#i keep bouncing back and forth between the one million things i have to do (con and not con-related)

[seekingthestars]

she's beauty she's grace she's Miss Eevee Cosplay 3.0

[sgt-tombstone]

imagine task force 141 as a band. which instruments would everyone play?

I feel like a lot of people have thrown in their two cents on this so I won't have anything really groundbreaking to add, but I'll definitely add my thoughts!

Soap is the bass player and sometimes does backup vocals, but his main job is to get shirtless and rock out like it's nobody's business. He's the most animated on stage and loves the attention from the fans, especially when he gets a little (a lot) sexy with it. He's an attractive man and he knows it, and he's going to use it to his advantage.

Gaz is the lead singer. He's the heartthrob of the band, even though he refuses to believe it. He and Soap constantly bounce jokes and quips back and forth to each other between sets, and he loves engaging with the audience as much as he can. He used to love crowd surfing, too, but he got dropped one time and Price doesn't let him do it anymore.

Ghost is the drummer. He sits at the back of the stage, out of the spotlight, and keeps an eye on his team. He wears a skull mask and all black and the fans absolutely eat it up. There are a million and one theories about who he is, what his name is, what he looks like, etc, and the band refuses to confirm or deny any of them. No one has ever heard him say a word, but they know he can talk, because he occasionally pulls Soap or Gaz down to whisper something in their ear between songs. His wiki page is almost completely blank, and any fan theories that get submitted very quickly get taken down because Soap fact-checks the page religiously (which leads to fan uproar whenever someone adds a random fact that actually stays up, indicating that it's true).

Price is, of course, the band manager. He organizes everything; venues, contracts, tours, etc. He's fiercely protective of his boys and will absolutely go to bat for them over the smallest things. He's the type of manager who will add tiny details into their show contracts to make sure the venue staff actually read and pay attention to them (if there isn't a pack of Hobnobs for Ghost waiting for them backstage, they don't play the show, because it means that the venue didn't read their safety requests either). He has a bad habit of smoking cigars backstage, and he has just as many die hard fans as the main members of the band, despite never appearing on stage.

Laswell is their lawyer, and god help anyone who tries to fuck with them. She and Price work very closely to make sure that their boys are always protected, and she takes even less shit than Price does. She doesn't travel with them, and in fact isn't even based in the same country, but she's the only one Price trusts to get them out of any sticky legal situations, which she does flawlessly and without fail. Whenever they go on tour, they make sure to plan a stop in the city where she lives and they always dedicate the show to her.

[yallthemwitches]

Slipping Away

Snape didn't think his life could get much worse---until Lily was falling in love with James Potter right before his eyes. A compilation of 3 particular moments between 6th and 7th year..

(If anyone is curious, I imagine Sirius and Lily are dancing to Fool In the Rain by Led Zeppelin and James and Lily dance to Mambo Sun by T Rex)

Sixth Year

I.The Three Broomsticks was filled to the brim with people. All the Hogwarts houses were present as well as the locals. Even some goblins were seen carrying their own goblets of firewhisky while weaving around at knee height. Severus sat glowering at one of the tables that had been pushed back against the wall to make space for a dance floor. Around him, music burst with a frenetic energy and bodies buzzed to move with it.

He hadn’t wanted to come–the potions NEWTS were coming up and Avery had also given him an extra assignment to create a new curse that would be good enough to get him noticed by the death eaters who had been scouting through the Slytherin house. But he knew she would be here tonight. So he came. 

He wasn’t wrong. Just across the room she stood with a group of her girlfriends in a tight circle. Out of her uniform, she bobbed her hip to the beat making her black corduroy skirt bounce slightly. Marlene McKinnon said something with a smirk and Lily leaned her head back in a laugh. He watched as she compiled her hair on the top of her head in a loose ball and let it cascade down her back in waves. 

He had seen her do this a million times. The way her laugh burst forth. The habit she had to fool with her hair when she was either nervous or feeling a burst of emotion. She used to do those things when he used to talk to her. How could she have learned to do them for anyone else?

Mary McDonald came back from the bar levitating 3 drinks and Lily took hers from midair. Sipping idly, she swerved her body to take stock of the room. She turned about halfway before pausing for a beat and a smile curled up from behind her goblet. Snape jerked his head in the direction of her eyes to see Potter and his friends just across the other way sitting semi-circle at a table that already had a collection of empty goblets. Potter leaned on the back legs of his seat in mid-discussion with his little cult. Sirius let out a barking laugh at whatever was said and picked up one of the goblets to down it with a swift movement. At Lily’s gaze, James looked up, dropped back down into a proper sitting position, and leaned with crossed arms on the table. A small smile pulled at his mouth. 

“I’m imagining it,” Severus conceded. The moment couldn’t have been more than two seconds—there’s no way that with this much bustle and noise…Potter and Lily—his Lily—could be having some sort of moment. 

Lily rolled her eyes and swiveled her body back facing her friend group. The girls talked excitedly to each other and a new song started up. Lily made a little jump and took a long sip from her goblet before setting it on a nearby table. Snape was too far away to hear her words, but he could tell by the change in body language that she was excited by whatever new song was magically blasting into the room. She swayed her hips in time with the beat and with her hands hovering up by her shoulders, snapped along to each drum hit. Marlene snorted and shook her head at her friend. Watching her mouth he could just barely make out Marlene saying, “Merlin Lily, you and that muggle music.” 

Unphased by her friend’s teasing, Lily closed her eyes and mouthed the lyrics to herself. Giving a cheeky wave, she spinned on her heel and walked towards the middle of the dancefloor, still keeping time with her steps. He expected her to stop where others had begun dancing in the middle of the space, but she expertly weaved her way through the crowd and towards the boys sitting on the other side. 

Severus felt his throat dry up. He knew that they had seemed a little friendly these days. It hadn’t been lost on him that she and her friends had started sitting next to Potter and his crew during meals. And after lessons, James would sometimes bound up to keep in step with her, asking about the class. Merely a year before she would have been annoyed by having to talk to the likes of him, but now she let him— even emitting a laugh or two at something he said.  All the years they had spent lamenting about his giant ego and bullying behavior was being thrown out the window the second they stopped spending time together. Mulciber and Malfoy always said muggleborns were supposed to be slimy and disloyal, but she had always been different than that. She was better than the rest of her kind.

Lily stood with her back to him in front of the marauder’s table and continued to sway playfully to the music. Severus craned his neck as far as he could to be able to watch her face. At her approach, Potter sat up straighter and his hand jumped into his hair. Disgusting prick. 

He couldn’t make out her words but he saw the slightest bit of color bubble up on Potter’s face. If Severus hadn’t thought Potter was capable of any other emotion besides being an arrogant prick, he would have thought that he was embarrassed. Potter’s eyes widened a bit, and he spoke something back to her, once again pushing his hand through his hair. Lily slowed her swaying, clearly crestfallen, but quickly pushed past it to perk back up. Sirius turned to James and with a mischievous grin and said something before rising from the table. Lily’s face lit up and she grabbed Sirius’ hand as he followed her out into the middle of the dance floor. 

Snape felt his dinner bubbling up in his stomach. She’s going to dance with Black? He’s almost worse than Potter…

Snape’s only consolation was the look on James’ face. Wide-eyed and pale, James stared blankly at where Sirius and Lily had started dancing on the near-side of the hall. Pettigrew leaned over and started poking James in the face with a smirk and Lupin rolled his eyes and said something pointedly to him, who looked too stunned to hear it. 

Snape whipped his head back to Lily and Sirius. Lily had her arms loosely around his neck and Sirius had his arms wrapped around her. Despite being mid-dance, he could tell that Sirius was holding distance between them, very clearly wanting to establish them from the other dancers who pressed themselves to each other as tight as possible. 

“Potter has his little gang so whipped. He must have called dibs on Lily like she’s some kind of Quidditch prize.” Despite being revolted by the thought, Snape had to admit he was fine with watching Black be more reserved. 

Sirius and Lily swayed together. Despite being a muggle tune, Sirius was able to word all the lyrics along with her. They both continued to dance; belting out the song while the music drowned them out. After a moment, Sirius leaned into Lily’s ear and whispered something with a smirk. He was facing the table where he had left his friends, and his eyes twinkled in the direction of James who had gotten some of his color back but was now carrying an air of frustration and annoyance. Lily leaned her head back and laughed at whatever Sirius’ had said and turned her head to also stare in the direction of the table. Knowing they had his attention, they both simultaneously gave a sly wave and Potter pouted further. 

Lupin leaned over again, and said something curtly to James. James nodded a few times before pushing himself up off the table. He strode over onto the dancefloor and stood next to the two dancers who kept in-tune without hesitation. After some words were exchanged, Lily dropped her arms around Sirius’ neck and Sirius, feigning the air of a dignitary, offered one of Lily’s hands to James with a dramatic bow. Lily rolled her eyes but let James take over in Sirius’ stead.

It was too much for Severus. He already had to watch her dance with one arsehole, and now she was going to dance with the leader of arseholes. He jerked himself up from the table and trudged his way onto the dancefloor. 

By the time he made it to the couple, Lily had snaked her arms around James’ neck and he held her around the waist. They stood much closer than Sirius’ had allowed earlier, with their bodies pressed against one another, and James’ hands making tight contact with her lower back. Both of them had a smattering of blush on their faces and stared at each other with easy eyes. As Snape approached, he watched James lean in close to Lily’s ear and whisper something. In response she scrunched up her face in a playful grin. 

“Can I talk to you?” Severus felt extremely out of place surrounded by flushed and bobbing bodies. He made a quick erratic dodge to not run into another pair of dancers who were whooshing past. 

Neither Lily or James moved out of their embrace. If anything, he could see Lily’s hands tighten around Potter’s neck as she craned around to look at him. 

“No,” she said curtly. She turned back to face James who, despite clearly trying to be on his best behavior, side-eyed him and made a sardonic smirk. 

“Please,” he tried again. 

“Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my evening,” she retorted, and started to slowly spin herself and James away from where he was standing. Snape took another step forward and planted a hand squarely on her shoulder. 

“Lily—” But Lily whipped around, removing her hands from James, while James’ eyes narrowed dangerously as he kept one of his hands protectively around her waist. “How dare he stand there like she’s his.” Snape’s mind flooded with anger. 

“She said no, Snape,” James growled out. Around them, people started to stop their reveling to watch the scene unfold. Lily’s friends pushed forward to be closer and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Sirius and Lupin were both standing now with wands in hand. 

“Fine…Fine. Mudblood.” He spat it out at her and turned on his heel. James pulled out his wand, but Lily grabbed at his shoulder, clearly begging him not to react. Snape didn’t look back and stormed out of the front doors and into the rain.

Seventh Year

II. School had started merely weeks ago, but the whole student body was buzzing. When he first heard someone talking about it in the Slytherin common room, he almost vomited on the spot. 

“D’you here? Potter and Evans are together.”

“A head student romance? Bet that keeps their patrols interesting.”

“I heard they saw each other over the summer— Mary told me she even slept over at his—”

“We all knew that one day they were bound to snog, Potter has been after her for years and Evans couldn’t mask her sexual tension with anger forever…”

He didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it. But later at lunch there it was. 

They were together. Lily sat leaning into the crook of his arm that encircled her. His other hand rested plainly on her upper thigh and gently squeezed her exposed skin randomly as they both listened to Marlene who eyed them warily but continued with her conversation. 

For head boy and head girl, it was a disgusting display of affection. The Lily he knew would have never been ok with it—he already thought Dumbledore was going mad to let Potter get the head boy position, but now to have him condone this type of behavior?

James lowered his head to whisper something closely in her ear. From even such a distance he could see James’ nose nuzzle against her cheek and Lily let out a giggle. She reached up and playfully grabbed his chin and gave it a little teasing shake before he closed the distance between their lips. 

Sirius and Marlene broke into a mocking applause at their kiss and James swatted at his mate while Lily blushed deeply. Lily leaned into James’ ear and murmured something, and red sprung up around the bottom edges of his glasses. Lily stood and James followed suit, eliciting suggestive oooohhhs and kissing noises from their friends. James grabbed his and her bag and slung them over his shoulder before wrapping his free arm once again around her waist as they started for the door. 

