#debating whether I want to post these to ao3

[arafinweanappreciation]

Finrod tries. He really does. For diplomacy’s sake, if nothing else. 

He had never been particularly close to his half-cousins, but they had gotten along, once. He had enough in common with the elder two to ease the way into some form of friendship. He shared music with Makalaure and his status as eldest with Maitimo. It was enough to build a foundation for cordiality, for conversation, to get him invited on a few outings on which their father would not be joining them. To get him invited on this hunt.

It had seemed a good idea, at first. And now, here he was, miles away from camp on the banks of a stream, splashing water on his face and trying not to remember the way Nelyo gripped his bow, or the knife sheathed on Kano’s belt. They did not threaten him, but the sight of the weapons in their hands made him sick to his stomach all the same. 

He hadn’t been there at Aqualonde. Not like Artanis— Galadriel, he reminds himself, Galadriel, who now bears the name given to her by Celeborn of Doriath, who now prefers it. Not like Galadriel had. Not like Angarato and Aikanaro had, near the head of the march with Findekano. He had not borne arms against his cousins on either side. He had not even seen the aftermath. He and his father had been following days behind, reluctant to leave. By the time he arrived in the city of his mother’s birth and his own childhood, the only signs of the massacre had been the blood soaked into the wooden docks and the darkness in his grandfather’s eyes. The same darkness he could now see in his own eyes, reflected in the rippling stream.

Some part of him (the wiser part, he suspected) said that he should have turned back then. Gone back to his mother and his aunts, to his people who stayed behind. To…

A light breeze flowed through the clearing he had stopped in. What it carried set his heart pounding.

It was the end of summer, verging into autumn, so there were no wildflowers. Yet the breeze brought with it the scent of wild jasmine and roses. A scent he was intimately, achingly familiar with.

But it wasn’t possible. He was dreaming. He had to be. Oh, great Varda, he had to be dreaming. The only thing that could possibly be worse than what had already happened would be if she followed him here, to ruin and death and corruption. No matter how badly he wanted it to be true. 

He lifted his eyes, filling with tears, her name already halfway on his lips, catching in his throat—

And there she was, on the opposite bank. Eyes filled with treelight, waves of golden hair spilling over her shoulders, gracefully pointed ears. Her smile was light, mischievous, fond. 

It could not be.

“Amarie—”

As he watched, she stood, and beckoned him closer. He could not help but comply. Every word he’d written in those unsent letters, every weak, unfit apology he had ever cobbled together in the deep and lonely silence of the night spiraled together in his mind, caught in a bottleneck of grief and desperation and regret. If the cool water soaked through the legs of his trousers, he did not feel it. He could only move, trance-like, towards his beloved, already reaching. 

For every step he took forward, she took one back, just beyond his fingertips. Just as the trees were about to swallow them up, she gave him a wicked grin, eyes glinting. And then turned and ran. 

Without a second thought, Finrod plunged in after her.

She was quick, light on her feet, flitting between the trees with effortless grace, as if she were floating. Finrod felt like a charging bull in comparison, crashing through the undergrowth and barely dodging tree trunks in his desperation to give chase. All thought had ceased. His only concern was keeping her in sight.

She was faster than he remembered. They had played this game before. He’d been on either side at different times. He had not taken note of her speed, then, but she seemed to him now to be swifter than any of Orome’s hounds. 

He tripped on roots and stumbled over fallen branches. The rough bark of the trees scraped and scratched and bruised him. He ran until his muscles burned and his lungs heaved, throat scraped raw and dry from his heavy breathing. Still, she remained just ahead. He tried to call out to her, more than once, to beg her to slow down, to pause, to give him a little rest. She did not seem to hear him.

It was not until the pale gray of predawn light began to creep across the sky that she stopped among the trees, turning to face him.

Finrod allowed himself to slow to a jog, and then a walk, still unbelieving. His muscles ached and cramped, but still, he stumbled forward until he was just in front of her.

Her gaze was soft as he drew closer. Sad, almost. This time, he dared not reach out until they were but inches apart. She closed her eyes, and he could almost feel her breath on his face.

Slowly, he raised a hand to cup her cheek.

As soon as his skin brushed against hers, cold and solid as starlight, she vanished. He could do naught but collapse to the ground, sobs building in his chest.

If this was a dream, then Irmo was cruel indeed.

As Finrod blinked away the last of his tears, something caught his eye. Light, as if from embers. A soft breeze passed over him, smelling not of wildflowers, this time, but the sea. It flowed towards the reddish glow. Ever the faithful, Finrod pulled himself to his feet and made for the light, emerging from the screen of brush at the edge of the forest.

A camp.

[prolibytherium]

after making this post I sat around kind of desperately wishing someone would write something for this scenario, but then wasn't sure if I actually wanted that bc what if they make it into drama or somehow make Dennis central to the plot. I can't have that. And then I slapped down about 1500 words of dialogue for the scenario. And I've been slowly fleshing it out in the form of a story. It's starting to distract me from the original writing I've been making decent headway on. So I'm writing IASIP fanfiction now. This is where I'm at . I'm all in.

[dreamsy990]

perfectionism, i think.

[stevethehairington]

lowkey want to post all of my tumblr ficlets to ao3 in one of those "here's a new ficlet in each chapter" kind of ways

[boilingheart]

was just fucking around writing a new ship fic idea, and suddenly, the fun kissing scene i was scratching out escalated into something way out of control. that's never happened to me before. sigh. guess we're making our first explicit fic in YEARS

[crosshairlovebot]

welcome home / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: you return home to find hunter in the shower, and he shows you just how much he missed you while he was gone.

word count: 4,036

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. heavy scent kink. plot only if you squint. p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). slight overstimulation. lots of kissing. slight body worship. cr*ampie.

the need to write a part two to that hunter smut a couple of weeks ago was so strong there was no avoiding it. the hunter feels gripped me so hard they're shaking me around like a rag doll. i have never written a full smut sequence like this before, so please bear with me if it's not as perfect as i would like! i'm doing my best!

although the previous part (which is not essential to read to understand this) was written with gender-neutral pronouns, this part is with a female reader. i wanted to make sure i could actually write a scene like this since i've never done it before. gender-neutral smut is something i'd like to try in the future once i feel more comfortable writing in this style :)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You rode the slightly odorous lift up to your apartment floor, the doors sliding open slowly once it arrived. The hallway light flickered every minute or two as you approached the door to your humble abode, your body aching after working more overtime than you should’ve stayed for. Yawning, you pressed in the code before promptly walking into the still-closed door with a thud.

You frowned, suddenly more alert. You checked the panel and saw that you had just locked your apartment, not unlocked it. Living on Coruscant – especially in an area not known for being the safest corner of the planetary city – had informally trained you to watch for your safety almost constantly. And the possibility that your door may have been unlocked by someone who may or may not be waiting inside to hurt you was a red flag.

Heart beating faster, you pressed your ear up against the door, to see if you could hear anyone and your eyes widened when you heard a faint groan coming from inside.

Panic began to course through your veins, and you debated whether or not you should call the authorities before deciding against it. They wouldn’t get here in time to be of any use, and so many crimes happened on Coruscant that you doubted anyone would even come at all.

Instead, you steeled yourself and then typed in the code again.

Save for the single lamp you always left on; the apartment was dark. The yellow light bathed the small space in a soft glow that made everything look a little less like a standard-issue Coruscanti apartment and a little more like a home. You quietly dropped your bag by the door, picked up a vase from the entryway and crept into your apartment. It was then you heard the shower running and the soft hum of a smokey tenor echo through the apartment. Your shoulders instantly relaxed.

There was only one person who would break into your apartment and take a shower.

You placed the vase down on the kitchen bench, a smile biting the corners of your mouth as you walked to your small ensuite bathroom, the humming getting louder. Your smile only got wider when you saw his armour stacked neatly next to the dresser. You could hear the hum louder from here, and your heart squeezed itself against your ribs. He was happy.

You opened the door slowly, knocking softly even though he would sense you were there as soon as the door opened. “Hunter?”

The humming stopped and Hunter’s wet head poked around the shower curtain. If he was a sight when he was dry, he was completely ethereal when wet. His hair stuck around his shoulders and neck, water dripping down his tattooed face onto his neck. He smiled out the side of his mouth, eyes bright at the sight of you. “Hey, you.”

You grinned, just as pleased to see him. “Hey. You’re back.”

“I am.”

You nodded to the steaming shower. “Can I join you?”

He wordlessly pulled back the shower curtain as his answer, revealing half of his bare muscular body. You undressed quickly, piling your clothes on top of his blacks that had been kicked near the privy before stepping in with him. Almost instantly, you were engulfed in Hunter’s arms, his wet body pressed against yours as he pushed his nose into your neck, breathing deeply.

“Someone missed me,” you smiled, hands holding his upper arms and squeezing them gently.

You felt his breath on your neck as he nuzzled his nose against your skin. It was always the first thing he did when he saw you. “You have no idea how much,” the words buzzing against your skin.

At the feel of his half-hard length pressed into your stomach, and you chuckled. “I think I can guess.”

Hunter trailed his hands down your body, nose still buried in your neck. He loved the way you smelled. Something about it drove him crazy, though you weren’t sure what it was specifically. But you’d never complain.

You felt him pull you closer, and his wet hair fell onto your shoulder as he dragged his hands up and down your thighs and hips. The water cascaded over you both, and when his hand dipped between your bodies down to the place between your legs, you tipped your head forward to rest on his shoulder as you moaned. “Hunter,” you choked out as his hand moved in slow circles there, and you felt yourself slicken at the touch.

Hunter pressed light kisses to your neck and shoulder, marking a trail up to your ear with his lips. “Been waiting for you to get back.” His voice was ragged like he’d been running, rasping out of him all breathy.

His fingers still moved slowly between you, and you whimpered before telling him quietly. “I thought someone had broken in.”

Hunter pulled back to look at you, his hand stilling as he searched your face with a crease between his brow. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sorry, cyari’ka, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and looked in his brown-grey eyes as steam continued to rise from the running water. “I heard a loud groan…what were you doing?”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth lifted before those eyes of his darkened. “What do you think?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

You hummed. The idea of him getting off in your shower as he waited for you to come home conjured up so many salacious images in your mind you had to squeeze his arms to steady yourself. The thought of him in here, cock in his hand as he stroked himself to just your scent…it only made the arousal building inside you burn hotter.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” You croaked out.

“Kriff, no. As soon as I stepped inside you were everywhere,” he continued his kisses, sucking at your jaw. “And it only got stronger. Every breath I took you were there, inside my lungs, seeping into my skin. You know how insane you make me, and it’s been months…” He drew back and brushed his nose against yours. “Are you mad?”

“God, no,” you breathed against his lips.

“Good.”

Hunter finally kisses your mouth then. His mouth slants over yours and it’s impossible not to moan into it. His tongue moves over your lips and slides against yours. To think when you met him, he had no idea how to kiss and now he knew the inside of your mouth better than you did.

He groaned into the kiss, and you knew his senses were in overdrive right now, the hot wet of your mouth only driving him crazier. He pushed you back against the tile, his solid body trapping you between the cool of the tile and the heat of his skin. His hands gripped your hips as you snaked one leg around his. With his now hard length pressing between you, it was so close to where you needed it. You arched into him, the need to have him as close as humanly possible so intense you could comprehend nothing but Hunter’s kisses and hands as he did everything he could to consume every part of you. Your only thought was how badly you wanted him to.

You had missed him too, after all.

Your hands went into his hair, tugging at the wet strands as he continued to explore your mouth. He broke away but only to resume his kisses down your neck, his tongue lolling out to lick the skin and the droplets of water in between the kisses. Steam from the water clouded your vision, or was that because of the sensation of Hunter’s hands against you? You didn’t know. You moaned as his kisses travelled down your torso.

“Hunter,” you choked out as you watched him lower to his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much,” he said again, the words vibrating against your skin.

You caressed his temple with your thumb. “I missed you.”

He groaned loudly against the skin of your stomach. “You smell incredible.”

You whimpered, so incredibly turned on as he moved his mouth down, his lips dragging across your skin, and you watched him descend lower, his eyes half closed and rolling back. You could see just how hard he was, up against his stomach. The water continued to flow down his shoulders and half-tattooed torso, down into the hair that covered most of his front.

You raked your fingers through his hair, nails against his scalp and you felt his moan on your stomach, and the sound ignited your insides with desire. It felt like your whole body was electrified, pulsing with need and he’d barely even done anything.

“Hunter, more, please,” you breathed out.

Hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He groaned, standing up and shutting the water off as he kissed you once more. He pulled back, sliding the shower curtain roughly across its pole before picking you up effortlessly. Your arms and legs went around him as he buried his nose in your neck again as he walked to your bed, both of you still dripping wet but neither of you caring enough to do anything about it.

Hunter lay you down gently, moving you up to the pillows as he climbed on top of you. His hair fell forward, dripping onto your chest and he leaned down to suck the droplets off your skin.

You moaned as his mouth travelled to your neck again, kissing you there, his lips sucking gently, and you knew there would be a nice mark there tomorrow that you would grumble about trying to cover for work. But right now, the idea of him laying a claim to you made every nerve ending in your body tingle, especially the ones between your legs.

His lips then made their way to your chest, and he moved to one breast, taking the nipple between his teeth, making you whine before he circled his tongue around it, sucking gently. Your back arched off the bed and you felt his hand slide underneath you, between your shoulder blades, drawing you into his mouth more. He sucked gently, then moved on to the other one, repeating the same ministrations with his tongue.

You panted, mewling with every pinch of his teeth grazing your nipple. He was taking his time with you, as usual, savouring every single part of you. You knew he’d be tired after spending months completing gruelling missions, but he was still eager to pleasure you slowly, work you up until you were begging for a release only he could give.

Exhausted, but never for you.

He released your breast, wetness from his mouth glistening the peak in the dim light. He continued down once again, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he lowered himself between your legs.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with want before he sat back on his heels to spread your legs a little wider, holding the inside of your thighs down with his hands. His thumbs circled the soft skin there as he gazed at you all spread out for him.

He looked beautiful like his. His brown skin illuminated only by the light that managed to creep through the blinds, his tattoo etched down one side of his body which still shined with the water from the shower. His cock was so hard with need, precum already pooling at the tip – you’ve barely even touched him. He was just worked up over touching you, breathing you in. He was average in length, but his thickness set him apart from any other sexual partner you’ve had. You ached to feel it inside you, but if he was taking his sweet time with you, it would be a while before you felt him stretch you.

Hunter was nothing if not thorough.

“Hunter…” you whined, sitting up on your elbows.

“Look so pretty like this,” he told you, not an ounce of insincerity in his tone as he crept down to his elbows, arms wrapping under and around your thighs as he pushed his nose against your centre. He breathed in deeply, and the groan that erupted from the back of his throat buzzed against your core.

“So good…” he murmured as he pushed his nose against your clit, making you jerk. He placed a kiss there before gently bringing it into his mouth to suck. You cry out, hips bucking up into his nose and he moans again before his mouth finally moves over you completely.

You arch your back off the bed as his tongue moves artfully against you. The sensation continued to stoke the fire that had been building the minute he wrapped his arms around you in the shower. You moved your hands to his hair, clutching the roots with your fingers and pushing him closer as he licked and sucked like a man starved. And in a way he was. Your hand was no substitute for this. He licked a line up, before bringing his lips around the bud again and sucking gently. You couldn’t think about anything but his hot mouth and tongue against you. You ground into his mouth, needing more friction as the pleasure began to build in your belly, coiling in hot spirals as Hunter continued. He groaned into you through his ministrations, and when he felt you clench on his tongue, he pulled you impossibly closer to his mouth as he moved his tongue faster. Your breaths filled the room, pants loud and moans echoing in the space. You could feel the mattress move underneath you and you looked down at him with hooded eyes to see him rutting against the mattress, getting off to the pleasure he was giving you.

“Hunter, please, I’m so—” Your words were barely audible, but Hunter knew what you meant as he pressed his tongue harder against you, bringing your clit into his mouth and sucking one more time, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, the band inside you snapping as pleasure erupted.

Your back arched and you cried out his name like it was an incantation, over and over as he continued to move his tongue through your undoing, groaning against you as you came all over his tongue. Your hands tight in his hair, you tugged as you shuddered underneath him until the tremors slowed, and you lay breathless, limbs heavy. You looked down at him as he emerged from between your legs, mouth glistening with your come, coating his lips and chin. He licked his lips and groaned. The sight of it was so obscene you felt your body flush.

