of control to you. besides, he gets a great view of your tits bouncing that way.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous?)

finnick loves being able to make you laugh during sex. he'll crack god-awful jokes just to see you smile.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, do the carpets match the drapes?)

finnick likes to let his hair grow naturally. he’s so used to being waxed in the capitol that he just hates shaving in general

I — intimacy (how are they during the moment? romantic aspects)

sex with finnick is always always intimate. he's full of soft caresses and gentle touches and don't even get me started on the praising. the bottom line is that sex with finnick is more about making love than anything else.

J — jack-off (masturbation headcanon)

i don't think finnick likes jacking off all that much but if you have been gone for a while or vice versa he'll masturbate to the thought of you.

K — kinks (one or more of their kinks)

finnick has such a praise kink. he likes knowing that he's the one making you feel good. i think he likes edging but he always gives you what you want in the end. i think in a modern!au he would like phone sex too.

L — location (favourite places to have sex)

sex has to be special with finnick so i feel like he mostly sticks to the bedroom or other places in your house.

M — motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

finnick likes when you get bratty or talk back to him. idk what it is but he just finds that super hot.

N — no (things they won't do, turn-offs)

finnick won't do anything to hurt you. he doesn't like choking or bondage or anything of that sort because i honestly think it just reminds him too much of his trauma in the capitol.

O — oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc)

finnick is a giver. he's a pleasure dom and he loves making you feel good. he does like receiving though. he likes how you look on your knees.

P — pace (are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

finnick is absolutely a slow and sensual lover. he likes taking his time with you and dragging your orgasm out for as long as physically possible. he can go fast and rough at times but that's rare.

Q — quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often...)

i honestly don't think finnick is a big fan of quickies. he doesn't like that there's not a lot of intimacy involved in it. he only has quickies if youre really needy and he needs to teach you a lesson. he makes you walk around for the rest of the day with his cum in your panties

R — risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

finnick isn't a big fan of risks. i think it ties in with his memories of the capitol too much. don't get me wrong, he loves to experiment but risks? not so much

S — stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

finnick can go for hours and he can last for just as long.

T — toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

finnick doesn't own a massive amount of toys but he does love to use them on you. he likes to sneak a vibrator onto your clit when he’s fucking you— he’s a menace like that.

U — unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

finnick fucking odair is the biggest tease known to man. he'll let his hand slide an inch too close to your panties when you're out in public or he'll wear those grey sweatpants just because he knows they drive you insane. he loves to edge you but he will never leave you hanging for too long.

V -- volume (how loud are they? what kind of sounds do they make?)

finnick will groan into your ear and grunt when he's pounding into you. he's a talker too.

W -- wild card (random headcanon)

finnick never kisses and tells. sure, he'll make sex jokes here and there, but he wouldn't dream of telling anyone the things you two do in the bedroom. that's a private, intimate thing to him.

X -- x-ray (what's going on under those clothes)

finnick's a good six / six and a half inches. he's thick too.

Y -- yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

finnick has a pretty high sex drive. i'd say he could go every day if you were both desperate.

Z -- zzz (how quick are they to fall asleep?)

finnick gets super sleepy after sex. he'll clean you up and then collapse back into bed, nuzzling his chin into your chest.

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thg #headcanons #hcs #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #sam claflin #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair imagine #smut #fluff #alphabet #fem!reader #the hunger games x reader

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tulipsforyourlips · 1 day

Text

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (8)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

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

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 3K

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

PART 8 ✧˖°.

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

"Promise me"

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise."

And ached more as new joined them.

"You promised, Dream."

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

"You promised, Dream."

"I am not Hope!"

"You promised,"

"You promised, Dream."

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

"You summoned me?"

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

"You are looking cheerful," he cawed.

"Thanks Matthew. Did Dream send you?"

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

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

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

You sighed. "It's complicated."

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

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

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

"Yeah okay."

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

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

"Then-"

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

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

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

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

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

"Brills."

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

"Goodnight," was all he said.

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

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

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

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

"Dream, you have to tell her."

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

"You mean you can. The world cannot."

"We will manage without her having to know."

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

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

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

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

"Hi," you squeaked.

