#and the lounge area looks very cozy

[princekeerys]

i had this idea pop into my head a couple nights ago and i finally put it into words! hope u all enjoy <33

wc 662

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

yet another meeting.

charlie had gathered everyone in the hotel’s lounge area for a rundown of new team building exercises that she wanted to explain to everyone. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested in helping out, you were.

it was just the fact that the couch cushions you were currently sat on were providing the utmost comfort and it also wasn’t helping that you were trying not to nod off in between sentences — you swear you closed your eyes at “trust fall exercises” and opened them back up at “writing out your feelings is also important”

and then there was the red radio demon you were sat beside.

alastor.

everyone feared his presence, wouldn’t dare to even look in his direction. but the way he was with everyone else, he wasn’t the same way towards you. you didn’t know how to describe it; sitting beside him right now, you felt a sort of… warmth. and of course with that usual smile he has plastered on his face, you don’t know which emotion he’s feeling.

but it doesn’t make you wanna run away and hide. instead, you feel contentment. you feel safe next to him, even though you know that he could have you dead in cold blood within seconds.

and this is perhaps the fifth time he’s watched you, out of the corners of his eyes, nod off for what seems like five seconds, only to almost jolt awake again in what seems like… panic? oh you poor little thing.

“you know, cher” he’s not even focused on charlie’s tangent anymore, instead on you, the tired little doe that can barely keep her eyes open. he still keeps his eyes trained forward. “if you’re feeling so out of sorts, i could provide you with a tad bit more comfort, if you truly desired” his voice is a low whisper, careful not to disturb the other hotel stayers as he’d rather not bring attention to the fact that he maybe cares about someone. how preposterous.

you look up at alastor through your tired eyes. he has one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on his kneecap — you think he looks so handsome sitting this close to you. he meets your gaze with a turn of his head, careful not to cause such a commotion as he glances between you and his shoulder.

oh?

it’s a very sweet gesture. especially coming from the radio demon himself because you know he hates when people invade his privacy. and even though you’ve always wondered what it’s like to fully be in his touch…

you’re scared, shy, all of the above.

and you think the dust of pink on your cheeks gives it all away.

“no need to get so bashful on me, sweetheart, it’s just a simple gesture. besides i can’t have a belle like you being exhausted all day, now can i, hm?”

alastor trains his focus back towards charlie as you shyly take his offer, slowly laying your head down on his suit-clad shoulder and it’s… very cozy, you decide. the small amount of contact feels very serene as you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. and god forbid anyone looks in your direction, otherwise you probably wouldn’t hear the end of it. especially angel dust who’s been bugging you about your little crush on the radio demon.

you decide to go a bit further and link your arm around his, only for a bit more warmth your mind declares is the perfect excuse while your heart fluttering in your tummy, watching for any disapproval alastor has. but he shows none. it’s the greatest feeling in the world to be this close to him. you shouldn’t get used to this… but god, do you want to, so bad.

“you gonna put me to bed too after this?” you whisper jokingly in alastor’s ear, seeing his ear twitch just the slightest. how can an overlord be this adorable?

“don’t push your luck, cher”

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

[oepionie]

THE WOES OF A JEALOUS FISH. octatrio

Characters: GN! Reader | Azul Ashengrotto x Reader, Jade Leech x Reader, Floyd Leech x Reader

Tags: Octatrio and jealousy, Pure fluff w/ very petty boys, Reader wears makeup in Azul's part, Jade blows a hairdryer in Floyd's face, Malewife Floyd

WordCount: 1.5k+ | 💌Masterlist

A.A | AZUL ASHENGROTTO :

Azul blinks once, twice as he stares at the merman who was animatedly conversing with you. Rielle, Azul's old schoolmate, a prince of Atlantica, and the owner of this wretched cafe called 'The Secret Grotto'. The same cafe you've been ogling at for the last 20 minutes or so.

"Isn't this place amazing, Azul?! They even have a souvenir shop!" Now, Azul would normally find your eagerness adorable since seeing you happy was oh-so precious and priceless to him. However, this time, your enthusiasm made his heart sink while his mood deteriorated. On the surface, however, he keeps his calm and maintains his professional businessman persona, or at least he tries to.

"Monstro Lounge is far more superior. I mean...th-their cutlery doesn't even match their tablecloths here." Azul blurted out, crossing his arms over his chest and scrutinising the area intently.

"Well, we wanted to add a little bit of uniqueness! My cafe is all about personal touches, we focus more on making things look cozy!" Rielle chimes in, all bright and charming, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Azul narrowed his eyes, his hands itching to sever the prince's arm for touching you. Oblivious to Azul's ire, you stared at the cafe in awe, pointing out the small touches thrown about here and there.

Azul frowns, sulking and wanting to leave. He wanted to leave the moment he stepped into this place but he didn't have the heart to tear you away from the cozy small cafe. Especially since you were looking forward to this date for weeks, you even got Vil to doll you up and do your makeup today.

Deep down inside he felt a tinge of insecurity because he knew you were right. The cafe really was amazing. The grove was lit up with warm lighting, and everywhere you looked was all soft and homely. Unlike Azul's cafe, this place was much less formal making it seem more down to earth.

Perhaps he should make a few tweaks to Monstro Lounge? Just to fit your tastes?

"Angelfish, I'd hate to break it to you but it's getting rather late. I'm sure Jade and Floyd are already waiting for us back at the dorms." Azul cuts in nonchalantly, a cool smile on his face. You turned to gaze out the window, seeing the sunset and the sky darkening. You nod and swiftly seize Azul's gloved hand in your own, bidding Rielle goodbye.

"Ah, I see it really is getting quite late! Feel free to visit soon!" Rielle bids you goodbye with those words, as you and Azul walk out of the quaint little cafe.

Once outside, Azul reflexively rests his hand on the small of your back, and you lean in, your head resting on his chest. It was silent for a while, both of you just enjoying the comfortable silence before Azul pulled you into an alley.

"Azul? Is something wrong-" He abruptly interrupted you and smashed his lips against yours. Azul backed you up against the wall, his hands finding purchase around your waist as you snake your arms around his neck. Minutes pass before he finally draws back and presses his forehead to yours, a heavy flush on his cheeks. You took this time to admire his dishevelled appearance, which was quite a rare sight. His glasses were crooked, the lipstick Vil picked out for you was smeared across his lips, and his vision was dazed.

"Angelfish...wouldn't you rather spend time with me instead...?"

J.L | JADE LEECH :

He's in absolute denial.

Jealousy. What use would such petty and trivial emotion as jealousy serve? Jade already knew you were bound to him. Despite his distant and cold demeanour, you somehow pushed your way into his heart and fashioned yourself a nice little home.

Furthermore, Jade liked to consider himself as someone who was rational and level-headed. He was always in full command of every situation he was put in. The eel was cruel, merciless, and uncompromising. Him getting jealous? Jade Leech, jealous? It was a laughable thought.

Nonetheless, as he stood behind the lounge's bar, he couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart while he glared holes into the back of Floyd's head. His gloved hands were grasping onto a teacup a little too tightly. He was supposed to serve you tea.

Tea, that he brewed and prepared personally for you, ensuring that each step was meticulous and precise so that the drink was properly suited to your preferences. You, his precious pearl, who was too preoccupied running your fingers through his brother's hair.

The lounge's air conditioning had broken down, and at some point, Floyd apparently decided that it was far too hot and dumped an entire cold smoothie over his head. Now, you were fussing over the eel's damp hair, trying to get the liquid and chunks of fruit out of his locs.

Crack! Jade looked down to see the cup split in half, the warm tea he prepared for you now spilling onto the floor. Azul would've probably had his hind if he found out the eel broke such an expensive and delicate piece of china. Despite that, he had a much pressing issue to focus on. Jade's inexhaustible patience had finally run out, and he concluded that enough was enough.

He quickly poured you a new cup and walked up to the booth you were sitting in. He held a hair dryer in his left hand and the tea he had carefully made for you in his right. Finally, you had stopped fretting over Floyd and instead focused your attention on him. When you spotted him approaching, your face lit up. A smile grazed his lips for a brief moment. How lovely you were.

"Darling, why don't you take a break. Here, it's your favorite. Let me handle this." Jade murmured, running a gloved hand along your cheek. You leaned towards his touch, smiling, and took the cup from him. "Thank you, Jade. I managed to get most of the fruits out but his hair is still so wet."

"Not to worry my pearl, this isn't the first time this happened." With a chuckle, Jade plugged in the hair dryer and grabbed Floyd's chin, forcing his brother to face him.

"Now...allow let me help you, brother dearest." Jade muttered, the corner of his eyes crinkling as a sharp grin spread across his face. He set the dryer to the highest setting and directed it straight at Floyd's face. When the heavy gust of wind hit Floyd, the eel clamped his eyes tight. He whined and attempted to push Jade away, but the latter just refused to let go.

Yes, Jade is most definitely not a jealous man.

F.L | FLOYD LEECH :

That should have been him. The eel glared at Grim who was seated in your lap. Your lap that he loved so much. Your lap that he used as a pillow every time he was slacking off at Monstro Lounge. Your lap that was supposed to be for him, not that skrunkly little cat.

To make matters worse, you were currently feeding Grim some tuna you cooked up yourself. Oh, the nightmare.

The reason? Grim had recently scored a perfect score on his exam without cheating this time! and you wanted to reward your companion for his efforts. Still, Floyd couldn't understand why you had to feed him. Isn't the baby seal big enough to feed himself? He was pretty sure he saw Grim inhale an entire tray full of food in seconds!

Growling, Floyd stomped towards your table and plopped down beside you. He huffed and started side-eyeing the cat who was dozing off and slowly chewing the tuna in his mouth. To Floyd's despair, you were much too preoccupied with fawning and cooing at the tiny brat to notice your moody lover. This was absolutely unacceptable. He demanded your attention.

"Shrimppyyy..." Floyd whined, smushing his cheek against yours, basically asking for attention. Taken aback, you jumped and whipped your head around to face him, finally acknowledging his presence.

"Floyd! How are you? How'd that test with Crewel go?" You smiled at him and moved in to peck both of his cheeks. This made him brighten up for a bit before Grim interrupted the moment.

"Oi, henchhuman, I'm out of tuna here." Grim drawled, patting his paws along your arms. Sighing, you picked up your utensil and turned away from Floyd. However, before you could bring the spoon anywhere near the container with Grim's food, Floyd's hand snatched the utensil away from you.

"Floyd, what are you-" You were cut off when he pushed a bento box towards you.

"Shrimpyy~ You gotta eat! I cooked that myself y'know." He beamed at you, draping his long arms over your shoulders. You opened the lid and gasped at contents of the meal inside. Floyd had made a Butter Salmon Bento, and you'd be damned if you didn't think it looked good. "Floyd, this is incredible...thank you very much!"

"Of course~ Here, I'll handle the baby seal for you." Before you could even say anything, he snatched Grim from your lap and tossed the cat onto the table in front of him.

"I'll even feed him for you!" Floyd laughed and took some tuna, pressing it forcefully on Grim's mouth. Grim, understandably, was reluctant to open his mouth. Floyd, on the other hand, was not about to give up so easily.

The eel hummed and leaned forward, gritting his sharp teeth as a deranged smile grew across his face.

"What's wrong baby seal? Eat it." Floyd hissed, malice oozing from his lips. Grim flinched and decided to just bolt, taking the tuna with him. "Like hell I'm doing that!"

Grim scutters away as you watch with a sheepish smile on your face. Floyd laughed contentedly and sprawled across your lap, staring up at you in adoration, his mission finally accomplished.

"Hehe~ Will you feed me next, shrimppy~?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

[nyxvamps]

Aphrodite Cabin:

Instead of being a life size barbie dreamhouse like it is described in the books, its very subtle, and natural, and soft

The outside is pink, but such a pale pink that it looks white unless the right light is hitting it.

There is natural ivy growing only each wall and onto the roof. It wraps around shutters and the frames of the doors.

It almost looks like a small manor. Looks like it should have been built on some far off hill that is surrounded by flower fields for miles.

The inside is very cozy and welcoming. The walls are a muted dark green and there are so many pictures, posters, mirrors, shelves, etc that you can barely see the paint.

There are bedrooms in the cabin. It looks normal on the outside but Mama wanted the best for her children so she did her magic on it and made it a lot bigger on the inside. There are bedrooms, four to a room, and the main room is more of a common room/lounge area.

There is a walk-in, expanding, closet where you put old clothes you don’t want anymore and other siblings can come and get some new clothes if they need them. (Other campers are welcome whenever invited. It happens more often than it should)

There are traditions that have spanned centuries.

There is an item from every sibling that has lived in that cabin somewhere on the walls. All of the pictures, posters, things on the shelves are placed there by a past sibling.

There is an ever growing stack of finished rubix cubes that each have a piece of tape with the time on it.

There’s a hook where, if your jewelry breaks in the cabin, you tie it off and hang it there. There is a necklace made of leather with a hundreds year old stone heart on the hook.

It’s gross, but there is a bowl where most of the family will put their tooth in if they lose it while at camp. We pretend that it’s a flower pot whenever others campers are there.

This is newer. At the beginning of every summer, everyone (if they feel comfortable) gets in front of the rest of the cabin and gives names, pronouns, and sexuality.

Bathrooms are co ed and there have been multiple times that someone had been late to an event because an impromptu fashion show happened in the bathroom

Unironically, there is a mirror in the cabin where, if you are feeling down, you go and say those cheesy affirmations to make you feel better about whatever was bothering you.

Mama actually charmed it to give the person in front of it a clearer mind and more confidence in themselves.

There is a goal, from the early 1800’s, to make the entire camp think that aphrodite kids are the weakest of the demigods.

The goal is to train up enough and bide our time so that we can destroy the entire camp at capture the flag.

Its sometimes opens up peoples eyes to how quickly people accept that all aphrodite kids are just pampered prissy rich kids.

etc.

[rheya28]

Windenburg Train Station [Restaurant + Cafe ] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

♥ Hi guys, Today I present to you The Windenburg Train Station located in Windslar. This train station is known for it's Classical Architecture and beautiful historic interiors that has been conserved for decades. While the interior was updated with modern furniture's, the overall structure and essence of the building remains the same.

Located inside is a 5 star restaurant, "Florentine," and a café, "Stella's Cafe," where sims can dine and lounge while waiting.

The Windenburg Train Station is a multifunctional lot athat can be set as a restaurant or a Cafe. Some Spaces were left empty as I did not want to overly clutter the space with too many custom content. Feel free to decorate it!

Considering that this is a multifunctional lot, I recommend downloading LittleMsSam's Lock Door mod to lock doors in community lots. This will give you more control of the space. If you want your sims to specifically be seated inside the restaurant, I suggest locking the doors to the cafe and other parts of the building.

READ ME ♥ Please make sure to turn on bb.moveobjects on! ♥ Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ♥ Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file but please make sure to credit me. ♥ This is a huge build and is very cc heavy, so beware. I did however tried to use cc's from the same creators so it is easier to manage and download! I used alot of cc's from @felixandresims @harrie-cc @charlypancakes @pierisim and more!

SPEED BUILD VIDEO

0:02 Intro

1:51 Speed Build

28:21 Photos

♥ Lot Details:

Lot Name: The Windenburg Train Station

Lot size: 64x64

Location: Winslar, Windenburg

♥ MODS:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading !

Awingedllama: Boho Living, Apartment Therapy, Nostalgia Living

Sooky: Paintings (all)

Felixandre x Harrie: Baysic, Jardane, livin Rum, Orjanic, Kichen

Caiocc: Cozy Set up

Charly Pancakes: Munch, Maple & S Construction, Lighthouse Collection, Chalk, Miscellenea, Modish, Slouch

FelixAndre: Chateau, Berlin, Colonial, Florence, Gatsby, Georgian, Gothic Revival, Grove, Kyoto, London, November 2017 set, Paris, Shop the look Season 2, Florence, Berlin

Harrie: Heritage, Coastal, Brownstone, Kwatei, Octave, Shop the look, Spoons

Kaiso: Rusti.co

Kiwisim4: Blockhouse Dining

Little DicaL Countryside Cabin, Greasy Goods, Rise & Grind, Roman Holiday

Madame Ria: Basic Luxe Kitchen, Cottage Living Wallpaper addon solid colours no wood,

Mycupofcc: Maple Manor

TheCluttercat: Dandy Diary, Sunny Sundae

Myshunosun : Daria, Dawn Living, Herbalist Kitchen

Peacemaker: Hamptons, Mina Kitchen

Pierisim: Autie Vera, Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du Clos, MCM, Oak House, The office, Tilable, Winter Garden

Charlypancakes x Pierisim: Precious Promises

The plumbob Tea society: Cottage Garden

mlysmakescc: Pufferhead

Surelysims: Office space

Sixam: Hotel Bedroom

Tuds: Cave, Cross, IND

Taurus Design: Angela Bedroom, Lilith Chilling Areas

Whos is Sage: SImply striking Kitchen

♥ Tray file ●Origin ID: Applez ●Twitter: Rheya28__ ●Tiktok: Rheya28__ ●Patreon: Rheya28 ●Youtube: Rheya28__

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

Can you do headcanons for Sebastian and ominis with their fav positions for cuddling :)

Headcannons for Sebastian and Ominis and cuddling

Sebastian Sallow x reader; Ominis Gaunt x reader

Warnings - none

Ominis

cuddling is one of his favorite things alongside any physical intimacy with you

loves to be able to show you that he cares for you in ways that aren't just about selfish pleasure

he's always a sleepy boy and if he's taking a nap, your bound to be tucked up underneath his arm, unable to resist his sweet face

his favorite way to cuddle is face to face where he can cozy up in the crook of your neck

he wouldn't dare let anyone but you see his hair messy, but he adores feeling your fingers on his scalp, rubbing gently

he likes to intertwine your legs and keep his hands around you, inevitably searching for the warm skin of your hips or lower back

he can't keep himself from tugging your shirt from your waistband or pulling it off your shoulder so he can have skin-on-skin

he's never been one for PDA, so not much cuddling of any kind in a public setting

but having him in your private bed or lounge area will leave him very susceptible to shedding some of his own clothes for you

he will be putty in your hands for half-naked cuddling

he looks forward to the little things like how he knows you'll trace and kiss all of his beauty marks

he is easily a puppy in private and requires all of your affection

Sebastian

he's bolder than Ominis when you're out and about together

frequently having an arm tossed over your shoulders or around your waist while you sit near one another

so when it comes to cuddling, he's even more handsy and wants clothes off or at least thin layers on so so he can be all over you

loves laying on top of you or having you on top of him so that he can feel all of your weight up against him

he likes to tell you about his day or the latest book that he's read while occasionally giving you a kiss or two

he also really enjoys it when you cuddle up against his chest and shoulder so he can rub your side or run fingers through your hair

he loves knocking you off balance and pulling you right into his lap in the common room or elsewhere

sometimes you have to remind him not everybody wants to watch you all over each other

he pouts when he doesn't get his way and drags you off to his dorm or the undercroft

always clingy

[forlorn-crows]

IT'S MOUNTAIN MONDAY BITCH

As such, may I request some big boy sweetness? Mountain and Aether, basking in one another in the warm spring sun? Smut or not, up to you ♡

AND the first day of spring!!!

enjoy some big boy banter (with guest appearance by Rainy boy) ♡

A brief shadow dances across the backs of Mountain’s eyelids, a shapeless form against the almost too-bright sun.

"Soaking up the sun, big guy?" It’s Aether’s voice, warm and rich as the first breeze of spring that sailed through the earth ghoul’s window this morning.  

