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lxkeee · 9 months ago

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I absolutely love your writing!! And don't get me wrong, I love Lucifer, but they way you write Azreal and the Eveningstar family lives in my head 24/7. The AU where reader ends up with Azrael is my absolute fav to come back to, along with the main series it stemmed from. I'd love to see more content of him in general. I've been driving myself crazy imaging a part 2 to the AU with Lucifer wanting to reconnect with reader and having this family unit with them, only to realize that he lost them completely when he fell and that they've moved one and found happiness without him. Very hurt/no comfort for Luci while reader finally experiences a returned unconditional love with Azrael.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: hurt and no comfort for our short king

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer (well, he did at some point but forgave them), where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame. This isn't canon to the fanfic storyline, simply an au.

Additional notes: I LOVE IT WHEN READERS WANT MORE AZRAEL CONTENT OMG

CH. 1 | CH. 4 | NAVIGATION

They finally have done it. Hazbin Hotel is finally booming in business, many sinners are finally checking in and giving redemption a try.

Though, Lucifer cannot help but be nervous. Heaven or specifically, the Seven Virtues requested a meeting with him and his daughter and along with Vaggie, they wanted to talk about the hotel and also about his punishment.

Why wouldn't he be nervous? The last time he was in a meeting with them, they absolutely crushed his hopes and dreams and to add to the fact that his first wife, now ex-wife is part of the organization.

Lucifer doesn't know how to handle it, he's afraid of how he'll act once he sees her and the fact that Charlie told him about his son that he left her with. Absolute guilt.

He misses her, he misses [y/n] so much and he regrets how he treated her. He neglected her, abandoned her and their son. Even after all these years, his heart still longed for her.

“Dad? You okay?” Charlie asked worriedly, holding her bag. Currently, they are waiting for the portal to heaven to open for their meeting tomorrow. She noticed that her dad seems to be in deep thought, she knows what's plaguing his mind—meeting his ex-wife again and seeing his son for the first time. She too is nervous about what will happen when that moment comes.

“The portal seems to be taking a long time to open.” Angel Dust snickered and Vaggie elbowed him on the side, somehow both Alastor, Niffty, and Angel Dust wanted to join them. Leaving the hotel underneath [f/n]'s care, another overlord who joined the hotel.

“You're really complaining when you're not even invited,” Vaggie muttered before turning to look at Alastor, “I am even surprised that even you also decided to join us, how come?” Vaggie deadpans at Alastor and the taller demon just laugh, radio static filling the air, “Myyy~! I am merely curious what the heavenly realms looked like. Nothing more~” He grins, quite mischievously. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at the radio demon.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head and gives Charlie a small reassuring smile, “I'll be fine, I'm just a little... Nervous.” he admits softly and Charlie nodded in understanding, placing a hand over her father's shoulder. She understands him, she too is nervous in seeing her half brother. Last time she saw him, he was giving her judgmental looks.

“I'm sure we'll be fine... Maybe this will be your chance to reconnect with them?” Charlie suggested, hopeful that somehow the two families can find a neutral area to get along with each other. After all, she always wanted an older sibling or siblings in general. She hopes that she and Xavier can get along.

Lucifer smiled, he too is hoping that this meeting will be fruitful and won't go so horribly.

A golden portal opened in front of them and they looked at each other, nodding as they finally took a step inside.

Heaven, is very bright compared to hell. Too much white, gold, and blues.

The crew looked at Lucifer, urging him to take the lead as he did come from here. Lucifer sighs, despite the nervousness, he decides to approach the pearly white gates of heaven. Standing in front of the counter of Saint Peter. The others are following him.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your names please?” Saint Peter asked, opening his book. Lucifer sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Lucifer... Morningstar...” Lucifer says, almost a whisper. Cringing slightly as he watched the Saint slam his book close, “Oh... Fuck!” Saint Peter exclaimed with a nervous chuckle.

“Um... I wasn't aware that you will be visiting today...” the Saint said with an awkward chuckle, Angel Dust just smirked while Alastor just grins, clearly interested in what heaven has to offer.

Charlie stood nervously beside Lucifer, unsure what to do next.

“Saint Peter, please grant them access. They are here for an important meeting.” a young masculine voice says, surprising the hell citizens. Turning to look at the gate and their eyes widened to see an almost exact replica of Lucifer—except for the eyes and height.

Lucifer's eyes widened and Charlie can be seen to become more nervous as the young man approached their group.

Saint Peter eyes widened, not expecting to see the young general today. “R-right. Please, come in.. heaven officially welcomes you.” Saint Peter says, opening the gates wider for the group.

Lucifer couldn't think, his ears ringing as he looked at the newcomer. Lucifer examined the angel's appearance—an almost exact replica of him and of course, he knows those eyes very well. The same [e/c] eyes his ex-wife has. The angel wearing a white military-ish uniform with gold shoulder pads, elbow length black leather gloves and knee high leather black heeled boots.

Charlie gave his hand a gentle squeeze in assurance, he squeezed it back, grateful for her support.

Alastor grins, not expecting a twist in the scenario.

The young man turned to look at them with a gentle smile, “Greetings, I am Xavier. I am tasked with showing you guys where you will stay for tonight.” Xavier says.

Xavier looked at his obvious half family from hell, before, he had anger for them but because of his mother's influence, he was able to manage his anger on them. But it doesn't mean he'll accept Lucifer and Charlotte his family, he already has his own family in heaven. He doesn't need them.

“Please follow me and keep up.” Xavier says, almost emotionless. It's a habit of his, it might come off as rude or cold to people he just met but he doesn't care. His mother is the angel of kindness, he needs to inherit her kindness instead of his father's pride.

The hell citizens just looked at him with slight nervousness—aside from the smiling one—before eventually following him.

Lucifer just stared at the back of Xavier's head, the golden halo shining brightly against his light blonde hair. He wanted to speak to him but words wouldn't come out of his mouth. He just follows in silence, his demon kind just looking at him in worry—except Alastor, who just gave him a teasing grin.

They followed him, it took a while but they finally arrived at their destination. A large white mansion with black and gold accents, surrounded by fluffy white clouds and trees. Sunflower and tulip fields decorating the front garden. [Y/n]'s favorite flowers.

“This is where you'll be staying so please, come inside.” Xavier says, the gates to the large mansion opening for them.

They admired the scenery, it is completely different from hell. Clean and tidy. Almost blinding to the eye.

They finally arrived inside the large mansion, completely in awe with its exterior and interior designs.

“Don't worry about the palace being too crowded, it's just me and my family living here.” Xavier explained, ushering them to follow him. Walking towards the supposed living room, they weren't able to see the large family portrait on the wall as it was mounted on a wall that they couldn't see.

“I am surprised we're staying somewhere luxurious this time unlike last time. How come?” Charlie asked and Xavier gave her a raised eyebrow before sighing.

“The guest rooms are currently full while waiting for new buildings to be created for the new souls. The seven thought it would be a good idea if one of them houses you guys.” Xavier shrugs before continuing to tour them around. Angel whistling in admiration.

“And this will be your room.” Xavier says as he showed Lucifer his room. The others are already settled in.

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, almost a whisper as he went inside the large luxurious room. Xavier nodded as he stood at the doorway.

“It's nothing, I'll get going now and if you need me, I'll be in the living room.” Xavier says before turning around to leave.

“Wait!”

Lucifer doesn't know what he was thinking, he just acted out on impulse. Xavier stopped, turning around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it?” Xavier asked, looking down on him. Mom, why is he so small? He thought.

Lucifer gulped, clearly nervous, “Are you... My...?” he couldn't get all the words out as his ears were ringing.

“Son?” Xavier completed, crossing his arms to look at his blood father, “Yes.” he says flatly and Lucifer's breath hitched.

Xavier sighs, already done with this, “Look, I am going to be straight with you dear father of mine.” Xavier says flatly, Lucifer looking at the taller boy in front of him.

“Just because you're my blood father doesn't mean I want you back in my life, whatever you're trying to do. I don't welcome it. I couldn't care less about you or my half sister. Do you understand? So, stop. Don't give me and my family a hard time. You've done enough damage already.” Xavier says coldly, catching Lucifer off guard. The fallen angel's heart shattered at the boy's harshness.

“Excuse me, I still have work to do.” Xavier says as he quickly walked away. Lucifer nodded, almost robotic. He went inside the guestroom and cried.

Lucifer doesn't blame Xavier for acting that way. After all, he's a horrible husband and father to [y/n] and Xavier.

Dinner was oddly awkward, a tension between the three blood relatives. Xavier didn't join them, opting to only have a drink instead.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Charlie asked hesitantly as she sat beside her dad, Xavier didn't bother looking up from his golden holographic screen that came from his wrist watch, his other hand typing into the hair and into the hologram.

“I'll eat later.” Xavier answers nonchalantly, they can clearly see him texting his mom.

M: Don't be too harsh on them sunshine.

X: I'm trying.

D: Well you better try harder, kiddo.

X: 🙄

X: What time will you come home?

D: Late as usual.

M: Indeed, there are still many things to finish but your father and I will make it quick to join you for dinner.

X: Alright, stay safe.

D: Love you, kiddo. Goodluck lol.

M: We will, sunshine. Love you<3

X: love you guys too.

Xavier was grinning slightly as he texted some people, Lucifer assumed it was [y/n] and somebody else he doesn't know of.

Lucifer avoided Xavier after that, clearly heartbroken. Lucifer assumes the D and M profiles meant Mom and Dad and Lucifer assumed that [y/n] remarried and he can clearly see how happy Xavier is talking to them.

To shorten this all up, the meeting went smoothly. The Seven Virtues promised to fund the hotel and also asked for Lucifer's forgiveness for how harsh they treated him. Heaven took back his punishment and he can freely visit heaven anytime. Lucifer was able to find out that Azrael married [y/n] and she's happily married to the man. Though, she doesn't hate him and forgave him but she did make it clear that she doesn't want him back to her life and so did Xavier and Lucifer respected their wishes.

Finally returning back to hell, Lucifer was extremely heartbroken. He lost before he even got to start. But part of him is glad that [y/n] found a better man than him, someone who treats her better than him.

End notes: I got a little lazy at the end lmao.

TAGLIST:

#lxkeee answers #hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne

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eddiediaaz · 2 months ago

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hi guys, i am kind of ashamed and embarrassed to have to do this, but i figured it can't hurt to ask. basically i am really struggling right now (i know a lot of us are). i need financial help, so i set up a ko-fi page ☕

any kind of help would be so appreciated and i am so grateful for anyone taking the time to read this little post.

long story short: because of situations completely out of my control, i lost my job in vfx after almost 8 years and i am now forced to switch careers. i'm going back to school and can't find a part time job even tho i have been working non stop for 15 years. financial aid will only cover my rent, so i absolutely need to work 20 to 30 hours a week to cover the rest of my living expenses, but it's really hard to find a job. i am also currently over 10k cad in debt from my film school loans and credit cards.

signal boost would be appreciated, if you can 💕

my situation in more details under the cut for those who are curious

i was working in the vfx industry as a 2D compositor since 2016 (i have worked on over 40 films and tv shows), but in december of 2023 i lost my job due to the hollywood strikes (as expected, and as it should—i fully support the strikes). this was supposed to be temporary for a couple months where i could get unemployment benefits (only 45% of my usual salary though). unfortunately, on may 31st 2024, my government announced that they are significantly cutting the funding & tax credits for the vfx industry where i live. what does this mean? mass lay offs. thousands of canadians and other people in the world working in the industry are losing their career, including me. there will only be about 20% vfx jobs left where i live by 2025. vfx shops and production houses have already started to close doors here. i'm still mourning this career i have been working in for 8 years and loved, even tho it's been difficult and demanding at times (lots of overtime), but there are just no jobs right now (unless you are a senior vfx artist with decades of experience) and the future will only get more bleak. i could move abroad and follow the industry that is already moving somewhere else, but i don't want to do that on my own (i am already super lonely as it is!!) and i can't afford it.

my unemployment benefits will run out by the last week of september. in 4 weeks. i've been sending resumes everywhere, both online and in person, but i am just not getting anything in return. even tho i have over 15 years of experience working in various jobs and i have never been fired from anywhere. even tho my resume and cover letters are solid because they have been approved my professional counselors (a free service for people under 35 where i live). so much for they're hiring everywhere...

since my vfx compositing skills are very niche and not really applicable to much else, i decided to go back to school, taking college classes in the admin and excecutive assistant fields, since it's something that i think would be good for me and there are lots of jobs for that here. i will be getting some financial aid, but it's nowhere near enough to survive. it will only cover my rent, and that's because my rent is super cheap for my city. my college classes start on september 30 and i am excited for it, but also very stressed because i still don't have a part time job.

i've been living on my own with a small salary for over 10 years now, but it truly is the first time that i'm struggling this hard. i honestly don't have anything worth selling except some taylor swift perfumes, which i sold this week. i also have over 6k of credit debt and another 4.5k of school loans left to pay. at the bare minimum i will need about $1.000 CAD/month to cover my other bills and expenses after rent, hence why the need for a job ASAP. i am desperate and my mental health has been a huge mess. this is why i decided to open my ko-fi accounts. not that i'm expecting much, but anything can help, i think.

i don't have much to offer in exchange, except gifs? i'm wondering if (cheap, low price) gif commissions are a thing? i have no idea know, but i set up a poll on my ko-fi page to see if anyone would be interested.

thank you for reading if you've made it here, it's appreciated 💖

#little aesthetic gif just for attention lol #signal boost #i have no idea how to tag this #kofi

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vincentbriggs · 4 months ago

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Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

#ask #18th century #1730's #transgender #transition #alterations

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justwonder113 · 1 year ago

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Showering Hyunjin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: you just had to show your drama queen of a boyfriend how much you love him. word count:2.5k

Warning: lot's of kissing, reader is gender neutral, both of them are whipped, appearance of 3racha, predebut Han almost making an entrance, Hyunjin is drunk and a drama queen, overall soft stuff. Please tell me if I missed something

A/N- I'm back with another fic, this took me a while but I'm kinda really satisfied with it, I really hope you all like it. I will try to write the next part as soon as I can. I wanna finish these series as soon as I can, first of all because I'm all excited and can't wait, also I'm excited to try out new tropes, I was thinking of challenging one bed trope after this, with various different dynamics. The requests are open, if you want me to write something I'll gladly accept the challenge. Also feel free to share your thoughts with me, I absolutely adore interacting with y'all.

After sighing for the nth time you finally forced yourself to turn off the shitty netflix show you were watching to spend time. You had nothing to do and were bored out of your mind, but not to that context to sit through another minute of this. It was almost 3 am and any normal person would be asleep by now, but here you were wide awake, feeling nothing remotely close to sleepiness.

You sat up straight after laying for couple of hours and boy you regretted it. The dizzy spell you got was nothing to joke with, maybe you should check your iron levels. Also your poor muscles felt so sore you would surely feel all stiff tomorrow. Your back was killing you, and, not to be dramatic but, you would marry anyone on the spot if they managed to massage the knots out. It was safe to say, you desperately needed some good spa day.

Speaking of marriage and partners, you were curious on how Hyunjin was doing. Even a mere thought of your amazing boyfriend bought a smile to your face. You couldn't believe you two were actually dating after pining over him for so many years. You sure were lucky tho, to have a sweetheart like him as your boyfriend. Your one year annivercary was coming soon and you couldn't surprise wait to surprise him. You've been planning everything for weeks now and you made sure everything would be perfect. Well you had to share some of your plans with him, so that you could plan your day together but you still had major card up your sleeve and you were sure he would lose his mind when you showed it to him. Two days, you only had to wait for two days.

You couldn't help but sigh, you missed him so much. Even though you saw him two days ago it felt like centuries had passed. This boy made you feel so many so foreign emotions you were never sure you would get to or actually could experience. He always went above and beyond to make you feel like the most special and cherished person, and the fact that he also did so even before you two started dating each other. He was always so sweet and gentle with you. You always felt like a hero of a romance novel. Also you adored how being with him was so fun and exciting but at the same time bought peace to your heart and mind. You might be rushing into things but day by day, second by second you were convinced he was your soulmate, your other half.

A sudden buzzing of your phone startled you out of your daydream, you were curious who in their right mind was calling you at this hour.

Seeing the contact name had you even more confused. Why would Chan be calling you at 3 am? You knew the boys were out having fun night for themselves. Did something happen? You hoped he called you for other reasons, because it would really suck if their rare chance of having fun got ruined by something unplanned. You sure hoped everything was okay tho. Quickly as you could you grabbed your phone and answered it mentaly preparing yourself to hear anything Chan had to say.

Chan's call of your name bought you down to reality from another spiral of unnescesary thoughts.

"Hey Chan what's up?" You tried to sound as calm as you could.

Chan cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You quickly denied it," no I'm awake, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Chan chuckled and it made you relax a little, so nothing bad had happened, "yeah, yeah everything's fine , nothing to worry about, it's just your boyfriend is getting a bit fussy." You couldn't help but mirror the last word, you heard Chan chuckle. "Yeah alcohol must've got to him. We were about to go home, but he refuses to cooperate. He says he wants to go at yours because he as he quotes "misses his baby so much he can't take it anymore!" He dragged the words mimicking your boyfriend, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where are you guys, I can come pick him up." You suggested while searching for your keys with your eyes.

"No, no it's okay, we can bring him at yours. Binnie and Han are with me too so I don't think it will be much trouble. I just couldn't knock some sense into him, I told him to call you but he said his phone died. At some point he even ran towards your house or that's what he thought I had to tackle him before he could get lost. I don't think he can tell left from right in this state" He paused for a second, you heard someone talking but you couldn't hear anything, " I'm getting off track sorry, so it's good to bring him at yours?" You were full on chuckling now, what a silly little man.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I'm sorry he's being trouble."

"No it's fine, it's kinda endearing to see him this whipped. All he talked about was you and how amazing you are." Your cheeks hurt from smiling this wide, God, you loved that idiot. "Okay I won't bore you anymore, we'll be at yours soon."

