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[littlexdeaths]

the car troubles saga comes to a close?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

the last installment of the car troubles saga for now… but you’ll definitely be seeing more of these two 🥰

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

the sounds of grinding metal and loud rock music fill your ears as you step into sinclair’s auto repair shop.

the chatter among the shop is incessant as you look over the multiple cars until you find your 1979 chevy caprice parked amongst the rest.

but your heart leaps into your throat when you see a familiar pair of legs sticking out from underneath it.

“yo, munson! got a customer!”

you can hear his curse and the banging of a head, and you can’t help but giggle softly when he rolls out from underneath your car. he’s rubbing his dinged forehead, and in the process he accidentally swipes more grease across his skin.

but when his eyes find yours they soften, and he grins widely. once he returns to his feet, he’s wiping the remaining grease onto the rag that he shoves in the back pocket of his coveralls. it’s then that he takes you in fully, dressed in a pretty little sundress and sandals.

you’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. the weather is somehow even more sweltering than the day before, and the beads of sweat sticking to your skin almost sparkle in the bright lights of the garage.

“so, what’s the damage?” you ask teasingly once you reach him.

eddie just chuckles, hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides back towards your car. but the barely there touch has your heart racing.

“well, you had a faulty radiator cap, and were in desperate need of an oil change…. when was the last time you got one?”

you bite your lip, a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you. “uh, last fall… i think?”

his answering groan has you giggling again despite yourself, and eddie leans his hip against the hood of your car.

“now let me tell you what’s gonna happen,” he chuckles. “you’re gonna march that pretty little ass of yours in here six months from now to get that changed, got it?”

you nod, feeling a little flustered at the mention of your ass and pretty in the same sentence. and by his subtle smirk, he knows the effect he has on you.

“alright well, i’m all finished here. we can step in the office and discuss payment options, yeah?”

but as soon as that door closes behind you he has you pressed against it, palms on either side of your head as kisses you deeply.

“been thinking about you all night, sweetheart.” he groans, lips trailing over your jaw as you tug him closer by the collar of his coveralls.

“was half tempted to sneak in through your bedroom window like some horny teenager.” he laughs softly, reveling in the soft mewls that leave your lips.

“who’s to say i would’ve let you in?” you tease, earning you a small nip on your collarbone.

“you wouldn’t, huh?” he taunts, rough hands sliding up your thigh to the hem of your dress.

your breath catches in your throat as he hooks one of your legs up on his hip, and then his lips are back on yours. he smells like sweat and grease but something so distinctly eddie that it makes your head swim.

but a sudden knock on the glass window to your left has you pulling apart, heart thumping as eddie all but groans in annoyance.

“munson, got another car waiting out front. wrap it up.”

you’re thankful then that the blinds— while bent from frequent use, are shut. no need to give his coworkers a free show.

“be right out mr. sinclair,” eddie calls back, though his words are slightly muffled as he presses them to your throat.

another giggle spills past you as you tip his chin up, his brown eyes smoldering as they meet your own.

“you do this to with all your paying customers?” you say with mock offense.

eddie just rolls his eyes as steps back from you, but not before pressing one last searing kiss to your pouted lips.

“you didn’t think i was actually gonna charge you for that, right?”

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Customer Service

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4460 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, oral sex, no deep throat, just normal skill-level bj, face-fucking, not rough, coming in mouth, facial, dirty talk, hand job

Notes: Originally inspired by this post and also for the Day 5 prompt 'dirty' for Dreamling Week 2024 organized by @mr-sadman

Summary: Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

On AO3

It's hot, in the garage.

Hob's got the windows open, fans at strategic points to stir the air, but it's still warm enough he's stripped off beneath his coveralls and left them open to the waist, only his underwear beneath. It's just him in today, replacing the clutch on the rich guy's Porsche; technically he could be working naked if it weren't for the possibility of customers dropping in. And it's warm enough he's tempted.

The Porsche is secured up on the ramps and he's on his back on the creeper half underneath it, singing along with the retro rock he's got playing on the shop speakers as he works, when suddenly there's the sound of a throat being loudly and deliberately cleared and a nudge to his foot.

"Bloody—" Hob starts, fumbling the wrench without dropping it and grabbing the side of the car to scoot himself out. "What—?"

It's the rich guy, Mr. Ateleíotes, and Hob is abruptly conscious of the figure he cuts, sprawled on his back with a wrench in one hand, legs splayed and his coveralls open, no shirt, sweat and grease smears all over him and his clothes.

And his greasy fingers planted on the pristine smoky-grey paint job of this guy's car.

Oops.

"Don't worry, I'll give her a good cleaning 'fore I give her back to you—"

But the guy's not even looking at where Hob has dirtied his Porsche. His eyes are fixed on Hob, or rather, they're sweeping over his body, lingering on his exposed chest, the grease smears on his torso and the sweat-damp trail of hair disappearing into the open vee of his unzipped coveralls. It's a tangible gaze, and Hob can feel his body responding as the guy sweeps it back up to his face.

