Hellooo, I know you have already made an amazing list for Pack Mom Stiles, but I was wondering if you maybe have some more fics up your sleeve? Thank you so much!!
Here's the link to part one. Here are more, hope you like them!
running home to you by graveltotempo
After the Nogitsune, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills.
Derek follows.
Not the Mama by DaisyBeats
Prompt:
Toddler!Erica, Issac and Boyd (magic or something) immediately latch onto Stiles as "Mama!" For some reason (pre relationship maybe?) and Derek just. Can't keep his wolf at bay after that?
Mutual Devotion by Takara_Phoenix
After Gerard, Stiles needs a bit of distance from Scott. So while Scott spends the summer studying, Stiles spends his time with Derek's pack.
Somehow, he ends up helping Derek become a better Alpha. They rebuild the Hale house and the Hale Pack together. And along the way, they fall in love with each other.
Quantum Superposition by sdlucly
They are trying to make it work, in a way. They need this to work. They aren't pack yet, but Stiles thinks, maybe, in time, they can at least find middle ground.
it runs in the family by MythicalCypressWater
Different pieces of time that outsiders have seen the pack scenting Stiles
Center of Gravity by soaring_bubblegum
Stiles coordinates Isaac's medication appointments, talks Erica through panic attacks at 2 AM, and ensures Derek remembers to eat between alpha crises. The pack calls him mom as a joke—except Derek's fingers linger when he hands Stiles coffee, and territorial displays now include standing close enough that Stiles can count his eyelashes.
When a rogue omega tests their boundaries, Stiles realizes he's been building a life around taking care of Derek's pack without questioning why Derek's touch feels like coming home.
Some dynamics are easier to recognize from the outside.
Cause I Built A Home (For You, For Me) by nymphe
Erica is giggling somewhere in the background. “I think he’d like exactly what you’d like, mom.”
Or, a 5 Times fic wherein Stiles doesn’t realize he’s been accidentally co-parenting a gang of furry teenagers/displaying Perfect Mate Characteristics, + the 1 Time Derek enlightens him.
Of Puppy Piles and Sugar Dreams by StarShineForMe
In which Isaac and Scott get de-aged, the pack must learn to bond and protect their own, and Derek ("Dewek!") and Stiles ("Sti-ewes!") are mates...even if it takes them forever and two toddlers to realize it.
“Oh, God.” Stiles buries his face in his hands, water dripping down his wrists.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Derek whips out a towel, wrapping it around Stiles’ forearms, pulling them away from Stiles’ body so he can look them over.
“I’m fine,” Stiles says, a little blankly. Erica and Boyd have set Issac and Scott back onto the floor, tickling them both into fits of giggles. He huffs out a noise that’s not quite a whimper, not quite a laugh. “Just wondering when the hell I ended up in my very own episode of ‘Teen Mom’.”
Hen Mama by DaisyBeats
Stiles finds out the pack sees him as the mother hen.
Not Worth Saving by FinchInTheMines
After being repeatedly abandoned by Scott and his pack, Stiles is finally kicked out of the pack. With his bonds broken he takes a shot in the dark and calls Derek for help. Surprised when the alpha picks up and is willing to help him, he finally finds a place in a pack that actually cares about him. Scott is not to pleased about this.
I See Red (And You) by LostInTheAlibi
After the death of Erica and Boyd, Derek Hale disappears. When he returns, it’s not as a man, but as a wolf—silent, feral, broken. He hides away in the Hale house, letting no one near… except for Stiles. The one person he never expected.
Feels Like Belonging by nan
Stiles isn't sure why all these werewolves think they have access to his bed. The explanation is just. Weird.
Sacrifices by DemiraWatson (orphan_account)
…or the one where Stiles becomes Pack Mum accidently.
Every decade the town of Beacon Hills drags a virgin out into the middle of woods to sacrifice to the local Werewolf pack. It was supposed to be Allison Argent but Stiles is a good friend…and has terrible luck.
Pack Night by amomentoflove
Stiles doesn’t know when he took on the job of pack mom — maybe when he tried to protect Isaac and Erica from Jackson the Kanima or protecting Derek from Jackson the Kanima. Now that Stiles thinks about it, he’s protected a lot of people from Jackson the Kanima. He should get a medal.
or the one where it's the full moon and Stiles has declared it a Pack Night. He might have an ulterior motive.
Outside Looking In by trulywicked
The never ending parade of deliciously hot people who came to see him were a fantastic source of entertainment for Stiles Stilinski's college roommates.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain
“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”
Derek Didn't Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did by tiedtogetherwithadagger
He let his head fall onto Stiles’ shoulder with a sigh of relief. He wasn't losing his pack, at least not tonight. Erica would be okay.
“Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie.
“Always,” Stiles said.
Mostly a generic Witcher series moodboard but I did make it while reading the Accidental Warlord series by @inexplicifics and I can only recommend everyone read it as well it's really good <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
~~~ continue reading ~~~
The problem with reading extremely amazing more than book length with spin offs canon-divergence fic big on the divergence part? There's no way I'll go back to normal fic after this because this is way better than anything canon related! Oh well, it's nice while it lasts, and there are always other fandoms to go to for a long while until I've forgotten this series enough that I can read more canon compliant shit again xD
On the topic of forgetting things tho - I do that quite quickly and frequently, so I write summaries of longfics and series I read especially wips, and this one turned too long for the Ao3 bookmark - even though I'm only summarizing the main fics where the plot happens - so here we go instead! reading feb25, am at 21/1 making this post, but I'll keep updating the summary. Which, yeah, the rest of the post is my excuse to keep the summary on tumblr xD
Oh also, i had read the star wars version of this by BairnSidhe first before i even realized it's based on this! The fic is also very very good.
more like it: https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Inspired%20by%20The%20Accidental%20Warlord%20and%20His%20Pack%20Series%20-%20inexplicifics/works
~
spoilers p1 - with a conquering air
Jaskier is sent as a tribute, given up as a sacrifice by his family and the other royalty, who think he'll be raped and killed by the Witchers.
When Eskel meets him in Kaer Mohen, he frees Jaskier from his bindings and brings him to Gerald and Yennefer. When she finds out he's a bard she decides Geralt needs a court bard, and Jaskier stays with them. He also tutors Ciri.
Jaskier finds that Geralt is kind, nice to Ciri, lets his friends tease him... and Geralt is hot. Jaskier starts falling in lust and love with him, and a year after he arrives they get together
spoilers p4 - only love proudly and gladly and well
Jaskier's home country negotiates a treaty with the Witchers. Jaskier rewrites the whole thing in their favor and accompanies the witchers and Yennefer there.
Jaskier helps clear up misconceptions about the Witchers to some younger court people, among them Milena of Roggeven, telling to them all about how nice the witchers treated him despite him being sent as a sacrifice, and how he fell in love with Geralt.
The witchers learn that way about him being a sacrifice in the first place. They have his father sent away, threatening to kill him should they ever see him again, and have the king sign the treaty without any changes.
Back home, several eligible women come to court Geralt. Yennefer and Jaskier make plans to make their stay miserable, as well as creating a set of rules for potential wives, including needing to accept Ciri as heir, and getting her approval for the position.
Jaskier also thinks about whether he wants his relationship with Geralt to be made official and decides that if Geralt wants that, he wants it too.
Milena is one of the ladies in waiting sent with the women, befriends Jaskier and falls in love with Lambert.
A princess attacks Jaskier, he survives, she is sent home via portal accompanied by angry witchers. The other women are kicked out, except Milena who swears loyalty.
spoilers p9 - your faults had made me love you more
Milena finds her place in Kaer Moen, teaching Ciri, helping Yennefer with Geralt's correspondence, sending letters home, helping Triss in the still, doing embroidery, learning dagger fighting from Lambert and teaching him to braid her hair.
Milena gets together with Lambert
Zofia, a human fighter woman and another witcher's lover, has some advice for her: to wait until she's ready to sleep with him, where a more private place to bathe is during her monthlies, and that witchers' lovers end up almost as immortal as the witchers themselves.
spoilers p11 - Twirl Three Notes and Make a Star
The witcher is invited to an even festival. Jaskier, Ciri and 13 witchers incl Eskel journey there also so Jaskier and Ciri won't be home for the Witcher Trials. They save a family of elves from a monster and Ciri befriends the kid.
Eskel and Jaskier grow closer. Jaskier knows Geralt would take Eskel to bed if he asked and suspects Eskel thinks the same of Geralt. Once they meet at the festival all three get together.
Jaskier meets a historian elf and invites him to Kaer Morhen to write the Witcher histories.
spoilers p14 - I Have Heart-Fire and Singing to Give
At some point I think before this part
Jaskier goes to Oxenfurt with Milena and 20 witchers to guard them incl Eskel and Lambert. During his performance, Milena is kidnapped through a portal and before they can do anything Jaskier is kidnapped through another one, Eskel stabbed as he follows them.
The plot was made by Milena's sister Marta, the princess Agatha who stabbed Jaskier before, and a sorceress. Marta wants the shame of her sister living with witchers removed from her family, Agatha just wants revenge.
Jaskier bandages Eskel, Milena has hairpins to unlock their shackles and hidden daggers from Lambert. When they confront them, Agatha tries to stab Milena and Milena kills her. Jaskier knocks out the sorceress, and the spell hiding them is lifted so Yennefer can find them.
