#working on feeling confident but my summer clothes help a lot

[darkmothsy]

Finally getting to wear my summer wardrobe

[orchardorbs]

i have so many complicated thoughts about kibbe and seasonal colour analysis but no one i know is interested in these things so i just sit here and go insane about it

[joelmillerisapunk]

unbelievable

mechanic!Joel x f!reader

masterlist

wordcount: 4,489

summary: the 'It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?' Trope

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, lots of fingering, there's a joint, lots of 'sweetheart', some aftercare but like a bit different (I don't wanna spoil it) mentions of anxiety (bc I'm an anxious bltch and this would happen to me) fluffy smut?

notes: hiii 🥰 I hope you like mechanicJoel because I fell in love with him so fast, he has no right being so hot 🙃 The title is unbelievable by diamond rio, it felt pretty accurate to my inner Joel dialogue. a big thank you to @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics for the dividers (graphic designers deserve the world honestly)

You've always had a thing for rugged men, and Joel Miller is the epitome of a handsome, rough-around-the-edges mechanic. His strong hands, grease-stained clothes, and confident demeanor make your heart race every time you see him, which has been a lot recently since your old car has been having its fair share of problems.

It's a hot summer day, and you decide to visit the garage where Joel works, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. As you walk in, the smell of oil and gasoline fills your nostrils, making you feel a little lightheaded. But then, you see him. He's hunched over a car engine, his muscular arms covered in sweat and grime. Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him.

You approach Joel, trying to act cool and collected, even though your insides are turning to jelly. "Hey, Joel," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was wondering if you could help me with my car again. It's been making a weird noise, and I don't know what to do."

Joel looks up at you, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grease on his face. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he says with an almost knowing grin. You've been coming to see him every couple of weeks for the past few months. "Let me take a look for you, darlin."

As Joel inspects your car, you can't help but steal glances at his muscular physique. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands over his firm chest and his stomach, to feel his stubble scratch against your skin as he kisses you. The thought makes you wet, and you squirm, trying to hide your arousal.

But Joel notices. He looks up at you, his gaze intense and seductive. "You seem a little flustered, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "Is there something on your mind?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your nerves. The heat in the garage is making you feel more and more flustered, and the idea of Joel noticing your arousal only adds to your embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," you manage to reply.

Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your shirt clings to your body and the way your nipples are hardening under the hot conditions. "I can tell you've been coming to see me for a while now. It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel the heat rising to your face. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to deny the truth even to yourself.

But Joel isn't backing down. He steps closer to you, his body towering over yours. "I can help you with your car, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low growl. "But if you're looking for something else, something a little more personal, I can do that too."

Your mind is racing as you try to figure out what to do. On one hand, you've always had a thing for rough-and-tumble men like Joel, and the idea of being with him is almost too much to bear. On the other hand, you're not sure if you're ready for something like that with someone you're not even dating. As you stand there, frozen in indecision, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to decide right now. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Joel continues working on your car, he takes his time, making sure to do everything a little slower. He runs his hand over the engine, and with every turn of the wrench and every adjustment of parts, you can't help but feel your heart race, your skin tingle, and your body heat up. He's wearing a pair of tight jeans that hug his thighs, and every time he bends over the car, you catch a glimpse of the outline of his bulge. You wonder what it would feel like to touch him there, to feel him hard and ready against your skin. Your mind races with fantasies of him taking you, claiming you, making you his in ways that go far beyond the mechanical fixings of a car.

Joel takes a bit of a break from your car, and you think he's about to tell you what was wrong with it. "You know, sweetheart, I could fix more than just your car," he repeats himself again, " I could fix all your problems, make you feel good in ways you've never felt before."

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "What do you mean?"

Joel grins, a knowing look in his eyes. "I mean, I could show you the kind of fixings that only a man like me can provide," he says, his voice low and seductive. "Make you mine, take you right here. I promise you, it's something you'd never forget.”

“Oh, uh I, uhm I need to -” You pause, looking at your phone, “I have a thing soon. So I should uh go when you're done.” You can barely keep yourself together as you fumble through your sentence.

Joel smirks, "Of course, sweetheart," he says, his voice reassuring. "When you're ready, I'll be here.”

As you exit the garage, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins. Joel's words have left you feeling both turned on and terrified at the same time.

You spend the next few hours trying to shake off the encounter, but your mind keeps wandering back to Joel's words and the way his body made you feel. You can't stop thinking about the way his muscles bulged under his tight jeans, or the way his hair curled, his strong jawline, or the way those lips would part everytime he would focus on your car. You want to touch him, taste him, feel him- anything. And you're desperate to hear him speak that sexy accent of his once again.

When you finally arrive home, you let yourself into your apartment and immediately head straight for your bedroom. You shed your clothes as fast as possible, trying to rid your entire day from your skin. After your shower, you pull on a pair of shorts, your favorite oversized t shirt before padding barefoot across the carpeted floor of your room.

Just as you're opening your bedroom door to get a snack, your phone rings. You glance at your screen - a number with no name showing up - before answering the call, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Hello?”

You can hear a woman's voice in the background, "I told you not to come in my office. You can't just call random clients." Then you hear a muffled males voice and the woman again. "Yes... I understand she hasnt paid, but we don't contact clients until the end of the month."

You sit there unsure of what to do, should you say something? Should you hang up? Should you ignore her? Suddenly, you hear yelling. "Out - now!" she exclaims before apologizing for the misunderstanding and hanging up the phone on you. As you hang up the phone, you can't help but feel a sense of confusion and disappointment wash over you. You had been hoping that it was Joel on the other end of the line and that he was calling to follow up on his earlier proposition. But instead, it seems like you were caught in the middle of a heated exchange between a man and a woman, and you can't help but wonder what it all means.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You know that you can't let yourself get too caught up in the idea of Joel. You need to focus on yourself and your own needs rather than getting swept up in the allure of a man you barely know. You've got plenty of people who love you, and it's better to prioritize your relationships than get carried away with a man like Joel. You know you wouldn't be able to handle it.

But then suddenly here you are. You take a deep breath and steel yourself as you walk back into the garage, hoping to catch Joel before he leaves for the day. The receptionist gives you a disapproving look as you enter, but you ignore her and make your way towards Joel, who has just finished up with a customer. As you approach, Joel looks up and sees you, a small smile spreading across his face. "Hey there, sweetheart," he says, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I, uh, I had some questions about my car," you say, trying to sound casual. "I figured I'd come down and ask you in person."

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods towards the back of the garage, inviting you to follow him. As you walk, you can't help but notice the way his muscles ripple under his shirt or the way his jeans hug his hips. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and you hope he doesn't notice.

Once you're in the back, Joel crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a serious expression. "Listen, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I know what you're doing, and I want you to know that it's not going to work."

You furrow your brow, confused. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

Joel takes a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean that I know you're trying to avoid what's going on between us," he says, his voice softening. "And I get it. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around." You open your mouth to protest, but Joel holds up a hand to stop you. "But I also know that there's something between us, something real and intense," he continues. "And I don't want to ignore it anymore."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "What are you saying?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel takes another step closer to you, his body almost touching yours. "I'm saying that I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I want to make you feel good, to show you things you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as you try to process what Joel is saying. On one hand, you're terrified of the intensity of your feelings for him so soon, of the way he makes your heart race and your skin tingle. On the other hand, you can't deny the attraction you feel towards him, the way your body responds to his voice alone.

As you stand there, frozen, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring.

You know that you have a choice to make, a decision to make about what you want and what you're ready for. And as you stand there, looking into Joel's beautiful brown eyes, you know that you're ready. Without saying a word, you lean in and press your lips to Joel's, feeling the heat and passion of his kiss. Joel responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You can feel the strength and power of his body. As Joel deepens the kiss, he reaches down and gently lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you over to a nearby workbench. He sets you down gently, cupping your face in his hands, "Be right back, sweetheart, don't go anywhere.”

Just as Joel turns to lock up, the receptionist calls out, "Joel, she can't stay here. She's not an employee."

Joel turns to her, his expression stern. "I'll take care of it, Linda," he says. "Just go home."

Linda looks taken aback, but she doesn't argue. She grabs her things and leaves the garage, shooting you a disapproving look as she goes.

Once she's gone and the doors are locked,Joel walks back over to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. He pulls a small joint out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see. "Ever tried this before, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

You shake your head, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "No, I haven't," you admit.

Joel grins, lighting the joint and taking a deep drag. He holds it out to you, his eyes locked on yours. "Here, let me show you," he says.

You lean in, taking a tentative puff on the joint. The smoke is harsh and unfamiliar, but the sensation of Joel's hand on your back, guiding you, is intoxicating. You feel a warm, tingly sensation spreading through your body. He pulls back, his eyes shining with desire as he takes another drag. "You like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to speak. You've never smoked weed before, but with Joel, it feels right. It feels intimate and exciting, like you're sharing a secret that only the two of you know. For a while, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away, like you're the only two people in the entire world, and it's a feeling you never want to let go of.

But eventually, the joint burns down to nothing, and the two of you are forced to come back to reality. Joel grins, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his lips are soft and gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth as he deepens the kiss. You can feel the warmth of the weed spreading through your body, making you feel relaxed and happy.

As you kiss, Joel's hands roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and the swell of your breasts. You moan softly, your body responding to his touch. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your clit throbbing with desire.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I want to make you feel good.” You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. You want him too, more than anything. You want to feel his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. You want to feel him inside you, filling you up and making you his.

Joel's fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head. He tosses it aside, his eyes raking over your body. You're wearing a lacy bra, the color of pale pink. Joel's fingers trace the lines of your bra, his touch gentle and teasing. You can feel your nipples hardening under the lace, your body begging for more.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Joel says, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to taste you." With a quick motion, he removes your bra, throwing it to the floor.

He leans in, his mouth closing over one of your nipples. His tongue flicks at the hard peak, making you gasp with pleasure. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, his fingers tracing the lines of your lacy panties. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's fingers find the edge of your panties, tugging them aside. His fingers trace the outer lips of your pussy, his touch gentle and teasing.

Joel's fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you with ease. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. He starts to move his fingers inside you, faster, his touch more urgent. You can feel the orgasm building inside you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, so fuckin' tight," Joel growls.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel's fingers continue to work their magic.

And then, suddenly, you're there.

You cry out as you come, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Joel's fingers continue, drawing out your pleasure until you're left weak and trembling in his arms. “S'okay baby, s'okay, you did so so good for me sweetheart.”

As your orgasm subsides, Joel pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes dark with desire. He licks his fingers clean, his tongue tracing the lines of your juices. You watch him, your mouth parted like you just watched him lick the tastiest ice cream cone.

Joel reaches down, his fingers finding the button of his jeans. He undoes it, tugging his jeans down over his hips. He's not wearing any underwear, and his cock springs free, hard and ready.

You can't help but stare, your eyes wide with desire. Joel's cock is long and thick, the head dark and swollen. You can see a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, and you can't wait to taste it. Joel steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your thigh. You can feel the heat of it, the hardness. You reach out, your fingers wrapping around the shaft. Joel groans, his head falling back as you start to stroke him. You can feel his body trembling, his cock twitching in your hand. You stroke him faster, your hand moving up and down the shaft. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, tugging your panties off in one swift motion.

You're completely exposed now, your pussy on full display. Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his cock throbbing in your hand.

"Fuck, you look so hot," Joel growls.

You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with Joel, it feels right. It feels exciting and thrilling, he reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub, his touch gentle and teasing.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" Joel asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to speak. "You're so fucking hot,," Joel growls. "I can't wait to taste you."

He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. He reaches up, his fingers tracing your inner thighs. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's tongue finds your clit, gentle and teasing. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel's tongue moves lower, tracing the outer lips of your pussy. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside you. You can feel him exploring his tongue, tracing your walls. Joel's fingers find your clit again, rubbing in time with his tongue.

"Fuck, Joel, m’gonna come," you cry out grabbing onto his hair.

Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing, his eyes don't leave yours, it makes him almost painfully hard watching you come. You cry out as you come. Joel's tongue continues to lick at your pussy, drawing out your pleasure.

"You taste so fucking good, sweetheart," Joel growls, standing up.

He steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your entrance. Joel's hands find your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "You ready for me sweetheart?

"Yes, please, Joel." He pushes inside you, his cock filling you up completely. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting against you. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you with every stroke. Joel reaches down, his fingers finding your. You can feel your body trembling, your pleasure building higher and higher.

"Fuck, Joel, I'm gonna come again," you cry out, your voice hoarse with pleasure.

Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers moving faster. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing with pleasure until you come again. Joel's thrusts become erratic, his body tensing as he reaches his own release. He groans, his cock twitching inside of you as he fills you with his seed.

The two of you lie there, panting and sated, your bodies still tangled together. Joel's forehead is pressed against yours, his eyes shining with desire and affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the beating of his heart against your chest.

"You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment. But even as those thoughts run through your mind, you also know that you can't let yourself get carried away. You barely know Joel, and there are things about him that you don't know. Important things.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you know you have to do. "Joel, I... I need to go," you say, your voice soft but firm.

Joel's expression changes, a hint of sadness and disappointment flashing in his eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Suddenly, the walls feel like they're closing in on you, and you can't catch your breath. "I-I can't breathe," you manage to say, your voice shaking.

Joel's face falls, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "Just breathe with me, in and out. You're safe, I've got you."

You focus on Joel's voice, trying to match your breathing to his. Slowly, the panic begins to recede, and you can feel your heart rate returning to normal. "I'm so sorry," you say, your voice still shaking. "I don't know what came over me."

Joel shushes you, his hand tracing circles on your back. "It's okay," he says. "You don't have to apologize. You've been through a lot today. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

You nod, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You wanted to be strong, to be brave, but instead, you fell apart.

Joel must sense your embarrassment because he pulls back and looks at you with a serious expression. "Hey, listen to me," he says, his voice firm. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're allowed to feel however you feel, and I'm here, no matter what. Okay?"

You nod, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding, even for someone who knows nothing about you and you can't help but feel drawn to him.

"Come on, sweetheart," Joel says, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here and into some fresh air. How about we go to my place and spend the night? I promise, no funny business."

You know it sounds crazy but a sense of relief washes over you as you agree. You don't want to be alone right now, and the thought of spending the night with Joel is weirdly comforting. As much as you know, you should probably just go home. Joel helps you get dressed, his hands gentle and reassuring. Once you're both dressed, he leads you outside and into his truck. He drives you to his house, his hand resting on yours the entire time. When you arrive, Joel leads you inside and shows you to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers and helps you climb into bed, tucking you in like a child. "Just rest, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft. "I'll be right back."

You nod, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over you. Joel returns a few minutes later with a glass of water. He helps you sit up and take a sip of water, then lays down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It's soothing, and you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

"Thank you, Joel," you murmur, your voice sleepy.

Joel kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Anytime, sweetheart," he says. "I'm always here for you."

As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

As you sleep, Joel watches over you, his eyes full of affection and concern. He's fallen for you, hard.

As the night wears on, Joel holds you close, his arms wrapped around you. He knows that you're not ready for anything serious, and he's okay with that. For now, he's just happy to be with you, to be there for you, to comfort you, and to make you happy.

[jelliedink]

DILF!Boss Headcannons

Warnings: manipulative behaviour, huge age gap. If you squint, you'll see this is slightly suggestive, but nothing explicit happens here. Author's note: hi my loves! If you guys don't know @sweet-as-an-angel do yourself a favor and check them out. Their Yandere!DILF series has built a 3-store mansion in my head and is living there rent free, so I just HAD to create another manipulative hot older man to call mine. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Take care!