Mountain cracks open an eye, searching for the quintessence ghoul. He finds him just off to his side, looking at him with an amused expression and hands on his hips. The earth ghoul closes his eyes and sighs with a smile, settling further into the fresh new grass growth. "Recharging,” Mountain answers. He spreads his limbs out further, reminiscent of a gangly starfish. 

The ground is still damp, but he doesn’t care. The sun shines high in the afternoon sky, and a perfect patch of its light hovers on the embankment next to the abbey’s lake. That’s where he’d decided to sprawl out and just take it all in. Bask. Recharge. Soak up that first connection to new life that thrives within his element. 

Rain had trailed along soon after, padding by Mountain in bare feet towards the dock. He had disappeared into the water just as quickly, leaving the earth ghoul to lie contentedly in the grass alone.  

“Mind if I join you?” Aether asks now, already shucking his boots and socks.

“‘Course not; please do.” Mountain breathes another lungful of fresh spring air, voiding his lungs in a gleeful, satisfied exhale. “Nice, isn’t it?” 

“Very,” Aether agrees. He flexes his feet in the plush grass, wiggling his toes among the budding clover. The quintessence ghoul plops down near Mountain’s head, gently shuffling so his shins touch the top of his head. “Come here.” Aether scratches behind Mountain’s horn and pats the top of his shoulder. The earth ghoul lets out a trill of curiosity, craning his head to see Aether inviting him to lay across his lap. “I’ll play with your hair,” he sing-songs, scratching behind his horn again. 

Mountain smiles and shifts to butt up his shoulders with Aether’s legs, snuggling his head into the cradle of his lap. He won’t turn down an offer for someone to run their fingers through his hair. 

Aether starts to do just that, combing Mountain’s mousy brown tresses out from under his neck and away from his face. “Didn’t Rain come out here, too?” Aether asks, causally scanning the lake and surrounding area for the water ghoul.

“I think he’s at the bottom of the lake again,” Mountain laughs, adjusting the angle of his head to give Aether better access. “Been down there a while now.”

“Hm,” Aether hums amusedly. “Isn’t the water pretty cold still?”

“Borderline frigid. I don’t know how he does it.”

Aether works through a small knot, picking out what looks like a bramble or a tiny jagged pinecone. He shakes his head with a smile before tossing it aside. “I think he does it so he can cozy up to Dew after he’s done pretending to be a frog.”

Mountain snorts. “Oh, I bet. Doting on him as if Rain doesn’t also carve a hole in the ice sometimes to still go swimming.”

Aether shudders. “No thank you. That’s probably colder than the void.”

“Probably.” Mountain hums as Aether grazes his claws over the top of his scalp, having worked through any remaining knots. The bottom half of his hair is cool to the touch, slightly wet from the damp earth they’re lounging on. Aether smoothes it all back into a vague ponytail and lets it fall into the space between his crossed legs. 

A comfortable silence settles over the two, broken only by the occasional purr from Mountain. Aether continues to trace nonsensical patterns through his hair, enjoying the sounds of thriving nature around them. 

“Have you gone to the woods recently?” 

Mountain twitches, the question startling him from Aether’s lulling fingers and the desire for a nap already pulling at the edges of his brain. “Hm?”

“You know; Rain pretends to be a frog at the bottom of the lake, and you pretend to be Bigfoot.”

Mountain barks a laugh and swats at Aether with his tail. “What do you mean, Bigfoot? How do you even know what Bigfoot is?”

“I do know how to read, you know. And you’re fond of leaving that weird nature channel on in the common room.” 

Mountain rolls his eyes. “And where does that leave you, big guy?”

“I don’t pretend to be anything. I simply,” he waves his hands above Mountain’s face as if demonstrating a disappearing act, “cease to exist. In this plane, anyway.” 

“You pretend to be a ghost and scare innocent Siblings in the corridors, got it.”

Aether chuckles, a deep, resonating belly laugh that vibrates through Mountain’s skull—only in the best way, of course. “I have never done such a thing.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. 

There’s a pause. Aether goes back to combing through the earth ghoul’s hair. “I suppose it’s been a pretty brutal winter. Wouldn’t want to spend too much time in it, myself.” 

Mountain sighs, snuggles further into Aether’s lap. “I went once, when I couldn’t sleep and things were tense. But that was months ago.”

Aether makes a noncommittal noise, scratching behind Mountain’s long, rounded ears. He feels the earth ghoul’s tail thump against his thigh, a happy little movement that stops and starts again when he moves to the other ear. The quintessence ghoul sighs, tipping his head towards the sun.

“‘S nice now,” he mutters. Mountain only hums in response, letting out a soft sigh when Aether runs his claws from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck. 

They’re content to continue like that, time stretching slowly before them. Sometime later—minutes, hours, Aether isn’t sure—something catches the corner of his eye. It’s a fluttering thing, peeking out from the budding clover. A small, cream-colored butterfly makes its way near the two ghouls, looking almost like a big flake of fresh snow. 

“Aw, Mount look,” Aether says softly. The ghoul on his lap only snuffles in response, ear twitching to Aether’s voice. The little bug floats away just as quickly as it came, off to find a more cozy spot to land. 

“Mount?” Aether peeks over the crown of the earth ghoul’s head to find him fast asleep, breathing even and mouth slightly parted. Aether smiles fondly, returning his hand to Mountain’s hair. 

There’s a rippling of the lake water against the shore, followed by the sloshing of rising bubbles. Rain surfaces half a minute later, leisurely paddling back to shore, gills flaring and sparkling in the sun. The water ghoul waves when he spots Aether on the embankment, briskly shaking out his hair and grabbing a towel and his discarded lounge pants. 

Quiet on your way up, Mountain fell asleep, Aether reaches out with his mind to the approaching ghoul.  

‘Kay, Rain answers easily back. He wears a lazy smile as he walks up to them, waving again at Aether. 

“He needs it,” Rain whispers to Aether, regarding Mountain’s sleeping form. He cocks his head, titling to get a better look at something. He smiles when he finds it, shaking his head. “Yeah, definitely needs it. I’ll see ya, Aethe, gonna go bother Dew for his body heat.” Rain trots off, leaving a whiff of kelp and sea salt in his wake. 

Aether looks over at the spot in question. Mountain’s left arm now rests on the grass, having dropped off from its previous spot on his chest. There’s patches of moss growing along the soft skin on the underside of his forearm, bright green against dusty gray. The little clover buds reach up to kiss his skin, flowering as they mingle with the tiny hands of the moss. 

Aether smiles softly. “Get your rest, my sweet earth giant,” he whispers, placing a barely-there kiss on his forehead. 

The quintessence ghoul almost misses the crop of orange blossoms that sprout at the nape of his neck, only revealed when Aether returns his hands to Mountain’s hair once more. 

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Headcanon: Shego and Drakken have no separate bedrooms (long post).

Not sure if anyone has thought about or noticed this before but hear me out!!

In the season 2 episode Sick Day, we can get glimpses of Shego and Drakken's 'bedrooms'.

Following the storyline of the episode, Shego is the first one to get sick because of her fight with Kim, she then stays inside her room to ensure Drakken doesn't get sick after which Drakken teams up with Killigan and then gets sick as well.

Looking at this room, we clearly can see that it's Shego's. It's green-themed, has a make-up table, drawers for her clothes, etc. But when I watched this episode (multiple times), I was so freaking confused about Shego's bed. It looks so uncomfortable, too small even for a 1 person bed and nothing indicates that this is one of those beds that you can pull the backside up for back support since it's one big 'piece'. Of course, the backgrounds are stylistic but if you look at the drawers for example, you can see the lines that indicate where the drawer can open.

A-ha! This is not a bed, this is a sofa.

Shego likes to read and lounge about, so she would definitely have a nice cozy spot to sit on to read her magazines. But that leaves the Question: Where in this bedroom is her bed? Answer: There's none because there's not even space for an actual bed.

Just like Drakken's bedroom, Shego's room has a moat surrounding the middle platform. Placing a bed here would end up in having a too cramped space in here. Now take a quick look at Drakken's room.

Something that caught my eye (and surprised me on the first watch after all these years) was how big and RED Drakken's bed is. Both Shego and Drakken have colors that lean towards cool tones rather than warm reds and they (most of the time) stick to their themes. So it's very odd for especially Drakken, who's blue, to have an entire bed that's red. It's not even his opposite color since that would be orange. What else: his entire bedroom is JUST a bed with surround-sound speakers and a TV.

My theory: This is Shego and Drakken's shared bedroom. 1. Shego's bedroom(?) Shego's room in this episode isn't her bedroom but a relaxation room, full of her personal belongings. This is the place where she goes to take a break and be alone. Having her own relaxation room isn't uncommon since in the Christmas episode, it's confirmed that Drakken has a 'mudroom' in the lair but he doesn't even know what it's for. So he either let it be made for Shego not really caring what was in it or doing research or Shego took it upon herself to get one installed. Her mini spa as you will.

So if that's not the room in which she sleeps, what is?

2. Neutral grounds The bedroom we see Drakken in is also Shego's bedroom. Let me explain:

Both characters, like I said before, have 'nothing' to do with red; at least at first glance! If you look at the color wheel, you can see that their specific colors together make for the balanced opposite of red. (I went through multiple colorwheels and posting all of them would make this post even longer so yeah have 1).

So we can say that this area is neutral terrain for both of them. They can go in and out of here as they please, without any hassle or the other saying "This is MY bedroom." because none of their personal belongings are in this room.

3. But then WHERE is Drakken's stuff? His lab. It's probably all in his lab.

SO HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED: 1. Shego got sick after the fight with Kim, but none of them knew that Shego was infected. Getting sick usually takes a day or two (at least for me) and so Shego found out that she was sick a day or two after the infection.

2. She stayed out of their shared bedroom and remained in her relaxation room to quarantine herself in the hopes that Drakken didn't catch her cold and he could focus on his plans. However, since it's been at least 2 days, Drakken also would be infected because of their shared space.

3. After a while, Drakken got sick as well and went into the bedroom because he had no lounge sofa or anything to lay in. He has just the bed.

My conclusion: Shego and Drakken share 1 bedroom to sleep in. The bed is big enough for 2 people. Shego probably sleeps more than Drakken does and maybe they take routines with one person sleeping at a time or so, maybe they sleep together with each of them at the furthest end of the bed.

Or my whole color theory and background analysis is off and it's just red because it makes the blue in Drakken's character pop, but there's one more piece of desperate-looked-into 'evidence' that shows that they have a 'relationship' in this bedroom:

there's a FREAKING HEART on the wall that STILL DOES NOT MAKE SENSE TO ME OTHER THAN THAT THIS BEDROOM IS THEIR LOVE NEST.

May it represents them having 1 strong bond or them screwing each other's brains out on a Friday night after karaoke time, idk. It can't really be a random hole because of the lack of depth and there are no small holes anywhere else in the room. It cannot be a shadow since it doesn't line up with anything else in the room, the underlaying line isn't shown and the color is slightly off/darker when color is picked and compared to the shadows of the tunnel in the back of the room.

So yeah it's just a big heart being there. Probably just to fill up the space but idk, I'd like to think that there's ALWAYS thought and meaning behind every detail in whatever art or media there is. So there you have it! My overly in-depth analysis. I probably went way too deep into this theory, but I like to think of it this way (especially since I've been drawing cozy cuddle scenes that I'll be posting here later).

Anyway do what you want with this info and I hope you have a good day<3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Ingek73 found this 1900 converted school in Amsterdam and this is the way to convert a school building, rather than some of the slapdash, haphazard DIY “conversions” we’ve seen. This one was made into apts. and the one that’s for sale here has 2bds & 2.5ba.  €2.100M / $2.256M +  €286 / $307 mo. Owners Assoc. fee. 

Look at how cool they made the entrance hall- love the ceiling.

Very nicely done hall that led to classrooms, now leads to the rooms of the apt.

The unit is a 2 floor duplex. 

This is amazing. Look at the loft. 

So ultra-modern with high-end finishes. 

I love this- my kitchen is under the loft, and I think it gives it a more cozy feel.

Sleek gray cabinets with quartz counters.

There’s a spacious and airy lounge.

Beautiful large powder room.

Nice little home office.

Up in the loft is a nice open library area. I like the black ceiling.

They made a nice hallway on the upper level for storage.

Looking down from the library.

Bedroom #1 is the main bd.

And, look at this beautiful bath.

The second bd. is also lovely. 

And, it has its own shower room.

I’m wondering is lining the shower. 

And, finally, there’s this wonderful terrace outside.

https://www.funda.nl/koop/amsterdam/appartement-42122665-voormalige-stadstimmertuin-2-k/

[azureseacloud]

Music Lessons

A Ghost (band) oneshot

Cirrus x Reader

Words: 2,070

Warnings: none really, reader is called handsome but they are not explicitly assigned a gender (so can still be read as gender neutral)

Summary: Reader ventures into Cirrus’s room, only to be distracted by the keyboards. Cirrus catches them playing and decides to teach them.

This was written for an awesome friend :)

There’s some ✨sexual tension✨ and flirting as per usual. I don’t know anything about keyboards so please forgive me if something is wrong <3

Feel free to ask for requests with any of the ghouls, I am more than happy to write for them :))

Enjoy!

I hesitated at the door to the ghoul quarters. I’d been in here several times before, collecting shredded uniforms or broken masks to get repaired before the next ritual. Swiss was the main problem—he was always breaking his helmet during rituals, to the point that I was venturing down here almost every day. I didn’t mind it though.

The ghouls were eventful company. They were unpredictable most days—sometimes super friendly and nice, while other times they were overly flirty, and there were some times when they were almost cruel, giving a brief glimpse into the dark creatures that they were. Literal demons summoned from hell. But that was rare, and most visits they were pleasant.

This was one of my favourite parts of the job.

However, I couldn’t help but stall at the door, taking a deep breath to compose myself before I entered. It wasn’t normally this scary—but I was seeing her.

Cirrus.

I ran a nervous hand through my hair, bouncing on the balls of my feet before I pushed through the ornate door.

The ghoul quarters were underground, a main passageway leading to an open common area, complete with a kitchen, lounge room and dining area all enclosed in a large open room. It was cozy, and not at all what I had expected the first time I had been down here. From all the rumours and whispers, I’d imagined it would be a lot more ominous and cold.

The room was empty today, which was strange but not unusual. I checked my watch—it was definitely 3:00, and the note Cirrus had left me had said to meet her then.

I was supposed to collect her cape for repairs. It had torn during rehearsals, and she needed it for the ritual tomorrow, which meant I had very limited time to fix it.

Heading toward a corridor connected next to the kitchen, I kept my eyes open for any ghouls lurking around. I strode down the corridor, wondering if practice today had run late. They had never let me walk this far without one of them interacting with me, whether that was with a silent stare, a flirty comment, or a brush against my skin as I walked past. Either they were still with Papa, or they were testing out a new twisted prank.

I reached the door I knew belonged to Cirrus. It was carved with impressions of clouds, the silver highlights and white accents making them almost appear as if they were moving. Her name was etched in gold. Raising a hand, I knocked three times.

I waited outside her door tentatively, bouncing on the balls of my heels as I listened for any movement or sign that she was inside. Five minutes passed, and there was no answer.

I reached out for the handle hesitantly. She needed it fixed today and I still had other jobs to do around the clergy before the ritual tomorrow. Maybe she had left it somewhere obvious?

I wrapped my fingers around the door handle, still unsure. Going into a Ghoul’s room without them there—should I? I didn’t want to risk Cirrus getting mad at me, or feeling like I’d betrayed her and the other ghouls trust. But I wouldn’t be snooping—I’d just grab the cape and go. Maybe leave a note or something to let her know.

Bracing myself, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

Her room was breathtaking. I walked in, open mouthed as I got a glimpse of the ceiling. It had been painted to look like a cloudy sky, and was it just my eyes or were the clouds moving? It definitely seemed like they were lazily drifting across the roof in a dreamy fashion.

The whole room was light and airy, and gave off a calm comfort. It almost felt like I’d entered a floating palace high in the sky. Wow.

I spotted the cape sitting on her bed, folded neatly.

I picked it up, about to walk to the door when I spotted the keyboards in the corner of the room.

I stalled, taking in the beauty of the instruments. I’d always wanted to play keyboards—after watching the rituals, I’d been enraptured by the way Cirrus could play, her fingers gliding over the keys as she danced. I was going to try the music room, but I never had the time to venture down there during the current ritual period.

But her keyboards were right there.

I glanced at the door, trying to resist the pull of temptation—what were the odds that she would walk in and catch me? I contemplated, fiddling with the blue and black fabric in my hands as I considered.

I’d be quick, I promised myself. Just a few little chords, and then I would leave.

I set the cape back down on the bed, slowly approaching the keyboards and staring at them in awe. They were beautiful—the keys shining in the light of the room.

I reached a finger out, tentatively hitting one of the white keys. The sound that rang out was deep, and I lifted my finger at the loud noise, glancing nervously at the doorway.

I waited for a moment, straining my ears to hear any sound of movement that might indicate the ghouls were back. When there was none, I tried one further down. The pitch was higher, sweeter in a way.

I ran my hands across the keys, picking different ones and trying to put them together the way Cirrus did on stage. It was hard, and I had no idea what I was doing, but it was also mesmerising in a way. How each note was slightly different and you could combine them with another to create a deep melancholy or a high happiness.

It was addicting, my fingers continuing to experiment with the sounds even when I knew I should stop. That I should leave, that the ghouls could return at any moment.

I was slowly trying to match up the notes to my favourite one of their songs, managing to get halfway there when I stalled. A chill ran down my spine as I realised I wasn’t alone.

I looked up at the open door like a deer in headlights.

Cirrus was leaning against the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other braced on the doorframe. She cocked her head to the side and I felt a small stroke of panic. Was she mad?

“Hello, handsome,” she said sweetly, taking a step forward into the room. I froze, feet rooted to the floor as I watched her prowl closer.

“I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to. I was just collecting the cape but then I saw these and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve always wanted to—“ I cut off, twisting my hands together nervously. I could do nothing but watch as she approached me.

She was silent as she stepped gracefully, and I found myself admiring her. The curve of her waist, the shape of her uniform and how it accentuated her form—

“It’s meant to be A then B,” she said, tilting her head in that way all the ghouls seemed to do. I was taken aback, expecting her to be angry or offended.

“I’m sorry? What’s meant to be A and B?”

Cirrus stepped closer, brushing against me. She reached past me, grabbing my hand and placing my finger on a key. Her hands were smooth and softly held mine.

“It goes to this one first, then the second one,” she said, sliding my finger across to the key next to it. “The rest of it was correct.”

“Oh,” I said, lost for words. “Thank you.”

She pulled her hand back, trailing it over my forearm in a delicate way that brought goosebumps to the surface of my skin. “Why don’t you try it again, handsome?”

My mouth went dry at the name, mind scattering at her soft touch. It was all I could do to answer in complete sentences.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you,” I said quietly.

She shook her head, smirking as she pushed me gently forward, until I was standing at the centre of the keyboard. She was to the left behind me, a hand sliding to my back.

Tentatively I reached out, playing the first few notes, this time playing the A then B key like she had told me. It sounded right now, and I slowly played to the end of the small part I had figured out.

Cirrus reached out to her side of the keyboard, her fingers slowly running over the keys to the next part. I watched, mesmerised by the flowing movement of her fingers. Mine looked clumsy compared to hers.

“Your turn,” she said softly, moving around to my other side as I shuffled closer to the left side of the keyboard. As she settled on my right she rested a hand gently on my shoulder, her touch light and airy just like her element. It sent a small shiver through me and I quickly began playing the keys, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“That’s it. Good.” Her voice was low as she spoke into my ear, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into my arm. I felt my face heating up at her words.