Marta begs them not to have her actions affect her family and their little sister Marika. Jaskier offers for Marta to go into exile in a part of the wolf's country where they stopped on their way to an elf festival, in return for the baron's daughter becoming another lady in waiting for Ciri, so Marta won't have to be killed
spoilers p20 - The Debt Is Terrible That Must Be Paid In Song
Jaskier is temporarily turned into 6y/o Julian, scared of his own father and any adult men in power.
Smelling his dear and being angry of his father's treatment of him, Aubrey, who looks out for him like an older brother, realizes the treatment of the witchers-to-be is wrong. Once Jaskier is turned back, it is put to a vote, and decided that the training will change - from now on they will be trained like Ciri is, and she will train with them.
Spoilers p24 - the Shadow of the Mountains Will Not Fall
Geralt is dangerously injured in a plot by the king of temeria. He lives but requires many potions. Ciri organizes the trainees to help brew more while Jaskier organizes the rest of the castle.
Eskel kills the king and anyone else in the plot, then puts Griffin, a minor baron from the countryside who had no idea what's going on, on the throne.
In p25 we learn Emhyr var Emreis actually had something to do with the plot. He then learns who Ciri is and decides they need to try diplomacy instead.
Spoilers p28 - Found At Last In Meeting Eyes
Griffin, the new King of Temeria, needs a wife to establish his lineage and to help him rule the basically completely new court because everyone from the old one was killed... he asks the Warlord for aid in finding him a wife.
He has help from his older sister Tara in running the household, but they're worried about their youngest sister, 14 y/o Nix, who is a wildling and wouldn't do well at court, and while that's alright for a baron's youngest, it's not for a princess, and she'd be in danger if left home for much longer but miserable at court or married off... He and Tara decide that it will be a good question to pose to any potential wives(queens), will they try to break Nix's spirit or understand the true difficulties or even have valuable advice?
Marika, middle sister of Roggeven, decides that Milena is the only person in her family worth anything, and also her only chance at a good life, and begs her sister to find her a husband. She takes her dowry and her loyal maid Kasia and two guards and leaves for Kaer Morhen.
Jaskier introduces Marika and Griffin without telling them their true identities, so Marika only learns he's a king once she's already interested in him. Milena reassures her that she's a proper match for a king - not just a duke's daughter, but basically a sister by marriage to the Warlord through Milena and Lambert.
Marika suggests Nix could be a lady in waiting for Ciri.
P30 - Oh, Be For Me The Sky
Cat witcher Dragonfly comes across Livi, young noble Redanian noblewoman Oliwia, while on patrol, and Livi begs sanctuary from the White Wolf. She's fleeing from an arranged marriage to an older noble known for killing his wives and other young girls.
Livi stays in Kaer Morhen as Eskel's secretary and falls in love with Dragonfly.
Because the king clearly isn't keeping his nobles under control, Geralt wants to declare war on Redania.
P35 - Into the Light Out of Darkness
They plan to go Redania and observe to find more obvious breeches of the treaty because Cintra etc would be mad about conquering for just some 'minor' infractions. The plan is to go on 'progress' touring the established territory + visiting Redania to talk to the king about what's going on there and hopefully find a good reason to get rid of him
Meanwhile, Milena's friend Aleksander 'Sasha' is made Duke after the old Duke Oliwia was supposed to marry dies. Aleksander learns from the King and a mage that they have taken a witcher prisoner in Aleksander's new home and are using his blood on girls turning them into almost-witchers but killing most of them in the process. The Mage makes it so he can't talk about it to anyone, and stays with him to watch his correspondence. He has a magic box for writing Milena though and secretly sends her a letter.
Now, the Witchers have a reason to go to war. King Eist of Cintra and young Prince(?) Xenon of (?)(can't keep the damn names straight) bear witness to make sure Calanthe etc won't think the Warlord is conquering for no reason. They go to free the Witcher and young Zia, an outspoken former peasant girl, and Maja, Ada and Elena, burn down the house, then go kill the king. Aleksander comes to Kaer Morhen, his brother is the new Duke.
P38 - That Is Born Out Of Agony
(skipped C1 bc rape warning) Renfri, after killing a man who meant to hurt her, and on the run from mage Stragomir, decides to go to the Witchers for justice, even if they will slay her because she is cursed. If anyone kills her, it should be the White Wolf.
She stumbles into a dwarf tunnel, and journeyman Gilmeth takes her to his family home. Renfri uses the name Shrike and doesn't say she's royal. Gilmeth's grandfather has business with the Wolf (Renfri's stepmother allows mistreatment of nonhumans) and takes her and Gilmeth through dwarven routes to the mountain. Once they get back above ground, Stregomir finds them, but so do two witchers, they put an anti magic chain on him and Renfri and they all swear not to do harm, she swears not to do them harm of her free will, and they're taken to Kaer Morhen.
Geralt slays Strgomir for his lies and allows Renfri to stay as long as she likes. Ciri introduces her to Zofia. The dwarves also stay and design a better gatehouse as Gilmeth's mastery. Renfri's stepmother is killed by Witcher Coën who Renfri befriends, Renfri's father didn't know but also doesn't seem to care about her much except trying to avoid looking at her because she looks like his late wife. Renfri stays in Kaer Morhen.
P44 - Flung to Catch a Star
Emrys of Nilfgard sends prince Morvran Voorhis to negotiate a treaty with the White Wolf.
When Letho and other witchers meet the Nilfgardians and have them swear not to harm anyone in Kaer Morhen, three groomers and Morvran's personal manservant lie. The manservant had orders from a Nilfgardian royal (Evertsen not Emrys) to kidnap Ciri, the groomsmen had orders to hurt the horses, two for their own gain, one, Ilimar Laret, because his Lord threatened Laret's wife. He's taken with them and the wife rescued, the rest is killed.
Morvran has orders to both get the treaty and win Ciri's hand in marriage, and didn't expect that she's not open for political marriage, or any marriage until she's 18. When Geralt asks him why he even wants to be emperor, and explains that he and Ciri will be leaders only to protect people, Morvran reconsiders and vows to be a man the Witchers can respect.
Morvran's knight bodyguard(?) Cahir spends time with the oldest Witcher trainees, a mixed school group incl. Eryk, who has a puppy love crush on Eskel. Cahir is in Emrys service as a political hostage, and comes to trust and believe in Movran properly during their time in Kaer Morhan when Movran invites him to speak freely, listens to him, takes him into his personal service, and offers him use of his first name in private. Sergeant Hanif is also part of some of their meetings.
Geralt says no treaty as long as Evertsen has any power, Emrys sends them Evertson as a prisoner and he's killed. Yennefer can make portals to and from Nilfgard much easier than should be possible, Jaskier suspects it's because she's getting so much practice.
While treaty proceedings are underway, Princess Rhiannon of Poviss comes to ask for Poviss to join the Warlord's lands because it's the sensible thing to do. Geralt accepts and it will be official when they'll visit Poviss during Progress. When Cahir hears of this, he's at first angry because Poviss gives up the kind of independence his own country (Vicovaro) wishes it had from Nilfgard, but he understands Wolfland isn't Nilfgard.
~
The treaty is finally made with three conditions: from the Wolf, a) that Movran tells Emrys Ciri won't come to Nilfgard except to conquer it as long as there are slaves, and b) (secret to anyone else), Movran swears to work towards a Nilfgard that no longer has slaves. And from Emrys, that Ciri and Geralt will come and meet him on neutral ground.
P45 Wrapped in the Wind and the Sun
Yennefer meets Fringilla to renew their friendship and ally against the Brotherhood.
& Here's a couple
Other
Versions
Of
The moodboard :D
Main image sources here, more sources: Yennefer Eskel Ciri2 Geralt2 potions ruins Witcher
a roommates au. friends to lovers. 8k. rated t.
happy birthday @firstprinced.
When Alex meets Henry, the first thing he thinks is that Henry does in fact smell like a library. But like a really nice library, with a tea shop and tons of natural light, and rows upon rows of leather-bound books. Maybe one of those rolling ladders, too, with a super hot librarian on the bottom rung.
Anyone with eyes and a nose would easily come to the same conclusion.
.
Or, Alex’s new roommate smells nice. Like really nice, objectively speaking.
It’s late - too late, truly, for Geralt to still be awake. He lies on the straw-stuffed mattress, staring at the beams above the bed. No matter how much he tries, no matter much how he calms his breathing or his heartbeat, sleep continues to evade him.
Beside him, Jaskier wriggles. He’s always been a volatile sleeper - squirmy and jumpy, especially just before he falls asleep. Tonight, the problem is only exacerbated, the bard tossing and turning, hands gripping at the thin blanket.
It’s not, Geralt thinks, necessarily Jaskier’s fault that he’s still awake - he’s had more unpleasant bedfellows, certainly, and he’s grown used to Jaskier’s squirming - but it certainly doesn’t help when his mind refuses to rest.
He sighs to himself, trying to force his eyes to shut, considering slipping into a deeper meditative state, when Jaskier suddenly cries out. It’s just noise - just a yell at first, then little sobs climbing over each other - until finally, a word, clear as anything.
Because it is Dreamling Week and because I have had this in my brain for a while now, especially after this amazing post by @academicblorbo here is some idiots in love and massage porn 💜
Dreamling, rated E, trans Dream;
Dreamling Week 2024: Indulgence | First Time;
Dream paces the length of his living room nervously, and tries to not glance at the clock on the wall. He fails, again, and lets out a groan when he notices it is only one minute since the last time he looked.
