#it does trap a lot of hot air though

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

My brain has decided everything is too loud and too bright to the degree that the only way I'm able to get myself comfortable is under my weighted blanket hiding with the light off in my light-resistant tent

(I actually sleep in a tent made for a bed, highly recommend if it's an option for nighttime anxiety and light sensitivity :3)

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ paint my skin red and call me yours

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your boyfriend scaramouche secretly loves it when you mark him up // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. placing hickeys on kuni while riding him <3, marking up, whiny kuni, a/n. repost/rewrite from an old fic, fem! reader ♡

"hey, wait— don't do that!" it almost hurts when scaramouche tells you to please please please stop marking him up even though he secretly loved it yet was too proud to tell you.

you wish to tempt out every oh so little reaction whenever you browsed your teeth along his red dimmed skin, his face tinged with clear desperation— it's a lot shinier now too, laying down in front of you.

and those hot fingers digging daggers into your hips— the very ones that sweetly branded your skin with crescent formed shapes as your body worked up and down in expressing motions on your boyfriends erection.

"you don't like when i do this?" a mutter crosses your lips when his world spins harder the second you drag your soaked cunt down, your walls trapping his shaft inside a tight, wet compression.

right now, kuni feels like his cock was about to explode, the sensations you were capable to coax out of him were bone shuddering, although he's careful to lock his whines behind sealed lips and clenched teeth.

even now, as you're riding him into the mattress hard, he still attempts to grasp onto any kind of control, hilarious, really.

"no.. i do, fuck, i love it," he almost whines, then moans, "but, j-just—"

scaramouche truly couldn't wait any longer nor does he know how to elaborate himself anymore— how does one tell another that it's actually driving him fucking mad when you claim him like that, when it's you for once pressing hickeys on his body until he's wholly coated and sticked up with red splotches and messy saliva stains.

perhaps he thought being in denial was the right way to go, but another moan spreads past his parted lips and you continue your work proudly, swallowing down the haziness of pleasure as you claw yourself on him, your pulsing walls slicking up his girth as you're repeatedly shoving your hips into him.

scaramouche secretly enjoyed himself and so did you, especially how fine and skilled your pussy was sucking down on him tonight— his cock swelling while the pre stacked up in you, rubbing back and forth his stiffened member as the echoes of lewd sounds loaded the air with fine lined electricity.

"fuck— fuck, please do more!" it's over now, "do one more.. o-on my neck," and his voice had bundled up enough courage to step up a confident octave, "do more of this, please!"

he begins to frantically rut himself upwards your warmth in needy smacks, hands urging along your shaking thighs as he was slapping himself so far up your warm cunt that you're certain you're about to release on him as well— yet the thought, that little inkling that he would fill you up with his creamy cum made you hold onto it a little longer.

just so you could climax together in the end, the hot wave of kuni shooting you full of his sticky cum certainly had your sweet pussy drool all over him, messily, until your lower half was shuddering and all sore of him.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[deathbysnakes]

How Different Harbingers Sleep

Harbingers x Reader (Romantic (Tartaglia, Pantalone, La Signora, Sandrone, Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Columbina, Il Dottore, Il Capitano, & Pierro) Platonic (Pulcinella))

Warnings:Swearing/ Mentions of alcohol in Pierro's part

Pronouns:He/Him (Male harbingers) She/Her (Female Harbingers) You/Your (Reader)

Fluff/ Crack/ A tiny bit of agnst

Explanation:How the harbingers sleep with and without you. (Minus Pulcinella)

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Tartaglia

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Always moving but when he falls asleep, he’s in a star fish position. Will either sleep completely naked or with boxers on, and snores, not too loudly though. Has frequent nightmares but doesn’t struggle with falling back asleep after the nightmares, if they don’t involve his family. Has plushies scattered across his bed that frequently fall off of his bed. Uses a thin ass blanket because of his scary resistants to the cold and will sleep with the window open.

Present (Now dating you)

You wake up in the middle of the night to him on top of you, like, suffocating you, but as you date him longer, he eventually stops and gets used to the fact that he now shares a bed with you. Sometimes, when you’re in bed waiting for Tartaglia to come to bed, and he eventually comes to bed, start running towards the bed and jump on you. When he has nightmares about his family, he’ll pretend like it doesn’t bother him if you wake up around the time he has the nightmares, but you can tell he’s not okay, and you usually just have to hold him, and he falls back asleep in your arms.

Panalone

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Has a skincare routine that he will do before bed, sleeps with those eye masks on, and his sleepwear is a fancy robe. Doesn’t move around much but might move around a little, and sleeps on his side, and doesn’t snore. Everything is silk, the pillow cases, the bed sheets, the blankets, he loves silk. Gets easily cold so he has curtains around his bed to trap the warm air around the bed.

Present (Now dating you)

After a while, will start to cling to you as you both sleep, but it takes a bit of time for him to warm up to the idea of it. Will encourage you to also do skincare with him before going to bed and even insist on doing it for you once you’ve been dating for a while. Likes to talk with you a bit before falling asleep while holding your hand and using his thumb to slowly rub the back of your hand, and WILL give you a goodnight kiss before bed on your forehead.

La Signora

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Of course, like Pantalone, she has a skincare routine, sleeps with an eye mask, and wears a fancy robe. Her bed is covered with fancy fur blankets and has a shit tone of pillows on her bed, but is really only to make her bed look nice, and will sleep on top of the fur blankets due to how hot she gets at night. Sleeps like a dead person, she never moves and is completely silent when sleeping.

Present (Now dating you)

Like Pantalone, insists on doing your skincare before bed. Sleeps with one arm around you, or at lest holding your hand. Loves playing with your hair while dozing off to sleep, it calming to her. Has a death grip on you through out the night and refuses to let you get out of bed in the morning until she’s fully awake. Is actually a really good at singing and will sing you a lullaby to help you fall asleep if needed.

Sandrone

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Barely sleeps, but will sometimes sleep. Her bed is STIFF, and she somehow finds it comfortable. Sleeps on her back with her arms at her sides. Has really weird dreams throughout the night that will sometimes inspire her creations. Does a bit of skincare, but not a lot. Wears a white victorian nightgown to bed. Has no trouble getting up in the morning and can somehow run on four hours of sleep with no sugar or caffeine. Never ever moves when sleeping, it’s kinda freaky.

Present (Now dating you)

As soon as you wake up, she’s telling you about the dream she had and will occasionally wake you up in the middle of the night to tell you about her dream. She enjoys it when you lay your head on her chest as you sleep. Wants to wear matching nightgowns with you for some reason, it doesn’t matter your gender, she will somehow convince you to wear matching nightgowns.

Scaramouche

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

He doesn’t really need sleep, but will sometimes take naps. His bed is pretty basic, and he never makes or cleans his bed, but doesn’t really have to, and will sleep with his clothes on. Snores, loud, and he doesn’t know. Will occasionally hug a pillow as he falls asleep. Has occasional nightmares that keep him up, mostly about Dottore and the experiments done on him, but time to time, will have a nightmare about his mother.

Present (Now dating you)

He really just stays up and watches over you as you sleep, and will vent to you while your sleeping or just talk about things he's to shy to talk about when he's awake. Will go stiff if you hug him while you're sleeping, but won't push you away. Might play with your hair as you sleep if you're a heavy sleeper, oh yeah, and he will test how good you sleep by making sounds, stacking stuff on top of you, and so on. Once he's been with you long enough, he'll start to cuddle you as you sleep. Like Tartaglia, Scaramouche will deny having nightmares when you notice something is off about him, but if you wait long enough, he'll start telling you about his nightmares.

Pulcinella

Sleeping habits

Definitely wears those old men pajamas with those wired little hats. Snores a bit, but not too loudly, but does have the grandpa snore. He sleeps with both of his hands over his chest, like he was put in a coffin. Overall, he doesn't really do much when going to bed, but he is a pretty heavy sleeper and can get up pretty easily in the morning.

Arlecchino

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Has a strict bedtime routine for both her and the children of the house of the hearth. 6:45 pm, bath time, 7 pm, change into sleepwear, and brushing teeth, 7:10 pm, possibly a group bedtime story, 7:30, bedtime, any who disobey these rules will be punished. She wears a pj set to bed and sleeps on her side with her hand under her pillow, unmoving, and completely quiet. Won’t let her children sleep in the same bed as her after a nightmare but will comfort them, occasionally, often just sends the child off to bed, but if the child is close to a teen, will send them off to the teens room it hopes that the teen will comfort the child for her. Gets up easily in the morning and has a strict morning routine too.

Present (Now dating you)

Will try to get you to join in the bedtime and morning routine, but won’t push, will melt if you read the children bedtime stories and praise you on being a great caretaker (or parent). Not very cuddly but will occasionally sleep with one arm around you. Will be a bit annoyed but amused if you let a child who had a nightmare sleep in the same bed as you two, but the child has to be beside you, not in between or beside Arlecchino.

Columbina

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Doesn't sleep till like, 2:00 at night, and wakes up at 1:00 in the morning. Practices singing before bed and will even volunteer to sing lullabies to the children of the house of the hearth. Does a bit of skin care, but not a lot. Sleeps with a wired sleeping mask, the ones were it makes you look like you sleep with your eyes open. All of her sleep wear are flowy nightgowns, refuses to sleep in anything else for some reason.

Present (Now dating you)

Extremely cuddly, and has a tight grip on you. Insists on singing you a lullaby before bed. Also, tries to get you into the sleep masks that make you look like your eyes are opened. Talks a shit tone before bed, and it's always dumb stuff. "Hey [Name], why are oranges called oranges, but an apple not called a red?" You'll wake up to her grip even tighter around you, lord forbid she puts her arms around your neck...

Il Dottore

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Doesn't really sleep, only sleeps when he passes out from exhaustion, this is actually the reason for most of his scars. He lokey just wakes up with a broken nose, and has almost lost one of his eyes on mutable occasions. On the rare occasion he does take a nap, won't bother to take his clothes off, will have his shoes on to bed. He has been trying to find a way to not have to sleep. Some of his more bolder and stronger clones have drawn on his face once or twice, none have gotten away with it.

Present (Now dating you)

Actually starts sleeping, but not as soon as you two start dating, it definitely takes time, but eventually starts. He wants to cuddle, but doesn't know how to ask, and is scared of rejection. You'll have to be the one to Initiate, then farther on in the relationship, will just kinda latch onto you as soon as you get in bed. Actually starts undressing when getting into bed, and now only wears his underwear to bed. Will try to get you to do skin care before bed for your health, but won't do any for himself, but it's definitely possible to get him to do skin care with you. If he's out on a mission, all his clones are down to cuddle with you, especially the younger ones between 20-26, or even the little ones (platonically ofc).

Il Capitano

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Doesn't really sleep too, but sleeps more than Dottore does. Sleeps only in his underwear, and out of habit, will sometimes accidentally sleep with his mask on. Always makes his bed after sleeping, kinda a neat freak. Basically a log when sleeping, never moves, and you can't tell if he's breathing or not. Heavy sleeper, his house could be burning and he wouldn't wake up, but would somehow survive and get up in time for work. Will sometimes mumble in his sleep, and doesn't dream, at all.

Present (Now dating you)

Down to cuddle, but will be fine if you don't want to, it's 50/50 with him, but if you are a cuddler, you will experience some of the best cuddles you've ever felt. Human heater, great for Snezhnaya's cold weather. Mumbles about you in his sleep. Refuses to sleep till you get in bed with him, and will watch your every move and follow you everywhere till you get in bed. Gets kinda clingy in the mornings and will cook you breakfast.

Pierro

Past (Before dating you/ sleeping habits)

Sleeps in a fancy silk robe and snores, LOUDLY. Has a tone of nightmares, resulting in him having to stay awake for a few minutes before feeling comfortable enough to sleep again. When he does wake up from a nightmare, will get out of bed and have a snack or a drink, possibly alcohol (I can totally see him being a foodie) then going out on the balcony to just sit there and eat/drink. He's always still tired when he wakes, no matter how long he sleeps, a morning shower and a cup of coffee always helps him wake up.

Present (Now dating you)

I hope you're not a light sleeper because if you are, you'll be waking up to the sound of his snoring a lot. When he has nightmares, he wants to wake you but feels guilty, but sometimes, if the nightmare is bad enough, he'll wake you. Would love it if you got up with him to sit on the balcony while he or you both eat or drink, you get to sit on his lap. You'll go to sleep on either side of the bed and wake up cuddling, he might not look like it, but likes physical affection a lot, but only from you.

[mypoisonedvine]

Jackson Rippner- he DOES fuck you in the bathroom on the plane. Instead of Rachel McAdams, it’s the reader. V noncon, and he even keeps his hand over her mouth and says, “better be quiet. Don’t want the flight attendants to see you enjoying having your little pussy filled, right?” Eiiseodkdownsiwos

had to combine this with another request, it's just too good

soo... get ready for heavy dubcon/noncon with lots and lots of choking and degradation :)

He slammed you up against the plastic wall, and the door slid shut on its own: trapping you in here with this monster.

You struggled, obviously, kicking and shoving randomly to try to get him away, but it wasn't very effective; you knew you weren't strong enough to best him, that was why you'd done this in the first place-- to try to outsmart him.

"Don't fight me," he informed you. It was a warning, surely, but the softness of his voice was unexpected. You were trying to yell out for help but there was still a strong hand over your mouth; you still tried, despite what he said, to kick at his feet one more time but he only pressed up against you harder to pin you down. "Shh, shh," he soothed-- well, really, it was more like an order, just given quietly in case someone outside could hear.

You waited in silence together; you glanced over his shoulder to the message you'd left in soap on the mirror: 18F HAS BOMB. Technically not true, but as long as somebody got some attention on this guy, you might be able to get out of here alive-- and spare your father from the hitman apparently waiting outside his house.

"Creative," he smiled at you, though he didn't seem particularly amused. "Why are you so deadset on making this harder for both of us?"

"You don't have to do this... you don't have to do any of this..." you whimpered, but he bared his teeth and tightened his grip suddenly on your neck.

"Neither do you," he hissed, pressing his face close to yours as you reached up and tried to claw at the hand restricting your air. "You could just do what I fucking tell you, save us both a lot of fucking trouble, and stop gambling with your father's life. Doesn't that sound so much better?"

You obviously weren't paying much attention; your face was starting to go numb, your mouth was gaping and gasping for air that never came, and-- much to your horror-- your thighs were clenching and rubbing together. It was a fantasy you'd never dared share before, partly because you were afraid you wouldn't like it much in real life... well, even when there was an actual threat of being forced to pass out, not liking it was far from an issue. You shut your eyes tight, your grip on Jackson's wrist getting weaker as strength fled your body.

You'd rather him actually choke you to the point of passing out, than him notice the way your back arched and your hips searched for friction. Why now, of all times-- with him staring dead into your watering eyes with white hot rage, pressing you to the wall, threatening to really hurt you-- did you have to get wet?

His eyes moved down from yours to your lips-- watching you try to mouth that you couldn't breathe, begging for some air-- then down to your chest where your blouse had shifted out of the way to expose just the edge of your bra. His free hand reached up to it, delicately toying with the lacy edge as a small smile curled on his lips.

"Who's this for?" he cooed, just barely relaxing his grip on your throat so you could gasp in a massive breath of air. "Who are you dressed up for, were you planning to meet someone after we landed?"

You were too busy sputtering and trying to get some air back in your lungs to even entertain an answer to that.

"Answer me," he insisted, and you started simply shaking your head.

"N-no, no one," you promised, "I just-- I didn't put it on for any reason..."

"If that's true," he growled, reaching down to your skirt, "then these won't match--"

"Fuck, don't--" you tried to protest, but he gripped your neck again while his other hand pulled your skirt up your thighs.

They matched alright; he grinned proudly when he saw them, because he'd proven himself right-- but he was much more preoccupied with how they felt when he ran his fingers over them, petting you roughly between your legs. "Oh," he purred, looking up at your flushed face again as he choked you to keep you quiet. "I think somebody is getting some naughty ideas about us being alone in here, hm?"

You shook your head, but it was pretty hard to deny-- even if you were capable of speaking, you'd be struggling to deny it. And the more he held you by your neck, the worse it got; he grinned wide when he slipped his fingers into those panties and felt for himself how soaked you were.

"Should've known," he chuckled, clicking his tongue as he slid two fingers into you; your eyes went wide, but you felt your walls clenching on him as you struggled for air. "Those sweet faces, they're always hiding something-- of course a pretty thing like you gets off on this. Dirty fucking whore."

You shut your eyes, afraid it was only moments before you lost consciousness, and yet you felt your hips rocking forward onto his fingers. He released your throat for a moment, and you whined as you screwed up your face tight. "Jackson, please--"

"Go ahead, baby," he instructed you in a low voice, "fuck yourself on my fingers. I know you need it."

You didn't really realize that you were already doing it, your body moving desperately against his hand: your hips rocked on his fingers, and you heard yourself moan hoarsely at the feeling.

"Shh, shh," he ordered again, though this time there was a grin on his face. "Don't want anybody hearing you, do we? Don't want them all to know what a needy fucking slut you are for me..."

Your pussy throbbed again and you winced-- because you hated yourself for this, feeling completely helpless to the way your body chased pleasure. Hatred and shame tugged at your chest from the inside, and your mind still wanted more than anything to fight him off; but for better or for worse, your mind wasn't steering this ship anymore.

He curled his fingers inside you, making you whimper again, and he actually laughed at you-- softly, but an outright laugh. "So fucking desperate," he mocked, pressing his thumb up to your clit hard enough to make your legs shake. His smile fell and he grabbed your face hard, pulling his fingers out and forcing them into your open mouth until you gagged. "Can you taste it?" he snarled. "Can you taste how bad you fucking need me?"

Tears rolled down your temples from all the deprivation of air; when he took the fingers out, he brought his hand down to his trousers. You couldn't even try to describe the look in his eyes as he started to open his belt and fly, and even when you opened your mouth to try to tell him no, nothing of any use came out.

Roughly, he grabbed you and spun you around, slamming you into the wall again as you winced. "Fucking whore," he sneered, holding you down with one arm across your shoulders as he tugged your panties down roughly.

"W-wait--" was all the protest you could get out before he pressed his body against yours again, the tip of his erection sliding between your lips as you gasped.

He grunted as he forced himself inside you, and you when you let out a whimper from the stretch, he put his hand over your mouth again.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled it back against him, forcing your back to arch. You felt his hair against your shoulder as he looked down at you, and you shut your eyes tightly as you tried not to imagine how it must look: his cock pushing into you, stretching you wide...

Each rough thrust pushed you into the wall, and you whimpered, but your legs quivering gave you away. "So fucking wet for me," he purred, leaning in to breathe by your neck. "Gonna have to make this quick, before somebody catches us-- it's a shame, though, sure could take my time with you..."

When your walls clenched on him, he let out a small chuckle just by your ear, playfully biting on the lobe.

When you moaned again as he fucked you just a bit harder, his hand found itself around your throat one more time, tightening until you were forced into silence. "That's better," he whispered, "good girl."

[inkdrinkerworld]

Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time. 

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.” 

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time. 

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to. 

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?” 

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.” 

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best. 

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up. 

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams. 

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.” 

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder. 

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices. 

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck. 

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?” 

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.” 

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time. 

“Meet you there?” 

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.” 

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat. 

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing. 

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed. 

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles. 

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door. 

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool. 

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill. 

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.” 

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out. 

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there’s actually anything he could deprive you of. 

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap. 

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond. 

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.” 

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off. 

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach. 

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them. 

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?” 

James never has to ask twice. 

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up. 

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone. 

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.” 

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well. 

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day. 

“Nah I got the day off.” 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?” 

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work. 

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs. 

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?” 

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time. 

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots. 

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go. 

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.  

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?” 

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes. 

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything. 

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.” 

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do. 

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug. 

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors. 

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe. 

“My baby,”  you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.  

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse. 

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that. 

“Lead the way, Cowboy.” 

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay. 

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew. 

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots. 

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.” 

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it. 

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James. 

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods. 

“I’ll be back in ten.” 

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to. 