He's as pretty as Hob remembers, prettier with that hungry look in his eyes; porcelain-pale skin, artfully-messy black hair, casual tailored black suit with the jacket open and Hob swallows, feels his body flushing under the attention.

"I am sure you will." That voice is as pretty as Hob remembers too, deep and melodious and captivating. He speaks, and Hob wants to drop everything and listen. "I was in the vicinity, and thought to stop in, to see how the repairs are progressing? No one was at the desk."

"Uhm." Get it together, Hob. He sets the wrench aside, sits up, which puts him eye-level to the guy's crotch and oh, hello, he's not the only one with a growing 'problem'. "Yeah, 's just—just me today. Repair's coming along as expected; should be ready for you tomorrow." He stands as he speaks, grunting with the effort. "Clutch replacement will be done before I leave tonight and then I'll do the full tune-up in the morning, so. Like I said—by tomorrow afternoon." His eyes drop to the guy's lips and he jerks them back up, licking his own lips briefly. He shifts his stance, cocking one hip, acutely aware of his open coveralls and how the zip doesn't come together until a good three fingers beneath his navel; he drags the back of his arm across his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead and leaving a smudge of grease behind, not blind to the way that blue eyes darken as they follow the movement. "Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Ateleíotes?"

He only half-meant it to sound like a come-on; it's a perfectly plausible customer service question, but he's also seen half a dozen pornos that start just like this and Mr. Ateleíotes certainly seems interested. Hob's a professional and not about to proposition a customer outright, but if possibilities are on offer, he's not one to let them pass him by.

"There is, indeed, Mr. Gadling," Mr. Ateleíotes purrs—and Hob's dick jumps as the guy reaches to touch him, one pale fingertip tracing through his chest hair, through the grease smear just below. "The mechanic repairing my car, he is absolutely. Mouthwatering." He casts a molten glance up through his eyelashes. "And I would very much like. To suck. His cock." He rubs his thumb against his finger, spreading the grease between the two, and smiles at Hob, simmering and invitational. "Might your shop accommodate such a request?"

Fucking hell— Hob takes a sharp breath; the heat of the shop and the concentration of blood away from his brain are doing him no favors and he fears for half a delirious second he might pass out, but he rallies quickly. "Absolutely," he grins, dick throbbing. "We are a full service garage, after all. Did you want to see about that now, or make an appointment?" He winks.

"Immediately, please," Mr. Atelíotes replies, and there's a spark in his eye, a glint of delight at Hob's carrying of the customer-service bit, and Hob is giddy with it all.

"Right then, let me just clean up real quick—" He's pulled a greasy rag from his back pocket, which won't actually do much but take off half a layer while he heads to the shop sink, but a slim pale hand on his arm stops him.

"No. As you are now, please." The guy steps closer, hungry and intent; Hob's pulse trips into double time.

"I'm kind of filthy though?"

The guy's blue, blue eyes glitter darkly. "I am aware, yes." And then those slender hands are curled in the open edges of Hob's grimy coveralls and the sinful pink of his mouth is pressed up against Hob's.

The sound Hob makes is a little embarrassing, but then there's a supple tongue slipping in next to his own and Mr. Atelíotes gives his own little moan and that's alright then, the guy's a damn good kisser and Hob finds it's really easy to stop caring about dignity in the moment. He surges into the kiss, hands coming up and hovering, painfully aware of the dirt and grease that clings to him and the probable price tag of that tailored suit.

"Touch me," Mr. Atelíotes says, flush against his mouth before kissing again, and it is very much not a suggestion.

Hob pulls away just enough to answer. "Sorry, my hands—don't want to mess up your clothes, love—"

Mr. Atelíotes grabs both of his hands by the wrist and, much to Hob's shock, plants them firmly on the pristine white of his shirt under the suit jacket, guides Hob's grease-stained fingers to clench in the fabric. "Touch me," he repeats, low and heated, winding his hands back beneath Hob's sweaty hair. "Dirty me, dirty my clothes, my skin; I wish to be. Marked by you, stained, with your ardor—"

Hob whimpers, just a little, clenches tight around the fistfuls of now-sullied fabric and pulls him back into a kiss.

Mr. Atelíotes makes a sound of approval, maneuvers him around the front of the car and presses forward, backing Hob against the bonnet. His hips push insistently into Hob's and the feel of his hard-on in those tailored trousers is so fucking gratifying; Hob grinds against him in return, still kissing fiercely, and fumbles at the placket of the ruined shirt.

"Can I unbutton you, love?"

"You needn't ask permission," the guy pants, both hands around the back of Hob's head, his mouth dragging wetly along Hob's jaw. "The shirt will not be salvaged." His teeth latch onto Hob's earlobe, joined next by his tongue, and then warm lips ghost over the shell of Hob's ear, a low murmur following after. "Tear it from me, if you like."