He pulls his bathrobe closer around himself, and his nerves spike when he remembers he is completely naked under it.
He should cancel. He should call Hob and cancel and then hide under a blanket for the rest of his life and die not only alone but also unorgasmed. Gods, Desire would have a field day with that.
He glances at the clock again and then drops down on the couch in a dramatic heap when the time is still unmoving.
As always, it is Desire’s fault.
So he’s been alone for years, so what. Dream has gotten used to it. He is used to the lonely nights and the weeks where he is not touched, it is fine.
But then, six months ago, Desire had to pull attention to it and to what they called Dream’s perpetual stick up his ass, and pulled both Death and Destruction into the conversation. One sibling, Dream could take. Three was pushing it.
“I’m fine,” he’d said six months ago, and received three unimpressed glares.
“Try saying that without your jaw cracking,” Destruction said, grinning when Dream glared at him too. “I’m just saying.”
“I do not want another relationship,” Dream said. “Should I remind you how the last one went?”
“That was three years ago,” Death shot back, always the peace keeper and the level headed one.
“And who said anything about a relationship?” Desire said, their red lips curled into a shit eating grin. “I just think you need to fucking relax. You’re wound up more than dad on his bad days.”
Dream gaped at him. “You take that back.”
“He has a point,” Destruction said, then shrugged as he took a sip of his hipster IPA. Dream could feel the stench of raspberry from across the table which was just nasty, who even drank raspberry beer? “You are so tense.”
“You are,” Death said, and then lifted her hands in a placating gesture when Dream gave her a betrayed look. “Maybe, just maybe, some relaxation would help. Like yoga?”
“You can come to the farm and chop some wood. That always helps me,” Destruction said.
“Oh!” Desire slapped the table with a grin. “A massage!”
“I do not want strangers touching me,” Dream said, pulling his leather jacket closer around himself.
“Oh, but that sounds like a good idea,” Death said, and gave him a smile. Dream was not exactly drunk, but still this side of tipsy that night, so he missed the spark in her eyes as she said, “I know just the person and, before you say anything, you know him too.”
Dream felt his stomach drop.
“No.”
“Come on,” Death said. “He’s professionally trained, even passed his licensing exam.”
“Wait, who are we talking about?” Desire leaned forward, like a shark sensing blood in the water.
“Hob Gadling,” Death said cheerfully and Dream kept his face very, very still. “He’s friends with Jo and Lou, our social circles keep bumping into each other. He’s a physical therapist and even does some massages, Jo said he helped Rachel a lot after her bike accident last year.”
“I do not need a physical therapist.”
“You need like ten, but that’s not the point,” Desire said. “You should call him.”
“I do not have his number,” Dream lied, and then got up. “I am going to go take a piss and this conversation is over.”
He should have known better.
Two days later, his phone buzzed and he almost threw it out the window when Hob’s name popped up.
‘Hi, this is Hob Gadling, friend of Jo’s. She said you reached out for details about some physical therapy, but did not have my number. Well, this is it, I’m up for a chat anytime so let me know :-)’
So, Johanna was also on it and Dream decided that night he really, really hated his friends and family. He texted his sister, ‘You are out of my will’ and then stared at his phone for an hour.
Because, the problem was this: Dream had lied. He had Hob’s phone number because two years ago he met Hob at Rachel’s birthday party and fell in love with him on the spot. Which is why he spent the night avoiding the man and his lovely smile and his big, beautiful eyes and his strong shoulders.
Unfortunately, he did also get drunk and then beg Johanna for his number as they ate kebab at 4am.
He never used it though. Thankfully, their social circles had never interacted too much, so he’d done what he’s good at which is be his awkward, reclusive self every time they met every few months.
And then Hob had to crash into his life.
He ignored the text all evening, and then popped open a bottle of the expensive rose he kept for nights like these, and halfway through his fourth glass he thought, but what if.
It would only be a massage. He could keep himself together for one massage, and even if he hated to admit it, he did feel. Not good. After his divorce he threw himself into his work, and it is fine, he’s fine, but. Maybe, just maybe, some nights he felt the tensions of his day (week, month…) grip his spine until he couldn’t sleep.
So, maybe.
He texted Hob as he crashed into a drunken sleep and that’s how four days later Hob Gadling was in his living room with his stupid massage table and his stupid hair pulled up in a pink scrunchy and his stupid gray sweats.
“I was surprised you called,” Hob said, and he scratched at his jawline with a small smile.
“My friends and family seem to think I need to relax.”
Hob laughed, and fuck, this was a bad idea, because Dream had managed to convince himself Hob was not as cute as he remembered but when he laughed, he was not just cute, he was gorgeous.
“I promise I’ll be gentle,” Hob said, and Dream tried not to scream. “We’ll just try a full body relaxation massage today, see if it helps.” When Dream did not move, Hob’s smile turned gentle. “Look, if you hate it, or it doesn’t work, I won’t be offended. Hey, I can leave right now, it’s fine.”
“No,” Dream said, taking a step forward. “I mean. I don’t—-“ he sighed, and shook his head. “I am not good at. Being touched.”
“Okay,” Hob said, gentle and not judging. “That’s fine. We’ll talk through it, and if you feel overwhelmed, or don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
“Oh.” Dream bit at his lower lip, a small smile blooming on his face. “That’s. Okay.”
Another of Hob’s smiles, and he looked so gentle and so nice and Dream realized he wanted this. “I’m trans,” he blurted out, the last spike of anxiety, the last hook in his soft chest, and Hob didn’t even blink as he said, “Cool.”
When Dream just stared, Hob blinked and stared back like he did not understand what Dream was on about. Dream stared some more and then finally cracked a smile. “It is. Cool.”
Hob hugged out a laugh and gestured to the massage table. “Okay. So. When you’re ready.”
Dream undressed down to his underwear and laid down before his anxieties drowned him. He took a deep breath, face snuggled in the circular headrest and waited. When Hob did not move for a moment, then another, anxiety slowly dripped down Dream’s spine, cool and horrible.
“Is anything wrong?”
He saw Hob’s feet move, and Hob cleared his throat, “Oh, what? Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I was just—“ he mumbled something Dream did not catch, before saying again, almost too cheerful, “Anyway, are you ready?”
Dream nodded, his fingers curling into his palms.
“Hey, we’ll start slowly,” Hob said, voice a gentle whisper. “I’ll get the lights, start some music, and it will be fine.”
A few moments later, the lights dimmed, and soft piano music started up from Dream’s speakers.
“I’m gonna touch you now,” Hob said, and Dream thought there was something in his voice, but before he could put his finger on it, Hob’s hands pressed to his back. His shoulders pulled up on instinct, muscles tensing, but Hob just waited him out with a gentle, “It’s okay, love. Just breathe.”
Dream did just that, once, twice. On his third exhale, Hob’s thumbs dug into his muscles on either side of his scapulae, and then dragged down. The touch was strong yet careful, and Dream let out a shocked groan.
Hob stilled and asked, “Is this okay?”
Dream swallowed and said, “Yes.”
When Hob moved again, repeating the gesture, Dream’s eyelids closed before he could stop them. Hob touched him with careful purpose, thumbs sliding down Dream’s spine, up and down and up and down, and then digging right in the curve of it, right above the line of Dream’s underwear.
It felt nice, better than nice, and Hob worked his back until Dream shivered and finally melted into the massage table.
“That’s it,” Hob said, and Dream could feel his smile. Hob moved after a while to the head of the table, and started on Dream’s shoulders, pushing the tension out of them with each stroke of his hands. At one point, Hob leaned forward and his elbows dug into the knots of Dream’s back, a bit more strength than he used before, and Dream bit back another groan of satisfaction.
“Is this good?”
Dream just hummed, and let Hob kneed his muscles until he could feel the tension melt and drip out of him and down to the floor. His shoulders and then his arms, and when Hob took his hands into his strong ones and worked the tension out of his fragile wrists and then his palms, Dream had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep the sounds of pleasure inside.
Time dripped slowly, and soon Hob moved to his legs. If his back felt divine, it did not compare to Hob’s hands on his thighs. His spine melted with it, and something more, when Hob’s strong touches soothed the tension he did not know he was carrying in his knees and his soles and his thighs.
When Hob said, “Turn around?” Dream had to blink twice to finally register the words. He moved slowly, part the mellowness of the past half an hour under Hob’s hands, part a small edge of anxiety. He lay on his back, and stared at the ceiling and tried not to fidget.
Hob’s gaze swept over him, but he just smiled and said, “Good. Now let’s get rid of the rest of that tension,” and his thumbs dug into the line of his neck, his collarbones, carefully avoiding his chest area and the white scars. Dream was not sure if he was relieved about it, but then Hob’s hands worked down his waist and it all faded.
By the end of the hour, and after Hob had moved to his scalp and the tense lines of his temples, Dream was convinced Hob’s hands were magic.
“Same hour next week?” He asked when Hob was packing everything up and he felt like all his bones had melted and the only thing holding him up was his bathrobe, Hob smiled brightly.
This is how he ended up with Hob Gadling and his strong hands and his perfect smile in his apartment every week. And it was fine, because Dream could hide his crush, could even forget about it for an hour because his body had never felt this good in ages.
