#no clue if i'm forgetting any tags

[spdrvyn]

do you think you'll be writing a part 3 to "i'll be lonely with you" ?? 👀 it's so good and i am invested

let's be lonely together — MIGUEL O'HARA

☆ there seems to be a spark growing between you and miguel, and you're forced to confront it when a heavy obstacle blocks your path.

minor angst. fluff. hurt/comfort. injuries. gn!reader. changed the formatting because it felt a little too clunky, hope you guys enjoy this one. school just started for me so i'll be getting a little busy T_T like the other "parts" in this, it can be read as stand alone.

You were absolutely mortified when you heard the news.

Miguel getting injured was a rare phenomenon that you'd only ever see in your nightmares, however the multiverse would always find a way to make those dreaded dreams of yours become a reality.

You'd refused to believe at first, standing as still as a mannequin once Jess had informed you, but that realization had finally sunk in. Miguel was hurt, and you were away while it happened.

From what you've gathered, he got impaled. It wasn't in any fatal areas, but it's a gut-twisting incident nonetheless. You shuddered just thinking of Miguel covered in blood, but to think that a spear, a sharp piece of metal, a blade piercing through and sticking out of Miguel's side left you unsettled.

Of course, your first instinct was to visit him. No second thoughts.

God, even as you paced hurriedly to the infirmary which was all the way across headquarters, your mind ran like a coding sequence. Trying to compute what to even say once you see him.

Being too forward and asking questions straight away might get him overwhelmed, he is frail and you certainly don't need to weigh down on him even more. Yet, you also want to show him that you care, but how do you do that without confessing your feelings for him?

Oh, right. Your feelings for him.

Cross your heart and hope to die, it started out as a small crush. Very miniscule, very minute, but who could blame you? You hadn't been around for as long as Peter B., Ben, let alone Jess, but he was more than okay with your company. You considered that to be a great achievement, but you celebrated too hard on your newfound friendship. Letting it fester in your heart, boiling for more.

You had tried to embrace delusion, you had tried to be content in the illusion of simply being friends, however guilt crept up on you at every single possibility. Maybe you could push down your feelings, stay in denial, but it would be a wasted effort.

It was the little things. The ghost of a smile that you would see forming on his lips whenever you talked about your interests or practically anything not work-related, the way that his eyes relaxed whenever you came into sight, how he ran his hand through his hair during the times it had fallen unkempt to fix himself up just for you.

Although it wasn't just you who noticed his tiny habits, Miguel was ever the observant type as well. During conversations, he'd occasionally interrupt you with a detail from a discussion that you two had three months ago. You wouldn't be surprised if he knew bullshit like your mother's maiden name.

This showed up in presents too. When you just happened to be hungry, Miguel had pulled out a small box, well as small as it could get when in his hands, and handed it you. Once you'd open it, you were met with the smell of your favorite fast food place.

Even with the snarky comments about how he could easily replicate it with the ingredients he had at home, there was no ignoring the absolutely smitten smile that he wore as he watched you eat. Content, happy, and most of all: full.

You'd missed it, all of it. The adrenaline in your veins raced like a runner on a track, hand shaky as you raised it to knock on the door of his medical room. Sweat gathered at your forehead, you held your breath as it threatened to collapse. You knew had to do this.

Three knocks was all you needed, but before you could even get to the third rap, Miguel's voice spoke from inside. "Come in," it was low, but not menacing like it usually was. He no longer spoke like he was commanding a room, getting your undivided attention, low from the bottom of his heart with every word serving a purpose.

No. Right now? He spoke like he'd fallen into the pavement, instead trying to divert your attention, low from the deep pit of shame and embarrassment that he dug himself into.

Once you'd entered, Miguel looked just as sad as you thought he'd looked. Even if he still adorned the suit that made him particularly stand out from every other spider-person running in and out of this place, the suit that served as his captain's hat, the freshly patched wounds shined through it all.

"Miguel," You spoke, voice hushed as you rushed to his side. He flinches when you slam the door shut behind you before you grip the railings of his 'hospital' bed. "What even happened?"

Your eyes ran over his body, observing how the molecular fabric of his suit glitched and stuttered, the same way a TV would look if you pressed your hand against the screen too hard.

You wanted to get a good look of his injuries, to check for any sign of what the full story was, but before you could do more, Miguel brings the covers over the entire lower half of his body, including the surface of his abdomen. Looking away shamefully.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," He grumbles and you could barely even hear it, his words tore your heart apart piece by piece. Did he not trust you? Were your efforts to see something more in him for naught? "Why are you here?"

"Why else do you think I'm here, Miguel?"

The truth was that you weren't even mad at him, just disappointed. Numbers were too finite to count the amount of times you've limped into Miguel's office with a brand new injury from a mission, the amount of times you've explained to him that you'd go straight to the infirmary after, the amount of times he's demanded that you sit down as he patches up your wounds while you report said mission to him. 

Yet he was this ashamed to act so vulnerable in front of you, while you've looked even weaker in the past? It made you think, it really did. "I feel like you owe me some explanation, don't you?" You insisted, but he just shook his head.

"There's more important things to attend to right now," He begins, and it makes the blood pumping in your heart freeze over. "It's really not that big of a deal, it'll pass in a day, I promise." Lies. All of it. 

The frigidity of his words seeped from your chest down to your very fingertips, the steel railing of his bed practically turning to ice as the realization sunk in. He didn't want you to see him like this. He didn't trust you enough to see him like this. 

But why?

You wondered. So you asked him. 

"I just don't get it." One of your hands lets go of bars that way you could smooth your hair, probably the only not messy part about you right now. "I thought I was doing everything right, and it's still not enough, is it?" 

Miguel's face falls, the tense pout that he wore like a jacket being ripped to shreds as you further rambled. "Why are you shutting me out like this? What did I do wrong?" Fragile, delicate, creaking and cracking, all while on the verge of breaking. 

Was it your voice? Your tears? Your composure? No, everything. It was as if he had you in a chokehold, a slight pressure, and you could shatter in an instant. Your head immediately tilted down, facing the floor. You prayed, prayed, and prayed that he wouldn't take notice of the crystalline drops that fell from your eyes. 

But Miguel can't even bring himself to say anything and he hates himself for it, don't get him wrong though, he has so many thoughts, he's had so many thoughts about you. He felt like such an idiot for not saying them to you before, but he'd feel like even more of an idiot if he said them right now. 

That was mostly the self-defense talking, just look at you. Sure, he was the dumbass injured on the hospital bed, but you were an entirely different kind of pitiful. The strength that he'd built over the past year, to hurdle obstacles both physically and mentally, to be a leader, yet he couldn't even undo the repression of the feelings that he so coldly locked away. 

He wanted to try though. For you.

"It's— it's not for the reasons you think, okay?" Miguel stuttered, how he wanted you to look up that way he could wipe your tears, hush and reassure you, but he couldn't. Not in this moment at least. "I'm an idiot, I really am."

Now, that made you redirect your attention. A rarity it was to witness the proclaimed genius, leader of hundreds of Spider-people, to call himself fucking stupid. Your eyes were dry, but the puffiness of your lids said all it needed to. 

Miguel's face scrunches up a little, he had to be vulnerable, it was the least of many things that he owed you. "I just think you're too good for me sometimes," He sighs, 

leaning back against the pillow behind him. Gazing distantly into the small corner of darkness in the room, "Not sometimes. A lot of the time. Everyday."

A wave of warmth crashes over your chest, coursing through your icy veins as Miguel further digs himself into this hole. A hole that he'd most likely die in. "You're just so— so you, you know?"

He denotes your perplexed face and sucks in a sharp breath, bringing a hand out to rub the wrinkles on his forehead. "Fuck, just give me a second to think." He huffs in annoyance, there were often times where Miguel would be able to explain the full extent of canon evemts with no breaks in between when it came to something as simple as saying I like like you, he was more than clueless.

"I've seen this place come to fruition ever since I could even begin to fathom multiverse travel," He starts, Miguel had normally upkept the habit of keeping eye contact with those he spoke with, but right now he wanted nothing more than to keep looking away from you. "A year. A whole year."

Miguel was smart, that he could say with confidence. He was able to build machines that allowed him access to scientific discoveries that nobody else could attain, the same machines that are the foundation of everything he's built. 

However, it all really boiled down to the people. Each individual that he's recruited is special, he can't deny that. Their origins are the same, maybe their suffering alike, but it comes down to the soul, the core of their being. There's a specialty in every Spider-person that he's walked by in these hallowed halls.

Even after all of that, he just couldn't comprehend it. After seeing all of them get knocked down by the cruel humor of the multiverse, only to get back up and to keep preserving, he hasn't made a single realconnection. 

"You come in only a few months ago and it seems like everybody knows your name, knows who you are, your smile." Miguel talked and talked and talked, like you weren't even in the room. Like how he did whenever he'd come back to his office from a mission, a mission with you and Lyla would beg him for the details. 

"Yet, even when there's so many better versions of Spider-Man out there, more charming and more... likeable," Finally, finally he turns his head back to face you, trying to fight back the shame that makes him want to just shut the hell up. 

"You chose me." How could he even call himself a genius after all of this?

One of Miguel's worst fears nowadays was you being in his place, possibly worse. Dead on the dark floor an alleyway in some distant dimension, that idea terrified him a lot. He almost thought he killed you himself when you only seemed to just— stare at him, lips slightly parted and the only reassurance he received that you were still with him in this realm was the slow rise and fall of your chest. 

If this was how you felt everytime you had a personal discussion with him, he completely understood if you'd leave this room hating his guts. As each second passes at a snail's pace, that pit of anxiousness grows and grows until—

"Miguel," It's a single word, his name, his calling; the way you say it though, it makes his heart drop below freezer temperature. "Is that really what you think of yourself?"

Huh?

"Here I thought that you were pissed at me this whole time," A dry, but short chuckle leaves your throat. The remnants of your sobs and previous cries still present in the way you spoke. "I don't hang around you just for some extra validation or because you're the boss, I stand you because I actually like you?"

What?

"Have you actually never considered that? That I wanted to know you past a work basis?" You almost find the utter shock on his face humorous if it weren't how ridiculous his mindset was, how stupid he truly was. 

"I mean— I didn't—" Whatever was left of your tears seemed to dry out watching him like this, tripping and falling over his words. The walls that he so desperately tried to build up crumbling before you into pieces, these pieces that you'd admire and care for. "Fuck, I'm no good at this."

"Yeah, I can see that." All the worries that you've held so close to your heart were slowly starting to be ebbed away by the what he'd just said, maybe you were afraid, but he was to. "I can do the rest of the talking now." 

Even if he didn't make a single movement, you could tell that he agreed with you. 

His heart thumps competing the speed of a race car as you place your hand on top of his, running your thumb smoothly across his bruised knuckles. You delight in the way that subtle dark red hue settles on his cheeks. It's working. 

"I really, really like you. I like the way your hair moves, I like the way I can take a peek at your fangs when you laugh, I like the way that you roll your eyes when someone says something really stupid," It's a drawn out ramble, one that Miguel could get absolutely drunk on and result in a hangover the next morning. 

"You're not better or worse than me, we both carry our own flaws, have our own struggles," Time seems to come to a standing point when you bring his scathed hand to your heart, where he can feel how fast it's beating under his fingertips. 

"But what really matters to me is that we help each other change, to improve. You've done so much for me after all this time and I want to do the same for you ten-fold," You suck in a sharp breath. "Possibly even more." 

Miguel clearly couldn't bring himself to words right now. How could he after everything you've just confessed? Any sentence after that would make him sound like a caveman and it's not like he could afford to look like any more of a bumbling idiot in front of you after all that. 

Instead, he opts for something else. Slowly but surely, he drags his hand up to grip onto your shoulder, pulling you closer. Gently but closer. 

He notices the way that your body tenses in anticipation, your breath quickening when his gaze flickers down to your lips. 

"May I?"

Yes, please.

There was a certain softness to the way that Miguel kissed you, in a way that you'd never expect would come from him. However, the grip that he has on your shoulder tightens and surely, there's a certain desperation to how he holds you. 

He wants this. He needs this. 

You want to lean in closer. Maybe even climb onto the bed and straddle his lap so that things can go further deeper, all of these thoughts racing through your head come to an abrupt stop when Miguel hisses in pain pulling back. 

Excitement quickly contorts into concern when he retracts his hand from you to rub the crook of his neck. You swore you could see blood sprinkling the gauze that covered the wound there.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. You should—" Before you could even finish apologizing, he recovers. Practically grabbing you with so much force that your body slightly clashes against the metal of his bed, the cold steel in contrast to the warmth of his touch. 

God, kissing you felt like running a marathon or scaling a building as high as the Effeil Tower, but did Miguel care? No, he didn't. He didn't give a shit if he'd be ripping a stitch or causing a blood vessel to pop. You were all that mattered to him now. 

"Don't you dare apologize." He grits through labored breaths before continuing to kiss you with a newfound hunger and how could you not listen? 

No matter how many bandages, lectures, and battles Miguel had to go through each passing day. The isolation that had consumed his heart in a tar nobody could break, you did. When Miguel was there to save the multiverse, most of all, you would be there to save him. 

And he was more than okay with that. 

want to see more? here's my masterlist

[rottiens]

PRETTY IN THE DARK | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ tags. . noncon/dubcon vampire getō x human fem reader, blood, objectification, 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune. | WC: 2.3K

✮ about. . in your desire to protect your family, you end up making a deal with the devil.

He is sitting in the dining room when you enter the room. Your body doesn't react with a shrug of muscles as it was usual to do every time you encountered him wandering around as if he owned your apartment, but your heartbeat detonates as if someone has pushed you from behind and you plummet into the void.

Shadows take over every corner of your place as if this were their and Suguru's home and not yours. You breathe, exhaling the fright that has frozen your veins and move towards the switch blindly, sliding your fingers along the wall until you manage to make light.

Suguru squints his eyes being struck by the ace of light. He is sitting in one of the chairs with his elbows on the small wooden table, he has a half bun tying part of his hair up, the rest of the black hair falls down his back perfectly. The turtleneck sweater is new, it makes him look more elegant and you almost laugh at how formal he looks.

"I wasn't expecting you today," you say approaching, dropping the keys of the apartment on the table surface. You want to tell him he's quite the dramatist for setting this scene for you, the waiting in the dark in your apartment god knows what for so long, the absence of light, the black clothes… you wonder how long he's lasted waiting there for you, if he's gone through your kitchen, if he's rummaged through your clothes.

His clear eyes scan your face as if reading what you're thinking, then he notices the paper bags you drop next to your keys before answering. "I thought I'd stop by for a snack" He replies with a mocking tone.

"What's this?" you reach out to grab the glass bottle in front of him. Inside a red, almost black liquid swirls amusedly as you move it back and forth in search of something to give you a clue as to what it might be and you pray it's not what you're thinking.

"Beet juice." The confession makes you scrunch up your face in distaste. Okay, it wasn't what you were thinking but this doesn't make it any less gross. "It's good for the red blood cells."

You squint to examine it better. Was he giving you a gift? Was that what he meant? The vampire who had threatened to kill your family if you didn't feed him your blood?

"I'm not going to drink it." You set the bottle down on the table with a thud.

"You will. I need you to be healthy." There it is, the reason. You should have known better.

Suguru pulls his hands away from his face that drop his jaw, invisible hands squeeze your chest at the sight of him again, it was a strange feeling having him erase your memory after feeding on you to make you forget details about him that you don't need to know, just in case you decide to expose him to the church. So seeing him always makes you feel uneasy, he is handsome, his small eyes are intimidating and the whole aura around him makes you feel tiny.

"Shall we get this over with?" you raise an eyebrow looking to put an end to an encounter that shouldn't be any longer than necessary. You move the sleeve of your sweater up revealing your right wrist which begins to heal, at the juncture are two dots on your skin, around them the flesh takes on a yellowish color.

