#or do idc all my fics are very self indulgent anyway

[sorryimananti-romantic]

giving yall a headsup that in a few hours im posting the masterlist of a two part wooyoung series that ive been working on for the past month! im going to publish it soon, i'm almost done writing it i just have to conclude it now. it was too long to be a single post so i had to break it into two oopsie. taglist is open so you can either comment here or on the post tmrw if you want to be tagged!

also, it's a... royal au. again. im sorry and you're welcome hehehe

[soft-girl-musings]

An Unexpected Proposition (pt. 1)

based on this prompt from @imaginexhobbit, previously submitted under @jawn-i-made-coffee

cross-posted to ao3

part 2

Kíli x fem!Reader

tags: mentions of blood/injury, Reader is described as tall (by human standards), Y/N is used

wc: 1,615

fic summary: An injured dwarf appears on your doorstep. Do you grant him sanctuary on this stormy night?

A/N: posting this is totally self-indulgent and very out of left field for this blog but idc, we just reached 800 ao3 hits on this bad boy (some days we blog for the younger self anyway). I submitted this from my high school blog and revamped it in 2020, might flesh it out beyond pt 2 if the muse strikes.

Thunder and lightning seem to battle for superiority in the storm, chasing heavy torrents North. The evening is dark and damp, but you don’t mind. Your cottage is as safe a haven as any. You sit before your hearth, fire blazing as you bury yourself beneath several blankets, a mug of tea warming your lap. Nothing could ruin your cozy evening alone.

As if on cue, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the windows. A bloodied man’s face is pressed against the glass, his lips moving incoherently. You stifle a scream. In an instant you have your sword in hand and cloak about your shoulders, ready to face your intruder. Throwing the door open, you strike a defensive stance and scan the property. To your right, you see that it is no man at all, but a dwarf bleeding out in your garden. Dark hair clings to his face, bruised and battered. Blood marrs his complexion as rainwater drenches him. Before you can speak, the dwarf doubles over and begins to heave into your prized rose bush. You grimace.

"Please," he rasped, "please, I ask for sanctuary." His knees give way with the last syllable. You manage to catch him before he falls into the mud.

"I’ve got you, sir dwarf." Propping him up, you guide him inside. "Poor thing, you're soaked to the bone."

His small frame would not have been so heavy if not for his copious belongings. The dwarf seemed to have packed for a long journey, which had somehow led him to your door. You stumble over to the kitchen and deposit him in a chair, his head lolling to one side. You pour a cup of water and help him drink.

“Thank you,” he manages to rasp after downing a second glass. Life seemed to be returning to him already. “I do not mean to be a bother.”

You tilt your head quizzically. “If anyone’s bothered, sir dwarf, it’s you. Come, let me help you--” you assist him in his efforts to remove his belongings from his weary shoulders. He shivers fiercely, but does not refuse your help.

You notice how cold and pale he is. “Best not to strain yourself… let me start a bath for you. Your wounds need to be cleaned before they are dressed.”

You hand him a blanket and lead him to a partition in the next room. “Here, you can wrap yourself in this while I start the water.” The dwarf removes his outer layers and complies, his dark eyes never leaving you as you begin the tedious task of hauling numerous pots of hot water to the tub.

“Why are you helping me?” he finally asks, his face growing more puzzled with each trip you make.

You stop in your tracks, offering a shrug. “Because you asked.”

With that, you leave him to his bath.

You gather the dwarf’s wet clothing and lay each article in front of the still-warm stove. On the other side of the table lay his daypack and weapons. You hadn’t taken the time to inspect them before: the dwarf had been carrying archery equipment, numerous knives, and a shortsword. You examine each piece with reverence. The dwarves were renowned for their craftsmanship in the forges, but you had never seen proof of their handiwork until this moment. The blades were smaller than any you were used to, expertly fashioned with intricate detail.

"Like what you see, then?"

You jump at the sudden voice, dropping a knife. The dwarf had come out dressed in the shirt and trousers you had laid out for him. He stands by the fire, drying his hair.

"I was just admiring your weapons, sir-"

"Kíli."

You nod. "(Y/N)." You notice the color has already returned to his skin and his cuts were clean. He had looked much worse before; in the light of the fire, he was almost handsome. "Feeling any better?"

"Oh, loads. I cannot thank you enough for taking me in." He grins, and you can’t help but follow suit.

"What were you doing out there? Facing that storm as you were seemed like a deathwish."

"I had the misfortune of running into some bad company at your tavern." His body fell heavily into a chair by the fireplace.

"I'm afraid the locals do not take kindly to dwarves," you say with an apologetic smile, standing to join him in your earlier seat. "What are you doing so far West? Your people are native to the mountains, I was led to believe."

You realize how young the dwarf was when his face breaks out in another eager grin. "I'm on a quest. I was on my way to Hobbiton."

You lean forward, intrigued. "The Shire? What kind of quest concerns the halflings?"

Kíli tells you of his Uncle's plan to reclaim Erebor for the dwarves. He makes sure to highlight how dangerous the task may prove to be. You try to hide your amusement, but your shaking shoulders and involuntary simper do not escape your companion's eye.

Kíli crosses his arms. "Is something funny?"

You wipe a tear from your cheek. "I'm sorry, but you look like you've seen nary a battle in all your days."

"What, like you have, lass?" he scoffs, nodding toward your sword propped by the door. "I'll bet you've never laid a hand on that weapon of yours until tonight."

Your expression darkens. "Watch your words, sir dwarf. I have seen and spilt more blood than you would care to believe."

Kíli shrinks back in his chair. "Y-yeah? When?" Even under correction, his excitement could not be diminished.

You tell him of your past days as a soldier. Having always been tall for your age, you had cut your hair and enlisted in a male disguise when you were barely sixteen. You regale him with tales of the lands you had seen and battles you fought as a young woman among hardened men. The fading storm is the perfect backdrop for your stories; in truth, it had been a long time since you'd been able to talk about your fighting days, and you revel in the drama of the moment. Kíli clings to your every word, apparent awe and admiration dancing across his features. Many hours and cups of tea pass between you before you conclude your saga, the fire having long since died down.

You yawn. Dawn was but a few hours away. "It's late. You must leave in the morning, I assume?"

"Yes, I have to get back on the road."

You stand and stretch your aching muscles. "We should both get to bed, then. I have an extra room you're welcome to." You hold out your hand. "Goodnight, Kíli."

