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vanteguccir · 4 days

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Anxiety On Tour | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is just another fan at one of the Let's Trip Tour shows, until it comes time for the Meet&Greet. Things get out of hand for Matt, and she ends up being the only one who manages to calm him down.

Warning: Panick attack, anxiety.

Requested?: Yes, by @patscorner

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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The stage was illuminated by a myriad of lights, as the bustling crowd eagerly pressed near the front. Y/N could feel the electricity in the air as the beats of upbeat music keep echoing throughout the venue from the big speakers. It was the beginning of the much-awaited Sturniolo Triplets show from the Let's Trip Tour.

She couldn't believe she was finally there, in the middle of the action, about to witness the boys she'd followed through a screen for years, finally face to face. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N let herself be carried away by the infectious energy of the crowd as she got closer and closer to the stage.

The music reached a crescendo, and then, suddenly, they appeared. Matt, Nick, and Chris entered the stage, radiating a magnetic presence that immediately captured everyone's attention. Y/N held her breath as her eyes found Matt, the boy she had never seen in person, but with whom she had a huge crush for months, in the flesh right in front of her. He looked even more stunning out of screen, with his messy hair and shy smile.

As the greetings sentences were let out by the three's microphones, Y/N felt a wave of emotion course through her body. It was as if every cell within her was vibrating in tune with them, with the pulsing energy of everyone around her.

As the show progressed, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off Matt. Every laugh, every saying, seemed to hypnotize her even more. She wondered if he could feel her gaze on him or if that was just her desire playing with her mind.

When it was time for a break between games, Matt grabbed the microphone and began speaking to the audience. His voice was soft and engaging, making everyone around him feel like they were having an intimate conversation with him. Y/N held her breath, hanging on every word he said.

As Matt interacted with everyone, his eyes swept across the crowd and, for a brief moment, seemed to meet Y/N's. She felt her face blush intensely, and a shy smile formed on her lips before she looked away, embarrassed, holding back the immense urge to scream at having been seen by him.

As the show continued, Y/N found herself caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions. The pulsating energy of the music, the interactions, the magnetic presence of the triplets, and, most of all, Matt's closeness left her ecstatic. Every moment was like a dream come true, and she refused to blink for fear of missing even a second.

When the stage lights finally went out and the final words were given, Y/N felt a mixture of ecstasy and melancholy by the feeling of the long-awaited moment coming to an end, but little did she know that the night was just beginning.

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Y/N waited anxiously in line for the meet and greet. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest while her right leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to last forever.

As she watched the fans in front of her greet the triplets with beaming smiles, Y/N wondered what it would be like to be so close to them. She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the door that led to the meet and greet room where traps played loudly from the speakers, and colorful lights painted the walls.

Finally, her turn has come. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she entered the room, and her eyes instantly locked on Matt, who was there, so close and so real.

The three were side by side, Nick had a relaxed posture as he placed aside a teddy bear that he had probably received from the previous fan, while Chris glanced at Matt, seeming to watch him closely.

Matt was feeling fine until seconds before, but something inside him started to stir. His heart beating faster, his breathing became irregular, and a feeling of panic came over him.

So, when Y/N walked over to greet Matt with a hug, she noticed something was different, off. His arms were shaking, and his eyes looked a little lost, as if he were fighting some internal battle. Now up close, she could also notice how rigid his posture was and how his hands were clenched into a firm fist.

Y/N felt a wave of worry run through her own body, struggling internally over what to do, but ended up deciding not to expose Matt's situation in front of anyone, remaining silent. Instead, she smiled warmly and tried to keep the conversation light, hoping not to bother him with intrusive questions.

"Hi, Matt." The girl greeted softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that came over her body. "It's amazing to finally meet you in person. How are you?"

Matt lifted his head towards her for the first time, appearing to have only noticed her presence at that moment, trying to open a smile like hers, but his lips were trembling to the point where it came weaker than he wanted to.

Y/N could see the tension in his blue eyes as he tried to hide his discomfort, wondering what had happened to make him react in such a way so suddenly. Meanwhile, Matt tried to convince himself that it was nothing and that it would soon pass.

But it didn't pass. Instead, the feeling of panic grew, enveloping him like a dense fog. He felt like he was suffocating, like the world was crumbling around him, while his mind convinced him that he was alone.

As Y/N moved to greet Chris and Nick individually, keeping a brief and quick conversation - following the pattern imposed by the team that observed them -, she noticed how Matt seemed increasingly agitated, her own mind racing in an eagerness to help him, but the fear of reaction from the public, the team and even the triplets themselves held her back.

Until the picture moment. Y/N felt her heart sink as she felt Matt's breathing become more rapid and shallow as they prepared to take the group photo. She knew she couldn't just stand by and watch as he fought the monsters of his own mind.

With a lump in her throat and trembling hands, Y/N removed her left arm from around Chris, muttering a quick apology before turning to Matt, blocking the view of the line of people behind them, creating a small haven of privacy amidst the chaos of the room. The girl lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes with her own, desperately looking for any sign of life inside the blue orbs.

"Matt, hey." She began, her voice soft and comforting, acting as a balm to his troubled soul. "Are you okay?"

Matt's eyes widened in panic as he realized that the disturbances in his mind became visible enough to be seen by someone else. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at his brothers or the fans behind the girl in front of him, the fear of receiving disappointed or judgmental looks growing in his chest.

He limited himself to just shaking his head, unable to utter a word. His eyes were unfocused and lost, and his nails pierced the palm of his hands - probably drawing blood - with the force he was squeezing the area, trying to maintain control of the uncontrollable emotions.

Y/N could see the terror on his face, and her heart ached for him.

She turned her head slightly and passed her eyes briefly over Nick and Chris, noticing how the two now had a rigid posture, ready to make a move as soon as necessary. Chris's eyes carried great uncertainty, as if he was afraid of leaving Matt in the care of a stranger, but Nick's hand, which held his biceps surreptitiously, prevented him from acting on impulse.

Y/N turned her attention back to Matt, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth in a thoughtful act before sighing softly.

"Can I hug you?" Her voice came out in a whisper as low as the music that surrounded them, but loud enough for him to hear it, and she was sure of it when she received a small nod in response.

Without hesitation, the girl enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly against her chest as he trembled. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to control his breathing and calm his nerves. Y/N pressed her fingers into strategic points on his back, touching the hard knots with every inch of skin, lightly massaging the covered area.

"Everything is okay." Y/N whispered softly, snaking her right hand up his shoulder to the back of his head, interlacing her fingers in Matt's messy curls, stroking them carefully while guiding him to lay his head on her right shoulder. "You're safe here. No one is gonna hurt you. Just breathe with me, okay? Follow my breathing."

Y/N began to breathe slowly and deeply, the warm air hitting Matt's ear, helping him to follow her rhythm. A disguised smile grew on her face as she felt the boy's back rise and fall in an uneven rhythm below her left hand, knowing he was trying as hard as he could in that moment.

Little by little, she felt the tension in his body ease, his tremors becoming less intense as he finally reacted, clinging to her for comfort. His large but so fragile hands at that moment held her arm tightly, searching desperately for support and balance.

For a few precious moments, Y/N and Matt remained like that, joined in a comforting embrace, and lost in their own world of calm and safety. The sounds of Chris' agitated voice shouting for water to one part of the team and Nick's voice demanding the other part to remove the fans that were still there were all muffled against both of their ears, just the unison rhythm of their breathing and the beats of their connected hearts echoing around their bodies.

When Matt finally pulled away, his eyes quickly met Y/N's, overflowing with gratitude and fascination, feeling flattered to have had the opportunity to meet a girl so empathetic to the point of helping him without a second thought.

His mind searched for words to thank her, but to Y/N, he didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.

"How can I-" Matt began, clearing his throat briefly as he heard his own voice come out hoarse and worn out by the whirlwind of emotions that he went through in a short space of time. "How can I thank you? Repay you for what you did for me..."

Y/N shook her head, interrupting his sentence, her own smile widening and brightening her features as her eyes remained fixed on the blue ones, who now seemed to be taking their own time to carefully analyze her expressions, seeming mesmerized.

Matt's warm hands suddenly felt heavier against the exposed skin of her arm, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed how close they were physically, the boy's scent filling her nostrils with an inescapable force, leaving her dizzy and lost.

"I think you owe me a picture."

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A/N²: I hated it, so I'm so sorry if it sucked badly ;(

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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chiwhorei · 9 months

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Bésame

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Tags: 18+ ONLY mdni, College AU, roommates to lovers, tooth-rotting love for this man, pussy-devouring, fingering, squirting, I wrote this in one go so you get what ya get

Word count: 2.3k- written in one, prolonged blackout

Notes: I’m fucking back bitches. I missed you, I missed this. I hope I stick around this time. This was supposed to be a blurb about squirting but the melancholy romantic won again.

Cross-posted to Ao3!

There’s something about the smell of crisp summer morning, the feeling of gentle air, humidity whispering across your face. The inescapable heat of late July is hidden from the world in its earliest hours.

“Keep up Mamí, I’m not getting stuck in the rain because you’re daydreaming.”

You pick up the pace, jogging in quick steps to catch up to Miguel. He’s farther ahead than you realized, strong muscles and wispy brown hair outlined by dark storm clouds.

Your breath is heavy, rattling against your ribs while you match the canter of Miguel’s long stride. He’s never gone easy on you, but your labored breathing makes him ease up a bit.

“What’s got your attention this morning? Or were you admiring the view behind me?” Miguel reaches up to adjust the cloth headband keeping his hair out of his face. His arms look like they’re chiseled from marble, strong, tanned skin flexes under the cutoff he wears in some iteration every morning.

Your eyes glaze over, not realizing the intensity of your gawking until Miguel’s eyes find yours. The color is deeper than usual, darker and melting into the black of his pupil. You write it off as the gloomy weather above, but he licks his bottom lip before relinquishing your stare.

You forgot what he asked you, but he doesn’t press the subject any further. Out of character, but appreciated.

“What time is your last class over tonight?” He asks, you fix your eyes on a stop sign ahead to avoid getting lost in his stare again. You see him from the corner of your eye, the angle making it seem that his gaze is focused on the bounce of your chest.

It’s just the angle, you sound even less convincing in your own head.

“Uh- well it’s Monday, so I have lab until 4:30.” You groan out the last part, ruminating on the long day ahead of you.

“My evening class got canceled for today, so I can take care of dinner tonight.”

You hum at him, his offer settles against your shoulders like honey. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day.

Sometimes he almost feels real.

He folded you into his life like melted chocolate. An easy, peaceful affection towards you since you moved in all those months ago. An offer to join his morning runs, filling a thermos of coffee for you to grab before leaving the apartment, coming home to dinner with that casual dismissal that makes your head spin.

“It’s no problem, mamí, that’s what roommates are for.” He’s always been so plain and earnest, smoothing over any objections with a sugary term of endearment and those big brown eyes.

Your heart aches so deeply when you forget that he’s just your roommate. Stabbing and twisting in your breastbone when you think about how much effort he must put in with dates.

You stop abruptly, feet cemented to the sidewalk and chest heaving rapidly. Miguel slows to a stop when he notices you missing from his side.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re quitting, we’re two blocks from the apartment.” His voice is light, but his eyes fall from amusement to concern when he sees how hard your breath falls from your lungs.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, are you feeling okay?” He paces towards you and another deep inhale fills your senses with his musky scent instead of the rainy morning air you desperately need.

“I- I’m fine,” you struggle against the words, lifting your gaze to see Miguel’s sweat-slicked curls flop against his forehead.

You blame the early hour, or light-headedness, or a moment of delirium as your hand comes up to tuck the stray hair back under his headband.

“You’re so beautiful, Miguel.”

Your words tumble out, breaching the filter in the back of your mouth that keeps you from saying stupid shit to the man you’re stuck in a lease with.

Miguel’s breath hitches, concern falling away and filling its place with an unreadable expression. His eyes pace between your pupils, freezing the blood flowing under your skin. Why does his proximity make you act like a love-sick puppy? The frustration wells up, lining your tear ducts.

“That- I- I’m sorry.” You return his look with an awkward laugh, coughing around the lump in your throat.

Your body moves on autopilot, sidestepping his frame to make a run for it, but Miguel circles your wrist with a large palm. His skin is callused and warm as he pulls you to stand in front of him once again.

He holds you in his stare, burning eyes and the light grip of your wrist is more than enough to keep you in place.

There’s nothing more you can do but stutter around your tattered pride. Racking against your brain to find an excuse for your weird behavior. A possession? A moment of psychosis? You’ll call a priest later, but you first need to get away from Miguel and the sweet smell of cologne and sweat so you can think clearly again.

“Mi hermosa,” your balance is kicked out from under you as he holds both wrists against his chest.

Miguel’s lips dip down to you, you can almost taste his cherry chapstick as he traces his words above your mouth. You feel the first drops of rain as they hit Miguel’s cheek and bounce off your nose. Before you can taste that distinct cherry flavor, the angry crack of thunder pulls your bones from your skin.

“We need to get home,” you see a flash of lightning as it reflects in Miguel’s eyes, it splits the clouds and opens up a swollen reservoir- rain pounding down on the two of you, “we’re getting soaked Mig-“

“Say the word, Mamí,” He interrupts you, barely fazed by the storm that was ripped from your soul and clawed itself into the sky, “Tell me to fuck off and I’ll never try this again.”

Miguel drops his grip on your wrists, moving those eclipsing palms to the juncture of your neck. His lips beg for your touch once again and for the millionth time.

“Bésame.” Your accent is rigid and unpracticed, remedial at best but music to Miguel’s ears. His mouth meets yours in a wide smile, fingers finding purchase on either side of your neck.

His kiss is dripping and desperate, if you’re not careful you could drown right here and sink into the concrete.

All of the times you’ve imagined this moment are nothing compared to the real thing. He’s aggressive and hungry, licking into your mouth and vibrating your tongue with a growl.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Miguel bites at your lip before pulling away, his face is obscured in the pouring rain, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

How wrong he is, you think.

Miguel pulled you through the threshold of your shared apartment as soon as the door was unlocked, the only sense he has left is depleted- used up from keeping his composure while you fumble with your keys. His strong, broad arms circling around your waist to tug you ever closer, keeping your mouth open and whining against his.

Your feet lift from the carpet as Miguel lifts you up with the same effort as a paperweight. The feeling of his hands settling on your ass is the last pull against your unwinding composure. You’re legs wrap around his middle and you grind down hard against his abdomen.

“Fuck, I can feel your pussy through your leggings.” His words make you dizzy, grinding against him with a brainless rhythm.

“We don’t have to,” his lips trace down your neck between each word, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his eyes hits you squarely in the chest and moving across your skin like fever.

“Miggy, I need you. Please, anything you give me- I’ll take it.”

Your even tone shocks the both of you, the most confident you’ve sounded all morning.

“Fuck, I almost want to make you regret those words.” His teeth graze the tender spot under your chin.

“But the first thing I want is a taste of that sweet little cunt.” You’re sure your knees would buckle if Miguel wasn’t holding you, the rough tambor of his voice will be the death of you- you’ll take your chances.

Miguel carries you past the small kitchen and living area, you don’t notice where he’s sat you until he pulls his lips away from yours.

His room smells like fresh laundry and pine, the bedspread he’s set you on is tucked neatly on either side and soft under your touch. You’ve sat in this exact spot plenty of times, to study into the late night, to watch reruns of your favorite show on lazy Sunday afternoons- but never like this.

Miguel pushes you lightly so your back hits the mattress, he spreads your legs apart at the knee and you feel the tight fabric of your leggings as it shifts against your pussy.

Your running set is tight against your skin, sweat and rain covering your trembling body so that every inch is sticky and damp.

Miguel’s pointer and middle finger rub against your pussy, memorizing the outline of your plush lips under thin nylon. He’ll tuck the image into the back of his mind in case he needs it later.

“Mmm, no panties this morning,” he muses, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Miguel pulls at the fabric on your pussy, letting it snap back against your skin, you can feel the tight material drenched from your aching pussy. You want to tell him that you can hardly take this teasing, but all that comes out is a wobbly string of please, please, please.

“Don’t worry, Mamí, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your thoughts don’t catch up to him until the chill of open air hits your bare cunt. Your soaked leggings are tossed to the corner of his almost clinically clean room.

Miguel takes a moment to marvel at the sopping wet pussy he’s got trapped against his mattress.

“Que maravilla,” he kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until you drown him.

His tongue laps at you like you’re what’s keeping him alive. He kisses with his mouth open, collecting your offering to him and drinking it down with every flat lashing of his tongue.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer. Desperate to drink his fill of you. Every long swipe at your sloppy hole is dotted with a kiss, every inch of skin is electric- zapping against your clit with every measured nip.

Miguel’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open.

Once the digits are wettened, Miguel pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch.

He licks his praises against your soft skin as your muscles relax around the thick intrusion. His vision fuzzy at the edges thinking about how you’ll take his cock. The thought is pushed back for now, lingering on it could break you when he’s just gotten started.

Your hips rock down against him, catching your clit with his wide palm.

Your whimpering emboldens him, cock weeping in the waistband of his shorts. He’s harder than he’s ever been, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He needs you to break- crumble into pieces so he can put them back together.

“Miguel, fuck, I need- you need to slow down or I’m gonna“

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, Miguel is hypnotized at the sight of your pussy spilling over against him. He doesn’t relent even as you cry out and shake under him. He doesn’t miss a beat as your pussy squelches, clear liquid splashing against his chest.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t mention you’re a squirter.” His pace is torturous, pumping against that spot deep inside you that turns you into a puddle.

Once his other hand comes down to circle your clit, you know that you’re done for. The fear of letting loose like this is something that holds your rigid body from completely letting go. No one’s ever pulled you from that damn before, but Miguel has torn it down completely.

“Let go for me, Mamí, need to feel you cum against my fingers, need to see you squirt for me again.” The words drip from his mouth like hot syrup and coat your stiff muscles.