Hob would like, very much, and so he does. He realizes that he has perhaps made a mistake as he hears the buttons pinging and bouncing in every direction; he will never find them all and in the back of his mind he imagines Matty returning from his trip home to the states, asking why he keeps finding these pearly buttons all over the shop, staring Hob down with his beady little all-knowing eyes while Hob burns with the mortification of being Known.

But that is a problem for future Hob; present Hob is occupied with reverently smoothing his unclean hands over the snowy-white skin exposed beneath the torn-open shirt of the gorgeous man who wants to suck his cock. The shirt took a lot of the surface grease but there's still enough on Hob's hands to leave grey-black smudges across the guy's smooth chest that seem to turn him on as much as anything else Hob is doing, which. Okay. Not even close to the strangest sex thing he's ever encountered, and he can definitely work with it.

"God, you look good, sweetheart—" He smooths his hands around bony ribs, smudging dirt and grease and grinning warmly as the guy's eyelids droop almost imperceptibly. "Bit of grime suits you, I think—"

He's cut off as Mr. Atelíotes kisses him again, hot and wet and demanding. Hob's very sure that he's been slotted into this rich guy's fantasy of slumming it with the working class, and that's more than okay too. He'll gladly play it up; not like he's never entertained that sort of idea himself.

He sucks in a breath when the kiss breaks at last. "How am I so lucky that a posh pretty thing like you wants to get your knees dirty for me, hmm?"

"It was not my intention when I arrived," the guy says, panting, forehead resting against Hob's. "But then you rolled out from beneath my car. Gleaming, and. Dirty. And I could think of little else."

Hob chuckles, shivers as slender hands delve back into his sweat-damp hair. "No complaints from me, darling. Delighted that all my natural glory does it for you."

"Dream," Mr. Atelíotes says, fingertips scratching lightly along Hob's scalp.

"Uh?" Hob blinks, not sure quite what he's meant to do with that word.

"My name," Mr. Atelíotes clarifies, leaning in to mouth wetly beneath the corner of Hob's jaw. "Call me what you wish, I am not averse to your endearments—" his tongue takes a path down the sweat-damp curve of Hob's neck "—but should you like to use it. My name—" his lips drag up Hob's throat, over the cleft of his chin "—is Dream." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's open mouth.

"Dream," Hob manages, when he's let up to breathe a moment later. "Beautiful name for a beautiful man—"

"Silver tongue," the guy says, nipping hungrily, helpessly at his mouth. "Such uses I have in mind for it…"

"I'm game, love, anything you like," Hob breathes, enchanted with the possibilities. "Sure you just wanna suck me off? 'Cause you talk like a bloke who'd like to get proper fucked."

That earns him a full-body shiver and a sharp inhale. "I would very much like to be fucked by you, Hob Gadling, in this garage, over this car. But as I did not have the foresight to prepare for that possibility, I will content myself with having your prick in my mouth and your hands in my hair and my name on your lips when you spill."

"Fucking christ," Hob swears, as Mr. Atelíotes—Dream, as Dream slides to his knees in his neat tailored trousers on the dirty shop floor, lips dragging down Hob's stomach as he goes, hands following behind. He glances back up as he reaches the zipper, smiles coyly as he grasps it and draws it all the way down so the coveralls flag completely open down past his crotch. Hob makes no move to take them any further off; Dream has shown no hesitation to tell him exactly what he wants up to now and Hob figures if he wanted them off-off, he'd say so.

Dream curls his fingers in the waistband of Hob's underwear and pulls it low, reaches around to tug it down past his arse cheeks so it stays put and dips into the front with both hands to draw Hob out. Hob shudders at the touch, bites his lip with a stifled sound and leans back on the bonnet. Dream just smiles wider.

"You are as magnificent as I had hoped," he murmurs, cradling Hob's cock to his face, delicately kissing the tip. He grasps it underhand and pulls it down, laves the flat of his tongue along the thick vein on top from crown up to base in a long slow lick, exhales his pleasure on a decadent moan. He reverses his grip, points Hob's dick skyward and nuzzles into his balls, breathing deep. Hob has a flash of self-consciousness—he's been working all day in a shop with no AC, he's got to be a bit ripe—but Dream doesn't seem offput in the least. Rather the opposite, in fact; he buries his nose in Hob's sweat-damp crotch with another moan, mouths wetly at his testicles and sucks each in turn. "Exquisite," he declares to the base of Hob's cock, and drags his tongue lovingly up the underside all the way back to the tip.

Hob's never had his dick worshipped quite like this, he thinks feverishly, every muscle in his thighs and buttocks tensing and flexing against the car as Dream mouths and licks at the head of him with all the enthusiasm of a kid on a melting ice lolly. The heat of the shop and Dream's attentions to his dick have him panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, trembling with anticipation as Dream finally opens wide and takes him in.

