#so i decided to help out and lead a little bit lmao

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

the palestine march today was absolutely incredible. an amazing turn out, really. I am so proud of my city.

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

partaking in my favorite hobby (drawing little thumbnails thinking about chip n jay finding gillion)

[reiderwriter]

So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)

A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.

Masterlist

The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 

Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 

You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 

Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 

“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.

“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 

“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”

“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 

“Do you… need a haircut?” 

“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 

“Well, are you coming in?” 

“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 

“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 

He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 

You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 

He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 

And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 

You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 

“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 

“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 

He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 

After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 

You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 

You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 

For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 

De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 

This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 

It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 

It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 

If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 

It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 

“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 

And he hadn't paid. 

It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 

But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 

Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 

You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 

“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 

He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 

“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 

“With haircuts?” 

“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 

“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 

“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 

“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 

“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 

You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 

His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 

When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 

“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 

“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 

“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 

“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 

“But what kind of haircut?” 

“What kind?” 

You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 

“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 

You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 

“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 

He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 

Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 

You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 

He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 

“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 

He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 

“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 

You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 

“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 

“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 

“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 

He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 

No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 

Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 

The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Spencer! You're back.” 

He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 

“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 

You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 

“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 

The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 

“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 

“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 

“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 

“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 

“The hospital?” 

“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”

“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 

You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 

“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 

“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 

The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 

Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 

You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 

“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 

He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 

“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 

“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 

“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 

He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out. 

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[dovveri]

doctor's advice

synopsis: y/n decides to go to the leading plastic surgery clinic in korea bcs she's sick of feeling the way she does about how she looks. she catches the attention of dr. im nayeon, the head of this practice who thinks y/n is way too pretty to warrant any of those feelings she has about herself.

warnings: this is lowkey just smut oops, fingering, oral, body image issues - so a lil angsty in the beginning

w/c: 4.2k

a/n: this one is kinda all over the place and i lwk hate it but i needed to finish it so i could get over this writing block like i did kindaaa have a vision for it but i gave up halfway and just turned to sex which is why it doesn't flow well LMAO but hey! doctor nayeon is hot so!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"can i get your full name please?"

"y/n l/n."

the receptionist smiles at you, typing something into her computer and handing you a form, "alright y/n, just fill in this form and someone will be with you in a bit."

you nod, accepting the form and taking a seat in the waiting room of the plastic surgery clinic you were currently at.

you scan over the details of the form. most of it was just demographic information, asking you your age, gender, a little about your daily activities, whether or not you actively exercised, all the simple questions.

you were feeling a little desperate when you finally decided to make a first consultation at the most well-renowned plastic surgery clinic in seoul. you had been thinking about doing it for a while now, but lately the feeling of disgust at being in your own body was overwhelming.

your parents didn’t understand why you’d want to do anything to the body they brought into this world. your friends thought plastic surgery was an excessive response and that it could potentially be dangerous. but none of them understood what it felt like to wake up everyday and be reminded that you were stuck in this body, the fear that no-one will ever be able to love you and that you’d consequently end up alone for the rest of your pitiful life.

your grip on the pen grows a little tighter as you remind yourself why you’re here.

you feel a set of eyes on you as you’re getting to the end of the form, so you look up, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman in a clean white lab coat, curious eyes behind a set of thick spectacles that frame her face perfectly. with all your experience analysing how you look you can't help but think she would be the perfect reference for your surgical procedures.

but you're also hit with thoughts of why is she looking at me? is she judging me? i bet she's judging me. fuck what is she looking at? is it my legs? my arms? my nose? is she thinking i'm an unsolveable case? fuck i shouldn't have come here. i should go now-

"hi, y/n?"

you're snapped out of your thoughts when you realise the pretty woman is now standing in front of you.

"y-yes." you curse at the stutter but she pays it no mind, offering a smile.

"the receptionist gave me your name. i'm dr im but you can call my nayeon. do you want to come with me?"

your eyes widen when she introduces herself. dr im. the most well-renowned plastic surgeon in the industry. you heard rumours that she had waitlists up to 20 years long and that you couldn't get an appointment with her except through referral. she was the one who brought this clinic its reputation of the leading plastic surgery clinic in the country.

"i-i'm sorry there must be some mistake? i didn't think the dr. im would be my advising clinician today."

she smiles again, "well no i wasn't meant to be but i came to grab some files from the front desk and i saw you and asked jiyeon," she gestures to the receptionist who handed you your form, "and found out you were here for an advisory session and forgive me if i'm being forward but i just thought you were beautiful and wondered what you possibly could've wanted to get done."

you feel your cheeks rapidly heat up as you gape up at her in shock.

"i can call back the previous doctor who was assigned to you if you want! i didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable i'm sorry if i-"

you interrupt her quickly, "no no! sorry that was just a surprise to me i definitely wasn't expecting that from you but um- yeah sure we can go now i'm fine with you being my doctor."

she grins then, and you're entranced by her slightly larger front teeth that make an appearance, "great! follow me."

you stand up a little frantically, gathering all your things and quickly following dr im.

it's more of an office than a doctor's room, you note the expensive leather and framed awards and certifications hanging on her wall, the neatly organised desk and pretty flowers that decorate and give the room some colour.

you sit cautiously in one of the chairs in front of her desk as she moves to sit in hers

"water?" she offers you.

you shake your head no, glancing down at your hands and fiddling with them just to be able to do something.

she looks over your form very briefly before looking back to you with a kind smile. "so what were you hoping to get out of coming here today y/n?"

you can't look up at her, "u-um just... y'know. like... everything..."

she cocks her head, "everything?"

"yeah like... face, body, all of it."

nayeon frowns, "that would be quite an expensive procedure."

"oh money's not really a problem. i've saved up a lot for this." you try to joke a little, if only to ease your own nerves, "worked my ass off all throughout high school and college so i could do this one day."

"you don't want to spend that money on anything else?"

you're confused and finally look up at her, "well i mean sure there are plenty of things i could spend it on but this is something i've thought about for a long time now and i'm finally ready to do it."

she's quiet for a little, seeming to be deep in thought, before she speaks up, "y/n... has someone made you feel like this?"

you frown, your sweaty hands gripping your pants tighter, "i'm sorry what does this have to do with my appointment?"

"i want to make sure you're doing this for the right reason. wanting to alter your entire body is a big decision and it can have lasting impacts. i don't want you to regret it afterwards."

you're getting more and more frustrated. this was a famous plastic surgeon who dealt with thousands of surgeries and has probably met cases like yours but she still doesn't seem to understand you. just like your parents and your friends, no-one understood.

"why does it matter to you? i want to get lots of things done that’ll make you lots of money and that really should be your only concern."

she narrows her eyes at you, “y/n, i couldn’t care less about the money. look around.” she gestures to her office, all the expensive trinkets and decorations she has lying around, “i have enough money to support a family for 100 lifetimes. what i do care about are my clients-”

you burst, “what do you know?! you’ve probably spent your whole life being adored for everything you do. people probably fall over themselves just to get a chance to talk to you! you’ll never understand how it feels to be unloved, to hate yourself when you wake up every morning and look in the mirror, to think everyone’s always talking about you, looking at you, judging you, you’re so beautiful you couldn’t ever know!”

she’s surprised at your sudden increase in volume. you had kept all of this in for so long, you felt like if you ever told anyone else they’d just think you were complaining but it was so much more debilitating than that. you couldn’t talk to your parents or your friends out of fear they’d think you were too needy or attention-seeking or whatever. nayeon was the first stranger who had shown they cared for you and you took that as a sign to release all your years of pent up frustration at her.

“i- i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to explode like that i-“

“it’s okay y/n. i’m sorry you’ve had to feel like this for so long on your own. but i just want to say, i’m not one of those people. i know it’s hard to believe when you look at me and what i’ve accomplished, but i find it hard to believe no-one loves you. and sure i judged you when i first saw you but not negatively. i told you i thought you were what i thought to be the perfect model for other people’s procedures and i was curious what you wanted to change about that.”

she’s collected herself and responds to you calmly, only with the curiosity of a scientist in her eye.

you’re unsure how to respond to her, feeling more than a little awkward now after your accidental outburst.

you attempt to clear your throat to start, “right… um so-“

“why don’t you take off your clothes and show me what you’d like to have done?”

you blush a bright red at her response, nodding slightly as you both stand and you begin to strip. you leave your underwear on as she stands in front of you, running her eyes over your body.

“um… so i guess if we’re starting from the bottom… i wanted to slim my calves down and shape them a little better… obviously um my ass i’d like to be a little rounder-“ you gesture to your various body parts as you talk, and she’s nodding, eyes focused, hands reached out as you feel goosebumps litter your skin when she gently probes the areas you're talking about.

"would you mind taking off your underwear? i just need to get an estimate of what you're talking about."

you blush again as you nod shyly, peeling the offending piece of item off you and turning as she prods and pokes again.

"um... yeah so i was also thinking a tummy tuck? just to tighten all the skin here-"

the feeling of her fingers on your body is slowly driving you insane. you're shivering a little as she runs her hand along your lower stomach, humming a little.

"um also like y'know, a boob job-"

she gestures for you to take off your bra and you do so, now standing completely naked in front of the doctor.

her hands come up and cup them, your nipples are hardening in the cool air of her office, "what size were you thinking?"

"i-i- u-um-" she squeezes a little and you take a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself, your eyes glued to the ceiling as she fondles you, "m-maybe one up?"

she hums and you feel a thumb brush across a nipple whether intentionally or unintentionally and you're suddenly clenching your thighs together praying she doesn't notice.

"so also um arm lifts, a face lift, kinda wanna hollow out my cheeks a little more and maybe highlight my cheekbones? lip fillers and a new nose, all of my scars obviously, and probably a brow lift too..."

her hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks and she's close enough you can see the small specks of gold in her eyes and the little mole under her left eyebrow. your breath hitches as her eyes meet yours, they're so full of wonder and curiosity and you're reminded of the fact that you're very naked right now and standing in front of an extremely pretty woman.

she hums again, eyes dropping to your nose, than your lips, and you unconsciously wet your lips in tension, watching as her eyes trace the action.

then all of a sudden she's gone, moving back towards her chair and turning on her monitor. you quickly scramble for your clothes, hurriedly putting everything back on as you join her, blushing at the slightly sticky feeling between your legs.

"okay so we can do everything you just said. i'm going to need a few references-"

"you can use yourself for most of them."

she raises an eyebrow at you, a slight lift in the corner of her mouth.

"i appreciate the compliment y/n but if you're going to play that game then i'd like to say i wouldn't want to be sitting here discussing what to change about you in the first place."

"what would you be doing then?"

there's a glint in her eyes and you swallow, "helping you realise how there's nothing to change. eventually i'd get you to help me take a few pictures maybe, as reference for future customers who come in."

"and how would you do that?"

"how would i make you feel beautiful?" she's standing up and rounding her desk, taking her glasses off and placing them on her table, and you're looking up at her feeling strangely defiant.

"well yeah it'd be pretty hard knowing how much i hate myself-"

her arms now bracket the sides of your chair and she's leaning down with a clear smirk on her face.