Some nights, Hob would even stay for a little while, and they would talk. Hob was not only charming and funny, but also sharp and intelligent and Dream craved that half an hour after his massage as much as he craved the massage itself.
One night, they even ordered takeout and Hob sat with him at his kitchen island as they ate noodles and talked about their days.
It was the best thing in Dream’s life and even if he sometimes craved more, when Hob’s fingers slid up his thigh or when Hob had tea in his kitchen, it was fine. Dream was used to never getting it all.
(And if some night he touched himself after Hob left, his own hands pressing right into the wetness between his legs, the only place Hob never touched, that was between himself and the night.)
And then Jo had to fuck it up.
“You look better,” she said, and it sounded suspicious, because that was what she was. “Are you on drugs?”
Dream rolled his eyes and pulled her glass of wine towards himself. “No. I just feel. Better.”
Jo stared at him for another long moment, eyes narrowed and then she suddenly gasped, “Oh my god, this is Hob’s doing! You’re finally getting some!”
Dream choked on his wine. “What? No! I’m just— getting massages, fuck off.”
“Well, yeah. Massages.” Her eyebrows wiggled, and Dream just frowned at her. “You know.”
“What in god’s name are you talking about?”
Rachel chose that moment to come back to their corner table, and she gave Johanna a confused look, so Johanna said, “Dream and Hob finally got it on.”
“Oh, finally,” Rachel said and Dream gave them both a look like they were insane. “What?”
“I am not getting it on with Hob,” Dream said through gritted teeth. Any relaxation that had come from that week's massage had vanished. “I have merely hired him for weekly massages.”
Johanna just shrugged. “Same thing, though. Because you know.”
“Know what?”
Johanna’s eyes widened and she and Rachel shared a look, awkwardness settling over their table.
“Umm,” Johanna said, and stole her own wine glass back from Dream, taking a deep gulp. “Cool.”
“Yup,” Rachel said.
Dream just stared at them both, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What is going on?”
Johanna and Rachel shared another look, Rachel’s eyebrows twitching, then Johanna’s in that way of theirs that was usually endearing, but now just verged on annoying.
Finally, Johanna sighed and said, “Okay, fine. But if you tell him I told him, I will have your balls for fucking breakfast.” She sighed and said, “Okay, so the massage thing is Hob’s day job. But he also, um, does some extra work on the side, if you know what I mean.”
Dream did not and his confused look spoke of it. Johanna groaned and said, “Rachel, help me out here.”
Rachel took a deep gulp of her own drink and then said, “He also has some. Special services.”
“Special services,” Dream repeated.
“You know,” Johanna said, eyebrows wiggling. When Dream just frowned at her, she groaned and said, “Erotic massages, okay? He started a few years ago to supplement his income and he’s kinda popular considering he is always busy on weekends, and I just assumed that was what you two were doing, because of the whole. Thing. With you.”
Dream sat still, so still he was sure his breath had stopped and will never come back again. He was aware Johanna kept talking, but all he could hear were the words ‘erotic massages’ rolling around his brain like the spark of neon lights in the night, over and over again.
“What.”
“Don’t tell him I told you,” Johanna warned, pointing at his face. “Cause I thought—“
Dream got up, and his chair wobbled dangerously at the quickness of his movement. “I—“ his mouth felt dry, heart beating dangerously fast. “I need to—-“
He ran out of the pub with Johanna yelling after him,” Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
Dream was, of course, a fucking idiot.
Especially when it came to Hob Gadling.
He tried to not think of it. He failed as soon as he got home and then fingered himself on the couch, coming to the memory of Hob’s hands on him and Johanna’s words. He then promised to never call Hob again. This was too much. He could take the weekly massages as long as he knew Hob would never touch him like that.
(And Hob never would. He had never shown anything more than friendliness towards Dream, even after six months of Dream literally naked in front of him.)
But the thought that Hob could— would — touch him like that was too much. He made his mind up to cancel all further appointments for both their sake.
That decisiveness lasted exactly five days.
Dream called Hob and realized only after the second ring that it was past 10pm and panicked, but then Hob answered, his voice sweet like summer around Dream’s name, and Dream had planned to call and cancel their appointment but what came out was, “I’m sorry, I did not realize the hour. I was calling to see if we are still up for tomorrow evening.”
“No problem, love,” Hob said, and Dream had to squeeze his thighs together at the endearment even if he knew it did not mean anything. “And yeah, of course.”
“Good.” He bit at his lower lip, fidgeting in place. “There was something else.”
“Oh?”
Dream pulled a pillow close, dug his fingers into it and said, words stumbling on one single breath, too quickly, “I would also like to hire you for one of your special massages.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow, breathing through the sudden swoop in his chest. When Hob did not answer for a too long moment, he took a deep breath and said, “Hob?”
A breath on the other side of the call. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just—“ Hob cleared his throat, and he sounded weirdly croaked. “I assume it was Jo who told you.”
“Yes,” Dream said. “It was not her fault.”
“It’s fine,” Hob said, and he sounded truthful even if his voice had a weird quality to it.
“I’m sorry, I should not have—“
“No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ashamed of it,” Hob said with a small laugh. “Just did not think you’d be interested in— I mean, I did not want to—“
“No, I understand.” They both sat like that, and Dream listened to Hob’s breathing and felt his own catch in the back of his sternum. He was weak, he knew it. He was weak and yet he couldn’t stop himself, not now that he knew. Hob would never be interested in him, that he knew, but Dream could have this, at least.
It was a greedy thing to think. And yet.
“I am interested.”
Which why he is now here, naked save for his bathrobe, waiting for Hob to. To touch him again. Hob had explained what it meant, how it was just a massage but with a happier ending, how it did not involve any actual sexual contact on Hob’s end.
“This is gonna be just about you,” Hob had said on the phone, and Dream had to close his eyes and breathe through the sudden spike of pleasure in his throat.
Dream’s been a spiral of want and need all day.
When the knock comes at the door, he rushes so fast towards it he almost trips on the hardwood floor. He pulls open the door and then stares.
He thinks Hob looks even more gorgeous than he usually does.
“Hi,” Hob says, and he looks nervous for a moment before he smiles and it seems to fade. It must be Dream’s own nervousness making him see things.
“Hello,” Dream says, and steps aside to let Hob in. He follows Hob to the living room, sits on the edge of the couch as Hob sets up his table.
“Gonna be a little different tonight. Considering…” Hob says, glancing at Dream with a small smile and pulling out some candles out of his bag. He sets them up around the room, then dims the lights even more so than usual as soon as the candles are on. The smell slowly fills the room, something sweet and spicy and nice. Dream swallows against the lump in his throat.
“It is nice.”
“Good,” Hob says. He fidgets, wiping his hands on his gray sweats. “Okay, so some ground rules.”
“Rules for a massage?” Dream asks, lips quirking. He expects Hob to laugh, but Hob just looks at him with a gaze that feels deeper than usual.
“Considering the plan is for you to come at least twice in a safe, consensual way, yes.”
Dream’s smile melts off his face and his mouth goes suddenly dry. Hob smiles then, and it’s this side of cheeky, this side of heated. Dream’s never seen this smile on Hob before, and it seems to have changed his whole demeanor. He is still gentle, because Dream doesn’t think Hob can be anything else, but there’s also an edge of self confidence, almost arrogance to the sweep of his features.
It should be annoying. It is incredibly hot instead.
“Oh.”
Hob tilts his head. “We’ll work with a stop sign system. Green means go, yellow means pause and red means stop. Say red and I will stop touching you, no questions asked, no judgment.” Dream nods when Hob seems to wait for it. “Okay, good. The point of this is for you to feel good.”
Hob holds his gaze. “I want you to feel good, okay Dream?”
Dream swallows and bites back a whimper. He nods. Something flashes in Hob’s eyes, something as deep as molasses, but when he smiles it fades.
“Okay,” he says. “Umm, ready when you are.”
Dream gets up and makes his way to the table, hands working the fastening of his bathrobe open before he can chicken out. He avoids Hob’s gaze as he disrobes, ignores the way his skin breaks out in goosebumps when he still feels said gaze brush over his naked body, and lays on the table.
“Is this okay?” he asks as soon as his face is nuzzled into the pillow, and there’s a pause before Hob says, “Yeah. Of course.”
He watches Hob’s feet pace around, hears the clink of bottles and Hob says, “Going to be using a different massage oil today. It’s hypoallergenic, don’t worry.”
Dream just hums so he won’t say he was not thinking about allergies once this night. His toes wiggle with nervousness, palms sweaty, but then Hob’s palm presses right between his shoulder blades, not hard, but enough to be a grounding touch.
“Breathe for me, okay?” Hob says, gentle, always so gentle, and Dream does. Once, twice. “Good, that’s good, love.”
When the oil hits his back, Dream can’t help his shiver. It is more viscous than the one Hob used before, but it feels nice, especially when Hob starts massaging his back. Hob’s movements are slow, working the oil all over his muscles, and it is all so very familiar.
Almost too familiar, Hob working the knots in his neck, then digging into the tension Dream always holds between his shoulder blades, working the knots he knows are there.
After fifteen minutes and a perfect massage, yet not at all what Dream was expecting, Dream says, “I thought this was a special massage,” and immediately regrets how stupid it sounds.
