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kookslastbutton · 11 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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highvern · 2 months

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Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #cromernet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #🫡 highvern

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ninjaturtlemaniac · 3 months

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Part 1 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10

Trolls - in general Trolls are pretty rare outside their usual kingdoms and it's considered good luck to meet one.

Brozone - drastically changed their looks coz they hate that they used to dress the same.

Bruce - one of those dads who would get a new barbeque and show off all the cool features to the other local dads.

Bruce - "No kids, we're not keeping that stray animal, end of story, no way..." - 1 week later and he's giving it kisses and building it an over the top kennel with a heated blanket and a water fountain.

Bruce - (canon?) carried all their eggs, indirect reason why his hair is so big. (Side note - I read somewhere someone called all their kids 'The Bakers Dozen' and I frigging love that)

Floyd - solo career after he left Brozone - all his songs were PINK FLOYD SONGS! (Maybe that could've been his stage name?)

Floyd - his hair is naturally pink but JD made him make it redder because 'we're a boyband and pink is a girls colour'

John Dory - has embarrassing baby pictures of his brothers as leverage

John Dory - over-exaggerates his retellings of stories "I fought off 30 no no no 40 snakes with one hand behind my back."

John Dory - always casually asking Poppy, Brandy and Viva to marry him, over small things too "Brandy, these pancakes are delicious, marry me."

Clay - writes long and very detailed critical reviews of restaurants

Clay - has reading glasses. Probably the ones that attach magnetically at the nose ridge.

Clay - labels everything (labelmaker is to Clay as Gary is to Branch)

Clay - very into color coded itineraries and always know everyone's business "Poppy is currently at Smidge's pod doing her hair" "How could you possibly know that?" "I have my sources."

Clay - also a notary and registered marriage celebrant

Clay - hair was always naturally green but JDs hair was already green. JD said he had to be yellow for the band, they needed that color coordinated group vibe.

Clay - has drafts for his own book series

Clay - actually plays golf

Clay - gets clumsy when trying to impress someone he admires (imagine him meeting King Peppy and he just knocks things over)

Clay - competitive af - brothers know better than to verse him at anything - has an over the top victory dance

Viva - that concept art of tiny Viva is the age she was when they escaped the Troll Tree. So like 15 maybe?

Viva - wants to make up for all the missed holidays/birthdays/parties with Poppy so she is constantly popping out from places with gifts yelling SURPRISE!

Branch - for Pop Trolls - being in a famous singing group is the equivalent of being a recognized expert in your field. So the fact that Branch is in TWO famous boy bands is like he has several PhDs.

Branch - Kismet formed inside a group home for Trollings

Poppy and Vivas mother - my theory is that they managed to keep princess Viva a secret from the Bergens. They chose the Queen for Trollstice when they discovered what they thought was her first egg. The Troll Tree escape plan came about when Chef promised the new royal trolling for the young Bergen prince.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls floyd #trolls john dory #trolls branch #trolls brozone #trolls viva #trolls clay #trolls bruce #trolls queen poppy #queen poppy

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daughterofcain-67 · 2 months

Text

𝒞𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝓅𝓉 1

(Dean Winchester x Artist/Bartender!Female Reader)

(𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 2) (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 3)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re an artist that fell in love with a mysterious boy right before college. Then he left without any way to contact him. Decades later you’re an artist/bartender and you’re surprised to see who comes walking through the door.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none that I can think of.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I have no idea who actually did the cover art for The Prince of Thorns, King of Thorns and Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence, the comic illustrations of the Maximum Ride series by James Patterson, or Cinder by Marissa Meyer. But I loved the artwork for the cover art and illustrations, so they deserve all the credit for their creativity. ((The artwork and references to the books is just to use to build Y/N’s portfolio, I do not own any of the artworks.))

It wasn’t easy being an artist. And it didn’t help that you seemed to be a starving artist at that. Everything seemed to have been done already. You supposed that your creative mind wasn’t as unique as you originally thought it would be.

You had countless sketchbooks in your home, just on one of your many bookshelves, purely dedicated to the sketchbooks you’ve had over the years. You’ve been sketching and drawing for as long as you can remember. You picked up on using water color and oil pastels sometime in high school when you were being experimental with your styles. But over the years you found that your luck expanding on your career was sort of a fifty fifty shot.

When someone hadn’t commissioned you to paint a wall of theirs, or if you weren’t working on a cover for some author - which was also another rare opportunity - You spent your time working at a bar in Wisconsin. It was some way to make some money after all, plus you did get to meet some pretty interesting people.

As for tonight, it was just another Thursday night for you and you were on your break. With that being said, you had your sketchbook out and you were sketching yet again.

Lately, in your personal sketchbook, you would draw the familiar face of a man you used to know. One that probably didn’t even remember your name, but you’d always remember his. You’d always remember his beautiful eyes that reminded you of the green forest, or the way his smile would light up any room he’d step into. You could remember the smell of his leather jacket, or the way that unusual pendant looked a little too good around his neck. You could still remember the sound of his laugh, or the flirtatious little tone and his mischievous smirk. He was a man you knew you could never forget, even after all these years.

“Drawing that mystery man of yours again, Y/N?” A work friend of yours named Danielle asked.

You glanced up at her while she adjusted her glasses and sat in front of you, “He’s no mystery.. just a memory.”

“You know, if you really can’t forget about him then maybe you should look for him.” She suggested and you shook your head.

“That’s not possible. Even when we first met during the summer before my freshman year of college, he was always traveling around with his father. It was a part of his career. And if anything, the guy’s still going it. They always traveled around the country.” You explained and Danielle pouted a little.

“You mean you can’t even track down what business it was? Not even by phone number or anything? Some company they ran.” She said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Did he even tell you what kind of business he was a part of?” You shook your head.

“No… he was really secretive and he always told me he didn’t want to freak me out. A part of me wonders if he didn’t trust me. Then after like two weeks together he ghosted me.” You admitted.

“And you’re still obsessing over him? Come on, you’ve really got to let it go. If he was that much of a douche to ghost you and if he didn’t even leave you a way to contact him, then you have got to move on.” Danielle told you and you knew deep down she was right.

You looked down at the picture again of your ‘mystery man’ as Danielle liked to call him. Just as you were about to put the pencil to your paper once more, Danielle’s hand got in the way and she dragged the book across the table and rotated it so she could take a look at your work.

“Okay, this guy can’t actually be real. No one is that attractive.” She said with a chuckle before she looked up at you once more.

“So what did you say his name was again?” She asked as she handed you the sketchbook again.

“Dean… Dean Winchester.”

“Dean… Not a bad name I guess. Better than like Brad or something.” She laughed.

“Any chance that he’s a reader? Maybe he’s seen your cover art on some books.” You shook your head.

“No, he’s not much of a reader. His brother is a reader though so.. maybe? Although who knows if Sam would read any of the books I’ve done the artwork for.” You shrugged, unsure if Sam read any fantasy novels or science fiction.

“His brother’s name is Sam? That’s a little anticlimactic isn’t it? Is it short for something?”

“I don’t think it’s anticlimactic. Simplistic. And no, I don’t think it’s short for anything, but I never really asked Dean about it. Never met Sam.”

“Hey! Y/N! Danielle! Y’all can’t leave me by myself, I just got here!” A second voice said and that was your other friend, Callie. She had a bit of a southern twang in her voice that was definitely different compared to your other coworkers.

You and Danielle both laughed and you got up from your seat. You closed your sketchbook and went back to the back of the bar to put your sketchbook in your backpack. Then you began to resume your shift. The sooner the night was over with, the sooner you could go home and maybe check your emails and see if anyone has reached out to you for any projects.