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house. 

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.” 

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?” 

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit. 

You rest your head on the table and sigh. 

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more. 

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.” 

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?” 

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.” 

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears. 

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.” 

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal. 

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.” 

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.” 

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.” 

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say. 

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?” 

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.” 

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry. 

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have. 

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.” 

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.” 

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James. 

“You can stay here as long as you like,” 

“Thanks Jamie.” 

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.” 

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn. 

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa. 

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does. 

“Okay, I can work the stables.” 

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts. 

“As opposed to?” 

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.” 

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.” 

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re the best James. The best ever.” 

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan. 

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds. 

[tiamathh]

PAC Bites: Dreams

Who is sending you messages in your dreams and what do they mean??

Do not plagiarise, reword, steal, repost my work!

1 -> 3

Note: Hello! I'm Wi, previously on ukiyowi~ Welcome to my first PAC on this acc, I hope you guys like it <33 Take care and have a lovely day. Check out my Masterlist for more! <3 (there's not much rn lol). LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE V APPRECIATED!!

🌟 Masterlist

Pile 1

Hi Pile 1! Your dreams are being sent to you by your ancestors, they are trying to communicate with you and may be trying to show you glimpses of the future, maybe a little prophetic.

Your dreams are sending you messages that there is a lot of fear and anxiety that has embedded itself in your mind these days. You are being unable to stay focused, and your anxieties may be exaggerating the negative outcomes related to your work and school. The message you are getting is that you have been isolating yourself too much, and this isolation is also leading to a dissonance between what you want and what you need right now. There needs to be a change, but you want to keep continuing on the path that you are on even though you KNOW it is not right. Your dreams could have imagery related to falling or something breaking down, something like doctor strange almost? Everything is getting destroyed around you while you are stuck/trapped and unable to move, maybe even imagery of natural disasters, earthquakes particularly. It's saying that if you don't make a change, the universe will make it for you. You may be feeling helpless, but your dreams are trying to tell you that you could be victimising yourself and the powerlessness you feel could come from your environment and that you need to move, could be related to controlling partners or parents. I also heard "Weightless" like you need to let go of your past burdens and bury them so you can move forward like truly move forward, nothing superficial. Your dreams themselves could be very heavy like you wake up tired and as if you did not get proper sleep even when you do. The dreams are asking you to learn from your past hardships and be patient for your hard work to pay off, take small steps towards change but at least take those steps and don't stay immobile.

Keywords: Cancelled travel, head, influence, rope, bow, predator, memories, unwilling, your values, your community, dead snakes.

xoxo

Pile 2

Hi pile 2! You are receiving messages from your future partner, some intuitive messages about them, they are someone who is very energetic and charming, they can be someone with a big beautiful smile like a very warm smile and also like smile wrinkles because of how jolly they are constantly, someone confident and flirty, they are hot and they know it!

They are sending you messages that they are on their way and that you don't need to compromise or settle down, stay stubborn and fight for what you want because you deserve it. Your persistence is what is going to help you get to the top. Even though some of your dreams have been shattered and things may not be going your way, where you could feel like you are underachieving, you need to reduce the self-criticism and make changes and take the criticism in a constructive way so that it does not turn into self-hate. Your dream could also have imagery of cheating/lying and someone deceiving you, maybe literally pulling a cloth over your eyes. There is a message your future partner is sending you that there is someone around you may be an air sign/Gemini who could be using you for your resources, and they are very cunning like they will step on other people to get to the top, so be a little wary of them. You may have dreams of someone faceless too? Maybe feeling warm and comforted by their presence, this could be your future partner!! Lastly there is a message about authenticity and that you do not change how you are and who you are, stay honest and witty and strong, you are protected by the universe.

Keywords: spy, club, taurus, conventional, traditional, partnership, duality, complementary, mutual respect, blinded, blind trust, 777

xoxo

Pile 3

Hi Pile 3! You are the ones sending messages to yourself, it's the future version of you, because as we know time is not linear, but they come to you with good news and wanting to give you more strength.

They are sending you some messages about what your future is going to look like, you will be wealthy and stable and be able to reach the goals you have set for yourself, even if it will take time. A main message here is that everything will start going forward and pick up pace once you begin anew and form partnerships and friendships with the people around you, right now you are stagnant and that is because you are in the energy of solitude, but once you get out you will be able to enjoy life and have fun again and your career will see a lot of growth as well! You may have imagery of celebrations, and you could be having vibrant and colourful dreams as well, maybe money involved in there too. You need to depend on the people around you for now, and work hard because that's how you will see the results that you want, and you clearly will get them based on the messages coming through. See through what you start, do not let projects you start be left unfinished because it can put you in financial trouble or put financial strain on you, leading to you being held back from being able to use your resources fully. You have a lot of options right now, and you need to narrow them down, be a little grounded too.

Keywords: Legends, distracted, withdrawal, rumination, idealism, rose-coloured glasses, living in the past, experience the present.

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[sp0o0kylights]

Still working on the BB fic but have another snippet of that Stobin Timeloop AU. This can be read as stand-alone.

Steve Harrington snaps on a completely random Friday.

Well--not completely random. It's both the day of the Big Sportsball Game as well as Hellfire’s grand finale--but neither of those things should matter to Harrington.

Not that he needs a reason to lose his shit--Eddie’s long used to being threatened, insulted or outright attacked out of the blue. 

It’s the whole reason he built up the persona he had--because the scarier he was, the more people left him alone. 

Unfortunately it would appear that Hawkins fallen king hadn’t gotten the memo, given he seemed hellbent on kicking Eddie’s ass. 

"Come on Harrington, we can talk about this." Eddie says, as he’s shoved back, scrambling for a way out, as the former jock gets up in his face. 

The guy had called out his name the second he pulled into the parking lot (sans Buckley or any of the freshman they shared, which has Eddie's back up instantly) but Eddie had simply ignored him.

It was too early to deal with whatever had Harrington sounding like his ass was on fire.

Pity Steve had charged over instead, a look in his eyes that said whatever happened next was going to hurt.

Eddie carries a switchblade, but hes never had to use it before. 

Had instead made an entire production about having it, including cleaning his nails with the blade or stabbing it into the cheap wood desks when a teacher stepped out of the room. 

Had shouted that he’d pull it even when Harrington had charged him, but the guy didn't even blink.

Thus forcing Eddie to confront the fact that he really doesn’t want to stab someone.

Particularly not someone whose family has the police in their pockets (or did with Chief Hopper, though Eddie doesn’t doubt that the Harrington Hoard won’t immediately grab onto the next pig to get promoted.) 

His panic leaves him flailing but somehow, (and unfairly Eddie may add) Steve seems to expect this. 

Knows how to navigate it.

Eddie's back hits the metal of the van and he winces, expecting the hit, the pain. 

If he can duck, if he can make it so the first punch only grazes him, he can grab his fucking knife and wave it around, see if that gets the asshole off him, except--

Instead of hitting him, Steve reaches past, to yank one of the van’s passenger doors open. 

Herds Eddie inside, slamming the door behind him before snatching a fistful of Eddie's shirt and hauling him forward. 

"What--" Eddie asked, confused, right before Steve smashes their lips together. 

It's a hard kiss, practically a claim. 

Steve kisses him like a drowning man gasps for air and Eddie can only fall into it, stunned. 

(The stunned portion only lasts long enough for Eddie to blink before he's kissing back, hot and heavy.

He's been horny for Harrington since the asshole did a trick shot that showed off his ass and involved flipping Hagan off at the same time, sue him.) 

Thinks as he does, that this is probably a trap.

That even if it isn't, then whatever it is Steve will make him regret it--even if he started it. 

(Not like Eddie can claim he wasn’t enjoying it, either. He’s giving as good as he gets, dick quickly overwhelming any rational thought in his brain. 

He clings to Steve like a lifeline, gasping when the jocks takes his bottom lip between his teeth and lightly drags it out, begging to be let into Eddie's mouth. 

This isn't reality.

 Cannot be reality, must be the start of a wet dream or some…vivid hallucinations because when Eddie grinds himself upwards into Steve, cock chasing friction, Steve presses back.) 

"Fuck." Eddie moans when Steve finally releases him, panting up at the ceiling. 

"Do I have your attention now?" Steve asks, voice raspy and Eddie finds himself able to die happy, because that tone is downright possessive. 

"Yeah big boy, you have me--it." Eddie corrects himself fast, the words practically blending together. 

Steve gives a strangled sort of laugh at that, and instead of getting up, presses his face down onto Munsons shoulder. 

Eddie expects him to spring up at any moment. Declare insanity maybe, or far more likely threaten him about telling anybody.

If past bar hookups were an indicator, he'd  throw a few slurs in for good measure. 

(And those men had been at a gay bar, not Hawkins high school parking lot.) 

It's nothing Eddie can't handle, but Steve…isn't doing any of them.

Instead his breathings gone weird, body trembling--and Eddie can see how Steve is holding himself up.

Like he's worried about Eddie taking his weight.

Slowly, carefully, he raises a hand to the back of Steve's hair.

He presses in slow, waiting to be yelled at, waiting to be rejected but never is. 

"You can lay on me, Harrington, I won't break." Eddie tells him and knows his voice is too sweet when he says it.

Too lovey dovey, too awed. 

Too late, for him to recover into a normal voice but fuck it. Not like Eddie was known for making smart decisions. 

Nothing could have prepared him from the wounded noise Steve makes in return. 

"Hey--hey." Eddie says, in rising panic. "I've got you." 

"I know." Steve raises, and head coming up at last, cheeks red and tear stained but his eyes are clear.

Clear and fucking haunted.

 "I know you do, Eds, but we don't have time. Which is why I need you to listen to me, because I'm not the Steve Harrington you know."  

Utterly reeling from being called "Eds" it takes Eddie a moment to digest what was just said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Steve sighs, a blast of frustration, and Eddie finds himself automatically scritching at Steve's head. 

For some reason that seems to help. 

"Your D&D finale’s tonight, right?" 

"Yes." Eddie says slowly, his mind spinning uselessly, every coherent thought derailed by something new. The moles on Steve's neck. The way he shifts, how his leg is tangling with Eddie's, awkwardly because it's cramped as shit back here. 

"I'm way past this. I've lived this. More than once." 

Aha. 

So it's a mental breakdown Steve's having. 

"I'm still waiting for you to make sense, Harrington." Eddie says to buy himself time to think. 

"Steve." The younger man corrects and he's holding Eddie's gaze. "And I'm not making sense because saying it sounds stupid." 

Eddie can't help the little derisive laugh that breaks out of him. "I hear a lot of stupid things, one more won't kill me." 

"I know, you're famous for your rants about them." Steve snarks back, but it's teasing. 

Friendly and familiar, like he's used to bantering. 

Not just that, but bantering with Eddie, specifically.

He doesn't know what to do with that, so he tugs a little on Harrington's too perfect hair. 

Demands an explanation with that little jolt--and somehow, Steve doesn't haul off and punch him for it. Instead a shudder rollers through him, eyes closing just a touch and--Oh.

Oh, Harri-Steve, likes it.

"I'm from the future." Steve says, which does indeed sound stupid. 

Eddie blinks. "What?" 

"Robin and I are stuck in a time loop-- we keep living this week over and over." He continues, only now he's leaning his head against Eddie's arm. 

"Every single time, you take the longest to get on board and buy in, and every single time I fail to get everyone out alive so fuck it. Fuck all of it--I'm speedrunning this part." 

Oh this is beyond breakdown. 

This is 'took something he shouldn't have and then some' and Eddie knows how to trip sit. 

He just…doesn't want to get punched for being the first person Steve released his repressed homosexual urges out on, drugged or not. 

(The fact Steve's still letting Eddie pet him like a cat absolutely does not have anything to do with it, no sir.)

because his mouth bypasses his rational mind most days and today is no exception. 

"Okay." Eddie says. "Let's say you are from the future and not shot up with what I'm assuming you were told was steroids and was very much not."

 Steve rolls his eyes. 

He never bothered to dry his cheeks and Eddie does it now for him, with the hand that's not in Steve's hair.

Steve leans into it, which somehow feels like the craziest part of it all.

"Prove to me that you're from the future." Eddie challenges.

"Oh the kissing wasn't enough? Fine." Steve bitches, before rattling off facts like he's blowing through answers on Jeopardy. 

"You call your guitar sweetheart and apologize for cheating on it anytime you use your other guitar, who is named Arwin. Your favorite mug in Wayne's collection is the Garfield one and you can play Master of Puppets by heart even though the album came out last month."

"And this is coming from the future and not one of the freshmen we somehow share custody over…?"  Eddie says, even while alarm shoots down his spine.

Had he told the kids about his Garfield mug? 

That his acoustic was named Arwin…?

He suddenly couldn't recall but that made the most sense. Had to make sense.

Steve huffs, annoyed.

Its very cute, and Eddie bites his own lip hard to keep himself focused. 

A finger dips under Eddie's collar, wrapping gently around the chain that sits there before he can react.

 "This," Steve emphasizes with a gentle tug, "was your mom's. She gave it to you the morning of the accident." 

Eddie's world stops.

Not the same way it stopped when Steve kissed him, it stopped in a way they felt like ice had been dumped over his head. A flash freeze that squeezed his chest, claws digging into his exposed heart.

The only person who knew about the pick was Wayne. 

No one else, not even his band, his closest friends, knew the origin of it. 

To tell someone that, to say it was not only his mothers but that shed given it to him the morning before some drunk asshole t boned her shitty, shitty car and killed her-- was akin to handing over step by step instructions on how to hurt him. 

Eddie would go to the ends of the earth for that pick, and he had never let anyone know just how important it was to him.

Except Steve Harrington, apparently. 

"Okay." Eddie says, "Okay, you're from the future. You said--" He pauses, swallows. 

Fights down his disbelief even as the dots connect, because why else would he tell anyone about his pick? 

The only reason he can possibly conjure is if he needed someone to give it back to Wayne, because he, for whatever reason, couldn't.

 "You said you're reliving this because you can't get everyone out alive?" Eddie managed to get out, grappling with the knowledge that "everyone" included him. 

"Yeah." 

 "Are you also my boyfriend or something?" 

"If we can make it there, then yes." Steve says, slightly hysterical. "And really? You're finally gonna believe me?" 

"Are you arguing here for me to believe you or not, Steve, you're giving conflicting signals--" 

"No it's--you've fought me on this man. I've tried every method of getting you with us and every time you argue until the bats show up but one kiss and you're all for it?" 

"Give yourself some credit, it was a grand slam of a kiss.” Eddie replies, because it was by far and large the best kiss of his life. 

He’d follow Steve to hell and back if more kisses like that were on the table, mental breakdown or no. 

Steve snorts at him, a half-hysterical sound. “Noted.” He says. 

Then; “You believe me though?”

“Not at all!” Eddie chirps with a wobbly grin that betrays him.  “But on the off chance you’re right the uh…the thing about my pick…” He trails off self consciously. 

“I should have guessed that was what it. You only ever tell me that when you’re dying.” Steve fills in for him, and it’s weird, to know that for two seconds Steve Harrington apparently read his face and correctly guessed what he was thinking about. 

Abruptly decides he doesn’t want to think of his impending doom any longer. 

“So how about we skip the dying part and focus on the boyfriend part?” He says, poking at Steve’s cheek. 

Steve makes a face at him, before grabbing a his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“We gotta fix this mess first, Munson.” He tells him gently, looking up at him through his lashes and oh, that is a look Eddie will keep for the rest of his life. 

“Lead on, lassie.” Eddie tells him to hide how dazed he feels. “Let’s go save the world and shit.” 

With one final kiss to the palm of Eddie’s hand, Steve does. 

[ja3hwa]

Day 23 : Creampie/Breeding - San

「Title」 : Not so Harmless

「Word count」 : 1.21k

-> Genre: Smut, Fluff, Fantasy au

Paring: Werewolf!San x Bunny Hybrid!Reader  

[Warnings] : Mention of sex pollen. Dub-con (you know cause sex pollen and all). Swearing. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex (Don't do this) mention of knotting. Werewolf talk (knots, mate, presenting etc.). Oral (reader receiving). Multiple orgasms. Hair pulling. Lots of bodily fluids. Some clit play. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note : This is part two, of a fic I wrote a while back and decided it would fit this todays theme ♡ you can read part one -> [Here]

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar

“The-The flower. It’s a lascivious toxin.” You practically moan out, leaning back so San’s body and the table trap you. You feel so hot, sweat beading down your forehead. He looks at your with confusion, feeling himself grow with worry and lust. He can smell you dripping, but he shakes the thought, trying to make sure you are okay first.

“W-what does that mean Sweets?” He asks, bringing his hand up to hold the back of your neck.

“Argh, It’s a toxin that makes you horny San!!” You look at him dead in the eyes, frustration taking over. “It makes you very…” You grind your hips against his. “Very…” You do it again. “Very horny…”

“Oh…” I mean at least you are not actually in pain, well the bad kind anyway.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” You panted feeling Sans's tongue lap at your dripping cunt, his fingers deep inside you. The pace was slow, maybe a bit too slow for your liking, but you were so sensitive you couldn’t help but want to come at the smallest of actions.

“You gonna cum again baby? You want to make a mess for me?” San smiled against you with a wolfy grin, picking up the pace with his thrusts just slightly, enough to tip you over the edge. Your grip on San's dark hair, loosens, finally feeling better. Maybe the toxin has finally left your system. San sat up, wiping his mouth while studying your figure. Concern mixed with lust. He wanted, needed to know you were okay. “How are you feeling baby.”

You sat up so you were crossed-legged in front of San while he sat on his knees. You were about to reply with a confident ‘I feel so much better’ but all of a sudden the sharp pain and heat bursts through your body again. How could this be? You had an orgasm, well more like four now, why aren't you feeling better? Tears began to form, as you feel an overwhelming sense of anxiousness and frustration.

“S-San I think. I think I need something more…” You felt strange asking your lover for sex. You didn’t want to make him feel like you were using him. San sat there for a moment thinking, and then a sudden thought came to mind. Something Yeosang had told him about heats and mating cycles. He said that no matter what you do the heat will only go away once the knot is performed. So maybe…

“That's it!” San chirped a little too loudly making you suddenly jump at his burst of energy.” I just need to knot you.” his words made you blush as if it was taboo for him to speak about knotting. It wasn’t like you haven’t don’t that with him yet, but him saying it so mundanely made your fluffy ears twitch.

“This isn’t a heat though… How will you cumming insi―” Your brain clicked, remember a word or was it a phrase, who knows, but your Herbology book said something about sex toxins needing another partner to cure, but you didn’t think it meant their seed. You pushed yourself up, further on the bed before turning around, sticking your ass up in the air and head into your pillow. “Breed me Sannie..”

Did San just die and go to heaven. His mate. His sweet little bunny, presenting for him while asking to be bred. Oh yeah, he is definitely in heaven. His cock twitched in his boxer, making the fabric get tighter around his thick length. His body was moving faster than his brain, crawling onto the bed so his hands could reach out for your hips. He pulls his boxers down so his cock can slide again your cheeks spreading his precum between them. Some of his slick gets on your cotton tail too, making you shiver. You push your hips into him, feeling the tip of his cock grazes your entrance. You needed him so badly. You felt like you were going to combust.

"Sannie, please. Please hurry, " you begged desperately, wiggling your hips more aggressively in order to try and get a bigger rise out of him.

"My sweet baby. All you needed was my knot to fill you, hmm?" His growl that erupted from his chest sounded animalistic, predatorial. "I'll give you just what you need."

His cock thrusts deep inside you in one motion, your slick being a great source of lubricant. You were already screaming, gripping the sheets in desperation. He didn't wait for you to adjust like he normally would. No, the snap of his hips was nothing but hard, fast, and deep. Hitting every spot you needed in order to make you see stars.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You chanted, tears running down your cheeks, soaking the pillow below you. His hand landed a harsh smack on your ass, making the soft flesh turn a nice shade of pink. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. You were going to explode any second, and when San's hand snaked down to your clit to apply pressure to your sensitive bud you knew you were done for. "SAN!!"