"Okay I'm waiting."

After finishing the call you made sure you looked decent enough for your taste and that your apartment looked neat. You also prepared clothes for Hyunjin to change into from his drawer and some water and painkillers for tomorrow.

It didn't even take 20 minutes for the boys to arrive. The second you opened your door Hyunjin tackled you into a hug, almost knocking you over, thankfully Changbin and Chan caught you two before you could manage and break your necks. You giggled at your boyfriends eagerness, before frowning when you saw how swollen and red his eyes were. "What happened baby?" You cooed at him and moved his hair out of his face. Hyunjin sighed and hugged you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You heard collective sigh of boys and turned your attention to them, looking at them with confused eyes, hoping they would tell you what was up.

Han decided to break the silence-"don't worry he was just bawling his eyes the whole ride, crying how amazing and perfect you were and how there is no one like you." He said and rolled his eyes, you huffed out a laugh, you knew he had nothing against you, but he must have had enough of this. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at him, his hold on you tightened, you were not sure if he felt possesive or just couldn't keep himself straight. "You're just bitter cuz you're single!" Hearing your boyfriends grumble Han's eyes widened and for a second you were afraid predebut Han would return. "Oh I'm gonna beat his ass!" Han leaned in but Changbin held him back by his collar, Changbins gaze then turned to you and you noticed how tired he seemed. "Good luck, he's your headache now."

Chan looked at you" Do you need any help with anything?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "I can handle him. Do you guys wanna come in tho? Do you want something to drink?" After hearing the last word you could see all three of them shiver.

"We're fine. It's late too we better head home." Chan reassured you after glancing at Changbin and Han for their opinion.

"Okay, thanks again for bringin him. Tell me when you're home, it's really late."

You said your goodbyes and turned to hyunjin who looked at you with dazed, sparkling eyes. "Let's get you settled pretty boy." You took his hand and started leading him towards your bedroom. Hyunjin eagerly followed you, you were amazed how pliant he was being, usually he loved being a brat but he must have been too tired now to act so.

After helping Hyunjin get ready for bed, you quickly got changed too and got in bed next to him. turning to him you noticed that he looked at you with wide eyes, nowhere near sleepy now. You leaned in and removed hair from his forehead, "I thought you were sleepy baby." Hyunjin looked at you for a second or two and opened his arms, "wanna cuddle." His words were slurred but you still got what he meant, you smiled and immediately snuggled next to him his arms finding solace around you. Based on how content he looked, if he could he would start purring any second now. How was he so cute and lovable? You knew you were whipped for him but you could swear he looked extra yummy right now.

You spent couple of minutes like this, and based on his even breathing you were sure he was asleep now, but you were proved wrong when he huffed while glaring at you and then changed sides so that you were now facing his back. To be honest you were a bit dumbfounded.

"What's wrong sweetie?" You couldn't help but pry, you had no idea what could've brought this behavior from him. Hyunjin just huffed. You sighed for yourself, you had got to use the big guns. You leaned in closer, amused at how he tried to get away from your touch, as if he had much space to run off to, and soon, not really to your surprise you had him trapped in the corner of your bed. You wrapped your hand around his stiff body and leaned in closer so that you could sweetly whisper against his ear. " Please tell me what's wrong my love" you dragged his nickname as sweetly as you could knowing it made him weak in the knees, and it did break through him. Hyunjin sighed and laid on his back, you glued next to him, his lips were pouted and his eyes a little bit glossy, you rubbed his side to ease him into talking .

"You don't love me" he whined quietly, you expected to hear anything but this from him if you were honest. You blinked at him confused, trying to gather your thoughts, you were both perplexed and also hollering from laughter inside. He was so ridiculous sometimes. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers to play with his soft locks, Hyunjin immediately leaned into the touch.

"My love, I love you so much I don't think you can even comprehend it! What brought this up?" Your voice was soft, you wanted him to know how sincere you were. Hyunjin sighed and put his hand on your waist, successfully bringing you closer to him, your fingers migrated and now were gently scratching his nape. Hyunjin hid his face in the crook of your neck and quietly grumbled "you didn't kiss me even once since I got here, we haven't seen each other in a while tho." No matter how hard you tried you couldn't hold it in and started cackling, this adorable as hell drama Queen! He had you worried for nothing! You even thought for a second you did something wrong.

Noticing your shaking figure, Hyunjin looked up at you with doe eyes, and his pout deepened when he saw you that you were wholeheartedly laughing. "Stop laughing I'm talking from my heart here!" His comment made you laugh even harder. "I should've gone home, you hates me" noticing how sad he sounded you got reminded that he was drunk as hell and was feeling more fragile, you wondered tho if he would remember any of this in the morning? Was it too late to grab a camera? Pouty Hyunjin was adorable.

"I'm sorry my love, you know I love you the most." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and you knew he was playing with you, his eyes glimmered with mischief, well, two could play this game. You lowered your voice so you sounded almost sultry "Why don't you let me prove my sincerity to you then? Are you gonna let me?" You carefully watched as Hyunjin's eyes widened for a second, the big gulp and careful nod of his head.

This was all the permission you needed, you leaned in and carefully sealed your lips together, your boyfriend basically melted against you. You just loved how soft and pillowy his lips were, you always felt like you could kiss him for eternity.

The kiss started out soft, with you gently caressing his lips, his hand firm on your waist, holding you as if you were going to go away. Everything went quiet, you could only see, smell, taste, feel, hear him and so much more, he was the center of your universe. It was just you two right now, you didn't care about anything else. You had one goal only and you were dedicated. Everything about him was driving you crazy, you were sure he couldn't even grasp what, or how much you were feeling.

Your kisses quickly deepened and apart from gasping for air from time to time you two were inseparable, like two magnets pulling on each other.

The second Hyunjin leaned back for a second for some air, you decided to continue your little attack on his jaw, then his cheeks, absolutely loving the feel of his soft skin on your lips, then came his forehead, his eyelids, his beautiful nose, his chin, his neck... You wanted to cover every inch of him in kisses, to show appreciation to whichever god or gods crafted him, to show appreciation that this walking perfection was yours, his soft sighs and whines making you go even crazier.

You littered every part of skin you could reach with kisses until your lips were so numb and buzzing you got afraid they would fall off. Although, it didn't sound that bad, knowing the last thing they did was to kiss the Hwang Hyunjin senseless.

Looking at him, he looked at you with so much love and adoration, his face and neck all flushed, his breathing was quick and shallow,his hair all disheveled, his beautiful hands held you so tightly, your heart started fluttering all over again. He looked absolutely breathtaking, you wished you could engrave this moment into your mind for eternity. You smiled at him and softly grazed his cheek. "Are you satisfied with my answer my precious?" Your voice was soft, Hyunjin gleamed at you and eagerly nodded his head, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the bed, Hyunjin above you, hugging you as tight as he could, his lips softly kissing your collarbone. "Absolutely, I love you so much beautiful, you have no idea" he pressed another kiss on your neck and then your lips with so much love and passion you just knew your feelings were returned with the same passion and vigor.

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stayinlimbo · 6 months ago

Text

Wait For Your Love

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, second love (kinda), fluff, minor angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of a previous relationship, brief descriptions of heartbreak, so much pining omg, college-aged, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.21k note: i am proud i finished this one ngl. thank you @hwangism143 for giving me confidence. i'm not too sure how much i like this fic because it wrote itself but i hope you all still enjoy ♡

If there is anything Minho has learned about you in the years he’s known you, it’s that you’re not subtle.

It’s something that’s never seemed to bother you, even after he pointed it out once during your shared lecture class, voice tinged with exasperation as you ogled at the upperclassman you’d been making heart eyes at for the nth time that week. You wear your heart on your sleeve like a badge of honor, displayed proudly for the entire world to see.

Minho has witnessed every emotion be reflected on your face at least once. If asked, he could probably fill a whole book with expressions he didn’t even know were possible until he saw them on you, though the snapshots etched into his memory could never perfectly capture the art of facial contortion you’ve mastered.

Your open nature was evident from the beginning. He can still picture the bright grin you gave him when you occupied the desk next to his on the first day of high school. The feel of your gaze flickering towards his seated form and the light bouncing of your knee as the teacher dismissed class made it no surprise when you twisted in your chair to ask for his name and if he’d like to eat lunch with you.

It’s a curious thing, looking back on it, to see the immediate effect you had on him. Minho truly couldn’t help the pink hues coloring his cheeks as you tested his name on your tongue for the first time, nor the shy smile blossoming on his lips at the way you visibly lit up when he accepted your offer. He didn’t know you, didn’t know why you were so happy, didn’t know what this feeling was deep inside his chest; all he knew was that he really wanted to keep making you smile.

He likes to think he’s been successful over the years, if the way your head tilts back in laughter at his silly antics and tight grip on his biceps to hold yourself up is anything to go by. It’s an admirable goal his younger self set, though he’s not sure when it shifted from wanting you to be happy to just...wanting you.

He wanted you when he introduced you to his cats for the first time, the gentlest smile playing on his lips at your barely contained excitement as they brushed past your legs. He wanted you when you tried to teach him how to swim, despite the poorly concealed judgmental looks you kept throwing at him when he clung to your shoulders tightly in the shallow water. He wanted you at your best, at your worst, and in all your in-betweens. He wanted to be by your side, even if he couldn’t have you.

And he was. Minho was there to separate your clammy hands, wrung together by the anxiety flooding through your system, and give them a reassuring squeeze. He watched you take a calming breath, offering him one last nervous smile before walking a few rows over to ask out Chan, the upperclassman you wouldn’t stop gushing about. He offered you two thumbs up and the best smile he could muster as you bounded back to him, hands waving wildly in the air as you fervently spilled the details about how you scored a date on Saturday.

He was there to give the best “guy advice” a man with no relationship experience possibly could and third-wheeled more times than he’d like to admit, because, try as he might, he never was able to say no to you.

No, Minho never left. If he did, who would be there to comfort you after you and Chan broke up right before his graduation? It didn’t matter that you were failing miserably at hiding your puffy face or eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall as you delved further into what happened. He didn’t care about the tears from your sobs staining his shirt and wetting his neck as he pulled you into his chest or the amount of tissue piled in his trash can. Minho chose to bear your heartbreak, be the anchor you needed because he loved you. He loved you in the way you deserved to be loved.

He noticed the soft sighs escaping your past lips when he drove past somewhere that reminded you of Chan and the distant, longing look in your eyes when his name was mentioned. He saw your posture straighten, features lighting up slightly with a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips when he offered to bring you coffee every week before your morning class. Minho watched the weight on your shoulders be slightly lifted day by day as you reclaimed and channeled your love into yourself. He witnessed the smile finally reach your eyes, your laughter ringing in the air after he successfully predicted what the characters on the TV screen would say, and he swore he’d never felt prouder in his life.

Minho has learned all your mannerisms and would argue that he knows you better than he knows himself. Yet, there was a gleam in your eyes he’d never seen before when he leaned back on your couch and locked his eyes with yours. The way you quickly redirected your gaze was new too, and you even looked a little... shy. His eyes trailed down to your lap, where you fiddled with your fingers as he grabbed one of your surprisingly sweaty hands in comfort. Oh, it’s warm too. Weird.

It was weird when you refused to look at him for longer than two seconds when he picked you up for class the next day. He could not figure out why you were biting down on your cheeks to hold back the smile threatening to break out any moment, nor did he understand why, two weeks later, your smile directed at him had changed—still radiant and beautiful but somehow softer, more loving.

Why are you looking at him as if you love him?

You’re not subtle; you never have been. Minho can see it now in the way you’ve found more excuses to hold onto his arm when walking through heavy foot traffic, when you’re scared by the movie he teased you about, when you’re pulling him closer because you’re cold and don’t want to reach for the blanket resting beside your body. He can see your love overflowing in the same way as his, hands itching to intertwine with each other.

He knows you know about his feelings for you. How could you not, when he can hear your panicky voice reverberating through your apartment’s front door, pacing footsteps creaking the floorboards as you repeatedly question one of your other friends about how you should ask him out? He really hopes the catch in his breath wasn’t too audible.

Minho doesn’t mind waiting; he’d wait forever if he had to. But it doesn’t look like he’ll have to wait for long, not when your hope-filled determination paired with a wide-eyed stare pierces his heart and soul as you wrench the door open and usher him through the entryway.

And if he didn’t leave until the next morning, hand intertwined with yours as he dragged you to the nearest coffee shop, well, that wasn’t anyone else’s business.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

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octuscle · 7 months ago

Note

I'm on a flight to Tokyo, and I'm definitely going to stand out amongst the locals... what should I do?

I always have the greatest respect for visits to Asian countries myself. So it's more than natural that you need support. I myself have had very good experiences with a preset that I am sending you. I recommend that you activate the preset as soon as possible, the transformation is set to last 12 hours.

Okay, it's exemplary that you had your cell phone in flight mode, so the message only reaches you after the plane is already on the tarmac on its way to the terminal. With your seatbelt still fastened, you activate the default setting. After the first few seconds, the first effect becomes apparent. The tension is gone. This is not the first time you have landed in Haneda. Only tourists and fools jump up and open the luggage compartments before the seatbelt signs have gone out. You are disciplined. Discipline is the only way to survive a juggernaut like Tokyo. You know that. The idiots around you don't.

You say goodbye to the person sitting next to you. You say goodbye to the flight crew when you leave the plane. In broken Japanese. You struggle with the language. Even though you've been learning it for over a year. At least you recognize a few of the characters at the airport. At least you can understand fragments of the conversations around you. And you know your way around the airport. Even if you're not the first to jump on, you're one of the first at the baggage carousel. It pays to have a Japanese ID card. Wait a minute! A Japanese ID card? Sure, you've been living here for years. Tokyo is your second home. Naturalization was only logical. You have a Japanese great-grandmother. That made it easier. You inherited your black hair from her.

You look at the people with the big suitcases with pity. They're either going to waste a fortune on cabs now. Or they'll have real problems on the train during rush hour. You've packed efficiently. And your advantage is that you stand out from the crowd. 190 cm… That makes you a giant in Japan. And a colossus at 120 kg. When you finally take the steps from the subway into the open air, the default setting has already been active for three hours. You walk the last few meters to your hotel. It's so nice to be back here. Yes, you actually live in London. But you spend as much time as you can in Tokyo for business and pleasure. For years now. You speak the language very well, you're up to date with all the fashions and gossip. And a regular guest here at the hotel. The concierge addresses you by name. You greet him back by name. Nevertheless, you exchange business cards. Tradition is tradition. The building trembles. A slight earthquake.You don't know how many earthquakes this is in your life. It's not even worth mentioning in your conversation.

Now a quick bowl of noodle soup. And then to the gym. You've spent too much time motionless on the plane and in the subway. You need action now. The feeling that your body has given its last. And then a hot bath and a massage. Your buddy at reception has already arranged everything. You just quickly take your luggage upstairs and get changed. And then you run down the stairs to the gym. The earth has just shaken a little again. The last thing you need now is to get stuck in the elevator.

Two hours later, when Atsushi presses his elbows into your back, all is right with the world again. Atsushi is a master of his trade. And you've known each other for ages. In fact, you played baseball in the same club as children before you moved to Europe with your parents. It was a real coincidence when you found each other on one of your visits here on Grindr. It's one of the biggest and hardest reasons why you're staying here at the hotel. Rarely have you experienced a better masseur who is both good for your back and offers a first-class happy ending. He stands behind you and massages your neck. And his hard-on sticks out in front of your face. Shit, if he doesn't suck you off right away, you'll cum without him laying a hand on you.

You two spend the evening at karaoke. Unfortunately, Asushi can't stay in your hotel room tonight. But he will take you upstairs. And you fuck him as a thank you. Asushi thanks you with a deep kiss goodbye. He says that your education in Europe has paid off. Nobody fucks like real Japanese men who learned to fuck in Paris. You grin. Well. An almost real Japanese man. Your one grandmother was English. You owe your blue eyes to her.

Get up, go to the gym, take a hot bath. That's how your next morning starts. Not easy with the jet lag. But you have to get back into the rhythm of the city of your ancestors quickly. The first meeting is at 07:30. Time is money. And life in Tokyo is not cheap. "それで、侍よ？よく眠れましたか？" Asushi sent a picture of his morning wood. You return the favor with a selfie, freshly showered. "よく眠れたよ！しかし、私には硬いものと柔らかいものがある。疲れ果てた夜に��えよ," you reply. "はい、侍よ！" You're looking forward to the end of the day!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #race change

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glearyyyne · 6 months ago

Text

a true story Part 2

Part 1

Synopsis: You thought you would be having a peaceful life after running away from him in Tokyo as you moved into the countryside and built a cafe but what would you do if he suddenly showed up asking for an explanation that night?

Word Count: 7,284 words

Warning: 21+ DNI, gun, swearing, mention of knife, threatening, negative comments, mention of stalker, fighting, betrayal, a sprinkle of angst, open ending.

Note: So I finally finished this yay!! Even though this was also one of my few episodes of 'wanting to drop the fic' I didn't really expect people to be so invested in part 1 so here have some more!

_____________________________________________________________

“[Reader's name]!”

You turned your head to see Megumi waiting by the gate of your house.

“Just a second!” You told him as you closed the hose after you finished watering the plants as you headed to the gate to open.

It's been at least 4 years since you left the city you lived in. You tried your best to leave everything behind so that Satoru won't find you.

You quit your job at the bar, you even begged the owner not to tell satoru that you left your job and you even told Fumiko where you’ll be staying just so she can visit you and give you some updates about the bar but you also begged her not to tell satoru as he knew your friendship with Fumiko.

You even sold your phone behind as you knew there was a chance that satoru could trace your whereabouts. You now live in the countryside that isn't most likely known in Japan.

"Are you not going to open the cafe?" Megumi asked.

"I am, can you wait for a minute? I'll just go and lock the door," you replied as you hurried to secure the house before heading to the cafe with Megumi.