Kíli rises and takes your hand, but instead of shaking it as you intended, he leans forward and kisses the back of it. Your face grows warm at the surprising softness of his lips. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

He turns to leave, but stops and looks back at you.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you leave that kind of life? You spoke so fondly of your time in service."

You give a sad smile. "Let’s just say it wasn’t by choice." You begin to walk to your bedroom, but Kíli grabs your hand as you pass.

"If you had the chance, would you go back?"

You squeeze his hand and wink. "In a heartbeat."

__________

"What's all this, then?" You laugh. From the looks of it, Kíli had been cooking a small feast since before dawn.

"Good morning, my lady!" Kíli wipes his hands on a cloth and bows with great bravado. "I hope you don't mind me raiding your larder. I wanted to express my gratitude for your generosity." He takes your hand and leads you to the head of the table, fixing your plate once you sit down.

"You really didn't have to do this."

"Ah, 'course I did! I'd have drowned if it wasn't for you."

You spend the morning laughing and eating your way through the meal with Kíli, realizing how much you will miss his company in the days ahead. He’s been a refreshing change of pace for the simple monotony you’d build for yourself. As you wash the dishes after your meal, you notice he is dressed in his clothes from last night, weapons and bag secured to his back.

"All set, then?" You know your face betrays you, but you don’t care if he knows how sad you are. You had gained a friend last night.

"Not quite." He practically bounds up to your side, that familiar grin plastered onto his features. "I have something to ask of you."

You set down the plate you had been scrubbing. "And what's that?"

"Will you join me? On my quest, I mean?" His face is radiant with expectation and excitement.

You busy yourself with another dish, shaking your head. “Kíli, I’m not quite sure what to say-"

"Say yes! (Y/N), you told me yourself that you missed your old life. This would be the perfect chance for you to reclaim it!"

Despite all logic, you realize how right he is. Some small but powerful part of you had longed to be on the road with him when he spoke to you last night. You knew it was rash, but your heart was already pumping from the mere mention of excitement, aching to get out in the world once more. The quiet life you had been leading was nice, but it paled in comparison to the journey Kíli now offered. You craved adventure. When else would you have the opportunity to taste it?

"I'll have my things packed within the hour."

__________

A/N: you ever feel an old hyperfixation staring you down, threatening to return if you look at it too long? that might be happening again. only time will tell.

tysm for reading!

[8aji]

We need to hear your shin hc!!!! What you write abt him it’s always so good >_<

a glimpse of a relationship with shinichiro sano...

a/n. very self-indulgent + i went all in with these TT i got so excited and im sorry it took me so long to post !! i wanted to perfect them as best as i could !! i had so much fun writing em as well and im so down to do more of these ngl. a part of me thinks i should do a more neutral layout for my fics or hcs as well LMFAO BUT ANYWAY !! i hope yall enjoy :D

Loves it whenever you ask for his help to put sunblock on your back; it's a way to show he cares + a mild form of intimacy. Will literally melt when you help him do so in return; borderline squealing, he loves the feeling of your hands against his skin. 

Learns your skin care (+ makeup) routine down to a T. He’ll hand you your serums and moisturiser and any other product that you use all in perfect order while he does his own routine — the one you designed and he enthusiastically learned.

On that same note, he loves it when you help him do his skincare. It relaxes him to feel you lather his face with moisturiser and serums and sunscreen and whatever really. He can't help but hum in satisfaction and close his eyes as if he could fall asleep with him standing up between your legs while you sit on the bathroom counter

Loves when you curl his lashes. Ik a lot of people don't think much of it but for me curling someone's lashes requires a lot of trust and can be a very intimate moment between people. Youre letting someone else get up close and personal to you and use smth that looks like a torture device close to your eye. But anyway, he loves the way you hold his face in place, gently yet firmly before using the curling thingy; is amazed by the result as well, princess lashes look pretty on him — I think he's got fairly short lashes ngl

I think he loves being taken care of because he’s used to always taking care of people. Of course this doesn’t mean he doesn’t like taking care of you. This mf ADORES doting on you. Will literally go above and beyond to make you happy and fulfil any sort of need you have. One of his love languages is definitely acts of service. 

Whenever you are too sleepy/drunk he’ll wipe your makeup off and do a fast version of your skincare. He knows it's important to you so he’s happy to help. Plus, he’ll gladly play along to your booze induced rambling. He still blushes at the memory of you drunkenly mumbling about ‘asking him to marry you someday’

Whenever you buy a bag of gummy bears, he eats the gummy flavours you don’t like. I think it’s cute. You don’t like the blue gummy bears? he’ll happily eat those without a complaint. And whenever he grabs your fave flavour by mistake, he’ll just put it back without you noticing

Always, and I mean ALWAYS, enthusiastically agrees to go to the store with you. Even if you’re just going to a corner store to buy a bag of chips. He’ll go where you like tbh, as long as he’s with you

On that note, he loves going shopping with you. Idc what anyone says, Shin is the perfect designated bag carrier. Is happy to follow you into any store and look at as many things you want. The only “downside” is he genuinely thinks everything looks amazing on you so if you are indecisive or want an unbiased opinion he isn’t your guy; in those situations he just nods because you’re so pretty, you should get anything you want.

Will blush if you take him underwear shopping. Still follows you inside and gives his opinions when asked, even if they consist of ‘I think you look really pretty in both :)’ while he sports a blush and a lovesick smile.

Aside from the designated bag carrier, he’s also designated swatch palette. Perfume? Makeup? Skincare? Wall paint? He offers his arm any time you want to try anything. Its a very endearing sight tbh, Shinichiro with a thousand lipstick stripes on his forearm with his hand in yours. 

Even in cute family outings with his siblings and you, he’ll be the one to carry your bags. And the breathing swatching palette act is even more adorable when you have a grown ass man following his s/o and little sister around a makeup/skincare store so they can use him as a canvas. At least his enthusiasm makes up for Mikey’s bored groans and disgust over dramatic complaints whenever he sees the two of you kiss or hold hands.

Shin doesn’t care tho, he is and will always be a hand holding enthusiast. Sometimes he even swings your interlocked hands back and forth to make the two of you giggle. He can’t help it that he loves how your fingers fit so nicely against his; he likes having you close whenever possible.

