#TJs Fics

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] Love, Rain Down on Me

Rated: M Word Count: 2272 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, stargazing, care packages, acts of service, kisses in the rain, realizations, confessions, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, 5+1 fic

Notes: Final entry for Fluffbruary 2024; turns out I wasn't done with this Umbrella Boys AU just yet. Shoutout to @academicblorbo for asking about Dream's pov and suggesting the first 'I love you' as an idea; my brain said 'Oh yes' 1489-Hob-style and while this is not exactly what I first envisioned, I'm still happy with where we ended up.

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 25: fox twilight sweat Day 26: fluff woolly care package Day 27: table blush laundry Day 28: reward shelter piano Day 29: breakfast valley sign alt prompts: wish hot solid

Summary: 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not

On AO3

1. The first time Dream realizes it, Hob has taken him to the astronomy department at the college, after hours, to look at the stars. "Gale lent me the key," Hob had laughed when Dream expressed trepidation about breaking into Hob's place of work. "I'm allowed to come moon over the stars sometimes, and I'm allowed to bring you with me if I want."

So they are taking turns looking through the telescope, peering into the perpetual twilight of the heavens and marveling at the beauty that cannot be properly seen with the naked eye nor from within the light-polluted aura of the city. Hob laughs when Dream observes as much. "Maybe come end of summer we'll take a drive out of the city, camp out for a night in the countryside and do some real stargazing. Sound good?"

And Dream looks at him, this beautiful man squinting up at the skies through his colleague's telescope, the way his hair falls around his face, the scruff of his three-week-old beard and the elegant line of his nose, this beautiful man who offers anything he thinks Dream might like as if it's nothing. Hob has shared with him the woes of past breakups, the consensus that he is too intense, moves too fast, is too much to put up with, and he has admonished Dream to please please tell him if he ever oversteps or pushes too hard, too far because he is trying to do better, but all Dream can think in this moment is how warm he feels in Hob's affections, how priveleged to receive his time and attention.

I love this man, he realizes, like camellias blossoming beneath his ribs, like the sun breaking over the horizon.

"Dream?" Hob is looking at him now instead of the stars, eyebrows raised, mouth curved in a patiently-amused smile.

"That. Would be lovely," Dream answers at last, smiling warmly back at Hob, and cradles his newfound revelation close in the hollow of his chest.

2. The second time, Hob is away at a conference and Dream has emerged from a morning of fitful writing to discover a neatly-wrapped package delivered for him, tied with a ruby red bow. His sister has brought it up and left it by his door rather than interrupting his writing time, as they've agreed. Upon opening it, he finds a letter from Hob atop an airtight plastic container.

Hey Dream, reads the letter, just wanted to say that I'll miss you while I'm gone and can't wait to lavish you with sweet kisses when I get back. Meantime, I made you some of those lavender-rosemary-lemon biscuits you love and here's my shirt you can sleep with if you want. Enjoy ~♥

Delighted by the package and the letter and the biscuits, and the intent behind them, Dream lifts the container out of the box; beneath it, there is a compact umbrella nestled in what turns out to be one of Hob's favorite t-shirts, worn just enough to smell like him. Dream presses it to his face and inhales, absurdly touched, and smiles as he picks up the umbrella.

Of course Hob has sent him an umbrella; that is their 'thing', that is how they met, and he is also terrible at remembering to bring one with him. Tied to the handle he finds a piece of card stock about the size of his palm, with a drawing penciled on one side. It's a rough cartoon figure that is recognizably Hob, smiling brightly and holding a sunny yellow cocktail umbrella that has been carefully attached through the card so that Hob's penciled hand appears to grasp the toothpick handle. Don't forget! says his speech bubble, and Dream feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his smile grows too wide for his face to contain.

I love you, Hob Gadling, he thinks, both hands wrapped around the umbrella, and presses his lips gently to cartoon-Hob's precious happy little face.

3. "You did not have to do my washing, Hob," Dream protests, somewhat futilely as the deed is already done, dried, and being folded. "I am a grown man, capable of doing my own laundry." Never mind that his clothes had been accumulating in Hob's flat all week while he worked through additional revisions to The Seeds of Fate; Hob's space was conducive to this particular story, he found, and Hob was generous in allowing him to hole up here during the day while Hob was at work and on into the evenings when he returned, overnight when Dream wished it.

Hob shrugs. "They were here, I had a load of darks, they fit. Don't worry, my washing powder's the allergy-free stuff and I checked your tags for temps and such. Which reminds me." He sets the black jeans he just folded aside, takes up a pair of his own. "Your fancy lace shirt's hanging in the shower; hand washed it in cold just like it said and put it up to drip-dry."

Dream is keenly struck by the soft warmth of Hob choosing to do mundane everyday chores for him, taking care with his things, simply because he wants to and he can. It is not new, by any means; Hob has engaged in little acts of service the whole of the time Dream has been acquainted with him, from the very moment he first offered shared use of his umbrella to Dream. The domesticity of this moment settles something deep within him, something that sings of home and happiness and contentment.

"Hob Gadling, you are a chivalrous and wonderful man," he says, when what he means is I love you. "Truly, you make my life so much easier." He comes close, presses a kiss to Hob's cheek.

Hob just smiles, soft and warm and pleased, and continues folding his laundry. "You're welcome, duck. My pleasure."

4. "Here, take ours," Hob says, handing his umbrella to the woman with the toddler at the bus stop as the skies open up.

"Oh I couldn't!" Her eyes dart from the umbrella (which Hob is of course holding over her and her child) to Dream and back to Hob. "That's very kind, but then you'll get soaked!"

"We're not far," Hob assures, pressing the umbrella into her hand. "I insist. We'll be fine."

"Well…if you're quite certain?" She clutches it gratefully.

"Of course. Take care." Hob offers a friendly smile, the kind that makes his nose scrunch up adorably, and they turn to leave.

"Thank you!" the woman calls after them.

Dream finds that he doesn't mind the rain, is not inclined to run for shelter, not with Hob beside him, not when their getting soaked is because Hob does not hesitate to offer kindness to strangers. It gives him a warm glow inside, to know that he loves a man who works to put kindness out into the world, to brighten the days of those around him when he can. Damp clothes and wet hair are a small price to pay, and the summer rain is not so cold.

Halfway to Hob's flat, Dream steps around in front of him and drapes his arms behind Hob's neck. "That was a very kind thing you did," he murmurs, stepping backwards, drawing Hob with him so they do not stop moving onward. It is very much like a slow sort of dance down the street, and Hob's arms wrapping about his waist only heighten that impression.

"Yeah?" Hob shrugs, smiling. "She needed it." Like it is truly that simple.

To Hob, it is.

Dream kisses him, pressing close while the rain falls upon them. "Not many would give up their own comfort for a stranger." His lips brush Hob's with the words and then Hob is drawing him back in, warm, hungry. Dream fancies he can taste the rain, between them.

"Not a hardship, not when I've got you to keep me company," Hob finally says, nipping softly at his lips, water dripping steadily from a loose lock of hair.

"Such things you say." Dream is intoxicated with the moment, the atmosphere, the swelling of feeling he holds for this man and the tender warmth in Hob's eyes gazing back at him while the skies wash the world around them in soft hazy grey.

I love you, he thinks, kissing Hob again, pulling him close in the falling rain, I love you, I love you, I LOVE you—

5. He thinks it next when he is tangled with Hob in his bed, breathless and sweating and coming apart in Hob's practiced hands, when every time Hob moves within him he is crying out, starlight bursting behind his eyes.

He thinks it as Hob shivers to a halt, pulsing hot inside him, trembling in his arms.

He thinks it laying in Hob's embrace after, Hob's chest solid and warm beneath his ear, rising gently with each of Hob's sleeping breaths. I love you, I love you, I love you, he whispers in his head, in time with the steady beat of Hob's heart, and lets himself drift to sleep, content.

One day, one day when the moment is right, he will say it aloud; until then, he hoards it like a precious secret safe in his heart.

+1 Dream wakes on Sunday with a groan, protesting the sunbeams that have found his face; they had not closed Hob's bedroom curtains last night and he is paying the price for this oversight now.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Hob says, leaning on one elbow beside Dream with his head propped in his hand. He is supremely unbothered by the brightness, leading Dream to surmise he awoke some time ago.

"You are watching me sleep, now? You will not convince me that it is entertaining." He blinks once, twice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Entertaining is not the word, no, but I do enjoy it. You're so pretty when you're asleep, soft and relaxed and at peace. I love that I get to see it." Hob smiles, reaches to trace a fingertip down his cheekbone. "Was trying to decide what to make you for breakfast, actually."

Dream squirms onto his back, throws an arm over his eyes, stretches his toes. "You need not make such effort—" He cuts himself off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"You're worth it, though," Hob says easily, and Dream rolls his head to the side, meets Hob's eyes again. The sun is striking them exactly right, illuminating the depths of the brown to amber, honey.

He is so beautiful.

"Very well." Dream smiles, indulgent, lazy. "What will you be offering to please my discerning palette?"

"Fry you up an egg and a couple slices of bread? Tomato too, if you want. Blueberry jam for your toast and your sweet tooth. And if you're hungry enough, a nice hot juicy sausage?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Dream arches one of his own in return, and Hob grins. "Yeah alright, that's for later. But I will cook you actual sausage too if you like."

"I will take actual sausage with breakfast, yes, and 'sausage' when I am awake enough to enjoy it." He swings himself out of Hob's bed and makes his way to the toilet, the warm sound of Hob's laughter following him.