Hob just laughs and rubs the tension from the angle where neck meets shoulder, palms sliding down Dream’s arms.
“It’s still a massage at its core,” he says, sounding amused. “The point is pleasure, true. But pleasure and relaxation go hand in hand, I think.”
Dream hums and then has to bite back a groan when Hob works his forearms with practiced, deep touches that break through the tension of a week of painting. Okay, so Hob may have a point and this is nice.
He takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, and for the next ten minutes he almost forgets his is completely naked and what exactly he asked Hob for. Hob just keeps massaging him slowly, almost tenderly, movement slower than usual, but still oh so very nice. The foot massage is nice, and Dream’s spine melts when Hob’s knuckles dig into the soles of his feet.
And then Hob’s hands travel up Dream’s thighs and Dream is suddenly very, very aware of how naked he is.
His breath catches when Hob’s thumbs dig into his inner thighs, higher and higher, and just when he thinks Hob won’t stop, he slides his hands back down to his knees. He does it again, and again, and again, a tease of touch, always stopping just a little bit higher than before.
Dream’s breath quickens, a slow tension building in his belly. He’s been quietly aroused since that morning, but it spikes with every slow almost there touch.
Finally, after minutes of slow teasing, Hob’s thumbs press between his legs, sliding over the lips of his cunt and Dream gasps. Hob stills and says, “Color?”
Dream closes his eyes and tries not to fidget like a horny teenager and says, “Green.”
“Perfect,” Hob says and his hands move down again. Dream tries to bite back a whine but fails, and Hob huffs out a laugh that is more soft than judging. “It’s okay, love. We’ll get there, just relax.”
Dream breathes out and does as Hob says, receiving a soft, “Good boy.” He bites his tongue so hard he’s surprised he’s not bleeding, eyes squeezing shut at the almost choking wave of pleasure.
Hob’s palms settle on his ass, and he kneads the muscles, fingers digging into the curve of Dream’s backside and pulling. Dream realizes with a shocked start that Hob can probably see him, can see the proof of his simmering arousal, the shine of his wetness over his lips.
Hob can see him and the thought is horrible and perfect and Dream wants to push into it until it is all he feels.
“Hob,” he gasps when Hob’s thumbs dig into the meat of his ass, and Hob makes a soft, soothing sound in the back of his throat. His hands leave Dream’s skin for a moment, and Dream whines.
“Shh, it’s okay, love,” Hob says, caressing over the curve of his lower back. A finger presses lower, right between the cleft of his ass. “Color.”
“Green,” Dream gasps, and his hips twitch backwards. Hob hums, but his finger stays there, right at the edge of his asshole.
“Good,” Hob says. He moves and suddenly oil pours between Dream’s cheeks, sliding slowly over his hole and lips, pooling right under his hips. The sensation is new and weird and so, so good.
Hob’s hand slides lower then, fingers sliding through the slick and his over his cunt, and the touch is so good, finally, that Dream’s hips twitch uncontrollably. Hob tsks and his other hand pushes Dream down, palm pressed to his lower back.
“Relax, darling,” Hob says and Dream wants to laugh, because how the hell is he expected to relax with Hob’s fingers still sliding between the lips of his cunt. He tries to listen to Hob though, taking a deep slow breath, and even if he isn’t sure it does much, Hob still says, “Good. That’s good.”
Hob’s hand caresses up, torturously slow. It feels good but it’s not enough. Hob’s thumb is a barely there pressure over his ass, his middle finger stopping just under the small, twitching bulge of his cock. No matter how much Dream whines, Hob’s touches stay slow and gentle, and soon Dream’s shaking with how much he wants.
“Hob,” he says, gasps the name, head turning until his cheek is pressed to the pillow. “Please.”
He thinks he hears Hob’s sharp inhale, but before it can fully register, Hob’s thumb finally digs into the twitching circle of his asshole and all thoughts leave Dream’s mind. Hob’s palm presses to his lower back and Dream thinks that’s the only thing keeping him on the table, and Hob works him slowly.
Dream’s mouth opens on a soundless gasp when Hob’s middle finger slides inside him, the slick of the oil and Dream’s own juices making the slide easy, so easy.
“Ah, ah,” he gasps, breath catching right in the dip of his throat but Hob does not give him a moment's reprieve as he slides his fingers in and out, movement suddenly quick and perfectly determined. “Hob!”
Hob fingers him with quick, confident vigor, Dream’s walls twitching against the perfect intrusion, first one finger, then another soon joining it. Each stroke is deep and so, so good, deeper and deeper, and after a few minutes of this Dream is nothing but a moaning, drooling mess over the table.
He can’t talk through the slowly building pleasure in his cunt, can’t do much but sit there and take it as Hob fingers him closer and closer to a building, perfect edge.
“That’s it,” Hob says, and he sounds breathless as he speaks. “Gods, look at you.”
Dream whines, long and pulled from his chest, and Hob’s thumb strokes his twitching asshole, over and over and over again, and then he pushes in just past the circle of muscle, just as another finger digs into Dream’s cunt, and that’s all it takes.
Dream comes with a broken moan, ripped right through his chest. His body seizes with it and Hob’s palm on his back holds him down as wave after wave of pleasure runs through Dream’s body from the nape of his neck to the tips of his curling toes.
Hob’s fingers stay inside of him through each slowly dimming wave, and Dream gasps through the feeling, his muscles straining against Hob’s hand. When his orgasm finally fades, leaving Dream breathless and shaking, Hob’s fingers slide out of him easily.
Dream gasps, but Hob’s palms press over his back, sliding up the side of Dream’s melting spine.
“How are you feeling?” Hob asks, and Dream groans when the heel of Hob’s hand presses right over the bumps of his spine.
“Good,” he says, and his tongue sticks to the edges of his teeth. He blinks his eyes open, and is met with Hob’s smile. He thinks that Hob is flushed too, but before he can bring attention to it, Hob massages his shoulders slowly and it breaks his line of thoughts. “Turn around for me, will you darling?”
Dream has to take two deep breaths before he can move, and his body shakes, every joint like jelly.
“Good boy,” Hob says, and Dream can’t look him in the eyes, cheeks flushing like he’s been dipped in oil. “Need a break?” Hob asks and Dream shakes his head, and Hob gives him an encouraging smile. It makes Dream’s stomach swoop and he watches Hob as he lifts the bottle of oil and slowly drips it down Dream’s chest, then lower. Dream’s legs part before he can think it through.
Hob places his hands on his shoulders, massaging over the sharp line of his collarbones, then over his biceps, touch careful and tender.
“I’m going to touch your chest now,” Hob says. “Is that okay.”
Dream nods and says, “Yes.” His voice cracks, and Hob frowns so Dream quickly says, “Green. The color is green.”
Hob grins and nods, and Dream closes his eyes so he won’t get lost in the perfect dip of Hob’s eyebrows. He takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling under Hob’s palms, and he almost chokes on an exhale when Hob’s hands travel down his pectoral muscles. Hob does it again though, and again, and Dream wonders if Hob can feel his quickening heartbeat under his palm.
“Relax, darling,” Hob says, and then his thumbs catch over his scars and Dream’s breath stops. Hob stills immediately and asks, “Is this okay?”
Dream swallows and it sounds loud in the quiet room. “Yes,” he says. “It’s just. Unexpected.”
“I can stop—“
“No,” Dream says, eyes snapping open, hands twitching at his sides. He swallows again and says, “It’s just. No one has touched me there since— since I transitioned fully.”
“Oh,” Hob says, eyes widening. He is blushing now, Dream’s sure of it this time, but then he smiles and there’s a tender quality to it that settles over Dream’s skin like morning dew. “Thank you for your trust, Dream.”
Dream doesn’t know what to say to that. Hob sounds so happy, an edge of awe to his voice, and so he nods and closes his eyes and says, “Please keep going. It feels nice.”
Hob’s fingers curl against his chest, and he caresses slowly down to the fluttering muscles of Dream’s belly. His fingers feel nice over Dream’s ribs, his touch slow and lovely. When Hob touches his scars, there’s a gentle, almost reverent quality to it, and Dream ignores the skip in his heartbeat.
He’s never been touched like this. Not since he changed his body to what feels right; not even before. The thought is sharp and beautiful, and makes his eyes sting even as he keeps them closed.
“You’re beautiful,” Hob says, a whisper so low it almost gets lost in the quiet of the silence around them. “I just wanted you to know that.”
Dream’s lips part on a gasp, but he does not know what to say except, “Thank you.” He wonders if this is Hob with all his clients, if this is part of what Dream is paying for, and then he quickly shuts that line of thought down. He doesn’t want to know if it is.
He wants to pretend it is just for him.
Hob continues touching him and when his pinkies catch over his nipples, he has to bite his tongue to keep the sharp sound in. Hob does it again, a slide over the perking bud with each caress, and soon Dream’s breath is quickening in sync with his heartbeat.
“Still green?” Hob asks as his palms slide down Dream’s waist, fingers digging into his hips for a second. Dream nods quickly, and Hob’s palms caress lower, thumbs digging into the plush place where thigh meets groin.
Dream’s legs part, muscles twitching, and he hears Hob’s sharp inhale. Before he can think it through, before he can feel any sort of shame at his own debauchery, Hob’s right palm slides over his folds, over his plump full cock and the curl of hair.
Dream groans, hips twitching, even if Hob’s touch is feather light and slow.
