#the bad design of city apartments is the problem

[balkanradfem]

I love being a little gatherer in nature. Filling my little basket with plants and herbs and little seeds and maybe even fruit. Going home all warm with joy because I found so many lovely little nature gifts. But then when I get home and all that stuff needs to be taken out, washed, cleaned, processed, cut, put to dry, organized or stored? Well then I'm like this fucking sucks.

[luminiamore]

hiiii i really liked your suguru hoochie fic and i was wondering if you could do one with ony where she’s like a tomboy and she has a smart mouth and fights a lot but when she gets with ony he makes her chill out when she start to act up.

thank youuuuuu🫶🏾

best friend ony x black tomboy reader

warnings: a bit of angst in the beginning? fam issues, reader can throw hands, car sex, angry sex a little, overstimulation, best friends to lovers, a teensy bit of manipulation? if you squint

a/n: hope you enjoyyyyy :33

masterlist

Second year, first semester. You honestly were starting to get tired of this hell people call college. You were drained, which was weird since you loved what you were there for. Fashion design has been your passion ever since you were a child. It was nothing out of the ordinary for anyone in your family to see you declare that as your major after being admitted to FIT, one of the best fashion schools in New York.

Your parents, comprising a lawyer and the top doctor in the city, fully supported you in pursuing your dreams. They were impressed by your decision to launch your own fashion line, and before you even reached your third year in college, you had already established your own business. 

The outcome was much more successful than anticipated, making your first $100k in less than 2 months. However, there are drawbacks to being raised in a traditional Haitian family. 

‘Tifi pa mete gwo pantalon konsa.’ Girls don’t wear big pants like that.

‘Buy that skirt. Ou bezwen abiye tankou yon dam.’ You need to dress like a lady.

It was a broken fucking record, and you were tired of hearing it. You would call them out on it, never being one to hold your tongue. Your parents scolded you for that, too, telling you that no one likes a lady who always has someone to say. You swear you would pop a blood vessel if you heard another one of their lectures.

Of course, you never wore the skirts or dresses they would waste their money on for you. Your family’s Christmas gifts would be just that now. You couldn’t help but want to hurl when you saw pastel-colored tops, the shortest skirts you’d ever seen, and dresses that made you shiver in discomfort.

They weren’t ugly. You recognized the beauty in them when other people wore them. But putting them on your body made you visibly uncomfortable. You always felt awkward in them, and you realized that while you loved your parents, you couldn’t change how they viewed things. 

So, you moved out. After six months of telling your parents you were leaving. They never believed you. On a warm summer evening, you packed all of your ‘ti gason’ clothes, as they like to call them, and made your way to the high-rise apartment that you paid a deposit on three weeks ago.

You were happy. I mean, you had no reason not to be. Your parents came around to you not being home anymore, your business was doing exceptionally well, and your best friend was taking you out to eat later tonight.

You were happy. 

So, why are you leaving room 109 on the verge of tears after being scolded by your Fashion Management professor for missing yet another assignment?

You were at your limit. You weren’t by any means sensitive, always known for being quick on your feet. Usually, when there is a problem, you are the first to fix it. You were smart, having a high 3.9 GPA, and are even on the principal’s honor roll. That didn’t stop you from getting into a few fights here and there. 

Now, you were by no means were you the type of bitch always looking for a fight. But the girls at your university were bullies, and unfortunately for them, you don’t take no bullshit. Not from your parents, and certainly not from them.

You should be a MMA fighter with how these women are left twitching after you’re done with them. And you probably should’ve been expelled, but you were one of the school’s head designers. It would look bad on their part if they let you go, which is why you’re still here. Utterly drained, hungry, and twisting your personal locker open.

“Yo!” 

You hear a loud shout from behind you. You take a pause from stacking your latest edition of the Vogue magazine, featuring your designs, in the plain navy blue locker. Nah, not me. You really weren’t in the mood today.

“Excuse you, miss. With the big ass pants,” You entirely stop all your movements and take a deep breath in. Not fucking today. 

The outfit you wore was cute, you looked adorable. Standing with a basketball jersey shirt you stumbled upon while thrifting a week ago and oversized jeans. Your new blue Balance 550s were free of scratches and fit perfectly with your mid-calf length socks. Your bohemian braids are tucked into a messy updo, and your vintage jewelry completes your look. You were bad, and no amount of bullying from insecure women could ever make you feel different.

You continue ignoring the person. Your best friend of five years, Ony, told you not to get into any more fights. He said you were too bright for that, that they only wanted a reaction out of you. On any other day, you would’ve taken his concerns into consideration. Today was absolutely not one of those days. Today was one of the days where if someone said the wrong thing, you wouldn’t flinch before knocking their head off their shoulders.

To be honest, he should’ve known better; you always had a short temper. 

Still, the whiny voice pesters you until they got right within your vicinity. “I know you hear me talking to you,” 

Your method of ignoring is futile now; the girl was so close you could smell the cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume she over-sprayed. You were forced to turn to your right and face the culprit, your sharp eyes squinting at the girl.

You notice you’ve never seen her before. She wasn’t drastically shorter than you, maybe an inch or two. Even you knew, though, you could spank her with no problem. She was pretty, but her style was the complete opposite of yours. Her brown skin was well-compensated by the short pleated cream skirt she wore, and the bow-shaped crop top caused you to look twice at her tits.

You would’ve forgotten that she approached you all hostile if she didn’t put her pink glossed lips together to say her following words.

“You fucking with my man?” Didn’t I mention that you have never seen this girl a day in your life? How the fuck were you supposed to know who her man was? You’re stuck in a dilemma, a mind fucking dilemma. 

Should you walk away and be the bigger person, or should you indulge in whatever this was and risk listening to what would be your second lecture of the day from Ony? You shiver at the thought alone. You don’t think you can take another earful. 

“Y’know what? I don’t even think it was right of me to ask,” Thank you. You internally think you wouldn’t feel bad for fucking up someone’s daughter today.

“Yeah, there’s no way Ony would go for someone like you,” 

Silence.

There was an apparent silence among the crowded halls, everyone stopping what they were doing to stare at the two of you. Damn, does no one mind their business?

You weren’t lying earlier. You really didn’t have an issue with people dressing in the opposite way of you. In 2024, you have a fondness for the way humans express themselves through their clothing. What you didn’t like was how girls with the most basic outfits known to man would think they were better than you.

And did this bitch just call Ony her man?

Your anger was rising slowly the more you thought about it, and you were bout ready to strangle this girl. 

“Excuse me?”