I practiced the keys a few more times, trying to move my hand in the smooth flowing way that she had. My mind kept wandering to her casual touch, my heart spiking as she leant her head on my upper arm, her hand curling around my elbow.

“Now play it from the start. Go as slow as you need.”

I began playing slowly. I missed a few, and she quietly corrected them, dragging her fingertips along my hand. I shivered at the touch, craving more. It was as if her touch was addictive.

When I began playing it smoother, she joined in, playing the keys on the other side in time with my pace. Her other hand slid down to my hip and I almost missed a note. I could see her teasing smirk out of the corner of my eye as she continued smoothly playing with me.

We reached the end of the chorus, and she gently tugged on my waist. I turned to face her, searching for any glimpse of her eyes through the mask, slightly disappointed when there was none. She smiled, her hand slipping into mine.

“You’re a good player,” she hummed, fingers stroking the underside of my palm.

“Thank you,” I breathed, still in awe that the beautiful ghoulette in front of me had spent the last, however long it had been, teaching me to play. I’d expected her to be annoyed at me for touching her keyboard and being in her room without her permission. I knew Dewdrop definitely would have been.

Shit, what time was it?

I still had to fix her cape before the ritual tomorrow, and I knew the delicate material could take hours to fix cleanly. And we’d been practising for what felt like hours.

“Thank you for teaching me.” I said shyly, not able to look at her all of a sudden, heat still blooming on my cheeks. I looked at my feet instead, nervously shuffling. “Umm, I’m really sorry but I should be going, I still have to repair your cape.”

A hand gently lifted my chin, pulling my gaze from the floor between us to her masked face. Cirrus tilted her head, trailing her hand down my neck and across my collarbone as she leaned in. I could feel goosebumps prickle along the places of my skin that she touched, a shiver going through me at the sensation.

“You’re welcome to come back here, handsome darling,” she muttered lowly, squeezing my hand in hers. “I’m more than delighted to teach you.” She leaned back with a wicked grin, releasing my hand.

I was frozen for a moment and her grin grew more amused. Snapping out of the almost trance-like state I had been in, I slowly backed away, reaching to grab the cape off of her bed.

She watched as I walked to the door, calling out as I walked over the threshold.

“See you tomorrow, handsome.”

I blushed even harder, gently closing her door.

It was safe to say that I would definitely be going back.

[triskhellion]

Intarsia

Rated: Explicit (12.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Peter Hale

Tags: POV Derek, POV Isaac, Alpha Derek, Emissary in Training Stiles, Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Derek/Bottom Stiles, Light Bondage, Hickeys, Consensual Somnophilia, Idiots in Love, Cooking, Pack Shenanigans

Summary: Derek asks Isaac to make him a scarf for Stiles for reasons. The following weekend the pack is asked to check out potential supernatural activity at a cabin near Klamath Falls, Oregon. The others are unavailable, so it’s just the two of them. Derek brings along the scarf and ends up giving Stiles much more.

Artwork by Goss!

A playlist of my favorite songs by The National because Isaac's listening to them and Derek is broody and they're perfect broody fall music. (In no particular order.)

For WIP Big Bang 2023. (One of the first fics I actually started writing, begun about a year ago.)

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: Apple, Between, Falling Leaves, Flame, Knot, Song & Travel

Intarsia — a knitting technique used to create patterns with multiple colors. As with the woodworking technique of the same name, fields of different colors and materials appear to be inlaid in one another, fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Isaac

Isaac was listening to The National on vinyl and idly knitting the second of a pair of chocolate brown, chunky slipper socks for Scott’s upcoming birthday when Derek returned to their new loft apartment, trudging around downstairs. He straightened up on the navy loveseat in the second floor lounge area (or “cozy zone” as Stiles liked to call it) and rolled his eyes as the Alpha’s angst vibes preceded him. 

“Hey, Derek” he said to the ascending werewolf, finishing his row before looking up. The older man nodded and his expression lightened from straight up scowling to mere resting bitch face. 

“Isaac.” 

He glanced out the window at the purpling sky then turned back to his project, pausing a couple minutes later when Derek didn’t move from where he leaned against the railing across from him. Isaac could feel him watching and heard the sound of his mouth opening and then closing again several times as Matt Berninger’s melancholy baritone crooned.

I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show show for you and crack you up. So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain, God I’m very, very frightened I’ll overdo it.

Another minute passed and he rolled his eyes again, taking a deep breath before meeting the waiting sheepish gaze, which then quickly slid away. 

“Yeeeesss?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

“You make…” Derek began, then started over. “Could you make a scarf for me? Please.” 

“For you?” Isaac asked incredulously. He’d never seen Leather-Jacket Jeans McHenley in a scarf. 

“It’s for someone else. To give to. From me,” Derek mumbled haltingly. “Whatever you need…use the pack account.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning at the flustered Alpha. “Any particular pattern or style? Type of yarn? What color?" There was a harsh exhale of frustration.

“I don’t know, a regular scarf.” Derek threw up his hands and then waved them around making snake like motions. “Kind of…deep red with like, some goldy-brown parts? A warm one.” 

“Hmm,” he murmured, going through options in his head for several moments. “I’m thinking merino wool…cable knit…intarsia.” Blank stare. “Kind of a maroon with dark amber, yeah?” A frown and a single shoulder shrug. ”Riiight,” he drawled, smirking. “You know, like a certain hyperactive human’s favorite hoodie…” He tapped his finger against his chin like he was just now figuring out a mystery. “And perhaps the color of said human’s eyes in the light?” 

Derek sputtered and shoved off from his perch with a glare, seeming as if to deny it before snapping his jaw shut with a growl instead and abruptly turning to walk towards his bedroom. Isaac laughed and called after the retreating wolf. 

“I should have it done before the end of the week. I have to go to the craft store to get that special amber yarn.” The door slammed shut and he heard muffled grumbling about “goddamn chuckling betas” and how “back in the day Alphas were shown respect.” He leaned over and laughed even harder. 

Derek

Derek walked out of his building practically buzzing and started running once he crossed the parking lot and made it past the first trees. It was a Monday night, the one before the full moon, and he was feeling antsy. Even more so than was usual. He figured another patrol of the territory would calm him down and satisfy his wolf’s extra protective instincts, not to mention get him away from his so very amused and impertinent beta. And if he happened by the Stilinski residence at some point, well it was on the way, okay? 

Derek sighed. He asked Isaac to make the scarf yesterday after he and Stiles had gone searching that afternoon for a special type of lichen that Deaton wanted for some ritual or potion or whatever. He wasn’t really listening to the druid and just tagged along when he ran into Stiles while doing errands near the vet clinic. The perpetually excitable teen had been wearing a backpack and mentioned that he’d be going into the Preserve for “herbs and shit” after meeting with their sort-of-emissary and Derek hadn’t wanted him to go alone. Things had been quiet on the Creatures Eating Faces & Causing Havoc front for a while, but you never know. 

It had taken them a few hours to collect enough of the sporadically growing, pale green vegetation to fill the container they’d been given and between the dampness of the forest and working up a sweat climbing over logs or partway up trees it had gotten pretty chilly for the human, especially once the sun started to set on the already overcast autumn day. Stiles had had his hands in his pockets and the hood of his Beacon Hills Community College sweatshirt up on the way back, but had still shivered when the wind blew through it and across the exposed skin of his neck. 

That lithe, fair column with its smattering of chocolate dots, so perfect for marking. Derek groaned at the thought of it. So yes, Stiles needed a scarf. Both to keep him warm and to hide his dangerously alluring attributes. The only one not already covered in layers of baggy denim, over sized graphic tees and corresponding flannel. 

(Well, except for his mouth, but it’s not like people went around in face masks all the time, haha. Or muzzles and the like in public. No those were for private activities, or so he’d seen on the internet. And could Stiles even function without putting pens and spoons and straws and toothpicks and pops of the lolli, freezer, and cake variety (courtesy of Lydia) between his lips on a regular basis? Or his own fingers? He even had the nerve to make eating chicken wings look good.)

But necks! He could do something about that. And then maybe he’d stop thinking about his packmate this way quite so often, at least until it warmed again. Definitely no other pervy wolves or similarly bestial shifters should catch a glimpse if it could be helped. He’s ours his wolf snarled and he couldn’t help agreeing before his all those negative thoughts and emotions kicked back in. No, he’s not. I can’t…I shouldn’t…

Derek ran through the forest until his muscles ached and then walked through the city in the wee hours, stopping for a few minutes by a particular house in the west part of town. One with a police cruiser and a beat up blue Jeep in the driveway. He could hear the steady heartbeats and slow breathing of two slumbering humans and could faintly smell the toasty man-soap-sweat scent of his a blanket-wrapped Stiles through the open left side window. He inhaled a few big lung fulls worth, making an unconscious rumbling sound, and then continued on toward home content for the moment.

A few days later he was brooding contemplating the Stiles situation again while making cheesy eggs, bacon, red skillet potatoes, and toast for a late breakfast. Isaac kept giving him these looks like there was something gross on his face (there wasn’t, he checked) before snatching up his portion of the meal, minus the toast, as soon as the platter hit the table. The younger man divided it between the two large flour tortillas he’d had waiting in front of him, added salsa verde, hot sauce, and sour cream, rolled them into burritos, and wrapped one in foil before shoving it into his messenger bag. He then grabbed a thermos of coffee, wedged it into his left elbow as he started eating the other burrito gripped in the same hand, and hurriedly went out the door, shaking his head and mumbling something that sounded like “enough“ and “idiots.”

Huh. Derek wasn’t sure what that was about, but hoped his beta got through his Thursday classes okay. Maybe Isaac had to work on that group project he’d been complaining about, the one that his least favorite professor assigned him with that girl who argued about everything and that guy that didn’t do any of the reading. Oh, college, he commiserated, glad that he’d never have to put up with that particular aggravation again.

He cleaned up and then spent a few hours wrapping up the Spanish to English history textbook translation he’d been working on for a client over the last several weeks. When he was done he got up, drank some water, and began stretching for his daily calisthenics. He was just about switch to the beginner’s tai chi he’d been learning online recently (a suggestion from the visiting weredingo therapist he saw for a while last year and still Skyped with occasionally from Australia) when his phone chimed. It was a text from Isaac. 

Apparently, some human, but in-the-know acquaintance of his near Klamath Falls, OR was freaked out about quote unquote “potentially supernatural activity” around their family’s vacation spot/rental property and wanted to know if the Beacon Hills Pack could check it out this weekend. 

<What kind of phenomena are they experiencing?> he asked, praying it wasn’t some real sketchy shit like artfully arranged piles of mutilated small animals, screaming haunted trees or arcane symbols drawn in blood and bile all over the place. If he ever had to deal with another hag, hostile non-corporeal entity or darach again it would be too soon.

<Clothing, trinkets, and plants from both inside and outside the cabin have gone missing.> Issac replied. <Strange noises day and night and several objects made of stones, mud, brambles, feathers, pine cones and owl pellets have also been found along the trail to the lake. The feeling of being watched and the reoccurring smell of electricity and honey. Sounds like some kind of fae creature to me.>

Derek concurred. Likely a troupe of pixies, though a mischievous witch or other magic-user wouldn’t be out of the question. Whatever or whoever it was seemed annoying, but pretty harmless. He had nothing better to do and it was an opportunity to keep his tracking skills sharp, so he agreed to investigate and shoo away the troublemaker. 

The pack in residence was currently just him, Isaac, Stiles, Malia, and Peter. Technically. His crafty uncle remained mostly an enigma, holed up in some no doubt fancy penthouse somewhere and scheming who knows what. He generally saw the elder Hale every 3 weeks or so when he stopped by the loft to irritate Derek, feed him takeout, and “borrow” something from his library before disappearing into the ether again. 

The others were away at college (Lydia and Jackson,) living in France (though Chris and Allison were really more pack-adjacent,) staying with relatives out of state (Erica and Boyd were in Ohio looking after the latter’s grandmother post hip replacement surgery and probably wouldn’t be back until after Christmas,) or “talking a break from all this mythical bullshit” (Scott, Co-Alpha Emeritus, snort, probably lost somewhere in Prague on his pre-vet school backpacking trip which was totally, definitely, he absolutely swore not going to take him through France. Uh-huh.) 

The cabin was only around 3 hours away, but driving there and back and having time to properly assess, find, and confront the mischievous entity could end up calling for more than a day trip. Isaac had 3 classes on Fridays and shifts at the movie theater afterward and all day Saturday so he was out. 

Derek messaged the rest of the pack in town to see if anyone else was available. Peter was surprisingly the first to answer, but it was a crying laughing emoji followed by a succinct “No.” Stiles replied between his two Thursday classes with a “You son of a bitch, I’m in” gif, multiple exclamation points, and a thumbs up. Derek rolled his eyes and grinned. 

Malia didn’t respond at all. It was equally likely that she was either coyoted-out or forgot about the existence of her phone and left it to die in her couch cushions again. So Stiles and him it was then. Perfect. The eager sophomore had only one late morning class on Fridays so they could leave by 2:00pm tomorrow after grabbing their bags. 

<Pack your shit tonight> he texted Stiles, knowing the fledgling Spark and resident researcher would want to bring all manner of reference books and magic-user supplies. If left to his own devices the impulsive, but thorough human would be running around like a chicken without a head tomorrow afternoon looking for this and that very essential item at the last minute. <Alpha order.>

<Yes sir, Alpha sir> Stiles replied with a picture of a young adult wolf wagging its tail and showing its belly. Aughruuahhgg, his brain shorted, making him first imagine Stiles as a beautiful russet wolf frolicking with him in full shift (if only) and then as his very human young adult self exposing his belly in the same way, neck bared and open mouthed… 

“Moooving onnn” he said out loud to himself, shaking his head to try to derail that train of thought.

Isaac told Derek that his grateful former classmate, a young man unfortunately named Todd, was going to prepare the cabin for them. A housekeeping service would clean everything and put out fresh linens, the fridge and pantry would be fully stocked and completely at their disposal, and he’d also make sure that any amenities were ready to use. The beta also passed along that they could stay through Monday if they wanted to as thanks for their efforts regardless of the outcome and then gave him Todd’s number in case of emergency. 

<Sounds good> he replied. He was actually looking forward to this.

The last time he’d gotten out of town was the weeklong All Pack trip to the beach after a bunch of them graduated from high school the previous summer, a good 16 or 17 months ago. The seemingly never-ending torrent of “mythical bullshit” (Scott wasn’t wrong about that,) psycho hunters, and whatnot had finally slowed to a crawl and the pack had yet to begin scattering. Everyone had been there, including Allison and Chris, Melissa and the Sheriff, Parrish, and even Danny. Before then it had been when Cora had come up for a visit that Spring with her girlfriend, Dominque, and he, Peter, and Malia had gone to Portland for a weekend with them.

Sigh. Last year they had finally gotten their shit together. He had finally gotten his shit together. He’d strengthened his bonds with Boyd & Erica, the three of them apologizing to each other and him promising to be a better Alpha. Derek showed Isaac and Jackson how much he really cared and he’d spent time ranging in full shift with Malia and teaching her to navigate human bureaucracy. He called Cora at least once a month. 

Derek screamed, cried, fought, and hugged it out with Peter one night when his uncle came over with a veritable Japanese feast — okonomiyaki, karaage, gyudon, yakisoba, and shoyu tonkotsu ramen with chashu pork and soft boiled eggs — and they both got proper drunk on the accompanying wolfsbane-infused 12 year old Yamazaki single malt whisky. They hadn’t spoken of it since, but much of the heaviness, distance, and weaponized cruelty that remained between them faded after they finally said all that they needed to say to each other, waking up the next morning with aching heads and wearing each other’s blood and tears, but with Derek held in his uncle’s arms. 

Hell, he and Scott even kind of started getting along and figuring out how to be two Alphas in the same territory with allied and somewhat overlapping packs. Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Malia, and Peter were straightforwardly his; Liam, Corey, Mason, and Kira were Scott’s (though Derek was checking in with them while the younger Alpha was away finding himself,) but Isaac, Lydia, and Stiles kind of belonged to them both, however that worked. 

I think I know exactly how Isaac wishes it worked, he snickered, wondering if his beta, the True Alpha, and the Huntress would ever resolve whatever the hell was going on there. Scott and Allison were currently on a break (again), Isaac was not-so-subtly mooning over Scott, but was known to make heart eyes at mention of them both (what’s a stabbing or 20 between crushes?) 

When Scott and Allison were last officially together at the pack hangout a month before she went to France they’d taken to giggling and blushing while stealing glances at the beta, who pretended not to notice, but ended up crocheting an exceptionally fugly oven mitt that night, which Stiles dubbed “The Cursed Hand.”  

As for the others, Kira had dated Scott briefly during one of his and Allison’s earlier off-phases, but they’d called it quits amicably. The kitsune was currently dating Jordan Parrish and Derek made sure to keep a fire extinguisher around. Liam was single after he and Hayden broke up and she moved away last year, Corey and Mason were still adorably together, and Peter was no doubt happily slutting it up across Beacon County and beyond. 

Malia wasn’t much interested in romance, but every once in a while she’d feel the urge to go hunt down some willing frat boy or open mic performance artist and drag him off to her studio for what Derek once overheard an astonished college student covered in hickeys call “the most terrifying, confusing, and hottest sex of my life.” When she answered her door he took one look at her smug, predatory face and decided he could go over how to do taxes another time.

Lydia and Jackson kept their medium-distance relationship going, her in Cambridge, MA (MIT) and him in New Haven, CT (Yale.) 

Derek missed having everyone home and hoped most, if not all of them, would be back for good within a few years. At least Erica and Boyd would return in a couple months. In the meantime they’d make it work.

<You know the drill> he messaged his Second. <Hold down the fort and let me know if anything happens. If you don’t hear from either me or Stiles twice a day, by noon (6:00pm tomorrow) and again by 10pm, call and if one of us doesn’t respond within the hour inform Peter and the Sheriff first, then the others if need be.>  

<Will do> Isaac replied. 

<And see if you can track down Malia if you have the time.> 

<Okay. By the way, the scarf is done. It’s on the couch upstairs.>

 <Thank you.> 

<You’re welcome. winky face, smirking face, 2 guys with a heart between them, eggplant, peach, halo face emoji.>

Goddamn sassy betas.

Derek managed to get them on the road heading out of Beacon Hills at exactly 1:57pm due to the sheer force of of his glare and grumpy eyebrows alone. He’d herded Stiles out of his house at 1:35 sharp, threw his crap next to his own duffel bag in the trunk of his car, and followed him to the loft. He shoved open the passenger door as soon as the Jeep was parked and locked and the teenager promptly jogged over, tripped on the door sill and half-fell into the seat. Derek silently shook his head at the clumsy human, waiting until he fastened his seat belt while pointedly ignoring him, then peeled out of there like a bat out of hell. 

They were taking the Camaro because there was absolutely no goddamn way that Derek was going to trust Roscoe for more than 5 miles at a time and even that was pushing it these days. Maybe if he got Stiles a trip to the mechanic for his next birthday he would actually accept someone else getting it fixed for him. The guy was stubborn as a mule.

Isaac had asked to borrow it while they were away for some errands involving the carrying of large objects and Stiles had reluctantly agreed. The loft was closer both to his BCCC campus and the highway, so he was planning to leave Roscoe there anyway so that he could go straight to school if they were running late on the way back. The beta and the Spark might not be the best of friends and seemed to live for getting on each others nerves, but they had an understanding about the important things and Stiles actually trusted Isaac to be careful with his baby. The extra set of keys were already inside, kept in its designated place so that Stiles would never lose both of them (again.)