He pulls more out of you with each pump of those skilled fingers, more than you ever thought you had in you, more than you could imagine.

You cry as you cum, tears spilling over your cheeks in fat streams. The feelings you’ve kept inside for Miguel, the schoolgirl crush, the craving, the primal need all splashes against the both of you with the telltale spasm of your cunt against his fingers.

Your mind feels like it’s been dipped in wax, dripping from it’s fixed position to coat your shoulders. He makes quick work of tugging you back down to earth, lying next to your limp body with an anchoring hand on your stomach. He coos you, whispering praise into your hairline.

The sun peeks through Miguel’s window, clouds moving on to the next town and leaving the still early morning to brighten up the sky. Your face feels hot in realization.

You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

* * *

All work is mine blah blah I don’t wanna go find my old copyright thing but I’ll piss in your water supply if you steal this.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #atsv x reader #miguel spiderverse

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cyb3rtarot · 6 months

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What Messages are Coming Through in Your Dreams?

Disclaimer: tarot readings are not replacements for professional advice. Take what resonates; don’t force a reading to fit. This is just a look into some of the energies in your dreams, not a comprehensive reading of what all your dreams mean. I used a recolored Smith-Waite, Tarot of Mystical Moments, Zerner-Farber Tarot, Oracle of the Radiant Sun, the Chakra Oracle, and runes.

pile 1↝pile 2 pile 3↝pile 4

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Pile 1:

Cards: four of wands, the hermit, empress rx, flattery (Venus in Gemini, 3rd house)|| exaltation (Moon in Taurus, 2nd house), queen of swords sideways, sharing (queen of action), completion, page of pentacles rx, page of swords, Ehwaz rune

The Dreams: hi pile one! Your energy came through strongly so your dreams could be more intense and vivid right now. You could also be having more bad dreams. You may feel like you’re in another realm or some kind of fantasy world while sleeping. In these dreams you could feel little control over anything or like you’re a different person. Like you’re “you” but feeling the experience of someone else. This could include very strong emotions. For example, melancholy you don’t feel while awake. Your dreams could be lonely during this time; you may frequently end up by yourself, others are far away, or they turn on you (one scenario I’m seeing is getting ostracized at a party). You might also feel like you’re having similar dreams repeatedly. Some of you are flip-flopping between these deeper dreams and lighthearted ones. Despite the contents, some of you are using dreams and sleep as an escape or coping mechanism.

Themes that could be common in your dreams right now: the moon (especially full), night time, the beach/ocean, planets in the sky. Palm trees, masculine side characters (one recurring in particular), sports jerseys, crying, flowing robes, pregnancy (especially a sudden one), gas stations, corner/convenience stores, brown or brick buildings, a different country, gray clouds or white skies, eating snacks, being a side piece or cheated on, feeling unappreciated, being ostracized or abandoned, a new family, being lied to, real life conflicts or enemies, the dream starting good and turning bad

The Messages: your subconscious is processing a lot right now which is partly why your dreams seem fantastical and out of control. But your dreams are also reflecting conscious fear. There’s a sense of imprisonment in your own mind while awake and it continues in your dreams. Huge themes in your cards are fertility, birth, and abundance. For a chunk of you, this is literal as I was picking up on a pregnancy around 5-9 months. But in general, your dreams are portraying something coming into fruition or being birthed, like something you’ve wanted or worked really hard on for a long time. The cycle is almost complete, but at this last step there’s hesitancy on your end. There’s a split between people in this pile who are making big physical changes like moving, starting a family etc, versus people who have gone through a big internal transformation and are holding onto limiting beliefs (overlapping for many). Whatever developments are coming feel inevitable and time-based; I don’t think you’re “blocking” it. But I do feel like there's a lot of present joy you can partake in if only you will accept it. I am never encouraging you to not think or to do something that’s toxic for you, I am only encouraging you to find a healthy balance between your rational and emotional sides :] When you deny yourself comfort or joy hopefully it’s for a strong reason, not because you’re afraid to be happy. I do see a lot of you have done significant shadow and healing work already, and now you’re in a transitory period. There’s also highly personal signs in your dreams, some from your guides. Your dreams are showing you one half of a story or sentence. You’re being encouraged to fill the other half through your own analysis instead of accepting your dreams as the full picture. It’s important to be realistic with this; don’t immediately take the worst case scenario of your nightmares and say it must be real life lol

Extra Details: just went through an upsetting time, Brazil, dark hair, love interest from another culture, very bright blue eyes, disappointment in love, a brother energy or friend who’s like a brother, Japan, Portugal, conflict with friends/family/neighbors (all 3 at once for some), mermaids, weddings, photoshoots, 4444, fear of abandonment due to trauma. One or some of you experienced a miscarriage in the past and you may be projecting that trauma onto future hopes for a family. For others this is fear caused by something you really wanted falling through and an opportunity to try again. Experiencing healthy, loyal love after toxic past love. Creative projects. Travel delays. Visas. 90 day fiancé?

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Pile 2:

Cards: two of wands, king of pentacles, seven of pentacles, birth (Venus in Cancer, 4th house)|| five of cups rx, ten of pentacles rx, ace of cups rx, friendship (Moon in Cancer, 4th house), the world, Jera rune

The Dreams: hello pile two! Like pile one I see your dreams feeling lonely, though for you it does seem like there are people talking to you in them. These dreams could feel very nostalgic, melancholic, or empty, as if you’re in your own world. I’m also seeing disappointment—dreams where you are longing for something deeply. Dreams where you experience a taste of what you want in real life, and they make you feel worse when you wake up. You might not even get to enjoy those moments. They could feel aimless, like there’s no plot or point to them. I see scenes where people are talking to you, but it seems like both of you don’t really want to be there. Like everyone’s nihilistic or apathetic. The dreams could also be extremely beautiful but you don’t notice it at the time. You could dream about people and places you loved in your youth, even fictional ones. Some of you might feel like you’re playing a game or in a game in your dreams? If you felt drawn to pile one I encourage you to take a look!

Themes that could be common in your dreams right now: childhood home or town, driving down long roads, bright/pretty sunsets, the ocean/coast, small towns or villages, dreams centered on conversations, friends and love interests you don’t know in real life or from childhood, video games, something out of grasp, pregnancy, travel, expensive cars, walking down the street, everyone being unhappy, the countryside, feeling used, being rich, being in a relationship, the Sun as an odd color (like purple), young children

The Messages: you guys have an energy of mourning in two different ways. One, mourning for a part of yourself that was lost from your earlier youth, or something left behind. There might be a loss of innocence, wonder, or happiness; a natural self acceptance that no longer comes easy to you. On the other side of this, I see some of you have lost people who were important when you were younger. For some this is due to a passing, but for others the relationship came to a close. Whatever this perceived lack is, it weighs heavily and comes through your dreams in the form of beautiful but melancholic nostalgia. The good times are right there, but you can’t fully enjoy them. Dreams where people are unhappy, apathetic, or ticked off could reflect a falling out, feeling like you let someone down (including yourself), or that you can’t make amends. Your dreams are a reminder that it’s the natural progression of life for things to end and begin anew. This doesn’t lessen the burden, but as time keeps moving so do you. Grieve and feel your feelings, learn lessons, but remember there’s still life for you to enjoy. There are new things to be found. Try heavy-handed self-compassion and forgiveness. Though there’s a focus on what’s no longer there, there’s a sense of acceptance. A few of you have just come out of a heavy healing period and might be feeling things you haven't felt since childhood. Or, you may suddenly remember things from childhood.

Extra Details: 555, longing for a better life, RPG games (particularly JRPGs), racing or racing games, vintage, having lived with a friend or relative of similar age to you, having lived near water, feeling like the world is changing too much, periwinkle, a child passing (already happened. A cousin or sibling?), going to therapy or being a therapist, a falling out with multiple friends (I’m mostly getting two friends), feeling numb, lonely, a friend who always wears their hair in a ponytail, a masculine friend with dark, big hair and glasses, empty villages, Japan, regressing. I see a lack of adult presence in childhood. Growing up, you might’ve felt like you only had those few friends or cousins to depend on, even though you were too young to take care of each other.

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Pile 3:

Cards: Temperance, four of wands, the Empress rx, devotion (Saturn in libra, 7th house), consciousness rx, devotion, traveling, the outsider rx, new vision rx|| king of wands sideways, king of pentacles sideway, the emperor, the high priestess, the emperor rx, defense (Mars in Taurus, 2nd house), seven of wands rx, Tiwaz rune

The Dreams: hi pile three! I feel like you guys are not remembering dreams as much right now, or only remembering fragments. There are more nights where you feel like you didn’t dream. This is my pile that’s astral projecting at bed time, and this is part of why I picked up on less dreams (both purposeful and not. Some of you just started doing this). Whether through the astral or your dreams, you’re having adventures that are opposite your real life experience. I see you guys having dreams others may think scary—like being chased, but you’re just vibing. There’s a sense of being stuck, trapped, or stagnant in real life; there’s also a lack of understanding and denial about your desires. Your dreams are fulfilling repressed wants by sending you to any and everything you don’t do in real life. The subconscious aspect of your desires is partly why so many fantastical elements make their way into this other life. Many of you also like watching and reading speculative genres (particularly horror, sci-fi, and fantasy), and this is also why those elements are in your dreams. Your dreams seem like a means of escape and fun to balance your day and night. To combat feeling trapped, you could have dreams of running far away from a creature, or exploring somewhere beautiful. A specific part of this pile has dreams of being in romantic relationships, and while you may genuinely not want one right now, it could represent another desire such as socialization. Your day and night are actual opposites haha. This was strange but there was a strong pull between this pile and pile 4, I felt like some of you have friends that would be in pile 4 (or you may resonate with some details yourself if you feel drawn to it).

Themes that could be common in your dreams right now: night time/full moons, fantasy creatures and companions (I saw green goblins? And vampires), historical settings, castles, feeling creepy, eerie emptiness, bats, forests, villages or towns (especially empty ones), pine trees, green meadows and hills, bright flowers, butterflies, cabins, scary situations but not feeling scared, theaters or plays (red curtains?), places that look like fairytales, being attracted to a character in the dream (even the bad guys lol), people you know as background characters, real life events replaying with different outcomes

Messages: your dreams or astral travels are a reminder of your real life potential! You guys don’t always have to hold the fort down. I feel like you portray an easygoing attitude and convince yourself you’re just okay with whatever. There are many highly spiritual people in this group, and you may feel like physical life doesn’t matter as much because your spiritual life has the real depth. But the astral and dream world are not meant to replace the 3D world. Your capacity to have these experiences is proof that you have amazing things in you, and if you wish, you can seek amazement in the waking world too. It’s very much within your capacity! I also feel like some of you guys have a “duty,” like there’s a constant responsibility you shoulder (or that you’re assigned), and you feel like you should just accept it peacefully. Your sense of duty is wonderful, but please also have one towards yourself! A lot of you guys want to travel internationally and the main blockage is your own self limits.

Extra Details: Latino (specifically Mexican for a chunk of you), Eastern Europe, Germany, 414, Titanic (the movie? You might find it romantic), “hit the road,” Indigenous American, travel list, familial responsibility, dissatisfied with a job, straight brown or black hair (reaches top of back), big eyes, stressed but can’t tell under the numbness, going through the motions, feeling on the defense or like a side character in your own life, having a job to pay bills but not a career, wanting to run away, feeling like your spiritual skills are developing too fast, rubbing hands on face when stressed (I see someone standing in a hallway outside their boss’ office, rubbing their face and then carrying on), literally taking the trash out (during the night, or to a dumpster in an alley?), over-sacrificing oneself, court or legal matters (including working in law), believing in fairies, or astral travels involving fairies, fairy rings near ponds?

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Pile 4:

Cards: egotism (mars in leo, 5th house), eight of swords rx, ten of pentacles rx, the lovers rx,|| truthfulness (throat chakra), imagination (brow chakra), riches (saturn in capricorn, 10th house), fulfillment (saturn in sagittarius, 9th house), the fool, eight of wands, eight of pentacles, nine of pentacles, king of swords, the magician, Fehu rune

The Dreams [CW for creepiness]: hi pile four! First I’ll say there was a strong link between this pile and pile 3, so if you feel drawn to it maybe check it out! There are similarities with you two having dreams with fantastical creatures popping up, and having dreams that others would deem as nightmares. You might also only remember little fragments right now. However, I feel you guys out of all the piles are having the most actual nightmares. I saw dreams that started out nice and calm then suddenly flip. There could be random characters popping up out of nowhere that don’t match the dream at all, like clowns or mascots. You might also have a lot of dreams where you feel watched, or are being watched by something in the background. Dreams where you feel a strong need to escape; you might feel preyed upon, followed, or anxious. It mostly seems like any weird things in your dream just “linger” instead of actually harming you, though there might be the occasional attempt. There’s also a strong sense of nostalgia, but tainted? Like you can’t enjoy it because of whatever else is going on, or it’s a reminder of what’s been lost as you’ve grown up. These dreams feel like you’re often alone except for whatever is loitering around you. Or when there’s someone else there, it’s like they’re kind of flat? Like a memory being replayed. A lot of you guys could dream of your grandmother. You might have dreams that actually look like “dreamcore.”

Themes that could be common in your dreams right now: beautiful places (I’m seeing a village by a gigantic mountainside, very bright blue skies, fluffy white clouds), cozy homes/cabins, grandmacore, cooking or eating, bananas?, PB&J?, having extremely different dreams everyday or in one night, scary creatures just standing there, feeling like you have to fight or survive, friends or partners from years before, caves, grimace??, eyes (floating eyes?), shadows, jumpscares

The Messages: Your cards got me riled up! I feel like a good chunk of your life, maybe up until right now, has been very tumultuous. You had to hold on and just find strength to survive, and this caused you to repress a lot. Your dreams are calling you to face what you’ve repressed—your shadow—because you are quickly entering a completely different era. It feels like all the ways you’ve had to struggle and fight are going to start giving way to a new life filled with things that bring fulfillment or contentment. I’m not sure exactly what these blessings are but they spoke of freedom, abundance, and new opportunities. It did seem like these are blessings you’ll bring about by your own hand instead of completely unexpected ones. Despite how off-putting or strange your dreams may be, they are prompting you to resolve things from the past that would make the future difficult to appreciate. We all carry scars, but doing our best to heal them will allow us to create a more joyful existence. What are the things you’ve pushed deep down that have been begging to come out? I do feel like some of you have been manipulated into staying silent, maybe about the way you were treated and harmed, and this has created a stifled feeling. I don’t know your individual situation, but I greatly wish for you to find a space where you can safely and truthfully exist. If you feel you need the help of a professional to do healing work or to escape any dangerous situations please research what’s accessible to you!!

Extra Details [TW abuse mention]: swears a lot, childhood trauma or abuse (some of you are still in contact with harmful people from your childhood and this is influencing you), Central Europe or Belgium, very close to a grandmother (especially one who’s passed), blockages in throat energy (could have trouble speaking up for yourself, saying what you mean, stumbling on words, or you REALLY want to talk about something), toxic or abusive friends, having no one to support you, you might just want to scream, seeing sequential numbers (like 234) or 8 a lot, feeling pulled towards a career where you use your voice or express yourself (writer, singer, motivational speaker, artist, communications), absent parents, a great new job or financial opportunity, lots of astral projection and lucid dreaming in this pile but also physically moving and traveling (some of you could go look at places you want to travel to in the astral or dream realm lol, or some of you AP into space? Cool. I also see someone AP-ing or lucid dreaming somewhere with a lot of vegetation), environmental activism, your childhood home or town being renovated/changed, rectangular glasses (thin frame), major Capricorn or Saturn in chart. If you already felt drawn to pile 2, you may resonate with it also.

༻❁༺

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

hi! im not sure if you do any requests like this but if you wouldn't mind, with ghost or konig, where the reader is depressed and has suicidal ideations and ghost/konig save them before it's too late? ive gone through somewhat similar things and it would be comforting reading someone be there for them!

A/N: I don't mind requests like this, just read with caution, please! To anon, or anyone reading that has gone through this, you deserve happiness and are loved!! "988" is the nationwide hotline ♡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind, but I chose Ghost since I haven't written for Kӧnig (YET) Italics are Simon's perspective when it's happening at the same time as reader.

Summary: You feel swallowed by depression, but Simon saves you just in time.

Warning(s): depression, talk of suicide, PTSD themes - DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!, established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' | ao3 ver.

In Your Arms // Drabble

The world's weight had been on your shoulders; the constriction on your chest gave you a constant state of crisis, the strain on your heart soon to break it to pieces, and most of all the strain on your mind.

Each waking moment was a gamble of numbness or overdrive. In the instances of numbness, you were withdrawn, coasting your way through meals, laying awake at night with a blank stare. When you were in overdrive, it was like each bad thought physically pilled itself atop you, increasing your irritability and defensiveness.

It was as if the real you were trapped inside somewhere, but you were being overruled by an enclosure of gloom.

Chores, conversations, and the people you loved dearly became a melancholy hassle. You hated every second of it, and most of all hated yourself for behaving like this. At first, you were begging for an out—some savior to snap you out of it.

But now, you felt hopeless—and were making plans to give yourself that out.

You finally had an opportunity, a few hours where you’d have the house to yourself, with Simon out for a few hours. The problem was, gathering the courage. Even though you had the thoughts raining down on you, it was a decision you would never be able to take back.

You were sat in the shared bedroom, on top of the bed you’d just remade. It had been God knows how long by now, and all you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, choking back sobs. You looked at his side of the room, seeing the stark contrast between his and yours.

When you thought of him, how he’d be better off this way, it nudged you toward your answer.

Simon noticed your off-balance behavior the day he arrived home. Despite telling you how lovely you looked, he could tell the isolation of his deployment had taken its toll. The bags under your eyes, the dark circles worsening, your sudden change in eating habits—something he greeted like an old friend.