Your usual sweet tone sounded almost chilly amid the suffocating tension. Everyone around the school knew who you were; being a fashion designer made the public eye fixated on you. Your fights were a natural source of mass attention. That was what all of your 1 million fans on Instagram liked about you, the fact that you never lost.

She had the audacity to keep talking. “Yeah, I mean, look at you. You should dress more like a-”

It’s a shame, really. You really didn’t want to fight today. Your fist went swinging before your mind even processed what was happening. It was a little uncanny how you didn’t let the girl get any punches; it was simply hit after hit. Were you at 7 now? Or maybe it was 10? You couldn’t tell. 

This wasn’t because she was weak; it took about two solid punches to the face before she fell down. But you were just so heated. That comment made something snap in the deepest crevices of your bone. There was an intense sobbing from underneath you, and in the corner of your cloudy vision, you saw pecks of blood staining your knuckles. 

You didn’t get to finish your assault on the poor girl; in a split second, you felt an arm snatch you up from your stomach. You raise your head from what feels like someone’s shoulder- Why was everything upside down?

You heard a deep mumbling in the midst of the cheers coming from the hallway, something along the lines of “Never fucking listen,”

Ony?

It seems you voiced your thoughts out loud because the 6’3 man responds with a quick, “I don’t wanna hear shit till we get home.” 

Your thoughts were jumbled, and you didn’t have a clear head. You were angry. You were an angry black woman, and you had every right to be one. Ony is your best friend, not your father. So, you were stuck trying to figure out just who the fuck was he talking to?

In a hiss, your voice whispers by his diamond stud earring, “Who the fuck- Are you crazy? Fuck ass nigga, put me down!” you start sending harsh slaps on his back, the fabric of his white tee swaying. But he wasn’t budging; not a single hit swayed him.

Your words must have been a source of tension, causing him to finally put you down. The blood rushing from your body into your head makes your vision hazy, and as you look around, you realize you’re in the school parking lot. Alone. Alone with Ony.

He doesn’t let the thought simmer in your brain, not when you’re more concerned about the fact that he has a tatted hand on your throat and just pushed your body to the nearest concrete wall. 

“Watch that mouth. You should know better, Y/n.” 

His voice is more calm now, though you can hear the underlying irritation. You’re both glaring at each other, your breathing audibly heard amid the empty oversized garage. His grip on your throat is making you feel things, things you shouldn’t be feeling for a best friend. 

You were never intimidated by Ony, and he knew it when you continued glaring and uttered, “Get the fuck off of me,” You try grasping at his arm, but he’s quicker than you. Ony doesn’t hesitate to put your arms above your head, the scent of his YSL cologne filling your senses. 

Is he- Is he closer than before?

“Nah, you’re not getting out of this one.” He pressed into you harder, and it was getting a little difficult to breathe. His body heat somehow mixed in with yours, creating a heated symphony. You knew it was coming, another scolding. At this point, you were starting to think you’re 9 again.

“What did we talk about yesterday, ma?” His voice goes an octave lower, and you’re almost sure he’s doing this purposefully. You roll your eyes, refusing to let him see the effect he was beginning to have on you. You decide you don’t even want to let him hear your voice.

Ony doesn’t hear a peep out of you, and after 10 seconds, he loses his patience, “You deadass? Don’t make me fuck you up, Y/n.” You feel the hand on your throat squeeze tighter twice as if he’s warning you. Damp are the only words to describe what your panties are experiencing right now. 

Still, you keep up your facade. Ony can see right through you, though, you’ve never had someone put you in your place. You’ve never had someone match your energy like he did. It usually never got this bad; Ony never got upset with you after a fight he had to pull you from. A calm talk and a little praise got you to calm your nerves.

This was before you got the fame you have now. Ony thinks, no, he knows, that you’re going to be much bigger than you already are. And he doesn’t want you being held back by some petty fights. He always told you if you ever had a problem, go to him first, and he’ll always handle it. 

But you wanted to be stubborn. You weren’t used to someone taking care of you, relieving some weight off of your shoulders. Being the first-born daughter issued a connection with hyper-independence. And all Ony wants to do is engrave in your pretty little head that he’s got you. And he always will. He genuinely cannot understand why you make it so difficult for him.

“I’m not in the mood, Ony. Let me go-” He cuts you off, coming closer to your soft lips. 

“I don’t care, Y/n. Talk it out right now, or I swear we’re not leaving this parking lot.” He read you like a book; he knew you were trying to run away from him. To dismiss this and to never bring it up again. He was done doing that, and the attitude you’ve been giving him ended today. He’ll fix it for you by whatever means. 

You knew Ony meant his words in the least sexual way possible. Yet, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, why does he look so good? The thin gold chain you gave him for his birthday last year makes his brown skin stand out. Through your adrenaline haze, you didn’t even notice what he wearing. 

It’s sinful. How the outfit you know he barely put thought into putting on makes you want to pounce.

A white tee that alone made your breath stutter with the way his abs pressed through. You could make out the outline, damn. Black sweats that sit so low, the white Polo Ralph Lauren briefs he had on were teasing you. 

It wasn’t your first time having these thoughts, but moments with Ony made you think this way often. 

When you guys would smoke together, and Ony would feed you the blunts, his eyes would never leave your lips. When he would come over and cook with you, small brushes behind your hips. You would always brush it aside; that wouldn’t be appropriate for a best friend to think. You were just best friends, right?

You’re questioning everything because of this moment. This isn’t what best friends do. Why is his hand squeezing your throat? Why is he pressing his body flush against you? 

Most importantly, why aren’t you stopping him? Why is this making you so fucking wet? You know, if you told Ony you were uncomfortable, he would back off in a second. But you weren’t. The only thing making you uncomfortable is the slickness you can feel drip down the fat of your soft thighs. 

Your next words leave him stunned, “Well, I guess we’re not leaving then.” 

When your words register in Ony’s brain, he moves quickly. Whispering a stern, “Bet.” With a smile on his handsome face. As if he knows something you don’t. After grabbing you by the throat and letting go of your hands, he swiftly moves to his car, an all-black Scat Pack. 

This was honestly your fault. The position you were in, your back arching perfectly, and your slobbering pussy receiving the deepest back shots from Ony’s long dick. You were scrambling in his back seat. You’ve already came twice due to his fingers, and his precision in piercing your squishy spot would make you cum again. You weren’t even sure you could.

You tried running away from the pleasure, pleading for him in your shaky voice to just “G-give me a b-break! I can’t-” 

It wouldn’t be a punishment if he did, now would it? His hands would only grip the sides of your hips harder at your words; it would probably leave a dent mark. Ony was letting his dick stir up your insides because he needed to teach you a lesson. It seems this is the only way your mouth wouldn’t retort anything to him.