Suguru gets up from his seat and without taking his eyes off you sits on the chair next to you. His fingers take your hand gently, without wasting time he brings it to his mouth and his lips brush against your skin causing you to tingle, he breathes in your scent, breathes in the essence of your skin with his eyes closed.

"Stand up," he suddenly orders.

You move against the wall, trembling with fear and anticipation. Suguru is in front of you taking up all the space that allows you to see the rest of the room, your gaze riveted on the silver cross hanging from his neck and you snort at the irony.

With his finger he lifts your chin and makes you look at him, you want to run away, but you force yourself to be brave by chewing on the bottom of your cheek.

"You don’t have to compelled me." Suguru raises an eyebrow, questioningly. "I'm not going to scream."

Surprise marks the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth in a brief smile. "You want to feel the pain?"

You shake your head before pulling your face away from his finger yanking back. "I just want to know what it feels like." You feel guilty. A bitter cocktail rises in your stomach, you think it's unfair to have to be protecting your family without knowing exactly how you do it, what happens before, during or after. You feel guilty for not feeling pain.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he speaks softly. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut ignoring the hotness that suddenly chokes you.

Instead of answering you reach out your hand, you hear him chuckle softly and when you sense him lowering your hand back to its place you turn hurriedly to look for him, wondering why. The hope that he is going to let you go today crosses in front of you.

"I want from the vein in your neck."

You swallow. Suguru can't disguise staring at your throat and how it rises and falls. Wordlessly you push down on the fabric of the sweater collar and let him see the vein pulsing rapidly thanks to your racing heart.

Suguru moves closer to you, his teeth grazing you as if testing how fast he can break the skin. Then, he deposits a kiss that makes you clench your lips to keep from moaning, his tongue glides in wet circles that that warm the area and your body trembles.

"Hold still."

Is all you hear before suguru opens his mouth in an inhuman way and sinks his long fangs into your neck, the pain making you moan involuntarily. His fangs are sharp needles that sink into the flesh and pierce until they leave two holes just enough for blood to spill out of the vein. The piercing pain stops, instead you feel his soft lips sucking like he's giving a hickey.

"It hurts…" you whimper.

The sounds of your blood gurgling in his mouth deafens you, you drop your eyelids as he pushes your head further to the side in an awkward position so he has the space to go deeper and chase the spilling crimson stream.

A hand-shaped snake crawls up your navel, searches for the button of your pants and in seconds undoes it to find your panties. Suguru stops feeding to speak in your ear.

"I'm going to make you feel better." His voice is almost unrecognizable, less friendly, deeper and more terrifying. "I'm going to keep feeding on you and you're going to cum on my long fingers."

You don't even respond. You can't complain because of the way your hands lose feeling and your knees buckle. Suguru goes back to sucking as the pad of his cold fingers push your pussy lips wide open and squeeze your clit back and forth almost in a lazy way. You squint harder to imagine that you're not there, that you're somewhere else and this isn't happening. Because what kind of person would you be if you felt pleasure because this creature, who every week comes to feed on you, is making you feel good?

He slips a finger easily inside you masking the pain in your neck with pleasure. Suguru pushes it in as if searching for something, then adds another finger and a louder moan tears your throat. Suguru pauses to lay his forehead on your throat, giving one last lick to the open wound that slowly stops bleeding and just lies there enjoying his long fingers parting your wet pussy.

"You taste so good when you're aroused," he growls, thrusting slowly. "I can hardly stop myself."

His fingers increase the intensity of his strokes, massaging your pussy in an erotic back-and-forth, scissoring his fingers and thumb touching your clit. It doesn't take your body long to reach orgasm, shattering you to pieces and making the lack of blood make you feel dizzy. Helpless and weak, you cling to his sweater, intoxicated in the peculiar perfume that envelops him until you begin to see black and everything becomes one big swirl that makes you fall into a deep sleep.

. . . When you wake up you are in your bed, lying on your back with one of your plush blankets covering your legs. You try to sit up but your body aches, especially your neck. You bring your fingers to where the wound should be but find the soft fabric of one of your scarves wrapped around your neck.

"Was I too rough?" This time, your body does react by curling up on the mattress. You pull your legs up to the level of your chest and search for the voice that burst into your room.

You find him as a long figure standing at the edge of the bed looking down at you from above. Did he care? Clearly not, because his mischievous-looking smile tells you otherwise.

You begin to tremble as he approaches, your gaze following him as you watch him come closer to you. The bed sinks with his weight, he reaches for one of your arms hugging your knees and pulls it towards him, Suguru brings the back of your hand to his mouth and leaves a kiss there, and the scene is so intimate that it feels awkward to you.

His body sensation is not icy cold as it normally is, his warm hands mimic the warmth of an ordinary man and you have a theory that it is due to the temperature change your fresh blood briefly carries in him, this only lasts a couple of minutes after all.

You wonder what he's doing, what he's playing at. Your heart leaps out of your chest the moment Suguru starts a path of kisses from your palm to your wrist, your blood turns icy cold after he stops on your wrist, you stutter his name, you think he's going to bite you again but what he does instead takes you by surprise.

Suguru gives you a long lick, the taste of your body cream diluted in the day's sweat soaks his tongue, then he closes his lips around the area and makes a hickey. Red, small, and when he pulls away to contemplate his creation it almost looks like the shape of a map. He crawls from your skin reluctantly and looks at you between heavy lashes, there's lust in his gaze mixed with hunger and desire and you hate yourself for the way your body reacts, your nipples harden and your pussy gets wet for him again.

"What-"

"No one touches my property." Your eyes widen. "This should carry a message to whoever you're fucking, unless of course, you wish me to show up in person to your job."

You reeked of man perfume and it made him want to throw up. He didn't want to smell someone else's scent on you when he was feeding.

"That's not of your business," you spit with a boiling face and a flutter in your stomach, tugging at your hand to escape the trap it had fallen into but it's only in vain because his strength is triple yours and you don't move an inch. "Our deal is just my blood."

"Perhaps," suguru murmurs, flashing you in a brief smile just the tips of the fangs that a moment ago were digging into you. "But it will be your fault when I bring their head as an offering along with another bottle of beet juice."

You struggle to hold back tears of helplessness. He grins again and his teeth cut through the darkness, you clear your throat to fight back and say it's not fair however Suguru gets up before you can.

Gracefully, he gives a brief tour of the room. You are embarrassed that he finds it in this state, books on your bed, shoes out of place and clothes on the floor. You were in a rush this morning, you were going to be late and you prioritized time over tidying your safe space as you rummaged through your uniform shirt.

He removes the hair tie that grips his mane and lets it fall all the way down his back like a dark waterfall as he looks down at the jeans on the floor, on top of it is a pair of light pink panties that he observes undisguised. As if every move is planned he ties all his hair back into a high ponytail, the movements causes the black sweater to ride up his abdomen revealing a wink of toasted skin, with a line of hair revealing itself at the edges of his pants and rising blurred to his belly button.

"How are you feeling?" He asks suddenly, dropping his arms to either side.

"Do you even care?" you reply curtly, looking down at his feet. You glance up at him in time to see him smirk, clearly amused by your attitude.

Suguru moves towards you again and you wonder when you will stop feeling not enough in his presence. He sits at your feet, puts his hand to his mouth and bites down hard. Your body squirms at the action, raw fear showing on your wrinkled nose and furrowed brow.

"Drink," he says reaching out, droplets of blood slipping onto your favorite blanket.

"No."

"It's not a request, sweetheart." You don't understand what he intends by this but you don't seek to make him angry either, so you lean down and wrap your lips around his skin to finally suck the blood that spurts out of him.

The taste of iron is so strong it's unbearable. Your mouth fills with saliva and your stomach knots warning you with rejecting what you are drinking, you want to move away but his hand is behind the back of your neck pulling you closer to him and preventing your escape.

"Keep sucking. Your wound will heal faster that way."

You blink faster pushing away the tears that peek out, you close your eyes tightly becoming oblivious to what you are doing, his fingers pampering your hair as if you were a pet. Stroking you gently.

"Swallow. That's a good girl."

[dovveri]

sun-kissed

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 5 • part 6 • part 7

synopsis: an unexpected arrest deters filming for day 4 so instead, y/n and sana spend the day together. almost like a date?

warnings: mentions of child pedophilia! suggestive, cursing - i forget to tag that alot bcs its in all my fics but just assume its always there oop

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: okay this took me way longer than it should’ve to write but i think it’s maybe my favourite chapter so far… or maybe i’m soft rn 🤭 enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

could they have made any less of a scene?

the sirens have stopped but the blue and red lights continue to blaze as you stand in shock with the rest of the contestants while the cops raid the mansion.

sana had been taken away by the producers as soon as the police cars had pulled up.

when they're finally done checking the mansion, they walk out a cuffed wonsik. his head is down, refusing to look at any of you, hands behind his back as he's shoved into the back of the police car.

none of you had a clue what was going on, you were all enjoying the third rose ceremony and nothing could've predicted where this night had led you.

eventually, after the police have long driven away, the producers return with sana who looks a little shaken up. you head towards her immediately, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, but she can't seem to face you, eyes blank as she follows the producers instructions for everyone to come back into the mansion.

"sana? sana?" you're trying to get her attention, shaking her slightly.

she snaps out of it with a blink, looking up at you in confusion, "hm?"

"you okay? kinda lost you back there."

"mm yeah i just- it was just really unexpected."

"what was?"

she nods her head towards the producers who are now standing in front of the leftover contestants preparing to make an announcement.

"okay guys so we only just found this out but wonsik has been arrested on charges of owning child pornography, engaging in pedophilic acts, and sexual assault of a minor. the police have searched the house and confiscated all of his items and any incriminating evidence they could use in court. as you all know, we do conduct background checks on all contestants before they are accepted onto this show, and we apologise that this incident has been overseen. we won't be editing wonsik's arrest out of tonight's episode, but he has obviously been eliminated. we'll take tomorrow off filming to allow you all a small break and please do let us know if you have any concerns moving forward with filming."

what the actual fuck?

as soon as the producers are done with their announcement everyone is talking on top of each other, trying to figure out just what the hell happened and how this happened under everyone's noses.

"did you know?"

"holy shit i never saw that coming out of him-"

"man its always the quiet ones that are the most fucked up-"

you turn to sana in shock, feeling much like how she had looked just a little earlier. "sana?"

she's still a little distracted when she looks at you, "hmm? i'm tired y/n. let's go back home?"

you're nodding quickly, leading her away from the aftermath to the quiet cool of the outside air. you wave down your driver and quickly lead sana inside, stuttering out directions to your villa and sitting back, sneaking a glance at sana who's looking out the window with glazed eyes.

the drive back is silent save for the low hum of the engine. you're a little surprised when sana shuffles closer to you, linking her arm through yours and placing her head on your shoulder, still not saying anything.

you take her hand in yours, interlock your fingers, and lean your head on hers. the rest of the short drive is spent like this, the silence is thoughtful, but not awkward.

even as you arrive back at the house, your hands never leave each other's, you lead her towards your shared bathroom and brush your teeth side by side. only letting go of each other when you both go to start your nighttime skincare routines.

sana has a much more intricate routine than you because of her obsession with all things health-related and her need to take care of her skin well. so you finish earlier than her, mumbling a quick goodnight while she's still bent over the sink and moving past her to retire yourself to bed.

you close all the blinds, intending to have a full night's rest and wake up late tomorrow because filming was cancelled, climbing under your sheets and sighing at the feeling of soft fabric against your skin.

your eyes are slowly drifting shut when your door peeks open, and sana's slipping in, closing the door behind her, shrouding the room in darkness again. she tiptoes to the edge of your bed, lifting the cover and sliding inside, cold feet come to entangle themselves with your legs, shuffling close as you get a whiff of her night serum, the sweet, tangy smell of mandarin subtly descending upon your senses.

"this is okay right?" she's murmuring against you, you're lying face to face, eyes sleepily open while your eyes readjust to the darkness, making out the soft curl of her eyelashes and the perfect slant of her nose.

you hum against her, sliding an arm over her waist and pulling her closer, resting your foreheads together and closing your eyes comfortably.

you think she's drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, but she speaks up in a whisper, barely there, you wouldn't have heard her if you weren't almost lip to lip, "y/n?"

"hm?"

you feel the soft breath of her sigh against your lips, "i... i should've known... he- i could've put him away faster- i gave him a platform- he was on national television and oh y/n, kids the kids he took advantage of could've seen him on tv and thought-" she's slowly panicking the tone of her voice getting shakier as she spirals and allows herself to voice her thoughts out loud for the first time, "-thought that he was in the right that it was okay that there were no consequences and then i kissed him oh my god i kissed him y/n and what kinda message does that send like-"

"sana sana baby shh, shh c'mere-" you're pulling her into you, tucking her head under yours and she starts crying and shuddering, hands twisted at the collar of your shirt.

"i just- like what's worse is i actually liked him-"

"mm no no sweetie stop stop. listen no-one knew what he was okay? it's not your fault you fell for him you can't blame yourself for that. he literally came here with the intention of making you do that you were just another one of his unlucky victims okay? and look, once this gets out on the news he's not going to have that platform anymore okay? in fact he'll probably hate that he came on here because he's going to be even more infamous than if he had stayed anonymous. we can only be real and truthful going forward so that those poor kids are validated in their feelings. he's going to be put away for a long long time now and he's not gonna have the chance to pull any more of that shit okay?"

she's sniffling into your shirt, listening to you talk and soothe her. you continue whispering sweet reassurances into the night, waiting for her to calm down.

she sniffles again, finally looking up at you, eyes red and snot dribbling out of her nose, your heart aches, "can we go out tomorrow? just us, like old times."

you smile at her request, nodding and pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead, "of course baby. we can go do whatever you want. i promise i'll be yours for the whole day."

she's smiling, thanking you softly and closing her eyes. you wait to hear the her breath slow into quiet even snores before you stop stroking her hair, just holding her against you and closing your own eyes. drifting off to sleep with the adorable mimimimi sound she lets out only when she's exhausted and sleeping well.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

the next morning the both of you wake up around 10am, a comfortable time that allowed you to sleep-in, but not so much that you'd miss out on the entire day.

some producers stop by to check in on sana and go through a small debrief of everything that's happened and what they have left to film in the show.

you can tell she's still a little on edge and wants to get away from everything as fast as possible so you politely ask the producers for time off today and to leave the both of you alone until tomorrow since no filming was happening anyway.

eventually, they're leaving and sana's throwing on casual white pants, a light cardigan on top of a knit button-up, sunnies, grabbing her prada handbag and she's ready to go.

you're lucky you have so many things at your disposal, even multiple cars in the garage to pick from as you grab a random set of keys and click unlock. spotting a white convertible respond with its headlights flashing twice and leading sana towards the car, hopping in. sana's mood has already improved greatly, bubbling with excitement as she lists off some names of a couple restaurants you could try in town for lunch. you smile at her nodding along and humming as you start the engine, pulling out of the garage and onto the valley road, turning on the radio and laughing at the way sana almost jumps out of her seat, neck craning up, eyes closing, letting the wind sprinkled with a hint of sea salt blow through her hair, breathing in a deep breath of satisfaction.

you know you're meant to keep your eyes on the road but it was empty anyway and sana looked so so beautiful. you traced the slope of her nose, down to the curve of her lips as she smiles, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the smooth plane of skin at her neck.

she's peeking an eye open at you, laughing when you realise you've been caught, her giggle high and airy. you loved her so much. and it was getting harder and harder to say that to her without it meaning something a little more.

you're pulling into town soon, she's babbling excitedly and pointing at things that interest her with the curiosity of a child, you're trying to find parking and smoothly drive into an angled spot just in front of the restaurant you had both decided on.

you're jumping out of the car and running to the other side to get her door, and she's giggling and smiling when you take her hand, pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles, and helping her out of the car.

you enter the bustling shop hand in hand, smiling kindly at the waiter who greets you and ushers you to a table situated next to a large window, allowing a picturesque view into the bay area with a couple fishing boats coming back in after an early morning.

you continue your act of chivalry, pulling out her chair before she sits, and then walking over to take your own seat across from her.

you both glance over the menu enjoying the hum of a busy eatery.