Megumi nodded as you headed inside and locked the door. Running a cafe in the countryside wasn't easy, but with your experience in the bar, you managed to make it work.

Despite the challenges, you found comfort in the relaxed atmosphere of your cafe.

Megumi, your neighbor for the past three years, took on the role of cashier, a move that initially puzzled you given his introverted nature.

However, you accepted his request for a job since you needed someone reliable to manage the register.

Not too long after, you and Megumi arrived at the cafe.

With your keys, you opened the door and the two of you headed inside to begin opening the shop.

You busied yourself with cleaning the coffee equipment while Megumi neatly arranged the pastries in the glass display.

Together, you swiftly prepared the cafe for another day of serving customers in the peaceful countryside setting.

As you were at the sink, you heard a ringtone from beside it. It was Megumi's phone, and you accidentally saw the message.

‘Any update from her?’

Your brows furrowed as you saw the sender's name

G.S?

"Megumi?" you called his name. He responded with a hum while still doing his task.

"I think you got a message from... G.S?" Your words made Megumi stop abruptly.

He quickly grabbed his phone, "Sorry, I'll go outside and answer this," he said before you could say anything. With that, he left the cafe to respond to the message.

You were baffled, it was the first time you saw Megumi panicking. It must be from his family.

You shrugged it off and went back to cleaning the sink, trying not to dwell on it too much. But as you scrubbed, you couldn't help but recall the conversation where you asked Megumi why he moved here.

"Why did I move here?" Megumi asked, counting the money at the register as you nodded, perched on the countertop since the cafe was already closed.

"Uhm, I guess my guardian placed me here so I don't... meddle in his business," he replied.

You rolled your eyes, "You're lying, Megumi, your ears are bright red," you pointed out, making Megumi sigh and cover his ears.

"It's just cold in here and I'm telling the truth!" he defended himself, which made you laugh.

"Whatever you say. But wait, you said guardian? Does that mean... not to offend you, but you don't have your parents?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

Megumi sighed, momentarily stopping counting as he nodded.

"They left me and my sister when I was younger," he said, making you want to apologize for asking. But before you could, he continued, "I don't even remember what they looked like, so it doesn't matter to me."

"Then where's your sister?" you asked.

"In Tokyo. She's doing some job, that's why she's not with me here," he answered.

"I guess that guardian of yours is an angel," you told him, but he only groaned in annoyance. "He's a pain in the ass," Megumi said, making you laugh.

As the sun set, the closing of the cafe drew near.

Today, a lot of customers came, which made you happy knowing that the pastries wouldn't go to waste, and the aroma of the coffee made it feel even more like home.

As soon as it hit 10, you closed the sign, and you and Megumi began packing up. You were busy cleaning the tables while Megumi handled the money in the register again.

"Megumi," you called out while wiping down a table. "You can head home after counting the money," you told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "We usually head out at the same time," he added.

"Yeah, but I have to go somewhere first before I head home," you told him.

Megumi was hesitant at first, but then he proceeded to agree as he went on to count the remaining money.

After Megumi bid goodbye to you, you were left alone in the cafe.

Once you finished cleaning, you began to switch off the lights before locking the main door.

Walking down the streets, you hugged the heat pad closer as the weather began to get colder with winter nearing.

Stopping by the cake shop, you entered and were greeted by the cashier.

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" she asked. "Do you have any bento cakes?" you inquired.

"We do! We have a lot of variations of bento cakes. Feel free to pick one you like," the cashier replied, gesturing to the display of cakes.

Not too long after, you picked your desired cake and paid for it before heading home.

Just as you arrived at your gate, you noticed the lights on in Megumi's house and a silhouette larger than Megumi's. It seemed he had some visitors.

Shrugging it off, you got inside your house, turning on the lights and the heater as you headed to your table and began to open the cake.

Glancing at the time, you saw it was already 12:14 am. You sighed as you lit the candle.

You started to sing yourself a happy birthday before making a wish and taking a bite of the cake.

It was another birthday alone. It was hard to get used to, but what could you do? With divorced parents busy with their own families, they had forgotten about you. Your other relatives were in Tokyo, and since you moved to the countryside, you weren't expecting them to visit.

You didn't want to hear their pitying comments anyway.

You didn't even eat half of the cake before you stood up to clean the table and put the cake in the refrigerator.

"I should give some to Megumi tomorrow," you muttered after closing the refrigerator.

Then you headed to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth before finally heading to bed.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your doorbell, a recent addition to your gate in case someone wanted to see you.

It was still too early to head to the cafe, so you reluctantly got out of bed.

Making your way to the gate, you opened it without much thought, only to be met with surprise when you saw the white-haired man standing there—a face you hadn't seen in four years.

He seemed to have changed, a bit more muscular here and there—wait, what were you thinking?

"Satoru? What—how did you find me?" you asked, your face peering out cautiously from behind the gate, ready to retreat if necessary.

"[Reader's name], long time no see," he said with that infuriating smirk.

With an annoying sigh, you attempted to shut the gate, but Satoru was a step ahead, managing to hold it open.

"Oh, come on, is that how you greet someone you suddenly left after that night?" he teased.

"I left? It's you who left!" you retorted, feeling frustration bubbling up.

"I never left that day. It was you who suddenly left with that typical note," he argued.

"Look, the past is the past. Let's forget what happened between us," you urged, hoping to move past the confrontation.

But you noticed the intensity in his gaze. "I was serious," he said, his tone shifting.

"What?" you replied, caught off guard.

"I was serious when I said I like you—scratch that, when I said I love you," he confessed, his tone grave.

Your heart began to race, but you fought against letting your guard down. "You're lying," you countered.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"No, you're literally lying," you shot back, refusing to give in easily.

"I'm not," he repeated firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"How could I believe you?" you challenged, skepticism coloring your tone.

"Believe me? Fine, I paid off your debt," he suddenly announced, catching you completely off guard.

"What?" you exclaimed, incredulous.

"Remember that guy you were hiding in the parking lot? The one that led to all of those... interactions?" he said, his smirk returning, much to your annoyance.

"Yeah, I know that," you replied irritably, cutting him off before he could mention the kiss.

"I did a background check on him and found out that little miss [reader's name] has a debt to him," he continued, his smirk widening, irritating you further.

"I'll just pay you back when I can," you said, attempting once more to close the gate, but Satoru didn't like that.

"If you close this gate, I'll triple the debt you need to pay me back," he threatened, his tone sending shivers down your spine. It was the first time he had been so intimidating.

"Don't forget how much debt you left," he added, reminding you of your past financial troubles.

Feeling like you had no choice, you reluctantly let go of the gate. "Good," he said when he noticed you giving up on closing it.

"What do you really want, Satoru?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice.

"I need a face-to-face explanation of that night," he answered firmly.

"And if I don't agree?" you questioned, dreading his response.

"Then I'll triple the debt you need to pay off," he said with a smirk, his threat reinforced by his control over your finances.

Damn him and his money. "Can we talk at the cafe? I have to wait for Megumi," you suggested, hoping to buy some time.

"There's no need to," he said, catching you off guard.

"Megumi's not here," he revealed, leaving you stunned.

"You killed him, didn't you?!" you shouted frantically, your mind racing with horrifying possibilities.

"Chill, why would I kill the kid when I'm his guardian?" he revealed, his words only adding to your surprised look.

You placed a strawberry croissant on the table before sitting down across from Satoru at the cafe.

Since it was a weekday with few customers, you seized the opportunity to talk to him, while he was already busy enjoying the croissant.

"I must say, it tastes good," he remarked between bites.

"Thanks, Megumi made it," you informed him.

"Really? He tells me he only makes coffee here, not pastries," Satoru commented.

"Let's get this over with," you said, wanting to dive into the conversation.

"Okay," Satoru agreed, wiping his mouth with a tissue. "Why did you leave that night?" he asked directly.

You sighed. "No, no. Why did you leave me alone in your bed?" you countered.

"I never left. I was in the bathroom," he revealed, surprising you. Wait, what?

"You were? Uhm..." You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

"So, answer my question. Why did you leave me?" he pressed.

"I left that night because I thought you had left me after... after you just— I don't know— used my body," you confessed, looking at him earnestly.

"I didn't use your body. Did you forget that night how I kissed every inch of your body?" he asked with a straight face.

"You... didn't have to remind me of that," you replied, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

"I just don't understand why everything I do for you doesn't seem appreciable to you," Satoru expressed his frustration.

You felt compelled to address the issue of Ayaka. "Everyone at that ball seemed so... expected to see you with Ayaka," you explained.

"Was it because of what that old man said?" he inquired.

"No, your cousin... he told me you two were childhood sweethearts. Everyone around you expected you to marry that girl, but instead, you brought me to that ball as your 'girlfriend,' and suddenly it feels like everyone paints me as the villain," you confessed, frustration evident in your voice.

Satoru listened attentively, letting out a sigh. "If we're talking about a villain here, it's Ayaka, not you," he reassured.

"Why would it be her?" you questioned, needing more clarity.

"Well, for starters, Tsumiki and Megumi hated her," he revealed, but you wanted more detailed information.

"Elaborate more—" you began, but before you could dig deeper into the topic, a customer entered the cafe, prompting you to unconsciously stand up and head to the cashier.

It felt like déjà vu, with Satoru watching you from the usual table while you attended to your duties.

Before you knew it, more customers arrived, causing you to forget about the conversation with Satoru.

Witnessing how hard you worked while managing the cafe alone, Satoru decided to lend you a hand.

As 10:00 pm approached, the cafe closed. Satoru watched as you counted the money, feeling nervous under his gaze.

You muttered the numbers, trying to speed through the counting process.

"By the way," you stopped counting and looked at Satoru, "where is Megumi?" you asked him.

"Can't we just have a day without mentioning his name?" he replied, annoyance evident in his tone. "I'm getting jealous, you know?" he added with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "I need to know. If he's still not here by tomorrow, then I'll just close the cafe for the day," you informed him firmly.

"He's visiting his sister. She's getting married," Satoru informed you. "He'll come back here by tomorrow," he added.

"Wait, Megumi's 25, so how old is she?" you asked.

"26," Satoru replied.

"Oh, she didn't get you to walk her down the aisle?" you teased, smirking at him.

Satoru sighed. "As much as I wanted to, she chose Megumi to walk her down the aisle," he admitted.

"I stayed here because Megumi literally begged me to stay," he bragged, causing you to roll your eyes as you secured the money.

"I think that's a different Megumi," you remarked dryly.

Not too long after, you closed the cafe, and you and Satoru began walking out onto the street. Despite wearing enough layers to keep warm, the cold still seeped through. "Cold," you muttered, not expecting him to hear.

"Here," he said, extending his hand towards you. You stared at him, puzzled. "What? Hold my hand so you can stay warm," he suggested.

"I don't think holding hands will be enough to warm me up," you replied skeptically.

"I can give you something more to warm you up," Satoru smirked, hinting at something suggestive. You rolled your eyes and were about to take his hand when suddenly you felt someone grope your butt. You flinched, and Satoru noticed, his protective instincts kicking in.

The guy who touched you continued walking as if nothing happened, but Satoru immediately pulled you behind him and called out to the guy, "Hey!" trying to catch his attention.

The guy turned around with an annoyed look. "What's your problem?" Satoru confronted him, his voice laced with anger.

The guy only chuckled. "What? It felt good," he said, his tone mocking.

Satoru's fist clenched at the guy's bold response, and without hesitation, he swung a punch, aiming for the guy's jaw. The blow landed with a solid thud, eliciting a grunt of pain from the guy.

"Stop it!" you shouted, rushing forward to try to intervene. But the guy, now furious, shoved you aside, causing you to stumble.

Satoru, fueled by rage, launched himself at the guy, grappling with him in a fierce struggle. Punches were exchanged, and the sound of grunts and impacts filled the air.

"Enough!" you cried out, attempting to pull Satoru away from the altercation. But he seemed lost in the heat of the moment, his focus solely on the guy who had dared to touch you.

Just when it seemed like the fight would escalate further, Satoru suddenly withdrew, his hand reaching for something at his waist. With lightning speed, he pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at the guy's face.

"Back off," Satoru growled, his voice cold and menacing. The guy's eyes widened in fear as he stumbled back, raising his hands in surrender.

The tension in the air was palpable as Satoru held the gun steady, his gaze unwavering. Finally, the guy turned and fled, disappearing into the night.

With a heavy breath, Satoru lowered the gun, the intensity of the moment slowly fading. You stood beside him, shaken by the sudden turn of events, but grateful for Satoru's protection.

You were about to hold his hand when Satoru turned around to you, quickly checking to see if you got hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. It felt like déjà vu.

"Me? Shouldn't it be you? Look, your knuckles are bleeding," you pointed out.

"Oh, this? It's nothing," he brushed it off as if he were accustomed to such situations.

You shook your head, taking his hand in yours. "Let's go to my house. I'll treat your wounds," you insisted.

Before he could reply, you already began pulling him towards your house. The cafe wasn't far from your place, and you were determined to take care of him.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing your pajamas—an oversized shirt and cotton shorts.

You sighed, realizing you had forgotten to wash your clothes, leaving you with no other option but to stick with this look.

Turning away from the mirror, you grabbed the first aid kit and headed to the living room.

As you stumbled into the living room, you froze at the sight of Satoru sitting on the couch, shirtless, engrossed in his phone.

"What the hell?" you blurted out, successfully catching his attention.

He glanced at you before tossing his phone aside and humming in response.

"Why are you shirtless?" you questioned, making your way toward him.

Satoru eyed you with a smirk before dramatically resting both elbows on the sofa's back.

"It's so hot, especially with you in front of me, princess," he teased.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment as you sat beside him and began to open the first aid kit.

"Give me your hand," you instructed, holding out your own hand. Satoru complied, extending his hand towards you.

As you started treating his wound, you noticed how surprisingly quiet he was.

It was odd to see him so subdued, considering the circumstances.

You guessed he was probably used to getting into fights and sustaining wounds—a stark reminder of his dangerous lifestyle.

You didn't notice how intensely Satoru was staring at you while you attended to his wound.

It had been years since he had been this close to you.

He thought he had done everything right back then, but he never expected you to leave and erase all traces of your past together.

As you finished bandaging his hand and stood up to put the first aid kit away, Satoru swiftly grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you close.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, your legs encircling him.

You were taken aback by the sudden turn of events, about to speak, but what Satoru said next caught you off guard.

"Happy birthday," he said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face, melting your heart.

You felt tears welling up as Satoru was the first person to greet you on your birthday, even as the day was coming to an end.

"How... Do you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, I know. I'm in love with you. I know everything important to you," he replied, trying to make it sound sweet and romantic.

"That sounds like a stalker," you quipped, ruining the moment with your comment.

Satoru chuckled, but he sighed when you still hadn't returned the "I love you."

But he was willing to wait. He could say it a million times, even if you didn't say it back. He knew you'd return it someday.

You both stared at each other quietly, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, reminiscent of times past.

"May I?" Satoru suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, and you snapped out of your thoughts, humming in reply.

"Kiss you?" he asked, his hand moving to your chin as his thumb gently caressed the bottom of your lips. It had been such a long time.

Instead of answering, you pulled him into a kiss, silently permitting him. Satoru didn't hesitate to respond, kissing you back with passion.

In that moment, everything felt right, and you wished it could stay that way forever.

"I thought you'd head back to Tokyo?" Megumi asked, annoyance evident in his tone, as he noticed Satoru at the coffee section preparing some coffee.

"Did I?" Satoru replied obliviously, seemingly unaffected by Megumi's irritation.

You could see the frustration in Megumi's eyes, ready to throw daggers at his guardian.

"We're fine here now, go back," Megumi instructed through clenched teeth, trying to maintain his composure.

"I don't want to," Satoru retorted, and you sighed, knowing this would escalate.

"Sorry, Megumi, I can't let him go," you apologized, trying to diffuse the tension.

"See, she needs me," Satoru declared proudly, his ego shining through.

"Yeah, since he attracts most of our new customers, so we really need him to sell some coffee," you explained, trying to be diplomatic.

"I thought you needed me because I'm good at it!" Satoru argued, his pride wounded.

"Yeah, you're good at attracting customers, that's all," you clarified, causing Satoru to sulk in the corner for at least a few minutes, his ego deflated.

You chuckled at his sulking behavior before heading over to him, offering to help him make the drinks.

As you worked side by side, showing him the ropes, you couldn't help but smile like an idiot whenever he made a mistake.

At that moment, you forgot about his status as one of the most dangerous men in the world. All you could see was him having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him enjoying himself.

It’s not even that long since you two talked again that your heart began to beat again just like it did 4 years ago.

A few days had passed since Satoru began helping out at the cafe, and you couldn't help but notice the significant changes.

More and more people were frequenting the cafe, eager to catch a glimpse of the infamous handsome "white-haired" guy.

You first noticed it when you took charge of the cashier while Megumi was on his break. Customers were stealing glances at Satoru, who was busy grinding coffee beans. Some even approached him to take pictures.

You had expected a few more customers after Satoru started helping out, but you never anticipated the inpouring people that now filled the cafe to the brim. Lines began forming outside as the cafe reached its capacity.

Even people from outside the countryside were making special trips just to see him.

It was clear that Satoru's presence had brought a newfound popularity to the cafe, and you couldn't help but feel both amazed and overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

You were deeply engrossed in calculating all the bills and expenses involved in managing the cafe when Megumi approached you.

"Hey, [Reader's Name]," he called out, and you responded with a distracted hum, still focused on your task.

"Look at this," Megumi said, showing you his phone.

You glanced at the screen to see a photo of Satoru serving a customer their order. It must have been taken on the day he first started helping out.

You squinted at the picture, trying to make out the details, but your attention was quickly drawn to the comments section below the photo.

People were raving about Satoru's appearance and charisma, expressing their excitement at having him at the cafe.

As you scrolled through the comments, you realized that this photo had garnered a lot of attention, with many users tagging their friends and making plans to visit the cafe themselves just to see Satoru in person.