I was at the beach while writing this so forgive my biases but — one of his fave things about summer is going to the beach with his friends and then falling asleep on top of you after swimming in the sea. The two of you are still in your wet swimsuits, hair dripping with salt water and enjoying the feeling of the water droplets cooling the skin of your chest and arms after being exposed to sun. His cheeks are smushed against you, forming a pout on his lips while he hugs your torso; bonus points if you brush your fingers through his hair while he drifts off, smiling at you and your friends chatter.

He is a bitch for getting called pretty.; gets all smiley n sometimes shy. Won’t outwardly ask for you to compliment him but is a sucker for those. It doesn’t even have to be about his physical appearance, although those def have a positive impact on his self-esteem. It makes him feel appreciated in a way.

So the way he shows his love is through quality time and acts of service, but he likes receiving words through words of affirmation, touch and quality time — IMO, ME THINKS

And like everything in life, a lot of my hcs are up for change BECAUSE i'm indecisive <3

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work.

[simpjaes]

pls give writing, maintaining motivation tips?

im genuinely the last person to ask for writing, maintaining, and motivation tips.

i tell you, i am messy in my brain. I rely entirely on energy levels to write. If i have a lot of energy, i'll write 10k in a day. The very next day i might lose all that energy and not write for weeks.

so on that front, you're shit out of luck. I do not know how to maintain, nor do i know how to be motivated if I lose it. My brain either runs very fast or doesn't run at all.

Now for writing.

+ write a loose outline so you have a general direction to go in + write whatever you want and don't be super critical. you're the only one writing it, so the only guidelines you need to follow are your own (which is why i suggest a loose outline that can be changed if need be.) you can always remove or add stuff. + if you take multiple days to write one story, when i open my docs again to continue writing, i never go to where i left off. I, instead, re-read the entirety of what i've written and edit as i re-immerse myself in the story and headspace. not only is it easier to find mistakes and re-word sentences with fresher eyes, but more often than not it'll jog your mind so that way there's no shift in your writing when you do get to the point of continuation. + if you write it all in one day, give yourself some time away from it if you want to proof read it. if you don't proof read, post that shit. someone's gonna like it either way. + don't force yourself to write if you lose interest in the plot or if you made promises to strangers online. the best fics are the ones people self-indulge in, not the ones they force themselves to get through. idc what anyone says, people can tell when an author hates what they write. if you don't love it, if you don't want to write it, or if you simply need a break from it, do it. otherwise you'll still hate it after it's posted anyway. my number one rule in writing is that i do not owe anyone an orgasm or a plot that fits their specific needs. you get what you get because i choose to share it. never write for other people unless you want to. always credit an idea, and never sell yourself short of your hard work. there will be hate, there will be competitive writers mad that you're enjoying yourself, and there will be lots and lots of self-doubt. you have to remember you chose to write for one reason or another. don't replace that reason with some bullshit someone says to you. write what you want whenever you want. take as much time as you need, and don't treat writing as a job, because you're not getting paid for it.

[disgustingtoast]

my shitty, shitty minho fic that took ages [tmr minho]

I'm sick of rereading this so here is 3.5k words of shitty, self indulgent writing. The confession could have 100% been more heartfelt but I'm sick of looking this in my google docs. There is most definitely a ton of mistakes but idc <3

this isn't really enemies to lover but the whole dynamic minho and the reader have kinda wrote itself lmao

HERE YOU MFS- @agathallalongs @blanknamed

You were fine with the way you woke up. Hell, you preferred it over some snot-nosed kid coming in and waking you up. And as it turns out, having the same schedule for a little under a year makes for a great internal clock, the habit of getting up in time for your daily run already having been instilled in you for months. So when you’re pulled from the peaceful lulls of sleep because of the feeling of being flipped upside down and landing face-first into the dirt floor of the Glade, you were rightfully peeved.

“Rise and shine shank.”

Minho. Of course it was Minho.

“I’m gonna throw you off the Cliff the minute we’re far enough into the Maze.” Sitting up, you try to rub off the dirt that got on your face when you face planted, scowling at the stains that litter the front of your shirt. “This was a new shirt too.”

“Were you thinking of going running with me or do you plan on sitting in the dirt all day?” Despite him being out of sight you can practically see the smug look he’s wearing. “Hey, maybe you can convince Winston to let you get in the pig pen so you can take a nice mud bath.”

Groaning, you finally stand up and turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, holding a paper bag which you presumed had your lunch in it on the other side of your hammock, your very, very twisted hammock.

“Why the hell did you wake me up? I get up fine on my own.”

He shrugs in response, “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like waking me up or you just felt like getting the world record for ‘biggest pain in the ass’?”

“A bit of both, and seeing your face when you spat out that dirt made you so much more attractive.”

Heat crawls up your neck in embarrassment, “Slim it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in frustration, you gesture in front of you to the tangled mess that hangs between you, “Also you’re gonna fix that.”

“No. It’s your bed.”

“You’re the one who flipped me over! Fix it.”

He stares at you for a second before turning on his heel and jogging off. While he turns to leave you barely catch the way his lips quirk into a smirk. As you watch his retreating figure you can feel your fingers twitch, the urge to strangle him suddenly overwhelming.

“Hey! Get back here shuck-face!” As quickly as you can, you slip your shoes on, not bothering to tie them and pull the leather harness over your head. After one last disapproving glance at your pathetic hammock you’re off, racing after Minho in an effort not to let him get too far ahead. If he beat you to the Doors you’d never hear the end of it.

By the time you catch up with him you’re out of breath. Everytime you would get closer than a few feet behind him he’d run a little faster keeping you at a good few paces behind him, succeeding at prolonging your ever-growing exasperation.

Eventually though he lets you catch up until you’re running side by side, a few meters away from the Walls. “This prison wouldn’t be half as bad if the Creators had put anyone else in here other than you. Preferably someone cuter, without such a punchable face.” You don’t have to look at him to imagine the offended look on his face, one of his most punchable expressions actually.

“I am by far the most attractive guy here. The rest of these shanks look like klunk in cargo shorts.”

“Yeah no. You don’t even break the top 21 on my list.” Once you reach the wall, you lean against it, waiting for the doors to open. When you look at Minho he quirks an eyebrow.

“You have a list?” He pauses for a moment, “Wait there’s only 22 gladers. You included yourself on your own list?”

“Good job! I wasn’t sure if you knew how to count.”

“Slim it. So who’re the top 3?”