"i'd touch along here," she's trailing one of her hands up your arm, leaving goosebumps in her wake, "here," she reaches your neck, then up to your face, leaning in to speak into your ear now, "everywhere just so you know exactly what i'm talking about. and i'd make you feel so good like you've never felt before, and i'd keep doing that until you realise just how crazy you drive me."

your eyes are lidded when you speak up again, voice hoarse and deep, "try it."

she's all in your space now, climbing into into your lap, lips closing around your ear lobe as she sucks. your eyes close and you groan a little when her hips meet yours, tilting your head back distantly wondering how the fuck you got yourself in this situation but quickly shaking that thought off when you feel her move towards your neck, licking and sucking.

soon enough she's moving up your jaw and towards your lips, one hand on your shoulder, the other one at your waist. she stops just short of your lips with a little smirk on her face as you share the same air.

your eyes meet her in a blaze and you surprise her when you yank her down, she moans when that brings your hips together even closer and you capture her lips with impatient want. her hands are tangling into your hair now, pulling lightly as your lips slide against each other, your breath hitching when she licks a tongue along your top lip.

“these- fucking- lips-“ she’s breaking away between kisses for air, panting softly.

“i can’t believe- you’d want to do anything- when i could kiss these- all fucking day-“

she’s breaking away again, leaving you chasing as she places pecks all across your face, “new nose? please this slant is perfect. these cheeks are adorable and these eyebrows shape your pretty pretty face just right-“ she’s kissing every inch of your skin, moving back down to your neck and nipping at your collarbone.

her hands are at the bottom of your shirt, sneaking up to caress the lines of your stomach and you let out a sharp inhale when one hand comes unashamedly up to cup your breast.

“how could you be making those pretty sounds if this wasn’t your body i was touching hmm?” she’s lifting your shirt over your head, sliding her hands everywhere.

"breast implants?" she scoffs as she brings her hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, flinging it behind her and moving her hands straight to cup your tits. "please darling look how perfectly these fit in my hands. and the way they spill out between my fingers if i squeeze like this-" you moan unabashedly now when she gropes and grasps.

"god i could just hold these all day-" she's dipping down, a tongue tracing the top of your breast, the hot feeling against your skin driving you absolutely mad as you roll your hips against her with a whimper.

she pushes you back down roughly with her hips, looking up at you, her hands never stopping her fondling at your breasts, she is obscene. "don't do that now sweetie. i'm meant to be taking care of you and showing you just how pretty you are to me. so you're gonna sit there and look pretty while i do exactly that mmk?"

she's taking a nipple into her mouth now, licking and sucking, and you hiss when she bites down softly, feeling her mouth turn upward at the sound.

she lavishes your breasts, leaving you quivering and flushed in her wake, she makes small comments in between periods of sucking marks into the side of your tits, her tongue has never once left your body since she started, wet trails leading everywhere.

she's kissing down your stomach now and you suck in a breath as she sinks to her knees in front of you, looking up at you with those curious eyes, completely clothed still in her white labcoat, mouth wrecked and lips in a pretty little pout. she's spreading your legs and you're fighting a little against her, embarassed at the fact that her face would be so close to you and she could see every little detail of your arousal.

she tuts but shuffles back a little, letting you close your legs again but she picks one up and starts feeling along your calf, pressing gently at the muscles there and feeling you unclench in relief.

"these don't need anything done either. you're just a little tense here. some stretching and a good massage will work those kinks right out and you won't even notice them anymore."

she's pressing down on all the pressure points to release the tension in your calves, and you moan slightly in pleasure as your head lolls back, eyes squeezing shut, cool air hitting your wet breasts, nipples perking at the lack of attention and you shudder.

you're helpless when she starts spreading your legs again, miraculous hands moving up to your knees, still kneading and massaging, then up to your thighs.

then her mouth is on you again, hot and wet against the inside of your thighs and you're squirming, breathing picking up as the tension in the room multiplies tenfold. you don't dare look down at her afraid the sight may just push you over the edge.

but hands come shooting down to her head when that tongue, that fucking tongue, licks a gentle strip from the bottom of your cunt to the top, stalling at the hood of your clitoris and pushing it back only to place a small peck on the nub and moving back down to drink in the essence flowing out of you.

"f-fuck dr im i-i-"

she stops, looking up at you with a quirk of an eyebrow, a lustful darkness seeping into her curious eyes, "call me that again."

"doctor im?"

she's back to lapping at your pussy and you moan, closing your thighs around her head, one arm raised up and holding on to the back of the chair to keep yourself upright.

"so fucking delicious. my god i could just tie you up and eat you out for hours."

you're whining, cunt clenching at her words but she's prying your folds open with her fingers, enamoured by the way your hole only seems to leak more with every action she takes, then she's licking into you and you cry out at the feeling. her tongue lashing against your walls as she moans at the taste of your core, sending shockwaves of pleasure right up your spine.

you can't take much more but she's lifting your ass and gripping, tugging you closer to her so she can explore even more of you.

eventually her mouth comes up for air and she's grabbing and kneading your ass cheeks, "these?-" her voice is a lot more gravelly now, thick with lust and she's panting slightly, "you don't know how perfect these are. they're the exact amount of firmness but still soft enough that i could use your ass like a pillow and you're talking about shape?" she sends a light slap up into you and you gasp, only clenching even harder around nothing, "just look how that rippled for me darling you need to know how fucking hot you look right now and how much you turn me on just from looking at you."

she almost sounds like she's growling with the low tenure of her voice and she's tugging you back into her, kissing your clit and sucking it into her mouth.

"d-doc- i- i- oh fuck- i'm gonna-"

she offers no response, just humming into you and you rut your hips into her at the vibration, completely helpless and positively dripping.

soon enough you're spilling over, coming with a moan, your back arching and she's licking you through it, you're completely blissed out heaving in effort before you slump back down into the chair.

but she doesn't stop. you're feeling overstimulated as she continues her assault on your pussy and you're lightly tugging her hair upwards trying to get her to come up but she's shaking her head no, and then shaking her head to tongue you side to side and you're building up all over again.

"w-wait d-doc i- i can't i just- doc-"

she looks up at you then, and holy fuck you almost came again at the sight. her slightly disheveled hair, eyes glazed over, mouth open and tongue sticking out absolutely ruined.

she's moving back up your body, kissing along places she's already left her mark on. "what did i say about sitting still and looking pretty baby? hmm?" a long finger finds its way to your folds and you're clenching in anticipation. "i said i'd make you cum as many times as it'll take for you to realise you're hot right? i'm not one to take back my words sweetie."

"f-fuck i- oh shit doc i-"

she's pushing into you torturously slow, a teasing smirk against your neck, "hm?"

"nggh fuck please- please i need- fuck- i need you- oh shit-"

"this?" another finger joins her but she stays hilted inside you, unmoving as you wriggle under her.

"ah- y-yes! p-please move- oh fuck i- please-" you're babbling at this point, almost incoherent but she's sliding out of you and then pushing in oh so wonderfully.

she's back to mouthing at your nipple, the sensitive nubs sending flares of heat down to your core, "so so pretty."

"i- yes- i- oh fuck-"

her fingers are entering you at a faster pace now, the wet sounds of your fucking filling the empty office.

all of a sudden there's a loud knock at the door and she stills inside you, looking up in slight alarm, nipple popping out of her mouth.

"doctor im your 3pm is here."

you can't help but clench around her fingers and she whips her head back down to you, wiggling her fingers a little at the feeling and you gasp.

"tell them to wait! i'll be another 10 minutes."

she's started moving inside you again and you bite your lip trying to keep quiet.

"alright." the sound of footsteps walking away is quiet before nayeon is driving into you again with renewed vigour.

she's hitting the spot inside you that's making your toes curl, her lips are back around your nipple sucking and licking, and then she's using a hand and pressing down lightly on your lower stomach stimulating your g-spot both from the inside and outside and you cry out around her as you come.

you're panting as she brings you back down, caressing your face and pushing your hair back, moving up to leave kisses all across your face again.

you're only able to open your eyes after a minute or so, blinking dazedly at her as she smiles and plants a kiss on your lips.

"listen... if you want... how about you give me a chance to make you feel loved, to show you how beautiful you are, and if you still feel that way about yourself afterwards, then i'll do all those surgeries for you personally, no more questions asked." she's soft against you, and you can't help but nuzzle your head into her neck, still a little boneless.

"okay."

"okay?" her eyes are bright as she pulls back so she can face you.

you nod with a lazy smile and she's hugging you, kissing your face again murmuring sweet you're so prettys and you did so wells.

too soon and she's lifting herself off you, helping you back into your clothes and standing by the door.

"i'm sorry that i had another appointment. i totally forgot. but i've got your number in my files so i'll message you after work today okay? maybe if you're free tonight we can grab something to eat together?"

you're shy as she's sending you off, nodding a small yes.

"okay don't ghost me now yeah?"

you blush, "y-yeah. see you dr. im."

"nayeon please. you can call me nayeon when we're not... y'know-" she sends you a wink and you only blush more, only barely stopping yourself from bowing to her in apology.

"alright n-nayeon."

"there we go. i'll see you in a bit okay y/n?"

you smile and walk out the door she's opened for you. it would still be a long way before you could be happy with yourself, but you thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to postpone your surgeries for a little and see what im nayeon likes so much about you.

[seiya-starsniper]

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

Cruel Summer - AO3

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

-----------------

The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier. 

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend. 

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all. 

-----------------

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues. 

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really. 

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed. 

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way. 

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

-----------------

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to. 

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat. 

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date. 

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly. 

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up. 

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

-----------------

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day. 

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all. 

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements. 

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home. 

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home. 

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment. 

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again. 

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused. 

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking. 

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.” 

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily. 

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls. 

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night. 

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this. 

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks. 

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse. 

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all. 

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all. 

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.  

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together. 

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask. 

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin. 

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs. 

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. 

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train.  Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away. 

-----------------

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob. 

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

-----------------

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them. 

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them. 

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening. 

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex. 

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together. 

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead. 

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.  

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.” 

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs. 

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.  

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits. 

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.” 

Eleanor makes a confused face. 

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob. 

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else. 

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now. 

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle. 

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself. 

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him. 

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right. 

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off. 

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it. 

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person. 

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

-----------------

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment. 

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment. 

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation. 

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in. 

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen. 

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans. 

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.” 

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts. 

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.  

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.  

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.  

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained. 

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It’s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well? 

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further. 

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods. 

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body. 

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes. 

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks. 

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.  

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly. 

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims. 

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well. 

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits.  “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly. 

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob. 

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity. 

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating. 

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes. 

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head. 

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says. 

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums. 

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling. 

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

-----------------

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it. 

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little. 

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob. 

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches. 

“Close enough,” Hob says. 

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true. 

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

[connieisthesun]

Chemistry and Cadavers - Conrad fisher x reader

Chapter Summary - You, a bright-eyed sophomore college student majoring in biology stumble upon Conrad fisher, an attractive yet forgetful student who happens to forget his pen on his first day of class...

Warnings - Fluff, teasing, super cute tbh haha

*Authors note* - So I've decided to start a new series due to the nonexistent amount of new tsitp fic's here lmao, if you enjoy a like a repost would be appreciated. Let me know if you have any feedback to improve my writing. Enjoy loves!