‘OMG, who's the new guy at the cafe? 😍 He's so dreamy, I need to visit ASAP!’

‘Wow, the cafe just got a major upgrade! Can't wait to grab a coffee and maybe a date with the new cutie behind the counter! ☕️❤️’

‘I don't get what all the fuss is about. He's just another server, nothing special.’

‘Finally, some eye candy at the cafe! 😍 Who needs coffee when you have a sight like this to wake you up?’

‘Honestly, I'm not impressed. Looks like the cafe is trying too hard to attract customers with looks instead of focusing on quality drinks and service.’

It was clear that his presence had sparked a wave of interest and excitement, contributing to the cafe's newfound popularity.

As you scrolled through the comments, your eyes furrowed in annoyance at some of the hate comments directed towards the cafe and even your coffee.

"These people insulting my coffee," you muttered, your frustration evident.

Megumi stood beside you, watching you with concern, unsure of what you might do next.

Just as you were about to reply to one of the hate comments, Satoru suddenly snatched the phone from your hand.

"Damn, I looked good in this shot," he remarked casually as he looked at the photo, seemingly unfazed by the negative comments.

Satoru noticed the glare you directed at him.

"What? Am I that handsome?" he said, brushing his hair back with a smug grin.

"I don't care about your face, I care more about when people insult my coffee," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Do they?" Satoru asked, seeming curious as he checked the comments.

You let out a sigh and returned to your calculations.

"Can I have my phone back?" Megumi interjected, feeling wary as Satoru held onto his phone.

Satoru glanced between you and the phone before suddenly shoving it into Megumi's chest. Luckily, Megumi managed to catch it.

"Hey!" he protested, but Satoru shushed him away, gesturing for him to go attend to his tasks.

Rolling his eyes, Megumi walked off to the storage room to check the products, leaving you and Satoru to deal with the situation.

As you were busy calculating, Satoru smirked and leaned in close to your ear, whispering, "But you make the best milk though." His sudden voice made you shiver, and you flinched away, squealing and covering your ear, cheeks flushing red.

Fortunately, it was closing time, and there were no customers around, just the two of you at the counter while Megumi was in the storage room.

Satoru gazed at you with an innocent smile that only seemed to annoy you further.

"You stupid!" you exclaimed, standing up abruptly and grabbing the papers you were calculating, along with the calculator.

You shoved them all towards Satoru before storming off to the storage room, leaving him there.

However, Satoru didn't quite interpret what you wanted him to do.

Instead of realizing you wanted him to help with the calculations, he took it as you handing him something to pay.

The next day, you were left confused when you received notifications that all your bills were paid, while Satoru stood in the corner, smiling innocently as he prepared drinks for the customers.

A couple of days later, after finishing some errands, you hurried back to the cafe to resume your duties. It was still 4 in the afternoon, and the chilly air urged you to quicken your pace.

Upon opening the door to the cafe, you were taken aback to see Megumi wearing an unpleasant expression as he conversed with a woman standing in front of him.

It was a sight you hadn't witnessed before, and it left you feeling puzzled.

Quickly approaching them, you intervened in their conversation. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?" you asked, addressing both of them and drawing their attention to you.

Megumi swiftly pulled you closer to him, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a defensive stance that you rarely witnessed.

"I'm asking you to leave right now, Ma'am," he asserted, his tone laced with a hint of anger as he glared at the woman before him.

The woman scoffed. "Oh, come on 'Gumi, you can't treat me like that when I spent a few years babysitting you and your sister," she retorted, her words dripping with disdain.

You found yourself caught in the middle of their exchange, confused by the tension and the sudden revelation of Megumi's past relationship with the woman.

"Megumi, what's happening?" you asked, still held close to him as he engaged in this heated exchange with the woman.

"Just don't move, wait for Gojo-san to come here," he instructed firmly, intending it for you, but the woman overheard.

"I need to talk to Satoru, why won't you just let me?!" the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her tone.

"You know full well why Gojo-san doesn't want to talk to you," Megumi stated firmly, his glare piercing.

Just then, Satoru appeared, grabbing the woman's arm as she attempted to retrieve something from her bag.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he snapped, his voice laced with anger, and it was unsettling to witness him in such a furious state.

"I'm here trying to seek some answers as to why you won't accept the marriage?!" she shouted, her voice rising and drawing the attention of other customers.

Marriage?

Your mouth dropped open in shock at her revelation.

Satoru let out a frustrated tsk before speaking. "Will you stop, Ayaka? That was six years ago," he told her, his tone firm.

Your eyes widened as he mentioned her name. So, this was the Ayaka that everyone at the ball had been talking about.

As Megumi turned to you, attempting to guide you to the storage room, Satoru's eyes kept darting between the two of you.

Ayaka noticed this and became agitated. Without warning, she swiftly grabbed the gun from her bag and pointed it at you, her expression twisted with rage as she prepared to pull the trigger. But Satoru reacted swiftly.

“No!” He shouted as he seized her wrist and redirected the gun toward the ceiling just in time.

The deafening sound of the gunshot echoed through the cafe, causing you to shout in shock as you instinctively hid in Megumi's chest, while he did his best to calm you down.

As chaos erupted in the cafe, customers scrambled in panic, shouting and rushing to escape. Some knocked over chairs and tables in their haste to flee, leaving only the four of you behind.

Satoru grappled with Ayaka, struggling to wrestle the gun from her grip, determined to prevent her from pulling another trigger that could harm you or Megumi.

The tension in the air was palpable as the struggle unfolded, and you and Megumi stood frozen, watching with wide eyes, unsure of how to intervene in the dangerous confrontation.

Satoru succeeded in disarming Ayaka and swiftly restrained her, holding both of her wrists behind her back as she dropped to the floor with a groan of pain.

He knelt beside her, his voice laced with frustration and anger as he addressed her.

"You know what? I'm so fed up with you. The only reason I haven't hurt you is because of your family's reputation, which you've protected so fiercely. Not only did you try to hurt Tsumiki back then, but you also tried to hurt [reader's name]," he told her sternly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Satoru makes Ayaka stand up to her feet, exchanging a brief, apologetic glance with Megumi and then with you.

It was as if he could sense the turmoil of thoughts running through your mind.

"Take care of her, Megumi. I'll deal with this situation," Satoru instructed, his voice firm as he indicated Ayaka.

With that, he led Ayaka out of the cafe, leaving you and Megumi to catch your breath in the aftermath of the tense encounter.

"I didn't really expect her to find this place," Megumi muttered, but his words barely registered with you as your mind raced with questions demanding answers.

"Uhm, [reader's name], should we—" Megumi began, but his words trailed off as he surveyed the chaos left by the fleeing customers, then turned to see you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

Concern etched his features as he knelt beside you, attempting to calm you down, but at that moment, you felt as though you were in a world of your own, where only thoughts of Satoru occupied your mind.

Satoru didn't return to the cafe after you and Megumi had helped each other clean up the mess. You closed the cafe early due to the broken ceiling, sighing as you arranged for someone to come and fix it the next day.

With the cafe closed for repairs, you had no choice but to cancel business for the day.

After Megumi left an hour ago, you locked the doors of the cafe and were about to head home when you noticed Satoru standing, his back against the wall.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached you.

You scoffed before turning on your heels and walking away. Satoru, confused, hurried his pace to grab your wrist.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. "It's nothing. Can you let go of my wrist?" you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't tell me we're going back to being strangers again," he said, frustration creeping into his tone. Annoyed, you faced him. "What do you want me to do?" you asked.

"I want you to stop acting like a brat," he told you bluntly. You laughed sarcastically. "Me being a brat? My cafe was in chaos, Satoru, especially the ceiling because of that damn Ayaka," you told him.

"If that's all it is, I can pay for it," he said casually, as if money could solve everything. You groaned, hating the fact that he thought money was the answer to every problem.

"Fuck off! You're just going to add to the money I owe you," you frustratedly said, pulling your hands back.

You hurriedly left, not looking back as Satoru stood there alone, watching you disappear from his sight.

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

The cold night air bit at him, but it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from your words.

He knew he needed to find a way to bridge the gap between you, but right now, he felt lost.

As you were busy trying to calm yourself after all that chaos happened back in your cafe, you started feeling drowsy after watching a reality show for about 20 minutes.

Suddenly, you heard your doorbell, which confused you since you hadn’t heard it when you installed a gate last year.

You didn’t think much as you got out of the couch and headed to the door to open it.

As you opened the door, you were immediately surprised when someone pushed you inside, pinning you against the wall and successfully closing the door. You looked at the person to see it was Satoru.

"Satoru—" you tried to speak, but he cut you off.

"I hate it," he said. "I hate it when you ignore me and go back to acting as if we're strangers," he added, staring deeply into your eyes.

Satoru slowly leaned towards you, his intense gaze never wavering. "Do you really hate me that much?" he asked slowly, a hint of pain in his tone.

You didn't expect him to act like that, especially considering how prideful he usually is.

"It's not like that—" you tried to explain, but he interrupted you again.

"What do you want me to do to stop you from leaving?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

You suddenly remembered the chaos earlier, wondering why Megumi hated Ayaka.

Satoru had only briefly mentioned it, but he didn't get the chance to explain further because of the sudden customers.

When Satoru noticed you not responding, he leaned in close, his hands on your waist, and softly kissed your collarbone.

"Tell me everything," you urged him.

"Like how did you find me here..." You paused as his hand moved up your thigh, dangerously close to your core, making you shut your thighs tight.

"And the story about why Megumi hates Ayaka," you managed to ask.

Satoru hummed as he patted your thigh, signaling you to lift it so he could carry you to the couch.

You quickly complied, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He gently laid you down and began placing soft kisses on your neck, his hand rubbing the outer lips of your clothed pussy.

You moaned softly, arching your back to give him better access to your collarbone.

"I always tried finding you when you disappeared," he began.

"I even threatened your boss to tell me your whereabouts or else I'd shut his place down," he added as you hummed, urging him to continue.

"But then, someone dropped your whereabouts."

"What?" you asked in a breathy tone, caught off guard.

"Fumiko, was it? Such a good friend for keeping your secret—until she wasn’t," he said, making your eyes widen.

"I guess she was tempted when I told everyone in that club to tell me where you were and I'd give them money. Seems like she was really desperate for it," Satoru continued.

His hand slowly removed your shorts, leaving you in your dark red panties, and you felt a flush of embarrassment.

Satoru chuckled when his eyes landed on the wet patch on your panties.

"It's been a while since I played with you," he said, talking to your pussy as if it were a person.

"Tell me more," you whined at him.

"I got Megumi to stay here and watch you," Satoru replied, his voice low and filled with intent.

"He'd give me updates on what you do." As he spoke, he began rubbing his two fingers against your pussy, moving them up and down to give attention to your clit and little hole.

You moaned softly, feeling the pleasure build.

"When I heard from Megumi that you were opening a shop, I insisted he join," Satoru added, his fingers still moving inside you.

That's why it was so weird to have Megumi that day, handing you a resume while dodging your suspicious look. It all made sense now.

You moaned louder, feeling a mix of frustration and pleasure. "So that's why," you managed to say, your voice breathy.

"You always had someone watching me."

Satoru leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I couldn't bear to lose you again," he whispered, his fingers curling inside you just right, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Just as you were getting close, Satoru pulled away, leaving you whining from the emptiness.

"Shh, I just want you to cum on my dick, not my fingers," he whispered.

He hastily opened his zipper and pulled out his erect cock, its tip covered in pre-cum. You drooled at the sight, making Satoru chuckle.

"You missed this, didn't you?" he asked, to which you hummed in reply. "Put it in," you quickly told him, eager for him to fill you up once again.

Since you were already wet enough for him, Satoru gently inserted his cock, careful not to hurt you, and held both of your knees as he began to give you deep thrusts, making you feel as if you see the stars.

"Oh my— Satoru!" you moaned loudly at the euphoric sensation. "So— fucking tight," he groaned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

"Ngh— 'Toru," you began speaking, trying to catch his attention.

Suddenly, Satoru grabbed your wrist and pulled you, making you sit on top of him as he sat on the couch. You moaned lightly at the feeling of his cock.

"Give me a ride, angel, while I tell you more," Satoru said, putting his hand on your waist and helping you move. You moaned lightly in response.

"Ayaka and I were supposed to get married. We were fine until I came back to the apartment with Megumi and Tsumiki," Satoru spoke.

Even though you had your eyes closed, you nodded at what he was saying while riding his cock.

"I didn't know it would be the start of how Ayaka showed her true colors. She doesn't like Megumi and Tsumiki one bit.

I hated how I ignored them when they constantly told me how Ayaka acted differently toward them," he said.

"Like what?" you asked, stuttering from all the pleasure you were receiving.

"Like getting mad at them over small things. What I hated the most was when I left them alone with Ayaka. I didn't know that would be the day Ayaka would try to stab Tsumiki with a kitchen knife," Satoru told you.

You felt a sense of empathy for him. It must have been hard knowing the person you were supposed to marry was like that.

"But on the bright side, if that didn't happen, I would not have met you," he said with a smug expression as he began to control your pace in riding him.

You tried not to cum yet, pushing his hands away from your waist.

"I-I don't want to cum yet," you told him, moaning loudly as you clenched around him, trying to suppress your impending orgasm.

A deep groan left Satoru's mouth as he felt you clenching around him, making his cock twitch inside you.

"C'mon, princess, cum," he urged you, throwing a bunch of pet names your way. But you shook your head, unable to form a coherent reply amidst your moans.

Sensing your desire for him to take control, he gently stopped, allowing you to lay back as he got on top of you.

"Just stay still, princess," he said, his breath heavy as he began thrusting faster. You moaned louder, wrapping your hand around his back, scratching lightly in your ecstasy.

Satoru didn't complain about the scratches; instead, he whispered sweet reassurances in your ear, encouraging you to let go.

It was as if the only thing that mattered to him was that you reached your peak. Just before you climaxed, he whispered those three words you'd been waiting to hear:

"I love you." And with that, you came around him, clenching so hard that Satoru moved to your neck, lightly biting enough to leave a bruise.

Satoru paused, his breath still heavy as he lifted himself to look at you.

Tears still lingered in your eyes from the intense orgasm.

He tenderly wiped them away, his expression softening. But before he could speak, you surprised him by saying those three words back to him.

"I love you too."

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #gojo angst #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

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tj-dragonblade · 2 months ago

Text

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Bingo 2024

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cuubism · 1 year ago

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based on THIS shitpost. nsft below the cut. inexplicably 7k.

Dream had promised Hob, since reuniting, since agreeing to see each other more often, that he would let Hob introduce him properly to human experiences. "It'll do you good," Hob had said. Dream thinks Death would agree with this also. He is now wondering, however, if this had been folly.

"I think I've given you the general rundown now," Hob says, leaning back in his chair, swirling his bottle of beer—mostly empty—idly in one hand. "The highlights. We'll be here for ages if you want to hear all of it."

Dream is surprised to realize he is curious to hear the stories of all of Hob's lovers. But he does not feel it is quite appropriate to press, no matter how open Hob has been in speaking of it. Dream is most interested, after all, in people Hob has loved, not just those he's had carnal relations with—stories of love are of much more interest to him than stories simply of desire, and Hob has already relayed these stories to him, each a glimmering jewel on the long chain of his life.

Each sticks in Dream's mind now, glittering in his peripheral vision. He cannot tell precisely what they want of him—the corners of his being are blurred, his thoughts wavering, at points clear and ringing and at others indistinct. A consequence of allowing alcohol to affect him, at Hob's bidding. It is... pleasant. Loose. Warm. Though Dream thinks, anywhere outside of Hob's flat, it would feel disconcerting instead.

It's this folly in allowing Hob to ply him with wine, perhaps, that has him saying, "Do you wish to hear of my own?"

Hob's expression sharpens. He is, perhaps, less drunk than Dream is, despite being on his fourth beer, while Dream has only had— ah. That bottle of wine is three-quarters empty. Hmm. "You mean, you want to talk about it?"

"I believe it is customary for friendship to involve a mutual sharing of stories?"

"Sure, if you want to." Hob's gaze on him is intent, curious, but still fond, always fond. "Usually you're like this." He draws his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. "So of course I'm curious."

"Am I so reticent?" Hob is right, though. Dream can acknowledge it. He would not usually care to speak of these things. He could blame the wine, today. But.

Hob laughs. "Took me six hundred thirty-three years to get a name. You are the king of reticence." He dips his head as if bowing to this "king." "I would be honored to hear your stories, my friend."

Dream tucks his nose into his glass. He should perhaps not drink any more, but the smell is still pleasant, rich and sharp. "They are not so happy."

"Still. If you want to tell."

Dream is not like Hob. He does not have casual dalliances. Each collision was as bright as a falling star. He doesn't know if he has the strength, now, to relay all that terrible history.

Instead, he shares with Hob the early days of burning. Each of those bright, glowing moments. And glosses over the fall.

He thinks Hob sees it, though. He considers him from under his brows as Dream speaks, understanding in his eyes. Doesn't ask him about it, perhaps sensing that Dream does not have the wherewithal for telling and asking in the same evening. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Why?"

"For sharing."

Dream looks back down at his glass. It's empty again. Perhaps that is for the best. It is not often that he... shares. Particularly about this. But Hob is generous in not prying. In wanting to listen, for the simple sake of, as far as Dream can tell, understanding Dream.

When he looks up again, Hob is tapping the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips in thought. "Can I ask you something? It'll probably be utter silliness to you, though. Being this... beyond human entity that you are."

Dream's shoulders tense where they'd gone relaxed with drink and Hob's company. "Go ahead."

"Were all of your lovers women?"

And Dream relaxes again. Ah. This is just... factual. Not... digging in to his many relational failures. "I suppose. Yes."

"Is that by design, or...?"

Dream frowns. "I do not... understand."