Dividers by @cafekitsune.

Brain melting thinking about an older boss that realizes you find him attractive the moment you start working for him. He's sure he's got at least 20 years on you, but he can't help but feel flattered.

A boss that finds it delightful to toy with you a little bit: getting his face way too close to yours when he's reviewing your work, a hand gently rubbing your shoulders when giving you feedback. He tells himself that it's just "harmless fun", you're so cute trying to hide how flustered you are!

A boss that watches with curiosity how you grow on him more each day seeing how hard you work and how eager you are to learn everything he teaches you.

A boss who acts as a mentor professionally and insists you can confide in him with your life problems too. He's already lived everything you're going through now, and he just wants to see you thrive.

A boss that starts to invite you to a lot of work related events once summer break starts. His ex-wife is travelling with the kids and the house just feels so lonely without them.

A boss that, upon the discovery that you're single, is sure that the gods gifted you for him to turn into his perfect little doll.

A boss that likes to give you little gifts "for your hard work" every now and then, and they get increasingly more expensive.

A boss who's so subtle when blurring the lines between professional and personal relationships that the word "date" doesn't even cross your mind when he starts to invite you to non work related events.

"Have you seen this artist is coming to town with their new exposition?" "The weather is nice today, how about we visit the japanese garden to freshen up after spending the whole week inside the office?"

A boss who never corrects anyone who refers to you as a couple during your outings, and instead laughs it off, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and giving you a playful wink every time this happens. He even turns it into a internal joke, and soon you get used to hear him calling you his darling, his dear, his precious.

A boss that makes sure to have you yearning for him before making his move. Sometimes he kisses your hands when you're out together, always saying how lucky he is to have such a beautiful company, his lips gently running along your fingers. Other times he caresses your face when you go to him for advice. His hugs are tight, so his scent will linger on your clothes. He might even kiss the top of your head every now and then.

A boss who loves to see you getting used to having him always present in your life, getting flustered when he touches you in ways that are intimate just enough to keep you guessing.

A boss that thinks you're so beautiful and so hard working that he'll take how much time he needs to mould you into a perfect wife and a perfect mother for his children. He'll guarantee that your life will be so enmeshed with his that you'll never be able to leave him, even if you want to. This time he'll create a family so perfect that nothing will tear it apart.

A boss who knows he doesn't need to rush things because he's sure you'll be his in the end. You're so young, so malleable, and he's been playing this game for so much longer than you. He knows just what he needs to do to wrap you around his fingers.

[honeytonedhottie]

HOT GIRL SUMMER⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍹

hot girl summer is officially here and its the perfect time to have lots of fun and make rly amazing memories, while also feeling and looking ur best ✨ AND continuing to pursue ur goals while doing it.

THE RULES ;

in order to have a hot girl summer there are rules that need to be set in order to ensure that u have fun in a safe manner that aligns with ur goals and who u are as a person. MY hot girl summer rules are

dont put urself in situations that are compromising to ur safety or the safety of ur friends (look out for each other)

try ur best to keep moving and doing things with ur time

be social and HAVE FUN (dont ruin ur own fun)

if u didn't document it, it does NOT count (take lots of photos)

i dont have a LOT of rules for my hot girl summer, i just put those in place bcuz i wanna make sure that i have the most memorable and enjoyable summer that i can.

THE PREP ;

we should be preparing for our hot girl summer. to be helpful and just for funsies, to help you feel your most confident and radiant this summer ✨. if i were to break down the most important things to prep for hot girl summer they’d be ur base (skin + body) ur company, and ur wardrobe.

BASE ; 

moisturize ur skin after your showers while your skin is still slightly damp. for moisturized and soft skin this summer 

if ur not already using sunscreen on your face AND body then what are you even doing? get in the habit of putting sunscreen on ur body to promote a smooth and even skin tone and protect u from the sun ofc 

get into a solid workout regimen that u can be consistent with. focus on building ur body to perfection! work out as much as u want, i recommend 3-4 times a week. 

my recommendations for soft skin is to use an african net sponge bcuz that always gets me CLEAN. also, use african black soap for glowy skin and use shea butter on ur body while ur skin is still slightly damp. 

not only does it smell yummy but it rly REALLY moisturizes you well. i also recommend using it during the summer bcuz the glow that u get from it is REAL 🌺🍹

i’ve elaborated on sunscreen in the bullet points already so let’s go to body building. get into a workout regimen 3-4 times a week. i’ll share some workouts here depending on what u want. 

the important thing is that you start NOW so that then by the time it’s summer your gains will be visible and you’ll feel stronger and more confident -> therefore more happy and prepped for ur hot girl summer. 

use body scrubs to exfoliate skin and also promote optimal softness bcuz in the summer it’ll be hot and you might wanna show some skin 

WARDROBE ; 

get onto ur pinterest and start looking for inspo for your summer wardrobe that coincides with ur personal style. use ur fashion binder if u have one to start formulating and thinking of outfits. 

create a list of specific pieces that ur looking for (with photos if u can) so that when ur shopping/thrifting u know to get what u want for summer. 

the important things for summer from my own fashion binder are bikinis, camisoles and mini skirts + shorts. bcuz i wrote that in my fashion binder i’ll look for and buy those specific clothing pieces for my summer wardrobe. do the same ✨

COMPANY ; 

it’s more fun when u spend some parts of ur summer with quality company so make sure to prepare that NOW so that then ur plans go smoothly in the summertime. 

make sure to have a list of things/activities that u wanna do this summer either alone or with company. and make plans according to that bcuz ur not about to be cooped up all summer, unless thats what u want ig.

now is the time to test the waters and propose ideas with ur friends about what u guys should do together this summer. maybe it’s simply hanging out, or going on a sort of vacation together. 

whatever it is, make sure that ur company is not only reliable/responsible but also that they have ur best interest at heart bcuz it’s gonna be hot girl summer and everyone’s gonna be out there 😭 u need someone to have ur back and someone that you can trust. 

THE INSPO/MOOD ;

skin is so glossy and smooth it almost looks wet. warm beaches and fruit platters. swimming like EVERYDAY, cruises and shopping sprees and vacations. dinners with ur girls, summer romances. natural yet so ethereal.

SUMMER FASHION LINK ;

i've already made a post that talked about summer wardrobe essentials and its linked right here. but the gist is that summer is all about vibrant colors and skin and shimmer.

PLAYLIST ;

for a proper hot girl summer u absolutely MUST have a proper hot girl summer playlist. the top songs on my summer playlist are jump by tyla, and the 250 remix of attention by newjeans. make sure that u formulate a couple playlists for summer because the music is what makes the season.

PRODUCTS AND ESSENTIALS ;

for the summertime i gravitate towards products that are more tropical and fruity which is a juxtaposition to what i usually smell like. cuz im a vanilla cupcake/strawberry poundcake scented girlie. but in the summer i kind of like to smell like a refreshing cocktail instead.

body shimmer

moisturizing lip oils

cute claw clips

mini fan that u can take in ur purse

thick body butters

a swimsuit on hand

some products that i recommend to achieve that scent are the bronzed coconut products from victorias secret pink, along with strawberry and champagne and fruit crush. the ulta beauty smoothie shower gels r also rly good. lastly bodycology has some great summer scents.

last but not least i rly hope that u guys prioritize having fun this summer and being the embodiment of beauty and confidence that GLOWS. stay safe and have an amazing hot girl summer ✨

[undead-supernova]

Bummer! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: you invite eddie out to a party with you and your best friend and it's all perfect...right?

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, dirty dancing/making out, hints at past trauma, arguing, underlining slut shaming, lots of heavy petting and fluffy feelings

note: we're up to part 3 already?! with part 4 already in the works?! who even am I anymore!!! thank you to both @littlexdeaths and @jo-harrington for being my biggest supporters and encouraging me to keep going. this is for you both !!!!

song inspo: the song in this chapter is Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny. It is an absolute bop (also he is so hot it’s not even funny)

wc: 5.6k

“Your life sounds like fan fiction.”

You let out a high-pitched scoff, taking Aron’s stuffed octopus by the tentacles and whacking her with it.

“Shut up!”

Aron chuckled, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I never said that was a bad thing!”

You and Aron, your best friend since freshman year, were perched on her bed, all cross-legged and giggly, recounting the last few weeks with Eddie. When you finally told Aron about him, she was livid. How could you not tell your best friend about a really hot guy you’d been seeing who wasn’t an asshole? 

“He’s just so good,” you said with a content smile, throwing your head back on the bed like a girl in a 2000s romantic comedy. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“Yeah, I’d feel lucky too if I had a guy playing guitar for me and tasted like cinnamon and beauty and stuff.”

Your smile widened, the phantom touch of his lips already having imprinted itself on your mouth. “He’s just so nice. And I feel like he gets me, you know? He sees me for me, not for my body or whatever. Plus, we have the same taste in music and movies and…” A soft sigh left your lips as you shrugged. “He just makes me happy, I don’t know.”

Aron leaned over, smiling down at you. The beads at the end of her long braids clinked together as she shook her head at you. “Well, I’m very happy this Eddie is making my best friend all gooey and soft for once.”

You rolled your eyes but you both knew you really appreciated the affirmation. Sometimes you needed that extra assurance, Aron’s opinion being maybe the most important to you—besides your own. When you’d met her at that dreaded Halloween party, all tattered clothes and broken sobs, Aron was quick to help you. Without questions, without judgment. A stranger helping a stranger before becoming best friends within a week.

Before you could get lost in the cold memory, Aron clapped her hands and gasped.

“You should invite him to the party!”

You sat up, furiously nodding. “Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot.”

“It’ll be fun.” You nodded, watching as her nose began to crinkle. “Unless you sneak off to go make out or something.”

Your apologetic smile that turned a little too exaggerated made her groan.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, feigning a sensual tone as you made kissy noises and reached out to tickle her.

She hit you with the octopus (that poor octopus), causing you both to laugh. “You tell me about every fucking kiss, bitch.”

Grabbing it from her, you smirked and said, “And you love hearing about it.”

Aron shrugged. “True. I’m too nosey for my own good.”

“And I’m too honest,” you added, giving her a high-five.

“So, the party?”

You hadn’t felt this way since you were fourteen, running around the football field late at night with Trent Summers, lost in the throes of an unrequited crush. Lost in an all-American fantasy of dating a boy on the football team when you hadn’t even made the cheer squad. Getting your heart broken after he told you he had a girlfriend. You ended your friendship right then and there—resulting in you throwing a football at his face.

Mary Winston had been next, all braces and crooked smiles. Sweet sixteens and discovered identities. You’d met in the art room during lunch, fawning over some TV show before realizing that there was something more there. It didn’t last long, but you swore you’d love her till the day you died. And if anyone had access to your tear-stained diary, they’d know it was very dramatic. Very dramatic.

(Come to think of it, you’d felt something bubbly inside you for Eliza Roseheart in preschool. Playing “husband and wife” and pecking each other on the lips shouldn’t have been as fun as it was.)

Now there was Eddie Munson, the guy who walked you to class and got you coffee just because. At night, you hopped in his van and went on drives. An hour and a half of scream-singing that always ended up with feverish make out sessions by the dock of a lake, the windows fogging up despite the humid heat just beyond those doors. Gnashing teeth as you both giggled your way through can we play 20 Questions? and can I tell you another secret? in between kisses. Helping him down from orgasms after some whispers and heavy, heavy petting, caressing his face in your hands as you told him how good of a job he did. Tracing the lines of his face as you teetered in and out of sleep. Feeling his lips on your forehead as he helped you back into your dorm.

You were never one to believe in good luck. After years of being thrown to the wolves and caged inside a dungeon you built yourself, this nerdy little goofball had coaxed you away from the bars. Led you from a state of hidden solitude, only to welcome you with warm sun and sweaty palms.

All you knew now was that you wanted him. Always.

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie felt naked without his jacket.

As a matter of fact, he felt a bit out of character. A dark, dark purple Black Sabbath tee was paired with his regular black jeans, combat boots, and wallet chain. The same rings and bracelets.

But his jacket. He knew he’d have to leave it with this weather. Smelling bad wasn’t an option tonight, especially meeting your best friend. The less he fucked up his appearance, the less he had to worry about fucking up in general.

So he hung up his favorite boy and left his dorm with bare arms. Followed his heart all the way to your dorm.

Had your roommate greet him, a giggle escaping her lips as soon as she saw him. Aron, as he learned, was quick to pull him into conversation as you finished up getting ready. Though you called down the hallway to them, he still couldn’t calm his anxiety.

Meeting new people didn’t bode well for him.

And yet he was proven wrong—their conversation was as easy as breathing, exchanging thoughts on their favorite video games and how legendary Black Sabbath was.

“Oh, I like you,” she said at one point and laughed at the blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m glad you already know that’s a compliment of the highest degree.”

He’d thought he got his groove back. He really did. But then he heard your heels echoing through the hallway and looked over at your figure coming closer. Eddie immediately shot up out of his seat at the sight of you.

Your dress was one he hadn’t seen before, a satin black spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged your curves just right. A patch at the bottom showed a red rose, circled by a silver snake. Black heels and an array of rings. No necklace, no earrings. Smokey-eyed and gloss-lipped.

“Fucking hell.”

Both girls broke out into laughter.

He wanted to hit himself. Could he once, just once, keep his mouth shut?

“Sorry,” he added.

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Don’t be. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, so thank you.”

Eddie nearly missed Aron skipping off to her room when you pulled him into a hug. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting his arms wrap around your back. Even after all these weeks, he found that he could never get used to your embrace. Your skin against his, the fizzle of something electric jumping between your bodies.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you whispered in his ear before pulling back. He was pretty sure your smile was just as goofy as his. “I love your shirt.”

“Thought you might,” he responded with a small laugh. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but stopped himself. “Sorry.”

Your smile faltered as confusion flooded your face. “For what?”

Before he could apologize again, Aron was skipping back into the room and clapping her hands together.

“Alright, let’s boogey.”

You were quick to settle into the party, the three of you standing in one corner or another, laughing over really anything you could think of. Aron was sure to point out everyone who was cool and everyone who was not, giving Eddie a crash course in the party scene that always felt a little too high school for your taste. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with that stuff which you liked. There was nothing worse than watching someone lose themselves in fair-weather friends.

Two drinks in, Aron left to go find some other friends of hers, reiterating that they were part of the Cool Crowd. It left you and Eddie to your own devices, with your exaggerated bantering and light shoves. Touches that felt like electric shocks, the voltage only increasing with each jab. At some point, you had to wonder if that’s why you both kept doing it.

Then, in the middle of threatening to tickle him, you heard the starting sounds of a Bad Bunny song you liked. Leaning your head back, you let out a satisfied “Yes!”, watching as people quickly gathered near the speakers.

Eddie looked at you, confused.

You merely chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the small crowd.

“Let’s dance!”

Your hand grasped his over your shoulder, just like that night you met. It was a feeling like no other, Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest. And, God, he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

He was happy. He was having fun.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music!” he admitted loudly, a smile still plastered on his lips.

But you were far from deterred. “Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

And just like that, you were turning around and tugging his hands forward until they met your waist. Let yourself lean back on him, grinding your hips as they swayed back and forth.

Effortless. That’s the best way he could describe the way you moved, the way you never missed a beat. The bass pumped and vibrated through Eddie’s limbs, but you seemed to be one with the music.

Dancing wasn’t something unheard of when it came to Eddie. If he was listening to music, chances were that he was shimmying his shoulders or head banging. In a mosh pit, he let himself get jostled around, bopping along to the sound. He may not have had hips like Jagger, but he knew how to move them at least.