"do you know what you want yet y/n?"

the words on the menu were quickly meshing together, lots of french and seafood terms you wouldn't be able to take a first guess at the meaning of. you pout and shake your head.

she giggles at your antics, "it's okay i'll order for us." she's waving over the same waiter who greeted you at the door, then listing off a few menu items, her french sounding poised and elegant, though you knew she had not-so-secretly spent a year obsessing over french ballet and had even taken up a few lessons herself, only to realise she was much too clumsy to continue it. she had thanked your mutual friend mina for the gracious lessons but resorted to attempting to learn french as an outlet for her obsession.

"-leave out the pickles in everything. and that'll be all thankyou."

your heart picks up a little at the small gesture. you despised anything with pickles in it, and she knew that, making sure you wouldn't have to pick out any of those sickly green slices.

you smile in thanks when the waiter leaves with your order, only to come back quickly afterwards with a bottle of chardonnay which she pours into two elegantly carved wine glasses she's brought along with her.

you raise your eyebrows at sana, questioning the alcohol, but she only sits forward, propping an elbow up on the table and leaning her head into it with a smile.

"day drinking?"

"what? i'll drink yours if you don't want it."

you roll your eyes at her affectionately, taking the glass and sipping, humming at the sweet and tangy bitterness that fills your mouth.

she copies your actions with a beam, setting her glass back down and licking her lips. you follow the action.

"is there anything else specific that you wanted to do today?" you're asking her, taking another sip from your glass.

"mm, not really. i don't mind as long as i'm with you."

"glad to know you're feeling well enough again to flirt."

"oh always with you baby. you're the only one for me."

"that's a bold faced lie and you know it."

she pouts at that, and you can't help yourself, leaning forward and pressing lightly on her bottom lip.

"stop that. put that back in there."

she licks your finger and you hiss, pulling away quickly in mock disgust while she laughs, "please you've made me suck on your fingers and now you're grossed out?"

the waiter decides to come with your first dish at that exact moment, a light dusting of pink on her cheeks when she overhears sana's comment, you don't fare much better when you flare up in embarrassment, hastily wiping your finger on your skirt and babbling out a loud thank you to the waiter.

you glare at sana who's trying her hardest not to laugh, no shame whatsoever, shaking in her seat at the effort of keeping it in, her lips pursed and eyes twinkling.

"you're so going to get it when we get back." you mumble as you stab into a mussel on the plate in front of you.

"awwwwh poor baby's embarrassed, don't worry, mommy will make it better."

your fork drops at the term and you feel yourself going extraordinarily red. she's laughing now, loud and boisterous, drawing the attention of a few onlookers and you throw your napkin at her, whining and slinking back into your chair trying to hide your face.

it's a few seconds after you've folded you arms across your chest and tucked your chin in, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away while staring into your lap, that sana's stopped laughing.

she picks up a mussel with her fork and holds it out to you, leaning forward onto the table again, eyes bright making an 'ahh' sound.

you turn your head, not giving her the satisfaction of paying her attention, but she's persistent, "c'mon y/n. i'm sorry i won't tease anymore i promise."

it's no surprise that you can't resist her, rolling your eyes and opening your mouth, accepting the fleshy piece of seafood and chewing. she's smiling and poking her own piece to put in her mouth, humming at the taste and making sure it was to your liking as well.

the rest of lunch is spent like this, playful and fun, it's good to be able to feel like yourselves again after all the hectic film shooting.

you're standing up to grab the bill after you're both finished when sana shakes her head at you, "i got it already don't worry."

"huh? what do you mean?"

"i told the waiter earlier in french so you wouldn't know. just let me treat this time? i still haven't really been able to thank you for coming along with me for this."

"what? sana this was like... a one hundred dollar meal at least. don't be silly let me pay you back."

she's humming and putting her cardigan back on, standing up and walking in front of you, "pay me back by winning something for me at the arcade?"

you sigh, grumbling along as she giggles at you, taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant, thanking your waiter who still looks a little off-put by you, and walking down the street to where you had spotted the small arcade earlier.

you purchase a hefty amount of arcade tokens and get straight into all the classics. sana just barely won air hockey against you, jumping and whooping with every goal, you have to take off your jacket midway through the game, sweating as you try and focus on hitting the little puck. you get her back on the dance machines though, you can't keep in the laugh when she somehow ends up sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled and missing every following beat.

you cycle through the arcade, speeding through mario kart and midnight run, shooting with abysmal accuracy at the gun games, trying your hand at some of the more unique japanese arcade games they have (which sana completely destroys you at), and eventually ending up at the wide variety of claw machines.

sana's pulling you towards one with spy x family collectibles, and you furrow your eyebrows in concentration as you try to get the small anya keychain for her.

she's giving you instructions from the side of the machine, trying to give you as much perspective as possible before the time runs out and the claw drops. you wait with baited breath as it grabs the keychain, comes back up with a whir, and then... the keychain falls out at the bump at the top of the machine.

you don't even hesitate when you push in another token, determined to win this one thing.

sana's with you the whole way, her reactions only getting more and more expressive with each loss.

you're probably on your 9th try, the claw grabs onto the keychain, lifts it up, and with a whoop the keychain's falling successfully into the claim box. sana's caterwauling and jumping into your arms and you lift her up in glee, spinning her around once before setting her back down. you bend down to pick up the keychain, presenting it to sana with a flourish, and then she's kissing your cheek and squeezing you against her in a hug, thank yous spilling out of her in rapid succession.

you giggle against her, hugging back, relishing in the contact.

after you exchange your arcade tickets for prizes, you head down towards the docks, stopping for some ice cream before making it to the boardwalk.

there are a few other couples doing the same thing, and when you nod politely to an elderly couple holding hands, you're hit with the abrupt realisation that you and sana must look like a couple right now. unless people were homophobic, then you'd just be a couple of close friends, maybe roommates.

you're suddenly hyperaware of the sweat starting to collect on your palm, releasing her hand and wiping it on your skirt when she looks at you with a cocked head, mid-lick of her ice cream cone, eyes wide.

you switch your own ice cream cone to your other hand so it looks like you had an excuse to let go, avoiding her questioning gaze.

eventually you both decide to sit down at the end of the boardwalk, legs dangling over the edge and looking out across the bay. there weren't any boats currently docked in so you had a clear view of the blue vastness in front of you.

sana's leaning in and looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"...what?"

she doesn't speak, her eyes darting down to your own ice cream cone and back up.

you roll your eyes and hold it out for her.

she's grinning and sticking out her tongue to lick a long strip along the side of your cone, humming in satisfaction.

"wanna try mine?"

"i'm okay thanks."

she's pouting and you can't have that so you lean in and lick some of hers, cringing at the overly sweet taste of artificial fairy floss but the smile she gives you afterwards makes up for it.

you both sit back and enjoy the light afternoon breeze, a calming presence after the hectic running around you did at the arcade.

"i missed this." sana speaks up first.

"me too."

"things have been pretty crazy with the house. i'm really glad that you're here with me though."

you turn to her and smile, "i'm glad you let me come."

"of course. the home visits later on are gonna get a little crazy. every season those are always full of drama."

"do you know who you want to end up there yet? your final four?"

she hums, thinking for a little, "still not really. we have... nine- wait no, eight since wonsik's a pedophile. so jacky, eunji, jihyo, momo, jun, jiwon, nayeon, and dae."

"it's a good mix i think. they all have different types of chemistry with you."

you're distracted by a buzz on your phone, taking it out and opening your messages.

miyeon: y/n!!!!! i just saw the news about wonsik! its everywhere rn r u guys okay?

"who's that?" sana's looking at your with a curious lilt in her voice.

you hesitate to respond, knowing how she reacted the last time you and miyeon were together.

"oh just my uncle. he's asking what to get my mum for her birthday later. you'd think he'd know since they're siblings but..." you trail off, typing a quick response back to miyeon.

y/n: it was crazy no one saw it coming! the producers called off filming today.. probably so they can deal with all the legal disputes that'll come up bcs of this

you tuck your phone back into your jacket, ignoring the new messages you get. you could respond to miyeon later. today was meant for you and sana.

sana's sighing and leaning her head on your shoulder, "wish i wore swimmers. it's such nice weather and the water looks soo good."

"we can head back and go for a swim in the pool if you want? we haven't had a chance to use it yet. may as well get the most out of being the main character on this show."

she's up in seconds, grinning, all fatigue gone as she practically prances back towards the car, only turning back to yell at you to hurry up.

you beam at her, running to catch up, laughing and smiling, just the two of you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

sana's yelping when you cannonball into the deep end of the pool, splashing her with cold water in your wake.

"y/n!!"

you break the surface grinning and laughing, trying to splash more water on her.

"sto- stop! y/n oh my god-"

"hurry uppppppp! it's not cold if you get it over and done with!"

"no! i need to put on sunscreen first!"

"sunscreen? it's 4pm!"

"there are still UV rays at this time! i don't want to die from skin cancer and if you're a good girl you'll get out and let me put sunscreen on you too."

you narrow your eyes at her while she's lathering her legs with the white cream.

you decide to ignore her, diving into the pool and resurfacing a few times, splashing around by yourself while she takes her sweet time. to be honest, you're glad for the coolness the pool offers you, when sana first stepped out in her pale yellow bikini, you had felt your cheeks blush all the way up to the tips of your ears. you'd avoided her gaze quickly, instead opting for racing her outside and jumping in right away.

now that she wasn't watching you though, you couldn't help the way your eyes drifted over to her. she had finished with her legs and was now applying lotion to her arms. you traced the outline of her-

"y/n!"

you startle in the water, and she's looking at you curiously when you make a sort of weird strangled sound and water goes swashing around. "y-yeah?" you clear your throat, hoping you weren't as red as you felt.

"can you help with my back? i can't reach." she's looking at you with a dangerous pout, eyes pleading.

you mumble incoherently as you swim towards the shallow end, stepping out of the pool and grabbing the sunscreen bottle from her, gesturing for her to turn around while she grins at you.

you squirt some of the lotion onto your hand, rubbing it diligently into her back. you knew how much she cared for her skin, and even though you cared significantly less for your own, it mattered to her so you had to make sure you did a good job.

the problem arose when you started reaching her lower back. the pressure you've been applying becomes considerably less when you realise just how close you are to sana's ass. sana's very very attractive ass, only emphasised in these bikini bottoms.

"feeling shy y/n?"

"s-shut up."

"you can do my ass too if you want y'know. it's not like it's anything you haven't felt before."

you can picture the cheeky smirk on her face while you recap the sunscreen bottle after you're finished. and really, you just felt like you had to do something about that so before you know it, a hand's coming down and smacking her, a loud resounding slap followed closely by sana's yelp.

you're jumping back into the pool, trying to push the image of her cheeks rippling in the most perfect way to the very back of your mind.

when you break the surface again with a bubbly laugh she's still standing by the side of the pool, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face.

"did you just spank me y/n?"

you stick your tongue out her in defiance, sending a splash of water her way.

"oh you are so dead!" she's jumping in now, and you're scrambling away trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. but she closes in quickly, tackling you underwater and pulling you down so you're both submerged.

you're grinning and then you're laughing, but not in a good way because her fingers are at your sides tickling you and digging into all of the sensitive points in your body she's discovered over the time you've known each other.

you spend the next few minutes trying to one up one another, droplets of water flying everywhere, noisy screeches and laughs sounding out. you're lucky this mansion of a house was situated in the valleys with no neighbours or you most definitely would've gotten a noise complaint.

eventually, you decide to call a truce, cheeks sore from smiling, stomach sore from laughing. you float onto your back, closing your eyes and letting out a loud sigh in comfort. you can feel sana floating next to you, your heads next to each other, hearts beating in tandem.

she’s speaking up after a minute, "cats or dogs?"

you snort, "i don't mind."

you can hear the whine in her voice, "just pick one."

you hum thinking about it for a little, "whatever suits my lifestyle better i guess. if i'm really busy with work or i have to stay home a lot then probably a cat. but if i have a big backyard or something then probably a dog. knowing me though, i'll probably end up with cats. i'm too lazy to keep up with the energy dogs have."

"not with me though right?"

"what? of course not with you. also, you're not a dog sana."

"people say i look like a shiba inu."

"that's not the same thing."

she giggles a little before sighing, "you suit cats. okay. it's decided. we're getting a cat when we go home."

"huh?!"

she's breaking into high-pitched laughter again and you can only find yourself to be slightly concerned over whether she's being serious or not. you could deal with that at a much later date though. you drift back into a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the night wildlife slowly wake up in the valleys next to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"i love you."

your eyes are opening now, heart rate picking up. there's no reason to panic right? she meant it as a friend. a friend. so why was it so hard to say it back to her? as a friend?

instead, you say, "enjoy our date that much minatozaki?"

she doesn't respond with the same teasing tone you're expecting, "i really did." all honest and pure.

you're gulping, "...me too."

you know she's standing when you feel light waves push against your body, so you lift yourself up, looking at her puzzled, but she only goes to stand in front of you, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around her waist.

you let her, squeezing slightly and dropping your head onto her shoulder, your eyes drinking in the pinks and oranges of the sunset.

"you're not gonna say it back?"

you stiffen behind her, "what?"

"you know what."

she's tightening her hold around you even before you try to subconsciously escape.

you let out an almost-laugh breath, "...i love you too sana."

"was that so hard?" she's turning now, pupils dilated when they meet yours, pink lips slightly parted, noses almost touching.

you're shaking your head no, breath caught up in your throat.

a crinkle appears between her eyebrows, you have the urge to smooth it out, "are you lying?"

another shake of your head.

you feel her breath against your lips as she lets out a soft exhale, the tightening of her hands against your forearms helping ground you, if only slightly.

"i hope one day you'll be able to tell me the truth." you're confused, what was she talking about? "for now i guess this is fine." and then she's leaning in and pressing her lips against yours.

its almost an automatic reaction now. your mouth is moving against hers even before your brain registers you're kissing.

she's sweet, she always is. but this kiss is a little different. it's not filled with passion or heat, not like all your previous kisses that have always led to tangled limbs and heavy breaths. it's soft, tender, like she's trying to tell you something with her lips. you just weren't particularly versed in this form of sana communication yet to be able to tell what that was.

when she breaks away, the sun is dipping behind the horizon, her forehead leaned against yours, breaths coming in shorter after the lack of air.

she shivers a little when a cool gust of wind starts up.

"inside?" you ask.

she nods, letting you go, and following you out of the pool to dry off.

the rest of the night, even when you end up sprawled on messy sheets, sweat coating your bodies and arms around each other, your lips still tingle from her kiss in the pool. you fall asleep dreaming of small kittens, ice-cream, and sana.