He, of all people, understood the feeling. He just didn’t know how to confront it.

He was never good with his words, or his ability to provide comfort physically; he relied on his crisis training, and most of all, how much he loved you.

When he said he was going out with friends, he was. At first. He found himself sitting in the driveway with a pit in his stomach, his anxieties swallowing him. He was protective, to begin with, but paired with the behavior changes, he was practically trembling at the thought of something horrible happening.

He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, debating on spending his night inside with you. Guilt consumed him for even considering going out anywhere when you’d waited months for him.

His stomach was in knots, twisting and turning, begging him to give in to nausea overtaking him any second. Something was wrong, something was going to happen.

You were fighting yourself again. The thoughts were racing so hard you could swear you heard them buzzing around your head like an angry swarm of wasps, each of them a stinger in your skin.

You reached for the nearest object—the remote—then stood to your feet, sending it plummeting towards the wall in front of you. It shattered the hanging picture frame on impact, sending shards of glass around the bedroom.

It did nothing to silence the thoughts. The sudden rush of fury only fueled them, begging for you to do something more to stop them—the only option you felt you had left.

He had his car door open, gathering his things before he was on his way inside. He’d made his decision, he would rather spend the night with you.

Simon’s trained ear heard the faint shatter of glass, seeing that the upstairs bedroom was the only one lit. There was no hesitation; no second thought to make sure it wasn’t a critter in the garbage can or another household.

He unlocked the door swiftly, a hand hovering over the holster underneath his jacket. The downstairs was clear, nothing askew. He next went up the stairs, leaning in the direction of the bedroom to pick up any sound coming from it.

In his mind, he was fearing the worst, paired with the anxiety he was already having in the car. He’d been here before, with too many people. It couldn’t, no, wouldn’t happen again, not with you.

When the door creaked open, it revealed you, shriveled against the wall with your head in your hands. Beside you, was a broken picture frame, sent flying into pieces around the room. His mind put the pieces together—the irritability, the insomnia, the withdrawn behavior, his gut feeling—all coming together now.

But his worst fears hadn’t come true. You were alive. Alive, and in need of his help. His gut feeling, that painful ache in his stomach when he left, it was right.

His knees dropped to the ground beside you, ignoring the slices forming through his clothes. His entire focus was on you, nothing else.

“Love…” He whispered, grabbing ahold of your knee to make you look his way. When your pooled eyes met him again, he felt like his heart had been ripped in two.

The sight of you, the pain written in your expression. Not physical pain, not heartache, but hopelessness. A specific, known too well by him, expression.

Simon could barely stand it, the person he practically breathed for, fought for, succumbing to their sorry—and he could’ve been too late. The warmth of your flesh under his fingertips, how it shivered, he knew you were still here, still breathing.

He was at a loss for words, even for a man who spoke very little. Angry at himself, not you, for not saying something earlier on. His withdrawal was both a blessing and a curse—a lesson well learned, now that his life with you had flashed before him.

Without a second thought, he scooped you up, setting you gently on the neat bed. He remained standing in front of you, staring down at you with a foggy expression.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, blinded by the tears.

Simon visibly shook his head, forcing yours into his chest. It wasn’t your fault, and if he could force you to believe that, he would. He didn’t have words to give you, only the comfort of his presence. He just held you; held onto your frame as you wept into his abdomen, soaking through the fabric of his tee.

Tears only teased at his own eyes, but never made it past them. Though internally, he was weeping for you, nearly inconsolable.

It was his job to follow orders, to do his duty. His duty now, was you. He had to be strong for you, always, otherwise he had no purpose left on this Earth.

When the sobs had turned into defeated sniffles, he dropped to his knees to meet your eye level. Him, never one for eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eye off you now.

“I’m here now, I promise.” His deep voice echoed through the room, bouncing off your repines for his comfort.

You were still in shock, how one minute ago you were so close to the edge, but the next he was by your side. The sorrow only subsided for the moment, but with him as a distraction, you knew you had at least one person there for you. One person who understood what you were going through, no doubt about it.

His large hands, the ones stained with the blood of his hands, gently cradling your face until you were lucid enough to give him your full attention. He was there for you, no matter how hard the stubborn thoughts tried to convince you he wasn’t.

They moved from your face, to your neck and arms, then your fingers, searching for any sign of physical injury.

“Let me help you, please…” Simon placed a small kiss on one of the tear droplets streaming down, wiping away the rest with his thumb. His hand went down again, clasping around yours tenderly as he routed you to the shared bathroom.

He grabbed a spare cloth off the rack, wetting it slightly in the sink as he traced it along each tear stain, his other hand on your waist the entire time. He was focused and stiff, but his eyes were gentle.

When he finished, he cupped your face again, touching his lips to yours, then your temple. “You are everything to me, got it?” He whispers against your forehead, eyes still wide, reeling with the shock of nearly losing you.

Your head was in his chest again as one hand remained on your waist, the other holding your head in place. He was savoring this, not taking you for granted for a second.

Deep inside, he was picturing all those months he’d left you alone to feel like this.

How each tear he wiped was a lash of regret. He was going to make up for it from now on. Whether he could help you one on one, or you talk to a professional, he would back you every step of the way.

That was his duty.

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #tw depression

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glittergelpensblog · 9 months

Text

Shadow and Song (Azriel x Reader)

As the second youngest Archeron sister, it always felt like it was you and Feyre against the world. You felt like you lost a part of yourself the day she left, and then came back to leave again. When she shows up at your door with three winged fae, you refuse to do anything but help her this time.

This chapter is mostly the building of the reader's relationship with Feyre, there will 100% be more parts :) Part Two

It was quiet in the estate, as it always was in the winter. Nothing could be heard but the soft sound of the piano you had been messing with for the past hour, unable to create anything but a deep, somber melody.

The instrument was something you had became familiar with as a child, teaching yourself different chords, stringing them together with notes to create song. It was one of the few items the collectors did not take when they came to humiliate your father that day, the scratched and worn instrument more of a hassle to remove than what it was worth.

It annoyed Nesta when you were a child, but as you grew older and your jamming of chords streamed together to sound more like music than torture, she would sit in the room with you as you played, on those long winter nights with no sound other than the soft notes and the crackling hearth.

But since Feyre left, you were unable to put together a single song that wasn't melancholy, your joy and happy tune gone with her.

You and Feyre were always the closest, being not even a year apart. You were born on the new year, and Feyre born eleven months later on Winter Solstice. Despite you being older, it was always Feyre that protected you, never letting you into the woods to help hunt, always warning you of the town boys who's stares lingered too long.

Without being allowed to help Feyre, you supported your family in different ways, you got a job as a servant woman in the local pub, serving mead and roast to loud drunken men and women.

Even with your miserable job and Feyre's hunting, your family could barely stay afloat, nearly dying every winter, either from the starvation or from the sharp words your sisters always seemed to sling at each other, tongues the only weapons your family could truly afford.

And it remained that way for what felt like eternity, the only peace that was brought to you was seeing your sister's face at the end of the day. Safe, or as safe as she could be in the conditions you all lived in.

It was Feyre who was there for you, after every bad evening at the pub, after every hurtful word thrown your way by Nesta. She would always comfort you with her warm smile, sit by your side at the piano bench, head on your shoulder as you played. She had even surprised you one night, painting deep blue mountains all over for you to see when you got home from work.

But then she was gone, and you were heartbroken. You often wondered why it had been her who had to go take care of your aunt, and not Elain or Nesta. They were more proper than the two of you anyways, would keep her better company than a huntress.

And when your dads fortune was found at the bottom of the sea, you felt empty. Feyre wasn't there to see it, to see that you made it, to see that your family had survived.

And when she came back, she found you exactly where you would always be whenever she got home. Sitting at your piano, fingers delicately toying at the keys. It was't the same piano, of course, but a shiny new one made of maple and real ivory keys, your uncomfortable wooden bench replaced by one with a plush, deep blue cushion.

You wept, you wept so hard as you turned and found her standing behind you, you had hugged your sister so tight and fought the urge to never let go.

And she was gone as soon as she had come, telling you and your sisters the story of what had truly happened. How there was no aunt, no found fortune, but a fae man who had taken her, who had taken care of your family as he had taken care of her.

You saw it in her eyes, no longer an ice cold blue, but ones that had shone like the stars in the sky. This fae man, Tamlin, made her happy, loved her, and she loved him.

It hurt to let her go, but you knew it was what was best for her. This was no longer her life. You had tired to go with her, you had begged. But her and Nesta refused, keeping you under close watch the night she left. Feyre, protecting you from the horrors of Prythian, and Nesta, stopping you from what she was sure would be certain death.

It had been months, and you still haven't heard from her, did not know if she was okay. Sometimes, you had wondered what horrors she was enduring, but you would quickly shut those thoughts out, reminding yourself of how strong she was, how she kept your family alive for years. She was a survivor, and you knew some fae woman living under a rock wouldn't change that.

The creaking of the front door snapped you from your thoughts. You never got visitors, especially with your father gone on business. Even with Grayson, it was always Elain at his home, never yours.

Not bothering to shut the cover on your piano, you sat up quickly, brushing any wrinkles out of your maroon gown before you strode towards the entrance of the home.

"Mrs. Laurent" You called, almost at the front door. "Who is here to visit?"

There was silence as you edged closer, worry starting to edge your features. Mrs. Laurent was never silent, always a light-hearted, protective woman, being the closest thing to a mother you had ever had.

You peered over the woman's soft shoulder, the breath leaving your lungs as you took in the sight before you.

It was your sister in the doorway, an unnatural beauty and elegance lining her features. The same but different in every way.

She paled instantly at the sight of you, face contorting into worry and fear. Her eyes, so beautiful, were not shining like stars how they were the last time you saw her. They were empty. So empty.

What happened to your sister?

"Feyre." You breathed, silent tears streaming down your face now. You missed her, you missed her so much.

"Y/N" She croaked, and before she could speak another word, before any tears could form in her eyes, you had all but shoved Mrs. Laurent aside, enveloping your sister in a warm embrace.

You were scared to let go, scared to leave the doorway. Knowing she was not here to stay. The longer you held onto her, the longer it would take for her to leave.

She was taller than before. She once was almost the same height as you, but now, to top of your head barely reached her nose. You knew, you knew something that happened, that this was not the Feyre you had last seen. But you did not care. She was here, right now, and you were not going to let that go.

"You're back." You whispered, silently crying into her shoulder.

#acotar imagine #acotar #acotar x reader #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian acotar #rhysand #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader

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lightwing-s · 3 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: since your last encounter, jason has been living rent free in your head. you didn't want to, you needed more, and more found you in an unexpected way.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 7,6k warnings: yn's dirty thoughts, sex, p in v, language, breast play,

a/n: i got lazy and gave up proof reading (again). i also got too excited and ended up writing a lot more than planned, but hey, i got to watch 'the devil wears prada' to write this, so it's a win!! Hope you enjoy it and see you in chapter four.♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

“And the Blades are offside! Still no score here in Seattle, as the Gotham Blades and the Kraken face off in…” announced the caster excitedly, the game going on without Yn paying a dime of attention.

Sunday blues had gotten to you. Following an unusually chilly summer night, rain came pouring down just as you’d arrived home, covering the entire city in a dome of dullness and melancholy. Laying on your stomach, the living room darkened by the closed blinds, and the game on tv a long forgotten past time, the images of the previous night still loomed in your head.

‘Why did you do it, Yn?’, was the question clouding your mind the entire day. ‘Why did you do it?’

Why did you allow yourself to go to bed with the guy you despised? Why did you have those feelings in the first place? It was confusing. Everything about Jason was confusing. You never liked each other, and yet he’s all sweet and nice to you all of a sudden. He’s taking you to the hospital. He’s making sure you’re not alone. He takes you home, makes you food in the middle of the night. All after being an asshole for the past two months.

Why did he change? When did he change? Was he always like that but you never paid attention to, or was it just a play, a trick he’s trying to pull in your mind? Is he trying to confuse you purposely, trying to play with your mind? He wouldn’t, would he?

It if wasn’t for the knocking on your door, you’d continue to torture yourself for the next few hours. Thoughts of Jason and his fucked up game flooding your mind. You heard the knocking again, groaning loudly, not wanting to leave the warmth of the sofa. But the sweet voice calling your name made you do it.

“Thank god, you’re alive!” Nessie sang, throwing her hands up in the air. Her words did not match her expression, however, painted in the most perfect mix of anger, worry and bad hangover. “Where were you?!” she asked, and you too repeated that same question at her.

“I looked for you all over the party!” you answered exasperated.

“Me too!” she informed. “I looked for you all over and Sammy said he saw you leaving with a guy behind you and that you were pissed drunk. I was fucking worried!”

“Sammy means bullshit,” you angrily replied, storming back to the sofa as you let your neighbor and friend close the door behind her, knowing full well this conversation would last long. You threw yourself on your previous seat, pulling your blanket over your legs and crossing your arms on your chest like a little child.

“So, you didn’t leave with a guy?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised at you and a concerned expression adorning her face. “I swear to God, Yn, and I’m not even religious. If anyone did anything to you, I swear I’ll…”

“We didn’t do anything!” you basically screamed, feeling as if the room conspired against you. You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall out. You’d hoped you would be able to hide it. Leaving it a secret from the world could mean it was never real to begin with.

“So, there was someone?” she kept her eyes on you, sensing there was something more to it. Watching your usual polished self start to crumble into a nervous mess. You wanted to deny, gaslight your way out of this. But Nessie was smart, and she knew you. She could read all your signs and tell instantly none of your words spoke the truth.

There was nothing you could do. You were now on a crossroad where any direction, any ideas, wouldn’t take you anywhere. You had to spill it. “I couldn’t find you and Jason had helped me look…”

“Jason the hot guy you were pining after?” she cut you off, her face suddenly changing from concern to slightly but mild excitement.

“I was not pining after anybody!” you argued, trying once more to clear her mind out of these stupid ideas. “He was helping me look for you, and since you weren’t anywhere to be found he took me to his apartment because he was worried about leaving me alone, okay? He was nice and sweet, but nothing else happened. Nothing!”

Nessie sat silently beside you on the sofa, staring at you blankly while she absorbed all the information you ‘d thrown at her. Under your breath, you prayed she’d stop there, that she’d be satisfied with your answer. Unfortunately, God didn’t hear your prayers. “Nothing?” she whispered, a knowing smirk appearing in her face.

You had to let out a scream, muffling it with a pillow as you did not want anyone else trying to snoop in this mess of a situation. “Nothing,” you tried to argue once again, but her beaming smile and amused expression broke you all over, forcing your eyes to roll out in annoyance. “I basically threw myself on him.”

“Oh my god!” that bitch dared to be amused.

“I couldn’t keep my hand off of him, and we… w-we…” you trailed off, not wanting to finish your sentence, but your friend finished it for you. You fucked.

“Were you drunk?” she asked, a tinge of concern returning to her tone.

“I wish,”

“Was it that bad?” she wondered. “You’re acting like this is the end of the world, but you just had sex with the hot guy you were pining all over. What’s the big deal?”

“I was not pining over him!” you screamed again, and exasperatedly continued. “And what’s the big deal? He’s a biker gym rat who’s probably got no jobs or hobbies outside going to the gym. He’s covered in tattoos and probably uses tons of drugs, and guys like that could never be proper partners and will always lead you to trouble.”

“Gosh, you were planning your wedding then?” she blankly responded.

“What the fuck? No!” you were getting progressively irritated. It sounded that, to her, this all didn’t pass as more than a simple joke, not seeing the serious issue within it. “He’s just not the kind of guy I’d like to see myself mixed with. My parents warned me a-about guys like this…”

“Oh! So, this is about your parents then?” Nessie concluded, missing the point once more.

“It’s not about them!” you shook your head. You tried to come up with something, to continue your statement, but your mouth opened and closed without anything coming out of it. Sighing deeply, you felt your energy levels start to drain. “This always happens.”

Thinking back at countless similar situations, you watched your friend’s eyes turn softer. An awaiting glint in her eyes for the story to continue. “Every time I get upset over them, when they make me mad, I just… Explode? I go out and do something stupid, something that I know would piss them off, because…”

“You want them to explode?” she cut you, more an assumption than a question. “You want them to be just as mad at you?”

Combing your fingers through your hair, you stop and wonder. You let her words sink in, a lightness over being finally understood and finally understanding yourself overcoming you. It often scares you how well she knew and understood you with just a couple years of knowing each other, but maybe that was just the three semesters of Psychology lessons speaking.

“I always end up doing something stupid that I shouldn’t have done,” your voice softened a reply.

“So, you’re saying your parents were right, then?” she inquired once more.

“That’s not it, Nessie, I-I…” you stammered. “Oh my god, please let’s move on from this subject.”

By this point, you’d already messed up your hair from how much you had nervously combed your fingers through it. There was a small lump forming on your throat, and your hands were clasped on your face, shielding your eyes from your surroundings.

“So…” Nessie started. “Was he good?” Your head snapped quickly in her direction, eyes wanting to scold her but smile failing to do the same. Failing to hold corners of your lips, you allowed the smile to spread and rolled your eyes at her apparent enjoyment. “Was he big?”

You let out a snort at the inappropriate question, but filled her in. Mouthing a ‘thick’ back at her, she let her mouth hang open, closing her eyes in deep dirty wonder. ‘How much?’ she mouthed in return, and you scanned the room for something that could resemble his majestic girth, deciding upon signaling by holding your ankles with both your hands. Perhaps an exaggeration, but you’d let her sleep with that “lie” in mind.

Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, shocked at your response, and you could swear that just thinking about it was making you a little bit wet. You proudly nodded at her, perhaps too proud of it now. Proud of the incredible achievement of taking it all in.