The next several hours went by and it was closing time at the bar. You walked out of the bar with the two coworkers.

“Have you two heard the news yet about the Nelson’s wife?” Callie asked and you glanced over at her, brow arched upward.

“No. I didn’t even know something happened.” You said.

“Well apparently when Mr. Nelson came home last night, his door was opened up and there were some kind of freaky claw marks on the door. When the boss went inside he saw that his wife’s guts were literally outside of her body. But you wanna know the weird thing of it all?”

“There’s a weird part? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better!” You asked.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Callie replied, not finding your sarcasm amusing at the moment.

“The weirdest part was that her heart was missing. No weapon was found, no evidence of some kind of fur if it really was an animal attack. The police have searched the place top to bottom to find any clues or evidence of an animal attack. But honestly I’m surprised the bar was even opened tonight.” Callie continued.

“That explains why I hadn’t seen the boss tonight. He must be going through a lot. I couldn’t imagine losing my boyfriend in such a horrific way… and to actually see his wife like that? I can’t imagine.” Danielle said and you frowned a little.

As difficult as it was to learn about the loss of your boss’ wife, you didn’t think that your boss would be missing that much. The Mrs. didn’t exactly have a great reputation after all. She was a bit of the town harlot to put it lightly. It was common knowledge that she had been cheating on her husband for the past three years with several men.

“How is Mr. Nelson taking it?” You asked.

“Well as far as I know he’s been at the sheriff’s office all day for an interrogation. You know how it is, always suspecting the spouse first. I don’t know if he’s actually had the time to really mourn.” Callie replied.

“Well… surely it’s just some freakish accident. It couldn’t possibly happen again. The same animal wouldn’t strike the same town twice, right?” You said.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Callie said.

“Well just incase that animal is still around… make sure you get home safe! Why don’t we create a group text now just to make sure we all get home okay.” Danielle suggested.

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” You said and pulled out your phone.

Once the three of you were on the group chat, you split off into your different vehicles to go home. You made it to your apartment and shut the door behind you. You tossed your bag on the couch before you plopped on the furniture, then you reached for the remote and turned on the television.

There wasn’t anything good on TV so you changed the channel to Boomerang and watched some cartoons. They were playing the old episodes of Scooby-Doo and you smiled to yourself. You hadn’t watched this show in years and you felt nostalgic watching it. Then your mind wandered off to the old days. You started to think about the summer with Dean.

You shook your head, deciding that Danielle was right and you really should forget about Dean. It’s been years and you never saw Dean again after the best two weeks of your life. It wasn’t worth thinking about. So you grabbed your computer and checked some emails to see if anyone’s reached out.

Evidently there was an email for some author named Marissa Meyer. She was emailing you to compliment your illustrations for James Patterson’s Maximum Ride comics and for the cover art of some other books. Honestly you were surprised. She was writing to see if you’d be willing to do some cover art for one of her books. She emailed you the plot of whatever story this would be and she said the title she planned was Cinder. It seemed to be an interesting plot so you started typing out the response, letting the author know you’d be willing to make the cover art and that you just needed a deadline for it.

Shortly after you sent the email, you started looking at some inspiration photos on Google and Pinterest and that was when your phone started ringing. When you glanced down, you saw that it was a group call with Danielle and Callie. You smiled and you answered the phone before you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Oh good, you answered!” Danielle exclaimed on the other line and you chuckled.

“Don’t worry, no animals have broken in to attack me yet.” You clarified and Callie laughed.

“See, I told you there was nothing for you to worry about. She’s probably getting ready to draw something and you broke her concentration.” Callie said and you hummed a little.

“Haven’t started just yet. Though about water coloring though.” You admitted since it had been a while since you’d used that medium.

“Well next time send a text! That was the whole reason why we made the group chat, remember?” Danielle continued and you grinned.

“Sorry for worrying you. I’m alright, and I’m glad both of you are alright too.” You insisted.

“Are both of you working tomorrow night?” You asked.

“I know I am.” Danielle replied with a little bit of an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not. I’ve got the rest of the week off.” Callie spoke up.

“The whole week? So we’ll see you when, Monday?” You asked.

“Yep. Needed a little me time and what perfect time would that be than having the weekend all to yourself?” She said.

“What about Dylan?” Danielle asked, referring to Callie’s boyfriend.

“He said he was… busy with something.” Callie said.

“You know, Danielle, you and Chris may like this one restaurant on South drive.” Callie said, talking about Danielle’s boyfriend and you felt like the odd one out, not having gone on a date in about three years.

“I’ll let the two of you talk about your boyfriends and your little date ideas.” You said and you were about to hang up before the both of them started talking to you to not hang up.

“Woah woah woah! Why don’t we get you hooked up with someone?” Callie asked.

“Yeah, that would be fun! I mean it’s been a while so what’s the harm in it? We can take you to the bar after work this Saturday night.”

You arched a brow before you looked at your bag that still had the sketchbook with the pictures of Dean in it. You supposed maybe going out this weekend maybe help you get over the memory. Dean was more of a phantom of that summer anyway.

“I suppose that could work. I get off at six. I can get home and get ready by seven or something.” You replied.

“Oh good! Maybe on break tomorrow you and I can go looking for some cute dresses for you to wear!” You cringed at Danielle’s words and you used your free hand to rub the back of your neck.

“Great.” You muttered with nervous laughter.

“Hang on, guys. I have to go. Dylan is calling me.” Callie groaned with some sort of annoyance in her tone and you wondered if everything was alright. However before you asked, she hung up.

“Wonder if she’s alright.” You said since Danielle was on the other line.

“Honestly I think she and Dylan have been in a bit of a rough patch recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if they break up by the end of the month.” She sighed.

“Rough patch? What’s been going on?”

“Well from what Callie’s ranted about, Dylan is developing some trust issues ever since she told him she didn’t want to live together.”

“What? They’ve only been dating for like a month and he wanted to move in?”

“Something like that…”

“Well you’re being awfully gracious for giving them the end of the month to end things. I’ll give them a week and a half if that.” You chuckled.

“You never know. Anyway, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow?” Danielle said.

“I’ll be there.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head as he walked down the stairs. Then he tied the strap of his robe around his waist as he made his way into the library just to see Sam reading a book. Not much of a surprise there. But this time it didn’t seem like it was a research book in his hands.

“Whatcha got there?” Dean asked, hearing his brother hum in response.

“It’s a fantasy series by Mark Lawrence. I’m reading the second one called King of Thorns.” Sam spoke.

“I didn’t exactly take you to be a fantasy ready. Always thought of you as more of a realist.” Dean admitted as he sat down across from his brother before he moved the laptop across the table. Then Dean opened it up so he could see if there was any new cases that sounded like his and Sam’s thing.

“Charlie recommended the book to me. Said that it was pretty good. Like it’s not Lord of the Rings good or Harry Potter good, but she thought it was worth the read nonetheless.” Sam said.

Dean hummed as he looked over at the book again and he caught a glimpse of the front cover, “Cover art’s pretty good.”

“Yeah… Charlie said the artist has done quite a little bit. She’d done the cover art of this trilogy and the illustrations for some sort of comic series based off some YA science fiction books. I think her name is.. oh hang on I think her name might be in the book.” Sam said as he flipped to the back.

“Oh here it is. Cover artist, Y/N L/N.”

Dean’s gaze shot from the book in Sam’s hand to Sam right after he read the name. That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. Felt like centuries really.

“Let me see that. I want to get a better look at the cover.” Dean said and Sam put his bookmark between the pages and handed the book to him.