It's so fucking good, the soft wet warmth enclosing him, the slide of plush lips down his shaft and back up, again, and again, and Hob is so, so grateful to be in the right place at the right time. Never had he imagined he would find himself here, leaning back against the bonnet of some rich guy's Porsche with that self-same rich guy on his knees on the dirty shop floor, pretty pink lips stretched around him. Dream sucks with skill and enthusiasm and his tongue is positively magical and he's really into the eye contact, gazing up adoringly like having his mouth full of Hob's prick is all he could have wished for when he woke up this morning. It's heady and exhilarating and he's so fucking beautiful, looking at Hob as he glides up and down, hands wrapped around Hob's hips beneath his coveralls, and Hob. He's not always the brightest but he's definitely caught on to the theme of this tryst by now, and Dream's face is entirely too clean.

He lifts a thumb to his chest, smears it through the grease still adorning him there, lowers it to Dream's face. He watches as Dream's eyes widen, rubs a light smear of black across Dream's cheekbone and smiles at the way Dream's pupils dilate, the way Dream whines around his cock. He strokes his other hand through Dream's hair, gently holds him still, drags his greasy thumb down along the corner of Dream's mouth stretched wide around his girth; that earns him a whimper and Dream shivers, eyes fluttering briefly closed. He sucks harder, tongue flicking delicately against the tip, eyes pleading now with Hob, and he takes Hob's free hand, guides it to rest in his own hair like the other. Hob takes the hint, holds Dream's head still in both hands and gives a gentle roll of his hips; his cock slides out of Dream's mouth and back in and that's. Yes. Another roll of his hips, out and back and Dream whimpers and fuck, but it's good—

"God you're gorgeous," he moans, carefully combing his fingers through Dream's hair, heat blazing in his belly as he watches his dick sliding between Dream's luscious lips. Dream is making the sweetest little sounds now, cheeks flushed beneath the grease stain, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazes up at Hob like this is everything he could have wanted; he drops his hands to undo his belt, to pull himself out and start stroking, and that's just. That's it.

Dream splays his free hand across Hob's thigh over the coveralls and Hob fucks, careful and shallow, driven by the view before him and the thought of how they look together and the hungry eager noises Dream makes around him. He can feel himself climbing, soaring up to his peak, sweet and steady; the hot-wet slide in and out of Dream's mouth and the way his tongue wriggles along the underside on every stroke are making short work of the journey and Hob is panting out sharp desperate grunts and moans as it looms closer and closer. His balls are drawn up tight and full and he's close, so close, and he can't just—he's got to give him warning—

"Dream, sweetheart, I'm about to pop—"

But Dream only moves his hand from Hob's thigh to wrap around Hob's cock and doubles down on whatever he's doing with his tongue, and Hob moans, hips stuttering, Dream working him masterfully up to the crest; helpless, with a breathless grunting cry, Hob tips over the edge.

Dream takes the first shot of his come with a delighted little moan and then quickly pulls off of Hob's dick as he spurts again. It lands across Dream's face, white against the black smears of grease; the next shot falls a little shorter, half on his cheek and half in his open mouth and then Dream is diving back onto his cock for the rest, sucking hard with a desperate needy little whimper. The tip of his tongue worries at Hob's slit in search of every last drop and Hob groans, body clenching and spasming again and again to give this insatiable hungry creature everything that he wants.

But at last he has nothing left to give and his cock is shrinking from Dream's ravenous mouth, overstimulated by the way Dream still nurses at the tip, the grip Dream's got around the base of it. Firmly but gently Hob flexes his hands in Dream's tousled hair and eases him back, off. Dream gazes up at him, flushed and heavy-eyed, panting with his shirt and suit and trousers open, stroking himself steadily.

His tongue curls out to lick Hob's come from his upper lip, and his smile is sultry, hungry.

"Get up here, beautiful." Hob pulls Dream to his feet, slides a hand around the back of Dream's neck, smears his come liberally across Dream's grease-stained cheek with his thumb on the way. Dream's mouth opens and Hob plunges in, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself with a heady sort of satisfaction. Being wanted feels so good, whatever the reason.

Dream is still stroking himself, his easy rhythm speeding up, fist bumping against Hob's hip each time, and Hob breaks the kiss after a moment. "D'you want me to suck you off?"

"No, no—but touch me—" He seizes Hob's hand, brings it down to his own dick.

Hob hesitates for half a second—scrubbing automotive grease off your chest or hands or even your face is one thing; scrubbing it off your dick would be quite another and he's not interested in putting Dream through that sort of grief. But his hands have touched enough in the last fifteen minutes that all the easily-transferable grime is gone; it's really just the deeper-level staining going on and a bit of heavy petting shouldn't create a problem. So he takes Dream in hand, slides his other arm around Dream's back for support and strokes his lovely cock with relish, claims his sticky mouth in another kiss.