As they walked, Lily spoke to James with an ease not unlike she used to reserve for him. How many times had he wanted to wrap his arms around her like Potter so freely did now? He felt dizzy as he watched James kiss her temple as they departed, with Lily’s face alight with happiness.

III. 

He had gone down to the potions classroom they used to use in the good days. It was the middle of the night, but he had no better option. He had been working on a new potion technique he couldn’t work on in class. He yearned to talk to Lily about it like they used to. Whenever he was stuck on a problem, she always had something wise to say, as though she was like the half he was missing to be a complete person. 

He hadn’t come down here at night often since him and Lily had stopped talking. He knew how special it was for her to have a safe space, and it was his gift to her to let her have it whenever she wanted to come to experiment at night. Sometimes he would sneak out and wait in the hall, just to listen to the cutting of her knife as she sang along to the music she conjured into the room while she worked. 

He had just finished packing his things when he heard footsteps and voices coming from down the hall. 

“Are you sure the Beatles aren’t wizards? Like has anyone point blank asked them?” said a familiar male voice. 

“I think if they were, we would know by now, don’t you think,” he could recognize her voice from a mile away. His heart sank.

Lily and James turned the corner and started walking towards the open classroom door. Severus clutched his potion kit to himself and cursed silently. Sure, he could hide somewhere in the room, but all it would take is one quick sweep and he would be found. 

He stood frozen within the door as he heard their footsteps approach. He closed his eyes and braced himself, but miraculously they had stopped. He heard the shifting of clothing and a soft groan from James. 

“I thought we were supposed to be watching that other corridor,” James whispered. His voice sounded deep and thick. 

“No, I think we can skip it,” Lily responded back. He had never heard her voice sound like that. It was low and melted into the air. He had never thought you could hear desire in someone’s voice, but there was no mistaking it. 

The two went silent save for the sound of bodies moving slowly and soft moans being teased out of the other. He heard a dampened thump and slithered himself up against the door to carefully peer out into the hall. 

James had Lily pinned against the wall. Their lips moving against each other like they were starving for each other. Lily ran her hands through his hair and curled her fingers into tight fists, eliciting a moan from James. He stood pressed between her legs so their bodies fit together as close as possible. One hand was clasped around her upper thigh and was toying with the idea of pulling her leg entirely up and around his waist for better leverage. The action of their bodies together pushed her skirt to dangerous heights, but she seemed too busy to notice. 

Severus felt like he could die at that very moment. He wanted to stop watching–needed to stop watching, but found that he could not. Lily was flushed, mouth hanging open in a perpetual moan as James lowered his head to her collar bone and attached his mouth like a suction. 

“I love you.” It was barely a whisper, but Severus heard it. By the way it came so easily from her lips he knew it wasn’t the first time she had said it either. 

It felt like his soul left his body. His eyes became unfocused and he felt the urge to sit on the floor. She loves him? Loves HIM? No curse could feel as bad as he felt now. Nothing that had ever come before it could compare.How could she be so blind? How could she fall so low?

James removed himself from her collar which was red from his mouth. He looked at her, beaming. “I love you too, Lils. Merlin. I love you so much.”

And their lips met again. James picked her up and she yelped playfully but obliged to wrapping her legs around his waist and using the wall for support. Severus couldn’t watch any longer. He slid to a crouching position and buried his head in his hands. 

After what seemed like ages, he heard some shifting and Lily’s feet touch back on the floor. 

“I think it’s safe to say our patrols are done.” He heard her say with a giggle. 

“So….my dorm?” Severus wanted to snort at how cocky it sounded, but Lily just laughed. 

“What? You’re going to tell all your mates to fuck off so we can cuddle?” She teased.

“Cuddling? Is that what we are calling it now?” He could just picture Potter’s stupid mouth turning up in a mischievous grin. 

He heard Lily laugh and give him a playful swat. 

“Sure, yeah—I’d like that.” She conceded. And their footsteps disappeared around the corner. 

Severus remained crouched despite their departure, unable to move. Is this what hell is like? Is this what I deserve? He thought about all the times Lily smiled at him; all the times they would laugh as they experimented with potions or talked carelessly by the river about everything and  nothing at all. 

She was gone.Taken. Stolen. Each lovely moment with her slipped away from his mind like being crumbled into dust. All that was left was anger. A deep, encompassing hatred. 

He would get her back. Even if that meant killing the person she loved. Even if that meant becoming her enemy to do so.

[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[tinytinyblogs]

Feeling a spark? Me too.

The feelings were mutual! They found out you like them too.

(Ot8 reaction, non-idol)

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray kids masterlist here

Han

Your laptop screen glowed against the darkening office backdrop, beckoning you with the siren song of unfinished work. But the gentle strum of Han's voice kept pulling your attention away, its melodic cadence a stark contrast to the urgent tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. "So, homebody or social butterfly?" he prodded, his smile twinkling beneath the office lights. You glanced up, catching his hopeful gaze for a fleeting moment before returning to the blinking cursor on your screen. "Both," you mumbled, hoping a curt answer would send him back to his own tasks. Han hummed, seemingly unfazed by your one-word response. "Ah, a versatile one, I see." His voice was a feather tickling your focus, making it impossible to concentrate on the tangled web of spreadsheets before you. Frustration tinged your fingertips as you pressed them harder against the keyboard, the clattering an attempt to drown out his persistent questions. "Fancy restaurant or cozy cafe?" he chimed in, completely undeterred. This time, you paused, unable to ignore him entirely. A sigh escaped your lips as you met his eyes, a playful challenge dancing within them. "Can you be more specific? What's this all about?" He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just answer the question, sunshine. No further details required." You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Fine. Cozy cafe, then. But seriously, Han, what are you up to?"

He leaned closer, pushing the laptop screen down slightly until you could only see his face filling the space before you. His grin spread into a full-blown Cheshire cat smile. "Very romantic or laugh-until-your-sides-hurt kind of date?" he whispered, his finger playfully shushing you. His question hung in the air, punctuated by the silent thud of your heart against your ribs. A date? Han, the office prankster, the source of endless puns and witty quips, was asking you on a date? You stared at him, a million thoughts swirling in your head. Both? you wanted to answer, a mirroring of his earlier response. Both romantic and hilarious, because that's what Han was: a bundle of contradictions, a walking enigma you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off. But instead, you simply replied, your voice barely a whisper, "Both." A warm hum rose from Han's throat, a counterpoint to the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the keyboard. He nodded, a thoughtful crease marring his forehead for a moment before dissolving into a satisfied smile. "Right, I could actually manage both," he muttered, almost to himself, yet loud enough for you to catch. Han looked up, his gaze bouncing between you and the glow of your laptop screen. "So, when are you done? When will you be ready?" You blinked, glancing back and forth, your mind scrambling to catch up. "Ready for what?" He chuckled, a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"For our date, of course! I’m finished with your personal preference survey. Turns out, your friend didn't know much about you or what you really liked, seeing as you haven't been on a date before. Well, neither have I, honestly. So, I figured I'd ask, make sure we get it right." His smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And hey, guess what? Your friend spilled the beans. She said you like me. Mutual feelings, right? So let's do this," he declared, his voice filled with an infectious enthusiasm. "Let's become the best couple this world has ever seen!" He puffed out his chest playfully, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You stared at him, incredulous. Your friend, the blabbermouth, had actually blurted out your secret crush? And here was Han, proposing a date as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Han shifted in his chair, the creak echoing the nervous drumbeat in his chest. He sat up straight, a slight tremor in his hands as he leaned closer. Looking straight into your eyes, he saw galaxies reflected back, swirling with a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was interest. "But um," he began, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He cleared his throat, the sound rasping against the charged silence. "If it's okay, if I could... maybe hold your hand?" His breath hitched, caught in the web of nerves. "Or give you a hug? You know," he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "a kiss maybe?"

Felix

The notification flashed on your phone, a simple question that sent your heart into a tap-dancing frenzy. 'Can I come to your place?' it read, from Felix, your sunshine-haired friend with a secret that mirrored your own. Now, here he was, standing awkwardly in your doorway, clutching a plate piled high with your absolute favorite cookies - his own handiwork, the aroma a sugary confession swirling in the air. The apartment had suddenly shrunk, the silence pressing in like a thick fog. You offered a mumbled thanks, accepting the cookies with shaking hands. You settled on the couch, the TV droning on like an unwanted guest. Your eyes wandered to the screen, but your mind was in a galaxy far, far away, populated only by butterflies and Felix's nervous smile. He, too, seemed adrift in a sea of unspoken words. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence with a hesitant, "Hey." His eyes flickered to the TV, then back to you, sparkling like stars under the city lights. "I heard something today," he mumbled, the sentence heavy with unsaid emotion. "And it made me so happy." He paused, the silence stretching like taffy between you. "What is it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the artificial laughter on the screen. He chewed on his lip, a battle raging behind his sunshine eyes. "Actually," he started, then stopped, restarting with a sigh, "I've been wrestling with myself, trying to figure out what to do. This feels so awkward, but…" He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Is it true, what they say? Do you… like me?"

The silence sat heavy between you, a thick fog obscuring the usual ease of your friendship. The words you couldn't speak, the feelings you kept under lock and key, threatened to shatter the perfect picture you'd painted of this relationship. You saw the flicker of doubt in Felix's eyes, the echo of your own fear reflected in his gaze. Then, like a whisper carried on the wind, his voice broke through the stillness. "I feel the same," he admitted, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you." The confession hung in the air, a tangible force that sent your heart into a desperate tap dance against your ribs. The forgotten TV, its flickering images mere background noise, became irrelevant. All that mattered was the pounding rhythm of your shared anticipation, the echo of a wish whispered into the universe. "I almost thought it was just a joke," he continued, a shy smile blooming on his lips, "a wishful dream that couldn't possibly be real." He reached for the TV remote, the click silencing the distracting chatter. No more hiding behind the screen, no more excuses to avoid the truth that shimmered between you. His eyes, pools of nervous hope, held your gaze captive. "Is it alright," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I take you on a date? A real one, where we can actually talk, where this isn't just a stolen moment between friends?"

He turned on his axis, facing you fully, a hesitant smile dancing on his lips. His eyes scanned your face, searching for a trace of doubt, a flicker of fear. Then, ever so gently, he reached out, his hand finding yours like a missing puzzle piece. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a warmth, both physical and emotional, surged through you. The burden of unspoken feelings, the weight of a secret kept hidden in the shadows, lifted with a sigh. In its place, a delicate flower bloomed within you, its petals unfolding with trepidation and joy. "It's okay, right?" he murmured, his voice soft as a melody. "If we… if we took this to another level, if we let this spark, this undeniable chemistry, ignite into something more?" His words sent shivers down your spine, and a whisper, as fragile as a butterfly's wing, escaped your lips, "It would be nice." The sentence trailed off, almost lost in the air, as if your voice wasn't yet daring to believe the truth it echoed. But you repeated it, a little firmer this time, your eyes locked on his, "It would be… nice to be more than just friends." The words, simple yet laden with unspoken promises, painted a smile across his face. It bloomed like a sunrise, chasing away the last vestiges of doubt and filling the room with the warm glow of possibilities. "Then you are mine now," he whispered, his thumb brushing a gentle caress against your skin. The possessiveness in his voice wasn't demanding, but rather a tender declaration, a promise to cherish this blossoming relationship.

Seungmin

The moment your eyes caught Seungmin across the room, your feet seemed to pirouette before your conscious mind could catch up. You whipped around, faster than a startled rabbit, unsure why you suddenly craved distance from your longtime crush. The untold feelings, simmering like a secret potion within you, rebelled against this abrupt retreat. "Avoiding me, I see," a familiar voice startled you from your musings. Seungmin, in a t-shirt clinging to his form like a second skin, stood behind you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I'm not!" you sputtered, turning back, desperate to mask your flustered heart with nonchalance. "Then why the Olympic-worthy pirouette every time our eyes meet, even when you're mid-conversation?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You practically warp speed away, leaving a trail of confused dust bunnies in your wake." A blush threatened to engulf your face as you stammered, "I'm not avoiding you, Seungmin." He only hummed in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Avoiding a crush, perhaps?" The smirk reached his eyes now, crinkling the corners with genuine good humor. Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like saucers. "What are you talking about?" you parried, hoping your feigned confusion would hold some water. Seungmin chuckled, a warm, melodious sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, leaning closer.