Chapter 1: Chemistry and Cadavers

The crisp autumn air on the college campus was invigorating, bringing with it the promise of a new academic year filled with possibilities. The campus was alive with the sounds of students hurrying to their classes, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the distant hum of chatter from the quad. Among the new faces and returning students was Y/N, a bright and ambitious sophomore majoring in biology.

Y/N had always been passionate about the sciences, and this year, she was especially excited about her anatomy and physiology class. Little did she know that her enthusiasm for the subject would lead to a series of events that would change her college experience in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

As she walked into the lecture hall, she noticed the familiar faces of her classmates and scanned the room for an available seat. She spotted a spot in the middle of the room and made her way over, settling into her chair just as the professor walked in.

“Good morning, everyone,” the professor greeted, his voice carrying a tone of authority and excitement. “Today, we’re diving into the intricacies of human anatomy, and I have a feeling this semester is going to be an exciting journey.”

Y/N smiled to herself, her excitement bubbling over as the professor began the lecture. She took out her notebook, ready to absorb every detail of the day’s lesson. As the lecture progressed, she couldn’t help but notice the student sitting a few rows ahead of her, who seemed to be struggling with his notes and the lecture material. He had tousled brown hair, a laid-back demeanor, and an occasional frustrated glance at his notes.

When the lecture ended, Y/N gathered her things and headed out of the lecture hall, intending to grab a coffee before her next class. As she walked through the bustling hallway, she was approached by a friendly voice.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

She turned to see her friend Lila catching up with her. “Hey, Lila! What’s up?”

“I heard you were in the anatomy lecture this morning. How was it?” Lila asked, a teasing smile on her face.

“It was great,” Y/N replied. “I’m really looking forward to this semester. Anatomy is such a fascinating subject.”

Lila’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know, I think you might have a classmate who’s also taking that course. He’s known for being a bit of a mess, especially when it comes to anatomy. His name is Conrad Fisher.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Conrad Fisher? I think I saw him in class today. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping up.”

Lila laughed. “That’s the one. He’s actually a really nice guy, but he’s notorious for needing a little extra help with his studies. If you see him around, you might want to keep an eye out. He’s always borrowing pens or asking for assistance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Later that week, Y/N found herself in the anatomy lab for the first time. The lab was a place of intense focus and concentration, with rows of cadaver tables and an array of dissection tools neatly arranged. The room was filled with the quiet murmur of students working together, and the scent of formaldehyde lingered in the air.

Y/N set up her station and began to review the lab manual when she heard a voice nearby.

“Hey, do you have a spare pen?” the voice asked.

Y/N looked up to see Conrad Fisher standing beside her table, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He held up a pen cap, indicating that he had lost the actual pen.

“Sure, here you go,” Y/N said, handing him a pen with a smile.

“Thanks,” Conrad said, taking the pen and looking visibly relieved. “I seem to have misplaced mine again. I swear, it’s like they disappear into thin air.”

Y/N laughed softly. “It happens. You’ll get used to the lab environment eventually.”

Conrad smiled gratefully. “I hope so. I’m Conrad, by the way. I think we’re going to be lab partners for this course.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

As they worked side by side, Y/N found that Conrad’s easygoing nature and good humor made the long hours in the lab more enjoyable. They talked about their classes, shared stories, and found themselves falling into a comfortable rhythm of collaboration. Despite the occasional moments of distraction and light-hearted teasing, they made a great team.

Over the next few weeks, their interactions continued to be marked by playful banter and occasional flirtation. Conrad would often ask Y/N for help with his dissections, and she would gladly oblige, offering guidance and tips with a teasing edge.

One day, as they were working on a particularly challenging dissection, Conrad looked up from his work with a grin. “So, Y/N, do you have any other hidden talents besides being a dissecting wizard?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Well, I can bake a mean batch of cookies, if that counts.”

Conrad’s eyes lit up with interest. “Cookies? Now you’re speaking my language. Maybe I’ll have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to lose any more pens,” Y/N replied playfully.

Conrad laughed, shaking his head. “Deal. I’ll do my best to keep track of my writing instruments from now on.”

Their banter became a regular feature of their interactions, and the chemistry between them was evident to everyone around them. Despite their undeniable connection, they both maintained a façade of casual friendship, much to the amusement of their friends.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling lab session, Conrad and Y/N found themselves sitting on a bench outside the science building, taking a well-deserved break.

“I think that was the most challenging dissection we’ve had yet,” Conrad said, stretching his arms. “I’m glad we made it through.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have to say, your technique is improving. You’re almost as good as me now.”

Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Almost? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As they chatted, a group of their friends approached, and one of them, Sarah, gave them a knowing smile. “You two seem to be getting along quite well.”

Y/N and Conrad exchanged a glance, both of them trying to suppress their smiles. “We’re just lab partners,” Y/N said casually.

“Sure, just lab partners,” Sarah said with a teasing grin. “But everyone can see the chemistry between you two.”

Conrad blushed slightly, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re just friends, honestly.”

Sarah and the others laughed and continued on their way, leaving Y/N and Conrad to their conversation.

“You know,” Conrad said, his tone playful, “it’s funny how everyone is always trying to push us together.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to hide her own smile. “It’s probably just because we spend so much time together. It’s hard not to notice the dynamic.”

Conrad’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, if they’re right, maybe we should just embrace the idea.”

Y/N gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, really? And what would that look like?”

Conrad leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “It would probably involve a lot more teasing, a few more flirtatious comments, and maybe even some impromptu study dates.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds like a lot of work. I think we’re doing just fine as friends.”

“Agreed,” Conrad said, his smile warm and genuine. “But it’s fun to think about.”

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Conrad’s playful flirtation continued, with their friends often teasing them about their obvious chemistry. Despite their mutual attraction and the flirtatious banter, they remained steadfast in their commitment to being just friends.

Their interactions were filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing, creating a dynamic that was both enjoyable and endearing. Whether it was borrowing pens, helping with dissections, or sharing jokes, their connection grew stronger with each passing day.

As the semester progressed, Y/N and Conrad found themselves increasingly drawn to each other, their friendship evolving into something deeper and more meaningful. Despite their best efforts to deny their feelings, the chemistry between them was undeniable, and their playful banter only served to highlight the growing connection they shared.

Tag list - @conradfisherswifesstuff @cheezbot @grxnde-dwt @itsshayfr @lanivoid @calpurnia2002

Comment or heart to be added.

[grimmcheems]

What if Chichi died from the heart virus instead of Goku….

So I made this AU a long time ago but haven’t drawn it till now. Have a short fic in the writing with this concept but who knows when I’ll finish it lmao. Other than that, I see saiyan lore potential that Vegeta will share with Bulma that sort of explains Goku’s need to distance himself from everyone after Chichi’s death.

Saiyans are a ‘mate’ race, and since they initially were conquering planets (pre-Frieza), they usually died alongside their mates. So this left little possibility of one dying off on another planet while leaving their spouse/mate behind. It’s unusual for saiyans to die before their other partner, they are a pair species so they usually share the same lifespans anyways. This leaves Goku devastated and instinctively in a depression, along with the exception that he also isn’t like other saiyans, the usual saiyan would t*ke their own l*fe but he is just trying to process the grief of losing her so suddenly. Vegeta has only seen this instance happen like twice when he was younger and with his father handling it and explaining to him the biology behind it.

As for Gohan, he is devastated and goes through denial for a solid month until Goku decides to leave him with Vegeta and Bulma. He has to deal with his grief in his own way and without the help of his father, which makes him resent him for a small time until he finally comes to terms with his mother’s death and tries to understand his father and what he might be going through. On the bright side he learns a lot from Vegeta while he stays with his family and grows up for a bit with Trunks. Trunks starts to view Gohan as an older brother during the time he’s with them and they remain close later on in the story.

Everyone else (all of Goku’s other friend’s) is surprised and shocked at the news and they each feel guilty for not attempting to connect with Chichi beyond surface level interactions but they soon appreciate the little moments she shared with them before her untimely death, leading them to believe and later on confirm that she knew she had the virus.

Goku takes years to try and improve himself and find ways to provide for and raise Gohan before he finally takes him out of Vegeta and Bulma’s hands. The two are awkward at first but they quickly comfort each other before they arrive back in their lonely home where they last shared a moment with her.

Overall very angst lmao. Also Goku and Gohan are wearing versions of Chichis outfits, Goku is wearing the light green version of the gown I have Chichi in a previous art I made, Gohan is in her signature purple outfit.

[lulu-tutu]

Do you take platonic requests?

If so, could I request head-cannons, or anything you like really, of Splinter (can be 2012 or rottmnt) becoming a father figure for a reader who doesn’t have one? The reader becomes friends with the turtles and spends a lot of time at the lair, obviously because they want to spend time with their turtle buds, but also because they really like talking to Splinter and he kinda picks up on it after a while and decides “yep, I have a 5th kid now”.

Sorry if this is a bit of a strange request.

Father Figure ⭐️ Splinter (Platonic)

A/N: This wasn’t a strange request at all, I love requests like this because they really pull at my heartstrings. Was super fun to write, and I tried my best not to tear up as Father/Child scenes make me emotional lmao

Pairing(s): Platonic!Splinter x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Like, two swear words, teeny tiny bit of angst? Overall very soft <3

Proof read :)

——————————

Spending so much of your free time down in the lair meant not only hanging out with the turtles, but also becoming close to their dad, Splinter.

So much time in fact that it started to feel like he was becoming your own dad.

The first time you had a proper conversation with him was when you were having a sleepover at the lair. While everyone else was knocked out cold in their own rooms, you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep, so you decided to check out the one place the guys spend most of their time; the Dojo.

You first thought was to just marvel at the range of weapons they had, but you weren’t even close to doing that when you spotted a meditating Splinter sitting silently in the middle of the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief that the sound of you entering the room didn’t disturb him, you went to back out when his voice startled you. “Cannot sleep?”

Ah, shit. You fucked up.

Not wanting to be rude, you sheepishly nod, “Yeah, I’m really sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted to try and tire myself out by walking around.”

It was then that he gently patted the space in front of him, inviting you over. With nothing else to do and honestly, why would you even decline, you complied and sat in front of him.

That night the two of you talked for a few hours. It started off a little bit awkward on your part, not knowing exactly what to say to him, but he was kind enough to lead the conversation.

You talked about the turtles, when they were younger and just learning how to defend themselves, about some of your future plans, if you had any that is, and if not, he would try and give you a push in the right direction with small ideas he thought would suit you.

At some point, your home life was brought up. You explained to him that it was just you and your mother when you were growing up. You never had a proper father figure, but you would never trade your mother in for the world.

He tells you that your mother did a wonderful job of bringing you up :’)

As time went by, you spent more and more time with Splinter. He’s shown you a few defensive moves in case anything were to happen when the boys weren’t around to help you, to which you profusely thanked him for. He was so proud when you managed to pin him down once (though he wouldn’t tell you that he was obviously going easy)

You two drink tea together a lot, and if you didn’t like tea, he would manage to find you something you would prefer.