“Good girl,” he told you before he climbed over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth and you moaned at the way his fingers briefly dipped inside you. “So good for me,” he told you against your lips. “Always so good.”

“Need you inside me,” you mumbled back.

Hunter groaned and you watched as he drew back to lean on his heels again, using the fingers he’d just brushed through your folds to lubricate his length. He hissed as he circled the tip and down the shaft before he coated his fingers again and slid them in his mouth, sucking them gently with his eyes closed, savouring the taste. You watched him, mesmerised.

Was this man really yours?

He positioned himself at your entrance, holding himself above you with strong arms, face over yours. His eyes were so intense, their brown-grey colour boring into you. He gave you a look, one that differed from the wanting gaze he’d been giving you. This look was one of tenderness, one that asked if you were still good – still okay with this. You nodded and he pressed his lips against yours once more before he eased himself inside you.

You gasped as you stretched around him, clawing at his shoulders as you locked your legs around his. He groaned as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He caught his breath and when you clenched around him, he made a choking sound, swearing.

“Been too long,” he whispered.

“Too long,” you repeated before he drew himself back out slowly. He pushed his nose into your shoulder again as he groaned loudly. Then he slowly began thrusting, the sounds of your moans and groans filling the room, along with the indecent sound of his skin hitting yours as his movements increased in speed.

“Hunter,” you moaned his name, and he groaned in response. His hands found your hips and he adjusted his position so he could reach deeper, and he continued to roll his hips against you, your hands clutching at his forearms as the headboard hit the wall repeatedly.

Sex with Hunter always felt amazing. Full of the kind of passion that almost didn’t feel real. It was full of moans and groans and tantalising touches that built you up and up so when you finally let go, the fall felt so good it was almost immeasurable. It was filled with kisses and though he wasn’t much of a talker, he would whisper how good you felt against him. No matter how rough he was being, you felt safe in his hands and cared for – he made sure of that. Being in the throes of pleasure with Hunter was an all-consuming feeling for you both, one that you relished whenever you got the chance. His time home was so fleeting, that anything you could both do to tell each other how much you missed the other, how much you loved the other, you would do. Later, you would use your words. But right now, your bodies spoke instead; each press, clench, shudder, whimper, and groan said the words for you both.

You could feel those familiar hot coils building again each time he buried himself in you, and you could feel his movements falter slightly as he came closer to his own release. He’d come up from your neck again and you looked up at him, mouth agape as his hair, now half dry, fell over his handsome face and the curled ends tickled your cheeks. You reached up and placed some behind his ear, hand cupping his jaw.

“Hunter—”

Hunter nodded quickly, eyes dark and pupils blown. “I know.”

Of course, he did. His senses were so in tune with your body he could feel the subtle changes of your arousal and smell the way your body was on the precipice of falling.

Hunter’s hands held your hips and the headboard, and he rocked himself into you, faster this time. He panted, a husky noise from the back of his throat sounding with each thrust as he brought you closer. You rasped out a string of yeses as the sensation that had been building rose to its peak. You locked your legs around his thighs, clawing at his back as you clenched hard around him, crying out.

Your back arched into him, fingernails forming crescent moon carvings in the skin of his arms as you shuddered against him. His name fell from your lips as you writhed underneath him, riding out your orgasm as he continued to sink into you on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, cyare,” you whispered to him as you were still trembling. "Still got my implant."

It wasn’t a second later until he gave a ragged cry as he stilled, spilling inside you. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth gritted as he groaned loudly – the way you had heard him through the apartment door before. Half collapsing on top of you, he pushed his face into your shoulder again, this time biting the skin there as his thrusts became languid, drawing out as much of his release as possible. You hissed as his teeth claimed your skin, but no matter how worked up Hunter was, he always made sure his bites weren’t too hard.

When Hunter’s shudders stopped, both of you caught your breath. You could feel his breath tickle your shoulder, and this was the first time since you’d been home that you registered the familiar musky smell of his skin. You smiled and kissed his shoulder while he was still on top of you, the tangy taste of his sweat on your lips.

Hunter slowly emerged from your shoulder and looked down at you, eyelids heavy and hair all tangled. You smiled, still dazed, and reached up to push it out of his face, tucking it behind his ear again. He smiled warmly at you before kissing the inside of your wrist.

He hissed as he pulled out of you, and the loss of him down there was so prominent you felt an ache. Hunter rolled off you and lay beside you on his stomach for a minute, his eyes drooping shut for a moment before he forced them open again.

“Hang on,” he said and kissed your shoulder lightly before pushing himself up and heading into the bathroom. You giggled as you heard the cupboard door open and shut before the tap turned on. You turned on your side, still half-limp, watching him wet a towel and then re-enter the room.

He sat next to you as he wiped between your legs sleepily, the warm towel a gentle caress on your skin before he placed it on the bedside table and lay down next to you.

You smiled and pulled the covers back so you could get under them together. They were damp from your hasty decision to not dry off beforehand, but they would dry as you slept. You watched as Hunter nestled himself in the mattress, eyes closing, but when you didn’t move closer to him immediately, he peeked an eye open. He reached out to you under the covers, with a frown.

“Come,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I did. Twice,” you smirked as you let his hands circle your arms and pull you in closer.

“Shuddup,” he slurred, but he still smiled, kissing your temple as he tucked you against his chest. You breathed in the scent of him as you rested your head on him.

You chuckled. “You smell like me.”

“Good. Need to smell like you forever,” he pushed his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath in. “What is the name of this soap, anyway? Gonna place an order.”

You laughed. You loved he was like this – all soft and sleepy after you’d come together. It was a side only you saw, the shedding of that broody exterior he reserved for his service to reveal the tenderness that was a secret for your eyes only. “I think it’s generic brand vanilla and starflower.”

“Smells fucking incredible,” Hunter mumbled, making you laugh again. You kissed his chest and after a moment of silence where all you did was breathe together, he said, “You okay? I didn’t plan to do all that the second I saw you.”

You smiled. No matter how exhausted he was, he always had to check in with you.

“I’m really, really okay, Hunter,” you told him. “There are worse ways to be greeted upon returning home.”

“I at least wanted one conversation with you before I had my way with you,” Hunter murmured in your skin, kissing your shoulder again, this time where he had bitten you, his lips soothing the slight ache there.

“Talking is overrated,” you joked with a shrug, snuggling into his chest. You felt it thrum with a deep chuckle. He knew you loved to hear him talk.

“Tomorrow, we can talk. I have so much to tell you,” he breathed, lips brushing your temple.

You smiled. “Me too. Tomorrow.” You patted his chest gently. “Sleep now, cyare. I know you’re exhausted.”

Hunter hummed, on the cusp of slumber. “Tomorrow.” You felt his body relax. “Love you, cyare,” he mumbled into your hair.

You heard his breathing become deep and even, his chest rising and falling, his heartbeat steady against your palms. You smiled, closing your eyes. “Love you more.”

banner art by @vimse thank you for reading! <3 again, this is my first time writing a full smut scene like this so feedback (delivered kindly) is really appreciated!!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook

TAGLIST FORM

if you're a regular on my tag list but haven't been tagged, it's bc your age isn't in your bio/have said you prefer sfw fics.

[skythealmighty]

man. there are so many object shows out there. I NEED TO CATCH UP ON SO MANY why are the4e so many anyway Exclamation Mark (NOT AB) im killing you. he would get bullied off tumblr

#rocket talk #roc save #NOT THE ANIMATIC BATTLE ONE that ones fine #i mean the one in my header #hes an asshole #why do i keep accidentally hitting the number keys lately

(7 notes)

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

i cant believe my contestants are so pissy over the second challenge still!!!! it was a coherent challenge i think "survive me killing you" is pretty straightforward!!! besides theyre fine now >:/

⏰ timeisatool Follow

Maybe it's becausw you killed them?

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

well thats stupid

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

I KNOW RIGHT!! my old contestants got SO pissy when i killed th3m!! just because theres no recovery... 😒

⏰ timeisatool Follow

You dont have recovery????

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

arent u supposed to be dead

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

well im NOT so

❗ black-and-red Follow

Ugh, I haven't even killed anyone that much and they're still pissy! Honestly... just do the challenges and you'll be fine! I only threatened them..

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

well i thought i killed circle but ig not! and square but nobody else died idk why everuones so afraid of me... whats so wrong w wanting to make a perfect object show?

⏰ timeisatool Follow

Um

🔥 betterheatsflamesman Follow

yeah theres nothing wrong with that! you gotta do what you gotta do for your object show

⏰ timeisatool Follow

😰😰😰😰😰

⏰ timeisatool Follow

I want to leave this group...

#i thought we were all just supposed to be wacky and weird 😰😰 #mom come pick me up im scared...

(34 notes)

🔥🔃 betterheatsflamesman Follow reblogged 🪔 slay-style-queen

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

Hey guys, just managed to get sponsored with my object show idea!!! (No thanks to you Lip Stick lol) wish me luck!! Also go keep an eye out on Village of Objects Official :D

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

what the FUCK

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

oh my god how do you all stay sane actually

4️⃣ four-therecord Follow

we don't! welcome to the club

🪔 slay-style-queen Follow

im never doing this again

#:)

(4,294 notes)

📻 annie-annie-ooh Follow

Who's Animatic?

#It's Your Fridge DJ! #I appreciate all the lovemail and the concern! ❤ #I don't understand some of the asks but thank you anyway!

(725 notes)

🧪🔃 test-tubular Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features

🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow

Have YOU heard of:

🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow

Please stop debating on whether or not this "counts" as an object show, this was requested by an anon. If you want to do that on your own time on your own blog, feel free!

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

SORRY ABOUT THAT SJEHSKEB will move i promise 🙏

anyWAY on another note i miss this showww 😭 i was so intrigued about it but i guess i understand its cancellation... if anyone wants to come up with a rewrite w me hmu my ao3 is in my desc!!!!

⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow

just as long as you clarify its unofficial!! (:

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

its on ao3 ofc its unofficial

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

WAIT A GODDAMN SECON

#Fan we were /on/ an object show and technically famous I'm not sure why you're surprised at this point #Also get off your phone we're at Purgatory Mansion

(11,374 notes)

anonymous asked: hey greeny can you say trans rights for everyone out there

🟢 greenyguy Follow

trans rights AND trans wrongs. even if you like burger king i still support you <3

#burger king sucks ass tho dont do that to urself

(34,193 notes)

💥 fans-fantastic-features asked: im SO sorry for the sudden reply earlier, up until your post i thought hfjone was just some weird wild experimental show?? then again i shouldnt be surprised if happy star themselves is on this goddamn site (also sorry in advance for my friend TT sending you asks about alternate universes. shes a science nerd of all types and needs data or sm) if you want i can tell you what i know about your situation in a private chat, ive done a lot of deep dive analysis posts on my blog too and trust me when i say a LOT of the internet wants to help free you and everyone else you have plenty of help available spotty replies tho im investigating smth

🎒 liam-plecak Follow

I... yeah, I'd like that. Thanks.

(34 notes)

anonymous asked: battery ui is kind of already jailed but still

🔒 your-fav-would-be-jailed Follow

Battery from Ultimate Insanity would be jailed!

🔋 theft-and-battery Follow

Yeah

#Why did someone earlier send in that Walkie Talkie person? #I approve of the Blender submission though #Hate that guy

(12 notes)

🎒🔃 liam-plecak Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features

🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow

cant have shit in this fuckass hotel 😒😒😒 lens just died 😔😔

🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow

#WHAT THE FUCK #DONT JUST DROP SMTH LIKE THAT AND DIP #ARE YOU OKAY?? #ARE YOU TALKING ABT A GAME???

hi! rhanks for the concern! 😁 i am unfortunately not talking about a game lens is actually dead please help me (dms r open 🙏🙏)

#Since I've gotten a lot of followers recently I feel like I should boost this #I'm busy with my own issues but maybe someone else can help?

(5,204 notes)

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

i want my SHOW BACK i want my CO HOSTS BACK i want calculatory DEAD i only MILDLY HATE happy star i dont KNOW WHAT ELSE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT

🥝 gela-not-jelly Follow

🫵 Fanny kinnie

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

who the FUCK is fanny

#im CIRCLE not a goddamn FAN #who even names themselves fanny anyway

(382 notes)

⚪battleforcircle asked: oml spiderman pointing meme

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

you sent me this FIFTEEN TIMES get OUT of my ASKBOX!!!!

📉 storyboard-but-better Follow

why are there two of you...

⚪ fuckingcircles Follow

theres only ONE of me i dont know who this IS!!

⚪battleforcircle Follow

theres three of us just three of us

#idk why either tbh #tumblr just recommended his acc to me one day #he seems fun to annoy tho so ive taken it upon myself to do so #tee hee

(89 notes)

📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow

Hey so why is a known criminal on Tumblr?

📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow

Hello???

[nobodycallsmerae]

still got so much to find out

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader(f)

title:i like it by stray kids (album: ate)

cw: swearing, mentions of drinking/getting drunk

synopsis: chan thought there was something between you both, but when he saw you put your arms around hyunjin's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began questioning the whole situation.

tags: fluff, mutual pining-ish, miscommunication-ish heh, stubid :( and petty chan, minor minho + chan bonding, loong exposition, hwang siblings = real siblings (!!)

links: ao3 | wattpad

note: there were some issues with the povs I faced while writing this, so for the first part, it'll be in 2nd person, while the last 3/4th of the story is in 3rd person. sorry for the confusion !

word count: 2.9k

enjoy !

“I think you need help, man.”

“What’chu talking about, I’m fine.” The man you were basically carrying on one shoulder tried to stand up, tripping over his feet and words.

“See?” He stumbled, standing up on one foot to prove his sobriety. “Are you proud of me now?” He flashed an endearing smile at you. Your face flushed at the sudden eye contact. You covered it with a groan as Chris fell right into your arms again. 

Instead of the quiet evening you had planned, you had never imagined that you'd end up spending your Sunday night at a restaurant watching over eight guys drinking as if it's their last day and telling a very drunk Christopher that you were proud of him for standing up.

You turned around as you heard a click sound behind you, and saw a chuckling Felix clicking pictures of their leader. 

“Aw man,” Jeongin looked over his shoulders. “That has such good blackmail potential.” 

“Or a really cute birthday post.” Felix cackled. 

“Hey, come on now guys, don’t—” Felix turns his screen towards you with a smirk. “—forget to send that picture to me. Anyway, instead of smiling like fools, come here and help me get him in the car.” 

Changbin and Jisung walk towards you, followed by Minho and Seungmin, who were the most sober of the bunch, and helped carry Chan off of your shoulders. 

“Hey, no, wait,” Chris whined as soon as Changbin pulled him off of you, his senses seeming to come back to him. “Let me drop you home, y/n.” 

“Chan,” Your eyes went soft with a smile. “I would love to, but neither of us are sober enough to drive, and I—” 

“She's coming with me, man, not with your drunk ass,” Hyunjin walked over, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Lets get going, y/n. We can't be late.”

As you gave Christopher’s hand a squeeze and walked over towards Hyunjin, it felt as if you had squeezed the life out of Chris. 

Had he misunderstood you this whole time? 

As Chris sat sandwiched between Jisung and Changbin in the backseat, he saw you and Hyunjin get into another car while you were giggling with an arm casually wrapped around his waist. 

As you got into the car, he saw Hyunjin hand you a present. 

Chris thought you and him had something going on; he didn't know what, but he sure felt something. And those feelings were stronger this evening, when each smile he brought out of you made his heart ache and his lips twitch up. 

But was it only him who was feeling that way? 

“You okay, Chris?” Minho called out from the driver's seat, looking over at him with concerned eyes. “I've never seen you drink so much.” 

“Ah, yeah, don't worry about me,” He rubbed his face with a groan, the effect of the alcohol making him tired. He smiled as he felt Changbin and Jisung’s heads fall on his shoulders with a soft thud. “You know how hectic it has been with the new single. I guess I just wanted to let loose for a moment.” 

“I get it,” Minho paused, debating on whether to continue or not. “I just… I hope you're not pushing yourself too much, Chan. We're here to help you if you need… and y/n’s here too. So just, reach out, okay?” 

“Mhm,” Chris smiled. “I will. Thanks, Minho.” 