“Not happening, mama. All you needed was some dick, right?” Heavy pants fill the air, and you start seeing smoke fog up his tinted car windows. Ony was honestly losing himself with how tight your pussy was squeezing him. He doesn’t know why the fuck it took him so long to get you like this. It’s all he ever dreams about. 

Making you scream out his name, making you cream all over his dick as he makes you take what he knows nobody could ever give you. Fuck, he swears he’s in love with your fat cunt, with you. “Don’t it feel good when I fuck you like this?” 

The more he kept talking, the more you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn’t know if he wanted an answer. But you were already gone, high off the pleasure his fast pace was giving you. You had no control over your lips when they parted and screamed, “S-so good, Ony! Oh-fuck. It f-feels so-”

He went faster at your words, and your mouth was dripping with drool as your face pressed firmly against his leather seats. After the fifth attempt at pushing him away, he tied your hands behind your back with the durag he wore. You had nowhere to run. You were forced to take Ony’s mean pumps inside your folds.

He pulls you up by your hair, never stopping his assault on your battered pussy when he whispers, “I know, ma. I always make you feel good, yeah?” 

He slithers a hand to your throat and another down to your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out in small streams. Your sinful sobs made his body shake while he was inside you. God, your pussy was so heavenly. So wet and perfect, he never wanted to pull out.

You squirm under him, “So good! Make me- Ouuuu shit- feels so f-fucking good,” Your body was shivering, you didn’t even realize you were coming. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as your stomach clenched so hard it hurt. Your pussy mirroring around his aching thrusts, you were fucking up his seats. He didn’t mind; he just wanted to make you forget everything that happened today.

You thought it was over; you thought he would stop or, at the very least, slow the fuck down. But he never let up on your poor pussy, he just kept feeding you his strokes, and he kept rubbing your puffy clit. “So, why don’t you fucking listen? Don’t you love me?”

The anger he felt earlier was coming back, and you could feel it with the way his fat dick was penetrating you so good, so deep. The tears falling down your cheeks came down ten times harder, your clit couldn’t take anymore. Why was he fucking you like this?

“I do! I- I love you- so much, Ony! I’ll listen- I swear! P-please just-”

Ony could feel his heavy balls twitching as he fucked up into you, he was going to cum. He knew you loved him, but hearing you say it. Saying those words in such an intimate position, he doesn’t think he can hold back anymore. He just wanted to dump his seed past your lower lips.

“Yeah? You’ll listen, t’me?” You nodded so quickly before your brain even registered his words. He was pushing you past your limit, your pussy being so overstimulated that your next orgasm was just seconds away from wetting his seats even more.

“Y-yes- Fuckkk! I’m coming.” That was his only warning before your pussy sprayed all over, and your sticky cream coated his dick. Ony groaned deeply in your ear, the hand on your throat giving one final squeeze before he came so deep you swear it was touching your womb. 

There was nothing in the air but heavy breathing. Your body, weak and unable to hold itself, fell back against him when Ony let you go. His following words break the silence, 

“I love you too, mama.” You feel your heart squeeze, but he doesn’t stop there. “I’m getting you some food before we get home, and allat’ best friend’ shit is dead, by the way. You’re mine now, okay?” 

He presses a chaste kiss to your wet cheeks as you lay against him. It was a trip. He fucked you all crazy like that but then spoke to you in the most gentle tone possible afterward. You couldn’t process it. You can’t do anything but nod, your mind still barely processing what he just did to your body, to you. 

What were you upset about again?

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ��s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

~-~

Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river. 

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back. 

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.” 

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” 

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor. 

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?” 

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another. 

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder. 

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath. 

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.” 

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.” 

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.” 

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards. 

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams. 

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped. 

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened. 

“No… oh no.” 

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour. 

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone. 

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis. 

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-” 

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!” 

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.” 

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side. 

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.” 

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.” 

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask. 

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension. 

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web. 

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?” 

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience. 

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?” 

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly. 

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return. 

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.” 

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client. 

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down. 

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss. 

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly. 

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls. 

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh. 

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you? 

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.” 

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space. 

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.” 

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.” 

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great. 

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!” 

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground. 

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background. 

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization. 

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps. 

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes. 

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company. 

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him. 

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by. 

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity. 

And in this one… 

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe. 

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.” 

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?” 

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.” 

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel. 

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.” 

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up. 

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head. 

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?” 

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities. 

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.” 

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.” 

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.” 

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face. 

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.” 

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.” 

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.” 

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.” 

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches. 

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.” 

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.” 

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point. 

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?” 

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.” 

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face. 

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.” 

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.” 

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.” 

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.” 

“That would be preferable.” 

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.” 

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address. 

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.” 

And it would be good for you to see her again. 

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him. 

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

[homunculus-argument]

Random worldbuilding:

You're walking through an otherwise completely ordinary modern city, but there are countless varying flags hung on the walls of the buildings - on peoples' balconies, windows, rows of little tilted flagpoles on the walls of apartment buildings, one per apartment apparently - each one having a flag. No two flags appear to be the same. You hear yelling from the window of one apartment somewhere above, and turn around just in time to see a couple unfurl yet another flag, hanging it from their own respective pole.

Your local guide remarks that they must have just moved in. Most people lay claim to the apartment as soon as they get the keys and the contract has been signed, and only throw a housewarming party and celebrate moving in a month later, once the apartment has been successfully "claimed". By the look on your face, your host concludes that you have no idea what they're talking about, or what it has to do with the flags.

Your host begins explaining: several centuries ago the land was devastated by a deadly plague - many houses, homesteads, even whole villages were wiped out, the buildings left standing empty. And survivors with nothing to stay for in the places where they were born were roaming about, trying to find a new place to live. To solve both problems, a decree was made: If a wandering party finds an abandoned homestead and raises their own flag on top of the building and manages to stay there for a whole month without the house's original owner showing up to protest, the one who hoisted the flag is now the lawful resident.

So historically this decree made countless of people who were formerly serfs into not only free citizens but landowners with family names and their own flags. Many had a wry sense of humour about theirs, and some of the now oldest and proudest family flags depict things like a broken plough or a pig in a crown - one of them is abstract and seemingly modern, famously born as the ancestors of that particular family had nothing else to use for a flag than one foremother's patterned scarf.