By the time he wanders into the kitchen, having donned his pants and a t-shirt of Hob's, bare feet and bare legs and bare arms because he's comfortable and because he knows Hob likes it, Hob has sausages and tomatoes frying in one pan with eggs and bread in another. He's tied an apron over his bare chest and joggers, captured most of his hair in an elastic band, is whistling cheerfully over the stovetop with a spatula in hand. The kettle is going, and Dream retrieves two mugs from the cupboard.

He preps Hob's tea once it's steeped, a quarter the milk and sugar that he puts in his own, and offers it to Hob to taste once he's finished plating their breakfast.

"Perfect," Hob pronounces, handing it back and picking up the plates to carry to the table. "Why's it always taste best when you make it?"

"I infuse it with my charming personality," Dream quips, deadpan, and Hob huffs a laugh.

"God, I love you," he says, his smile still broad, bright enough to rival the morning sun outside the kitchen window; and then he stills.

Dream, too, has gone still; Hob has never said those words to him before, and it sets something joyful and effervescent singing through his veins.

Hob loves him.

Hob loves him.

But Hob is shrinking in on himself, just a little, as if he could hide behind the plates in his hands and the apron he wears—every inch the man who fears (too much too fast I always come on too strong) the consequence of words he had not intended to speak aloud. Dream will be sad about this later, that he has failed somehow to make clear to Hob beyond the shadow of any doubt how welcome his affections are, how endearing his intensity, and he will vow to do better; but now, in the moment, with his heart soaring, the solution is simple, so simple, as easy as breathing.

He has never said the words aloud either, but they are as familiar to him as the beating of his own heart and they are spoken with as little effort.

"And I love you, Hob Gadling." He leans over the corner of the table, kisses Hob soft and sweet on his blossoming smile. "Now, where is my blueberry jam?"

= Started: 2/26/24 Drafted: 2/29/24 Posted: 2/29/24

The lavender-rosemary-lemon cookies were first written by @softest-punk and then brought to life by @carnelianmeluha; you can find the original fic and the recipe via this link One day I will brave my utter dearth of kitchen skill and make these myself. One day.

[eddiesxangel]

would LOVE a follow up to the brother’s best friend eddie fic where adam finds out they hooked up and just kinda loses it. maybe some angst with a happy ending if you do? i love the fic and thought all the details and feelings were perfect!

I'm so glad you enjoyed the first part! I hope this is up to your expectations. 🤗

cw: Allusions to smut, Mentions of depression, angst with a fluffy ending.

Tag list from part 1: @lofaewrites @lavendermunson @imyourdaninow@itsfreakingbats @allthingsjoeq

Wc: 2k

Read Part 1 here

What Adam Doesn’t Know | Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Ten days. It has been ten days since you slept with Eddie, and you haven't heard a word from him since he kissed you goodbye that next morning. He confessed to having feelings, so why is he treating you like a one-night stand? He hasn't taken any further steps since he fucked you. The situation left you feeling angry, frustrated and used. You wanted to talk to him, but you'll be damned if you were the one to reach out first. Sure, you were stubborn, but you also loved him. So you waited to give him another chance.

Eddie thought things would be okay after he got you out of your system. He just needed to scratch the itch that was you. Wrong.

Eddie was even more obsessed with you and didn’t know what to do about it. He knew Adam would be so not okay with this. He has already expressed his disdain about Eddie pursuing you.

Adam and Eddie have been through a lot together. Adam supported Eddie through family struggles and being held back in high school. Adam has always been there for Eddie, no matter what. The guilt is eating away at him...if he's hiding the fact that he slept with you and has developed feelings for you? He was screwed.

You were browsing the junk food aisle at the grocery store. Try to pick up your favourites to help you wallow in self-pity and eat your feelings. Just as you were to reach for the Doritos, you heard your name.

“Tink,” you look over your shoulder.

“Oh. Hi Eddie,” you turn back to face the aisle.

“Tink, please; I’m sorry”

“No, I get it. I’m just another notch on your belt.”

“No. You are the last thing from that, and you know it.”

“Do I, Eddie?”

“Ugh, I know! I know I screwed up. But let me explain? Please?”

“You have five minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Tink. I’m not avoiding you on purpose… it’s just that Adam had said something, and I didn’t want to keep this from him, but I didn’t know what you wanted to do... We didn't get to talk much.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that you and I were never going to happen. That he thinks it’s ridiculous.”

“So what, you believe him?”

“What? No!”

“So what, Eddie? Adam is a moron.”

“And so am I for not calling you. Please let me make it up to you. I want to take you on a date.”

“A date?” Your heart betrayed you by fluttering.

“Yes, a real all-American date. I’ll pick you up; I’ll bring you flowers. I can take you to dinner, then I’ll take you to the movies where we can suck face, and you let me feel you up in the back of the theatre. The whole shebang”

This made you giggle.

“What do you say?”

“Okay, Eddie,” you smiled.

It was late morning, and you were waking up in Eddie's bed. It's been three weeks since you ran into him in the grocery store. You were officially dating' you were Eddie's girl, and I couldn't be any happier.

You weren’t dating secretly because Robin and Nancy knew about the relationship, but you weren’t telling Adam... yet.

"Morning baby," Eddie's gravelly morning voice sent a shiver down your spine. You were both naked under the covers. Eddie's morning wood was pressed up against your outer thigh as you lay on your back.

"Morning," you reply, still sleepy.

"You cold?" Eddie saw the goosebumps pepper your skin.

"mmm hmmm"

"Well, let me fix that," he smirked.

Eddie had you on all fours, screaming his name over and over as he fucked you from behind. He was so deep inside you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He had you so cockdrunk you couldn't form any thoughts. In your opinion, it was one of the best times you've had, but any time you have sex with Eddie, it seems to top that last.

As you flop down on the bed, all blissed out from your orgasm and your limbs feeling like jelly, Eddie gets up to get a damp cloth to clean you up.

You watched as Eddie pulled on his sweatpants and walked out of the room.

Eddie unexpectedly saw Adam sitting on his couch watching TV as he exited his bedroom.

"What the hell?! Shit man, you scared me.” Eddie chuckled uncomfortably. God, he hoped you stayed in the room.

“So this the same chick you keep blowing me off for?” He motioned to the bedroom, obviously hearing everything.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“We were jamming.”

“Shit, oh god, dude i'm sorry, I lost track of the time-”

“I can’t be too mad; she sounded like a really good time.” He winked.

“Adam.”

"What?! You really fucked her brains out. She was all, oh my god, Eddie, you're the best. You're the biggest I've ever had," he said in a high-pitched tone.

You swore you heard Eddie speaking but didn't hear the phone ring?

“Baby, what’s taking so long? I miss you.” You walk out of the room not bothering to put on anything. “Ahhhhhhhhh!” You run back screaming into the bedroom when you see your bother.

“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK”

“Man, I can explain.”

“YOURE FUCKING MY SISTER”

“Well yea but it’s not like that… I like her dude”

“How long.”

“What”

“How long have you been going behind my back”

“Look we were going to tell you”

You bravely walk back out with a shirt and pants on this time

“Adam, calm down, please.” You beg as you intertwine your fingers with Eddie. He needs your support.

“Calm down?!”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been going behind my back, Ed?”

“The first time was a month ago.” You spoke up.

“How did this even happen?”

I found her crying walking home in the rain; she needed a place to stay...”

“Oh well, isn't that romantic... NOT”

“Adam, you seriously need to chill the fuck out,” you ask.

“Fuck you.” Adam directed back to you.

“Hey!” Eddie got defensive.

“You don’t get to be mad right now.” Adam pointed out.

“You’re being so unfair, Adam.” you spoke.

“Unfair? I’ll give you unfair. Eddie you have to choose right now. It’s me or her.”

“What !?” You cried.

“Come on, man...” Eddie begged.

“No, dude. You can’t have us both. It’s either me or her.”

You can't believe your brother. He is being so childish. Can't he see the good in the situation?

“Tink I…” Eddie's voice shook.

“No... I get it. You can’t ever choose me over him.” You tried so hard not to let your voice crack.

Oh, how you wished you were a kid again to wallop Adam.

“You take everything nice thing I have and ruin it. You did that with my stuff and my toys. And now you’re doing it with my real life, and it’s fucked up, Adam. Be lucky that I don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“They can’t do anything. I’m an adult.”

“Then start acting like one and not some kid who got his truck stolen on the playground.” With that, you slammed the door behind you.

It has been two weeks since you left Eddie's apartment. You have yet to speak to either Eddie or Adam since then. Unfortunately, you both had to go home for Reading week, and your only option for a ride home was with Adam. It was a very silent hour-long car ride as Adam drove home the both of you. You refused to speak to him.

You didn't even know why you respected Adam's wishes; he couldn't tell you what to do! But then again, they were Eddie's wishes as well.

You hugged your mom and dad hello and went to your old bedroom. There, you stayed for the night, not coming down to eat or socialize. Your mother was worried. She knew something was wrong.

“Honey. Is there anything you want to talk about?” She opened the door the next morning.

“Yea. You birthed the spawn of Satan.”

“So this is about your brother...” she sighed. She must be really tired of having to be in the middle of you two fighting all the time. “What happened?”

You can no longer hold in your feelings. The only people who know are Robin and Nancy because you broke down when you returned to your apartment.

“I finally had Eddie! Like he actually likes me back, Mom!” It was no secret to your family that you’ve been obsessed with Eddie Munson your whole life. “He likes me, and Adam made him choose between me and him! So obviously, he chooses Adam!" Now you’re sobbing.