At some point he begins to call you his child, it started off as ‘Okay, it’s because I’m a teenager, I understand’, but at some point to both you and him it starts sounding more like he’s definitely adopted you. And he has.

He tells you about Miwa and his past family, which you take in with watery eyes and a soft smile. At that point, you knew you were apart of the family.

Sometimes the guys like to tease you and Splinter, Raph often stating that “Well since you’re his favourite child-“

You would just grin with your hands on your hips, “I am the favourite child, thank you very much. Now if you excuse me, I’m telling dad that you ate my slice of pizza.” Just to be petty lmao

If you’re ever upset, your go to person would be Splinter. Something about the way he hugs you so tightly, with so much care in his embrace just makes you sob it all out until you felt better, his calming words making everything seem so little.

When Father’s Day arrives, you might or might not have actually celebrated it with him and the turtles. You bought him an actual cake that you all shared, and took plenty of photos to hang around the lair and in his room. It was a day to remember, especially when you could spot the little tears in his eyes.

Overall, Splinter is the best dad you could ever want, and you make sure he knows that.

[airbendertendou]

various faves nd ways they stim w you! ♥︎ [ including : levi from obey me, izana, kyotani, todoroki from hnl, nishinoya, sanzu, mammon from obey me and connor ]

stimming is normal. everyone stims. this is written w an autistic or neurodivergent person in mind HOWEVER anyone can read it. everyone stims. stimming is normal. everyone stims. stimming is normal. one more time!! do not use this as a way to diagnose yourself please. thank you.

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

i can see LEVI learning your fave kpop / jpop song to dance n sing w you. his cheeks are pink as he does the more hip-heavy movements, but he prefers the sound of girl group songs. its the most exercise he gets and it heightens his stamina, but he breathes really heavily w ease [if youre insecure abt your lack of stamina!!]. wait also matches the color scheme of the mv / dance practice you dance to ):

with IZANA, he sits criss-cross across from you on your bed. pretty eyes are narrowed a bit, but his mouth curls into his half-smile as you wiggle your fingers at him. he grabs your hand and begins pulling you back n forth so you’re rocking but he’s sitting still. it makes you laugh hysterically and he grins so so widely at the sound <3

now KYOTANI does puzzles or word searches with you!! his eyebrows furrow and his tongue pokes out in concentration. stays out of your way and lets you take the lead. if you do your puzzles in a specific way [i go by color <3] he will go to the opposite side of the table so hes still helping but isnt in your space. rubs his feet against yours when they brush

TODOROKI is your personal safe space! a little shelter of your own!! reads to himself when you skitter just into his sight, jus standing there. he doesnt even speak before he raises his arms, eyes still on his book. you dive in, swooping under whatever shirt or sweater he wears, your ear on the center of his chest so you can hear his heart. pats where he assumes your head is, and sometimes reads to you if youre disgruntled

annoys the team when NISHINOYA hears your vocal stims nd he immediately echoes them back to you. immediate responses of movie quotes, song lyrics, or whatever noise your brain is stuck on. [its funny but sometimes you get embrrassed abt the noises your brain decides to loop] but noya really tries his best to make sure youre not shy abt your stims nd lets you know youre happily welcomed!!

imagining SANZU stopping you from picking your skin [lips, cuticles, scabs, acne] by intwining your hands w his. [he also paints your nails matching colors bc nail polish has a gross taste <3] he always always ends up starting a squeezing competition w you, crushing your fingers together softly but never enough to actually hurt you. ends up giving your nose a lil kiss after ):

MAMMON gives you a full body shake lmao like grabbing your arms n shaking you until you giggle. nd he wont stop until youre laughing either!! stressed, sad, angry - he will wiggle you until youre laughing. nd he welcomes you to do the same! any time he looks /: hes silently begging you to shake him about until hes smiling again

thinking of CONNOR nd his led light swirling yellow as he blinks furiously, information flooding into his head. you always copy his blinks unconsciously, scrunching your nose as he finishes. nd he copies the scrunch you do before gently squeezing your nose between two knuckles

——♥︎——

this was v self indulgent but (: hope someone else's mood raises bc of it!!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[vivalas-vega]

will you marry me? // dagger squad x reader

howdy y'all !!! this was a random idea I had well over a year ago that I never actually finished and just found when clearing out my wips and thought it would be a fun little thing to post, so please enjoy the dagger squad and what engagement ring I think they'd pick !!! I didn’t even intend for it to be a recurring thing that the proposals don’t go to plan or are silly but I guess it’s just on brand for them lmao

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

this man is all about the classics - I mean, look at his bronco... he wanted to get you something simple with a bit of a modern twist. he's also a very sentimental man. he'd play it casual all week leading up to date night but surprise you by taking you to where you had your first date, whether that's a restaurant or a bar or the beach, and after the most perfect evening he'd propose with his mom's ring. because he's bradley and incredibly thoughtful, he'd also want you to have a ring that's only yours and I think he'd surprise you with that one randomly -- maybe after celebrating the engagement in bed that night, or the next morning over breakfast. you end up wearing Carole’s ring on your right hand (sometimes putting it around a necklace of hers Bradley also gifted you when you want to keep it extra safe) and your new ring on your left.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Jake is all flash, but that doesn't mean he lacks substance. he scours your pinterest board for weeks and asks all your closest friends for their input, but at the end of the day he trusts himself to get it right because he knows you like the back of his hand. you deserve only the best, and he wants you to park your pretty butt on the beach when he's flying by and to be able to catch a glare from the rock he put on your finger. he'd either propose in the ice cream aisle at the grocery store (which surprises him as much as you) after watching you hem and haw over which flavor to get and deciding to get all three - or, he'd go all out and plan the perfect vacation to a destination that's been on your bucket list and research the most romantic spot in the whole country and really there's no in between.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

our sweet man of few, but impactful, words. his ring choice and proposal is no different. he wants to get you something beautiful and unique, but neither one of you are known for being frivolous. he picks something modest that shows how well he knows you and how much he loves you. something about him screams christmas proposal - either at his family's snowy farm early in the morning before anyone has a chance to sweep you up in the festivities or in your shared home before heading to Mav and Penny's holiday dinner. either way, its just the two of you wrapped in your own bubble and you tease that Bob should be writing the proposals for hallmark movies because what he says is so perfect. you'd open a suspiciously wrapped gift you think is the worlds lightest pair of shoes but to your shock you find a ring, and Bob always regrets not setting up a camera to capture the priceless look on your face.

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

Natasha never thought she was one for marrying until she met you, and she'd definitely get you something beautiful and intricate without sacrificing delicacy. she'd plan the perfect evening in and cook your favorite meal, but absolutely ruin your favorite cookies and while she's flustered and panicking over a sheet of what looks like coal you're just laughing and gazing at her with this dumbstruck look that translates to you're such an idiot and I'm so in love with you and when she catches it she can't help herself and it just flies out, really she nearly yells and you're just standing watching her fumble to get the ring out her pocket not realizing you'd already said yes before you even saw it.

Javy 'Coyote' Machado

Much like Jake, he wants to get you something flashy but he was drawn to this one in particular because the band reminded him of airplane wings and he liked the idea of you not only having a token of his love on your hand every day he's on deployment, but one that has a little piece of his second love too. I think he'd definitely plan a big elaborate proposal but Jake's got a big mouth and didn't know you were at the bar and asks if he popped the question, only to see horror on Javy's face and you standing right behind him so he was really forced into it but of course you said yes because it was chaotic and imperfect and everything you could ever want.

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Mickey would definitely want to get you something a little funky - neither one of you are known for being super traditional, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to have the perfect ring. true to his nature as soon as it's in his possession he's a little too excited to wait to plan something out and while you're all snuggled up watching star wars for the hundreth time he just blurts out that wants to marry you and when you look at him in shock he thinks he's ruined it and offended you by not doing it properly but once you get your wits about you all you can say is 'of course I'll marry you, you big idiot'

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch

I think Reuben leans more towards the classics as well, but with a little something extra. your relationship has always been sweet and fun and lighthearted, and your proposal is exactly the same. he takes you to the putt putt course you had your first date at and proposes in front of the windmill, and you can't keep it together long enough to say yes because he dropped the ring in the hole and even when he retrieves it your 'yes' is hard to decipher around all your laughing.

[epione-xx]

BABY, PLEASE

WARNING. THIS. IS. A. SMUT!!!! And a fever dream. Idk what was happening when I wrote this but…eh.

CONTAINS: breeding kink, master/pet play, situationship, lingerie + nudes, unsafe sex (plz never do this in real life)

There also could be a pt2 if you guys want 👀

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

‘Lmao no, I’m with a guy’

Damian gripped his phone tightly in his hand and frowned, reading and re-reasing the text again before texting back himself, only using one word.

‘Who?’

And when she didnt reply, he scoffed an threw his phone into his backseat. The crinkle of a bag signalling it had been caught and he hand taking it further than intended.

And then he tapped the wheel impatiently, thinning and thinking and…then finally turning around to grab his phone again to see if she had texted back, and seeing she hadn’t yet, he groaned and leaned back before grabbing the bag of his newly bought ‘essentials’.

Now these essentials weren’t really…well what you think. Instead it was a pack of condoms and other various things that ranged from a box of chocolates to a newly bought phone charger since he had forgotten his own.

He always forgot his charger when going to her house, being fair…most of the times he went there when he was frustrated with his father and then she would…help him through it…

And it started off like that. He had a fight with his father, stormed out and drove off in his car before remembering that he had forgotten any type of protection, which then lead into a trip to the store, which lead to him buying everything he thought was needed before texting his hook up to se did she wanted anything…

And that’s why the dreaded text came. The one that said she was with a guy.

Damian pursed his lips and decided to indulge himself in one of the chocolates he had gotten, unwrapping the shiny blue foil of it before popping it into his mouth and opting to scroll thought instagram for a bit.

His instagram wasn’t interesting per say. A bunch of art and a few posts from various friends here and there…it was all boring until he saw the little green dot under her photo.

Now was his chance.

‘What happened to the guy?’ He texts ‘wouldn’t be active on instagram if you ever evening fucked. We all know your not competent enough to do two things at once’

—

Rolling over her bed and pulling her pillow to her chest, Y/n snorted at Damian’s text and rolled her eyes, that mother fucker was just jealous.

‘Didn’t work out. He was way to kinky’

she was hoping for a rise out of him, something- anything, brining her lip she watched as the little dotted bubble pop up before going back down again.

Letting out a sigh she rolled over again and carefully looks to her wardrobe, maybe she had a good idea…

And so getting up, she carefully walked over. Careful to not make any sudden noise in hope she wouldn’t wake anyone up.

She dressed herself in a elegant green set of lace- a new one that she had gotten for Damian…using Damian’s card, being fair- he asked he too.

Soon y/n set up the camera and placed it close to her thighs, you couldn’t see her face- but that was the point. She knew Damian hates not being able to see her face…

And so she snapped a shot, sending it straight to him with the caption. ‘I feel so empty without you’

—

Damian stared wide eyed, his pants were getting tight and he could physically feel himself grow to be in more pain as he stared at the photo- how dare she do this to him!

And so he set the phone down and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm…before his phone dinged again.

And before he could eve consider what the text could be, he picked it up and hurriedly searched for her name.