As Dean looked at the cover, he admired the work. He suddenly began to recall that summer when he was a couple decades younger. Still fresh and when John was still around. He remembered meeting this beautiful girl in Wisconsin. You, in fact.

That was the best two weeks of his entire life. He remembered how great of an artist you were, how much he loved looking through the sketchbooks you showed him. He remembered you telling him way back when that you wanted to be an artist. Seems like you’ve come quite a ways if you’ve done some illustrations and some book covers.

“Has this artist done anything else?” Dean asked curiously.

“Since when were you interested in art?” Sam asked with a smirk as he leaned in, his arms folded in front of him on the table. Then the look of realization went across his face.

“Wait… Y/N. Isn’t that the girl from-“

“Wisconsin? Yeah.” Dean said and he chuckled.

“Honestly the best summer I’ve ever had.” Dean admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever go back to visit her? Is she a hunter? Maybe she could help us on some hunt sometime.” Sam said, trying to be encouraging but Dean shook his head a little.

“No, she wasn’t a hunter. In fact she was far from it. When I met her, she hadn’t even started college yet. Just graduated high school. She had no idea of the darkness in the world that we deal with and well… I wanted to spare her from it.” He said.

“Sounds like you had it bad. Dad wondered why it took you two weeks to end the case. He said it was awful long for you.” Sam smirked.

“Honestly, yeah. I did. if I wasn’t a hunter, I might have stayed. Maybe even go to summer school or work as a mechanic there to make a living just to stick around while she was on her campus. She was a sweet girl but I knew if I stayed, monsters would come and I didn’t want her exposed to that kind of shit just because I stayed around. I finished the case in a week but I stayed the extra week before I had to decide to move on.” Dean continued.

“Do you ever regret it?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I don’t think she would even remember me.” Dean replied and handed the book to Sam yet again. Sam took it and set it down on the table beside him.

“I think she’d remember… anyway, as far as I know she’s just illustrated for that series and the covers for this series.” Sam said but he pulled out his phone to search your name.

“Here’s something… She’s painted some walls in the local elementary school building as well as a pediatrician’s office. But honestly I think that’s the only commissions she’s had. Other than that, based off her social media she’s just working in a bar.”

“A bartender? A girl of her talent should be working for some comic company. Maybe even character designing for some animation studio.” Dean said with a bit of surprise.

“Well, sometimes people aren’t always that lucky in life. But I agree with you, she is good.” Sam sighed as he closed out his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Then he turned his attention back to Dean who was looking back at the computer screen in front of him.

“Find anything worth while?” He asked his older brother.

“Well speaking of Wisconsin…. Turns out some bar owner’s wife was found dead. Police are calling it an animal attack but there wasn’t any evidence of an animal left behind. Then again there wasn’t exactly any evidence of humans either because apparently, intestines were outside the poor woman’s body and her heart was missing.” He said.

“So… werewolf maybe?” Sam suggested.

“That’s my first thought. We might as well head that way and check it out for ourselves.” Dean said and Sam nodded before Dean decided to get up so he could take a shower and get dressed before going on the hunt.

When Dean made it into his room, he decided that’s before he’d get dressed he’d look for something.

Honestly he wasn’t even sure if he still had this amongst his memorabilia. He didn’t exactly carry ugh outside of his pictures of his parents, Bobby and Sam and himself when they were younger. But when Dean opened up the auto man at the end of his bed and started looking through old pictures and papers, he moved his father’s journal to the side and then he found a black folder.

Dean let out a breath of relief as he pulled the black folder out and he sat down on the bed. The field was made of paper and it was a bit worn with the years of being moved around since they went from motel to motel a lot. Then Dean opened up the folder and he was pleasantly surprised to find that what he was looking for was still inside.

Inside of the folder there was a sheet of sketch paper with a drawing of both you and him on it. It was an old picture, Dean’s hair was longer and he didn’t quite have bags under his yees from the years of losing sleep because of a hunt. Then there was you, and you were even more gorgeous in person. Your talented hand didn’t give you justice on paper.

In the picture, you were wrapped up in his arms while the two of you sat down on a blanket in the grass. Both of you had a peaceful expression as you looked out at the lake. Dean could still remember the way you felt in his arms, remembering the moment you had drawn in the picture. It was the second to the last night that he spent in Wisconsin.

Dean smiled at the memory, knowing that even after so many years you still had a piece of his heart. But then reality started to get to him and he wondered if you had been married after college graduation. Did you have a family of your own? Dean calculated and by this time you had to be in your mid thirties like he was, right? Most people were arrived by then if they were lucky, and any man would be lucky to have someone so special like you.

Honestly Dean couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you still thought about him once in a while. Maybe late at night when you were watching a movie drinking some wine and drawing one of those covers Sam showed him, he wondered if you thought about him.

Dean put the picture back into the folder and placed it on the night table beside his bed before he grabbed his bag and some clothes to pack up. Then he got his other pair of jeans and a shirt to wear before he headed off to the shower.

Two days had gone by and that was the night you were supposed to go out with Danielle and Callie to some sort of club or whatever. Honestly you weren’t sure if dancing was your thing. You weren’t in your twenties anymore after all but when you were texting Danielle about it all she told you was that it was something to put you out there, give you something fun to look forward to this weekend.

At the moment you weren’t really focused on your little outing that night. You were a little more concerned about the fact that you hadn’t heard from Callie in the last couple of days.

It wasn’t like Callie. She typically texted you and Danielle at least once daily whether she texted some sort of joke or sent a picture of some silly picture first thing in the morning before going about her day and living her life on her days off. But it had been two days and you found it odd that she hadn’t sent any memes, jokes, or even talked about going out that night.

When the door opened you happened to glance up and you saw Danielle running in with a frantic expression across her features. When Danielle made eye contact with you, you realized she was rushing over to the bar to meet you.

“Y/N, have you heard from Callie lately? I saw her boyfriend this morning and he was out at some diner and he acted like he was just fine while he was sitting beside some girl.” She rambled, catching you off guard with how fast she was talking.

“What? No I haven’t, wait he was with another girl?” You asked.

“Yeah and you wanna know what else? I heard Nelson was visited by two guys in suits. I think the FBI is looking into it. Maybe they caught a glimpse of something with Nelson’s wife and they’re looking into it.”

“But the cops already talked to Nelson. That was the whole point of him not stopping by the bar at all like two days ago. Why would the FBI need to talk to him again? Poor guy’s already been through enough.” You said.

“Well, honestly I don’t think Nelson minds. I bet he’s a little glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant heartbreak of his wife bumping ugliest with different men every other night.”

“Oh come on, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.” You tried to give the former Mrs. Nelson the benefit of the doubt.

“Would you really be surprised if it was that often though?” Danielle smirked, you rolled your eyes a little before you started putting some of the clean glasses away to prepare for customers.

“Do you think the FBI will come here to see if we know anything? You know the manager’s out of town this week. What do we tell them if they happen to come in?” Danielle asked, starting to get a little worried, not much to your surprise.

“Danielle, breathe. If they come in and you spot them, just send them to me. I’ve got it covered. Not that they’ll ask anything we have any knowledge about anyway.” You said and Danielle took a deep breath before exhaling and nodding.

“I’m still worried about Callie.” She said.

“Well think about it… if you and your boyfriend broke up, are you going to want to spend a lot of time on your phone for the first couple of days? Or are you going to want to sleep and isolate for a while before you start making public appearances again.” You reasoned.

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll tell you what. After we clock out tonight, we can go over to Callie’s house and check up on her and make sure she’s alright.” You insisted.