And while these days there's far more laws and regulations on the old traditions of claiming a house, the tradition of flag-raising and keeping an official housewarming party only a month after the move have remained. Many young couples moving in together don't just choose which one's family flag to use, but getting your own, unique mutual flag commissioned for you is a fairly common wedding gift. Immigrants coming from somewhere else who have adopted the house flag traditions have made their own designs, using elements of their own old homeland like historical symbols, colours, and birds that are not native here.

You pass by a flag with a figure that looks conspicuously like Garfield, and your host confirms that yeah, while there is a registry of flags and you can't make a flag that's exactly the same as that of someone else, the flags are explicitly excempt of regular copyright law. This decree was set after someone jokingly included a Mickey on theirs, the government sided with them, and Disney came to the conclusion that going into actual, literal war with a small nation with a trained army would be bad for PR.

[digitaldiarystuff]

Fatal Attraction

i’m actually not sure what to say as an excuse rn but i’m sorry to keep you waiting hope you like this one and please leave comments they really help me🥹

————

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N

genre: no idea at all

summary: you were childhood best friends with Fermin which resulted in meeting Pedri since they got close, you couldn’t deny he was dreamy but he had a bad reputation so you try your best to steer clear of him but can you succeed?

————

You left uni after your horrible professor finally decided 4 hours were enough for boring you to death. It was nearing 8 pm when you could finally escape. You wondered how you managed to sit for 8 hours straight in high school when you couldn’t even handle a 2 hour class of historical design now. But then again, Fermin was with you for all those times. He was your best friend practically all your life because your families were friends long before you were born so it was natural. Even when he went away to La Masia you never grew apart and you even came to Barcelona to study just so you could be close again. He was you ride or die, literally and you two were the perfect example of a guy and a girl being strictly platonic besties. You viewed him more as a brother than a friend and so when you moved to a new city he made sure you never felt alone. He always invited you to games and hangouts, introduced you to practically everyone around him and even sent you on a few dates over the course of last year but you always struggled to keep a genuine connection with a guy like that. They always seemed too superficial or wanted to use you to get closer to Fermin now that he was in the starting 11. Most of them just wanted sex and that wouldn’t be a problem for you if they just tried a little but no, they always expected it for buying you a 20 euro meal or a drink at the club and it was exhausting you. You also weren’t looking to get married in three months but sometimes, especially when Fermin and his shiny world wasn’t around, you wished there was someone to turn to. You just wanted affection, can’t a girl get affection these days?

Your inner monologue was cut short by the ringing of your phone.

“Hey” you chirped answering it.

“Y/N hi.” as soon as you heard the voice behind the phone you stopped all your movements, you were expecting your best friend to annoy you but it was actually Pedri.

“Um, hi” you answered not understanding why Pedri would be calling you from Fermin’s phone.

“I’m gonna tell you something but promise you won’t get mad” Just that sentence alone made sure you’d get mad.

“Just out with it Pedro.”

“Soo… Fermin’s drunk.” he finally confessed and your eyes went wide, you even checked the time again to see if you lost track of time.

“It’s only 7.45. How?” you were baffled with Fermin’s choices but still had a question needed answering.

“Yeah so it’s actually a funny story-

“Pedro why did you call me? Did something happen to him?”

The thought made your blood run cold.

“No no don’t worry we’re fine. It’s just, we don’t have a ride back.”

“Back from where?”

“Um, sorry yeah just, what’s the address?” he asked clearly talking to someone next to him and as soon as you heard a high pitched female voice you got the gist of the situation.

They went to some girls’ place and now that their business’ was over needed someone to rescue him before the public sees them.

“Just text me the address.” you huffed annoyed, didn’t even let him answer and hung up.

It’s not like you didn’t know the boys were doing this stuff, they were young famous and rich. Of course they had every right to enjoy their life, it’s just…

It’s just whenever Fermin was in a situation like this, it was always with Pedri and it annoyed you. Pedri as a whole annoyed you yes but the fact that he was with a different girl sometimes more times than he actually plays football was unsettling and unnecessary even.

He reminded you of those people on Too Hot To Handle like come on one week without sex couldn’t be that bad. You went without it for… a really long time. And he wasn’t even that good looking to begin with so you could never understand why those girls were throwing themselves at him. Yes his eyes were shining bright whenever he was in a good mood, his jawline was damn near perfect and his smile was contagious but that’s about it. Pedri was not that great, or so Fermin said.

“Who’s that? Is that the infamous Pedri Gonzalez?” you asked Fermin when your eyes caught his at the party currently being thrown at Balde’s house. Fermin brought you because according to him, you really needed to let loose and get some vitamin d (his words not yours).

As soon as his eyes followed yours he immediately pulled you away shaking his head relentlessly.

“Oh no no no no no. No.”

“What?” you asked after looking at Pedri one more time and noticed he was still watching you.

“No, Y/N. Not him, anyone but him. Well, not anyone. I don’t really feel great about Ferran and Gavi would be a little complicated but even they’re okay but not Pedri.”

You tore your eyes from the gorgeous boy in the other corner of the room and looked at Fermin like he had grown another head.

“I just asked who he is” you defended yourself but Fermin was quick to cut you off.

“It always starts like that, then he’ll come over and charm you into the bed or worse, the restroom and bam! You’re left behind.” the way he described it made you sober up immediately.

“Gross”

“Exactly. So repeat after me. I”

“I”

“Will not”

“Will not”

“Sleep with Pedri”

“Sleep with Pedri” you repeated but was shocked to see Pablo passing by you and say it at the same time as you. Fermin was quick to hit his head and murmured a ‘cabron’ and you chuckled at their fight.

Fermin also lost his serious manner for a second and laughed but pulled himself together soon.

“Look Y/N I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“It’s okay Fermin, it’s not like I wanted to do it anyway. I’ll just steer clear of him.”

You really meant it and tried your best to avoid Pedri at all cost since the first time you’ve met and just kept it pleasant with small hi’s and bye’s but he really had a charming personality and his eyes were like magnets and no matter how hard you tried you’d still find yourself drawn to his eyes whenever you crossed paths.

Fermin saw it too and tried to warn you a few more times but you told him to knock it off because there was no way you’d ever stoop so low, right?

You really did find his behavior with women disgusting, even though he claimed he never indicated anything about a relationship or even a date you obviously knew all those girls were looking for it and were left heartbroken when Pedri shut them off completely after spending the night together. But he was the sweetest talker and it was so easy to fall into his trap, it was so lucky that you didn’t.