[bunnyluvs-blog]

txt reactions: bf!txt when you wear their shirt (smut)

tags ! Suggestive/smut ,, Somnophila ,, thigh riding ,, blindfoldeds ,, degrading ,, semi public sex ,, eating out (will make a full smut on one member if requested)

Soobin: You always wait for soobin to come home from work. No matter what. However this time, you spent all day hard at work you could barely keep your eyes open on the drive home. You took a quick shower and just threw on whatever you grabbed firsts. Snuggle into the bed, hell it wasn't even your side of the bed. You fell asleep hoping soobin would understand. Well once soobin came home and saw you in his shirt, he was done for. Slowly lifting up his shirt on you, he left small marks and hickeys all over your chest. He knew you had a thing for Somnophilia. And it was one of his major turn ons so why not test it out on his pretty little bunny <3

Yeonjun: While he was in the kitchen making coffee for you guys. You were getting ready for the day. You decided to wear one of your many shirts that you stole from your boyfriend. This one he wore to the ama 2022 award show however. it was too long to be worn as a normal shirt. So you threw on some small shorts and a belt to make it a semi-dress. Without the shorts- if ur raised ur arms ur ass and everything else could be seen. You made your way to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around him. A soft "hi baby" leaves his mouth as he turns around to face you. Only to see the opening of ur chest pushed up against him. You're ass peaking out since you were on ur tippy toes ? Did he forget to mention how pretty you look in his shirt with your cum running down his leg ? He will just have to show you then.

Beomgyu: God fuck how were you this perfect? Blind fold covering your face as he fucked you in his shirt. The soft fabric didn't even cover much since well- he unbuttoned the whole thing after he got you where you are now. You're moans filling the room as the shirt sleeves slide off of you. "Aww look at you, you're so small my shirt can't even stay on you" he said in a mocking tone as he fucked you harder. He was always one to talk down on you when you were just so submissive too him. He didn't even have to fight u to get the blindfold on. You just listened to him like the dumb pup you are.

Taehyun: "What are you some kinda fucking whore?" God was he pissed off. You looked so damn good while you guys went to the park for your date. A short skirt, Knee socks, and his damn shirt unbuttoned almost to where you could see your chest. Well now the shirt is well off of you. The Starbucks restroom door locked as teahyun bends you over the skin. "Showing over everything damn thing you have, and in your own boyfriends shirt." He hasn't even touched you where u need him most. Hes just been hitting ur ass over and over and over again, you're sure your screams can be heard from the people outside. He pulled your head back by ur hair. "You. Car. Now. You're gonna sit and not whine or beg until we're home. And if you do I'm not gonna let you fucking cum at all." Oh boy did your plan work

Huening kai: you were snuggled up on the couch with hyuka just watching a movie. You've felt as if your plan to make him fuck you failed. And you were just so fed up. You wore his shirt after hearing what your friends bf did to her after she wore his. And damnit you wanted that treatment too. Little did you know hyuka wasn't doing any better then you were. Every 2 minutes you had to pull the shirt back up from falling off. Your damn chest being flashed to him so much. This last time tho, he couldn't take it. Flipping you onto ur back and pulling your panties down to your ankle. Hyuka was done with waiting. "Huen ? What are you doing..?" You ask as if you had no clue. "Im gonna take you let me eat you please..pleaseee you look so good in my shirt I can't hold back" You didn't even get s chance to answer when he licked your clit slowly <3

Reminder !! If a story is requested from one of these I'll probably do it !!

[cripplecharacters]

hi there, i really appreciate this blog! i was wondering if you had any advice when it comes to writing characters who use mobility aids (manual wheelchair and cane) and things that are like, pet peeves or cringey to see written? other than the big ones like “wheelchair bound” or having people just grab their chair or otherwise be disrespectful. i’m thinking more “little things that make it seem like the author is clueless” lol. thank you!

Hi!

You can check out our main #mobility aids or #wheelchairs or #canes tags for the general info! If you have a more specific question, feel free to send another ask:-)

I will talk about my own cane pet peeves because oh boy:

The most glaring, obvious, author-is-so-clueless-it-hurts thing I have somehow seen multiple times is when the writer/artist doesn't understand the difference between a mobility cane and a white cane. Usually in the form of giving their blind character the same kind of stick I use for my mobility issues. Of course, a person could need both for different disabilities! That very much happens. However, it's absolutely never the case in this kind of scenario. This one is an example of a lack of basic research so bad that it circles back to being kinda funny.

The writer not knowing which side the cane would go on for the character. Obviously, in real life, there's a whole lot of hyper-specific scenarios why someone could use it the ""wrong"" way and why it would work for them specifically, some users can also use either hand for the cane; it all depends on why they use it. The problem that I have is when the writer doesn't have a single clue about any of it and just gives their character with a bad knee and nothing else the cane on the same side. Again, shows lack of basic research.

As a certified knob cane hater, I can't just not talk about them here. They're so bad. So non-functional. Don't serve their function as a mobility device because they literally aren't one! That's a fashion accessory. Unless your character has a wrist of steel and doesn't mind that the aid meant to help with stability does the exact opposite, I guess.

I know a bunch of people will disagree with me, but I think the whole sword cane thing sucks. Sorry. The only time I don't roll my eyes on this one is when the writer is also a cane user. I always felt like it checked out two tropes that I hate, the "abled character pretends to be disabled and is actually dangerous" and the "abled writer thinks mobility aids are boring and has to stick a gun in them to justify their existence".

The cane that somehow makes the user non-disabled. Sounds contradictory, I know. I mean the kind of scenario where the character is Weak and Frail™ but then they get the cane and are suddenly just fighting, running, jumping, doing god knows what. Like, did they author forget what the cane is used for? Obviously it will depend on the character's disability how much the cane mitigates symptoms, but this writing choice always feels bizarre to me. My cane is here so that I'm not in as much pain or to help my gait disorder, it certainly doesn't turn me into an abled man who just happens to have a stick in hand.

All these tired old person or similar jokes/comparisons are probably not that funny. We get it, older people use canes. It's not even cringy or whatever, it's just so unbelievably boring it's hard to react to it with anything else than an eye roll anymore.

Apologies for the extremely late reply! I hope it helps :-)

mod Sasza

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

A witchcraft basics doc; update, resource call, interest check, and a possible second doc

Bet most of you didn't even know I was working on this >:D

Yes this is a huge post. It's a lot of things.

So, one of my first posts ever on this blog was me mentioning that a friend of mine had NO clue what they were signing up for when asking for the basics of witchcraft. The google doc I wrote took on a life of its own, and the post did as well when people started asking for it. I still plan to tag said people when I post it, assuming they haven't deactivated. The thing is, this doc had become a proper project, and it took a long time for me to have the motivation to work on it again. Now, though, it seems to me like a damn good way to reconnect to my craft after a rut! (which, by the way, is why I've been offline.)

So, my first post back is for a couple of reasons. For one, if you have any resources you'd think would be useful for beginner witches, feel free to shoot me an ask, DM, or comment/reblog on this post! I'll have a list of things I'm putting in the doc (taking recommendations there as well) at the bottom of this post.

The other thing is that I might end up making a second doc, one that's a little less "101" in vibe. It would have a MAJOR MAJOR UPG warning on it, first off, and I'm not sure whether or not I would be marking any UPG either since this would essentially be a second Grimoire/Book of Shadows for me that would be public to others for the sake of sharing information! I can't say I'd call it "advanced witchcraft" by any means, I'm not very fancy lol, but I don't want the basics doc to get too overwhelming. I do, however, want to scream about random witchcraft topics that interest me. So this is also a bit of an interest check for that, as well as the basics doc.

FINAL NOTE: I fully plan on posting this basics doc before it's done. Some sections will be unwritten or unfinished, because if I wait until I find it "finished" I'll never post it. It's going to be added onto whenever I can, but I feel as though getting it out is the best course of action.

A list of stuff in the doc that I'd take resources on (AKA everything planned in it) with * by anything that will be left unwritten/unfinished on purpose until I know more. I will take resources and recommendations on EVERYTHING though. This is in no particular order:

grounding and centering

VOCAB (intention, intuition, UPG/SPG/VPG, appropriation. probably others I'm forgetting.

candle, plant, crystals and safety* (as well as any other tools one might need safety tips for. This is left completely unwritten as I use very few tools of this type.)

deity work* (the whole debate surrounding when to start, as well as information about it. Will include smth about house rules/boundaries. My work is very casual, I'd love to see different POV's of this! This is by nature left unfinished because deity work is so unique to the witch.)

grimoire/book of shadows

tools of the craft* (common tools and how to use them consumerism in witchcraft, etc.)

cleansing

appropriation* (I don't know near enough about this, I just check what's in my own practice. I would like this to include a list of commonly appropriated closed practices, a definition of appropriation and why it shouldn't be done, open pantheons, and common open practices.)

spellwork*

meditation

where someone could go from here* (including sigils, tarot, crystals bc my friend likes rocks lol, maybe astrology but oh god I have nothing about that it makes my brain hurt just looking at an astrology chart /pos. I will probably make a list of stuff that I could add in this section.)

casual/daily/quick/low energy practices and witchcraft

paganism and witchcraft; overlap, what they are individually, why one might be for you rather than the other, etc.*

there'd be a credit section for anyone who wants to be credited for links/resources at the end! If you send me resources plz specify if you want to be included in that or not.

Things I might include in the second doc if I make it:

the craft and mental health and my experiences with it

things commonly touched on in the community (your deities don't hate you, cycles of inactivity and burnout, other things I'm forgetting rn)

deity-specific things, more specific topics of the craft, etc. yet another reminder that this would all include UPG, possibly unmarked, because it would basically be primarily used to give me motivation to research more.

[seiya-starsniper]

I mean, I can't NOT prompt 3."Can you just look at me? Please?" with Dreamling. Because I'm predictable like that.

🤘five-and-dimes

Hey @five-and-dimes, remember when you sent me this BACK IN MARCH? 😅 I finally got around to it, for Sandmannivery and also for Dreamling Bingo!

This was originally supposed to be a shortfic and then it ballooned to 4k, whoopsies! But I don't think you'll mind all that much ahahahaha.

@mr-sadman prompt: Amnesia @dreamlingbingo prompt: Square C1 - Rescue

Tags: Memory Loss, Dream of the Endless Saves Hob Gadling, Time Loop, Angst with a Happy Ending

Read the whole fic below or on AO3: a half-remembered dream

— — — — — — — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was warm and inviting. It was the type of day best spent laying out on the grass in a bed of flowers, with no thought or care to any sort of responsibilities for that day. It was a weekend after all.

Wasn’t it? 

Now that he thinks about it—what day is it anyways? Wasn’t there something he needed to do? Why did it feel like there was something he was forgetting?

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was warm and inviting. It was the type of day best spent laying out on the grass in a bed of flowers…

…Where were all the flowers?

When the man sits up all he sees is an endless sea of grass. Where was he? What time was it? How long had he been here? Why was he—who was he?

Why can’t he remember?

What was going on?

How—

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun—

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. Again. The sun was shining. Again. The birds were singing. Always the same song, the same length, the same tune. The same, the same, the same. The sun was shining, but now it felt cold and hollow, not warm and inviting. There was something very wrong about where he was, and now that he was paying attention, he fits the pieces together to form a very simple conclusion.

Hob Gadling was dreaming. 

He’d been dreaming for the entire time he’d been here. And he still had no idea where here was. Sometimes he’s laying in a field of flowers. Other times there’s nothing else but grass and rolling hills for miles. Sometimes he hears the babbling of a brook nearby. Sometimes he remembers the vague outline of a cottage that reminds him of his childhood home. The one from 1359.

Hob doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Every time he gets somewhat close to maybe remembering something, his mind just—floats away. He wouldn’t quite call it blacking out, his vision doesn’t go suddenly dark and he doesn’t lose consciousness then suddenly wake up. Could a person even wake up from a dream into another dream? Hob has no idea.

Sometimes though, if he concentrates enough, Hob can feel a deep ache in his muscles and bones. He knows it’s his real body that feels the pain because in this dream world, Hob can run and skip and jump for miles and miles and miles. Wherever his body, his real body was, Hob knows that it hadn’t moved or been moved in a very long time. 

Too long, his mind supplies. 

Wake up, he tells himself. He’d always been able to get himself to wake up if he knew he was dreaming. But it doesn’t seem to be working this time. Hasn’t worked on any of his other previous attempts really, but Hob still feels like he has to at least try to do it again.

Wake! Up! he tells himself over and over to no avail. Wake up, wake up, wake up! 

Nothing. 

Hob growls in frustration and desperately looks around the dreamscape, hoping for some sort of sign, some sort of clue for how to get out of here. Was he in a coma? Was that why he couldn’t wake up? Was his body safe? Was he—?

Hob startles suddenly as his eyes catch sight of a shadow. The movement is so swift, so sudden, that Hob’s not entirely sure he didn’t just blink and imagine it all. He whips his head around desperately, concentrating all his focus to the spot where he thinks the shadow may have gone.

And then he sees it. A small wisp in the dark. Hob runs, desperate to catch up to it. He wants to see what it is, who it is, because he’s almost certain the shadow is a person, and maybe they know a way out of this place, a trick to wake Hob up, something, anything to help. 

But then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the shadow vanishes into the air, as if it had never been there at all.

But Hob knows that he’s seen it. He knows it’s there.

He knows he’s not alone here. Not anymore. 

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was warm and inviting.

“Why can’t I wake up?” Hob asks the shadow, ignoring everything else around him. The shadow stands out in the bright landscape of the dream, though Hob is certain it did not mean for Hob to perceive its presence at all.

The shadow does not answer him. It never does. Hob sees the shadow all the time now, out of the corner of his eye, always just beyond reach. He doesn’t know what the shadow is, but he is certain that he knows the shadow itself. He’s forgotten the hows and the whys and the whens, but he knows the shadow is a friend. That it won’t hurt him.

The problem is, the shadow won’t help him either. 

“Can you just look at me please?” Hob begs. If he were stuck here, if even they were both stuck here, wherever this weird limbo between dreaming and waking was, wouldn’t it be better if they worked together? Anything was better than this crushing loneliness Hob was feeling right now. He would do anything to have a conversation with someone right now. He doesn’t know when the last time was that he’d heard the voice of a friend. 

“Answer me!” Hob demands, his anger rising now as the shadow continues to ignore him. “Why can’t I wake up from this dream?!”

Silence. Then—

“It is not safe,” the shadow says, and then, once again, it is gone.

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. No. It was an awful day, and Hob screams to the sky and demands the stranger—his Stranger—because something about that rings true in his mind—stop hiding from Hob and face him like a man. That too, rings true in his mind, that the Stranger at the very least, wore the shape of a human man whenever Hob saw him.

As always though, Hob’s questions are met with nothing but indifferent silence.

Hob will not give up. He knows now that something is very wrong, something that is keeping Hob from waking up, from living, and he is determined to find out exactly what.

Ever since Hob encountered the Stranger, his mind has stopped floating away, but now Hob is all too aware that he’s repeating the same day, in this same goddamned endless landscape, over and over again. And he doesn’t know why.

The Stranger knows why. He doesn’t always show up when the day resets, but when he does, he doesn’t speak, nor does he meet Hob’s eye, no matter how much he begs and pleads. If Hob tries to run to him, the Stranger somehow ends up further away, without having taken a single step. It’s infuriating. 

Today, Hob can’t see him anywhere, but somehow, he knows the Stranger is here. And still, he ignores Hob’s requests to talk. Hob tries insults next, hurling whatever cruel and uncaring words come to the forefront of his mind. No response. He tries threats. Nothing. He goes back to begging, crying even, for any sort of acknowledgement from this cruel and uncaring god. 

No response.

So Hob screams.

He screams and screams and screams and—

— — — — —

It was raining. 

Finally, something was different. Hob had grown sick of nothing but sunny days and perfect weather. It was all so fake. The sunny weather was fake, the beautiful landscapes were fake, the trees, the flowers, the singing birds, all of it was fake and Hob hated it here.

Thunder booms in the distance suddenly, followed by the unmistakable crack of lightning, as if the weather had worsened to reflect Hob’s feelings on the matter. Maybe Hob was affecting this tiny little dream world he found himself suddenly trapped in. Maybe he had more power here than he originally thought. 