"I know baby. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock." His soft voice melted off his tongue, soothing you over the edge. Your vision started to become blurred, fearing to be blacked out entirely. San was now so close, sitting up straight he grabbed both sides of your hips in pound himself inside you at an inhuman pace. Sensitiveity surged through you as San chased his own high and after a few more thrusts he felt himself spill into you. His hips stutter until they completely stopped, his cock was still deep inside for a moment while you both collected yourselves. And to your happiness the pain that had consumed you was now finally gone.  

“Oh Fuck…” San growled under his breath as he pulled out of you slowly. He watched his cum mixing with your own, staring at it while it started to spill out of you. It dripped down your thigh, making San’s cock twitch. You turn to look back and see San was already hard again.

“You got to be kidding me.” You panted with a light-hearted half-smile.

“I can’t help it. Not when I have such a beautiful view in front of me.” His fingers swiped up the slick from your thigh, pushing it back into your sensitive hole. You mewled at the feeling, trying to get away from him, but he just grabbed your hips in order to spin you around. Your legs on either side of him, being kept open by his thighs. His fingers keep pushing his cum back inside you, enjoying the way it looks when comes back out.

“S-San” You moaned rolling your hips, starting to feel hot and bothered again. he leaned over so he was caging you against the mattress, his nose nuzzling against your neck while his hand brushed over your long fluffy ears. His words make you shiver;

“Don’t worry baby. I’m not don’t with you just yet.”

-

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© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[nombitenary]

Obsessed with a pred overindulging a little, especially with G/t vore. A full and squirming belly packed full with tinies, every single movement any one of them makes something the pred call feel against the strained walls of their stomach. Tiny ripples of movements flutter under their skin, and they rub their belly, causing all the prey within to cry out in a myriad of different muffled voices as they're all shuffled around in the tight space. They barely even move, too firmly wedged against the strained folds of the belly and each other to be jostled.

Bonus if the pred tries to get just one last tiny down and has to really struggle to cram them in there, swallowing repeatedly as they feel an uncomfortable pressure at the top of their stomach. Their fingers worriedly rub their middle, tracing around the squirming lumps tucked beneath their skin and kneading in an attempt to coax their prey further along into their intestines...

All the jostling does is cause them to hiccup, and although it's not a lot... with the pocket of air gone, the stomach is allowed a little more space to relax, only for the pred to gulp one last time and seal their last mouthful in their churning gut.

A pred could also pair this sort of meal with a drink- perhaps a hot tea to try getting their prey to digest faster to create more room. All the prey can do is thrash and wriggle with more vigour at the sound of the pred eagerly and repeatedly gulping above them, a steady stream of hot liquid spilling into the belly and causing those stuck against the bottom of the stomach's lining to frantically try clawing their way up. Maybe the tea doesn't help digestion, but the pred wouldn't know thanks to the fact that how much it makes their prey struggle certainly does.

They can't even fight back properly. Too bogged down by the hot drink causing the already sweltering temperature to rise further as liquid soaks through their clothing, weighing them down. The stomach around them is eagerly churning, one rippling wall firmly settled against them thanks to the pred rubbing them and cooing about how good of a meal they all made...

And of course, if they make it whole and alive into the intestines... the pred walking their fingers along the curve of their lower belly to single out each individual squirming lump. Just to remind them of their place, trapped in gurgling darkness, squeezed by muscles set on pulling them deeper... deeper...

A sudden pressure above them causes a new bout of squirming, though they're all shocked when they feel wriggling from above the fleshy 'ceiling' of the pred's intestines.

The pred's already indulging again. They plan on filling each inch of their gut with squirming tinies, and with the lovely wriggles of their meal settling in with longer gurgles and glorps... well, it just makes them hungry.

Luckily for them, tinies are easy enough to come by, and more than easy enough to swallow.

[primaviva]

PAIRING: (primary) gwen stacy x fem!reader, (secondary / onsided romance) harry osborn x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen has liked you for a long time, harry knew this. to gwen's surprise, harry actually liked her for much longer, something she only learned when he confessed and asked her to prom. gwen's rejection hit harry hard. you can imagine gwen's shock when, just as she was about to tell you how she felt and ask to be your date, you revealed that you already had a date. harry osborn.

WARNINGS/NOTES: misunderstandings trope like heavy, a lot of cursing, manipulation on harry’s part, angstyyy, suggestive toward the end, jealous n angry gwen vs sassy man harry, white boys doin too much and not proof read

as summer's hot embrace swept across queens, whispers of anticipation filled the air in midtown high.

the arrival of prom.

the streets adorned themselves with vibrant hues of gold and scarlet, echoing the spirit of the season that gripped the hearts of every new yorker. decorative banners danced in the breeze on campus, proudly displaying the school's emblem as a symbol of community pride. the heat and constant air conditioning mingled with the distant sound of a marching band practicing their lively tunes, weaving a tapestry of nostalgia and excitement for all the locals and alumni.

prom, a cherished tradition to no one but the beckoned who peaked in high school. let’s be real here, what teen beside the tryhard kids trying to form the perfect resume for college genuinely cared for homecoming? nah, not one. the only excitement that came from it was being able to get free food, dress cute, some photo ops with your partner, and just hanging out with your friends. you could technically count the performances by the school bands and dance teams but to be honest all the talent was overshadowed by the patriotic midtown chants praising the school for its community and kindness even though you could’ve swore you saw flash thompson trying to beat on some freshman in the hall the other day.

it’s midtown high… mid is in the name. to be quite honest, you weren’t expecting much. you didn’t even have a date in mind, you just knew you’d end up going with your small friend group consisting of your best friend gwen, peter, and harry.

you were brought back to reality when your teacher pulled an ‘i’ll wait’ on some girl in the front who was just as confused as the rest of the class and was simply asking someone else for help.

as the minutes ticked by in the seemingly endless ap english class, the only escape you found was talking gwen during class to keep you sane.

you leaned towards gwen, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "i feel like i’m trapped in a literary prison. is it just me, or does every sentence, as soon as she opens her mouth, sounds like some philosophy subreddit bullshit?"

gwen stifled a giggle, her eyes sparkling with shared amusement. "oh, trust me, it's not just you. i think i've somehow deciphered the hidden meaning behind every comma in this book. it's like we're on a quest for the nonexistent holy grail of english assignments."

you both burst into a fit of laughter, struggling to contain your amusement while keeping a watchful eye on the teacher. the irony of the situation wasn't lost on you— the passionate exploration of language and literature reduced to a burdensome chore.

however, you couldn’t help but feel a pair of jealous eyes on you. the prickling sensation at your neck coming from the back of the class made you turn your head slightly, and you caught a glimpse of harry's eyes fixed on gwen, his expression tinged with jealousy. his lips pressed together in a tight line as he bit down on them, lost in his thoughts to notice that you caught him looking. he seemed almost irritated at you by the way he stared and to your understanding, for no reason. it’s not like you did any sneak shit behind his back or got on his nerves .

caught in the awkwardness of the moment, harry mustered a teasing smile and gave a nod, as if attempting to play off being caught. the nod was like a silent statement from him to you, that he felt the same way you did in the class. bored as hell.

but beneath the facade, the tension simmered, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was brewing beneath the surface. questions swirled in your mind, but for now, you chose to let it go and return your focus to gwen.

"this class single handedly ruined how i’ll read for the rest of my life, and you know how much i love to read edgar allen poe," you whispered, barely able to contain your sarcasm.

gwen leaned closer, her voice barely audible. "i swear, if i have to dissect one more sonnet, my brain cells will start killing themselves."

the bell's sudden ring startled both of you, cutting short your whispered complaints and signaling the end of yet another mundane class. you exchanged a knowing look, relief and mischief dancing in both your eyes.

"finally, damn!" you exclaimed under your breath. "let's get out of here before we start speaking in iambic pentameter."

gwen nodded, her lips curled into a smile. "i can't wait another second."

together, you gathered your belongings, trying to suppress the lingering laughter that threatened to bubble. as you made your way towards the door, the teacher's eyes scanned the room, momentarily pausing on your mischievous glances, but quickly moving on.

you were about to respond to her joke when harry osborn approached you two with a slightly hesitant yet determined stride. his sudden interruption caught both of you off guard.

"hey, gwen," harry began, his voice shaky. "can we talk for a minute?"

your curiosity piqued, but you gave gwen an understanding look and assured gwen that you would wait for her at the lockers, giving her a reassuring smile. with a nod, she followed harry to a quieter corner of the hallway, leaving you to be nosy and wonder what the conversation could be about. time seemed to stretch as you leaned against the lockers, the echoes of passing students fading into the background.

minutes turned into an eternity before gwen finally emerged from the conversation, as she walked toward you, you could sense the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. without a word, she shook her head, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts.

"what did harry want? some chemistry homework answers that been due since last week?" you asked playfully, trying not to make it seem like you were praying for information.

it’s not like you were jealous of harry or envious of him for talking to gwen, you knew where you two stood. but just the way he looked at you? just rubbed you the wrong way. and you couldn't lie and say the curiosity wasn’t killing you as to why he had to pull gwen away from the public to just ‘talk to her.’

gwen's eyes met yours, looking unusually reserved. she hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice barely above a whisper. "it’s nothing, really. he just asked me a stupid question. don’t worry about it."

you left it at that, not wanting to force her into talking about something that was clearly private. you respected her desire to just move on. still, a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you couldn't resist a teasing remark.

"did he ask you to be his secret prom date?" you quipped, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

gwen's face turned pale for a moment before her cheeks flushed slightly as she shook her head, a subtle smile gracing her lips. "no, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. i um… i actually have someone in mind."

you felt your cheeks heat up at her comment, but also a gut wrenching feeling in your stomach. could she be talking about you? no, but then again all the moments where your legs brushed together while you sat, the lingering gazes and stolen looks, her hands on your waist when she guided you through a big crowd, just all the times where the lines between best friend and more became blurred.

however, gwen remained silent, her intentions veiled for now.

you two had similar schedules, so it was everyday you two walked to your classes together. as the two of you made your way to study hall, gwen broke the silence, "wanna share headphones while we work?"

her hand brushed against yours, your breath hitching as you became hyper aware of how close gwen was. you could feel her continue to stare into your eyes as she intertwined her hand with yours. a smile bloomed across your face as you nodded in agreement, unaware of someone else glaring at you from a distance. again.

weeks passed since then. before, prom was less than a month away. now? just days.

you still didn’t have a date. part of you wanted to just go along, not having any interest and anyone besides gwen. but another part of you was still holding onto hope, living in the fantasy world of the imaginary scenarios that she’ll ask you out.

there were doubts in your mind if gwen liked you, and even if you liked her. she’s your friend, best friend even. but your friendship with her is so different from the way you both treat your other friends. you don’t let your other friends call you names, sit on their lap while their hands wrap around your waist, stay up on friday nights and fall asleep on the phone, and so much more. it was more than just the physical attraction you had to gwen, it was the chemistry between you two. you admit, gwen is more than fine. to her tall demeanor and athletic body, and not to mention the hair and piercings. but the way she understood you more than anyone else was the biggest turn on of them all. she can read you like the back of her hand. she knows when you’re sad, when something’s bothering you, when you’re overwhelmed and just want someone to run away with even if it’s temporary.

all year it seemed that you both had been running circles around each other. there was just something different about the way she stared straight into your eyes as you talked about something. or the times where you swear you saw her biting down on her lip as she sneakily checked you out before you could catch her and she’d tell you how pretty you are. the times you would ask her to repeat stuff on the phone because you just loved hearing her voice just to fall asleep to it. the time where she noticed you looked at her while she cleaned her drumsticks and she told you it’s rude to stare. the times where she had no problem sneaking into your home from through your window to comfort you after a fight with your parents.

she felt like your other half and that’s what confused you. everyone talked about their best friend like that, but you and gwen didn’t seem like friends. and you can’t tell anymore if that’s good or bad.

it was clear you were attracted to gwen in more ways than one, but you couldn’t help but be in denial because of your fear that if you did pursue something romantic with her you could possibly ruin your friendship forever, and you couldn’t imagine your life without her.

gwen couldn’t imagine her life without you either, harry knew that first hand. which is why he’s on his way to your place right now.

harry osborn mustered up the courage to confess his feelings to gwen, his heart pounding with anticipation. he found her in the hallway, took a deep breath, and poured out his emotions, confessing his affection and asking her to be his date for the upcoming prom.

"hey, gwen," harry began, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and determination. "i've been meaning to tell you something... i really like you. you're amazing, talented, and so fearless. i’ve admired you for a while. so, i was wondering if you'd go to prom with me?"

gwen listened attentively, a kind smile on her face that slowly dropped as she kept talking. but before harry could catch his breath, she gently interrupted him.

"harry, look, i appreciate you telling me this and you're such an amazing friend," gwen replied, her soft and cautious. "but, i can’t go with you. i’m sorry it’s just… i actually had something on my mind too for a while. i've been wanting to tell (y/n) how i feel about her for a while now and so i thought prom would be the best excuse. i've just been nervous about it because i don’t want ti ruin anything. you understand, right?"

harry's face fell slightly, his disappointment flickering across his features. he tried his best to hide the bitterness he felt, realizing that gwen's heart was set on someone else.

"oh... i see," harry responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "don’t worry, gwen. i get it. i never caught on that you liked our (y/n), that’s my bad. i'm sure you’ll both have an amazing time at the dance when you ask her."

gwen's expression softened, "thank you, harry. i hope this doesn’t make anything too weird or weirder than it needs to be. friends?"

harry forced a smile, masking his envy as best as he could. "of course, gwen. friends always."

but as gwen turned to leave, harry's mind started to spin. thoughts of revenge began to cloud his judgment.

how could gwen stacy reject him? it was all he could think of. ‘she’s just a cop's daughter’ he thought, balling his hands into a fist.

“hey, could you speed it up?” he pressed the driver, quickly apologizing. “sorry i just… the waiting is killin’ me.”

maybe it was the bitterness fueling his need to boost his own ego, but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the rejection. all his life, harry was given what he wanted without a second thought from his father or the people around him. it seemed that for the first time he couldn’t have what he wanted and didn't know how to act.

that’s what led him here, to the front of your place. harry pushed open the car door, his oxford shoes hitting the pavement.

“wait for us, will you?” he asked the driver but the tone of his voice made it clear that it was an order.

harry : hey sweets

harry : go look outside your window for me sent at 4:53

you were doing your homework when suddenly you felt a vibration against your desk. you turned your head to the side and noticed your phone lighting up. with a sigh wanting to take a break from working, you picked it up and your eyes went wide as you saw who it was who texted you. part of you hoped it was gwen, but no, it was harry.

the message on your lock screen made you cringe as soon as you saw that he had called you ‘sweets.’

“the hell is this boy on now,” you muttered, swiping up to see the full text in messages.

you : tf you mean look out my window… did you take your daddy’s medicine by any chance ?? sent at 4:55

before you even gave him the chance to reply, you walked up to your window and pushed the curtain to the side. looking down, you were met with the sight of harry typing on his phone before looking up at you with a charming smile.

harry : you wanna come down rapunzel?

you let out a scoff, the sides of your mouth twitching into a smile as you made your way downstairs. you unlocked the door, opening it to be met with harry walking up to you and revealing a beautiful bouquet of assorted flowers to you. it looked expensive and it glowed in the sun.

“don’t tell me those are for me,” you spoke in a whisper, voice caught in your throat from how unexpected this all was.

he smiled, putting the bouquet in my hand as the floral aroma filled my senses. “then i won’t, just take them princess.”

harry knew you were getting weirder out by his behavior just by the way your face had this stank look to it. not like you were disgusted by him or anything, but by how confusing this was.

“what?” he asked with a smirk.

“you’re just acting a lil’ strange is all,” you replied slowly, squeezing the bouquet to your chest and sniffing the assortment. “they smell beautiful harry, thank you. but no offense, why are you outside my home dressed like james dean?”

he did a low chuckle as he looked into your eyes. sure, harry was cute though he wasn’t necessarily your type. and while it is really attractive to have someone dress nice for you, call you sweet things, and even come to your home with flowers, it was just weird. it was just weird. why him?

"just walk with me, please?" harry asked, extending his hand towards you.

“and sight see all the power plants?” you mocked, but seeing the pleasing look on his face made you fold. you hesitated, but ultimately took him up on it.

as you took his hand, you felt his grip tighten, pulling you uncomfortably close. "i'm sure there's a beautiful waterfront or some other scenic spot for us to explore," he said, his voice filled with anticipation.

you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and curiosity flickering in your eyes. despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him and his intentions.

“you look beautiful today,” he added, still looking forward as the glow of the sky highlighted his face.

you let out a laugh, causing him to glare at you from the corner of his eye.

“oh harry, you’re so charming, thank you,” you teased, voice monotone to poke fun at his advances.

he let out a chuckle as you both approached the waterfront. golden hour was approaching, and the sky was painted a deep orange with yellow highlights and a beauty exuding from it. the clouds were faint and moved slowly to the side, like careful paint strokes to a canvas.

as you released your hand from harry's, you walked toward the ledge, taking in the awe-inspiring scenery. it felt like a moment of pure magic, as if the world had paused to allow you to appreciate the simple pleasures surrounding you. the gentle caress of the warm breeze, the distant echoes of laughter, and the soothing sound of water rippling in the wind created a serene ambiance.

harry initiated the conversation, breaking the silence. "you've never been here before?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

you met his gaze with a sly smile, “nah, i never have time to do stuff like this. im always busy with my own responsibilities so it doesn’t really cross my mind to do a tinder style long walks down the cigarette infested new york streets and visit all the landscapes.”

harry approached you, leaning against the ledge with a smile playing on his lips. he let out a genuine chuckle, appreciating your sense of humor.

"there's the (y/n) i know," he remarked, his tone filled with affection. "always quick with the sarcasm. it's one of the many things that make you so likable. you have this unique and mysterious charm about you.”

you studied him for a moment, a dry laugh escaping your lips. "secret charm?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "i've never really made an effort to talk to anyone, so l'd be surprised if i had any secret admirers.”

“well, allow me to introduce you to one of them,” he said as he took your hand in his and gave it a chest kiss.

harry's expression turned softer, and he took your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on your palm. his eyes held a glimmer of and a hint of seduction.

"i know we haven't always been the closest, but lately, you've been on my mind. a lot," he confessed, bringing your hand to rest against his chest. "i've admired you from afar, and i've been nervous to be around you. you're not just gorgeous, but smart, witty, and so much more. i can't imagine going to prom with anyone else but you. so, would you honor me by being my date?"

your heart skipped a beat with each word he spoke. shock washed over you, and your face revealed a mix of emotions. while you value your friendship with harry, you didn't share the same romantic feelings. you hesitated, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts.

but something about it was off. while his words seemed genuine and soft, his eyes told a different story. they were dark and deceptive, gleaming with an unsettling intensity. it sent a shiver down your spine, making you question his true intentions. the way he stared at you felt predatory, like he was sizing you up, waiting for the opportune moment to strike at his prey. it created an alarming imbalance of power, as if he was counting on something beyond your control.

"harry," you began, your voice gentle but firm. “i’m really sorry for this but i don’t see you that way. i’m flattered but you have to understand… there are other girls that would love to go with you. you’re a heartthrob, y’know? you can get anyone with your appeal. it’s just that i’ve liked gwen for a while and have been waiting for something to happen but-“

“it seems i really can’t get anyone, (y/n),” he spat out in anger. harry's demeanor shifted, his face contorting with anger. he turned slightly away from you, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to regain composure. his tone dripped with bitterness as he spoke. “gwen huh? always gwen, isn’t it?”

“what?” you mouthed in confusion.

"you really think gwen would ever ask you to prom? better yet, you think she likes you?" he sneered, closing the distance between you until your chests almost touched.

“get outta my face, i’m leaving,” you demanded, frustration welling up inside you as you pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance. “harry, fuck off of me.”

but harry's arms held you firmly in place, preventing your escape. his voice took on a mocking tone as he continued to belittle you.