They made good time, only stopping once for around 20 minutes to pee, get gas, stretch their legs, and load up on snacks and caffeine. The cottage was close to the Upper Klamath Lake, which according to Stiles was “the largest body of fresh water in Oregon.” Upon arrival they immediately checked the perimeter of the cabin and then cleared the rooms before bringing their stuff inside. Stiles had only just recently begun to learn about his birthright, but he knew enough to feel for magical residue and said that he didn’t sense anything unusual so far. 

Deaton was teaching him the basics, including how to create simple wards for warning and protection, which he quickly drew on the front door and on trees at 4 points around the property as Derek stood guard. Stiles would eventually need another mentor to truly develop and master his abilities, but he was already so proud and excited to be able to help the pack beyond whacking things with a baseball bat, being bait, and using Google-Fu. Or, in one memorable instance, annoying and confounding a trio of hobgoblins so much that they left the city. 

The cabin-style cottage had a larger bedroom with a queen sized bed, a smaller bedroom that was set up as an office, and a modern kitchen with granite counters, a gas stove/oven, and an island with stools. There was an adjustable 4-6 person table in the dining area, a couple of closets, a mud room with a stacked washer & dryer set and a chest freezer, and a bathroom boasting a 2 person clawfoot tub, a shower with two rainfall shower heads, and a toilet with a bidet attachment (oooh, fancy!) 

The living room had an oversized dark beige sectional couch, a coffee table with a few art books, a mid sized smart tv equipped with a blu-ray player and a few gaming consoles, and shelves with an assortment of novels, memoirs and biographies, board games, movies, and video games. Needless to say, they were set.

Surprisingly there were not one but two fireplaces as well. Across from the couch and below the mounted tv was a larger, remote controlled gas powered one for quick and efficient heating. The right side of the living room still had the smaller, original wood burning fireplace which would be safe for cooking and was able to provide that traditional ambience of crackling wood and campfire smells if so desired. Taking up much of the space between them was a large, tan plush rug that looked made for lying on.

Outside there was a front porch with a bench swing and around the back there were two picnic tables, a Traeger grill, and a hot tub. Derek was impressed and based on the grin plastered on the younger man’s face so was Stiles.

After settling in and seeing what was in the fridge, pantry, and chest freezer (all the things, apparently) they went out to investigate the trail towards the lake. Stiles brought a messenger bag with a few amplifying objects to help his spark with detection and protection, a couple books on fae creatures, and some binding elements such as iron, salt, mistletoe, and mountain ash. Derek made and packed 4 ham and cheese sandwiches in his backpack along with some trail mix, two insulated liter sized water bottles, a flashlight, digging tools, and…the scarf. It was a beautiful piece of work, the colors rich and complimentary and so fitting for his mate packmate. 

Derek had actually worn it to bed last night and then around the loft this morning while getting ready until it was time to get Stiles. He’d made absolutely sure that Isaac had already left for the day before leaving his room because he’d have never heard the end of it if the beta had seen him with it. He could just imagine the embarrassing pictures with even worse captions on Instagram.

Now the plan was to wait until it got cooler in the evening to give it to Stiles and then the human would be wrapped in his scent. For his safety of course. To make sure any shifters or other supernatural beings knew that he was under the protection of an Alpha wolf. Anything else, like the surely intoxicating blending of scents was just a bonus. Hurry up and go down, sun!

They began by walking together in what was more or less a widening spiral that kept the trail in the center, but circled out to either side through the trees. Derek tried to pick up any scents, sounds, or movements while Stiles reached out with his magic, occasionally focusing so much that he misstepped, tripped or nearly ran into one obstacle or another while shuffling through the fallen leaves. 

After the third time he tugged the far-eyed Spark around a log he joked that Stiles should learn to levitate, but then he’d just run into branches instead.

When they got down by the lake Stiles paused to watch the sun slide below the horizon and Derek figured it was a good a time as any. He opened the backpack and pulled out their water bottles, unable to resist honing in on the motion of the human’s throat as he swallowed in the pink-orange light. He wanted so badly to rest his fingertips there, brush them over that unmarked skin.

Right.

He took a few swigs from his own bottle and set it down, reaching back into the bag and pulling out the carefully folded scarf. 

“Oh hey, this is for you,” Derek said as if he just now remembered that he had it.

Stiles sputtered a bit as he turned in surprise, looking down to where he was being nudged with the bundle of fabric. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closing and setting down the container before reaching for the scarf.

“For me?” he asked curiously, unfurling it and running his fingers over the pattern.

“Yeah.”

There were at least a half a dozen questions in Stiles’ eyes when he lifted his head again, but instead of voicing them he just made a little humming noise and looked it over again, his scent going warm and sweet with happiness.

“Thanks, man” he said softly.

Derek ducked his head. “You’re welcome.”

Stiles lowered his hood and wound the colorful wool around himself, securing it with a loose knot. Derek coughed to hide the rumble starting in his chest when his scent on the scarf was starting to blend with Stiles’, seeping into into his skin. He drank some more water and got himself together, continuing to be immensely pleased. Mission accomplished.

They stayed out for a few hours after dark thanks to a ring that gave Stiles enhanced night vision, making sure to get back into reliable cell range by 10:00pm to make contact with Issac. There were only a few dead zones or spots with just one bar of service thankfully and they’d checked every 15 minutes or so to give them an idea of how far and how long it’d take to get out of them. It was just after 11:00pm by the time they got back to the cabin, around 5 hours of looking for signs of supernatural activity with nothing out of the ordinary so far.

It’d been a long day for both of them and the yawn Stiles let out was contagious. It wasn’t time to turn in yet though, the miles of hiking burning through the sandwiches and trail mix from a few hours ago. 

Stiles had shown interest in the fireplaces earlier, so Derek figured he’d turn on the gas one for a bit to warm up the place while he got the other one going for snacks. He saw the Spark jump out of the corner of his eye when the flames suddenly foomfed to life and he grinned to himself, turning the fan on medium. Going over to the stack of wood near the traditional one, he began arranging hunks of it interspersed with kindling and then started it with a wand lighter. It wasn’t long before it spread, the wood charring and crackling, and he could feel Stiles’ eyes on his back.

When he turned the Spark was watching him with a curious and concerned expression, his head slightly tilted like a wolf. Derek cleared his throat.

“For a long time I couldn’t…but I…it’s not the same.” 

This was clean burning oak and birch, the stuff of happy outdoorsy memories, not stained wood mixed with the scent of burnt plastic and fabric, scorched metal and chemicals. He shrugged. 

“It smells different. We…we used to go camping or have bonfires at celebrations…”

A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he realized that his own were clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, inhaling the unique and comforting scent of Stiles and met his eyes. “I didn’t want that to be yet another thing ruined so I worked on it,” Derek whispered. “It’s okay now.”

Stiles squeezed where he was holding and leaned in for a quick side hug before nodding and heading into the kitchen. Derek pressed the off button on the remote. 

They cooked bratwurst and then marshmallows over the fire for s’mores, teasing each other when one of Stiles’ melted right off the roasting fork and then Derek managed to turn a poofy white confection into charcoal. They washed it down with hard apple cider and then read for a while taking over opposite sides of the sectional in companionable silence, him with an old Popular Mechanics magazine from the bookshelf and Stiles with one of his quote unquote “Spark Notes.”

It was around 1:00am when sleep crept up on them again, Derek the one to start yawning this time. He got up and stretched, talking their dishes and utensils to the sink while Stiles put out the fire. (“It’s been a while, but I’ve gone camping too,” he retorted when Derek looked at him skeptically.)

They did a last brief check outside around the cabin — finding nothing of note again — and then came back to get ready for bed. 

Oh right, bed. As in singular. 

There’d been a handful of times over the years when the two of them ended up sleeping — or more accurately, at least one of them ended up passing out — together, but it had always been unintentional and there’d usually been other people around as well. Not just…getting into bed together. He could feel himself blush at the thought, but thankfully Stiles was unaware in the bathroom. By the time he came out all minty fresh Derek was leaning casually against the doorframe. 

“You go ahead and take the bed, I’ll sleep out here,” he said, grabbing his night clothes and toiletries to take his turn bathroom. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Nope, I’ll take the couch. You drove and I can sleep anywhere as long as I have my pillow.” The Spark grabbed the aforementioned fluffy object from on top of his stuff and hugged it to himself in a way that wasn’t at all adorable, no siree. “Besides this thing is pretty comfy,” he added, nudging an arm of sectional with his knee and then launching himself to flop over it and onto the cushions like a salmon leaping upstream.

Derek snorted and shook his head, opening his mouth to argue further. “I said I—“

“Nope, too late,” the grinning human cut in. “I’ve physically claimed this epic beigeness and anyway, I’m pretty sure the Alpha is supposed to get the nicest digs and all that.”

And there went his brain short circuiting again at Stiles saying the words “physically claimed” and “Alpha” in the same sentence, especially the latter in that joking, but somewhat suggestive tone. His closed his mouth and whirled around, muttering “Fine” over his shoulder as he made a hasty retreat. The sound of laughter trailed after him.

If he took a longer shower than intended, well, he could use some relaxation, okay? And the fan was still on, so between that and the strong, heavenly spray he wasn’t too concerned about certain sounds being overheard by weak human ears.

Stiles was fast asleep by the time he finished up and Derek paused to watch him fondly, finding himself jealous of the pillow under his head and the throw cushion clutched in his arms. Sinking onto the thick mattress and pulling up the green sheet and blanket he couldn’t say if he was more relieved or disappointed that Stiles didn’t suggest sharing.

Derek woke up first, passing by the couch and having to hold back laughter so as to not wake up the oddly sprawled human. That could not possibly be comfortable and yet Stiles remained fast asleep with one leg extended up a back cushion and the other bent beneath it. He had an arm dangling off the side, hand resting on the floor, and the other forearm thrown diagonally across the right side of his head, somewhat squashing his face between it and his bicep. This was causing him to snore lightly, mouth open with a hint of drool on his cheek. 

Derek quietly heated water, removing the lid off of the kettle before it could start to make noise. He choose some loose leaf spiced orange tea to put in the infuser. It’d been quite some time since he last made tea this way, having only some bags of mint, ginger lemon, and Earl Grey at home which he usually just tossed in a mug and put in the microwave when he wasn’t making coffee. He was looking forward to trying the selection of beans too, but grinding them would be quite loud so he would wait until Stiles got up.

Mug in hand Derek slipped outside to check the warded perimeter and again found nothing out of place. There was one moment where he'd stilled when a sudden gust of cool wind sent leaves swirling wildly around him, but it was just the capricious fall weather. Back inside, he read a naturalist’s autobiography from one of the bookshelves for an hour or so and then started making breakfast.

After slicing some peaches he began preparing a pot of old fashioned oatmeal with water and a pinch of salt. While that was cooking he put bacon on to fry and it wasn’t long before he heard the telltale signs of a semi-conscious Stiles. Smiling, he added milk, brown sugar, maple syrup, and sliced almonds to the oatmeal and covered it, leaving it on warm. 

By the time the groggy Spark managed to get himself upright, stumbled to the bathroom, and then came grumbling into the kitchen a mug of French press coffee was on the counter waiting for his grabby hands. 

“Thanks,” he said after a couple sips with a blissful expression on his squinty face. 

“You’re welcome. Food is ready if you want some.”

Stiles shot him an incredulous look as if he were crazy to suggest he might not. Derek snorted and took it as a compliment. 

He’d only recently gotten back into cooking after years of mostly subsisting on noodles, sandwiches, and protein shakes. It had just seemed pointless for a while, a waste of time when he didn’t care what the source of calories were that fueled him as long as he could function. Why bother when the world was ashes in his mouth? When he felt he didn’t deserve those comforts or found it too painful to be reminded of better times, the memories that certain smells and tastes would conjure. 

But he was trying to hold onto the good that was and to make new memories. Cooking for his pack made him feel useful in a tangible way. Providing like an Alpha should. Not only training and discipline, but comfort and nourishment too. And it was something he simply enjoyed. Trying different recipes, tweaking and perfecting old ones. It calmed him. 

Derek chopped half of the bacon strips to put on top of their bowls of oatmeal, sweet and salty-savory just like his paternal grandmother used to make it. The rest he placed on a plate with peaches and set between them. 

Once the coffee kicked in Stiles was animated again, thinking up ways to entice or summon the supernatural creature, assuming it was still around. They planned to go out on another hike after taking it easy for an hour or so. Neither of them sensed any malevolent entities then, so they decided to split up a bit to cover more ground while remaining in earshot just in case. He reminded Stiles to watch where he was going when the teen headed off into the forest, Derek going down to walk parallel on the lakeshore.

When Stiles cried out in pain Derek’s heart leapt into his throat. Was there something out here after all and did it just attack his mate? He ran toward the sound as fast as he could, claws and fangs out and ready to tear into any hostile creature who dared to hurt the emissary-in-training. They hadn’t gone far from each other so less than a minute later he came skidding to a halt in front of the younger man who was currently half sitting and half sprawled on the ground, wincing and holding his right leg out straight, resting it on his left leg. 

Derek looked all around and honed in on his hearing and sense of smell for signs of another presence even as he started talking to Stiles, who was attempting to get up.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

The human groaned and cursed before settling back and sighing heavily. 

“Just me and my clumsiness. I tripped on a root and and then caught myself by stepping in a gopher hole or something. Landed wrong. I think it’s sprained, not broken, but it still hurts like a bitch.”

Derek stopped scanning for threats and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Stiles might be the worse for wear, but he was okay. Would be okay. He let his beta shift melt away and closed his still red eyes.

“Der? Hey, what’s wrong? You’re, um, shaking dude…”

What? He looked down at himself and he was indeed trembling, especially his hands. Derek swallowed.

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” he grumped quietly for old time’s sake. He crouched down and looked Stiles over, pausing to take in the scarf around his neck and the scent of them, and wondered if he was really going to do this. 

If not now, then when? If something terrible had happened what would you regret more? Bright brown eyes watched him curiously, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“I thought something had happened to you. That you were hurt...“ Stiles looked down at his now impressively swollen ankle and then back at him, raising an eyebrow. Derek smirked and huffed, the moment of levity releasing some of his tension. 

“That you had been attacked, he clarified.” Stiles nodded, but still appeared a bit puzzled. Here goes.

“And I…Stiles, if anything happened to you…I couldn’t bear it.”

The scents of happiness and surprise overtook the bitterness of pain and the nineteen year old smiled at him affectionately. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Don’t worry, you won’t have to learn how to navigate web forums or need to get your own subscription to JSTOR or anything—“

“No, that’s not…” Derek growled in frustration. He had been so adamant about not showing his feelings — and promising a world of hurt to any of the young wolves who figured it out should they let it spill — that Stiles truly had no idea what he thought of him. That and the human’s self-esteem issues, which he tried to hide behind sarcasm and self-deprecating laughter that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Fuck it. Derek reached out and placed a palm against Stiles’ jaw and cheek. The younger man inhaled sharply through his nose and stilled.

“If anything happened to you, specifically, I couldn’t bear it. You’re very important to me, Stiles. And I’m sorry for not making that clear.”

Stiles licked his lips nervously, eyes searching Derek’s face.

“Uh, do you mean because I’m your packmate or…?”

“Or.”

There was a soft sound that was surprise and disbelief and longing all at once. Derek wanted to hear all of Stiles’ noises. He ran his thumb across the soft skin and was rewarded with a whimper as the teen leaned into his hand. Derek then leaned toward him.

Their first kiss was was slow and sweet, reassuring and exploratory. They rested their foreheads together breathing each others air. 

“Wow,” Stiles whispered.

“Mmhmm,” he agreed.

Then the human went to adjust his position and hissed in pain. Oh right. 

“Let’s get you back,” Derek said, rising to his feet and then carefully helping Stiles up without putting weight on his injured ankle. The stubborn youth tried awkwardly hopping while braced against him, but after a couple minutes of the very slow going, obviously tiring, and all-around ridiculous movement Derek had enough and swooped a squawking Stiles up into a bridal carry.

“Hey, I could make it just fine on—!” 

He shot the Stiles a flat look and he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away with flushing cheeks. Derek’s nostrils flared as musky-sweet arousal soon overtook the sour-salt burn of embarrassment. The action wasn’t missed and those cheeks grew redder still as did the strength of both scents and he grinned, hefting him higher and more firmly against his body. 

Derek already knew that Stiles liked it when he manhandled him. He had both tried to avoid it as much as possible and did so deliberately at different points in times, which now that he thought of it was kind of an asshole thing to do. The thing was that he knew the human was attracted to him, but he hadn’t realized there were serious feelings on his end too. Derek sighed. A mess. 

A while later he could feel Stiles staring at him and he turned to look at him inquisitively.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just wondering if I actually hit my head when I fell and this is all just a trauma-induced hallucination.” Derek laughed and brought his lips to Stiles’. “Hmm, still not sure, better try that again.” A few minutes went by in silence before he continued. “But seriously, I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, you used to hate me and now—“

“I never hated you,” Derek interrupted. 

“Not even when I helped get you arrested?”

“Not even then. Frustrated and annoyed by you, definitely. Angry at, for sure. But hate you? Never. You’re my—“ he cut off when he realized what he was about to say. Despite his truly extraordinary levels of denial at the time he knew when they first met that the trespassing teenager was his mate. It was surely too early to talk about all that, though. He didn’t want to freak out the human, who was of course now observing him with a sharpened gaze.

“I’m your what?”

“My soon-to-be emissary who should really pay more attention to where he’s going in the future,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. Stiles narrowed his eyes. Derek knew better than to expect him to drop the matter, but hopefully some deflecting would buy him time. “Oh, and what was it that you called me once? ‘Issues City’?”

Stiles cringed in his arms.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Der. I didn’t mean anything by—“

“I know,” he replied, grinning and rolling his eyes. “And, it’s not like you were wrong.”

Stiles giggled. “True. And obviously, I’m right there myself in the yurt next to yours.”

“Why would we be living in yurts? Those are for camping and stuff or, you know, actual  nomadic people. Not cities.”

“I dunno dude, cuz they're cool and it’s fun to say? Step out of your box. Use your imagination. Live a little—”

“In our imaginary city,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, Derek! My yurt...” Stiles paused, the tip of his tongue adorably poking out the side of his mouth as he thought. “Has a moat full of Baja Blast and is guarded by an army of angry quokkas.”

“Well my yurt is—“

He was suddenly holding an armful of convulsively laughing teenager and he raised his eyebrows, shaking his head when it subsided only after a whined “Oww.” A few moments later Stiles was mocking him, repeating “my yurt” with an exaggerated seriousness of voice and facial expressions, setting himself off again with the same results.

“Are you done?” Derek asked, trying to keep a straight face.

The impish youth nodded, attempting to portray the very picture of innocence.

“My…” Stiles leaned ever so slightly forward and Derek narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Collapsableportablecirculardwelling is—” 

This time they both dissolved into laughter, Derek sliding his hand further down to brace the injured leg so it wouldn’t be jostled too much.

When they returned Stiles removed his shoes, hoodie, and the scarf, uncharacteristically careful with the latter by taking a moment to hang it over a chair instead of just tossing it aside. He then dug around in his bag and pulled out a bottle wrapped in a runed token with relief. 

“I should’ve brought this when we went out in case of—“

“You?” 

He chuckled as Stiles glared at him. Just because he finally made his feelings (well, some of them) known didn’t mean he was going to stop giving the younger man shit. 