"Someone with a loose tongue spilled your little secret, the one you were so sure was under lock and key." The silence after Seungmin's revelation stretched until it threatened to snap, heavy with a thousand unspoken truths. He let his hand rest casually in his pocket, watching the way his words had sent your mind pirouetting like a ballerina on caffeine. You felt adrift, unmoored from the familiar shores of denial. "Then what do you want now?" your voice caught on a tremor, the question tumbling out more as a defense than a genuine inquiry. Was this some cruel joke, a play on your long-held affection? "Make fun of me?" The thought ignited a flicker of anger, a desperate attempt to regain control. Your head spun like a kaleidoscope, thoughts colliding in a dizzying chaos. You were a deer caught in the headlights of his unexpected confession, paralyzed by the sheer audacity of it all. "Not so sure, maybe take you on a date," he said, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the storm brewing within you. Your mouth gaped in disbelief. Did you mishear? Had the universe suddenly flipped upside down? "Right, you… what? You what?" Your voice, usually so measured, jumped an octave higher, betraying your shock. He met your stunned gaze with a serene smile, repeating the words you barely registered the first time around. "A date." The simplicity of the phrase held the weight of an avalanche, threatening to bury the meticulously constructed walls you'd built around your heart.

"Don't do that just because you pity me, Seungmin," you snapped, the hurt stinging in your throat. The thought of his affection being fueled by mere sympathy was unbearable. The vulnerability you'd so fiercely protected felt exposed, raw and aching. The air crackled with his soft rebuttal, "Pity?" Seungmin's voice dipped lower, like a caress against the turmoil raging within you. "Is it just me who's so unreadable, or have you become blind to the feelings swirling around you?" His eyes searched yours, a kaleidoscope of sincerity and a hint of playful challenge. With a slow, deliberate movement, he took a step closer, closer still. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the details of his face etched with an earnestness that sent your heart into overdrive. His angelic features, normally a source of amusement, now held a potent mix of cuteness and raw heat that left you breathless. The words spilled from his lips, each one a brushstroke painting a vibrant picture of his hidden affections. "I wouldn't be doing any of this," he confessed, his voice a low rumble resonating in your chest, "if I didn't have a monumental crush on you. My constant orbit around you, the unsolicited help, the sweetness reserved only for your ears - that's not who I am with anyone else, not by a long shot."

Jeongin

The insistent rhythm of knocking shattered the stillness of your 3 am slumber. Groaning, you stumbled towards the door, your vision blurry with sleep. There, bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the peephole, stood Jeongin. "Jeongin? What are you doing here at..." you squinted at your phone, "3 am?" He offered no immediate answer, his silence a heavy weight in the hallway. Then, in a swift move, he stepped past you, pushing the door closed and dragging you with him into the living room. The air crackled with a raw, uncharacteristic intensity. He flopped onto the sofa, his jacket landing in a crumpled heap beside him. You followed suit, still blinking sleep from your eyes and trying to decipher the storm brewing on his face. "I feel so disappointed," he finally uttered, the words sharp and heavy in the quiet room. His gaze, usually alight with playful mischief, was now clouded with a mix of hurt and frustration. "About what?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep and confusion. "About you," he spat, each word punctuated by a sigh. "About me. About us." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "Why did I have to hear it from someone else? That stupid gossip train, spreading rumors like wildfire..." He paused, his jaw clenched tightly. "To hear that we actually… love each other." His voice softened, laced with a vulnerability you’d rarely witnessed. "I always thought we had no secrets. We shared everything, right? So why this? Why did you keep this hidden, Y/N? What the hell are we doing?" The secret, once a delicate bud kept close to your heart, had finally bloomed into the open.

While you knew its petals would unfold eventually, you hadn't expected them to burst forth at 3 am, with Jeongin standing on your doorstep, his eyes a whirlwind of emotions. He stood before you, the moonlight tracing his silhouette against the doorway. "I like you, okay?" he blurted, his voice raw with a vulnerability you'd rarely seen. "So much more than you might even know." His confession, unexpected yet familiar, echoed back to you through the hushed hallway. You weren't surprised by the sentiment itself, but the sheer force of his delivery, the late-night timing, it all painted a picture of a storm brewing under his usual playful exterior. He continued, his voice taking on a self-deprecating tone, "I just wanted to have fun at the party, you know? But then your friend mentioned this crush you had, and wouldn't you know it, the 'lucky guy' turned out to be me. Can you believe it?" A wry smile flitted across your lips, the absurdity of the situation momentarily dispelling the tension. The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, each tick a tiny hammer tapping against the silence that hung heavy between you. "I really want to be your boyfriend," he pressed on, his voice dropping an octave. "Not just stuck in this 'best friend' zone anymore." He met your gaze, his eyes searching for some sign of reciprocation, some hidden echo of his own feelings. You remained silent, your heart an orchestra of indecision. The weight of his unspoken question, the years of shared laughter and secrets, it all settled on your shoulders like a tangible cloak. "But I didn't know," he admitted, a tremor in his voice.

"Didn't know if you could ever feel the same about a clutz like me. So I kept quiet, never dared to say it. Made you wait, maybe, for too long? Am I a jerk for that?" His question, laced with self-doubt and a hint of desperation, ripped through the veil of your silence. You weren't angry, not at him. This late-night confession, born from a mix of courage and uncertainty, deserved more than silence. It deserved honesty, a bridge built from whispered truths and shared vulnerabilities. His invitation hung in the air, a playful challenge disguised as a simple question. "Let's go on a date," he said, his voice laced with a teasing lilt. You hummed, your reply more of a gentle brushstroke against the canvas of the moment than a definitive answer. Glancing at the clock ticking away on the wall, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Right," you agreed, tracing the numbers with your finger, "a date sounds lovely. But maybe," you added, your voice dipping lower, "not at this ungodly hour." He closed the space between you, his warmth enveloping you like a familiar embrace. You inhaled the comforting scent of his cologne, a scent that now spoke of shared laughter and lingering kisses. "True," he conceded, burying his face in your hair. "Rest does sound tempting. But," his voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper, "how about a rain check for tomorrow? A real date, with sunlight and stolen glances across a café table?" He tightened his hug, the gesture an unspoken plea and a promise all at once. "And," he added, his breath tickling your ear, "I'm far too lazy to crawl home tonight. This couch, with you nestled beside me, is far too perfect to abandon."

©Tinytinyblogs

[genderqueerdykes]

on this hot summer's night, i just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has supported us over the past few months- things have been challenging, but it means the world to me that i was able to wait it out and make it safely into my unit. i had to email the apartment complex nearly every day for a while and i thought it would never come, i was starting to lose hope for a while. i genuinely thought they were on the verge of turning me away towards the end

spending months bouncing back and forth between place to place, dragging my things back and forth, not knowing how long i would have until the apartment complex finally got back to me was one of the roughest challenges of my life. i was fortunate to not have been on the street and i cannot claim that i know what that life is like. my heart goes out to you if you have had to endure that experience- just let it be known that you are stronger than anyone can ever possibly give you credit for and you should not have had to endure what you did

i know i had an 'easier' experience with homelessness than some folks have, and i'm grateful. i cannot stress enough how much i appreciate every single person who has reached out to help, whether it's kind words or mon etary, the amount of people who have reached out has blown me away all throughout this ordeal. even now as i'm stabilizing and trying to build up what is necessary to live all over again, i am constantly blown away by the kind words, messages and support from everyone.

i know many of us end up being total strangers at the end of the day, but thank you, for everything- whether you've shared or interacted with our posts, sent us aid or reached out with a message, i owe you more than i can ever possibly repay you. i'm not sure why i'm feeling so sentimental this evening, maybe because of how hot it is even well after sundown... but seriously, thank you all for your kindness and generosity

community means looking out for each other and you all have done that for me a million times over. i will do my due diligence to continue contributing back to the community in as many ways as i am able to. together, we keep each other strong. y'all are amazing

[unclewaynemunson]

@flowercrowngods got me thinking about the Munsons keeping an eye on Max when she moves to the trailer park and Wayne basically adopting her, and it wouldn’t leave my mind so this happened

Wayne had been sitting in the chair for so long that his butt felt like it was becoming one with the metal of the seat. He stood up again to pace back and forth, but it was still way too crowded so it only took him a couple of steps before he resigned himself back to his chair.

It had been hours, but the chaos in the hospital still hadn't decreased one bit and he continued to be surrounded by all kinds of people in various stages of distress: crying on each other's shoulders, quietly staring at their own hands, sleeping with one eye open in a corner... There were probably more gnawed off nails and bouncing legs in one space than Wayne had ever seen before in his life.

'Is this seat taken?'

He looked up to find a tall man towering over him, gesturing with a pale hand towards the empty chair right next to Wayne's. Wayne couldn't quite place where he had seen him before, but there was something vaguely familiar about him: big mustache, neatly combed dark hair, a sharp nose and a mole on his right cheek. The look in his brown eyes was uncommonly kind, making Wayne suspect that the man had no idea who he was talking to.

But he nodded and gestured for him to take the seat.

'Who are you here for?' the man asked.

And that was all the confirmation Wayne needed that this man indeed did not recognize him as the infamous serial killer's uncle.

'Some family members,' he answered vaguely.

'How are they doing?'

Wayne tried to suppress a frustrated sigh; not because of this random man who showed him nothing but genuine kindness, but because of the situation – because of the fact that he had been sitting in this waiting room for hours on end and still hadn't been able to see Eddie or Max, no clue how they were doing beyond the information that both of them had been badly injured in the earthquake that tore apart his home.

'I dunno,' he said. 'They won’t let me see them.'

The frown that appeared on the man's face made him feel like he should explain himself. 'One of 'em is in custody and the other's not officially family.'

'I'm sorry.' The man looked like that explanation had sparked about a million questions.

'What about you?' Wayne asked quickly in order to avoid having to answer any of them.

'I've been lucky; I'm not here on any personal business,' the man answered. 'But I'm a teacher at Hawkins Middle School so I’m here for my students. I just wanted to help in whatever way possible. I talked to a lot of them, just needed a quick break to get my own head right again. Some of them have suffered truly terrible losses today.'

And Wayne finally realized why this man had looked so familiar to him: he had crossed paths with him almost ten years ago, back when Eddie was still in middle school; when the teacher didn't have that frown line between his eyebrows yet and before his own hair had turned gray.

'You're the science teacher, aren't ya?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself properly,' the man answered while holding out his hand. 'Scott Clarke. Indeed the science teacher.'

Somewhat reluctant, Wayne shook his hand; it felt so soft against Wayne's own rough calloused palm that he felt an odd sense of embarrassment wash over him.

'Wayne Munson.'

And exactly as suspected, Mr. Clarke's face dropped at hearing that name.

'You're Eddie's uncle,' he stated flatly.

Wayne merely nodded.

'They have him in custody?'

'He didn't do it.' The words almost reflexively fell out of his mouth.

'I know.'

And, well, that was pretty much the last thing Wayne had expected Mr. Clarke to say to him.

'What?'

'I know,' he simply repeated. 'I remember him crying when he had to dissect a frog in one of my lessons. And if I recall correctly, he got in trouble multiple times for violating the school health codes by taking sick birds inside the building.'

Wayne couldn't help but chuckle at that memory; he could still clearly picture a much younger Eddie, with shorter hair and chubbier cheeks, giving him a teary-eyed rant about how mean the school nurse was for refusing to patch up the near-dead pigeon he had carried to her office in his bare hands.

'I'm really sorry, Mr. Munson, for how this town has been treating your nephew.'