“How big?” she bobbed one eyebrow up, challenging. You gave her a demonstration, placing your closed fists on top of each other. He wasn’t the biggest, but he compensated with girth. Gosh, stop thinking about him! “Lucky girl.”

“You wish,” you laughed.

“I definitely do now.”

It had been almost three weeks since you’d last seen him. Rearranging your entire schedule, you organized your new routine with the sole purpose of avoiding him at all costs. From the months you’d met him almost daily at the gym, you’d come to know what times he liked to train at: very early mornings, the start of the evening or just as the gym was about to close. Thus, making the process of building up a new schedule a lot easier.

Sure, it might’ve been a stretch to go this far to avoid him. And maybe your new routine was kind of terrible and actually sort of hindered your days. But those were measures you needed to take in order to keep yourself sane. You didn’t know what you’d do if you saw him again.

In fact, your days seemed to have gotten longer, as you spent more hours in traffic. However, the lack of Jason in your daily life seemed to have increased your happiness and tranquility. You didn’t have to worry about him being around you, ready to drop something on you at any moment. And living without his often sarcastic and teasing remarks was so less stressful. It felt like, for once, you could live your life without a shadow haunting your days.

Life at work was also simpler. Since your boss had decided that the American dating scene wasn’t for her, and instead started looking for a husband at different European social gatherings, she had been out quite often, spending her weekends away in Monaco, Paris or Milan, and missing many work days.

That left you with more time to write. It has always been your favorite thing to do, writing away your thoughts on a paper, even if it never made it out of your notebook.

Ideally, you wouldn’t be working as an assistant. But that was the best you could do after graduation, having to find a job quickly before your father dragged you out of Gotham definitely. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it allowed you to keep in touch with the area you desired to work on. Even better, you got to watch the life of an editor in chief right in front of your eyes.

It was the middle of the week, the day passing by slowly as you walked left to right through different rooms and floors to get whatever your boss needed done before today’s shoot. With summer approaching its end, ideas for the upcoming fall issues were thrown around, and now Sandra, your boss, was dead set that she needed at least something done by the end of the week.

Packing up your things and throwing them into your messenger bag, you hurriedly walked out from behind your desk right as Sandra was passing by. Following her footsteps, you two made your way out of the tall and imposing building of Wayne Publications.

“Did you get the samples I asked for yesterday?” she questioned, head glued forward, not moving to look at you.

“Yes, I do in fact,” you replied, handing her the thin deep blue sketchbook. “I made a collage for each designer with the pictures, just as you’d asked. Gio Waters had given me some when I interviewed her, and Nadia and her sister emailed me their looks this morning.”

You explained the process as you two continued to walk, people moving away from the infamous Runway Magazine’s editor in chief. “The collection isn’t finished, but it’s really interesting, I think you’ll like it. Everything is in there. A-and… Arkham’s Neglect…”

“Arkham’s Neglect?” she wondered out loud, facing moving slightly to show you the corners of a raised eyebrow.

“They’re this 80’s punk, anarchist, counter culture, all of… that, inspired new brand. They think the name sets forward the message they want to spread,” you explained the unusual group you sure found interesting while interviewing.

“And that message is…?” she prolonged her question.

“Only God knows,” you exhaled. Stopping in front of the building, where a lavish black car was parked awaiting her entrance, she finally turned back to face you.

“Yn,” she called you softly. “If you want me to take your idea seriously, you have to make more effort than this.” The clicking sound of her heels ceased as she entered the car, the door left open for you to close and circle around the vehicle to enter from the other side.

Working for Sandra was like working for Miranda Priestly, only it was actually nice. It’d started working for her even before you graduated college, and although very… honest with her words, she was always kind enough to at least listen to your ideas once in a while.

So hearing that feedback from her was kind of heart shattering. She had finally given you an opportunity to write something, not just carry her things around and take her meeting notes. Write. And you had been working harder than ever in it, using all of your free time on preparing, planning and writing it.

The car ride was quiet for a while, as you tried to free your mind from the self doubt she’d cast upon you. Sandra typed rapidly on her phone, and by the smile on her face you knew she must have been texting her new Italian boyfriend. So, you waited till she was done typing, eyes leaving the screen to resume your talking.

“Ibra messaged earlier saying everyone was ready and waiting at the studio. Stephanie, the photographer Mr. Wayne recommended, was already set. He said they are ready to start as soon as we get there,” you finished with a gulp, and knowing you well, Sandra turned to look at you.

“And what?” she questioned, voice monotone.

“One of the male models bailed out last minute, ” you informed, her fingers snapping to pinch the bridge of her nose. “He said they were trying to find him.”

“Or a replacement,” she cut you off.

“A replacement, of course.”

Sandra simply nodded in response, and resumed her incessant typing. You prayed she wasn’t sexting with the guy again, and to avoid another embarrassment, focused your eyes on the damp streets of Gotham. Grabbing your phone, you messaged one of the other assistants at the studio to let them know you’d need to find someone else to fill the empty spot.

As you made your way to the glass doors of the studio, you watched the people inside frantically move around, readying themselves for the grand arrival of Sandra Bevilaqua. Upon setting her Louboutin clad feet in the room, they all stopped. The Sandra effect.

“Ibra!” she called out for her favorite art director, and a tall and slender man came out from behind a white set of curtains and walked to her, giving her a quick embrace before turning to you with a brief acknowledgement.

Then, Ibra and Sandra stepped away from you, deep in discussion about the photoshoot at hand, and you took that as your cue to stay back and have a small break after the incessant running being Sandra’s assistant took. You needed coffee anyway.

You scanned the room looking for the small table that usually contained tons of cups filled with nectar of the gods to the brim. Warm and delicious. Finding the table just in a corner, close to the industrial style floor to ceiling windows. By the table stood a girl not much younger than you, camera in hand, and stealing a few snacks that were also placed on it.

“They got this Brazilian thing, they call it coxinha, I think. You should try that one, they’re really good” you suggested, taking a large cup that had ‘macchiato’ written on it as she turned to see you, a beaming smile on her face.

“I already got some of them,” she laughed, pointing to the napkin tucked inside her jacked pocket filled with those little snacks, and you had to let out a giggle too.

While she continued her nibbling and picking at the snacks on offer, you distracted yourself with the not unusual studio, a place you’d come to know now fairly well since starting to work at Runway. A few models recognized you too, waving hello and moving on with their preparations.

Being part of this world was quite insane, to be honest. You grew up having to hide your magazines under your bed because according to your religious parents it taught young girls to be “depraved” and “promiscuous” and not “wife material”. When you got the opportunity to work for them, you had to lie, and you still did, telling your parents you worked for Gotham Times instead.

You were too lost in thinking, watching the traffic move down the street, that you forgot you still had some work to do.

“Yn,” one of the other assistants ran to you. “Have you found the replacement?”

“I told you to find it!” you whisper-screamed, not wanting people to know you still had problems in your hand.

“I thought you would do it. You said…”

“Find a new model,” you repeated your text harshly at her.

“I-I thought y-you just sent it to me to remember to do it later,” she told you. Fucking stupid girl, you wanted to scream out, because you had something around ten minutes to start the shoot and one model still missing. But you were once in her spot, and you knew how upset she’d get after.

So you took your coffee and planned to walk out of the room in search of a model, even if you had to beg people on the street to do it. However, you didn’t count on someone blocking your way out, nearly causing you to drop your coffee if he wasn’t fast enough to hold the cup for you.

“Careful there,” he smiled, but your face turned to a frown as soon as you recognized the dark hair and the sky blue eyes. “Hello, love. Didn’t let it spill on you this time,” Jason winked, trying to initiate a conversation, a smugness set on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you removed your cup out of his grip, and bumping on his shoulder, walked away. Beelining to the corridor, you pulled your phone out and proceeded to search for the several phone numbers you’d be calling for the next few minutes. As you tried to think of what to say, rehearsing the words in your head, the blue eyed man would flock in instead, slowing your work down tremendously. But you had bigger problems to solve.

As you had anticipated, for the past ten minutes you had your phone glued to your ear, having called dozens of different modeling agencies begging them to send you someone, something, to save you. However, the best they could give you was “We can try, but it’s too last minute”. Well, fuck them. Now, you were about to run into the streets and start begging people to model for a fashion magazine.

“Yn!” you heard the soft yet powerful voice of your boss calling. Running back inside, you spotted her chatting with Ibra in the middle of the room. “Have you found a replacement?” she asked as soon as you arrived beside her.

“Errm… The agencies said it’s too last minute to find someone,” you offered, already awaiting reprimand.

“How come… How are we supposed to start the shoot then? Ibra!” she called Ibrahim again, words starting to just jump out of her mouth, something she rarely did, but that only happened when she was truly exasperated.

“We can start shooting the other models until Yn…” here it comes. “... finds someone else to fill the spot, yah?” he looked at you, eyes begging you to comply, and you did so, nodding incessantly as Sandra smiled away, happy with the option presented by the art director.

With a deep breath, you took another look around, tried to find something to distract yourself for just a moment. Mind working at a high voltage, you felt like you needed to decelerate, to take one, two, three breaths till your mind could start working again. The stressful situation making you instantly uneasy.

Your distraction came in the form of the raven haired demon, chatting happily with the blonde photographer you’d spoken to earlier. It then came to you dozens of questions about that situation. Why was Jason here in the first place? You’d only ever found him at the gym and at parties, and you honestly didn’t know what the hell he did for work, but he certainly didn’t work at anything related to this. This was your job, you knew everybody. He was never around before, unless…

Unless he knew the photographer.

She was beautiful. Long blond hair, eyes as blue as his, and an enchanting smile even you couldn’t deny. Were they together? She did seem a lot younger, but it’d be just like the type of guy he is to go after fresh, young babes. Urg. You hated him. Were you one of his young babes? Were just a dumb little fuck?

Urg. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Instead, you opted for burning holes in his head with your eyes, glued to the scene ahead of you. He was laughing, laughing, with her, like you were all a joke. If everything was… Stop, Yn. You won’t get mad at him. You won’t. But the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

“Yn?” Sandra snapped her fingers before your eyes, breaking you from your trance. “What are you doing? Have you figured it out already?”

“Hmmm… I’m still thinking,” you gave a half-assed reply. Your eyes lingered from her to the boy stuck in your head. And she must have been following your gaze, because her own head snapped to the two inappropriate flirts chit chatting on the corner. A bright smile forming on her red lips.

“Perfect,” she stated softly and took one step in their direction.

“Wait, no!” you screamed, pulling at her arm. “Jason isn’t a good idea.”

“You know him?” before you had the chance to fix your mess, she continued. “Have you seen him naked?”

You almost choked at her question, and could bet a million dollars your face must’ve turned red. “W-why would you think that? I don’t know him.” you lied, and she clearly saw through you, offering you a look adorned by her frowned eyebrows.

“You just told me his name, Yn. We’ll be needing him to pose shirtless for the shoot. We are, after all, doing a “Sculpted Bodies” issue. And he looks to be pretty muscular.” Taking her glasses from where they stood hooked to her neckline, she placed it on her nose to take a better look at the man in question, returning her walk in his direction. “Don’t tug at my arm again, you’re not my child and call Ibra to find this man a new outfit. Hey, you?”

She screamed, and like a magnet, all eyes were on the scene.

“Jason, isn’t it? Yn here told. We are in need of a new male model, would you go back there and change?” she let him no, offering him no other option.

“Jason can’t,” you tried to argue, and his eyes snapped to your frame.

“Why not?” he asked, smugness still prevailing on the way he talked to you. “I’d love to.”

“That would be an awesome idea,” the blonde photographer chimed in.

“Of course you think so,” you gave her a forced smile, holding yourself together to not roll your eyes in front of your boss. “He has work.”

“I do not,” he scoffed, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Perfect!” Sandra clapped. “Ibra honey, find this beautiful piece of man a new outfit.”

Turning around, Sandra walked away, the blonde photographer you didn’t even care to remember the name following suit, swaying her hips as she strolled on the wooden floor. Moving your face, you found Jason’s eyes still lingering on your, a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Please, don’t,” you asked, almost begging if you weren’t too proud.

“Why?” his question was filled with amusement. “Your boss said it herself. I’m perfect.

“You’re ruining my day,” you hissed through gritted teeth. In an attempt to look intimidating, your closed wrists rested on your waist, but there was no way you could ever frighten Jason.

“Why? Can’t stand the sight of me for too long, love?” he now whispered dangerously close to your face. Hoarse voice making you shiver. “Didn’t think I’d noticed you avoiding me at the gym?”

“Someone here is paying a lot of attention to me, it seems,” you hit him back. You prayed no one around noticed your interaction, because they would see clearly that there was something going on between you two.

“I wasn’t the one staring, was I?” he deadpanned. If any of you moved an inch, your noses would be touching, and probably much else would follow. Gathering all your strength, you pulled back.

“Fuck you,” you whispered before moving away.

“Already did,” he bit back a smile, walking past you towards Ibrahim to go and get changed. His own hip swaying left to right as he walked, the movement hypnotizing you as he went.

Soon enough, all models were positioned on stage, barely sporting any clothes bar some thin skin toned underwear, transparent fabrics or one single piece of garment. Jason, in all his glory and toned chest, wore a pair of white boxer underwear that left evident the not so little friend he owned down there.

One makeup artist had bathed his chest with some kind of oil, sliding her dark blue nails over his entire torso. In clear fuck boy behaviour, a shadow of a smile loomed his face when he looked at her through his lashes. You felt a muscle on your jaw jolting at the interaction, deciding that you’d had enough, and would be much better off attending to something else.

You tried the coffee table, but not even a sweet macchiato could clear your mind of the man you fucked and wished would desintegrate. Through the corner of your eye, you dared to steal one more look at him, only to find his eyes already set on you. Even from afar, you noticed them darkening, changing their essence to something that left you uneasy. In desperate need of air.

Truth be told, this man rented a four story penthouse with three hundred bedrooms in your mind since the night you’d slept over at his. Occupying a space that once was free to help you function properly, but now, you were a horny mess 90% of the day. Yes, you touched yourself to his picture lingering in your memory countless times since that day. And each one of them made you feel better than the other.

However, none of them had you feeling as good as he had made you feel that night. None of them had his touches to drive you wild, or gave you the feel of his tongue on your nipples. None of them whispered dirty things in your ear. But more specifically, none of them made you come as much as he did in just one night.

Shaking those thoughts away, you averted your eyes from his and sat down on a puffer chair, watching the photoshoot with an empty head. The group shot was done, as Stephanie, as you remembered, dismissed the other models to start on the individual shots. And to no surprise of yours, she had Jason shoot first.

He posed and flexed his muscles to her loud cheers and claps, letting out laughs and hypnotizing smiles you found yourself hooked to. Their partnership was evident, as Jason understood her words and requests promptly, and you had to admit she seemed to know just which angles and positions he’d look hotter.

Sandra and Ibra watched the little show just attentively as you did, but you were sure the thoughts in your head never crossed theirs. Giving short jumps, and faking boxing punches, he turned the playful shoot into something more intense. His eyes, eyebrows and his whole demeanor change drastically, to now exuberate this dense, dark, sensual, almost pornographic, aura.

He lowered the hem of his underwear a bit, showing you the trail that had driven you crazy the last time you peered at it. Now, it was on full display to you, and you had to bite down at your lip to hold in the moan you wanted to let out. He turned around, showing you his back, with his side profile setting up what you already thought would be the perfect picture. You wondered if any of your marks could be seen on his back, if Stephanie could see them from up close.

Your breathing hitched, and you had to cross your legs and feel just a bit of friction there to pull yourself back together.

The music in the studio shifted. The dark, sexy tunes of The Weeknd turned into the more upbeat pop rock sound of SZA’s F2F, a surprise to you, given the feel and themes of the photoshoot, but something that totally spoke to you in this moment of your life.

You couldn’t take him out of your mind, you thought of him until you fell asleep. You wondered if he planned on making Stephanie the girl for tonight. Or worse, if he’d already done it, done her. It had been a while since that night, he wouldn’t take that long to find someone else to fuck like he did to you. Fuck like he fucked you.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

Just as the next line began, the sudden realization of your feelings hit you like a train. The need to be slammed against a wall, picked up and fucked like you would never need your legs again, justified by the light blue shade indicating your ovulating period on your tracker app. That explained everything, you thought, finding the only possible way you could ever be this crazy about a man.

When Miss SZA said ‘Now I’m ovulating and I need rough -’, that was it. No truer words were ever spoken. Just his presence was enough to make your thoughts incoherent, but having him doing all those poses and stares was driving you insane. Oh, how it sucked to be a woman in heat!

You didn’t realize you bit your lips until the silvery taste of blood hit your tongue, and you averted your eyes from him to instead stare at your own nails. Afraid that if your eyes lingered on him for much longer, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

When Stephanie’s voice trapped your attention to something the distance didn’t let you decipher, you felt a tightness in your chest. A weird feeling of fear, anxiety and desire mix together, as Jason refocused his sight on you, walking slowly in your direction. His man tits bounced as he walked, perfectly muscled, and perfectly fit for the photoshoot.

Where were you with your head, you thought. There was no way Sandra would have ever listened to your nonsensical words, he was clearly perfect for that. His body was perfectly sculpted, as if he was handmade by Michelangelo himself, and perfectly decorated by his countless tattoos.

You assessed him. Up and down. Every inch, every single detail. Eyes lingering longer than you should, as he walked to you slowly. His eyes darker than you remembered, the bright blue turning deep. His body moved light, lighter than a feather it seemed, as if he glided instead of walk. Everything in him screamed godlike, and you licked your lips as your mouth seemed to dry. Still focused on you, he licked his own lip, making you feel…

Yn. What are you doing?

Breaking away from your thoughts, your eyes widened from the realization of what your mind was doing to you, rushing away from your. Out of the room, out of the building, out of here. You felt your heart race, speeding faster than a Formula 1 car. The air trapped in your lungs, making it harder to breath.