The Spark swallowed a dropper full of the purple liquid and Derek couldn’t help watching the movement of his Adam’s apple on the once more uncovered throat. He forced himself to stop staring and listened to Stiles explain how it sped up the healing of at least non-severe injuries to near werewolf levels. Apparently it also used a good deal of energy because shortly after he was fast asleep on the couch and once again in an awkward position. Derek shook his head fondly and gently straightened out his neck and arranged his limbs so that he wouldn’t wake up so cricked that he’d have to take the purple stuff again. 

He busied himself going through the impressively stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry again and figured out what he wanted to make for dinner. For Stiles. Filling, nutritious, comforting and seasonal foods that also served to show what he could make, how he could provide, if he made the effort. 

Brown stewed turkey wings cooked low and slow, which he learned from his mother who was herself taught by a Jamaican friend in college. He roasted butternut squash and sweet potato, the later of which he used to make a creamy soup with caramelized red onion, garlic, sage, and an intriguing smelling curry blend he found called rogan josh, but held off on the blending for now. Then came the baking: a simple, crusty loaf of bread and ginger chocolate chip cookies. 

There were mulling spices and red wine so he heated some on the stove and lightly sweetened it with honey. For a cold beverage he put some of the delicious fresh pressed honeycrisp apple juice into a carafe with optional bourbon and cardamom bitters on the side. By the time he was preparing a spinach salad with kale, walnuts, and apple with an orange vinaigrette Sleeping Beauty was beginning to stir from his slumber. 

“Mmm, something smells amazing," Stiles mumbled sleepily before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. Derek was instantly drawn to the strip of belly revealed when his shirt rode up and he swallowed. When he looked up Stiles was watching him, head slightly tilted and a rosiness to his cheeks. 

"Um, d-dinner's ready," he stammered, turning abruptly to start dishing things up as the scents of amusement and low grade arousal wafted over to him. 

This evening was cooler than the last so they ate snuggled up in blankets sitting in front of the remote controlled fireplace on the thick, fluffy rug. It was indeed even more comfortable than it looked. Stiles had the scarf on again and Derek couldn't help glancing over repeatedly, pleased to see his mate wearing his gift, smelling more like his, and enjoying the meal he prepared for him. 

"God Derek, you need to keep cooking like this when we get back. At least sometimes. I'm begging you," Stiles said, scraping the remaining bits together and moaning obscenely as he ate the last bite. 

Derek felt his eyes flash red and he could just make out Stiles' pupils dilating in the flickering glow of the firelight. The human took a shaky breath and scooted over to him, gaze falling to his mouth and up again. Derek turned further and wrapped his arms around him, drawing Stiles close and sinking his face against that them scented throat, inhaling deeply. 

A hand grasped the back of his head and then legs were scrambling as Stiles awkwardly climbed into his lap to straddle him, rubbing against him and whispering, “Please.”  

Derek lifted his head and caught those soft, parted lips that he’d dreamt of for so long, pressing against them and then sucking the lower before slipping his tongue inside. Stiles made a desperate, needy sound and he smiled, deepening the kiss.

He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the floor to set Stiles down below him and laid between his legs, rutting against him while continuing to his plunder his mouth.

“Off,” Stiles gasped when they came up for air, tugging at his shirt. Derek rose up to obey, pulling it off with a single motion and not above flexing when the younger man paused to stare. Smiling, he grasped a hesitant hand and brought it to his chest to assure Stiles that he was allowed to feel. The other soon joined and slender fingers roamed over him in tandem and separately in turns, up to his shoulders and upper arms and along his sides then across his twitching abdomen. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Derek,” Stiles said quietly. 

He couldn’t help blushing. Many people found him attractive, generally to his chagrin, but no one  else ever sounded like that. Like he was precious and beautiful, not just an object to be imposed on.

After another minute or so of exploring, the human started wiggling to remove his own clothes and Derek splayed a hand on his half-bared belly.

“Let me,” he said huskily. Stiles nodded and sank back against the rug, raising his arms above his head.

Derek unwrapped his mate like the gift that he was, starting with unwinding the scarf. He put it aside, his other palm running over that pale column possessively, and then came the shirt, pushed up and off to expose lean muscle. Unable to resist anymore he dove to taste and mark at last, latching onto Stiles’ throat to nibble and suck from one side to the other. 

Working his way down over Stiles’ left clavicle, Derek pressed an ear directly over his rapidly beating heart for several moments before proceeding to mouth at a raised nipple, earning a light gasp. Tweaking the other between his fingertips, he then switched to soothe it with his tongue. 

When he moved toward his belly button, scruff brushing lightly against the skin, Stiles jolted up part way and giggled. Derek joined in the laughter and seeing those ever moving hands fly up to where he was ticklish gave him an idea. Picking up the scarf and holding it taut between his upturned palms he looked down at the curious youth with a hint of red in his stare.

“Can I?”

Stiles dropped his gaze to the length of fabric, swallowing as understanding bloomed in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

He bound his mate’s wrists together with one end and then looped the middle twice around a leg of the coffee table before wrapping the other end around the first and securing it with a snug knot. The ties were loose enough to not damage the material and they could be worked out of with a bit of effort, but it would serve as a reminder and stay any errant movements.  

Slowly, he divested Stiles of his pants, his heart racing when Derek bent down to nuzzle at the bulge in his red boxer briefs and breathed in his deepening arousal before pulling those off as well. 

“Beautiful,” Derek said, leaning back to survey the enthralling sight before him. The resultant all over blush made him even more lovely. 

He nudged strong yet supple thighs further apart and made himself comfortable between them, grasping Stiles’ cock in his left hand as he reached to fondle his balls with the right and took one into his mouth. Palming the underside of his thighs, Derek then pushed up to expose his prize, lapping over his mate’s pretty hole. 

Spurred on by breathy expletives, he delved and teased until the human was a writhing, whimpering mess, easing off and squeezing at the base of his cock when Stiles got close. Derek set a knee over his shoulder and licked up and around the shaft, finally engulfing the head and sinking down down down and up again, hollowing his cheeks. He popped off momentarily to let saliva flow into Stiles’ cleft, coating his thumb and circling it over the rim as he got back to work and met dazed whisky colored eyes. 

When Stiles approached his peak again Derek pressed the thick digit through his tight entrance, groaning at the feel of him as he found and rubbed against his prostate. Moments later Stiles was crying out and coming down his throat and he was determined not to lose a single drop. Derek didn’t release him until he was sure he’d swallowed it all, pulling off the spent member and licking the tip for good measure, still continuing to finger the trembling Spark.

“Lube…my bag,” Stiles said, panting.

Derek withdrew and got up, making a stop to the bathroom and returning with some damp cloths before retrieving the bottle from the duffle and grabbing a throw cushion from the couch.

“I wasn’t being…presumptuous,” Stiles suddenly blurted, trying to emphasize with his hands before remembering he was restrained. “I use it, you know, myself when—“

“Stiles, relax. I’m very glad you brought some.” He set the stuff down on the coffee table. “Besides, apparently you would’ve been right to be.” Derek smirked as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them.

“God, I knew it. Of course you go commando,” Stiles whined, eyes wide while taking him in. 

He flashed a predatory grin.

“Only sometimes, but I’ll keep your approval in mind.”

Derek took hold of his rock hard erection and stroked himself lazily, enjoying the way Stiles watched him, biting that plumped lower lip as he advanced toward him. He wanted to feel them wrapped around his cock so he set himself over the youth and got down to straddle his chest. Stiles gasped and licked his lips and Derek gently gripped his face, running a thumb over his cheek.

“Okay?” he asked.

Stiles nodded enthusiastically and croaked, “Yeah.” 

He opened his mouth and Derek leaned forward, running the tip over those cupid’s bow lips and sighing in pleasure as he finally entered that welcoming wet heat. Stiles began to bob and suck as well as he could in that position as Derek met his eyes, caressing the side of his face with the back of his right hand. 

How did he ever get so goddamn lucky? 

Truth be told, he assumed that Stiles would’ve been long gone by now and he hadn't planned to do — to say — anything to hold him back, but the stubborn young man stayed and now here they were and if he wasn't literally being blown this very instant he wouldn't have believed. Hell, it still felt like a dream. 

He blinked as he realized that encompassing warmth had pulled away, tongue flicking over him playfully instead, and he refocused to see his mate's amused expression. 

"You alright there, big guy?" 

"Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, embarrassed by his distraction and hoping Stiles didn’t think he’d been anything less than wonderful. “I just…I can't believe I get to have you. I never expect—” 

“Well, get used to it, Alpha,” the mischievous human interjected, delighting his wolf and drawing out a possessive rumble. “Now come down here and kiss me and then fuck my face.”

Derek’s jaw fell open even as Stiles flushed at his own brazen command yet refused to look away. He hurried to comply, tasting traces of himself as their mouths slotted together, soft and slow and deep. When they came up for air Derek got back into position, eyes dark with desire,  but hesitant.

“Go ahead, Der,” Stiles said, seductively licking his lips. “I want you to and I know you want to, don’t even front. Plus, it’ll give my neck a break,” he added, smirking before opening up wide.

Derek chuckled and slide a hand through Stiles’ growing hair and around to the back, holding him in place as he shifted forward and leaned on his other hand as he fed his cock to the eager Spark. His hips started jerking as soon as those lips stretched tight around him and he groaned as he began to thrust in earnest, finding a rhythm. He was wasn’t sure how experienced the younger man was so he did his best to stop shy of choking him. 

The signs of his mate’s enjoyment at being used so, the half-lidded gaze and the pleasant vibrations from his muffled moans, only served to bring Derek closer to the edge. As amazing as it would be to come in that lovely mouth though, he wanted to fuck Stiles even more, so he would save that for another time. Many many other times if he had his way.

Stiles pouted when he withdrew and moved back, but began jiggling a foot in anticipation once he reached for the lube. Derek pressed two slippery fingers inside where his tongue and thumb had been not long before, pumping and twisting and scissoring. He slipped in a third, growling at the sight of Stiles rocking onto him, his cock erect and leaking once more. 

With apologies Derek brought his hand away to slick himself up, promising his mate that he was about to give him what he needed. He settled over Stiles and between his spread legs, leaning down for a sloppy kiss before drawing back enough to push his knees up. When Derek had him bent almost in half he pressed the tip of his cock against the teen’s fluttering hole and waited for him to exhale.

There was a moment of resistance before the head popped through that tight ring and then he was plunging slow and steady into Stiles’ hot channel. Derek put a palm to his hip to drain his discomfort and he felt the younger man relax as he bottomed out. Holding still, he ignored the urge to thrust fast and hard so that his mate could get used to him. 

When Stiles indicated that he was ready Derek started off with short, gentle strokes that gradually increased in intensity, dragging over that special bundle of nerves and making the Spark close his eyes in pleasure. Capturing those parted lips, he used his tongue in time with the snap of his hips, wanting to be inside his mate in every way possible.

Derek broke the kiss and reached above them to tug open the knot and loosen the loops of the scarf so that Stiles could slip free. He’d greatly enjoyed their evening playing with it — the trust, vulnerability, and submission —  but now he needed something more, needed to feel his mate’s touch. 

As soon as the teen had stretched and shaken out his arms they were wrapped around his waist and upper back, the hand of the latter sliding up to burrow in his hair as Stiles rocked up to meet every thrust and chanted his name. Derek held him close, their movements becoming a slow, deep fully body grind as they resumed kissing like they could only breathe the other’s air. Pressed flush together until he didn’t know where he ended and Stiles began, their scents no longer just their own, but imbued with them.

Stiles’ orgasm took them both by surprise, the human crying out and digging blunt fingernails into his shoulders as liquid pulsed between them and he clenched rhythmically around Derek’s cock, taking him over the edge as well. He buried his face in the cast off blankets to muffle his roar as he filled Stiles with his essence, already longing to do it again when they separated at last and he floated euphoric between wakefulness and sleep.

“So, I’m your mate, huh?” 

Derek’s eyes flew open some indeterminate amount of time later to find Stiles watching him with a wry smile.

“C’mon dude, you can’t be surprised I figured it out. ‘I can’t hate you, you’re my dot dot dot,’” the human mimicked, giving him a pointed look. “I’m only mad I didn’t see it earlier. I chalked up all the lurking, sorry, ‘checking in’ by my house to me being a vulnerable human and stuff.” Stiles snorted at his stunned expression. 

“I have wards, duh. And I made them so that I basically get a daily proximity report for non-hostile activity around the house just in case there’s still something I should know about,” he explained, shrugging. Derek cringed and Stiles patted him on the shoulder, squeezing  before continuing. “Or maybe it was something you did with all your packmates, I never asked.” 

There was a hint of something — anxiety? insecurity? — that led him to think that the Spark hadn’t wanted to know for sure that it was the same with everyone. Or to learn that he was being treated differently, but not for reasons he wanted. So he just didn’t in order to be able to maybe imagine sometimes… 

Derek understood perfectly, his heart aching for his mate who’d apparently been doing his own dance of pining and avoidance. How very fitting and silly of them.

“But add in the scarf,” Stiles continued — reaching across him to grab it and drape it over himself, fingers tracing its patterns lovingly — “and the sniffing and looks and providing since we’ve been here and well, I finally put 2 and 2 together. I might be fairly oblivious, but you, Mr. Wolf, are not subtle.”

Derek barked a laugh and grinned, unable to be annoyed at his pushy instinctual side when this was the outcome.

“Yes, you’re my clever, ridiculous mate.” 

“Sweet.”

The subsequent reflective silence lasted approximately 37 seconds.

“Sooo��do you have a knot?” 

Derek groaned and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. He tried not to giggle when Stiles began poking him in the shoulder, complaining that he had a right to know about things which may or may not make an appearance in his ass. Sighing, he turned back over. 

“After the mating is complete, apparently.”

“Seems pretty complete to me,” Stiles joked, wagging his eyebrows. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“I suppose it’s time to borrow those books from Peter for you. The short version is, well, there has to be certain…intentions and behaviors and then a mating bite with my wolf teeth if—if you decide you want it someday and—“

“When,”  Stiles emphasized, matter-of-factly.

“When,” he repeated with a smile, pulling his mate close and nuzzling him to revel in their combined scents. 

The conversation continued, astute inquiries and humorous asides becoming intermittent murmurs until Stiles drifted off and he soon followed, lulled by the sound of his mate’s breathing.

Unsurprisingly, Derek woke first again and laid there for a good 15-20 minutes just watching Stiles sleep. Taking in the sight of him so soft and disheveled, beautiful and all his. His mate. When the desire to touch and taste won out over his contentment to observe, he made his way under the blanket haphazardly covering the human to part his thighs just enough to suckle at his dormant cock.

He’d mentioned last night how intense his cravings for his mate would be, especially this first month, now that they’d slept together. Stiles had grinned smugly and given him permission to have his way with him unless he stated otherwise.

Derek savored the evidence of arousal growing on his tongue and began to work slowly up and down the hardening shaft, coaxing the human back into consciousness. 

“Well, hello there,” Stiles mumbled, petting his head with a smile in his voice. 

In response, Derek redoubled his efforts and those slender fingers curled, tugging at his hair, and he moaned in approval. He encouraged Stiles to thrust upward in time with his movements, playing with his balls and then pressing behind them until he was rewarded with cries of pleasure and swallowed down his warm release. 

There was still no sign of any supernatural activity later that morning, fae or otherwise, as they reported again to Isaac. Whatever mystery being (or human prankster) had been there before had seemingly moved on, but they figured they might as well enjoy one more lazy day and cozy night alone together. Stiles fired up the grill that evening and it was Derek’s turn to be provided for and impressed by his mate’s cooking. They had filet mignon kebabs with zucchini and red onion accompanied by salted foil wrapped baked potatoes served with sour cream, chives, and smoked paprika. 

After one last walk around the property and down to the lake and back Derek got the whirlpool going and they blissed out soaking in the hot, turbulent water. The noises Stiles let out as the tension in his body dissipated, sliding down in the seat until his head was thrown back against the edge and his throat on full display, had Derek promptly wedged between his legs, sucking new bruises between yesterday’s blooms and grinding against him. 

He wasn’t about to attempt penetration in the water, but had another tantalizing idea in mind. Derek hauled Stiles up and turned him around before carefully placing him down with his torso on the surrounding deck and his legs and and ass hanging over the side. All but ripping off his trunks, Derek knelt back on the seat in the hot tub and spread his cheeks, eating him out with abandon until Stiles climaxed untouched with a guttural moan that he vowed to wring from him again.

Then he got out and carried his mate inside over his shoulder, snagging the bottle of lube from the living room and heading to christen the bedroom. Derek set the loose limbed teen onto the mattress on his belly and propped his hips up with a pillow. Impatiently, he slicked himself up and tested Stiles’ still ready hole with a couple of fingers before mounting him and sheathing his cock in a single motion. 

Derek pressed against his back and pinned him down, thrusting in long, deep strokes that made the teen gasp, increasing in speed until they grew erratic. His balls drew up and he howled as he planted his seed deep inside Stiles’ pliant body, remaining there until the human began to squirm. When he finally pulled away he dropped down beside his fuck drunk mate and peppered his smiling face with kisses. 

Stiles swatted his ass playfully and then grabbed hold of a cheek as they snuggled.

“Next time you can fuck me if you want,” he whispered, laughing at the surprised and hungry look on the teen’s face. 

They got up shortly before dawn and packed the last of their things, only bothering with a cursory shower because most of the time they had to spare was spent with Stiles’ kneeling on some extra towels in the stall with Derek’s cock in his insatiable mouth. 

Miraculously, they managed to leave at a quarter to 8:00 so Stiles could get back for his noon class barring any lengthy unexpected events. They passed the time with a combination of radio roulette, talking about whatever came to mind, and comfortable silence as Stiles read or gazed out the window and Derek had his thoughts, which were actually pleasant for once. How could they not be with his mate by his side?

To think that going on this random and apparently unnecessary, but strangely amazing trip had changed so much for the both of them. It couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been planned.

He glanced over and Stiles was idly playing with the end of his scarf with his right hand and Derek took his left, their fingers interlocking seamlessly like the red and amber yarn. It felt like they’d been doing this for ages. As if they belonged there, bound together. 

They did. 

Isaac:  

Recently returned from his morning English class, Isaac was getting a jump on the reading assignment when he heard the Camaro pull up outside.

He thew down the paperback and hurried over to the window to peer outside through a gap in the curtains. Derek and Stiles — who was wearing the scarf, yes! — were talking and standing rather close. He crossed his fingers. 

Moments later Derek took both of Stiles’ hands in his own and the human laughed, leaning in for a kiss. Isaac pumped his fist.

 “Hallelujah,” he whispered, turning away and picking up his phone feeling incredibly smug.

<They’re back. It worked.> 

<Thank fuck> replied Z-ter. <If I had to listen to one more longing sigh I would’ve gone and gotten myself killed a second time.>

Isaac snickered. <Dramatic much? But now we’re probably gonna have to put up with the loft smelling like a whorehouse.> 

<Like you’ve ever been to a whorehouse. Anyway, that would still be an improvement over the stench of sadness, frustration, and failure.>

<Lmao.>

<But speaking of your taste in music…>

<Oh, fuck you.>

<Sorry, this is Peter, not Scott or Allison.>

Blushing fiercely and mouth hanging open, he tried to think of a response, but the elder beta continued on like he didn’t just casually wreck him.

<I’m glad it was successful. Not that I had much doubt, it was my plan after all.>

Isaac huffed. <*Our* plan.>

Sure their resident zombie wolf had the associate with a decked out cabin who owed him a favor, but the idea to send them off somewhere together after Derek asked for the scarf —  which he then beautifully made, thank you very much — had been his.

<Tomayto, tomahto.>

He sent a middle finger emoji.