You finally arrived at the address Pedri texted you from Fermin’s phone about 20 minutes later and saw them waiting in the lobby of an apartment complex. They both had hoodies with sunglasses, if they were hoping to lay low this was really not it.

Pedri carefully laid Fermin in the backseat and got in the passenger side of your car. You didn’t even answer his hey and turned back to take a look at Fermin.

“Why would you drink this much?”

“Uh, I don’t think he can understand you at the moment” Pedri chimed in.

“And you! Why would you let him do this to himself?” you now pointed a finger at him.

“I wasn’t exactly with him while it happened.” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Where were you? Oh” you said immediately knowing the answer.

“Did they at least sign NDA’s?” you asked slightly bitter. Although you tried your best to mask it with annoyance for Fermin’s state.

“Yeah yeah, Fernando’s handling it.”

It was the way he was so nonchalant that made your stomach turn. You turned the car on and started driving to Fermin’s place.

“Do you mind me putting on a song?” he asked after an uncomfortable silence and slightly nodded your head. He immediately connected to AUX and put on Bad Bunny.

After a minute Pedri started to silently sing along and you turned your head to his direction.

“You shaved.”

He was shocked you talked to him given the fact that you never did it if you weren’t forced to but quickly turned to look at you and scratched his chin.

“Yeah, it was getting hot.”

You turned your attention back to the road and answered, more to yourself.

“Well I liked it.”

“You did?” he asked with another shocked expression. Pedri sometimes assumed you didn’t even remember his name.

“Yeah well, it looked more mature but given your current state I think the childish look suits you better.” you chuckled and he joined you.

You didn’t even know why you told him you liked his bearded look, I mean you really really did but this was forbidden territory.

“I’m sorry you had to come to get us.” he said after another moment of silence.

“It’s alright. I didn’t have anything else to do and I couldn’t leave Fermin stranded.” you looked back at your best friend sleeping peacefully in the backseat.

“You really care about him.” he also looked back at the blond boy smiling.

“I do. He’s my best friend.”

The ride continued without another word from either of you and you finally pulled up to Fermin’s driveway.

You opened the back door and tried waking Fermin up but Pedri was quicker and got him up putting all his weight on himself and basically carried him in. You opened the door and let them in helping with Fermin’s bag while Pedri carried him upstairs to his room and came back a minute later. You were tidying up Fermin’s living room as he approached you.

“I think he’ll be fine.” he smiled.

“Thank you.” you said without glancing back at him expecting him to go crash in one of the guest rooms but he stayed still, making you realize for the first time in a year you were alone with none other than Pedri. Your body stiffened up and he noticed.

“Are you cold?”

“What?” you turned to him raising a brow.

“You’re shivering.” he motioned his head forward and had a sly smile on his face and your cheeks immediately burned with embarrassment. How could you possibly tell him it was because this was the first time they were alone (if you don’t count passed out Fermin upstairs) You were not cold in the slightest, actually your body was pretty hot.

“Uh yeah it’s chilly.” You tried your best to not look at him without being disrespectful, you didn’t want him to think you were a bitch just that you were his friend’s friend and that’s it.

“Do you need help with anything?” he asked bending down and picking an empty pizza box from the floor.

“No it’s okay, you can just go upstairs and rest.”

“I’m actually just gonna call an uber.”

“Uber?” you asked “You don’t have to do that you can stay here, Fermin wouldn’t mind.” you blabbered on but just as you shut up a voice in your head said maybe that’s not why he’s leaving. It’s still early, he’s not passed out drunk and he probably has many girls lined up waiting for a call.

“Or if you have somewhere to be, it totally cool.” you tried shrugging nonchalantly as if you didn’t care at all but probably failed. This conversation was becoming more and more difficult by the second.

“I have nowhere to be.” Pedri chuckled at your nervousness.

“Then you’re welcome to stay.” you once again turned to him for a second but that turned out to be a mistake on your part because Pedri was intensely watching your every move. Sometimes you wondered how many more people weren’t falling in love with him everyday, he could easily hold a meaningful eye contact every time your eyes met.

“What if we watched something?” he asked. “You love reality tv, right?”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to be more shocked about, the fact that he offered to watch something with you or that he knew your tv watching habits and stood still until you found the courage to speak up.

“Sure, why not?”

That’s how you ended up in this position with him, takeout boxes on the coffee table and sitting closely in the middle of Fermin’s l shaped sofa. Pedri could easily lay on the longer part as he already had his feet on that part but he opted to sit just next to you. Your thighs were centimeters apart and whenever he turned to you to laugh at something a cast member had said you’d feel his hot breath on your face. The setting felt too intimate for two people that were barely considered as friends yet alone one person with a pathetic little crush. You tried to ignore the feeling rising within you and tried your best to focus on the show but it was nearly impossible as Pedri once again made a comment about the sex drive the cast had and held your thigh in the process.

“I mean they have to be faking, this is too much even for me.” he laughed while your eyes were focused on his hand on your leg, you couldn’t even comprehend his comment for a second.

“Oh come on, you couldn’t even last a day there.” you teased having no control of your tongue. The comment was a surprise to both of you.

“You don’t think I can last a week without sex?” he raised an eyebrow smirking at you and you felt the tension in the air shift slightly.

“I don’t think you could last a day.”

“Now you’re being unfair.”

It was your turn to raise a brow being like ‘really?’

“I’m not that bad” he continued to defend himself but you weren’t convinced.

“Come on Pedri, I’ve heard the stories.”

“I’m perfectly capable of not doing anything with any girl for however long I want.” he looked around.

“Just look at us.” he motioned between you two and your eyes immediately turned to his hand still resting on your thigh. He retreated it slowly while awkwardly chucking. Even though you enjoyed the banter, the mention of you two brought back the awkward and painful feeling you had. Maybe he thought you were not hot enough to hit on.

Before you could answer you heard some noises from upstairs and went to check on Fermin. He was now up and in his en-suite crouched on the toilet ready to throw up.

“Y/N” he mumbled quietly and you bent down next to him.

“What did you even drink, my god Fermin you’re unbelievable.” you scolded the boy but this was you trying to be soft. He really shouldn’t put himself in these situations.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked trying to get out of your interrogation but you hesitated to answer.

“I- we were watching tv and had takeout.” you stammered and Fermin looked up at you with confusion.

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Pedri” you bit your lip because you knew what was coming.

“Y/N we’ve talked about this, you need to stay away from him.” Fermin said sounding exhausted both from his state and how many times he had to talk to you about Pedri.

“We’re just friends Fermin, he’s your friend too.” you said trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Yeah well I don’t wanna have sex with him.” you shushed him as fast as you could afraid that Pedri would hear it.