“Ouch,” you heard someone complain from behind you, as you closed the door without looking and sprinted towards one of the corridors. “Yn!” you heard his voice call, but you could not stop. Fuck, why is he here?

Taking a corner, you found a door leading to some outside area when Jason’s grip stopped you from taking any step further.

“What the fuck did I do to you?” he questioned bitterly. You had to roll your eyes at that. What haven’t you done?

You tried to remove yourself from his grip, but he was insistent. “What the fuck did you do to me?” you laughed sarcastically, finding amusement at his clueless question. “God you’re fucking infuriating.”

Turning around, you forced his hold off, but you were playing yourself if you ever thought you could fight him. You basically dragged him along, but in reality he didn’t move an inch. He was heavier and stronger than any weights you pulled at the gym.

“Oh, you leave my apartment like a mad woman. Did everything so you wouldn’t have to face me for weeks and tried to sabotage a job opportunity, and I am the one who’s infuriating?” he spat out. His face getting red from anger.

“Haha, you were not even supposed to be here!” you spat in return.

“Oh, so am I not supposed to support my little sister?” he inquired. You went quiet.

His sister. His fucking sister. How stupid were you. “You’re ruining my job,” you tried to find an argument. Something to fight him back.

“I saved your job right there!” His eyes grew large, burning into yours. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t particularly right.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me,” you nearly cried out, wanting to flee this situation desperately. He let you go, and in his eyes, for the brief moment you dared to look in them, you found a shadow of guilt.

With heavy footsteps, you made a beeline to the door, feeling the lump on your throat tightening.

“You can’t take that night off your head too, can you?” he voiced, and you had to stop. He was thinking of it too, all this time. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Swans, rainbows, blue ice cream, new skin care products. Anything good thoughts to take him, this, out of your brain.

“You’ve been thinking of it all day. All night,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You felt him behind you, a looming shadow above your small frame. “My lips on your neck. Your nipples,” he said, fingertips gracing your exposed arms. “My fingers inside you.”

Your eyes were closed. Picturing every scene, every word that left his mouth. He was right, you couldn’t shake him off your mind, but so couldn’t he. He was just as much stuck on it as you. You was just as much in his mind and he was in yours. Just as pathetic.

You felt his breath touch the skin on your neck, and his fingers pulling your hair out of your shoulders. “Me ripping you apart,” he whispered, voice carrying so much lust you had a hard time holding up.

You didn’t.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you noticed his heavy breathing. His oily chest rising and falling, almost touching your back. So close you felt the bulge in his underwear sliding against your bum. Beside you, you found a door.

Then, you made a promise. If the door was locked, you would leave him there, you would not look back. You’d forget everything and anything about Jason. However, if it was open…

It was. Opening into a small and empty room, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. And then, looking at him from over your shoulder, you begged for confirmation. You begged him to say he felt it too. That he needed it too.

Bobbing his head to the side, he motioned towards the opened room, telling you to get in. You did.

As soon as Jason closed the door behind him, you pushed him against the wall, frantically searching for his lips and finding it in a desperate, needy kiss. You needed him, you were starving for him. You needed his lips, you needed the air in his lungs. His breath, his warmth, his hands all over your body. You needed every single piece of him he had to offer, because he’d been in your head all week long, making you mad, deconcentrated, a mess. And he needed to pay for all that.

Spinning you two around, Jason had you pinned against the wall. Your legs didn’t waste time before wrapping around his waist, and it took him no effort to find a place for his hands on your ass, holding you up and close. You kissed ferociously, hungrily. Your tongues battled each other, struggling for power. Your fingers at the nape of his neck tugged at the hairs and he moaned inside your lips. Just like the last time.

But unlike last time, you did not have time to waste.

Pulling his dick out of his underwear, you let your legs go from his waist to take off your jeans. “Someone is eager,” he joked.

“Shut up!” you snapped, bringing him back for another deep kiss. He stroked his penis and you could feel his hands moving close to your belly. Your naked ass hit the cold stone wall, and your body jolted a little. Pulling at your waist, Jason had you bent over a desk in no time.

He tickled your folds with his head, but your hands on his wrist told him you were not playing today. He slammed inside of you with no second thoughts, and you almost let out a scream if it wasn’t for his mouth slapping on your lips. You felt your insides burn, his girth ripping you open as he slammed his dick in and out of you with speed. His calloused hand smacked against the soft skin of your ass, letting out a loud sound around the room. You nearly cried, body shaking as the skin burned where he had hit.

The smell of sex filled the room, as the sound of him hammering against your juices echoed on the walls. Jason started grunting behind you, his throat releasing feral sounds that had you hitting your high in less than a minute. Not much later, you felt the warmth of Jason’s seed filling you up, and your mind freaked out for a brief moment before it was clouded again once he forcefully turned you around and tackled you in another kiss.

Sitting on the desk, you brought him closer by his penis, pulling it in yourself and starting to grind against his crotch. Jason let a laugh vibrate through your body, mouths still tangled together, holding tightly at your thighs and thrusting hard inside of you. He slid a hand inside your shirt, taking one of your breasts out of your bra and pressing it so hard a tear formed in your eye.

Whatever the hell you two were doing now felt incredible. Your mind was starting to go numb again, and the tightness you’d feel minutes earlier had already returned. You let out a few cries in Jason’s mouth, as his teeth picked at your bottom lip, making sure you’d leave here with them red and swollen.

He didn’t care if anyone notice you’d just fuck. He wanted to parade it around. The thought of everyone knowing he had you all fuck over in an empty room making his release shoot within you once again. However, he didn’t stop until he felt you wall clenching around him, milking all he had left as your own milk slid through your legs.

As you tried to steady your breath, Jason left pecks on your lips, cheeks, and eyes. God damn it, he loved your fucked out face, he loved you post sex glow. He loved…

You search for his lips. They were warm, and without them you felt cold. You felt him moving out of you, and the emptiness afterwards. He resumed his little pecks on your lips after he’d put his penis back inside his underwear, handing you yours to put back on. You took them, but instead of putting them on, let it hand over his shoulders and you pulled him into a deeper kiss.

This one, though, was passionate. Slow, careful. It made your stomach spin, and the butterflies get busy in your core. It was good, and you wanted to be in it forever. You wanted to…

No! A voice screamed in your head, and you pushed him away immediately. You do not have feelings for Jason. You do not.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason asked, a hand on his lower lips taking you to the bite you’d just given it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you screamed exasperated, putting your pants back on. “You are what’s wrong with me, Jason. You!”

“Me?! You’re the one who threw yourself on me,” he threw his hands up in defeat.

“After you kept putting things in my head…”

“Me? I keep… What the fuck do you have in that fucking head?” he cut you before losing his temper. You were truly something incredible.

“A brain. Something you lack, perhaps,” you replied harshly. “You keep making me do these stupid things.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, you know it well,” he stated, hands hanging on his hips, looking at you as if you'd just gone mad. Perhaps you really had. “Stop acting like an innocent little angel, because you’re nothing of it. Nothing!”

You let your mouth hang open, flabbergasted that he dared to say something like that. You know you were no angel, but he was completely missing the point. “That’s not it!”

“And what is it then?” he inquired, anger painting his face red once more.

“You’re just a fuck boy,” you screamed and he stopped in his tracks. “If you think I’d waste my fucking time in a lowlife like you, you’re just fucking wrong!” you spat out. The words had left your mouth before you could properly think of them, emotions taking over your thinking process. But they were out, and they hurt Jason more than he’d like to admit. It felt like something broke inside his chest, the shattered glass of what once was his heart.

“You’re the one who acts like a stupid spoiled bitch,” he returned, soon regretting it. Your eyes filled with water, and some tears fled without your consent. Those were the words that hurt you the most to hear. Not because they were new, but because you’d been told that countless times, to the point you actually believed it.

Opening the door with rage, you ran out of the room and stomped your way outside of the building. A single tear sliding down your face, the effort you put to keep the others in taking inimaginable strength.

When you got to the reception, the other assistant from earlier noticed you coming her way. “Yn,” she called worriedly.

“Tell Sandra I’m heading out. I’m feeling sick.”

The cold wind welcomed you outside, forgetting everything you’d left in the studio to head home. You wanted to fall to the ground, curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out. Never have you felt this upset and frustrated. And it wasn’t even Jason’s fault. So you arrived home, threw yourself on the sofa, and allowed the tears to fall.

A single tear fell from your eye as you stared blankly at your bathroom door. You were curled up on the floor, hugging your knees against your chest, waiting for those damned three minutes to be over.

You were late. Weeks late. And anxious thoughts were starting to take over. You would be fucked. Your parents would kill you. It would ruin everything. You were too young, and you were just starting your career. It just can’t be happening. There was no way you could do it on your own. That was not part of the plan.

The lump in your throat only got tighter. Counting the seconds desperately, you missed the count dozens of times, but you were sure the wait was now over.

Forcing yourself to stand up, you take slow steps to your sink. Getting the white and blue stick in your trembling hands, you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Too afraid of the reality it could bring you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Red eyes, puffy cheeks. You don’t even remember brushing your hair today. Taking a deep, prolonged breath, you take a look down. The eight letters showing on screen scaring you shitless.

Pregnant.

Oh, fuck!

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @jasontoddslover ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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kkurami · 3 months

Text

( SHES JUST A LOOKALIKE ) 🪞 ² ˚ ༘ fluff + angst

୨୧ ‧ gojo couldn’t help but find traces of you sprinkled throughout the universe. nothing compares to the real you.

the moment your eyes laid upon her figure, you knew that she was just a lookalike.

beneath the canopy of time's silent gaze, the school courtyard laid waste to the test of time, a sacred script of whispered tales and fleeting moments. in this hallowed realm of echoes, you stood.

all her distinguishable characteristics were almost eerily a replica of your very own— from the way her physical features resembled yours to the way her mannerisms were very similar. the way she would hit her knee when she laughed, the way her eyes wandered whenever he was talking, even the way she zoned out and picked at her fingernails.

you felt as though you were gazing upon your own reflection in a one way mirror.

as destiny poised its quill, you, the unwilling muse to gojo’s romantic fantasies, saw the narrative taking shape, your heart attuned to the delicate rhythms of anticipation. the stage was set for the echoes of resemblance would pose a pattern for one white haired male.

the thought made you lightheartedly giggle. of course, it hurt to see the man you loved with a lookalike of you. seemingly a mirror of his past, it was almost as if he had attempted to replace you.

despite the cockiness that rang, the resemblance was ever so uncanny. every aspect that gojo claimed was ‘unique’ about you was represented in her own appearance.

geto had said it himself. gojo was trying to find traces of you in someone else.

and none of this was her fault. if anything, you felt bad for his current girlfriend. gojo was charismatic and charming, and you didn’t blame her for falling for him. gojo was the only one to take blame for the unfortunate circumstances.

you never wanted to end things in the first place. but gojo did because you two weren’t ‘working out’… perhaps it was something that you did wrong, or perhaps he had just fallen out of love. the idea went past you, whatever it was. as much as you attempted to wrap your head around his motivations, you could never quite pinpoint just what you did wrong.

you shook off your thoughts and let your gaze wander back to the couple, when you noticed gojo looking at you as well. it was the first time in months that the two of you had made proper eye contact, and you felt your heart drop.

he had this almost woeful look in his eyes as you two had a staredown across your college campus. a seldom glance he sent across the courtyard conveyed every emotion you needed to know. his girlfriend, who was previously talking, noticed that gojo wasn’t quite paying attention to her. she turned her head to see where he was looking which was when she spotted you.

of course, she knew all about you. gojo couldn’t stop himself from talking about you after all.

you were gojo’s first love. at family gatherings, you were the one his family would bring up before he had to remind them that you were gone.

how deeply upsetting it was for her to see the disappointment written across their faces once they realized who he had picked after you.

she knew that she was just your lookalike, and it was a matter of time before gojo would come to his senses and attempt to get you back.

you made eye contact with her and gave her a soft smile. almost as if to say ‘i’m sorry.’

she knew you had nothing to apologize for. it wasn’t your fault that gojo didn’t know how to cope with his own feelings. it was his own fault for that, but it was her fault for dating gojo while knowing that he didn’t truly love her. she was willing to go through that pain just for him.

but seeing how y/n and gojo looked at each other and the love that filled their eyes, she knew that she couldn’t compare.

she was on the outside of your story.

amidst the rustling leaves, her voice reached gojo, a fragile melody woven with a tinge of melancholy. "some stories," she mused, "unfold in the shadows of familiarity, don't they, satoru?"

eyes staring blankly, a silent and unspoken confession made its way to gojo’s ears. he didn’t need to ask what she had meant by that.

everyone knew that she was just your lookalike, even gojo.

“don’t lose her a second time.”

that was all she said, before standing up to walk away. no more words had to be said. gojo knew why she was walking away— because she was breaking up with him.

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry.” gojo let out before his (now ex) girlfriend could leave.

“if you were sorry you wouldn’t have dated me with someone else in mind.” the girl stopped in her tracks, and turned around. a ghost of a smile graced her lips. her carefree shattered like fragile glass. “i’ve felt it all along—this charade we're living. it’s your past you're holding onto, not me.”

that was it. that was the end of their relationship. no tears, no yelling, just silence.

but she was right. gojo should’ve just faced his own feelings and not dragged someone else into his mess. all he could think about at that moment was the way you stood there under the light looking so ethereal, and he had made up his mind about one thing.

“hey y/n,”

your eyes trailed upwards to meet the face of the man who had consumed all of your mental space in the past year, the man who made you feel like a lovesick teenager. the same man who seemed as though he could never get rid of you.

a smile quirked its way to your features.

“so… i guess my best attempt at getting a replacement fell short, nothing compares to the real deal. how about we skip the charades and grab coffee sometime?”

a silent song rang across the courtyard, singing lyrics of a love that was always meant to be.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n

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moonchild1 · 6 months

Text

AO3 List PT.2

here's part 2 of my favourite bts fics on ao3 ♡ if you have any of your own recommendations feel free to tell me I would love to hear them ♡ some contain smut so no minors do not interact find pt. 1 here...

s- smut a- angst f- fluff

all of btssmutgalore’s work (sadly they aren’t on tumblr anymore)

all of univsa work

all of personasintro's work

roommates with benefits by joonswhistle f s a

↬ You and Namjoon are roommates. You're both really horny one morning. So you come to an understanding:

1. It's not a regular thing.

2. It happens on the couch.

3. Kissing is allowed.

4. Condoms, always.And just like that, you're roommates with benefits

seoul underground by hunniejimins s a ft. jungkook

↬ You're a crime & corruption journalist for one of the most esteemed newspapers in Seoul currently investigating drug trafficking in Hong Kong. A hit is taken out on you and as a twisted stroke of luck, a member of a rival gang inadvertently saves you - Jeon Jungkook. He kidnaps you and brings you to the gang's kingpin, Kim Namjoon, who initially had plans to kill you, but a certain bracelet ends up buying you time. Things only get further complicated when they realize who you are and what you can offer them.

Namjoon and Jungkook both fall in love with you and it's a mess, but monogamy is overrated anyway, right?

Covenant by fringesofsanity f s a

↬ You are betrothed to Kim Namjoon, the heir of a real estate mogul. To say that it was a fairytale romance would be erroneous. You’re instead loped in the sad tale of the rich and melancholy.

Faith by AndrastesChosen f s a

↬ It's time to let yourself believe in someone. You're probably an idiot for it, but you're going to put your faith in this man named Namjoon. (AKA You fall in love with underground rapper Namjoon and make a difficult choice so he can follow his dreams)

Partners by btssmutgalore f s a

↬ As a part of a literature assignment, you get paired up with Kim Namjoon, a guy you’ve never even heard of.

the wedding arrangement by sugalights f s a

↬ You are in love with your best friend, the only man who matters, Kim Seokjin. Unfortunately, he's just gotten engaged to someone who isn’t you. Even more unfortunately, he expects you to help plan the wedding alongside Kim Namjoon, his other best friend and, based on your first meeting, just another judgemental jerk. Putting aside your distaste for the sake of your friend’s happiness, you both set about giving Seokjin the wedding of his dreams. Following a rough and satisfying affair at the caterer’s, you strike an unusual deal: you and Namjoon will be enemies with benefits until the wedding is over. And after six months of wedding planning, you both just might learn that weddings aren’t usually the end, but a brand new beginning.

formula for love by bluesxde f s a

↬ newly single and in the midst of a bitter divorce, with a custody battle thrown in, chemistry professor kim seokjin tries not to fall in love with the new library assistant. and fails, horribly

The Stranger by btssmutgalore f s a

↬ When your plane hits turbulence, you start panicking and tell some of your biggest secrets to the attractive stranger sitting next to you.

Before Your Very Eyes by vyduan f s a ft. myg poly au

↬ After decades of being friends, Y/N finally realizes just how attractive Yoongi and Seokjin are and wonders why she never noticed. Except, Seokjin might be getting back with an ex and Yoongi is a permanent fuckboy. Is Y/N just desperate to get laid or does she love them? (And if she loves them, is she too late?) Oh, and also, THEY WERE ROOMMATES (but there are three beds)

Amalthea by Daechwitatamic s a

↬ You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Paris For A Day by automnesleaves f a

↬ On his last stop of his European tour to spread Korean culture, Kim Seokjin, the South Korean president's son, plans to escape his duties for a day to enjoy the sights of Paris with your help.