Usually it would seem weird that they were having a heart to heart after a night-out when one of them was sober, but Chris understood where Minho was coming from. 

It was unusual for Chris to drink, let alone get drunk, so he might think that something was on his mind for him to drink like that. 

But little did Minho know, it wasn't something, but rather someone. 

Chan wasn't even planning on drinking, knowing he had a producing session the next day, but when his stupid friends suggested a game of a shot for a secret, he couldn't help but comply, intoxicated not by the soju, but by the need to learn more, to know more about you.

But as he remembered seeing you wrap an arm around Hyunjin as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Christopher didn't know what to feel. 

The only thing he was sure of now was that no matter how he felt, the feelings of his brother came first; he could never do something that would hurt Hyunjin, or put you in an awkward position. 

Y/N, although a fairly new producer at JYPE, was already popular amongst other artists. She had almost received a celebrity status, when even the public knew a song produced by y/n was sure to top the charts. 

But as a kpop fan since her younger days, for y/n, her job was more like a paid hobby, where she got to meet and collaborate with other artists.

So, when she was proposed to co-produce several songs for Stray Kids’ new album, she jumped at the opportunity; not only because of the group’s popularity, but also because she was a die-hard fan of the group. 

She was obsessed with their music, their  vision and the momentous impact they’d had on artists and fans around the globe— she felt honored that she would be able to leave her mark amongst their talent. 

She was excited to work with them; even while casually greeting them in the halls of the building, she found their energy to be highly contagious. And that feeling remained when she became close friends with the members only after a few weeks of working with them.  

While becoming friends with all the members, y/n couldn't help but want something more with a special member. 

Maybe she did have a tiny crush on him even before they started working together; greeting him in the elevator or bumping into him while getting coffee used to be the highlight of her day. 

But after spending more time together, it wasn't just his extremely handsome face, but he became incredibly attractive to her once she saw the way he treated those around him, his commanding but caring personality and his charming aura. 

Being co-producers, she always had to spend time with him, and looking at him in his element, his passion is what made her look up to him as a fellow artist too. 

Y/n was down bad, but how couldn't she be?

Because the person living rent free in her head was Christopher Bang of all people. 

But what excited her, was the fact that maybe she wasn't the only one feeling that way— 

From asking her to hang out with them during dance practice, to purposefully going on coffee-runs together, or going on late night drives on the guise of dropping her home when both of them knew they had drivers.  

Y/n couldn't help but feel delusional and believe that Chan was doing these small gestures as a way to spend more time with her. 

And maybe. Just maybe, her suspicions were proven right last night, when in a crowded restaurant, it felt like it was just the two of them. 

As the group decided to go out to celebrate, everyone expected Chan to look after them, as always, and stay relatively sober for his session the next day. But contrary to popular belief, when y/n saw him gulp down shot after shot to know more about her, y/n couldn't help but feel special. 

As the other members were immersed in their own conversation, Chris and y/n were in a different world.

They shared their hopes and dreams and desires, and the moment that y/n knew that this moment counted for something, that it was different, is when Chris told her, the most relaxed and genuine she had ever seen him, that “It's nice being just Chris, for once. Thank you for not being bored of Christopher y/n.” 

She knew as a leader, and as a performer in general, how much responsibility Chris had to shoulder on a daily basis. And hearing him say that made y/n feel somewhat proud of herself, for letting him let go for once. 

In the dead of night, when half the city was asleep, she whispered in the softest voice, almost unknowingly, as she helped him walk out of the restaurant. 

“I think I'm in love with you, Chris.” 

But as he stumbled over invisible rocks, y/n felt thankful for drunk Chris because spilling it out like that felt like a mistake. 

But once hearing it out loud, she understood these feelings were here to stay, so she decided she would have a conversation with him once he sobered up. 

But now, roughly an hour had passed of them sitting uncomfortably in the recording booth, and for the life of her, y/n couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Christopher Bahng. 

As she had entered the recording booth an hour ago, she’d felt herself smiling instinctively as she saw Chris sitting on the couch, nervously clutching the hangover medicine in her hands.

“Hey,” Y/n stood in front of him with an uncharacteristically nervous smile. “How are you? Yesterday was wild, right? I brought hangover medicine for you… I wanted to make sure—”  

“Oh, I'm okay.” Chan replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his phone. “Just so you know Changbin and Jisung will be late, so you can probably save it for them, I guess.” 

This was different.

Chris, no matter how busy or preoccupied he was, always made an effort for the other person, may it be the other members or a polite barista. 

The thought hitting her like a pile of rocks, y/n realized what if he had actually heard her confession last night and this was his way of rejecting her? 

But no matter what, they still had to work on the songs together, and y/n thought maybe this was for the best, so that they could still continue working together as if nothing had happened, because no matter what, y/n did not want her own feelings to meddle with Stray Kids’ performance. 

But as an hour had passed with them making little to no progress on the new song, y/n was fed up. 

They usually had such good chemistry, and it felt like their production and arrangement styles merged perfectly, but honestly, she felt like Chris was being a major asshole now. 

Chan was working as if she wasn't even in the room, or when she made a suggestion, he added it without as much as a thought, making her feel as if he was just humouring her. 

Okay, maybe it was hard to work with someone you know has a crush on you, but did he have to act as if he couldn't even stand when your hands brushed together? 

Y/n was hurt, but as a workaholic, she was also frustrated by his closed-off behavior. She was surprised too, because she knew how much Chan valued his work, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way. 

“Okay, man.” Y/n finally snapped, when they'd been replaying the same three second audio clip from the last fifteen minutes. “What's your problem?” 

“What's my problem?” Chan had the audacity to act surprised. Y/n hated how she still found his accent attractive in this situation. “I don't know, maybe you'd like to answer that when you've been the one silently just sitting here s—”

“What else do you expect me to do when you don't even want to acknowledge my presence in the room?” 

“What do—” 

“Okay you know what,” Y/n had to address the elephant in the room, or else they'd be going back and forth the whole day. “I know I fucked up, okay? And I guess you must hate working with me now, but can we just forget about it and act like nothing happened? I swear I won't do anything weird.” 

“Wait a minute, back up;” Chan’s face flushed. “Can you tell me exactly what you're talking about? Did… did something happen last night?” 

“What the hell, man” Y/n wished the ground would swallow her at this point. “You want me to say it aloud? Is this your way of making me more embarrassed than I already am?” 

“No, I—” 

“I confessed, okay? I said it.” She blurted. “And now you're uncomfortable, I understand, but please try to—” 

“You confessed… to me?” 

“Are you dumb? Of course, Christopher, who else?”��

“Wait but,” He didn't know what to feel, happy or distressed. “What about Hyunjin?” 

“Hyunjin? What about him? I—” Y/n was confused, but then her eyes opened wide in realization as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you with Hyunjin?! Shut up, I'm so sorry! He did tell me he was with someone but I never thought… Oh my God, Chris, I never meant to—” 

“What the actual fuck? No?!” Christopher stopped her, unable to hear her talk about this for another moment. “I'm not with Hyunjin, okay? We're literally like brothers. And why aren't you mad… aren't you dating Hyunjin?” 

“Me… and Hyunjin? Ew, no!” Y/n looked like she was about to throw up. “He literally is my brother. Well, my cousin, but still. What the hell, what made you think we were together?” 

“Hold up, you guys are cousins?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean we didn't want to be public about it because people may think I got the job only because of him. Honestly I thought he told you guys, but it may have slipped his mind.

"And I didn't think it was my place to tell you guys, so I guess its kind of like a secret?” She scratched her head. “But what made you think we were together?” 

“Well,” It was Bang Chan’s turn to be embarrassed now. “Last night I saw him give you a present and you both went together to—” 

“Don't even finish that sentence.” She made a mental note to have a talk with Hyunjin and the members and finally tell them about their relationship, otherwise she was going to loose her mind. “It's Ye-ji’s birthday today, remember? Since the three of us are close, Hyunjin and I had planned a little something for her to wish her at midnight. So the present you saw was for Ye-ji, not me.” 

“Oh.” The silence that followed was the most awkward moment of Chris’ life. 

After what felt like eternity, it felt like the ice had finally been broken has they broke out into unfiltered laughter once they met each other's eyes. 

“Wait,” Y/n smirked. “Does that mean you were jealous, Chris?” 

“Whatever,” Chris gave her an endearing smile, the same one from last night. “I was okay? I was jealous, and I'd never felt anything like that before. I just didn't want to put either of you in a difficult position, which now I realize was a pretty stupid move from my side because I guess I could've simply just asked either one of you.” Both of them chuckled. 

Chris gently took y/n’s hands in his as he continued. 

“So, I tried to distance myself from you. But I realized, I just couldn't. We're a great team, and I think it's because we truly understand and know each other, which is a surprise, because I've never felt like this about anything or anyone in a long time. 

“And not only that, you're one of the most talented and amazing people I've had the honour of knowing. Unfortunately, I do not remember what you said last night, so, I'm going to shoot my shot and hope i don't make a fool of myself.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/n. It may be a risk, but you're a risk I'm willing to take. So I want to ask you, y/n, would you please—” 

Before he could finish, Y/n, misty-eyed and overjoyed, reached forward to kiss him, and she felt relieved when she felt him smile against her. 

“I guess that's a yes?” Breathlessly, Chris smiled. 

“Yes, yes, yes… A thousand times yes, Christopher Bang!” Y/n laughed. “I think I'm in love with you, too. You—”  

The two of them jumped in their seats as they heard something fall. As they turned their heads, they saw Changbin and Jisung standing near the door, looking at everything but them. 

“Oh, hey, guys, didn't notice you there!” Jisung said in an extremely high-pitched voice. “How are you?” 

Changbin, the voice of reason for once, smiled knowing. “We were going to say that we're sorry we're late, but I guess you did not really feel our absence.”

Chris knew that smirk— it was that of him winning a bet. “We can complete this song another day if you want.” Changbin said, smacking Jisung on the head for acting so dumb. 

“It's okay guys,” Y/n wanted to die. She knew she was never going to live this down. “We were just waiting for you—” 

“No, you know what, thanks, Binnie.” Chris held y/n’s hand with a smirk as they stood up and walked towards the door. Chris knew they were not going to live this down anyway, so he might as well take this opportunity. “We'll let you know when we'll be free. Don't call us!” 

As Chris and y/n walked out of the room in a fit of laughter, they heard Changbin laugh just as loud. 

“Sweet!” Changbin cackled. “I’m gonna be 50 dollars richer!” 

a/n: honestly i never really thought how hard it would be writing an xreader fic, because at one point i literally started using you as a name instead of a pronoun lol. literally was so much harder and i had actually written a snippet weeks ago before i abandoned it due to writer's block but then ate dropped (go stream y'all !!) and the new era has been living rent free in my head, so that gave me the motivation to finally get back to that and make it what it is today lol.

my first xreader and honestly channie was the best person as my muse ♡ i can only say i may write more hehe

i hope you enjoyed and please lmk what you thought and leave comments in my ask box, on ao3 or the tags !! requests are also welcome ♡

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist <3

[xreaderbooks]

Angelic

Pair: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius doesn't feel himself after his time in Azkaban and you reassure him.

Based off of this request

Warnings: post-azkaban, insecurity, low self-esteem, fluff, comfort

Word Count: 1.6k

Wattpad | AO3

Sirius Black Masterlist | Navigation | HP\Wizarding World Masterlist

Looking at him and the way he transformed back from his animagus form, he looked like a shell of his old self, as if someone had stolen something from him and he didn't know how to ask for it back.

You stood frozen, not sure whether to strangle him into a hug until he was suffocated from your love or wait and see if he would even want you to touch him.

There he was, Sirius Black, on the front steps of the home you had both picked out after graduating from Hogwarts.

"Y/n?" His voice croaked out. "Say something, please."

The only thing that escaped your lips was a sob as tears streamed down, you gave into your inhibitions and ran to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders. He caught you the same way he always had with the same hug you always gave him when you were excited to see him after a whole summer apart, or whenever you passed a test and were overly anxious to tell him.

His arms circled your waist in the same familiar way you had almost forgotten.

"I love you, I believed you, I never stopped believing" You cried into the crook of his shoulder. You needed him to know that. You pushed back all the memories of the conversations and debates you had with Remus and other members of the Order who believed Sirius was guilty.

He gently pulled you away from him, taking you in from the last twelve years he saw you, murmuring as he stroked your tear-stained cheeks "I love you more, darling."

"Come in," You entwined your hands to guide him into your once-shared home, a home he barely had time in. "The place is pretty much the same."

"Your taste hasn't changed," He took in the decorations and furniture of the house.

You let your hand fall from his and nervously fiddled with your fingers as he looked around, "Hope you don't mind."

A half chuckle- half sob escaped from Sirius, "Of course not, love." He swiped his nose with the sleeve of the black and white striped prison robes. "What I do mind is you seeing me in this wretched state, I assume the bath hasn't changed?"

"Same as it's always been, let me grab you a towel and some fresh clothes." You rush off to the bedroom where you had kept Sirius's old clothes in a box and a closet where you store all the extra household items.

You heard the shower running from the thin walls and took a moment to gather your thoughts. He was back, he was not a murderer. He was back and he still loved you. You took a few deep breaths despite your heart still racing at the sight of him.

~~~

Weeks had gone by since he had escaped from Azkaban and waking up next to him in the same bed had not felt real.

Weeks turned to months and life had taken a turn for, what could be considered the best.

What brought you to reality was the nightmares you would coax Sirius out of, something you were used to doing even before Azkaban unfortunately. The only difference was there was nothing you could tell him now that could comfort him.

What did help was the fact that Harry knew the truth now and the reunion between Remus and Sirius had gone well. As amazing as that was, Sirius wasn't himself.

He lacks the flair he used to have; not that you minded, whatever made Sirius happy- made you happy. Whatever made him upset, equally affected you as much. You noticed Sirius has been trying to follow a routine in the same way he used to.

Tried the same hair products he used to use, it ended up with his hair sticking out in odd ways that frustrated him to no end, if he didn't love his long hair so much he would've shaved it all off.

Sirius attempted to style himself the way he once did and your shared room was littered with mountains of his clothes.

The results would put him in a foul mood.

"What's wrong, love?" It was one of Sirius' more difficult days. He didn't communicate his thoughts, he kept it all to himself and stayed moody for the rest of the day until he returned to his normal state of being.

He appeared to be zoned out, lost in thought, leaning on the counter in the kitchen with his arms crossed. He shook his head, "Nothing. Just thinking."

You broke through his arms, your fingers threaded through his hair, and he relinquished his hold to settle his hands on your hips. "Mind if I ask you what you were thinking of?"

He stayed silent for a moment, then two, inhaling a shaky breath.

"Am I as handsome as I once was?"

The question would have made you laugh if it wasn't for the poor-kicked puppy look he had. Sirius was rarely one to be insecure, it had you at a loss for words.

Your eyes scanned his, then the rest of his features. The curve of his naturally dark eyebrows, that matched his raven black hair. The perfectly shaped nose, and lips that you never got tired of tasting. His skin, smooth and the light freckles scattered on his face looked like a constellation.

It was true that he had aged, but as you had always expected, his age didn't take away from his beauty. A decade and a couple of years weren't going to take that from him like he was blessed by a god.

"Sirius, you have been and always will be beautiful to me," You confessed. You kissed both his cheeks, "You're more than beautiful, you're angelic."

You catch his eyes as he ducks his head shyly with a smile creeping onto his lips and give him a small peck.

He runs his hand through his hair and releases a breath while looking at the ceiling to keep the tears from running, "Thank you, love. I just haven't felt like myself since, well, you know. Nothing has felt the same, except for you." He squeezes your hips and brings you in for a tight hug.

"No need to thank me, Siri, I'm just happy you finally told me what was wrong." You kissed the side of his head and enjoyed the warmth of his neck before pulling back. "I'm sorry I don't tell you enough, should've known what was wrong by the constant outfit changes."

He chuckled, and you echoed his laughter. His smile dies slowly and he admires you in a way that has always intimidated you, the weight of his stare is heavy, "I suppose insecurity is the cost of having a goddess as a girlfriend."

His lips crashed onto yours and moved with such a consuming want and need for you. All of his kisses were loving and filled with a combination of emotions but this one took you back.

A nervous giggle escapes you, "Sirius-" You mumble his name against his mouth that continues to pursue yours.

"Yes?" He answered after you were unresponsive. He opened his eyes and stared at you, "I'm being perfectly serious."

"No, I am," You insist placing your hands on his shoulders.

He moved into your neck and trailed kisses down to the crook between your shoulder and neck, "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

You tried your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach that was traveling lower with each suck and bite he gave you. "How about we do something haven't done in a while?"

"A while? Just the other day we-" He appeared puzzled when he pulled his head back.

"Not that!" You shook your head. "Come."

You lead him to the couch and gently push him down to sit, you then go into your bathroom and search through the drawers until you find what you were looking for. Back in the living room, you set down the materials you gathered and turned on the muggle television to whatever was on.

"What are you up to?" Sirius asked.

You pulled out the black nail polish from the pouch you held the paint bottles in and tossed his way with a last-minute 'Catch'.

"We're starting with this."

He lifts a brow, "Starting?"

"I'm helping you get back to feeling more like yourself," You sit on the couch, laying your legs across his lap, and bring his hands to settle atop your knees. "That's only if you want to, I just want to help and if you don't want to then we can find another way, nail polish was just a go-to back then."

You would've continued to ramble if not for him kissing you, being back with Sirius had brought back the little school girl in you that you had lost throughout the war, then again- he's always been able to bring out a different side of you.

"I want to," His voice was quick and encouraging.

"Good," You tapped his nose which made him scrunch it up. As you began coating his nails with a base, you felt a bit of courage to confess something you'd held in during the early years of your relationship. "You know at Hogwarts when we got together, some girls Marlene hung out with told me I wasn't good enough to be with someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

You hummed, brushing on the first coat of the black polish to the first dried base-coated finger. "Handsome, gorgeous, god-like."

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed, "God-like."

"Their words, not mine but looking at you now after all those years, they weren't wrong."

"They were wrong about you," He mumbled, laying his forehead against the side of your head and into your hair. "My perfect, pretty girl."

"And you're wrong about yourself," You took a pause on the painting and stroked his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you."