You pause for a moment pretending to mull it over. “Well, Gally’s got that whole tall and brooding thing going. And Nick, well I like a man who can take charge-”

“Yeah, yeah okay I get it.” He waves his hand in the air rather indignantly, dismissing what you said. After a minute of silence. the grating sound of rock being dragged against rock echoes through the Glade as the Doors finally start to open. As he tightens the straps of his harness, Minho glances down at the ground and pauses for a moment before he snickers, “You better tie your shoes if you don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face. Might knock you down a few pegs on that list of yours.”

~

It had been hours since you’d left the Glade, running the familiar course of the Maze. The only entertainment being watching the way the back of Minho’s neck turns a lovely shade of red every time you make a particularly irritating comment.

“Hey it’s getting late. We should go back to the Glade.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s not that late. We still have plenty of time to get back.”

“But I finally convinced Fry to make bacon and there's no way that they’ll be any left unless we get there early.” You draw out the last syllable in a whine, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

He pivots, still continuing to run just now facing backwards. “Is Frypans bacon really more important than finding a way out of this hell hole?”

“Yes!”

“...Fine-” His sigh of annoyance is cut off abruptly as he trips, falling backwards and landing with a loud huff as the air is knocked out of his lungs.

“Shit, Minho!” You kneel beside him as he lays still, “Are you okay?!” Your voice seems to ricochet off the walls.

It takes a moment before he groans, his eyes still closed. “Why are you so shucking loud?”

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Quieting your tone, you hover over him.

He finally opens his eyes, “M’ fine. I just tripped.” Pushing himself up, he tries to stand but the minute he puts pressure on his ankle he gasps in pain, stumbling into you as you stand to catch him.

“Shit. Okay, you just need to sit down.” You lead him over to the wall, letting him support himself against it before he slides down to sit. When he stretches his legs out in front of him you take to kneeling again, this time next to his feet. Rolling back the bottom of his pant leg you check to see how bad his ankle is and judging by the wincing and the gritting of his teeth you’re betting on not good.

It’s only been a minute but you feel your heart drop at the way it’s already swollen and starting to bruise. You frown as you press your finger against it lightly, snapping your hand back as Minho recoils, growling in pain.

“Don’t touch it!”

“Fine. Good luck finding someone else in here that’ll help you. I’m sure the Grievers would be happy to assist.”

“It just hurts asshole, no need to get snappy.”

“Yeah, yeah just stop your whining you big baby.”

He cringes as you begin to prod his ankle again and sets his head back to rest against the wall.

“Well I’d say it’s just a fracture, it doesn't look too messed up- Minho?” He doesn’t respond. “Hey! Minho!” You reach in front of his face and snap your fingers, “C’mon I need you to wake up!”

He moans as he opens his eyes, well squints his eyes. He can barely keep them open half way, “Why is it so bright in here?”

Furrowing your eyebrows you glance up, it really isn’t that bright, gray clouds float across the majority of the sky and cover most of the sun. Looking back at his face, you can’t stop the nauseating feeling of fear that gnaws in your stomach. “Here, move your head off the wall, I need to check something.”

The dark stain on the wall where he was resting against is enough evidence but some irrational, hopeful part of you checks anyways, reaching around him and pressing your fingers to the back of his head. When you bring your hand back, your fingers are covered in blood.

“Damn it.” You try your hardest to push down the anxiety thundering in your stomach as you grab Minho’s arm and wrap it around your shoulder. Now is not the time to panic. “We need to get you back to the Glade.”

~

You’re not surprised he’s heavy, almost a year of running almost everyday tends to build up a lot of muscle however that doesn't make it any easier for you to carry him. You had to have been stumbling around for hours before you had to fully set him down to catch your breath.

“You really need to lay off Fry’s cooking. I’m telling him that you’re going on a diet the minute we get back.”

You only get silence in response, prompting you to look over and make sure he hadn’t passed out again. His eyes were open but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focusing on something on the wall across from the one you were leaning against. You raise your hand and rest it against his shoulder, “Minho?”

“You need to leave me behind.”

The nauseous feeling returns, “What? No way I’m leaving you here to be Griever food.”

His face twists in frustration as he turns to look at you. “We’ll both be killed if you don’t get the hell out!”

“We still have time! I can carry you the rest of the way just fine.” Grabbing his wrist you pull his arm across your shoulders, tightening your grip when you feel him try to tug his arm back. “We’re going.” You wrap your arm around his waist to support him as you force him to stand.

He tries to pull away, “Why are you being so shucking stubborn! I can barely walk! There’s no way you’ll make it time before the Doors close.”

“Well that’s tough for me I guess.” You begin to walk forward, trying to adjust the way his body weight rested against you.

He begins to say your name but you interrupt him, “No! I’m not leaving you and that’s final.” Cursing the slight waver in your voice you continue to look ahead, choosing to ignore the frustrated look on his face.

It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to set in, Minho seeming to weigh even more every ten minutes. As you drag your feet across the uneven floor, the toe of your shoe catches on a crack, sending you both stumbling forward for what seems like the fiftieth time. The only difference is that this time you aren’t able to catch yourself, fatigue catching up with you and sending both you and Minho careening forward.

Stabbing pain shoots through your legs as you fall to your knees, the sound of Minho groaning in pain causes waves of guilt to wash over you. The sudden realization of just how dire your situation seems to suffocate you.

This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been so annoying Minho never would have tripped. If you were strong enough you would have been able to carry him all the way. Why weren’t you strong enough?

The soft call of your name shakes you out of your stupor, it’s followed by a hand pressed against the side of your face. It’s only when his thumb swipes against your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“I’m sorry.” You shift slightly until you’re sitting down, knees pulled up to your chest. He follows and sits next you with his legs stretched out, hissing as he accidentally drags his ankle across the ground. “This is my fault.” Staring at the exposed part of his ankle, your stomach swirls at the dark purple bruising.

When he notices you staring he’s quick to pull his pant leg down, “This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have been running backwards.” He watches you for a second, contemplating, before he speaks again, “You can still leave now and make it.”

“I’m not talking about this again.”

“Why not-”

“I just can’t leave you behind okay! It would kill me knowing that I got us into this mess and I couldn’t get both of us out alive.”

“So you’re just going to kill yourself because you would feel bad if you didn’t?” At his harsh words you whip your head to look at him, surprised to find him angry, his nose flaring and teeth gritting.

“Why are you getting so mad?! And you know it’s more than that! I’m not leaving you here, you can yell all you want but it’s not going to change anything.”