"gwen already has a date. some kid named miles from out of town. she's been talking to him for a while now," he informed you, his words hitting you like a blow. "she doesn't want you, never has. she's just being nice, pretending to be your friend. so i don’t know when or how you tricked yourself into thinking she has any interest in you."

your world seemed to crumble around you, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. your legs grew weak, and you struggled to maintain your composure. tears welled up in your eyes, and you wiped them away, attempting to regain your composure before facing him.

“i know, it’s hard to hear. and she’s a fool for ever letting a girl like you slip away,” he continued, his tone shifting once again. "but you deserve better, (y/n). gwen is a selfish coward who only goes after what she wants with no regard for others. you deserve someone who appreciates you. someone like me. let me show you how you should be treated."

you took a step back, turning away from him, your hand instinctively covering your mouth. the tears flowed freely now, and a sense of disbelief washed over you. had you been deluding yourself all this time? was there truly no spark between you and gwen?

a forced smile played on your lips as you turned to face harry again, your entire demeanor transformed. it was as if a switch had been flipped, and you presented a facade that masked your true emotions.

"i'd love to go with you," you spoke weakly, your voice devoid of its usual strength. though you didn't reciprocate his feelings, you wanted a distraction. maybe he could give you the attention he claimed you deserved.

a wide, unsettling smile spread across harry's face, his expression taking on an eerie quality. it was a smile that sent shivers down your spine, as if there was something unsettling behind it. you couldn't shake off the feeling that his happiness wasn't truly about you saying yes.

"i'm glad," he replied, pulling you closer to his side. "let's get you home."

as you made your way back home with harry, the atmosphere became increasingly tense. the once-pleasant and work filled evening had transformed into an uncomfortable walk home. harry's grip on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin almost painfully.

you attempted to break the silence, hoping to alleviate the mounting unease. "so, what are we gonna wear? have you thought about it?"

harry's response was curt and lacking his usual warmth. "i have a few ideas in mind. we'll figure it out."

you couldn't help but notice the change in his demeanor, his friendly and charismatic personality replaced by something cold and distant. doubts and concerns swirled in your mind, but you couldn't find the energy to voice them. instead, you kept quiet, unsure of how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.

upon reaching your house, you turned to face harry, attempting to gauge his mood. "thanks for walking me home," you told him, your voice laced with uncertainty. "i'll see you at school tomorrow."

harry's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and unsettling. "no need to thank me," he replied with a slight sneer. "i'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on."

confusion washed over you as you watched him walk away, his figure disappearing into the night. something was undeniably wrong, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of impending danger. you retreated into your home, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders.

you went into your room and just jumped into your bed and before you knew it your eyes were wet and you blacked out.

it was saturday morning, and the events of the previous night were a blur in your memory. as you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, you glanced down at your clothes, and suddenly, it all came rushing back. you had spent the entire night looking over old photos of you and gwen, shedding tears, before finally succumbing to exhaustion and taking a hot shower to soothe your emotions.

your face felt tight and slightly flushed as you made your way to the mirror. you examined your reflection, noticing the lingering redness in your eyes and the puffiness of your cheeks. even your voice seemed affected, carrying a hint of strain from the relentless sobbing that had consumed you.

it wasn't the news itself that hurt you. it was fine if gwen didn't have romantic feelings for you because it’s not like you’re entitled to her. if anything, you found relief in knowing that your friendship could still remain intact. but the way harry had delivered it to you was harsh and blunt, forcing you to confront things you hadn't even considered before.

to realize that gwen may have never seen you in a romantic light, not even once, left you feeling foolish. the most humiliating part was the possibility of misreading every interaction, every gesture, and every shared moment. and to learn from harry of all people that she had someone else all along made you question how long she had been interested in miles without ever mentioning it to you. although you had heard his name mentioned a few times, it had never crossed your mind that gwen had feelings for him. and it definitely didn’t cross your mind that they had been talking as of recently.

your phone began to ring, causing a pang of agony to surge through you. "please, let it be a scam call," you silently pleaded, yearning for a moment of solitude to process your thoughts.

reluctantly, you picked up the phone and turned it around to see the caller's identity. it was gwen. you felt conflicted as your stomach began to turn once again. on one hand, you longed to talk to her, driven by the depth of your feelings. but on the other hand, the internal embarrassment you felt made you want to avoid her at all costs.

summoning your courage, you swiped to answer the call. "hi," you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to conceal any cracks.

there was a brief silence on the other end, and then gwen spoke with concern in her voice. "(y/n), are you okay? i tried texting you last night, but you didn't respond," she questioned.

"oh, um, yeah. i've just been having sleepless nights, so i went to bed early," you explained, attempting to brush off the previous night's emotional turmoil. "sorry bout’ that."

"are you sure everything's alright? it sounds like you've been crying," she pressed, genuine worry coloring her words. "if you need someone to talk to or if you want me to come over, just let me know. i’ll be there.”

"i'm fine. i wasn't crying, i literally just mentioned being tired," you replied, irritation seeping into your tone.

"i just want you to be honest with me. can i still come over? i have something i want to tell you," she mustered the courage to ask.

this was gwen's moment. she had been gathering her strength to speak to you about for so long, and now she was ready to make her request.

"yeah, sure. actually, i have something to tell you too," you added, your voice steadier now.

“okay, great- i mean good. i’ll see you later, okay?” she spoke, her voice cheery but a little nervous.

“see you later,” you replied, repeating it back to her as you hung up.

hours had past and it had only made you more anxious. what did she want to tell you? why wasn’t she here already?

you had already changed your clothes and fixed up your appearance to make yourself more presentable. you made sure to put some concealer under your eyes too to try and draw attention away from the puffiness and fading redness.

the knock at your door gave you a temporary relief from the anxiety of your mind as you went to go open it and greet gwen.

“hey,” she greeted, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug.

you hesitated for a moment, but you couldn’t resist the need to feel her touch. you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. there was something so comforting about her touch and gentleness. you both pulled back as gwen stared deeply into your eyes. her hands drifted from the sides of your waist to the small of your back as both your eyes flicked over each other's features.

“are you gonna raid my fridge or wanna go straight to my room?” you asked, teasing her as you broke the unspoken tension between you two.

she giggled as a smirk appeared on her lips. she gave your back a gentle slap, “hey! and no thank you, i actually wanted to come talk to you about something that’s been on my mind,” she confessed.

“oh okay,” you said silently, leading her to your room.

gwen made herself comfortable as she plopped herself on your bed. she manspreaded her legs as she threw her head back against your wall, giving you a glimpse of her faint adam's apple before looking down at you. her hair had gotten longer since she shaved the sides, turning it into more of an undercut now as it framed her face beautifully. it was moments like these you remembered that gwen had equally good looks to match her personality. god, she was so breathtaking. her outfit was an oversized band hoodie that overlapped the tied flannel shirt around your waist, paired with black leggings and her signature teal converse.

"do you always have to take up all the space in my bed?" you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you placed your hands on your hips.

gwen responded with a playful groan, accompanied by a mischievous look. "oh please, there's plenty of room," she retorted, patting the empty space next to her, inviting you to join.

taking a deep breath, you couldn't resist the playful banter, and you sat down next to her, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"so?" you prompted, your voice filled with anticipation, hoping she would take the lead in the conversation.

gwen's hesitation lingered in the air, her gaze momentarily shifting away as she gathered her thoughts. "i don't know... i've been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and, well, with prom coming up..."

before she could continue, you blurted out your own news, interrupting her. "harry asked me to prom."

the sudden interruption hung in the air, momentarily breaking the flow of the conversation. the nervous smile on gwen's face dropped immediately, and she sat up, her eyes locked onto yours with intensity.

"he what?" she questioned, her voice low and raspy, almost demanding you to repeat yourself.

"harry came here yesterday with flowers and asked me to be his prom date," you explained, sensing gwen's anger starting to simmer.

"(y/n), are you being serious with me right now?" she asked again, slowly rising from the bed as her anger began to surface.

"why the hell would i make any of this up, gwen?" you responded, a touch of frustration in your voice. "he said that he's liked me for a long time and that all he's been thinking about is asking me to prom."

gwen was in shock. anger fueled her thoughts toward harry. could he really be plotting revenge against her like this? was it possible that he would go to such lengths?

"do you think you're the first person he's told that to? he's not what you think," gwen told you firmly, her voice tinged with hurt and anger.

your irritation grew. you couldn't understand why gwen was so angry when she already had a date.

"really? so what is he then?" you questioned, your voice matching her intensity as you stood up to meet her gaze.

"i'll tell you this, he isn't the damn saint you're making him out to be!" gwen exclaimed, her anger palpable. "he's an actor, and if he's got you so hooked with a ten-minute performance, he's probably next in line for an oscar."

you scoffed at her frustration. "you have no business being mad at me for this when you already have your own date. do you want to have your cake and eat it too? because i'm sorry to tell you this, but that's not gonna slide with me. i'm allowed to have fun and talk to whoever i want," you declared, standing your ground.

gwen's eyes furrowed, and she put a hand over her mouth, taking a deep exhale before turning back to you.

"what date? what the hell are you talking about?" she hastily asked.

"don't play with me, gwen. i heard about you and miles. if it's not supposed to be a secret, then why didn't you mention it at all?" you raised your voice, frustration evident.

confusion etched over gwen's face. "did obnoxious osborn tell you this? because it's all bullshit, and he's talking out of his ass. he's literally known for being a heartthrob and making out with random girls in our class under the bleachers. come on, you know better than this," she explained, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and concern.

“i said don’t play with me, i’m not here to listen to you act childish and sound like a psycho tryna rhyme his name with the first words you can think of from a kids vocab book,” you yellee, quicklime calming yourself down.

you took a deep breath, ready to finish this.

"do i know better?" you repeated, stepping closer to her. "you're always disappearing randomly and refusing to open up about it. you act one way and then another, and you give me so many mixed signals that i've had enough of it!"

it felt like everything was falling apart, like a chaotic mess that couldn't be unraveled. after years of friendship, it was collapsing before your eyes like dominoes.

"i can't talk about it, okay? i have my own stuff, and you've never pressed me to tell you anything about that, so i know that’s not the real reason you’re upset," gwen argued back, her voice strained. "the mixed signals are what i came here to talk to you about, (y/n). i... i don't want to be friends with you anymore!" she admitted, her vulnerability showing through.

the room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. you took a couple of steps back, feeling the ground shift beneath you. is this what harry was talking about? no, you knew better than to trust him over gwen. but in this moment of vulnerability, the conflicting information dragged you in two different directions. was it true that she didn't want to be friends with you, as harry had tried to convince you, or did she see it entirely differently?

gwen put her hands over her face, gripping her hair out of frustration. she tried to step forward, reaching a hand out to you, but you refused, holding your ground.

"shit... (y/n), i didn't mean for it to come out like that," she attempted to explain, her voice choked with tears as she realized the intensity of the situation.

"leave," you told her, your voice stern and harsh.

"what? you can't be serious," she pleaded. "you don't seriously choose his word over mine, do you?"

"no! i just- i just can't do this right now, and i need you to leave," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of pain and frustration.

the room fell into an uneasy silence as gwen stared at you, her eyes wide reflecting her disbelief. slowly, she walked past you, tears streaming down her face as she looked down to avoid your gaze, and left without saying another word.

as the door closed behind her, you sank to the floor, feeling a heavy emptiness settle in your chest. the weight of the broken friendship added a weight onto you, and you couldn't help but question whether things could ever be the same again.

"you told her you didn't want to be friends anymore?" peter asked in disbelief as he leaned against a nearby locker, his eyes fixed on gwen.

gwen let out a frustrated sigh as she slammed her locker shut after putting her books inside, resting her back against it. "i didn't mean it like that, peter. i was just caught off guard. and to make matters worse, harry sabotaged everything," she explained, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "i never even saw it coming.

peter stepped beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "you know (y/n), gwen. she's smart and strong. she won't let harry manipulate her, and deep down, i think you know she doesn't have any real interest in him," he reassured her, urging her to have faith in your judgment.

gwen nodded, her eyes closing shut as she palmed her face. "i know, it's just... the thought of her with harry makes me physically sick," she admitted,

the image of you with someone else haunted gwen's thoughts. and knowing the person was harry, who didn’t even love or care for you, made it so much worse. she knew he could never love you the way she does. he was merely using you as a pawn in his little game, and it infuriated her that you were dragged into this one-sided fight.

"speak of the devil," peter muttered, gesturing for gwen to look down the hallway.

her eyes landed on you, engaged in a casual conversation with your friend liz allen. that was normal, but what wasn't normal was harry by your side, holding your hand as you strolled confidently down the hallway together. gwen's heart sank as she felt her tongue press against the inside of her cheek. he noticed her gaze and it only made his smirk grow.

“i'm gonna go with liz. see you later," you said to harry before walking away, leaving him with a warm smile

on his face.

"i'ii catch up with you later, baby," he replied, his tone affectionate as you disappeared into a nearby classroom.

gwen winced at the nickname, her inner cheek now bearing the marks of her biting down on it. she let out a deep sigh, her eyes still fixed on harry as he made his way over to her and peter.

"why the long face? the frown doesn't suit you," he taunted, trying to provoke a reaction from gwen.

and it worked.

gwen's frustration boiled over, and without hesitation, she grabbed harry by the collar and pushed him up against the wall, surprising him with her sudden burst of anger. the unexpected aggression caught harry off guard, eliciting a loud grunt from him.

"gwen, wait!" peter called out, attempting to intervene and calm her down.

“she’s not just some toy you can pick up and play with until you don’t need her anymore. she has nothing to do this with and you're seriously pathetic for going this low by dragging her into this just to get back at me,” gwen asserted.

harry let out a mocking laugh, trying to mask his surprise. he carefully chose his words, well aware that the hallways were empty at this time.

“but toys are meant to be played with by definition,” he said, his voice dripping with coldness. “does it make you mad when you see her with me? when i get to touch her the way you’ve wanted for so long and you couldn’t? you call me pathetic, but you couldn't even gather the courage to tell her how you feel. holding her hand made you shy away like a little girl," he retorted.

gwen yanked him forward before forcefully slamming him back into the wall. her eyes blazed with fierce determination. "you are the embodiment of pathetic, harry. this whole mess started because i don't like you, and guess what? that hasn't changed. you believe yourself to be sophisticated and superior to everyone else, but all you do is push others down to get yourself where you want to go. you disguise it behind the glamor and the clothes but behind it you’re just a lowlife with no real friends. you aren’t entitled to anybody or anything. and i guess since you’ve been spoiled all your life it’s up to me to teach you that no amount of money or charm will buy you dignity.”

taking a deep breath, gwen eased her grip on his collar, releasing him from her hold. “you think life is one big party and people are just trends you can skip over, but mark my words, you’re in for a rude awakening,” she stated.

"and what are you going to do?" he jeered, mocking her. what could she possibly do to free herself from the drama harry has ensnared her in, purely for his own sadistic pleasure of watching her life crumble?

"you'll see. but next time you dare to pull a stunt like this, remember who you're messing with," she warned, giving harry a menacing glare as she walked away, accompanied by peter.

gwen wouldn’t let harry get away with this. to her, this wasn’t about revenge, this was about you. this was about her doing right by you and treating you how you truly deserved to be treated. she was going to make sure you know exactly how she feels.

the day of prom had arrived, and the anticipation weighed heavily on your shoulders. it was evident that harry's focus lay not in the outfits you both wore, but rather in the desire to be seen with you. perhaps he aimed to stoke gwen's jealousy, to make her realize what she couldn't have.

as you slipped into your dress, its flattering silhouette accentuating your figure with an open back and slit, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. the night you once eagerly anticipated now loomed before you with apprehension. the fallout between you and gwen had left a void, and the lack of communication had extended to peter as well. the thought of addressing the situation felt overwhelming, so you chose the path of avoidance, despite knowing deep down that it may not have been the wisest decision.

occasional conversations with peter only served to reinforce your initial doubts about harry. he told you that he was acting sketchy, his fight with gwen, and you also shared with him the things harry had told you in his little speech. you acknowledged the validity of those doubts, but a part of you couldn't help but harbor anger towards gwen. you longed for her to take the initiative, to approach you and express her true feelings. while you understood her struggle with vocalizing emotions, the prolonged silence of unspoken words and the feeling of being strung along intensified the tension between you. it was a painful realization that your feelings for gwen had no sign of fading away soon, yet they seemed to have no chance to blossom into something more either. the stagnation gnawed at your heart.

the internal conflict in your mind tormented you, a battle between your desire for gwen's love and the frustration of her fears.

as you stood in front of the mirror, the anxiety of the night filled the air. the sound of a car pulling up outside your home signaled the arrival of harry, who had graciously offered to be your escort for the evening.

taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and made your way downstairs to meet harry. as you opened the door, he greeted you with a charming smile, his eyes momentarily flickering up and down your body.

“aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” harry stated as he leaned against your door frame. he wore all black which included his blazer and khaki’s, but instead of a button up he fancied himself in a matching black turtleneck. his shoes were equally dark oxford’s that he sported casually.

“who are you, someone’s grandpa?” you asked as a harsh tease.

all he did was chuckle in response, not sensing your bitterness toward him.

"ready for a night to remember?" harry asked, extending his hand to you.

you hesitated for a moment, torn between your heart and your mind. yet, you were in too deep and it felt all you could do now was seize the opportunity to make the best of your prom. you took harry's hand, allowing him to lead you towards the awaiting car.

stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in luxury. the plush leather seats and the soft ambiance of the car created an atmosphere of opulence. as the vehicle glided through the city streets, you couldn't help but marvel at the passing lights and how beautiful new york looked transformed by the night sky.

you glanced absentmindedly at the raindrops trickling down the window, seeking solace in the gentle rhythm of the drizzle. it acted as a soothing distraction from the swirling thoughts that occupied your mind, thoughts that revolved around one person in particular— gwen.

harry, perceptive as ever, sensed the weight of your emotions.

"you know you made the right decision," he remarked as he edged closer to you, his voice having an untruthful undertone.

you gave him a glare from the side of your eye before turning to face him.

“why do you say that?” you questioned, growing frustrated with everything.

"well, with gwen, you would've never reached this point," he responded simply.

his words stung, it was a bitter realization, one that left a sour taste in your mouth.

a wry smile played on harry's lips as he reached out to adjust the corsage he had bestowed upon you, an accessory chosen not out of admiration, but as a symbol of his possession over you.

harry sensed your conflicted state and attempted to try and ease you up.

"i may have attended plenty of lavish events in this car since i was young," harry continued, a faint shadow of a smile dancing on his lips. "but tonight... tonight feels different with you."

the words echoed hollowly, devoid of the genuine emotions you had secretly yearned for. they were a stark reminder that beneath the glittering facade, harry's intentions were far from pure. you didn’t respond, instead you chose to nod at his words as you recognized you were near the school.