~~~

a/n: I actually really don't like this, i had a good idea in my head of what i wanted this to look like and over time i guess i losit it? i feel like i could have done a better job if writers block wasn't in the way but i didn't wanna take longer than i already have writing this request. lemme know what you think :)

[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!

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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.”

[genshinluvr]

Attached to the Hips

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You thought you were a clingy lover until these men came into your life. You and the men are attached to the hip, and they will follow you everywhere you go.

Note: Finals week is approaching and I'm debating whether I should write a shorter fic for that week or not. I have essays to type out and over fifty terms to study for Greek and Latin. As someone with terrible memory, I'm going to need to rewrite those terms and go review them over and over until I remember most of it. So, next week's Genshin fic will probably be a mini-fic and the fic I'll be writing during my finals week will probably be around 5k words or less. It depends, really. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔

Word Count: 7.9k

You’re a clingy lover, and you’re not ashamed of being one. Despite being a clingy lover, that doesn’t mean you don’t respect your boyfriends’ boundaries, nor do you cling to them in public like a sticker. You can give them space and not have to be attached to their hips 24/7. Now, you thought you were the clingiest person in the relationship, but these twenty-five men proved you wrong.

The first thing you feel when you wake up in bed is that it’s really hot. Your bedroom is cold, but for some reason, your body feels uncomfortably hot. So you kicked your blanket mountain off your body, watching the blankets roll off your bed. You turn to your side, only to see Childe clinging to you while smiling at you sleepily. Archons, he looks so cute with his bedhead. But why is he in your bedroom?

You stare at Childe and blink at him sleepily. “Childe, why are you in my room?” You ask, voice raspy from the lack of use. 

Childe doesn’t reply and scoots closer to you, pressing his cheek against yours with a sigh of contentment. “Good morning, snookums! I hope you slept well last night! Well, you didn’t need to tell me since you were snoring and drooling all over your pillow,” Childe snickers.

Your face heats up after hearing Childe’s response. Childe reaches over and wipes the stream of semi-dried drool from the corner of your lips and on your cheek. You swat Childe’s hands away from your face before sitting up, bringing the ginger with you. Childe continues to have his arms wrapped around your body, resting his cheek on your head.

“Were you in my room all night? You still have a bedhead,” you say, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

Childe shakes his head. “Not all night! I crawled into your bed in the middle of the night, actually!” Childe replies.

“Yeah, well, you need to let me go so I can go to the bathroom to get ready for the day,” you say, trying to pry Childe’s arm off you.

Childe frowns and shakes his head, tightening his grip around you. After a few minutes of struggling to pry him off, you let your arms fall to your side with a sigh of defeat. Childe grins with victory before resting his head on your shoulders, nuzzling into your neck. You end up brushing your teeth with Childe by your side, his arms wrapping around your waist while his chest is pressing up against your back. 

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth, Childe. You don’t want to walk around the estate with smelly breath, now, do you?” You tease after rinsing your mouth.

Childe quickly releases you from his clutch before covering his mouth and checking his breath. Childe clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks flushing red. You snort and squat to the sink cabinet and pull out an extra toothbrush for Childe to use. Since Childe refuses to leave you alone, you might as well let him use the spare toothbrush. Childe gives you a grateful smile before grabbing the toothpaste to start brushing his teeth.

You weren’t surprised that Childe is clingy when it comes to you. Childe was immediately attached to you by the hips since day one of your being in Teyvat. Plus, he was also the first one to greet you and make you feel welcome. While Childe is brushing his teeth, you take that chance and leave the bathroom to return to your bedroom.

That’s when you see Itto standing there with his hands on his hips with a wide smile on his face. “Good morning, onikabuto booboo bear! I hope you slept well!” Itto says, skipping up to you before throwing his arms around your shoulders and planting a big kiss on your cheek.

You smile and turn your head to kiss his cheek in return while rubbing his back. You release Itto, but the Oni continues to keep his arms around your waist. You sigh and shake your head, fighting back a smile. Right, how could you forget about Itto being the second clingiest person next to Childe? Then again, your twenty-five boyfriends are clingy in their own way, and you’re not complaining one bit. Unless it’s sweltering outside and you and whichever man are sweating, making your skin stick to each other.

“You’re awfully clingy today,” you comment, running your fingers through Itto’s hair.

Itto hums and kisses your cheek again. “I saw that Childe’s room was empty, and I knew he would be with you. So, I decided to come over to check, and I was right!” Itto says, pointing an accusing finger at Childe, who just stepped out of your bathroom.

You playfully roll your eyes and gesture for the two men to follow you downstairs for breakfast. Childe grabs Itto by the hair and pulls Itto off you; Itto yelps in pain and glares at Childe, who smirks in response. You cross your arms over your chest, staring at the two men before you while tapping your foot on the ground. It’s way too early to deal with Childe and Itto fighting over you. You would think you’d get used to it by now, but every day is something new. 

“Boys, please, it’s eight in the morning. Can we please go downstairs and get something to eat for breakfast? I’m hungry,” you sigh.

Childe and Itto quickly fix their composure before standing at your side, looping their arms around yours while glaring at each other over your head. You shake your head and walk out of your bedroom with Itto and Childe by your side.

As you, Childe, and Itto get to the last step on the staircase, you hear one of the men call out from where they’re sitting.

“And there they are! Finally awake and clinging to [Y/N]’s side, as per usual!” Heizou announces dramatically. “Must be nice to wake up to two men already needing attention from [Y/N]. How does it feel, [Y/N]?” Heizou looks at you curiously.

You roll your eyes and unloop your arms from Itto and Childe’s arms. “You know, I would agree, but dealing with their bickering at eight in the morning is something you don’t want to deal with,” you reply, sitting across from Tighnari.

Aether snorts and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Itto and Childe are already clinging to [Y/N] at eight in the morning,” says Aether, cutting his pancakes before shoving the slice of pancake into his mouth. “But for some reason, I am.” 

Childe and Itto shoot glares at one another before parting ways to sit at their respective seats at the dining table. You begin digging into your breakfast, humming with delight the minute food touches your tongue. Cyno reaches over and wipes the corner of your mouth with a cloth napkin, the corners of his lips curving upward.

“You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” Cyno asks, resting his arm on the table.

You nod. “Oh, I am. I have never woken up so hungry before until today.” You reply.

Cyno scoots his chair closer to you while you continue to dig into your food, not realizing the lack of distance between your and Cyno’s seats. However, the other men stopped eating and stared at Cyno. Kaveh clears his throat and casually scoots closer to you, practically sandwiching you between him and Cyno. 

Kaveh notices Al Haitham’s eye twitching at the sight of him sitting close to you. Kaveh smirks and turns to look at you, propping his left arm on the table before tapping you on the shoulder. You hold up your index finger, telling Kaveh to give you a moment. You reach for the cloth napkin and wipe your mouth before looking over in Kaveh’s direction.

“Yes?” You say, swallowing your breakfast with the napkin still covering your lips.

Kaveh smiles at you and strokes your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear after. You stare at Kaveh, confused about what he’s up to. Kaveh leans down and presses a big kiss on your cheek before turning to look at the other men—mainly Al Haitham, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You nudge Kaveh to get his attention. Kaveh looks at you and rests his head on his bicep, giving you the softest smile you’ve seen today. You feel your face turn hot before looking at the plate in front of you. Kaveh reaches for your face, grabs you by the chin, and makes you look at him.

“Do you know how happy you make me?” Kaveh asks, squeezing your chin lightly.

You clear your throat. “I’m surprised you haven’t called me an Abyss mage yet,” you say, grabbing the hand that was squeezing your chin.

Kaveh snorts before interlocking his fingers with yours, giving your hand a squeeze. “You’re the cutest Abyss mage to have existed. I bet if you were to be an Abyss mage, you’d be the fluffiest one of all,” Kaveh says, grinning at you.

Cyno snorts and rolls his eyes. “I would take that as an offense if I were you. Abyss mages are annoying creatures,” Cyno says nonchalantly before taking a sip of his water.

You look at Cyno with your mouth agape before turning to look at Kaveh. “Does that mean I’m as annoying as those Abyss mages?” you ask.

Kaveh makes a ‘so-so’ gesture in response. Your face scrunches up before you pull your hand out from Kaveh’s grasp, continuing to eat your breakfast. Once you finished your breakfast, you got up from your seat to go wash your dishes. When you disappear into the kitchen, Al Haitham starts giving Kaveh an earful while Tighnari tells Cyno off for saying that Abyss mages are annoying creatures.

“I mean, Cyno’s not wrong. The hydro and cryo ones are the most annoying,” Dottore comments, wiping his lips with the cloth napkin.

Tighnari sighs and glares at Dottore. “Even if that’s the case, it’s like Cyno is implying that [Y/N] is as annoying as the Abyss mages,” replies Tighnari, rubbing his temples with a sigh. “You better apologize to [Y/N] later, mister!” Tighnari says, pointing an accusing finger at the Mahamatra.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, while you’re scrubbing the stubborn stains on the plate, you feel someone wrap their arms around your waist. You turn your head to see Thoma standing behind you while smiling at you. You smile at Thoma in return before continuing where you left off.

“This thing is so annoying. I don’t get how you don’t get frustrated with these stains sometimes,” you mutter, scrubbing the dried food spot with vigor. 

Thoma plants a kiss on the side of your neck before reaching for the sponge in your hand. At least, that’s what you assumed Thoma was going to do, but in reality, he places his hand over yours to show you how to properly get the stain off the dish. It wasn’t doing anything. You knew Thoma wanted to hold your hand and be close to you like the others. Not that you’re complaining and are against it, really. But you would prefer Thoma to do it when your hands aren’t submerged in water.

“I love being close to you. Did you know that?” Thoma murmurs against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You lean into Thoma’s touch and turn around to face him. “I didn’t know that, actually! Wanna show me?” You tease, wiping your hand on the sink cloth.

Thoma dries his hand on the rag before tilting your head up and pressing his lips against yours, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. You grab Thoma by the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you to the point where there’s no space between your bodies. The kitchen door creaking open forces you and Thoma apart, looking at the person who’s standing at the kitchen entrance.

“Oh! Hey, Dottore, what are you doing here?” Thoma asks, rubbing the back of his neck as heat rushes to his face.

Dottore narrows his eyes at Thoma before walking to the sink and putting his bowl in the sink. After he puts his bowl into the sink, Dottore turns to look at you and Thoma, feigning a disapproving look while crossing his arms over his chest.

Dottore chuckles. “Don’t you two think it’s a bit too early to be showing that much public display of affection in the kitchen of the estate? Anyone can walk in on you two at any moment aside from myself, of course,” Dottore says, sighing dramatically. 

You snort and give Dottore a cheeky grin. “You wish you were in Thoma’s spot, huh?” You tease, sticking your tongue out at him.

Dottore narrows his eyes at you underneath his mask before squeezing your nose hard. You groan and swat at his hands. You rub your nose and mumble incoherent words to yourself. While you hate to admit it, it was your fault for teasing Dottore that way. Maybe next time, you’ll make it worse for yourself by not letting the man get close to you until he apologizes (after you reluctantly apologize to Dottore for teasing him). Thoma glares at Dottore and walks you out of the kitchen, leaving Dottore behind. 

Usually, after breakfast, you would get ready for school. But since you’re on summer break, you have decided to job shadow your beloved boyfriends! If they’re okay with it, and it seems like most of them are okay with it, aside from the Harbingers. Which is understandable because they don’t want you to witness the things they do as Harbingers, and quite frankly, you’re okay with that!

You’re sitting in Diluc’s office at Dawn Winery, watching the man fill out paperwork and organize his desk. You didn’t have a task assigned by Diluc. The only thing he told you to do is just sit back and relax. Which is something you’re trying to do, but you can’t help but admire the way he looks while he’s working. Diluc’s fiery red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, his coat is draped over his leather seat, and the sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled to his elbows while he’s signing a few documents for the winery. 

A strand of red hair falls over his eyes, causing him to stop writing on the paper. Diluc stares at the strand of hair for a minute before blowing it away from his face. You hug a cushion to your chest and continue to stare at the redhead. The pen scratching against the document stops, and he looks up, the two of you making eye contact. You quickly look away, acting like you weren’t staring at him just a few seconds ago.

Diluc places his pen on the table before getting up from his seat. Your eyes widen as he walks in your direction, completely abandoning the documents that need his attention. Diluc stops before you, his legs brushing against yours as he reaches for your face, grabs you by your chin, and turns your head so you can look at him.

When Diluc turns your head to face his direction, your eyes wander somewhere else. Diluc sighs and bends down so his face can be in front of yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting back the shit-eating grin that is making its way up your face. You feel a sharp pinch on your cheek, making you groan and crack your eyes open to see an unamused Diluc staring down at you. You rub the now throbbing area on your cheek, pouting to yourself. A faint smile appears on Diluc’s face before he caresses your cheek, stroking the jutting lip with his thumb. 

“Why are you pouting at me, hmm?” Diluc murmurs, raising an eyebrow at you.

You move your face out of Diluc’s grasp and rest your head on the cushion you’re holding against your chest. “You know why,” you mumble.

Diluc shakes his head, an amused smile appearing. “No, no, I don’t know why you’re pouting at me,” replies Diluc.

You and Diluc continue to have a staring contest with each other. Diluc keeps looking down at your pouty lips, squinting at them. “If you continue to pout like that, I’m going to kiss your pout away.”

You look at Diluc with wide eyes before pressing your lips in a thin line. Diluc snorts and leans in, pressing his lips against yours. You wanted to resist so bad, but you loved the feeling of Diluc’s lips against yours. Technically, you love feeling your lips press against the other men’s lips too, but Diluc has the softest lips out of all the men. 

You don’t know how long you and Diluc have been kissing, but the kiss was interrupted by the door to Diluc’s office opening. Diluc quickly breaks the kiss and turns to see who has entered the room, only to see that the person stepping into the office is none other than Kaeya. Diluc huffs and gets off the ground, walking back to his desk.

Kaeya chuckles, shaking his head. “My, my, distracted from your duties, are we?” asks Kaeya, raising his eyebrows at Diluc.

You speak up, “Hey! He was taking a much-needed break from work!” 

Kaeya turns to you before strutting over in your direction. Kaeya stops in front of you and pulls you up from your seat. Kaeya strokes your cheek and smiles, kissing your forehead. You blink at Kaeya, then peek over at Diluc, who is silently fuming that his brother ruined the moment between you and him. 