“Are you okay now?” you asked as Fermin stood up and washed his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Just gonna sleep it off.” he said as you were walking out to give him privacy. Just as you shut the door behind you you were faced with Pedri with a slight smirk on his face.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You were stunned to say the least and couldn’t even muster a word just let out a nervous laugh.

“What?”

“I heard Fermin”

“Look Pedri I don’t know how much you heard but he’s out of his mind and was saying some extremely dumb stuff.” you tried to move past him but he placed a hand gently on your waist to prevent you from running away from this highly embarrassing situation and slowly leaned into your ear to whisper.

“You know Y/N, all you have to do is ask.” you could basically hear the smile he had on as he spoke and hated yourself for not being more calm and being as wet as you are

————

ooh not sure about this one really but hope you enjoy loves💖

[reasonsforhope]

"A new community housing development in the Bronx will feature a cool piece of kit: an on-site aerobic digester that can turn 1,100 pounds of food scraps into 220 pounds of high-quality fertilizer every single day.

Built by Harp Renewables, it’s basically a big stomach filled with bacteria that breaks down food scraps and wasted food into their component parts, and in the future could be a standard part of all apartment units as the amount of food waste in American reaches 30% of the total mass of all trash collection.

The Peninsula, organized by Gilbane Development Company, will feature 740 units of affordable housing, 50,000 square-foot light industrial space and equal sized green space, and 15,000 feet of commercial space, all of which will send their castaway comestibles right into the digester...

Fast Company reports that Christina Grace, founder of a zero-waste food management company, helped plan the design and implementation of the digester into The Peninsula, and helped organize a 40% grant from the city to pay the $50,000 upfront cost.

“The goal is for this material to work its way into the community garden network in the Bronx,” [Christina Grace, who helped plan the design] told the magazine, adding that she expects it to pay for itself over just a few years. “We see this as highly replicable in both commercial and residential venues. We know there’s a need for fertilizer.”

Producing fertilizer right there in the city reduces the need for it to be trucked in from afar, chipping away, even if just a bit, at NYC traffic.

Big problem solver

Perhaps uniquely beneficial to New York City compared to other spots in the U.S. is that the digester will have a significant impact on the Bronx’s share of the city’s rodent problem.

Those who’ve watched the Morgan Spurlock documentary Rats will understand why that’s significant—while those that haven’t will have to imagine what living in a megacity where rats outnumber people by around 8 or 10 to 1 looks like.

Another big problem the bio-digesters could potentially help is pollution and greenhouse gas emissions. Fertilizer is a big emitter of all three of the most-targeted GHGs. Fertilizer, like quarry dust and ammonia is, like so many commodities, often imported from countries who specialize in its production, such as Norway, but also Russia and Ukraine, whose conflict has recently highlighted the fragility of the supply chain with sharp increases in prices...

Bio-digesters by design keep the CO2 and methane in the fertilizer produced, rather than it entering the atmosphere.

For these reasons and more, the aerobic bio-digester is slowly making its way into residential and industrial spaces around the country.

GNN reported on an enormous bio-digester at the heart of the D.C. advanced resource (sewage) recovery center outside the capital, and on the use of bio-digesters on Australian pig farms which are helping reduce the environmental and psychological impact of the effluent produced from such operations.

Harp Renewables tweeted how happy they were to have installed their bio-digester in the town of Cashel, Ireland.

Expect to see more stories like this pop up around the globe."

-via Good News Network, March 17, 2022

Note: Obviously gentrification bad and "affordable housing" is sometimes nowhere near as affordable as it should be, etc. etc. That said, this is such a fantastic use case that I felt I had to post it anyway.

[cuttergauthier]

Neighbours

Quinn Hughes x Female reader

Warning: against, fluff, cussing, alcohol

word count: 3.7k

let me know what you guys think🤍

April 2022

I moved to Vancouver 2 weeks ago for work even though I can work from home. I wanted a change so I decided to move. I'm a clothing designer. I started the summer before I started going to university. It was hard trying to juggle a clothing brand and university at the same time especially since i was doing extra classes during summer since i wanted to be able to finish a semester earlier so i could go back home for summer & be settled in Vancouver for when i come back in September, but i was able to make it work.

When I first started I would only make 1 shirt in all sizes and sell them, it took a while to be able to make money off it, but now the clothing company is doing really well, It’s an online clothing store. I sell both Women & Men clothes from comfy to fancy.

I’ve always wanted to open my own store and I thought Vancouver would be perfect for that, most of my buyers are from canada.

I was born in Plymouth Michigan, i grew up in a lake house, my parent’s love it here, so do i, during winter my dad, my older brother and i would go skating on the lake, it’s one of my favorite things to do during the winter, during summertime we would go on boat rides almost every day. 

I went to the University of Michigan, I graduated in June, it was the best 3 and a half years, now I'm on a new chapter of my life. I 

I am still getting used to Vancouver. I don’t really know where everything is yet, it’s only been 5 days and i can work on my own time as long as i meet my deadlines, so i’ve been walking around Vancouver. It was a pretty chilly day but it wasn’t too bad. We are now at the end of April.

It took a while before moving here to look for an apartment, And to get everything settled since I’m American i needed to apply for a work visa, it took a while before i was accepted.

I finally found a cute coffee shop so I made my way inside and in line to order. I looked at the menu to see what I should order. Once I decided to go with (favorite coffee order) the line was shorter and it was only a cute guy in front of me and I.

When I finally ordered, I made my way to the pick up station. The cute guy got his drink before me and walked out. I got my drink a second later and left the coffee shot. I started walking back to my apartment since I still have some unpacking to do. 

I’m walking and looking around me, Vancouver is truly a beautiful city. I looked in front of me and saw the cute guy was going in the same direction. He looks familiar but I can't figure out why.

I saw him getting in the same apartment building I live in, maybe he lives there too. I made my way inside to see the elevator doors about to close. The guy looked up from his phone and saw I was walking that way, so he put his hand to stop the doors from closing.

I smiled as I walked in and stood next to him, to see he selected the same floor as I live on.

“Thanks for holding the door,” I said thankfully.

“No problem,” he said. He looked so serious like he didn’t have any emotion in the fact that i said thank you.

“I’m yn” i said

“Quinn” he replied before looking down at his phone.

He looked pretty tired, maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem to want to talk. But so am I, so I can't judge. 

The doors opened on our floor and we both started walking to our apartments. We are both going the same direction.

Once he stopped at his place, I stopped at mine which was the one next to him.