The Jeep struggled to life out front and Derek walked in shortly after with a big, stupid grin on his face. Isaac just looked at him and shook his head though he was secretly happy for his Alpha. God knew he deserved some joy in his life, even if it was with Stiles of all people. He only hoped that he didn’t have to see or hear any activities as well. Isaac would bet anything that Stiles was a screamer. 

Later that afternoon he received a message from the loud mouth himself.

<Glad to see my baby is still one piece.>

<I know your clumsy ass isn’t talking about breaking things.>

<Lol, fair. Hey, do you think you could knit me a beanie sometime? That scarf you made is pretty awesome, btw.>

Isaac sighed heavily. Of course.

<Hmm…for a price.>

<Well that sounds ominous.>

<Grinning devil emoji. Just a small favor at some point in the future. No first borns, I promise.>

<Uhhh…okaaay…>

<Deal. Now let me guess…gray with green. Perhaps with some blue and gold accents?>

<Holy shit, how did you know?!?>

<I’m psychic.>

Isaac rolled his eyes as he set the phone back on the side table. “Idiots, the both of them,” he muttered.

Still he couldn’t help smiling as he began looking through his supplies. 

[cdyssey]

Facetious

Summary: After the end of yet another long work day, Melissa comes to collect Barbara. [Post-1.01]

CW: Emotional Infidelity

AO3 Link

—

At precisely five past three, there are two blunt knocks on her halfway open door. Barbara doesn’t even have to look up from the reading diagnostic that she’s skimming to know that it’s Melissa dropping in to either say goodbye or to forcibly collect her at the end of yet another long day. She glances up anyway, her golden-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, and smiles softly.

For this is habit between them, long-established and well-loved tradition—as baked into their daily routines as their shared communions at their favorite round table in the teacher’s lounge or their little rendezvouses at the copier, where they trade new bits of gossip with their elbows pressed on top of the machine. 

Melissa comes to look for her at the end of every day—of course she does.

And Barbara’s enduring role is to simply let herself be found.

“The ops are upstairs with Jacob,” the younger teacher says, leaning against the door like it’s both habit and home. Her vivid hair is haloed by the ring of Barbara’s sunflower wreath, and the effect is lovely—all that scarlet, crowned in pops of autumnal gold. 

“Quick. You ‘n me can make a break for it if we hustle.”

“Girlfriend,” Barbara can’t help but chuckle, “you’re fooling yourself if you think I ever belong in the same sentence as the word hustle. I don’t hustle, I—“

“—sedately shuffle from place to place?” Melissa grins, waggling a mischievous brow.

“—gracefully swan from one destination to another,” she finishes with a mock sniff, unable to be especially affronted when Melissa laughs like she does, so loudly, with the entirety of her belly. “Don’t tease! You’re not making it anywhere quick either on that hip of yours."

They both have a bad something or another. Melissa’s bad hip and Barbara’s bad knee. They're mutually bad backs. They complain about these grievances to each other often, especially now that it’s fall and the cold is starting to seep into their bones.

“Sheesh, don’t remind me,” her friend half-smiles. “Almost threw it out again luggin’ that new rug to my room.” 

But then she half-grimaces too, lightly rubbing the affected area with three fingers, and Barbara frowns just as immediately, pushing her playfulness to the side along with her class’s reading report.

"You should really go see a specialist about that, you know.” 

“And let some rich quack put me on a bunch’a painkillers? Hell to the no,” Melissa scoffs easily. She has distrusted doctors for as long as Barbara has known her, thinks they’re all two-bit charlatans and overhyped clowns. The only person she ever goes to see is her second cousin, Frankie, a general practitioner whose practice is adjoined to a pizza joint that may or may not also be a money laundering front.

Barbara doesn’t like to think about that fact very often.

“Well, at least come here and get yourself an Advil for the road,” she exhales, making the more expedient decision not to press the point. They’ll have that row another day, and it’ll likely be spectacular—as their rare arguments usually are—but that’s future Barbara’s cross to painfully bear. “You know I hate it when you’re hurting.”

“I hate it when I’m hurting too,” Melissa quips, always a snarker, even in the pits, but all the same, she obediently peels herself off of the door and limps on over, one plod of her clunky boots at a time. Barbara’s heart inexplicably plummets into her gut when the second grade teacher decides, apropos of absolutely nothing, to partially lower herself on the edge of her desk, rattling her pencil cup with her added weight.

Her sheer and overwhelming presence. 

Her leopard-spotted blouse and those tight black pants. The way the leather rasps when her thighs brush together as she incrementally shifts and makes herself comfortable—cozy even—on Barbara Howard’s extraordinarily immaculate desk. The endless cascade of her fiery red hair and the saints that are perpetually worshiping at the altar of her marble bosom. The slight citrus smell of her favorite perfume.

“What?” Melissa chuckles, apparently seeing something complicated in Barbara’s expression, something that Barbara would probably shy away from in the uncomplicated honesty of a mirror. Sudden heat crests within her. It becomes a knot in the column of her throat, becomes a ticking time bomb, a violent pleasure, a pleasant wound. “You prefer I keep my ass off your stuff?”

She has less than three seconds to decide which is worse—having Melissa Schemmenti on her desk or not having her there. Neither of these options frankly brings her closer to God.

“You’re being absolutely facetious,” she finally mutters, not looking the second grade teacher in the eye as she dives down to retrieve her purse. She makes quite a meal out of rifling through it for a bottle that she handily keeps in a side-pocket.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Your question was hardly appropriate enough to warrant a response.”

“So I’m being naughty, huh?” Melissa guffaws. Melissa jokes. From Barbara’s limited perspective, it’s all a joke to Melissa: her innuendoes and habitual crassness, the intimate geography of their bodies in relation to each other. 

Their closeness in general.

In so many more ways than one.

She’s always like to flirt with Barbara, no matter their respective marital statuses.

Nothing ever truly inappropriate, of course, calling her hot mama here or lightly ribbing her about them being work wives there. And that was all fine and good until one day, after many, many years of them being the very best of friends, Barbara suddenly collected the punchline like a baseball bat to her gut.

Until one day, every touch and casual glance, every hon and other pet name lightly thrown her way, actually did something to her.

Set her eternal soul on fire for one thing.

Condemned her.

(Saved her.)

Condemned her.

“That word has an entirely different connotation, and you know it.”

“I mean, depends on how you’re using the word.”

“Melissa!” She groans, flushing, feeling nauseous, vaguely suspecting that she’s flirting back.

“Okay, fine, fine. I’ll stop being a cagacazzo—“ Melissa chortles obliviously and goes to get up, but before Barbara can capably stop herself, before morality can catch up to the rest of her usually well-ordered senses, she impulsively places her free hand on her best friend’s knee. 

They both shiver violently upon first contact, stunned silent, both incredulous that she actually dared. 

Melissa’s cheeks blanch and then just as immediately color, all the mirth draining from her face and becoming… well… Barbara doesn’t know.

(Barbara doesn’t want to admit the mirrored emotion—even to herself.)

(Especially to herself.)

“You don’t have to get up,” she croaks, withdrawing her hand as though burned, cupping the pill bottle she finally retrieved like it’s the only thing keeping her from kissing her colleague. Surely, there are other barriers, though.

Surely, there is her wonderful husband.

Surely, there is God.

“I was just… joking.”

“Me too,” Melissa says quickly, eyes averted. “I was just joking too.”

And they both laugh then because they’re both joking—obviously—a little too loudly to ever sound entirely sincere. Still, they grant each other the kindness of overlooking this inconvenient truth. Still, they laugh and unpleasantly laugh.

(That’s how this—whatever this is that exists between them—keeps going after all: this almost tango, this halfway song-and-unending-dance. This terrible thing. This beautiful thing. This unfathomable sin. This simultaneous grace.)

(They’re a chemical collision that keeps never, ever happening, and there’s primal relief in the fact. There’s unspeakable sadness too.)

“Here,” she says, untwisting the cap of her bottle and finally shaking an Advil into the palm of her hand. Extends it. An offering. A perfect opportunity to move on from the stickiness of the moment. 

Melissa takes it. Her fingers scrape Barbara’s lifelines.

“Take a swig of my coffee,” she continues weakly, all her atoms thrilling at even that barest touch. “I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Melissa grunts, popping the pill into her mouth and hastily lifting the aforementioned drink to her lips. Her nose promptly screws up in disgust.

“Blegh. Too flippin’ sweet.” 

An unsurprising criticism coming from this particular woman. Melissa usually takes hers black.

“It’s just French Vanilla creamer.”

“It’s a milkshake in a mug is what it is,” she shakes her head fondly. “Don’t how you flippin’ stand it, Barb.”

“Oh, well, believe it or not, I have my sundry vices too,” Barbara chuckles lightly. They both do. And it’s far more genuine this time, perhaps simply because it’s the kind of banter they’re more accustomed to. It's familiar territory, safe and solid ground. They won’t get themselves in trouble joking about their coffee preferences, and Barbara almost convinces that she doesn’t regret their capacity for discretion, their exercise of extraordinary and remarkably Christian restraint.

“You? Vices?” Melissa arches an amused brow. “Get outta here, Mrs. Barbara Howard, perfect woman of God.”

Barbara opens her mouth and then abruptly closes it, immediately wants to refute the point, needs for Melissa to know that faith and perfection aren’t necessarily intertwined, that she is as flawed as any other human on this God-blesséd earth. 

But she stops herself; she disciplines her wayward tongue.

She’s spent decades upon unceasing decades constructing the meticulous reputation that her friend is proposing that she has achieved. And that gratifies her, of course—sure, yes, absolutely. Her lifelong project of embodying excellence beyond excellence has clearly been a quantifiable success.

But still, there is something in her that instinctively balks at Melissa elevating her to a lofty pedestal. She wants the whole world to believe that she is perfect but needs just one person—this person—to understand that it’s all just a well-executed and beautifully performed facade

She’s saved from trying to resolve this frankly unresolvable contradiction, though, by Melissa suddenly wincing again, her hand going to her hip as she shifts a little on the desk, and Barbara latches on to this microgesture and readymade excuse gladly. She leans forward, shoving her own thousands of invisible hurts away.

“You should have told me that your hip was bothering you, sweetheart,” she murmurs seriously, still flexing her fingers around the Advil bottle, resisting the urge to reach out and help her friend, to work her fingertips into the sore tissue there… discovering the plump softness… the forbidden fruit… of her rosy skin…

She briefly turns away, coughing into her own shoulder.

Ridiculous impulse.

Absurd.

“We could have gotten one of the Three Musketeers to shoulder an additional load.”

“Pssh,” Melissa rolls her eyes, “I don’t think Jacob could lift a log if the log was a two-by-four with the word log written on top of it.”

“Foul!"

“But I’m right,” the younger teacher grins.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” she agrees as Melissa laughs again, all mischief, so playful and unapologetically loud. Barbara swats at her arm, always pretending to be the sanctimonious one between them. 

A smile smuggles itself at the corner of her lips anyway.

“‘Sides,” Melissa eventually shrugs, “it was worth it to see the pipsqueak all happy.”

“Mm,” Barbara shakes her head fondly. “That Janine.”

She’s certainly a handful, that’s for sure—overeager and overzealous, clearly overcompensating for something that’s likely above Barbara’s thoroughly abysmal pay grade to ever fix. But even still, the young lady has a kind heart and an admirable passion for what she does. She’s good with her kids and tries hard to be better for them every day. 

Those traits alone aren’t sure signs and predictors that she’s going to survive this Sisyphean hell of a public school system, of course, but they’re certainly not going to hurt her chances either.

After a year of having known her, Barbara likes her—not that she'll ever admit as much to her, though.

“A flippin’ mess.”

“Oh, beyond a shadow of an entire doubt.”

“Think she’ll last?” Melissa asks, which is a pretty remarkable question in and of itself. No new teacher has stayed long enough recently for either of them to bother caring. Their investment is hard won, fought for, far from easily earned.

They’ve both been endlessly burned in the past, or rather, more accurately still, they’ve mutually spent their lifetimes burning themselves trying to care for other people.

“If life has taught us one thing,” she starts thoughtfully, “it’s that good things rarely do…”

Before she can continue, though, Melissa cuts her off with a short laugh like a bark.

“Ha!” Her verdant eyes twinkle. “What about us old bats then?”

“Exceptions to the rule clearly.”

“Clearly,” the younger teacher mocks. 

“Girlfriend!” She chides, laughing. “Let me finish.”

“Okay, okay, go on telling me about how shit the world is.”

“Vulgar,” Barbara shakes her head in a long-suffering manner, “and not where I was going with that sentence anyway. Good things rarely last, yes, but who but the good Lord ever truly knows? Perhaps Janine will surprise us in the end. Maybe Mr. Hill too.”

“Oh, look who’s bein’ all facetious now,” Melissa grins as she finally sidles off the desk, straightening up on the tiled floor with a thud and a slightly pained grunt. She towers over Barbara now, who’s still in her rolling chair. The skin of her leopard-print shirt stretches across all her delicious curves. 

“At least it’s not the same thing as being naughty,” she mutters, glancing away as her friend seizes with laughter.

“Semantics, schemantics, Barb. We both sound like total lesbos sometimes, y’know.”

Barbara can't help herself—she splutters incoherently, accidentally dropping the Advil bottle she’s been fiddling with for the last five minutes. It rattles and comedically rolls somewhere far beneath her desk.

“W-what?!” She eventually gets out, now gripping the arms of her chair. “We don’t? I could never. Melissa! You and I—“

“God,” Melissa goes on, all her features alive with raucous delight, positively shit-eating. She taps her chin with one finger.  “Come t’think of it. I’d make one hell of a good lesbian if I didn’t also like dudes—“

“Melissa! Be serious!”

“I am serious,” the second grade teacher laughs, not sounding particularly serious at all. “About who I am anyway. Don’t worry, hon. I know you play for a different team.”

But that last sentence, even if it’s a part of the joke—of this game of fluster-Barbara-Howard-senselessly that Melissa is expertly playing—suddenly veers into an earnest sadness that Barbara can’t quite unhear and her friend can’t just as quickly disguise.

“Shame,” Barbara mumbles without really intending to, but the word slips from her mouth before she can catch it and scold it for being reckless anyway.

“Shame,” Melissa agrees and tries another smile. It's an exhausted, little thing; it slumps like a body in the darks of her eyes.

“You would'a made a great one too.”

[jinxhallows]

ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀs | sᴇᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾ – ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀs

sᴇᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʀɪᴇғ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ᴜsᴇ, ʙʀɪᴇғ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴏᴍᴇsᴛɪᴄ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛs ᴍᴇ sᴏ ɪᴛs ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴏɴ ɪᴅᴏʟ ᴀᴜ

ᴡᴄ: 𝟺.𝟹ᴋ

Yall....FINALLY, amirite???? Changbin is officially in my wheelhouse now <3

---

You had built a life for yourself in the bustling city, juggling various roles and responsibilities to keep yourself busy and your rent paid. But tonight, as you lounge on the couch of your cozy one-bedroom Jersey City apartment, a restlessness gnaws at you.  

This was the other side of living alone in a city where you had no family and barely any friends. Sure, you loved parading nude around your space while watering your monsteras to the early Sunday morning tunes of lofi; but then again, you wished you had somewhere to be on a late Friday night like tonight.  

If you ruminated on the existentiality of it at this moment, you’d probably fall into an unnecessary panic attack. 

Quick—use a coping skill from therapy before it gets too bad. 

Distraction. 

Your ankle taps your foot forward with a constant bounce, and you nibble on your inner lower lip. You pick up your phone lying next to you, scrolling through your contacts to see which friend you felt like putting up with this time. As you pause on Seo Changbin's name, memories of laughter and shared moments flood your mind, bringing a genuine smile to your face.  You can still remember when you met him two years ago, when you first moved to the city. 

You had signed up for a Thai boxing class, a random attempt to meet new people in your local area. As you stepped into the enormous gymnasium, your eyes widened at the sight of people flinging each other down onto a mat with thudding echoes. It must've shown on your face because an instructor, Changbin, stopped you before you talked yourself back out the door. 

"They're very advanced, don't worry," he grinned, extending his hand. "I'm Changbin, one of the Thai boxing instructors, and you are?" 

Changbin was a sight to behold. He stood matching your own height, with a muscular physique that was accentuated by the sweat-wicking athleisure shirt and shorts he was wearing. His hair was short, stopping just above his ears, damp with sweat, with strands sticking to the crown of his head. 

You introduced yourself as Y/N and explained that you were there for the Thai boxing 3-pack trial classes. 

"Ah, great," he said, a teasing glint in his eye. "That's Jiu-Jitsu, not boxing; you looked pretty terrified of it. I won't go so hard on you." 

His words made you smile, and you retorted, "Who says I need you to go easy?" 

Changbin's features lit up with amusement, and you noticed the way his expressive eyes added to his charm. As the class progressed, you found yourself drawn to his fluid movements and natural grace, and you were impressed by the way he effortlessly demonstrated the techniques. 

After class, Changbin approached you, a hint of sweat still visible on his brow.  

"You did great," he said with a genuine smile.  

"Are you coming back for the other trial classes?" 

Changbin steps out of the dimly lit underground venue, still hearing the echoes of the crowd ringing in his ears. He takes a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs, and pulls out his phone. His finger hovers over your name in his contacts, the memory of your easy laughter and sparkling eyes making his heart skip a beat. He knows he shouldn't be feeling this way about a friend, but he can't help how he feels. 

As he types out the message, his mind races with thoughts of what he wants to show you tonight, wanting to bring you to a side of the city you haven't seen before. He hits send, and as he waits for your reply, he feels a nervous sense of anticipation, wondering if tonight will be the night that he finally tells you how he truly feels. 

Your phone buzzes just as you decide to text him, and your heart races when you see the message is from him. You tap on the notification and open the message thread, your excitement mounting as you see the nickname you forced onto him for the both of you. He could act like it was corny all he wanted, but he surely locked you in his phone with yours with no hesitation at all. 

solar eclipse: idk if you're up right now, but if so, txt me if you're up for a late-night adventure. 

You reply immediately, accepting his invitation. 

As Changbin waits for your response, the three dots indicating your reply blink twice before your message appears. He grins, feeling relieved. 

lunar eclipse: you know damn well I'm up right now, Changbin. Where am I meeting you? 

You grab your jacket and step out of your apartment, ready to immerse yourself in the vibrant city atmosphere. As you walk towards the PATH train, you hear the distant sound of live music from a nearby bar, adding to the anticipation of the night ahead. The city is alive with endless possibilities, and you're curious to see where he's going to take you tonight. Changbin stayed busy with his job and going to school part time for mixed medium art, so he didn’t suggest a random late night adventure very often. 

solar eclipse: lol, you take lots of naps! You couldve been sleep. I'll send the location. 

solar eclipse: it's in Eastwood. 

- solar eclipse has sent a location - 

lunar eclipse: Brooklyn?! This late? The PATH stops running in 2 hours, I won't have a way back home. 

solar eclipse: I WOULDNT LEAVE YOU STRANDED 

You suppress a laugh as you stand in the station. It's relatively empty at this hour, with only two other people waiting for their trains into the city. 

lunar eclipse: Why are you yelling at me through a text message? 

solar eclipse: Because you said you're coming and then made it complicated again.  You do that when youre about to cancel. 

As you start to type a reply, another message from him comes through. 

solar eclipse: You can stay with me. I'll sleep on the pullout couch. 

You erase what you were going to say and reply to his offer instead. 

lunar eclipse: Deal :) 

You tuck your phone into your bag as the train rushes through the tunnel, emerging and blowing your hair back as it comes to a stop. You board it for the thirty-minute commute to Eastwood, Brooklyn, pulling your headphones over your head and nestling into your seat. 