In other words: a slight adaptation of Roman Holiday, one of my favorite romantic films.

arranged by obiwrites f s a

↬ If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her. But what happens when Hoseok starts to realize he doesn’t want you to be her? That there might be more than meets the eye with you?

piece by piece by underthejoon f s a ft seokjin

↬ a collection of drabbles where your love life is muddied up by two men – the one you love and the one that loves you.

tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love) by minlouvre f s

↬ Even though he is everything you find attractive in a man, your friend and co-worker Jung Hoseok is just exactly that - a friend and co-worker. For some reason, you have never found yourself attracted to him even though all the girls and guys around you go absolutely crazy for him. But that all changes for you one night while scrolling through Heart2Heart, a sex live cam website...

the december of our adulthood by vyduan a

↬ Jimin collapsed all over you and the middle console from his seat in a fit of giggles and did his best to tease a smile back onto your face. “Thanks for picking me up so early on a Saturday morning, Y/N. You’re the best friend a guy could ever have.” Even after all these years, you couldn’t control the dip of disappointment at his words. It wasn’t that you didn’t love being Jimin’s best friend. It was more that you knew you would never be anything more. You grunted in acknowledgment and pushed the sadness down, burying it under years of practice and half truths. You would be content with what you had. You would be satisfied with the love Jimin was willing and able to give. You were not entitled to anything more. It was enough. It was enough. It was never enough.

#kiki!fic!rec #bts ao3 #bts ao3 recs #jimin ao3 recs #namjoon ao3 recs #hoseok ao3 recs #seokjin ao3 recs #seokjin #namjoon #hoseok #jimin

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creedslove · 9 months

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hiii, how about a headcanon of reader, sarah and joel painting the house or redecorating sarah's bedroom now that reader is married to joel, AND MAYBE IT IS THE FIRST TIME THAT SARAH CALLS READER MOM by accident???? and reader and joel cry?? idk 😭😭 I know it is much but I can not stop thinking of being a wife to joel and have a family with him😭😭

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: this is too beautiful anon, I loved this request ❤️

• Sarah had been begging Joel to redecorate her bedroom since the two of you got engaged and though you were excited to help them, Joel always seemed to come up with an excuse not to do it

• one month he said he didn't have enough money to buy the paint and the other materials to do it and he absolutely refused your offer of helping him pay for it

• the next month he told her you two were too busy with the upcoming wedding and the three of you wouldn't have enough time to finish it

• and the other month he said you wouldn't be able to do it because of your honeymoon, which was kind of true, but it was during the wedding you found out the real reason why he was postponing doing the redecoration

• at Sarah's refusal to wear the pink dress full of flowers her grandma - your mother-in-law had bought her because it was too childish and settling for another dress that wasn't so pink she picked with your help, you could see in Joel's eyes the melancholy of his little girl growing up

• she used to love pink, flowery dress, just as she used to love the pink walls of her room her dad painted when she was just a baby and now the walls were about to go, just like the bunch of dolls she got over the years

• you felt sad for Joel, you knew how strong his bond with his daughter was and how close they were, but you also felt sorry for Sarah, she was growing up and she should be able to enjoy the new phases of her life

• so as soon as you returned from your honeymoon, you sat down with Sarah and took notes of everything she wanted to get it done with her bedroom and then you drove her to the store, letting her pick everything she wanted

• you had saved some money and you thought it would be a nice way of spending it, she would be happy and Joel would have to accept it one way or the other

• once you got home with the new paint, curtains, bedspread and carton boxes to store everything she didn't want anymore, he widened his eyes at the surprise of seeing you two with the new stuff

• he was chewing on a sandwich so you sat next to him and asked Sarah to begin gathering the things she would like to donate, which she quickly went to do it and you took Joel's hand

"You know she'll forever be your little girl, right? No matter if her walls aren't pink anymore or if the barbies are gone, she'll always be your daughter and love you, just as you love her"

• a blush spread through his face as you said those things, he swallowed his sandwich wanting to say something but you just shook your head

"besides, think of all the lucky little girls that are going to be able to play with Sarah's old dolls, she's doing something really nice for them and she learned that from you... You know, how to be kind. Also, she told me she doesn't want pink on the walls because it hurts her eyes when she's reading"

• that was partially a lie, Sarah was going to help other kids by donating her old toys but she hadn't said anything about the wall colors, but judging by the way his eyes softened when you justified why she was leaving behind a part of her childhood, you knew you'd said the right thing

• so once Joel was done eating, the three of you changed into older clothes and after a painful period of dragging around furniture, you began painting the walls

• you didn't actually know how to do it, but as soon as Joel showed you how it was done, you got the hang of it, plus it ended up being a lot more fun than you had expected

• turns out Joel got really excited about the fact he was spending time with his daughter and that made him realize that was much more important than the color of her walls

• and the happiness in her face was just beautiful, she was excited and telling you about her plans of decorating, asking for your opinion and advices

• you were more than happy to help her and give your thoughts, seeing she really valued and appreciated them

• it took the three of you most of the day to get her bedroom done, but once you finally got the decoration part - the one she was more excited about - Joel decided to help

"so are you putting your books or your funkos on this shelf?"

"I don't know dad, let me ask what mom thin- I mean, Y/N"

• Sarah felt embarrassed at her mistake and looked at you with widened eyes, not sure what to say, if she should apologize to you or what, she hoped you wouldn't think it was weird

• you turned to her with a gentle smile and took a step closer, brushing your fingers through her soft cheeks and wrapped your arms around her smaller frame

"you can call me mom if you want, I would be very happy and lucky to have you as my daughter"

• you sniffed softly, your eyes watery at the emotion of hearing such beautiful words from her

• Joel also felt very emotional and wrapped the two of you into his warm tight embrace, he had tears in his eyes he wanted to hide, he really loved hearing his daughter call you mom, because you'd been acting like one ever since you walked into their lives and he knew you were just perfect at it

"Alright mom..."

• Sarah shyly dried her own tears and chuckled a little shy, she looked at you and gave you another tight hug

"Where should I put my books?"

____

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megamindsecretlair · 4 months

Text

It's a Little Cold

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Cursing. Sad Bucky. Fluff. Smut. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Dirty talk, PIV, and unprotected sex. Oral (fem receiving) Sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: You and Bucky had been dating for a few months now and were lucky to spend your first Christmas together exchanging presents.

Word Count: 3,432k

A/N: I had been thinking about these two for some time, so naturally we needed a little follow up. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and a Happy Monday to those who don't. If you need a little break from festivities, here ya go! Likes are always awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs.

This is a follow up to It's a Little Warm. If you want to see how these crazy kids got together, start here! Read Part 1

Tagging the folks who liked the previous series: @softimgyu @blackreaderatrisk @braverthanthenewworld @multiversefanfics @monaeesstuff @blackpinup22 @chaos-4baby @sevikasblackgf @namsey1987 @browngirldominion

Fuck, you were frightfully cold. The downside to having low iron was that you were always fucking cold. You pulled the blanket over yourself and snuggled down into the bed but it was no use. You flipped over, your hand searching for your space heater, but the bed was empty. You popped your head up and looked at the empty spot.

“Bucky?” You called out.

There was no reply. You kicked the covers off of yourself and got out of bed. You wiped sleep from your eyes as you walked towards the living room. The space was still dark, the open windows letting the morning light filter in.

You were about to grab your phone and call Bucky, but a sigh caught your attention. At the window, Bucky stood leaning against the windowsill. You stopped and watched him. He looked melancholy as he stared out of the window.

The pale morning light slanted over his exposed skin. He only wore black sweatpants. His dog tags hung from his neck. His metal arm was off for once. The scars around his arm always made you so fucking angry, you could resurrect the scientists who experimented on him and kill them all over again.

“Bucky?” You called out and approached him. You didn’t want to spook the poor man.

Bucky turned towards you and gave you a small smile. “Mornin’, doll,” he said. You smiled back and snuggled into his side, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Mornin’ handsome. What ya doing up so early?” You asked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen snow on Christmas.”

You looked out of the window with him. You had been dating for a few months now and there were times when Bucky seemed to shut down and shut you out. You tried not to take it personally. There were so many things that he had been through, so many things that he’d seen, you weren’t sure you could begin to understand. You weren’t entitled to his every deepest thought. But you wish you knew how to help him.

“I’m glad I get to be here when you do,” you said and nudged his shoulder. He smiled at you and kissed your temple.

“Since we’re up...presents?” You asked excitedly. You waggled your eyebrows and Bucky laughed.

“Can’t help yourself, can you?” He asked.

“Hell no! Are you kidding?” You slapped his rock hard stomach and crossed the room to the tiny Christmas tree on an end table by the other window. You knelt down and grabbed his presents. There was no way you were going to allow Bucky to drag a real Christmas tree into your place. You had an adorable argument about it.

You ended up winning by pointing out that the bad guys didn’t take breaks for the holidays. You hadn’t been sure that you would get to spend Christmas with Bucky. You agreed on a smaller, artificial tree this year. It was green, small and so cute. You two had sipped on drinks while you decorated. It took no more than an hour, mostly because you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

You held out the presents to him. Bucky grabbed his metal arm from the top of the couch and attached it. It never ceased to amaze you when he did that. You wanted to visit Wakanda so badly, it physically hurt. He flexed his fingers with a small grimace and then joined you in front of the table.

“Why don’t you open yours first?” He asked.

“No way! I want to see your face. If you hate it, I kept the receipts and we can return it for something else.” Nerves bubbled in your gut. You had wracked your brain for the past few months trying to think of what to get the man.

He had precious little in his apartment. He was always on the go somewhere, ready to leave at the drop of a hat. From day to day, he didn’t know where he would be. You thought it would wreck you that he wasn’t here every day. You missed him like crazy when he wasn’t around, but when he came back, it was simply magical.

“I’ll love it,” he said.

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” you said.

Bucky smiled. “I will love anything you get me. I thought we agreed on one present?”

He shook his box but what you got him wouldn’t rattle. He grinned and then nodded to two more presents under the small tree. “So we’re both full of shit?”

You chuckled as you grabbed your presents from him. The wrapping paper was silver with tiny penguins on them. The penguins had scarves on and you giggled about how cute they looked.

“Same time?” You asked. Maybe it would be better that you didn’t see his face when he opened his presents. You were suddenly nervous about what you got him. It was likely stupid and he wouldn’t use it.

He nodded. You both tore into your presents, wrapping paper flying all over the place. There was a green gift box underneath so you opened it. Inside, there was a giant, plush blanket hoodie in your favorite color.

“Bucky!” You squealed.

“Your anemic ass is always cold and I’m not always here to warm you up,” Bucky explained.

“I love it!” You hugged him, wrapping your hands around his neck and squeezing him tight. He chuckled at your enthusiasm and kissed your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he said. “There’s more.”

Underneath the blanket hoodie, there were matching socks and a huge black shirt. You lifted it and a waft of Bucky’s scent washed over you. “Your shirt?” You asked.

“You like stealing them all the time. Figured it was time to relinquish one willingly.” He said.

“You know me so well already,” you grinned and leaned up to press your lips against his. His stubble tickled your jaw as you kept going, loving his lips on yours. He groaned low in his throat and began to kiss along your jaw.

You were starting to warm up as you flushed with need. You would never get sick of him. Of his hands on you. “Open the rest of your presents,” Bucky said and kissed your cheek.

“You’re no fun.” You playfully pouted as you unwrapped your other present. Inside, there was a vanilla bean candle, bath soap, and lotion. You looked at him and Bucky had his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I know you like to pamper yourself. So…” He was nervous.

“Aww,” you cooed. You dropped your head to his shoulder. He was so damn sweet sometimes. He paid special attention to things you told him in passing. He knew your favorite coffee order and your favorite foods by now. He remembered so much with ease, it made you sick.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” you said.

Bucky grinned. “Even with a dinosaur like me?” He asked.

“Especially with a dinosaur like you. Older is sexy now,” you said.

He mockingly groaned and pushed you off of him. You pushed him back with a giggle. “Wait till you get some gray in your beard. You won’t be able to get rid of me then,” you dropped your voice.

“Oh really? Some gray in my beard? That’s all it takes?” He asked, matching your low tone. His eyes lowered to your lips and you licked them slowly on purpose.

“You’re killing me here,” he said.

You laughed and nodded towards his presents. Time to rip the bandaid off. Bucky continued to unwrap his presents, having stopped to watch your reaction to his presents. He opened the small one first, removing a leather and pen set.

“You-you didn’t have to do this,” he said.

“You go off to these amazing places and I know you can’t exactly stop and smell the roses. But I thought maybe you’d like to write them down sometime. You’ve been through so much, sometimes writing it out helps. You said once that you couldn’t always trust what’s in your head. You can trust your words though,” you said.

Bucky stared at the journal for a long time and you wondered if you said something wrong. Or if he heard you at all.

“This…this is really sweet,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. You slipped your hand in his and he squeezed it gently.

Bucky cleared his throat and moved on to his other present. This one was in a gift bag so he took out the tissue paper and revealed a brand new duffle bag.

“I know it’s not really all that Christmassy and you already have one. But this one is made to be a lot sturdier. And there’s more pockets!”

Bucky stopped you with a kiss. “I love it,” he whispered against your lips.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“This means more to me than you’ll ever know. I wish I had the words,” he said.

He kissed you again, robbing you of all breath and reason. You sighed as he kissed you, his expert tongue swooping in to tangle with yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders pulling him in closer.

His hands drifted down your sides, grabbing your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned as his fingers dug into sensitive spots under your ass. Spots you didn’t even know were sore.

Bucky lifted you from the ground effortlessly and placed you on the couch. He continued to kiss you and explore your body with his hands. Forget being cold, you were on fire now. Bucky kissed his way down your body, lifting your tank top to kiss your tummy.

His teeth teased your overly sensitive flesh before grabbing hold of your shorts and peeling them off of you. His hands followed after to remove your panties. You lifted off of the couch to help slip them off your ass.

Bucky then lifted your shirt off, revealing your breasts. He moaned as he gripped them, running his thumbs over your nipples. You moaned at the coldness of his metal arm. It wasn’t enough to dampen the heat coming off of him in waves, warming you up from the inside out.

“I may not have the words, but I can show my appreciation in other ways,” Bucky said. He kissed your thighs.

“You always show your appreciation in the best of ways,” you said. Your voice was breathy, needy.

Bucky chuckled as he began to pluck on your nipples while nudging your legs apart. You draped your legs over his shoulders and he wasted no time suckling on your clit. “Ooof,” you moaned. Your thighs tightened around his head and your hands sunk into his short hair. He was starting to grow it out a bit more but you could still dig your fingers into his soft brown hair.

Your pussy throbbed with every pass and swipe of his tongue. His fingers continued to deftly tug on your nipples, ensuring increased pleasure. Bucky’s messy eating turned you on even more, to the point that you were cumming in no time.

“Bucky,” you moaned his name as you came. Your body was wracked with delicious shivers and contortions, your back bowing off of the couch.

“Music to my ears,” Bucky said against your clit. You moaned, too sensitive now. Bucky bit your thigh, leaving a wet spot right there. He stood up and dropped his sweatpants, revealing that beautiful dick of his.

He kneeled onto the couch, pulling you by your legs until you were positioned where he wanted you. Your ass hung off of the couch, onto his thighs. He licked his lips, licked your essence from his lips, as he rubbed his dick in between your soaked folds.

You bit your lip as you watched the devilish smirk on his face. He teased your entrance with his dick, causing you to moan and shiver violently. “Please, please, please,” you begged. Your skin felt electric, poised on the precipice of what you know would feel so good.

“Please what, doll? Use your words,” Bucky said.

“Dammit Bucky,” you whined. You needed relief. You needed that sweet fuckin’ relief that only he could provide. You twisted and writhed beneath him but he only continued to tease you mercilessly.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Please! I need you,” you moaned.

“Need me to do what?” He asked. He swirled the tip of his dick at your entrance. He slapped your clit a few times with his dick. The wet slaps were loud in the quiet room. It was filthy and lewd and you whined some more.

“I need your dick inside me!”

Bucky cooed. “Aw, was that so hard?” He asked.

“I’m gonna smack you when we're done,” you said.

“Oh? Maybe I should get up then,” he said.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare!” You chuckled but you were too wound tight. Your chuckles came out as little huffs, too out of breath to truly laugh.

Bucky slapped your clit again and you ached. You felt so empty that you turned pleading, puppy dog eyes towards him. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, your bottom lip quivering.

Bucky grinned and tilted his head as he finally slid inside of you. You mutually groaned, the sound echoing each other. You let out a deep sigh as he finally slid further in with ease.

“Never get over this,” Bucky said.

“Never,” you agreed.

Bucky took hold of your fleshy thighs and began to snap his hips with a brutal, near punishing pace. He stretched you out marvelously, feeling every last inch of him. You felt full in the best way as if he were stroking straight into the deepest part of you.

He pushed your thighs apart a bit more and sank in deeper, finding your G-spot. “Oue, oue! Don’t stop! Right there!”

“Right there?”

“Right there! Right there!” You gripped onto his forearms and held on as he kept that same spot, thrusting into you exactly how you liked. You watched his face. Watched how he seemed to lose himself inside of you.

You liked this view most of all. Not only that you two were joined and meshed together so perfectly. You liked how unrestrained he looked. How his jaw was slack, eyes nearly closed, and that tongue of his poking out the corner of his mouth.

He took your breath away when he was focused on your pleasure like this. When he seemed to chase some unnameable ghost in his eyes.

“Fuck, doll, you feel so good,” he moaned.

You matched his strokes, bouncing on his dick with him and he groaned even more. His eyes looked further down and you wondered if he was looking at your bouncing breasts or the way he disappeared inside of you.

His strokes caused a delicious pressure to build low in your belly. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned.

“Come on, doll. Let it go for me, baby,” he cooed.

You finally tensed up and dug your nails into his skin as you came, flooding his dick with your arousal. He groaned and snapped his hips a final time before unloading inside of you. “Fuuuuck me,” he moaned.

Bucky continued to pound into you, thrust into you. “Fuck, I love you,” you moaned.

Bucky stilled and you closed your eyes. Fuck. You hadn’t meant to say that. “Look at me,” Bucky commanded.

You shook your head. Your pussy clenched around his dick, fresh with slick from the both of you. Shit. You groaned and dug the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Look at me, doll,” Bucky said.

You shook your head again. “Being stubborn doesn’t work on me.”