"here we are, mr. osborn," the driver announced, interrupting the tense atmosphere.

harry's face lit up with a triumphant gleam as he turned toward you, extending his hand. reluctantly, you accepted his hand, stepping out of the car, the light raindrops falling around you like a somber symphony. as you made your way towards the entrance, you steeled yourself, preparing yourself for whatever mess that you knew you were about to get into.

as you stepped into the prom venue, a wave of excitement washed over you. the energy was electrifying, with music bouncing off the walls and vibrant lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. the once crappy gym had been transformed into a breathtaking space, adorned with elegant decorations that made the room look so enchanting and full of life.

the makeshift dance floor was enticing, its polished surface gleaming invitingly under the soft glow of the overhead chandeliers. couples twirled gracefully, their movements synchronized with the rhythm of the music. laughter filled the air as friends greeted each other and took pictures.

the walls were adorned with cascading drapes and shimmering streamers, creating a whimsical backdrop. tables were meticulously arranged, adorned with centerpieces of flowers and flickering candles, adding a special touch to the scene. everywhere you looked, the place was alive.

the dj stationed at the center of the room skillfully curated a playlist that blended popular hits and timeless classics. the beats throbbed through the speakers, encouraging everyone to take to the dance floor and lose themselves into the night.

as you made your way further into the so-called venue, you caught glimpses of friends and classmates as they passed by. yet, still no sight of gwen.

as the hours ticked by, you found yourself consumed by an unexplainable longing to see her. the mere thought of seeing her again stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you, leaving you restless on the dance floor and yearning for her presence.

throughout the night, you caught fleeting glimpses of her, mere fragments that left you wanting more. your attention was drawn to the distinct elements that composed her captivating image. her hair, cascading in waves, held a hint of mystery, teasing you with its untamed elegance. the sight of her donning a black leather jacket ignited a sense of rebellious allure, adding an edgy touch to her.

your eyes traced the contours of her neck adorned with a black choker, layered with multiple necklaces, each one a reflection of her individuality. beneath the jacket, a pink dress peeked through, its front short and the back long, while a layer of dark purple added on top.

black knee-length tights hugged her legs and as your gaze descended, you couldn't help but notice the black boots that completed her look.

as you swayed to the music, engrossed in conversation with your friends, harry slipped out of your view, claiming he was going to fetch drinks for the two of you. he made his way to the drink table, where an array of drinks and desserts awaited.

with a hint of mischief, harry muttered to gwen, "oh, don't mind me, just getting a drink for me and my girl." he poured two glasses, a calculated move to incite a sense of jealousy, knowing that gwen had been watching your interactions throughout the night, longing to be the one by your side. “enjoying the night, hannah montana?”

gwen, determined not to let harry's words affect her, initially brushed off his comment. however, his persistent needling proved too much to ignore. "wow, that was the funniest thing you've said yet! you deserve some applause for that one," she retorted sarcastically, her hands mockingly clapping for his attempt at humor.

he smirked watching her get riled up as he took it upon himself to stand next to gwen. he moved closer to her side, leaning in to speak softly into her ear. “sad to think that you thought you’d have the last word in this all, gwen. after this it’s off to college. you really messed up your chances. not even just with (y/n), but with me. we could’ve had something, but you only really care about yourself, huh?” he turned around fully, holding his two drinks ready to leave. “this is it. i have the last word.”

that was enough to do it for gwen.

gwen reached her breaking point. the music slowed down, the dj's announcement filling the air, urging everyone to bring their partners to the dance floor. the crowd surged, people jostling for space, with a few girls even approaching harry for a quick dance, eager to bask in his wealth and fuel his ego.

this was her time.

"hey, we need to talk," gwen said, her grip tight as she grabbed your arm. startled, you looked up at her, surprised to see her so close, determination evident in her eyes.

"yeah, we do," you agreed, allowing her to hurriedly guide you both outside, away from prying eyes and the bustling prom.

as you stepped into the open, the light drizzle that had fallen earlier transformed into a gentle rain shower. the lobby glistened with moisture, and a soft breeze rustled through the nearby trees. gwen's hand tightened around yours, helping you stay stable amidst the slippery ground.

"gwen," you called out, tone laced with concern, but she continued walking, leading you to a secluded spot beside the school lobby. "gwen, enough! you need to talk too," you exclaimed, feeling the urgency mounting within you.

she paused, her hand covering her face momentarily, trying to rein in her frustration. "i need to talk? you didn't even let me explain myself last time, and then i saw you here with him," gwen said, her words pouring out rapidly as she fought to control her emotions. "but that's not why i wanted to talk to you now. look, harry asked me to the prom, and i said no... because i had planned to ask you," she revealed.

your eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and realization washing over you. you had suspected harry hadn't been entirely truthful, but the revelation that gwen had intended to ask you left you speechless.

"what?" you mouthed, struggling to find the right words. "so when you came to my house?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling.

"yes! i was going to ask you," gwen affirmed, feeling relief as you finally began to understand. "i love you, (y/n). you've been my best friend, but i've fallen in love with you. i've been losing sleep over it. you're always there for me, understanding in ways i've never experienced before, and it scares me. i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want to risk losing what we have. the thought of you saying no and jeopardizing our friendship stressed me out so much. i would have rather kept my feelings hidden if it meant i could still have you in my life. but now, i just want to face my fears and say, 'screw it,' because i meant every word that i told you when i went to see you. i don't want to be just your friend anymore, i want to be more."

a silence settled between you, interrupted only by the sound of raindrops cascading down gwen's jacket. tears welled up in your eyes as her words pierced through your heart.

"you like me?" you simply asked, your voice almost breaking.

"more than like," she chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair. "you have no idea."

slowly, you closed the distance between you, your fingers fidgeting with the corsage on your wrist. "i like you too, gwen. love, even," you confessed. "i felt so foolish, thinking there might be something between us. part of me believed it was all in my head, and then harry started messing with me, planting doubts that you would never be interested. it hit me hard, and that's why i went with him. i felt trapped, but i also wanted to see your reaction."

gwen's smile grew, and she gently placed her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you wanted to see if i'd get jealous?" she inquired, curiosity dancing in her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

"yeah, i guess... i felt this thing between us at times, and it made me overthink. i thought that maybe, if you saw me with someone else, you would speak up. and if you didn't, well, it would be a win-win because at least i'd still have a date," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have treated you like this. i just get overwhelmed and scared when i don't think things are gonna work out, so i just avoided it all outta fear."

"don't apologize. both of us got caught up in harry's stupid revenge scheme," gwen said softly, her thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

in the quietude that enveloped you both, you found yourselves staring into each other's eyes. the moonlight filtered through the dark night sky, casting a soft glow upon gwen's features. she looked effortlessly beautiful, her blue eyes sparkling, and her hair framing her face. up close, you noticed the delicate touch of makeup—a rosy red on her lips and smokey eyeshadow with a hint of blue.

before you could fully comprehend your own actions, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss upon her lips. it was too quick for her to kiss back.

her eyes widened in shock and you felt her gasp against your lips. with the unspoken tension broken, there was no more denying the feelings that had been building between the two of you.

suddenly, gwen’s lips crashed against yours as her hands moved to grip your waist and hold you close. she melted into you, a moan escaping her lips as she pressed herself

against you and kissed you hungrily. the electricity between the two of you surrounded you, a silent understanding passing between you that changed the dynamic of friendship was changed forever.

gwen parted her lips away from yours as they brushed up against each other in the small distance.

her eyes softened, her gaze searching yours. "you deserve better," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "and i want to be the one who shows you that."

her hands massaged up and down your torso gently as your arms found their way around her neck. “you are better,” you whispered to her.

it was like you and a magnetism to you that gwen couldn’t fight as your words encouraged her to kiss you again. it was like a switch was flipped inside gwen. she'd never experienced something so electrifying before. feeling your lips against hers was pure passion. her heart raced with excitement as she let herself be swept along in the moment. when your lips met hers and your mouths filled with the taste of the other, gwen felt there was no more room for hesitation now, and the two of you were lost in an incredible kiss that couldn't be stopped.

"you don't need this anymore," gwen's voice came out in a hoarse whisper as she reached for the corsage on your wrist, the one harry had given you. her eyes lingered on the delicate blooms, appreciating their beauty for a fleeting moment. then, in one swift motion, she tore the corsage clean off your hand, her grip firm and unwavering. the force with which she removed it almost stung. gwen flung it far behind you, casting it away.

gwen pushed you lightly into a nearby wall, her hand cupping the back of your head so you wouldn’t get hurt by the impact. she wanted nothing more than to feel you against her, to have your arms wrapped around her as you kissed her again and again. her heart was starting to beat in her chest, and you could feel her breathing quicken.

but still gazing intently into your eyes and keeping her lips inches from your own, gwen briefly backed away. "i think harry's an idiot," she purred, her tone dripping with confidence.

she pulled you close again, her body pressed against yours as if she was trying to collide with you. "he doesn't know anything about you. you're the most amazing, incredible, sweet, adorable..." she paused, her heart racing. "perfect."

a drop of water landed on her nose and slid down her face, causing her to giggle. her radiant smile illuminated the moment, casting a spell of enchantment.

the weight of her words settled upon you, leaving you blissfully captivated. "perfect?" you repeated.

“so perfect, you don’t even have to try,” she replied, her eyes softening as she sees how flustered you get.

gwen leaned in and nibbled your lower lip as she bit the bottom teasingly, just to see how you'd react. "mmm, " she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips against yours again. you felt her lick on your lower lip as she cocked her head to the side to deepen the kiss. your body trembled as gwen's tongue pressed into your mouth. her hands reached out and drew you closer as she gently slipped past your playful resistance and explored your mouth.

her eyelids drifted shut as your tongue stroked hers. this was heaven for her, and your moans were like music to her ears. she ran her hand through your hair, her fingers gently brushing against the back of your neck as she continued to kiss you deeply and passionately. you could feel her other hand running slowly down your back, her fingertips gently trailing your spine. her kisses grew more frantic, her breathing becoming more rapid. all she wanted was you.

gwen felt your cool, plush thighs clamp around her leg as she slid it up between yours through the opening in your dress. her hands slid down your body, one moving past your legs and coming to rest on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as she began to knead at your skin while the other put a firm hand on your hips. you winced at the sensation of her hand rubbing between your thighs as the opposite hand pushed you down onto her leg. in all the excitement, she had pushed herself closer, now grinding against you as she tried to find some sense of relief.

with the rain, the kiss became even sloppier. your mascara started to drip and streak, and you could feel it on your lashes. your and gwen's lipsticks ended up mixing and smearing up against each other as you were both kissing. gwen broke away from your mouth and started laying a trail of kisses down your jaw, leaving faint red lip prints in their wake. her red rose tinted lipstick was now much more faint and messy around her lips.

gwen lowered her mouth to your neck and began lightly sucking and nibbling. you almost went weak in the knees from the stimulating sensation caused by her lips leaving open mouth kisses on the surface of your skin that reached your collarbone and the curve of your breasts.

“(y/n)?” you heard a voice call.

shit, it was harry.

“(y/n), are you out here?” he called out once more.

gwen lifted herself off your neck and straightened herself as she glanced up at you with half-lidded eyes. peering from behind the wall that offered a semblance of concealment, you saw harry discovering the discarded corsage gwen had ripped off your wrist. he knelt down, his gaze fixated on it.

gwen's eyes met yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them. despite your scolding look, she leaned closer to you, undeterred by the risk of being overheard.

"he's going to hear us, gwen," you warned, aware of the potential consequences.

"so?" she replied, a hint of defiance in her voice. "unless you care, because i don't. let him hear."

her audacity caught you off guard, your face flushing as she returned to your neck, this time biting down hard on your skin as you felt the blood rush to the concentrated spots. you were sure they were gonna bruise and turn purple later.

“gwen!” you gasped loud, quickly covering your mouth to muffle her name. she went on, and her unexpected senses caught you off guard.

you made every effort to make sure you weren't too loud for harry to hear, but it was difficult to keep your whines under control.

but gwen knew. when he heard mysterious noises, noticed your discarded corsage, and realized he hadn't seen her go back inside, gwen knew he was aware based on the way she noticed in the corner of her eye how his face twisted. he ultimately stood up and turned around as he headed back inside.

with a soft pop, gwen pulled away from your neck. she stared attentively at you as you were breathing heavily against the wall. it was a gaze that held the power to captivate, like a masterful musician surveying their latest composition. in that moment, you felt like a canvas, waiting to be explored and transformed by her artistic touch.

“perfect and beautiful,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. “i’ve wanted to do that for so long- not the makeout and hickey thing. i mean, don’t get me wrong, i enjoyed it even if it moved a little fast but uh… the kiss part. i wanted to kiss you for a while to see how it felt.”

even though gwen was touching you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear with complete confidence, you grinned at how nervous she had become. wrapping your arms around yourself, you shivered slightly, the rain casting a chill upon you.

“you’re cold? hold on,” gwen's concern was immediate as she swiftly removed her leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. “here, much better than getting hypothermia.”

you chuckled at her teasing as you felt her cheeks heat up. "thank you," you whispered, hugging her briefly.

she smiled down at you, admiring how you looked in her clothes. "no need to thank me. you look stunning in it," she complimented, a mischievous smirk gracing her lips.

as you emerged from your hiding place, she seized your hand.

“what do we do now?” you asked her.

gwen turned to you, a rebellious glint in her eye. “well, i’m over this prom thing,” she admitted as she pulled you closer, her hand releasing from yours to wrap her arm around your waist and hold you snugly against her side. “wanna get outta here?” she asked.

a smile played on your lips as you nodded in agreement. "yes, let's do it," you replied.

just as you both contemplate your next move, your phone vibrates, signaling a new message.

“don’t tell me it’s him,” she groaned as you nodded, confirming her suspicion.

she extended her hand, silently requesting your phone. "can i?" she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

handing her your phone, you watched as gwen opened the camera app and positioned it in front of both of you. "smile!" she declared, capturing the moment with a click. the picture was you smiling as gwen held you jaw gently, planting a kiss on your cheek.

with the photo now saved on your phone, gwen's mischievous side took over. she swiftly navigated through your messages until she found harry's name. grinning devilishly, she selected his contact and attached the newly taken photo.

"just gonna let him know you won’t be coming back," gwen remarked, her voice full of wicked delight. without hesitation, she composed a short message to accompany the photo, her fingers dancing across the screen.

harry : (y/n) where did you go? you missing out sent at 8:53

you : hey harry, it’s gwen. she’s a little busy right now.

you : me and (y/n) are kinda over this prom night so we decided to do our own thing so i promise you we won’t be missing much. hope you enjoy the photo tho!! sent at 9:00

"there you go," gwen told you as she giggled to herself. "let's see how he likes that."

‘it feels good to be petty’ she thought, handing your phone back. the sky stretched out above, an expanse of darkness that seemed to swallow the world below. it was a canvas painted in shades of ebony and indigo, adorned with the twinkling jewels of distant stars. the rain had dampened her hair, causing it to cling to her forehead in an alluring fashion.

“so, my place? i have food,” she suggests, a smirk forming at the corners of her mouth.

you laughed at how casual it was. you two, ready to go to prom and dressed up, would now rather just go to her house and eat whatever leftovers she had to offer.

"wow, how fancy," you jested, your tone filled with playful sarcasm. "please, take me anywhere but here."

together, you left, leaving behind the glitz and glamor of prom and harry’s drama to finally have the night you and gwen deserved. as you stepped away from the whirlwind of glittering lights and laughter, you felt a wave of comfort wash over you in her presence. for just an instant, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. although you had fully anticipated having the most miserable prom and an even worst summer, you were now fully content. you had gwen, and that was all you could ask her.

she was just glad she could steal you back faster than he took you.

A/N: it’s finally here….😽😽

© 2023 primaviva

[xotaemintol]

SHINee Shorts: EXHIBITION (ot5)

*This is in no way, shape, or form, meant to be disrespect or hurtful/triggering to anyone, this is purely FICTIONAL, and not at all real nor is it meant to seem that way, if you are uncomfortable with ot5 smut, please keep scrolling or leave me feedback, I'll be sure to consider your point :) if not, enjoy!*

Pronouns used: NONE!

TWS: Exhibition/public play, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, penetration, dirty talk, biting, slight scratching, hair pulling, and car sex.

JINKI: The Recording Studio

You gasp and press your hands against Jinki's shoulders, "W-wait...don't go so fast..." You whisper as he slips his fingers inside of you, something about the risk of being caught excited him though, the way you whisper and whimper at every touch makes him want you more. It didn't help that you looked so pretty biting your lip with your eyebrows knotted together, your eyes fluttering and your legs shaking, not even the thought of being caught in the recording booth could stop him now, not when you look and sound this pretty.

"Does it feel good baby?" Jinki asked, "Are you gonna cum for me?" You whimpered and gasped, arching your back and pressing your hips into his hand as you leaned your head back against the foggy glass. "Please...Jinki..." Your eyes rolled back as you covered your mouth to stop the loud moan that desperately wanted to escape, "Don't cover your mouth baby," As he grabs your hand he leans closer and kisses your neck, knowing that it would only send you over the edge, "You sound so pretty, I want to hear your voice," Your legs tremble as your excitement begins to spill, "So let it out."

JONGHYUN : In The Company Car

You and Jonghyun were sure that no one could hear or see you, the windows were too foggy for anyone to peek in and see the way your legs hooked around his waist, trapping his body against your own as he slowly moved in and out of you. The thought that someone would notice the way the car rocked never crossed your mind, all you could think about was how good he felt, how deep he was, and how pretty his voice sounded. You felt like you were going to break into a million pieces, you never thought that he would agree to using a company car to do something like this but he couldn’t deny you, and the feeling of your warmth melting him only made him want more.

“Fuck…right…oh god!” You cried out, you tried to speak, trying your hardest to communicate with him, but all you could manage was gibberish, stringing together curses and moans to create broken sentences that gave him butterflies. “Right there, baby?” He asked, you nodded, rolling your eyes back as you began to cry from pleasure, you felt like you were going insane, your body tensed up and you reached out for him, trembling as you screamed his name, not caring that someone might hear in the empty parking lot, he didn’t either, addicted to the sound of your desperation he encouraged you to be louder, going faster as he watched you. “That’s right baby, scream for me…” He pants, licking his plush pink lips as he tried to compose himself, “It feels good doesn’t it?” You nod your head, hardly understanding him as you spout out nonsense and leak against the leather seats. “G-Good! So…fuck! Yes! Right there! Oh fuck…Jong…I…Yes!” You press your hand against the foggy window and Jonghyun does the same, putting his hand right beside yours as he goes faster. “I got it, baby, I know.”

KIBUM: The Hotel Terrace

  The coolness of the morning air nips at your hot skin as Kibum held your hips, you moved slowly, rolling your hips as him rode him on the terrace of the hotel room you were staying in. You both knew it was risky to try something like this, but the way you looked underneath the peaking sunlight had Kibum ready to risk it all. Your soft breaths and the sexual look on your face gave him butterflies, he couldn't help but cave in and let you ride him. You were glad that he couldn't resist it too, the way he felt inside of you, how his skin was glowing, and how he tried his hardest not to make the slightest of sound. You wished that you could do this every morning.

"You feel so good..." He said as his hand slid up from your hip to your breast, "Do you like fucking like this? Where everyone can see it?" You whimpered, nodding your head as his voice added to the pleasure, the way his cock filled you up had your head spinning already, but the moment he started speaking it felt like your brain had melted. Going faster you let out a slightly loud moan, not caring to cover your mouth as you placed your hands on his shoulders to stable yourself better, "So...oh fuck..." You leaned against his chest, shivering as you felt yourself getting closer. Kibum immediately took this as a hint to take matters into his own hands, so he started thrusting his hips upwards, deciding that he'd take the lead completely. As soon as he did this there was no more holding back, you moaned loudly against his sweaty skin, arching your back as you dug your nails into his skin.

MINHO: The Company Gym

The sound of skin slapping and pants could be heard throughout the gym, Minho should've known that there was no way you were begging him to take you to the gym this late just to work out. It didn't take long for him to catch on to how you pressed your butt against him as he helped you with your sets, and it also didn't take much for him to pick you up and fuck you against the mirror, slamming into you as if he was trying to knock the air out of your lungs and squeezing your hips as he kept you against the cold glass.

"M-Minho! Please!" You screamed out, your lack of concern for getting caught made him laugh a little, grunting softly as he looked at you, "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck...I'm gonna...ha...oh my g-god!" You could feel his heavy cock sliding against your walls, the head of it kissing your cervix hurt a little but the pain eventually melted with the unbelievable amount of pleasure, it felt like you'd snap in half if he kept going like this. "Are you gonna cum baby?" He asked in a husky tone, his voice low and breathy as he speaks. "I can't believe you're such a naughty girl..." You whimpered and clung to him, digging your nails into his shoulders as you cried out in pure ecstasy. "Y-Yes...I'm...I'm close." Your eyes watered and your legs began to shake, you couldn't hold on anymore and it felt like he was only getting deeper, it felt so good. "Go ahead baby, cum for me, but we aren't done...you wanted to work out didn't you?"

TAEMIN: The Stylists Dressing Room

"Taemin...wait..." You whispered as he hungrily devoted himself to eating you out, you looked around worried as you bit your lip, praying that the store was empty. "Focus on me..." He pulled away for a second and looked up at you with low and lustful eyes, "Getting caught would only make it feel better anyways." You began to respond but he quickly went back to eating you out, causing you to gasp loudly and whimper, you covered your mouth quickly and put the other hand in his hair, leaning against the wall of the dressing room to keep yourself upright. "S-So good..." Your eyes roll back, the feeling of his tongue sliding between your folds makes your stomach tighten, and the way his pillowy lips wrap around your clit makes your whole body shake.