“And what you’re doing is considered a break for Master Diluc?” Kaeya teases, lightly booping your nose.

You nod robotically, making Kaeya chuckle. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around Kaeya’s waist and bury your face into Kaeya’s chest. Kaeya wraps his arms around your shoulders and looks at Diluc from over his shoulders with a smug smirk on his face. Diluc narrows his eyes at Kaeya before walking toward the two of you. 

Your voice is muffled against Kaeya’s chest, “My dream is to be sandwiched between Kaeya Alberich and Diluc Ragnvindr. I call it the fire and ice combo.” You look up at Kaeya, who laughs while cupping your cheeks, backing you up against someone.

You freeze in Kaeya’s arms and slowly tilt your head back as far it can go, only to make eye contact with an unamused upside-down Diluc. You blink at the redhead before quickly turning to look at Diluc, only to make yourself dizzy and stumble a bit. Diluc and Kaeya grasp one of your arms and steadies you.

“Anyway! Uh, Kaeya! What are you doing here at Dawn Winery?” You ask.

Kaeya opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a knock coming from the door. The door cracks open, and Adelinde peeks her head into the room. Diluc takes a step from you before gesturing for Adelinde to enter. She gives Diluc a small smile before entering with a document in her hand. 

Adelinde clears her throat. “Apologies for interrupting your… conversation. You have another document to sign, Master Diluc,” Adelinde says.

Diluc’s ears turn red after hearing Adelinde’s comment. Diluc takes the envelope that contains the document from Adelinde’s hand before dismissing her. After Adelinde exits Diluc’s office, Diluc tosses the envelope on the table before turning to look at you and Kaeya.

Kaeya sighs before turning to you. “I guess this is my cue to leave. I do have some business to tend to at the Knights of Favonious headquarters,” says Kaeya.

You nod. “Okay! I’ll see you later back at the estate!” You say, waving to him as he’s about to leave.

Kaeya leans down and presses a brief kiss on your lips before exiting the office after nodding to Diluc on his way out. After the door closes behind Kaeya, Diluc sits in the leather chair at his desk, running his hands through his hair as he looks at the documents. You walk over to Diluc and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his shoulders while Diluc begins to sign each paper laid out in front of him.

Just when you thought you were going to get the sandwich you wanted, you thought wrong. Maybe next time won’t hurt if there aren’t any distractions or responsibilities that get in the way. You and the men are attached to the hip in many ways. Aside from you clinging to the men or the men clinging to you, they have subtle ways to show affection. Others, not so much— Childe and Itto are clear examples. They’ll proudly show how clingy they are with you by latching themselves to your side. Long story short, these men will try to find ways to be with you if they get the chance.

Venti is hugging your arms while you, Venti, and Zhongli are walking through Liyue Harbor to buy some groceries. It was fifteen minutes after having lunch with the two Archons, and Venti suggested making some Liyuen dish for dinner. You have frequently visited the markets in Liyue with Zhongli so often that people are used to seeing you and Zhongli together. Of course, they didn’t really bat an eye when they saw Venti clinging to you. Seeing you with each man was the norm now since they knew how clingy those men were.

“And that is how I almost died!” Venti concludes, grinning almost too widely for someone who was telling a lengthy story about the time Zhongli threw boulders at him.

Zhongli rolls his eyes, holding onto your hand as the three of you walk around the Harbor, going to the next market for ingredients. “Oh, please, Barbatos. You didn’t almost die,” Zhongli murmurs, his eyes scanning the nearby vendors. 

“Oh? And what happened to me then, blockhead? Care to explain to our precious [Y/N] what happened the day you nearly killed me?” Venti asks, giving Zhongli a teasing smile.

Zhongli lets out a soft ‘ugh’ while ignoring the bard’s teasing smile. You give Zhongli’s hand a squeeze along with a reassuring smile.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to go shopping around Liyue Harbor with Zhongli. The men accompanying you while you’re shopping in different regions vary. Zhongli mainly keeps you company while you shop around the market. Sometimes, Childe would keep you two company, or Xiao would tag along when he had time. 

In Mondstadt, it would be Venti or Albedo that would tag along with you while you’re out buying something at the markets. If those two can’t tag along, then it would be Kaeya and Diluc if Diluc wasn’t busy with paperwork and signing documents. In Inazuma, Thoma is the obvious person that is by your side while you’re out in the City. If Thoma has duties to tend to at the Kamisato Estate, then Itto, Gorou, and Heizou will tag along with you and help you decide what to buy. 

And if you’re in Sumeru, Tighnari, and Kaveh are the ones that will tag along with you. You wouldn’t mind having Al Haitham, and Cyno keep the three of you company, but Kaveh and Al Haitham would bicker with each other while Tighnari is growing gray hairs from Cyno’s constant jokes. 

You look at the apples on the stands, tapping on your chin. “Zhongli, do you think we should buy apples?” You ask, turning to look at Zhongli, only to see that the spot beside you is empty.

You blink and search around for the former Geo Archon, only to no avail. Venti taps your shoulders to grab your attention before pointing at the stand ten feet from where you and Venti are standing. Zhongli’s standing at some booth, chatting with the vendor while looking at the items on display. Oh no. 

You walk away from the fruit stand, dragging Venti with you. “We need to put a bell on Zhongli. We can’t have him wander off without our knowledge,” you say.

“I think you mean a leash because a bell won’t do anything, Windblume,” Venti comments.

The closer you and Venti approached Zhongli and the vendor, the more you dread to see what Zhongli is planning on buying. Zhongli will purchase anything that catches his eye, and he wouldn’t check to see what the price is, no matter what object it is. Then again, that applies to you too, but you’re not as bad as Zhongli.

You tap Zhongli’s shoulders, grabbing the dark brown-haired man’s attention. “Zhongli! I look away for three minutes, and you wandered off this far already?” You ask, propping your hands on your hips.

Zhongli smiles at you and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss on your head. “Apologies, dearest, but this vendor caught my attention. I couldn’t help but admire the items on display,” says Zhongli, gesturing to the small accessories on display. 

You look at the items in front of you, and now that you got a clear look at what Zhongli is looking at, you wonder why these items caught his eyes. They’re beautiful hair sticks made of the finest materials with intricate designs. Zhongli doesn’t wear hair sticks, and neither do you. The only person you can think of that wears hair sticks would be Baizhu. But you don’t think Zhongli is buying it for Baizhu unless he (or Baizhu) states it.

You poke Zhongli. “You’re not going to buy these hair sticks, are you? They look… expensive,” you whisper to Zhongli, making sure the vendor doesn’t hear what you say.

Zhongli hums, his eyes wandering over to a particular hair stick that stood out from the rest. “No worries, dearest. I don’t plan on spending Mora at the market today,” Zhongli reassures you, kissing your head once more.

You nod, satisfied with Zhongli’s response, while Venti eyes Zhongli suspiciously. “Good! Now, let’s return to the last stand because I need your opinions on the apples!” You say, gesturing for Zhongli to follow you and Venti.

You and Venti begin walking to the fruit stand, and Zhongli and the vendor make a quick trade before Zhongli follows you and Venti, pocketing the small gift bag that contains the hair sticks. When you’re dating twenty-five people, there’s no privacy, and you’re never alone. You don’t mind it since you’ve gotten used to it. Imagine being another person and stepping into the living room of the estate, only to see you sitting on the couch with other men crowding around you. You’re sitting on one of the men’s lap. Two men are resting their heads on one of your thighs while the others are sitting around you. It’s definitely a sight to see. 

“This is an interesting sight to walk into.” Pantalone chuckles, leaning against the doorway.

You look up from your book and wave at Pantalone while the men around you stare blankly at Pantalone. Pantalone smiles and waves in return before walking into the living room, eyeing the men sprawling around you. Recently, you and the men have bought new furniture for the living room at the estate, and the new furniture is an oversized couch that can be made into a bed. There are small ottomans that can be pushed together against the sofa, making it into a large bed.  

“So, what are you all up to?” asks Pantalone, kneeling on the edge of the couch.

You hold the book up for Pantalone to see. “I’m reading! The others are keeping me company, and they want me to read to them out loud,” you reply, patting each person’s head.

Dainsleif reaches for your hands and laces his fingers with yours. You give Dainsleif’s hand a squeeze while Dainslief pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. 

“Do you want to continue reading, or do you want to stop for today?” Dainsleif asks, tilting his head back on your thigh. “It’s entirely up to you.”

You hum and lean back against Scaramouche’s chest, closing your eyes while Scaramouche runs his fingers through your hair. You have been sitting on the couch for a few hours now, and it would be nice to get up and stretch your legs. But you’re so comfortable on the couch with Scaramouche running his fingers through your hair while the men are scattered around you on the large sofa.

“I do need to stretch my legs. It’s been a while since I’ve stood up, but….” You trailed off, placing the book on the armrest of the couch and biting the inside of your cheek.

Scaramouche leans to the side to get a better look at your face, raising his eyebrows at you. “But what?” asks Scaramouche, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to get off the comfortable couch and stretch your legs or continue to sit on my lap while I run my  fingers through your hair?” 

You’re starting to feel numb from the waist down. No matter how comfortable you were feeling a few seconds ago, the numbness is starting to kick in, and you need to get up from the couch to walk around to get the blood circulating in your legs. You look at Scaramouche and give him a smile, patting his cheek lightly. 

“I’m getting up from the couch. As much as I would love to stay on the couch, I need blood circulating in my legs because they’re starting to become numb, and my butt is a little sore from sitting on your lap for a while,” you say, slowly getting up from the couch.

Xiao and Kazuha quickly rush to your side when you get off the couch. Both men grab one of your arms and steady you while you stretch your legs to get circulation back into your legs. You give Kazuha and Xiao a grateful smile, kissing their cheeks while continuing to kick your legs forward.

“Maybe you should walk around to get the blood flowing. I don’t think standing up is going to do much,” Kazuha suggests. “After all, not only were you sitting for a while, but there were people lying on your legs too.” 

You nod and gesture for the two men to start walking with you. You’re planning on walking inside the estate, but Xiao and Kazuha have different things in mind. They made you step outside of the estate for fresh air because, like they said, you were cooped up in the estate all day and had yet to leave the mansion.

“Do I have to walk outside of the estate?” You ask, slipping your sandals on while Xiao and Kazuha watch you mumble about wanting to stay indoors. 

Xiao crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to walk outside of the estate, but you need fresh air. What is that saying again?” Xiao asks, stroking his chin, and looks at Kazuha, who shrugs his shoulders.

Baizhu leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “I believe the term is ‘touch grass’?” Baizhu comments, raising his eyebrows. “If that’s the saying you were implying, of course.”

“Ah, yes, that’s what I was implying. Thank you, Doctor Baizhu,” Xiao says, nodding to the green-haired man.

You huff and reach for the door handle of the estate. “I can’t believe I was told to touch some grass by my boyfriends,” you mumble, opening the door and stepping out of the mansion with Xiao and Kazuha at your side. And thus, your journey to touching grass begins with your beloved boyfriends at your side every step of the way. Not only because they wanted to be supportive and be at your side at all times, but it’s also because they didn’t want to be far from you for too long—unless they were working.

A few days later, Lumine invited you to grab some lunch with her in Sumeru, and who were you to turn down the offer? You’re sitting across from Lumine, devouring your food while Lumine stares at you, her mouth agape.

You stop eating, wipe your mouth with the napkin and tilt your head to the side while looking at Lumine quizzically. “Lumine? You’re not going to eat?” You ask.

Lumine snaps out of her thoughts and gives you a small smile. “I, uh, I was distracted…” Lumine trails off, blinking at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean? Was I eating too fast?” You ask, reaching for the butter chicken.

The blonde girl shakes her head, clearing her throat. “No, no, I wasn’t distracted by you eating fast, [Y/N]. But….” Lumine trails off, tapping her fingers on the table.

You raise your eyebrows at Lumine. “But…?” 

Lumine gestures around you, taking a bite of the butter chicken. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you and your boyfriends are attached to the hip,” Lumine comments, licking her lips.

You blink at Lumine before looking around you. You completely forgot that the men tagged along with you to your lunch with Lumine. You’re so used to having the men tag along with you that it didn’t feel out of the ordinary. You look at the men sitting beside you, sipping on their drinks while eating the desserts. You smile at Lumine, rubbing the back of your neck.

“We are, aren’t we? To be honest, I didn’t realize they were with us until you pointed them out,” you say, turning to look at your boyfriends, who are happily snacking on the desserts the waiter would put on the table. 

Lumine blinks at you, grabbing her cup and taking a sip of her coffee. “They’ve been looming over you like those ominous clouds before heavy rain and thunder. I’m surprised you didn’t notice their presence until now,” Lumine says, resting one arm on the table while swirling her cup of coffee with the other. Lumine raises her eyebrows at Aether, who’s busy stuffing his face with Padisarah Pudding. Aether stops what he’s doing and stares back at Lumine, his cheeks stuffed with Padisarah Pudding— reminding you of a chipmunk with cheeks stuffed with nuts. You snicker and grab your napkin, wiping the corner of his lips before patting his head happily. 

Albedo tucks his hair behind his ear before scooping the rose custard with his spoon. “Perhaps [Y/N] didn’t notice our presence because they’re used to us being around them that it didn’t feel out of the ordinary,” Albedo suggests. “We have always left the estate together unless we’re going to work or school.”

Gorou nods in agreement, wrapping his arms around yours and snuggling up against you. You smile and pat Gorou’s head while continuing to eat your butter chicken. Archons, other than the men, you’d love to marry butter chicken if you could. 

You nudge Gorou with your elbow. “Do you want something to eat or snack on?” You ask, gesturing toward the food and desserts laid out on the table. 

Gorou shakes his head, his ears rubbing against your cheek in doing so. “I’m not exactly hungry right now,” replies Gorou, “Although I am thirsty.” Gorou reaches for his drink.

Lumine stares at you and the men before her, her eyes twitching. Every time when she tries to have some alone time with you, the men would always be with you. If it’s not all of the men, it’ll be some of the men tagging along with you. She can never hang out with you in peace without at least one or two men attached to your hips. It’s cute! Buuuuut as your friend, it does get annoying. Especially when one of the men that are attached to your hips is her very own twin brother. 

Ayato chuckles, leaning back in his seat while gazing at Lumine with an amused look on his face. Lumine looks like she wanted to punch them all. “What’s bothering you, Lumine?” asks Ayato, raising an eyebrow at the blonde girl in front of you. 

Lumine huffs, giving the Kamisato heir a fake smile. “Oh, it’s nothing, Lord Ayato! I was just hoping I would get some alone time with [Y/N]. You know, my best friend?” Lumine replies, narrowing her eyes at the twenty-five men before her.

Ayato lets out a thoughtful hum. “Well, perhaps next time you can spend time with [Y/N] while we’re at work! [Y/N] does get lonely when we’re tending our duties in our respective regions while they’re on their break from the Akademiya,” replies Ayato.

You nod while patting Gorou’s head with your unoccupied hand. You do get lonely sometimes when you’re not at the Akademiya while the men are at work. Sometimes they let you tag along, but most of the time, you don’t tag along because you know you’re a distraction. Imagine sitting inside the Grand Sage’s office while Al Haitham is doing his paperwork at the desk, and the next thing you know, your back is pressing against the bookshelves while making out with Al Haitham. That has happened more than once, and because the two of you were nearly caught, Al Haitham hesitantly concludes that this is the last time you’ll be at his side while he’s working. 

Capitano flicks his hair over his shoulders. “I don’t think it’ll be possible for you to get some alone time with [Y/N]. While most of us work in the mornings, some of us come home early to spend time with [Y/N],” replies Capitano.

Lumine raises her eyebrows at Capitano. “You guys leave work early just to come home for [Y/N]?” Lumine asks.

You look at Lumine with your mouth wide open in shock. “Should I feel offended right now?” You ask, looking at the men for confirmation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lumine laughs and waves her hands in front of her. “Wait, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way! What I meant is…. Do you guys really leave work early to see [Y/N]? It’s not a bad thing. I’m just curious!” Lumine says, propping her arms on the table.

Al Haitham nods. “Of course! I always look forward to coming home to seeing [Y/N]’s face,” Al Haitham says, looking at you with a smile. “Especially after a long day at the Akademiya dealing with the scholars.” 