However, this was new territory, having a girl, having you in front of him, waiting for him to move. And if he was supposed to move, then god dammit, he was going to move.

Eddie took a deep breath before the beat slowed down. Letting his wired thoughts fade into a soft buzz, doing what he felt was right. Like pulling you tight against his chest and moving his hips at the same time as yours. Pushing himself against your ass, a harsh breath leaving his nose at the friction.

Sighing, you let your head fall back on his shoulder, a content smile lifting onto your lips. Raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck the best you could, rhythm never lost on you.

And it would be just so easy to…

But would you be okay with…

Fuck it.

Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to kiss your neck. Your next sigh was what officially turned him on, pushing him further into your heat wave. Licked a stripe up your neck and tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

Eddie couldn’t help the thought, the impulse creeping up in this crowded house party to move his fingers just a bit lower, to skirt the hem of your dress that was riding up with each swirl of your hips. He wanted you, cock straining against his jeans in near agony, continuing to litter your neck with love bites as if you were alone.

And just before he could get a little more bold, you were taking his trigger-finger hand and placing it on your thigh, so close to what he could call the inner thigh.

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He nodded. “Was already headed there, sweetheart. You beat me to it.”

“I took an earlier flight,” you joked.

A breathy chuckle left his lips. “That’s okay. That’s not my last stop anyways.”

Your thigh was soft, full, easy enough to squeeze. So he did, eliciting a high-pitched sigh from you.

A proud smile met your face. So you liked when he took the upper hand.

And, God, if you kept looking at him like that, he was going to start fingering you in front of every fucking person here. Maybe he would. No one was looking at you both, right? He could do it. Just a little bit. Just…just a little bit.

His fingers twitched, raising higher and higher and—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, snapping you out of this moment. You both looked over to see Aron approaching, taking hold of one of your wrists. “But I gotta steal her for a second.”

“Aron!” you exclaimed, holding onto Eddie’s hand as long as you could before Aron dragged you away. Sorry, you mouthed at him before turning back.

You couldn’t help your face growing hot at the feeling of your wetness still sticking to your inner thighs as you parted them.

She didn’t pull you far, but you couldn’t help how pissed you felt. Granted, you weren’t really pissed at her but something was about to happen and you’d been more than happy to just let it.

Eddie was finally taking the upper hand, doing what he wanted. Not just going along with what you told him to do. There was no blind faith or overthought. No, he was showing—initiating. It was euphoric. It was nearly orgasmic…

“What’s going on?” you asked, smoothing out the hem of your dress. And as you stood there fixing yourself, you felt Aron step closer to you.

“Listen, Sam is walking around, drunk as fuck—”

“Big shock there,” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aron let out a snort. “Yeah, literally. Anyways, he’s talking about how easy you are in bed and keeps telling everyone you’re here with Eddie to make him jealous.”

Sam Covington had been a problem for…a while. Maybe since last summer, when you were…friendly with some of the frat guys’ girlfriends. Got invited out one night and Sam was there, always staring at you from any corner of the room or finding excuses to talk to you. It was fucking creepy.

It was one of those things that sent chills down your spine, the fear for your safety growing with each glance. That voice that made you want to run and hide. The touch that had you wondering if you’d remembered to grab your pepper spray and whistle.

Usually, you were able to stand your ground and hurl insults he couldn’t fathom hearing from a woman. Even the last party you’d seen him at, the one where you had met Eddie…

But it didn’t mean that you felt any more secure.

“Him? Ha!” You exaggerated your tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Waved your hand around, desperate to stay calm. “What a fucking joke. He wishes.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at your mocking tone, taken aback by your blatant degradation. Like a mask had been removed, revealing a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth.

He’d seen your expression, your shoulders turning inward, like you were uncomfortable. He decided to walk over and, sure, it was probably rude. He knew that. However, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. He needed to know what was going on, pulled to you with some tether that he couldn’t explain.

But he regretted it immediately.

Aron chuckled. “If that ain’t the truth, girl.”

“He’s such a fucking loser, I swear. Can’t catch a fucking hint.”

Eddie once thought he’d let go of the anger he once held in high school. The defiant boy that was once riddled with so much frustration at the cruel hand he’d been dealt. The one that jumped up on lunch tables and screamed at whoever would listen. He thought he’d given up on holding onto the bitterness of verbal sucker punches and bruised ribs.

But it was creeping back up, that violent shaking that ran along his arms. The torment of those five brutal years of high school tingling in his fingertips as you continued to desaturate the vibrancy of a man he thought he was becoming.

“Like, why does he have to be so obsessed with you?”

You shrugged and his eyes caught the tail end of your eye roll. “Because he’s so fucking desperate for someone to fuck him. That’s why.”

And before he could stop his head from going there, he was back in that blistering July. The fear of being used goods clutching at his throat as he struggled to speak, struggled to find an escape. 

“Pathetic,” you stated, voice thick with disgust.

That scorching July. Fingers trembling on the doorknob, his sweaty palm slicking it in sweat. Slipping. 

No escape, no escape.

He needed to get out. There was no thought, just action. So, he turned and started stalking towards the front door. Voices in his head spoke over one another, flooding his brain.

Freak. Loser. Dirty. Good for nothing. Desperate. Trailer park trash.

Pathetic.

“Eddie?” he heard behind him, the sound of his name on your lips like a beckoning call, serenading him with its delicacy. 

If he didn’t have a shred of dignity left, he would’ve turned around and come running. But he didn't, instead making a run for the side of the house. Maybe if he hid, he didn’t have to face your humiliation.

And, like he said, he didn’t have to run back…because you were already catching up with him, stopping him in his tracks as you stepped in front of him. How you did that in six inch heels was fucking beyond him.

Placing a hand on his chest, you asked, “What’s wrong?” As your eyes scanned his face, you added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

But he knew better. 

He did, didn’t he?

“Are you using me?”

You paused, flinching away from his chest as if you’d been burned. “Excuse me?”

“Like…” Eddie started, trying to take a deep breath to keep himself level. But he was starting to falter, all shaky and desperate for you to get it the fuck over with. “Like, if we even fuck, is that it? Will the chase be over for you?”

Your face began to harden, something resembling fury clouding your features. “How fucking dare you think I’d do something like that.”

“It’s just a question!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m engaging in this relationship just to fuck you and leave.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as his nostrils flared with frustration, both of you holding mirrored expressions. But yours softened first, the edges of your snarl quivering. Shaking your head, you took another step back.

“I like you, Eddie. Okay? I’ve liked you since that first night. We’ve been on, like, three dates now? And I introduced you to my best friend, for Christ’s sake. You make me laugh but you make me so fucking soft, it drives me insane. And those late night drives make these stupid midterms worth it.”

“Oh.”

“Did I really have to spell it out?” Eddie didn’t say anything. “I mean, geez. I thought I’ve been an open book this whole time. I’ve spent practically every day with you. Every night, even. Like, why would I want to be with anyone else? And did you really need me to reiterate all of that?”

“But you told your friend that I’m—”

“What?!” you exclaimed before shaking your head. “No, that was about this frat guy, Sam. He’s been creeping on me again and is spreading fucking rumors and I am getting literally so sick and tired of it.”

The dissipated anger began to creep back up at the thought of some douchebag stalking you. Who the fuck was Sam to not take a fucking hint? And why was it becoming so increasingly hard not to run back into that party and beat the shit out of him?

“A guy’s been creeping on you? Since when?”

You sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Eddie held up a hand. “Now, hang on. I am going to worry about that, because that’s not nothing.”

“I agree, but that’s a later conversation,” you said, pushing his hand down and shaking your head. “Get to the part where you tell me why you think I’d ever say that about you.”

Eddie was the one to sigh now, pissed that you had to move on but ultimately needed to confess. “I just never thought you’d actually be into me.”

“Why?” you nearly yelled.

“I’m just a fr—”

“Ew! If you say ‘freak’, I’m legally obligated to rip your eyes straight out of your skull.”

A breath escaped his nose as he closed his eyes and tried again. “You just…you’ve dated more people than I have.”

“Based off of what?”

His eyes flew open. “What?” he asked, unsure what you meant.

“You haven’t even bothered to ask me how many people I’ve dated—or fucked, for that matter.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “I’ve had one relationship. One.”

“Really?” he whispered.

You let out a laugh that didn’t match your exhausted expression. “Yeah, for a week until she got nervous about her parents finding out and dumped me. I was sixteen.” Furrowed eyebrows returned to your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned towards him dramatically. “What about that, huh? How many people have you dated, Eddie?”

Two. The number was thick in his throat, his verbalization swallowed by your question being, well, rhetorical.

You paused, turning your face away from the light. But he caught your pointer finger flying up to dab your lower lash line. “Like, I’ve had sex, sure. But it’s not like I ask all those guys to fucking harass me. I honestly don’t know how that became a thing here. Like, I’m just here. I’m just trying to have fun.”

The guilt was starting to settle in his chest. “I should’ve caught that.”

“I thought you understood me,” you said before letting out a high-pitched sound of disbelief, lifting your hands and letting them fall at your sides with a loud thwack. “Like, I’m not a slut or a whore or whatever they want to say despite it being the twenty-first fucking century! And I can’t even be with you without some guy trying to—”

He heard it before he saw it. A scoff that shifted into a sob as you crouched down to your knees, only hovering above the ground by your tall heels. 

Eddie had never seen you cry, had never seen the façade so easily broken. This girl he once thought untouchable, invincible, cracking before his eyes.

Looking back to all of those moments, those numerous instances of harassment, how quick you were to send them a message. How easily it came to you, to throw your verbal and physical punches like it was nothing. Like it was a normal thing.

He’d gotten so caught up in how badass you were that he didn’t stop to think about how you felt about it. Or why it came so easily to you.

He crouched down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

He felt you lean into his hand, glad that you weren’t rejecting him. It was lame, but he didn’t think he could handle your rejection right now. Especially when you were in this state. Especially when he was the reason why.

Turning to glance at him through your tears, you said, “Eddie, that really hurt my feelings.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said truthfully. “If it means anything, I didn’t think you were a, um, slut or whatever. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me the same way.”

You nodded, sniffling while wiping the snot away from your nose. Never once did you pull away from his touch or grow cold. “Yeah, I get that.” You paused, your eye contact starting to burn him. “I’ve never done any of the shit we’ve done with other people. I’ve only felt that comfortable with you.”

“But you’re just…” he trailed before sighing and closing his eyes. “You’re just so good at it.”

When he heard a loud laugh leaving your lips, his eyes flew open, grateful to see a smile on your face. The laugh turned into a fit of snorts, leaving him to laugh at just how adorable you were.

“Yeah, thanks,” you teased, the familiar tone giving him the ability to breathe again. “It’s a litany of porn, smut, and—” You moved your hands up to mimic the shape of a rainbow. “Imaginaaation.”

The reference got Eddie laughing again, nodding along as he replied, “You could’ve told me you’re a dominatrix on the side and, like, I would’ve believed you. Scout’s honor.”

“Good to know,” you joked.

Eddie stood back up then, shaking his head as he reached a hand out to you. “I’m an asshole.”

You lifted an eyebrow, slowly shaking your head back at him before taking his hand. “You’re more special than you think you are.”

He lifted you up, grasping your palm in his as he brought you closer to him. Your joined hands rested against his heart, faces inches apart. 

There you were, your eyes fully in view now. Watery, with makeup creasing along your waterline and smudged mascara littering your cheeks. Despite the quiet pain it caused him, he was grateful to get a glimpse at your beauty again, your attention still gutting him over and over again.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he could feel his guts spilling onto the concrete. And when he drew closer, it was made even worse as he felt your heart rate increase in real time.

And, god dammit, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie closed the gap and kissed you. Gently, tentatively. Let himself linger just long enough to inhale your breath before pulling back.

“My god, you’re precious,” he whispered, heart clenching with every feature you softened—the mask slipping. His eyes fell upon your lips, slightly ajar in shock.  

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath hitching when he lightly pushed you against the wall. 

Eddie’s nose skimmed your cheek, desperate to breathe in your perfume. One last whiff. He swore it. Just one more.

Just one more.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, inhaling your scent again.

It was the last time. Promise. 

“Tell me again,” you pleaded.

He pulled back, catching the clenching of your thighs in his peripheral. A dangerous smile grazed his lips as he gave you what you wanted. 

“You’re precious.”

You nodded repeatedly, doe-eyed as you begged, “Again.”

“You’re precious,” he said, hushed as his lips hovered above yours.

“Please,” you whimpered, legs squirming against his. But he pushed you further into the wall, your connected hands halting your movement. He could feel your heart racing furiously. “One more time.”

“You’re precious, baby.”

Before you could lunge at him, he was a step ahead of you, crushing your lips with his. Released your hand, quick to cup your face as you floundered to find somewhere to put your hands. Taking a page out of your book, he grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders.

A sigh left your lips at the movement, nodding your head as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. What you were nodding about, he had no idea. He didn’t have the ability to have thoughts about anything anymore. 

All he could think was more, more, more.

All he could feel was you.

He couldn’t help himself when he slotted his thigh between yours, earning a deafening moan that made him harder than he already was. You’d moaned, sure. He’d heard you do it plenty of times when you made out. But he was suddenly struck with how different your positions were now. And how he was the reason for it. 

The thought drove him closer to the edge, roughly grabbing at your cheek with one hand while the other slid down your thigh, snaking around your knee and jerking your leg up to his hip. Your gasp made him even crazier, unable to help it when he pushed his thigh further against your core. Another wild whimper, this time with an edge of impatience.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes.”

If Eddie had the confidence, he’d take you against this house right now. He’d slide into you with ease, Fucking those little sounds out of you, the ones he dreamed about at night. The ones that would mirror the way you sounded right now, only intensified and louder. 

And yet it was enough to hear your now quiet desperation, to feel your thighs clench around his leg, your soaking pussy dripping through your panties and staining his jeans with ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You nodded furiously, seemingly unable to speak as you gasped and chased his lips again. Ground your pussy against his leg. Impatient, hungry.

He couldn’t help but feel greedy, draping himself around you.

Let there be witnesses. Let the whole house hear him, he didn’t care. But those noises, your noises, belonged solely to him. Swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his body shielding yours. The vibrations pulsed through his cheeks and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

He noticed you continuing to chase the friction, rubbing yourself along the denim over and over, his jeans being ruined with every rut of your hips. If Eddie hadn’t been drunk off of you before, he was deliriously faded now. Because you were still going, no words leaving your mouth. Just whimpers and moans.

He wanted to say something, wanted to beg you to keep going. But he stayed quiet, knowing that you’d probably stop, keeping yourself from the pleasure he was witnessing. You looked like a goddess, eyes rolling back and, dear god, he needed to mark your neck again. He dipped his head down and began nipping at your skin again, frenzied at the reaction it pulled out of you.

The hitch in your breath caught his attention, moving his face from your neck to see your head thrown back. Your heaving chest was the indicator, the slow build of something beginning inside you. 

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Without any warning, he felt your legs tremble before your cum seeped into his jeans. A cry left your lips as your breath continued at a rapid pace, sweat dripping down your neck. Eddie was quick to lick it up, trying hard not to get on his knees and lap up what was left from the source.

(He was just glad he had enough restraint to resist begging for your underwear to keep for later.)

(The one time he’s able to keep his mouth shut.)

One last whimper left your lips as you came down, chasing the last of your high on his leg before he moved it out of the way. Left a gentle kiss on your forehead before he heard you sniffle.

“S-sorry,” you breathed, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. He came back to the present, leaning back as he watched your face crumble. “Sorry.”