"Well, since we've established that I'm an indiscriminate slut—" always so crude, but something about the click of Hob's tongue makes Dream shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch— “I was wondering whether you were the same way." Then he winces. "Not the slut part. The indiscriminate part."

"Do you mean to ask if I care about the gender or sex of my lovers?"

"Yep. Knew I should have just been straightforward with you."

Dream thinks about it. He has never made a pattern of his relationships, the way humans do. He simply... does what his foolhardy heart commands. Usually with poor results. "I suppose I do not. Care, that is. But. My lovers have been women, yes."

Hob tilts his head. There's a new gleam in his eyes, now. He goes to finish his beer, but it’s empty. Dream watches the drag of his lips over the mouth of the bottle.

"Does that surprise you, Hob Gadling?" he asks. "That my amorous pursuits have been so much narrower than yours?"

"Mmm. Little bit? It's just, even if I hadn’t—how can I put it politely—fucked my way across half of London already by the time we met, I can't imagine making it six hundred years without ever at least experimenting?" He grins. "I could be straight as a nail and curiosity alone would've got me in some bloke's bed at least once. Hmm. Maybe three times just to be sure."

"It is good that you cannot die, for I believe curiosity would have sounded your death knell twenty times over by now."

Hob raises his bottle in Dream's direction. "True, that." Then he leans forward on his knees, eyes bright with, of course, curiosity. "But weren't you ever curious?"

"I contain the collective memory," Dream reminds him. "All fantasies. And dreams. If I need to understand an experience, I can simply consult that breadth of knowledge. I do not need to 'wind up in some bloke's bed.'"

Hob's leaning so far forward now he might come toppling off his chair. "But do you wanna?"

Dream frowns. "I do not..."

"Do you want to experience it yourself, though?" Hob repeats. "Cuz I could watch porn—" Dream wrinkles his nose at this crude analogy for his relationship to his dreams, but the offense is swiftly banished as Hob continues— “but that's not the same as—” his hand lands on Dream's wrist, fingertips pressed to where he would have a pulse— "that."

Dream freezes. Under Hob's fingers, his heart jumps once, quick as a mouse.

"I've no doubt you understand it, Dream," continues Hob, and perhaps he had drunk less than Dream had thought, for he seems very lucid now, "but that's not the same as being there."

Dream fixates on where they are touching. His skin feels very hot, at that point. "And what. Is being there like?"

Hob's fingers slip a little higher, just under the sleeve of his coat. He is still wearing his coat, yes, why is that? He feels very warm. "Could find out?"

"Are you suggesting I should find some man to bed me?"

"Some man," Hob repeats, jaw working. His gaze is hovering somewhere around Dream's collar. "Some man who knows what he's doing, yeah."

"And..." an echo of a breath is frozen in Dream's lungs. Some instinct saying, be still. A pulse at his elbow, in his thigh, at his throat. Hob still has his wrist pinned. "Do you know what you are doing, Hob Gadling?"

"Never in my life," says Hob, and leans in and kisses him.

He has to get out of his chair to do it. Has to lean down over Dream, taking Dream's cheek in his hand. Has to tip Dream's head back, and sweep his tongue into his mouth from above, or perhaps Dream only tells himself that he has to rather than acknowledge that it is Dream himself baring his throat, opening his mouth to Hob's.

If he wished to know what it was like to be kissed by a man, now he knows: strong and lingering and hungry. Or perhaps that is just Hob Gadling. Hob's stubble brushes his cheeks. He can smell Hob's cologne, rich and sweet like whiskey. He wraps a hand around the back of Hob's neck so he can't pull away far.

Hob's eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at him. Dream touches his own lips, and Hob follows the movement. "I'm not certain I understand," Dream says. "This is not enough data to make a determination."

"Definitely not," says Hob, and kisses him again, pushing him into the back of the couch. The strength of his hands sends fire racing all the way up Dream's spine, curling around his neck, burning in the tips of his ears. He bites experimentally at Hob's lower lip, and Hob groans low in his throat.

"We're not—" Hob pulls away, lips shiny and wet, "we're not doing this here. Come on."

He stands upright again, and Dream will deny to the end of the universe the dissatisfied sound he makes when Hob's warmth leaves him. Hob smiles, soft and fond now, and takes his hand. "Come on, love."

Love.

Some man, Dream thinks, as he lets Hob pull him up. Join some man in bed. As he follows Hob down the hall to his bedroom. For curiosity's sake. As Hob kneels to help pull off his boots. Just to understand. As Hob divests him of his coat.

Experimental.

"You're so buttoned up." Hob smoothes his hands over Dream's shoulders, his bare arms under his t-shirt. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes." Too much, yes, it is too much, to see Hob look at him like that, with care and with hunger, for Hob to touch him gently, it makes his skin prickle, his cheeks heat, his throat terribly dry. It is too much; he will not tell Hob to stop.

I want to understand, Dream thinks. I want—

Hob smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Come on, then."

Hob is already barefoot, being less guarded than Dream, and he leads Dream up onto the bed. Dream follows, chasing his hands, and Hob does not deprive him. He leans against the headboard and lets Dream settle in his lap, immediately framing his face again between his palms. For the sake of learning, Dream pushes all the dreams of this aside, so that it is just him and Hob. New. Theirs.

He looks into Hob's eyes, very close now, and he feels light, floaty, good. Perhaps the wine was a bad idea. Perhaps it was right.

"What d'you want, darling?" Hob asks. Brushes his lips to the corner of Dream's mouth. "Tell me. This is for you, after all."

Yes. For Dream. A scientific exercise, he must remember. It will help him... understand. It will help him create more vivid dreams. That is all.

He can feel Hob's growing erection pressing against him. His own jeans growing tight. "I would like. The full experience."

Hob laughs, but it's a friendly laugh, not at his expense. Dream can recognize that, now. "There's no full experience. Sex counts as sex if you say it does. But if you're trying to say penetration, we can do that."

Dream shivers at the word penetration, sitting so matter-of-factly on Hob Gadling's tongue. "Yes. I believe that is what I meant."

"Alright." Hob may be matter-of-fact, but he does not sound unaffected. His voice has gone rough, his eyes dark, a flush along his cheeks. His hands fall from Dream's face to brace his hips, thumbs sweeping under the hem of Dream's shirt to touch his skin.

But he doesn't push Dream down into the mattress. Instead he pulls Dream closer by the hips, saying, "C'mere then," and Dream goes back to his mouth. Sinks into Hob's kiss, and the searing heat of his hands on Dream's hipbones. It's different. It's already different. But he can't yet determine if it's different because Hob is a man, or because he is Hob.

Hob, who has been a friend to him even when he couldn't recognize it. Who wants him to enjoy things. Wants to share with him.

Hob pushes Dream's shirt up over his head. Dream has not been bare in front of someone since his escape, but he doesn't think he minds, when it's Hob. When it means he gets Hob's broad, strong hands on his back, pulling him close, and Hob's lips on his shoulder, the crook of his neck, kissing and leaving marks.

"You know, once upon a time I thought you were above all this," Hob murmurs. He touches Dream's belly, his chest, his neck, holding lightly. "You were so... untouchable. Couldn't imagine you lowering yourself to engage in such—” he bites at Dream's earlobe— “such base activities."

"'Untouchable,' Hob Gadling?" Dream says. Hob's hands are cradling his throat now. Hob catches his point and flexes his fingers; Dream swallows under the grip.

"Always wanted to know," Hob murmurs, "if anyone'd touched you at all."

Not in a very long time, it is true. Dream burns with it, now, everywhere Hob touches him is alight. "What would you have done with an answer?"

"Dared," says Hob. "I expect."

"Always daring," Dream says. Indulges himself and slips his own hands under Hob's shirt, feels out his stomach, his hair, his back, all the strong lines of him. Hob's shoulders are pleasing, and his hips where Dream squeezes with his thighs, and these are not things Dream has thought of much, before. He wants to see more. To feel more. "Daring to be the first man to have me."

"Don't say things like that if you want me to keep my sanity." The words are rough like Dream has reached in and touched him instead of just spoken, and Hob's chest rises and falls heavily under Dream's hands.

"Maybe I don't."

This makes Hob chuckle, and Dream feels the rumble of it through his body. He wishes there was not the barrier of their clothes to dampen it; more than seeing Hob, he wants to feel Hob, his skin is prickling with it, his mouth is tacky and dry with it.

"How do you want me?" he asks, and whatever change Hob hears in his voice has him stiffening up, going serious. Dream doesn't know how he feels about it—he enjoys Hob's ease and laughter, but the intensity is... he feels it like a touch.

"How do you want to be had?" Hob counters, and before Dream can contemplate the myriad possible answers, adds, “Do you want to be? Is that what you meant? Only I would have thought— but then again—”

Dream does not interrogate the rambling path of Hob's assumptions. He says, "I would like to know. What I have not. Personally. Experienced, yes."

Daydreams poke at Dream's awareness as the image flashes through Hob's mind. Dream doesn't touch them, but the awareness of their existence alone has him shifting where he straddles Hob's lap. Hob's cheeks darken, and he says, "Strangest way anyone's ever asked me to fuck them. Yeah, alright. Budge up, love?"

Love. Again. Dream climbs off Hob's lap, kneeling beside him as Hob strips off his own shirt, flinging it somewhere--Dream doesn't see, for he is looking only at Hob. The solidness of him, where Dream often feels made of wind; the warmth of his belly, where Dream touches him, while Dream himself often feels cold. So made of earth, Hob Gadling.

Hob lays a hand on Dream's chest as if to push him down to the bed. No strength behind the touch, but the impression of it. "Need you to tell me if it starts going wrong. I'm serious, Dream."

Despite himself, Dream bristles. “You think me incapable of conveying my displeasure?”

Hob huffs. “I think you’re just prideful enough not to. Just be direct with me. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Perhaps... Hob is not entirely wrong. “…I shall," Dream vows at length. Hob nods, and smiles at him again, that warm smile. Dream can’t help but feel pleased to have made him smile so. Hob pushes, and Dream goes, lies back against the pillows, and Hob kneels between his legs. Hands sliding again to his hips, to the waistband of his jeans. Dream watches with fixation, caught on Hob's fingertips.

Hob has apparently decided he does trust Dream to interrupt if he doesn't like something, for he doesn't ask again before unbuttoning Dream's jeans. But Dream can tell Hob is still paying close attention to his reactions, and it's heady to be attended to so.

He lifts his hips for Hob to pull off his jeans, and then gets to bask in a look he can only interpret as adoring. Hob looks upon him that way, and strokes up and down his thighs, over his hips and belly. Dream's skin jumps at the touch.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Hob says, sounding wounded by it. "Everyone who sees you must go home wishing you were going with them, I refuse to believe otherwise."

Dream smiles, despite himself. "This may be a particular bias of yours, Hob."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm right, though." He leans down, hovers over Dream, kisses him. Dream pulls him down so their bodies are pressed together. Hob's skin is so warm, his hair softer than expected, the fabric of his jeans a rough counterpoint where it scratches Dream's inner thighs, rubs against his cock lying hard in the crook of his hip. A wealth of sensation. A pleased, wanting sound escapes him, before he can stop it—but Hob catches it, looking delighted to do so, kisses it right out of Dream's mouth. "You've left broken hearts in your wake. Still can't believe this is your first time doing this."

"Revel in that victory if you must."

"No victory," says Hob. "Only privilege."

And he kisses Dream again even as he works a hand between them, takes Dream in his grip. Dream gasps at the touch, breaking the kiss. Hob's hand is warm and rough and very sure, and Dream can't help the way his whole body tenses with that simple touch.

He feels Hob's smile against his cheek. His voice drips with satisfaction. "Are you sensitive?"

Dream does not get a chance to answer. Hob strokes him again, hums as Dream bucks up involuntarily into his grasp.

"Oh, I'm going to make you feel so good," Hob muses, his voice a warm rumble in Dream's ear. "I know I can. You deserve it."

"Hob—"

Hob kisses his own name out of Dream's mouth, a deep, biting kiss, and this confidence, rather than being offensive to Dream's station, is riveting. Dream feels spelled.

"Just let me take care of it," Hob says, and moves away, and Dream groans at the loss of his body heat.

"You will take what you want now?" Dream complains, knowing full well even as he says it that it is nonsense. But having Hob's touch and then losing it is making him insensate; truly, he had not thought he could fall so far. "Is that what this is, Hob Gadling?"

Hob chuckles. "Oh, no." He kisses Dream's sternum, and down along his abdominal muscles. Mouths at Dream's belly, where Dream shifts under him, ticklish and affected, skin jumping, and then Hob noses at the base of his cock, and Dream realizes what he's gotten himself into only right before it comes to light.

"No, Dream," Hob says, lips now brushing the head of his cock, and like that he looks up and meets Dream's eyes. "I serve at your pleasure."

He takes Dream in his mouth, strangling Dream's response before it can even reach his throat. Not that Dream knows what he would have said. It's whited out instantly in the rush of pleasure that is Hob's mouth, and tongue, the generosity of his body, the vision of him between Dream's legs.

He's voiceless as Hob bobs his head, takes Dream deep, laves his tongue over his slit, applies what Dream must concede is his considerably greater experience to breaking Dream's ability to speak entirely. He grasps mindlessly at Hob's hair, it slides soft between his fingers, head tipped back against the pillows and thighs jerking restlessly, and still he knows this is but a precursor to what Hob truly intends for him. What he's... asked for. Folly. What had he been thinking?

Hob lifts his head to look at him, a line of spit dragging from Dream's cock to his lower lip. "Dream, you with me?"

Dream nods. His hand is still in Hob's hair. He pets at Hob's forehead, his temple, and Hob smiles. Like Dream is the one being indulged.

"Good?" he says, and Dream nods again. Hob takes his hand from his hair, kisses his knuckles, and Dream does not think this is how casual experiments are meant to go. He does not know what he is learning, except that Hob's kiss is soft and reverent, and the look on his face even more so.

"Is this," Dream asks quietly, hyperaware of how he's laid out on his back, Hob between his legs, "how you want me?"

Hob releases his hand. Drags a fingertip maddeningly up and down the crook of Dream's thigh as he considers. "Probably be a bit easier for you on your belly, but I don't want to make you feel vulnerable."

Dream is not certain there is a version of this that would not feel vulnerable. That it does not already. "I defer to your better judgment."

"Stay there, then." He moves away, and Dream takes the moment to gather himself. He's not certain he succeeds. He's spinning pleasantly, buzzing with the echo of Hob's touch. He wonders what might happen if he gives up on trying to right himself.

Hob comes back with lubricant, situations himself between Dream's legs again. Runs his hands up and down Dream's thighs and Dream spreads them wider on instinct. Hob swallows hard, Dream watches the harsh bob of his throat. He's still wearing his jeans, and Dream wishes he would take them off, he wants to pet at Hob's thighs in turn, he wants to see.

"You're a holy vision," Hob says, still studying him with that look, raw and strangled. Find some man to bed you, Dream thinks, feverishly. Some man.

He plucks at the fabric of Hob's jeans. "Hob—“

Hob chuckles. "Sorry, sorry. Bit unfair of me, isn't it? Got too distracted looking at you." He unzips his jeans then, pulls them off, and then is sitting there only in his underwear—something which Dream does not bother to manifest for himself because his clothing is made already of dream stuff, but perhaps he will start because Hob bare before him, his cock heavy and hard in his boxer briefs but still obscured by the fabric is—

"Dream?" Hob asks, as Dream pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches for him, mesmerized, cups his hand around Hob through the fabric, feels the warmth and heft of him, "did I break y— ah fuck."

Hob pushes into his hand, bends down over him again to kiss him as if summoned to it, and it is thrilling, sparkles along every vein, to get such a reaction. To have Hob caving to him. "Fuck, Dream."

Dream indulges himself further, slips his hand under Hob's waistband, takes him in his grasp, and Hob jerks against him. Dream's mouth waters at the weight of him, he has to swallow thickly to clear his throat, his own cock is heavy and straining, and he parts his thighs further for Hob. Vulnerable. Yes. This is vulnerable, and especially so in the waking world, and he wants, he wants Hob in him. A new feeling.

"Hob. I want—"

"I know, darling. Fuck, you're beautiful. Your hands—" He shakes himself. "Right. Right."

Hob sits up again. Strips off his underwear properly. His hair is hanging loose and messy now, eyes ever so slightly glazed with pleasure, chest rising and falling, his prick hard and ruddy at the tip. He is arresting.

He pushes Dream's legs up so his knees are bent, finds the bottle of lube where it's fallen into the sheets, pours some out into his hand. Leans in to kiss Dream’s belly, pleasant and tickling, and in the same motion drags a finger over Dream’s entrance.

Dream catches his wrist, inhuman pulse peaking in his throat, like a burst of dream stuff. “You do not need to put in such effort. This body does not have these human limitations.”

Hob tsks and taps his hand away. “You said you wanted the full experience. And the full Hob Gadling experience includes proper prep and aftercare, even if you're made of whims and fantasies. Free of charge, by the way."

"Oh, indeed?" This comes out significantly less teasing, and significantly more affected, than Dream had intended. "And what will the rest cost me?”

Hob winks at him. "Only your pleasure, darling."

This time, he leans over Dream, takes Dream’s wrist and pins it to the bed by his head. Dream lets out a choked gasp. The sudden pressure of Hob’s grip makes something stand out sharply within him, and then collapse again in relief. Hob makes a considering noise, and holds him there as he presses a finger lightly to Dream’s entrance with his other hand.

Dream shudders as Hob pushes his finger in, one knuckle, two, as he works in and out of Dream’s body, stretching him— it is an odd sensation, one he half-feels he should shy away from, but Hob’s grip on his arm is grounding, and Hob kneeling between his spread legs is tickling something in him that wants very badly.

Then Hob crooks his finger and pleasure rushes through him like a windstorm. Dream arches off the bed, grabbing at the sheets, and Hob laughs. “Thought you might like that.”