As the train hurtles through the darkness, your head leans against the cool window, a blur of lights streaking past outside. The steady rumble of the tracks reverberates through your skull, creating a gentle vibration that lulls you into a drowsy trance. 

Seo Changbin. 

As you lazily open up your files, memories of him flood your mind, taking you back to the early stages of your now failed relationship. It was during that time that Changbin became the man who’s infectious laughter and magnetic personality drew you in, leaving you unable to resist spending time with him whenever he asked. You signed up for more classes, and with each passing day, you grew stronger, more confident, and with better endurance. His presence not only made you feel good, but he was also good for your body. 

You tap on one of his songs, 'ForeverDraft.MP3,' and his voice fills your ears. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be carried away by the rhythm and melody of his music. Changbin's rap skills had taken you by surprise when you were still with your ex-boyfriend. You ex was a battle rapper from the Bronx, and you had unknowingly watched your new friend go bar for bar against your boyfriend at a popular underground venue in Brooklyn. The look of shock on your face must have been evident when Changbin emerged victorious, wiping the floor with your boyfriend's ego. 

At the time, Changbin had no idea that he was battling against your partner, which made things worse when your dejected boyfriend stormed off the stage in a fury. You couldn't resist rushing over to Changbin, however, shocked by his talent and tackling him in an excited hug, leaving your boyfriend to wonder if you had set him up. 

The argument that followed that night was intense, and even though you made up the next day, things were never the same between you two. Your ex had always had a tendency towards a short fuse, but that night, he blew up in ways that you had never experienced. He shoved you against the wall twice, and you felt the pain of the concussion, making him realize how far he had gone. He apologized profusely, trying to help you back to your feet as you held the back of your head, wondering if things would ever be the same between you two again. 

“HE DID WHAT?!” Changbin’s voice erupted in anger, spewing out a torrent of Korean curses and vivid death wishes that made you hold the phone away from your ear. Despite the gravity of the situation, you couldn't help but find his passion strangely attractive. It was the first time you had smiled all night, a small but genuine grin that spread across your face. 

“Are you still there?!” he asked, sounding frustrated. 

“Yes, Changbin,” you replied, bringing the phone back to your ear. 

“I’m still here.” 

He sighed heavily, clearly exasperated. “Just one time--” 

“Stop. We’ve been over this. If you were just an average guy, I’d let you give him a taste of his own medicine. But as a mixed martial arts instructor, I don’t want to risk going to jail over this. I don’t have any fucking friends here already, I just--” You didn't expect to get emotional, but a tear trickled down your cheek as you wiped it away. 

“Hey, calm down. I won't do anything to him, okay? I promise.” Changbin's voice softened, and you hugged your hoodie a little tighter as a cool evening breeze blew through the thin fabric. You had left with just the clothes on your back to avoid any further escalation for the night. 

“Do you want to come over? My Xbox is collecting dust, and you're the only one who can keep everyone alive in House of Ashes.” 

“Oh, we haven't played that in a while! There's a new one out! You should download it. If you start now, it'll be done by the time I get there. It's called--” 

As you continued to excitedly talk about the newest installment in the gaming series, Changbin relaxed on his couch. He had convinced you to get away from the situation, at least for the night, and he loved to hear you like this—happy, excited, and passionate about something. He knew every last detail, and he wanted to see it as clearly as you did. 

Running his hand through his hair, he listened to you with a smile. He wasn't going to lay a finger on your boyfriend—no, he had friends to take care of that for him.  

Seo Changbin. 

You chuckle to yourself, swiping to the next track he had sent you from his upcoming mixtape. He was incredibly talented, and you two bonded over music, spending long days and nights creating together for the sheer joy of it. 

As you disembark from the train, you check your phone, which is still without service while you are still underground. The crowds in New York City are overwhelming, but you walk to the beat of the track, one of your favorites, with a Camp Lo instrumental that he seemed to float on. 

When you emerge out of the subway station, you pull up your navigation app and follow it towards the three-minute destination. When your app tells you that you arrived, you see a plain office building, but the list of businesses were all entertainment venues. You take a few steps back from the entryway and call him. 

“Yo,” he answers. 

“Yeah, I think I'm here? At some office building?” You look around at the bright lights above you and then again through the glass doors. 

“Oh, I'll be out,” he says. 

Half a minute later, he comes from the dimly lit halls, too far to see from where you stood. He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and lets you walk inside before locking it behind you. 

“What kind of adventure did you drag me out here for?” you ask as he pulls you into a big, firm hug. His thick, muscular arms squeeze your body tighter than anyone else, making you laugh, and his short, wavy black hair tickles your face.  He finally releases you, looking at you with a smile. 

“Food and art.” Changbin says proudly, he waves his hand, “Follow me.” 

You follow him into a recording studio, the walls adorned with a massive graffiti mural that immediately captures your attention. The colors are bold and vibrant, and the designs intricate and eye-catching. It's clear that this was the work of a skilled artist, and you’re captivated by it.

"Who did this?" you ask, turning to him with wide eyes. 

Changbin grins proudly. "This is the work of my friend, He Li. She's an incredible artist. I knew you'd appreciate it." 

You nod in agreement, still admiring the artwork. "It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it." 

He motions towards the Chinese takeout sitting on a small table in the corner. "I got your favorite," he says with a grin. 

You smile back at him, grateful for the gesture. "Thanks, Changbin. You always know how to make me feel better." 

He walks over to the table and grabs a container of food, motioning for you to join him. "Come on, I’m hungry and I waited forever for you to get here." 

“That’s your stupid ass fault.” You sneer, sitting down next to him and grabbing a container for yourself. He cuts his eyes at you making you giggle, “I never told you you had to wait for me to start eating.” 

“In that case,” He takes the food back from your hands, digging his chopsticks into it and stuffing the lo mein in his mouth.  You yell at him, snatching it back while he’s covering his mouth to catch a stray noodle from falling during his bout of laughter. 

You lift your fist, threatening to punch him. 

“Don’t fuck with my food, asshole.” 

“Duly noted.” He laughs. 

The two of you enjoy the Chinese takeout while admiring the mural, discussing its intricate details and the story it tells. As the night wears on, you feel your spirits lifting. Spending nights like this with a friend and enjoying the art around you is what you needed to take your mind off of the loneliness you felt living alone at home. 

“He Li, huh?” You sit back after you’ve both finished your food and toss the empty container in the nearby trashcan.  “I’ve got to look into more of their work, you know, I’ve always found graffiti when turned into art, super interesting.” You nod, looking over the mural again. 

Another fact to store in the back of his brain. 

Changbin stands up, stretching and pulling on his jacket.  “Ready for the next stop?” 

You place your hand to your chest, feigning shock at his eagerness to switch locations like this.  Usually when you two hung out it was at restaurant, maybe a bar, each other’s places, but gallivanting around the city together? This was new. 

“Born ready.”  

The evening air of the city is thick with warmth, a sign that summer is just around the corner. It's a pleasant night to be walking to catch the train. You and Changbin saunter down the street, playfully goading each other and joking around. It feels good to be with someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously, someone who's not afraid to be silly in public. You pass a street performer and Changbin can't resist the urge to bust a move, causing you both to erupt in laughter. The energy between you two is electric, full of carefree joy and a sense of adventure. 

You rest your head on Changbin's shoulder, the rhythmic swaying of the train lulling you both into a peaceful state. Your fingers tap away on your phone, scrolling through your Instagram DMs. 

"I learned a new Korean word today," you say, glancing up at Changbin with a mischievous grin. 

"Oh really?" he asks, turning his head to look at you. "Tell me." 

You swipe through your phone, pulling up a direct message from a friend. "Sshi—sshibal," you say, struggling to pronounce the Hangeul characters. 

Changbin's eyes widen, and he quickly moves over, causing you to lift your head.  

"That means fuck," you clarify, a small smile playing on your lips. 

"I know what it means, I—" he interrupts, grabbing your phone from your hands. His brow furrows as he scrolls through your messages. "Who is this guy? Random Korean guys teaching you curse words? I can do that," he says, his tone both possessive and playful. 

You bite your lip, trying to hold your laughter at his reaction. It's cute how he can be so protective over you, even when it's just harmless language exchange. You watch as he taps on the user's profile and starts scrolling through his photos, his upper lip curling in disgust. 

Despite his faux-anger, you can feel a flutter in your chest at his attention. You try not to think about how cute it was when he got like this, almost possessive over you, like he liked you or something. 

“First of all, he’s my tutor, not some ‘random Korean guy’,” You take your phone back, locking it and tucking it back into your pocket as you lift a brow, “and besides, since when do you care what ‘random Korean guys’ I’m talking to?” 

Shit 

He must think quickly to avoid suspicion. 

“Tch,” He scoffs, “I just feel like you can do way better than that, I mean, he looks boring.” 

Your eyes twinkle in that way that made his stomach flip, he just knew some bullshit was about to follow. 

“Really? Wow, tell me Changbin,” You lean forward onto your leg, 

“How exactly does a person look boring?”  

Changbin gestures to your phone hidden in your pocket, “I just saw your conversation, he asks you if you ate, you tell him yes, you ask him if he ate, he tells you yes, how was your day, blah blah blah, Y/N we never talk about that shit, you know you love to talk about all kinds of things, you’re into things so much cooler than what you ate today,” 

He realizes he’s starting to steer the conversation back to himself a little bit too quickly, a level of self-awareness not many Leos inherently carry.  “But, I guess, for a tutor, he’s cool.” He shrugs, “But I can tutor you better.” 

“And how will you tutor me better?” 

“I mean, for one, before you start learning to curse, you should probably start with putting sentences together, you know, like ‘I eat food’ and ‘I drink coffee’, that would get you somewhere.  Sshibal isn’t going to get you anywhere, it’s gonna get me in a fight with the random asshole you spout it to.” 

As you sit next to him, you notice how his features scrunch up in annoyance when he catches you staring. But you can't help it; you love looking at him. You love the way his hair falls in his face, the way his eyes crease when he smiles, and the way he's always there to protect you. 

"Ya. What are you staring at?!" he asks, and you grin. You know he thinks you're up to something, but you're not. Not this time, at least. You just enjoy looking at him, and it's making him uncomfortable. 

As he shifts in his seat, you notice the way his eyes dart around the train car, not wanting to meet your gaze. You know he's insecure, and it breaks your heart. You wish he could see himself the way you see him: kind, caring, and so, so attractive. 

"You're protective over me, huh?" you ask softly, trying to draw him out of his own head. You can see the way his jaw tenses as he considers his response. 

"Someone has to be," he finally says, and you feel a pang of sadness. You wish he could see that you want to be that someone. But for now, you'll settle for the way his eyes light up when he talks about protecting you. 

As you follow Changbin through the streets of Brooklyn, you feel a sense of excitement and adventure. This is a part of the city you hadn't explored before, and the anticipation is palpable. The sidewalk is lined with trees, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze, creating a soothing and calming atmosphere. 

Despite being a bustling metropolis, you were surprised to see how suburban the neighborhood felt. The quaint houses and manicured lawns reminded you of a small town, a stark contrast to the towering skyscrapers that dominated Manhattan. 

As you turn the corner, you see a small park nestled between two towering buildings. The brick walls loom above you, casting shadows that seem to dance in the flickering light. You're drawn to the wall that takes up an entire side of the building, covered in a stunning graffiti mural that's illuminated by spotlights installed in the ground. 

“This is by my other friend, Theo.” 

The colors and designs on the mural captivate your attention. Its a true masterpiece of graffiti art. The wall seems to come alive with every stroke of the spray can, blending shades of red, blue, and green together in a way that is almost magical. 

The mural is an intricate work of art, depicting a chaotic and beautiful scene. There are faces and figures interwoven with abstract designs. You wonder how many hours of work went into creating such a stunning piece. 

Changbin smiles as he notices your expression. “It's amazing, isn't it? Theo is one of the best graffiti artists in the city, and this is one of his best works." 

You nod. It's as if the wall has come alive, the colors and designs pulsing with a vibrant energy that you can feel in your bones.  You’re only interrupted by the cool bottle of soju that’s pressed against your arm, 

“Want some?” 

When have you ever said no to soju? 

“I had no idea something this beautiful existed right in the city like this.” You say, “Do that spinny thingy.” You twirl your finger and he laughs. 

You revel in the sound of Changbin's laughter, the corners of his lips lifting up to reveal his pearly whites. With a flick of his wrist, he spins the soju bottle, creating a miniature tornado inside that leaves you in awe, like a child seeing magic for the first time. 

"How cool," you gush, cracking the bottle open and taking a big gulp. The wooden bench in front of the colorful mural creaks as Changbin sits down beside you. "I needed this." 

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "You do? What's wrong?" 

You shrug, waving your hand dismissively. "Nothing's wrong. School is just kicking my ass. I don't know why I decided to go back so late. I feel too old." 

"I've never seen a young veterinarian," he teases, and you playfully punch him in the arm. 

"Ouch! You've been training with me so you're fucking strong. Be careful, sheesh." He rubs his arm, then takes another swig from the bottle. You punch him again, and he spills some soju onto his black shirt. 

"Oops, my bad." You giggle, knowing you've just started something. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as he wipes the droplets from his chin. Slowly, he nods as if plotting his next move, and you know you're in for it. 

"I swear I didn't mean to spill it," you plead between laughs as he sloshes the soju at you, splashing your hoodie. 

"I didn't mean to spill it," he mocks, grinning as he dodges your retaliatory strikes. He finishes the rest of the bottle himself, tossing it into the trash can with a clatter. "Hey, hey, now we're even, right?" He tries to pacify you, his hands on your shoulders, though it's clear that you're the one who started it all. 

"One more stop," he says. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Another one? What is this, you're gonna propose to me or somethin?" you tease, unzipping your hoodie and taking it off as you two leave the park together. 

"Don't say shit like that, because if I were, you just ruined the surprise," he responds, his voice low and smooth. He stops his pace to help you take the hoodie off your shoulders and you tie it around your waist. 

You nod, feeling a little flustered. He has a way of making you feel special, like you're the only person in the world that matters. You try not to get butterflies at the fact that he didn't just outright reject the idea in disgust. 

"Don't worry, the next one is near my place," he explains, his hand brushing against yours. You have no idea what that means in proximity to where you two are at now, but at this point, you'd follow Changbin anywhere. Your heart races a little at the thought. 

As you walk, you manage to get the weight of school lifted a little by ranting about it to him while he laughs at your stories of being sprayed in the face with dog anal glands and finds himself amazed at the fact that you performed your first cystocentesis. You're chattering so much that you don't even realize you're in front of another magnificent mural until you finally ask, 

"All these other people's murals are beautiful, but did you ever get a chance to revisit your own art like you had wanted to?" 

Changbin's brawny arms are casually crossed over his broad chest as he gazes up at the wall towering above you both, his intense eyes taking in every intricate detail. You slowly turn and look up to see a graffiti mural on the side of a white building. The mural is a work of art, bursting with colors and intricate details. At first glance, it looks like a chaotic blend of shapes and images, but as you take a closer look, you start to see the deliberate patterns and messages woven into the piece. 

The mural celebrates Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage, with bold calligraphic characters in vibrant hues that spell out powerful words and phrases. Symbols of cultural heritage are scattered throughout, including the colorful lanterns that light up Chinatown streets, the delicate cherry blossoms of Japan, and the intricate mandalas of Southeast Asia. 

In the center of the mural, a majestic dragon coils around the words "AAPI Pride", its scales shimmering in shades of gold and emerald green. The dragon's eyes glint with fierce determination, a reflection of the strength and resilience of the AAPI community. 

You��ve gotten the kind of chills that make the hair stand up on your arms. 

"Jesus Christ, Changbin, you fucking…. you…you did this?!" you stammer, rushing forward to get a closer look at the vibrant colors that adorn the brick wall. As you run your hand over the painted surface, your fingers glide over the hangeul characters that spell out his name. 

서창빈 

Seo Changbin. 

"They asked me to do it for Asian American Heritage Month," Changbin explains, his voice tinged with excitement. "I wasn't sure if I could, I had never done anything this huge before, but I wanted to try." 

You step back, taking in the breathtaking mural in its entirety. It is more magnificent than any artwork you have ever seen, and the fact that it was created by the handsome man standing next to you only adds to its allure. 

"I bet your parents are proud," you say, admiring every detail of the mural and wondering about the meaning behind each symbol. 

"I sent a picture to them, my mom freaked out, she loves it," Changbin replies. "She didn't know I was capable of something like this. Shit, I barely knew myself, but the last time we talked about stuff we had given up on, even though we loved it… I kept thinking about it, and then the Korean Women's Leadership Institute contacted me, and I thought, fuck it, no time like the present." 

As you gaze at him, your heart pounding in your chest, you act on the liquid courage left in your system and take the opportunity to kiss him. It's a quick, soft kiss, but it's enough to make his head spin. You both pull back, staring at each other with wide eyes. 

Changbin can hardly believe what just happened. You cover your mouth with a laugh, and he relaxes, smiling in relief before he leans in to kiss you again. The sensation of his soft lips on yours is like nothing you've ever experienced before. He doesn't move too fast, taking his time to savor the moment he's wanted since he first met you. 

"Yes, it's you," he whispers, pulling back to look at you, the knowing feeling settling in his core.  

"It's always been you." 

Your breath has been stolen directly from your lungs. You smirk and shake your head, echoing his words from earlier. 

"Fuck it, no time like the present."       ☾ – fin

[rheya28]

The Bluewind Inn ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

♥ Hi guys, Today I present to you the Bluewind Inn and Suites located in Brindleton Bay. This build was inspired by the sea, the sand, and the sky. The Bluewind Inn sits near Cavalier cove and is owned by retired Marine Biologists, Rio and Jane Clarence. 5 years ago, this beautiful seaside manor was transformed into a Inn to be enjoyed by both locals and tourist.

The Bluewind inn is a multifunctional lot as it could be set as a rental lot, a restaurant, a pool, or a spa.  

ATTENTION: This is a huge build and is very cc heavy, so beware. If you’ve downloaded my other builds, you should have majority of the cc’s I used…But there’s more cc on this than usual.

Please make sure to turn on bb.moveobjects on!

SPEED BUILD VIDEO

0:02 Intro

1:25 Speed Build

30:22 Photos

♥ Lot Details:

Lot Name: The Bluewind Inn

Lot size: 40x40

Location: Brindleton Bay [Cavalier Cove]

♥ MODS:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Note: I have all parts of all sets in this list, so I highly recommend you guys dl them since I frequently use them in all my builds!