Not that it really mattered anyways. Hob was still trapped, and his only hope for escape refused to talk to him. For all Hob knew, the Stranger he’s been trying so hard to communicate with is the reason he’s trapped here. Maybe he’s keeping Hob here because Hob did something to offend him. 

Even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows immediately that it’s not true. The Stranger, whoever he was, was Hob’s friend, and Hob knew, deep in his bones, his weary, achy, exhausted bones, that the Stranger wouldn’t keep him here against his will. There was something else going on, and for whatever reason, Hob wasn’t allowed to know. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Hob says to the falling drops outside his cottage window. “You said it wasn’t safe, but what if I’m not safe out there? Where is my body? Why am I asleep? What happened to me?”

Lightning crackles and sparks in the distant horizon in response, but Hob receives no other indicator that the Stranger, the shadow, had been listening to his pleas at all. 

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Hob thinks he has never heard anything more perfect and wonderful in his entire life.

Because today, Hob finally remembers. 

He remembers the meeting with his Stranger in 1389. Then 1489. And 1589. And on and on they went, secret meetings in the same tavern once every hundred years. A friendship borne on shaky beginnings, but still steadfast and true. He remembers the name of his friend. His patron. His—

“Dream!” Hob calls out to the sky. It vibrates and shakes and Hob can feel the atmosphere of the dreamscape tremble at the utterance of its maker’s name. Hob learned that Dream’s name is a closely guarded secret, that it is sacred, because to hold Dream’s name in one’s mind is to hold power over the Endless himself. 

Even knowing this, Hob still calls for him. Even knowing the pull of Hob’s will, Dream still does not come.

Which means that something incredibly bad has happened. Dream would not lock Hob away like this without cause.  

“Why am I here, Dream?!” Hob yells. “What’s going on?!”

— — — — —

It was…a day. 

Hob does not know how long he’s been here, trapped, scared, alone. The dreamscape has grown dull with each passing, unchanging day, and Hob’s will to continue on with this charade of a life grows thinner and thinner as well.

He does not want to die. Hob will never ask for Death’s hand, of that much he’s certain. He will stay here for as long as it takes, confident that one day, he will once again taste what it feels like to be awake. To be alive.

But Hob is also tired, and, perhaps more importantly, he is bored. As peaceful as his little cottage is, as safe as it appears, there is nothing left for Hob to do but wait. And he does not know what he is waiting for, other than for Dream to finally speak to him and tell him that everything’s all right again.

So Hob decides to sleep.

He realized, some time back, that though his physical body is asleep, his dreaming body is wide awake. But this manifestation too, needs rest, and cannot sustain itself forever, even in the realm of dreams. His dreaming mind, too, needs rest from time to time, which Hob belatedly realizes is the reason why sometimes he has a dreamless sleep.

Dream, Hob is certain, will wake both his subconscious and conscious minds, when everything is safe in the Waking World again. 

The cottage in this landscape of Hob’s mind contains a bed big enough for Hob to sprawl in. Hob wouldn’t have had this bed back in the 1300s, it’s more reflective of the one he shared with Eleanor in the 1500s, back when he was a lord and could afford all the finest silks and sheets. It’s far too large of a bed to sleep in alone, and Hob almost wishes he could craft himself a companion of some sort to cuddle up to, to at least pretend he’s not stuck in his own mind alone. And well, it was probably for the better anyways. Hob is pretty sure that even if he could make himself a companion, it wouldn’t be Eleanor he would create in his mind’s eye to cuddle up to. And well, that would be rather embarrassing to explain. 

So Hob settles in his large bed, alone, and lets himself drift off, hoping that he won’t wake too soon.

— — — — —

It was a beautiful…night?

Hob spins and spins and spins, and still, he cannot fathom how it is he’s surrounded on all sides by nothing but darkness stars. He thinks he should be falling, for there is nothing but infinity below his feet when he looks down.  And yet, the ground beneath his feet is solid as anything Hob has ever stood on, even if staring at it too long makes his eyes a little dizzy.

Everything Hob has come to know about his dream world is gone. The cottage is gone, the bed he’d been sleeping in for eons and eons and eons is gone, the grass, the flowers, the rolling hills, all of it is gone, gone, gone. Like it had never existed in the first place. 

Hob tries running in one direction, then another. Yet for all his efforts, he never seems to truly move anywhere. He wonders what it all means. 

Then, Hob sees him. A shadow in the dark. A wisp of power. A spark of hope and light and friend.

Dream of the Endless rushes towards Hob in the blink of an eye and collapses in a broken heap at his feet. Hob startles and then falls to his knees, clutching his oldest friend in his arms. Has Dream always been so small? So frail? 

“My friend, what’s happened?” Hob asks, trying to not jostle the other too much. Dream doesn’t respond, only groans when Hob tries to take a closer look at him. “Dream, please, are you all right?” Hob pleads, hoping and praying to whatever entity out there that the Endless was all right. That this wasn’t the end of the line for the two of them.

Even if it was though, Hob is certain he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Hob,” Dream gasps after a moment, his head suddenly shooting up as he meets Hob’s eyes. Hob realizes with horror that his friend’s face is covered entirely in blood, and his eyes are sunken, endless pits of black. Dream looks like someone had beaten him for hours, then thrown him out to fend for himself. Hob feels helpless, not knowing what he can possibly do to help. 

“My friend,” Hob wails, tears filling his eyes, and gripping Dream tightly. “What happened to you?”

“It’s over,” Dream wheezes, then coughs out a darkened ball of sludge. “You’re free.”

“What? Dream!” Hob yells, and then—

— — — — —

Hob gasps and coughs loudly as air, real air, fills his lungs. To finally breathe with his waking body is both the most glorious and agonizing thing. He feels as though he had been dead and brought back to life, only this time around, he’d spent a particularly long time being dead. Everything hurt, his head, his eyes, his bones.  

“Oh fucking hell,” someone curses from next to him. Hob’s head snaps harshly to his left, trying to locate the source of the voice. 

It is a mistake to move so suddenly.

Hot, fiery pain shoots up Hob’s spine and all the way up to the tip of his ears and he groans. The voice curses again, calling Hob a bloody idiot and it’s only when Hob sees a flash of a bright white trench coat that he finally recognizes who it is that’s at his bedside.  

“Constantine?” Hob tries to say, but his voice cracks on the syllables. He coughs again. He’s thirsty. Parched even. His tongue feels like lead, and every time he tries to say something else, the words come out as a cough and a wheeze instead. 

“The one and only Hobsie,” Johanna replies, still seeming to understand Hob’s intelligible noises anyways. “I’m sure you’re wondering what the flying fuck has happened then,” she adds, gesturing between the two of them. “Let’s get you some water first though, you look and sound like shit.”

— — — — —

Hours later, Hob’s mind is spinning as Johanna explains to him what’s happened to Hob over the past eight months. Eight. Months.

Apparently, someone had figured out that Hob was immortal, and, unsurprisingly, had tried to see if they could steal his immortality for themselves. There was a battle, a negotiation with a demon that Johanna was all too happy to smite, a failed spell, a cult, and—a coma.

A coma induced by Dream. To save Hob’s mind. The demon that the cult had summoned had wriggled its way into Hob’s head, eager for a vessel that would not die so easily. One that could easily wreak infinite destruction and chaos upon the mortal realm. 

Dream would not let that happen. He’d followed the path of the demon into Hob’s mind, had fought tirelessly with it, while keeping Hob’s own consciousness locked away in a small pocket of the Dreaming, where not even Lucifer themself could reach. He’d left the guard of Hob's physical body to Johanna, who then stuck Hob in one of her safehouses just outside London, checking on him every other day to see if his condition had changed. She had been just about to leave for the evening when Hob awoke and, in her words, “scared her fucking soul into next Thursday, you git.”

Johanna, unfortunately, has no idea what’s happened to Dream, but she’s not nearly as terrified as Hob feels she should be when he describes to her the last he’d seen of the Endless before he’d woken up.

“That bastard’s too stupid to let a demon off him like that,” Johanna says, shrugging. “I’ll see if I can get a hold of him, but you need to fucking rest, or he’ll kill me himself.”

Hob thinks he should be afraid to go back to sleep, after being asleep for so long already. But shortly after Johanna leaves, Hob finds himself growing sleepy once more, and for the first time, he falls into an entirely peaceful, dreamless slumber. 

— — — — —

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was warm and inviting.

Hob takes a deep breath, and smells fresh air for the first time in eight months.

He is awake. He is alive.

It had taken him almost an entire week to recover his strength after he’d woken up. An entire week of trying to make sense of his life, how he’d lost eight months of it, the cult of wannabe wizards who had tried to take his immortality from him, the lies Johanna had spun on his behalf so no one would look too closely into why Hob was suddenly missing. It had been overwhelming those first few days, but Hob’s always been quick to adapt to things, so today he is taking the time to relax and enjoy his hard won freedom. 

Hob feels his presence before he sees him. He’s gotten good, over the centuries, at being able to sense when Dream was nearby. There was always just the subtlest change in the air, a sudden smell of morning rain where previously there had been none.

Dream sits next down to Hob on the bench, a loaf of bread in hand, which he starts to break apart to feed the pigeons that have gathered at their feet. He looks much improved from when Hob had last seen him. Still fragile, but whole and unhurt. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” Hob says, turning to face Dream and smiling to show that he’s not angry.

“I am aware,” Dream replies, his own lips quirking up just so. “I apologize for the delay. I had some additional matters to deal with.”

“Banishing demons and the like?” Hob asks with a small chuckle. Dream huffs. 

“How are you, my friend?” Dream asks instead of answering Hob’s question. Hob stretches and then cracks his neck in response.

“Still a bit stiff, honestly, but doing loads better,” Hob answers. “Thanks for…everything. Even if I wasn’t always the most grateful at times,” he adds a bit sheepishly. He still remembers how angry and frustrated he’d felt. How lonely he’d felt. 

Hob knows, logically, that he’d mostly reacted out of fear and ignorance, much of which was brought on by his amnesia in the Dreaming. But he still feels guilty about all the unkind things he’d thought about Dream, when Dream had been out on the front lines desperately trying to save his life. Things he knows that Dream was able to perceive while Hob was locked away in the Dreaming. He wonders if that’s why Dream hadn’t come to see him right away. If his friend was angry at him, though he didn’t look like it at present. 

Hob is shaken out of his morose thoughts by a solid hand on his shoulder. Dream’s hand. God, he really must look like a wreck if Dream is this concerned. 

“I am sorry,” Dream says solemnly, “that I took so long to rescue you. You suffered unnecessarily because of my shortcomings.”

“Dream,” Hob says, swallowing a lump in his throat, and trying to ignore the heat creeping up his face at where his friend is touching him. “You saved me. That’s not nothing.” 

He’s touched at how much Dream cares, but it really wasn’t the Endless’s fault that Hob found himself in danger. If anything, it was Hob’s fault entirely for not being careful enough, despite centuries of living, and learning that hard way that he needed to be careful.

“But it was my fault you were compromised in the first place,” Dream says, then suddenly goes silent, his face pinched.

Hob furrows his brow, confused. “How’s that?” he asks. “It wasn’t your fault that someone figured out I was immortal.” Dream sighs, then shakes his head.

“Those that captured you were not well versed in the ways of the occult,” Dream answers.“They mistakenly summoned a demon far more powerful than they intended, and it was only because the demon knew of your association with me that they were spared their lives, and allowed to strike a bargain.”

“So the demon only helped because he knew you and I were friends?” Hob asks. “That’s hardly your fault still.”

“That is—not all of it,” Dream says, looking wretched and like he’s marching to his own execution.

“Then what else?” Hob asks, placing his hand over Dream’s own. It’s surprisingly warm beneath his touch, but Hob may just be projecting. Dream tries to remove his hand from Hob’s shoulder, and Hob lets him, but doesn’t release his own grip on the Endless’s hand, letting their hands slide down to the bench between them instead. 

“It’s okay, Dream,” Hob says, squeezing his friend’s hand in reassurance. “You can tell me.”

Dream stares at the point where their hands meet, face still pinched with discomfort. Hob lets the silence between them drag out, not wanting to rush his friend. Whatever it was Dream wanted to tell him, it clearly was something that weighed heavily on his mind, and Hob didn’t want to put his friend under any more duress than they both had been through recently. 

“The demon knew,” Dream finally says, so quietly that Hob can barely hear him, “that I felt more for you than just friendship.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Dream—” Hob starts to say, his heart suddenly lurching,  but Dream holds up his free hand to silence him.

“That is not the only confession I wish to make,” Dream admits, before he takes a deep breath Hob knows damn well he does not need.

“Okay…” Hob replies, bracing himself, but still feeling hopeful, despite Dream’s somber tone.

“After our reunion at The New Inn,” Dream says, his face now tinted the slightest shade of pink. “You dreamed of me.”

Ah. 

“I…see,” Hob says, processing all this new information while trying to calm the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart. “So you’ve known for a while then,” he continues, his question confirmed when Dream nods his head silently at him, still looking somber. 

“Why then—” Hob coughs and then clears his throat. “Why all the secrecy then?” 

Dream’s brow seems to be in a permanent state of pinched, and Hob wants to smooth it out with his thumb, but he holds himself back as the Endless considers his words. 

“My love has been a burden to mortals before,” Dream replies, looking stricken as some painful memory seems to overcome him. “It is, in fact, forbidden for the Endless to consort with mortals, barring certain circumstances,” he continues. “I withheld my knowledge of your feelings, as well as my own, for your own safety. For all the good that it did in the end.”

“Hey,” Hob says, squeezing down on Dream’s hand as understanding dawns on him. “I’m still here thanks to you. And still plan to be for the long haul. Too much to live for, remember?”

“I still put you in danger,” Dream starts to argue, but Hob shushes him gently.

“That sort of danger comes with what I signed up for,” Hob reassures him. “And I’d go through it again, just so you know,” he adds sincerely. “Too much to live for still includes you.”

Dream's eyes widen, shock and hope and awe clearly painted across his features. “You would still—?”

“I would,” Hob replies immediately, leaning in just close enough for them to almost kiss. “You're worth the risk, any day, any century, Dream.”

“You are a fool,” Dream replies, but there’s no reproach in his tone. Only a heat that makes desire curl in Hob’s belly.

“Maybe,” Hob grins, staring pointedly down at Dream’s mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can do more than just that,” Dream purrs, and then suddenly the two of them are enveloped in a whirl of sand that instantly moves them from the park bench to Hob’s bedroom. Hob laughs as he finds himself pinned beneath the King of Dreams.

“C’mere you,” Hob says, tugging his oldest friend down into a kiss. 

It was a perfect day.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Taking Over the Neighborhood

Prompt Day 21: Snow | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Fluff, Neighbor Meet-Cute, Snow, Platonic Stobin, Cat People, Eddie POV

Eddie hates winter. 

It's cold. It's miserable. 

And the snow. 

The goddamn, motherfucking snow. 

He looks out the window, and he's not sure he's even gonna be able to get home by closing time. That's the shitty thing about working nights in the winter. Sometimes, when you're really unlucky, you get stuck at work.

They get a few more inches of snow, but he's determined to make it home, come hell or frozen water. His van can just suck it up.

He has to drive about ten miles per hour, but he does make it home. Then he gets to wade through his snow-covered sidewalk. Fantastic. 

His jeans are wet from the knees down, and he's freezing, so he jumps in the warm shower. Even if he'd really rather just crash.

The next day, he wakes up just after lunch, and while he's drinking his first cup of coffee, he notices that his walk has been shoveled. That's weird. He definitely doesn't know any of his neighbors that well. He hasn't lived here long, and his schedule isn't exactly ideal for meeting neighbors. Maybe it's some of the kids in the neighborhood, and he owes them money now. Which, he wouldn't mind paying, he definitely appreciates it.

Maybe he'll see 'em out working.