"Hi,"

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

"I'm-I am Hazel."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thankyou, for saving my life, again."

"You need not thank me for it."

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

"Hazel, I am sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault."

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

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

"You had-have every right to be."

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

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

"Woah, which tsunami hit this place?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was talking to an endless! "Guys!"

Dream whispered to you, "Should I-"

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

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

"This is Dream,"

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

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

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

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

"Oh." Charles mouth hung open. "He can see us?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, we were."

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

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

"I don't drink coffee."

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

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

"Thankyou," you mouthed to him.

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

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

You took a sip from your mug.

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

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

"Are you alright?"

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

Charles bloody Rowland, count your hours.

A smile tugged at Dream's lips.

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

"We have the night."

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

"Unfortunately we do," Edwin admitted.

"Alright then, bye bye."

"Rude," Charles muttered.

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

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

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

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

"Fair enough."

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

"Don't do it in here."

"Woah okay, calm your horses."

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

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

"Just use protection," Edwin advised.

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

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

"Be-"

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

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

"It wasn't a problem." Amusement glinted in his eyes.

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

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

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

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

"And so you told them we were dating,"

"I didn't mean to-"

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

You rolled your eyes. "Funny,"

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

"Dream,"

You gazed into his eyes, that mirrored the stars outside. The same way they did when he had first turned up in your room, a stranger, that you were bound to fall for. Because your heart so carefully locked, had began thrashing against the bones that kept it safe, aching to feel the caress of the man in front of you. You wanted to hand it over to him and say, 'keep it forever, it belongs to you now. It will only beat in the warmth of your touch. Treat it gently, for it was my most precious posession.' Perhaps if you cared less, you could speak those words to him.

"Yes mortal?"

I love you.

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

You wanted to scream it to him but you just shook your head and said, "nothing."

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

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

"You just said,"

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

She appeared in a moment's notice.

"What's the matter, little brother?"

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

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

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

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writerpetals · 2 days

Text

all you have to do is ask | ❤️

; optional male lead fluff | ☁️

He’s the cutest when he smiles. Your heart feels as if it will pound right out of your chest when you’re the reason for his grin flashed your way in the middle of studying the outline of the report you’re writing up while staring at a blinding screen for far too long. He chuckles any time you make a simple mistake, and his eyes wrinkle and his nose scrunches before he corrects your error with a soft tone and more patience than you ever expected.

He’s not your boss, and not even the supervisor of the department, but he has been in charge of helping new hires at the office you began working at a few months prior. Though, what should have been only a week of getting you settled in and set up with your workload, tasks, and anything else the head of the department likes to throw on his workers last minute has turned into him keeping a close eye on you in case you need a little extra assistance.

“Just until you get the hang of things,” he promises, but by now you have a hard time believing it, and even sometimes you find yourself hoping it’s just an excuse to get closer to you.

You should feel a bit embarrassed he’s always coming to your aid when you forget an attachment or pointing out corrections before your supervisor notices, but it’s hard to turn away his help when his smiles make your heart flutter and his kindness makes it so easy to play the part of clumsy or forget new employee.

“Did you remember to e-mail the updates on your latest report?” he asks while walking past your desk to make his way to the copy machine, a stack of papers in hand and a grin on his lips because he already knows the answer. “It’s important!”

“I, uh, I’ll get right on that!” you inform him, immediately clicking away to pull up your contacts on your computer as the heat rushes to your face for being so forgetful. “Thanks!”

You hear his chuckle even after he’s passed, but you’re thankful he’s observant enough to keep you in line, wondering if he’s the same way with all of your other co-workers. Maybe you’re too anxious over making sure you don’t make another mistake he won’t manage to catch, but part of you wishes he isn’t just being nice and helpful to the newest employee.

“Here, let me get that!” he says, rushing to your side two days later when you have managed to jam the only printer on your entire floor. You step aside, the warmth of embarrassment flooding your cheeks as he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work un-sticking the mess of paper you’ve somehow made.

“Thanks,” you say with a voice so quiet he almost misses it. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try my best,” he teases, grin wide as ever and your body feeling tingling all over from the sight of him.