“What? Why would he do that?”

“Because he has to take everything good in my life and ruin it. It’s been that way ever since we were kids.”

“Honey…”

“You know it’s true. So now I’m heartbroken because I got to experience what it was like to be with him, and it was ripped out from under me.” She sighed again as she stroked your hair.

“I’m going to have your father speak to him.”

“Like that will do anything.” You mumble.

The next day, you decide you need to leave your room.

You’re in what you call your depression outfit. A hoodie, actually, it’s Eddie’s, sweatpants, matched with your throw blanket wrapped around you.

You plant yourself on the couch for the rest of the day. Most of your spring break consisted of being depressed and moving from the couch to your bed. Were you being dramatic? Yes, but you needed to prove a point. You needed Adam to see how his selfishness affected you.

"You really still not speaking to me?" Adam finally breaks the silence on your way back to school.

You don't even look in his direction.

"Come on, Tink! This is ridiculous!"

"No! You are ridiculous. You may have your best friend choose between you and his girlfriend.

"Girlfriend?!"

Yea, Adam. We were together. Like together, together. We weren't just fucking behind your back."

"I- I didn't-"

"You wouldn't have because you didn't, let's explain. You made it the Adam special. Like you always do. Newsflash, not everything is about you."

"Well, it freaked me out! I didn't want to lose him to you."

"How could you lose him to me? If anything, you would see more of me, not the other way around."

"Ugh!"

"How is he doing?" You dared to ask.

"He's miserable." He mumbled.

"Oh, Adam."

"Yea, yea, I know I have to fix this."

Adam pulls up to your student housing unit, and you can see Eddie sitting on your front porch. You sprint out of the car before Adam even puts the car in park, running into Eddie's arms, not caring about what Adam sees.

“I can’t do this. I can’t not see you or talk to you. I’ve been miserable without you.” He wraps his arms around you.

“Eddie-” your heart swelled. He was choosing you.

“Please, I don’t care what Adam says anymore. He can get over it. He will get over it. But I have to be with you.”

"Hey, man," Adam greeted.

"Hey," you moved so you faced Adam, but Eddie's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder.

"Look, I uh... I overreacted, and if she makes you happy, then... I guess I'm cool with it." He shrugged.

"Thanks, Man." You looked up to see Eddie smiling.

"I don't want to hear about any more sext stuff between you two. I still have PTSD." He laughed uncomfortably.

With that, Eddie got your bags from the car, and Adam left the two of you to be alone.

You walked into your house, and the girls weren't back yet; they wouldn't be coming back until tomorrow.

"You came back for me." You smiled before tilting your head up to kiss him.

“I was not letting him take away the best sex I’ve ever had; he can get over it.”

“The best sex you’ve ever had, huh?”

“With the best girl I’ve ever had.” He smiled before you led him to your bedroom...

[dearstvckyx]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐡𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ➜ 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Location: Michigan

Liked by markestapa and 14,583,198 others

thelunahughes get your tickets now 🎫 link in bio! i can’t wait to see you all 💖

tagged theweeknd 5sos lukehemmings ashtonirwin calumhood michaelclifford thevamps bradleywillsimpson connorball jamesmcvey tristianevans dixiedamelio

view all 10,583,294 comments

edwards.73: the boys and i already bought tickets to EVERY show

⟶ thelunahughes: ETHAN 😭 

⟶ lhughes_06: you guys couldn’t just go to ann arbor?

⟶ tj_hughes13: NO LUKE

trevorzegras: california next???

⟶ thelunahughes: maybe Z !

⟶ jackhughes: after she comes to jersey 😐

colecaufield: those strawberries look tasty tho

⟶ thelunahughes: they were!

dylanduke25: you have an obsession with pink

⟶ thelunahughes: okay and?

⟶ dylanduke25: IM JUST SAYING

bboeser: youngest hughes 🙇‍♂️

⟶ thelunahughes: im twins with luke 😅

⟶ lhughes_06: yeah but im older by 2hrs sooo

dixiedamelio: MICHIGAN!!!!

liked by thelunahughes

[takemealivelh]

takemealivelh’s masterlist

LUKE

1.what are you doing after this? - 2.is that for me? - 3.she’s friend-zoning you so hard - 4.what are you doing here? - 5.upstairs - 6.what are you saying? - 7.can we talk? 8.we’re not done here yet, okay? 9.what do we do then?

Bruised Knuckles *tw: racism

Don’t hog the blanket

Vinyl Magic

Who would you be today?

1. i bet you look cute *mild smut

sweetheart *smut

are you dating more people? 

midnight city pt 1 *smut

you wanna get high? *smut

you want me to fuck you in your car? *smut

don’t do that

send me more pictures *smut

you win some, you lose some *smut

tidal wave *smut

easier to blame

you want a napkin with that? (part one) *smut - you wanna wait till tonight? (part two) *mild sexual content

stay out of trouble *smut

heart is gonna flatline *smut

- Concepts -

fuck me at a quarter to three + choker

MICHAEL

I Can Tell You A Secret

Raspberry Chocolate Milkshake

One Night Stand Pt. 1One Night Stand Pt. 2 One Night Stand Pt. 3 *smut

ASHTON

You’re in Trouble *smut

I think I adore you

You are a gem

I told you not to fall in love with me

Battle of the Bands Pt. 1 Battle of the Bands Pt. 2 *smut

Señorita

that doesn't mean i don't want you *smut

CALUM

Cat’s got your tongue?

Hummingbird

I really need to see you smile right now

- Concepts -

let’s fucking dance

[p4nishers]

"i would live for you" is the only relationship dynamic ever actually

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Queer Book Recommendations!!

I haven't really read a book book in years. Due to money problems and a lack of free time, audiobooks and AO3 were a MUCH cheaper option for me. But now that I'm struggling to fully read text posts on Tumblr I realize my attention span is shot. Reading novels is helping me tune out and focus in again. So I'm turning to queer novels written by my 'queer elders'.

For anyone who is struggling to get back into long form content after reading Fic for years, I highly recommend the books of TJ KLUNE (summaries of what I've read under the break).

If you are a fan of the 'escaping a shitty life and being welcomed into a found family' fanworks, this is the writer for you! All his stories center on home and feeling welcomed and loved. Of middle age and finding out who you are. Of finding love for others and yourself. He makes you hunger for that type of romantic and platonic love where people just know the real you. His stories also float by so quickly, there are so many things he does that I want to emulate his writing into my work.

Someone on Tumblr described the romances as: “what if a real life disney prince fell in love with the human equivalent of a wet paper bag?” and I agree 100%. All his protagonists are just like that, and I love them all.

(Also, this man definitely had an office job he hated, and writes office work culture as a death sentence in every one of his novels and I love it).

If you have any queer novels you love, don't be afraid to leave me a recommendation! (Especially WLW that isn't 'One Last Stop')

HAVE READ: The House in the Cerulean Sea : [An amazing love fantastical found family story (with a hint of romance)! I listened to the audiobook on Audible and absolutely loved it! I can't wait for the sequel coming out next year.]

Linus Baker is a lonely case worker for a governmental organization which manages orphaned kids who are magical beings.

One day, he's given a secret assignment to assess a special orphanage on the island of Marsyas, run by a man named Arthur Parnassus, who has secrets of his own. Among the six unique children living there, one of them is Lucy, short for Lucifer, who just happens to be the Antichrist.

Despite his initial reservations, as Linus's days pass in Marsyas, in this idyllic setting among a coterie of magical children, Linus finds himself coming across a little romance, an unlikely family and possibly even a home.

Currently Reading: Under the Whispering Door. [I know this is going to be heartbreaking, but I'm loving it, only on page 50/373. Will likely post something vague about how it made me cry lol]

When a reaper comes to collect Wallace Price from his own funeral, Wallace suspects he really might be dead.

Instead of leading him directly to the afterlife, the reaper takes him to a small village. On the outskirts, off the path through the woods, tucked between mountains, is a particular tea shop, run by a man named Hugo. Hugo is the tea shop's owner to locals and the ferryman to souls who need to cross over.

But Wallace isn't ready to abandon the life he barely lived. With Hugo's help, he finally starts to learn about all the things he missed in life.

When the Manager, a curious and powerful being, arrives at the tea shop and gives Wallace one week to cross over, Wallace sets about living a lifetime in seven days.

Planning on reading: In The Lives of Puppets(The book is on my shelf).

In a strange little home built into the branches of a grove of trees, live three robots—fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, and a small vacuum desperate for love and attention. Victor Lawson, a human, lives there too. They’re a family, hidden and safe.

The day Vic salvages and repairs an unfamiliar android labelled “HAP,” he learns of a shared dark past between Hap and Gio–a past spent hunting humans.

When Hap unwittingly alerts robots from Gio’s former life to their whereabouts, the family is no longer hidden and safe. Gio is captured and taken back to his old laboratory in the City of Electric Dreams. So together, the rest of Vic’s assembled family must journey across an unforgiving and otherworldly country to rescue Gio from decommission, or worse, reprogramming.

Along the way to save Gio, amid conflicted feelings of betrayal and affection for Hap, Vic must decide for himself: Can he accept love with strings attached?

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have eight amazing timeskip/future fics recced! Some skip ahead a handful of decades, while some skip ahead centuries, but all of them are wonderfully heart wrenching and hit just the right spot. Check them out under the cut, and as ever, comment or kudos if you like them!