You felt like you were floating, becoming slightly louder as he used his fingers to stimulate your clit, you were almost slipping away from the situation at hand but the sound of footsteps getting closer brings you back to reality. You yank his hair, pulling his head away as you shush him with wide eyes, but instead of stopping, Taemin mouths a quick 'I don't care.' And goes back to eating you out, this time he slips his fingers inside of you and uses his tongue against your clit, moving them faster than before knowing that it would be harder for you to stay quiet. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth, bringing your leg up to his head as you crumbled against the wall of the dressing room.

[gaily-daily-musings]

Soulmate/serial killer au

-

While Ford is considered to be an upcoming marvel to the scientific community, Bill is something else entirely. The wires of his brain fire so fast that Ford feels like he's a stumbling toddler.

He is four years older than Bill. Yet they're in the same course. Taking the same classes. Bill grasps concepts faster than Ford can finish reading the textbook chapter. Stanford always thought he'd be the one to change the world. But sitting next to Bill makes him feel inferior.

That is until Bill turns his attention towards him. The first time those eyes truly lock with his, the first time Bill looks at Ford and doesn't see through him, Ford feels like he could take apart the universe with his bare hands. Unravel the sun and ignite the stars.

Bill's lips turn up in a smirk and gives Ford a wink.

-

Bill is…Well he doesn't really refer to himself as a serial killer. Though he supposes the definition could fit him if one truly wanted to put a label on it. He doesn't really get labels. For gender or sexuality or clothing brands. Why do people have to put a name to something in order to understand it? He just is. He's Bill Cipher and he likes the electric feeling that rushes over his skin when he rips another person's teeth out of their mouth. Why should he have to label that?

The hot glue gun stings his finger and he yelps. Then he laughs. He takes another googly eye and presses it back down. One did not have to be good at arts and crafts to enjoy its simple pleasures.

Opposite the room the mirror reflects Bill's hunched form. His skin is smooth and unblemished. Unmarked. Untainted.

Most people have soulmates. A label on their skin, normally on the wrist. It tells them who to love. Bill does not. This would bother most people but it does not bother him. Chaos is his lover. Pain is his friend.

He finishes gluing and holds the severed hand (now complete with a smiley face) and grins. Todd had been absolutely blasted when Bill found him in that alley. A complete accident but he figured hey, this was too fun to pass up! He chopped his hand off then and there and snuck back to his dorm. Todd had been a blonde thorn in his side for months. He'd been extra salty when Bill had refused to join his cult (fraternity). There were far more interesting clubs on campus.

Bill takes the hand and puts it in a box and wraps it up with a bow. He can't wait to see the look on Todd's face at the hospital.

-

Stanford Pines likes to stare at him. Lots of people like to stare at Bill Cipher. Correction, they like to glare. It's easy to gather attention. Humanity is mundane. They crave more than their worthless lot in life. Bill Cipher is the most interesting thing they'll ever encounter if they're lucky enough to cross paths.

Bill's golden eyes (it's a rare condition don't ask him about it) flick down to Ford's wrist. He's not wearing a sweater today. How unusual. It wasn't often Pines came to class in anything but a turtleneck. Even if the weather was sunny.

Then Bill sees the name etched into the skin and understands. Ford was trying to subtly show off his wrist because he was too nervous to outright ask.

How adorable.

-

It's May and the air is heavy with the scent of evening rain. Ford tailed him around town earlier that day. Bill is always up for a wild goose chase, but what throws him off is how genuinely endearing Stanford Pines was in his abysmal stalker capabilities. Stupidity is never a good look on anyone. But he thinks Sixer pulls it off rather nicely.

That evening Bill throws caution to the wind. He has alarmingly high hopes for someone he barely knows. Bill carves Ford's name into the bottom of his foot with a pocketknife. It hurts to walk for a bit but with every step he takes his smile grows wider.

-

The first time they kiss Bill places a hand upon Ford's chest. Solid and firm. Then he presses Ford back until he's trapped against the wall. He can feel the thump, thumping under his palm. It's erratic rhythm similar to a man on the verge death. Panicked and breathless.

Ford cups Bill's face and he allows himself to be held. With each new kiss and each new day, Ford grows in confidence. He kisses harder. Holds tighter. Bill likes the way the hairs of Ford's chin feel as they scrap across his cheeks. He likes how big his hands are. They way they hold him in place. Like Bill will slip away at any given moment.

He can understand, Bill thinks, why someone would covet the name on their skin.

-

Bill falls out a two story window chasing some woman. Luckily she didn't get a good look of his face.

Normally he'd limp home. Thinking of ways to inact a far crueler death upon whoever wronged him. He'd take a hasty shower (if possible) and then try to patch up his wounds. But his feet steer him towards Ford's apartment. He lives there with his twin brother. Bill's head is filled with thoughts of pampering and fussing and Ford's face when it's all scrunched up with worry.

Stanely answers the door first.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Then Ford catches sight of him and shoves Stan out of the way. He whisks Bill off to the bathroom and Bill cannot stop the stretching grin off his face. Stan's narrowed eyes watch distrustfully from the doorway as Ford gently tends to Bill's injuries. He doesn't even ask why Bill is smiling so hard. Used to Bill's odd behavior at this point.

When he's done Bill holds his hands up in the universal sign of "carry me."

"Jesus Ford you gonna spoon feed him too?"

Bill successfully holds back a delighted chuckle when Ford admonishes his brother. But he can't stop himself from sticking out his tongue when Ford's back is turned.

Stan rolls his eyes and leaves the two of them alone. Ford carries Bill out and places him on his bed. He gives him some pajamas to wear and Bill instantly decides Ford's never getting them back.

They lay on the bed and Ford curls around him. They talk about everything and nothing. The universe. The stars. The theories surrounding soulmates. How they came to be and why people had them. It was a long held question as to why humans were the only creatures that had them. No other living thing possessed one. Some thought it was as simple as a name. If you did not have one, you didn't have a soulmate. Others theorized that it was about intelligence. Humans were self aware and the top of the food chain.

Then of course there was the religion aspect of it. That long ago God had created man. Then he split man apart when they angered him. In God's wrath he showed a mercy by allowing man to find their other half through a name on their wrist.

Bill traces the name on Ford's wrist and sighs deeply into his skin.

"I'd eat you if I could."

Instead of freezing up, or perhaps getting up to leave, Ford's face reddens entirely. Bill stares intently at the way it spreads. He'll never get tired of Ford's blush. The way his face deepens and his eyes widen. The pulse in his neck that starts to quicken. Bill wants to bite it. Tear into the meat and fill his mouth.

A smarter man would read the signs. But Ford wouldn't know a red flag if was planted in front of his mirror every morning. He was idiotically naive and Bill was stupidly in love with him.

Ford kisses Bill's bruises and he sucks in haggard breaths of pain. Fuck it hurt so good! That was the thing about Fordsy. He pretended to be such a goodie two shoes but in the end he couldn't help himself. Too curious and too fascinated by the way Bill's skin purpled and bled.

Bill is stripped bare. The way he has never allowed himself to be before. Naked both physically and otherwise. The mental image of Ford holding his bleeding heart as it still pumps crosses Bill's mind. It's a beautiful sight. He imagines Ford crushing it just to see what'll happen.

Ford kisses his foot, running his lips over the name there, and licking his toes. Bill whines. Gasping openly and throwing his head back to moan. God that man had a wonderful tongue.

Stanley yells across the hall at them to shut the fuck up.

-

Bill finds out through a smug Stanley. Bill doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Though he immediately goes to the cafe afterwards.

He spots the man quickly. His nametag pronouncing his name to all the world. William. Bill for short.

It wasn't common but sometimes someone's mark was a nickname. Especially if it was one that held (or would hold) significance to the user. Bill had contemplated putting 'Stanford' instead of 'Sixer' on his flesh, but decided it was easier to go with one that had less letters he'd had carve. It also helped to have a more definite claim with a nickname.

It was incredibly rare, but there have been instances where someone matched with more than one person. This William had a Stanford on his wrist.

Bill walks in and passes the line to go to the counter.

"Hey! Back to the end of the line pal!"

Curly blonde hair. Blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light.

"Hello sir! What can I get you today?"

Behind him the woman he'd cut off shoves forward. "I was next! I've been waiting for over five minutes!"

Bill tunes out William's reply. His smile is too authentic to be fake. He actually likes working here. Was he going to college too? What was his major? Bill doubts he is as smart as him.

Without a word he turns around and walks back out.

William tells him to have a nice day.

-

It goes on for two months. Ford doesn't grow tired of Will as Bill had hoped. Instead they exchange numbers. Becoming fast friends. Will invites Ford to his DnD group. They meet up once a week. Bill attempts to join them once and only once.

It's child's play to steal Ford's phone and hack into it. His password was a joke. (CarlSagan_is_my_hero) Bill scrolls through their conversations with an alarming speed. He types in a message before calmly setting it back down on the table. He'll delete it later.

-

"Scream all you'd like no one is coming for you."

To his credit, William grows hoarse after three days. He shouts at Bill that Ford will never love him. That he'll end up alone and bitter. You can't steal someone else's soulmate.

Bill ties him to the floor and lets the rats have him.

-

Stan moves out with his girlfriend and Bill moves right in. He'd practically been living there already anyways. And it stays like that for two years. Until Ford graduates and wants to move to Gravity Falls and study the occuring phenomenon there. Bill does not want to follow him. He loves the city. The smoky air, the sounds of chaotic traffic, the high rise buildings, the smell of piss in back alleyways. There's arrogance here in pasty faced businessmen. There's despair in the mud crusted homeless. Ripe for manipulation. Ripe for fun.

Ford takes Bill's face between his freaky hands and puts their foreheads together. His eyes pleading behind his glasses.

"Please come with me." He says.

It is an order. Not particularly demanding in nature, but a command nonetheless. Ford does not want to give Bill up. Bill does not want to give Ford up either.

He supposes this could be interesting.

-

It takes some getting used to. This backwater town filled with backwater people are too stupid for him to truly take pleasure in deceiving. It's too easy. There's no challenge.

Bill isn't dumb enough to kill anyone here. The town was small which meant everyone knew everyone. Too much gossip. If Bill kills he does so by driving to the nearest major city.

It's not as though he's addicted to killing. He doesn't feel a compulsion that drives him into action (not unless he's irrevocably pissed). He simply does it when it gets too boring. And surprisingly it's not that boring. Exploring the strange and wonderous forest of Gravity Falls was a lot more entertaining than Bill initially thought it would be.

They spend six years in that house sequestered away from humanity. Discovering the secrets the small town had to offer and catching strange creatures to study. Bill likes poking at them. He finally kills one of the gnomes about three years in (slippery little buggers) and lies to Ford about finding it like that. They both dissect it on the table, Bill gushing over it's insides while Ford catalogues the organs.

-

Bill had stumped the neighboring police departments for years. But Agent Smith wasn't police. And he had been searching for Bill Cipher long before he'd ever moved to Gravity Falls. Back to his early teen years. The victims all different, nothing connecting them except death. The pattern may have been erratic, but the level of violence the same. The rest of the team thought Smith was crazy. How could it be the work of the same man? Where was his evidence?

Agent Smith is not deterred. He will find this killer. And he will bring them to justice.

And then,

miraculously

he does.

-

The amount of physical and psychological tests they perform on Bill is insane. Then someone notices his Mark. It's too different. Too off. It was hard to believe it was self inflicted given how expertly done it appeared. It was a sad reality for many people. Desperate to have a Soulmate. Desperate for a connection. But it was always obvious. Marks were unreplicable. Supposed to be. Bill's was decidedly perfect. They never would have even caught it if his birth certificate hadn't of listed him as markless.

Ford does not visit him. He doesn't even call. Bill finds that hurtful. You'd think he'd at least get a letter or something.

Cameras are shoved into his face and he smiles blindingly at him. Reveling in the public's attention. They were always so thirsty for blood. This was humanity's true nature.

A reporter gets too close and he bites off a finger. He makes sure the camera gets his good side when he swallows it.

-

Bill's hand wraps around his wrist in a grip so tight his bones crack under the weight.

"You're mine Stanford Pines." Bill whispers in his ear.

Ford wakes from his sleep and doesn't bother trying to go back under. He gets up to head for the kitchen for some tea.

He hasn't seen Bill for ten years. Stanley keeps trying to introduce him to people. But Ford's heart has been claimed. Even if he thought himself capable, the thought of loving anyone else makes his stomach lurch and his throat burn.

He lets himself think about Bill once and only once after the sentencing is over and the media finds a juicier bone to suck on. The ghost of his thoughts haunt him when his mind quiets and the crack in his walls grows.

Bill had chosen Stanford. Looking down upon the rest of humanity, his gaze had stopped at Ford.

He never got to ask him why.

-

On his 41st birthday Bill Cipher escapes prison in a massive riot the likes of which the world has never seen. The guards had defected. Joining Bill in his madness.

Stanely calls him 11 times. Ford doesn't answer.

-

"The thing is," Bill starts and his tongue clicks, "the thing is that you're not important enough to waste time over."

Ford does not struggle in his bonds. Bill has always been particularly skilled in tying a knot. His knees hurt where they press against the unforgiving concrete. He wishes Bill had put him in a chair or something. Of course not. He needed to be kneeling. It was more dramatic that way.

Bill spins and claps his hands together before spreading them wide. "None of us are!"

He turns to the nearest goon and points at him. "You see this man? Just an insignificant speck in the universe!" Bill pulls out a gun and shoots point blank. The body falls to the fall with a thud. Ford's heart pounds in his chest and he tries to forcefully quiet it.

"None of it really matters!"

The smile drops from his face and his eyes lock with Ford's. The same eyes that haunt his dreams. Bill steps forward and Ford's fingers twitch. He thinks about wrapping them around Bill's neck.

This close he can see how he's changed. The scars. The muscle. The wrinkles.

Bill lifts his leg and places a foot, his right foot, on Ford's chest over his heart. He leans down to look upon him. Sitting helpless upon the dirty concrete floor.

Bill's eyes flicker as they search his. Looking for something. Ford squares his shoulders and deepens his frown. He will not let this killer knock him down.

"You are special Stanford Pines."

Unbidden memories rise to the surface and he chases them away.

Bill's hand is soft as it cards through his hair. He smiles so tenderly Ford feels it like a backhand to the face.

"Would you like to see what I've been working on?" He asks.

-

Bill shows him his blueprints and Ford is reminded why Bill had been accepted into college at 16. He is far more brilliant than any living being. Ford hungers for it. Waters at the mouth at the thought of building this.

God it would change everything.

"I had a lot of time to think in that cell. A lot of time to plan." Bill says it flippitantly. But Ford hears the carefully hidden bitterness in there.

"Don't you want the world to know your name?"

The world already knew his name. It was tainted alongside Bill's. As his fake soulmate. The man Bill had duped into loving him.

He looks back at the blueprints and thinks about erasing that naive man. Showing the world just who Stanford Pines really was. Brilliant. Deserving. Capable.

-

Ford is watching Bill. Some pink haired bimbo hangs off his arm playing with his hair and he's just letting her.

Bill doesn't like to touch people. Not unless he's hurting them. In all the years they'd been together that was the one thing Ford never pressed about. Why Bill was so adverse to it touching. Ford can admit now that, back then, he'd taken a sort of possessive pleasure in knowing that Bill hated interacting with anyone except Ford. Ford was the exception in all things.

"You are special Stanford Pines."

People were always too dumb to waste time talking to them. Too stupid looking. Too annoying. Too frustrating.

Bill loved talking to Ford. He was always animated and bright.

He tolerated people. Ford had known that. He'd known even then that Bill wasn't a good person. He just hadn't cared.

He's staring.

The girl laughs and Bill laughs alongside her. It isn't forced.

-

"What should it matter? It's not like I have a Soulmate." Bill's smile is particularly nasty.

-

Bill fucks him into the mattress and his wrist burns. He may or may not be moaning Bill's name. Teeth dig into his neck and he tilts his head back exposing more skin. Bill wraps a hand around his throat. All he'd have to do is squeeze.

Later Ford kisses the name on Bill's foot. Over and over again rubbing his cheek across it. Bill's shoulders twitch in silent giggles. He's always been extra sensitive there.

-

They stand before the completed portal. Disbelief and awe collide within him. He's here. They've done it. They're about to unlock the universe here in this abandoned basement.

Bill's hand slips into his and Ford squeezes it automatically. Bill leans in to nip at his earlobe.

It was time to turn it on.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 2 - Scattered

The rogue rolls a critical fail.

On AO3.

The Underdark is…something. Vast caverns, so tall the roof is hidden in gloom even Astarion’s sight cannot pierce. Glowing crystals larger than palaces in Baldur’s Gate. Glowing mushrooms, glowing creatures. That last point is becoming something of an urgency.

Astarion is long used to the claws of starvation on his innards. At best, his hunger is a barely satiated beast seething beneath his skin. At worst, it chews apart his mind until that’s all that stares out through his eyes, until every nerve, every twitch of his muscles screams and needs and his teeth ache and his jaw clenches so hard it sends pain lancing through his skull.

He’s about halfway to that point, currently.

He’s colder than usual. This is not helped by the cool air of the Underdark. His bones ache and his joints creak. He catches his fingers hooking into claws from time to time, and takes to pretending to fuss over his nails or his knives to hide it—said fingers are too numbed and stiff for anything like dexterity, anyway.

The creatures of the Underdark are a frustratingly skittish lot. He longs for a bear, a deer, even a squirrel. The thought of biting into it, smelling of clean sunshine and forest, the skin popping as his fangs pierce and that first gush of hot, salty blood—

“Did you hear me?”

The wizard. He’s talking.

“Oh yes, darling,” Astarion lies.

They’re all standing on the top of some tower belonging to some other mad wizard. Astarion wonders if that’s part of their schooling, towers and wizards. They always go for towers. Even down here, one of them has lost her mind to madness and not only built an entire tower of her own, but of course it’s laced with traps. Wizards love traps even more than vampires, he’s learning.

Their own wizard gives him a look, clearly unbelieving. Astarion gives him his very best “hello handsome” smile, and the man looks away, a touch flustered.

He wonders if the wizard would have been an easier target.

His current target is talking with some automaton. She’d gone directly for it. Speaking softly and deferentially, the way she does with the owlbear cub (Sweetums? Seriously?). It’s not a living thing, not a thinking creature of any kind, yet there she is, acting like it matters.

She does that a lot. Even to the gur she killed. It’s equal parts bemusing and befuddling. What kind of people even produce something like her?

He thinks, sometimes—though he’ll never admit it—that it might have been for the best that the mindflayers only snatched up one Earthian. The thought of multiples of her is disquieting. He’s not sure if they would be the most effective weapon the Sword Coast has seen in a century, or the most self-righteously insufferable gaggle of idiots.

Oh, now the automaton is hugging their most illustrious leader. How twee. He’s standing at an angle that he can see her hug it back, and he notices something. He’s seen hugs and been clutched at in passion. Most people grab (or claw). But this woman, his ally, hugs the metal monstrosity with…fists. Fingers curled in tight, thumbs tucked down. How interesting.

Then he catches the druid noticing the same thing, and the slight frown marring his enormous face—no elf, not even a half elf, has any right to be so massive. It’s absurd. The druid catches him noticing all the noticing, and he seems to be trying to communicate something. A question perhaps. But it’s not Astarion’s business, so he watches that question sail on by and makes no move to catch it.

And then everything goes to the hells. Their leader says something, or the automaton does, or maybe one of their merry band breathed wrong. It really doesn’t matter. It’s a mad wizard’s tower; it doesn’t need to make sense.

The light thrumming through each automaton—because of course there’s more than one—turn red. Apparently, that’s a signal even on other planes, because their illustrious leader’s face goes blank in a very particular “oh shit” kind of way, and she says, “Ah fuck.”