Bingo, it was another photo.

This time it was in the same set but the camera was more focused on her chest, showing her boobs off proudly with the caption ‘id like to be fuller, please daddy.’

And Damian stared, and searched for words before texting one thing back.

‘What if I fill you with my cum? My heirs? You wouldn’t feel so lonely and empty then would you? You would be filled with your lord all the time…’

His pants tightened. He never realised that he could have a thing for her in that way…he never realised he had a breeding kink.

And so he set off to her place

—

The woman at the other end of the line flushed deeply at Damian’s words and squeezed her legs together, that had to be int of the most sexy things he had ever said to her…and imagining herself pregnant, full with his child…and even better, being claimed by him in that way…it excited her.

There were so many things she was thinking of now. Things she had never even dreamed off…it was like she was in a haze.

But knowing Damian, he was teasing her. He would never make any of that a reality…so she set off for the shower, trying to wash away the arousal.

…or so she thought, the bathroom door opened, Samoa standing there both flushed and hard as he looked at her.

“Damian!” She shrieked as she stared at him “what the hell! How did you get in?”

“Spare key” he stalked closer, a primal instinct in his eyes as he stared at her and slowly Pepe’s the glass door.

Her face flushed aa she stared at him, watching as he underdress himself. “What are you doing?” She asks, almost sounding meek.

“You think I was kidding?” He asks her, looking her body up and down before licking his lips. His cock growing even harder. “You think I was joking beloved?”

She felt herself grow wetter and she slowly nods “I mean, I guess I was?” She says. “I never pictured you as the da-“

She didn’t get to finish, Damian had turned off the taps and had picked her up. Throwing her over his shoulder before he set off too her bedroom. Placing her on the bed….right in front of her floor to ceiling mirror.

“Look at yourself” he set her upon his lap, fingers dancing across her stomach and chest “look at how pretty you’d be holding my heir, how beautiful you would look…” he sucked hickies into her neck.

“You would be so swollen, so needy..and I’d fuck you every single day.” He purred

Her head rolled back into his neck and she arched her back as Damian’s fingers went to her nipples and he pinched them lightly, rolling the buds between his finger tips before he grinds into her.

“Your beautiful tits…they would hold so much milk” he smirked “it would leak out of you as I fucked you, you wouldn’t be able to control it and if drink from you every day”

She shuddered and closed her eyes as she felt this hand move from her chest to her stomach, rubbing lightly before he dived the down and pulled her thighs apart.

“Would you enjoy having my baby?” He purred “like a good little slut?”

She gasps and nods in a hurry “I would, I would so much my lord. As long as you were next to me I would enjoy anything~” she clenched around thin air and moans.

He smirked and slowly began to rub her clit, making sure to tease her. “You would be so sexy” he hummed “so beautiful, I’d fuck you all throughout your labour”

She flushed even more “Damian!” She whines loudly “please~ please fuck me now. Put your baby in me-“

She gasps as she was picked up and throw onto the bed mercilessly, thought being opened by his rough and calloused hands before he looked at her “are you ready for my child? Or do you need me to put a condom on?”

She stared at him and felt herself grow hotter “I need your baby. I need to be pregnant with your baby…to be your queen”

He smirked and nods before he slowly thrusted into her, letting out a satisfied moan at how she clenched around him.

She gasps in pleasure and clawed at his back “just give me a moment”

In a sweet moment, he nods na splayed a soft kiss on her lips before trailing it down to her chest “why don’t I show you how good it’ll feel?”

She nods and moaned as his lips began to suck on her nipple, soon enough she was grinding on him- begging for more.

And that’s when he began to thrust. Lifting his head up and staring at her deep in the eyes as the bed creaked beneath them.

“Good girl” he groaned “such a good girl for me. You’ll be rewarded pet~” he moans as he kissed her.

She gasps and moans as she dig her nails into his back, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Damian!” It was a sharp gasp, her toes curled as she came around his cock, which then sent him over the edge to cum inside her, burying himself as far into her as he could before he felt himself explode and paint her walls white.

She took deep breaths, heart beating out of her chest as she looked up at him “thank you master” she whispers

He also took deep breaths and pressed soft kisses to her hairline “thank you beloved” he says “please. Be my one and only…be my wife”

She smiles and nods “always”

Even if they had skipped a couple of steps…they were both happy in the end…and who knew what the future held.

[sokkigarden]

dancing with our hands tied (part i)

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // enemies to lovers // fwb

masterlist // read on ao3

summary: wearing the jersey of your self-proclaimed enemy wasn't supposed to go like this.

word count: 2.8k

decided to post this fic to tumblr! not sure if i will be doing a taglist, but i will be tagging each part with jamie tartt x reader + jamie tartt smut so if you are following those tags religiously (like me) then you can find it lol. its also on ao3 and will likely get updated there first if you'd like to subscribe that way. big shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for drafting this in our dms in a haze one night LMAO i would not have been able to write this without her<3333

༻✧✧✧༺

“No no no, there is no way I’m wearing that.”

Opposite of you, your best friend, Laney, stood with two Richmond jerseys in her hands. One said ‘Tartt’ across the back, the other, ‘McAdoo,’ but you already knew which one she wanted to wear. She had a raging crush on Isaac, so that left only one option for you.

And there was no way you were wearing Jamie Tartt’s fucking jersey.

You would never hear the end of it. As part of the team’s physio team, you had a good rapport with most of the players. You complimented them when they had a good match and joked around while working with them through their physical therapy treatments. 

You had a decent working relationship with everyone on the team. 

Everyone except for Jamie Tartt.

There was no question that since his return to Richmond, he had become a changed man, but his past words had left a lingering resentment. You didn’t think you were in the wrong to simply avoid interacting with the man. He hadn’t often been seen in the treatment room, and when he had, you typically passed off his treatment to another member of the team, along with some flimsy excuse for why you couldn’t do it.

But recently, as he trained more with Coach Kent outside of the dog track, he’d needed additional treatment. And as the new lead of the physio team, you were in charge of his treatment plan. 

In recent months, especially since working more closely with him, he’d started to notice the difference in behavior from you, leading to all sorts of jests and confrontations. Now, it seemed like he just got a kick out of teasing and inevitably pissing you off. You couldn’t help but fire some scathing shots back. What started out as a simple plan of avoidance had clearly backfired.

Now everytime he needed assistance with muscle cramps or pain medication, you got a conversation full of sarcasm and questions. It almost felt like sometimes he came in just to rile you up.

Just last week, Jamie came in to check on his ankle after a bad landing at training. You examined his leg and he made comments the entire time you had your hands on him.

“You know, I get waxed. Weekly. Everywhere.”

You had stumbled ever so slightly as you’d gone to grab an ice pack. You cringed inwardly, knowing this would only add more fuel to Jamie’s fire. You were tired of him getting the best of you, making you flustered. You wanted to fight back.

Turning back to him with the ice pack, you stared at him directly.

“Show me,” you challenged.

Jamie’s face held an incredulous expression.

“You mentioned it— you clearly want to,” you reasoned, shrugging your shoulders, “So show me.” 

You hoped your confidence in calling his bluff worked in your favor, and his face showed that he was clearly surprised by this turn of events. You couldn’t tell what he would do next. He rolled his eyes with that smug smirk on his face before he raised his eyebrows and lifted his shirt up. 

Sure enough, his chest was bare, showing off his sculpted muscles.

Jamie leisurely lounged across the treatment table, chest exposed, and you would be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water a little bit at the sight. Even after being around athletes on a daily basis, there was something about Jamie that just— hit different. His cockiness was surely annoying, but it was also incredibly arousing, as much as you hated to admit it. You felt a squeeze in your chest but you bit your tongue to keep yourself in line. There was no way that thought would ever bear fruit.

You shoved the ice pack into his lap, making sure some of it landed on the bare skin of his stomach, watching as he flinched a little bit at the abrupt action and cold temperature of the pack.

“Ice your ankle for twenty minutes, then stay off it the rest of the day,” you informed him, acting like the last few moments hadn’t happened. “You’ll be good to train tomorrow.”

Jamie scoffed at your indifference. He grasped the ice pack fully and let his shirt slide back down. 

“Sure, love, I’ll do that.” 

He knew you hated it when he called you by a pet name. That only made him use them more. You glanced back at him, staring into his eyes for a moment before you grabbed your bag. 

The tension in the room was palpable before you’d headed out to check on the rest of the players at training. You hadn’t said anything else as you’d left.

So, yeah. There was no way Jamie Tartt would ever let you hear the end of it if you showed up in his jersey number. 

“Oh, come on!” Laney pleaded. “I don’t want to wear a jersey alone.”

“Plenty of people do!”

“Yeah, but plenty of people don’t get to go behind the scenes and actually speak to the players,” she gushed. “I don’t want to meet them and look stupid all alone.”

“So instead, you want me to look stupid with you,” you gave her a flat look.

She smiled mischievously. “What? I thought it would be funny. You complain about him all the time.”

If only she fully comprehended the validity behind your complaints.

You knew there was no way you were ever going to win this fight, so you slipped on the jersey and braced for impact. You were happy to have Laney come along to a game, especially since you didn’t always attend matches and her being a big Richmond fan gave you an excuse to watch. You wanted today to be good, not just for you, but for her too. It was exciting to be able to take your best friend on a little ‘backstage’ tour during gameday. 

You hoped today would be good, and that you wouldn’t have any run-ins with the man who made your blood boil.

Alas, not even twenty minutes later, as you walked into the back of the Nelson Road stadium through the employee entrance, you promptly ran into none other than Jamie Tartt.

“Well well well, I didn’t realize someone was such a big fan,” the familiar Mancunian accent taunted behind you. 

You tried not to visibly cringe as you turned around to face Jamie. He was not yet in his kit, still wearing his street clothes: a monochrome denim set. It was frankly unfair how well the jeans fit him, but you refused to let your gaze linger for more than a few seconds. 

“Oh my, it's the infamous Jamie Tartt,” Laney greeted him playfully. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your jaw clenched at her words as she reached out to shake his hand. He eagerly accepted.

“Have you?” he asked with a mischievous look in your direction that made you roll your eyes.

Laney nodded emphatically. “She talks about you all the time.”

You nudged her shoulder to get her to stop talking but she just looked at you innocently. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it seemed like Jamie did too.

“Oh, does she?” Jamie questioned. 

He was eating this up. His face was smug and you were sure this would haunt you for weeks to come. 

“Laney, why don’t you go get some snacks? Shouldn’t be a line since we are here a bit early. I’ve got to talk to Jamie before the match,” you said. “I’ll meet you at our seats?”

You smiled sweetly at her, but underneath the nice layer, you knew your eyes held an anger that had her quickly waving goodbye and scurrying off. You were more than happy to have her accompany you to a match, but this entire interaction was reminding you of why you hadn’t invited her sooner.

For a moment, you just stared at him. It was hard to look him directly in the eye sometimes. Despite the headstrong front you kept up, you weren’t used to dealing with such interactions. You weren't stupid, you knew that this dance you two engaged in fell close to flirting (at least that’s what Laney said), and when you looked directly at him, you remembered just how fucking hot he was.