“Okay… yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“Now… why don’t you go ahead and clock in and we can get the show on the road. They may not even come at all, and Callie will more than definitely be alright.” You insisted and Danielle nodded.

With that being said the two of you got to work. You were busily serving different customers at the bar with different drinks. Some you were used to making but apparently there were some visitors and they wanted something fancy. Two preppy looking guys had just walked through the door and made themselves comfortable at the bar. They looked like they were the country club type of guys.

“Hey, Miss! Can I get a Boulevardier cocktail over here?” One of them said. He had waved ginger hair and he was wearing a blue golf shirt.

“Yeah and I’ll have Vieux Carre cocktail, Darlin.” The other said. He was blond, hair parted to the side and he wore an orange golf shirt with white stripes.

These people must’ve had the worst taste in clothing, and an even worse taste in drinks. You couldn’t even try and pronounce these things and you weren’t even sure if you had the right ingredients for these stupid sounding drinks.

“Sure. I’ll get right on that for you fellas.” You replied and went to the back to get the glasses. Then you pulled out the phone to see what the heck those drinks were. Luckily for you, you had some similar ingredients, but you weren’t working in a fancy bar so you had some pretty basic drinks, they’ll just have to deal with generic.

You grabbed what you needed and started to make the drinks and you thought you heard Danielle’s voice followed by two gruff sounding voices. Yay, more customers.

You were too focused on making the drinks but that was when Danielle started walking towards the bar with the two men she was talking to.

“Y/N? I’ve got a couple of agents that would like to speak with you.” Danielle called.

When you glanced over you saw a familiar green pair of eyes, the ones that you’ve drawn numerous times. They’ve changed though, like they’ve seen so much more. But seeing Dean there… it was like everything in your world stopped and you accidentally dropped the glasses you needed.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor snapped you out of it.

You immediately started looking for a broom but Danielle started rushing over to help you, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it for you. What did these guys order?”

“Thank you… Some cocktails with fancy names. I’ll send you the recipes.” You said as you wiped your hands on the apron.

“You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She said and you nodded a little.

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’ll tell you later.” You told her, not wanting to be wrong if your suspicions are correct.

You nibbled on your bottom lip softly before letting it go and you walked over to the two federal agents.

Dean was straightening up his tie uncomfortably. All these years later and he still hated these damned monkey suits but then he felt Sam nudge his arm and when Dean looked up, he could feel his breath taken away.

No, it couldn’t be you could it?

You looked so beautiful, time seemed to have done wonders for you and Dean almost found it hard to breathe at the sight of you.

Of all the towns this case had to take place in, it just had to be the one you lived in. Have you heard anything about the case? You didn’t know about all the ugliness out there yet, did you?

“My friend said you wanted to speak with me? How can I help you?”

God your voice brought back so many memories, but Dean couldn’t dwell on them. Besides, you probably forgot about him so what was the point? Still… it was eating at his mind.

“Um… yeah… Agent Peart, could you get us a couple of drinks and maybe talk to one of the other bartenders?” Dean said.

Sam looked over and raised a brow skeptically. Dean was lucky Sam didn’t really question it and the younger Winchester walked off, giving Dean the time to be alone with you.

“So Ms… L/N, right?” Dean asked, almost hesitant.

But he watched the corner of your lips turn upward into a smile, “Yes, Agent Winchester.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you did remember him after all.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recall…”

“Dean, it may have been a few years since that summer but I’m not old enough for dementia.” You joked.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little and the two of you found a place to sit at the bar table. It’s been so long since he’s been this close to you and it felt just like it did before.

“So how’ve you been? How’s your father and the business?” You asked, Dean remembered that he never told you the exact truth. You had a lot to catch up on he supposed.

“Dad um… well he passed several years ago. About five years after that summer, actually.” Dean said and he watched the way you began to frown.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I remember how you used to talk about him and how close you were.” You told him and he gave a bittersweet smile.

“Things well.. they changed in the five years after. A lot did actually. But my brother and I actually take care of the family business.” He told you and you lifted a brow.

“If you’re an agent now, how do you have the time for a traveling business?” You asked and he felt his palms get clammy, knowing that might be a difficult thing to answer.

“Um… well… Agents like me and Peart aren’t always in one place, so I still travel a lot anyway and when I’m off duty I handle the business as much as I can.” He tried to explain in the most believable way possible.

“You never did tell me what kind of business your dad started. I was always so curious.” You said and Dean wished he could tell you the truth.

“Actually… I need to ask you a few questions. I’m sort of on a case and I don’t really have a whole lot of time to catch up this time around.” He admitted softly.

Dean felt his heart sank at the way your shoulders seemed to slump a little before you looked down at your glass of brandy. He wished he could spend as much time with you as possible, but he couldn’t afford to lose anymore people. People have already lost their lives because of him and he couldn’t afford to do that to you too. He couldn’t handle it.

“What is it you want to know, Agent?”

The switch to the professionalism in your tone pierced Dean through the heart. Maybe he should have asked Sam to keep him some company after all, but from the looks of it he was busy interviewing someone else and writing notes down like the nerd he was.

“The owner… did you have many interactions with his wife?” He asked and he watched you shake your head.

“No. Too busy working. Plus she seldom came here anyway. She was more of a promiscuous woman than anything else. Nelson knew that better than anyone else.” You sighed.

“Nelson.. do you think he’d ever want to take revenge on his wife or pay someone to do it?” Dean asked, making this seem like routine questions - in a way they were still important for a hunter’s case. Who knows, maybe Nelson could he the werewolf he was looking for.

“And risk losing the bar because he’s in jail? No. He was hurt by his wife’s actions, yeah. But for a while they tried to work on it, but then they separated for a month. After that they started living together again before the affairs started up again. And from the looks of it he didn’t have the time to deal with his adulterous wife if she wasn’t willing to change. But there were rumors of a divorce.”

“Do you think Nelson had any enemies? Someone that wanted to get to him through the Mrs?” Dean asked.

“Look, Dean. I don’t keep tabs on my boss and his wife. I don’t care about that kind of thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve and you have a murder to solve. Don’t let me keep you.” You said and abruptly stood up and walked away to get back to work.

Dean rubbed his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Well that looks like it was a disaster.”

Dean heard the sound of his brother’s voice and he rolled his eyes a little before he got up.

“Let’s get out of here and compare notes…”

“You okay, Man?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Let’s just go.” Dean stated and he pushed his chair in before they walked out of the door after putting some cash on the table top for the drinks.

Once the two of them got into the car, Dean started the Impala and when he was pulling out he started to drive to the hotel, then Sam started to talk again.

“So why were you so in a rush to leave? What the hell happened back there?” Sam asked, causing Dean to grimace a little but he knew his brother wouldn’t let it go until he knew what was going on.

“You remember the girl we were talking about? The cover artist?” He said and Sam nodded.

“Wait, that was Y/N? Why don’t we go back? You two can catch up! It’s just a werewolf case, a milk run. I can handle this and give you time with her.” Sam said; and as much as Dean appreciated the willingness, he knew his chances were probably gone.

“Oh no… what did you do?” Sam asked when Dean went quiet.

“Why is it always something that I did?” Dean asked and Sam scoffed.

“Because, Dean. As smooth as you are with women you’ll never see again, you always screw up with the ones that matter and you let them go. Why are you trying to let this one go?”

“Because I can’t have what happened to Jo and Lisa happen to her. Even though Jo was a hunter, she still got killed! Lisa didn’t have experience with hunting, never wanted anything to do with it, and she just got in trouble just by knowing me.” Dean said sternly, beginning to speed because he wasn’t exactly focused on the road.