Dream whines into it, eager and open, and brings his hand to Hob's chest. He plants it in that grease smear that's still got some substance to it and splays his fingers wide, spreads it around like it's lotion and okay, maybe it is kind of hot Hob decides. Maybe it'll be a bitch to clean up but he's not about to stop the gorgeous creature in his arms from making a bigger mess of his body hair if it's getting him off. He's enjoyed being the fantasy this pretty posh thing needs, is still happy to play his part until the end.

He starts stroking a bit faster and breaks the kiss, drags his lips across Dream's messy cheek to his ear.

"God I'd love to fuck you, spread you open and pound you senseless, leave my dirty handprints all over your pretty white arse—"

Dream makes a raw little sound of want and buries his face against Hob's throat, panting open-mouthed. He smears his greasy hand down Hob's torso again, slips it around beneath the open coveralls, fingertips sliding into the sweaty dip of Hob's spine, hanging on as Hob works him up to the edge. His other hand clings to the grimy fabric at Hob's shoulder.

Hob flicks his tongue along the shell of Dream's ear, a soft tease, speaks again. "I would make such a sweet sweet mess of you, darling, fuck you until you've had enough and then pump you so full of my come that it runs down your beautiful thighs—"

"Hob—"

"Sure I can't get my mouth on you?" Hob tightens his fingers around Dream's cock, stroking faster, caught up in the thrill of the fantasy he's spinning. "I'll bet you taste amazing, Dream, especially after I've had my filthy hands all over you—"

Dream is tense in his arms, breath shallow and rapid and he shakes his head, trembling. "Hob—ahh—Hob—" He dips, pulling the shoulder of Hob's coveralls aside and nudging desperately beneath their edge until he finds Hob's armpit; he mouths at the crease of it, wet and open with the most wanton little sound. He inhales and whines, high and sharp and short; he gasps out another whine, and another, higher and more urgent each time and then he is coming, head lolling back with a broken cry as he throbs and pulses in Hob's hand.

Hob pulls his cock tight, lets Dream shoot all over him, his arm and his belly; he keeps his other arm around Dream as he sags a long instant later, forehead falling against Hob's shoulder, panting, spent. Dream's hand twitches against Hob's spine and his fingers drag sensually slow around the curve of Hob's waist.

Hob wipes his messy hand on the side of his coveralls—best he's gonna get right now—and then curls his knuckle under Dream's chin, tipping his pretty face up.

"Alright then?" he asks, as those gorgeous blue eyes blink open, and Dream gives the faintest nod into Hob's gentle touch.

"Mmh." His face is soft, sated and open and inviting what with the way his lips are parted, and Hob can't quite stop himself dipping in for a kiss.

Dream welcomes it, meets him halfway with mellow eagerness and Hob sighs into it, awash in his own post-orgasmic high. This kiss. This kiss. It's sweet, and languid, and god but Hob could lose himself in it, in the thought of keeping this guy.

Dangerous, that.

So he breaks the kiss at last with a grin, then steps back and pulls his underwear up where it belongs again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up here." He moves toward the shop sink, hums a little distractedly along to the music on the speakers that has just filtered back into his awareness.

Dream follows, but makes no move to clean the smeared grease from his skin.

"No, I think not," he says, in that low effortlessly-sensual voice that plucks quivering notes of interest all along Hob's spine even now, in the aftermath. "I should like to carry your marks home with me." He takes up his pristine shirttails and wipes his hands deliberately on them, eyes on Hob all the while.

It's not his business if Dream wants to show up at home dirty and disheveled with his shirt torn open and looking absolutely debauched; maybe he lives alone and there's no one to comment, maybe he wants to flaunt his dalliance in the face of a parent or sibling or servant or who knows—no concern of Hob's at all, he reiterates, but damned if the idea of Dream proudly showing off the mess Hob's made of him doesn't turn him right the hell back on again.

"As you wish," he says, but plucks one of the many sample-sized bottles of Matty's favorite Orange Goop off the shelf and holds it out. "But take this with you; whenever you are ready to clean up, it'll be a big help."

Dream takes the bottle, slides it into the pocket of his trousers, which he has just re-fastened; he draws his suit jacket together over the ruin of his shirt and buttons it, making himself semi-presentable for his drive home. His eyes linger on Hob, however, on grease-smeared chest hair and the remains of his own orgasm on Hob's belly, on the shape of Hob in his underwear where he still hasn't bothered re-zipping his coveralls.

Dream's eyes flick up to Hob's, dark with banked heat.

"I really ought to learn more about the proper care and maintenance of this vehicle," he says, ostensibly about the Porsche, but his gaze stays fixed on Hob. "Will you be working alone tomorrow, as well?"

Hob hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his flagged-open coveralls, lets his hip jut forward just a little. "Yeah, Matty's out all week, so it's just me for a couple more days."

"Then perhaps I will. Arrive early, to pick up my car, and you can show me your best techniques for finishing the job."

The warm weight in his tone, the smouldering heat of his gaze, the way he'd talked earlier about getting fucked over the bonnet—his intent is crystal clear, and Hob is one hundred percent on board.