Eddie took your chin between his fingers. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

At first, you only opened one, like you were testing the waters. He chuckled, earning access to your other eye. “There she is,” he murmured, pecking your nose. “Why’re you apologizing?”

“‘Cause I didn’t ask you if it was okay if I did that.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pushed his fingers away, covering your mouth with your hand. Shook your head as you added, “I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Baby, I would’ve stopped you.” He moved your hand away, lightly stroking your cheek as he continued. “I was honestly scared you would stop.”

Your head cocked towards his, glassy eyes turned clear again. “Why?”

“‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum.”

A bashful expression immediately fell over your features, shoulders caving inwards as you bit your lip. You tapped your heels against the concrete, one by one, all jittery and shy. It was cute.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that, either,” you said. “But you just…”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, sighing. “You kinda fucked with my head.”

“Does that mean I get to finally fuck you?”

Tapping at your cheek, you looked away in feigned contemplation before shaking your head. “Nope. I think I’ll make you work harder to get to see it.”

“Nah, I could prove it right now,” he insisted, getting down on both knees.

You became flustered, looking at your surroundings before back down at him. “Eddie, no.”

He put his hands in a praying position and tried to puppy-dog eye you. “Trust me, I can make you do that, like, five more times right now.”

“Eddie—”

“And that’s just with my tongue.”

“Oh my God. Get up,” you said with a laugh, tugging him to stand back up. “We’re not doing this in public.”

Eddie snorted, a goofy smile meeting his lips. “Well, technically we already—”

“There you guys are!” 

Aron’s voice snapped you both out of your delirium, bringing you back to where you were.

“Oh, ew!” she nearly screeched, eyes wide as she stared at Eddie’s jeans. “We’re in public, guys. Come on.” 

When you both looked down, you saw your cum glistening across his jeans. 

“I’m sorry!” you said at the same time Eddie said, “I’m not sorry!”

You immediately gawked at him and he couldn’t have enjoyed any reaction more. His smirk said it all, earning a quick whack to his shoulder. 

“You’re both so horny on main. I’m never letting you out of my sight at a party ever again.”

thank yew for the divider @strangergraphics

[elsweetheart]

Random…but I have this stupid scenario with Dealer Ellie having reader count all her money…lots and lots of money. reader in her undies looking all cute and confident heheheh or something idk why it’s so specific but I’m thinking about it after listening to “the morning” by the weeknd

oh my …… god …… i’m obsessed with this

countin’ up

🎀 reader being hot, ellie bein a sexy dealer, mentions of drugs and money

you’re a little high yourself, just a smidge from taking a few tokes off ellie’s joint on the walk home — enough for you to feel warm and hazy and confident in ellie’s dorm. the two of you had been to a party that night, and it was a great business night for ellie, coming home with her black backpack practically empty of weed— instead filled with hundreds of notes. not only were people clumsy, overpaying her or accidentally handing over more money than they meant to — but people round those sides were huge tippers, just thrilled to have a big bad dealer show up at daddies pool house. she’d been victorious, and you couldn’t help but grin watching it all unfold.

you’d pulled off the tight dress as soon as you’d made it back to her dorm, warm from the humid summer air outside and wanting to just be comfortable. ellie wolf whistled, distracted by her phone ringing— one of her usual clients calling in to make orders for him and his friends. you tipped the contents of the bag out on the bed, the strong stench of cannabis falling out with all the paper bills. “damn.” you breathed out with a grin, taking a handful of the money and letting it slide out your palm falling into your lap where you’d sat on the bed. the money smelled like weed when you sniffed it and you giggled, envisioning yourself sheepishly handing it over to a shop clerk, their brow lifting at the smell. oops.

you got comfortable, laying down on your elbow on your side and pushing some money to the side, starting to count them up. you’d always count up for ellie, as she told you that she repeatedly would fuck it up. your stomach warmed at the thought of being helpful to her, glancing up to see her writing down her clients order in her notebook sat at her desk. “uh—huh. nah, we don’t sell that one anymore. instead i can offer you…” she opens her drawer, fumbling around with her stock. you smiled, turning back to counting the money setting them in neat piles.

she got off the phone, standing up with a stretch as you continued counting before turning to look at you, eyes scanning over your position and your lack of clothes. “now isn’t this a sight for sore eyes.” she smirked, stepping towards the bed and placing her hand on your thigh, settling herself to sit down on it. you giggled, eyes focused on neatening one of the makeshift piles you’d made. “how many dealers do you know that can say they have a hot girl in her underwear counting money on their bed. that’s like… pimp level shit, man.” she grinned, taking in the scene before her.

“i don’t know any other dealers. only have eyes for one.” you shrugged, finishing up counting. “510 dollars.” you told her, still in disbelief at the sheer quantity from one nights sales. you thought it was risky for ellie to show up with her backpack stuffed to the brim with weed, heavy and pungent — but clearly she knew this would be a jackpot.

“damn.” ellie’s eyebrows jumped before she began sorting the piles herself. “this is the suppliers cut.” she spoke mainly to herself, separating two piles away from the rest. “this is your cut.” she pushed a few piles towards you casually, making you laugh.

“my cut? i don’t work for you, els it’s your money.” you pushed yourself to sit up slightly and didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to your tits in your lacy bra at the movement.

“nah, come on. you’re my girl. you get the money.” she shrugged you off casually, making you swell and dampen slightly in your underwear.

“really?” you fluttered your lashes up at her and she nodded, starting to pick up her money to transfer it to her desk.

“all yours, babe.”

[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!

AO3 Link: Cruel Summer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - America, Developing Relationship, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, body image issues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.  

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

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

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

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

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

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eleanor makes a confused face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly. 

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

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

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close enough,” Hob says. 

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

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

[gtsdreamer2]

Ever since your dad walked out on your family, you felt like you had a responsibility to your mom and sister to be the man of the house. You worked hard, studied hard, went to college while working a job that helped pay the bills, and it all paid off. You used your degree to dive into the tech industry and become a great inventor. Some of your inventions were taking off, and you were finally starting to see the fruits of your labor. That also meant that you could delegate some of your work to others now, which granted you enough free time to be able to work on pet projects and spoil your girlfriend, Katy. Sometimes, those two things coincided.

After a few tireless weeks of working 'round the clock in secret, you had finally finished your girlfriend's present. She was a retro soul with a 70s aesthetic, so you made her a special lava lamp. It was special because you had engineered some of your new tech into it. Katy had always had a waifish figure since you had known her, which, although you loved her just the same for it, made her very self-conscious both in the bedroom and out in public. The lamp that you had produced just for her was designed to emit special waves of energy to both grow her lacking assets and instill confidence in her, both through temporary mental manipulation and a renewed pride in her physical appearance.

You finally got home with your new toy when you got a ping on your phone to go out for drinks with your boys. 'What the hell, why not? I've been working my ass off. I deserve this.' you thought to yourself, setting the lamp on the kitchen counter before quickly changing and speeding off to the bars. Slamming the door as your left, you woke your sleeping mom, Cindy.

She came downstairs and into the kitchen and spotted the lamp on the counter. "Well this is cool. I haven't seen one of these in years!" She said, picking it up and examining it. "I bet Jake got it for me since my birthday is coming up. He definitely wouldn't have gotten this for himself. I'm so excited to set it up. It'll make a nice night light." Your mom scampered back up the stairs with the lamp and a glass of water in hand. She quickly downed her refreshment and plugged in the lamp, setting it on the dresser on the far side of the room before switching it on.

As it heated up, a warm glow filled the room. "Wow, it's giving off a lot of heat. I probably won't be able to use this in the summer, but its very comforting right now. As the lamp got hotter, so did your mom as she got cozy in bed. She dozed off while staring at the lamp's memorizing lava bubbles.

She couldn't remember her dreams, but they must have been wonderful. Cindy awoke with her panties soaked and wedged tightly against herself. She moaned and stretched, feeling a strange tightness all across her sleepwear. As she tossed and turned, trying to get her clothes to adjust, her nipples brushed the soft fabric of her PJs and elicited another, more sexual moan from her lips. She hadn't felt this turned on in years. It was like a long dormant fire had been lit. Turning on her side, Cindy put her legs around one of the extra pillows on the bed and started to aggressively hump herself to climax, biting her blanket to stifle her whimpers of pleasure all the while. Her sensitive nipples ached to be teased as she bucked. She eagerly obliged them as she snaked a hand under her top. She was so lost in her trance that she almost didn't realize that she was grabbing more breast than she should have had. Cindy was far too lost in pleasure at that moment as she humped and groped her sensitive body until she finally came hard into the pillow that she was abusing.

Sweat-speckled and panting, she finally released the poor pillow, covered with the evidence of your mom's much needed release. 'That was amazing.' She thought to herself, still trying to collect herself as she stood up from the bed. Her clothing still felt wrong on her as she made her way to the full body mirror in the bathroom.

As she looked herself up and down in the mirror, her jaw dropped. Her tits had grown. Her ass had plumped. Her head was slightly outside the frame of the mirror which was never an issue before this moment. "This is a lot." She said to herself, trying to take it all in. "I'm...a lot. I need coffee."

Cindy forced her soaked panties off her and discarded them into her laundry bin. She replaced them with a fresh pair that seemed to strain against the might of her new rear, but they fit, for now. A bra was out of the question, so she threw on a sweater by itself and then a part of leggings that couldn't cover her ankles and made her ass perk even higher. Checking herself out in the mirror again, she felt a wave of confidence as she tossed her sex hair from side to side. "I feel amazing this morning." She whispered before heading downstairs.

You awoke on your friend's couch, your natural body clock telling you that it was time to get up for work. "Shit." You cursed under your breath. You must have gotten too wasted last night. You pulled yourself together and got your things as quick as you could. You checked your phone and realized that you wouldn't have time to go home and would have to go straight to work. You wouldn't be home until late either. Sighing, you forced yourself out of your friend's house and into your car and then off to work.

Your sister came downstairs to find your mom humming to herself while doing the morning chores. She was loading the dishwasher, finishing breakfast, and sipping her coffee. She seemed different. Not just happier and peppier, but less...mom-like. She couldn't put her finger on it. "You're in a good mood this morning." She said. Sitting down to be served. Cindy quickly placed the spread before her.

"I know!" Your mom beamed back at your sister, Destiny, sitting down with her own, overloaded plate of food. "I feel amazing this morning." She dug into her breakfast, far more ravenously than she normally would have. She blamed it on the calories burned from touching herself that morning, conveniently trying to block out the obvious answer, which was that her increased assets caused the calorie deficit. Destiny sat there in disbelief of Cindy as the massive plate of food disappeared. She had no time to gawk as she had to get her things and get to her classes, however. Destiny said her goodbyes and left your mom home alone and to her own devices.

After clearing her plate and helping herself to everything that was leftover, she finally felt satisfied. She continued with her daily chores, cleaning around the house, vacuuming, tidying up the bathroom, normal motherly duties. Around midday, she finally started to feel sluggish and tired and returned to her room for an afternoon nap. That's when she remembered the lamp. "Oops" she said to no one. "I forgot to turn this off. Reaching for the lamp, she felt the warmth kiss her fingers before moving up her arm and then through her chest. Her nipples awoke and grew hard, pressing against her already too tight top. Instead of turning the lamp off, she instead put both her hands on it and lifted it up, holding it close to her chest. The warm feeling that had already started to completely envelop her intensified and she cooed at the feeling filling her body. As her body drank in the heat that was radiating from her new luminant gift, she could feel herself growing. Suddenly her nether regions had started to produce a heat of their own and she was reminded of the fun that she had gotten to have with herself that morning. Cindy then had a devilish idea. She unplugged the lamp from the outlet on the far wall and replugged it into the one by her nightstand. Peeling off her shrinking clothing, she crawled into bed and switched the lamp back on She sat with her back resting up against the headboard and her legs spread open and her feet touching In the center she placed the lamp, mere inches from her hungry snatch. Then as she was basking in the glow, she again began to pleasure herself. Cindy had no need to hold back her cries and moans in an empty house, so as she rubbed her needy clit, she wailed in ecstasy for the first time in countless years. Orgasm after orgasm shook through her as her growing body continued to become more and more sensitive.

"Fuck!" she cried out as another climax and subsequent growth spurt rattled through her. "Why does this feel so good? I just want more and more and more! There's no way this should be happening." Not that she was keeping track of how big she was growing, but she had long left the six foot mark behind. If she had kept her clothing on, it would have started ripping itself apart from her body by now. Groping her giant tits, she couldn't help but smile. "These have grown so huge! So big and sensitive! And my nipples!" She tugged on each of them in turn then, not daring to take a hand away from her needy needy cunt. With each buck of her hips, she could feel her feet sliding further and further towards the edge of the bed and then beyond as her head pressed up against and then crept up the headboard. She could feel her pillowy ass jiggle and bounce against the bed as her leg muscles continued to thicken. After what felt like her twentieth finish, her body was finally satisfied and she passed out, the lamp tipping forward and delicately landing between her lips. As she slept, the energy from the lamp poured into her, forcing her bigger and bigger in her sleep.

Work finally ended and you were heading home. You felt behind the whole day and had hardly a moment to yourself to think. Throwing your keys on the counter, they landed right where the lamp should have been. Immediately you were wide awake, mind racing. 'I forgot all about the lamp, fuck.' You thought frantically. 'There's no way that someone plugged it in right?' You crept down the hall to your sister's room first. Slowing cracking open her door, nothing seemed out of place. You gave a sigh of relief and shut her door.

Next came your mom's room. As you quietly opened her door, your heart immediately sank. She was naked in her bed and at least eight feet tall by now. Both hands gripping the lamp as she rhythmically humped against it in her sleep. You were horrified, but it was also hard to look away. Her body was producing dangerous pheromones, just like the lamp was designed to do. Luckily, you knew this and were conscious of them. As you snuck up to the side of her bed, the pheromones grew stronger. You quickly unplugged the lamp and the room darkened slightly, now only lit from the setting sun outside. You held your breath as you slipped the lamp out of her hands, careful not to wake her. Exiting the room, you finally let out a frustrated sigh and an audible "fuck" as your sister was closing the front door.

"Woah, what's the problem?" She said, immediately noticing that something was off. She set her school stuff down and walked over to you.

"It's mom. She took this" You said gesturing to the lamp in your hands "and now she's like eight feet tall."

"Well that's...something" Your sister says, clearly lost. "What's 'this'" she said pointing to what looked to her like a relic from the 70s.

"'This' is a present for Katy, but I had to run off to work this morning after being out all night. I guess mom took it to bed and plugged it in." You let out another exasperated sigh. "Katy is on her way here right now to come pick this up, but I need to go back to my lab to get what I need to fix mom. Hopefully before she wakes up. Can I trust you to hold onto it while I'm gone and give it to my girlfriend? I don't need mom waking up and using it again. It seems like it can get pretty addicting pretty quickly based on her size. Maybe it works a little too well. I think I'll grab some supplies to recalibrate it for Katy before I let her use it." You were talking to yourself at this point.

"I don't really know what's going on since she seemed pretty normalish this morning, but sure bro!" She said eager to help. "I promise I wont let mom use it while you're gone. You should hurry though, I don't know how long she's been asleep. And if she's eight feet tall, I don't think I'd be able to stop her anyway. You better fix this."

You pushed the lamp into her arms and quickly left for your lab, leaving your sister alone with your sleeping colossus of a mother. Setting the lamp on the counter, your sister crept over to your mom's room and cracked the door open. "Holy shit," she whispered, "she's huge!" Silently closing the door, Destiny quickly scooped the lamp up and brought it to her room, where she promptly undressed and plugged it into her nightstand. Sitting on her bed, she held the lamp between her petite breasts as it began to produce heat. "Come on, come on. I don't have much time before Katy gets here. I wanna grow, too. Make me bigger!"