It sounded a little bit too genuine and all of a sudden Wayne found it difficult to keep looking into those brown eyes that were gazing at him so intensely.

He released a breath of relief when the nurse he had spoken to earlier walked up to him at the exact right moment.

'Mr. Munson, we finally managed to get a hold of Mrs. Mayfield. She's been stuck by the road collapse on the other side of the center, but she confirmed that you're family so you can go see your niece now.'

The words “family” and “niece” had Wayne stunned for a moment. He never quite knew whether Max's mother was okay with him and Eddie basically forcing themselves into their lives, couldn't get a feeling about whether the meals he delivered at her doorstep made her grateful or uncomfortable, whether she thought the Munsons to be meddlesome or appreciated their help. This was more of a confirmation than anything that he had been doing the right thing: this woman trusted him to look after her injured daughter when she couldn't. They were family.

'Are you alright, Mr. Munson?' A gentle tap on his shoulder made him realize that Scott Clarke was still sitting right beside him; he looked up to meet an inquisitive brown-eyed gaze.

'Yeah, of course, I'm – 'm fine,' he stammered, shaking off the emotions that had caught him off-guard and hastily standing up. 'I um, I'll see ya around.'

'Wait.'

Wayne didn't know Scott Clarke very well, but he could swear there was something resembling nervousness in his tight smile.

'I know someone who works here. I could try and ask if they're willing to help you get permission to see Eddie?'

Wayne grimaced. 'I don't think that's gonna work. They think him responsible for triple homicide. I saw they got two armed guards stationed at his door.'

'Well, we can always try; nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?'

And Wayne realized that Scott Clarke had something that he himself had unlearned many years ago: optimism.

He nodded. 'Thank you, Mr. Clarke.'

'Please, call me Scott.'

'Alright. Thank you, Scott. I appreciate it.'

'It's the least I can do.'

And while Wayne walked through the sterile gray hospital hallways, torn between hope and dread for both Max and Eddie, that nervous smile kept lingering in his mind, nudging him to shake the dread and for once choose hope instead. He needed it now more than ever.

[etsuven]

rating: fluff cw: none includes: childe, kaeya summary: the month of love has just passed, but i still can't help but wonder what type of kisses fit these genshin men...

note: was this supposed to be a valentines day thing? maybe... but its out now! just a tadddd bit later than originally intended... this was ALSO originally supposed to include venti and kazuha as well as four others but i really need to force myself to post since its been over 30 days and get over this awful writers block please someone tell me HOWWWWW this is awful im so sorry ill try to do better in future posts

Childe: I Miss You Kiss

you're waiting for him at the docks of snezhnaya, your heart pounding in your chest as the sound of the ship horn reached your ears. bouncing on your toes, you rubbed your hands together, trying to preserve some kind of warmth in your already numb hands.

the ship is getting closer, and you can only feel yourself getting more and more worked up as time went on. why were you so excited? you were able to finally see your fiance after weeks of sending letters of love back and forth. it was a coincidence that the ship was coming back right on valentine's day, it wasn't something you were complaining about.

you watched in excitement as the ship docked, a bridge laying out in preparation for its occupants to walk out. and walk out they did, but one seemed to be a bit more eager than the others, his ginger hair standing out from the pale white you had quickly gotten used to.

before you knew it, you were enveloped in his arms, his signature scent reaching your nose and making you inhale sharply. he was finally home... a gloved hand found its way onto your cheek, and you were quickly pulled into a kiss that made you let out a silent sigh. it was a sweet kiss, something that told millions of words without actually saying anything at all.

how are you? how have you been? i've missed you.

though you couldn't say anything right now, you were more than willing to do so later- however many times it took for him to truly understand it. you were going to spend your whole lives together anyways, ten thousand more 'i miss you's' wouldn't be that hard of a thing to achieve.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Kaeya: Tension Kiss

you and kaeya had a strange relationship, something bridging on the gap between friends and lovers. the tension between the two of you wasn't normal, and you've always hoped that behind those teasing words- were actual feelings.

kaeya was a naturally charming man. a fan favorite amongst the citizens of mondstadt, he indulged in the attention, though he never seemed to take it further than a few sweet words. at least, that's how he was with everyone else.

he was different with you... light touches that made your heart flutter in your chest, teasing words that made you retaliate back with words of your own. you weren't the only one who noticed how the (in)famous cavalry captain acted around you. in fact, one of those people was his own brother.

having grew up with the man, diluc wasn't a stranger to changes in his brothers' behavior. under the guise of wanting to keep kaeya from coming from him once more in a drunken rant (that's the reason he used to explain why he was doing what he was doing. it was a lie.) diluc decided to subtly reveal to you how strange he thought kaeya was being.

"he seems to be different around you, but i can't seem to figure out why. perhaps you should ask him." those were the words he told you, and while you did feel that there was some sort of ulterior motive as to why he even mentioned that, you still decided to listen to his advice.

and that brings us to tonight. kaeya was walking you home after a long night at the bar, and his reason as to why he wanted to do this was, "you had a few drinks, it would be improper of me to let you walk home by yourself, no?"

you initiated small talk, the conversation flowing smoothly between the two of you. eventually you made it to your front door, a small sigh leaving your lips once you realized that your time together was almost done. but you still had one more thing to do.

the question left your lips slowly, almost as if you were scared that he would shut you down the second you spoke. perhaps you were scared. you asked if there was a reason as to why he seemed so different with you. kaeya's uncovered eye widened with every word, eventually settling on looking to the side as you finished speaking.

you gave him time to process your words, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as you closed your eyes. seconds later, you were startled by the feeling of a slightly cool hand on your cheek. peeking an eye open, you watched as kaeya leaned in, a slightly flustered look on his face as he glanced down at your lips.

oh. so that's why he was acting this way.

"may i?" he asked, a slight tremble in his voice. you nodded slowly, taking the initiative and leaning in to kiss him. his lips were soft, and it almost seemed like they were made to perfectly fit yours. you shivered a bit, both because of the cold and because you were a tad bit nervous. but still, you didn't dare pull away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[samuelerssonupdates]

March 6, 2024: Nick Seeler signs a 4-year $10.8 million contract extension with the Philadelphia Flyers. (📸)

After leaving the Chicago Blackhawks in January 2021, Nick Seeler took six months off of playing hockey. He was a poor fit in Chicago, which was looking towards a more youthful team, and after his contract was terminated, he returned to his home of Minnesota to relax and reset. In June, he returned to the show when then-Flyers GM Chuck Fletcher signed him to a one-year deal. In that first year with the Flyers, he bounced back and forth between the Flyers and the Phantoms, but earned a permanent spot on the team roster in the 2022-23 season, and when injuries plagued the roster, even moved up to the left wing of the Flyers' fourth line.

This year things have been different. A shot-blocking machine on the third D-pairing with Sean Walker (a member of the Colorado Avalanche as of earlier today), he's become an essential part of the team, and not just on the ice. His teammates on the Flyers have been complimenting his work ethic for years now, and it's widely known that he's a hugely important presence in the locker room.

"He sets an example with his work ethic, as one of the most serious teammates Cam York’s ever known. He willingly sacrifices his body and sticks up for teammates. But he’s a “teddy bear” off the ice, says York and a teacher to rookies and veterans alike." (x)

"One that comes to mind is Nick Seeler. He is absolutely beloved in the locker room, he is a team-first guy, and he’s playing the best year of his entire career. He’s playing over four minutes per game than what he had been prior in his career, he’s a +14, and he stands up for his teammates. I think if they were to move him at the deadline, and if they were still in contention, I think that would bother some players." (x)

Most importantly, Seeler loves living and playing in Philadelphia. He's openly said for years that the team feels like home and that he wants to play for them, even if it means waiting longer for the playoffs or sticking with a rebuilding team instead of going somewhere with real, current Cup aspirations. You have to wonder if the very reasonable $2.7 mil annual salary is in part due to his willingness to be flexible in order to stay here.

During the 2nd period of Flyers-Blues game on March 4th, Seeler took a shot to the ankle and couldn't stand on his skates; play moved to the Blues' side of the ice as he struggled to get up from his hands and knees. When the Flyers on the ice, now shorthanded in the offensive zone allowed the play to move back down to the defensive zone, Seeler lay flat in front of goaltender Samuel Ersson to continue to try and block pucks from getting to the net.

There's a reason we wanted to keep him. And clearly, he's willing to do a lot for it. We are so excited to have you for four more years, Nick, and can't wait to cheer you on for all of them.

Michael Reaves

[shadowsong26x]

Hey friendo! Asking you the weird writer questions : 1,5, and 23 ❤️❤️

All right, cool <3

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

Generally the default. Although I had one program where the default switched from Arial to Calibri at some point during a transition from an old laptop to a new one, so I would switch it back for the things I used that program for? Basically, if I'm starting out in a new program I'll use whatever the default is, but then I Don't Like Change, lol.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Hm. I don't know that I do, exactly? I'm trying to think if there's anything I would call a superstition. I guess like I said above, once I'm used to things being set up a certain way, I don't like change, maybe that would count? I remember at one point I wrote a solid chunk of a like 100k-word fic on these little notepads I stole from the supply cabinet at work. When I switched jobs, the supply cabinet didn't have notepads in the same size/shape/style and it became Significantly Harder to write things out longhand? (I did eventually adjust, lol, but it was a Process. And I don't do it nearly as often as I used to. ...it also helps that I work remotely...part of writing things out longhand was that it was Much subtler/easier to hide a bunch of scribbles on a notepad than an extra window on my computer...lol)

...yeah, so if that counts, that would be it? But I don't really have like...rituals, or needing to be in a specific space/have things set up a specific way. Sometimes I listen to music, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'll set like a 10-minute timer to get myself going, sometimes I don't bother. Other than some vague 'the stars are not in position for this tribute' stuff when I sit down to write and the words Will Not Come but there's no consistent way to fix that other than Deadline Panic. Soooooo yeah.

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Ahahaha, I should read what the next question is before I answer the last one lol. Wasn't that a thing for like tests in high school, too? "Read the whole thing before you start answering questions?"

...anyway.

Like I said, I don't have a super consistent place? The three most common would be probably my work desk, which is a long light-brown rectangle, probably two feet by six feet? I have a desk lamp (I usually don't bother with the overhead light), a little platform/lapdesk in the same wood that I usually put my work computer on, and a little bowl for candy, and a handful of soda bottles that need to go out with next week's recycling. If I'm writing there, my work computer gets shoved over to the left, right next to the lamp, so I can keep an eye on emails/etc./bounce back and forth between tasks. My personal computer goes on the right, and I pull up whichever writing program is the correct one for what I'm working on.

If I'm writing at home, it's one of two places. First is in my chair in the living room. Which is a chair and a half, and grey. I have an old Amazon shipping box I use as a lapdesk, so I'll have my laptop in my lap. Sometimes my roommate will be watching something on TV while I'm doing this, or I'll be checking in and out of conversations. Or sometimes we're just doing parallel play.

The second is--I have a loft bed, and underneath it I have several bookshelves and a very cheap twin bed. That's where I'm usually hanging out on tumblr/just chilling if I want to be in a Private Space. There's a pink blanket, a black husband chair/armchair pillow and then a regular pillow. I have a lapdesk I got for like $10 at Best Buy a million years ago and I shift position a lot.

Ask me a writing question!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood, language, brief nudity. Later chapters will be M Warnings: Nah fam Summary: Local vampire finds out she can't kill soft human (because they're soulmates, baby), human becomes insufferable bastard, oops they fuck later. Soulmate AU where if one person gets injured, their soulmate feels the same amount of pain and receives a scar in the relevant area.

1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

It’s not that you had expected to survive this- being locked in the dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, waiting for the day you’re picked to be someone’s meal. Oh no, you had given up on surviving long ago, it was just that… well, you had hoped that someone with a softer touch would do you in. But here you were, too exhausted to cry, hanging naked in front of none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her eyes were trailing you up and down, examining every inch of your skin, every flaw, every unique trait. It was like she was making a mental map of which parts of you would taste best. Goddamn, you wanted to spit in her face, or scream, or say something, anything that might make her feel even an ounce of what you had felt for weeks.