The Matter of Lot 19 by pagerunner (10102,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Keyleth returns to Whitestone after many, many years to see about a unique and precious clock that's up for auction. But she's not the only one intending to bid...and her competitors might not only be interested because of the clock's connection to a certain legendary de Rolo.

Reccer says: Beautiful and Bittersweet and has a lot of great older Kiki and Sun Tree moments.

Library Magic by westwind (2739,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

After the Mighty Nein's adventuring days are over, Caleb travels with a library in an enchanted wagon. He comes across a stranger who's nevertheless familiar.

Reccer says: I liked it

The More Things Change by FinnsKeeper (4922,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings:

Beau is hurt. The best chance they have of saving her is asking for her to be consecuted

Reccer says: A heartbreatking but fascinating take on the nein being consecuted

Unexpected and Predictable by alullabytoleaveby (2131,General) Warnings: Pairings: Verin Thelyss & Caleb Widogast

The last thing Caleb expects to hear on a rainy Tuesday evening is the sound of a knock at his door and Verin Thelyss, Ambassador of the Bright Queen to the Dwendalian Empire, on his doorstep. But he should have expected it. After all, Essek had already prepared for this eventuality.

Reccer says: I love this glimpse of Verin, and Caleb being able to explain his relationship to Essek's brother.

What Makes a Home? by literalfuckinggarbage (3188,General) Warnings: Child abuse, abusive parenting Pairings: Beau & TJ

TJ turns up on Beau's doorstep after running away from Kamordah. Beau takes care of her little brother.

Reccer says: It's really lovely seeing an older Beau step up to being an older sister and the relationship between her and TJ is incredibly sweet. They have a rapport, they banter, and the love that's grown between them over the years is plain in each word between them. The ending is so wonderful too and it's a concept I really should rotate more.

cycles by justsleepwalkin (500,General) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings: Caduceus Clay & Essek Thelyss

Caduceus and Essek take a walk among the falling leaves and have a talk about endings and beginnings.

Reccer says: Beautiful and atmospheric - a perfect moment between the two of them.

From the Mixed-Up Files of The J. Lavorre Catalogue Raisonné by renquise (2328,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

An art history report on the famous artist Jester Lavorre

Reccer says: I adore epistolary fics and this perfectly scratches that itch. Seeing what people might say about Jester and her friends centuries after they are gone is a treat!

a little birdie told me by Ink_Beneath_Her_Fingernails (1647,Not Rated) Warnings: None Pairings:

Kiri absently wonders if the Gentleman somehow had the foresight to keep her name out of their ears, and how he'd managed it for all these years. (Or: The mob boss Kiri we all deserve.)

Reccer says: Mob Boss Kiri - what's not to love?

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring prank fics!

Then, it'll be Ashton focused, Hair Care, and Pre-Campaign!

Any fics coming to mind?  Well, then use this form to submit!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[thunderjackal]

WOAH GUYS LOOK I WROTE ANOTHER FIC HOW CRIMINAL OF ME. anyway the TMA hyperfixation has set in guys prepare for more of these, anyway here mroe about the fic

Like Real People Do -- G -- 4954 words -- Complete

“Statements huh?” Martin said with a small noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, “Even when you're sick? You do know what a break is- right Jon?” The archivist opened his eyes, shifting in his position into an awkward pose so he could look at Martin, “Despite popular belief, I do in fact know what a break is.” He went silent for a moment, before continuing, “I think- I’ve been away from them for too long, it’s taking its toll. I thought if I-” “You thought if you could read a few it would make you feel better?” Martin finished for him, voice kind, “That Ceaseless Watcher needs to calm down, you’re sick and can't help it.” --- OR Jon is a little sick, has statement withdrawals and is overall the most pathetic man in existence. Martin comes to check in on him

[jcforsapphics]

I don't think I'm physically able to get over andi mack. It's hard for me to explain in words just how much it meant to me. god I can spend forever talking about this show.

[pettyprocrastination]

Giant Austrian man claims to be in perfect mental health while also having raging hate boner for his therapist, more at 10. 

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] A Sweet Romance Beginning In a Queue

Rated: T Word Count: 4551 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, rain, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, song-based meet-cute, clumsy metaphors

Notes: This is springboarding entirely from Bus Stop by The Hollies; shoutout to @valeriianz for suggesting this song would make a great Dreamling fic many many months ago. I thought Fluffbruary Day 3 would be a good opportunity to bang it out real quick but uh. It didn't want to flow, so I've just been rolling additional days into it all month. Also went a wee bit off-script from the song but. I'm pleased enough with what it's turned out to be. Prompts listed at the end.

Summary: Bus stop, wet day, he's there, I say, 'Please share my umbrella'

On AO3

It's the first day of the new term and the sky is overcast, threatening rain as Hob steps off the bus at his connecting stop. He's got his umbrella and his overcoat and his bag is water-resistant; his stop on the other end is very near the college and he's feeling well-prepared should the weather follow through on its threat.

Which of course it does, not half a minute later, and Hob deploys his umbrella with a sigh. There are a handful of other people waiting at the stop who do the same.

And one who does not.

He's pale and pretty, and tall, and dark—dark trousers, dark peacoat, dark hair, which is well on its way to getting thoroughly soaked as the skies open up in earnest. He appears to be lacking an umbrella entirely. Hob, who these days makes conscious effort to be a Good Samaritan whenever he can, and who also maybe thinks that attractively-pale men dressed in black who forget their umbrellas are worth at least a 'hello', moves quickly.

"Share my umbrella? Please." He's holding it over the guy as he speaks, but they'll have to squish up a bit to get maximum benefit for either of them.

"…Thank you," the guy says, shuffling closer; their shoulders touch. He is stiff, awkward, and yeah okay Hob can understand; courtesy in rainy weather or not, they're still complete strangers.

"Hell of a day to forget your umbrella, yeah?" Hob rolls his shoulders and shifts, putting himself more or less back-to-back with the guy so they fit better.

"Quite," comes the answer. His voice is low and rumbly, pleasantly dark without being bass-deep; it's oddly appealing.

Hob shrugs. "We've all been there. And hey, I'm glad to share."

"Again. Thank you." There's a touch more warmth this time, and Hob smiles to himself.

They pass a moment in silence, save for the drumming of rain against the umbrella and the splashing of cars in the street, and then the bus is pulling up to the stop. The guy steps toward it, first in line, and Hob follows with the umbrella, then lets the other three people board ahead of him.

Which means, once he's boarded and tapped in, the only open seat is serendipitously next to his slightly-soggy goth stranger. Who makes eye contact and holds it as Hob approaches, scoots just that little bit closer to the window to make clear he doesn't mind Hob taking the seat beside him, and Hob is quietly thrilled at the subtle welcome.

"Are you a conversationalist, or a ride-in-silence enthusiast?" he asks, as the bus lurches into motion.

"Ordinarily, the latter," the guy admits, glancing briefly at Hob. "But, as I stormed out with neither book nor earbuds, and I find myself with a chivalrous seat partner, perhaps I could be persuaded to the former just this once."

"Very kind, thank you," Hob says, with a smile. "'Stormed out' doesn't sound promising; feel like unburdening to a friendly ear? I'd be happy to listen, if so. Or find something else entirely to talk about if not."

His stranger turns to the window, watching the rivulets of rain trailing over the glass; there is a brief lull before he speaks. "I find myself creatively blocked, and my sister's attempts to be helpful. Were not." He sighs. "I left the house to clear my head, before saying anything truly unkind."

"Smart," Hob agrees. He could listen to this guy talk all day, his rumbly words and his dark-velvety voice.

"'Smart' would have been making certain to grab more than just my phone and wallet." There's a pretty little scowl accompanying the words, that rosy mouth plumped out in the faintest pout visible in his reflection in the window, and Hob is smitten.

"That may be, but then I'd hardly have had reason to say hello, and we'd both be sitting here reading our books politely ignoring one another. Silver lining?"

"Perhaps," the guy says, but it sounds agreeable enough. Hob likes to think he's a decent judge of unspoken communication and that he could tell if he was being a bother. Currently his stranger is glancing over Hob's bag and his attire with a curious and observant eye, posture reserved but not closed off, and Hob figures he's doing alright.

"Where are you headed, then—work?" the guy asks.

"Yeah, I teach at the college, medieval history, now and then a class in medieval lit too."

The guy's attention goes from merely polite to genuinely interested. "Oh?"

"Yep!" Hob's heart rate bumps up a notch at the light in those (gorgeous) blue eyes; the sudden intensity of this stranger's focus is heady.

He's turned in his seat, angled to somewhat face Hob, gaze bright, expression open. "I imagine that is a difficult sell to many students."

"Oh my friend, you have no idea!" Delighted with his good fortune, Hob launches into tales of his most recalcitrant classes and the victories he's won in inciting and maintaining student interest. He's good at talking, and enjoys doing it, and this pretty stranger is paying genuine attention to him, and so Hob prattles on enthusiastically as the bus trundles steadily through the rain.

~ "This is me," Hob says, as the bus pulls up to the college stop. "It was delightful chatting with you, and I hope your day improves from here!"

"It already has, thank you."

The tiny smile that the stranger offers in parting buoys Hob's spirits all the way to his office.

~ Tuesday is miserably wet again and Hob checks for his stranger at the bus stop, hopeful (yes alright, perhaps he's got a bit of a crush), but there's no sign of him. It's earlier than it was yesterday though, on account of his 8 a.m. lecture this morning, so there's no reason to think he'd be there again. Plus he'd talked about 'storming out' and 'clearing his head'; it wasn't like this stop was a daily transfer point the way it was for Hob.