It gets a bit messy after that. Spells fly. The wizard shouts something and a nearby automaton shatters into pieces. The gith and the tiefling both hack at the big one. And their leader, who is the only person in the entire party—himself excluded—who shows the occasional modicum of sense, scrambles to get clear of the whole thing.

They metal monstrosities notice. There’s a strangeness about her that he’s getting used to; a kind of hum clinging to her skin whenever he gets near. Makes his teeth itch. But it draws attention and one of the automatons sets its sight on her and lifts an arm crackling with arcane power.

He’s got an arrow knocked. But the angle isn’t good. He takes two steps to the left—

Two things happen:

He lets the arrow loose and it flies true to bury into the facsimile of a metal face and the beastie goes down twitching.

And the ground beneath his left boot flashes. Which sets of glyphs all across the room.

Their wizard notices immediately. Has enough time to turn directly to Astarion and snap, “I knew you weren’t listening to a word I said—”

And everything lights up in horrible, searing light.

***

It lasts less than a moment. Less than a blink. Then Astarion stumbles forward—the damned hunger making him so ungainly. The tower is dark. Completely dark. Not a single mote of light, though he blinks and rubs his eyes several times.

Hells.

“Wizard!” he says. “We need light over here!”

But his voice echoes. It did not echo this way before. The sound is longer, goes much further, doesn’t bounce off ramparts and automatons and his wretched party. This time, it keeps going. Echoes off something far, far in the distance.

…there’s no other sound.

Astarion is an elf. Was, rather. He’s had excellent hearing since he can remember. Then he became a vampire spawn and everything got so much louder. The Blade had said he thought vampires could hear the stars twinkle, which was just silly. But he can hear heartbeats. Sighs. The soft squeak of leather boots as someone shifts. The gurgle of innards as stomachs digest (which in the first days was insufferable but has become something rather more…routine).

Now?

He hears air move. Water drips somewhere distant. And his own clothing rasps as he sways, trying to keep his balance in the oppressive black.

He’s alone. He can feel it.

“Wizard?” he says. The echo again is long and narrow. Somewhere closed in, but with an open way forward.

The panic is familiar. The taste of rotten iron crawls up his throat.

Enclosed in the dark. Alone in the dark. Closed in, closed in, closed in—

“Eleanor?”

But no one calls back to him. There’s nothing and no one. He tries to take a step but the ground is uneven and he stumbles. Goes down on one knee in a burst of pain.

“Hells,” he gasps.

There’s rocks all around. Some the size of his head. Others large and jagged. His hands—bare, because they’d been clumsily fussing with traps and the growing clumsiness called for ungloved fingers—slap rough, sharp edges.

Hunger and cold and alone, all alone, clawing at the door master please I’ll be good I’m sorry I’ll never do it again master.

The tadpole shivers. Because he has one of those. He was abducted by mindflayers, brought to the Underdark—

He’s in the Underdark.

He scrabbles for that connection and all but rips it open—

To six other people. Shock and anger. He resists all that, someone shouting in outrage over the intrusion and he doesn’t care because that’s six other people and he all but throws himself into their midst. Thoughts jumble around him, a stone tossed into a stream: cold air, smells stale; a huge, glowing purple crystal the size of a bleeding house; something reeks of sulfur; dead fish; hard ledge oh fuck it’s too high and you’re too weak—

Slowly, they all coalesce back into more defined spheres of self. The others pull away, and after that initial blast, Astarion has the sense to reel himself more or less back in.

Where? One of them thinks which ignites like a trail of sparkpowder through all of them.

Scattered images: a pool of dark water, a field of orange mushrooms glowing eerily in the dark, an opening in stone lit by…is that lava?

They’re none of them together. They’ve been separated. And he can tell—they all can—that it’s over a vast distance.

This is why it’s dangerous to mess with waypoints, thinks the wizard.

A defensive spell has blasted them across the Underdark. Astarion, you idiot.

And he can’t let that stand. Would they rather he let that automaton blast their darling leader’s head off? How was he supposed to know some brain-addled wizard had set up a mad trap five inches to his left?

Because the wizard told him so, to his face, three separate times.

Then a surge of irritation. But from neither him nor the wizard. It’s their leader. And she flashes them an image.

Because they’re not speaking in words (none but the irritating wizard, anyway) (he takes offense to that) so much as shapes of thought. Visions, impressions, emotions. His brain momentarily processes it as words, but the initial connection is a sense of outstretched fingers. Her outstretched fingers. A distant sensation that registers eventually as one of them.

They can sense each other. Vaguely.

The memory of a portal, glowing incandescent purple as it swirls and crackles with magic. This is a question.

But the wizard shakes his head. “No. I don’t know the waypoints here and I can’t safely use that spell to open a portal without one. We all saw what happened after that gith attack. It could take us anywhere. Or trap us.”

They had found the man stuck in his own portal, so that makes sense.

“Are any of you near me?” the wizard asks.

He’s next to a waypoint stone. In a great hall somewhere. Huge pillars hold up a ceiling lost in the dark. The stone a set of glowing glyphs carved deep. The hall seems abandoned—save for ancient skeletons and rusted armor.

The wizard doesn’t even register to the faint proximity-feel Astarion grasps at.

Karlach is confused and a touch anxious (and a touch excited, for some godsforsaken reason). She’s nowhere near the wizard. Is surrounded by mushrooms that soar up on blue, iridescent stalks like shaggy trees in an ancient forest. There’s no sign of a cave rat, let alone a waypoint stone.

The Underdark is huge. They could be anywhere. It’s dangerous for creatures that have spent their whole lives down here, let alone surface folk traveling lost and alone. Searching blindly—

In his own body, Astarion snorts. The others are all near something glowing, while he’s stuck in some pitch black…somewhere.

—for a waypoint stone is asking for trouble.

And then they all see an image that makes no sense. A series of green lines all nestled within one another, like an archery target. Except another line sweeps in a circle through them all. And as it goes, it sweeps over several small, green dots that blink and beep. The lines makes several sweeps, around and around as two of those dots merge into a larger one and grow in size.

Radar comes a foreign word. And then something in his mind translates “combine into larger radar signature.” And then something about several balls set on a sheet draped tight, and a much heavier one added with sags the whole things, drawing all of them together, only it’s worlds somehow and something about a “gravity” and…what in the hells is a “space-time fabric?”

They can all feel the wizard vibrate with hunger.

That frustration again. Their leader disengages a moment, and he can actually feel her gathering her thoughts together and shuffling them around.

She senses one of them nearby. They all reach out and…and Astarion can feel it, too. A subtle pull through the tadpole. She’s closer to him than the others.

Their leader’s excitement. She throws them all another images, this time of water droplets on glass. Two of them run together. Form a bigger droplet that pulls the others in one by one.

Find another. Stronger pull on others that way?

“Yes,” the wizard muses. “That may work. You two find each other and we’ll check back to see if our perception changes.”

For being an illiterate yokel with a penchant for setting things on fire at range—and biting out throats in range—their leader’s thoughts feel sharp and solid. Like a blade. She makes a decision and that is her decision. It’s quite easy to go along with it.

“Until then, I propose we all stay where we are. It’s far too dangerous to go off willy nilly.”

Again, that agreement. And that blade of focus turns to point at him. Their leader isn’t all that far from him.

The connection dissolves. He’s once again on his own, in the dark, with pain grinding through his left knee. But their yokel leader is close. All he has to do is find her. Alone. In utter blackness not even his supernatural vision can pierce, standing in the middle of a boulder field.

But it’s that or stay where he is. Alone and blind, in the close, closed dark.

Time to move, then.

***

Notes:

Yyyyyeah. Realized if I do once-weekly updates it’ll be like, September before we get to the chapter I just finished and I don’t want to slow down that much. Plus having that deadline makes me go fast, which keeps me from stalling the hell out. So uh, updates once again on Wednesdays and Saturdays unless I get stuck!

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[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (18)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

You’re tired and a bit sore the next morning, your makeshift bed on the floor less than ideal after your long night out. But that’s nothing new, really—you’ve woken in worse condition after a night of vigilantism on many a previous occasion. So you rise; go to the bathroom, and then to the kitchen to make breakfast–

Ah. You’re out of groceries.

You dress, head to the same cafe by your house as usual, and then venture onwards to pick up the bare minimum of groceries. You’ll figure out what else you need later, now that you’re going to have to go back to doing all of your own cooking (your chest clenches, ribs squeezing tight around your lungs like a child’s finger-trap toy) and you’ll only be cooking for yourself and your much lower standards.

You hastily shove that train of thought aside, sloppily put the groceries away, and shower. You have lunch with Karen soon, and a meeting with Ellison after, and you don’t want to smell like midnight vigilante dumpster alley encounters for either of them. You scrub away under the hot water, exfoliating and soaping and shampooing and conditioning—the tightness around your lungs and the lump in your throat urging you on as if achieving ultimate cleanliness will help reset the thing that aches inside. It doesn’t, of course, but there’s still some part of you that feels an awful lot better when you dry off, the scars across your ribs disappearing under your towel.

“I’m so sorry for canceling yesterday,” Karen says later when you’re seated across from one another at a small place between 7th and 8th. “Matt said you missed my text and came all the way up here.”

You wave her off. “It’s fine, really. Matt and I ended up getting sandwiches and then I spent the rest of the day at the park.”

She smiles, grateful for your apparent magnanimity. “Good, I’m glad the trip wasn’t for nothing.” She pauses. “How are you feeling?”

You pause. “Better,” you say, looking down at your menu and chewing the inside of your lip. “Honestly, I, uh–”

“Hi!” your server greets, appearing as if from thin air. “Do we have any questions about the menu today?”

You’re saved from the awkwardness of opening up to Karen for just that much longer as you pick back up your menus to order. When he leaves, menus with him, Karen turns her attention back to you.

“Better is good,” she says, bringing the conversation back on track.

You nod, deciding not to talk about Miguel right now after all. “I’ve got a meeting with Ellison after this,” you say instead. “Apparently we finally got a press list for that donor gala next month and he wants to go over some things.”

Karen beams. “I was wondering who got that assignment! Ellison didn’t want me to take it, with all the vigilante column stuff, in case a conflict came up,” she says, then waves the thought off with her long, pale hand. “That’s amazing, I’m so glad he picked you.”

Lunch continues, and you find that time with Karen does wonders to lift your spirits. She tells you about a recent night out with Foggy and Matt while you were ‘sick,’ and how Foggy nearly broke three glasses because he wasn’t paying attention to his pool stick before losing to Matt.

“Matt beat him?” you laugh.

“He’s surprisingly skilled at pool,” she laughs with you. “Foggy’s not bad, he just gets… carried away telling his stories after a drink or two.”

It’s hard to mistake the fondness in her voice, and the lump threatens to return to your throat. “He’s pretty good at telling stories, to be fair,” you say.

Karen laughs lightly. “That he is.”

You’re in a far better mood after lunch, and promise to see one another soon before parting ways. It seems Ellison had a good start to his day as well, and he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when you make it into his office.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“Good. I got a peek at the guest list, and this is going to be big for you.”

You frown. “I thought it was a standard donor gala?”

He shakes his head. “Well, mostly.” He hands you two sheets of printer paper with a list of names, stapled together at the top left corner, then leans on his desk, arms crossed. “There’s a few big names on the list. Donors who usually don’t attend, yadda yadda.”

You raise an eyebrow and then look down at the list, scanning through it for anyone familiar that might jump out at you. It’s mostly names you don’t recognize, privately rich upper east side-types, one or two vaguely familiar old money surnames, someone with the unfortunate first name of Wilson, and—

Your eyebrows fly up as you look at Ellison. “Stark and Potts?”

Ellison nods, eyes glittering behind his glasses. “Yup. And you are going to get quotes from them.”

The absolute last thing you want is to be on Iron Man’s radar, but…

You nod. “Alright.”

You get started on your research the next day, searching up the names on the lists and taking notes. You’ve got three and a half weeks since the event isn’t scheduled until early November, but with a list this long and how much time you spend on your… extracurriculars, you want to get started early.

Your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter next to you—the couch in the living room behind you, where you frequently do your work from home, untouched. You shift on the stool, stretching your back, before you pick it up to find a text from Karen.

Drinks at Josie’s tonight, 8:30! You’re invited :)

Your fingers hover over the screen. Why not? you think, and tap out a reply:

See you there!

Josie’s is slightly fuller than one would expect for a Wednesday night, but not overly crowded. There’s a pleasant level of background noise from the voices chatting under the music, and for once the fact that it’s warmer in the bar than it is outside is actually enjoyable: the sunset had long since taken the ambient warmth of the city concrete away with its retreat below the horizon.

Foggy warmly thumps you on the arm when you show up. “Good to see you back with the living!” he says. “Let’s get you a drink.”

True to his word, Foggy gets you your first drink before convincing the group to play teams at the pool table. Him and Karen against you and Matt, losers buy the drinks.

“Don’t worry,” Matt says, something about his grin devilish and full of mischief. “I’m better than I probably look, and you can tell me where the balls and pockets are.”

You grin. Even if Matt ended up being terrible, you think you’d be able to keep your team afloat with your secret talents. “Fist bump,” you say, prompting Matt to lift a fist for you to tap.

“Why do I feel like I’ve made a horrible mistake?” Foggy groans.

Matt grins wider, ducking his head to hide it. “I don’t know, Foggy. Did you think you were setting our friend up for failure here by pairing them with the blind guy?”

Foggy shoots Matt perhaps one of the most dramatically exasperated looks you think you might have ever seen, the kind one can only muster when a particularly dear friend is pulling some particularly specific bullshit. Matt must know, because he laughs, a full and happy sound—but you’re busy trying to pretend you haven’t noticed the scars on his knuckles when you bumped your hands together.

“Even if Matt was trash,” you say out loud, trying to shake the realization off and join the banter and putting on a fake-serious voice. “I think I could keep our team doing fine. You’ve made a mistake, Mr. Nelson, putting me in the position of being your enemy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Foggy says, swiping up the chalk. “Talk a big game if that makes you feel better. Now, let’s play. Karen, you first?”

“My pleasure,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Prepare to lose,” she directs at you and Matt. “Horribly.”

You and Matt win in a landslide.

“Okay, you cheated,” Foggy says over the next round of drinks.

“How could I have possibly cheated, Foggy?” Matt asks. “You just underestimated our companion here.” Matt pats your upper arm with the back of his hand to punctuate his sentence.

Foggy shakes his head and mumbles something into his drink while Matt smiles and takes another sip of his own.

“Well, I demand a rematch,” Karen says. “New teams.”

With fresh drinks ordered and teams switched, Foggy and Karen set the table up for a new game while you stand to the side with Matt, watching them. This game ends up being more evenly matched—you and Karen against Matt and Foggy.

Matt sinks the winning ball.

“Aha! Take that,” Foggy says, pointing a finger at you and Karen playfully. “Now go,” he makes a shoo-ing gesture with his hands. “Losers buy winners drinks.”

“You’re such a sore winner,” Karen teases. “What do you two want?”

It’s at the bar that you start to lose a little steam, the couple gently tangling their fingers on the counter a few seats away catching your eye. A memory flashes through your head of a few weeks ago, you and Miguel walking to breakfast and you resisting the urge to hold his hand—

“You doing okay?” Karen asks. She follows your gaze to see what’s caught your attention and then looks at you again with gentle curiosity and patience.

You sigh, rubbing your hands on your face. Josie sets down a round of shots, and you throw one back. Karen raises an eyebrow when you drop it back down on the counter and ask Josie for another.

“There was… this guy,” you say, looking down at the counter and pressing your finger on a whorl in the wood.

Karen blinks, Josie sets down your refilled shot. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

You shake your head. “It’s… it was complicated. He was…” You shake your head. “He was complicated.”

“How long?” she asks, and she follows your example when you start to collect the small glasses for the group.

You pause, thinking back, and nearly grimace at how what you’re about to say is going to sound. “Almost a year.”

She grimaces in sympathy. You feel bad about omitting the details, like the fact that you and Miguel hadn’t actually been together, but that wasn’t the point, was it? You were hurt, and you needed to talk about it. Plus, the feelings were mutual. You felt somewhat sure of that, since he’d all but explicitly said it, and you’d been living like a couple for most of that almost-year—

“Well, fuck him,” Karen says as you reach your table again.

“Fuck who?” Foggy asks. “And what for?”

“Some asshole,” you shrug and pretend it doesn’t hurt to call him that as you set the drinks down and sit. Karen next to Foggy, you next to Matt.

“We could always sue him for you, if you like,” Matt jokes, gently bumping his shoulder into yours.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“To fucking assholes!” Foggy declares loudly, raising his drink and you nearly choke. Karen laughs and slaps his arm, chastising him loudly. Still, your group raise their glasses and toast to his intentionally crass words.

Matt leans in after the drinks are lowered, asking quietly: “The personal stuff that came up, I assume?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking down at your drink and tilting the glass in a circle.

Matt nods, leaning out of your space again. “Screw him,” he agrees.

“You need more drinks,” Foggy decides, already pushing his seat back to go get them.

“No,” you laugh. “Foggy, really—”

“We just got shots—” Karen adds, but your protests are ignored as Foggy is already halfway to the bar counter, determined to drown any lingering sorrows.

So determined, in fact, that for the first time in years you actually get a little drunk.

“My god,” you slur, leaning back on the brick of Josie’s out front. “How did you d’this?”

“Don’t– don’t touch that,” Karen says, also drunk, as she pulls you off the wall.

“Ugh,” you say. “How do you do this all the time?”

“Strong constitutions,” Foggy says. “We all have—we have high con stats.”

“D&D,” you say, pointing at him. “Nerd.”

“Takes one to know one,” he retorts.

You groan in mock defeat, Matt chuckling off to the side.

Karen says your name, long and drawn out like she just realized something terrible.

“What?” you ask, turning towards her.

“You can’t go home like this.”

“I’m fiiine–”

“You’re in Williamsburg,” she insists. “That’s sooo far.”

“That is far,” Foggy says.

“It’s like, twooo trains, max” you insist.

“Two trains too far,” Foggy rebuttals. “While drunk.”

“Crash on my couch,” Matt says, both hands resting atop the end of his white cane. You suspect the reason he isn’t swaying is because he’s somehow gotten very, very good at standing still. “I live closest, you can catch the train home in the morning.”

Foggy and Karen exchange a look.

You nod, ignoring them. “Yeah. Yeah, that works. Good couch?”

“It’s decent,” Karen says, tone nothing but casual and bordering on chipper. “I stayed on it when I was suspected for murder and my apartment was an active crime scene.”

“I can’t believe that’s how we met you,” Foggy says.

Plans settled—Foggy and Karen will split a cab back to their respective apartments, and you’ll walk with Matt to his—the four of you hug and part ways.

”I’m this way,” Matt gestures down the road with his hand, cane grasped firmly and drawing a straight line from the sky to the ground. “Do you feel up to walking?”

“Yeah,” you say when you remember he can’t see you nod. “Yeah. God, I haven’t been drunk in years.”

Matt frowns a bit, light concern creasing between his brows. “You sure you’re okay?”

”Yeah,” you confirm. “It’s just sooo weird now.” And then, at his doubtful expression, you tack on: “C’mon, let’s get going.”

It really is an easy trip back to his building. You’re more focused on walking normally and not accidentally saying or doing something too Spider-y in front of him than on making conversation, so the chit-chat is minimal up until the building is in front of you.

“Oh, we’re here?”

”We’re here,” Matt confirms. “Do you mind stairs?”

You wave his question off. ”I can do stairs in my sleep.”

Matt laughs. ”I’m at the top,” he says, and leads the way.

His apartment isn’t what you expected, the ceilings high and somehow heavy while being made of so much open space. There’s a sort of barebones, worn, industrial thing happening with the interior design; the brick of the walls is exposed, and the colors are dark and brooding like fall. There’s not much in the way of decoration—-a simple couch, a coffee table, and a side dresser against the wall (no television to be found, naturally) mark the designated living room space. A small dining table sits behind the couch, the kitchen sectioned off by a tall counter, a similar concept to your own home. Off to one side, a step higher than the rest of the apartment, is his bedroom.