But you know that she’s already planning to kill you, and to make it painful. Why give her any more reason? Why dare her to find a worse way to end your life? There was no good answer, so you stayed still, just watched her move. Maybe if you looked bored enough she’d make it quick, just stab a knife in you and drink you up like a capri sun. Or, maybe, if you kept a straight face, she would admire your courage. Oh, how you longed for people to think of you kindly now, in your last moments, when dying clean and pretty was no longer an option.

Pulling a blade from some hidden sheathe, Cassandra approaches you with a wicked grin. There’s still blood on her lips from her last victim. Had they not sated her? Or had she been like this for some time? When she inevitably drank from you, how long would your blood remain on her lips? You weren’t sure that you wanted to know. In your mind, you picture her cleaning up as soon as she was done with you. It does not make you feel any better. Neither does the way she traces a finger across your chest, left to right, practicing for the incision to follow. She pauses to lick her lips, making direct eye contact as she does.

What happens next passes by so quickly that you don’t process any of it until the whole ordeal is over. The blade’s tip digs into your chest, just below your collarbone, before dragging along half the width of your torso. It hurts like hell, but you manage to keep your misery to yourself. But your pain is soon replaced with confusion; Cassandra screams, loud enough to echo throughout the basement, doubling over herself. In an instant her knife has clattered to the floor, forgotten. Instinct takes over your brain, the default programing kicking in, and you say something that fills you with instant regret.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a bit quiet, and raw, worn out from lack of hydration. But it is enough, evidently, for Cassandra to hear. She’s rising back up and glaring at you, one hand clutching her chest. Something in her expression tells you that she thinks you’re mocking her. While that wasn’t technically the case, there was a part of you that found joy in this, watching your captor get a taste of their own medicine. The question left in your mind was why she was in pain. “I’ll take that as a no,” you said, again left with regret at your choices.

Now her hand is swiping at your face, nails cutting you open. Once more she hisses in pain, now clutching her head, shaking a little as she does. When she meets your gaze, you see that she’s more confused than anything. More than that, you see the marks on her face, knowing instantly that they match your own. Oh hell no, you thought, grimacing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cassandra growled through clenched teeth. Bouncing back and forth on her heels, she seems tense, unsure of how to process what’s happening. You feel the same way, desperately wanting to pretend that this doesn’t mean you’re her soulmate. Maybe the universe had just messed up, crossing some wires, or decided to pull a prank on the two of you. Either way it was better than the alternative. Eager to think about something else, you start considering your options. The first that comes to mind is ridiculous. Stupid, really. But would it amuse you? Absolutely.

“Not gonna lie, I feel better about the idea of you killing me now. Feel free to make it painful, darlin’, I won’t mind,” you snarked, lips curling up into a smirk. Oh boy was it satisfying to watch Cassandra’s response. One of her hands raises to smack you, only for her to freeze before releasing a torrent of swears. Hurting you meant hurting herself. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little aching? Haven’t you ever imagined what it’s like to be on the other side of things? Under the blade yourself, blood soaking your skin, eyes too dry for even a single tear? Poor thing,” you purred, tone as teasing as it could get. Apparently it’s aggravating enough for Cassandra to fight through the pain, as she slams her fist into your stomach, leaving both of you gasping for breath. “This is fun-” you pause to cough out a few drops of blood- “really, really fun. Hey, if you kill me, how bad do you think you’ll feel?”

Before Cassandra can react, either to speak or hurt you worse, the sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention. From where you hang you can’t see much, too many cells and hanging bodies blocking your vision. But your “soulmate” seemed to know who was coming. Her face scrunches up a little, and she adjusts her robes, trying to cover the mark on her chest. Had you not still been coughing, you would have sarcastically asked her how she intended to hide her face.

“What the hell is going on, Cassandra?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The footsteps grew louder, and faster, until the new figure stood in the same cell as you. Not even bothering to spare you a glance, she approaches Cassandra, reaching to examine her face. “Did a prisoner manage to get you? I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, sis,” Cassandra snapped, pushing away her sister’s hand. Both of them are visibly tense, and for a moment they stand still, staring each other down. Then the sister (who you assume to be Bela, from things you’ve overheard recently) shifts her focus to you. Something tells you that she has no intentions of being gentle.

“Did you do this, you rotten little thing?” Bela questioned, glaring at you hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to have some more fun.

“Oh, of course I did! I rattled my chains real good, scared the shit out of her, made her fall on her own knife a few times. You know, like that one musical?” You must look insane as you speak, grin wide but face dripping with blood. If it unnerves Bela, she hides it well, though you doubt it does. As soon as you’re done poking fun she’s pulling out her sickle. Still grinning, you make eye contact with Cassandra, who realizes what’s happening a second too late. Then the two of you cry out in unison, as the blade carves into your shoulder. Instantly Bela pulls back, stunned, turning to her sister with genuine concern. “I might have lied. Rest assured though, it was for comedic purposes.”

The next thing you know the two sisters are shuffling away from you, Cassandra begrudgingly being dragged along by Bela. Though the younger of the two had been adamant about not receiving help, she now had little choice in the matter, skin searing from your blood bond. Even you are starting to breathe harder than you’d like.

“Was it something I said?” You barked, barely able to manage a fit of giggles between your coughing. Bela shoots you a glare over her shoulder, but quickly returns her attention to her sister. They talk, quickly, soft enough that you can only make out a few words here and there. It’s hard to make meaning from it, especially considering their vastly different tones. Cassandra is pure anger, gestures fast and wide, while Bela is oddly solemn, even regretful. When you finally catch a couple full sentences, things start to make a little more sense, though you wish they didn’t.

“We can kill them painlessly, in their sleep. That way you won’t have to suffer,” Bela whispered. She’s doing her best to comfort her sister, despite the tension in the room, gently patting her on the back. Briefly, you make eye contact with her. In that moment she looks equal parts executor and unwilling jury. But she looks away quickly, even shifting her angle to prevent it from happening again.

“No, fuck that, fuck this, I’m… I’m not killing them. Nobody is,” Cassandra growled, daring to emphasize her point by pushing Bela away. Now it’s her turn to look at you, brows furrowed, eyes betraying something more than just anger. Somehow it’s a million times worse than when she first came in. You strain yourself trying to look away, cursing the chains keeping you in place, resorting to closing your eyes and pretending none of this was real. “I don’t care what you think, Bela. They’re already my ‘meal’, might as well get what enjoyment out of this that I can.”

Again, footsteps echo through the basement. Tension locks your muscles in place, and your eyes are still clamped shut, to the point that you don’t realize your chains are being undone until you’ve hit the ground. Cursing under your breath, you finally open your eyes again. There’s blood on the floor, only some of it yours, and you’re suddenly aching for a bath. More than that, though, you’re praying for something to cover yourself with. Certainly Cassandra didn’t need to see everything, now that you weren’t a piece of meat for her to enjoy? As if reading your mind, the middle Dimitrescu daughter flings open a nearby cabinet, messily searching for something. Eventually she gives a hum of approval, then tosses a blanket in your direction.

“Put it on, dipshit, then follow me,” she snapped, already walking away. For a moment you’re tempted to stay there, sitting still, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice. But one look from Bela sends the thought back to whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of. So you’re moving, hastily, awkwardly wrapped in a somewhat itchy blanket. Other prisoners eye you as you pass, some shouting curses or even spitting at you. At first Cassandra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, but eventually the noise seems to irritate her. Turning back, she takes her sickle in hand and slams the handle into the bars of a cell. It’s loud, making you flinch, but gets everyone’s attention. “Next one to make a peep gets the blood eagle!”

“Is that, like, a sex thing?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. Laughter rings out around you from the few prisoners capable of it. Cassandra is seething again, looking about ready to kill you. Then she’s shifting into swarm mode, spreading out wide, insects barreling through half the occupied cells. A few cries escape the prisoners, as the flies take bites out of them, cutting a perfect balance between pain and (a lack of) lethality. They’d be suffering for days to come, every movement making their wounds ache. “Not a sex thing, got it,” you muttered to yourself, just as Cassandra reforms in front of you. This time she grabs the blanket you’re wrapped in, using it to tug you forward, sending you towards the exit.

“Shut up for five minutes and I might let you put on actual clothes,” she growled, keeping one hand on your back to guide you. The offer is the closest thing to kindness you’ve seen from her, and you have half a mind to do what she says. Would you actually manage to keep quiet for that long? Well, you were certainly looking forward to finding out...

[boytouya]

𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚!

words: 1.2k

warning: profanity

request: “HELLO! <3 how r u !! could I request a mean male reader bullying back bakugou yet flirting w/ him at the same time? arson boy would be so disturbed. 😭your requests say open but PLEASE ignore this if they’re not, for my own dodge of self-embarrassment, LMFAOOO Ɛ/>”

a/n: i’m doing alright, sweetheart! i hope you’ve been doing well. this has been sitting in my inbox since april i’m so sorry!!! i hope i could do this request justice. i’m considering making it longer.. i didn’t wanna make the reader an unlikeable kind of mean so i went with something more tame, that’s why it sounds more like friends going back and forth :)

“Get your filthy paws off me!” Katsuki snarls, the link gums of his mouth exposed as he bares his teeth. If there were one word to describe him, it’d be feral. Sharp canines, an angular jawline and rough scarlet eyes that had a never ending blaze behind them. They were a deep shade of red, almost appearing brown. He was frustratingly handsome, the kind of pretty that only boys could achieve, with unnecessarily long eyelashes and beauty marks. His hair goes in all sorts of directions, each strand somehow meeting perfectly to form the most endearing row of spikes you’ve ever seen. He pushes you aside with his wrist, as if touching you with his entire hand would infect him.

His explosions were just as bright as his mind, the thought pops up when he nearly casts an explosion straight into your face. It crackles on his fingertips, illuminating an orange glow against the curves of your face. It blends almost perfectly into the apples of your cheeks and beneath your irises. He curses himself for thinking about you in so much detail, but how could he not?

“Ahh, ‘get your filthy paws off me!’” You tack on a nasally voice, obviously over exaggerated to make the boy uncomfortable. It works, seeing as he grunts and tears his gaze away. You can smell something burning, the dense scent of charcoal filling the air. “Stop projecting, and pull up your pants. You look fuckin’ stupid.” The insult comes out with a bit more venom than intended, and it clearly gets under his skin. The comment festers, aggressively at that.

“Keep mentioning being stupid and I’ll beat you till you are!” His pupils dilate, just underneath the light shining through his eyelashes. His tongue, as pink as his lips, swipes under his teeth. It feels like he’s the only other person in the room, a dark vignette blocking you from the rest of your class. Just you and Katsuki. Just you, Katsuki, and the God awful smell of whatever was burning.

“Fuck!” Bakugou yells, patting down his lap. You have to shift to see over his desk, but there’s a burning hole through his baggy pants. The mossy green lacks any sort of smooth transition into charred black. It’s not exactly small, but you wouldn’t say it’s that noticeable either. Around half the size of Katsuki’s calloused palm. He’s usually careful, he never needs to look out for these things because he has one hundred percent perfect control over his quirk. Then there’s you, pushing him off his balance beam for the first time in forever. His feet had already grown unsteady to begin with, but something about your unreasonably handsome face made him stumble.

“Do you have All Might boxers? That’s…kinda cute.” The hole is nowhere near the top end of his thigh, but you like to tease him anyway. There’s heat dwindling on his cheeks, more so than his palm. He doesn’t blush though, instead stomps his heavy foot on yours in retaliation. It could be to distract you from whatever he’s feeling rise to his throat. It definitely distracts you from what you feel in yours.

You’re always the first to check him, pull him back in from his fits of- well, passion. To others, he seemed aggressive and angry, but really, he was just passionate about what he enjoyed. Beating others. His fire was always ignited, the flame sparking the second he developed his quirk, and it only ever grew brighter. You wanted to be his candle, to be able to melt under his flame and bounce back when his wick had burned itself through and through.