You groaned. You could not face him. You were mortified. It had only been a few months since you started dating. It was entirely too soon to confess love, right?

How could you not love him? He was sweet to the point of giving you a toothache. He was considerate and old-fashioned in a lot of ways that you strangely craved. He opened doors for you, pulled out your chair for you. If you sneezed, he would take off his jacket and hand it over with a second thought.

His cooking needed work, but he was right there in the kitchen helping you. You thought it would suck having someone in your space all the time. You very much enjoyed your independence. You knew that if you did have someone in your space, every little thing would annoy you.

If they left the toilet seat up, it was time for them to go. If they had the audacity to change your channel, you were kicking them out without a second glance. Being around Bucky, however, you just wanted more of him. Beyond the sex, you wanted him.

You liked snuggling up with him. You liked staying up way past your bedtime talking and laughing with him. You liked hearing about the books he’s read and some of the sillier missions he’d been on. Things that didn’t involve killing and maiming and being a general menace to society. He told you stories about Wakanda and you loved the way his soft voice told you stories.

He was your personal melatonin. You fell asleep often listening to the cadence and rhythm of his voice. You were in it deep. Impossibly deep. Deeper than his dick still buried inside of you.

Bucky pulled your hands away from your face. “Come on, open those pretty eyes for me,” he said.

You were not that brave. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never leave. You opened your eyes anyway, prepared to see Bucky look at you like you were crazy. A few months of dating and you were talking about love?

Blehh. It was a wonder he wasn’t getting dressed and getting the hell out of dodge. Bucky smiled and leaned forward until you were pressed chest to chest. His nose nuzzled yours.

“What did you say? Say it again,” he said.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you said and gave him a lopsided grin. Bucky kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’d like to hear it again,” he said.

“Are you sure? I can totally take it back,” you said.

Bucky shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Say it again,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you said.

His dick twitched inside of you and you whimpered. How was it that he was still hard?

“I love you, too,” he said.

“You know you don’t have to say it just because–” He sealed off your protests with a kiss. A gentle, deep, wet kiss that left you curling your toes and butterflies flapping like crazy in your stomach.

“I love you. I have loved you for a long while now. Probably from the first moment I met you,” he said.

You wanted to tell him that he was full of shit. But Bucky never said anything he didn’t mean. A by-product from the time he was born. He was raised to be fair, honest, and kind. You thanked your lucky stars that your paths crossed. You hated that his life was taken away from him but you loved that it put him in your life.

“Dammit, Bucky, I love you,” you said.

Bucky smiled against your lips and began to move. “Ouue,” you moaned as he began to glide and slide within you. Bucky kissed you as he did so, pouring all of his emotions into the movement of his body against yours.

You made love now. Slow and gentle. His thrusts were a magic all its own, making you feel even closer to him than what you were. You stared into each other’s eyes as he pulled sweet moans from your lips. He kissed down every whine and whimper you uttered.

Tears sprang to your eyes as your orgasm neared. “Bucky,” you sighed as it washed over you. Pleasure dripped down your spine, slow as molasses and just as sweet.

Bucky called your name softly as he released his own slow climax, spilling inside of you and marking you in such a primal, base way.

“I love you so much,” Bucky said. He kissed you again.

“I love you,” you told him.

“Come on. Think it’s time we try out your present,” he said. He slipped out of you with a groan. He helped you stand. He grabbed your candle, soap, and lotion and chased you into the bathroom where you continued to spend a very lazy, very naughty Christmas.

This is a follow up to It's a Little Warm. If you want to know how these two got together, start here! Read Part 1

There's also more Bucky to love! The Secret Bucky Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Bucky Files #Bucky x Black!reader #Bucky x Black reader #x Black reader #Bucky x Fem!reader #Bucky x Fem reader #Bucky x plus size reader #Bucky smut #Bucky fluff #Bucky fanfic #Bucky fan fic #Bucky fanfiction #Bucky fan fiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes

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ibrithir-was-here · 1 year

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Sandman Enchanted AU

So i watched Disenchanted today and it was wonderful, and made me super nostalgic for Enchanted, and since my brain has been on Sandman for two months of course it went "do a Sandman Enchanted AU"

Now, would it have made so much more sense to make it a Hope Godling AU, where Hob is the happy singing Endless who gets thrown into the real world to meet Grumpy Human Dream? Yes, of course it would--

But consider the absolute crazy hilarity of an AU where, after Dream's ruby is broken and his power releasesed something goes wrong, and he gets split into two--his dark melonchaly spooky Nightmare Half---and his whimsical, hopeful and actually happy Daydream Half

And the Daydream half gets shot across reality to the New Inn, and Hob Gadling is now stuck playing confused and rather concerned host to a singing dancing Daydream, who's free of his melancholy for the first time in years and is warping reality to make it into a Disney musical eachtime he laughs, which is often.

Hob is absolutely at a loss as to what to do, especially since his Stranger is acting incredibly stranger then usual--and he's smiling at Hob, constantly. Its a good thing Hob's immortal or he's sure he would have died from that smile alone 100 times by now. And as much as he loves seeing his Stranger so happy and affectionate he's trying hard not to take advantage of that by letting his own deep feelings loose as it's clear something is off--

A fact confirmed by Joanna Constantine (who Hob also knows, we'll put her in to fill in Nancy/Morgan's role basically as Hob doesn't have a fiance or a kid) who makes it clear that yeah this isn't how Dream usually is and something must have gone wrong with him trying to get his tools back.

So Hob's trying really hard to be a gentleman and not get too swept off his feet by Daydream--who really isn't making it easy cuz he's so sweet and open and incrediblely affectionate.

The "That's How You Know" moment--which is Daydream trying to get Hob to open up about who it is he has a crush on because how can this person know Hob likes them if he never says-- is horrendously difficult for Hob to hold back just blurting it out, especially with the reality warping 'Open your heart and sing' stuff going on. And he's trying the whole time not to join in the singing.

Meanwhile the Corinthian--who has a combined Nathaniel/Narissa role--has learned about Dream's current condition and determiend that Daydream will be much easier to off--keeps trying to stab the pair and keeps getting trampled by background dancers and such XD

So Hob and Daydream keep getting closer and closer while Joanna tries to find out whats going on, and Daydream is just having a wonderful time, as is Hob, despite his misgivings.

Nightmare meanwhile, is barely holding onto human shape and is very put out about this latest inconvenience--especially since it turns out that Daydream holds the majority of his power to talk to animals, so everything Matthew says to him comes out as more "Caw" then words.

Nightmare finds Daydream eventually and tells him they have to join back together for the good of the Dreaming and the Waking--things are getting more and more unsettled each time a musical number happens-- but Daydream begs to have one real date with Hob before they do, a date where he can just be happy and not mired down by all the self loathing and fear and such that Normal Dream has. Nightmare reluctantly agrees because they wont be able to join back together unless they both agree, so they all end up going to a dance or something thats happening

Daydream has a wonderful time, and so does Hob, who of course has fallen absolutely in love with this side of his Stranger, and will be sorry to see Daydream go.

But Hob makes sure to draw Nightmare intona dance a well "this is your date too really you get a dance too" and during that time tries to tell Nightmare that he loves /all/ parts of him, not just the happy one. Nightmare of course is less then convinced, and of course goes into 1889 mood all over again, saying that he neither wants nor needs Hob's love (liar)

Which is just when the Corinthian has finally managed to snag hold of Daydream, and seeing the current situation, tells them "Look at how upset Nightmare is, he's embarrassed by all this lovey dovey stuff. Always has been always will be. If you go back together Dream will be so humiliated by all the gushy stuff you've done that he'll never go and see Hob Gadling again...unless you dont join back together..."

So when Nightmare comes storming up demanding that they leave and rejoin now Daydream refuses--but reality starts to break down again as the separation deepens by this refusal, things warping and twisting between fantastical daydreams and horrific nightmares as the clock starts to chime down. And finally Daydream starts to break down themself as Nightmare tells them to look around at what's happening, this is why they can't let go, why they have to do their duty, not give into their own daydreams--and Daydream knows that Nightmare is right--and their heart breaks.

And Daydream starts to fade away, something that delights the Corinthian who's managed to stay hidden as he knows the loss will ultimately undue Dream forever.

But just as Daydream can feel sorrow, Nightmare can feel remorse. And he knows that there's only one way for Daydream-- the side of the Prince of Stories that is the embodiment of happy endings and the power of a true love's kiss--to be saved, so he asks Hob to give Daydream the one daydream dearest to him...

After the kiss Daydream and Hob have a tearful goodbye, thanking eachother for all that they've gotten to experience these last few days. Then Daydream finally agrees to reunite with Nightmare. The two come together, the world comes back into balance, and Dream comes back awkwardly into form.

Dream gives an awkward thanks and farewellnto Hob, telling him he needs to go after the Corinthian, and disappears, leaving Hob alone on the dance floor, with a bittersweet smile on his face.

But of course this has a happy ending, and after Dream deals with all that stuff and gets a talking to by Death and has time to process all the memories hw made with Hob as Daydream...he finally gets up the courage to head to the New Inn again, maybe while it’s raining so we can get the rain kiss scene…

And things work out Happily Ever After…

Edit: Now with fic!

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absurdcosmonaut · 2 months

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See a lot of Sonic and gremlin Tails and thought up a funny “quick” fic:

Right, so… professor pickle, the scientist whom Tails entrusted Sonic in case of emergencies since the whole, y’know… Gaia… but that didn’t matter right now. Right now all he knew he needed to do was bring this last damn chaos emerald to the big-nosed oldie. He said he could reverse engineering the aging system to fully bring Tails back to his real age! He’d been running around for faaaaaaar too many months trying to locate the emeralds.

Chaos, could this elevator please go ANY FASTER????? His eye twitched as the elevator descended deep beneath the library into the archives of the library. One floor every ten seconds, he counted exactly. It was an old, rickety elevator that was painfully slow and waaaaaay too bumpy for his comfort, not doing his anxiety any favors. He reached into his quills, and pulled out the yellow chaos emerald, the last one he needed for the usual set of seven that were always a pain in the quills to find. (especially without your resident tech geek for aid) He’d had to use the ye old method of walking in the direction he felt a slight pull of chaos, not really the most reliable method on his best days, especially now that his senses have been dulled due to his brother’s gadgets that could pinpoint the location of them down to the exact blade of grass. Oh, right… Tails… this was all for him, and the kid wasn’t even with him… suddenly all the anxiety was replaced with a longing. He looked down from the emerald he held in his palm down to his feet.

He’d left the kid with Amy and the Rabbits for maybe a few days at a time before the toddler became distraught at his absence, forcing him to spend the next few days with a toddler tagging with him. (Which severely impacted his abilities because toddlers are more difficult than one would imagine, turns out) Most of the time he’d spend two days with the kid with Amy for backup (not that he knew much about kids, so Amy and Cream would do all the dirty work of baby care)

But all of that was about to end! Yes sir, Sonic the hedgehog would have his sidekick back! And thank Gaia too! Running alone really sucked now that he’d returned to it! Chaos, how did he even stand it…? He used to be so quiet before the fox came along and he slowly bantered with his brother as they got used to each other. Now, the hedgehog felt a pit in his stomach when he’d look back and notice the fox wasn’t flying just behind him. Before this whole incident 7/10 times that meant the kid was in danger, and Sonic would be sent straight into anxiety mode. He had to constantly remind himself that Tails was okay.

He eventually stopped checking in with Amy every two-and-a-half hours when even the pink hedgehog became annoyed at his constant helicopter-brother attitude. Which, really was a wake up call when even your obsessed fan-girl becomes sick of your schtick.

The emerald in his palm was shimmering now, which meant it was getting closer to the other six they had in the archive. The elevator came to a halt with a screaming, painful stop. The cage on the front opened into the vast library of a maze that, while amazing at first, he’d grown accustomed to the sight of. He wasn’t even allowed to run in the giant complex! How ridiculous was that!?!?

Hey, it did keep tails endlessly busy reading whole collections of books in a day, so he couldn’t complain too much. Even as a tiny, small bean he practically flew through the literature in front of him faster than he flew next to Sonic! So, it made for the perfect distraction

Damn, he couldn’t wait until his brother was back. He did like the kid being small and all, it was adorable, but he missed the fox’s wacky gadgets and banter.

As he stepped out into the archive, he realized what about the emerald evoked a sense of melancholy in him. It was the same golden color of his brother’s usually vibrant fur, now returned to a dark brown… Sonic felt a small spark on his palm where he held the emerald, and a sense of determination suddenly engulfed him like a fire.

He made a decision right then and there: his favorite color was now YELLOW!! Yes, it’s official, he didn’t care how corny it sounded, it was his BROTHER’s color. It was also fitting too, what allows the sky to shine blue? The yellow sun, of course! He learned that from Tails! Yellow and blue were complementary colors, and if Tails’ was blue (it totally was) then the decision was easy! He’d make SURE his brother’s coat would be a brilliant golden-yellow again!!!

He came to the front of an old door and looked up, putting the chaos emerald back in his quills. Opening it, he found a serene sene of everyone sitting and reading, blech! Gross…. But he did know cream and Amy occasionally dabbled in the art, but knuckles was a new one (the echidna could read?) as he and the professor discussed theories of the emeralds and chaos energy over a well worn book written in gibberish to the hedgehog’s eyes. The fox was in front of them, looking through the book as well with the emerald sitting around it.

However… something… very unexpected happened. The emeralds began to rattle before they all suddenly shot around stood upright around the baby fox, who was mesmerized by the glow of the emeralds. Everyone looked over to Sonic and noticed he’d just entered. (Heh, usually people would know pretty quickly when he arrived)

But their gaze was suddenly returned back to the fox was a massive and bright as hell light suddenly engulfed the room more than the sun! But then as everyone shielded their eyes until it was gone, they were met with a flying, nine tailed, BLUE fox hovering in the air and giggling harder than Sonic had ever seen.

Well…. Shit.

Thanks to @0vergrowngraveyard for taking my suggestion of a super baby tails! Wrote this fic to show my gratitude!!

#sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #miles tails prower #tails the fox #baby tails

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snailsdraw · 1 year

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[Start ID: 7 pages of HLVRAI narrative doodles following an interaction between a younger Bubby and Dr Coomer about the moon.

It is a late night at the Black Mesa facility in the year 1973. Bubby, now a scientist, is taking a load off outside by the train tracks within the facility, his legs dangling over the edge while his face is tilted to the sky with an unreadable expression. "Ah! There you are, Dr Bubby!" calls Dr Coomer, walking up from behind him. He continues, "May I ask what you're doing out here? Your presence was requested at the High-Energy Particle Labs about an hour ago, or so I've heard." Bubby seems to rub at his eyes before turning his face sideways to throw a glance at the approaching fellow scientist. He smirks: "Oh Harold, when have I ever let those idiots get their way? Besides, I haven't failed to deliver even when 2 hours short. I'd say they're just too intimidated by my Intellectual Prowess to trust me with it." Dr Coomer stoops down to sit down next to him, humming in a humouring manner.

"Bubby, I do recall you only learning how to use the lavatory a month ago-" Dr Coomer begins to say, before Bubby interrupts him. "Look, I was created to be a scientific genius, not a toilet user," Bubby retorts. Not quite paying attention to his response, Dr Coomer hums absentmindedly, gaze turned to the full moon hanging above them. Out here, the dark open sky is speckled with pinprick stars and graced by passing clouds. Dr Coomer comments: "The Moon is quite beautiful tonight, isn't it?" "Well, I'm not surprised. It usually is," replies Bubby. "What would be nice is to see it up close..." Sensing hidden melancholy in his words, Dr Coomer steals a sideways look at him.

Bubby is quiet for a bit, face still turned to the moon. "…I was always going to find a way onto that rocket, you know?" Bubby finally says, quietly. "Leave it to the labcoat bastards to fuck that up…keeping me locked up in that damn tube a year too damn long." Dr Coomer looks away, feeling a smidge guilty at being a "labcoat bastard" himself in Bubby's words. The year is 1973, a year after NASA's last lunar mission.

They sit in silence, until Bubby feels an elbow nudging at him. "Now, now, that's not the Dr Bubby I've come to know," Dr Coomer says encouragingly, having recovered from his momentary guilt, "Look with me, won't you?"

"The Moon is still up there, isn't she? In all her glowing radiant glory," says Dr Coomer, gesturing to the moon with an open palm. Bubby looks at him curiously as the stout man continues: "And as long as she's still up there," - and Dr Coomer punctuates his sentence by poking a finger to Bubby's chest - "I believe you will find a way to meet her."

Dr Coomer retracts his hand, keeping his other palm held open towards the moon. He quirks an eyebrow at Bubby, grinning: "Afterall, would a "scientific genius" be handicapped by the mere discontinuation of the Apollo Project?" Bubby is speechless for a moment, taking in Dr Coomer's words in subtle awe before a smug grin stretches across his cheek. "Oh, of course not!" Bubby says confidently, a glint bouncing off his glasses as he adjusts them smartly, "What do they take me for? A fool?"

Dr Coomer smiles warmly at Bubby in amusement as Bubby continues arrogantly: "I'll be up there in no time! In fact, why stop there? I'll go even further!" "I'll be the first terrestrial being to see the universe in its entirety!" Bubby's words echo in Dr Coomer's mind somewhere in the future, when the elderly scientist floats alone in a dark void of space above everything he had once thought to be real. Looking down on the now small piece of railway area he'd just been standing on with the rest of the Science Team, his doubtless reply to Bubby back in 1973 rings hollowly in his mind. "I'm sure you will, Bubby."

End ID.]

I had to split the Boomer thing into two because the ID would been even longer if not.

Yall have @ves-doodles to thank for introducing me to the Saturn V rocket.