[octopus-punching-union]

Subaru Kagami headcanons

(some spoilers for Hotarubi chapter)

kind of a foodie

Has never thought of himself like that and would deny it if you ever pointed it out

"But of course I spend hours thinking about what snacks and tea my friends would like. It's just part of being a gracious host"

He doesn't really cook, though. If he tried, he could follow a recipe competently, but he would never serve a guest anything less than perfect. And cooking just for himself is a lot of effort and he's not very good at doing nice things for himself. (He has just hot water for breakfast??! Not even tea or coffee??)

He remembers his friends' favorites and makes sure he always has something they like on hand

(don't think about him being alone after the Clash and trying to figure out what to do with his stash of Zenji's favorite things)

On a lighter note. He was checking out Sho's food truck the instant it appeared on campus — he totally went to the mystery diner exactly once when it first opened. Like, even before Ren got hired, when it was just the anomalies working there. It was extremely awkward (he had so many questions and the anomalies can't talk), but he was polite and has never gone back. He doesn't even like to walk past the diner anymore because he feels so awkward about it.

sensory issues

Since he picks up residual memories from just about everything he touches, Subaru is very intentional about everything he buys — especially clothes that are touching his skin all day

Given all the issues with working conditions in the production of clothing, he has a hard time buying clothes and needs to touch everything. There are probably a few students in Hotarubi who are really passionate about sewing, knitting, or other textile crafts, and he goes to them whenever possible.

He puts so much work into helping you pick out a yukata for the summer festivals. He's anxious about taking up too much of your time, so he'll go beforehand so that he can take his time touching everything. He wants it to be perfect and to suit you in every way.

childhood / "rebellion"

Gifted kid burnout x 1000. Subaru has been working since he was four years old and his family is a big deal — he's been in the public eye since he was very young and always had to be on his best behavior because someone was always watching. (No wonder he has anxiety...)

So like, a lot of people who had a strict upbringing kinda go off the rails as soon as they get a little bit of freedom. But to (formal, reserved, self-conscious) Subaru, "subversive" means things like: 1) being a normal student at a normal school (not actually normal at all), 2) lying about the true nature of his stigma so that he won't be ostracized by his peers, and 3) advocating, through the proper channels, for his werewolf bff to be released from prison.

He feels like he's in his rebellious phase right now though, and that's what matters. Plenty of ordinary things feel thrilling just because he was never allowed to do them. Just being around people his own age is exciting! He's never had friends before.

(Ever since he was little, school always took backseat to his kabuki career. Now he's at the top of his class! He's so good at rebelling, guys 🥲)

He is (very slowly) learning to relax and be less formal. Zenji's death really affected him, and he doesn't seem totally comfortable around Haku. I'm really hoping Sho will help him to feel more confident and free!Lyca will cause problems and help him loosen up a little.

I really want him to go on a motorcycle ride with Sho at some point. I ship it think it would be cute. He would over-apologize for being nervous and clingy and Sho wouldn't even clock it as a big deal.

as your boyfriend

No matter what you do, your relationship will be a really slow burn. He's hesitant, afraid of doing something wrong, and genuinely doesn't understand why you would want him. You'll have to be the one pursuing him. (But, if you're patient, your relationship completely changes as he becomes more comfortable and confident.)

He loathes his stigma. It means you'll never have privacy from him, and at first he thinks you haven't considered the extent of it. Of course you'll change your mind, he thinks, once you realize it's constant and unending. He thinks of his affection and desire as an imposition that you'll find offputting, at best.

(Besides, there are plenty of people who would be better suited to being your partner, he thinks. Haku is so relaxed and has no problem joking around with you. Zenji is passionate and unafraid to express his admiration for you. In comparison, Subaru feels quiet and awkward and unable to talk about how he truly feels.)

He can't control what he sees with his stigma. It's frequently innocuous, but when he sees something painful or heavy, he feels that he's betraying you. Because you didn't choose to entrust him with those memories.

So when he accidentally sees something heavier, he'll share one of his secrets in return. He wants you to feel safe being vulnerable with him in this way.

(but sometimes, when you're asleep next to him and he's feeling particularly anxious or insecure, he might touch you hoping to see any reassurance that you're happy with him. He trusts you, he really does, but what if he's not good enough? What if you're only pretending to be happy to spare his feelings? He always feels like shit afterwards.)

Because of all this, he's really uncomfortable with physical affection at first. He feels a lot of guilt for wanting to be closer and wanting to touch you, and he worries that you'll think he's creepy or trying to dig through your past. His affection is sporadic, as he spends a lot of time worrying and mentally preparing.

Also, like. He sends a two paragraph text message full of pre-emptive apologies just to ask you to get lunch. He's going to be that stressed about all of your firsts.

Before asking you to be intimate for the first time, he'll wait until he's so pent up that he can't stand it, then he'll feel really awkward about asking. Because what if you don't want him? What if he's pressuring you just by asking? It's ok if you don't want to, he assures you, and he's so relieved when you say yes.

Not at all a fan of PDA. He'll sit closer to you when you're hanging out with the other ghouls. He might hold your hand if he thinks no one's paying attention. I think he would be clingy when really drunk, but then upon sobering up would be so embarrassed if anyone else witnessed it. (Haku would like gently tease him about it and he would be dying inside.)

He expresses his affection more often with food and gifts — nothing extravagant, just little things to show that he's thinking of you. He wants to spend a lot of time with you, even if he seems distant. Some of his more formal mannerisms with always be there, not because he's uncomfortable or trying to distance himself, but as a way of showing how much he respects and cares for you.

Over time, you become someone he can relax with, someone he feels secure around. He'll always hesitate for a moment before touching you, giving you a chance to move away, but he doesn't feel the crushing guilt anymore.

(he still doesn't eat breakfast, but it's because he would rather stay in bed with you in the quiet of the early morning. It helps him calm and center himself before getting up for the day.)

He wants a peaceful life with you, unremarkable except for the love that you share.

[robinsno1lesbian]

Okay, I LOVE me some bold, confident Robin...

...but what about shy, blushy, I-live-in-a-small-town-so getting-it-on-with-another-girl-is-impossible-I'm-still-amazed-this-is-happening Robin's first time with an equally excited and inexperienced reader? It's sweet and cute and awkward, but then holy shit you get to be each other's first experience getting touched by someone other than yourself 🫣🫣🫣 I'm WEAK

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒, 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒, 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 - 𝐑.𝐁.

robin buckley x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨��𝐧𝐭: 4730

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), maybe a bit of internalized as well as period typical homophobia, is soft smut a thing?, first time, virginity loss, inexperienced!robin x inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering (fem!receiving obviously), let me know if i missed anything <3

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no because you're so right anon! here's my take on that, i hope you like it! also thank you so much for 300 followers!! i'm so thankful for your support on here so have a 4k word robin x reader smut in return lmao

you can't help yourself but watch her from the corner of your eye. her bangs are falling into her eyes, it is something that has caught your attention a lot lately: the way she always tries to get them out of her face and the way her hair is way too stubborn with her. there are a lot of things that have caught your attention lately, especially when it comes to robin buckley. you do those silly little things: catch yourself daydreaming about her in class or sketching her features on the side of your worksheet rather than working on them. hell, you've been counting her freckles the other day and only stopped because she had snapped you out of it herself. if you didn't know any better, you'd say you're hopelessly in love with her. except that can't be...right? because she's a woman and you can't be in love with a woman. you're not supposed to be in love with a woman. and yet this is what it is supposed to feel like, from what you've heard: the way your stomach twists in a way that tickles through your whole body whenever she looks at you or is already staring whenever you turn back during your shared shifts simply can't be anything other than that. regardless of what you've heard, the things you feel whenever she is around are allconsuming. you try to think of the things people on TV claim. you really try to get yourself together, to keep your eyes glued on a bunch of boys that walk by in the hallway just like all of your friends do. but all of this is forgotten the minute you lay eyes on her. love, you sometimes (in rare moments of clarity) find yourself thinking, isn't supposed to be what oppresses you or chains you down. it's supposed to be free and you've only ever felt free, truly free, around robin. maybe that's why you can't stop watching her now. summer has chosen to come early this year and the heat is already on the verge of being unbearable in late may. she's sitting on your bed, legs crossed and back bent over a book that's open on her leg. she's using a bright yellow marker to highlight important paragraphs, her lip tugged between her front teeth as she works in concentration.

yet again, you can't stop yourself from watching, admiring her from afar like you always do.

she is in a pair of shorts and a tank top she has taken from your closet. it's not her style, white and lacy, and yet it still looks great on her. usual, maybe, but breathtaking nonetheless, emphasizing the curves of her body that are normally hidden from the view underneath a layer of baggy clothing. you're grateful that you get to see her like this. "you're doing it again" her raspy voice snaps you back to reality and she speaks without even looking up from the text. "huh?" you raise a brow and tilt your head "what?" robin looks up from her book and drums the pen against her thigh a couple of times before she answers. "you're staring" she doesn't say it as if it was something that bothers her. she sounds so...sweet, maybe? "oh uhm-" your mind is racing with possible things to answer in return. you always have plenty to say, but right now, your normally busy and loud brain fails you when you need it the most. "i was just thinking" you mumble eventually. robin thinks about this for a second, shrugs, and focuses on her book again. "you do that a lot lately, don't you?" "there's a lot to think about" you say and she grins. "like what?" "dunno..." you shake your head and laugh softly "i guess my mind has been really full of thoughts lately" that catches robin's attention. she closes the book and turns so that she's facing you. her leg almost brushes yours. almost. you find yourself longing for that brief brush of skin, wishing she would lean in just a tiny bit more, just enough for that. "you know you can talk to me, right y/n?" as if she's been reading your mind, robin reaches out and puts a palm to your knee. your breath hitches in your throat and you fake a cough to cover it. you don't know what has gotten into you or why you choose to do what you do. but something in you finally gives you the strength to speak.

"robin have you ever...felt like, i don't know, genuinely, fundamentally different?" a smirk creeps up her cheeks. "all the time" she says.

"no but- i mean- not just in a way that you don't...i don't know..." you do know. what you really want to ask her is if she has ever felt the way you do every single day. if she ever wanted to kiss another woman, if she ever wanted to do more than just that too. "hey" she traces circles over your damp skin "is there something you want to talk about y/n?" you look up and her eyes meet yours. it almost seems like her pupils blow just a little bit wider at the sudden eye contact. you've never seen the ocean, have lived your whole life in this tiny town of hawkins, but you're certain that that's the colors of the waves that meet the shore.

perhaps another time you would've looked away and blushed. but robin is tilting her head sideways and has this sweet look on her entire face that has made you want to kiss her a hundred times before. only this time it is different. you know you're running out of time; it is only a matter of time until you will go separate ways, robin to europe and you to some god-forsaken college your parents have picked out for you. you know that if you don't do it now, you won't ever. and so you do it, against all odds. slowly, you reach out and place a strand of hair -one that's been bothering her all this time- behind her ear. her skin feels so soft under your touch that you can't help yourself but exhale slowly. just when you want to withdraw your hand, your touch already lingering for a bit too long, robin grabs your wrist and holds it there. "don't" she whispers. your palm meets her cheek and suddenly you're holding her face and she's leaning into your hand.

robin turns her face in your palm in a way that allows her lips to brush over it. your heartbeat picks up its pace when she starts kissing the heel of your hand, leaving you completely breathless. you watch her in complete awe and bite your lip at the sight in front of you. "robin..." you murmur and gently pull her a little bit closer, not enough for her to actually move forward, but just enough for her to feel your suggestive movement. she follows suit immediately and starts leaning in closer. closer and closer until her lips are almost touching yours. her breath meets your skin in short, hot puffs that send shivers down your spine. robin's eyes are fixated on your lips and you let all fear fall away. instead, you say "can i kiss you?". robin doesn't answer. instead, she grabs your face in a desperate manner and closes the little bit of distance that is left between you. her lips feel soft, that's the first thing you notice. and then your other senses start picking up on it too: she smells like summer; of the layer of sunscreen she must've applied in the morning and of the hawkins summer air that surrounds you. she tastes like chapstick and shared lemonade. robin leans back faster than you want her too, doesn't stay for more than one quick kiss. "h-holy shit y/n i'm- did you- i mean- was that okay?" you smile. "more than okay robin but...can we...can we do that again?" the excitement practically sparks in her eyes when you ask that but she nods immediately. "i would love nothing more" she scrambles up and bumps into you in the process of getting closer so that she's pressing you further into the pillows on your bed. you gasp but it turns into laughter against her lips when she pretends it never happens and puts her lips on yours again. she misses your lips though, kissing your front teeth due to your laughing. "stop laughing" she chuckles against your mouth "i'm trying to kiss you" "my bad" you grin and wrap your arms around her, caging her in like that "try again". this time she doesn't miss and you're not a giddy mess either. this time, she really kisses you. one arm remains around her shoulder while your other hand holds her cheek and robin kisses you deeper. you stay like this for a while. she tilts her head experimentally every now and then and moves your face with her index too. it's much more than an awkward peck; you can feel the length of her body on yours, your legs dangling together on your bed despite the heat, and just when you think it couldn't possibly get any better, robin parts her lips and licks along your bottom lip, waiting for you to let her in. you gasp, slightly surprised but thrilled to see where this might go. you gladly allow her to lick into your mouth, parting your lips like she has done before. it's a new sensation, one that neither of you is really used to. the velvet of her tongue against your own tickles past your lips and into your mouth. that's when you feel it for the very first time: the tingling sensation that starts somewhere in your lower belly and pools between your thighs. hungry for more, you arch your back up and try to press her further against you. robin groans and the noise has the exact same effect on you as your current makeout session.  "robin" you manage when she leans back to take a breath in.  her brows narrow and she looks down at you. "are you okay? is this okay? do you want to stop?"  "no!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too fast but robin just grins at that. "i mean- no. i just...touch me, please" "touch you?" she raises a brow "are you sure? i mean are you sure that you want this? i've never-"  you shake your head gently "i haven't either robin...but i am sure. i want this. i want you"  she gives you the sweetest smile and nods slowly.  "but, just so we're clear" she runs a hand through her hair, giving you time to admire just how pretty she looks like this: slightly golden in the sunlight and lips plump from the previous kisses. "we can stop anytime, okay?" 

"i won't want to stop" you whisper and she looks down at you in what looks like slight surprise but also amazement.  "well we don't have to" she shrugs and earns a giggle from you.  "just come here and kiss me already"  that she'll gladly do. she leans down again and kisses your lips. this time, she slips her tongue past your lips immediately, but it is soft and passionate nonetheless.  she kisses you slowly, just like you need it right now and her fingers link with yours so that she is holding both of your hands with her own while she is kissing you.  you smile against her and you can feel her returning the gesture, you don't even have to open your eyes to know.  "take off my clothes" you breathe into her open mouth.  so her fingers run up your body until they reach the collar of your shirt, where she starts fumbling with the buttons.  her kisses grow uncoordinated and you lean back.  "damn it" she curses, struggling to undo the very first button.  "hey" you reach out and wrap your fingers around her wrists "hey it's okay, let me help"  robin looks into your eyes as you help her and open the shirt for her. she sits up slowly, eyes filled with disbelief that this sight is really revealing to her.  she runs a hand through her hair once more and her jaw drops when you finish the final button.  "like what you see?" you chuckle and watch robin through heavy lashes. 