So, Eddie sits by the window and waits. Soon enough, a guy is walking across the street with a snow shovel. Eddie's never seen him before in his life. Doesn't know if he has a wife, a boyfriend, six kids or a dozen cats. No clue. Maybe all of the above, for all Eddie knows.

But, Eddie pours another mug of coffee, slides on his boots, zips up his coat and goes out to thank him.

The guy's just walking up the driveway when Eddie opens the door, and he freezes in his tracks.

"Hey, thank you, your handiwork is greatly appreciated!" Eddie hollers, offering him a big smile. "I'm Eddie."

"I'm Steve," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him. "I kinda figured that either you worked nights, or were a vampire," Steve teases, "But look at you! Out in the daytime."

Eddie laughs, "Not a vampire. Bar owner, though, so lots of late nights," Eddie says.

"I hope you don't mind, I was doing mine, and just thought I'd help."

"I really appreciate that help, Steve," Eddie says, handing him the cup of coffee. Steve accepts it with thanks, and Eddie takes the shovel from his hands, and shovels up the small amount of new snow that fell overnight.

"So, a bar, huh? Which one?" Steve asks, and Eddie pauses for a second.

"Hellfire Club," Eddie finally says.

"Oh, that's cool! Small world. My best friend and I have been there a few times. It's great. We liked it a lot. There's not a lot of queer-friendly bars in the area, and a new one is always appreciated," Steve says, and Eddie relaxes.

"I'm glad you guys liked it," Eddie says, smiling, "it's taking up all my time. Hence, the rumors of me being a vampire, apparently."

Steve laughs, and Eddie leans on the shovel, just looking at him. He's very pretty, and maybe, some flavor of queer.

It's Eddie's lucky day.

"You hungry? I can make breakfast? As a thank you for all your manual labor," Eddie offers, and Steve actually nods, which sends a thrill through Eddie. He hadn't expected that, not really.

But he ushers Steve into his house, and they both take off their snow boots at the front door, and then Eddie leads him into his kitchen. "There's more coffee in the pot," Eddie says, and he watches as Steve refills his mug. "Milk or cream in the fridge if you want some, and sugar in the container right there," Eddie adds, pointing.

And Steve doctors up his coffee.

"I should have asked earlier, I forget not everyone drinks it black," Eddie says.

"Oh, I like it both ways," Steve says, stirring his coffee with a spoon he got out of the dish drainer. 

Eddie would be so lucky, if Steve likes it both ways.

Steve scoots onto the bar stool, and drinks his coffee while Eddie makes breakfast. 

"How do you like your eggs?" Eddie asks.

"The runnier the better," Steve says, and Eddie pulls his hands to his heart, dramatically. 

Steve laughs.

"A guy after my heart," Eddie declares, and starts frying some bacon, and puts bread in the toaster.

"How long have you lived across the street?" Eddie asks, glancing over his shoulder at Steve.

"Four, no, five years. My best friend, Robin and I, moved from a small town in Indiana," Steve says.

"I didn't know who lived over there. Single person? Family with six kids? A dozen cats? It could have been any combination," Eddie teases.

"Well, it's one bisexual, one lesbian, no kids, and 2 cats."

Eddie smiles, teasing, "We're taking over the neighborhood."

"The gays?" Steve asks, grinning.

"No, the cat people," Eddie teases, clicking his tongue and a big, black cat comes racing into the kitchen.

"That's Midnight."

Steve reaches down and scratches him behind the ears, and it makes Eddie smile.

Once the food is ready, they sit side-by-side and eat at the counter. Midnight eating his lunch in the corner, on the floor. They talk, and Eddie is happy he's making a friend in town. 

Then there's knocking on the front door, and Eddie gets up to go answer it. That's weird. Gareth would just walk in, so he doesn't know who it'd be.

He opens the door to a woman with a bob haircut, "Did you kidnap my best friend?"

"Yes, and I'm force feeding him breakfast," Eddie answers. "You must be Robin."

Steve laughs from the kitchen, then hollers, "How did you even know I was over here?"

"I followed your footprints. And I saw your shovel, dingus," she says, and pushes her way inside. 

Eddie steps aside to let her enter.

Maybe he'll make two new friends today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm so fuckin' pissed at Tumblr right now. I had everything all done and the fucking thing wouldn't post. So, here's the bare bones of what I had.

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

THIS IS SMUTTY AND FLUFFY. IT'S FLUT. PLEASE JOIN ME IN ADDING THIS TO THE READILY AVAILABLE TAGS.

I LOVE THIS MAN. I NEED THIS MAN IN SO MANY WAYS I'VE LOST COUNT.

PLEASE ENJOY THIS. GIVE KAFKA THE LOVE HE DESERVES.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING.

WC ::: JUST OVER 800.

"Ay-yo! Just what do you think you're doing? Mm, miss? I don't think my lady would appreciate you grabbing my ass like that. Especially since she's not around to defend what's hers." Kafka batted your hand away from his chest after you lightly smacked his cute little butt. 

"Oh hush. If your 'lady' had any clue as to just how much of a stud muffin you are, she'd never take her sights off of that sexy dad bod you've got going on here." You climbed into the shower and stood behind him, pressing your still dry breasts against his soaking back. 

"D-dad bod? But I - we - there are no kids. I don't have kids. I - we haven't even talked about having kids." He sounded like he was starting to panic. 

"Calm down. Calm ..." You ran your hands from the fronts of his shoulders down his chest and lightly scratched his upper thighs with your nails, "down."

You felt him tense up beneath your fingertips before he pushed your hands away and turned to face you. 

"Look, Miss...?" He backed you up against the shower wall and pressed his erection to your own cute, pudgy belly. "Eh, y'name's not important. I'll forget it anyway because my heart belongs to another. But I'm gonna make damn sure you never forget who I am." 

Kafka grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and he held them there with one hand. His other hand traced the swell of the outline of your left breast. 

"Keep your hands there. Don't move them until I tell you to do so. Understood? Miss?" He was speaking so closely to your ear that you could feel the breath behind his words. 

You nodded, looking a little taken aback by his behavior. 

He grabbed your right thigh with his hand and hiked your leg up over his hip and pressed into you. You felt everything. 

Kafka slid his hand from your thigh to your backside and lifted your other leg up to wrap around his waist. He slowly lowered you onto his cock, watching your face all the while.

"Miss, you're so tight. Can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like this before. Damn, heh."

You gasped as he fully buried himself inside of you. The warm water was making the entire experience even more enjoyable.

"I told you not to move, Miss. What part of that didn't you understand?" He growled at you.

Kafka shifted his hips and thrust himself into you with such force that you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. His hands gripped your backside so tightly that you were sure he was going to leave bruises.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, trying to free your hands from his grip.

"Ah, ah, ah. No. You stay right there." He bit down on your shoulder, drawing a moan from you.

Kafka continued to slam into you, and you could feel yourself starting to tremble from the intensity everything.

"K-Kafka! I-I'm gonna ... oh shit! Oh my god!" You tried to pull your arms away from him, but he wouldn't let go.

"Hold it. Not yet." He moved his hips in a circular motion, grinding into you.

"Please! Please, Kafka! Let me cum! Please!" You begged him.

"Alright. Go ahead, Miss. Cum for me." He released your wrists and held on to your hips with both hands, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you.

You dug your nails into his back and screamed his name as you finally released the tension that had been building inside of you.

"Ah, hah hah hah! Fuck, Kafka! Fuck!" You continued to moan as he slowed down his pace and gently slid out of you.

"That's it, Miss. That's a good girl." He groaned as he reached his own orgasm. You could feel him cum hard inside of you. Your walls pulsating around his throbbing dick. 

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, kissing your neck and shoulders. "Was that too rough? I didn't hurt you, did I, kitten?" 

You were still trying to catch your breath. But you smiled and shook your head no, "Mm - Kafka, that was so hot. And where did you get the idea to call me 'Miss?'" You found yourself blushing, even after all of that you two just did. 

"Mm-mm-mm. Jus' came to me. You uh, you liked it, huh?" 

"Kafka, you were amazing." You pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. "You are amazing."

He smiled and kissed you on the lips and gave your butt a playful smack.

You reached for the body wash and started to soap yourself up.

"I don't know about that, Miss. There's something about you that I find strangely irresistible." He winked at you.

"You are talking about me, right? You must be crazy." You teased him.

"Nah, just crazy happy." 

@supersecretsaga @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku

@darkstarlight82 @bakubunny @arlerts-angel

@reiners-milkbiddies @trevengersprincess @katkusuo

@viburnt

[rarepears]

Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue all reincarnate together into PIDW, and become disciples around the same time as Luo Binghe.

The drama of this is of course enhanced by the facts that NMJ & JGY died "early," but NHS & LXC lived to the end of their natural lives as cultivators, and so some of their perspectives and opinions on events have naturally changed with age. (tfw the passage of time renders you unfamiliar to your once-loved ones)

Eventually they talk about their feelings and reconcile and such, and this ends up derailing the plot of PIDW severely as the rest of the PIDW characters confusedly observe quite possibly the weirdest disciples Cang Qiong's ever seen

NMJ on Bai Zhan, with no clue what's going on because he died first and NHS & LXC haven't told him anything

NHS on An Ding, thoroughly enjoying what's pretty much a vacation to him at this point and possibly running an interpeak illicit goods market (definitely not to distract himself from any of the emotions having NMJ & JGY alive and nearby would be causing him, Everything Is Fine) I haven't decided if he'd get involved with the whole og!SQH and MBJ situation tho

LXC on Qiong Ding, because I feel like he'd see himself in Yue Qingyuan and lowkey hate him for it and I think that could be interesting

JGY on Qing Jing, because he's the objectively the funniest/most interesting character to throw into the mess that is SJ and LBH. The way I imagine it, he's doing the most direct derailing of the plot, because he mostly accidentally gets right in the middle of the thing that is going on between those two

I feel like as I wrote this it became more serious than I originally intended so just know that I'm mentally picturing this like a fic that's interspersed with outsider POV of the 4 of them being completely deranged about eachother

(Also I'd feel bad taking away LXC's brother so LWJ and WWX + friends are busy doing hot girl shit being rogue cultivators. I think WWX should be a half demon so he gets to keep the cultivation and steal some of LBH's protagonist energy. If this was a fic then the rest of the Untamed gang would be perfect to use for side characters during off-peak missions)

*grabs popcorn and sits down to hear more*

Nie Huaisang is having too much fun waiting the two idiots called his shizun and shizun's poorly kept secret of a boyfriend go flailing around on these terribly unromantic dates BUT THE TWO WERE TRYING SO HARD that it was cute. He wonders if he should do something to help the poor idiots out... Should he?

Maybe he should...

(Watch Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun suddenly have a number of sex pollen accidents over the next few months....)

Lan Xichen would be an old man and a good voice of reason for Yue Qingyuan. Although he's head disciple and a very good one at that (if only because his Big Brother instincts can't be held back and he MUST interfere to help prevent history repeating once more), Lan Xichen has made it very clear that he would never accept becoming sect leader.

Also don't forget Liu Mingyan in the background writing about a 4 person sex orgy. At least, that's her personal theory for why there's so much UNRESOLVED TENSION between these four sus male disciples. And also, because it's fun.

It's even funner when you consider that Nie Mingjue is out of the loop of Cang Qiong stuff even on Bai Zhan because he tags along on so many of Liu Qingge's missions that he's probably spending like 8 months of the year outside of the sect.

(Nie Huaisang gets "assigned" to missions that happen to take place near Nie Mingjue's hunts.)

Meng Yao is Meng Yao and he still craves the approval of Male Authority Figures That Could be his dad. Also Meng Yao still likes to climb up the social hierarchy and power. AKA Luo Binghe growing mushrooms in the corner at seeing ANOTHER QING JING disciple THE SAME AGE AS HIM being given SO MUCH ATTENTION AND APPROVAL by shizun.

Luo Binghe develops a complex over Meng Yao of course.

(Shen Jiu approves of Meng Yao because he understands these characters very well and know how to manipulate (cough kill or injury them physically or mentally) them easily. Plus Meng Yao is actually competent.)

[More in #Nie Huaisang Lan Xichen Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue reincarnate into PIDW and are Cang Qiong disciples at the same time as Luo Binghe is AU

[hongtiddiez]

my stand in ep 4 thoughts, feelings, etc

WOW WA WE WAA THAT SURE WAS AN EPISODE HUH - happy to report i went back through the episode slowly this week and took notes and really tried to gather everything i wanted to say (but i will inevitably forget something)

🌸 ok disclaimers because i have a lot of them for this particular episode 🌸

i'm just a silly guy on the internet, i'm not an expert in mental health, psychology, body language, whatever. most days i can't even take care of myself. i'm just saying things recreationally.

PLEASE do not put novel spoilers in my replies, reblogs, or tags without a warning notice. i've got an itchy blocking finger for it these days.

i am treating ming and joe and everyone involved in this show as if they were real life human beings. ming was not born some mustache twirling villain sent from hell to make joe miserable. joe is not some pure angel descended from the clouds to do no wrong. everyone in this show exhibits very human behavior and that can be distressing under certain circumstances. i'm just going to comment on them as humans. i'm not interested in a round table discussion on why a character is irredeemable, the scum of the earth, etc. i'm just putting my thoughts out there and you can take them or leave them.

🌸 alright yucky disclaimer time over 🌸

the episode really just picks us back up where everything left off - and yet joe still made ming breakfast, and ming isn't stupid (well right now at least,) he knows something is off.

i am confused why tong needs to get married on this specific day. and like bro how fast are you getting married? relax. the whole thing is just unstoppable force (trajectory of this producers career) meets immovable object (tong's fuckass stubbornness) and the collateral damage is massive.

and then there's the question of did joe ever want to play a lead? or did he let his impulsiveness and hurt put a target on his back? (only emphasized by the fact that everyone assumed joe would turn down the role)

i DO apologize for all my doubt surrounding wut. he, ja, and may are the only people in this show with any god damn sense. maybe jojo and yim. we'll see.

getting into the confrontation at joe's work, i really don't think it's that surprising when we keep in mind ming genuinely has no fucking clue what is going on. all he knows is joe woke up, was acting weird, didn't come home, and then told him to pack up his shit and leave with ZERO explanation. like, joe's completely in the right, but i'd also be confused as fuck. (i wouldn't go to someone's work about it but, y'know, we know ming acts in extremes.)

and to me this is where it really became obvious that joe has always been able to overpower ming, to get away from him, as we have seen joe's physical prowess, we've seen what he's capable of, but he never uses his body to move ming away from him - that's not who joe is, he's not someone that would put his hands on another person like that. it's just another way ming and joe are the direct antithesis of each other.

it's my thought that the argument escalates because ming is used to getting everything he wants - except for tong, and now joe. when joe begins to push him away and deny him his substitution for tong i think ming lashes out in his hurt with a thought of "it's happening again, why doesn't anyone want me?"

i will say while i do believe sol has good intentions for the most part his white knighting is getting a little irksome. while convenient, it just shows how much he's still hovering and laying in wait for a chance with joe - he, too, is not respecting joe's wishes. no is a complete sentence, sol.

and then things continue back at home and joe finally, finally throws ming's words back at him: if i'm so terrible to be with, if you're so great, why are you wasting your time with me?

and ming doesn't have an answer. what ming DOES have is another back embrace, arms wrapped around joe as he asks "don't you love me anymore?" but is he asking joe or tong?