“Hob.” Dream thinks he means this to come out admonishing but it’s far more strained. Hob doesn’t give him time to recover, he drags his finger over Dream’s prostate again and Dream bites down hard on his lower lip. Hob slips his finger out, returns with two, and now it’s a stretch. Dream grinds down on him, resists the urge to whine as Hob works him over on his fingers, rubbing over his prostate on every other stroke.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous,” Hob murmurs, watching where his fingers slip in and out of Dream’s body, and then back up at Dream’s face with awe and fixation.

“Even,” Dream struggles over the words as sensation washes through him, Hob’s fingers in him, filling him, so much and yet he wants more, “spread out, like so?”

“Especially then. The way you move on my fingers,” he twists his hand to emphasize the point, and Dream shudders, "the fact that you let me. D’you know how long I’ve looked at you and wondered?” Saying this, he kisses Dream, sliding his hand up Dream’s wrist to clasp their fingers together. “Passing Stranger, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only. Fuck, I wanted to see you like that.”

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, Dream thinks, but doesn’t quote the poem back to him— Hob reels him away again by the touch of his hands. He pushes a third finger into Dream, and now it is tight, it is so much, but Dream pushes himself back onto Hob’s hand. Hob’s fingers move gloriously within him, touching every part of him, and he starts speaking again in his low, honey voice, that’s it, darling, good, feels so good, yeah? and Dream needs Hob inside him. Hob has pulled him by the throat from inexperienced to grasping, and he is grasping.

Hob keeps fingering him, spiking his pleasure higher, his cock hanging heavy and teasing Dream with each move he makes. Dream himself is painfully hard, and it sharpens the feeling of Hob in him from maddening to agonizing. Hob kisses him, licks into Dream’s mouth, and Dream opens to his tongue. He opens to him. Like a yawning, cavernous thing.

Wanting Hob in him has shifted to needing Hob in him has shifted to lacking Hob in him, that Hob is a fundamental part of him and without him Dream is bereft. “Hob,” he whines, mortified by the sound of it but unable to drag himself back to that place of control he had surely—surely?—started the evening with. “Please—”

Hob’s head jerks up and he looks at Dream in shock. And. Oh.

Shame rushes through Dream’s body. Who has he become, begging a human to fuck him? Is he not the Lord of all Dreaming, is he not above this? Once, Dream was a skillful and assertive lover, he could bring the full power of the Dreaming to bear for his lovers’ pleasure, he could craft every moment exactly as needed— and now—

But Hob doesn’t draw away in disgust. Or gloat over the position he’s maneuvered Dream into. He smiles down at him, a soft look that goes just a bit pained at the edges as Dream tenses. Then he presses his lips to Dream’s cheek. Even that simple touch makes Dream shiver.

“It’s alright, darling,” Hob murmurs, so gentle but the heat of it still winds through Dream’s insides. “Don’t you know I’ll give you what you need? You don’t have to beg for it.” He slips his fingers out and back in, only two now, working them as deep as they’ll go. “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

“Please,” Dream says, the words again dragged from him unbidden, unspooled by the feeling of Hob inside him, there but not enough. Hob kisses him, swallows his plea like sweet wine, works him on his fingers, grinds his cock in tantalizing lines over Dream’s thigh. And gradually something unlocks in Dream’s ribcage, each piece turning itself open in realization. Hob likes when he asks, begs even. But he isn’t going to make him.

Asking, then, feels less like a wound rent in him, showing all his torn pieces, and more like a spell that will draw Hob to him. Speak, and he will come.

“Please,” Dream says again, and this time the words don’t tear. He speaks into Hob’s mouth, and the wet warmth of Hob’s lips and tongue soothe him where asking might start to chafe. “Hob, I need—”

“Do you need my cock, love?” Hob asks, rough low and rough and burning. “Feels empty, doesn’t it?” He slips his fingers free, and Dream whines. “I know. I know. You’re just starving for it, aren’t you?”

Starving, yes, Dream would like to take Hob in his mouth, but right now he’s feverish for something else. Hob is so close, every touch of his skin already has Dream singing, but he still wants more. He tangles his hand in Hob’s hair, wraps one leg around the back of Hob’s thighs to pull him closer, and Hob laughs, breathless.

“Fuck, Dream, you’re so—” Hob sounds spun around, now, and it’s gratifying to knock him askew in the way he’s done to Dream.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, putting the weight of sleeping desire into his voice, “I need you. I’m waiting.”

“Fucking hell,” Hob groans. “I’ve created something terrifying.” He doesn’t sound displeased about it. In fact, he kisses Dream again, lets Dream pull him close by the hair, smiling into his mouth. “Gonna make it so good for you, I promise.”

“I can plague your sleep with eternal nightmares if not,” Dream says, with no intention of doing so.

“See, I’m so confident in my ability to fuck you” —Dream's skin prickles at the word— “that I’m not even worried about it.”

He makes Dream lift up so he can push a pillow under his hips, takes Dream’s leg and maneuvers it over his shoulder, bending his body back. Dream shivers at the vulnerability of the position, the way he’s pinned. Hob kisses the bend of his knee with a little smile, and then Dream watches down the length of their bodies as Hob takes himself in hand. He’s so hard, glistening with pre at the tip, and Dream swallows jerkily.

“Alright, love?” Hob asks, meeting his eyes. He has always had the brightest, loveliest eyes. Dream holds his gaze and nods. He is not certain that he is, in fact, all right, he feels strange and spun about and immersed in the waking dream of Hob’s bed and Hob’s touch, but he does not want Hob to stop, he wants Hob to fuck him.

Hob presses into him, slowly, pausing when just the head of his cock is sheathed. And Dream— Dream was not prepared, Hob’s fingers did not prepare him for the all around pressure of Hob’s cock, the way it would fill him. It dances on the edge of pain, but he wants more. Already, more.

“More,” he finds himself saying, and Hob chuckles, bracing a hand around the back of Dream’s neck as he complies. This time, he pushes all the way in, not stopping until he bottoms out, groaning at the feeling. Dream clutches at his shoulders, no doubt leaving indents in his skin, body clenching convulsively as he gets used to the feeling of Hob in him.

Hob is inside him. Hob is inside him.

“Dream, you alright? You’re… breathing,” Hob says, petting through his hair. He sounds awed.

Breathing. He is breathing. And he hadn't commanded it so. Hadn't even meant it. Normally Dream forgets to affect such human mannerisms, even when it might be advisable to do so. But now he is breathing. Each one is choppy, three steps up three steps down, somewhere between a breath and a sob.

“I am fine,” he says, and Hob shushes him, kissing his cheek.

“I know you are. It’s alright to get a bit overwhelmed, yeah?” Hob is still in him, Dream can still feel every centimeter of him everywhere, but he doesn’t move. Simply lets Dream settle.

Dream tries to stop the wretched breathing, it makes him feel human and mortal and out of control, but he can’t, this temporary body affixed to this plane by Hob’s weight, his touch. Hob kisses his cheek again, nuzzles at his ear, and gradually Dream finds himself subsiding, relaxing in increments. It occurs to him, through the distant knowledge of the Dreaming, that this softness would not be characteristic of a temporary, experimental experience with a stranger, should Dream have simply wanted to know what it was like. It occurs to him through his own knowledge that this vulnerability he feels, this ability to ease him, is characteristic only of Hob.

He does not yet know what to do with that, but he turns to find Hob’s lips. Hob meets him easily, smiling into the kiss. “With me?” he asks, and Dream nods.

“Yes.”

Then Hob starts to move, slow measured thrusts at first. Dream breathes through each, and perhaps breathing is not so bad, after all, for it settles him, and settling lets him take Hob in, and he wants to take Hob in. It is so good, the slide of him sends sparks all along Dream’s limbs, builds inexorable and tantalizing heat through his body, none of his many dreams conveyed to him just how good it would be, when brought from dreams to reality. From memory to the body. More, even, than this is the sense of Hob’s body over him, the heat of him, and the strength, the breadth of his shoulders, the drag of Hob’s belly over Dream’s prick, the way he moves, expertly pushing Dream higher and oh-so-much faster with each thrust, tapping against that edge of pain-and-too-much without ever letting him fall over it.

Dream is starting to think that, in addition to his general experience, Hob has become quite an expert in knowing what Dream, specifically, might like.

“Good, darling?” Hob asks against his jaw, and Dream means to respond but all that comes out is a whine. He feels Hob’s smile against his skin. “More, then?”

Dream evidently doesn’t have to respond. Hob braces himself more firmly over him, and then he’s moving much faster, and then Dream really loses his senses. Hob bears down on him, levering Dream’s leg back further and deepening the angle, and each thrust hits before Dream has recovered from the last, and Hob’s mouth is on his throat, right over his pulse, which is also hammering—

Hob hits his prostate, and Dream keens as lightning arcs through him. Hob is talking to him now as he does it again and again, saying through panting breaths something like, you’re so good, does that feel good? is’at good for you? fuck you’re gorgeous, but Dream can’t parse much detail. He feels he should be participating more actively, but the wherewithal to do so has slipped away from him, all he can do is take what Hob is giving to him.

Probably that is what Hob wants. Perhaps he has fantasized over their long acquaintance about having Dream bent in just this position. Many might wish to have the Dream Lord at their mercy. Hob’s mercy, however, is a burst of pure heat straight to the soul.

“Hob,” he’s saying when he comes back to himself enough to notice, “Hob, Hob—”

“You’re beautiful like that,” Hob says, voice rough. “Dreamed of it— ha. You make the most beautiful noises.”

They are, in fact, wholly undignified noises, but Dream can’t seem to bring himself to stop; Hob punches each sound of pleasure out of him. He floats. Holds onto Hob’s shoulders. Presses his face to Hob’s and feels the scratch of his stubble. The rough calluses of his hands. The rhythm of Hob’s body is sublime. The kiss that he presses to the corner of Dream’s eye is more so. He is… crying there. Tears spilling over and down his cheeks. Dream has crafted the heights of euphoria within the Dreaming. But. Has any of it ever been as good as this?

He has Hob close to him, around him, in him, and still he wants more. Never again will Dream be able to disdain the office of Desire, not without looking away in shame at the lie.

His release washes over him in a wave that he doesn’t even notice until it peaks, so great is the rest of his pleasure. He gasps as he comes, not even needing Hob’s hand on him, tips his head back on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. Chest heaving. Hob slows, cups Dream’s cheek—until Dream urges him on with an ankle hooked around the back of his thigh, do not stop do not stop do not—

“Alright.” Hob nips at his lower lip in admonishment but he does start fucking him again, clearly chasing his own release now rather than pushing for Dream’s. That edge of pleasure-pain now tips closer to pain but Dream relishes in it. Each stuttered motion of Hob in him is blessed.

“I want,” he manages, throat dry, voice scraped rough from his cries, “to feel you come. In me.”

“Oh fuck,” Hob swears. “Dream.” And that apparently is enough. Hob’s hips stutter quick and he comes, hot spurts in Dream’s body, he can feel it. When Hob's tension eases, when his breath catches up to him, he moves to pull out—but Dream drags him back in. He wants— wants to keep Hob inside him, belly spine lungs throat, bring Hob in and in and hold him there, wants that warmth with him always. He could live like that, with Hob close to him.

Hob helps him lower his leg from his shoulder, stretch out sore muscles, and then lets Dream pull him in close, hold him there, in him, even as he’s going soft. He turns them on their sides, tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. Breathes the same air.

“So,” Hob says, after several, very long moments where they’ve been lying quietly together, tacky with sweat, Dream’s limbs all wrapped around Hob and Hob running his hands up and down his back, “how was that?”

“Mm?” Dream is still floating. It’s very pleasant.

He can feel Hob grinning against his shoulder. “You wanted to know what it was like to sleep with a man.”

What it was like. Dream is not certain he knows. He knows that Hob’s arms around him are strong, the touch of his skin pleasant even with the combined heat of their bodies. That he smells of sex and sweat and Dream wants to mire himself in it. He knows that, as Hob does finally, carefully pull out, he can feel Hob’s come dripping sticky over his thighs and rather than being discomforting, it only reminds him how he was wanted. His own come is smeared over Hob’s belly in disorganized lines, and Hob’s hair is ravaged by his fingers. There are still tears drying on Dream’s face. He knows that Hob has had him, now, and is still holding him. That the force of his lovemaking annihilated Dream’s dignity. That Hob wants to kiss him during sex. That at his prolonged silence, Hob looks up, finds his gaze, questioning.

“I am not certain that’s what I studied,” Dream admits. “Or. Learned.”

“Oh? What’d you learn, then?” Hob touches his cheek, as if even parted for a second, he wants to be close to Dream again. “Least tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Dream must look ruined, and still Hob must confirm he enjoyed it? “What I learned is not what it is like to be with 'a man'. But rather.” He brushes his thumb over Hob’s lower lip, and Hob’s mouth opens at the movement. “What it is like. To be loved. By a very good friend.”

Hob’s expression crinkles into the softest smile at loved. “Oh, a very good friend, hm?”

“Very good,” Dream says. Presses his hand flat to Hob’s heart. “Uniquely so. Uniquely good to me among friends.” Not that Dream has… friends, plural. Better, then, that Hob is so singular. Singular enough to have nestled somewhere within him, between one meeting, one drink, one kiss and the next, and Dream would no longer be without him. His heart is surrounded by a hazy warmth much softer than the sharp pang of desire, and Hob's bed, Hob's touch, is soothing to him, a blanket he has finally pulled over his shoulders after trying to brave the lingering cold. Like so much this evening, it feels strange, and like so much this evening, it feels too good to shy away.

Hob leans in to kiss him, a soft drag of lips over his. “Good. Can I convince my friend to go in for a shower? Tea, maybe? Can I convince him to stay the night and keep exploring that friendship?”

Hob has taken care of him this evening, has not yet lead him astray, and so Dream lets him pull him out of bed and to his feet. In the shower, under the rushing hot water, Hob kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, rough, inelegant, consumed by feeling, hands curled around Dream’s hips. Dream will not make dreams out of this night, after all, he thinks. Selfishly, he wants to keep it to himself.

Peerless among friends, Hob Gadling, he thinks, as Hob makes him tea. As Hob tugs him back over the threshold, into the bedroom, into the mess they’ve made of the sheets. Peerless among friends.

Among lovers, too, perhaps.

#tfw ur having casual sex with ur homie to learn what its like to get dicked down then oh no youre having a gay awakening oh NO youre having #a romantic awakening about your homie too. we've all been there #my writing #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #you best believe 'i serve at your pleasure' plays over and over and over and over in dream's mind for weeks after #btw the poem hob quotes is 'to a stranger'#nsft

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libraryofgage · 10 months ago

Text

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (you're here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) (I also have plans for this one actually they just need to simmer a little lmao)

Hi welcome back to my Mummy Crossover where Steve's parents are Rick and Evelyn O'Connell this took forever bcuz the words didn't want to word correctly lmao

Anyway, here we are! Some interactions, some more insight on all of Steve's talents, a teensy bit of chaos killed before it could flourish. What more could you want?

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

--------

"Breathe in."

Steve slowly inhales, keeping his chest and arms steady.

"Now pull as you breathe out."

Steve steadily exhales, squeezing the trigger as he does, and feeling the gun kick in his hand. Several yards away, a tin can that's little more than a speck in the distance topples to the ground.

Before Steve can realize his aim was good, the gun is plucked from his hand and he's lifted into the air. Weightlessness overwhelms him, and he shrieks with delight as he falls back into his father's arms. "That's my boy!" his father says, tossing him into the air again.

"Oh, do be careful, Rick. He broke an arm the last time you threw him around like that," Steve's mother says, a proud smile tugging at her lips despite her words.

Steve finds himself safely held in his father's arms a second later, his heart racing and his breaths short from exhilaration. "Again! Again!" he shouts, looking up at his father hopefully.

"Sorry, kiddo, you heard your mother," his father says, messing up Steve's hair before lifting him onto his shoulders. Steve grips his father's hair tightly, grinning as his father jogs over to the tin can. "You'll be able to shoot running in no time."

"Am I gonna be as good as you?" Steve asks, leaning over his father's head. "How long will that take?"

"You'll be better than me, Steve. It'll take a few years, though. At least one hundred."

"One hundred?! I'm gonna be bones by then! Dust and bones!"

"Nah, you'll be fine," his father says, waving his hand dismissively.

"I'll be dead!"

"In my experience, the dead don't make a habit of staying that way."

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, pinching his father's cheeks and tugging on them until he laughs, grabs Steve's hand, and playfully bites his fingers. Steve shrieks again, laughing as he tugs his hand away and yanks on a few strands of his father's hair for revenge.

------

Steve, Max, and Eddie get discharged within days of each other, and even though Steve was expecting his house to be invaded by his friends, he still finds himself wishing he'd had a few more days with his parents before everyone showed up and started interrogating him. In fact, he almost considers ignoring the doorbell when it rings the day after Max is discharged.

"Steve!" Rick shouts, his voice carrying all the way from his carefully maintained weapons room. "Can you get that?"

"Can't put it off any longer," Robin says, grinning at him from her spot on the couch. She stretches out her leg and nudges Steve's thigh, urging him to get up.

He sighs, pushing himself off the couch and grimacing at the slight tug on his sides. "Got it," he calls back, walking to the door and bracing himself before opening it.

The porch is packed with his friends, Dustin and Eddie at the very front. "Finally!" Dustin says, pushing past Steve to get into the house.

Everyone else streams in after him, and Steve ends up just holding the door. "Yeah, welcome in, make yourselves at home, thanks so much for calling before showing up," he mutters, closing the door after the final person, Will, has walked inside.

He follows after them, relieved they filter into the living room instead of heading to the kitchen. Uncle Jonathan has been in there all day, trying his hand at a new gin brewing technique that makes Steve's head spin just thinking about it.

Steve flops onto the couch next to Robin, dropping his head onto her shoulder. Dustin looks ready to speak, and Steve is ready to pretend he's listening, when his mother walks into the room. She looks around with a concerned frown, her fingers covering her mouth and tapping against her lips. "Steve," she says, her voice slightly distracted, "dónde está el machete de tu papá?"