“Dean! Slow down! We aren’t on a roller coaster!”

Dean heard his brother’s panicky voice and he eased on the gas and tried to focus on what he was doing and eventually they made it to the hotel. Luckily there weren’t any cops on the road so he didn’t get pulled over or anything on the way. But he turned off the car and Sam cleared his throat a little.

“Sam, I don’t want advice on this one. It’s better to just let this one go.”

“Dean, come on. I know for a fact you still have that picture she drew for you. And you said it yourself, that was the best summer of your life! You deserve to experience that kind of happiness again. Especially since things seem to be so calm right now. No angelic wars, no apocalypses, things are quiet and you deserve a break.”

Dean was still quiet.

“And you still aren’t going to tell me what down at the bar, are you?”

With a grunt, Dean stepped out of the car and started making his way up the stairs to get to their designated room.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #jensen ackles imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #Dean Winchester mini series #spn fanfic #spnfamily #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader

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bee-nutauthor · 3 months

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Dimitrescu Sisters If they were Content Creators Headcanon (for fun)

Bela Dimitrescu

-The most wholesome, mom-esque content ever

-Will give you good life advice, whether it be shopping tips on how to get more groceries for less, or tips on how to manage your finances

-Makes cooking videos, sewing videos, make up videos, candle making videos, nail painting vidoes- basically anything to do with crafts and she's probably done it

-Speaks in a calm tone, has mellow music in the background

-Uses very calm colors in her videos, meaning her shirts are in cool tones of blues, grays, whites, and blacks.

-Her backdrop is a clean and organized space- a light wood bookshelf, plain walls, some minimalist flower vases, and a diffuser

-Is very organized with her schedule. Her videos are always up at the same time and day, and she follows a rotating schedule of what topics she will make videos for

-Controversies? None, unless you count the time she roasted a company who wanted her to do a paid promo for actually being toxic and causing them to shut down

-She is affectionately called 'Internet Mom'

-She does not understand the 'sorry, mommy' jokes and does not wish to

-Does not collab with other content creators, which lead to a conspiracy theory whether she actually existed in real life or was a robot

-Is sponsored mostly by clothing brands

Cassandra Dimitrescu

-She is a storytime channel, telling the most outlandish stories ever

-And they're all true. Her life is just like that

-She travels a lot for work so often she'll film travel vlogs or behind the scene vlogs

-Collabs all the time with other content creators

-Always has famous people on her channel

-Does Q and A's

-Her video uploading schedule is not super consistent due to her traveling a lot, and sometimes she'll post several videos in a row and then there will be nothing for a long time

-She has cycled through 5 public relationships within the first three months of her channel

-Has released music videos on her channel and is planning on releasing a full album. She always puts a lot of effort into her sets and costume design. Her singing is amazing as she's classically trained and can do opera too

-Has starred in other content creator's mini series on youtube and always draws the most views in

-Outfits are always changing depending on if she's traveling or making music videos

-Has made a few comedy skits here and there

-Controversies? There is a lot of drama circling around her and who she's hooking up with or who she'll go for next. A few people tried to call out her melodramatic behavior and instead of making an apology video Cassandra winked at the camera, sent the viewers a kiss and said "you know you love me like this," and ended the video like that.

-She was right. Her views only skyrocketed after this

-Gets many sponsorships, but donates the money from them to art or dance studios

Daniela Dimitrescu

-A streamer, she streams several hours a day in a row

-She does games mostly, with the occasional video filming her attempt to cook some horrific dish she found on the internet such as the toducken

-Has posted a few videos of herself doing tricks on her skateboard

-Has posted a few videos of her work out routines. Those have millions of views for reasons relating to her crop top and abs

-Has a set up with RGB lights in the back, and a mini fridge full of energy drinks

-Has the latest technology to play games on, but wears the same outfit almost always to her streams: a black tank top, a black hoodie with neon green writing on it, and a pair of headphones with cat ears on top

-Has dyed her hair many times but commonly sticks with her red hair, shaved on one side

-Has tattoos of her favorite video game characters on her arms and legs

-Will stream with other players and has done a handful of collabs but prefers playing single player games

-Rarely sleeps and has done several 24 hour streams for charity

-Controversies? She was accused of cheating when doing a speedrun but it was only the haters claiming she couldn't play

-Sponsored by raid shadow legends and other game companies

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident lover #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #the dimitrescu's as influencers

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the-griffons-saddlebag · 7 months

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⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Coral Crasher Weapon (any axe), very rare ___ This axe is made of a series of corals sprouting from a metal handle. You gain a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon, and you don't suffer the negative effects of underwater combat when you make an attack with it The axe has two forms: bleached and enriched. The axe is white and chalky while in its bleached form, and vibrant and colorful while in its enriched one. The axe deals an extra 1d6 damage to any target it hits; the extra damage is slashing in its enriched form, and necrotic in its bleached form. If the enriched axe hasn't been submerged in water for at least 8 consecutive hours in the past 3 days, it changes to its bleached form. Once the bleached axe is submerged for the full duration, it becomes enriched again. 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙚𝙛. You can use an action while holding the enriched axe to cast the "wall of stone" spell from it (save DC 15). If you're underwater, you can cast the spell using a bonus action instead. This version of the spell creates a wall of vibrant coral reefs, instead of stone. If the wall cuts through a creature's space when it appears, the creature must make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw, taking 10d6 slashing damage from the sharp reefs on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. A creature that touches the reef with its body for the first time on a turn takes 1d6 slashing damage from it. The wall vanishes at the end of the spell's duration. Once this property has been used, the axe changes to its bleached form, and the property can't be used again until the next dawn. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

#illustration #digital art #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d

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gendercomsumer · 1 year

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Twisted Wonderland Confessions Part 5!

A/N: We're almost finished with the series! Idk what I'll write for after but I'll figure it out eventually. Also my computer broke in the middle of writing this- so yayyyyy

Warnings: Not proof read, Ooc Sebek, Lilia being a menace /hj (Also not knowing how to write him-),

GN!Reader

Characters: Sebek Zigavolt (773 words), Lilia Vanrouge (509 words), Leona Kingscholar (761 words)

Sebek Zigavolt

You'd meet him during the spell drive tournament (Book 2 w/ savanaclaw) When there was the plan to take Diasmonia out of the running for the whole thing.

It was only a small moment you two saw each other but from first impressions he was loud, and most definitely not afraid of showing his loudness off.

You ran into each other again during school realizing you had more classes with the fae then you first thought.

While Sebek is very loud at times, he's diligent and takes great and very organized notes (Even if they're only in pencil with no indicating colors.)

As a friend Sebek is a bit strange

You'll usually find him doing his own thing or lecturing a student on the topic of respect.

You two would hangout during lunch usually close by Malleus in case he needs Sebek to guard him.

A personal head canon is that he's also a bit suspicious of everyone, not like heavily so but it came naturally with him being a knight.

So he might not fully trust you at first to be able to be at two arms length of Malleus.

I mean at least he's being a good guard am I right?

He will let you borrow his notes if you need to, saying some comment along the lines of, "Ha! Of course a human would need my notes!"

While he can help you in math and science he does struggle in art and the more creative classes.

Help him with those and he'll see it as a favors for favors situation.

I can't really see him easily identifying let alone accepting his feelings for you

He at first thinks he's sick, or if you know magic you've somehow slipped a curse on him

He goes to Lilia for guidance and this old man while he looked composed was cackling on the inside.

Lilia explains that Sebek is most likely falling in love with the human and Sebek seems almost appalled by the suggestion.

Him? A fae? Falling for you some random pathetic human?!

No no that can't be right!