"although i'm not as good as tong" even now joe's rampant self worth issues are still at play but at least he finally knows he's worth more than whatever this is.

then the phone rings and to me, ming looks skittish. he looks shaken. he's never seen joe so angry and he's scared and as the call progresses that fear morphs into rage when sol calls joe. and the thing is, regardless of who played the main role, ming was never going to be happy. it was either going to be joe or tong playing opposite sol and neither of those things would have been acceptable.

and then i said, out loud, in my quiet office: OH! and promptly lost my shit in the group chat.

ming doesn't look wholly present after his act of violence. his face is vacant, like he isn't completely seeing or grasping what he's just done. i get the impression that ming isn't mentally well; stress and fear and anger have a way of making people do really fucking stupid things and as these things happen you risk falling into the sunk cost fallacy - you've already gone this far, you can't stop now - which all aligns with the obsessive behavior we've seen from ming in the past.

as joe wakes up and they talk once again joe doesn't blame ming, he blames himself for not seeing the writing on the walls even though it was written in invisible ink.

"all these times we were together did you ever love me?"

"you can't tell?"

again, so much of the blame and emotional responsibility of their situationship is put on joe and ming refuses to communicate any of his feelings, perhaps because he doesn't know how to after repressing everything for so long.

WE DIDN'T GET HOT KINKY CHAINED UP SEX THOUGH, WHY DOES GOD HATE ME SPECIFICALLY

but the way joe looks at ming as they linger there in the wake of joe's request looks like a goodbye, the way his eyes soak in every detail of ming's face. despite all of this and the nightmare it has turned into he did love ming, perhaps still does, and he does have some of those good memories he was so desperate to keep.

though like.. joe.... maybe we could consider a different career path??? instead of just jumping to risking our lives? like sure food service sucks, cashiering sucks, etc. but you aren't in danger of falling off any cliffs, you know? and let's be real, he could just go into modeling with those looks.

it's my impression that when ming calls joe he looks haggard, like he's lost numerous nights of sleep (and we really don't know how much time has passed) but either way it does seem like he's at least done some amount of reflecting. his voice comes across soft, subdued, and sincere.

and after everything, back in the present, we see ming. he's still in the apartment, desperately calling joe's name all these years later, still unable to sleep and waiting for joe to come home just like he asked him to years ago.

maybe ming never wanted to enter the entertainment industry before, but he has now. perhaps it was never for the attention or the money, maybe he chose to promote those watches because it was a reminder of the gift from joe. and maybe this job, in this specific industry, is the closest he can feel to joe now. and maybe with new influence and connections ming can find out why he was never able to tell joe he loved him before he lost him.

WHO KNOWS, NOT ME, CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT THO

[peacefulpianist]

The Green Dress: Part Two

Loki x Fem. Reader

After the first part was so well received (so much more than I could have ever imagined!) I wrote a second part.

Tags (I'm tagging some of the people who seemed to enjoy the previous part but once again let me know if you'd like to be removed x): @vanicahgg @fiction-fan134 @kats72 @anukulee @onlymischief99 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @acidcasualties @mrsbarnes32557038 @huntress-artemiss @emberocrpblog @superficialdomina @gruftiela

Description: The smutty end to your night together

w/c: 2.3k

Warnings: This is pretty much just pure smut I've got to be honest

My Masterlist

“I’ve pictured this so many times darling, I have no clue where to start now that I finally have you here” Loki managed to slip out between frantic kisses. You had barely made it into his room before being promptly shoved into the wall beside the door, you hardly had any time to give it much thought though, aside from noticing that even in his passion fuelled mania, he was still thoughtful enough to place a hand behind your head to cushion the impact. 

Ordinarily you would have come back with some kind of quip about starting at the beginning, but in your current state there was no room for anything in your head other than thoughts of your Loki. Your Loki. Whilst you had been referring to him in your head as such for many months now, it finally held a truth to it. To some extent he was in fact your Loki at this point in time, and for much longer too if you had anything to do with it. 

With this thought now echoing round your head, the fire within you was fuelled even further driving you into further action. Up until this point you had rather contentedly letting Loki drive the encounter, but now felt that it was time to take a little bit of the control back. 

Breaking the kiss momentarily in order to be able to slip from his grasp against the wall, you turned to face Loki grabbing his tie and gently pulling him with you, whilst continuing to walk backwards towards the grand bed behind you. 

With Loki most things he did or surrounded himself with were rather opulent, and almost always green and his rooms were no exception. You had no idea how he managed to get half the things he had in here, as they definitely weren’t the standard pieces that Stark had provided with all the apartments within the tower. For starters you had thought that the king bed you had been given in your room was plenty luxurious, but upon seeing Loki’s huge canopy bed fitted out with dark green sheets that you could only assume were fashioned from the finest asgardian silk, you began to second guess yourself. 

Logically you had always known that Loki was a god, and not just a god at that but a prince, but it was easy to forget it sometimes, especially when he was wandering round the tower in his workout gear, or a personal favourite of yours relaxing with book in the library in nothing more than a pair of grey sweatpants. Looking round now you had a stark reminder of the fact. 

You couldn’t ruminate on this for too long though, as you had reached the edge of said grand bed, and Loki was clearly showing no plans of stopping there, eagerly pushing you backwards so you fell onto it, with him following you closely behind whilst trying to maintain the kiss. 

Now positioned on top of you, he began gently pulling at one of the straps of your dress, not moving to pull it down yet, but clearly showing his desire for it be moved in the near future. 

“I thought you were trying to kill me earlier when you walked in wearing this, how was I meant to concentrate on anything other than you when you’re wearing my colours?” Loki said lips brushing against yours as he spoke, not wishing to be any further apart from you than absolutely necessary. “As much as I have enjoyed seeing you in this though, and believe me I have thoroughly enjoyed this,” he growled whilst giving you a lascivious look to show you in no uncertain terms his appreciation for the article, “I think it would look much better on the floor now don’t you agree?”

Before waiting for your reply, the hand that had previously been toying with the strap started pulling it down, mirrored on the other side to remove the dress with you lifting your hips in an effort to aid his mission. When the dress reached your ankles, Loki lifted it and threw it over his shoulder, only for it to seemingly disappear mid air in a flash of green. Looking back to Lokis face you were greeted with a wide grin and small twinkle in his eye, clearly proud of himself for his display of magic. 

His eyes met yours before slowly trailing down your body taking every inch in and cataloguing it to memory. He took in a deep breath before meeting your nervous gaze, only instead of the disappointment you had half been expecting to see there, you could only find wonderment and lust. 

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but nothing could have prepared me for this, you are truly stunning kjaeraste.” he whispered before taking you into a bruising kiss once more.

Empowered in the knowledge that the god truly did wish to be here with you, and was thoroughly enjoying it, your own hands were sparked into action from where they had been resting round his neck, getting to work on pushing his back suit jacket from his shoulders, before the matching shirt and tie quickly followed. Whilst the jacket and shirt disappeared in a similar fashion to your dress, the tie remained and Loki placed it on the table beside the bed with a dark look and a wink. 

You took his small moment of distraction to admire the sculpted musculature of his back as he twisted to place the tie beside you, taking a more hands on approach when it came to the front and tracing your hands down his toned chest, taking extra time to admire the defined ‘v’ of muscle on his hips, an arrow pointing down into his trousers, inviting you to follow the light smattering of hair there and to reveal what lay below them. Before you had the chance to proceed though your thoughts were broken by Like somewhat smug voice 

“Enjoying the view there? I know I most certainly am” 

With a light blush that Loki’s eyes followed down from your face to your chest, you glanced back up at the god’s face, meeting his eyes, before shyly nodding before pulling him into another kiss before it could inflate his ego too much. 

The god’s clearly eager hands took the opportunity to fully divest you of your bra, and you sent a silent thank you to Nat in your head for picking out one of the few matching sets you owned before you were thoroughly distracted as Loki took it upon himself to worship your chest as if you were the deity out of the two of you. 

He moved gently at first, lapping at the skin in the valley between your breasts, taking his time before dedicating his attention towards one, with his hand coming up for the other. His tongue moved in concentric circles, closing in slightly each time until he reached your nipple, taking the opportunity to suck it into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it in a way that had you arching your back and letting out a quiet moan. All whilst he began rolling his hips into yours, letting you feel just how ready he was for you.

“Mmm darling now that’s what I’ve been wanting to hear” Loki revealed, then immediately resumed his ministrations on the other side in the hopes of getting you to repeat the noise.

You were already struggling to form any coherent thoughts at this point, but fully resigned yourself to it when Loki ripped your underwear from your body, the final piece hiding you away from him. He couldn’t resist circling a finger round your clit, dipping down to gather some of your wetness before continuing and watching your face as you whimpered from his touch. Maintaining the eye contact with you moments later when he brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean, before his eyes slid shut in a pleased hum. 

With a shimmer of green, the rest of his own clothes disappeared, leaving you both on even ground, the proof of his arousal resting hotly against your inner thigh as he continued his ministrations with his hand. He moved to kiss from your collar bone up your neck, biting down on your pulse point with a growl of “mine” before soothing over the bite with his tongue and finishing with a nip of your ear, whispering as he did “I don’t think I can wait any longer darling, your s-so, fuck, so wet for me and I need to be inside you” 

You reached down to stroke him in time with his rhythm on your clit, before positioning him in place, teasing yourself with then feeling the head of his cock at your entrance. Looking up you noticed that Loki’s gaze was resolutely fixed on your entrance, biting his bottom lip as he fought for control to not just push himself right in. He looked to you once more, for reassurance that you did in fact want this, and obviously saw what he was looking for as he pushed himself in in one smooth thrust, his face scrunching in pleasure as he bottomed out inside you with a grunt. 

“Oh Norns darling you feel incredible, so tight and wet.” His head fell into the crook of your neck as he started a gentle rhythm, kissing your shoulder between pants of breath. 

You took the opportunity at being so close to him for the first time to explore his chest further with your hands, tracing the contours and faint scars from old battle wounds, making a mental note to ask about each one at some point in the future. 

His hips started to pick up in speed, moving in waves so that his pelvis dragged deliciously over your clit with each thrust. His hands made their way to your hips, grabbing onto them to pull you deeper into each thrust. You brought your legs up to wrap round his waist, wanting to maximise the skin to skin contact with him. 

When you began to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, it seemed to release the more carnal side in Loki. His eyes fluttering shut as his head fell back, releasing a groan. “Norns, you feel incredible darling, such a good fucking girl for me”

Feeling you clench around him as he praised you, a smirk graced his face in understanding. 

“Oh now that’s interesting, do you like being my good girl sweetheart?” 

“Lokiii” you moaned desperately in response, not wanting to have to admit it out loud

“As much as I love hearing my name between your lips, I’m going to need you to say it for me darling, use your words like a good girl” The evil sentence was followed by an equally devilish swirl of his hips brushing against the sweet spot inside you, causing you to arch up into him and let out another moan. Before he slowed his pace looking up at you with a smirk, telling you all you needed to know - he wasn’t going to resume his faster pace until you admitted what he wanted to hear. 

“Yes Loki, I-ah, I want to be your good girl” you managed to force out between his thrusts, his speed picking up now he had your confession, clearly spurred on by it and starting to feel his own release beginning to creep up on him.

“That’s all I needed you to say, now, ah fuck, now cum for me sweet girl, I want to feel you  squeezing around me, milking me.” His words were accompanied by one of his hands moving back down to swipe at your clit again, driving you head first into the strongest orgasm of your life, clenching down hard on him. 

“Ohh, yes that’s it my sweet girl, my good fucking girl” he moaned out as he kept up his pace, prolonging your orgasm and furiously chasing after his own.

“Yes, Loki, yes!” You cried out, bathing in the pleasure of your own climax, but wanting for him to join you now, to make him feel as good as you had made him feel. “Cum for me Loki, please, I need to feel you” you begged looking up at him whilst clenching around him each time he pulled out, only for him to push back in even harder on the next thrust. 

“Oh Norns, yes darling, you’ve got another one in you haven’t you? Cum for me again sweetheart so I can join you” he groaned whilst frantically rubbing your clit again, angling his hips to drag along your g spot inside you, sending you hurtling again into another climax, only this time dragging him along with you. 

“Fuck, I’m coming again, yes, Loki” you yelled out, clinging onto him and pulling him close, burying your face into his neck as he gave a final few thrusts before reaching his own high.

“Yes my goddess, you feel fucking incredible” he groaned out in the throws of his own climax, shooting deep inside you whilst rocking his hips, ensuring that every last drop was spilled inside you and nowhere else. 

He lowered himself down onto you, rolling to his side whilst pulling you with him, keeping you wrapped in his arms and close to his chest with no intention of letting go anytime soon. 

You snuggled in his chest, just content to be with him like this for a while. No words were needed between the two of you, you had already expressed everything that needed to be said. It was tangled together like this, your legs woven through his, that you fell asleep, a warm and calm feeling flowing through you both and easing you into a state of slumber. Happy to finally be in each others arms.  

Thanks for reading!

[jakes3resin]

Can you tell us about your other fics if you already have an established plot?

I'd love to! So there's quite a number of them I won't lie. I tend to get inspired by the randomest things. These are all in various stages of plotted out and written.

A/B/O fic (technically turning into 3 fics) that follows Bucky & Buck through the war, described below.

Courting Arc (top of my list to finish writing) - Bucky POV as he is anonymously courted during his time in the states just before he gets sent over to England (there's a post I'm basing my writing around I'll link it in a moment) <- published

England Arc- a quick look into their lives as they run missions with A/B/O elements (this will be pretty short I think) mostly snippets of scenes from the show just now with Omega Bucky and Alpha Buck <- published

Stalag Arc - Omega Bucky and his awful time in Germany. Here is where we see what being an Omega in war is really like in my omegaverse. Bucky is the highest ranked Omega in the camp meaning he's technically 'in charge' of keeping those Omegas in line. He's tested by his heats, keeping his pack together, and finally by a German order that could tear Buck and Bucky apart. This is a big fic for me to prepare for, and I'm building up to it by writing the Courting Arc first <- next on deck

Biker Gale AU (my beloved, genuinely obsessed with this AU) - this was inspired by one of hogans-heroes AUs. So, Gale leads an outlaw-esque biker club, and Bucky used to be his right hand (and lover) except one day out of the blue he just disappeared. Gale does everything he can to find Bucky, but there's no trail to follow, no clues to put together, nothing. Fast forward about two years, Bucky arrives on Curt's doorstep holding a small baby with the brightest blue eyes and prettiest blonde curls and begs Curt to watch his baby for 5 days. 5 days later Bucky comes back in town bruised to all hell with the FBI on his tail with their own nefarious reasons for tracking Bucky down. Bucky has nowhere else to turn especially since when he comes back to Curt's he finds Gale holding his little baby. (This could be A/B/O I haven't decided, but it's definitely at least mpreg)

Amnesia fic - this is based off of a post I made about the effects of Bucky getting hit over the head like 3 times in the span of two days, its... somewhere (edit: here). But its about Bucky waking up with no memory of who he is just before he gets interrogated by the Germans and sent to Stalag Luft III where he meets a man that his heart rejoices at seeing but his mind doesn't recognize. Buck of course has to deal with the love of his life forgetting him.

Magic AU - Bucky is a Scamander and its now everyone's problem to deal with it. The tag to find all of my ramblings for it is magic au (not that Tumblr's tag system works), and @getinthefuckingjaeger just wrote the best ever fic of Bucky and Theseus so go read that.

I've also got a few paragraphs written of Foster Kid Bucky somewhere but that might never see the light of day (that's also from a hogans-heroes AU) where Bucky is a jaded teenager just trying to make it to 18 to get out of his shitty foster placement when in comes Buck whose mother finally divorced his dad, got custody of her kids, and moved to her hometown to escape. It's about a Bright Buck meeting a Jaded Bucky (a flip on their usual dynamics)

Blonde Bucky AU - I wrote a blurb on the Twin Cleven AU post, and the idea of Bucky bleaching his hair on a drunken night out with Curt and Bubbles has haunted me since <- published as well

There might be more? But these are the only ones I can remember off the top of my head right now that are plotted out beyond oh that'd be a good fic. I have a lot of time spent sitting and waiting right now, so I have the ability to write a multitude of fics. I'm happy to talk about any of these fics if you want to come into my inbox or my messages.