It wasn't just his physical attributes. Sure, he was in excellent physical shape, and his hair looked particularly perfect ever since he started going a bit blond, and his lips were always in a little pout, just begging to be kissed. But it was also a little more than that. Seeing him step up to lead as they began Total Football, working as a team player while also getting in extra workouts to be the best he could be. You weren't blind. You could see his internal changes on the outside, somehow. He didn't seem as cold. He didn't seem as distant and prickish. Jamie’s change in demeanor changed how everyone saw him including himself.

And he seemed to look even hotter than he used to.

Was it possible for someone to just keep getting more and more attractive?

It was part of the reason he drove you up the wall. How did he so perfectly remain just a little bit of a prick while also being a better person? And why did he have to look so pretty while doing it? 

More and more people were making their way through the hallway as the dog track got ready for the match, and Jamie still stood in the middle, with an innocent, questioning look directed towards you.

You huffed before you grabbed his arm and shoved him into the treatment room. Even if he was acting oblivious to spectators, you didn’t want to put on a show when you once again ripped him a new one. 

His face was still prickish as you turned to look at him. He was clearly enjoying this much more than you were. 

“So you talk about me when I ain’t around, love?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I don’t,” you said firmly. “And don’t call me ‘love.’”

He pursed his lips, “Seems like you do… love.”

He smiled cheekily at you and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you crossed your arms and put on what you hoped was your most serious face.

“I talk about everybody,” you defended, but he clearly wasn’t listening.

“Hmmm, and what do you say about me?” Jamie scratched his chin to mock being in deep concentration. 

“Mostly, I tell people you’re a pain in my ass.”

The statement seemed to shock Jamie out of his act and he narrowed his eyes at you. You knew it wasn’t the best idea to have a sparring match with a footballer right before a game. They were pent up with nerves and adrenaline as they prepared. 

After a moment of no response, you expected the conversation to be over and began to move toward the door, when he finally spoke up.

“Bend over, I’ll show you a pain in the ass.”

Now you’re the one who’s speechless. You let out a breathless laugh of shock, before rolling your eyes. You continued on your way to the door, moving to leave him in the room alone. Just as you go past him, he playfully smacks your ass. Before you have a chance to even choose your reaction, you let out what can only be described as a whimper mixed with a moan. 

You whirl around to look at him, and you both seem to be shocked by the noise. You can tell your face is burning with embarrassment as you stare at each other in a momentary state of shock. 

He recovers first, letting out a breath of a laugh. A smirk dances across his face.

“Liked that, did you?” he taunted.

You clearly didn’t recover as quickly, your reply coming out weaker than you’d like. “Shut up, Tartt.”

He stepped a little closer to you, and you stepped back instinctively, before you ran into the table set up next to the door. 

“I liked hearin’ it,” he said, his voice coming out like a rough whisper.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were barely processing how close the two of you were. Making direct eye contact, breathing the same air. In the next moment, you had spun around, shoving your own pants down around your knees as you heard him unzipping his jeans. He gripped your waist as he spanked you again, and you didn’t even try to suppress the moan that left your lips. 

He slid his dick in easily, and you were surprised at how wet you’d become from simply arguing with the man. He held you against his chest as he thrust into you, pressing a messy kiss to your neck, sucking slightly. Part of you was worried about him leaving a mark, but the thought was pushed to the back of your mind as he continued his journey along your neck. He raised your knee higher to rest against the table for a better position, and you groaned in unison as he thrust deeper inside you. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, leaning against him.

“You wanted this real bad, huh, angel?” he asked.

You nearly wept at the pet name. You made a noise of protest, but your voice came out near breathless from the intensity of it all. You felt like your knees would buckle from the sensation, so you gripped the table in an attempt to not fall.

“Fuck you— you wanted it more,” you defended, but just as you spoke, he hit deep inside you and left the end of your sentence turning to mush as you moaned.

The table wasn’t enough to grab onto, so you reached back and started to grip the strands of his hair. He groaned directly into your ear, and you felt your knees nearly give out entirely.

“Damn, you look so pretty with my name on your back and my dick inside you,” he mumbled as he ran his hand up to grip at your throat. The action wasn’t gentle, but the pressure was perfect.

You’d almost forgotten you were wearing his name across the back of your jersey. Of course he would think it was hot.

It surprised you when you realized you found it kind of hot too.

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, “This isn’t happening again.”

Your harsh words felt like they had no meaning as you bucked against him. His own hips rose up to meet your own. Truth be told, you were getting your shit rocked and were already wondering when you could fuck him again. You felt your brain short circuiting. Your breaths were shallow as he moved his hand up to your mouth.

You bit his hand out of frustration, making him hiss and thrust his hips faster. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, causing him to whine. 

“Jamie,” you gasped around his fingers, “I-I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he panted in reply. You didn’t have it in you to correct him over the pet name, overcome with the sensations coursing through your body. 

He removed his fingers from your mouth and snaked his hand down your body to find your clit, adding extra pressure. He knows just the right way to move his fingers that has you falling apart in mere moments.

When you come, he turns your head to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips as you both find your release. You find yourself kissing him back intensely, chasing his lips once he finally pulls away.

Your knees are weak at this point, fully leaning against him for support once he finally slips out of you and pulls his jeans back up. Before he has a chance to say anything between breaths, you reach for a towel off the shelves above you and clean yourself off.

You’re still out of breath as you finally look over at him. His face is shiny with sweat and you fear you look the same. You’ll have to stop by the restroom before you meet back up with Laney. 

Laney. 

The thought of your friend has you glancing at the clock on the wall, cursing yourself. Everything starts to come into clear view, and you wonder how you let things go this far. You just fucked Jamie Tartt. How the hell did that just happen?

You press your lips in a firm line. You try to keep your hands from visibly shaking.

“This is never happening again,” you tell him again, as you reach for the door handle to exit. 

As you open the door, Jamie scoffs.

“Sure, love,” he says, sauntering through the door that you opened, “I’ll see you after the match.” 

He leaves you with a wink before heading off to get ready for the match. If you thought he would be unbearable about the jersey, you had just made the entire situation so much worse. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood in the treatment room before you finally left as well.

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.

!! This is Chapter 2! Here's Chapter 1 if you're interested! !!

{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}

//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.

This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)

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☆ @k-k0129 ☆

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Oh and the gif was made by me!

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter 2: Is It That Sweet?

Ted and I headed out into the open road once more, having to go through a suburb to get to the closest coffee joint. For some reason, I expected the ride to be a quiet one, despite Tanner sending us on this snack run for us to socialize. Truthfully, I'm a little nervous. I know I said I'd be okay with kissing someone, but I knew Conner enough to be comfortable with it. This is different.

"How long did it take you guys to get up here?" Ted breaks the silence with a harmless question, keeping his eyes on the road. I move my eyes in his direction, but I don't look directly at him.

"3...maybe 2 hours?" I answer, making a rough guess. "We left a little later than we wanted to, but we couldn't get ahold of Conner and we had to just go."

"Did you guys call him at all?"

"Straight to voice-mail, like, every hour. Kinda glad you stepped in when you did." I turn my head to Ted as I finish that last sentence, seeing a grin spread along his face.

"I want him to get that A." Ted admitted, referring to Tanner. He half-opens his hands on the wheel as he speaks. "'Haven't known the guy long, but I know this is big for him."

"How do you know him, if I'm good to ask?" I tilt my head a little. I mind as well ask him, Tanner's answer was vague at best. "You don't go to the same college."

"No no no, I graduated years ago, pretty sure he was still in high school when I did." Ted scoffed with a shake of his head. "I met him through Joe."

"And how do you know Joe?"

"OK, this is gonna sound fucking insane, but..." Ted pauses and lingers on the sentence, like he's trying to find the right words.

"He's a friend...of my friend's cousin. We met at his wedding and Joe introduced me to Tanner at his wedding."

I believed him, but was surprised to hear that. I was at Joe's wedding too, I don't recall him being there at all. "You were at Joe's wedding?"

"I didn't stay for the after party, but yes, I was."

"I was there too. I was one of the maids of honor."

"I know. I remember you."

"You remember me?"

"Yeah. That's why I said 'finally'. Joe told me about you at that wedding."

"When???" I was even more confused now.

"When you were almost late!" He laughs, glancing away from the road for a moment to look at me. "Is this an interrogation? You don't trust me now?"

"It could be!" My concern breaks into a smile. "Tanner tells me about this mysterious 'Ted' that's gonna be on set and an hour later, you're practically my hero--our hero, the crew's hero. Now I'm learning we've been in, like, the same plane of existence before but it feels like you've just...spawned in."

"'Just spawned in'?" Ted repeated, still smiling. "I'd like to think I'm just a highly observant man, thank you very much. I remember you."

Now is the moment I realize I had sat up a bit more in my seat, leaning my back against the seat once more with a bewildered expression on my face.

"So--okay." I shut my eyes for a moment, ready to really process all of this information.

"You met Joe through your cousin."

"Cousin's friend, but yes." Ted confirms.

"You met Joe at your cousin's wedding, through his friend."

"Yes."

"Then you went to Joe's wedding."

"Yes."

"You saw me, and you met Tanner at Joe's wedding."

"Yup."

"And that's how you know everybody."

"You-You nailed it. Right on the coffin."

The first thing I do is start laughing, putting my face in my hands. Ted's laughing too, his eyes closing slightly as he does. He takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to run his fingers through his tall hair.

"I fucking told you it sounds insane!" He chuckles, glancing at me again. "I should just start lying and say we met in college, Jesus fucking christ."

"I'm glad you didn't lie! I just--oh my god, why is that so funny?" I wipe my eyes, trying to hold back the urge to continue laughing. I'm such a giggler. I'm the type to want to keep laughing about a joke that was told a good 5 minutes ago. "Why the fuck don't I remember you?"

"I don't fucking know! Maybe--Maybe, yknow, maybe it was just a long fuckin' dream I had and I'm really just lying to you. I don't know."

Ted and I are all smile's now, taking a couple minutes to come down from all the laughing. I don't even quite understand why that was so funny to me. Maybe it was the way he explained it all, or the way I tried reiterating it back to him. It did truly sound crazy, to an extent, but I believed him.

What I almost couldn't believe was that he remembered me. Why would he be able to remember me from the ceremony, but not actually come to meet me like he did Tanner? Tanner wasn't even the groom's best man, he wasn't up there with us. Before I had the thought to ask Ted, we pulled up to a Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru and got in line. Of course, it being the morning and all, there was quite the line-up.

I take my phone out to start getting everyone's order written down in my notes so I can pass the phone to Ted when we're at the speaker. "Have you been on many film sets?" I asked Ted, setting my phone down next to me.

"Oh yeah. I've helped make stuff before. Music videos, other short film's..." Ted, Tanner and I had talked briefly about each other while we were waiting for Conner to get back to us, so we knew about each other's respective channels.

"Is there, uh..." I paused, once again feeling a sense of embarrassment. "What's it all gonna be like? Filming I mean. It's not usually all done in order, right?"

What I was really trying to ask is: 'When are we gonna have to kiss?', but no way am I phrasing it so plainly.