"god you could say that" she groans and shifts her weight back onto your thighs. 

you sit up against your many pillows and push the fabric off of your shoulder, leaving you in nothing but a soft, lacy bra.  you blush under her watchful eye and fight back to urge to hide from her. she must notice the way you look away from her because she gently brushes a finger over your cheek and down to your chin, lifting your gaze upon her.  "you're so beautiful, y/n" she murmurs. "so beautiful" 

you bring your own hands to her waist, squeezing the dip just above her hips slightly before you tug on the top that belongs to you.  "can i...?"  robin bites her lips and reaches out herself, pulls it over her head and then throws it over her shoulder carelessly.  she is wearing a black bra and her chest is covered in freckles. you've always wondered whether the thin layer of freckles would continue below the collar of each of her shirts but you would've never expected that you would actually get to see it.  you lean your head back and she gets the sign.  robin leans down and kisses you softly, her hands roaming your sides. you start exploring her body too, shily at first.  you move your palms over the swell of her breasts, just the ghost of a touch before you let them wander lower.  she shudders when you touch her there and you gasp softly in return. your hands run up her back again and stumble upon the clasp of her bra.  you look up from her chest and she is nodding already, giving you an answer to the unspoken questions.  you unclasp it slowly, making sure she has time to comprehend it, before you pull it off of her entirely.  and, god, she is beautiful.  your breath hitches in your throat and you shamelessly gape at her chest.  "like what you see?" robin grins, stealing the line you've used on her before.  "oh shut up robin, you're- you're gorgeous"  you keep looking at her and take your own bra off as well, getting you into an equal state of undressing.  she inhales sharply and strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs pressing into your skin softly.  "can i touch you?" when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to hold your breasts. you exhale shakily, feeling this new kind of touch on yourself.  this is all so new, so sweet.  a mix of shy touches and soft noises of approval.  you're so happy that you get this with robin. that she is the one out of all people that does this for you. with you.  her thumbs brush over your nipples and you arch your back forward involuntarily, a quiet moan drawn from your lips by her.  "oh you like that?"  your eyes fall shut and you nod, your lips forming a silent 'o'. she repeats the motion applying just the right amount of pressure that it feels even better than before.  "j-just like that robin" you moan. robin smiles, obviously pleased with the reaction she got out of you.  she leans forward again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves.  "fuck-"  "what?" your eyes snap open, slightly alarmed. but robin's expression doesn't look like one to be alarmed about. her eyes have fallen shut and her mouth is agape.  that is when you realize that your thigh sits right against her center.  "oh" you breathe out and she opens a single eye to look at you.  she looks absolutely heavenly like this and, to test something, you flex the muscles in your thigh against her, eager to get a reaction out of her.  robin's lashes flutter and her lips part at the same time as her head drops back in pleasure.  "oh my god" she rasps "oh my god"  "does that- feel good?" you ask her and put both of your hands on her hips.  she nods to confirm it and gives her hips a couple of experimentally rolls forward, dragging them over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans fall from her lips. her normally low and raspy voice has this new, high-pitched tone to it that you've never heard before but from which you know that you need more of it.  after some time, robin leans her forehead down against yours. she brings a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to her and her open mouth is brushing over your own, parted lips. her hot breathing and the quiet, shy moans that occasionally erupt from her send the same tingling sensation down your body.  this is great already, better than you would've ever imagined, but you know you need more.  and robin does too.  "robin" you whisper and she stops her movements immediately.  "yeah?" she breathes "are you okay?"  you smile at how considerate she is with you, how attentive. 

"more than okay i just- i wanna see you"  "oh"  "yeah, oh" you bite your lip "is that okay?" robin grins and shifts backward, away from your legs so that she can get herself out of the shorts she's wearing.  you laugh softly when she struggles with the zipper and tries to kick them off her long legs.  eventually, she gets out of them and throws them down the bed to kneel in front of you.  "can we- uh- try something?" she asks, a shy blush on her cheeks.  when you nod, she takes your hand in hers and pulls you up so that you're both kneeling in front of each other.  you don't miss the way her eyes fall upon your chest, as if she still can't fully believe that all of this is really happening.  her hand is still locked with yours when she holds it against the valley between her breasts.  you gasp when you feel her heartbeat against your palm.  "i want you to touch me" she speaks carefully and tilts her head to search your eyes for any doubts. "and i want to touch you too"  you bite your lip at the thought of this and nod your head. "please" her fingers find the hem of your skirt and, while her eyes are still on yours, she pushes it down your legs so that it is pooling around your knees. she leaves it there before her fingers trace up your thighs slowly.  you involuntarily spread your legs wider for her, which robin can only smile about.  when her index reaches your clothed center, you watch her attentively: her mouth falls open when she feels the patch of arousal that has formed on your panties from her previous actions.  "fuck, you're wet" she gasps.  at those words, you feel yourself clenching around nothing and your facial expression because a reflection of robin's own: lips parting and eyes heavy with a kind of lust you've never felt before.  judging by the look on her face, she has felt it against her fingertips.  "touch me" she says and you do as you're told.  you try to copy robin's movements, a hand between her thighs when you cup her through the fabric.  that is when you get what she has meant by that: you can feel her wetness, damp through the underwear.  you can also feel her against each of your fingers that are firmly pressing against her. 

"y/n" robin moans softly and her head falls back slightly.  you feel her pushing your panties aside slowly and you do the exact same for her, removing the last bits of clothing out of the way that is separating you from touching her the way you desperately want to.  the moan she draws from your lips when she starts circling your clit is something you should probably feel embarrassed about, but robin's eyes are beaming at the noise.  she doesn't want you to hide, she wants to hear you.  robin tilts her head again, as if she's asking something from you, and then presses down against your clit slightly harder.  "god, robin" you moan and your head falls forward against her shoulder.  "it's okay" she whispers and runs her free hand into your hair "it's o- oh"  regardless of how turned on your are, you can't help but grin when she moans at the sudden touch of your index and middle finger on either side of her clit, rubbing over it how you would do it if you were touching yourself. it seems to be working for her too.  she starts picking up the pace of her own fingers in sync with your movements, rubbing gentle, clockwise circles around your clit.  your legs are shaking already and you keep your head against robin's shoulder, muffling the soft moans in her hair and neck.  you can feel how wet she is against your digits, proof that you really are making her feel good like this.  occasionally, you dip your fingers down lower, where all of her wetness if pooling. you consider taking it one step further, but you find yourself being too shy to ask. instead, you gather her slick on your fingers and draw it back up to her clit.  at one particular good stroke, robin reaches for your chin and moves your head away from its hiding spot so that you're looking at her.  she's taller than you, even like this, and you have to look up slightly.  she looks gorgeous, even more than she normally does: her eyelids are heavy, mouth agape and her chest is rising and falling rapidly.  "y/n..."  "hm?"  her fingers wander lower and you gasp.  "can...can i?"  you smile softly and copy her motions, a singular finger toying at her entrance. her eyes widen slightly and somewhat of a whine comes past her lips.  "please"  you're both staring into the other's eye when she pushes her middle finger into you at the same time as you do the same for her.  the moans that fall from your lips mix with hers, creating a sweet noise that echoes through the room. thank god you're home alone.  "oh fuck, robin...robin..." you babble, your hips jerking forward over and over to chase the delicious feeling "more".  robin withdraws her finger slowly, until only the very tip of it is still inside of your aching cunt and then pushes it right back inside you, adding a second one along.  "oh my god" you cry out. you've never made such a noise when you were touching yourself. this is s much better than anything you have ever felt.  robin's own walls seem to somehow tighten around your finger, which reminds you that you have that same effect on her.  you curl your middle finger forward slightly and robin's eyes roll back in her head.  "please" she whimpers "god- just like that- feels so so good fuck-"  you thrust into her a couple of times until you add a second finger as well.  robin, regardless of the fact that she is getting fucked this good by you, never stops the movements of her own fingers inside of your cunt.  her fingers are longer than yours, just slightly but enough for you to feel the difference; she is reaching depths that you were never able to reach on your own.  when she mirrors your motion and curls them up against that certain spot, you moan out her name loudly.  the thrusts alone feel incredible but when she begins hitting your g-spot, it takes things to a whole new level of pleasure. 

"k-kiss me" you mutter between moan and whimpers caused by her fingers.  robin does as you asked her to, pulls you in so that your chests are bumping together and smashes her mouth of yours.  the shyness from earlier is gone, replaced by want and lust for you.  soon enough, your tongues are moving together in sync, lips meeting over and over again until they feel almost sore. 

the combination of all of these things causes a knot to form in your lower abdomen. you know exactly what'll happen once this knot snaps and, truth be told, you can't wait to cum all over robin's fingers.  but you also know it'll take just the slightest bit more for you to actually cum.  "r-robin" you shudder when she leans back slightly. there's a string of saliva connecting your lips. part of you wants to be disgusted, but instead, it only turns you on. "can you- oh god, fuck-" it feels so good, you can hardly get the words out. "can you...rub my clit? please? i think- ah- i think i'm close"  she listens to everything with a half-curious, half-lustfilled expression and nods. robin doesn't stop with the wonders, that her fingers are working inside of you though. she uses her thumb to find your clit, all while she is pumping her index- and middle finger into you, and rubs it gently, just like you asked her to.  "holy shit- right there! right there!" you manage and your head falls back.  your breathing becomes high-pitched and rapid and every muscle in your body is focused on what she is doing, on moving against her to chase your orgasm.  robin seems to understand and starts rubbing your clit faster, adding pressure at the right points too.  with that and the fact that she pulls you in again to squeeze your breast, robin pushes you closer and closer to the edge.  you manage to find robin's clit with your thumb too, though it takes you slightly longer to do so but robin doesn't seem to mind, way too caught up in the way your digits curl up inside of her.  "robin...fuck i- oh-"  you can't even finish what you were gonna say, your whole body tenses up in pleasure and you feel your orgasm in each and every nerve.  you sob out a moan that dies in your throat when everything becomes hot and you see stars from the pleasure.  robin reaches her height shortly after and her body tenses up against yours, her eyes roll back and her fingers tighten in your skin.  both of your thighs shake around the other's hand and you cum around her fingers, coating them in your release.  when the wave of pleasure slowly fades, you open your eyes.  robin is still recovering herself, but she has come down enough to watch you. a smile is toying along her lips.  "holy shit" she breathes eventually.  "yeah" you say with a lighthearted laugh.  "did you- i mean- was that okay?" and you can hardly believe your own eyes but she blushes as if she hasn't just made you cum better and harder than ever.  "that was more than okay robin, fuck"  regardless of that fact, she sighs as if in relief.  "would you- would you mind if- i- would you like to go out...? sometime?"  despite your situation, you can't help yourself but laugh breathlessly.  "robin buckley" you exclaim "are you asking me out on a date while you're still inside of me?"  her eyes widen slightly, as if that part has already been forgotten and you laugh a little bit more.  once you have both fully recovered, you lay her down on your bed and put your head on her shoulder and she links your fingers together.  somehow, it is not odd at all. it's almost like it was always supposed to be like this.  "so" she says after some time.  "so" you repeat.  "about earlier...i would really, really like to take you out on a date"  you smile and tilt your head so you can look at her properly.  "i would really, really like that too"

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Four

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I kinda figured you all would like Joel's visit to the bakery! Handy man Joel with his green plaid flannel shirt and tool belt... 🥰

This week's Pedro boy is actually forcing me to adjust the warning level, things get a bit spicier than usual with this one around and I think you'll understand when you see who it is....

Series Master List

The little bakery is buzzing with customers this warm summer evening, you’re serving everyone as fast as possible, cursing the stomach bug that had put the kid who worked extra out of commission for the week. As you ring up two slices of lemon meringue pie for Mrs Callahan from down the street, you notice the buzz increasing in the shop, almost like a wave of excitement. You glance towards the door to see if you can spot the source of the commotion and see a tall, proud looking, man closing it behind himself. His rich yellow jacket is all you have time to notice before you’re pulled back to Mrs Jones asking about the amount of sugar in the Millionaire’s Shortbread (a lot, you assure her, no, it’s not healthy just because it contains peanuts). 

You lose track of the stranger as you work your way through the long line, finally looking up to realize he’s the only one left in the shop, except for little Mrs Levinson who is just stepping through the door. The man gallantly takes a step back and indicates with his outstretched hand that she should be served before him. 

“Please, my lady, I would be offended if you insisted on waiting behind me.” 

He has an accent that you can’t place, vaguely Mediterranean maybe, and clearly very good manners. Mrs Levinson gives him a pleased smile and steps up to the counter to buy her regular weekend dark rye loaf, six chocolate chip cookies and one whole apple and cinnamon crumb coffee cake. 

“The grandchildren are visiting on Sunday, and they love your cookies, dear,” she informs you, “the mother just doesn’t know how to bake, why my son married a woman who can’t cook or bake I will never understand.”

“I’m sure she has many other good qualities and skills, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, this is a weekly complaint. 

“He should’ve married you, dear, how you are still single is beyond me, such a talented girl in the kitchen,” she pats your hand as she hands over her purse for you to count out what she owes. “But Mrs Pike’s son is single, recently divorced, I’ll make sure she sends him here to buy something, he’s such a lovely boy.” 

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, but I don’t need to be set up, I barely have time to run this bakery, I don’t have time for dating.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find time, my dear,” she winks at you and gives the dark haired man behind her another wink as she turns to leave. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to him as the door closes behind Mrs Levinson. 

“No trouble, my lady, I was more than delighted to enjoy the view of such a talented girl,” he says with a confident smile, sauntering over towards the counter. 

Now that he’s not hidden by the crowd you can see that he is in fact wearing a long robe, reaching down below his knees. But that’s not where your eyes are drawn, instead you find yourself actively trying not to stare at the deep v of bare, tan skin visible where his robe sits open, adorned by an expensive looking necklace. You pull your eyes up to his face, putting on your customer smile, and mentally slapping yourself. 

“What can I help you with today, sir?” 

At your words you see his mouth quirk in a wicked grin and his eyes wander over as much of you as he can see behind the counter. Ordinarily you’d be somewhat offended by such blatant staring but…considering your own struggle to not gawk at him, if feels admissible.

“I’m sure you can help me with a great many things, my lady,” he says, the lilt in his voice fitting his strange clothes, and the double meaning isn’t lost on you. You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. 

“Really?” you challenge, “And what else but baked goods do you enter a bakery for?” 

“Depends on the girl, or the woman, working in the bakery,” he smirks, “when the lady of the bakery is as beautiful as you, I’d like to buy a great many other things than her cakes.” 

This line makes you roll your eyes so far back into your head you think they might get stuck there. 

“You really think coming into a bakery and suggesting prostitution to the woman who works there is going to win you any favors?” 

Now it’s the man’s turn to raise his eyebrows and look surprised for a moment, then he bends his head, bowing deeply to you. 

“My lady, I did not wish to offend you at all, I was not suggesting that I would buy any such services from you. Rather I was, badly I’m sure, suggesting that I would like to buy such a beautiful lady gifts, rather than just buying her cakes.” 

He looks up at you, his handsome face giving you an apologetic smile, “Please, truly, I did not mean to offend you.” 

“Alright, I believe you for now,” you reply, accepting his apology with a slight scowl, “So what can I help you with? In the baked goods department,” you emphasize, waving over towards the display cases. 

“I have this,” he says, pulling a bottle of wine from the satchel he has hanging at his side, “it’s cold and delicious on this warm day, but I would like to have something to eat with it. And I saw that you have these,” he points to one of the bags of lemon and almond biscotti in your display case. “They remind me of the small cakes we have back in my city, Sunspear. Will you please let me buy a bag of them?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching for the biscotti, “Anything else?” 