"En el garaje," he replies, waving off her thanks.

"You speak Spanish?" Max asks, glancing at Evelyn as she walks past her to reach the garage.

"I speak several languages," Steve tells her. He feels the couch shift next to him and looks over to see Will scooting over to make room for Eddie. "Spanish, Hebrew, Arabic, Egyptian, French, Greek, a little Urdu, but that one is rusty."

"Holy shit," Mike says, staring at Steve like he's shapeshifted into an alien, "you're smart?!"

"Wait, is that how you guys cracked the Russian code so quickly?" Dustin asks. "Why did you make Robin learn Russian if you already knew it?"

"I didn't make Robin do anything. She started learning while I called a guy I know who can speak Russian. He only managed to get back to me the same day Robin got the whole thing translated."

"You know a guy who can speak Russian?" Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at Steve when he glances over.

Steve shrugs. "I know a lot of guys who know a lot of things. I met all of them while traveling with my parents," he explains.

"Where have you been?" Will asks.

"Every continent except Antarctica. More places than I can count, actually."

"Why did you travel so much?" El asks, her gaze drifting toward the mantle where several of his mother's souvenirs are carefully arranged. "Did those come from your travels?"

"I followed my parents while they worked until high school. And yeah, those are souvenirs, you can pick them up, but be careful."

As though the lack of permission was the only thing holding her back, Max jumps up and hurries over to the mantle, pulling down a small jar and turning it over in her hands. Its lid is shaped like the head of Anubis, and Steve is just realizing what she's picked up when his father walks into the room.

Rick stops, stares at the jar in Max's hand, and then marches over to her, a man on a mission. He swipes the jar, ignoring Max's shout in protest, and looks it over carefully. His expression becomes disbelieving, fond, and annoyed all at once. "Evie!" he shouts, turning around and about to go looking for her when she appears in the doorway.

"No need to shout, dear, I was just in the other room," she says, smiling until she sees the jar he's holding.

Her expression says it all, but Rick still holds the jar up, smiles sweetly at her, and asks lightly, "Evie, darling, is this what I think it is?"

"Well," Evelyn says, rolling her shoulders back in a way that tells Steve they're about to argue. And then start kissing like nobody's around. "It very well might be."

"What is it?" Dustin asks, sliding closer to get a better look at the jar when Rick holds it higher.

"Really, Evie? Did you forget the part where these things are cursed? Did you completely forget what happened to the Americans who touched these?"

"Aren't you American?" Max asks.

"And aren't you touching it?" Erica adds.

"It's certainly not cursed anymore," Evelyn says, walking over and easily plucking the jar from Rick's hands. She looks it over, idly brushing off some of the dust. "Imhotep is thoroughly dead. You made sure of that, dear."

"I'm sorry, did she say cursed?" Mike asks.

"Yes," El says.

As Evelyn and Rick stare each other down, Steve sighs and drops his head on the back of the couch. "It's a jar used in ancient Egypt to store the organs of mummies. That one specifically belonged to Imhotep, a mummy with a curse. He ate people and tried to sacrifice my mom to bring his girlfriend back and killed a bunch of Americans in the process. But Mom and Dad defeated him, like, twice and he hasn't been a problem since, so Mom is pretty sure he's gone for good now."

"There is no way any of that is true," Max says, huffing as Rick takes the jar back before Evelyn can even think of letting Max look at it again. "I mean, seriously? Mummies?"

"Oh, inter-dimensional monsters are perfectly believable, but mummies are a step too far?" Steve asks.

"Inter-dimensional monsters?" Evelyn asks, whirling around on Steve and placing her hands on her hips.

"So that's where he gets it from," Eddie says, his voice soft and more than a little amused.

Before Steve can comment on that (or try to kick Eddie from where he's sitting on the couch), his father moves to stand next to his mother, arms crossed over his chest with a stern look and still holding the jar. "Wanna share with the class, kid?" he asks.

Steve grimaces, knowing that tone of voice and sinking a little lower on the couch. "Not really, no. Most of the class is already in the loop."

"Humor us," his mother says, her voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

"Gee," Erica says, shifting closer to the doorway, "I'm suddenly feeling pretty hungry. Anyone else wanna go loot the kitchen?"

"I'm in," Max says, hurrying across the room in long strides.

"So are we," Mike adds, grabbing Will's hand and dragging him along before he can get caught up in whatever shit storm might occur. Lucas quickly follows after, flashing an apologetic smile at Steve once he's behind Evelyn and Rick.

They've all disappeared before Steve can warn them about Jonathan's gin experiments, but he figures they deserve to have their nostrils burned from the smell for abandoning him.

Only Steve, Robin, Eddie, Dustin, and El are left with Steve's parents frowning and looking at them expectantly. Steve manages to hold out under their stare for a few seconds before he sighs, sits up straight, and waves for them to sit in the loveseat perpendicular to the couch.

Once they're settled, he glances at Dustin, gets a shrug in return, and rolls his eyes. Robin places a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention to flash a grin and say, "Good luck, dingus. Just know I'll be thoroughly entertained by the end of this."

"Gee. Thanks."

Eddie snorts, settles back into the couch, and helpfully offers, "I mean, it can't be worse than being the main course of a demobat feast, right?"

"Oh, I assure you," Evelyn says, her eyes narrowing, "it certainly can."

"Oh, damn," Eddie says, shaking his head, "What do you want on your tombstone, Stevie?"

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin laughs and high-fives Eddie. He ignores them for now, secretly grateful for the lighter feeling in his chest that their joking has given him, and looks at his parents. "I guess it started with Will's disappearance."

-------

Tag List (there should be room still! So, if you'd like a tag, let me know!)

@trueghostqueen, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @mogami13, @blcksh33p1987, @beawritingbooks, @remus-is-trans, @your-confused-friend, @estrellami-1, @nburkhardt, @vacantwatchers, @yeahhhh-suga, @phantomcat94

@blackpanzy, @ape31, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @plantzzsandpencilzzs, @flustratedcas, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @just-a-tiny-void, @disrespectedgoatman, @fallingleavesinthewind, @nymime, @nectandra, @moomkin77, @nadenia, @resident-disappointment, @copper-arrows, @romanticdestruction, @rowanshadow26

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the mummy 1999 crossover #rick o'connell #evelyn o'connell #jonathan carnahan #steve deserves good parents actually #i'm realizing i always post these late at night lmao #work really do be having me writing late orz #anyway i battled valiantly and still got defeated by some of the tags on this list i'm #i just don't know why some of them don't link properly :/

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earthnashes · 1 year ago

Text

The completed version of that sketch I teased a while ago! Angela and Demona have a much needed talk. uwu

So, I know I've been harkin' and hollerin' about starting a Gargoyles AU, and after this lil thing... WELL. I can't help myself man, plz ;w;

But even though I've yet to fully sit down to rewatch the show for concrete foundations, I'm gettin' bombarded with ideas for this badboy. I'll talk at length about my idea once I have something a little more solid, but for now the context is the AU explores Demona's journey to redemption, and her attempts to grow amidst the chaos of the general public now learning gargoyles exist (and the consequences that comes with it).

Below the "keep reading" is a short story I wrote on how Demona and Angela's first uninterrupted reunion could go. Angela is determined to try and convince her mother to give humanity--give everyone, really-- one more chance. Even with all the craziness and the very fragile relations between the supernatural and humans, Angela sees it as their best and only bet to actually build a long-lasting rapport. And a chance to have her mother in her life with minimal conflict.

"--Don't you understand? The humans took everything from me, and they have only grown worse. One so-called 'good' human can't undo that. They are never good."

"But they can be if you just let them!" Angela growls, flailing her talons out to her sides in a wide gesture around the city. "Mother, haven't you ever thought that maybe not all humans are bad? That they and gargoyle are more alike than you believe? You've been around for years. You can't honestly tell me you haven't met a gargoyle you couldn't trust in your lifetime."

"I trust no one," Demona sneers, turning her back on her daughter and hunching in on herself, arms crossed close to her chest. "It's what kept me alive this long."

"But at what cost? Mother... you are clanless." Demona doesn't turn around at the mournful tone, and Angela pushes on. "Y-you have no one. But you don't have to be--"

"Angela--" Demona's voice is loud, unwavering, but her tone is so, so tired. It's almost wrung out of her in a sigh that only hints at centuries of gliding solo.

"That is enough."

For several moments, there is heavy silence. Demona doesn't turn around, but the scent of salt in the air is tell enough. She heaves another sigh and begins to step toward the edge of the rooftop they've chosen for this meeting, fully intent on putting an end to such a miserable conversation.

"...Everyone believes you are nothing more than a monster." Demona keeps going, crouches down and begins to unfurl her wings.

"But I don't believe that."

That stops her. She freezes as if the sun has touched her skin, still as the stone sleep she no longer experiences. She still doesn't turn, but her head tilts to the side. Listening.

"I saw how desperately you want clan when you were with Thailog," Angela whispers hoarsely. "I saw how you looked at me, w-when you realized I was your daughter. You... you turned on Thailog to save me. Save us. But now I--" She whipes furiously at her eyes in frustration. "--you speak as if you want nothing to do with me--"

"You know that isn't true," Demona says, finally, finally whirling to face her daughter. Instinct drives her to open her arms, to reach out, but years of solitude stops her in her tracks. Her hesitation goes mostly unnoticed.

"Then prove it!" Angela barks. She lashes her tail and unfurls her wings. "I want you in my life! I want you to be clan. But I can't do that if you aren't willing to at least try." Angela closes the distance between them, grasping her mother's talons and --almost instantly-- feels like a child again. She gives her a gentle squeeze, and relief nearly floods her when she feels a small, hesitant one back.

"I can't ask for you to forget... or forgive. I won't. But I am asking you to... t-to at least try, and give me a chance? To give humans a chance, one more time."

Angela's eyes bore into her mother as she pleads: "Give me this one chance to prove you wrong."

-----------

Hope ya'll enjoyed! Now that I reread the short there's a lot I'd like to revise and add, but for now this will work. :)

But ye! More to come soon! ;w;

#gargoyles #demona #angela #my art #my stuff #headcanon #au #disney

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iouinotes · 10 months ago

Text

Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 1)

SPOILER FOR THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, implied sexual content, heavy angst, kidnapping

word count: 5,8k

summary: When Luke switches to the dark side, he tries everything possible to win you for him.

a/n: so as the show comes to an end (dont cry dont cry dont cry), I thought I would finally post this :)))

read part 2 here

"I'll find you!" his voice echoes through the forest, my laughter much louder than I intend to. But that´s just how it always goes. It's our own little tradition.

Every year when the camp starts again and we meet after the holidays passed, we play hide and seek in the dangerous forest of the half-blood camp. The creatures usually don't come across our path, in recent years it has rarely happened, that we actually had to defend ourselves against them.

Once it was an angry dryad, who threw branches at me (she had a crush on Luke and wanted revenge, but since I could understand her feelings and felt sad for her, we sorted it out).

Another time we were spotted by some camp members, who made fun of us, but Luke must have said something to them later, because we haven't been bothered by these troublemakers since.

It is always the same pattern, but each time there is still something special about it. We have grown, became more mature (I think), and have more and more experience about the struggles in life.

So being able to just let go for a few moments and being completely alone with him is probably the best thing to keep myself sane (even if he drives me a little bit crazy with the love I hold for him).

But a lot has changed recently.

It all started when rumors spread, that Zeus' lightning bolt had been stolen by Poseidon's son. And then the most supportive, bravest, sassy kid in the world showed up here. Percy Jackson. Ever since I met him, even though it's not his fault, there's been war going on. The gods are angry, the monster attacks became worse and again, rumors about the oldest, most powerful titan Kronos reached the camp.

It scared and frightened many people, including me. That's why we've been training harder and stay awake, even when the stars are shining, so that we can prepare for any catastrophe. To be able to fight.

My mother is the goddess Demeter, my father a simple man. I adore them both, even though my mother isn't one of my closest contacts. But I never really held that against her, because at least she decided to acknowledge me as her daughter. After all, it's a privilege that not everyone gets. My siblings and friends at camp are important to me, but the world is changing and so is everything around it.

The only stability I have left is my boyfriend Luke.

If I had to rely on one person in the whole world (and by that I also mean the underworld), it would be him.

He's been my best friend since I arrived at this camp. We've been together through ups and downs, I know every side of him and he knows everything about me too. Many of the people here are like blank pages to me, but not him. He is like my favorite book, that lays open to me and allows me to read each letter individually. Just as I know every of his dreams, every secret, every truth and every lie. He is my protector, my hero in every dark night and every bright day. Without him, I don't even know who I am. He is a part of me and my heart wouldn't be whole without him.

I watched him grow up. From the small, thin boy whose eyes hid so much pain and sadness to the strong, soulful leader he is today.

His beauty cannot be influenced by anything, he is like my very own sun, without him I could not survive.

I wouldn't want it any other way though.

Now, I'm hiding behind a tree with my back pressed against the bark and I am able to hear the cracking and swinging of the branches.

I smile so wide, that my cheeks start to hurt, when I hear his voice calling. My heart is beating in my throat, but it's not just the adrenaline of not getting caught. It's because of my love for him, which is so strong that sometimes I'm afraid of it. But only in the moments when I realize that nothing, but him is my biggest flaw. I think I would do anything for him.

Then I concentrate again and listen to the sounds around me. But his voice has fallen silent and I don't hear his footsteps anymore.

My eyebrows furrow, confused I try to look around the tree and search for an orange t-shirt. Likely together with his slim body, biceps, beautiful face and wonderful personality.

But when I want to withdraw again, it's already too late. A branch breaks behind me and before I can move I'm pushed against the tree from behind.

I immediately feel his body against mine, hear the laughter in his voice and listen to his strained breathing. His hands wrap around my body and turn me towards him, so that we are now face to face.

He's taller than me and as I look up, I feel the familiar fluttering feeling in my chest. I am so in love with him.

He grins triumphantly at me and I lean against the tree, smiling kindly.

"Found you, princess." The light reflects in his brown eyes and some of his curls are laying wildly on his head. He looks like an angel.

"I made it easy for you." My voice teases him and when he leans in so close to me, that our lips almost touch, I forget how to think properly. A habit I can't change. He's just so captivating.

"Yeah? You think I wouldn't have found you otherwise? Funny. I remember that in the last few years, I always was the winner of our little game." His lips brush mine, I want nothing more than to kiss him. But he knows that, which is why he slowly pulls back, when I start to lean forward.

When I want to complain, he puts his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest. My knees almost give out, I feel so intoxicated by his presence.

"I-I wanted you to find me." My voice whispers quietly.

His eyebrows rise in mock surprise.

"Then I guess, I can claim my prize without feeling bad." In the next second, his lips are on mine and I'm unable to do anything, other than kissing him back. I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy the warmth that radiates from him. He sets my heart on fire.

While pushing me against the tree, I've completely forgotten about, he lets his hands wrap possessively around my waist. Digging his nails into my hips, to keep me grounded. Otherwise, I would probably get lost in those sensations.

Luke kisses in a way, like it's the last time he'll have the chance. (As if I would ever want to keep him from doing that).

He's passionate, my body feels like it's on fire and the heat inside me feels so good, that I want more. I can never get enough of him and he knows it. He grins against my lips, but he doesn't break the kiss. I think he secretely loves knowing how much he can mess with me, with just a few kisses.

My hands find his hair and pull him closer to me, our chests touch and his breathing mingles with mine.

It is wonderful and so precious, I would refuse any gift from the gods just to be close to him.

When he pulls away from me, our bodies are still close. My eyes open and look dreamily into his, our gazes reflect a familiarity and love that is like nothing I have ever experienced.

He smiles at me, pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans himself against me. His fingers stroke the exposed skin of my pulled-up shirt.

"I've missed you." If my heart hasn't melted before, it has now. I give him a kiss on the cheek and hug him, we stand in our embrace for a moment. Enjoying each other's closeness, the calm feeling until the next chaotic situation happens.

"Now we are together again. Only that matters." It's quiet around us and when I close my eyes for the second time, I hear his fast heartbeat. I have to supress a smile.

The wind is the only thing I hear until his voice breaks the silence.

"Something will happen soon. Something big." The peaceful atmosphere is threatened by his words and when I look at his face again, I see his worried eyes.

I sigh, but then nod to agree with him. "I thought about that too, it feels different. Like something is coming our way, that we can't control."

His fingers stroke my cheek and for a moment, his face holds an expression, that I can't understand. It resembles regret.

But before I can ask him about it, he smiles tenderly at me again.

"Nothing will separate us. The world is just a game. It's a matter of time and making the right moves." That is his motto. But I'm not always convinced of this. Even though I trust him to do the right thing.

"I'm just worried we'll get seperated, you know? Evil can be sneaky and traitors always exist. You never know who you can trust." Something I said must have really bothered him, because he looks like I just stabbed him.

This time I ask him about it.

"What's on your mind? You can tell me. Two people who worry about something are better, than one who is alone with it." I take his hand and stroke his skin, it feels cold even though we have summer.

"Nothing, just- I don't want to lose you. I couldn't be here without you. I need you. I mean...I-I love you. You know that I would do anything to keep us together, right?"

His words surprise me. I know he loves me. I can sense that, everyone probably does. But he has never worn his heart on his sleeve and the three magical words only come out of his mouth on special occasions. The fact that he's telling me now surprises me.

"Of course. I trust you. We will survive together, I know that. Are you worried because of the rumors about the Titan King?" This topic is always very critical and he usually doesn't like to talk about it, but this time I decide to address it directly.

"He will come. I just want you to be safe, when it happens." He sounds so confident it gives me goosebumps.

"Perhaps. His followers will definitely try. But love is stronger than anything else. Especially our love. We will get through it." He doesn't look convinced, so I turn his face towards mine and kiss him.

My voice sounds soft, when I speak again.

"Luke, I love you. I could never leave you. Not even the King of the Underworld will be able to keep us apart. I promised to be by your side in every moment of our lives. You are my soul and without it I am damned."