"Brilliant plan," he says, with a broad smile, and Dream's lips curl sweetly in response.

"Should I book an appointment, to ensure your availability?"

Hob waves a hand dismissively. "If you like, but it's not necessary? Just show up when it's convenient and I'll fit you right in." He winks.

"Truly, you take excellent care of your customers." Dream's smile is positively feline at this point.

"I'm just delighted I can help you out with all your maintenance needs." Hob lets a hint of mischief seep into his own smile, just enough to promise this pretty posh thing that coming back is definitely worth his while.

Dream's eyes lower and he inclines his head, an old-fashioned little bow of farewell that suits him perfectly. "Then I will see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling. My thanks for your…irreproachable service."

And he sweeps back out of the shop, Hob watching him go every step of the way.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 6/1/24 Posted: 6/4/25

[grapefives]

ESTOY PERDIENDO | DR

luffy + law + drabbles (separately) x gn!reader (male lenient though)

reader w/gravitation manipulation powers + denial of feelings + fluff + love confessions + reader is a musician (best buddies w/brook) + WANO SPOILERS! + crewmate reader +ft.frobin

a/n: i say drabbles but lowkey they might as well be scenarios lmao (title translates to: i’m losing)

your captain is very known for going all out in a fight. especially when it’s some bigshot. you really loved that about him. you couldn’t help but feel the deadly need to be there once he’s worn out after a battle.

for example, right now, as soon as his body gave out from his gear, falling down the sky, you fought yamato to catch him. seriously, what a stubborn girl- er, boy. he’s your captain! as his crewmate you have to save him!

“luffy, you okay?” you ask rhetorically, making your way anywhere that was away from the rubble.

luffy pants, barely able to make you out from his blurry sight. “i’m… hungry.”

“and hurt, let’s find chopper,” you say gently, carrying him in your arms tightly.

“thanks,” he mumbles, melting into your arms.

“you guys are really something!” yamato clamors with fondness.

“yeah,” you smile down at your cute captain.

you feel so warm that luffy really doesn’t think he’d want to let go even after he blacks out. he holds on though, making sure he finishes his business with momonosuke before finally dropping.

luffy is someone who trusts quite easily, trust towards his crew mates is blind. yet, out of all his crew mates, he finds himself more fond with you. he loves to talk to you, to go on adventures with you and… secretly look at you for as long as you stay unaware of his gaze.

your captain is oblivious. he’s the type of person that mistakes love for friendship. one: he doesn’t know what love is. two: he’s pretty sure you’re his best friend. best friends like each other.

a lot.

which is why, when he wakes up, the first person he looks for is you. upon not seeing you, he deflates for a moment, until his stomach grumbles and he knows food is his priority.

“MEAT!!” he yells, chanting it despite how fast the plates are placed in front of him.

he’s devouring the plates as ruckus happens around him. momonosuke appears, he swears he couldn’t recognize the kid, and then yamato, who he soon learns was on a vigil.

“woah! thanks yamabro! must be why i feel so great!”

yamato grins, looking around. “where’s y/n!? y/n was starving too! y/n has to eat too, now that luffy is awake!”

“huh? why?” luffy tilts his head as he chews on some meat.

“y/n was also on a vigil, they liked the custom.” nami explains, not seeing how luffy’s eyes slightly widen and a small blush forms on his face.

you soon walk in, smiling wide when you see luffy. “glad to see our captain is awake!”

“sit down and eat,” luffy orders as he stretches his arm and grabs you, pulling you and making you gasp at the unexpected action.

if anyone knows anything about luffy stretching and doing things like that, is that the bounce effect is really jet lagging. so, due to the recoil, you slam into him and the two of you tumble over the floor.

he shouldn’t think much of it, not with the way your face is so close to his and any strands of your hair are tickling his skin. he pushes aside his flustered emotions and laughs, sitting up and shoving a plate of food in your hands.

and when you smile at him, wide and enchanting, he really puts in more thought about his feelings.

but again, he pushes them aside and goes on with his life. and yet again, he falls into the pit of his feelings for you during the remaining few days it takes to repair the ships.

“y/n, let’s go see if there’s food to eat!” he sayys clinging onto you.

“ah, hold on luffy, usopp said he wanted to switch shifts in a bit.”

“but you’ve been doing that all week!!” he whines,”spend time with me!”

he’s literally acting like a clingy partner. you can’t help but smile at his cuteness.

“oi, why are you staring at me like that?” luffy asks, feeling a bit nervous at your doe eyes and lopsided smile.

“huh?” you blink. you feel your ears turn red, “how?”

“almost the way sanji looks at women.”

you sputter, “luffy, you’re seeing things! it’s cus you’re hungry, how about you go to the banquet hall with usopp once he gets here-“

luffy frowns, “but i want to go with you!”

“luffy, seriously. i’m busy.”

“spend time with meee, captain’s orders!!”

you shake your head, only to continue and see how far he can go. you knows he’s stubborn, you had already mentally agreed to go with him but you like to tease him.