How have i not noticed him till today, since i’ve been here, it looked like no one lived there.

I saw him look at me before he opened the door. I looked at him as we made eye contact for a second. 

“See you around neighbor” i told him smiling before walking in my Apartment and closing the door behind me. 

I really hope I see him again. I smiled before continuing to unpack my stuff.

1 week later, May 2022

I finished packing my suitcase to bring back home with me. I was finally able to finish unpacking the furniture and everything else in this apartment so I thought I would finally go back home, since it’s warmer there right now then it is in Vancouver.

I made sure everything was turned off and made my way out of the apartment with my suitcase. As soon as I locked my door, Quinn opened his and got out with his suitcase. Looks like I'm not the only one who seems to be leaving Vancouver.

I made my way to the elevator and I saw him do the same. I made sure to wait before pressing the lobby button. 

“Thanks” he mumbled

“ no problem… Are you going to Vancouver?” I ask him, trying to make conversation.

He looked at me confused for a minute, before he shook his head. 

“Going to see friends and family” he replied 

“That’s always nice,” I say. All he did was nod, I guess he’s not one for conversation. 

We both got out of the elevator and made our way outside, i had ordered an uber so that I wouldn't have to wait. It looks like Quinn did the same thing. Once my suitcase was in the trunk the driver started making his way to the airport. 

I texted my parents to let them know I was on my way to the airport.

I got my bags checked in and made my way to my area. I found a spot where no one was sitting and sat down. My flight is only boarding in an hour but I like coming here earlier in case it’s ever busy.

I saw that my brother had texted me, he’s only 1 year older than me, he's 23 but he’s my best friend.

Big bro

Yo, are you on your way yet?

I chuckled, of course he’s impatient 

Me

Just got my bags checked in, we are only boarding the plane in an hour

Big bro

Please hurry, I miss you!

Big bro

Also before i forget, apparently the hughes brothers bought the lake house next to us that was for sale, i met one of them yesterday and some of his friends they all play pro hockey, one of the brothers plays for Vancouver, Jack said he should be getting in today & the ones i met are really cool, they’re around are age, so looks like we’ll have a fun summer🤪

Me

Oh good, at least it’s not another older couple who would complain every time we try to throw a party when mom and dad go away for the 4th of July😂 & wtf obviously i heard about then you idiot, kinda hard not to when we both went to a school where a bunch of hockey players went to. Also I met the youngest Luke at university, Nick introduced me to the freshman at the beginning of the year.

Big bro

I know right😂 oh cool then i guess you’ll know one of them! Anyways see you soon kid!

Me

See ya!

I smiled, hopefully I won't be stuck hanging out with a bunch of idiots the whole summer, but at least we aren’t the only ones our age.

I was scrolling through instagram. In the corner of my eye I saw someone sitting in one of the seats in front of me.

I looked up and saw Quinn, looking like he’s going to Michigan.

He looked up at me so I smiled.

When it was finally time to board the plane, I went and sat in my seat. I'm thankful that i got the window seat, a few seconds later Quinn sat down in the seat next to me.

“Looks like we’re both going to the same place” I said. 

He just nodded.

I looked back at him with a small smirk, I have a feeling that I’ll probably annoy him on the flight.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” I said teasing him, every time i try and talk to him, he looks like he ins’t interested in talking to me.

“Not really, do you need something from me? i’m not interested, okay, i get enough people trying to get with me just because of who i am i don’t need to have one who’s going to try the whole plane ride back to michigan” he said a little annoyed.

That was rude, why would he think I wanted anything from him… then it struck me that’s why he looked so familiar when i first met him. He’s the guy my brother told me about the brother who plays for Vancouver. He’s Quinn Hughes. He’s also Luke's older brother. How the hell did I not figure this out earlier? Luke told me that his oldest brother played for Vancouver, I just didn’t think he would be my neighbor and having him hate me.

Once I made the connection my eyes widened.

Quinn rolled his eyes.

“See you clearly know who i am, so just leave me alone” he said annoyed.

I scoffed.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Luke’s my favorite anyways. I also didn’t recognize you until now, not everyone is going to recognize who you are. I’m also guessing you’re going to the lake house you and Jack just bought right?” I said. He’s pissing me off, and since he doesn’t know we are going to be neighbors or that I know Luke, I thought I would creep him out a little bit.

His eyes widened when I said that.

“Omg are you some kind of stalker?” He said in disgust.

I chuckled at his expression, he looks really creeped out right now.

“Not a stalker but according to my brother who met Jack yesterday we are about to be neighbor’s… again.” I said

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Oh My brother texted me earlier turns out you and jack bought the lake house right next to my parents house, looks like we’ll see each other a lot this summer” i said smirk 

I heard him curse under his breath.

“You better not go anywhere near our house,” he said.

“that’s funny because i can promise the second Luke sees me, he’s going to invite me over” 

“Like hell he is” he said laughing like there was no way that would ever happen.

“I don’t care if you guys play hockey, i’m going to go after you just because of fame or money. And Just so you know, I already know luke. I met him in September when he started at Michigan since I'm friends with Blanks. He's a good kid, i would help tutor him with calculus, i think of him as a little brother, same with the other younger guys. I even met your mom for fuck sakes and she was nicer than you are right now” i said, 

I could see a look of regret on his face. He sighed.

“Look i’m sorry okay, a lot of people try to get along just because of who I am , same with my brothers. Can we start over?” He asked.

He looked sincere, and I nodded, i know my brother will most likely hang out with them a lot this summer, so we should probably get along.

“I’d like that” i said  

He smiled 

“I’m quinn hughes, it’s nice to meet you” he said

“I’m Y/n Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you too” i said.

We ended up getting to know each other for the rest of the flight. I told him about what I studied at university and what I do, along with a few funny stories about Luke and some of the other freshmen. He told me about hockey and his family. It was nice actually talking to him, and I really hope we can be friends since we are neighbors in Vancouver and now in Michigan.

Michigan 

When our flight landed we made our way out, and went to baggage claim.

I texted my brother to let him know, he said he was waiting with Jack and Luke since both Quinn and I were on the same flight.

“Looks like my brother is waiting with yours” I told Quinn as we started looking for them.

“I see Jack, come on,” he said. I followed him to our brothers

When my brother saw me, he pulled me in a hug, making me laugh.

“I miss you too Y/B/N” i said

“Y/N” Luke said when he saw me and pulled me in a hug.

“Hey Luke” I chuckle.

“You guys already know each other?” Jack asked, confused.

Luke let go of me and looked at jack.