”Make yourself comfortable,” Matt says. “Water?”

”Sure,” you say, wandering past the couch to the absolutely enormous windows that line the wall. “Your heating bill in the winter must be as big as these windows.”

Matt laughs. “Heavy curtains help insulate the place.” He approaches the living room, two glasses of water in his hands, and you go to meet him. “Plus sweaters.”

“Thanks,” you smile as you accept one of the glasses from him. “Didn’t have you pegged as a sweater guy.”

“I have quite the collection,” he says, sitting in the chair. “I’ll let you borrow one tonight. I don’t know what you have on now, but I’ll bet it’s not nearly as soft. Or comfortable for sleeping in.”

You hum in agreement. “Entirely possible.” You pause. “Thanks for hanging out with me the other day,” you add quietly. “And for letting me crash here tonight.”

”Hey,” he says warmly. “Any friend of Karen’s is a friend of mine.” This time it’s his turn to pause. “Well, most of them.”

”Sounds like there’s a story there.” You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

Matt shakes his head. “One for another time. Let me get you that sweater, and a pillow.”

Matt rises from the chair but you remain on the couch, forcing yourself to drink the water despite your lack of thirst. Enhanced healing be damned, you’re not going to risk exacerbating any potential hangover via dehydration. He returns shortly, a pillow under his arm and the promised sweater atop a folded blanket that looks far warmer than the one draped over the back of the couch.

”Here you go.” He stops by the end of the couch, setting the pillow on the end carefully and handing you the blanket, sweater, and a surprise pair of sweatpants between the two. “Bathroom is over there, if you want to change.”

Gratefully, you do, slipping back from the sparse, chilly bathroom with your own shirt and pants folded clumsily. “You weren’t joking about how soft this is.”

He’s also changed into his own pair of cozy sweatpants and a slightly stretched out sweater. “I left some ibuprofen on the table for you,” he nods towards the two little brown pills by your cup of water. “Just in case.”

”You’re a saint,” you say, sinking into the couch. “Ohhh my god,” you can’t help but groan. “Karen was right about the couch.”

Matt laughs again. “When Karen vouches for something, I always listen,” he smiles, though you sense an undercurrent of seriousness with his words. “She’s never let me down.”

”She’s pretty great,” you agree, turning your head to look at him properly when a memory from Josie’s returns to your awareness. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, after the most microscopic of pauses—-but a pause nonetheless.

”How’d you get those scars on your knuckles?”

The hand at his side twitches, and after another short second of surprising stillness, Mat sits in the chair by the couch. “My dad was a boxer.” His words come quietly. “After he died, I started practicing myself, and…”

“When…” you swallow. “How long have you been practicing?”

”I started about… not long after it happened.” He leans back in his chair, getting comfortable. “So I think I started about… nearly twenty years ago?” He shrugs.

”I’m sorry.” You hope he knows you mean it. “Is that where you get those mysterious bruises from, too?”

“Something like that,” Matt nods, a gracious incline of his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. It falls again during a short pause, and then he asks: “Have you lost anyone?”

Your throat gets tight. “My aunt, a few years ago. She raised me by herself.”

Quiet sits for a moment, before Matt echoes your own words. “I’m sorry.”

You sleep heavily that night, after conversation with Matt ends and he retreats to his room, sliding door left open.

When you wake in the morning it's to the smell of coffee and toast.

“Mgh?” you mumble, a slur of disoriented sound when you lift your head from the pillow. Miguel doesn’t usually make coffee—

“Good morning,” Matt says from the kitchen area. “Coffee’s almost ready if you’d like some. And toast.”

Your stomach sinks, reality catching up as you let your head thump back down onto the pillow. You swallow. “That sounds great.”

If Matt notices anything about your voice, you hope he brushes it off as lingering sleep, or the after-effects of a bad dream. He’s gracious enough to put a mug and a plate on the small table for you, and you shuffle around the couch after dragging yourself upright.

“Anyone ever told you you’re a wonderful host?” you ask after thanking him and swallowing your second bite of buttered toast.

“I could stand to hear it more often. Though I suppose that would require having more guests.”

“Where’s our Garden Spider?” Peter whispers to Jess. “I haven’t seen them in weeks. Have you?”

She glances around, then shakes her head. “I think we should stay out of this one, Peter. Miguel’s… he–”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve noticed.”

“What are you talking about?” Gwen interrupts, appearing as if from thin air. Following close behind her are two other Spider-Men—Peter recognizes Hobie, of course, and he thinks he recognizes the second from a new recruit file from the last meeting, Pavitr—who are wrapped up in their own discussion.

“Adult stu–”

“Just catching up,” Jess cuts him off. “Is that Pavitr?”

Peter’s inquiries are sidelined for now, not that he wholly minds. He’s always happy to see Gwen, and sometimes Hobie, and meeting a unique Spider-Man is always interesting.

But he’s going to get to the bottom of this.

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[strangersparker]

Emergency contact

Steve Harrington x reader :)

Prompt: loosely based off a modern family scene (I LOVE modern family). Where Haley runs off from her date with Arvin after meeting his parents, he then says something that upsets her and she runs off. She ended up in the hospital due to fainting (bc of the NERP stickers lol) and the nurse calls her emergency contact, which is her ex-boyfriends—my story isn’t exactly the same. But I hope you enjoy.

Warning: fainting, I don’t write so this may be terrible.

no use of y/n. could be gender neutral bc I didn’t use he/she besides the nurse and Steve.

You don’t know what happened, but somehow you ended up in the hospital. The last thing you could remember was running around the neighborhood, and a man with a British accent asking if you’re okay.

Once you looked around to see if there was any evidence of what happened earlier, the nurse came in. “Good, you’re awake,” she says. You still looked at her confused, brows furrowed, she senses your confusion and says, “you passed out. A man on the street found you fainting and called for help. Have you been drinking water? It’s awfully hot out, and it seems you’re dehydrated.”

You thought back to earlier this week, maybe you could’ve been better at drinking water but other things have been on your mind. “I probably haven’t been drinking much water, no,” you respond. The nurse nods, but further asks, “how about your stress level? Has there been anything causing you deep amounts of stress?”

Well geeze, you think. How about things you could never imagine and almost putting your life in danger everyday along with your friends. Oh, and, your recent break up with Steve. You were together for a year, but were quite close before because of Dustin.

You were his babysitter because his mom didn’t trust him alone at home even if he could take care of himself, so you—his neighbor, took care of him. Dustin absolutely adored you, you always listened to his problems and was there for him. Not to mention, you were kind to everyone including his weird group of friends. He didn’t mean for you to get caught up in the madness of demodogs, Russians, and Vecna. But that’s just who you were, you wanted to help. With Dustin being stuck in the middle of you and Steve’s lovesick confessions about each other to the little boy, he grew tired and “parent trapped” the two of you. Both of you were grateful for Dustin because it gave you both the courage to confess to each other.

You forgot about the nurse and her question, as she’s staring at you with a worried look, waiting for an answer. You sigh, “I guess I have been under a huge amounts of stress.” She jots down some notes as you respond. “What you need to do now is rest, and drink plenty of water. You lost a lot of fluid, and you running and your added stress didn’t help. We suggest you stay here until the end of the day. Just so you can fully rest and drink as much water as you can. How does that sound?”

You silently nod without saying a word, and she walks out with a tight-lipped smile. You’re glad she said that you could stay for now because you’re not ready to leave and face reality. At least you could relax a little. You sink into your bed (and drink some water) and you remembered why you were running. You weren’t even a runner—you hate running and always wondered why people did it for fun.

You were running from your thoughts, you needed to get fresh air because all you could think about was Steve. The break up was really hard for you, and it’s only been 2 months. Though, it wasn’t a mutual break up. It wasn’t him who wanted to break up. It was you. You broke up with him.

You didn’t break up with him because you stopped loving him. Oh, no, you are hopelessly in love with him. Your insecurities got the best of you.

You and Steve’s relationship grew long after him and Nancy dated. You were a bit worried at first because you weren’t sure you’d live up to Nancy’s standards. But that’s exactly what Steve didn’t want, he needed someone who loved him. Someone who knew his worth and that was you. You both cared for each other so much. The kids admired you two, and Robin can feel the love you both had for each other. Yet she was disgusted at the same time.

Something happened when the whole vecna fiasco began. You could feel Steve slipping away and going towards Nancy. You thought you were going crazy because she’s with Jonathon, she wouldn’t do that to him. But the longer you all were together, the more you could see them falling for each other again.

It broke your heart.

You felt that you were right before, you’ll never be Nancy. So when everything was over, you broke up with him. You didn’t tell him the reason, which left him in confusion and sadness. Steve missed you so much, and not talking to you for 2 months was killing him. He needed to know the reason and win you back.

It seemed you weren’t lost in thought for too long, as the nurse comes back into your room. “We contacted your parents to come get you after you’re all rested up, but it seems they’re out of town. So-,” you interrupt, “yeah they went on a trip for their anniversary. It’s just me right now, I’ll take the bus after this.” You say without hesitation. You don’t want your friends to worry about you, especially Robin. Knowing her she will, and you can’t have her finding out you ended up in the hospital because you weren’t taking care of yourself.

“Well, we really suggest you have a trusted transportation back home. Plus, you’ll be on that bus ride forever. We looked at your emergency contact list and your boyfriend picked up. He should be coming soon.” You looked at her with wide eyes, you tried to tell her that Steve isn’t your boyfriend anymore and shouldn’t be coming here. But it was too late because as she said that, he was running in. He looked out of breath. You quickly noticed he was still in his Family Video uniform, so you knew he was in quite a rush to get here.

“Oh, no, no, no, please come back. He’s not-“ you called for the nurse, but gave up in defeat as she left the room.

“I’m so sorry, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay? What happened? She said you were dehydrated and running? Since when did you run? And-“ his questions kept spewing and it was overwhelming you. You took a deep breath. “Stop! Steve, it’s okay. I’m fine. You shouldn’t even be here right now. I didn’t know you were in my emergency contact list.”

“You’re not fine. You fainted! I was worried sick when they called me. I want to be here, I don’t care that you don’t want me to but I’m staying and bringing you home.” Why did he have to care so much? You weren’t together anymore. You thought he wouldn’t care anymore, but a small part of you might be glad he’s here.

You sigh and figured to just let him. You wanted to be stubborn but knew a bus ride home was a terrible idea. He took your sigh as a “fine.” Steve grabbed a chair and sat next to your bed. “So, you want to tell me why you were running? Again, running doesn’t sound like you.” You rolled your eyes at him, you hate that he still knows you so well. “I just wanted to try something new,” you tried to say confidently.

“Liar,” Steve immediately responds. You scoff. “You know what? Why don’t you go back to stacking movies. I was enjoying my quiet time here.”

“You know I can’t do that. I also don’t want to. Now tell me, what happened?” He said with so much love and worry. He was hoping that maybe he could find out why you called things off. You felt tears building up in your eyes. You quickly looked away as you didn’t want to talk about this with him. You were still so fragile. And you wondered why he was here when you were sure he went back to Nancy.

“…I needed some air. I know that it was me who broke off things with you but I’ve been having a hard time lately. I guess I was dehydrated, and my running didn’t help.” You respond timidly without making eye contact.

“Why did you break things off?” Steve asked with hope. He needed an answer. You throw your head back to your pillow, “Steve, I don’t want to get into this right now. I’m not in the headspace-“

“Please. I need to know why. I’ve been so confused these last two months. It felt like it came out of nowhere.”

“Came out of nowhere? You were falling for Nancy right before my eyes. I couldn’t stand it!” You blurted out. You realized what you said, and silently beat yourself up because you didn’t want to tell him it was because of Nancy.

“Nancy?” He said almost with a laugh, “you broke up with me because of Nancy?”

“Look, I saw how you guys were. It was like your love was rekindling for each other,” you said matter of fact. Steve rapidly shook his head. “There was no rekindling going on between us.”

“Well that’s what I saw. It hurt me a lot. I knew that I wasn’t right for you from the start, especially after your relationship with her,” he could almost feel your heart breaking. Steve grabbed your hand gently, making sure it was okay with you. “Sunshine, that may be what you saw, but it wasn’t. I was concerned for everyone’s safety at that time. Yes, Nancy and I had some history, but we both moved on. I just wanted to make sure she was safe too. I love you too much to ever leave you.”

Sunshine. He knew that was your weakness. He loved calling you that and you loved hearing it.

But you didn’t want that to win you over. “Well, we’re not together anymore. So, it doesn’t matter.” You cross your arms and look away. This time, Steve actually laughs, which makes you look back at him like you wanted to smack him for not being serious. “There it is,” he says. “What are you talking about?”

“You were like this when we first started dating. You were afraid that I still loved Nancy. But I tried to tell you that she was in the past. You don’t know how amazing you are and it hurts. Nancy and I broke up because she didn’t know my worth, but you do. I hate that you can’t see how I see you. You’re the most caring, loving, beautiful person. I love you more than my heart can handle.”

You feel like your broken heart has been healed. You felt ridiculous for ever jumping to conclusions without talking to Steve first. A tear finally rolls down your cheek, but you try to hide it. “I love you more than my heart can handle, too,” he wipes the tear off you with his thumb while holding your face. “I said that line first, you can’t steel it,” he jokes, which makes you laugh. He missed your laugh.

“I’m so sorry for breaking things off. I shouldn’t have done that. I missed you a lot. I’ve been a mess, as you can tell,” you gesture to the hospital room. “I don’t care anymore. I’m glad I’m on your emergency contacts. I get to take care of my sunshine again.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You missed his lips on yours. You leaned into each other, and he gently held your face and kissed you like it’s been years without you. After a minute, he pulled away, “I don’t want to take your breath away even more. So that’s enough for now,” Steve said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and slapped his arm.

After a few “I love you’s,” kisses, and him forcing you to drink more water— instead of taking you home, he took you back to his house to hold you close again.

a/n: I wrote this in a few hours, so I hope it makes sense. I don’t write but am always reading <<<<<3 amazing stories about Steve. I wanted to give it a shot. I’m full sending this bc I liked the idea and don’t think I’ve seen a lot of this prompt.

[booasaur]

Any new upcoming series with w/w?

Lol, I had a whole answer typed up and almost completed last night, I could only remember a few upcoming shows but added a bunch of ongoing and recent with descriptions and then the post editor hiccuped and removed most of it so I angrily went to sleep instead.

But maybe that was for the best, because this morning a video of upcoming f/f shows in April came out so now I can add a few more.

There's Dead Ringers, that show with Rachel Weisz playing twin gynecologists and since it's a genderbent adaptation of an existing movie we already know it's gonna be super messy. It would be pretty wild for Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies to not have some wlw and luckily it does, the trailer itself reveals a couple. Tiny Beautiful Things, with Kathryn Hahn and Sarah Pidgeon (Leah in The Wilds) playing her younger self, apparently Kathryn Hahn's character's daughter is queer. Slip is a kinda scifi, where a bored wife cheats on her husband and realizes every time she has sex with someone, she wakes up married to them. The show's about her trying to get back to her original life, and there are a series of different husbands, but also a few wives (also, the first "replacement" husband is played by Boorman's actor from Willow!). There are also the upcoming Thai dramas Be Mine, Reverse 4 You, and 23.5, as previously mentioned.

In terms of returning series coming back, there's the Disney cartoon The Owl House, getting its final ep. Single Drunk Female's second season is returning soon. It has a bi lead, and she did have a female love interest but it was pretty temporary compared to the will they/won't she has with the main character male love interest. Her Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor, also a very main character, is a lesbian, and she's married but her wife's actress is a regular on another show now so I dunno if she'll be back.

Welcome to Eden, a Spanish thriller about people trapped on an island with a cult, ended the first season on a major cliffhanger so it'll be exciting to see what happens now, though it feels like anyone could die so that's a bit nerve-wracking. It has a lot of different kinds of rep, f/f, m/m, trans, one of the gay guys is deaf too and it's a plot point that his boyfriend won't learn sign even though his friends have.

The Epix series From is a pretty well done horror series about people trapped in a town and who get hunted at night, it's more ominous and suspenseful than outright gory. It actually has three wlw, though one is mostly with one guy, the one who's engaged to a woman outside the town seems to be about to start a romance with another guy, and one is a teen who's crushing on the first woman, feels unrequited. I didn't know about any of them when I started, so they're a bonus, the show itself is rather compelling.

As for current shows, The Power (lol, get it, current) started last night on Prime, it's nice that after the misreading of Class of '07, this new show about girls does immediately have a wlw. Gap's already finished but it made such a splash, if you haven't watched, I'll mention it again. The other Thai drama, Show Me Love, is still airing. Fantasy Island is honestly kind of sweet, it feels like one of those '90s shows, episodic, bright colors and optimism, and great guest stars. One of the two leads, I'd say, or at least the second billed main, is queer.

We got our three firefighter shows, 9-1-1 with a solid (now) established relationship, Fire Country, a lesbian character but not much screentime, and of course Station 19, which is honestly winning me back in a huge way with their current storyline (if they land it).

Cop wlw update (why are there so many of them!): NCIS Hawai'i remains super cute, especially when Lucy is on, looks like Ayanna on Law & Order: Organized Crime got herself a new gf with a super hot voice, The Rookie: Feds still has Niecy Nash playing a super likable and bi lead. I couldn't stand the egregious copaganda in FBI: Most Wanted, and like, imagine how bad it'd have to be, when I can still watch all the rest of these shows, but Sheryll's still there, so. Sin Huellas (No Traces) has already finished but gets another mention for being as funny as it was, with a cute, hot couple at the center. Rabbit Hole's just started, but the initial antagonist/probable grudging ally's an FBI lady who within the first 10 minutes of the first ep dropped that she had a wife. Van der Valk has started its third season and though I'm gonna keep hoping Lucienne's INCREDIBLY hot ex from 2x03 returns, Lucienne, second billed, is plenty hot by herself. Ariana Guerra, who played the novitiate in Helstrom, has joined the second season of CSI: Vegas. Her character's bi and has a main character boyfriend but he seems like he'll most likely end up with a different character.

I'm not really going through these in any particular order, except combining the above two types, but let me just blow through the rest of the ongoing shows: the Canadian family comedy Run the Burbs has been quite sweet in how it's written the teen daughter, How I Met Your Father comes across as an old fashioned sitcom, except one of the characters is a lesbian. It's kind of fun in its familiarity and low stakes. I didn't expect to be as drawn into The Watchful Eye as I did, the trailer felt quite soapy and it was, at times, but all the nannies were great, and I ended up quite liking the f/f side couple. It's amazing what actual personalities can do. :o A Million Little Things is winding down its final season and Grace Park's character is engaged to Cameron Esposito's character so it feels pretty endgame at this point.

If you didn't watch or stopped watching Carnival Row because the main m/f relationship seemed so especially trite, you maaaay want to give it another look. I'm not nearly caught up with Bel-Air, but in the first season they wrote Ashley's sexuality really well, especially since she's so young. I'm sure you can't have missed my Perry Mason gifsets by now, but I can only reiterate what a great character Della Street is. One of the kids in Gotham Knights is bi (and her brother is trans!) but I'm not sure it's worth getting invested before cancellation. Unless the CW is only going to keep projects involving the Supernatural trio?

At this point, hoping everyone who's into wlw has at least tried Yellowjackets or is aware enough of it to know they don't want to try it. Las Pelotaris 1926 is a Spanish language historical drama about female athletes playing--well, the sport is basque pelota but if you need a reference point, it's like squash or racquetball. If you haven't yet caught up with RWBY, now would be an okay time. Lastly, I've still never watched any of Riverdale or even Choni clips, but its final season has just started and you know, I gotta respect the longevity of whatever they've been doing with them, however up and down they seem to have been, and perhaps this final season will be an up. From what I've seen on SM, they seem to get endgame soulmatey treatment more than any of the other ships and I can respect that.

Aside from the Thai dramas that might air after April and a few of the other shows that ended their seasons in March (or February in Gap's case), all of these have eps airing this month. After this year of cancellations, I think it's worth enjoying what we can, even as we acknowledge how much lead/main character rep and longevity we're losing. :o