You feel yourself blush at Al Haitham’s comment, playfully covering your face with your hands. Pierro rubs your head affectionately with a tiny smile. Who knew someone like you could make someone as intimidating as Pierro soft. Such a common yet cheesy trope. 

“Make sure to finish your food. You haven’t eaten anything today,” Pierro reminds you.

You pucker your lips and nod, continuing to eat your butter chicken while the men converse with each other, and Lumine taps her fingers on the wooden table. Lumine sighs and leans in her seat, tilting her head back.

“I hate how you guys are so cute and soft on [Y/N]. Although some of you are little shitheads to them that they would rant to me about how much of a shithead some of you are,” Lumine says, sitting up and staring directly at Scaramouche to let him know she’s talking about him.

Scaramouche glowers at the blonde girl, clenching his hands into tight fists. You laugh nervously and pat Scaramouche’s head while giving Lumine a pleading look. Lumine huffs and looks away, snatching the Padisarah Pudding from Aether before scooping the pudding with her spoon. Aether stares at Lumine with his mouth agape.

“Hey! It’s rude to take people’s food and desserts, you know! Where are your manners!?” Aether exclaims, glaring at his twin sister, who brushes off his question.

You wave the waiter over to order another Padisarah Pudding for Aether to eat while Aether silently sulks as Lumine continues to eat the rest of the pudding. Whoever is paying the bills, you’re hoping the amount of food on the table isn’t going to hurt their wallet. Unless everyone ends up splitting the bills and each person chips into paying the bill.

A few days later, Ningguang invited you to the Jade Chamber like how Lumine invited you for lunch in Sumeru. After all, it has been a long time since you and Ningguang have spoken to each other, and it’s a perfect time to catch up with each other. When Ningguang sent you an invitation to the Jade Chamber, Ningguang didn’t think much about it. She invited you to the Jade Chamber, and the two of you will catch up with each other while having breakfast before the both of you part ways to do your own things. Ningguang will continue her duties as the Tianquan of the Qixing while you’re doing whatever it is that you usually do.

Ningguang is sitting at the dining table, reading through the paperwork she brought with her to the table. While she was supposed to take a temporary break to have breakfast with you, there are still things Ningguang needs to skim over before breakfast. Ningguang looks up to see Baishi standing at the entrance of the dining room.

“Lady Ningguang, your guests are here for breakfast. They will be heading down momentarily,” says Baishi.

Ningguang smiles at Baishi and nods, dismissing her assistant. You were right on time. Ningguang gathers her paperwork and puts them in an envelope before getting up to place them elsewhere before you’re escorted to the dining room by her other assistants. Ningguang looks up when she hears a knock.

You peek into the room and smile at the Tianquan. Ningguang smiles and gestures for you to enter before turning her back to you to put her things away. Ningguang clears her throat, closing the cabinet with her back toward you.

“Good morning, [Y/N]. It’s great to see you again! I hope your journey to the Jade Chamber went smoothly,” says Ningguang.

“Good morning, Lady Ningguang! The journey to the Jade Chamber went well! Although the sight of the Jade Chamber never ceases to take my breath away,” you reply, sitting down at the dining table.

Ningguang smiles. “That’s great to hear! And please, [Y/N], I understand you’re at the Jade Chamber, but just call me Ningguang. No need for formalities!” Ningguang turns around and stops in her spot, looking at you with surprise. “Oh! I didn’t think you were bringing guests as well, [Y/N].”

Behind you stands twenty-five men— the same twenty-five men you’re in a happy relationship with. You give Ningguang a blank stare before holding up the invitation she sent out to you not long ago. Ningguang walks to the dining table and sits at the end of the dining table, crossing her leg over the other before gesturing for the servants to come over.

You clear your throat. “Lady Ningguang— I mean, Ningguang, sorry, it says ‘[Y/N] and friends’ on the invitation. I assumed you invited me and the men for breakfast,” you say shyly.

Ningguang stares at you with confusion before she holds her hand out in front of her. You get up from your seat, ready to hand the invitation to Ningguang, but Zhongli gestures for you to sit down. You reluctantly sit, letting Zhongli take the letter from your hands and give it to Venti. Venti walks to the Tianquan, handing her the invitation. Ningguang skims through the invitation, and lo and behold, you’re correct. 

Ningguang chuckles, putting the invitation on the table in front of her. “Oh, would you look at that? It seems like I mistakenly invited your boyfriends to tag along with us for our breakfast,” Ningguang says, leaning back in her seat.

Heizou clears his throat. “Does that mean we’re being uninvited?” Heizou asks, looking at the others awkwardly.

Childe clears his throat, shaking his head. “I hope not because that would be awkward,” murmurs Childe.

Ningguang chuckles and shakes her head. “No, no, I will not be uninviting you all after my mistake. Please, sit down, and breakfast will be out shortly,” says Ningguang.

The men start sitting at empty seats while the servants at the Jade Chamber bring out extra seats for the others that are still standing. Ningguang passes the invitation back to you while watching the men converse with each other around you and her. 

A few minutes later, breakfast was served, and everyone started digging into their breakfast. Usually, at the Jade Chamber, breakfast has always been silent for Ningguang. And since she has invited you over for breakfast, breakfast has been lively, with many conversations going on between each person.

“So, [Y/N], please tell me what you’ve been up to since our last meeting,” Ningguang says, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.

You reach for the cup of water, take a sip, and hum thoughtfully. “Well, recently, I have completed my third year at the Akademiya, and I am now officially on summer break. While I can take summer courses as well and graduate from the Akademiya early, I wanted to take a break for the summer because it’s been stressful. I need a break,” You reply, scooping up the eggs with your spoon.

Ningguang nods, tapping her finger on the table. “I see! And how is your relationship with your lovers? Are they treating you well?” Ningguang asks, raising her eyebrows at you and the men before her.

You blush and nod. “Our relationship is going smoothly. I couldn’t be any happier, and all of them make me happy and are the reason why I was able to be where I am today,” you reply.

“Aw! Onikabuto booboo bear!” Itto gushes, looking over at you with puppy dog eyes and a pout, his cheeks almost as red as his horns.

Ningguang looks at Itto with amusement. “An interesting pet name, I see,” Ningguang chuckles. “I was wondering something….” Ningguang trails off, eyeing you and the twenty-five men before  her.

“And what would that be, Lady Ningguang? I’m sure [Y/N] and the rest of us will try to answer your pressing questions,” replies Kazuha, smiling at the Tianquan.

Ningguang smiles at Kazuha, lifting her cup to her lips. Everyone goes silent and looks at the Tianquan curiously, waiting for her to reply. Ningguang takes a long sip from her cup before setting the cup on the table. Ningguang brushes her hair off her shoulders and looks at the twenty-five men and then at you, a small smirk appearing on her face while her eyes shine with mischief. 

“I was wondering if I’ll be receiving a wedding invitation soon. I and along with other people, have seen how attached to the hip you all are. Can I expect a wedding invitation soon?” Ningguang asks nonchalantly.

You blink at Ningguang before snickering. “I don’t know, Ningguang! Boys, should Lady Ningguang expect a wedding invitation soon?” You ask, smirking at the twenty-five men.

“Soon, but that will be a surprise for both you and Lady Ningguang,” says Ayato, smiling behind his cup of tea. 

The twenty-four men nod in agreement to Ayato’s comment while you stare at Ayato with your mouth agape. 

“What, wait? Are you implying that all of you have been planning on proposing to me—”

“Whaaaaaat? Who said that?!” Thoma interrupts you, sliding a plate of pancakes over to you with a fake smile. 

Tighnari clears his throat. “You should finish your breakfast, [Y/N]. I’m sure the Tianquan has important business to tend to after breakfast. We mustn’t keep her any longer!” says Tighnari.

You pout and shove slices of pancakes into your mouth while sulking over the men cutting off your question. It looks like they do plan on it but is unsure of when they’ll make it happen. 

Note: And finally, a somewhat long Genshin fic for this week! >:3 I might make a spin-off of the Genshin x HSR crossover I posted not long ago! It would be for either this upcoming week or during my finals week, but I'm not entirely sure yet 🤔 I might reopen my discord server in the summer. Might. I'm not 100% sure about it yet and will be discussing it with my mods before I make the full decision. Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[veronae-buddie]

A Few Lines Friday

(It's getting kinda late on Saturday where I am, but what the hell). Tagged by @queerweewoo!! 🥰

This is from an unshared story that I keep debating whether or not to post. I finished it I think last year? If enough folks enjoy this snippet may you can convince me to post the whole thing on my AO3.

Just Chris writing fanfic about Buddie. 🙃

Mx Pringley smiled again, and waved one hand in a friendly, understanding gesture. “I realise it’s exciting when you’re a new family and I don’t want to stifle Christipher’s enthusiasm, but I do think we need to come up with a way to ensure he correctly completes his assignments. Writing about your relationship just doesn’t fit as creative writing.” “Yeah,” Buck said slowly. “See, the thing is … we’re not a couple and we don’t live together.” The teacher’s face froze, then blanched and crumpled into a series of confused lines. “I don’t understand. He’s not writing about your home life?” “He is not writing about it accurately,” Eddie said, gazing back down at the assignment in his hand. “What he’s writing is definitely completely from his imagination.” Mx Pringley looked mortified. “I’m so sorry,” they said. “It’s just … it seemed so real, and I see both of you regularly, dropping him off, collecting him. I assumed…” “That we’re a couple,” Buck said, and Eddie, uncharacteristically, could not read his tone. He could have meant absolutely anything or nothing at all with the simple response. “Honestly, I thought you were married,” Mx Pringley said. “I’ve thought as much since I first started teaching Chris. I’m very sorry, what a terrible assumption to have made.” “I wouldn’t say it’s terrible,” Buck said. His voice lowered a little. “Just … kinda inaccurate.” “Mm,” Eddie hummed in agreement, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Yep. That.” “That,” Buck echoed.

Tagging:

@shortsighted-owl @disasterbuck @serensational @blue-winged-boy @emotionallyencumbered

@gnoeltop @inell @verdimundi @darkrose6578 @littleblackraincloudofcourse

@deliriousbean @idealuk @oldfangirl81 @ronordmann @shealwaysreads

@queenofthesydrianites @marvelgirl9326 @graendoll

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

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

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

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

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[oceangirl24]

I'll admit i was very angry and hurt that i was on your block list until i read your user profile. sorry you got bullied and harassed by this person. now i'm kinda of nervous of who she is because i don't think i could take 16 months of bullying.

I debated overnight if I should answer this. I am going to respond so that my readers understand what's been going on.

This ask is very typical of the type of thing the person who harassed me, and plagiarized Autumn in Philadelphia does. Since she found out about the link to the report, she has sent readers and has impersonated readers to get the link to that report which details not just the plagiarism but also her harassment.

I have had mutual readers gain my trust, participate in my BMW discord server, and pretend to be supportive through this ordeal all while relaying information to her.

She has also used her readers from other fandoms to try to do the same.

This is why I preemptively block readers who gush over her or indicate that they are in private communication with her (all of this is public information on her stories that I found while compiling my report).

Why is this ask typical of her methods to gain access to me and the report?

There is no indication to which user profile this information is on as those of you who follow me know I post on three sites.

I would think if this ask was by a legit reader and not by her or one of her friends (she is blocked on every single site I know we share as are any associates of hers that I'm aware of) I would think the reader would want me to know who they are so I can directly address them and the site they are on.

Which I would do privately.

The fact that immediate concern is about who she is also bothers me. I would assume once I named the person, they would want proof in the form of the link to the report.

That will not happen.

If this ask is from a legitimate reader or follower, then I really am sorry you've been caught in this.

To be clear: I am not upset with anyone who follows her or interacts with her works. This issue should have stayed between us but she chose to bring others into it and use them.

Even if you have been a part of this with her, I'm honestly not upset with you. I know how manipulative she is. I'm sure you thought you were helping a very sweet loving Christian writer obssessed with Jon and Shawn (aren't most of us obssessed?).

I fell for it myself. Hard.

I care about all of my readers very much, but it has come to the point where I have to protect myself.

If this is not a legitimate ask and you are doing this on her behalf or she's gotten another account, then we now stand close to 20 months of harassment.

To my readers, you know where to find me and how to interact with me that is not AO3.

I thank you for sticking with me through all of this and for supporting AiP, whether you comment or simply just read as I post.

I appreciate you more than I can say.

Aria

[delopsia]

Silver & Gold | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Bob's in deep internal debate, mentions of wedding planning, setting up a Christmas tree (no religious themes included, we're doing it for the ✨vibes✨), domestic fluff, protective Rhett if you squint, usage of a ribbon for light bondage purposes, cunnilingus, hand jobs, and thigh fucking. Brief Summary: Bob's having a crisis over whether he wants a silver or gold wedding ring. All you and Rhett want to do is set up the new Christmas tree. Shenanigans on the couch involving a ribbon ensue.

There goes that damn snowman again. Moving across the screen in all of its vintage, stop-motion glory, strumming his banjo, singing that infuriating song about silver and gold. Like it's so simple. Like you just get to up and have both. All willy-nilly, fully embracing the concept of childish indecision, ignoring the constraints of society, and normalization of picking only one.

...or maybe Bobby has simply fallen into the curse of overthinking. 

It shouldn't be that hard. Silver or gold? It's simple until he's once again struck with the fact that he will wear this ring for the rest of his life. He had such an easy time picking metals for you and Rhett; he knew your favorites inside and out. 

So why can't he make a decision for himself, the person he should arguably know the best?

"You're lookin' at that phone awful hard," Rhett grumbles from his left. Snug against the naked mattress, jeans clinging to his hips, tattered cowboy hat resting atop his belly. An offhandedly placed thing that both adds to his rugged, cowboy glory and conceals the softness he's acquired, hard muscle a little squishier now. Thicker.

Healthier.

"Like you haven't had your nose in that notebook all month," there's a pop in Bob's neck as he tilts his head, muscle, and bone protesting movement after being still for so long. "What are you working on, anyhow?" 

Rhett's mouth closes, teeth audibly clattering together. Soft blue eyes darting up to the ceiling, "It's nothin'."

Those furrowed eyebrows suggest otherwise, but in the back of his mind, Bobby supposes he'll leave it there. Rhett'll talk about it when he's ready. It doesn't alleviate the genuine curiosity that has been brewing ever since that notebook appeared last month, but alas.

Door hinges squeal. Bare feet padding across the floor, a bundle of sheets concealing the face of the third person in the room. But he recognizes those arms as well as he does the ring on that dainty little finger—perfection, in your favorite metal and all.

"I thought one of you was gonna fix the door?" You chirp, dropping the sheets onto the bed in an unceremonious heap. Pillow cases and a stowaway face cloth spilling out, still warm from the dryer. 

Rhett's eyes dart to meet with Bob's. Who's plan was that, anyway? 

"I'll take a look at it in a minute," Bob's thumb blindly feels its way to the power button of his phone. Turning the screen off before he can be caught staring at rings for the umpteenth time this week. 

But even though he's no longer staring mindlessly at his phone, those little rings sit in the forefront of his mind. Burned into his eyes, as he helps pull the sheets onto the bed. Silver and gold, and a make-believe third option, rose gold. All of them menacing with their ridiculously high numbers; within a reasonable price range, but still strange to think about. That much money for a uniquely shaped hunk of metal.

"Bobby."

Whatever happened to simpler traditions? A fancy rock would do him much nicer. Free of their metal confines and special in their own natural way, unhindered by the standards of man and artificially constructed value. Blue lace agate would quite suit him, or a nice geode, picked out with the vague guide of what felt right, then split into three. 

"Bob?"

What ever happened to simplicity? Marriage sounded awfully simple as a child. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? Who can even settle on just one flavor for cake, and who the hell decided that more than two flavors were too many? Why can't there be multiple small cakes that each suit them, rather than fighting to even out clashing styles? Why must there only be one big cake?

"Robert Benjamin Floyd!" 

"What?" Lifting his head, not quite expecting to find you and Rhett staring back at him. Rhett's hand is still outstretched, offering up a corner of the comforter. "Oh."

"Thought we'd really lost ya this time," Rhett's chuckling, a softened tease that he's uttered three times today. A newly formed habit, triggered every time Bob's mind slips down the slippery slope of what-ifs. 