He throws his hands up in the air in indignation, “Why?! Why do you have to be so stubborn!” His tone is harsh and he practically spits his words at you.

A flurry of emotions lodges in your throat and a burning, hot anger ignites in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your lips are moving faster than your brain can process, “Because I love you, you idiot! I can’t just leave you behind because you're the reason I haven’t jumped the shucking Cliff yet!” Your heart is beating impossible fast and for a split second you wonder if it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You watch as Minho’s face morphs into an expression of shock and before you can identify the emotion swirling in his eyes you swear you can hear someone's footsteps.

You scramble to your feet, straining your ears in hopes that you weren’t imagining it. In the distance you hear the rushed strides of someone running in your direction and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. It was far too late for another runner to be out in the Maze.

“Hey!” Cupping your hands around your mouth you hope they hear you. You hear Minho grunt and the sound of him dragging against the stone wall as he stands.

His voice rings through Maze as he calls out.

After a moment of tense silence you hear the quick foot falls of another runner getting closer before you spot his familiar blond hair turning the corner.

“Ben! Oh my god!”

He comes to a stop in front of you, his expression worried, “What are you guys still doing here? The Doors are closing soon!”

“Minho got hurt and I wasn’t able to carry him all the way back. Why are you out so late?”

“I figured I’d stay out later than usual. Had a bad feeling.” He glances over your shoulder to look at Minho. “We need to get going if we want to make it in time.”

Nodding your head, you turn around and make your way over to where Minho is leaning against the wall. You can feel his eyes on you, pleading for you to look at him but you’re adamant at avoiding eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Ben glancing back and forth between you, no doubt feeling the tension.

Having someone else there to help made carrying Minho infinitely easier and the three of you stumbled through the doors just as they began to groan, closing behind you.

“What took you so bloody long?” The familiar accent of Newt floats across the Glade but you’re too exhausted to even look in his direction. It isn’t until he’s standing right in front of you that you tear your eyes from Ben and Minho as they make their way to the Med-Jack hut.

“Minho fractured his ankle and got a concussion.” Your hands clench in anger as you speak, “If it hadn’t been for Ben we wouldn’t have made it out.”

“Aren’t you going to go check on him?” Newt frowns at you.

The thought of being in the same room with Minho after you practically dumped your heart out on him made your stomach churn. “No, I think- I think I’m just going to let him rest for now.”

Newt opens his mouth to comment, no doubt going to point out that you never left Minho’s side but you’re quick to interrupt him. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go shower and get some rest.” You force a smile and begin to walk in the direction of the showers before he’s able to speak.

It seems to take ages to get to the bathrooms. Fatigue makes your limbs feel sluggish and the adrenaline of being in the Maze ebbs away, leaving aching muscles in its wake. You can’t seem to shake the thoughts of Minho as you scrub yourself clean. He probably wanted nothing to do with you and your big fat mouth. If you’d only bitten your tongue for another minute you wouldn’t have this looming air of regret suffocating you.

The regret seems to pull tighter against your throat when you notice your hammock, still twisted from this morning. Tears gather at your waterline, threatening to spill over. The view in front of you is distorted and watery and your fingers fumble with the twisted strings before you give up, whining in frustration.

You pause for a moment before turning in the direction of the Med-Jack hut, your heart desperately yearning to see him. Before you have time to think, you’re wiping your teary eyes with the back of your hand and practically jogging to the little run down shack, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs.

Hesitating at the door you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you’re pushing against it. The room is silent, both Clint and Jeff having left and gone to bed. Scanning the room you notice a bed in the corner, Minho sleeping peacefully under it’s covers. His face slack as he rests, his forehead covered by a thin, white bandage that stretches around his head. As you silently pull up a chair to his bedside you study him, it isn’t often you get to see his face when it isn’t creased with stress or in any expression other than a smirk.

Smiling softly. you reach up and pull his blanket up a little higher until it covers his shoulders, the night had a cold edge to it despite it being well into summer. After sitting there for a few minutes your eyelids begin to get heavy, like something was weighing them down. For a moment the idea of walking back to your hammock crosses your mind but you immediately dismiss it, just thinking about getting up is exhausting. You cross your arms on the side of his bed and rest your head against them. It doesn’t take long before the comfort of sleep consumes you.

Garbled words and the feeling of something brushing against your face is what wakes you this time. Opening your eyes, the first thing you notice are Minho’s pretty brown ones staring back at you, the next thing you notice are the hushed snickers from behind you. Shooting up straight you feel the warm rush of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“It was about time you woke up!” Clint pipes up, “Lover boy here hasn’t stopped staring at you since we came in here to check on him.”

This time, pink begins to tint Minho’s cheeks and creep up his neck, “Slim it! Get outta here would ya?”

“Okay! We’re going!” You turn around just in time to see Clint pushing Jeff out the door and throwing you a wink before shutting the door.

The awkwardness is palpable as you stare down at your lap. The bed creaks as Minho shifts to sit up against the headboard, the sound seeming incredibly loud in the silence. Mustering up your courage you finally speak.

“I’m sor-”

“I love you too!’

Your head shoots up as he interrupts you, eyes wide as you take in his expression that mirrors your own.

“What?”

His body language tells you that he had most definitely not meant to say that, his mouth moving up and down as he tries to figure out what to say.

Your heart catches in your throat as you process his words, “You love me?”

At the slow nod of his head, a beaming smile splits your face, and before you can stop yourself you're pulling him into a crushing hug. Caught off guard, he stiffens for a moment as you wrap your arms around him but as soon as you let out a shaky breath against his neck he winds his arms around you.

“Is this okay?”

At your hushed tone he pulls you tighter against him, “This is more than okay.”

[fanficmemes]

What cursed thing will happen to Loki this Sunday? Well, what about some voyeurism, public sex, forced masturbation and more?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28863087/chapters/70802982

This is obviusly a self-indulgent fic that someone had written to satisfy their kinks and, honestly, good for them! But that dosent make it any less cursed. Also, the writing style is not really my favorite so I only skimmed trough it.

The Avengers + Stephen Strange + Loki must go to an alien planet for not relevant plot reasons and talk to the queen. There's only one problem! The guard and the entrance of the kingdom is racist af and won't let Loki pass because of his (in this one Loki is intersex but identify as male) race. But Loki and the rest really really really need to talk to the queen so Loki say to the guard that he will do whatever the guard want if he let them pass, obviusly expecting something like riches or fame, but instead the guard tell Loki to strip. There is some commotion, the Avengers scream that it's unfair, but in the end the guard is relentless and Loki is forces to strip, and by orders, very slowly and sensual.

