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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 14 days

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AGH FASHION DESIGNER SUGURU AND MODEL SATORU W A NEW INTERN DESIGNER UNDER THEIR WING 😞😞☹️ - 🌺

WAHHHH I LOVE THIS 🥺🥺🥺 the pining and flirting and slowburn of it all… model!satoru and his favorite designer suguru geto, both of them undeniably skilled and born with an eye for fashion….. well-known and adored……..

designer!suguru who gets tasked with showing you the ropes, who’s always so patient and kind despite your inexperience. diligent with his teaching but also so laidback, so easy to talk to… he looks intimidating, but he’s so polite that you can’t help but swoon a little. and he admires your enthusiasm so much…… grows fond of you soooo quickly bc you’re just such a breath of fresh air compared to the divas he’s forced to work with all the time. he thinks you’ve got real potential and he wants to nurture it.

and ofc you end up running into model!satoru eventually…. bc he’s always hanging around suguru whenever he gets the chance. and he’s maybe a little jealous that you’re hogging so much of his personal designer’s attention, but… he also thinks you’re so cute . T_T like a little puppy following suguru around… so excited to be apart of something you’ve dreamed of for so many years……… he looks into your eyes and sees the same sparkle he had before he made it big, and it makes his heart race.

yeah . i’m just thinking abt the peaceful coffee breaks with suguru….. how he’d insist on paying for your drink, ”since he’s your senior” (he wants to be your favorite </3)…… and how he’d just be so protective over his little intern. don’t get me started on the close proximity with satoru when you’re taking his measurements, the glance and smile he sends your way during an impromptu shoot… the way he always calls for you with a sweet coo of ”how’s my favorite intern doing today?”

😔😔😔 yeahhhhhh. they make me feel ill.

#thank you 🌺 anon my beloved….. i am kissing your beautiful brain #😭😭😭😭 now i kinda wanna write this oh no #my anons keep making my wip list longer this isn’t fair T—T #(i love you all very much)#NO BUT THIS IS SO BIGBRAINED IT’S INSANE #fashion designer!sugu the loml…. model!satoru just feels so natural too #i think they’re both very mature!!!!!!!#there are some aus where i think satoru would lean towards his more bratty hs self #but here i feel like he’s similar to the way he is in canon :3 just. silly and goofy and passionate abt what he does #AND very fond of youth. of people with lofty goals and dreams and starlight in their eyes #(<- has gotten carried away)#YOU GET IT THOUGH i know you’ll see the vision 🌺 anon 🫂🫂🫂 we’re holding hands #i need them both #need suguru to buy me expensive coffee while satoru feeds me pieces of a pastry #for some reason i keep thinking of coffee breaks i might. just be hungry 😭😭😭#ask tag ✩#🌺 anon !! ✩#geto x reader #gojo x reader #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader

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cuubism · 1 year

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for @magnusbae, as usual 😂

“If you relent now, you may be offered a small degree of mercy,” Dream told his captors from where he was sitting cross-legged in the summoning circle. Irritating, to have found himself summoned again. He was going to have to devise better protections against this sort of thing. At least he had his clothes this time, that was a small comfort.

A greater comfort was the certain knowledge that someone was coming for him. Rare, that feeling, and brilliantly warm in its newness.

One of the men sneered down at him. “You aren’t in a position to be talking about mercy, Dream of the Endless.”

His name spoken in such a way sent a prickle up Dream’s spine. The disrespect.

“I speak not of myself,” he said, then fell silent, watching a look of unease flash across his captor’s face, the worried expression he sent to his compatriot. The realization, there, that he meant someone was coming after him, and the fear of what kind of being might be loyal to one such as him.

If only they knew.

“Although,” he continued, “there are a great many fates worse than death in this world. Perhaps death itself will be your mercy.”

They would not enjoy what Dream would do with them when he got out.

They ought to know what they were messing with. They had summoned him as Nightmare, used a spell that called to the darker elements of his nature. But then, human folly knew no bounds.

The men had not contained Dream very well, either. Tonight, when they slept, he should be able to slip into their dreams and compel one of them to break the circle. That was if someone else did not get there first.