This seems to reassure him, but I feel like he's not telling me something of great importance. But I don't want to push him, I know he will tell me when the time comes.

He always does.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

As the day comes to an end, I say goodnight to my siblings and report for my night watch duty. The situation has been a lot more worse the recent weeks. Kronos exists, my worst fear was confirmed. And he is building an army, that is so strong that it will be difficult to fight against it. But what I'm really worried about are the rumors about our people, who have also joined his cause.

Nobody knows who, the spies have been hiding ever since. I've never felt like I was paying more attention to my words than I am now. The only person I don't have to hold back to is Luke.

But even with him I notice the effects of the bad news. The circles under his eyes are darker than ever and his nerves are so frayed, that every little thing makes him want to explode. His temper is hanging by a thread, that is increasingly threatening to break. And I'm trying everything to prevent this.

No matter if I try it by making him laugh (which has become difficult), massaging his tense shoulders, trying to kiss him to the point of forgetfulness (usually it's the other way around) or when he takes out his frustration by burying himself deep inside me. With every thrust of his hips, I feel him relax, his hand so tight around my body as if I would run away, if he didn't hold me close enough.

He's changing and I'm trying my best to maintain his good sides. That he doesn't completely lose himself in his responsibilities and the pressure, that he has, because he is a member of the camp council.

Besides, I can't complain, when he fucks me until I can't breathe aynmore and I block out everything around me. When he comes, he whispers the sweetest things in my ear. Even if sometimes they sound so protective, that I could almost come from his voice alone.

When he whispers to me how good I am for him or how much he loves being able to have such a power over me like that - maybe it should scare me, but I trust him like no one else.

My mind concentrated his best for my shift, but when I finally go to bed after quiet some time, my eyes quickly close.

Looking back, I wish I had never let myself sleep that night.

Because, when I close my eyes I see waves. Hear the seagulls screaming in the sky, the fish swimming in the water and the distant cries of strangers.

It's all unusual and the bright light would blind me, if I didn't avert my gaze. And as soon as I do it, I see a ship. It's huge, rust shimmers in the sunrays, the anchor shows that it's been in the same place for a while now.

I feel something pulling me towards it, pushing and burning in my chest, leaving me with a tremor that I can feel, even in my deep sleep.

As I flit through the window like a ghost, I feel paralyzed. My blood freezes, I want to disappear immediately and in my mind I scream at myself to wake up.

But it's no use, whatever is here, someone decided that I have to see it. Only then, my wish will be fulfilled and I can wake up. So, I hide in a corner, there are scratched picture frames above me and broken glass is scattered on the floor. The monsters that loudly crush the glass ahead of me seem unstoppable.

I tremble as I look at at least seven dracaenae, several shaggy hellhounds and set my eyes on gigantes, that take up almost the entire room.

But that is nothing compared to the terror, that grips me when I see my classmates. My friends. People I trusted, who I fought alongside, for who I cared about. People I would have sacrificed myself for. They all betrayed me. And I feel close to tears. When I want to turn away, I hear a voice that almost brings me to my knees.

It's Luke.

My faithful and caring protector, my heroic love. Someone, to which I had dedicated everything. He was my life, with every single breath I took. The motivation behind my every action. The reason I wanted to survive in this cruel world. He was everything I had and everything I will ever have and in that moment it was abruptly taken from me.

I didn't have the strength to concentrate, it was as if every fiber of my body was on fire, triggered by the torment of my suffering heart. Seeing him like that, in black armor, Kronos' silver mark glittering around his neck, instead of his colorful necklace. A stoic, hostile expression on his face, his hands gripping his sword, it all hurt too much to watch.

And as I sank to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands, I was still forced to listen. I couldn't understand why he was saying such things.

"With every day he becomes stronger, with every participation in our army, we become stronger. Everything is planned, the camp is weak. Just like all of its residents. The surprise is on our side, because we will show no mercy. We will kill anyone, who does not confess to us. Do you hear me? No hostages will be taken. Only Hades population will be expanded."

The screams around me are so loud, so angry and horrific that I feel tears running down my cheeks.

I don't want to see any of that. The person infront of me is not my Luke.

A kind of fog creeps around me and I feel cold, it seems too late to forget it now. When I notice the golden coffin and Lukes hunched posture, the scar on the side of his face, I realize he is praying to him.

To the fall of Olympus. Kronos.

I want to cry, to scream, to be angry - but I just feel like every part of my heart is breaking and will never be whole again. Luke will never again be the one to heal it.

My consciousness leaves the ship until I finally wake up, but I can't move at first. I feel lost, my muscles are stiff and after a few seconds I notice that I'm shaking. But it's not because I'm cold, the summer air is wafting in the air.

Such dreams are rare, but are like the own scary predictions of the future.

And then it comes all back so me, the memories, that have just turned my whole life upside down. Traitor. The word appears in my mind, I feel like I almost can't breathe. And then there is a finger on my cheek, gently stroking the skin and my chest immediately becomes warm.

I know this gesture.

When I open my eyes, I see his loving eyes and the smile that covers his mouth makes my heart clench in sorrow.

It was just a nightmare. Luke would never betray me.

But the whispers in my head say otherwise.

As we continue to look at each other in silent, I notice his furrowed eyebrows.

"What's wrong, my love? Did you have a nightmare? You look scared. Don't be afraid, I'm here. I will always protect you." His voice is so calm, so usual loving and it makes the butterflies in my stomach fly around like crazy.

He is so beautiful.

As he briefly turns his head to tighten the blanket around me, I see his side profile and the scar. Reminders of my dream crash onto me like a lightning strike from Zeus himself.

I sat up abruptly. Luke is a servant of our enemy. How could I ignore that? I feel like I'm almost starting to hyperventilate. The thought, this nightmare, Luke's appearance, this evil feeling - it makes me sick. And I'm suddenly so afraid, more than I have ever been in my life. But I can't tell if it's the fact that I just found out he joined Cronos' army or that he broke my heart doing so.

I see him tense, my panic seems to be affecting him too.

My thoughts are so confusing, I don't know what to do, I have to tell someone. I have to-

His hands find their way to my cheeks, cupping them gently to direct his gaze towards himself. I would have preferred not to look at him, but I have no choice. His eyes search mine.

Then, as if the weight of Atlas punishment was put on his shoulders, he lowers them. His lips tremble slightly and his eyes look at me, as if I am the most valuable thing in the world and he is about to lose it.

"You know it." He doesn't have to say what he means by that. We both know.

I want to break away from him, but he won't let me. He's always been much stronger.

But everything still feels so different, light surrounds us and I can't really feel my body.

"Listen to me, please. I can explain it. Please-" The world goes silent, before he can finish his sentence.

It is too much.

I stifle a scream. I want to jump out of bed, but his hands hold me close. I only manage to fall to the ground, breathing heavily, but his arms are much stronger and I'm still weakened by my dream. He trys to hold me in a position, so that his back hugs me. His hands grab mine and one of them covers my mouth to silence me, when I want to scream for help.

With any other person, I would have known what to do. With anyone but him, I could have defended myself without any problems. But it wasn't just anyone and what he had done to me, the betrayal he had committed, was nothing I could handle.

I tried to wriggle out of his grip, to kick him, but the more I cried and the more hysterical I became, the easier it was for him to have control over me.

And for the first time, it scared me.

"Please calm down, I have to explain it to you- you have to know, that I never wanted to deceive you, please-" I notice how his voice is failing and he has to pull himself together, to not to lose his composure.

When I shake his hand away and want to yell again, he grabs my neck with such a warning force, that no sound escapes me.

I tremble in his hold. Tears stream down my cheeks and I literally feel my heart breaking.

Then he starts whispering in my ear and his grip feels like a tragic prison.

"Nobody can know. I never wanted you to find out. Not until I convinced you, that it is the right thing to join him. Because he will win, sweetheart. I want us to win by his side." His voice sounds so confident and at the same time, as if he was a completely different person.

Tears continue running down my face and he slightly let's go of me, so he can comfort me.

"If you would just listen to me, you will understand my actions. Please, just listen to me-" but the world blurs infront of my eyes and I am only able to whisper three words, before darkness surrounds me.

"You betrayed me."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

When I wake up, my head hurts so much, that it takes me several minutes to open my eyes. When I finally do it, I almost have a heart attack.

I recognize the similarity of this room from my dream. When I stand up, I run to the round window and look out, being only able to see the blue sea. Feeling empty and alone.

When I want to step out the door, I expect it to be locked. But instead the handle turns and I step out of the room. I'm so surprised about that, that I'm acting without thinking twice.

As I walk around the next corner, the deck creaks and I see an ugly creature in front of me, that makes every instinct to escape kick in.

I run in the other direction, but every turn makes me more desperate and, without any consideration, I run into the hall, I was so afraid of.

It is filled with all kinds of ciders, and I also see the figures of my classmates, wounded and unhappy.

It's all so overwhelming, that I dont even see him standing on the podium, in the first place.

But as the monsters try to grab me, his voice echoes through the room with an affable authority.

"Nobody touches her. You hear me? Nobody. She is under my protection." I almost freeze into a stature, as he comes towards me and I have no way of avoiding him. No weapon is within my reach, his eyes notice my growing panic.

"Everyone leaves the room. Now." Nobody discusses it, even if some roll their eyes or quietly protest. His authority is unquestioned, it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

When the last doors slam shut, we stand a few meters opposite each other.

"The doors are guarded." It's the first thing he says.

When he tries to approach me, I lose my nerves and run to the corner with the broken glass, that I saw in my dream. I take them in my hands.

I see his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

"You- you want to fight me?" He actually sounds surprised and sad. Like I was the one who betrayed him and not the other way around.

"Don't come any closer. I may not have been able to do anything last time, but if you take one step closer then-" I don't know what to say. In no scenario did I ever think, I would have to threaten him.

But despite my warning, he comes towards me with his hands raised, the panic within me so palpable, that I can feel every muscle in my body.

I dodge, when he is only a few meters in front of me. Right into the next corner. As far away from him as possible.

"Princess, you can't keep me away forever. I've always loved that about you. You need me as much as you need to breathe."

It's supposed to sound sweet, but his words make me feel sick

"I'd rather suffocate." He didn't expect that. My words hit him so unexpectedly that he is almost speechless. Almost.

"I won't hurt you. You just have to let me get to you and I'll show you everything. You will understand, believe me." He really thinks, I'll just stay by his side and let him explain.

"Are you crazy? You're a traitor, Luke. You- you betrayed everyone. You betrayed me. How could you do this?" I suppress my tears, because that's exactly what he's waiting for. That my defense becomes weaker. I can't allow this.

"You dont understand. I always told you I would protect you. And I can only do that, if I'm on the winning side. And I am now. We are." His eyes flash with a craziness that makes me tremble. I don't recognize him.

"Why are you acting this way? You are doing the wrong thing - you give up everything. You're giving up on us." Tears leave my eyes and I see him take a few steps in my direction.

"I'm doing the right thing for us. You'll see. You just have to trust me, please. You know I always win. With the power he gives me, I will be invincible. You don't have to worry about one of us dying in this war anymore." I can't move, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have a way out now. He's too close.

"You are wrong. I would rather die in this war than join this monster and his deceitful army." The shards in my hand hurt, but I don't let them go. They're the only thing I can use to defend myself.

"You would leave me?" His eyes are staring into my soul.

"Would you fight me?" Every word is more intimidating.

"Would you stop loving me?" His words are like his own shards, leaving deep wounds in my heart.

He's standing right in front of me now, looking at me like I'm fragile.

Then he whispers "Would you kill me?"

In the next second, he suddenly has my hands in his, making me drop the glass. Be is only a few centimeters away from me now, his eyes are looking into my own.

"Would you, princess? Then show me." Suddenly he does something, I would have never expected. He takes out his sword and puts it in my hands.

His own hands go behind his back, his eyes tempting me. I feel all the blood in my body drain.

"Do it. I can't live in a world, where you don't love me anymore. In which you are no longer by my side. I am yours. That will never change, just like my love for you."

I can barely hold the sword, it's so wobbly in my hands. He stands in front of me and gives me every chance to defeat him. But I can't move.

It's quiet for a moment, then I see new hope in his eyes and when he speaks again, the tone of his voice melts my heart.

"What did you say a few months ago, you would always let me win? Let's win together this time. Please, just listen to me." His hand strokes my cheek. Wipes away the tears.

Then he drops his hand and grasps his sword, letting it fall to the ground.

He takes my hand instead.

"Follow me." He pulls me behind him, closer and closer to the golden coffin, it's like I'm in a trance, but when I finally feel the cold aura of something cruel, I'm able to think clearly again.

"No-" I don't want to be one step closer to this thing.

He turns around so quickly, that I can only slap his cheek, before he grabs me again.

"That was for kidnapping me. Let me go now!" I want to avoid his grasp. But again he does something I don't expect.

He holds me still, catches my gaze and then, kisses me so gently that the feeling alone makes me almost completely defenseless. His hands cup my cheeks, grip my hair, hold my body.

This is probably his worst trick. I've never been able to resist one of his kisses. And he knows that. He uses it against me.

Then he murmurs words against my lips, that barely reach my ears.

My heart is pounding in my throat.

"You feel this? We belong together. It is not written anywhere on which side we need to be. As long as we are together." His fingers stroke my lower lip, his figure towers over me and for a moment my surroundings fade. It's almost like always.

But he's not wearing his orange t-shirt, his expression isn't relaxed, and I don't hear any insults from the camp members in the distance.

"You're manipulating me." I am powerless against him. I thought we were on the same team, that no one had more power over the other one. But I was so wrong.

His eyebrows furrow again, and when his hands try to pull me against him, I hit his chest, without thinking, with the only piece of glass I hid in my pocket. But unlike I expected, nothing happens. The shard bounces off his skin and falls loudly to the ground. I can only stare at him in disbelief.

"How-" He just looks at me worried, no anger is visible in his eyes.

"You can't hurt me. I have the curse of Achilles upon me." I suddenly become aware of the effect the lake Styx in the underworld hast and I almost fall to the ground at the realization, my knees weaken.

"That was a test earlier. You wanted to see if I would kill you-" my voice fails.

He just looks at me sadly and smiles in regret. My heart becomes heavy.

"And I knew you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. You would never hurt someone you love. Not if you'd kill me in the process." What can I do? He knows me better than anyone, he can see right through my every thought.

"I can't do this, Luke. I-I can't be together with you, if you are like this." I'm serious, but he doesn't believe me.

"That's what you think, but it's a lie. The sooner you admit it to yourself, the more pain you avoid. Our souls are linked together, without me you are not able to live. I know, that you will continue to love me, no matter what I decide to do. That's how much you love me. You would rather die than not loving me."

I can't listen to him. I can't.

But his eyes are like all the promises in the world. He is my world. How could I ever forget that?

"Please come back with me, Luke. I-I won't tell anyone, but please. Let's go, let's forget everything, please-" I cant deal with this anymore. It's like he's draining all the energy out of me. More with every word, that leaves his lips.

"I can not do that. It will stay the way it is now. Don't fight against me, fight with me. You are so smart and loyal, you will be convinced. He will show you." His eyes now flash with something that frightens me. I see his hunger for power, something that has always been dormant within him.

"Luke, the only thing I ever really wanted was you. No power, no war, no prosperity. Only you. But I'm about to lose you. Don´t do this to me, I beg you." My hands find his face, stroke the skin and I look into his eyes. But they are no longer the same ones I fell in love with.

I never thought he would love having power more than he loves me. It breaks my heart.

"I have decided. Nothing will change about that. Not even your pleadings. I'm sorry." His eyes reflect my desperation.

"What's holding you back? All you need is me." He says it so confident, that I almost wonder, why I don´t agree with him.

But my conscience has always been my greatest strength.

"I won't betray them. I couldn't live with myself, if I did." He takes a step back.

"But you could live without me? You would rather be by Jackson's side than mine?" His words hurt me. But he speaks the truth.

"I love you Luke, more than I ever thought was possible. But just as you put power before me, I put loyalty first. And I'm not sorry about that."

Frustration finally seeps through his perfect facade. I wonder how long he's been playing with me. The thought of it makes everything inside me tighten.

"I am not letting you go. Our fate is set. You will recognize it too and when that happens, you will be on my side."

His conviction frightens me, but this time it doesn't freeze me into a statue. Now, I'm running away.

And luckely, he didn't expect that.

For a few minutes now I've noticed one of the windows, that doesn't look very stable. I just have to jump against it to open it.

"NO!" Luke's voice echoes across the room, loud and warning, but it doesn't stop me. Before he can catch up with me, I jump towards the window, my shoulder hurts, but I was right, it breaks.

But I didn't think about the height difference and I realize it might be too late to do something about it now.

As I try to hold on to the wall outside, two thoughts repeat in my mind.

Either I die or I'm trapped.

Then I hear Luke's voice. He sounds desperate and at the same time angry, like I have never heard him before.

The wall is slippery and it takes every bit of strength in me not to fall, I know it would be my death. I hold on to the broken wall.

"She is outside. Get her back, NOW!" My muscles hurt and I don't know what to do. Then I hear the loud beating of wings. Before I can see who it is, I hear Percy's quiet voice. I feel like crying.

"Drop down, I've got you." I have to trust him. So, I let myself fall without thinking.

Then I feel myself landing on something soft, I hold on to it and my knuckles turn white.

The screams and shouts of the monsters make me tremble, I just want to get out of here. Even if it means, that I perhaps will never see Luke again.

"Come on, now. They'll be here soon." As the wings of the Pegasus move towards the sky, towards freedom, I let the tears fall. The wind is beating around my ears and I can only see in the corner of my eyes that we are getting closer to the clouds.

"I'll find you!"

Luke's threatening voice is the last thing I remember as I close my eyes from the grief of leaving him.

#percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #x reader #greek gods #love #betrayal #angst #percy pjo #percy series #annabeth chase #percy jackson

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