Chances were good they'd never cross paths again.

~ Wednesday it's less a downpour and more a light shower, but it's still enough that an umbrella is practical.

And Hob is absolutely delighted as he steps off his first bus to see that Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Emo is there again, and again without an umbrella, hunched ineffectually into the collar of his coat and resembling nothing so much as a disgruntled wet cat. He perks up distinctly as Hob approaches with his umbrella angled forward in offering.

"You gallantly come to my rescue yet again." He tilts his head and glances up through lush black lashes, just this side of coy. "I thank you, sincerely, Mr…?"

"Hob, I'm Hob. Just Hob. You can call me Hob." Not his most suave, certainly, but this blatantly-flirtatious greeting atop his own delight has somewhat stolen his functioning brain cells.

"Hob," the guy repeats, unhurried, like he's savoring the taste of the name in his mouth, and smiles just a little bit. "You may call me Dream."

"Pleased to run into you again, Dream." Hob dimples brightly, delighted with the turn his day has taken, delighted that they've made proper introductions. "How was the head-clearing, the other day?"

"Effective." The guy—Dream—crowds close under the umbrella (Hob's largest, which he had pulled out yesterday just in case) and smooths the clinging water from his hair with one hand. His (damp) shoulder is firmly pressed against Hob's and his profile is absolutely beautiful, this close. Hob tries not to stare.

"Got your creativity flowing again, did it?"

"I managed to finish a very troublesome chapter Monday evening, yes."

Hob perks up at this new tidbit of information. "You're a writer, then?"

He gives a short nod, staring out into the rain, then glances sideways at Hob. "I have you to thank for my progress, also."

"Me?"

"The stories you shared…you inspired a direction for the scene that was plaguing me. I came out yesterday, with intent to thank you, but you were not here…?"

His voice lilts up just a touch on the end of his sentence, curiosity expressed without actually voicing the question, and Hob just smiles. "Yeah, Tuesday's my early-morning class. Sorry I missed you."

"No matter. I have now left the house three days in a row and my sister is distressingly pleased about it. She says it is good for my mental health."

"And what do you think?"

He sighs, heavily. "She is not incorrect." He glances sideways at Hob again, eyes narrowed prettily. "But I am not going to admit it to her."

Hob laughs; he can't help it. "You are so completely valid for that," he says, and when Dream smiles in return his spirits soar.

~ "Remembered your umbrella this time, I see!" Hob ignores the little pang of disappointment; just because he doesn't need to share his umbrella with Dream this time doesn't mean they can't still have a conversation.

"My sister reminded me, yes," Dream answers, and then to Hob's great surprise he lowers and closes the umbrella. "But I would prefer to share yours, if you're amenable." His eyes flick up, just a hint of hopeful uncertainty showing there.

"Of course." Hob moves close, brings his umbrella over Dream's head, heart thudding in his chest with delight. He hopes the great spreading grin on his face doesn't put Dream off; he can't quite get it under control.

If Dream notices, he gives no indication. "This routine is working well for me," he says, and it takes Hob a second to cotton on to what he means.

"What, catching the bus in the rain every morning?"

"Yes," Dream says serenely. "The company is. Refreshing." The corners of his mouth tilt up the smallest bit.

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Hob says, making a valiant effort to sound normal while something warm blooms in the vicinity of his heart. He shifts the umbrella, making sure they're both still sheltered.

"Writing flows more easily when I return home after our morning conversations," Dream says, as if this is something they've been doing for weeks instead of just days. "I shall have to credit you in my author's notes."

Hob laughs, absolutely delighted. "That is extremely flattering, my friend, but wholly unnecessary. But if I'm at all helpful? I'm glad."

One day maybe he'll ask if he can see Dream's writing, when they've been acquainted for more than a week; one day further, perhaps, he'll ask him on a date. It certainly seems he'd be amenable, but Hob knows himself and his tendency to rush in full-tilt and tells himself there's no harm in just. Seeing what happens, for a little while.

~ "Share my umbrella?"

Dream looks askance at him, hair fluttering prettily across his forehead in the breeze. "It is not raining, Hob."

"Well no, but. Bit windy, isn't it? Wouldn't want you to suffer any windburn. Umbrella makes a decent wind-break." He has oh-so-smoothly said 'wind' three times in ten seconds, and it is the flimsiest of excuses to begin with, but Dream only smiles as if he's said something profoundly wise.

"Indeed. Truly, I am fortunate to receive your continued chivalry." He crowds in close to Hob, who angles the umbrella behind them to keep the wind off, and smiles.

~ The other patrons at the bus stop are giving Hob weird looks as he opens his umbrella, but there's only one person here whose opinion matters.

Dream tilts one eyebrow up, amused. "The sun is shining today, Hob Gadling. Yet still you offer your umbrella?"

"It's tradition, at this point. And besides—got a very fair complexion, haven't you? Bit of shade will do you good."

"…As you say." His smile is radiant as the sunshine, and Hob's heart thumps happily. "Thank you."

~ It's been about a month since that first meeting when Hob leaves campus for the afternoon and finds Dream waiting at the college bus stop. The morning's rain has cleared throughout the day but now rises again as a light drizzly mist; Dream is huddled into the meager shelter offered over the bench while pulling out his umbrella. Hob hurries over with his own already deployed, playing into their established pattern.

"Fancy meeting you here?" he greets, smiling. He's delighted to run into Dream outside their developed routine, and the way that Dream kind of blooms to see him is very satisfying.

"Hob. At last," Dream smiles, ducking under Hob's broad umbrella.

"Been waiting long?"

"…Somewhat. You see. I have. A question, I would like to ask you. An important one." The gravity in his tone is clear, and Hob might be worried if it wasn't so plainly obvious that Dream was nervous. "But I do not know your schedule, beyond your morning commute, and so…"

"Have you just been hanging around half the day waiting for me to show up?" Hob is equal parts appalled and delighted.

Dream meets his eyes briefly, glance flicking away again too quickly to interpret as anything other than confirmation. "Perhaps."

Hob laughs, aware he should possibly be alarmed by what any normal person would read as stalking behavior but utterly charmed by it instead. "Your patience has its reward, then. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"I…ah." Dream colors prettily, the faintest pink flush across his cheeks as he stumbles over actually speaking his question, and Hob is rapidly escalating from 'charmed' to 'enamoured'. "I am not. Good, at—at—"

"Obviously it was important enough to identify my most likely location and wait hours for me to show up, right?" Hob cuts in gently. "Go ahead. I promise I won't judge you." He can hear the fondness seeping into his own voice, and apparently so can Dream. He lifts wide eyes to Hob, lips pressed together resolutely, and heaves a fortifying breath out through his nose.

"I wish to ask. Would you like to have dinner sometime. Or. Or coffee, perhaps."

The bus pulls up at that exact moment, disgorging a single passenger; Hob barely hesitates before waving the driver on.

"That was our bus?" Dream states, lilting up in such a way that it's clear he means Why did we not board, why are we still standing here?

"Well, yes," Hob agrees, very aware of the size of the dopey grin on his face. "But you see, a very dear friend of mine has just asked if I might like a bite to eat with him, and I know the most amazing little spot right around the corner."

"That. That is 'yes', then? Now?" Dream seems delightedly flummoxed, and it ratchets Hob straight up to 'besotted'. How could Dream think he'd ever say anything else? Although it occurs to him belatedly Dream might have other obligations for the evening.

"Well 'now' is certainly 'sometime', yes? If you're free, that is. If you've something else you have to do—"

"No. Nothing else," Dream cuts him off, and the warm smile spreading over his face makes Hob's heart skip a beat. "There is nowhere I should like to be more, just now."

Of course not, not when he'd dedicated the bulk of his day to waiting for Hob just to ask him out. "Wonderful. Shall we?" He offers his arm, angling the umbrella to keep the misty sprinkle off them still.

Dream tucks a hand into his elbow and falls into step beside him.

~ "Wanna try mine?" Hob offers, plucking a crispy slab of cheese from his plate with a bit of everything on it and holding it out, other hand cupped underneath. They are talking over plates of halloumi fries; Hob had gone for his favorite—smothered in pomegranate molasses and za'atar yoghurt with pomegranate arils and fresh mint garnish—and Dream had taken his drizzled in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds.

"Thank you, I am fine," Dream says, rote politeness in his voice but curiosity in his eyes, and Hob arches a brow.

"Worried you'll have to spend a month stuck with me for each pomegranate seed?"

"That would hardly dissuade me," Dream replies, with a sweet little smile that hits Hob straight in the gut. "Very well, since you offer so generously." He leans forward, grasps Hob's wrist instead of the proffered food, and bites through the warm-crusted cheese while Hob's still holding it, lips brushing Hob's fingers as he pulls back.

He chews, making a contemplative face, and gently plucks the rest of it from Hob's hand while Hob is still scrambling to reboot his poor blue-screening brain and not make a fool of himself.

"Do you know," Hob blurts, grasping for anything, "whatever Persephone might have eaten in the underworld, it would've bound her there the same? It wasn't just because it was a pomegranate?"

"I did know that, yes," Dream replies, and Hob feels the flush of having said something fairly stupid rising into his face. "The pomegranate is a tidy choice for enumerating the months she stays below, I think, with the countable seeds." He plucks one of the ruby-red arils from the cheese that Hob had given him between two delicate fingertips and places it in his mouth, eyes on Hob in a way that makes him lose his brain again.

"Yes that's. Good point," Hob tries, and thankfully Dream pops the rest of the halloumi fry into his mouth without any fanfare or continued eye contact.