Dream hoped someone else got there first.

He felt it was only fair to get a little show in return for his trouble.

The men looked truly unnerved now, but Dream offered no more explanation. Let them stew in what they had wrought. It was satisfying, incredibly satisfying, to watch them shake in it.

Dream did not have to wait long for his reckoning.

The door flew open, banging into the wall. Hob stood in the doorway, haloed by the hallway light, one hand grasping a crowbar that Dream knew he usually kept in his car. Dream’s summoners were armed with guns, but Dream was not concerned, and not only because Hob could not die.

“Hello, Hob,” he intoned. The other men looked between the two of them, shocked into inaction.

“Hi, love,” said Hob. His tone was light but the look in his eyes was not. “You alright?”

“I feel deprived of my day off,” Dream complained. “We had plans.”

“Hmm. That we did.”

One of his captors, the one who had scorned his offer of mercy, finally regained his senses enough to raise his weapon. Dream propped his head in his hands to watch.

Some days, Dream wished he could have seen Hob on a proper battlefield, sword in hand, ruthless, brutal efficiency on full display. There was no elegance to the way Hob fought, only experience, instinct, and an utter lack of pretension characteristic of one who had used those skills for illicit gain and survival rather than showmanship. Dream loved every second of it, especially when it was brought to bear for him.

Hob cracked the man across the hand, knocking his gun aside, then smashed him overhand with the crowbar. Dream heard the man’s skull audibly split.

Hob spun for the other, who was scrambling for his gun. Dream watched with disgust. Such amateurs dared to summon him? They knew not what they meddled with.

Hob backhanded the man across the cheek before he could even properly grip his gun, and the man shrieked, falling backwards. Hob turned to Dream. “You wanna…?” He waved a hand as if to indicate plunge him into endless torment.

Dream shook his head. Such sorry excuses for men did not deserve his effort.

Hob shrugged and smashed the man over the head with the crowbar again, not quite killing him but pushing him very close to his sister’s embrace.

Footsteps down the hall, and then two more men burst into the room. One held a cattle prod instead of a gun; Dream could only assume it had been meant for him, and they simply had not found cause to use it yet. Hob’s gaze zeroed in on it, and something dark sharpened in his eyes.

“You’ll regret that, but you won’t have long to do it,” he said, dropping his crowbar as he ducked the man’s lunging blow with the cattle prod to grab him around the back of the neck and knee him in the gut. The man doubled over, gasping, hand spasming as he dropped his weapon. Hob twisted him into a headlock, his arm an iron bar across the man’s throat.

“Next time you mess with beings beyond your understanding,” he growled, “consider that they might have someone waiting at home for them.”

Dream’s breath caught. He watched as the air seeped out of his captor under Hob’s grip until he slumped to the floor. This was all far more satisfying – and attractive – than he’d even anticipated.

He was so caught up in the vicious heroics of it all that he didn’t realize the final co-conspirator had pointed his gun at him until Hob said, very low and very dark, “I wouldn’t.”

Dream looked up at the last man standing, either the smartest or dumbest of the group based on his current antics, depending on which way one looked at it. His hand was shaking where it was pointing the gun at Dream’s chest.

“I’ll kill him!” his captor insisted, voice squeaking up an octave in fear. Was Hob frightening? Dream supposed he was, from that angle. The thought thrilled something in him.

“I wouldn’t,” Hob repeated, the man’s fate should he do so very clear in his voice. A bullet would not kill Dream, of course, but bound as he still was by the summoning circle, it would probably hurt. Besides, it would upset Hob, and that was not acceptable.

The man looked wildly between Dream and Hob as if trying to decide who would be less likely to kill him. At this point, he would probably be better off jumping into the summoning circle with Dream and being consumed by his nightmares. The look on Hob’s face was not charitable.

True to Dream’s supposition, the man swung back around to point his gun at Hob, but hesitated half a second before firing. Hob moved in the space of that hesitation, moved like shadow in a way Dream’s nightmares themselves could learn from, grabbed the man’s arm and forced it up and back so the moment his finger pressed down on the trigger the bullet went right between his eyes.