“It’s too early for your shit.” Bakugou’s cheek rests against his knuckles, his elbow digging into the edge of his desk. He stares straight ahead, afraid the air would be snatched from his lungs if he makes eye contact with you for any second longer. His cheek, though squished between his hand and excess baby fat, looks incredibly kissable. When he’s not straining his face he appears much more youthful. Of course he was only a teen, the both of you were, but the facial expressions he made reminded you of an old man. The thought of Katsuki hunched over with grey hair, yelling at children brings a smile to your face. He already went to bed early, had a tight ironed schedule and woke up early. Honestly, he was already on his way.

He makes no effort to fully turn his body, let alone actually look at you. Instead, Katsuki tilts his head to the side and stares at you through his peripherals. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but the flirting was actually kind of flattering. Hearing you go on with your day without saying something Denki would fist bump you for left him feeling unsettled, like there was a tsunami in his stomach. He actually kind of liked blowing up your face after you flirt with him.

“I can feel those Granny Smith’s staring straight into my soul,” He ignores the obscure comparison of his eyes to apples, but he’d definitely think about it later. Your backhanded compliments have him tapping his foot against the floor in irritation. The rhythm is somewhat memorising, Katsuki makes a mental note to try it out on his drums in his free time. Not that he’d ever say it was inspired by you. Not in a million years. “Really lets me know where home is, thanks ‘Suki.”

“Don’t call me that, prick!” There are fireworks exploding in his stomach. The fizzle out into sparklers, zapping against his insides and bringing overwhelming thoughts straight to his head. It was an unusual feeling, trapped inside his body and only expelling through bouncing legs. At first, the flirting made him want to punch you in your prince-charming esque face, but hearing the nickname made him feel something else. Warm and floaty inside. With fifty percent humor intended, you reach over the safety of your desk to grasp his hand. In the millisecond you get to hold it, you note it’s faint dampness. A drawback of his quirk, something you’d be sure to tease him about another time. He swats your hand with a loud ‘smack!’ that bounces off the walls of the room. He doesn’t pull away completely, instead brushing his knuckles against your own. His signature nose wrinkle returns, manufactured from the exact opposite of disgust. He hates the way his heart quickens, the way he feels challenged when you speak to him, the way he craves the feeling of your hand on his for just a second longer.

But oddly enough, he loved- no, liked? He wasn’t ready for love yet.- you with every fiber of his being. His knuckles brushing against yours felt like more fiction than it actually was, his heart did somersaults against his ribs when he saw you. Hearing you insult him had always taken him aback, it made a mischievous glint in his eye return just as quick as it vanished. Then you’d laugh, a divine chime that he couldn’t quite describe with words, and say something that stopped the blood flow in his body. You truly were something else, a supernova that only vermillion eyes could see. He was thankful for that. The two of you are rather young, with questioning, impressionable minds that’ll cling to each other for support. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @lustclubs @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shootingstars-and-burningsuns @sleepyslvt @rintarosaku

[wreckmetoji]

Is it true?

A fic in which your dangerous, rich fiance is always absent, so you take comfort in your good friend’s company

↳ Geto Suguru/Reader

content warning. drug use, adultery, unprotected sex, cheating, neglect, gun use, implied death, afab reader, smut, fluff, slight angst

**Minors DNI**

3k words

It takes a special kind of idiot to not see whats in front of his eyes, especially if that something radiates a gleaming light, an unparalleled brightness. Taking something for granted is one of man's greatest sin, this, Suguru is sure of. He watches from your side every time your fiancé leaves, kissing your cheeks and promising I won't be long, it's just a week. Normally, this wouldn't be something worthy of calling a sin, but it was the non-stop business trips that resulted in neglect towards you, the shining, beautiful star he had in his hands, all to himself. The thought made him sick. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. As much as he did neglect you, going off to wherever his next destination was, Satoru kept a watchful eye on you. It was selfish– disgusting, he'd argue, keeping your brilliance hidden away from all other eyes, all while not even taking the time to enjoy it himself. Suguru is lucky enough, however, to be considered a close and irreplaceable friend to both you and the guilty man in question. The three of you had an unimaginable, unbreakable bond many never got to experience in their lifetime. Well, one could consider it luck, or damning, depending on how you look at it. As Suguru laid on the floor with you, heads side by side but laying in different directions, he decided in this moment it was the former. You had taken up the bad habit of numbing the lonely hole in your heart with anything you could get your hands on. Drugs, drinking, smoking. Nothing ever worked for a long period of time, bouncing from one thing to another every month. Suguru was guilty of this particular high, only gently suggesting why don't we take mushrooms? Together. I'm sure it will be fun. The music playing from your very expensive television speakers wound in and out of both of your consciousness, fading out when you would peak, then back in when you came back down. Satoru seemed to think, for some reason, the expensive things he bought you would make up for his missing presence. Ridiculous, a sin in itself. "Sugu," You muttered, unsure of just how loud you were speaking. Even if he hadn't heard you, his watchful eyes had been trained on your face this entire time, watching you blink numbly at the ceiling. He smiled, responding with an inquisitive hum, sucking in a silent breath as he watched your lips part, then close, then part again, seemingly unsure of what you were going to say. "The feeling, it– it keeps going away, then coming back. It's like... like waves. Is that normal?" Your voice was raspy, mouth dry and brows furrowed in slight worry. Suguru simply smiled, a hand coming up to gently pet your hair. "It's normal, you're fine." He crooned, exhaling slowly as you closed your eyes and leaned into his hand. "I'm here, don't worry." Such a beautiful light, a radiant star in this dark, disgusting world. The smack of your lips could be heard over the music, only slightly. Suguru chuckled, sitting up and getting his bearings before standing. "Let's get you some water, little lamb." A name he didn't dare call you around Satoru. You never seemed to say anything, though. He offered his hand out, and you graciously clasped both of yours around it, having him pull you up with ease. If you thought he didn't notice the way you clung so close to him, gazing up at his fox-like features for just a bit too long, you were wrong. He padded over to the kitchen, your hands never leaving his, using him as an anchor through your unfamiliar high. He inwardly praised himself in self-satisfaction, knowing something like this would probably go so much differently had you'd been alone. Only temporarily removing his hand from yours, he reached for a glass, side-eyeing you when you settled on leaning into his arm, cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his worn, oversized black shirt. He tapped the glass against the water dispenser on the fridge, and once it filled, handed it to you. Watching you so graciously guzzle down the ice cold liquid, Suguru took notice of the water trickling down the sides of your mouth, curving to the shape of your lip, dribbling down your jaw, and gathering at your chin only to drip on the floor. He paid special attention to the way your tongue passed over your lips when you placed the glass down on the counter. Nimble fingers reached up, index finger hooking under your chin in a seemingly innocent way, wiping the water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb. The wide eyed stare you gave him from such a simple touch made him clench his jaw. How long had it been since Satoru touched you, loved you like you deserved? The silence that hung in the air, save the loud music playing from your living room, felt like hours, just staring. There was an unspoken need, both waiting for the word, any word, to confirm said need. You were the first to speak. "I think I need to sit down." That hadn't quite been what he was searching for, but Suguru smiled nonetheless, walking with you to the living room to sit back down on the floor in front of the couch. He did notice, however, that through your interaction you had at some point grabbed onto his hand again, still holding onto it tightly. He laced his fingers between yours, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you. Just from one look, he could tell that you were definitely worse off than him, but still not high enough to not have your own mind about what you were doing. His gentle, smooth voice calling your name got you to tilt your head up from his shoulder, faces inches from each other. "Why are you so devoted to Satoru?" It was a question he'd asked many times before, your answer the same every time. He noticed that the more he asked, the more your answers became questions themselves. "I... he loves me. He takes care of me, he makes sure I always have what I need." An answer he's heard a million times. "Ah, but he doesn't give you everything you need. He's never around to give you what you need the most." You fell silent, never breaking eye contact. He knew that deep down, you knew it to be true as well. "I love you." "I know you do, Sugu." "I could take care of you and give you what you need." Time and time again he'd said he loves you, and meant it, but you never seemed to grasp the idea of how deep his love went for you. Much more more platonic, it surpassed that long ago. When you didn't answer, his hand came up and cupped the side of your face. You didn't pull away. "Let me take care of you," Suguru whispered against your lips. He kissed you gently at first, testing the waters. It didn't take you long to return the favor, moving your lips against his. The action made him smile, pushing against you with a bit more fervor. He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, not caring if there were consequences. As you parted from him, only centimeters away, he scanned your face, the textures and ridges emanating a halo of yellow and white light. It must be the mushrooms. "He's probably watching," You muttered. Suguru only shook his head, pressing his lips onto yours again, whispering a quiet let him watch. He was well aware Satoru had cameras set up all around your house, after all he was one of the richest and most infamous men in the city and you were his property. He could trust no one completely with your safety, not even Suguru. There was a sense of urgency to how he grabbed, touched, and squeezed every part of you he could reach, settling his hands in the dip of your waist after you clambered onto his lap. Your hands moved up his chest, neck, the sides of his face, settling in his loosely tied up hair, while his own hands greedily gripped your back, pushing your chest into his. How hard he was kissing you, the endlessly wandering hands, the way your tongues danced and licked and pushed against each other, was making him dizzy. Or, more likely, it was his high starting to peak again. Suguru whispered your name against your lips, kisses moving down to your exposed neck, sighing against your skin when you stretched out to give him easier access. How many times over the years he saw the marks and hickeys Satoru left all over your perfect skin, he lost count. The satisfaction Suguru felt as he tongued your pulse point just under your jaw, not so gently sucking on it, was unparalleled. The airy moan dripping like honey from your mouth only added to his fire. His hands moved under your shirt, not missing a single stretch of skin as he stroked up your abdomen, palming at the flimsy lace fabric of your bralette. He could already feel your nipples hardening under it. Hands gripping your ribcage, using his thumbs to brush over your nipples, his own chest heaved in time with yours. He tore himself from your neck, grinning unabashedly at the bright red, blue, and purple marks left in his wake. He savored the way your jaw fell slack at his ministrations, now taking your nipples between his thumbs and index finger. "You're so beautiful, little lamb... so perfect." Involuntarily, his head flew back to rest against the cushion of your couch when you rocked yourself back and forth on his clothed cock, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. He'd waited so long to have you. When you repeated the action, his hands flew down to curve of your hips, gripping them tightly and forcing you down harder, faster. The feeling of your small fingers running up the back of his neck pulled him from his trance, opening his eyes just long enough to watch you dive in for another kiss. This one was messier, less calculated, and so desperate. He exhaled through his nose, leaving no room to breathe in anything but you, only you, his sole salvation, his shining beacon. "Suguru, I need you– I need to feel you." You breathlessly whined, gripping the hem of his shirt. You didn't have to ask him twice. In one, swift motion, he'd stripped himself of his shirt. In the split second his vision was blocked, you'd began taking your shirt and bralette off as well. Everything about you was magnificent, there was nothing more pure in this world, Suguru was sure of it. Lavishing your plump, kiss-bruised lips with his own became second nature, wanting nothing more than to devour every sound you had to offer him, lapping them up like they were a desert oasis. One hand went back to your hip, guiding you in a back-and-forth motion, while his other dove down the top of your shorts. A thin finger pushed against your clothed heat, feeling how soaked your panties were. They were sticking to every crevice. You threw your head back, a moan and a shudder following suit. Suguru sucked a breath through his teeth, eyes trained on how you bucked your hips, the way your movements shivered, faltered, and shook. "It's been so long since he's touched you, hm?" He mused, nose brushing up against your exposed clavicle. "It must be, if you're already so eager to cum." His words were smooth like velvet, but they had a bite hidden in them, a darkness he kept well hidden. Lithe fingers slipped past the hem of your underwear, tracing tight, soft circles around your neglected clit. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, so perfect, all for me, pretty little thing. The choked cry that came from your mouth, and the jagged stutter of your hips, let him know everything he needed. With a roll of his hips, he pushed his impossibly hard erection between the folds of your clothed cunt. Even with layers of clothes between you, he could feel the slick of your climax soaking through his pants. Only when your hands came to his chest, pushing against him, is when he slowed, then stopped his movements. His arms hooked behind your back, leaning you back to the floor. "Don't worry little lamb, there's more to come." Suguru purred, kissing just below your ear. Your eyes were blown, and when he glanced down he smirked at the wet patch on your shorts, chuckling at the matching mark of your arousal on his black joggers. "Naughty little thing, didn't take much did it?" You didn't answer, not right away, the words seemed trapped in your throat, stupefied by the way he curled his fingers around the band of your shorts and underwear. "I need you, so bad." A noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan passed his lips. He'd waited so, so long to hear those words come from your mouth. He refuses to admit it's something he thought about frequently when he was alone. "As you wish." Suguru pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs, his heartbeat pounding in time with the music long forgotten as he shimmied out of his pants and boxers, kicking them away. He wanted to take his time with you, savor you, taste you to completion, but with how hard he was and how desparate you looked, that would have to wait for another time. His cock bobbed obscenely, twitching when your eyes remained trained on it. For reasons to remain unspecified, Suguru knew for a fact he had the same length as Satoru, but he was girthier, heavier. That must be why your mouth watered. A gentle hand came to the side of your face, urging you to look up at his eyes as he lowered himself, bare chest brushing up against your exposed breasts. "I'll take care of you, sweet lamb." He kissed you, using one hand to guide himself inside you, pushing the first, second, third inch in. Inevitably, he had to part from your mouth, a shuddered moan leaving his lips when you squeezed and pulsed around him. Your soft noises melted together with his when he pushed the rest of himself inside you, bottoming out. Carefully, his hand came up behind your head to cradle it softly, his other hand moving to your hip as he rocked into you, deeply, slowly. Every curve of his hips, every deep calculated thrust, had you keening. You were putty in his hands, he thought, as your legs wrapped around his waist. The way you chanted his name like a prayer, as if how he angled his hips and fucked you so gently was your own personal gospel, had him moaning your name breathlessly back. When your hips started meeting in time with his, he moved faster, harder, tucking your head in the crook of his neck with his gentle hold. "You feel– ah, so good, darling," Suguru breathed into your hair, kissing your temple. You didn't get a chance to say anything back, not when a particularly hard thrust knocked the wind out of you, a strangled cry ripped from your throat, now clawing at his back. He continued that pace, that strength, your cries and moans growing in volume and octave, now much louder than the music filling the room. Once again capturing your lips with his, he swallowed the desparate cries of please, Sugu, I'm gonna cum, greedily lapping your tongue with his. He couldn't help but swallow your noises, a long, needy moan dripping from his mouth into yours as you clamped down on his throbbing cock. The way you pulsed had him twitching, hips stuttering against yours as he came inside of you, white hot strings of seed painting the inside of your sensitive cunt. A few more thrusts had you whining, much too overstimulated. Just a bit more, darling, you feel so wonderful he cooed, his brows knitting when his hips finally stilled. There the two of you laid, Suguru's arms shaking as he struggled to keep himself above you. The way you looked into his eyes so lovingly was worth the strain, the way you reached up and gently stroked his cheek, the way you whispered. "Is it true? Did you mean it?" Suguru hummed inquisitively, the back of his hand stroking your sweaty temple. "That you love me, and you'd take care of me. Is it true?" He grinned, chuckling tiredly as you scanned his face for any hesitancy, any sign of inward betrayal. There was none. "Of course it's true, my beautiful shining star." Both of you had lost track of time, how long you laid on the living room floor holding each other was unknown. Suguru had, in that time, easily convinced you to pack your bags and run away with him. He promised you no more lonely nights, no more neglect, no more empty promises and shallow love. All you would know is happiness with him, he promised. He looked back at you, fingers holding the handle of your front door as he looked back at you and the suitcase you had in hand. He couldn't help but smile, and you mirrored his elated expression. When he opened the door, he noticed your expression drop, eyes wide with concern. Confused, Suguru turned his head, gaze met with the barrel of a handgun pointed directly between his eyes. Cerulean blue eyes bore into you, then into Suguru, finger steady over the trigger. There was no time to think, no time to move out of the way. Suguru looked back at you, meeting your panicked, teary eyes. He smiled sadly, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was only a gunshot, a scream, and then silence.