"I can see why you like this," Dream says, once his mouth is empty. "It is a wonderful blend of flavors. But the honey-sesame remains my favorite." He takes a bite from his own plate, and Hob tries not to fixate on the casual way he licks the honey off his rose-petal lips.

"I wrote an alternate version of Persephone's story, once," Dream says then, eyes not exactly meeting Hob's or even on his face, darting between his shoulder and his sternum and dropping back to his plate. "I made it her choice; they met and fell in love long before the abduction, which was closer to an elopement. She ate the pomegranate seeds deliberately so as not to be taken away from the partner she had chosen. In my version, it was the pomegranate specifically that would bind her."

"That sounds brilliant," Hob says, feeling a little starry-eyed; Dream has never really talked specifics about his writing before. "I'd love to read it sometime."

"It. Was many many years ago, before I ever considered publication," Dream admits, barely glancing up at Hob, still a little skittish. "I thought it a unique idea at the time, but there are dozens of Persephone remixes to be had and I have never felt it warranted the effort of reworking it from my current skill level or attempting to publish."

"Well for what it's worth, your version is the remix I'd be most interested in reading," Hob says, utterly sincere, smiling from ear to ear. "If you ever wanted to share, that is." He bites into another halloumi fry and speaks around it. "I would never pressure you to let me read your stuff if you don't want to. But I'm always interested."

"…Thank you." Dream covers his awkwardness with another dainty bite from his own plate, a hint of pink dusting across his cheekbones. When his mouth is empty again, he offers, "Mostly I have written. Romance."

"Oh?"

"Not under my own name. But yes."

"See it's fascinating that pseudonyms are so prevalent through the ages, and for so many reasons," Hob starts, and as the conversation turns in this new direction Hob does not miss how Dream relaxes to have the focus shifted from the vulnerable personal glimpse of himself he'd offered.

And Hob maybe falls a little bit deeper.

~ It's still lightly raining three hours later; they've talked about so many things, they've had dessert and then had coffee since neither of them were ready to leave yet. It's dark by the time they finally head back to the bus stop; Dream presses up against Hob's side beneath the umbrella and Hob thrills at the warmth, the closeness, the graceful slide of Dream's hand into his and the way he doesn't let go until the bus shows up.

~ It's raining again the first time Hob kisses Dream, pulling him close beneath the umbrella outside the theater, one finger tipped beneath Dream's chin; the kiss is tentative, but Dream's mouth is warm and the way he lists gently forward has Hob coming back again, soft and sweet and smiling helplessly.

~ Three straight days of rain are clearing on the afternoon that Dream takes Hob to the bookstore and leads him to the romance section, points him to a shelf in the 'M's where there are a dozen or so titles by Morpheus, mononymous. Hob doesn't make the connection for a second, and then he does.

"Is this you?" he asks, reaching for one of the hardbacks, and sure enough there's Dream's photo inside the dust jacket, solemn and styled and somehow less authentic than the Dream standing nervously next to him.

"Yes," Dream confirms, and soft warmth floods Hob's chest. Dream has been very reserved about his writing—"It is one thing to publish for strangers, but I find it…much more difficult to share, when it is someone whose opinon matters to me personally," he'd said once, and being trusted, opened up to like this—Hob is not oblivious to the privilege of it.

"You've certainly written a lot," he says, warmth and fondness curling in his chest. "And you're okay with me reading any of these?"

"Yes; however—" he reaches into the messenger bag slung over his hip, withdraws a large clear envelope with what looks like a manuscript inside. "If you wish to read my writing, I would have you begin with this." He hands it to Hob.

Hades and Persephone: The Morpheus Remix the paper proclaims through the plastic, and Hob looks up at Dream, delighted. "Is this—?"

"It needs a proper title." Dream shrugs, hunches into his coat a little bit. "I would like—perhaps you might help me come up with one, as it was you who inspired me to revisit and update it."

Hob cannot for the life of him stop the broad smile that overtakes his face, is not even trying. "I would be honored."

~ It is raining buckets the night that Dream comes home with Hob, and even the umbrella is not enough to prevent their getting a bit wet. But that's alright, Hob thinks, with Dream's eager mouth warm and hungry on his as they move in the direction of his bedroom, it's not like their clothes were staying on anyway.

He lays Dream gently in his bed, covers him with his own body, makes love to him with slow and ardent urgency while the rain lashes against his window. Later, after, when the winds have calmed and thunder rumbles soothingly in the distance, he holds Dream curled against him, asleep, and he thinks. He thinks about umbrellas, and shielding, and guardedness, and how Dream has slowly gifted so many of his vulnerabilities to Hob; he thinks about the duality of potential in that realization, the power it gives him to either harm or protect, and vows to himself that he will always be Dream's metaphorical umbrella when it's within his capabilities.

~ It's sprinkling just a little when Hob realizes that he's going to marry Dream.

It's early Autumn and they're at the park; Dream is under his own umbrella (look, sometimes sharing just isn't practical, as much as Hob still loves faithfully carrying on their schtick), scattering peas and grapes for the ducks and Hob is hanging back, watching him with an aching fondness in his heart.

Dream is beautiful, and thoughtful, and engaging. He is guarded and private, but so warm and emotional and giving once he has let you in. He is smart, and witty, with the driest sense of humor and the most endearingly terrible laugh and Hob has fallen desperately in love with him along the way.

He watches as a particularly bold duck comes close and snaps up the pea that had fallen directly at the toe of Dream's boot; watches the soft delight that steals over Dream's face, and he knows.

~ It is the following Spring before he asks. They are at the bus stop where they first met and it's a bright sunny day; Hob's got the umbrella up and they're shoulder-to-shoulder beneath it. Dream is animated, excited, talking about his editor's latest feedback on his Persephone remix (The Seeds of Fate, they had decided to call it), and Hob is listening, very much interested but so so nervous. The little velvet box on his pocket is weighty, not physically of course but he can't stop touching it, hoping Dream will say yes, believing Dream will say yes.

At last, Dream turns to him, a little wrinkle of concern between his brows. "You feel…distracted; is everything alright?"

Hob smiles at him, entirely and wholeheartedly in love. He hooks the hand holding the umbrella with Dream's so their fingers are tangled together around it; he leans his forehead against Dream's, closes his eyes. "I have a question, I'd like to ask you. An important one." It's a deliberate echo of how Dream had asked him out more than a year ago; Hob can picture the way Dream smiles to recognize it, can feel one eyebrow lifting against his own.

He takes a deep breath, pulls the little box from his pocket and clicks the lid open. "Will you marry me?"

It's a quiet request, pitched low so the other couple people at the bus stop don't overhear, so that if Dream does wish to say no, he won't be under the public pressure of strangers to say yes for appearances' sake. Not that Hob expects him to say no.

He hopes he doesn't say no.

Dream pulls back and Hob opens his eyes, meeting the surprise and delight and disbelief in Dream's. Dream looks down at the ring in the open box in Hob's hand, touches a fingertip to the velvet-covered lid delicately, looks back up at Hob with joy blossoming in his face.

"Do you mean it? Truly?"

Hob swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, squeezes gently where his hand is tangled with Dream's around the handle of the umbrella. "More than anything," he murmurs, entranced by the gathering shine of happy tears in Dream's eyes. "Marry me. Please."

Dream makes a joyful little noise, wrenches his hand free and throws both arms around Hob's neck, kissing him soundly. Hob manages to snap the ring box closed and swing the umbrella low, wraps both arms around Dream's waist and kisses him back.

"Yes," Dream breathes wetly when they part a moment later. "Yes, of course yes, a thousand times, yes."

~ They marry in the park in August, the clouds high and the breeze warm. Hob puts up the umbrella when they reach the crux of the ceremony; he holds its history over them while they say their vows, while they slip rings on one another's fingers, and then they seal their marriage with a tender heartfelt kiss beneath its promise of care and protection.

= Started: 2/3/24 Drafted: 2/24/24 Posted: 2/25/24

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 3: umbrella seashore mist Day 4: camera lush beau Day 5: rescue inertia lullaby Day 6: tie embarrassment* dessert Day 7: potatoes blue glass Day 8: shower blessed layer Day 9: urgency kneel rural Day 10: flush angel owl Day 11: reflection water apology Day 12: graceful volcano blanket Day 18: suave cologne gradual* Day 19: teacakes flood feature Day 20: smooth glitters queen Day 23: rhythm chalk humor Day 24: spring fuzzy silky

*The word did not get used but the concept is very much in there

[eddiesxangel]

Clueless Virgin!Bestfriend Eddie looking for something in your nightstand like idk gum or something, but instead he finds your vibrator and asks you “what kind of microphone is this?” 😭😭😭😭

Full fic here

[ikeasharksss]

does anyone know sapphic fiction that has the vibes of tj klune? i finished reading "under the whispering door" today & i've always been a fan of "house on the cerulean sea", but man i wish i could find lesbians in this genre

[moominvalley-state-of-mind]

yes, there may be better trios, but i will never say no to seeing these friends interact:

The Lost Hero Trio (Jason. Piper, Leo)

The Son of Neptune Trio (Percy, Hazel, Frank)

Pottery Barn Trio (Magnus, Alex, TJ)

[wizardofgoodfortune]

Gonna go ahead and ask you #58 on your Spotify wrapped while I'm thinking about it

#58 on my top songs is mirrorball by taylor swift! this is definitely one of my fav songs from her, if not The Favorite; a vivid music video plays out in my head every time i listen to it. here's my favorite part from it, which can definitely lend itself to particular dreamling scenarios... like 1989.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

---

When his stranger didn't show up in 1989, Hob spent the whole day waiting for him. The whole night, too. He heard the last call but stayed long after, until the bartender—Ian was his name, Hob learned at one point—had to kick him out so they could lock up. To Ian's credit, he did it with his most apologetic face.