Blood splattered. The body dropped. Dream didn’t bother to watch; instead, he was watching Hob. The sweat just prickling his brow, the way his chest rose and fell with exertion. The utter steadiness of his hands.

Hob strode over to the circle, brushing through it with his foot, then stepped in to crouch beside Dream. He took Dream’s face between his hands, looking him over with concern. “Are you alright, my love?”

“Quite.” Dream’s lips tipped up in a smile; he leaned into Hob’s hands. “I enjoyed your heroics.”

“Oh?” Hob’s concern fell away, replaced by humor. “Did you?”

“Mm. You were gallant and ruthless.”

“Didn’t think those could go together,” Hob said.

“And full of contradictions,” Dream added, and Hob laughed. Dream rested his hands on Hob’s sides, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. “I believe you may be featuring in some nightmares now. For the ones who are remaining, that is.”

Hob hummed, evidently not upset about it. “Should see yourself.” He traced under Dream’s eye.

Dream had thus far neglected to let his eyes slip back to their more human appearance after the summoning. When he smiled, his teeth felt a bit sharper than usual. “They summoned Nightmare, and Nightmare is what they received.”

Hob kissed his forehead. “Summoned,” he repeated, a banked flame in the word. “Oh, I hope you weren’t scared.”

“They trapped me poorly, I would have escaped as soon as night fell. But failing that…” Dream pressed Hob’s hand to his cheek. “I knew that you would come for me.”

Hob pulled away again to look at him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. There was something in that look, too, beyond fondness. Like he was proud of Dream, almost. “Always.”

He helped Dream to his feet. Dream didn’t need the help, but Hob’s touch was pleasant. He leaned into Hob’s side as Hob rested a hand low on his back.

“You know…” he mused, “it can be quite tiring for one to be summoned.”

Hob looked at him sidelong. “Are you trying to get me to carry you?”

“…If it is on offer.”

Hob sighed heavily. “Suppose it wouldn’t be a proper storybook rescue mission otherwise.”

“Precisely,” Dream agreed.

“You’re a menace,” Hob declared, but obligingly bent and scooped Dream up in his arms. His body was pleasantly warm after the exertion of the fight, and solid as always.

Dream tipped his head against his shoulder, hiding a smile. “Gallant,” he murmured.

They were nearly to the door when there was a fluttering of wings, and Death was standing in the center of the room. She looked from Dream in Hob’s arms, to the bodies scattered on the floor, and back again, an aggrieved expression on her face. “Please tell me this wasn’t elaborate roleplay.”

“It is my understanding that role play should not come with a body count,” Dream told her solemnly, and she shook her head.

“Whatever it is, I’ll leave you to it.” She tipped her head at the bodies. “I have work to do.”

“Sorry,” said Hob, not sounding very sorry.

Death sighed and waved them away, crouching beside one of the collapsed men. She whistled. “You did a number on him.”

“Nobody gets to try to capture Dream anymore,” Hob said, indignant, arm tightening around Dream’s shoulders.

“Quite right,” said Death. She looked up at them again with a small smile. “Take care of him, Hob.”

Dream should have felt more offended by this. But it was hard to care about much when Hob was carrying him so delicately.

“Always will,” said Hob, his tone soft but certain, and Dream pressed his face into his chest.

“You know,” Hob murmured as they left the building and stepped out into the cool evening air, “it could be elaborate roleplay.”

Dream’s lips tipped up in a smile. He leaned back against Hob’s arm to look up at him. “In the Dreaming all things are possible. No permanent bloodshed required.”

Hob smiled down at him, sharp and fond at once. “My thoughts exactly, darling.”

#just utter silliness in this one #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #laughing to myself about how i didn't describe the setting AT ALL like where are they? oh just. a room #who knows #😂#FUCK NOT ME REALIZING BELATEDLY THAT THEY CALL HIM DREAM BUT THEY SUMMONED HIM AS NIGHTMARE #it's fine it's fine it's cool it's fine inconsistencies abound it's fine

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