“Shh, relax, love,” Hob says. “I’ll make you feel good.”
Dream’s skin breaks out in goosebumps, a shiver of them down to his toes and he nods, forcing his body to relax. Hob’s left hand digs into his thigh as he arranges Dream’s leg until he is suddenly open to Hob’s gaze, his right hand sliding over the wetness.
“Hob,” Dream gasps, and Hob just makes a gentle shushing sound, fingers working his folds open, the gesture easy and unhurried through the slick and massage oil. He does not push though, just caresses over Dream’s opening, while his other hand pets the pale skin of his inner thighs.
Pleasure builds again, a shimmering ember that glows brighter and brighter right in the center of Dream. When Hob’s hands slides up, Dream’s cock caught between his fingers, Dream’s whole body seizes with the flash of pleasure.
“Hob,” he says, the name a whine that catches in his chest. “Please— more.”
Hob listens to him, thumb catching over the hardness of him, pad catching over the plump tip as he circles over it with slow, determined strokes. Dream shakes with each caress, breath catching behind every rib, eyes scrunching tightly against the growing waves of pleasure.
Hob’s other hand presses to the soaking lips of his cunt, fingers stopping right over his entrance. Dream twitches down to his bones, hips rolling in need of more.
“Please,” he says, and his fingers dig into the soft towel under him. Above him, Hob lets out a small gasp that Dream feels spark up his spine and then two fingers dig into Dream’s cunt in one quick, deep move. Dream’s back arches with a broken moan, eyes snapping open as pleasure makes his chest squeeze.
Another moan when he sees the way Hob is looking at him, wide eyed and flushed, pupils blown in the dimmed golden light of the candles.
“Hob,” Dream says, groans through the waves of pleasure of Hob’s hands on him, inside him. “Please— please, Hob— I want—- more.”
Hob’s own breath catches, and he bites back a broken, “Fuck.”
Dream opens his mouth to apologize, but he can’t find the words because Hob’s fingers curl inside of him, pleasure spiking so bright in his belly, in his chest.
“Dream,” Hob says, eyes dragging over Dream’s chest, over his fluttering belly. “Can I—“
“Yes,” Dream says, hand pushing out and digging into the warm muscles of Hob’s forearms. “Anything, please. Green, so fucking green.”
Hob laughs and it’s nothing but a gasping breath, but he moves, head dipping and lips pressing to the fluttering muscles of Dream’s abdomen. Dream shakes through it all, through the caress of Hob’s mouth lower, and then Hob’s mouth on his cock.
His body seizes with the sudden spike of pleasure, through the perfect burst of it in every nerve ending. His hand digs into Hob’s hair, fingers twisting, and Hob makes a sound, a deep rumbling moan as he licks over Dream’s folds, as his lips circle his cock.
He can’t talk, can’t say anything but Hob’s name as Hob fingers him through each wave of pleasure, as he licks and sucks Dream’s cock like a starving man finally offered a feast. Dream’s legs have fallen open, thigh muscles straining, and his back arches off the table with a gasping breath when Hob’s nose slides over his cock, immediately followed by a hot swipe of his tongue.
He pulls Hob close, closer, nails digging into Hob’s scalp and Hob just makes a rumbling, pleased sound and curls his fingers deeper in Dream’s cunt with reckless abandon.
It soon becomes too much, and Dream’s toes curl with a wave of pleasure, belly swooping with a sudden, terrifying spike of pleasure.
His mouth opens on a gasp of Hob’s name, and he looks down. His body stills when he catches Hob’s gaze, the flush of his skin at his temples, the dark bloom of his pupils as he licks Dream open.
It’s all it takes and his orgasm pummels through him, harder and quicker than the first. His chest seizes with it, pulse a lighting strike in every soft part of him. He throws his head back and comes and comes, shaking through every wave of it, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
Hob sucks him off through every wave, tongue needy and hot against his folds, over his twitching cock, and soon Dream is left a trembling, gasping mess on the table.
When Hob finally pulls off with a wet smack, Dream shakes like his bones have melted right out of him, pleasure still buzzing under his skin.
“Fuck.”
The word makes his eyes snap open and he looks at Hob. A moan rips through his throat, because Hob looks wrecked, skin flushed like candied apples, hair a mess and sticking to the sweat at his temples.
“Hob,” he says, and then doesn’t know what else to say. Hob swallows, and Dream watches the sharp dip of his Adam’s apple. When he takes a deep breath, he can smell his own arousal in the air, and his cunt twitches around Hob’s fingers.
“Yeah,” Hob says, and pulls his hands away. Dream whines at the loss of him, feeling too empty too suddenly. “Fuck, okay. Okay.”
Hob takes a step back, and runs his hand through his hair. Dream can’t help but notice Hob’s fingers are shiny with what Dream knows are his own juices, and he pulls his thighs together.
“I’m sorry.”
Dream frowns, skin shivering with a bright uncomfortable feeling.
“What.”
Hob stares at him, and his mouth thins. His lips are wet, and Dream has to pull his gaze away from them.
“This was not supposed to—“ Hob says, stops. His throat clicks. “Fuck, I overstepped. I’m so sorry, Dream.” Dream doesn’t understand, and when he doesn’t say anything, Hob makes a sound in the back of throat, sad and tight. “This was— so unprofessional, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” When Hob shakes his head, Dream pushes himself to a sitting position. “Isn’t this— what was supposed to happen.”
“Not like this, Dream,” Hob says, and his voice breaks. “It was— it was supposed to be a massage.”
Dream tilts his head, frowning. “So you going down on me was not normal.”
Hob shakes his head, and takes an aborted step back. He takes a deep breath, and seems to pull himself together painfully.
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” He shakes his head, face twisting. “I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Dream moves and grips Hob’s t-shirt, holding him still. He feels his own pulse in his ears, a desperate whooshing thing, but there’s also a sharp, weird clarity to his thoughts. It tastes almost like hope.
“Why did you do it?”
Hob watches his face with wide eyes, lips shaking. “Dream, please.”
“No, tell me,” Dream says, because he needs to know. “Why did you agree to this? Why did you do what you did?”
Hob stays so still he looks like he’s been cast in amber, eyes searching Dream’s, and then he finally sighs. It ripples through him, a shiver in a pond, and he looks pained as he says, “Because I’ve been craving to know what you taste like since the first moment I met you.”
Dream blinks, fingers twisting harder into the front of Hob’s shirt. “That was two years ago.”
“Yeah.” Hob looks sad, defeated. “I know how it looks, trust me. And I should have— stopped this before it started. But. I just— I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”
Dream watches him for a moment that stretches and stretches, watches the way Hob seems to curl on himself with shame and thinks, two years. Hob liked him for two years.
They could have been doing this for two years.
“You fucking idiot,” he says, and Hob flinches and opens his mouth to say something that Dream already knows is going to be very very stupid because they are both, it seems, very very stupid so he does what he thinks is the best thing.
He pulls Hob close and crashes their lips together in a kiss.
Hob makes a shocked sound, arms flailing, but Dream bites at his lower lip with pointed hunger, and it seems that’s all it takes. Hob’s mouth opens under his, the slide of his tongue hot and sweet, the rumble of his moan even sweeter. Dream pulls him close into the semicircle of his legs, hooking his heels behind Hob’s thighs and kisses him and kisses him until they are both gasping and panting against each other.
When they pull apart, Hob laughs, eyes shining brightly.
“Oh my god,” he says, and Dream lets his hands travel up Hob’s chest, fingers digging into the perfect curve of Hob’s skull.
“Thank you for being completely unprofessional,” Dream says, and Hob laughs again. His hands settle on Dream’s hips, touch oh so very gentle. Dream pulls Hob close, nuzzling at his jawline.
“Oh my god,” Hob says again, another soft laugh. “You have no idea how many times I left here hard. How many times I touched myself thinking of you.”
“I think I have you beat,” Dream says. He kisses the edge of Hob’s jawline, the corner of his lips. He can taste himself on Hob’s breath.
“I felt like such a horrible person,” Hob says, right hand caressing over Dream’s lower back. “It’s never happened before. I’ve done this so many times with so many people, and yet most times I didn’t even get hard.” He nips at Dream’s lower lip, tongue immediately soothing over it.
Dream grins and tilts his head back, catching Hob’s eyes gaze.
“I wish you had done it sooner,” Dream says, and arches his back in Hob’s embrace. It brings their hips closer, and Hob’s clothed erection presses to the center of him. Hob moans, and kisses Dream again. “I wish to do it again. Soon, hopefully.”
Hob smiles and his face shines with happiness.
“From now on, how about I offer my personal services permanently and exclusively.”
Dream hums and licks his lips and says, “Consider yourself hired,” and he laughs when Hob crashes their lips together in a happy, sweet kiss.
yet more fics,, help me,, im in so deep and it’s been a while. yes i used my own art as the header. as always, please get in touch via messages or asks with your own recommendations!
Stiles being so in love with Derek and Derek being oblivious and not knowing why Stiles’ heart races when he sees Derek.
either works.
Here's my favorite Stiles got bit fic:
Choice by Omni (wc8613, teen)
Summary:
Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it’s like to be manipulated. He’d never take away someone’s right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.
Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can’t.
(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)
This one is also a good one:
Throw Me to the Wolves by @pantstomatch (wc13493, teen)
Summary:
He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing.