Once Loki is naked he notice that he's starting to get an erection thinking about how hot the situation would be if only it was only he and his lovers (Tony and Stephen) or if it was by his own choice and is obviusly embarassed, but this only turn him one even more and now he is fully wet with a raging erection and -fics words- if he is not allowed to dress he will come. Idk how and idc.

The guard notice Loki's "problem" and order him to masturbate while mocking his little cock and after a little more screaming Loki proceed to masturbate in one of the most cringy masturbating scene I've ever read. Like... I don't even know how to describe it if not cringy. Also, he is so fogged up by pleasure that he forgot where he is. Here's an extract (warning for explicit content):

""F-fuck Tony! Ahh yes!"  He whines. [...] "Oh Stephen! Uhh!" Yesplease don’t stop!" The the lewd, slick, wet sounds make the atmosphere even more humiliating. "I can't stop" his mind supplies "I'm about to cum" "STEPHEN! TONY! NORNS IM, IM-" He cums hard [...] Claps could be heard from above when he finally exited his lust-induced haze."

Anyway, after this, Loki ask to the guard if he is satisfied or if he want anything else and the guard takes the offer in stride and order Loki to show his cunt so that he can inspect that (because we all know that the vagina is no. 1 place to hide weapons, right?). Some more shouting and Loki complies by bending "doggy style" and opening the labia showing it to the guard. After a cringy detailed explanation of Loki's cunt the guard let them pass. The chapter end with the queen enraged by Loki's recap of what the guard did and the guard cruelly punished for that.

BUT THERE IS ALSO A SECOND CHAPTER. That answer the question "what if the guard didn't let Loki re-dress for meeting the queen and force him to walk naked?"

The answer appears to be that the whole city oogle at him shouting obscenity and catcalling him before try to grasp him and start a mega-orgy with all the city in the middle of the street before Tony and Stephen intervene by fucking Loki themself in the middle of the street with everyone watching and enjoying the show and masturbating. There is also some double-penetration at some point. That second chapter is also something but my patience was running thin so I didn't read enough to give a better explanation.

So, how cursed is this?

-Loki anon

I hate this so much how do u keep finding worse and worse things 7/10 added points for the fics excerpt

[igarbagecannoteven]

megs!! hi!! how are u? ok for the questions, randomly chosen, 14, 23, 39, 46, 55, 70 <3 good luck with the novel opening and I hope you're having a good day <3

myle!!! hello!!! i'm doing well how about you??? thanks for the luck <3

14. what is your favorite location and position to write in? i write at my dorm desk a lot, but when the weather's nice i love to write outside! also my bedroom floor back home has wonderful vibes :)) i like sitting crisscross or sitting on top of legs (idk what that's called,,, kneeling? but not really)

23. is writing the beginning, middle, or end the easiest? hardest? first off, writing anything is hard, so jot that down ksjdfksdjfljsd no but i guess the "easiest" would maybe be the beginning? altho i regularly realize i started at the wrong time and have to cut/reshape it so maybe not lol. middles and endings are both hard, but i think finding that final note to end on is really really difficult and i'm not sure i've ever pulled it off at the level i'd like so. yeah. endings suck

39. what's your most self-indulgent wip? oof there are so many XD most of my wips are self-indulgent really, but if i had to pick one,,, idk if this counts as "self-indulgent" but i have a cashton arrival au (like the 2016 sci-fi movie) that's. um. really really tragic and a little philosophical and not at all what people are looking for in rpf and i'm absolutely in love with it. it's been temporarily shelved for,,, reasons lol but when i'm able to pull it off the shelf and shine it up it's going to be killer and i know that i'm mostly likely going to be the only person who loves it but idc :)) it's going to be so fucking good :)))

46. if you could only write one type of au for the rest of your life, what would it be? ohhh gosh that's a hard one. gut reaction is superhero au but also idk if i have that many plots in me for it lol. i wish friends to lovers was an au instead of a trope so i could say that lol bc that's basically all write anyways slkdjfkdsjjf okay final answer is superhero aus but i would not be happy about it after a couple years lol

55. have you noticed any patterns in your fics? words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? i use the phrase "flashed a(n) [adjective] smile" in basically every single thing i write and i am not ashamed to admit it! it's a bangin' phrase that can be used in a bunch of different ways and also it has a sort of snappiness to it that i like :))

70. are you subscribed to any writers on ao3? yep! i'm subscribed to 21 authors, mostly 5sos fic writers, but not all! most of them aren't very active tho lol and those that are generally post lots of fic that's nsfm (not safe for megs) but that's how it be sometimes

writer’s ask time!

[ao3gingerswag]

HI HELLO I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS

okay so I've been like thinking these things for weeks but I've been very unmotivated so I'm saying them all now!! so prepare for multiple asks!! or something!!

okay so I've just been rereading my all time fave fics and there was this one like in one of them- 'I’m not *stupid*, I just can’t read' and it immediately made me think of your writing, like kyis, first of all (and actually more on that bc obviously I've been rereading that too as one of the Best Fics Ever™ and holy SHIT it's so good. I cannot believe no one has made a podfic for it yet, bc wow especially after listening to the extract that was read out at the beginning of the podcast episode I NEED someone to read this shit to me so I can savour every bloody word bc dammit I'm a skim reader and its TOO GOOD for me to be skimming the fucking words!!!!! anyways needed to get that of my chest back to the regularly scheduled programming) but then also with wander home, I feel like with sam being able to read its definitely gonna be cashing some form of angst for the other boys, dean I think similar to in kyis but also with all his bucket load of self worth issues it's like makes sense uno. but also with cas, I feel like cas thinks of himself as not that intelligent at all. we know he thinks quite poorly of himself due to his autism, and I feel like he would consider himself not actually smart but rather just weird, especially with him being uneducated and I think his struggles with running the inn, especially before dean and sam would rly effect his opinion of himself and lead to some self-hate. so anyways, then I feel like when sam enters the picture and interacts with cas (once everything has settled down and they start interacting NOT in a life-or-death situation) I feel like he'll add an outsider perspective and realise that actually yeah cas *is* actually rly smart. like, he'll be talking with cas about something - like uno spewing all his knowledge like the little nerd he is - and cas will be following along but as soon sam tries to engage him cas will be like 'I'm sorry Sam, I'm not smart enough to know that' and sam is like grhhh yes you are!! and then he tries to push it bc hes Sam and is like 'but u were just telling me and *insert something cas knows, like about nature or the like* yesterday! and you knew loads!' and cas dismisses it bc that's a result of him being abnormal not being smart and then there's a whole little journey of sam trying to convince cas he's actually smart with many trials and tribulations but eventually it ends up with them having their lil debates/Intellectual Conversations about whatever Sam has recently learned with his lessons and it's all :)) (bonus scene is dean observing them and when they try to involve him he's like 'yeah no not gonna happen, idc if u say I'm not dumb sam, not all of us can be Aquinas okay?')