Your eyes narrow a little suspiciously; always have been the one to catch on to his internal stresses before Rhett does, or anyone else, really. The voice in the back of his head openly wonders what triggers the alarm bells, if it's the spacing out in thought or some minute shift in his expression. 

For a couple of hours, he's able to forget about the concept of wedding rings entirely. Preoccupied with tackling the task of fixing the squeaky doors that were supposed to have been repaired before the house was sold to the three of you. Jumping from that and straight to dinner, bustling about the kitchen, gingerly guiding Rhett's wary hands in a feeble attempt to teach him how to knead dough. 

Then there are the dishes to be cleaned, flour that needs to be ruffled out of a cowboy's hair, and the movie you three agreed to watch under the assumption that someone else had one picked out. As it panned out, nobody had a single title lined up, and it fell back on Rhett's number one Christmas default.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

In fact, Bobby doesn't catch himself thinking about the rings for the entire night. Until two tiny rings clank against the bedside table as you and Rhett remove them for the night.

Will his ring sit on that table, too? 

"You're thinking again," he doesn't remember when you got into bed, but you're right here next to him. Pawing at your nose with the side of your hand after an itch that seems to have been bugging you all afternoon. 

The pains of getting dusty Christmas decor out.

"I'm always thinking," he murmurs, blindly reaching out to curl a hand around your cheek. A daunting task without his glasses. Can see just enough of your face to know where all of your important features lie, but the finer details have gone blurry. Left with no choice but to move based on the terrain of your body, roaming up the soft skin of your cheekbone and up the hill of your nose. 

There's movement from behind his back. The weight of a cowboy settling down, throwing a heavy arm around Bobby's waist, as he squirms closer. "Ain't we s'posed to be always thinkin'?" 

Your eyes roll so hard that Bob worries they'll get stuck in the back of your head. "Something like that."

Rhett hums, the soft whiskers of unshaven scruff tickling Bob's shoulder, his head perfectly snug in the cap between shoulder and neck. In the very place he will stay for the rest of the night until Bob inevitably pries himself free come morning.

For now, though, he's not going anywhere. Making it so, so easy for you to snuggle in, your legs tangling with his and Rhett's, just close enough to steal some of their body heat but not enough to melt. A comfort that has taken you months to perfect and only works when Bob's body is there to block Rhett's burning velcro hands. 

But you do take the liberty of blindly stroking your cowboy's arm beneath the covers, soft ups and downs that trace an exposed vein until you're certain he's smiling. 

Sleep comes early, but then again, it always does when all three of you are here. Free of life responsibilities and the incessant call of the Navy, determined to take your favorite backseater away. Dreams burn a little sweeter when the three of you are crammed up against each other, even with all the space granted by this oversized Alaskan king mattress.

You're caught between the edges of sleep when you feel Bobby's hand against your cheek. Gingerly stroking something free of your skin, an eyelash, you suppose. A movement that sealed with a soft kiss, like it'll keep anything else from disturbing you.

Rhett whines. Bob shifts. Audibly giving him a kiss, too. Always keeping things equal.

It feels like your eyes are only closed for a couple of seconds. One moment, Bob is sliding his arm over your waist, and the next, you're snug as a bug in his arms, squinting against a bright beam of light. Aren't quite sure what woke you, but you're more than content to sleep a little bit longer. Squirming closer, readjusting your head against the pillow.

Thump thump thump.

One eye opens. 

Thump thump thump.

Is someone at the door?

You don't have a clue who it could be. Nobody mentioned coming over for a visit, and you're more than certain nobody would invite themselves over without asking first. Not after you've made it clear that this weekend is reserved for setting up the—

shit.

The Christmas tree is here.

Your feet hit the ground before you can even comprehend what you're doing. Stepping into the pajama shorts you left on the floor as you scurry out of the bedroom. A slow-motion race that you're hardly awake for, darting down the stairs, through the living room, and past the kitchen.

The front door opens so quickly that the delivery driver jumps. Caught halfway off of your porch, ready to head back to his truck and mark it to redeliver another day. 

 You can feel his eyes raking across your body as you sign the little box on his tablet, but you're quite frankly not awake enough to find the words to do something about it. Sleepily resting against the door frame as he begins to head back to his truck, chirping that he'll even carry the box into the house for you. 

His smile drops before he's finished turning around. 

Rhett. 

Forearms crossed over his chest, a protective, looming shadow that settles up behind you. His palm bracing against the frame next to your head, scruff tickling as he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. 

"I'm glad you heard 'em," he grumbles, voice still at that deliciously low tone, rough with sleep and unspoken perfection, "'cause I sure didn't."

"That's because you could sleep through the rapture," you're speaking through a yawn, halfway into leaning against him when the driver comes back around the corner, oversized tree box in tow. 

He leaves it right on the doorstep. 

Evidently, carrying boxes into the house is a courtesy reserved for the single-folk. Yet, you can't complain too much because now you get to watch Rhett's biceps bulge as he lifts the box. A sight that could damn near make you drool this early in the morning. It's almost unfortunate that he doesn't have to carry it further. Is it too late to request to move the tree upstairs?

The box hits the ground gently, right by Rhett's feet; you wonder if he's realized that he only has one sock on. 

Based on how he's hardly got his eyes open, you're beginning to wonder if he's even awake. His jaw pops as he opens his mouth, "'Y reckon we should wake up Robby?" 

"He'll wake up soon enough," though you're the only one speaking, you're fairly certain that both of you are sharing the same thought.

Bob's always been quiet, keeping to himself on most occasions, but the silence that's overtaken him as of late isn't the kind you've come to know and love. His eyes going unfocused when he thinks you're not paying attention, wandering off into his own sort of world. There are no rules defining when it may happen: in the grocery store, in the middle of a movie, hell, he's done it in the middle of a conversation. 

Just like he did it last night, with making the bed.

Surely, it can't be second thoughts about this whole wedding thing. No, that wouldn't make sense; he's the one who proposed. 

You'll have to worry about it some other time; him, his thoughts, and Rhett's curious notebook be damned, there's a Christmas tree that needs to be set up, fluffed, and decorated.

A very big tree. Ten feet sounds a lot smaller on the screen. 

"We either get one too big," Rhett's eyes flick over to the tiny tree sitting on your left. Scrawny, hardly two and a half feet tall, and happens to be last year's lesson about reading the dimensions, "or too small."

Your head tilts up. Straining to get a look at the top, still crooked from its time spent crammed in the box. "Do we still have them ornaments in the garage?"

Rhett's sigh echoes. "We're 'bout to find out." 

Locating the ornaments is the easiest part; they're still sitting in a neat stack on a shelf, stacks, and stacks of unopened bulbs and a box of garland—silver, gold, fake popcorn,, all tangled with the neverending red ribbon and faux pine that decorated the banister last year. It's a lot, but it felt like so much more when it was just a memory. 

"Where did the silver come from?" You don't remember those making their way onto the list of ornament colors, but unless your eyes are playing tricks on you, those on the bottom right are certainly silver.

In an instant, Rhett's face drops. "Was I not s'posed to buy silver?" 

"We were only doing red, pink and gold, remember?" The color list Bobby wrote out last year is still taped to the box of ornaments you're holding. A long ranking of colors, all crossed out until it left you with three. Silver never even made it onto the list. 

Rhett's eyes dart away, suddenly too embarrassed to look down at the offending color of bulbs he's collected in his arms. "Oh." 

"Did you..." you're still connecting the dots as you speak, eyes flickering between Rhett's fading smile and the plastic decorations, "want silver?" 

Wordless, he nods. 

Okay. Silver it is. But as you go to put your armload of gold decor back, his frown only deepens, like that's not what he was expecting in the slightest. 

"Why can't we do both?" He asks, brows furrowing.

You don't get what he's on about. "Silver and gold?" 

His head tilts to the side, and you can almost see the puppy ears flopping with the movement. All big blue eyes and pure confusion. "Ain't they s'posed to go together?"

"What makes you think that?" Maybe it's the sleep still clouding your mind that's making it so difficult to understand what he's on about. 

"They got that song," he's nodding in the direction of the living room, like that'll help him explain, "in that Rudolph movie."

So it's a Burl Ives song that gets a fourth color added to the tree—red, pink, silver, and gold. 

Two dozen bulbs were perfect for the strangled excuse of a Christmas tree that you had last year. But with every bulb that you take from Rhett's hands, curling its brand-new hook into an artificial branch, you begin to wonder if there are even enough. The boxes of red disappear quicker than planned. Then come the pink, and now you're grabbing for the silver and soon the gold. 

And it's still not enough. This tree is so large that it swallows up every ornament you hang from its branches. The massive gaps between bulbs are impossible to ignore, even from across the room. 

"Y' think puttin' the garlands on will make it a little less...?" Rhett doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already get the picture. 

"It can't hurt?" What's the worst that can happen, you make the tree look a little less baren? 

Though it's easier said than done. 

The bottom half of the tree is relatively simple: passing the garland back and forth, trying your best to keep previously placed bulbs from dropping to the floor. They fall regardless. One after the other, clanking across the floor and rolling every which way. 

Then comes the middle portion, and suddenly, you're standing on the tips of your toes. Have long since given up on caring about what being knocked off, the muscles in the back of your neck straining to keep looking at what you're doing. Then comes the top of the tree, and neither of you can be bugged to even begin to try that without a second ladder. Instead reaching for the silver garland, beginning to wrap it in the opposite direction of the gold. 

"Getting festive without me, huh?" 

That isn't Rhett's voice. 

And it certainly wasn't yours.

"G' mornin'," Rhett's smiling at the half-awake figure standing in the threshold. 

Bobby's eyes aren't even halfway open, leaning his weight up against the wall. His sleepy grin doing nothing to distract from the short hair sticking in every direction, cheek still imprinted from a fold in the sheets. 

He's heard Rhett. You know he has because his eyes dart right to him. But he doesn't react. Staring aimlessly at the shimmering tinsel in Rhett's hands, eyes seeming to conceal every thought in the world and nothing at all. 

Right as you're about to call his name, his mouth opens. 

"What if we got rings in both metals?"

Your hands freeze. "I'm sorry?" 

"I mean—" His eyelashes are fluttering, pale pink tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. "Rings in silver and gold."

"You fixin' to put another ring on us, Robby?" Rhett's quicker to catch on than you are, thin lips twisted into a wild grin. Slowly spreading across his cheeks until his eyes curl with it. 

Your attention darts back to the tinsel in your hands, silver overlapping gold, then to the thin golden band clinging to Rhett's ring finger. Your own is still bare, the ring sitting safely in its dish on the bedside table. Forgotten again. 

Nobody ever talks about how hard it is to work up the habit of keeping a piece of jewelry on.

Bob doesn't realize it, but his thumb is idly stroking his empty ring finger. Not yet brandished with jewelry like you and Rhett because he hasn't even answered your question about what metal he prefers for his ring—

"Is that what you've been thinking all this time?" You blurt, hardly able to fight the urge to spring to your feet. 

He doesn't need to even open his mouth. You know you've gotten your answer the moment his face turns a brilliant shade of ruby. Socked foot kicking at the floor, suddenly unable to look at you or Rhett any longer. 

"I didn't..." his face only seeming to grow redder by the second, as he shakes his head back and forth, "you..."

You're so fortunate that this isn't your first speechless rodeo with Bobby. Have seen him fight to translate thoughts into words so many times that you have already put together what he's trying to say. 

And you've only got a half second to realize that Rhett is bolting across the room before your ears are being met with an earth-shattering thunk. The house rattles as Rhett all but tackles Bobby to the floor, with no regard for the fragile decor sprinkled about around them. 

Bob's feet are scrambling for purchase on the hardwood, socks giving him nothing but a smooth glide as he squirms beneath Rhett, squealing something you can't interpret. His big hands clutching Rhett's biceps, knuckles whitening as he tries to shove him off. But Rhett's got the upper hand, downright smothering with his weight. 

"That's what you've been on about?" Rhett's shout is broken apart by his own giggles, knees thumping against the floor as he tries to straddle the wriggling hips below him. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Bobby's still kicking up a fight, hips bucking up hard enough to lift Rhett with it, if only for a second. "Like you ain't been secretive with that notebook, Abbott." 

"It ain't secretive. It's a surprise!" Rhett's arms cross in front of his chest, frowning. 

Did you miss the memo that you were supposed to have a secret project to be working on, too? 

"Baby," Bobby begs, reaching aimlessly in your direction as if he has any hope of reaching you from a few feet away. "Help me."

But you're not entirely sure if you can do that. As you scoot closer, Rhett's attention darts to you, excited eyes daring you to try him. He's figured out how to win recently, and it's only a matter of time before he has you pinned on the floor, too. 

You can't be bugged to even try fighting him for Bob's honor. Not only because you would lose horribly but because you're already preoccupied with leaning down and pressing your lips to the side of his cheek. Feeling the warmth of his flushed skin, the way his face wrinkles with that content smile. 

"'s this what we're doing?" Rhett's asking as if he's not already leaning in, too. Audibly pressing kisses to the soft underside of Bob's jaw, where he's garnered the slightest bit of stubble overnight. "Kisses?"

And this room is far too quiet for Bobby's soft inhale to go unnoticed, his uneasy hand gliding up your arm. Always has to be holding on to something. In the corner of your eye, you can already see his other hand making a grab for Rhett's bicep, greedily squishing the thick muscle between his fingers. 

Rhett's blindly reaching off to the side, mouth only briefly leaving Bob's flushed skin as he produces a thick, red ribbon. The silky soft one that had been hiding in the box of garland. 

"Huh?" Bob's nose wrinkles, unable to do anything but watch as Rhett collects his wrists together, wrapping them in that smooth material. Only begins to squirm when it's too late. Rhett's already cinching the knot closed, forcing those pale arms back together as he finishes it off with an obnoxiously fancy bow. Perfectly pinned over his head.

"There we go," Rhett's grinning, leaning back in to nip at Bob's jaw, "first present of the year."

Bobby's eyes roll so hard that you briefly lose sight of those pale blue irises. Arms flexing as he tests the strength of Rhett's handiwork, frowning when he finds no give at all. 

Not a word spoken, you flip to the same page that Rhett is on. Resuming your peppering kisses, tongue poking out to lick down Bob's pretty neck, working your way down to his collar. Nibbling where he's most sensitive, relishing in that surprised grunt. There's hardly any room for Rhett to fit, but he's squeezing in any way. Shoulder bumping into yours as he torments the opposite side, peering at you through the corner of his eye. 

"In the middle of the floor?" There's no way Bob could have seen that look, but he's already understood what you two are up to. Wasting no time, with the way your unruly hands dip beneath his shirt, roaming over the soft expanse of his belly. Not quite as defined as Rhett, but equally loveable and squishy. 

Rhett's beating you to it, shoving Bob's shirt up without a single shred of grace. "Y' got a problem with that, flyboy?" Thin lips wrapping around a soft pink nipple, yanking a gasp out of him.

"My back does," Bob's words are more of a mumble than anything else. An uneasy confession of the one thing he's guaranteed to suffer with in his career. 

There are a number of solutions to this. Migrating upstairs to the comfort of the bed, grabbing a couple of the many decorative pillows off the couch and propping them beneath Bob's back, or even standing up and backing him up against the wall, perfectly cornered while you and Rhett have your way with him.

That list of solutions did not involve you sitting on the edge of the couch, with Bobby kneeling between your legs and Rhett sidling up behind him like the minx that he is. Wasting no time with peeling that thin t-shirt from Bob's pale body, exposing miles upon miles of lightly freckled shoulders and pale skin. And all Bob can seem to think about is getting his mouth on your inner thighs, daring to start right where the fabric of your shorts ends. 

"'s this better?" Rhett downright purrs with those half-lidded eyes. 

He doesn't get much of an answer. Just a weak 'uhuh' that's muffled by your inner thigh. 

Idle, your hand combs through Bob's short hair. Has had enough time to grow past the rigid constraints of Navy regulations, the perfect length to curl around your fingers, tugging gently. Drawing his eager mouth closer, hot tongue trailing along your skin. Sending superheated bolts of lightning rippling up your nerves. Familiar warmth blooming between your legs, head beginning to spin the slightest bit.

That soft mouth of his is the definition of heaven. Sucking gently, adding his handiwork over top of Rhett's extensive assault from a few days ago, so dark that they've hardly faded at all. A mottling of patches that only worsen the further he works, all too eager to mark you up. 