This was one of the only times he started to question Lilias judgment and views on the matter.

After getting the same opinion of Silver as well, and a lot of thought, he comes to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he might have a teeny itty bitty crush on you.

That's as much as he was going to admit though.

Lilia what do you mean when will he tell them? He's not!

He tries to act the same but the words of his family stuck to the back of his head.

How passionate you were about things you loved and how you have done so much despite being only a human

at times you could catch his stone face starting to melt into a soft lovesick smile

Maybe that crush wasn't as small as he said it was

But he'd never admit that

Confession wise, either he puts it off for as long as he can or you decide to go up and confront him on his very badly hidden feelings.

So for this let's say you've picked up on his hiding of feelings and decide that now's the best time as any to let him know how you feel

You kept your fingers crossed that he felt the same as Lila led you through their dorm

"Alright third door on the left should be Sebek's, don't get too crazy now kids!"

Lilia left down the stairs with a childish laugh as you went down the hall hearing Sebeks voice through the walls.

It really showed how loud his voice could be considering the dorm was made of stone

Standing outside the door you could easily hear Sebek monologuing to himself about... He was talking about you?

The mention of your name was sudden followed by the names of Lilia and Silver.

"If both master Lilia and Silver say that I've... Fallen for this human, does that mean it's true!? mater Lilia is rarely wrong... But I can't be! They're just a human! A human who makes me feel like I'm in front of the thorn fairy herself at times... No no! How dare I compare the two!!"

He continued and a dust of color was brought to your cheeks to raise a hand to knock on his door hopefully loud enough he'd hear.

There was a long pause before the door was opened by Sebek and at the sight of you his face flushed.

In an uncharacteristically quiet way he asked "Please tell me you didn't hear any of that... Did you?"

Lilia Vanrouge

One day You walk out of your dorm planning to go get some food from Sam's shop since it had been awhile since you went on a grocery run.

It was a beautiful day out with the just right amount of clouds

You take a step out of your house, and Lilia appears seemingly out of thin air hanging upside down from your shade on the porch of your house

Yep that's how you met, him almost scaring the living shit out of you on a random Tuesday morning

What a fun way to start off!

After him almost killing you with that scare he would randomly pop up at times scaring anyone and everyone around you (after awhile you got used to it)

He's a very fun person over all despite what he's been through with the fae war and all

His jokes and lightheartedness are usually welcome lifting any bad mood you may have.

he'll try his best to help in any classes, he's a fucking god in history having lived though most of what they're teaching

And as the feelings start to appear he's a bit taken aback by their sudden appearance.

He's had many lovers in his years but this time the love feels different almost?

It's hard for him to describe, hell it's hard for him to comprehend, but nonetheless he enjoys the soft feeling you give him when you're around

He'd consider a long while on whether or not he would want a relationship with you

You are a human and he will most definitely out live you no matter what the world has in store

It's just the sad truth of having an extremely long life span like his

Once he is sure of this he will start to make more moves on you and attempt to gauge your reaction to them.

Depending on your reaction will depend when he confesses to you, or how much longer he wants to wait to confess.

I can see his confession being one on the more romantic side, but not like not as romantic as Rook.

Most likely he would confess in the middle of a hangout he'd be subtly flirting with you whether you notice or not is most likely up to how dense or oblivious you are

He'd be laying on the couch of the living room possibly (most defiantly) upside down

You'd be talking about some random topic and you look away for moment and suddenly oop there he is floating upside down in front of you.

You jumped and laughed questioning Lilia what he was doing

He stayed silent for a moment staring at you in a manner some would consider creepy before letting out a small laugh.

You asked what was so funny in a bit of a cautious manner and Lilia smiled at you "I've had plenty of lovers... but none were a stunning nor did they make me feel as strange as you do... so tell me, will you help me explore what makes you the one..?"

Leona Kingscholar

After the events, to say the least, of book two he's very salty about everything for at least a week

Eventually and inevitably the two of you need to work together (Either during or before book 3)

Or Ruggie some how convinced you to help him out with the lazy Lion

And either way hey it worked!

Most of the time Leona is either bored, sleeping, or secret option number 3! bored and wanting to sleep...

He's an interesting character to get along with and once you do it's a different side you see other than the one that's just a lazy ion that Ruggie and the other students need to deal with

You learn very quickly that he's very smart and knows most of what the teachers are teaching.

He just normally doesn't have the energy or the want to participate in classes.

Which in my opinion fair my dude

But because he's really book smart if you ask and he's in a good mood he would "dumb down the lesson" in reality he's reteaching it just in a way that's easier to understand.

He sleeps a lot so he knows how important it is to get enough of said sleep.

So if you're close (good friends and such) if he sees you start to drift off during class or fall asleep, he'll cover for you but will scold you that that's not a proper place to take a nap

He then proceeds to take a nap in potion class with Rook in the room. What was that about proper nap locations Leona?

But either than that he's a bit sassy at times and can joke around, hell he calls you Herbivore all the time, that should be evidence enough.

One time you had fallen asleep under a tree (Silver kinnie energy-) and Leona found you

He ended up staying with you and skipping class to take a nap of his own and that's when his feelings for you start to fully come into light.

When he saw you sleeping there, there was a small part of him who wanted to stay with you and protect you, silly right?

Now Leona's well versed in emotions. He'd seen how his brother acted around his now sister in law and here they were now with the menace of a child Cheeka.

So once these feelings start to become stronger and more prominent it starts to reflect in his behavior

I am an avid believer in the beast men/ mermen are possessive change my mind (warning you can't)

He'd start to stay around you a lot more than normal and once Ruggie joked that you had cat nip in your pocket and Leona was following you because of it.

Leona makes sure you get enough sleep a day. Didn't get 8 hours at least last night, whelp hopefully nothing important is happening in Crewels class cause you're skipping to take a nap!

He also makes sure you're eating right and not burying yourself in your work (I'm looking at you Crowley)

He also gets protective over you and if people look at you the wrong way they will have a lion glaring them down.

As for confessions I can see him being pretty nonchalant about it.

One day you had been studying in your room since you needed help in History.

Leona went to go get something and you decided to ley your head down on your bed to see if you could catch some quick rest

Leona returned sometime later and looked at you confused

you were still awake but you didn't want to bother to open your eyes as you were in a comfortable position and sleep sounded like a very nice idea at the moment

"Oi, Herbivore, are you asleep?" You stayed quiet and still as Leona looked over your face and gave a mischievous smile.

"Well isn't that adorable.. and here I thought I was the lazy one.." He gently brushed some hair out of your face and placed a feather light kiss to your temple

"It was your idea to study and you're the one to fall asleep.." You could feel the color come to your face as Leona sat at the end of the bed watching you

You eventually sat up and Leona laughed seeing the red color across your face "Thought so I wouldn't think you'd fall asleep that quickly, so tell me Herbivore.." Leona leaned closer to you with a smug smile

"you do know it's dangerous to fall asleep around a lion, don't you?"