"It all depends on how the director wants to do it." Ted explains, moving up a bit in the lineup. "We only have that set for about 3 weeks, so any scenes that need to be filmed there will have to be done pretty much immediately. Anything that's shot outside will be shot...out there." He pauses with a chuckle. "And then, yknow, everything else is just...after."

So that means one of the first scenes may be a kissing scene. Great. Wonderful.

We finally move up in line enough to be able to order everything. I hand Ted my phone so he can read off every order to the speaker, handing it back to me once he was done. He drove up to the window and was told he'd need to park, looking at me with a smirk before pulling away from the building to find a spot. As Ted drove around the parking lot, I thought about YouTube again. While Ted's channel had mostly grown during the pandemic, mine only started to grow within the last couples months after I was invited to this big collab creators like Eddy Burback and Jakey. I've become pretty good friends with a lot of the guys in the 'Commentary' corner of YouTube, I'm becoming as close with them as I am with my personal circle.

Huh. Kind of strange that I'm friends with Ted's friends and he's friends with mine, but we've never really met up until now. Small world, I suppose.

Ted found a decent spot to park in, slowing the truck down before putting it in park, finally able to take his hands off the wheel with a sigh. "Might wanna let Tanner know we'll be a while." Ted spoke, taking his seat belt off to better relax in his seat. I take out my phone to send a quick text to Tanner, letting him know we had parked and were just waiting.

There's a moment of silence after I set my phone down again. I can't think of anything to say, Ted is relatively quiet. I'm trying to think of a topic to turn to, but the pressure to speak completely blanks out my mind. It's unlike me.

"You're...okay with me doing this, right?" Ted speaks up, settling his elbow up on one of his armrests as he turns to look at me.

"Hm?"

"Taking Conner's place." He clarified. "I feel like I've just kind of...inserted myself into this, like...without your permission."

"I...don't think you need my permission, you needed Tanner's, right?"

"Well yeah, but I'm not...potentially gonna be locking lips with Tanner."

'Potentially'. I focus on that word in particular. Yes, he hasn't read the script. He doesn't know.

"I mean, I don't know, I'm just guessing." Ted added a humorous rasp to his voice, shrugging his shoulders up with his hands out.

"There's...a few." I admit with a bashful smile. "But I mean, he's there if you want to."

"Hey, I'm not opposed to smooching up the homies." Ted jokes, pointing at me somewhat. I start laughing and fling my head back, truly not expecting such a response. Ted starts laughing too, lightening the air up a little bit.

"I've--I've been down for it before! For the good of the content, I will settle my lips upon another man, another bro, if you will!"

I have to bring myself down from the laughing fit, moving some of my hair out of my face as the chuckling slowly subsides. Oh my god, he's just so funny and...oddly charming. I can see why Tanner suggested we do this snack run together, I'm strangely comfortble with Ted. If this was really the idea, it worked.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is..." Ted let's out a last few chuckles and for the first time, our eyes equally meet each other. He's giving me a genuine smile as he speaks.

"I can...reach out to a few other friends if you'd rather...have more of a choice. I'm cool with taking a step back, I'm sure Tanner would get it."

I keep my eyes settled on his for a little while, feeling warmth rise up my cheeks once more. It's in this moment I realize there isn't a lot of space between us. We're not uncomfortably close, but enough for it to make me blush.

"I'd rather it be you." I reply truthfully, making sure to sound confident. "I was surprised when you offered for sure, but...fuck, Tanner was right to put us on this trip, I think we'd work well together."

"Oh yeah? You'd kiss me?"

I see Ted's self-assured expression waver for a moment, like he spoke before realizing how it would sound. I take the opportunity to turn my body more towards him, resting my elbow on the backrest of the seat so I can prop my head up.

"Yeah." I reply in confidence, giving him a huge grin. "It's 7 kisses. I'll kiss you 7 times."

"It's SEVEN times!?" Ted sits up more in his seat to turn to me as well.

"Yeah! There's a fuckin...the first one is us playing spin the bottle with a bunch of other people."

"Oh my god, it's--you know we'll have to kiss more than 7 times, right? It has to--" He pauses to laugh "It has to look right!"

"That's fine! You're the one that said you'd 'kiss the pretty lady'!" I try to mimic his strong voice as I quote what he said back on set. Ted furrows his brows and rolls his eyes, looking down at his steering wheel. I raise a brow as he seems to glide his tongue along the front of his top teeth, opening his mouth to cackle.

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did. 'Pretty lady' here heard it."

Ted shakes his head again and mouths what looked like 'fuck' to himself. Before the conversation could continue, an employee of Dunkin Donuts knocks on Ted's window, completely startling him. I let out another little laugh as he rolls down his window to get all of the food, moving the bags of food to the backseat, putting most of the drinks in the cup holders he had available and handing me the rest to hold. He thanks the employee before rolling his window back up, letting out a huff before putting his seatbelt back on.

"Well, yknow what, I said what I said."

Ted smirks to himself, starting the truck up again. As I put my seatbelt on, he turns the radio on. Big mistake.

🎶'Now he's

🎶thinkin' bout meee, every night ohh,

🎶is it that--'

He turns the radio off.

I smile to myself and turn my head to look out my window, resisting the urge to laugh. Cute.

The first half of the ride back is quiet, only it doesn't feel awkward this time. I'm okay with it. I'm content, maybe even a little excited to get back. I can't bother to convince myself it's not because of Ted. Whether he meant to be or not, he was incredibly sweet and reassuring on this ride. Any doubts or worries I had about him taking Conner's spot had practically melted away.

"I suppose we've got good news for Tanner when we get back, eh?" I speak up, turning my head away from the window to look at Ted. He glances at me and lightly shakes his head, scoffing with a smile. "You're gonna let that slip up go to your head, aren't you?"

"'Slip up'? Awe.." I playfully pout at him "You don't think I'm pretty anymore?"

"Pretty fuckin' obnoxious."

"Ooh! Such harsh language, Teddy!" I put on an old-timey mid-atlantic accent, moving a bit away from the window. "That's not very becoming of a future star in the romance genre!"

"I'm gonna fucking pull this truck over and make you walk back, you fucking...prissy little passenger princess."

"With all the drinks in my hand?"

"You've got four. Four people not having their drinks would be worth it."

"You wanna watch the princess strut down the street?"

"No I wanna watch you trip and fall on your fucking..." I pauses for a bit longer than he probably meant to.

"My...pretty lady face?" I complete his sentence for him, shooting him a winning grin.

"I fucking hate you."

I break into joyful laughter as Ted tries to hold back a chuckle, making sure my grip on the tray in my lap is steady so I don't spill any of it. Bashful is a good look for him.

Finally we get back to set. Ted parks his truck exactly where he parked it before we left and gets out with me to start grabbing all the food. Joe and a few members of the crew come out to help carry everything back inside. This gives me the opportunity to talk to him about everything. As soon as Ted slipped up and flirted with me in the truck, I knew I needed to tell Joe.

We separated away from the rest of the crew for a moment while the rest of the wardrobe team got Ted into a different outfit for the shoot. I give Ted a quick little wave and he shoots me the middle finger with a mocking smile. Asshole. Joe and I decide to hang out by the top part of the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"He did not fucking say that." Joe gasps at me, giving me a look as if I were making it up.

"Dude, and he like...he was SO embarrassed after, I could tell."

"Ted did not fucking say 'you'd kiss me'"

"I swear to God!" I laugh quietly, getting shushes from Joe to keep it down. "You think I'd make that shit up? And!--And later, after he was all shy and shit, he tried to turn on the radio and 'Expresso' started playing and I've never seen a man turn the radio off SO FAST."

"Jesus christ..." Joe rests the side of his hand on his forehead, a dumb smile on his face.

"What's with you not telling me about this guy?" I ask Joe, turning more to him. "He was at your wedding! He met Tanner, but not me? What did you say to him?"

"I didn't want you two fucking!" Joe chuckled, getting a light but friendly smack on the shoulder from me.

"You're bullshit."

"I'm joking! Look--I didn't tell him not to approach you or anything, but like, I don't know, he didn't ask about you after the ceremony. He just left."

"Why did he leave before the party?"

"He had other plans, I guess. He didn't know anyone else there anyways. Dude would've just...danced by himself."

"Could've danced with me."

"He's literally right down there, (Y/N), go ask him why he didn't."

I take a peek over the railing to see Ted's new outfit being adjusted by the wardrobe team, watching as they were trying to decide whether or not to tuck the shirt in. He had a plain white tee on and some brown slacks with a leather belt around it, now with his glasses off and in his hand. I'm still surprised I didn't notice him at the wedding. Maybe I was blind, that's a fine looking dude, I feel like I would've remembered him.

I suppose my gaze was a bit too fond looking, as Joe's smile fades a little.

"(Y/N), I wouldn't do that..." His tone suggests he's worried about me.

"Do what? Look at him?" I joke, giving a light scoff.

"Not like that. This happens all the time."

"What happens all the time?"

"Cast members hooking up. It doesn't end well."

"Oh my god, Joseph, I'm not planning on hooking up with anyone"

"No no no, it literally happens like, all of the time. I'm serious." Joe clears his tone, setting his now empty cup beside him. "People that play love interests together will end up mixing the feelings, like they'll think on camera chemistry is real chemistry, and it ALWAYS ends badly."

"Isn't most of that faked for PR or whatever?"

"That would be worse! I'm just--I trust you, (Y/N), I'm just telling you, as your friend: don't fall for this guy. Don't even sleep with him. I'm serious."

I search Joe's face for any signs of this being a bit, but there's nothing. I don't know who he thinks I am in this moment, I just think Ted's a little cute, I'm not about to pull him into my chambers like some work siren. I've worked with a lot of male youtubers. I consider most of them to be great friends, I've never developed feelings for ANY of them and I'm certainly not the type to jump into bed with a dude because he smiles and twinkles his eyes at me.

I break the tension with a disregarding laugh, rolling my eyes. "Maybe I'll sleep with him just to spite you."

"(Y/N), I'm--"

"I know, I know, you're serious." I interrupt him, scoffing again. "I won't sleep with him."

"You're sure? You're gonna make sure you don't catch feelings for this guy?"

"'Catch feelings'..." I mutter in disbelief, snickering into my cup as I finish the last drop. Joe's silent, I guess he's looking for a genuine answer. I set my empty cup down and look at him, straight in the eye.

"I am not going to 'catch feelings' for Ted Nivison."

"You're sure?" Joe asks again, getting another eye roll from me.

"I'm sure!" I insist, the pitch in my voice elevating slightly. I can't tell if I sounded defensive or something, but it's a good enough response to get Joe to finally drop it.

I don't know why I'd sound defensive, I don't intend to catch feelings for anyone here.

I mean it. My feelings? Sealed. Shut tight. Buried in the hatch, if you will.

No one's catching those feelings. Not him.

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 ||

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ unbearable

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, angsty, hurt/comfort?? possibly slightly ooc sampo sorry </3, unedited

ugh I rlly couldn't help myself making my first work on this account sampo (tho I really did consider svarog LMAO he's grown on me a lot) but I hope you all like!! this is like. my redebut onto tumblr writing hehe ^w^

Surely, there couldn't be a more unbearable man on this planet — no, maybe in the entire universe — than Sampo Koski.

Perhaps he had his good sides, though, you would find yourself musing every once in a while.