[Link to Part 1.] <<

#hlvrai #hlvrai bubby #hlvrai coomer #id #snail's art

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tj-dragonblade · 2 months

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[FIC] London Fog

Rated: M Word Count: 3504 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, sort of failed at being fluff though, human AU, post-vacation blues, Dream of the Endless is a stubborn miserable bastard, Dream of the Endless is a sad wet cat, divorced Dream, hopeful ending don't worry, background Hob & Johanna, Hob and Johanna are besties, Jessamy for MVP, Jessamy and Dream are besties, no actual smut herein, but there IS one spicy recollection midway through

Sequel to Caribbean Sunset. This was supposed to be a quick fluffy scene of parting ways at the end of the cruise, of Hob communicating respect for Dream's boundaries along with the desire to see him again. But then 'what are Dream's reasons for hesitating' suddenly turned into backstory full of angst and depression and steered us into post-vacation blues and this is not the fluff I set out to write but I am happy enough with it all the same.

If anyone is sensitive to topics of marital fidelity and full disclosure, please click the read-more and scroll to the bottom for quick spoilers before proceeding.

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 13 choice snuggling furry Day 14 phone bubble bath doll Day 15 cord bakery honey

Summary: Dream does his best to ignore Possibilities while he copes with returning from holiday

On AO3

The ship's main atrium is crowded with passengers queuing up for debarkation, loud with the murmur of many voices, but there is only one voice that hold's Dream's attention at the moment.

"I mean. We both live in London; it's not unthinkable we might get together again? Have a drink, grab a bite, get to know each other better?"

Hob's tone is bright, hopeful; the light in his eyes is so very alluring, and Dream is almost tempted.

But circumstances do not permit him to indulge in such fantasies, not now that his cruise has come to an end—the divorce continues to drag on, courtesy of Alex's father, and Dream is uncertain beyond that whether he even wants any relationship ever again; each attempt has gone worse than the last and Hob…Hob is sweet, and kind, and an excellent lay, and Dream. Would not wish to drag him into the festering detritus of his own life.

He has not even left the ship, yet, and already the weight and gloom of reality are pressing heavy at his shoulders.

How he longs to stretch this holiday into infinity, to never have to go back.

He steels himself, forcibly pushes the gathering melancholy away, meets Hob's lovely gaze with a sad smile.

"Hob. I adore you; I hope that much is clear. But my life is. Convoluted, at present, and I am. Messy, at relationships, in general. I do not want to taint—" He blows out a breath, tries again. "This has been wonderful, amazing, so very easy; we fuck and we frolic and we have no cares, no responsibilities, and I would book both of us onto the turnaround cruise immediately if it were feasible, so that we might continue. I am not looking forward to returning to all that waits for me at home."

"All the more reason for a breath of something new, something you could carry over from holiday?" Hob's face is so open, so reasonable and guileless and hopeful.

Dream shakes his head, adamant. "As I said, I am messy. In the ordinary day-to-day, in the mundanity of work and circumstance I. I grow neglectful—cruel, I have been told, many times—and…you will grow weary, of my demands, my eccentricities, of my capricious moods and sullen temper."

"I won't, though," Hob says, smiling, as if it is truly that simple. They have been acquainted for a week, much of which was spent in vigorous activities other than deep conversation, and yet Hob speaks with firm conviction as if they have known one another for months. "But I get it. A fling on holiday is not a real relationship." He tugs on his ear, offers his sweet, warm smile. "All the same, I really like you, and I would love the chance to see if we could be something more. So." He holds out a hand. "Phone, love?"

Dream is responding to the easy endearment before he even realizes, unlocking his phone and handing it to Hob.

"Here's what we'll do," Hob says, fingers flying over the screen. "I'll give you my number. Just that. And if you ever want to call, you can. I don't have your info so I can't violate that boundary. It's entirely up to you." He hands the phone back to Dream and there he is, 'Hob' in his contacts, just a number, with a cartoon lemur from the default gallery as his pic. "If you delete it, if you never call, so be it. I'll always remember you fondly. But if you decide you'd like to see me again, please know I'd love to hear from you. Even if you don't want to date, if you just need to let off some steam no strings attached, I would be happy to be there for you." He smiles, soft and just a little self-depracating. "I'm shooting my shot, as they say, so you know where I stand. But the power's in your hands, dove; the choice is yours. And I'll respect it, whatever you decide."

Dream blinks, clutches his phone tightly, a little bit breathless at how astute Hob is. He's barely mentioned his life in any depth when they did talk; Hob was a holiday tryst in the midst of his interminable ongoing divorce and he hadn't intended on any deeper connection or true getting-to-know-one-another conversations. At most he may have mentioned a 'controlling ex' in passing and he genuinely cannot say for sure; Hob has kept him suitably occupied with other thoughts.

But here is Hob, either extrapolating from that comment or running entirely off intuition, handing him full autonomy over whether or not he wants to pursue any further acquaintance.

"Thank you," he says, eyes pricking with the threat of tears. Perhaps—perhaps—

But no. Best not to even think about 'perhaps'. There is too much to sort out at home still; he does not need to indulge in what-ifs and flights of fancy.

"Can I kiss you? One last time?" Hob asks, and Dream throws his arms about Hob's neck and kisses him first, heedless of the crowded atrium.

It is heaven, the soft slide of Hob's mouth fitting to his, the gentle teasing curl of his tongue, and Dream realizes with a sudden fierce ache that he is going to miss it terribly.

It is more difficult than he would like to end it.

"Goodbye, Hob Gadling," he murmurs, close to Hob's lips, and reluctantly steps back. "Thank you for making this cruise so wonderfully memorable." His hands find both of Hob's, squeeze them.

Hob smiles, soft and bright and the slightest bit sad. He leans in, presses a lingering kiss to the corner of Dream's mouth. "Bye, Dream," he says, gentle and quiet, and then he's sliding from Dream's grasp, turning, walking away.

Dream watches him go, watches as Johanna emerges from the crowd to corral him; he is still watching when Hob glances back over his shoulder with that same beatific melancholy in his smile. Dream gives him a small wave, tries his best to smile in return.

And then Hob is gone, swallowed up in the throng of passengers streaming into the gangway, and Dream deflates.

"This dream is over," he mutters to himself, and makes his way off the ship.

~ Hob and Johanna had boarded a bus for Disney World; there is no chance of encountering them at the airport. The thought gives Dream bitter resolve as he checks his luggage at the kiosk and makes his way through security, finds the first class lounge, settles in to wait for his 6pm departure time.

Two hours in to the transatlantic flight, long limbs comfortably folded into his first class aisle seat and beginning to protest the stillness, he sets his mind to wandering. How wonderful it might have been, to change his plans, to accompany Hob to 'the happiest place on earth'. Hob has been delightful company in and out of the bedroom and Johanna was agreeable enough; he had immensely enjoyed the time they spent together on St. Thomas. He has never been to any Disney park, on any continent, and while it has never seemed like something he would enjoy he now finds himself imagining such a visit in Hob's company, laughing at Hob's childlike delight as they queue for rides and attractions, shopping for souvenirs, sampling street foods and specialty offerings of every kind.

But no. It would be rude to invite himself on the next leg of Hob's holiday with Hob's friend; Dream had already monopolized Hob's time on the cruise and while Johanna had been very adaptable in that regard, Dream would not wish to impose further.

Besides which. There are meetings with solicitors to be attended, in hopes of finally moving the onerous divorce proceedings to a close; his company and accounts need his attention and it would be unfair of him to expect Jessamy to shoulder that load for longer simply because he is weary of his responsibilities and far too attached to his holiday fling.

With a sigh, he pushes all thoughts aside and closes his eyes, attempting sleep.

~ Jessamy meets him at Heathrow after he's cleared customs in the morning; he is tired, and grateful for her brisk efficiency in getting him to the waiting car and home to his sleek modern flat. Today is for dealing with jet lag; tomorrow he will return to the office and his responsibilities full time. All the same, there are things he can go over with Jessamy in the name of catching up and being prepared, once he's had a nap. Airline travel is not conducive to meaningful sleep.

"Good to have you home, Dream," Jessamy says, as she rolls the suitcase she brought in over to where he's dropped the rest of his luggage.

"Thank you, Jessamy." He hopes she understands that he means for everything, not just that single sentiment; she makes his life run smoothly in a way he can hardly imagine being without.

"Of course." She flashes a cheeky grin. "You must tell me about all the exciting and unmentionable shenanigans you got up to, after you've slept. I'll be back this afternoon so we can touch base properly."

Dream collapses in his bed after she's left, the sheets crisp and clean and the pillowcase cool against his face, and dreams of Hob's hands on his skin.

~ He settles back into his mundane routines easily, as if he's never left, the same way it always happens when he returns from holiday. He meets with investors, he addresses the shareholders, he facilitates talks between Finance and Marketing to adjust the budget for next fiscal year and allocate additional funding for the long-term studies requested by the latter. He meets with his solicitors, who assure him that each of the latest demands and stipulations brought by the Burgess camp have been refused and countered and the directive given once more to sign the final document that Dream had thought far too generous six months ago. They are optimistic that there will be no further objections.

Dream will not allow himself that hope until it actually comes to pass.

He thinks of Hob frequently.

It is mid-March, a full month since returning, when he finds himself gazing yet again at the innocuous entry in his contacts, the cartoon lemur staring back at him brightly.

He ought to delete it. He ought to cut the thread that holds him to the glimmer of impossibility and impracticality, of unrealistic expectations. It has been a month; surely Hob has realized by now that he will not call and has put the entire notion behind him. Dream is foolish, to keep the number in his phone, to entertain the occasional daydream of actually calling. He has not; he will not. There is no point in letting the contact remain.

He recalls, with aching clarity, their last night aboard ship when they had finally put the bed to carnal use, having exhausted all other options within the suite and private deck. Hob had put him facedown on his knees and lovingly opened him up on tongue and fingers until he spilled, helpless, then put him on his back and fucked him tenderly to another climax before finishing himself. Dream remembers the way Hob kissed him throughout, slow and thorough; he remembers with a shiver of longing Hob's fingers carding through his hair, cradling his thighs, stroking down his neck, his shoulders. He recalls Hob's voice, soft and fervent, murmuring endearments and appreciation against his mouth, his skin; he remembers how he fought to keep from crying, overwhelmed by the adoration that Hob poured into him.

He had felt…cherished. It was only a holiday indulgence, a fantasy of possibilities, but oh, how he had wanted. It was delightful to curl in sleep with Hob, to be held, to imagine that this kind and beautiful near-stranger truly cared for him beyond the pleasure they found in one another.

It was so easy to pretend that he was loved.

He closes his contacts without deleting Hob's entry.

~ "So this gentleman you met on your cruise," Jessamy starts one day in April, over breakfast. She has brought him a decadent blueberry danish from the bakery near her flat and is picking delicately at her own lemon poppyseed muffin. "He left you his number, you said?"

"Yes." Dream takes an enormous bite of the pastry, delighting in the sweet tang of the blueberry filling on his tongue, the sugary melt of the glaze and the flake of the crust. He does not like where this conversation seems to be headed, but it is Jessamy, and her offering is delicious, so he will endure it.

"Are you ever going to call him?" She plucks another small chunk of her muffin between two elegant glittery-black nails and pops it into her mouth, watching him with sharp, knowing eyes.

Dream chews slowly, allowing himself time to ponder the question until his mouth is empty. "I do not know," he says at last, honestly. "I should not; there is little point. Yet I cannot quite let go of the fantasy."

"There's little harm in a spot of fantasy, though, is there," she returns. "It's human nature to spin ourselves what-ifs and wouldn't-it-be-nices."

"Perhaps," Dream allows, and returns to his Danish.

It has been two months now since the cruise; the longer he goes without calling Hob, the more foolish he feels when he imagines how it might play out if he did. It is fanciful nonsense, all of it; Hob has certainly put Dream far from his mind by now.

Hob's number remains in his phone, the bright-eyed lemur inciting a small pang of fondness and regret any time he scrolls past it.

~ It is the last week in May that the divorce is at long last finalized, legitimized, and filed as complete.

Dream feels a celebration would be appropriate. He considers dressing down and dolling up, visiting the clubs that he had taken to frequenting after he and Alex officially separated more than two years ago. Sex would be a lovely way to celebrate, especially when it's been months since the last time he'd gotten laid—

The notion passes silently on before it can truly take hold. Sex would be nice, yes, but now he is thinking of that last time, and all he wants is Hob.

Jessamy brings champagne to his office as evening sets in. "I heard the good news," she says, waggling the pair of stemmed glasses in her hand. "Congratulations on finally being legally and officially rid of the twat."

"Thank you." Dream rises and takes the glassware; Jessamy pops the cork and pours for them both, then lifts her glass. "To freedom?"

Dream matches her. "To correcting mistakes which ought never have been made," he amends, and they drink.

~ Two glasses later, the conversation has turned to Dream's Future Prospects, a topic far more easily navigated when mellowed by the champagne in his bloodstream.

"I am better off alone, Jessamy."

Jessamy tilts her head at him, frowning.

"No, I don't think you are," she offers at last.

"Nonsense." Dream feels very strongly that his point is valid. "Every relationship I have had has been. Catastrophic."

"Well, yes. You did make magnificently bad choices in your last two marriages."

"And the others?"

"You and Nada were both far too young when you eloped." She shakes her head slightly. "And everyone in between were decent enough people, just…not right for you, ultimately. There were plenty of reasons for things not working out, but that doesn't mean you stop trying."

"The fact that I have seven failed marriages behind me when I am barely forty years old leads me to think otherwise." Dream tips another small measure of champagne into his glass. "I would be wise to seek out my casual dalliances when I wish for them and swear off the idea of romance. I would be far happier."

Jessamy is giving him that look, the one that says he's full of shit but she'll find a kinder way to point it out. "Would you, though?"

"Of course. You are happy, are you not?"

"Yes, but I'm aromantic. You very much are not, Dream. You thrive on the thrill of falling in love, of wooing and being wooed and grand gestures of devotion."

He swirls his glass, once, pouting. She is correct, of course; she knows him better than anyone, has been his friend for most of his life and his assistant for most of his career. He is very much in love with being in love, which makes the parade of failed marriages in his wake all the more painful.

"You are right, of course," he reiterates aloud, melancholy stealing over him. "The idea of finding someone for one night does not even hold the appeal it did before I went on holiday. I just keep thinking of Hob."

Jessamy cocks her head at him again, raises an eyebrow, gaze bright and astute. "The fantasy in your phone whom you've never called?"

"Yes."

"That good, was he?"

"He was not—he was, rather, but it was not just that." He can feel the emotion swelling in his chest and makes no effort to hide it; Jessamy will not judge him ill for it. "Hob is kind, and sweet, and so full of life; he is a brilliant soul, warm and chivalrous and—and—" He has run out of words.

"And hot?" Jessamy's grin is sly.

"And hot," Dream admits, mournfully, "and such a good kisser, and Jessamy, I miss him. He went to Disney World, after the cruise." He looks at her, everything laid bare in his eyes, tongue comfortably loose with champagne. "I wanted very much to go with him."

"Wow."

"Yes." Dream looks away, breathing past the ache in his chest; he cannot deny that the space Hob has occupied in his thoughts since February is far more than warranted by a simple holiday tryst.

Jessamy sighs gently. "Then. Perhaps—and hear me out here—perhaps you should call him."

Dream shakes his head, miserable. "I will ruin him, I will ruin whatever feeling lies between us. As I did with Calliope, and Will, and Nuala—"

"Every relationship is different, Dream. Every set of variables, every chance—maybe it won't work, but maybe it will. You don't know without trying."

"…Perhaps."

Jessamy sets her glass aside and rises to leave. She lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly in passing. "Life is too short, Dream. Reach for happiness, every now and again. You deserve it as much as anyone."

~ Dream stares at the little cartoon lemur on his phone screen long after Jessamy has left, stares at Hob's name beneath it.

Is he truly thinking of calling, after all this time?

It is pointless, hopeless; surely Hob has long since moved on. Besides which, it is late. He does not even know what Hob does for a living, whether he is likely to still be awake at 9pm on a Tuesday but even so, it does not matter. It is far too late in the evening for unsolicited non-emergency phone calls, particularly when he is morbidly tipsy from finishing off the bottle of champagne; he swipes out of his contacts, heart thudding in his chest as though he's just narrowly missed out on calamity.

Or opportunity.

~ He stares at the lemur again the next day, and the next, and the next, debating with himself, thumb hovering over the number while his pulse pounds sickly with nerves. He wants to call, more than he might have wanted anything in recent memory; he is terrified to try, to take the risk, to burn the gauze of fantasy to the ground in hopes that a beautiful reality will rise from the ashes.

The lemur's cartoon eyes stare brightly back, unhelpful.

~ At last, on the seventh of June, half past noon on a bright sunny day, Dream can dither no more over insecurities and cautionary woes.

He wants, and he is tired of pretending that he does not.

He steels himself, closes his eyes and lets his thumb touch down.

Trembling, breath held, he brings the phone to his ear.

There is ringing on the other end, three times, a fourth, and then the sound of the line connecting.

A voice, a voice wonderfully familiar despite how long it has been since last he heard it, speaks up. "Hello, Robert Gadling here…"

Dream opens his eyes and exhales, heart in his throat. "Hob?"

There is a sudden stillness over the line. "…Dream?" Dream can hear the bright smile breaking over Hob's face. "Is that you?!"

The tension bleeds out of him in a rush and he is smiling as well, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he cradles the phone in both hands, curling toward the warm glow of possibility it offers.

Perhaps, perhaps this time, if he only believes.

"Hello, Hob."

= Started: 2/13/24 Drafted: 2/15/24 Posted: 2/15/24

The Extra Warning note: We find out here that Dream is still in the middle of a years-long messy divorce from Alex Burgess while on the cruise; he has technically committed adultery with Hob. Hob does not know and will not find out at this juncture. If this makes you uncomfortable, I completely understand if you need to give this a pass.

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #sadly deficient on the fluff this time around #Sandman #Dreamling

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