“don’t you want to set sail soon?” you ask, “we’re almost done with repairs. it won’t take long.”

“you always say that!”

“my, my,” robin laughs softly when she casually walks by, “better please his wishes.”

“luffy’s acting like a jealous boyfriend,” franky laughs, spawning out of nowhere.

luffy stands up straight. boyfriend is what? another level to best friends? he stares at them before staring at you, who seems to be blushing at their comments.

“a-anyways,” you continue, “i’ma go help franky-“

“if i’m your boyfriend will you come with me!?”

your eyes go wide, and you genuinely wonder if he even knows what he’s saying. “come again?”

“if i’m your boyfriend, will you give me attention?”

“l-luffy do you even know what you’re asking?”

“i’m asking to be your boyfriend!” he huffs, cheeks flushed a nice rosy color and puffed.

“and do you even know what that is?” you seem a bit troubled, almost sad.

there’s no point to agreeing if luffy doesn’t know what he’s asking. yes, you’ve grown these feeling for him a while ago, but he’s your captain. you don’t want to ruin that friendship, nor trust, with your feelings. plus, luffy never showed any sort of interest in that. you were just kidding yourself.

“it means you get to be with me! no matter what, i’m top priority!”

“i thought you said me reaching my dreams was top priority when i joined the crew-“

“second top priority!”

you can’t help but smile sadly, “i’d rather not, dating is pretty noncommon among pirates, it could interfere with lots of things.”

“but y/n~!” he clings to you again, “just say yes! i’ll be a good boyfriend! and if i’m not you can teach me!”

you blush, “teach you-“

his puppy eyes are just so… you groan.

“are you sure, a romantic relationship entitles other things. it’s a huge commitment.”

“if it has to do with you i’ll do it!”

you… “luffy i’m not very sure… i feel like you’re not taking into account how i feel-“

“do you like me?”

your breath is caught in your throat. “well, yes-“

“then what’s the issue!?”

you’re stumped.

“luffy,” robin buts in, “a relationship means more dedication to one another. it’s romantic.”

“romantic,” luffy repeats. he looks at you, “that means more hugging and stuff, right?”

“well, yes? for starters yeah,” you nod, heart beating like crazy.

“then say yes!” luffy huffs again.

you stare at him, then at robin and franky, who smile. “o-okay.”

luffy’s grin had never been so wide. you’re pretty sure you’ll be fine.

“play a song while we eat,” he says as he drags you along.

“luffy, i recall you said you wanted me to eat too. my hands will be full and i’d rather not dirty my instrument.”

“anything’s is possible if you’re my boyfriend.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. you feel so warm, so happy. for sure, everything will be alright.

trusting people doesn’t come very easily to law. even the man he owes his life to struggled to gain his trust, but that experience is what made him even colder. the walls he’s built so high around him were even guarded. he was a tough nut to crack.

and darn it! he hates you! he hates you so much! why? because you made him so… so soft! it’s like his walls are actually futons wrapped around him and he hates it!

“y/n-ya,” his voice is dull and his gaze is deadly.

“h-hold on cap!” you pant as you jump over rubble, holding him tightly in your arms.

“y/n-ya, let me down.”

“no offense cap but you can barely keep yourself awake-“ your breath hitches when the hilt of his sword buts your chin.

“down.”

“almost out of here-“ you trip, and he almost falls to the ground if it weren’t for you quickness, your fingers twitching to activate your powers, causing him to float for a measly few seconds before you get back up and pick him up.

“you idiot!” law yells, annoyed with how much care you’re giving him. he’s really trying to fight you but he can’t deny how worn down he is. but he won’t tell you that, duh.

“hey! stay still!”

“don’t give me orders you nimwit! let me down! i’m not weak!”

you growl, “law! we’re almost there! calm down!”

he stares at you, almost shocked at how aggressive you’ve gotten. his face heats up, unsure whether to continue his fight or actually give in. you are holding him quite strongly actually, if he were to allow himself to melt for a few seconds he knows he might fall unconscious. heck, he really wants to.

but all these enemies around! one look at this and he won’t heat the end of it! especially by the eustass bastard.

“bepo! are you okay?!” you ask when you see the rest of your crew.

“he doesn’t do well with heat!” sachi yells, “seriously! he’s a pain in the ass-“ he pauses, “captain!?”

law groans, so ashamed that he presses himself into you, wishing he could disappear. he focuses on anything other than the situation he’s in, which leads to him settling on your heartbeat. and he hates how much he enjoys it. both knowing you’re fine and being in your arms. it makes him realize how much he’s longed having you this close, makes him realize how strong his feelings for you are.

truly, he wishes he wasn’t such a coward when it comes to his feelings for you and you in general. and as he hears momonosuke give his speech after everything is settling down, you’re still touching him- putting bandaids and ointments on his injuries, bepo helping you as well.

and when everyone is settling for the night, exhausted from the last few months, especially the day’s fights, he almost wants to call for you.