“An hour of your company?” he says, smoothly, with a smile, “But I won’t offer to pay for it, just beg that you will join me with this wine, and your lovely cakes, as a small apology for offending you.” 

You look at the man standing on the other side of the counter. His confident smirk has been replaced by an apologetic smile, his arms outstretched as if he’s holding himself open for you to review and decide upon. You glance at the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes to closing but the foot traffic outside on the street has trickled down to nothing, everyone is on their way home to enjoy the last of the warm sunshine. It won’t be the end of the world if you close up a few minutes early today. And this man does intrigue you, with his accent and his strange clothes. 

“Ok, fine,” you say, “An hour, but I have no wine glasses.” 

“My sweet lady of the bakery, I’m sure I will survive without glasses, as long as I have your company to keep me distracted,” he winks at you and his demeanor changes back into confidence once again as you wave him behind the counter.

“C’mon then, we can sit out back, but only on the stairs I’m afraid.” 

“I have sat on much worse in my days, I assure you,” he chuckles, “even a prince of Dorne can’t expect to sit only on feather pillows every hour of his life.” 

“You’re a prince?” you ask but it really doesn’t surprise you. He looks every bit like a prince from some exotic country you’ve never heard of. 

“Prince Oberyn Martell, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It is my pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise, I’m sure,” you smirk, his over the top chivalry is making your inner rebel come out, and you gladly direct him to the somewhat crumbling back stairs, fishing a bottle opener out of a drawer on the way. Drinking wine from the bottle on the back stairs, overlooking the trash cans and patchy grass that lines the dingy alley behind your bakery, is probably not something a prince usually does. 

Oberyn is looking around the area outside the door as you bring the bottle opener and the biscotti. 

“Wait a moment,” he says, holding up his hand to you before he unbuckles the belt that’s holding his robe together, and dropping it on the ground. He shrugs out of the robe and shakes it out, spreading the luxurious looking fabric out over the steps and then holding out his hand for you. 

“Please, my lady,” he says, “it will be a little bit more comfortable for you than sitting on the cold stone.” 

“No, but your robe, it’ll be ruined,” you protest, but he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, just a little dust. Do not think me such a feeble prince that I am above getting a little bit dirty.” With his last word he winks at you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile back, taking his hand. 

“I don’t know what kind of prince you are, I’ve never even heard of Dorne.” 

He lets go of your hand as you settle on the top step and he sits himself on the one below, taking the bottle opener from you. 

“Dorne is a beautiful country, warm, much warmer than here, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean, white beaches and fragrant lemon groves,” he says, “And my home, the city of Sunspear, is the world’s most beautiful city, colorful, richly decorated, cooled from the hot sun by our water gardens and palm trees. It is ruled by my brother, the king. I am my father’s second son, fortunately enough for me, for I would’ve made a terrible king.” 

He smiles as he speaks of his home, a warm smile, as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle. 

“Ladies first,” he says and holds the bottle out to you, you accept it, taking a sip of the cool white wine. It really is delicious; crisp, fresh and an undertone of a rich, buttery flavor. 

“This is very nice wine,” you say, giving the bottle back to him and he smiles. 

“Made all that much better by the company.”

“Cheesy, but I appreciate the effort,” you grin and he looks confused, lowering the bottle that he was just about to drink from.  “Cheesy?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in question. 

“Yeah, you know, ‘cheesy’, when something is lame, or over the top, corny?” 

“I assure you, my lady, I did not intend to be over the top with my compliment, if anything, it was not enough,” he smiles warmly at you, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your belly. Either the wine is working very fast, or this strange man and his flirtatious way is getting to you. 

“I could say so much more about your beauty and the joy it is to spend a warm summer evening in your company with good wine and delicious cakes,” Oberyn’s eyes are glinting as he watches you squirm and he takes a sip from the bottle. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you drop your eyes to your hands, suddenly feeling very flustered by his flattery, distracting yourself by picking at some dry dough caught on your nail. 

“Oh, the biscuits!” he exclaims suddenly and stands up, “We need just a…” he disappears into the kitchen and you look up as he turns around, scanning the shelves before he finds what he’s looking for, “Ah! Just what we need!” he says and returns to the steps, sinking down next to you again with a small bowl in his hand. “The biscuits are to be dipped in the wine, to soak up its delicious flavor and blend with the sweetness.” 

He demonstrates by pouring some of the wine into the bowl and taking the bag of biscuits from you, opening it up. He takes one of the biscotti and dips the end in the wine, letting it sit for a few seconds before taking a bite. 

His eyes hold yours as he slowly chews the biscotti, humming slightly under his breath.  “My sweet lady, this is exquisite,” he says, awe in his voice once he’s swallowed. “I would hire you as my own personal baker any day, would you wish to leave these premises.” 

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very generous,” you say, taking one of the biscuits and dipping it in the wine, copying Oberyn, “but I like running my own business.” 

As you bite into the biscotti you hold back a moan, you’ve never tried this before but now you understand why he insisted, the crunchy biscotti has softened slightly and been filled with the crips flavors of the wine, the lemon and almond adding to the complexity. 

“This is really good, Oberyn,” you smile, taking the second half, “Thank you for introducing me to it.” 

“It was all my pleasure, my lady,” he replies, leaning back against the stairs and taking a sip of the wine from the bottle. When he tilts his head back, his long neck is exposed, even more now when he’s only wearing his shirt, a smattering of freckles on his tanned skin, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. It occurs to you that the man exudes confidence in everything he does, even the way he brings the bottle back down, handing it to you with a small, crooked smile, the way he’s leaning on one elbow against the step just above him, long legs stretched out comfortably in his soft looking leather boots, utterly relaxed even on the crumbling back stairs. 

You take the bottle from him and take another sip, the cool wine slipping down far too easily. From the corner of your eye you see Oberyn take another biscotti and dip it into the wine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. With a small smirk he puts the biscuit in his mouth, closing his soft looking lips around it, sucking lightly while he lets his eyes linger on you. You feel heat creep up your throat, there is such promise in his eyes, such a challenge in his flirting. It’s like he’s daring you to flirt back, to push him just a little to see how he reacts. You feel a familiar heat spread through your core, a temptation to entice him. But his confidence, just the way he takes the bottle from your hand, his long fingers caressing yours with intent, almost intimidates you. If you flirt with him, even just a little bit, you think he might challenge you even more, see how far you’re willing to go, and you’re not sure you can trust your body to resist. His easy assertiveness, the way he leans back against the stairs, his hand now resting just an inch from your waist, it both unnerves you and makes arousal thrum under your skin. 

With a slight tremble to your hand, you take the bottle again and take another sip, bigger this time and it goes down the wrong way, your nerves getting the better of you. With a cough you splutter into the crook of your elbow, your eyes watering. The prince shoots up and immediately puts his hand on your back, patting you lightly a few times before he begins to rub circles between your shoulder blades. 

“Careful there, my lady, are you all right?” His eyebrows have pulled together in concern and he leans forward, looking at your face. You feel the tears that formed spill over and roll down your cheeks as you cough a few more times. 

“Y-yes, yes, I-I think so, thank you,” you finally say with a croaky voice, “it just went down the wrong way.” 

Taking a deep breath, you almost choke again when Oberyn gently cups your face with his large hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, softly running them under your eyes. 

“Can I fetch you some water?” he asks, his voice low and concerned, but you shake your head. 

“No, thank you, I’m ok now,” you say, taking a steadying breath. He’s so very close now, looking into your eyes with a soft smile and you notice how one of his eyes is made amber by the evening sunlight, the other dark chocolate brown, half hidden in shadow. You feel like your brain is spinning in place, wheels turning but not moving forward, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. His hands are still on your cheeks, warm and soft even though you can feel the rough calluses on his palms. 

His eyes finally leave yours, only to very slowly move down to your lips, holding his gaze there for several seconds before he looks back up again. His face transforms into a more roguish smile and he drops his hands from your face, moving to pick up another biscotti and dipping it into the wine. 

“My lady, please,” he says, holding it up to you, one hand cupped under it to catch any drops of wine, as he offers it to you, holding it by your lips. 

You don’t know why, but you obediently open your mouth, letting him feed you the biscotti, tasting the tang of the wine and the sweetness of the sugar as you break it off in the middle. The tip of Oberyn’s tongue comes out to wet his lips as he watches you swallow it down, and then he dips the second half in the wine again, and places it between his own lips. All the while his eyes never leave yours. 

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile, and he leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms over his lap. 

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he says, matter of factly, “if you want me too.” 

You reach for the wine bottle to distract yourself while you calm your beating heart, keeping your eyes on him, that smirk still lingering on his lips as he watches you take a small, controlled sip, this time. 

You pour some more wine into the bowl and place the bottle on the top step, reaching for another biscotti and making up your mind. Dipping the delicate biscuit in the wine you look up at Oberyn, holding his gaze while you bring it up to his mouth, mimicking his gesture of cupping your hand under it. A wicked smile flickers across his face as he obediently opens his mouth and takes the biscotti. But he doesn’t bite it in half, instead he leans forward and closes his lips around your fingertips, his tongue licking at them as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. It’s warm and wet around your fingers and he gently sucks on them as he pulls back, a low hum escaping his throat. The touch of his tongue shoots a jolt of electricity through your body, settling firmly between your legs and your breath hitches. 

Oberyn swallows the biscuit and takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth again, with his eyes locked on yours he takes each finger between his lips and sucks them clean. When your pinky leaves his lips he moves forward, taking your chin between  his thumb and finger, holding you steady, your heart beating its own erratic rhythm in your chest. 

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he repeats, looking from your eyes to your lips and up again. 

You don’t trust your voice, so instead you inhale, his warm scent; oranges, cinnamon, sandalwood, filling your nose, and you lean forward. He doesn’t smile this time, instead he mirrors your movement until your lips brush, your heads tilting ever so slightly to come closer together, mouths angeling as he presses a soft, gentle, explorative kiss to your tingling lips. Warm hands slip up your neck, into your hair, large enough to cup the back of your head as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. 

His next kiss is more insistent, his lips parting to taste with the tip of his soft tongue, licking the seam of your mouth. Your body seems to have lost all will to follow your head, it just moves as he moves you, pulling you closer to his lips, opening up to his tongue, letting him slip inside and explore, tangelling together as he tangles his hands in your hair, making you lean closer into him. Without knowing how you got there, you find yourself sitting on his lap, his hand finding your thigh and pulling your leg over. When he puts his hands on your hips and slides your body closer to his, your mind goes blank and you moan into his mouth. He’s distinctly hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his trousers doing nothing to hide the firm length of his cock, and he groans with delight as you roll your hips over him. 

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, his lips momentarily leaving yours, “sweet, sweet lady, I knew your kisses would be as sweet as your cakes.” His fingers dig into your hips, his mouth pressing firmer against yours as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, pulling back just a fraction and trailing kisses and bites over your jaw, down your throat, pushing back your t-shirt to suck a mark into your collar bone, making you keen and whimper under his warm mouth. 

“I wonder if you’re as sweet everywhere,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and dragging you over his heavy length, straining against his trousers, “I would very much like to find out.” 

You lean your head back, exposing your throat to him as he continues to kiss and lick the soft skin of your neck, heat is building rapidly in your body and for a second you feel as if you’re looking down on yourself from above. Straddling the handsome prince on the stairs, sitting on his golden yellow robe, his face buried against your neck, his hands rolling your hips over his erection as you pant to the darkening sky above. With a groan you put your hands on his shoulders and push away, stumbling back onto your feet. 

“You’re dangerous to be around, Oberyn,” you pant as his hands slip away from your hips. His mouth hangs open as he reaches for you. In the dimming light you can see the prominent bulge of his trousers, it makes your mouth water, the image of sliding down over it coming unbidden to your mind. 

“It’s just pleasure,” he says, his voice dark and mischievous, “no guilt to be had over feeling pleasure.” 

“No, but I’m not about to have sex with a stranger on the back steps of my bakery,” you say, taking a deep breath, running your hands over your head, down your face, to ground yourself again. 

“Well, then the question beckons to be asked,” Oberyn grins, “where would you have sex with a stranger?” 

“I don’t have sex with strangers,” you say, shaking your head and quickly stepping past him, into the kitchen again. Behind you, you hear him get up and pick up the bottle, the remaining biscuits and the bowl. Placing them on the counter inside the door he follows you out to the shop as he slips his robe back on, where you unlock the door and wait for him to approach. A big part of you doesn't want him to leave, but you know that if you let him stay, he’ll have you naked on one of the counters within minutes, your body will betray you and let him do whatever he wants. 

“If you let me, I would like to not be a stranger to you,” Oberyn says as he reaches you by the door, “Would you let me come back and take you out, maybe show you Sunspear, my city?” 

“Show me the life of a prince?” you ask, you doubt you’ll see him again once he leaves, “Sure, come back and show me another side of yourself, and I’ll consider whether or not I want you to be a stranger.” 

“You don’t think I’ll come back,” he replies, a crooked smile on his lips, “have I made such a flighty impression on you, such a poor representation of who I am?” He chuckles, taking your hand and bowing low, pressing a feather light kiss to it. 

“I promise, my sweet lady of the bakery, I will come back and I will show you the true colors of a prince of Dorne. Until then I will keep your honeyed kisses close in my memory.”

He opens the front door and steps through it, before turning and smiling back at you, “And I’ll keep your delicious moans even closer on lonely nights.” 

You feel heat rise in your cheeks again as he winks, a mischievous smirk on his face, before he bow lows again and disappears down the street. 

Part Five

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

[questionableratatouille00]

ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ

Pairing: Sambucky (Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes) 

Summary: Sam and Bucky swim together as Bucky recalls the past. 

Bingo Fill: ‘Cookout/Summer Camp/Stargazing/Hiking’ on my ‘Vacation’ card for @sambuckylibrary’s sambucky summer bingo!

Warnings: brief mention of something bad happening (non-specified), let me know if anything else should be tagged.

Bucky folded another table cloth, looking around and making sure there was no garbage on the ground.

Sam was doing the same at another table, and Bucky glanced at him every so often. 

It was the day after the party, and now they were just cleaning up anything that hadn’t been cleaned up the day before.

“After we finish this, you up for some swimming?” Sam called. “Shit, it’s hot out here.” 

Bucky hesitated for a moment, pausing. And then, he nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

Sam also nodded, before going back to cleaning. Bucky couldn’t help but notice how his shorts hugged his ass. He mentally slapped himself, cursing himself for even thinking that.

When they were done cleaning, both boys went inside the house and went to their separate rooms to get changed. 

Bucky had been around so often that Sarah had cleaned out the old guest room for him. The gesture—though she argued it was small—meant a lot to him. He grabbed his swim trunks from his bag, staring at them. 

They were basic dark blue swim trunks. But the idea of being shirtless—he didn’t like it. Being shirtless outside was already a horrible idea, but shirtless outside fully knowing that people would see—that Samwould see? It made him want to shrivel up and die. 

He glanced at his left hand, eyeing it anxiously. He knew all too well about the gnarly scarring on his left shoulder, along with all of the scars on his torso. He had plenty of those, too. He was muscular—he wasn’t insecure about his physique, surprisingly, but he definitely wasn’t confident in his skin. And he was pale, too. Isn’t that not a good thing these days? It is, but it isn’t. 

He didn’t have the time to contemplate modern trends right now. He needed to just grow up and get over it. 

He begrudgingly got changed. He slipped on some Hey Dude shoes he’d gotten, and they were one of his favorite pairs of shoes he’d ever had. They were comfy, easy to get on and off, and they had a pretty design, too.

And just as he was about to leave the bedroom—his bedroom——

—he turned around and grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on. Goddamnit.