Sure, he was a filthy conman, always tunnel-visioned on his next profit. Not much consideration for strangers aside from their pockets, not to mention that terrible habit of his to spam anyone whose contact he could get his hands on with scam ads and malware links he was paid a pretty sum to spread. Even his own 'friends' wouldn't be spared from his constant phishing attempts.

Maybe he did get a bit too reckless if the job was especially large, especially profitable, and maybe he did sometimes ditch just before the bill at a restaurant would arrive, and maybe he did piss off a group of automatons, causing them to chase you two to the edge of town until —

You sighed irritably, pinching your temple as you tried to refocus your thoughts.

In spite of all that, Sampo did have his benefits, you surmised.

He had ended up dropping in at just the right time during that automaton chase, even though you'd assumed mere moments earlier that his disappearance from your side meant he had run for the hills and left you behind. You avoided a lot worse injuries thanks to him that day.

And yeah, he did stop that miner from scamming you out of a good chunk of your paycheck that one time — albeit at the cost of another group of naïve victims who he led the man directly to. 'The only one who can swindle you out of all your pocket money is me!' he had claimed, and promptly received a beating over the head.

But once you opened your eyes again, beholding the sight of Sampo Koski sat on his knees before you in shame, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced to the side with a guilty smile...

You weren't quite sure his positive aspects could completely abate your wrath.

On this very day, the man before you had asked you to come with him to Rivet Town to assist with a 'very important business discussion'. You, foolishly, decided to trust him again.

'Give him the benefit of the doubt,' you'd thought. 'Maybe this time it's actually something honest. Maybe this'll really help him.'

Rather than a discussion, though, the foxlike man had instead led you right to a large group of automatons.

'It'll be fine,' he'd said, shrugging. 'Just need some scrap metal for a client! It's technically still a business discussion, we're just discussing with our weapons rather than our mouths!'

So he'd left you to dismantle the automaton pile, until another group of very much active robots had spotted you two and barreled towards you for vengeance.

The man hadn't even noticed in your collective fleeing that one of the bots had managed a sizable gash on your leg, hindering your escape until the two of you finally stumbled back into town.

Of course, the filthy scammer escaped unscathed himself.

Just recalling the incident sent you into further distress as the pain ached in your leg — you hadn't bothered to get it treated by Natasha yet, too focused on giving your 'business partner' a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

Sampo didn't dare speak a word himself. Your stormy expression was enough for him to keep his trap shut tight, too afraid of your mood to risk worsening it.

He had really done it with his latest stunt — a little 'prank gone wrong', as he put it, until he saw just how upset you were — and he knew it, too.

"I just..." Green eyes immediately shot over towards you as you began to speak, but your words only cut off into a heavy sigh, leading you to slump into a chair in the corner of your dingy apartment. Seeing you kneading your forehead with a look of exhaustion more so than anything else, the sly man took his chances with a conversation.

"L-Like I said, Y/N, it was all in good fun!" he laughed anxiously, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "I wasn't actually going to leave you to get all the parts by yourself, or ditch you when the bots came running, or anything —"

"Quiet."

Your voice shut him up once again.

Sampo was exceedingly nervous today. Usually, you'd just get angry with him, expression twisting into that cute, flushed pout that he'd gotten so fond of.

You'd hit him over the head, scold him loudly, drag him by the ear... but you were never silently angry. Not like this.

"Does it really make you happy?" your voice echoed through the room at last, your face still hidden beneath your exasperated hands. "Is it really that fun? Are you getting a good laugh at my expense?"

Sampo's smile, though nervous, fell.

"You know, Sampo Koski," His spine straightened at his full name being used, rare shame filling his cheeks. He felt like he was being scolded like a toddler. "You always pull something or other over me. Usually, it's bearable. But it's gotten to be too much."

"Y-Y/N —"

"I choose to offer you my trust in so many ways, and you just...!" Your hands clutched onto your hair in complete vexation. "You always take advantage of it! Always! Even when I try to help you, or give you the benefit of the doubt, try to convince myself you're being honest for once!"

You peered through your fingers at him with one eye.

"I can count on two hands the amount of times you've shockingly come through for me, and yet, I don't even have enough hairs on my head to equal the amount of times you've swindled or betrayed me! This is the last straw, Sampo Koski!"

"Y/N, l-listen —"

"I'm going to Nat's."

His mouth fell agape as you just got up and began walking towards the door as you'd said.

"Wait!"

"What?" you sneered as the man half-rose to his feet, frozen by your glare. "Worried that I'll tattle to her and you'll get another earful to ignore? Don't worry. She knows that every injury I get is your doing, so she's going to find out one way or another."

"...Injury?" Sampo asked, dumbfounded. You raised a brow, thoroughly ticked as you turned and walked away again.

It was then that he noticed the blood soaking your pants, the torn material of your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the gnashed skin. Your limp was more pronounced than he'd like to admit, considering he clearly hadn't noticed it prior to now.

The door slamming brought the man back to his senses, and he immediately pursued you, grabbing onto your wrist before you could make it ten steps away from your home.

"Let go, Sampo! While I'm still being nice!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear it! I —" Upon processing his words, you turned, a look of mild horror washing over your features as you raised a brow again. "...Eh?"

Sure enough, the Sampo Koski had just said the words 'I'm sorry' in a tone that sounded more genuine than anything he'd ever pushed past his lips — that is, if his souring expression was anything to go by.

He'd never said that to you before, not in the several incidents before this, so you certainly hadn't expected it now.

He looked gutted.

"I should've — I shouldn't've — Urgh..." Sampo scratched the back of his neck. You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't tell me this is just you being too afraid of Nat to let me get treated by her."

"No, no, listen," he waved his hands around wildly. "I'm... sure, I'm afraid of Miss Natasha, plenty afraid, in fact! But... being real honest, I'm way more afraid of you walking out on me for good."

His head bowed, and he looked completely downtrodden at this point.

"Y-You've been better to me than most, and I guess... I don't know. I just thought you'd always be there, sorta... Which was wrong of me to assume!" Sampo's speech was jumping all over the place as he hastily attempted to keep your attention, worried a single wrong word would send you walking away again. "Very wrong! I took advantage of ya a lot, and... Well, I'm sorry."

You stood there in silence for a good, long while.

It was plenty of time to make even Sampo nervous. You couldn't deny reveling in the way his fingers twitched anxiously, his eyes darting to you and back to the floor as he awaited your response — or lack of one — to his apology.

Finally, you sighed again. A very long, drawn-out, wrongdoing-emphasizing sigh.

"Well, I assume you can't promise that this will never happen again."

"Heheh... Well, if we're being really, really honest..." he simpered, not meeting your eye. "I can at least promise that I'll never let you get hurt on my watch again, though! Not ever! Koski's honor!"

The comical way he put a fist to his chest, as though mimicking a Silvermane Guard, put a reluctant smile on your face. Finally, you snorted out a laugh, bringing his infamous smile back again as well. This time, however, it was more relieved than mischievous.

"I really hate you sometimes," you murmured, pulling him into a hug as you buried your face in his shoulder. "But I'll let it slide. Last time, Sampo Koski. Don't you mess up again."

"I won't!" he shouted, perhaps a bit too eager. Still-shaky hands found your figure as he gently returned your embrace, something a bit more tender in his eyes when you pulled away. "I won't."

"Fine."

"Now, then, why don't we mosey back on into your house and get that leg patched up, eh?"

"Sorry, Mr. Koski," you teased, folding your hands behind your back as you continued your trek towards Natasha's clinic. "As much as we just shared a heartfelt moment of emotional growth, I don't trust your shoddy patchwork first-aid, not for something that hurts this bad. You'll just have to deal."

Sampo trailed after you like a puppy, rubbing his hands together like the shady businessman he was, familiar swindling smirk back already — though it grew more anxious by the minute as you neared Natasha's.

"Ah, come on! Can't we work out a deal? A bargain?! I said I won't let you get hurt again! We're both reasonable people, right...?"

"Y/N...? Y/N, come on!"

[redxx95]

Tachibana & Kurosawa parallels that are making me go insane

Hey guys so I had some Thoughts that are not letting me go so I did some digging and now I'm gonna present yall with my findings. They are horrible. (Spoilers for volume 14)

So how this all started is me wondering if Kurosawa ever feels a little guilty about entering a relationship with Adachi, since things could've been a lot easier for him if he'd simply gone out with a woman (to him it would've been Fujisaki) instead. He often mentions Adachi could've been happy without him, after all.

Then I remembered this bit from the end of volume 14 about how Adachi doesn't know how to deal with advances because Kurosawa was always intercepting them for him and decided to properly translate all of it.

"Adachi felt guilty, but him not understanding the tactics of love or how to evade invitations is my fault. I don't want anyone to take him away, but I also don't want him to ever learn any of this. Of course I can't tell him that though."

Tactics of love, huh. You mean like...

Giving little compliments... (The phrasing here is almost the same in japanese except Tachibana is using polite speech)

Offering favors...

Invading personal space...

Going "hey you like this thing, why don't we do this thing together?" ...

Helping out when they're weak and vulnerable...

You mean tactics like that? Man it sure is convenient that Adachi remains blissfully unaware of any of this huh. Okay So. Before you raise your pitchforks at me, yes there's obviously some nuance in all of this. Kurosawa is doing all of this to befriend Adachi, first and foremost. He wants to be closer to him because he loves him. Tachibana (as far as I can tell) just wants to get in his pants lmao Also Adachi's a Grown Ass Man and can definitely make his own decisions, and it's not like he got really manipulated either, since he could read Kurosawa's thoughts and intentions the whole time. I could still see Kurosawa having some self-doubts about their relationship though, if he ever realizes that he might have "manipulated" Adachi into a relationship that is objectively worse for him, considering the alternative of being with a woman and completely evading all the problems they've had with homophobia. Not to mention that Adachi is clearly good with kids and might want some of his own, which is something he can't have with Kurosawa, since adoption requires couples to be married in Japan and gay marriage is illegal, as we know. What if Kurosawa ruined Adachi's chances to lead a happy life, for his own selfish reasons?

...

Now, here come my truly insane speculations about vol 15 and how this could tie in with drama around Matsuura :)

So on that last page she's clearly approaching Tachibana, who, as we can read pages before, wants to get black-out drunk to forget all his romantic woes. Which means he will be very talkative to a nosy Matsuura. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll reveal literally everything to her, how he wanted to go for this cute, inexperienced coworker named Adachi and how he got told to back off by his big scary boyfriend named Kurosawa. "Oh yea they work together at Toyokawa. I even told him it's really risky to date coworkers, can you believe it?!" Matsuura just goes "Oh that is Interesting."

She might even try to get under Kurosawa's skin by drawing parallels to his harassment in vol 1 and him pursuing Adachi, since Kurosawa has a higher position in their company and earns more, and Adachi being inexperienced. One could easily construe this as a power imbalance between them. Throw into the mix the issue of being "forced into a relationship that's looked down upon by society" and the looming threat of their relationship being revealed to their workplace and Kurosawa might truly spiral, maybe even breaking up with Adachi, just to fulfill yet another parallel to Tachibana.

Man would that be fucked up or what haha