There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him.
OR -
Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.
And then this is an epic, if you haven't read it:
I Was a Teenage Werewolf by @halehathnofury-blog (wc456244, explicit)
Summary:
Stiles just knows he’s going to get lost in the woods. There must be a Laura Palmer reference in there somewhere.
A fork in the road retelling of Teen Wolf where Stiles is the one to get bitten.
RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part One
All the oblivious pining, cuddly bedsharing and forehead kisses your heart can handle. Click below for my faves!
thigh'm in love with you by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries. E, 1.8k. Henry has a date.
Alex knows, because for the last four months, his roommate’s choice in soundtrack as he primped and preened before a date has been extremely consistent, and there’s no way Good as Hell, All About That Bass, and Dancing Queen playing consecutively is a coincidence tonight.
too worried to be sleeping by viciouslyqueer. G, 2.7k. Just as he’s getting ready for bed, Alex hears something in the apartment next to his – it sounds like glass shattering on the floor. Then, the voice of a man, choked up, like he’s been crying.
and i don’t get much sleep most nights (i’m seeing you in every dream) by @autiespring. T, 2.9k. “Alex Claremont-Diaz can’t sleep.
He sighs heavily and clambers out of his bed, shoving his feet into his slippers and opening the door to his bedroom.
The thing is, insomnia isn’t new. He’s been like this all his life.
The ADHD diagnosis is newer.”
two nights where alex and henry can’t sleep and one where they can (a love letter to neurodivergence)
all's well that ends well to end up with you by karish. T, 3k. “Fuck, thank you, you’re a lifesaver, Hen,” he says as he closes the small distance between them and places a faint kiss on Henry’s lips.
His lips are soft and Alex melts into it for a second before pulling away. He bumps their noses together for good measure before stepping back and grabbing his bag from the chair. When he turns back to look at Henry, he’s still standing still, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Alex can even see a dark flush starting to spread over his face. It looks cute. Alex wishes he could–
Oh.
Oh shit.
Fucking goddamn shit.
He just kissed Henry. Fuck.
So, Kiss Me by onesmoluke. M, 3k. Just a wholesome getting together fic
Alex is a poli-sci major and he's been in love with his roommate Henry for years. Things finally come to a head when Henry makes a slightly ridiculous request.
From the prompt: "Could you kiss me? I need it for writing purposes."
the conclusion literally any normal human being would come to. by @chaa-kiao. M, 3.2k. My [21M] flatmate [20M] gives me forehead kisses when he thinks I'm asleep. How do I ask him to do it when I'm awake, too?
Henry and Alex are roommates quarantined together. Henry takes to Reddit when Alex's behavior gets too confusing for him to sort out on his own. Surely this will have zero impact on their completely platonic relationship, right?
kiss me like you've got nowhere to be by @anincompletelist. M, 3.2k. In the three years they’ve lived together, he thinks it’s safe to say that he and Alex have gotten… close. The kind of close that other people like to point out sometimes when they’re in public, and not just their overinvolved older sisters and overly suggestive friends. A few of Alex’s colleagues have made comments when Henry shows up at the holiday parties or after a stressful work day to make sure Alex is eating and staying hydrated, just the same as Henry’s clients each know little bits of odd Alex-facts that he lets slip sometimes in his sessions.
Regardless, it’s all terribly domestic, and the twinge of satisfaction Henry gets when Alex’s dates don’t go well is most definitely not appropriate, even if they are kind of in a weird, probably mostly platonic, very codependent relationship. If he’s not careful, Henry’s going to get himself so, so hurt one of these days.
Mambo de la luna by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 3.4k. Fuck. God, this is so bad. It would be so much better if he just wanted Henry for the way he moves his hips and the fact that he has the flexibility of a double-jointed yoga instructor, but instead he just wants to… hold him??? Sure, fucking him would be a nice bonus, but the one thing he wants more than anything else is to be following Henry into that room and curling around him before they fall asleep.
Henry is a stripper, Alex is his roommate. The stripping part isn't the problem.
sacred new beginnings by Standinginmoonlight. NR, 3.4k. Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t get sick.
Or: Alex Claremont-Diaz gets sick and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor looks after him.
only bought this dress (so you could take it off) by @coffeecatsme. E, 3.8k. “Take off your pants, show me your dick, and you’ll see. I’ll pleasantly admire it from afar, I can even offer a few compliments about the size if you want a boost to your ego—”
“I don’t need—”
“But,” Alex presses before Henry can continue, “I’m not going to touch you because, as I made it incredibly clear, I’m not gay. So.” He waves his hands in a gesture that he hopes conveys, go on. “Take off your pants.”
Or, Alex realizes some things about himself. Henry helps.
every constellation hiding in the sky of your body by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. He's straight. Alex is pretty sure he’s straight. Yet sometimes he catches Henry move around the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, he glances over to find waves of blond fallen over his forehead, he meets those blue eyes and the shy smile Henry only saves for Alex and wonders.
Or, the one in which Alex is drunk and has a lot less impulse control when it comes to Henry.
In my dreams (In your dreams) by @lizzie-bennetdarcy. E, 3.9k. He opens his mouth to tell Alex it's fine, they can stay, when Alex shakes his head. "The room is spinning. That's not fun. Alright, sweetheart, let's go home." He jumps up from the stool, and immediately lists sideways into Henry. "What will it take to get you to carry me home?"
"More than you're prepared to give, I'm afraid." Kiss me, marry me, have my children, please.
Alex is very drunk, and very affectionate, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to pretend like he isn't completely in love with him.
Play Me a Song by @three-drink-amy. G, 4.1k. Every night, like clockwork, Alex's upstairs neighbor plays the piano for two hours, giving Alex the motivation to sit and do his own work so that he can listen. One night, he leaves a letter for his neighbor to thank him for the music. When his neighbor comes to his door to thank him for the note, he finds it's the same cute guy he's been running into in the lobby.
blackout by rizcriz. T, 4.3k. When the power goes out, Alex and Henry are sitting in their living room watching the latest fantasy show to hit Netflix. Alex has his feet in Henry’s lap, and his head pressed up against the side of the couch. One of Henry’s hands is burning a hole through the thin spread of Alex’s pajama pants where it’s resting on his shin. Everything goes out like a flash of lightning, but it takes a moment for it to really register that they’re left lying in the dark.
When it does, Alex sits up, the backs of his calves pressing into the firm weight of Henry’s thighs. He tries not to think about that, though, even as Henry’s hand tightens around his calf. The moon’s shining through the window, so it’s not like they’re blanketed in total darkness, but when Alex looks at Henry, and Henry looks at Alex, the shadows drifting over his face, it feels as if all the light has been sucked out of the world entirely.
Or, Alex and Henry have a conversation by candlelight.
your name has echoed through my mind (i just think you should know) by vibrantsaturn. T, 4.6k. Still in a frenzy, Alex grabs the thermos. Says, "thank you, baby. Fuck, I love you." He raises himself on his tip toes and presses a quick kiss on Henry's lips with a hand on the back of his neck and bolts with Pez in tow. Just before the door closes, he sees Henry standing there stunned, his fingers on his lips.
They take a few steps until Alex just. Stops. "Pez, did I just-"
"Tell Henry you love him? Kiss Henry without realising what you were doing? Yes," Pez says in a daze and Alex curses. Fuck, how is he going to face Henry now?
Alex realises he's in love with Henry after playing Fuck, Marry, Kill and he does not know how to deal with it.
It Was Never Home Until You Were There by earth_to_alex16. T, 5.1k. Henry and Alex are roommates that share a bed - Henry during the day and Alex at night.
How can a connection form when they've never met?
Or, The Flatshare AU that no one asked for.
Always Where I Need To Be by @cha-melodius. T, 5.4k. Alex doesn’t even know how he does it most of the time. He’ll take his glasses off for five minutes while he’s working to rest his eyes, and somehow David will snag them off the coffee table and run off with them. He doesn’t chew them, thank god, but the slobber is bad enough. Plus, there’s the fact that Alex has to go on a search to find whatever random place he’s managed to hide them.
Except… the places the glasses end up don’t seem to be exactly random.
(Alex's new roommate has a puppy with a penchant for theft—and, seemingly, strong opinions on where Alex needs to be.)
No Sense or Sensibility by @inexplicablymine. T, 5.5k. “When and where was your first kiss.”
Oh shit.
The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened.
Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.
Not So Silent Night by @inexplicablymine. T, 6.1k. Sure, Alex can admit in the deepest recesses of his mind, at two in the morning, when the Liszt is playing forlornly like some kind of bugle call for grief, that whoever the fuck lives next to him is on another level with the keys.
Or
Alex has no idea who his piano playing neighbor is, but Alex knows one thing for certain… This means war.
Don’t Wanna Be A Fool For You by @myheartalivewrites. E, 6.2k. Henry had always known it would come to this, in the end. That his ridiculous, unrequited, life-destroying love for Alex would always break his heart. He’d chosen to indulge it, because, if he’s being honest with himself, pulling away from Alex at any stage in their friendship would have broken him. He could have brought it forward or put if off, but the end result had always been inevitable. So he’d chosen to delay it, for as long as possible.
But he’s always had an extraction plan in place for when it became too hard. A fake family emergency. Some last minute thing calling him to England, the details unimportant. A quickly packed suitcase and a note stuck to the fridge. He has a credit card and his passport lives in the top drawer of his bedside table, where he can get to it easily. He has an open invitation to stay at Pez’s place, or Bea’s.