A few weeks pass and you try to handle things on your own, however. Even if you enjoy his help every now and then, you do want to try your best so you don’t end up getting under his skin for his niceness to wear off. You also don’t want it to get around that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, so you leave post-its stuck to your monitor with reminders for all the attachments and e-mails you need to send, scribble down important times and dates of meetings and deadlines on the calendar resting over your desk, and even finish your latest report a day ahead of schedule.

You feel the pride swarming in your chest after a while, and even if you admit that you miss his visits to your desk to check up on you as well as spotting his soft smile or hearing his light-hearted chuckle, it’s nice to feel like you’re not so new and trying to get a grip on even simple tasks. You begin to feel like a member of the team, working hard to please your supervisor, and you even get a quick “good job” from your boss before leaving one afternoon.

Though, the confidence doesn’t last long when you sit down at your desk one morning to prepare to send the latest report to your supervisor, only to find the document wiped clean with no trace of a copy in an existing folder, and no signs of it accidentally being deleted in the recycle bin. Your heart sinks, wide eyes staring at the screen for a few moments as you click away to check every occupied space in your hard drive, stomach twisting as the seconds pass and the report you spent a week working hard on is nowhere to be found. You gulp, and close the document, only to open it once again, spotting a white page with a blinking cursor ready to begin typing.

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, knowing you trashed your notes the day before when you thought the report was ready to be sent. How could this happen? How could you be so careless? The doubts flood you over and over as you continue to stare at the screen with a furrowed brow and slacked jaw.

It’s not until he walks past do you pull yourself from your trance, hearing your name being called in what sounds like a muffled voice once, twice, and three times until you finally snap your gaze in his direction.

“Everything okay?” he asks, curious and concerned and when you don’t reply, he takes a step closer to press his hands to the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks even lower. You were doing so well. You were getting the hang of things, and now the report is gone and due in a day and you have no notes to start over.

“Yes,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, forcing a smile that his frown insists he doesn’t believe. “Yes, yeah, yup! I… I’m great!” Nervous laughter falls from your lips to have him wrinkling his brow, but he doesn’t push the issue.

“Alright, well, if you need anything…”

“Got it! Thanks.” Your fake smile widens and he hesitates for a moment before walking away.

You can fix this, you tell yourself, trying to calm your nerves while you reach for the small garbage bin next to your desk in hopes that there are a few notes scribbled on paper you tossed the night before. But of course, the trash is always emptied Wednesday nights and there’s a fresh bag greeting you when you look inside.

Huffing, you slump down in your chair, considering spending your morning looking for new jobs because you just know when your report hasn’t arrived by the following morning your boss is going to fire you. Just when you were getting decent paychecks, saving up for a new place to live, planning to get away from your annoying, messy roommate you try to avoid at all costs and hey, maybe even buy yourself a new pair of heels while you’re at it.

You can’t help but to groan as your head falls to your hands, mentally saying bye bye to that apartment with the view you had your heart set on, immediately feeling sorry for yourself until his words replay in your mind. You know you could ask him for help, but how could he even fix your mistake? Your report is missing, your notes are trashed, and there’s a possibility if you involve him, he could get disciplined for your mistake as well. The last thing you want to do is get the sweet, helpful guy that assisted you more times than you deserved in trouble right along with you.

Still, you have no other options. He did offer, you tell yourself, rising from your desk on feet that won’t budge until you work up enough courage to move. Your legs begin to shake and you wonder why you’re so worked up in just asking for help. You know you don’t want to be a problem, something annoying to get under his skin. But he did offer, you remind yourself once again.

It takes you twice as long to make your way to his desk, wishing your knees weren’t shaking so much, praying your heart stops pounding as hard. You spot him with a phone to his ear and a pen in hand, writing down a few things on paper a moment before he notices your presence. He smiles your way and you feel a bit sick to your stomach, as well as a bit disappointed you’ll never witness his smile again once you tell him the news and you’re fired over your mistake.

Bye bye sweet & helpful co-worker. You refrain from pouting while waiting patiently for him to finish his phone call, and it seems as if he speeds up the conversation with his client with a promise to get back to them before placing the phone on the hook with a click.

“Everything okay?” he asks just as before, smile fading when he senses your hesitation, and the fact that your eyes have fallen to the floor because you’re too embarrassed to face him.