[awingedllama] Boho Living, Blooming Rooms

[greenllamas] The woodwind collection

[Joyceisfox] Cruel Summer, Simple Live Collection, Summer Garden

[QICC] Sleek Hallway Set

[S-imagination] Notal Living Room, Rutland Kitchen

[Sooky88] Coastal Wallpaper, Leaning Framed Posters (4 frames), Seashore Framed Prints (panoramic)

[Aroundthesims4] All Plants and pots

[House of Harlix] Bafroom, Baysic, Harluxe, kichen

[Thecluttercat] Busy Bee, Mellow Moods

[Charlypancakes] The lighthouse collection, Dinna, Lavish, Maple&S Construction, Miscellanea, modish, Soak,

[FelixAndre] Chateau, Fayun, Colonial, Grove, Kyoto, Paris, Florence, Livin Rum, Orjanic, Shop the look

[Max20] Cozy Backyard Pack, Garden at home, Happily Ever After, Poolside lounge pack, Precioujs promises

[Thecowbuild] My home

[Harrie] Brutalist, Coastal, Country, Kwatei, Octave, Shop the look 2, Spoons

[Illogical Sims] Home office

[Kaiso] Rustico Living

[Kiwisim] Blocklhouse Dining, blockhouse study

[Leafmotif] Calliope Bathroom, Sunny Corner, Willow Porch set

[Littledica]Chic Bathroom, Rise & Grind, Delicious Kitchen, Delicato Lounge

[MadameRia] Back to basics, Mayaken Cozy Kitchen

[Mechtasims] Office Set

[Miiko] Harmony set

[Myshunosun] Garden Stories, Dawn Living, Midsummer eve, simmify

[Peacemaker] Alesund, Bowed, Caine Living, Adirondack Love, Creta, Futura, Hamptons, Hinterlands Dining, Kitayama

[Ars Botanica] Peonies Bouquet

[Pierism] Auntie Vera, Coldbrew, David apartment, Domain Du clos, Maison Meuliere, MCM, Oak house, The office, Winter Garden

[Littlecakes] Rustic Romance

[PLumbobteasociety] Cottage Garden

[Ravasheen] on cloud wine bottle, sit sip hooray bar cart

[Sforzinda] Clutter Ep12, GP06, Cabin Slats

[Simkoos] Tiny living Small tv, Tiny living small tv wall

[Simplistic] RH Area rugs II, Cotswolds Rug

[Sixam] Stylish Wood Nursery, Stylish wood Fancy Dining, Stylish wood Living room, Boho Bathroom, Hotel bedroom, small spaces pantry

[Sims4luxury] McGee&Co Callahan Rug, McGee&Co  Goldie Rug

[Simsnetwork] Clapboard brush siding set #1

[Sundays] Kediri “rug only”, Medewi “deco surfboard only”

[Syboubou] Fency, Fitness

[Taurus Design] Angela Bedroom, Elize Bedroom, Lilith Chilling Areas

[Tuds] IND, NCTR, Rope lounge, SHKR, Wave

TS4; Wimborne Siding by Tilly Tiger

♥ Tray file

♥ Origin ID: Applez

♥ Twitter: Rheya28__

♥ Tiktok: Rheya28__

♥ Tumblr: https://rheya28.tumblr.com/

[shewhoeatssand]

Kaneki is my scrimbly scrimblo and he has an apartment now!

His apartment has 3 rooms - the kitchen/living area, his bedroom, and the bathroom!

The bathroom has a shower attached to a bathtub! He loves to take cold baths there in the summer while eating cucumber salad or ice cream from the tub! It’s a very cramped space, but he kinda likes the cramped-ness.

The sink in there is also a pedestal sink with not a lot of space for extra stuff. It fits his soap and toothbrush only, but his toothbrush keeps falling into the sink in the morning

EVERYDAY HE COOKS HIMSELF AN EGG!!!!!! HE LIKES FRIED EGGS!!!!!!!! KANEKI has a fried egg in the morning on toast. Sometimes he is lazy and just makes instant ramen because frying an egg means washing a pan (4/7 days). He usually has some coffee with this or some grocery store chocolate milk if he has any

Kaneki goes to the fresh food market sometimes. On the days he goes he doesn’t tend to do much else

The living room has a nice soft rug that he lays on sometimes. He only has a 2-seat lounge, cheap coffee table and small TV. He usually only has it on for background noise since complete silence makes him lonely

Kaneki sits on the floor in random places to read

KANEKI HAS LITTLE SLEEPS AND HE SLEEPS IN HIS BED!!!!!!!!!!!! WITH THE BLANKETS! SOMETIMES A FAN! SOMETIMES THE HEATER IS TURNED UP! KANEKI VALUES HIS COZINESS UNLESS HE DOESNT!!!

Sometimes Kaneki cannot sleep in his bed. He’s had so many nightmares that he associates the place with being afraid, so he goes to sleep in the living room. He brings his blanket and curls up on the couch or just on his rug and tries to sleep there to avoid the scraping on the wall and terrible thoughts. This does not work all the time

His apartment has a little balcony that he likes to sit and look out from sometimes. On a good day, he goes there to eat breakfast. When it rains, he puts his plants out for a drink, and can enjoy a hot chocolate from inside while watching. He can dry his laundry there on a sunny day and it saves him paying and waiting for the dryer.

He has a very large monstera in his apartment that he found being given away for free, a money tree near the entrance and a lucky bamboo for his homework desk. He is very good at looking after his plants! The vibrant greens are good at cheering him up!

[egg-emperor]

How did casino eggman celebrate Dr.Eggman's birthday today?

Casino Egg loves getting to spend a day with modern Egg on his birthday! He likes how, of all the places in the universe the infamous modern Dr. Eggman could be, he's with him. He'd say that to flatter modern Eggman in itself, saying "aren't I lucky?" for it and it gets him giggling and saying "yes you are!"

He wants modern to stay with him in his mansion instead of him at modern's base, so he invites him over and he comes because he always likes to spend time at his impressive huge and beautiful place. He does so the night before because he has big plans and wants their celebration to last all day long.

Modern Egg wakes up to Casino Egg cuddling him from behind and kissing his cheek as he says good morning to the handsome birthday boy. It immediately puts a big smile on his face to be met with the sight and embrace of a very handsome man as a spitting image of him and be complimented sweetly.

There's a surprise for him that Casino Egg called for but has to wait a bit more for it to be ready, so they snuggle for a little longer during the wait. But his first surprise of the day actually comes when Casino Egg suddenly disappears under the covers and gives him something that I can't detail on main XD

That puts him a very good mood already but it's even further improved when he's surprised with a big breakfast in bed. Lots of strawberries added to the waffles and pancakes dessert for a Casino Egg touch. The food is delicious and high quality, expertly prepared by his very expensive and skilled chefs.

When they get to his lounge room he's presented with a bunch of gifts! Mostly consisting of clothing, jewelry, and money. The clothes were designed by Casino Egg as he's a skilled clothes designer with his own fashion lines. They're exclusive designed just for him and are high quality and very expensive to make.

Modern feels very special to be gifted with these unique designs and tries on one of the outfits, a black button up shirt and red jacket and pants that looks very smart on him and some golden jewelry with red gems to compliment it. It actually has him looking quite a lot like Casino Egg with his usual style!

When he comes out of the closest to show him how he looks, Casino Egg is in love with it and says they suit him really well and looks extra handsome in them but he's excited to get him out of them later on too hehe. But before then they're set to have a fun day out so everyone can see how great he looks!

They go out for a dinner, nothing that sets a super romantic mood because Casino Egg knows it isn't modern Egg's thing but it is a very expensive luxurious dining experience and modern always loves being spoiled with delicious food. He encourages him to order everything he wants as a special birthday feast.

Modern Egg is very satisfied with a pleasantly full tummy and Casino Egg enjoys seeing how happy he looks. When they get back they go into Casino Egg's cozy gaming area where he gets to cuddle with him on his giant bean bag with lots of pillows and blankets to get comfy and rest after his big meal.

They play the games he was gifted and Casino Egg doesn't know a lot about 3D ones so modern enjoys showing him how to play and he admires his passion for it. Modern finds it amusing when Casino Egg tries and struggles and he says he's very cheeky but he'll let him get away with it on his birthday XD

Casino Egg makes sure modern Egg is comfortable, pampered, and pleasured throughout the day in total luxury and he constantly feels totally blissed out. He makes it calm and relaxing for him when they're chilling but also exciting and makes sure he has fun when they're active, and of course they get intimate plenty too

He loves spoiling him with sweet treats like baked goods, expensive boxes of chocolate and candies and gifts and keeps asking if there's anything he'd like to buy and lets him order anything and everything he wants. It's just as thrilling for him to spoil him and spend tons on the special beautiful birthday boy.

A few hours later Casino Egg takes him modern out to one of his bars in the city in his pink limo because he says he wants to show off how beautiful his boyfriend is and for everyone to see how great he looks in his new outfit. They make quite the entrance and modern loves the attention when he's in the spotlight!

They sit in the special reserved cozy and quieter corner and Casino Egg encourages him to try a bunch of the best delicious drinks. It quickly has them feeling jolly and silly and they laugh and have a ton of fun. Casino Egg is very flirty and keeps making modern blush and giggle with his sweet compliments and charm.

Casino Egg wants to cuddle close and kiss lots but modern gets a bit flustered as he's actually the more submissive one in the relationship and it's a big secret so he prefers to let everyone think they're just friends that kiss a little sometimes. He's hesitant to let the public see how he makes him swoon.

When Casino Egg notices how modern hesitates he teases "no way, you're not getting shy, are you?" and modern also doesn't want people to think his ever confident ass can get like that too! So he quickly denies it and Casino Egg makes him prove it by letting them get a bit closer and more cuddly and affectionate.

But modern Egg is much less worried about it the drunker he gets and forgets where they are when lost in the moment. Little kisses on the cheek turns into making out with tongue in the corner but in view for anyone to look over but it feels too good for him to care anymore. They look like very close friends now hehe

Modern often feels very snuggly and more affectionate than usual after a few drinks and forgets to hide it in public because Casino Egg is so alluring he gets carried away. He hugs him tight and loves it when Casino Egg pushes his face down into his beautiful titties, he's so soft and warm and strawberry scented.

When it suddenly hits modern Egg and he realizes he's giving himself away to everyone there, he blushes hard and panics but Casino Egg puts his hand on his head to keep him there. He says there's no need to be embarrassed, anyone here would just be super jealous and wish they were in his position right now! XD

That does help a lot but he's a lot more confident in showing his affection when they get back to the mansion and hang out at Casino Egg's beautiful garden full of beautiful flowers and hedges and they're all alone together again. They hold hands as they walk together and talk and admire the scenery.

They're both a bit drunk wobbling as they walk and almost fall into the hedges or flower beds. Casino Egg says "hey it might be your bday but you're not flattening my flowers with your heavy ass" and modern says he can talk as he's almost doing the same and is heavier so he'd do more damage and they playfully bicker lol

They reach the center of the big glorious garden with the bench and water fountain and the sky is beautiful and starry and they admire it together but not as much as they admire each other. It sets the mood for them as their sweet kisses turn into deeper passionate ones and they start feeling each other up

When they get excited Casino Egg says they should take this inside to be more comfortable. When they get to his bedroom he reveals that he has a few more gifts for him and he opens them to find that they're very naughty and Casino Egg plans on them trying them out tonight. They're in for a very fun time! ;)

But unfortunately I can't get into the details of that on main hehe

Casino Egg makes sure he puts his best effort into making it a fun and exciting day for his beloved bf modern Eggman for the first birthday they spend alone together and it's certainly ends up being a very special memorable one 💜

[scrawlingwithstyle]

One Good Turn (4/?)

The story of how “you,” an apparently average person, join the Avengers.

A Marvel fanfiction based on my friend’s recurring dream.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1846

Tags: @arrow-guy @ifitistobeitisuptous (you didn't ask, but I thought I'd make sure you don't miss it)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Training with Natasha goes well for the first few sessions. Once you’re used to being sore, you make the mistake of trying your luck. Natasha has, in fact, been taking it easy on you the entire time. The moment your attitude goes from confident to cocky, she lays you out flat on your ass.

Your face burns red as she helps you up.

“Don’t get comfortable,” she says, “and don’t underestimate your opponent.”

Not long after that, Tony catches you on your way to the gym with the results from your DNA test.

“There’s nothing too unusual,” he says. “You might want to be careful about sweets, but otherwise you’re basically normal.”

You try not to be too disappointed. Having no hidden X-gene doesn’t stop Barton from being a badass. Besides, you’re making progress with Natasha. You could definitely still be useful.

Stark interrupts your thoughts. “Don’t worry; you’re in great shape. I doubt you’ll develop diabetes anytime soon.”

It takes you a second to realize he’s referring to other findings in your DNA test; just as you’re making that connection, he smirks to himself.

“I’m just joking. Actually there was something else we wanted to talk to you about.” He gestures with his chin behind you, toward the gym door. “When you’re done with Nat today, she’ll take you to the penthouse, and we’ll have a chat.”

You nod, not fully trusting your voice not to break. What could they want to discuss? It’s way too early for you to go on any kind of mission. You don’t feel even remotely prepared.

Or are they going to take back their offer? Tony is fairly unreadable, and he never did tell you if you passed his weird interview.

Nat comments on your demeanor toward the end of the latest session. “You can’t let your feelings affect how you fight. That could be the difference between life and death.”

~

She’s waiting for you when you exit the showers. Your heartbeat seems to climb into your throat, even though she gives you a smile before leading you away.

The elevator ride was quiet. You nervously shove your hands into your pockets as Natasha opens a door into a lounge area. Despite the flat being open, it’s cozy, and everyone appears to already be deep in a conversation around a coffee table.

Steve offers you a warm smile and a seat by him as everyone stops to look at you.

“Everyone, this is our latest recruit,” Tony says from across the table. He gestures around the table. “You’ve already met several of us. This is Thor and Sam.”

Sam smiles and nods, and Thor gives a wide grin. You can’t quite place Sam, but you don’t want to embarrass yourself or him over not recognizing him, so you only wave meekly and introduce yourself.

After spending so much time with Natasha, and kind of flirting with Steve, you didn’t really expect to be quite so starstruck again surrounded by so many of the Avengers.

“You’ll probably meet the others another time,” Tony says, waving a hand dismissively. “Sam just happened to be free tonight.”

You take the seat Steve offered you, and Stark continues.

“So,” he says, clapping his hands together and glancing around, “who wants to share the news?”

You look expectantly around the coffee table, and a hand claps you on the back, startling you. You turn to your other side, where Dr. Banner is sitting.

“Welcome to the Avengers,” he says, smiling.

You have to take a second to process—the words, then your emotions. “I—wow, thanks. I honestly wasn’t expecting that,” you say.

“Wait till you hear the other news,” Bruce says, looking past you.

You follow his gaze back to Tony.

“We have access to very powerful technology for a short period of time," he began. “This technology can be used to do many things, but what we're most interested in using it for is making the mundane... extraordinary.”

Everyone turns to look at you.

“What?” you ask after a moment, looking around the group. “…Is there something on my face?”

Tony sighs. “Were you even listening?”

“Yeah, it can change boring to awesome. What's this have to do with me?” you ask. “I'm just a normal—”

It finally clicks.

“Oh . . . You mean me?”

Bruce nods. “We're not taking this lightly. You acted very well under pressure, despite being ‘normal.’”

“And we're just giving you the option,” Steve added. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate. “Is this like a top-secret, government, experimental thing that’s gonna break me, or…?”

Tony rolls his eyes, and Natasha leans forward to answer. “No, it's better. It’s faster, and easier on the body.”

Dr. Banner chimes in. “Fortunately, no government on Earth will ever have access to this particular device.  I can’t imagine the havoc.”

Stark clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the other end of the table. “Do you want to get powers and join the Avengers or not?”

You nod. “Yeah, but… what's the catch?”

“We can literally program two specific powers into your DNA.” His annoyance is palpable. “The ‘catch’ is you'll be an Avenger and we'll need to be able to contact you with little to no notice.”

At the mention of two powers, you already have one in mind.

“I'll need some time to pick my powers,” you reply. “But sure, I'll do it.”

Tony glances at his watch and heads toward the door. “You've got twenty-two hours to decide. I'll be in my lab.”

After he leaves, the rest of the group breaks for the kitchen. Clint, who’s said nothing since you arrived, calls out, “Hey, newbie!” and tosses you a glass, which you deftly catch, to your own surprise. You now realize that training with Natasha is definitely paying off.

It’s not a full dinner, but someone has prepared a huge charcuterie that’s practically a buffet on the dining table. Drinks are set out on the island, but you’re more in the mood for soda.

You catch Bruce’s eye and point to the fridge. “Can I…?”

“Go for it,” he says, gesturing broadly with a grin. “Tony’s casa es su casa.”

You laugh as you place your unused glass on the counter. In the fridge, you find a stash of cola and crack open a can, shutting the door with your elbow.

You’re not really sure how to approach the group, but a question from Sam gives you an opening.

“How did they rope you in?” he asks.

You step toward the group, shrugging. “Dumb luck…” You consider your actions on the train with a half grin. “…Emphasis on the ‘dumb.’”

“They threw a knife,” Natasha butts in, smiling. “They missed, but it still helped.”

Sam shakes his head and chuckles. “Man, they let anyone in these days.”

“What’s that say about you, Feathers?” Clint jokes. “You just joined this year.”

It doesn’t take you long to connect the dots, now. You realize that Sam must be the Falcon.

“I have experience,” he shot back over his drink.

“They helped stop a subway hijacking as a civilian,” Bruce retorts, “with, what, a knife and some string?” He turns to you to verify.

“A few hoodie laces…” you answer meekly from behind your can of soda, “…from the kids.” You don’t let the silence hang too long. “To be fair, I only helped tie up the Hydra agents after Natasha knocked them out.”

“No, no, don’t sell yourself short,” Nat pipes up. “I mean, yes, that’s basically how it went down, but you’re still selling yourself short. Sam,” she turned her attention to him, “try to hit them.”

You gulp down too much soda at once, eyes pricking from the carbonation. “What?” You definitely don’t feel ready after yesterday’s fiasco and having your entire ass handed to you.

Sam chuckles again. “Not up for it? That’s fine.”

You look around the group; Steve seems confident in you, and Natasha gives a subtle nod. Well, if Black Widow thinks I can handle it…

You put your can down and move away from the furniture. “I can give it a shot,” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

Sam raises his eyebrows and puts down his food. “I’ll go easy on you,” he says as he approaches.

He throws a punch, which you dodge. He smirks, then goes for another. You duck out of the way again. “Hmm…” He pauses in thought before switching strategies and going for a kick.

You dodge, grab his leg, and sweep the other one out from under him, landing him flat on his back.

To your surprise, he laughs, and you get a few cheers—the loudest from Thor.

“Not bad,” Sam comments as you help him up.

“Thanks. I’ve only been training for a couple of weeks,” you say. “I’m gonna need a lot more practice.”

You retrieve your drink. You want to ask Thor if he’s really from another planet, but Clint speaks before you get the chance.

“So, do you have any powers in mind?” he asks.

“Just one right now,” you respond. “I’m kind of stumped on the second.”

“Oh?” He leans on the island and takes a sip of his drink. “What’s the first one?”

“Healing. Like, super-fast healing.” It’s been your favorite hypothetical pick almost as long as people have been asking you, “If you could pick a super power…”

Steve chimes in. “Oh, like Wolverine.”

“Well, I actually got the idea from Deadpool,” you shrug, “but same difference, right?”

The room freezes in stunned silence before Clint erupts into loud guffaws. "Oh, my God. Tony has to hear this. F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Tony!”

A holo screen appears over the island. You see Tony working on something, with one arm encased in his Iron Man armor.

“Have they decided on their powers already?” he asks.

Clint, still laughing, gestures to you and says, “Tell him what you told us.”

You can’t quite hold back your smile, and your mouth quirks up on one side. “I want a healing factor, like Deadpool.”

Stark stops what he’s doing and gives you a flat look. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Clint laughs louder, and Tony has to speak over him.

“And the other power?” he asks, sounding defeated.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you respond.

He sighs and ends the connection.

You have to ask. “Why is everyone having a weird reaction to my mention of Deadpool?”

Clint wipes a tear from his eye. “He’s been trying to join the Avengers for a while now. He drives Tony batshit whenever he stops in.”

“I’ve only ever seen him on the news,” you say with a grin. “Mostly from a distance. From what I’ve seen, he’s a riot.” A thought. “But if I ever saw him in real life, I’d get the hell out of dodge. His disregard for civilians is astronomical.”

Bruce speaks up. “Yeah, that’s why he’s not allowed to be an Avenger.”

“Fair point,” you say, taking a swig of your drink.