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averyyvoid · 25 days

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Avery's Murder Drones Swap AU Redesign [ Part 1 - 2 ]

Hi yall! I uh, redesigned my murder drones swap au, just the thought of sharing it here while waiting for my deactivated twitter account to crumble lol (all of these are posted on tiktok @ averyyvoid_ if you're interested in checking there)

Cyn <--> Doll (I did a bit of error on the eye color of Den so I'll fix it in later art) J <--> Lizzy Notes for now: - Den's hair is meant to style similar to Yeva's (will be explain after I design Swap!Yeva) - Callie's speaking language will be Mandarin - Den has selective mutism. but when she does speak, it often comes out negative - Jennifer is often with Venus and rarely with Bolt (but they're all friends in the end anyways) Now, onto our three main characters in the OG series

V <--> Thad N <--> Uzi

Notes for now: - Unlike N who we associates him with golden retrievers, a friend of mine helped me assign Bolt a different dog breed, which is a Shiba Inu! - Venus likes volleyball (as in the series, Thad has big interests in football) - Z's hair is meant to style similar to Nori's (will be explain later after I design Swap!Nori)

#murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones uzi #murder drones cyn #murder drones j #murder drones v #murder drones doll #murder drones swap au

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akanesheep · 1 year

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So, now that I finished the Brothers ‘How they fell for MC’ series, I’m going to talking about the poly hierarchy within them:

It will go without saying that as far as the power structure, not much will change. The brothers have always lived this way, they’re comfortable with that end of the power dynamic.

Where it gets shiftier is where jealousy flare ups happen. This is where MC steps in. They don’t happen as much once the brothers agree to the relationship. MC does have their work cut out for them though. 7 partners is a lot, and we haven’t even gotten to the Prince, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon.

MC has to see the whole picture, or as close as possible. Which brothers handle their jealousy best, what day is promised to which brother, what are the circumstances of the argument. This sheep is a whole diplomat. Carefully treading the waters to find the fair and valid points. It isn’t perfect, but it’s fair. For example, if it’s date night with Mammon, but Levi just won tickets to an event for tonight and wants MC to go, it’s Mammon’s night. So unless Mammon volunteers his night to Levi, then that’s that.

Usually that’s when Levi’s envy will kick in, but he will be reminded of the times his brothers have had to respect his nights with you too.

It takes a few months for everyone to settle out, but once the routine is in place it works quite nicely.

It gets more hectic if you include Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, & Solomon. (Which I do, like, have you met me??)

The brothers will grumble at first for a few reasons. Those that have issue with Diavolo will complain about him moving in on their partner. Some will be opposed to an Angel being involved with MC, and some will make comments about that shady sorcerer; but a few conversations as a group bring everyone to the same mind set, and ultimately things adjust.

I say group conversation and I mean group conversations. It’s one thing for a brother or partner to mention something to MC as a one off issue, but more than once and it will be addressed during the weekly gathering. It sounds like a bit of a business meeting, but it keeps the air between everyone open and clear. After all, they are all functioning as a singular unit.

Diavolo’s responsibilities can make a scheduled date night near impossible, as can Lucifer’s, and Barbatos’. Lunch dates are common between them. Official events that require attendance are tricky, who do they attend with? Usually they attend as the hosts guest. Which means Diavolo usually… and MC will wear Diavolo’s colors, however there will be a flash of sapphire, a twinkle of gold, a glint of emerald… yes, they make sure some part of themselves is recognizing all of them. Even if it’s a bracelet or a ring with each of them represented. They also have access to dance with MC during the event. There’s a protocol to this as with all things. The host gets first and last dance, no question. After those dances, depending on how much MC wants to dance, they take turns. Beel, Levi, & Belphie aren’t big on dancing, so they use their time to help MC recover, drinks, snacks, conversation. MC loves them for the ability to slow down and just observe the room, to take a breath.

Let me pause here to point out that while most events are hosted by Diavolo, there are a large number hosted by Asmo, or Mammon. Satan has hosted a few art shows, Levi is a frequent honored guest at anime conventions, as well as his Royal Navy duties. So usually in some small place or time, they are all the main partner to MC.

With the addition of the non-brother partners, it does get a little more complicated schedule wise, as there is no longer a set day for each, and sometimes days get shifted because of late night work (Lucifer, Dia, and Barbatos) so depending on MC’s mood, they either go in to help work, or they have a pajama party and movie night with the others, sometimes, they just have a rare night alone, to soak in the tub and relax, put on one of their partner’s shirts and curl up, read a book, and drift off to sleep.

Or get surprised by the door bursting open to find one of the brothers charging forward with some kind of insanity (they will never learn to knock XD)

So there you have it, how MC balances a poly relationship with all the brothers + the non-brother dateables.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me!#obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #obey me x reader

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expectodragons · 7 months

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The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

✦ Summary: The stress of studying for your final exams is finally getting to you and you're in desperate need of some relief.

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

✦ Rating: Explicit, 18+ only - minors do not interact.

✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, oral sex (f!receiving), PWP, reader is of age, slight power dynamics, student/professor relationship, vaginal fingering.

It was not often you found yourself in use of the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. The place was a privilege for but a select few students, yourself included. Being a Quidditch Captain did have its benefits, after all. But rarely did you find the time, or the need, to traverse the many steps up to the hidden room.

Today, however, had given you every single reason to seek out the vast warm waters of the pool-like tub.

Exam season was upon the castle and your nerves, in particular, were due to fry if you spent another moment huddled over a dusty tome in the library with your group of fellow seventh-years. Between a series of challenging classes and the overwhelming air of expectation that was placed upon you by your professors, you were a step short of collapsing.

You had felt your eyes blurring together the words of Malinda Haddock and her many essays on the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration in the fifteenth century. Your head had pounded against the table, much to the concern of Poppy who had been working alongside you.

It felt like your mind could consume no more information – a sponge already seeping out water – you were at your fill of knowledge. And nothing the famed witch could say about the difficulties of transfiguring avian creatures into knitting needles could breach your mental walls.

So, with a weary pace, you had found yourself taking the long journey up to the top of the South Wing’s tower. Flicking the spigot on every faucet until the bath filled with technicolor soap and kaleidoscope-colored bubbles floated into the air. Time had passed without your awareness, so lost in the delicious sensation of warm water rippling over your stressed shoulders.

But, when you at last extracted yourself from the lovely bath and had dried and dressed yourself once again, you finally took notice of the time. Curfew was due to start in but a few minutes and dinner was obviously out of the question.

As you descend the spiral staircase, eager to pick up your pace in an effort to make it to your common room before the clock strikes the hour, you find yourself face-to-face with a particular Potion Master.

“Ah,” Sharp says your name in that slow sardonic tone. He peers up at you from his lower position on the staircase.

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

If he held you up any longer, you would never make it to your common room in time.

Sharp takes a step, and then another. And even though he’s three steps below your position on the landing, he’s fully eye-level with you.

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

Your chin juts out, ever so slightly, “I was. And if you’ll excuse me, I wish to make it to my dorm before curfew begins, sir.”

The professor gives an amused hum of consideration. You feel your cheeks become aflame with heat with the look he bestows upon you.

Resting a hand on the banister, he leans into the rails, as though he has nowhere to be in a particular hurry.

“How are your study sessions coming along? I believe the entirety of your year has taken over Scribner’s domain this past week.”

With a huff of annoyance, an impatience sending your feet rocking back and forth, you respond with a simple, “Fine.”

“And your classes? You’re keeping up with the workload I imagine?”

“Yes, sir. If you excuse me, please. I really must get going.”

Before you can so much as brush past him on the other side of the staircase, Sharp moves another step forward and takes a gentle hold of your right arm – your skin still radiates the warmth from your long bath and you know he can feel it between his fingers as his thumb begins to rub a steady rhythm against your hammering pulse point.

The two of you rarely appeared together outside of the safety of his office. Where he could lock the doors and cast a simple Muffliato upon the room. Your meetings were cherished, but increasingly rare as the days leading up to the NEWTs kept you away. But here, in the Faculty Tower – on the top landing of the tower, at that – you feel a familiar rush of desire pooling in your stomach as Aesop takes a final step forward.