I justify the aquinas reference bc I had to know him for a subject and now I've gotten my exams back and I somehow haven't flopped them!! which means I never have to do that subject again and I feel the need to at least somewhat reference the worthless knowledge in my brain :')

ok first of all what is the fic ur referring to drop the fic!! (even if its not destiel ill read anything lol!)

also thank u so much ;~; <3 idk no one has ever offered to make a podfic and i am terrible at reading out loud so i def cannot but if anyone ever offered i would totally be down for that!

i think ur so right, i think cas def does not think of himself as smart at all, when he actually is!! and i think he's a giant nerd as well who would def find a lot of the stuff sam rambles about to be very interesting. hes not a Certified Genius like sam and doesnt have the same Desperate Thirst For Knowledge but he also genuinely finds this stuff interesting!!! i think they bond so well over nerd stuff!! but yes!! sammy following him around once he trusts him more bc dean will indulge him but he can tell hes bored to tears by sam talking about like geometry and its just going in one ear and out the other. hes like hmm wow thats interesting sam. yeah that is so cool ur right. but hes like falling asleep. so he starts talking to cas...maybe it starts bc cas overhears him talking to dean and is like ! wow really? and asks like an actual question. and sam is like YES finally and rambles his heart out and cas is actually listening and engaged and sam is like ok i like u now actually ur my friend. and starts talking to him about all the intellectual stuff. and yes him over time convincing sam that his intelligence isnt just a Symptom of Being Weird or even if it is who cares hes still smart???

and do u mean Thomas Aquinas? i have never read anything by him!! congrats on surviving ur exams tho!!!!!

[liberty-barnes]

okay imma do a lot sorryyy aha

👀- tony, thor, steve & newt, thomas, minho

⛅️- i need new songs to listen to ahah

🤍- why not ahah

🌧- a movie rec pleaseeee

🌩- & a fluffy tom imagine on the morning of your birthday in bed and it’s all soft and theres kisses and your both to tired to move but he still wishes you a happy birthday🥺🥺

OKAY LET'S GO

👀 - kiss, date, marry

Kiss Thor/Minho

Date Steve/Newt

Marry Tony/Thomas (I WANNA BE PETEY'S MUM AND DYLAN'S HOT)

🌥 tell me your name and i'll give you a song for each letter

A - Ashes by Stellar

N - Not Over You Yet by Cayley Spivey

N - No Judgement by Niall Horan

A - Another Love by Tom Odell

(also Anna by Harry Styles but he's a little bitch that refuses to give us the studio version)

🤍 blog compliment or compliment on you

so, first for your blog, i L O V E the way you put your masterlists they are very pretty and i'm ✨in love✨. i genuinely think that you're one of the best writers here, you always hit me right in the feels with every fic you post and the way you can take a tiny idea in your requests and turn it into a masterpiece is astounding (that's a pretty word, innit?) also, getting slightly off track and moving to insta, YOUR EDITS ARE FUCKING WORKS OF ART AND I LOVE THEM MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF

now, you. annie, you are honestly one of the best people on this website. apart from your ever-present talent, you're just such a sweet and genuine person. you were nice to me from the beginning and never made me feel like an outsider. I LIVE FOR YOUR ACCENT and you're breathtakingly gorgeous (that's right, i know what she looks like, HA) i love you so so so so much and i'm very very happy to have you in my life🤍🤍

🌨 movie/tv show rec

Midnight Sun (Dir. Scott Speer)

it really hits you right in the feels and i just loved it a whole lot even tho it's kinda sad

and even tho that last one is supposed to be a rec and not a request I JUST LOVE IT SFM AND IT'S VERY MUCH SELF INDULGENT SO KEEP AN EYE OUT CAUSE IMMA START WRITING IT

as soon as i'm out of class

(yes im in class)

(it's online, idc, the teacher dgaf anyway)

[deliberatemisspelling]

So I've been mentally writing this sterek fic (I am literally always mentally writing a fic, it's the actual writing part that I struggle with) and it's SUPER frustrating because I'm realizing that I totally do not know the sequence of plot events in TW at ALL after the whole nogitsune shenanigan.

Like okay so it starts with The Summer Fling, which is canon fight me. And Derek angsting about Stiles age and Stiles low-key panicking about Scott finding out and the usual stuff there. And then comes the Unofficial Breakup that has to be Unofficial because they were never Official but after the vault and Erica and Boyd, it's all a little too Real for Stiles and he's like whoa pump the brakes.

So that's chill, and then the no-tell motel, Derek is Dead drama whereafter Stiles goes to the loft to like, mourn or whatever. Turns out Derek's not dead, that's great! Not great? The pair of delicate feet and slim ankles appearing at the top of the Sexy Spiral Staircase over Derek's shoulder. Obvs Stiles just like bolts at this point because Derek isn't his boyfriend, he has no right to be there, Derek's not dead and moved on it's all SO wonderful.

In all the running away, Stiles misses that A. The ankles belong to his English teacher and B. Derek's been magically seduced! Tragic. Rapey. All very much part of Derek's general milieu. Where's Cora? Honestly who cares like I hate to say that about a female character but she's so obviously a stand in for Erica that they murdered for no reason that I just Cannot with the interchangeable women. Miss me. She's running around the woods grieving Boyd. Maybe burying him.

Anyway. There's drama! Alphas! Ice bathes! Root cellars! The canon nonsense. Derek gives up the alpha powers still because that matters later for my plot so i guess Cora is around somewhere. Being vaguely poisoned.