“captain, any bandaids you want me to change before leaving?” you ask, startling him awake before he had fallen into unconsciousness.

he sits up on his futon, staring at you. “y/n-ya,” he says softly, unsure what to do or say.

is exhaustion going to make him reveal his feelings? will he own up to it? no, he can’t lose himself. he can’t let himself go soft. love makes you soft, right?

“-okay?”

“what?” he blinks.

you’re kneeling in front of him, a worried look on your face. “i asked you if you’re feeling okay. you’ve been more silent and out of it lately. you really need to rest. the guys are already sleeping, we should too. i just wanted to check on you before doing so-“ you fall silent when he leans into you, all his weight pressing into your chest.

you wrap your arms around him, afraid he could fall over if you didn’t hold steady. “captain?”

“y/n-ya,” his voice is so coarse, almost on the verge of giving out. “stay with me for the night.”

your heart skips a beat, and for a second you’re both scared he hears how flustered you are and to say yes.

“cap, you-“

“please,” he whispers, almost inaudible.

you close your eyes, sighing. “captain, i’m not sure. i… if i… if i could i would.” your heart hurts.

law looks up, he looks quite adorable tired. “why not? who did you agree to sleep with? i’m your captain, it was an order not a question.”

you stare at him, almost… sorry. you feel bad about your feelings. sleeping here with him will only make them worse.

“i… you know how bepo gets, poor thing. i better go before-“ you’re surprised when he hugs you, tight.“captain,” you try to pry him off of you, “are you feeling okay? why are you behaving so-“

“i love you.” he blurts into your chest. “i…” he squeezes you harder, “i want to love you.”

you falter, “w-what?”

he’s silent, almost scared at how this could go. and he’s so, so tired. so on edge that if you say no and you leave him alone in his uneasiness, he will most likely cry.

“law…” your hands tremble as they grab his face, his face is flushed with a lovely red, eyes drowsy and glassy. you’ve never seen him so… so raw. “tell me, is that true?”

he nods, not trusting his voice.

“i’m sorry,” you say, shattering his heart, “i really want to kiss you so i will,” he doesn’t even process that until after he feels a warmth on his lips.

and when he acknowledges the situation, he melts.

and he doesn’t regret putting his heart in your hands. because he knows he has yours in his.

[floorservicesdubaii]

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[anna-hawk]

Red Blossom

Based on a deliciously hot fanart by @nkeiiin, whose art never stops inspiring me 🧡🧡🧡

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: Frank Castle has an auto repair shop next to flower shop owner Matt Murdock. Frank finds himself regularly observing the florist moving easily through his plants and flowers. They haven't talked a lot, but after they mutually help each other out, they slowly get closer.

Rating: E 🔞 // Status: 6/6 // Current WC: 26,9k

Tags and warnings: Alternate Universe – No powers, Flower shop AU, Mechanic!Frank, Florist!Matt, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, explicit content, semi-public sex

Read it on AO3

Excerpt:

Frank was sitting at his desk in the manager’s office, and taking a long drag from his mug of coffee while he browsed through the more urgent invoices he had to send out. A loud, metal sound coming from outside his repair shop had him lifting his head and turning it towards the source of the noise. His office’s window was giving onto the corner of the narrow alley running to one side of his building. Right next to Frank’s shop and across that alley, was a flower shop, where Frank was currently watching a man in the process of rolling up the rolling shutters. Frank checked the time on his wristwatch and smiled to himself; 7.30 on the dot. The flower shop owner always arrived at the same time, right on time, five times a week. Since he tended to get to work before 7AM on most days, Frank had had the time to notice the ritual of his neighbor in the six months since he’d opened the repair shop in Hell’s Kitchen. During that time, they had exchanged a few quick words, but Frank hadn’t found out much more about him, both of them busy with their respective jobs. He knew the obvious, like his name, since it was written underneath the shop name on the storefront, that he was punctual, and most of all, that he was blind. The latter information was something that had Frank speechless whenever he saw Matt Murdock gracefully navigating the flower displays outside the shop, a large pot or vase in each arm, or showing his customers to this or that plant and flower, with no sign of the white cane he used when he arrived or left. 

After outgrowing his previous auto repair shop in Queens and opening this one right next to a florist, Frank had expected Murdock to complain about the noise and the smells. Frank had walked up to the flower shop a couple of days after they’d opened up for business, to introduce himself and excuse any future racket. Murdock had smiled lightly and waved away Frank’s concern, but Frank had still waited for the other shoe to drop. The street they were sitting on was rather busy, meaning that Frank’s shop wasn’t the one making the most noise, but the place he’d bought used to be a row of three garages and caused minimal disturbance. Murdock had never said anything, however. He’d even gifted them a small potted plant a few weeks in. The plant was now sitting in Frank’s office and one of his employees was taking care of it because Frank had no idea how to look after anything green.