"Sorry, Hob," Ian said as he locked up the front door of the tavern. "Feel free to come back 'round tomorrow. Promise the place'll still be here by then."

Hob, who was hovering listlessly beside him, gave him a smile. "You'll regret you said that."

Ian laughed. "I'll never regret having more regulars. God knows we need it."

Hob frowned. Right. He nearly forgot about that.

"Need a lift?" Ian offered, fishing out a different set of keys from inside his pockets. "You've drunk quite a lot."

"I'm fine, I just need to—" Hob took a deep breath, "—I need to walk it off."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "Sure? I better not read about you in the papers tomorrow."

Hob snorted. "Trust me, you won't."

With that, Hob stood in front of the tavern and watched Ian drive off, until the old man rounded a corner and disappeared.

Now that he was alone, Hob slumped down on the damp ground and leaned against the front door. They've probably replaced this door more times than he could count, along with the rest of the tavern. Century after century, Hob saw less and less of what used to be here 600 years ago: the chairs, the tables, the mugs, the godawful drinks. The closest thing to permanence this tavern had was its name, and, up until tonight, his stranger. And soon, it wouldn't even have itself.

Hob reached into his coat pocket and took out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes. As he watched London's everchanging skyline glitter above the Thames, he lit a cigarette, the orange of it glowing in the dark. He sat there, waiting, waiting, waiting. He was good at that, at waiting. All you had to have for waiting was time, and Hob had it in abundance. So he waited until the sun rose, until the streets came alive with cars and people, until Ian came back to open up.

"Oi, what happened to walking it off?!" Ian exclaimed, standing over Hob, shielding him from the noon sun. "Bloody hell. C'mon now. Up you go."

Hob let himself be corralled into the tavern's small office and be sat at the small couch that was probably meant for interviews and terminations. He drank the water and aspirin placed in front of him, and he wore the spare shirt lent to him, but he left Ian's questions unanswered.

"Y'know," Hob started as soon as Ian came back in from the bar, "I reckon I could do a good job running a tavern."

"You should be asleep," Ian said accusatorily.

Maybe he should've been. But instead, Hob was sitting upright, wide awake. "I've been in countless taverns, just like this," he continued, "and I reckon I could make a great one. It would be so great that people from all over the world would come to eat and drink there, and say, 'Hey look, it's Hob's tavern, the greatest one around!' And d'you know what the best part about it would be?"

Ian sighed and leaned on his desk. "What?"

"It would be so great that they'd never close it down. They wouldn't be able to. Everyone would rally around it, even the council. And it'd be there for, for centuries. No, millennia. No, forever."

Ian shook his head, smiling. "A beautiful dream."

"A dream?" Hob scrunched his eyebrows. "You don't believe me?"

"Hob, this tavern has been here for centuries. That's a pretty good run, I'd say. Before that, it might've been something else, like a house, or a barn, or something. And before that, it was probably an empty plot of land, or maybe it was full of trees. Maybe bloody dinosaurs lived and died here. Or maybe it was underwater, I dunno. But I'm getting away from the point," Ian said, scratching his scraggly beard. "The point is: things change. That's life."

Suddenly, Hob was reminded of that night a hundred years ago, how his stranger detested the implication that he changed, that he grew to be lonely, lonely enough to seek out companionship. Hob's companionship. Obviously he detested the implication enough to not show up yesterday. But maybe, just maybe, his stranger will show up again today or the next day, just to prove a point, just to say he didn't need him to be his friend, and to say goodbye for the last time. Surely his stranger's not cruel enough to not show up at all, right?

"I, I know, but I can't let this place change, at least not yet," Hob said. His desperation must've plain on his face from the way Ian smiled sadly at him.

"And why's that?"

"My friend and I," Hob paused, thinking about what to say, "this place is important to us."

"You can always find another place."

"He won't," Hob said, voice breaking, "he won't be able to find me."

"How sure are you that he won't?"

Hob put his head into his hands. "I'm sure."

"You don't have his number?"

Hob shook his head.

Ian sighed. "Well, like I said last night, you'll need a lot of money to—"

"I have the money," Hob blurted out.

"What's that?"

"I," Hob repeated, raising his head in realization, "I have the money."

Ian only looked at him.

"I can, I can keep this place alive until he comes back."

Ian regarded him wordlessly for a few more seconds, then said, "I appreciate the thought, I do, but I reckon you can just establish a new one and it'll be less expensive. You can always, I dunno, put up some signs. 'This way to the new tavern' or something. Then when your friend comes around, they'll just read your sign and go to the new tavern."

Hob stared at Ian, mouth hanging open. Then he laughed, feeling a sleep-deprived lightness in his chest. He stood up and held Ian by his shoulders, still smiling. "Ian, you're a genius."

Ian chuckled heartily. "I try."

"And you're a hired genius."

"Pardon?"

"I'll need a bartender for the new tavern," Hob said, grinning.

Ian scoffed in disbelief, but he was smiling. "And what'll you name it?"

Hob thought for a second, then settled on: "The New Tavern."

Ian chortled. "You need sleep. Dearly."

---

send me a number and i'll write something based on the corresponding song in my spotify wrapped!

[i-am-church-the-cat]

you can always go home again (or for the first time)

This is my fic for the Andi Mack gift exchange! This is for @paracosmicat, I'm so sorry that it's late, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Summary: She ruffles his hair as she leads the way back through the apartment. It’s small and crowded with trinkets, books and shoes, basketballs and art projects, and something that must have exploded from the kitchen. Three more people are waiting for them in the living room, less than T.J. expected from the level of noise he’d heard. “Hey guys, this is T.J., the dude I was telling you about,” Jonah introduces him to the group at large and he offers a small wave. “T.J., this is Andi, Cyrus, and Marty.” WC: 2674 Pairing: Gen mostly, but with pre-relationship Tyrus and minor Amris Tags: College AU, First Meetings, T.J. POV, Amber and T.J. are siblings Rating: Teen

---

He knew it was saving him money, but sometimes living with his sister and her girlfriend could be really annoying. T.J. had been trapped in his room for ages, Amber and Iris having fought and made up over the past several hours, both things he would rather not be witness to. At this rate, he was going to be locked in here until graduation. 

Jonah 

Hey man, you looking to hang tonight?

Something like relief passes through T.J. when he gets the message. He and Jonah aren’t the closest of friends, yet. They hadn’t gotten along when Jonah was dating his sister - between the compulsory heterosexuality and Jonah’s constant avoidance of anything even hinting at romantic in nature, it had been hell from start to finish - but since they were both studying kinesiology, they’d tried to be friendly. Today, that work had finally paid off.

T.J.

Yeah man, what were you thinking?

Jonah

Some of my friends are holding a get together at their apartment, just a small thing. You wanna come?

Another noise came from the living room. T.J. didn’t want to know if it was a yell or a moan. 

T.J.

Send me the address, im omw

Since the path to the front door was locked, T.J. used the fire escape by his window. It dropped him right next to the motorcycle he probably shouldn’t be parking in the back alley. But hey, it hadn’t been stolen yet, and it made for a very quick getaway. T.J. set his phone to give him voice directions to the address Jonah texts him and then he’s off. 

--

The apartment building is nice, an artist-y co-op on the west side of town. T.J. heads up to the third floor after texting Jonah again for the apartment number - Beck wasn’t always the most aware person. Both the bike ride and the jog up the steps do a lot for getting T.J. in a better headspace than he was in earlier. 

He hears the apartment before he sees it. Jonah said it was just a small get together, but from the noise coming through the door, T.J. has some serious doubts. He considers bailing before remembering what’s going on at his own apartment and knocking on the door. 

Surprisingly, it’s not Jonah who answers. It’s a girl with tight braids and wearing a Utah Jazz jersey. She looks like someone he should know, but it slips his mind. She looks him over and must find him wanting because her expression is thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Can I help you?”

“Um, hi,” T.J. says, trying for a smile and probably failing short. “I’m looking for-”

“Oh, Buffy is that T.J.?” A thankfully familiar voice comes from inside the apartment. Jonah Beck pops his head around the girl - Buffy’s - shoulder and flashes his big signature smile. “Teej, glad you could make it! Come in, come in.”

“Just inviting people into my home now, Beck?” Buffy asks, clearly not amused, but she steps aside with a nod to T.J. He nods back, figuring it’s the best course of action, and he’s rewarded with Buffy’s expression going a little less intense and a little more accepting. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry Buffy.” Jonah’s apologetic grin is too cute for anyone, even Buffy, to hold a grudge against. She ruffles his hair as she leads the way back through the apartment. It’s small and crowded with trinkets, books and shoes, basketballs and art projects, and something that must have exploded from the kitchen. Three more people are waiting for them in the living room, less than T.J. expected from the level of noise he’d heard.

“Hey guys, this is T.J., the dude I was telling you about,” Jonah introduces him to the group at large and he offers a small wave. “T.J., this is Andi, Cyrus, and Marty.”

T.J. opens his mouth to greet the group but the guy he’d thought looked familiar beats him to it. Marty hops up, big grin on his face as he offers up his hand for T.J. to slap.

“Hey, Kippen right? Aren’t you the new freshman starter for the basketball team?”