[windblooms]

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house.  spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader.  enemies to lovers  soft spot syndrome.  sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury.  also childe briefly in foul legacy armor.  canon-divergence.  2669 words (nice).  

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.  

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear.  while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either.  it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating. 

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to?  because you ran.  you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question.  it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city.  the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again.  initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive.  hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder.  however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism. 

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt.  make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set.  it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.  

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done.  it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose.  you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer.  outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual.  it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease.  the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark.  no lanterns, no lights.  you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold.  not typical of them at all. 

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag.  if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic.  you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver.  packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising.  at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future.  for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right.  now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng.  no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away.  a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is.  you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being.  turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options.  you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied.  you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition.  regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves. 

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng.  it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide.  cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other.  you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess.  you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble.  they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms.  their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty.  you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath.  his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave. 

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands.  you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back.  the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.  

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute.  he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him.  if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy.  no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves.  summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces.  except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees.  looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about.  his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt. 

you melt, and realize you should run away.  you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health.  you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either.  you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death.  “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness.  “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch.  is he trying to speak?  no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?”  you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound.  the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it.  the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face.  you already know what you’re going to say.  even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head.  “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze.  he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side.  when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say.  “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater.  his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding.  “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh.  he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why.  underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous?  you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity.  the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear.  blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time.  you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you.  you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom.  “do not touch me, fatui.  i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant.  if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach.  you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth.  he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut.  “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this.  you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words.  your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp.  archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command.  the man repeats himself, before continuing,  “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten.  you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you.  he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.  

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more.  you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight.  you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him.  as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.  

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso.  a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people.  he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files. 

[bugsyfics]

Two Can Be Better Than One

Fuegoleon Vermillion x Reader x Nozel Silva

Fandom: BC

Summary: Y/N misses her boyfriend Fuegoleon and is aroused by the thought of him. When he arrives she’s shocked that he brought a guest by unexpectedly. The guest isn’t leaving and Fuego doesn’t mind sharing.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, masturbation, thigh riding, partner sharing, face sitting, slight hair pulling

Word Count: 1.9k

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

You sat next to the fireplace listening to the crackling logs, wondering what Fuego could be up to. You assumed he was probably in his office filling out reports as usual. You wanted nothing more than to see him and your longing for him grew stronger.

You got up and sighed and made your way to your bed thinking of ways to take your mind off of missing him.

After you rid your clothes an idea slipped your mind. You swirled your fingers in your mouth, wetting them and teased your hard nipples. You buried your head into Fuego’s pillow, taking in his spiced scent and rutted yourself into the bed, causing you to whine.

“Mmff—” you groaned as you imagined Fuegoleon’s hands instead of yours touching all over your naked body.

You were a whining mess, lost in the pleasure you were giving yourself. In fact, you were so lost in the moment you didn’t hear faint talking outside your room —or even the bedroom door opening.

“Y/N!” Fuegoleon exclaimed, as he was surprised by the lewdness you were outwardly displaying.

You turned your head quickly but then smirked at your boyfriend, “Fuego, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop thinking about your hands on m— OH MY GOD!”

Right behind Fuegoleon stood the captain of the Silver Eagles, Nozel Silva. Embarrassment was still too far from the word you needed to describe how you felt at that moment. Blush crept up your cheeks and you quickly scrambled to cover yourself.

“I-I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware you were having a guest over,” your face was burning at this point.

Nozel must’ve heard you moaning and saw you literally grinding yourself into you and Fuego’s shared bed. His face said it all, his eyes were wide, cheeks were flushed and all he could do was stare. On the other hand, your boyfriend squinted his eyes and licked his lips clearly enjoying what he saw. But, this obviously was not the right time for that.

“U-um,” Nozel cleared his throat, ”I could always come back tomorrow when you two aren’t busy.”

“No… stay right there…” Fuego spoke as he walked to you and suddenly tore the covers off of your bare body.

“Wha-! What are you doing?!” you squealed.

Fuegoleon diverted his eyes from yours and pointed, “Nozel, sit down.”

Nozel looked to the door but then quickly did what he was told and sat down in the chair beside the fireplace.

“Tell me... what should I do with Y/N, Nozel?” Fuegoleon spoke never looking away from you.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I should lea—”

“You're trying to make me believe you never once thought impurely of Y/N, especially after seeing what she just did,” Fuego chuckled, “What naughty things have you thought of doing to her, Nozel?”

“Tearing off her clothes and relentlessly pounding into her dripping pussy? Pulling her hair back and making her scream your name? Hm?” Fuego hummed and cocked his eyebrow.

“S-sometimes I stare at her and wonder how she would look underneath her tight clothes…” Nozel spoke low, his gaze burning through you.

“Ah, see it wasn’t that difficult,” Fuego smirked and brushed your hair away from your face.

It was humiliating, not only for your boyfriend to uncover you but also ask his friend vulgar questions about you. You looked away from him, upset that he would do something so inappropriate.

“Do you think about those scenarios often… involving my girlfriend?” Fuego questioned Nozel.

“Yes... quite often,” Nozel responded but fully diverted his attention to you.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll let you have her however you want,” Fuego chuckled, “but first she needs to be punished properly.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Fuegoleon pressed his hand against your mouth. He leaned down and his breath fanned your ear.

“I know you want this, Y/N. I bet your dripping, thinking about me giving permission to Nozel to do whatever he wants with this pretty body of yours. I will let him take you however he wants —I’ll make sure he pulls out of course. Do me a favor and be a good girl for me and things will go smoothly.”

He sat down on the bed and patted his thigh, “sit.”

You sat down feeling the fabric of his pants brush against your tingling pussy and you shivered. He grabbed your hips, rocking you back and forth across his thigh.

“Move. Keep going.”

The friction of Fuego’s pants on your sensitive clit started to make you shudder. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself up to kiss him. He roughly pushed you back down and dragged you against himself at a faster pace.

“You put on a show for everyone but now you want to quit? No, it doesn’t work like that… Let go. On my thigh just like that, keep going.”

“Mmffuckk. P-pleasee,” you cried out.

Fuego made you ride past your limit, basically moving you roughly on his thigh until you saw stars. Your pussy lips were swollen and throbbing from the constant friction and every touch made you moan.

“Did you learn your lesson, Y/N?”

“Yes, Fuegoleon,” you croaked into his chest.

He brushed back the hair that clung to your face and kissed your forehead. Your lust filled eyes found Nozel’s and your heart started pounding in your chest again. Nozel stood from the chair and stopped behind you.

“You taught her well, Fuegoleon. Do you think she can handle me?” Nozel questioned.

“She can handle whatever I make her handle. Though, you sound cocky for someone who hasn’t even touched her yet,” Fuegoleon commented.

Suddenly Nozel grabbed a hold of your hair and yanked your head back enough for him to make eye contact and you whimpered.

“She’s whining already. It doesn’t seem like she can take much but I'm still willing to try,” he looked down at you observing your expression.

Your head was spinning and a part of you was still trying to figure how all of these events occurred in such little time. Not in a million years did you think you would find yourself between your boyfriend and his hot… friend? Rival? At this point it didn’t even matter you were just immensely turned on from the force being used on you.

“I can do whatever I want?” Nozel asked Fuegoleon.

“As long as you don’t hurt her or release in her… do as you please,” Fuego shrugged.

Your boyfriend gave your nipples a couple of playful tugs and lifted you off of his leg. He pulled you into him and kissed up your neck sucking lightly.

“Do what Nozel tells you,” he instructed and pulled away.

You turned to Nozel and he stared at you for a few moments before saying, “Y/N, show me how wet you are.”

You were unsure what he wanted you to do so you rubbed two fingers through your slick folds and showed him your wetness. He grabbed your hand roughly and sucked on your wet digits, licking off every last drop of your arousal.

He snaked his hand around your throat, “You taste wonderful, Y/N. Sit on my face so I can make you come and clean it up with my tongue.”