But it's a far cry from Rhett's vigor, working away at the crevice of Bob's neck. Loud. Reckless as he sucks a darkened mark into the thin skin stretched over his collarbone. Crafting a sinful trail leading down his back, a soft mark over every little knob in his spine. 

Fingers curl into your waistband. Wordlessly urging you to lift your hips to let them slide past the soft curve of your ass, yanking the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side, underwear and all. 

But Rhett's hands are on Bobby's hips, and they're certainly not yours. Which can only mean...

You're cut off before you can even begin to speak. Bob's flat tongue stroking between your folds, peering up at you from beneath his lashes. Dark, hardened gaze daring you to call him out on his antics.

He's slow. His hands dropping onto his lap, quietly concealing his newly found freedom, working with his mouth alone. Leaning in until his glasses fog with his own breath, lazily lapping at your sex, roaming feather-light over your clit, a ghost of what he could be giving you.

"Bobby," you gasp, and though your thighs are squishing his cheeks, it's impossible to miss the way his lip upturns into a grin. 

Rhett bumps into him from behind, and that's all it takes to have the tip of his tongue pressing directly into that rapidly swelling button. A sudden pressure that damn near makes you squeal, yanking a hand out of his hair to muzzle yourself with. That darkened gaze hardens into a glare. Craves the sound of you whimpering his name, but there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Not if he doesn't want Rhett to see his untied hands. 

He's pushing harder now. Aggressive strokes, swiping invisible x-shapes with this audibly wet noise that threatens to make your head float right off your shoulders. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's a lot all at once. 

Rhett's hand bumps into yours as he tangles his fingers in Bob's hair. Gently yanking him back with this absurdly loud pop, chin already glistening as he's hauled back to lean against Rhett's chest. 

But it's not to torment Bobby or for Rhett to steal his fair share of attention. No, he's shoving Bob's pajama pants down his hips. Half-hard cock bouncing the moment it's free of its confines, a sight so distracting that you can't bring yourself to look away. 

Until you realize that Rhett has long since lost his pants, that is. Your thighs squeezing together from the sight of them alone. 

Rhett's brows knit together, suddenly perplexed with a realization you've already made. "When did y' get your hands—"

The end of that sentence never comes. Cut short by Bob's sudden burst of energy, blindly reaching behind himself to grab a handful of Rhett's dark hair. And it's like the fight immediately dissolves from Rhett's bones. Face softening as he's held in place until Bob can get behind him. Nothing but an unruly puppy that got put back in his place.

"Thought you knew better than to tie a sailor with a basic knot," Bob's chuckling into the shell of Rhett's ear, reaching forward to wrap Rhett's pliant arms in the ribbon. Not as decorative as before, opting for an intricacy that has you tilting your head, unable to keep up with what his nimble hands are doing. 

You should have seen it coming. But quite frankly, you can only think about one thing right now, and it's certainly not the intricacies involved with tying a ribbon. Speechless as Rhett's pretty head is pushed between your legs. The scruff of his jaw scraping your mottled inner thigh, peppering it with a kiss. 

"Sweetheart, can you look under that pillow for me?" Bob's pointing toward the decorative throw in question, the small square one that used to sit in his apartment, "Think we left the lube under there last time." 

Blindly, your hand reaches behind it, patting against fabric and cushion until your fingers graze the cool plastic of the bottle. 

But then Rhett's tongue darts to lap at your clit, suddenly too hungry to wait anymore, and you're fumbling with it. Nearly dropping it onto his back before Bob can even reach out to take it from you. 

"Jesus, Rhett," you breathe, falling back to rest against the couch cushion, gazing down at the new, messy sight you've gained. The too-eager cowboy who doesn't have the strength to string you out like Bob does, so content that his eyes seem to smile as he gently sucks on your clit.

"'m sorry," he grumbles directly into your pussy, unable to draw himself away for even a second, "couldn't help it." 

He's everywhere. Laving your clit with all the attention he can give and then dipping down to nudge his tongue against your neglected entrance. Shallowly working his tongue in and out, downright drooling into you, short little jabs that make you flutter around him. Only for him to break away the moment he's found a rhythm. Licking his way back up and over your clit once more. Collecting every bit of you, and yet he's still not satisfied.

Your hand settles against the back of his head, tangling your fingers in those long locks, pulling until you can guide him right where you want him, holding him in place. "Right there," you murmur with a shiver, "right there."

Though your grip is strong, it's not enough to stop him from jumping at the sudden appearance of Bob's lube-slicked hand dipping between his thighs. Carefully spreading the cool substance against the thin skin there, working his way up to his balls and the underside of his cock. 

"What..." the rumbling of Rhett's voice sends sparks racing up your spine. Sends you involuntarily jolting up into his mouth, "are y' doin'?"

Your eyes are just open enough to catch the way Bob grins. "You'll see," is all he provides. Kneeling down to place his hands on the sides of Rhett's thighs, pushing them together so quickly that Rhett squeaks. 

The first pass of Bob's cock between Rhett's thighs is a thing that surprises all of you. Rhett at the sudden appearance, you with the obscene sight, and Bob's muttering something about those pretty thighs being so fucking soft. His dick just long enough to brush against Rhett's heavy balls, gives him the slightest amount of attention. 

And oh, does it have him whimpering into you. "Keep doin' that," he stutters, pushing impossibly closer into your cunt. Working you in earnest now, swirling his tongue around that swollen bud, punctuated with a soft suction that has your heart jumping in your chest. His body rocking with Bob's deep thrusts, bound arms helplessly pinned against the couch.

It's so much. Oh, it's so much. Your hips are beginning to squirm, legs clamping down around his shoulders, squeezing impossibly tight. Yanking on his hair, pulling him closer, only to try dragging him away. Don't know if you want more or less or exactly what he's doing right now, or, or—

"Untie me," Rhett's babbling all of a sudden. Sounds as far gone as you feel. "Please. Want, want...wanna hold..."

His biceps flex, straining against the thin ribbon with everything he can muster, the threads of the fabric audibly ripping as it's stretched beyond its limit. And it's all Bob can do to lean down and yank on the knot. Undoing it before it can be torn in two; technique doesn't always outweigh pure strength.

Rhett's arms are around your hips in an instant. Hugging you close like a man starved, and it's all you can do not to fall apart right here and now. Frantically pawing at his biceps, pushing at his head, unable to stop his hungry mewl from vibrating up your core. Impossible to avoid the pleased smile that plasters across his face, lightly sucking on your clit like it's his favorite candy. 

"Rhett," you're whining, squirming helplessly as he downright eats you alive, tongue so sloppy that it's loud, has a sickly wet noise ringing in your ears,"Rhett I...I'm—"

"Cum on my face," pleading in that hopelessly deep voice of his, "Please, please, please." 

You hardly feel it hit you. All you know is that your head is falling back against the couch cushion, and you're cumming on his burning tongue with a strangled whimper. Legs damn near locking around his scruffy face as your back arches up, fingers pulling so hard on his hair that it has to hurt. And yet he licks you through every jolted spasm, hot breath fanning out against you, humming in tune with your noises.

Bobby's pulling him away right as you grow oversensitive, pulling on those soft brown locks of hair, but you hardly expect him to haul Rhett up onto his feet. Blindly pushing him forward onto the empty space next to you, his back flat against the cushion, head falling haphazardly into your lap. Unshaven jaw glistening with you as he pries his eyes open, gazing up at you with that far-gone emptiness you've seen so many times. 

Doesn't react as Bob squeezes into the little bit of space available, pushing Rhett's thighs up and together, guiding his cock through the small gap in them. Pretty pink cock head bumping right where Rhett's weeping length begins.

And Rhett's whimper sounds like your name. Big hand pawing around until he can get ahold of yours, squeezing it gently. 

"Ain't you two a sight," Bob's grunting. Has only just begun to find his pace, but he's already begun to shake. Too close. Too fast. 

It's enough to get Rhett's eyes fluttering, hips jolting upward, "Y' like my thighs too much." And he's going to be so sensitive once Bobby's done with him, thighs red and tender from the abuse, but fuck is all of that worth this. The sight of his trembling legs being held together, flushed cock leaking against his belly as his thighs are fucked for all he's worth.

On its own, your free hand lifts, traveling down to wrap around his neglected length. Letting the weight of Bob's thrusts push him in and out of your grasp. A shallow, lazy motion that makes his mouth fall open.

"You like that, cowboy?" You're teasing, voice a touch hoarse. Thumb finding its way beneath his plush head, swiping back and forth at the precum-covered underside. 

"T-tighter," his hand squeezing yours a little harder as if to demonstrate what he's craving. And as soon as you follow his instruction, his back is arching off the couch. "jus' like that, jus' like—fuck."

But that's not enough. No, no, he's opening his mouth again. "Harder," he begs, pale feet defiantly kicking where Bob's got them held in the air, "Robby, fuck me harder." 

"You're purty demandin' for a pillow princess," you don't know what's made Bob's accent slip out so suddenly, but it damn near makes your head spin. And though he's complaining, he wastes no time hardening his pace. Balls smacking against Rhett's flushed skin as his thrusts become heavier. Rough, just how Rhett likes it. 

Knocks the rest of Rhett's words right out of his mouth, silences him right and proper. Dissolving into nothing but pitchy whimpers and hitched breaths. Noises growing higher and higher, until he's beginning to twitch in your grasp, your only sign that he's close.

"Cum for us," Bob's egging him on, pulling those shivering legs up to his chest, drawing him back into every thrust, "c'mon, be a good boy 'n cum." 

Rhett's head lolls backward, eyes rolling, gazing up at you and nowhere at all. Eyelashes beginning to flutter and fall closed, cumming with a feather-light gasp that ought to knock you off your feet. Ropes of white paint his spasming belly and your hand, coating his spasming length. 

And Bob's still fucking him, rhythmic pace dissolving into something sporadic, rubbing right against Rhett's oversensitive balls with every push and pull. Rhett's whines rising into hopeless cries, squirming, fighting to escape the way Bob's still railing into him. 

Only takes a few shaky jerks of his hips for him to stall, too, staining Rhett's thighs and cock with rope after rope of cum. Glasses obscuring the way his eyes roll, head tilting back to show the new mottling of marks on his collar. 

Everything is still. Quiet, except for two labored breaths, intertwining like the tinsel on the tree. Bob's shaky hand dips down, collecting some of the mess he's made of Rhett's thighs, lifting his cum-covered fingers to Rhett's swollen, parted lips. And all your cowboy can do is open his mouth and lick it off, too far gone to fuss. 

Two pairs of exhausted eyes peer up at you as if to check that you're on the same page as them.

"What 'bout Floytt?" Rhett's blurting, all of a sudden, evidently unable to keep the silence for too long. 

Bobby's eyebrows furrow, tilting his head down. "Pardon?" 

For a moment, Rhett flounders. Mouth opening and closing. Seems to have completely forgotten how to conjure up the words he needs to speak. "Remember, the uh..." he tries, "las' name thing?" 

You can't help but giggle. "You two are horrible at bringing up your ideas." Because what are the chances that you'd wind up with not one but two fiances who can't seem to give context to save their lives. Wildly blurting what's on their minds, under the assumption that you'll know what they're talking about. 

"I take it that's what the notebook was for?" Bob's question is more of an observation than anything. To which he receives a nod and a faint 'uhuh' from Rhett. Can't be brought to provide a proper 'yes.'

It's not the solution you'd expected when it came to this last-name debacle. Debating on whose last name to take, the three of you are too passive to insist that your name be taken out of fear of hurting feelings. But the concept of picking an entirely new one didn't feel so personal. There's no special weight to the names you've found online.

"Floytt." It feels strange in your mouth and yet oddly familiar, as if it's been present from the moment you all met. Lifts your tongue like it does for the beginning of Floyd, still carries the short and sweet ring of the Abbott family name. 

"Floytt." Bob's parroting you, pausing if only for a moment to think, and then opens his mouth once more, "I like it." 

For a three-month-old debate, it sure did end abruptly. You can see it now: a pretty new name engraved on a plaque hanging below the mailbox. An obnoxious, cursive sign in the kitchen, as if you and your families can possibly forget something like a last name. Bills and new dog tags with the name stamped in pretty letters. 

"Now we just have to plan the actual wedding," your smile wavers; you've got a little over seven months to figure out a theme, outfits, finalize who is being invited, and, worse of all, figure out the cake situation.

How is anyone supposed to layer Bob's beloved lemon on top of Rhett's affectionately chosen bananas foster? And then still have space for yours as well? Who gets to be the biggest layer? Who draws the unlucky straw to have the smallest? And how do you even begin narrowing down three icings to one? And themes. How the hell do you get a cowboy and a pilot theme to look good together on the same damn canvas?

You wonder if they'll object to three separate cakes. 

"And finish the tree." Bob's nodding his head toward the half-finished decor; you've got to make another ornament run if you want to get anywhere close to having it done. 

Rhett's resounding "ugh" resonates to your core. "C'n we take a nap first?" He grumbles, punctuated with a big, whining yawn. Batting those long lashes of his up at the two of you like it'll earn him some favors.

It does. 

You're snuggled up with him in an instant. Squeezing in on one side while Bob takes the other, barely fitting onto these wide couch cushions. Your arm splayed out across the soft fat of Rhett's belly, squishy until he intentionally flexes the thick muscle there. Has rounded out in all the right places, in the chest, cheeks, ass, and cum-covered thighs. 

A clean-up should have come before the nap, but you can't be bugged to get back up. And by the looks of it, neither can Bob. 

"You're really gettin' us more rings?" Rhett's asking, half-lidded eyes flicking between the two of you as if he can possibly garner an answer from your expressions.

Bob's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. "Why not?" 

And it's only now that you tune into the soulless drone of the television. A familiar, festive song chiming to life as a stop-motion snowman twists across the screen, mindlessly strumming his banjo, singing about silver and gold. 

Quietly, Bob begins to hum along to it. A soft rumbling that draws a heaviness into your eyelids until you can no longer lift them. Drifting off to the tune of an old song and the deep rumblings of a Navy pilot who reaches over to stroke an eyelash from your cheek. Your wonderful little unconventional trio, with your extra partner, two colors of rings, and three separate wedding cakes. 

Something pops. Hitting the ground with a shrill clatter; ornaments bouncing across the floor, twinkling lights flicking off within an instant.

One eye opens, peeking at your newly fallen Christmas tree. 

It closes. 

Rhett's elbow finds its way to nudge Bob's chest, "you're settin' it up this time."

"I wouldn't have to if you two woulda woke me up," you knew Bob would hit you two with that eventually. Always does, at some point. 

"We were tryin' to let you have yer beauty sleep, flyboy," Rhett's chirping, in that taunting sort of fashion that can only mean one thing. You don't need to open your eyes to feel the playful glares being fired back at one another.

And then comes Bob's too-calm warning. "Don't start that."

"Well, I'm startin'!" And there they go, tumbling off the couch in an instant. Ornaments knocking around as they tussle about on the living room floor. Fighting to see who's stronger, as if this outcome will be any different, swearing between giggles as they twist and turn.

You don't get to take that nap.

[gallus-rising]

hey so an OTW (aka the org that runs Ao3) volunteer has been kicked for having the phrase "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free" in their Slack status [link 1] [link 2]

if i see a single person bring the Discourse™ into this (ie: oh so they let people post underage/r*pe/incest/etc but not this?) i will fucking turbo block you. idgaf what your stance is on Problematic fic is, if i see someone bring up that shit even in a jokey way you are gone. you are dead to me. this is not a gotcha moment. get off the internet for 2 seconds and realize that some things in life are more important than fanfic

message them [OTW contact form] [Ao3 feedback form] and do NOT bring up any fiction discourse or discourse adjacent bs. please stay focused on the actual problem at hand here

personally i'll be uploading my fics elsewhere until further notice (this includes new chapters to WiPs) and will keep up what i have up for the sake of people's bookmarks. EDIT: people have pointed out that choosing to not use Ao3 will likely not have an impact, they run off donations, not ads and user engagement. do not harasses anyone over whether or not they continue using the site, that's a personal choice. do message Ao3/OTW with your concerns, withdraw financial support and tell them why. do not just stop using the site and end things there. i made this post in a bit of a rage last night and overlooked those things, very sorry about that

i hate to beg like this, but i'd really appreciate rbs

(if you want to "debate" about Palestine with me, consider, instead of pissing both of us off, doing some basic researched)