T.J. grins but can’t help the flush that takes his face. He’s proud of himself, yeah, but he finds it’s not always the best to introduce himself with his sporting career. It hasn’t always worked out the best in the past, which was mainly his fault to be fair. He hadn’t been a nice person on the court when he was younger.

“Yeah, I remember you from tryouts. You’ve got a great three-pointer, man.”

“Oh god, Jonah don’t tell me you brought another jock,” whines the other girl in the apartment, an Asian girl with short hair and paint on her t-shirt. “Now Cyrus and I are outnumbered 2-to-1.”

“I also invited Walker and Libby, but they both had things,” Jonah tries to defend himself, flopping down on the floor and grabbing a handful of popcorn from that half-empty bowl on teh coffee table. “It’s not my fault T.J.’s the only one free enough to join us.”

“I’m not totally sure if that’s an insult or not,” T.J. admits, looking around for space to sit. Andi and Buffy are sitting on the couch, Marty going back to sit in the third seat. Jonah’s on the floor. The only seat left is the loveseat, next to the only person here who’s voice T.J. hasn’t heard yet. 

“Hi,” he greets, moving towards the other boy. “I’m T.J. Can I sit?”

The brown-haired boy has big eyes that seem to suck all the air out of the room. Either someone just started hitting a bass drum, or T.J. could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Soft freckles dusted the boy’s nose and his pink lips had teeth indentations in them, as if he’d been biting them only seconds before. Those same lips lift into a smile, crinkly his Bambi eyes at the edges. 

“Sure,” the angel fairy boy said. “I’m Cyrus.”

“T.J.,” he mumbles, sitting down on the cushion. The other boy’s eyes fill with mirth.

“You said that already.”

“Right.” T.J. blinks, wondering it this is what deer felt when they get stuck in headlights. “Sorry.”

Cyrus is clearly laughing at him but he has the decency not to show it. Instead, he leans forward and grabs something off of the pile of snacks on the coffee table. 

“Muffin? It’s chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh.” T.J. looks down at the muffin in surprise. It’s big and rich and somehow exactly what T.J. needs. His stomach growls in appreciation as he takes the treat in gentle hands. “Thank you, these are actually my favorite.”

Cyrus’s eyes twinkle. “Mine, too,” he says, grabbing another one and holding it out to cheers against T.J.’s own. T.J.’s grin is huge at the simple gesture. 

“So, T.J.” The voice draws the two out of the little bubble they had gotten sucked in so quickly. T.J. turns to Buffy while his fingers tear off a bit of muffin and pop it in his mouth. “What do the T and the J stand for?”

He snorts, used to this line of questioning. T.J. leans back in his seat, one arm going across the back of the couch. He doesn’t the notice the way Cyrus looks at the arm in surprise, face going slightly red. 

“Sorry, but that’s highly privileged information. Only four people on Earth know it.”

Marty leans forward with eager eyes. “Is it really that bad?”

T.J.’s face and voice are deadpan when he says, “Worse.”

“Amber told me it changes every month,” Jonah says from his spot on the floor. 

“Oh wait, are you Amber’s brother?” Andi says, eyes going wide in recognition. Shoot. If she knows his sister this could either be really bad or… nah, just really bad. His sister’s kind of a dick. 

“Yeah, younger, by two years.” 

“How come we never met you when she and Jonah were dating?” Buffy asks. The way she’s looking at him is different now but T.J. can’t tell if it’s better or worse. “We met Iris.”

“And she was so nice, though obviously in love with Amber,” Cyrus says. This gets sounds of affirmation from all except Jonah who shrugs. 

“I never saw it.”

“You never see it,” Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus all chorus back at him, different levels of fondness or exasperation. T.J. wonders what the story is there. Though, if it’s anything like the one he heard from Amber, he can probably guess.

“They’re actually dating now,” T.J. says, hoping to steer the conversation away from his and Amber’s relationship. He loves his sister, and even likes her these days, but that wasn’t always the truth. “They were roommates and finally admitted their feelings. When Iris moved out of her room, they had an extra, so I moved into their place when I went to college.”

Andi is nodding. “That’s smart. Cyrus, Buffy, and I all the split the rent here and we’re still eating mostly junk food we get on sale.”

“The stipend they give us on sports scholarship is not enough,” Buffy sighs and T.J. can commiserate with that. He holds up his half-eaten muffin in a toast. 

“Hey, at least you and Cyrus are on scholarship,” Andi pouts. “Liberal arts college is the worst financial decision I’ve ever made.” 

“But it’ll all even out when you’re a world famous artist and we can fly out to France to see your new art gallery in the Louvre,” Cyrus encourages in a way that feels more sincere than most. 

“Yeah, and you can represent Jonah when he gets sued for what he’s done to his apartment,” Marty snickers.

Jonah kicks up a fuss and the others fall into bickering over something T.J. clearly does not have enough information on. Instead, he turns his attention back to Cyrus, where it had been threatening to float all evening. 

“You’re going to college to be a lawyer?” He asks, taking a bite of his muffin. Cyrus turns to him as if surprised to be T.J.’s focus once again. 

“Yeah! A civil rights lawyer, though, not a defense attorney.”

“That’s really cool.” He hoped he sounded as sincere as Cyrus had earlier, cause it’s true. T.J. wished he had a career path that was at least half as good for the world as Cyrus’s. He was only studying kinesiology because it’s what a bunch of student athletes did and his parents wanted him to have something to fall back on. He wasn’t going to be changing the world anytime soon.

Cyrus shrugs and blushes, ducking his head. He’s clearly not used to taking compliments which is a shame because they’re filling T.J.’s head like helium in a balloon. One poke and they’ll all come spilling out. 

“Yeah, well, it was either that or become a psychologist. All four of my parents are psychologists.”

“Four?”

“Mom, dad, step-mom, and step-dad,” Cyrus says with a shrug. This topic of conversation he’s far too used to. “You know how it goes.”

“Nah, actually,” T.J. glances away for a second before back to Cyrus. “My parents are the kind that should’ve split up but never did. It kind of left a bad mark on Amber and I’s relationship with them, and each other.”

Cyrus looks up at him curiously. He’s curled towards him, leaning against the back of the loveseat and subsequently propping his head up on T.J.’s arm. The weight is nice, grounding.

“Is that why we’ve never met you before?”

“Yeah,” T.J. admits. It feels safer to tell Cyrus here, where they’re practically alone, instead of to the whole group. “I left to live with my grandparents in high school. The distance helped Amber and I a lot.”

“I’m glad.” Cyrus smiles up at him. “I don’t have any siblings but Buffy and Andi are basically like my sisters. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember.”

T.J. smiles, feelings bittersweet. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone like that.”

Cyrus considers him quietly. His face is serious and strangely more confident than it had been when their conversation began. “You should.”

They fall into silence then, just observing each other, gathering their thoughts and basking in the feeling their bubble had created. T.J. was still impressed by how quickly Cyrus had sucked him in. There was just something about the young man that felt authentic and calming, like everything was going to be okay. It’s a feeling T.J. has rarely ever felt in his life.

“You know, you’re weirdly easy to talk to.”

Cyrus smiles, teasing. “It’s the four therapists as parents. You get used to listening.” 

--

Cyrus and T.J. don’t have an opportunity to be quiet together for the rest of the night. Once the other’s finished bickering, they drew the two into a game of Trivial Pursuit, and then Truth or Dare, and then Charades, which T.J. and Buffy weirdly dominated at, to Marty and Jonah’s chagrin. By the end of the night, T.J. was exhausted but happy. He’d left the house to escape the private going ons of his sister and her girlfriend and ended up meeting people he’d never believe he felt so at home with. The way they opened up and welcomed him in felt amazing, like nothing he’d ever experienced.

“It’s a great feeling, right?” Marty had said, halfway through the night, when they’d both stepped into the kitchen to grab a drink. “Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus have always been this trio. It should feel like an impenetrable wall to cross but they always open up and offer space to anyone who needs it. Jonah and I in middle school, Walker and Libby in high school, and now you.” 

T.J. had blinked in surprise, looking back out to the living room. The three roommates were doing weird poses, trying to convince the others they were real formations used in yoga, or just trying to make the other two laugh. He watches with a warm feeling in his stomach as Cyrus laughs so much he topples out of the position he was in, sprawling across the carpeted floor. 

“Can it really be that easy?”

Marty had shrugged and given him a welcoming smile. A beckoning smile. “Only if you let it be.” 

And T.J. was going to let it be. He wasn’t going to question the new familiarity between himself and these people. He was just going to accept it and holds on as long as he could. By the time he left, he had four new numbers in his phone. When he got home, there was a text from one of them. 

Buffy the Basketball Slayer

You better ask Cyrus out soon

He’s not known for making the first move and I can not handle three months of pining

Hop on it Kippen

T.J. grinned. He sent back a thumbs up emoji before pulling down the fire escape. He stumbles through his window and onto his bed, feeling dazed from both the climb and the night he had.

“Hvae fun?” Amber asks from the open doorway. That had definitely been closed when he left, but T.J.’s proud of the fact he didn’t startle at her sudden appearance. 

“Yeah.” He knows he’s grinning like a madman but he just can’t help it. 

“Good,” his sister says. She ruffles his hair, blonde matching her own. “Good night, little bro.”

“Night,” he calls as she exits the room. He sits up a little to make his next words heard. “Good night to you, too, Iris!”

There’s a pause, then, “Good night, T.J.! Sweet dreams!”

And well. There’s no doubt that they will be.