You looked over at Fuegoleon who stood against the wall and he nodded. Nozel removed his sandals and laid back against the headboard. You hesitantly climbed over him, uncertain about this new experience.

“Whenever I make you feel good, moan for me.”

His tongue circled your clit, sucking and nibbling around the sensitive skin and worked his way to your entrance. He poked his tongue inside you, swirling it around and collecting your arousal.

“Aaah, mmm,” you moaned and pulled on his hair.

You watched as your wetness coated Nozel’s face and you began to slightly bounce on his tongue as he entered your slick walls repeatedly.

“Mmmff… I’m coming!”

He took one last slurp and tapped your leg for you to get up. He pulled his hard member out of his pants and rubbed himself lightly, “lie down.”

You laid on the duvet staring up at Nozel. His face remained stern but his pupils were blown. Only lust filled his eyes.

He pressed at your entrance and you thought he would let you adjust but instead he pounded into you. You moaned incoherently letting out strangled whines and whimpers. Your eyes found Fuego’s and you looked down to find him stroking his cock to the rhythm of your hips bucking. It was all too much. Nozel cursing into your neck and thrusting roughly and Fuego getting off to you getting fucked took you over the edge.

Your eyes rolled back as ecstasy crashed into you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth hung open and you couldn't even make a sound from the intense pleasure. You arched your back unable to roll your hips anymore and collapsed onto the bed. In unison you heard Fuegoleon and Nozel groan and you slowly came down from your high.

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

A/N: Halfway through writing this I realized that 1. I’m dick deprived 2. This is soo hot and I need these two men to take me... Ahem! I hope you found it as exciting as I did. Remember requests are open!

— bugs

[icefire149]

Fluff prompts. 51 + destiel :)

Heyyyy there <3 I'm so sorry how long this took to write. Between my own life throwing hurdles, THIS FIC.....this fic just kept throwing me in the trunk and taking control of the car. I'm so sorry it sprung a million miles away from fluff immediately. I don't know why when I mediated on the prompt my mind went this way and didn't stop. I hope you still enjoy what ended up happening anyways <333

#51 “I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

Dean’s heart stopped the moment they fell through the portal rift. His body hit the bunker floor with a loud thump, but so did Castiel’s. It wasn’t until a moment later when Cas wiggled to sit up, slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor as he gasped for air, that Sam felt his stomach drop.

“Dean?” Sam shouted, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. He shook Dean’s shoulder with increasing roughness.

With wide eyes, Cas pushed forward searching Dean’s face for any sign of life. “He was…..Sam, he was just-”

“He’s not breathing.” Sam muttered in shock before surging forward to start pressing on his brother’s chest. “What did he do, Cas! A deal?”

“No!” His whole body started trembling. What he wanted was to lay his hands on Dean’s head and wake him up, but there was nothing he could do now. His fingers lightly grazed across the bandage Dean quickly taped on his neck. There wasn’t an ounce of grace left.

Squeezing his hands into fists, Cas glanced around the room. Besides the three of them and the bowl the brothers must have used for the spell, the room was bare. “Where’s Jack?”

Sam kept his eyes glued to his brother’s face. His jaw tightened. “A lot’s happened since you died. Jack’s God now so he left.”

“He’s what?” Furious, Cas pushed Sam’s hands aside and took over compressions. He slammed a single fist into Dean’s chest, rocking the man’s whole body from the impact. Still, Dean didn’t wake.

Cas leaned close, listening and feeling for breath against his skin. His mouth quivered as he sat up feeling for a pulse. “No,” his voice commanded.

He started compressions, pressing harder than Sam dared. Dean’s limbs convulsed. “You failed, to mention, that you let, our son, become God,” he growled in between beats, letting his eyes trail up to Dean’s face. “You promised, me, forever! You promised. You promised.”

“You’re….breaking his rib cage,” Sam’s voice broke. His eyes were wide with horror as he watched his brother’s chest concave more than he thought possible. “Cas?” Sam’s voice shook. He rested a shaky hand on the angel’s shoulder.

“You don’t, get to die,” Cas mumbled, ignoring Sam’s presence. His hands paused for a moment as he took a deep breath. The sound of his own heart racing was like a loud boom, pounding on his eardrums. “Jack Kline, you will come home right now.”

Cas resumed compressions. Again, and again. He blinked the beading tears away, but they quickly filled his eyes. His hands, the bunker, Dean….they all blurred away as he kept beating to the rhythm of his nightmare.

The tears ran hot down his cheeks while he blinked. He needed to keep Dean in his sight. Dean was his beacon home. Sniffling, Cas couldn’t stop.

Sam withdrew his hand. “Cas?” his voice was so small and afraid like several decades were suddenly torn away.

Then as Cas pressed, he finally turned to glance at Sam. His voice cracked, "We're gonna need an ambulance."

At that, Sam flew to his feet, feeling for his phone before spotting it on the nearby table. He was unlocking it when a blinding light filled the room.

"Castiel?"

“Fix him.” Cas didn’t look up. He kept pounding on Dean’s chest. His compressions had only lessened a fraction in strength.

But Jack didn’t move from where he stood on the other side of Dean. His gaze moved over to Sam, and the fear circling there twisted the hunter’s gut into knots. “But I…..” Slowly, he dropped down to a knee, and then the other. “Cas,” his voice cracked. “There’s a bigger picture that I’m apart of now. I promised to protect it. I promised not to interfere.”

“And I, promised, to protect you,” Cas answered, halting compressions. He remained hunched over Dean with his hands still pressed over his heart. The angel’s eyes squished shut as quiet sob tore through him.

New tears slid down his already soaked face, hugging his jaw. “I can’t do that without saving him one more time. He promised me forever.” His gaze slid up to meet his son’s with fiery determination. “Jack, it’s too soon to be his time.”

“Okay.” Jack laid his hands next to his father’s. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

Dean gasped awake with three sets of eyes staring at him from above. The angels withdrew their hands.

Sam fell back into the chair at his side. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Dean’s stare bounced back and forth between everyone. He slowly sat up, and Jack collided into him first.

Pressing his chin into Dean’s shoulder, Jack collapsed into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A few coughs tore through Dean’s body, but he kept a hand on the center of Jack’s back the whole time. When his breathing settled, Dean hugged him back. Also with his free hand, he laid a hand on Cas’ knee.

“I felt it….when I healed you. Everything,” Jack confessed quietly. “Your heart gave out.”

Dean snorted at that. “That’s not much of a surprise, kid.” His eyes met his brother’s. “Sammy’s been telling me for years the bacon was gonna get me.”

“No.” Jack hung on tighter. “It was grief. The loss of Cas…….me. It weakened your heart, but I knitted it all back together again.”

“Oh.” Dean’s grip on Cas’ leg tightened.

“I didn’t know you would miss me.” The words came out quiet enough that Dean wasn’t sure if Jack meant to speak them out loud. And then Jack started to let go, but Dean held on tighter.

“I’m an expert at messing up….heh, well, everything in my life, but yeah, of course Jack. Of course, I missed you.”

-

The rest of the day felt almost too good to be true. They all climbed into the impala -Dean drove much to Sam’s dismay- and they went out to their favorite diner closest to the bunker.

Over their favorite meals, Jack began going over his progress and plans for all of creation. There were several parts where his excitement was palpable, but he clearly was trying to be mature about the situation under Cas’ scrutinizing eye. Sam followed after, explaining in detail the spell work him and Rowena poured over crafting the past several months. Intermittently, Dean cut in to proudly point out where his research came in handy and how him and Eileen went about gathering the ingredients.

Afterwards, Jack looked up from his dessert with chocolate syrup smeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dean closely. “Now that Castiel is free, what are you planning on doing now?”

Surprised, Dean leaned back in the booth. “That’s not my call.” He wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Any ideas?”

“No more dying,” Cas answered firm, taking a long drink from his beer. His steely gaze slowly moved to each person at the table. “That goes for all of you.”

“And you too,” Jack pressed.

“Of course.” Cas shivered involuntarily. “I’m not planning on returning to the Empty any time soon.”

“You shouldn’t, ever,” Sam answered. “That was the push behind removing your grace. Without it the Empty shouldn’t have any claim over you.”

“Thank you,” Cas answered, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“You’ll never go back.” The tone in Jack’s voice lifted Cas’ gaze to his. “When the time comes, you’ll have a place at my side. Forever.”

Smiling softly, the tension drained away from Cas’ body. “Thank you, Jack. That’s an honor.”

“You’ll all have an important place,” Jack continued happily. “Mary too. And my mother.”

-

That night had a difficult start. Jack reluctantly left for Heaven. He promised to return for the following weekend to discuss his duties further with Cas. And Cas, he held onto his son for so long that Jack in between his laughter had to appeal to Sam and Dean for help getting free.

It wasn’t long later that Sam got up from the library chairs they were all located at and rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Sam,” Cas answered. He watched Sam cross over to Dean and punch his shoulder teasingly.

Once Sam was out of sight, Dean’s gaze landed on Cas. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Today, uh, didn’t exactly go as planned, but….I’m glad it happened.”

Cas’ stare hardened. “Dean, you died.”

“And I got better.”

Sighing, Cas’ gaze fell to his lap. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I can’t do that again.”

“Well, I can’t watch you die for….what? The fourth? The fifth time?”

Wincing, Cas nodded. “You asked me earlier….or rather, Jack asked you, what we’re planning on doing next and-” He sat up straighter in his chair and held Dean’s stare. “I want us to retire from hunting.”

Gobsmacked, Dean blinked. “Retire?”

“Doing research. Providing assistance on the phones….that’s all still acceptable and I’m willing to compromise on that.”

Dean chuckled, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Cas repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a grin. “I’ve been bugging Sam for a couple years now about retiring…..especially if Jack could make things better...like the future that you saw.”

“Oh.” Cas tilted his head a bit. “I didn’t realize that you took that to heart.”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “You died, and I figured that it was all one huge manipulation. Gabriel’s illusions. Lucifer’s lies.” Cas nodded, and Dean continued. “But then, you came home and….it became hard not to see so much of...you in him.”

“He’s a good boy, but I’m afraid that you’re placing too much….credit? On my shoulders.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Jack’s good, because he has the best father to emulate. There’s nobody else that fights….and sacrifices...to do the right thing like you.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved. “And they’re probably better off for it….”

“Cas, come on.” Dean sighed. “Okay, you did your big speech about how you see me….well suck it up, because you need to learn to see yourself the way everyone else sees you.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Dean pressed. “Like yeah, things don’t always go as we planned. I sure as hell know Chuck didn’t plan on being fired and left in the dirt, but….the point is that, you’re probably the best guy in existence.”

That knocked the air out of Cas’ lungs and slapped a goofy smile on his face. “You’re biased.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and I’m not.”

Cas shook his head, but that smile was still firmly there. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Come on,” Dean said standing up. He reached a hand out towards the angel. “It’s time for bed.”

Without hesitation, Cas took his hand but he didn’t rise from his chair. He stared at the marvel that was Dean’s skin pressed against his. It was callused in a few places, but still softer than Castiel imagined.

His gaze lifted up to meet Dean’s and a pang of anxiety wrapped around his chest. The joy slipped from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s grip tightened.

“What if I don’t wake up? Statistically, there’s a chance I’m still asleep in the Empty.”

Dean tugged Cas’ arm, and the angel let himself be pulled forward and engulfed in Dean’s arms. They clung onto each other tightly.

“You’re here,” Dean pressed. “This is real. I’ll remind you every day if I have to. I meant what I said when you woke up.”

“And then you almost didn’t get to fulfill that promise.”

“I would’ve,” Dean said, in a matter of fact. Pulling back, his eyes trailed over every inch of Cas’ face. He brought a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek, and then Dean leaned forward to press a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “Where ever my soul would've ended up, nothing was gonna change. I’d still love you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “So you’re promising, forever-forever?”

Chuckling, Dean dropped his head so his forehead was on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed, laughing still. “When forever ends, I’ll just love you some more.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

Previous round of prompts