Towering over you now, you can feel his warm breath upon your face. Smell the comforting aroma of sandalwood and musk that lingers on his robes. You can even see the beginnings of that familiar small smile of his that sends your heart racing anytime he shares it with you.

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

The firm press of his thumb on your wrist has your knees buckling, lost in the weight of his heavy stare.

“It… has been rather stressful.”

“Hmm,” he hums in return. His charcoal-colored eyes bore into you as if undressing you here in the corridor before he seemed to make a decision – a sudden flicker of interest across his face your only warning.

“Perhaps you are in need of some relief, as it were.”

You gulp, feeling a flood of want surging through your chest. Your neck flushes with warmth and your ears begin to burn as you carefully turn your wrist in his hold until your fingers wrap around his thumb.

“Perhaps, sir.”

With a thin smile, Aesop leads you the few short steps up to his personal chambers.

This was one place you had never adventured before.

There had been two, and only two, separate occasions in your time with the potions professor, where a secret rendezvous occurred outside of his office. Once, in a hidden nook in the Bell Tower when the majority of the school was out on a Hogsmeade trip. And one very heated exchange in the changing rooms after a quidditch match when the rest of your team was headed off to the common room to celebrate your victory.

But this?

You allow your gaze to wander around the red-toned room. Taking in the small things that took up your professor’s private space. It was hardly as neat as you would have assumed it to be. Stacks of papers, bottles, and potion tools littered every available space. A lone chair sat before a blazing fire. A curious glance towards an ajar doorway nearly has your attention before Aesop’s hand cups your face.

“Now…” he intones. “What to do with you?”

Creeping up on your tiptoes, you lean into his touch.

“I could think of a thing or two.”

He chuckles, curling a finger through the damp locks of your hair.

“I imagine you could. However…” his gaze goes distant, seemingly transfixed by the droplets of water that travel from your hair down to his finger.

Giving an experimental tug, he brings you closer – holding onto but a single strand of your hair. You allow yourself to be pulled, pressing up to meet his curved smile as a kiss, almost too sweet, is placed upon your lips.

“Poor, poor girl,” he murmurs against your lips, tilted back just enough to keep him from making contact with your eager mouth. “Drowning under the pressure of your studies. Has no one shown you proper care these past few weeks?”

His snide remarks only have you leaning up to try and join your lips together once again, but he remains stubbornly persistent in refusing you further. Much to his own delight, apparently, as a wolfish grin materializes on his face.

And then his hands are traveling down your sides. Fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, the small swell of your stomach, the dip of your hips. As you wrap your arms around his neck, his head lowered to almost rest upon your shoulder, you feel the cool air of the room caress your legs as you find your skirt being pushed up.

“If only someone was willing to spare you a thought, hmm?” he crones.

Calloused fingers meet your bare skin, following the gentle curve of your inner thighs as they trail higher and higher.

“What have we here?”

You can sense the pleased smile on his face as his fingers delve into the wet heat between your legs – your eyes closing and your head tilting back in delight at the first brush of his knuckle across your lips.

Warm breath tickles your ear as teeth gently tug at the lobe.

“Eager indeed.”

At last, you lean against him, moaning a gentle, “Aesop.”

He smirks, removing his hands – allowing your skirt to fall back into place – as he pulls you toward the door across the room. Walking backward, he presses the entry open and leads you into a smaller room. Your eyes flash across an array of furniture, covered portraits, stacks of cauldrons, and books, before falling upon the bed.

“My darling girl,” he smooths, turning you slowly in his embrace until you find your knees backed into the crimson sheets of his bed.

A gentle press on your shoulder has you sitting down like a good student, while the man before you drops to a single knee. Your hands grip the sheets like a vice as your skirt is rolled up onto the tops of your thighs and two large palms press your knees apart.

Sharp settles there, in the V of your legs, as a hand lazily drags through the warm slick of your desire. Perhaps another clever quip could be said then, but his dark gaze has zeroed in on his own fingers now, and with a muffled cry parting from your lips Aesop leans forward and licks a warm stripe up your quim.

Pulling your fist to your mouth, you bite down on the flesh of your fingers as he repeats the action.

Heated breath grazes your cunt and the pleasant sting of his stubble scrapes the smooth flesh of your thighs as a deep moan rumbles across your womanhood.

His hands wind under your knees as he spreads you further open, his nose brushes against your mound, as he dips his tongue into your quivering hole – scooping up every bit of sweet juice he finds dribbling out of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Your hand falls from your mouth to latch into the silky strands of his dark tresses. Pulling him closer as he starts to work a steady rhythm with his mouth. Buried between your thighs like he was meant to always be there, Aesop moans another gravelly sound as he begins to suck your clit between his swollen lips.

Like a man starved, he finds his fill in the juncture of your legs. Licking up everything you have to give him, his hold upon your thighs leaves crescent-shaped bruises that send another delicious wave of pained pleasure toward your core.

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

Urged on by your desperate cries, the potions professor barrels forward, sucking your button in earnest as you tug his hair into a tight grip. You can feel it, the sweet desperate coil in your core. Soon it will snap and your release will paint your lover’s face.

Rocking your hips to meet him, you find yourself grinding against his lips, though that only seems to encourage him as he flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with that glazed-over heavy expression in his eyes.

Sweat clings to his brow and his hair curtains his face, but all you can focus on are those gorgeous eyes. So drunk on you, your taste, your cunt. You find your bundle curling tighter and tighter, your hips rocking in a frantic pattern, as Aesop sucks down your sweet pleasure.

A rumbling moan sends you over the edge as he dives into you with a fervor.

His tongue, almost too rough now, laps up your desire as your hold on his hair loosens and your legs seem to become leaden underneath you.

Slowly, he pulls back – his chin a wash of cum and spit – as he huffs out a few raggedy breaths. His lips grace your thigh with wet kisses before he finally drops your legs back to the ground and carefully eases himself back up.

Taking a place beside you on the bed – where you are now lounged back, breathing several shuddering gasps – Aesop drags his hand across your torso, fingers snagging on the buttons of your blouse. He walks up your sternum before his thumb finds the curve of your bottom lip and tugs down upon the silky flesh.

“Feeling relaxed, dear one?” he murmurs, watching you with a transfixed sort of expression that spoke of feelings more than just casual fleeting interest and obvious lust.

Huffing a lofty laugh, you shake your head – lulling your head to the side so you can meet his gaze.

“So relaxed, I fear I might not be able to move again.”

His hand trails to the curve of your jaw, where he cups your heated flesh – a lone finger rubbing over the delicate skin of your cheek.

“That would truly be a shame if that were the case.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” you smile brightly. Feeling the ticklish tingle of your legs and the overwhelming sensation of undiluted happiness coursing through you.

Sharp hums once again in agreement before he leans down to place a lingering kiss upon your honey-sweet lips.

#aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp fanfic #professor sharp fanfic #hphl fanfic #my fic

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secondjulia · 5 months

Text

Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room.

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource!

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home.

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income.

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be.

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to.

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough.

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole.

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly.

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk.

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh?

What has he been doing? That’s vague.

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling.

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!”

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center.

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice. He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now.

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind.

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned.

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help!

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice.

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone.

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain.

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to.

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again.

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep.

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court.

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain.

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough.

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.”

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body.

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up.

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob.

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects.

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development.

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair.

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid.

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior.

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building.

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile.

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

#Apparently paid plasma donation is illegal in the UK & you can't donate 2x/week SO...#This is also the Dystopian AU where all the regulations have been axed sorry #+I don't know how buses work in the UK. This is how they work in my city :)#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #fanfic #dreamling #my fanfic

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