Henry had always known the day would come.
Henry and Alex are roommates, Henry is in love and Alex is oblivious. And then, ONE DAY…
Dreams that Keep Me Up in the Dead of Night by earth_to_alex16. T, 6.3k. Alex gets a little too honest when he's tired.
Oxford Days by myheartalive. E, 6.3k. "Alex’s new roommate is kind of a slut.
No. Strike that. Not kind of. Definitely. Definitely a slut."
An ode to slutty Henry.
Hide and Sneak by clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.7k. Henry shouldn't be here; 'here' meaning the flat he shares with his friend and unrequited crush, Alex, who is irreversibly straight and likes to walk around in his boxers like some kind of sexy torture device.
Alex, unlike Henry, is meant to be here, and here is where he is.
On their sofa in the living room.
Jerking off.
Can be summed up by the line, "If we don't touch each other, it's probably not gay."
It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis. T, 6.9k. 5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.
like coming home by Standinginmoonlight. M, 7.3k. Although he doesn’t know it yet, Alex is screwed from the second Henry signs off his email with ‘best wishes’ like a Dickens character.
Or: the one where Alex Claremont-Diaz has been in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor all along.
craigslist cutie (please don't go) by matherine. M, 7.7k. Here’s the thing. Alex is simultaneously very, very smart and very, very stupid. Nora calls it the Claremont-Diaz Paradox, and every time she does, June sticks out her tongue like she’s about twelve years old, and then Nora makes a comment about what she would rather June be doing with her tongue, and – okay. Off track. Not relevant to Alex’s current predicament, which is perhaps the most damning example of the Claremont-Diaz Paradox. Alex got himself into NYU Law with flying colors and LSAT scores in the 99th percentile, worked his ass off for three years, and graduated with honors and a crippling caffeine addiction. And then, because he is an idiot, he decided to take his JD, his potential, and his mountain of student loans to his brand-new job as a public defender.
Unfortunately, being a public defender pays about as much as working at a Hot Topic. Which means that Alex really needs a roommate. Like, pronto. STAT. ASAP. He’s not sure who’s desperate enough to move into the other room in his beautiful, probably-not-bedbug-infested 700 square feet of Hell’s Kitchen, but he really fucking needs to find somebody.
Craigslist is a last resort, but it does bring him Henry.
am i homophobic? (URGENT) (PLEASE HELP) by holdinggrudges. E, 7.9k. Now, it might be pretty early in the morning and Alex’s brain functions might not be working as quickly as they normally do, but he can still put two and two together. There's a strange man in their kitchen. Henry is shirtless, rumpled, and holding two pairs of boxers. Henry and this Sam guy slept together. Which… obviously is fine because Alex is not an asshole, but he’s definitely feeling something about this development that he will examine at a later date. But of course, instead of saying something normal, you know, like a normal person would, he says, “Ohh.” Like a fucking weirdo.
or: the "am i homophobic?" roommate au that no one asked for
The Kids Are Alright by earth_to_alex16. T, 8.3k. Renovations at the LGBTQ shelter bring Henry's work into his flat with his roommate Alex.
Henry is good at his job and deeply in love with Alex.
Can he multitask?
like I do by @smc-27. E, 8.5k. They live together and work together and Henry cannot go more than a few hours without seeing Alex, and it should be a problem but it isn’t. Henry likes Alex, and when he puts it like that, he hears the part of his brain responsible for his rooting in reality begin to laugh. Hard. Like is certainly not the thing Henry feels. He’s ignoring it.
(He’s failing, but there’s an attempt.)
Obliviously Devoted by @uglygreenjacket. T, 9.3k. She looks at him in the way only June can. She's the only one he'll allow it from without a fight. "I don't know if you're ready to have this conversation or not."
His fork clatters to the plate in front of him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
June sighs a sigh of long-suffering and pinches the bridge of her nose, before she looks him dead in the eye and sets his world upside down. "You know you and Henry are dating, right?"
Alex gapes at her. Mouth hung open, eyes blown wide. "W-what?"
"I say this with all the love in the world," she says. "But sometimes, I swear, you are the most oblivious idiot on the face of the planet."
Am I the Asshole? By @everwitch-magiks. E, 9.5k. AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend?
It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral.
In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.
Baby, it's Cold Inside by Celaestis. E, 9.8k. When winter officially arrives on November seventh, it’s with a bang. Actually, the bang is due to the building’s ancient heating system failing in spectacular fashion. It coincides nicely with a cold front moving down from Nova Scotia which means New Yorkers of all stripes are suddenly getting their winter coats and hats out earlier than anticipated. It’s not usually a problem. But then their building usually has heat.
red lights (they burn us out like kerosene) by vibrantsaturn. T, 10k. "We could go anywhere," Alex says and he's not sure why he's whispering. All he knows is that this moment is going to monumental in their lives.
"Anywhere?" Henry asks, his voice low, and there's a trace of wonder in his voice.
"Anywhere," Alex confirms, a soft smile on his face.
or,
3 times when Alex takes Henry on a drive to get him out of his head over the years, and the one time Henry does.
It's Getting Hot in Here (So Hot!) by Celaestis. E, 10k. Henry’s firm and unwavering belief in Alex’s hetrosexuality does wonders for their relationship. He can coexist with Alex in the same lobby for entire half-minutes at a time while checking for post, he can make solid eye contact during glances in the hallway. Alex is still the most beautiful man he’s ever beheld, and maybe Henry’s hook-ups are tending towards the Latino types more than they ever did in the UK, but still. Alex is straight. Henry is fine about it. Really.
you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer. M, 10k. Sharing an apartment with Alex had seemed like a good idea at first. They’re best friends, prices in Brooklyn are absurd, and they had both been in urgent need of residence – it only made sense.
Except for the small, tiny, teeny, barely there fact that Henry has been in love with Alex from the first moment he laid eyes on him. And the fact that Alex doesn’t know, and can never find out.
Or, as coffeecatsme so eloquently put it: Roommates AU where Alex has insomnia and slips into Henry’s bed every night because it’s the only way he gets a good night’s sleep.
How to say 'no' to Alex Claremont Diaz (is a book Henry definitely could not write) by TwinMoonSun842. T, 10k. What do you do when you are very gay and your best friend/roommate/secret crush Alex Claremont Diaz asks you to help him out by letting him put a few hickeys on your neck? What happens when you like that a little too much? How do you go back to denying that you're pining for him when know what his lips feel like on your skin?
These are questions Henry would very much like the answer to.
take me out, and take me home by weather_stained. T, 11k. They’ve only been living together for two months, since Alex moved to the city for law school. Henry's Brooklyn apartment was a short commute to NYU, and the price was unbeatable, so he agreed to move in without even meeting the man in person. He was nervous, at first, to share close quarters with a stranger, but it’s worked out shockingly well; Henry is kind and considerate, and they mostly leave each other alone.
He’s also quite obviously gorgeous, and Alex doesn’t know why there isn’t a string of men coming and going from Henry’s room at all times, or perhaps one steady man. Inexplicably, Henry seems to have been single since Alex moved in in August.
AKA:
5 times Alex doesn't realize Henry's in love with him, and 1 time he gets a clue.
Lay Me Down in Sheets of Linen by He_is_half_my_soul. E, 14k. Alex may hate Henry's guts but when he gets thrown out of his apartment in the middle of fucking winter and with no warning at all he offers to room with him until he finds another place to stay. He is not a total monster.
Pour Your (He)art Out by @athousandrooms. E, 17k. Sometimes, after particularly rough nights, Henry will switch his first Earl Grey of the day for a latte. Alex learns this a month into knowing him. That’s not the only shock of the discovery, though.
“Oh my god, how are you real? Who does casual latte art for themselves on a weekday? Before you had coffee?”
Apparently Henry used to be a barista. Alex pokes at him, tells him it looks easy.
Henry raises his eyebrows, mouth curved at the corners like it’s guarding a looming laugh. “Would you like to try?”
A challenge. Alex loves those.
Or, five times Alex makes questionable latte art for Henry, and one time they make it right together.
just a figure of speech by @congee4lunch. E, 17k. henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course.
Five-Drink Henry by @whimsymanaged. E, 18k. Henry’s mouth opens then closes. He can feel a flush creeping over his cheeks, but he does his best to ignore it and hopes Alex will too. “Oh. Hello. Sorry, I’m—hi. Thanks for inviting me.”
Alex’s smile only grows, and he steps back to let Henry in. “You’re the first one here. Lucky me. Come on, I’m getting some margaritas going.”
Or, Henry’s new neighbour is a party-throwing, margarita-making menace, and Henry’s helpless against his charms.
What If (We Were Roommates) by Krissielee. M, 35k. "HOUSE/PET SITTER WANTED"
Alex never expected this when he replied to that ad.
(Alternative summary: Oh my GOD they were roommates)
Speak for Yourself by @welcometololaland. E, 106k. Alex could have walked out of the Williamsburg apartment at any time. Instead, he decides to sign up to twelve months of Henry.
OR
Alex makes a rash decision and Henry inexplicably runs with it.
(The "accidental housemates" AU that literally no-one asked for).
(Art by @stardisnight - chapters 7 and 12)
I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!
RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two