Except that after it's all over Derek turns up in Stiles room to uuuuuh dance around an apology/explanation for the whole Ms. Blake misunderstanding and of course Stiles tells him that it's not his fault and there's uuuuuh... comforting. Where's the sheriff? Fuckin sleeping, dude had a rough night.

And then of course Stiles ruins the afterglow. Because he and Allison and Scott, they did something. And you don't get to fuck around with death magic without consequences. And for Stiles, lovely hella extra Stiles, who cares too much about everything it's that now he doesn't care at all. Not personally. He knows he should, he used to, that he can fake it for his dad and for Scott but he doesn't want to Have To fake it for Derek so he tells the truth.

Which naturally for Derek is a Big No. He's not gonna be with somebody who isn't with him, not really. It all touches on some weird consent and trauma issues and it's just bad news all around and everyone (really just Derek, cuz stiles isn't big on emotions RN) is real sad. Super sad. Pack up with my magically healed sister and ditch town sad.

And then of course comes stiles spiraling deterioration, because he wants to get mad about the whole thing but he can't and that just makes him want to get madder and things aren't going well and then nightmares hallucinations nemeton etc etc Possession. Cool. Literally do not talk to me about the creepy asylum sex or the coyote girl. Stiles' possessed, sleep deprived and drugged up to his eyeballs. It's problematic at best and I'm not about it. Too bad, not sad, don't care. Didn't happen.

Anyway. That's a whole rigamorole. Derek pops back into town, there are some tragedies, again canon nonsense not too caught up in the details here kids. And then! Since you can't be a wolf and a fox at the same time, the nogitsune is defeated and it turns out that when it puked stiles new body out in a pile of bandages, it kept his pretty little darkness all for itself. Convenient! Stiles has Feelings again y'all I could shed a tear.

Except that I WON'T because this is where I basically don't know the plot anymore. I just had to read Wiki plot summaries of the last 3 seasons, which are, ohmilordy, absolute fucking nonsense.

All the shit with the Calveras and Kate being a purple leopard and Derek being both de-aged and human, the Desert Wolf and Kira leaving and the benefactor and the mute and the Beserkers and Liam being introduced and Lydia figuring out the Banshee thing and whatever dumb Peter shit goes on ALL HAPPENS IN SEASON 4? MY GOD. Plus there's extra nonsense with bonfires and magical werewolf viruses and tea leaves that I didn't even KNOW about?

I feel like I deserve a medal for a 5 minute perusal. Anybody that watched all that shit deserves a fucking National Holiday named after them. And that's before all the nonsense with Theo and the Dread Doctors and the Nazi alpha that is apparently NEVER dealt with because of the Ghost Riders and Kate AND Gerard SOME MORE and then some dude named Monroe like Y'ALL.

Y'all.

The plots of this show are a fucking Rat King and Jeff Davis be shot.

Anyway.

Now I know that after Stiles gets his Feelings back, he keeps that shit to himself. Derek's got a lot going on. He's kidnapped! And then is a fetus! And he picks up a hot mercenary girlfriend somewhere and she teaches him how to use guns cuz he's a wooby human for a while. Basically all the plot anybody cares about picks up again in the van on the way to Mexico Part Duex.

Because that's the first time Stiles spends any real time alone (isnt liam passed out for most of it?) with Derek, and he got the feels, but Derek doesn't seem to be doing the weird chemosignal sniffing. (Does stiles know about the humanity in canon? Idc.)

So Derek doesn't appear to like... know. So stiles keeps keeping that shit to himself because it's Too Late anyway. Anything they might have had is long dead.

Speaking of dead! Derek gets gutted! Again y'all. And so of course Stiles is really missing the times when he didn't feel stuff because he loves Derek, fuck does he, and Derek is always a friggin martyr so instead of staying he lets braeden handle it and goes to save scott. With long seconds of forlorn staring and several glances back beforehand, of course. Aka what happened in canon.

So then Derek evolves like a Pokemon, as one does, and when stiles (hauling scott) comes out of the church he's just standing there in the moonlight in all his naked glory.

Stiles drops Scott. There's an affronted sounding 'oof' when he hits the ground, but it doesn't even register for Stiles because Derek's head whips around, nostrils flaring and Stiles knows that Derek Knows.

Stiles blinks and Derek is just there, right in front of him, one filthy hand cradling Stiles jaw.

"Why didn't you say something?" Derek asks and there's more than a little accusation in his voice. Stiles scoffs as dismissively as he can manage.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Derek, surprise! I'm capable of loving you again, so you should break up with your hot, age appropriate girlfriend to go back to sneaking around with a teenage moron who may or may not ever actually tell anyone about you!'"

"Yes," Derek shrugs, and now there's definitely some affronted noises, both from Scott and from Braeden.

"Your girlfriend has a gun," Stiles points out, but it sounds weak to his own ears and Derek doesn't acknowledge it. Stiles is very focused on the rough pad of Derek's thumb tracing the thin skin under his eye. Derek's other hand clenches in the fabric of his shirt, hauling him closer. His own hands come up to curl around Derek's neck and tangle in his hair. It's gritty and greasy and Stiles couldn't care less; Derek's naked and throwing heat like a sauna pressed down the length of him. It's intoxicating against the freezing desert night and Stiles huddles closer.

"So kiss me already," he huffs, and Derek's answering grin is blinding for the split second he can see it before Derek jerks him in the final few inches. Stiles makes an embarrassing noise against Derek's mouth and can't bring himself to care.

Derek's hand slides down his back, settles in the curve of his spine and his fingers dig in. Stiles moans into his mouth again. He can't stop running his hands through Derek's hair, down his neck and shoulders, thinks vaguely he might be trying to climb him but it doesn't matter.

It's probably a long time, longer than Stiles would like to admit, but Lydia finally does interrupt them.

"As lovely as this reunion is, do you think we can go now?" She asks finally, voice strained. Stiles breaks away from Derek just enough to glance over and find her heaving slightly under Scott's weight. Scott, who looks extremely bemused and unhappy, but not terribly angry. Braeden, when he thinks to look for her, is straight up gone.

"Uh, yeah. Hang on," he turns back to Derek, "Do you have like, pants?"

There's more, with like feelings and stuff where Derek says he wants to be with Stiles more than he wants to leave beacon hills, and Stiles is like, deeply moved. And then physically moved because he still does the FBI internship program, Derek just goes with him and stays off the FBI most wanted list.

And that's that on this week's self indulgent bed time story. Now that I've done this I'll have to think of another one for tonight. Oh well.