“I…” you begin to whisper, seeing him shift his weight from the corner of your eye to turn his chair toward you, “...need help.” When you gather the courage to glance toward him, his brows are raised a bit, and when he stands is when you lower your head once again.

“With?” he questions with a chuckle, watching you nibble on your bottom lip and shift from one foot to the other.

“I messed up,” you exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, “big time.”

“How?” He steps closer before crossing his arms over his chest, and in a wave of overwhelming embarrassment flooding your body in a rush of heat, you blurt out the words in a jumbled sentence, telling him your report was finished, informing him you tossed the notes before heading home the night before, filling him in on your shock to see the whole thing gone when you arrived that morning and even spilling how scared you were to tell him because you didn’t want to get him in trouble as well if he was involved.

The air has escaped your lungs by the time you’re finished, and he stands, staring, taking it all in as well as the sight of you wide-eyed with your bottom lip trembling, wondering just how hard you’re working to keep yourself together before he offers a simple shrug.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” is all he says, voice calm as ever before he strolls over to your desk while you hurry behind him. He takes a seat in your chair then straightens his tie, pushes back his sleeves, and concentrates on the computer screen with a few clicks of the mouse. A heaviness settles in your chest and you swear the nausea will get the better of you as you wait for him to do whatever magic he’s planning, and the moment his smile returns to his lips is when a split-second of relief washes over you. “There it is.”

“You found it?!” Rushing to his side, you nearly bump his shoulder trying to get a view of the screen. There you spot the report you had worked so hard on, complete and ready to be sent with only a few seconds of work from him. “Oh my God! I could kiss you!”

Your voice travels a bit farther than you would have liked, earning a few awkward glances from co-workers sitting at their desks nearby while he chuckles and shakes his head. “Is this what was bothering you?” he asks. “You thought your report was gone forever.”

“Yes, ugh,” you groan, shoulder slumping and head falling. “I was so scared. I just knew I was going to be fired. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, for starters,” he tells you, rising from your chair, and you stand straight up to follow his lead, “you should have come to me sooner. Sometimes documents get wiped when the system forgets to automatically save, but you can always find them in the temporary folders.”

“I… should have thought of that. Ugh, I’m so dumb sometimes…”

“You’re not dumb.” Laughter falls from his lips as he shakes his head once again. “We’ve all made mistakes, and we all need help sometimes.”

“You’ve helped me so much since I started. I didn’t want to annoy you.” Your voice lowers as you admit your worries, but he raises a hand to dismiss them away.

“You could never annoy me, I’m here to help” he tells you, same smile forming over his lips that makes your body weak. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Thanks. You really saved me here.” He nods in understanding before letting you get back to sending your report, but not before you reach for his arm to keep him for a moment. “Can I make it up to you? You’ve really done so much for me, the least I could do is buy you a coffee… or something.” There’s a certain surprise lighting up his eyes you’ve never seen as he looks down at you, pressing his lips together before the corners curl, and he agrees a second later without an ounce of hesitation.

The two of you find yourself at a cafe a few blocks from work after you clock out, where you both have ordered your favorite flavor of tea to drink while sharing a raspberry pastry. You settle for a table near the window to watch the people pass by with their umbrellas beneath a sudden afternoon shower, lucky to have made it on time to keep from getting wet, as well as have an excuse not to leave as quickly. You enjoy each other’s company, making small talk while you slip in a few more thank you’s because you couldn’t be more grateful for his help. He smiles and nods each time, the shyness evident in his face with every sign of your appreciation and somehow it makes talking to him much easier outside of work.

“Maybe I can take you out next time,” he says while chewing on the last bite of the pastry while you sip your tea through a grin. “Somewhere proper like…”

“Like a date?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and he bites his lip for a moment to hide his eagerness.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“Do you?” He smiles at you answering a question with a question. It’s that same smile that makes you weak in the knees once again, and you’re blurting out words before you even have time to consider what you’re saying thanks to how irresistibly cute you find him. “Because I do.”

His smile widens. Your heart drums wildly in your chest. “Good,” is all he says, “me too.”

“Well,” you begin, finding a sudden confidence from his words, “if you want a date... all you have to do is ask.”