He walked down the stairs and found Sam, who was waiting by the door with two towels. He tossed Bucky one, and then snickered. 

“You need some sunscreen?” He teased. Bucky looked around to check if the kids were around before flipping Sam the bird.

Bucky followed Sam out to the water. His swim trunks were red, and he wore a black shirt. 

When the reached the water, Sam dropped his towel on the dock and pulled off his shirt. Bucky glanced away, though he desperately wanted to look.

He dropped his towel on the dock, too, before taking off his shoes. And then..he pulled off his shirt. He took a second to get used to the feeling, taking a few deep breaths.

He followed Sam into the water, swimming around with him. 

“Where’d you learn how to swim?” Sam asked suddenly. Bucky glanced down. Did he look weird? Is that why Sam was asking? 

He glanced back up at Sam’s face, realizing there was no judgment on his face. 

“Summer camp. In 1927. I can’t remember what it was called, but I do remember that there was a lake.” Bucky recalled. He remembered that summer camp. 

He’d been ten, and sleeping in a cot in a huge tent with other boys. They swam together, ate together, got changed together. He made a lot of friends, he thinks. None of those friendships lasted, obviously, most likely due to the lack of communication options in the time period. 

He felt himself zoning out as he found the memory.

There was a lake. A large tent. A mess hall for them to eat in. Trails for hiking. Places for crafts. Things like working with leather and crafting knives. Typical 1927 boy stuff.

Something happened at that camp. Something did, he was sure of it. He couldn’t remember if it was good or bad. No, whatever had happened there was definitely bad. Something told him that his brain was blocking it off for now for a reason.

He did know that he had started to realize that he was gay there. He’d never fully understand that until seven years later, but that summer had kickstarted the whole thing. 

What the hell had happened there that he couldn’t remember?

“Yeah? How was that?” Sam chuckled, snapping Bucky from his thoughts. They treaded the water, facing each other. They were a comfortable three feet apart.

“Fine. We were all butt-naked and it counted as bathing, but fine.” Bucky said, purposefully being expressionless.

Sam couldn’t keep himself from breaking into a smile. “Man, it’s like every time I talk to you, you just drop some random detail that throws off my entire day.” Sam laughs. Bucky grins, too, his lack of a shirt long forgotten.

“Okay, well, how did you learn to swim?” Bucky asked after a long moment of laughter. 

“Right here. I think I was five or six.” Sam grinned.

“You learned to swim here?” Bucky echoes. Sam nods.

“I grew up here, man.” Sam reminds him. 

Bucky nods, reminding himself of that.

“There were hiking trails, and the stars were beautiful. Yeah, we had pollution too, but not like now. You could see the stars every night, there.” Bucky murmured. He remembered that. The stars—there was one trail, that led to a field where there weren’t any trees and it was the best place to stargaze.

“Yeah?” Sam looked at Bucky, and Bucky tried his hardest not to stare at his chest.

He nodded. “Mhm.” 

“I can’t say it’s the same as 1930s summer camp, but the stars are pretty nice out here, too.” Sam raised a brow a little, a soft smile on his face.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky felt a grin on his own face.

“Yeah. Y’know, I think Sarah’s got some camp chairs. If you want, you and I could see how it compares.” Sam said, a shameless look in his eyes.

Bucky smirked softly, before nodding. “We’ll see if it’s as good as it used to be.”

a/n: yeah uh I did actually combine the last couple of prompts but uhm merry Christmas

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[honeytonedhottie]

hot girl summer prep⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍉

over the course of the next eight weeks, we should be preparing for our hot girl summer. this post is ofc just to be helpful and just for funsies, to help you feel your most confident and radiant this summer ✨

if i were to break down the most important things to prep for hot girl summer they’d be to work on ur base (skin + body) ur company, and ur wardrobe.

BASE ; 

moisturize ur skin after your showers while your skin is still slightly damp, for moisturized and soft skin this summer 

if ur not already using sunscreen on your face AND body then what are you even doing? get in the habit of putting sunscreen on ur body to promote a smooth and even skin tone and protect u from the sun ofc 

get into a solid workout regimen that u can be consistent with. focus on building ur body to perfection! work out as much as u want, i recommend 3-4 times a week. 

my recommendations for soft skin is to use an african net sponge bcuz that always gets me CLEAN. also, use african black soap for glowy skin and use shea butter on ur body while ur skin is still slightly damp. 

not only does it smell yummy but it rly REALLY moisturizes you well. i also recommend using it during the summer bcuz the glow that u get from it is REAL. 

i’ve elaborated on sunscreen in the bullet points already so let’s go to body building. get into a workout regimen 3-4 times a week. i’ll share some workouts here depending on what u want. 

the important thing is that you start NOW so that then by the time it’s summer your gains will be visible and you’ll feel stronger and more confident -> therefore more happy and prepped for ur hot girl summer. 

use body scrubs to exfoliate skin and also promote optimal softness bcuz in the summer it’ll be hot and you might wanna show some skin 

WARDROBE ; 

get onto ur pinterest and start looking for inspo for your summer wardrobe that coincides with ur personal style. use ur fashion binder if u have one to start formulating and thinking of outfits. 

create a list of specific pieces that ur looking for (with photos if u can) so that when ur shopping/thrifting u know to get what u want for summer. 

the important things for summer from my own fashion binder are bikinis, camisoles and mini skirts + shorts. bcuz i wrote that in my fashion binder i’ll look for and buy those specific clothing pieces for my summer wardrobe. do the same ✨

COMPANY ; 

it’s more fun when u spend some parts of ur summer with quality company so make sure to prepare that NOW so that then ur plans go smoothly in the summertime. 

now is the time to test the waters and propose ideas with ur friends about what u guys should do together this summer. maybe it’s simply hanging out, or going on a sort of vacation together. 

whatever it is, make sure that ur company is not only reliable/responsible but also that they have ur best interest at heart bcuz it’s gonna be hot girl summer and everyone’s gonna be out there 😭 u need someone to have ur back and someone that you can trust. 

i don’t wanna get too into the hot girl summer agenda since it’s only april BUT u all can def expect lots of summer content from me. much love 🎀

[theloverscardtarot]

Jack Schlossberg's Soulmate

Overall Dynamic

Ace of Cups: This may be a friendship that turns into romance. This card represents a new love. Taking a relationship to the next level and deeper intimacy. They may help each other grow emotionally, spiritually and creatively.

The Moon: Someone may show some hesitation to proceed with a relationship. Possibly due to not wanting to hurt the friendship. Old beliefs or illusion may be causing uncertainty. Is there any public knowledge of a bad relationship with Jack? This could be him or his soulmate. They possibly need to let go of feelings that they aren't good enough or don't deserve to be loved.

Knight of Swords: someone is determined to make this relationship work and will stop at nothing. They want what they want and as quickly as possible. Don't quote me on this, but there might be a reason they need to make a quick decision about getting engaged or married.

How/Where Will They Meet?

7oC Side/Fool Side: I looked up this combination and I feel like it's telling me they might meet through a dating site. Having to make a choice among many. Using caution and not rushing into action. Proceed with careful consideration. 7oC representing the range of possibilities that are available and the Fool represents a sense of adventure when pursuing new opportunities. Also keeping an open mind to the possibilities you have to choose from. Is he on Raya?

Soulmate

Magician, Chariot, World, 8 of Wands, Page of Swords:

Sharp and intense eyes that hint at someone that is always analyzing. Charismatic and persuasive. Exudes sophistication. May work in a field as a public speaker or somebody that inspires others. Determined, focused, not afraid to take the reigns to get success. Energetic and robust. They may practice emotional strength at times of adversity. They may approach life with a determined mindset. Their physique may show strength and endurance. They may be well traveled and live an affluent lifestyle. Their clothes may reflect different cultures they have visited. Worldly and experienced. Stable and emotionally mature. They exude confidence and a sense of contentment and satisfaction. My world card has a woman with a nice figure and dark hair, so she may be a brunette. The ability to keep pace with fast moving developments. May work in a field that requires quick-thinking and communication skills. A positive and productive person. Youthful appearance and expressive facial features. Thirsty for knowledge. Honestly, I feel like she may be a journalist or a reporter. I keep hearing reporter.

How They Will Treat Each Other:

Knight of Pents Rev, 10 of Cups, Queen of Cups:

Someone may want to rush into a relationship while the other person wants to take it extremely slow. Someone might expect relationships to fall into their laps and may seem a little lazy when it comes to committing. This card suggests that maybe one person will expect the impossible of the other. Double standards. "You can't cheat, but watch me try to keep it in my pants" Yikes, I hope the last part is not true. 10 of Cups suggests a balanced family life. They may have a lot of kids or just have a good time trying. Happy home life. They may have a strong spiritual connection. They may finish each other's sentences and know what they are feeling just by looking at each other. They may have an emotionally fulfilling relationship. They will be very nurturing towards each other. The QoC is a very good card for starting a family.

I asked when they will meet.

Knight of Cups, Sun, 5 of Wands

Since Knight of Cups is first and five of wands was the third card and the only one that represents a number, it could mean 3-5 months from now.

Alternatively this could mean roughly next summer.

[fountainpenguin]

"So, baby, turn off the lights and stare at the stars- They could be yours right now, could be yours right now..." (x)

New Fairly OddParents 'fic today!

Frayed Knots - Chapter 38

"Harechaser"

📖 Read on FFN || Read on AO3

☁️ Cloudlands AU

✨ More Fairly OddParents 'fics

“Anti-Cosmo, I know this is a sensitive subject. I wouldn’t normally go around asking this, but I think that if we’re going to live together, it’s important to talk.” And I stared at her, horrorstruck, as she played her last five cards: “Do you like Seelie Courters?”

In which Anti-Cosmo and Wanda shop for godparenting supplies and settle into their new housing unit in the Summer of the Flaming Clouds

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

Harechaser

Wanda, for one, had dressed up for our shopping day. I’d never seen that ruffled green dress on her, but I liked the colour. The leafiness suited her. She’d tied back her shiny pink hair and done her face up in enough powder and lash extensions, I knew then and there I’d be staring. Can I confide in Wanda about my plan to wear Mona’s clothes? Maybe she could help me pick a few things out today. I hadn’t thought of that. My core picked up its beats like claws drumming on my arm. I looked away, only to catch her wings at just the right angle; I bit my lip.

She even smelled clean and pleasant- That was definitely some heavy perfume mixed in alongside her usual cherry almond scent. She had a handbag patterned like the night sky, showcasing no fewer pins than her beloved schoolbag. I’d dressed simpler in my Carl Poofypants pullover and black sweatpants. After all, I’d be moving around a lot, in and out of stores on the heels of a quick companion.

When Wanda saw me, her wings stopped fluttering. She touched down on the sidewalk. “Are… you allowed to wear green?” Her words were awfully funny, but the surprise genuine. “How does that work if you’re a Water year?”

Maybe you do pay attention in your culture classes. Of course she did- she was Wanda Fairywinkle. I dragged my eyes from her pretty dress and handbag and shiny wings. “Well, dear Wanda, your brains enamour me once again. I shall have to watch my tongue close around you. Yes, I’m wearing Water-blue underneath. I’m allowed to wear school colours if it’s authentic from their store.” 

Wanda stared curiously at me a moment longer. “I’ve never seen you wear a hoodie before… It looks nice on you.”

Did I detect a twinge of envy dancing in her words? I caught the lift; I heard the plop. I scrutinised myself once more, but I can’t say for certain I liked the lime green of Carl Poofypants pride against my dark blue fur. Would you really say I look ‘nice?’ I should think ‘Getting by’ felt more appropriate. I wondered for a moment how much of Wanda’s classy appearance was her idea and how much her father’s. Perhaps I’d ask Blonda before our move-out date.

“Thank you, darling; I appreciate it. And I could say the same about you.”

She didn’t exactly smile widely at me… but her shoulders did relax.

Wanda poofed us both to the mall we’d decided to glut ourselves on. Noisy, filthy, and people stared as soon as I materialised. I scooped several pieces of trash into a nearby can and did my best to block them out.

“You could use magic,” Wanda said, watching me search the area for any litter I’d overlooked.

“I’m afraid Fairy-Cosmo’s magic is chronically unreliable and I get the dregs of that. It’s a wee bit off today.” I could feel it in my core

“Oh… The Cosma mutation. Right.” Wanda used her magic to help me tidy some litter, and I thanked her for it with a pat on the arm, mindful of cultural boundaries.

“Many thanks, darling- I know the spirit bears appreciate it as much as I do, ta?”

“No trouble…”

The envelopes we’d received our assignments in had included a detailed checklist. On the agenda for today, we’d pick up a few basics like skincare - Protection from sun and acid clocked in at high priority on Boudacia - our interplanet vaccinations, nutrition supplements, and little details for our primary disguises. That… I worried about.

Many godparents chose to take the role of companion animals in a child’s life, offering plausible deniability if they were to leap in and protect their godkid from a threat without revealing their magical nature. Object disguises weren’t unheard of, but grew dull after a time… not to mention they’d put a crick in your neck and wings. It was far too easy for an adult to toss loose objects away, and when our line of work involved lying low, lending aid to miserable children in secret, that was a hassle I was all too happy to avoid.

No… My concern lay with our options for disguise. And when Wanda and I strolled into the little animal disguises shop, Wanda skimmed straight towards the canine collars gleaming on their hooks. My core sank.

“Ah…”

“What do you think of foops?” Wanda asked, holding a blue collar decorated in rhinestones to her neck. She made a face in the mirror and switched it for a green option. “They’ve certainly got the bulk to back up a bite.”

Boudacia hadn’t exactly tamed its violent beasts, though admittedly, the thought of living like a star-coated canine with enormous fangs and claws had a certain charm to it. Before I could speak, Wanda abandoned the rhinestone-studded collars for a guidebook on serpent identification. “Or snakes… I’d love to be a snake.”

Having fangs could really help us in a pinch. I drifted towards her, smoothing my palms down my hoodie front. “Wanda… I’m not really allowed.”

She didn’t face me, though I could tell from the shift in her wings as she bent to grab another collar that her fairy senses had me on lock. “Oh, that’s right… Anti-Fairies aren’t allowed to shapeshift. Do you not get to make exceptions for godparenting?”

“Shapeshifting isn’t forbidden in its entirety, but I can only be a fox- That’s my family line. I’m descended from Cadmea the Teumessian Fox herself. And I don’t really know about the godparenting rules. We can’t get certified on our side of the border.” The Anti-Fairy Academy was a place of personal research, designed especially for the on-the-go lifestyle of a travelling Anti-Fairy. Rather than attending daily classes, it offered the chance to propose research and present projects for evaluation. We certainly didn’t have daily homework or essays graded by biassed instructors… and we didn’t have fancy programs on godparenting.

(I say we, though I of course attended Fairy schools- you know what I mean.)

“Well, there must be some Anti-Fairy godparents you can ask. The war wasn’t that long ago.” Wanda studied another collar lined with little butterflies. “It won’t be easy to be a godparent without shapeshifting.”

“I’ve passed my classes; I’ll do fine.”

“What if our godkid wishes you into a new form?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be my choice, so the spirits wouldn’t be shamed.”

“We could just do that, then.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Does Tarrow’s pantheon even reach Boudacia? I mean… There are only a few spirits watching Snobulac, right?” She counted Saturn, Sunnie, and Winni off on her fingers. “Will they even know?”

“That’s not the point,” I said again, dropping my wings.

“Well, you can’t be a fox,” Wanda argued, finally looking at me. A storm brewed in her shiny pink eyes. “There aren’t any woods in north Boudacia. Their culture’s all about weapons and metal. I vote snakes.”

📖 Read on FFN || Read on AO3