[takaraphoenix]

Camping & Bonding (Part 5)

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, True Mates, fluff, hurt/comfort, camping, mutual pining, m/f

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent

@writersmonth Prompts Part 5: glow + lake

Summary: Stiles thinks the pack should go camping, as a bonding exercise. Much to his surprise, Derek agrees with his plan. So the pack goes off into the mountains to camp together.

This Fic on AO3 | This Fic on FFNet

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

–

Part 5: The End

Going to bed that night was just a little more awkward than the night before, somehow. Snuggling with his crush was one thing, but snuggling with his new boyfriend of literally less than one day? Stiles was so flustered when he got changed, his eyes flitting over to Derek all the time.

"Stiles," Derek growled softly, near reassuring somehow. "It's okay. We're just… going to bed. If… If it makes you uncomfortable, we can sleep apart-"

"No," Stiles wiggled his nose, blushing even harder. "I do like the cuddling I just… I have never cuddled with a boyfriend before. Much less a mate."

A small noise came from Derek that sounded wondrous. "Okay. You know that we will figure all of this out together, right? I mean all of it. I don't exactly have a track-record of well-going, healthy relationships either so I don't have… that much more experience than you either, honestly…"

Stiles blinked as he took in how sheepish and awkward Derek looked. Sometimes, when Derek was being all growly, bossy and confident, it was easy to forget that Derek wasn't that much older than Stiles either and that he has had two relationships that had both ended in absolute disaster. Reaching out, Stiles rested his hand on Derek's, caressing it gently and squeezing it in reassurance.

"We'll figure it out together," Stiles grinned and pecked Derek's cheek.

He got a rare smile from Derek. The kind that made Stiles feel soft and like jelly. Heaving a sigh, Stiles collapsed against Derek's chest, forcing the werewolf down onto the ground – well, more like suggesting it and Derek went along with it to humor him.

"I love you," Derek's voice was muffled by Stiles' hair as he had his nose buried in it. "I never expected you, or anyone like you. But you are… my compliment."

"Shut up," Stiles' voice was muffled by Derek's chest.

He had his face buried in it, rubbing his nose along Derek's collarbone. Derek was his boyfriend now. Derek was his mate now. Stiles huffed out a small laugh that got him a curious noise from Derek. The Alpha's hands were running over Stiles' back, gentle and soothing.

"It's just…" Stiles tilted his head up to look at Derek. "I kind of did plan this camping trip to confront you about a few things, in a moment of peace like… right now. I have been growing more and more suspicious of the betas' behavior. How they listen to me, how they behave around me. I just… I really didn't see it, huh. I mean, I know about pack dynamics. I read up on them. I taught most of the betas about them. How did I not see that I'm the Alpha Mate."

"Because you didn't expect it?" Derek suggested after a moment. "You're good at picking up clues, most of the time you pick them up before you even know what they could mean. Your instincts are great. But you don't have all of the answers either, Stiles."

Stiles grumbled at that with a slight pout. "Still. I know what the Alpha Mate does. I should have been able to put the evidence into context."

"You're… cute… when you're frustrated," Derek grinned ever so slightly.

When Stiles glared at him, Derek kissed him so softly that it melted the glare. Derek was probably right. Stiles had not seen any reality where Derek might love him, much less him being Derek's mate and that was kind of the whole point of the Alpha Mate. Still, it bugged him that he didn't figure this out on his own. Curling together, Stiles got more comfortable on top of Derek's chest.

"Did you have any plans for tomorrow?" Derek asked after a stretch of silence.

"Mhmh," Stiles started to feel too sleepy for talking. "Swimming. Lake."

Derek huffed at the lack of sentences and pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. Accepting that that was it for tonight. They both relaxed in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep.

/break\

After yet another successful breakfast, the pack headed toward the lake where the creek led to, all dressed in bathing suits and swim-trunks. Stiles could not take his eyes off of Derek. Shirtless Derek was one of his favorite things to look at. He licked his lips.

"You are disgusting, Stilinski," Jackson commented. "Stop drooling over our Alpha."

The comment was lacking any heat. If anything, the look on Jackson's face was more that of a kid who wanted his parents to stop the PDA, which just cracked Stiles up so hard. Just to piss the beta off, Stiles walked over to Derek and pulled him into a kiss, his hands sprawled out on Derek's chest. Erica was whistling in the background, Cora and Jackson were gagging.

"Your betas are a bunch of children," Stiles commented dryly. "You deserve it, for turning teenagers. I, however, truly do not deserve this."

Derek huffed out a laugh and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist to keep him in place, keep him close. The weather today was surprisingly warm for an autumn day, which made it perfect. The first one to jump into the lake was Isaac, closely followed by the other boys and Erica. Lydia and Allison opted to sunbathe, now that there was some actual sun out. And Cora simply walked into the water instead of jumping off the cliff. Stiles sat down with Scott and Allison for a bit, watching how Derek went to jump in after his betas, after some teasing comments about a 'chicken Alpha'.

"You look happy," Allison smiled, nudging Stiles.

"I… am," Stiles whispered, his own smile very soft.

And it wasn't just about Derek. Yes, he loved Derek and he couldn't believe that Derek was his now, but it was about so much more. Being the squishy pack human had, at times, given him self-doubt. Sure, he contributed a lot with his research alone, but when it came to a physical fight? The werewolves always worried so much about keeping him and Lydia safe, it made him feel guilty. Lydia was taking self-defense lessons too, as tired of this as Stiles, and even Lydia had her Banshee powers to aid in a fight if push came to shove. The Alpha Mate though, that was… that was special. He had a special place in the pack, he wasn't just the human that needed protection.

"You look so pretty in that bikini," Scott had a dopey grin on his face as he walked over to them and collapsed right behind Allison, pulling her close. "This trip was an awesome idea."

Allison smiled and leaned back against her mate's chest, relaxing. "Yeah, it was."

Stiles preened a little at the praise of his idea. He relaxed and laid down, taking out the book he'd brought to read at the lake. At least until the betas grew more demanding and Isaac and Scott grabbed him by the wrists to pull him up and toward the lake. Stiles made half-hearted protests and let himself be pushed into the water. It was freezing cold and he shuddered and gasped when he resurfaced. A smile spread over his lips as he saw the entire pack in the water, playing and laughing. It made his heart feel weirdly full. They had each other, they were a pack, a real pack.

They stayed at the lake until it was late evening and the setting sun bathed the water in a soft orange glow that seemed to fit the autumn atmosphere. It was the perfect ending to their trip.

/break\

"This was fun," Boyd's voice was a soft whisper, his knee bumping against Stiles'. "We should do it more often, going on a camping trip somewhere. Maybe just weekends."

"Yeah," Stiles turned to grin at him. "Yeah, we should."

Erica was on Boyd's other side, having fallen asleep after dinner, leaning heavily against her mate. Boyd's arm was around her, holding her close and making sure she didn't fall over. They'd made dinner and eaten together and gathered around the bonfire one last time, all of them. Telling stories and laughing with each other and a part of Stiles didn't want it to end, ever. So the idea of doing it more often, yeah, he really liked that.

/break\

Very early the next morning, they packed everything up and filed back into the cars in the same constellations as they had driven there. There was so much comfort in the air as they drove home, everyone seemed more subdued than when they had arrived, but it was a comfortable kind.

"Good night, guys," Stiles grinned as he dropped Scott and Allison off.

Because Scott wanted to say proper goodbye to his mate so he decided to walk the rest of the way to his own home after getting some alone-time with Allison, after Stiles had once again so 'rudely' separated them to avoid lengthy make-out sessions. He'd already dropped Lydia off at home, meaning it was time to get home himself. He heaved a soft sigh when he noticed the lights were out and his dad's car wasn't there. Something about the past few days left him longing for company. It had been such a high to be with them all like that, the soft, warm sense of pack. To come home to a cold, empty house with nobody to talk to or be tactile with was… jarring.

Making his way upstairs, he sulked just a little bit. When he opened his bedroom door, he let out a startled screech at the moving shape on his bed. His heart was still hammering hard in his chest when he turned on the light. A glare etched into his features.

"Door! We have a door! Why do you-" Stiles huffed and threw his hands up. "Windows are not special werewolf doors, you are going to give me a heart-attack one of these days!"

Derek, sprawled out on his bed, looked mostly annoyed that Stiles had turned on the light. Rude asshole. Why did Stiles love this bastard. Glaring one last time, Stiles dumped his bag in a corner and the shrugged out of his jeans before collapsing on his bed, right next to Derek.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles asked softly. "We saw each other three hours ago."

"Mh," Derek looked displeased. "Went home. Bed too… not smelling like you."

Oh. Right. Mates that just got together. Wolves had a high draw to their mate and after having spent the last couple nights cuddled up to each other, it must be jarring for Derek to go back to his house that only moderately smelt like Stiles and his bedroom that absolutely did not smell like Stiles at all because Stiles had never been in there, he wasn't crazy enough to go into an unmated wolf's bedroom, he knew how territorial they were. A small smile spread over his lips as he realized his Sourwolf had been pining and had then decided to come to his house, because that was where all of that good Stiles scent was stored. Rubbing his cheek against Derek's, Stiles snuggled close.

"If you want, I could come over tomorrow to roll around in your bed."

"Don't make fun of me, Stiles," Derek growled annoyed.

"I'm not. It's a genuine offer," Stiles chuckled. "I know about werewolf instincts. So, if you want me to make your room smell more like me, I could come over."

The Alpha blinked a couple times, staring at his mate. He made a pleased rumbling noise in his chest, nosing at Stiles' neck. Affectionate, giant puppy. Stiles huffed fondly, running his fingers through Derek's hair. This was definitely a side of the Alpha that he liked seeing.

"Thank you," Derek's voice sounded gruff and was muffled by the pillow as they were both squished into the bed. "I think this get-away was exactly what the pack needed."

A proud smile spread over Stiles' lips at that and he tightened his arms around the werewolf. "That's what the Alpha Mate does. Take care of the pack and help out their fearless, strong, capable leader."

Derek squinted at him. "There's sarcasm in there. It's subtle but I can still hear it."

Stiles smirked teasingly at Derek and kissed his boyfriend's cheek, because he now could kiss his boyfriend because Derek was his boyfriend. He tried not to gloat, but honestly, why shouldn't he. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled into Derek's chest and got more comfortable. He was glad that Derek had come here tonight because he hadn't wanted to be alone either.

~*~ The End ~*~

[jungle-angel]

Two Boys and a History Class (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Normally you and Bob would leave Auggie with your in-laws, but since his mother is having surgery, you officially welcome him into the classroom family

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe Helena I couldn't help myself with this one because the thought of Bob with a baby does things to me that I just can't explain (lol). I hope you're ok with me including Auggie in some of these and I apologize in advance, the baby fever is out of control at my end (lol).

Warnings: Mentions of a breeding kink, Bob popping off on a visiting teacher who's clearly beneath him etc.

"Alright, so does anybody have any clue as to what the most important part of Erik the Red's reign was?" Bob enquired.

"Not only was he an explorer but didn't he found the first settlement in Greenland?" Deshawn asked.

"You would be right my friend!" Bob declared proudly. "Erik the Red was indeed an explorer and did also found one of the first Viking colonies in Greenland...."

He was suddenly interrupted by the click of the door handle and the creaking of the classroom door before Mrs. Hess, the painting teacher, stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Floyd might I borrow you for a minute?"

Bob signaled for the class to wait a minute before he followed Mrs. Hess out into the hallway. "I'm so sorry to bother you Bob," she apologized. "But your father came by with the baby."

"Is everything ok?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Hess assured him. "Auggie's fine but he said that your mother's surgery was moved to later this afternoon and they won't allow him to take him."

"Shit," Bob hissed.

"My thoughts exactly," Mrs. Hess said. "Your wife said she's going to get him but I think she also asked about combining classes."

"Perfect timing," Bob said. "We do that every Friday afternoon."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Hess said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll tell you right now too, if that detestable visiting teacher says anything to you or to (y/n) I'll have him shipped to my neck of the woods and see how he deals with the folks in Chatham County, Georgia."

Bob had to laugh. Just like Mrs. Reyes, no one dared to mess with Mrs. Hess. She was a Southern lady through and through and always had a good quip for anyone who got on her bad side. The high schoolers even had their own slogan for kids coming fresh out of the lower school......"don't mess with the Hess."

Bob waited patiently for you to come down the hall with baby Auggie. "Alright guys, it's looking like it's that hour!" Bob announced once he was back in the room. "And this time Mrs. Floyd brought a little guest this afternoon."

All of the students collectively gasped when they saw you walk in with the baby. Any time you brought Auggie in, the grew excited beyond words. Nobody in the entire school could resist his cuteness, let alone the fact that he looked so much like Bob.

"Everybody put the desks together," you announced, carefully picking Auggie up out of his carseat.

"You want me to take him sweetheart?" Bob asked you.

"Do you mind?" you asked Bob.

"It's not a problem at all," he told you. "We made him together and it means I help you shoulder the duty together."

"You're right," you told him. "But lest you forget mister, that part of the reason we made him was due to that fiery breeding kink you keep buried until we're home alone."

Bob chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't even start," you laughed, warning him. "Let's get back to business."

You and Bob wrangled together your students to continue the lesson while Bob kept Auggie safe and secure in the curve of his arm.

"Now in Mrs. Floyd's literature block," Bob continued, touching up his notes on the chalkboard. "We're at a point where the Fellowship has reached the woods of Lothlorien and left behind the mines of Moria. What sticks out to you guys most in this part? Any major themes? Elements? Justin."

"Um, I'd say the biggest one is kinda that darkness turning to light," Justin Daly answered. "I remember picturing the scene in the films where the mines were like really deep darkness and then you get to the woods where at night it's all brightly lit."

"That is an excellent point," Bob told him, adjusting Auggie so that the baby rested against his chest. "We come across alot of that throughout the books, but also vice versa, right?"

"Right!" the students responded.

A knock at the door suddenly had Bob rolling his eyes. "We're not to be disturbed!!" Bob announced loudly.

"Mr. Floyd, it's Mr. D'Nadi," answered the male voice on the other side of the door.

Bob groaned and rolled his eyes. All of the students fell quiet as Bob opened the door to find the pretentious visiting teacher from another school standing before him.

"You're not wearing dress slacks but jeans?" Mr. D'Nadi asked.

"In some cultures I'd be considered overdressed," Bob informed him.

"Yes well, I um.....I came to enquire about that proposal you're working on for the school?"

"Yes," Bob said flatly.

"I cannot stress enough that the proposal is what's able to allow your students to go on these field trips that you plan every year," D'Nadi explained rather sharply. "If you plan on taking these kids to Norway....."

"Already done," Bob told him.

"Mr. Floyd....."

"Listen dipshit," Bob interrupted. "We all know that you're only here as a visiting teacher......keyword there....visiting. You are merely here to observe and then go home. Under no circumstances were you to tell anybody in this school what to do or how to implement their lessons."

"Listen I know it's more responsibility but...."

"Do not lecture me on responsibility," Bob told him sharply. "As you can see, Mrs. Floyd and I take care of our students who are like our own family and if your observation skills were up to par, you'd see that we've got a baby to take care of as well. Now if you'll please remove yourself and your foot from the door, that'd be great."

"You do know that protocol doesn't allow you to bring your own children to work?" D'Nadi tried to tell him.

"Fire me," Bob told him before shutting the door right in D'Nadi's face before he could say anything else.

Bob pressed a soft little kiss to Auggie's cheek before turning back to the students who were trying not to giggle.

"Shall we keep going guys?" he asked them.

Both you and the students cheered and applauded Bob, without a doubt proving that he was the best history teacher in the entire school.