“Yeah, she’s friends with blanks, he introduced us in the beginning of the year, she’s also the reason why i passed calculus, thanks for tutoring me by the way” he said 

“How did she tutor you if she lives in Vancouver?” Jack asked again, you could tell he was so lost, it was funny.

“I’ve only been living in Vancouver for 2 weeks now, i graduated from university of Michigan after Christmas” I said and he nodded.

“Oh make sense, and you’ve met quinn?” 

“Turns out we’re neighbors in Vancouver” quinn answered, i smiled at him.

Our brothers started laughing.

“What are the fucking chances” luke said

“Yeah seriously, now you’re also neighbors here” my brother said

“I know right,” I said.

“Let’s get going” quinn said impatient 

“Yeah, yeah let’s get grumpy,” Jack said.

Quinn rolled his eyes at him which made me laugh.

We made our way to the car and Jack drove us to the lake house.

Jack parked in his driveway and we all made our way to the trunk.

My brother took my suitcase before Jack turned to look at us.

“I don’t know what your plans are today, but we are having a bonfire tonight, you two are both welcome to join us” he said smiling.

“Thanks jack, that sounds fun” i said

My brother nodded.

“Yeah man we’ll be there” my brother said

“Great, then we’ll see you guys tonight”

“Blanks and a few other wolverines are here by the way, I won’t tell them, you’ll be able to surprise them” luke told me. I smiled and nodded before my brother and i made our way to our house.

As soon as we got in the house my parents hugged me.

I talked to them about Vancouver and how Quinn was my neighbor there and now here which made them laugh.

Then I went up to my room to unpack. By the time I was done it was 6:30 p.m. so I went to take a shower since I was all sweaty. Once I was done I got dressed in some Black Lululemon gym shorts and my blue Michigan hoodie.

My dad made food on the grill for dinner so I made my way down to eat since it’s already 7:30 and I am starting.

I sat down at the island counter on the chair and my mom gave me a plate. 

“Thanks mom,” I said smiling.

“No problem honey” she said, placing a kiss on my cheek.

“When you’re done eating we’ll go next door. Jack said they started the fire even though it’s still light out, and you can bring alcohol if you want or he said they have a lot so we should be good.” My brother told me.

“I think you still have some (favorite alcoholic drink) in the fridge from before you left for Vancouver, bring it with you if you go” my mom said before making her way to the living room with my dad.

I finished eating so I put my plate in the dishwasher and looked in the fridge for the drinks my mom was talking about and there were still 6 of them so I put them in a bag. My brother and I made our way next door. 

I saw Blanks was standing with his back to me talking with Luke. Luke saw me but I told him not to say anything. I gave my bag to my brother and ran up and jumped on his back.

“What the hell!” blanks screeched.

I laughed.

“Surprise!” I said before getting down.

“Yn?” He was surprised to see me. I nodded before he gave me a hug.

“I live next door '' I said happily, a big smile made its way on his face.

“This is about to be the best summer ever” he replied, making me laugh.

“Want to know what funny blanks she’s our neighbor here, and she’s quinn’s neighbor in Vancouver” Luke told him and i rolled my eyes, with a smile.

Nick let out a gasp.

“For real? Oh that’s awesome, like seriously what are the chances” he said

“I know right, also Luke, are you going to tell everyone?” I ask, chuckling.

Luke nodded, smiling.

“Everyone has to know” he said, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. He walked away leaving me alone with blanks.

“So, how is it like living next to Quinn?” He asked, smirking.

I rolled my eyes.

“Oh shut up” I replied, he laughed.

“No but seriously, how is it?”

“Fine i guess, he’s pretty quiet, but he kinda hated me until we got on the flight and sat next to each other, he thought i was some crazy fan” i said and nick burst out laughing i didn’t even know if he could breathe.

“What’s so funny?”

“Let me guess, you were nice and always tried to make conversation with him?” 

“Yeah…” I said and he shocked his head.

“That’s what a hockey player with think most of the time when a beautiful girl tries to talk to him and especially if you see him everywhere and end up on the same plane as him, he’s gonna think you’re following him, it’s just an instinct” nick said

“Yeah i know, but i really didn’t recognize him until after my brother told me about them buying the house next door to me and then accusing me of wanting something from him, then i saw the resemblance to Luke, so i kinda creeped him out a bit about telling him i knew exactly where he was going “ i said and nick chuckled.

“Of course you did… Quinn is a good guy though so i don’t doubt you guys won’t become friends… or maybe even more than friends” he said smirking.

I pushed him back.

“Oh shut up, let’s go see everyone else” I said, laughing.

We made our way to everyone else. Blanks introduced me to the guys. They all sound really nice.

We sat around the fire and drank, the guys were sharing funny stories. Nick told the story about how Quinn and I met. I put my hands on my face to hide the embarrassment. The guys laughed

“Seriously Quinn?” Luke asked 

“Look sorry but you never told me about her” Quinn replied.

We continued talking and sharing stories for the rest of the night. Some of the guys had already made their way inside to go to bed since it was late. My brother had gone back home, now it was only Quinn, blanks and i.

“I’m going to head up to bed before I pass out here” Blanks told us, making me chuckle.

“Good night blanks,” I said.

“Good night you two,” he said, smirking. I’ve known him for 4 years, he’s totally up to something.

“I should probably head to bed too, I don't want to be too tired tomorrow” I said, yawning.

Quinn turned to me and smiled.

“What?” I ask giggling.

“If I ask you on a date, would you say yes?” He asked, making me smile.

“I would,” I said blushing.

“Well, yn would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?” 

“ i would love to” i said smiling

“Perfect, I'll pick you up at 6:30 p.m.” he said and I smiled.

We said goodbyes and I made my way home.

Once I got into bed, I fell asleep with the biggest smile on my face.

September 2022

Going on that date with Quinn was the best decision I could have made. It went really well that we went on 3 more dates until he finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

We spent as much time as we could together this summer. When the guys found out we were dating they laughed since Luke had told everyone what happened when Quinn and I first met.

We have been in Vancouver for a little bit now, Quinn came back in August for training camp, i got back last week. I know how hockey season can be, but I also know Quinn and I will make it work. We’ll be seeing each other a lot since we are neighbors.

Quinn had practice this morning but he told me last night that he would come by after lunch.

He’s been stressed lately, he hopes he can have a better season than last year, i don’t blame him.

It’s now 12 p.m. when I heard the door open. 

“Babe, I'm here and I brought food,” I heard quinn. 

“I’m in the kitchen,” I replied. 

He made his way around the corner and smiled when he saw me.

“Hey beautiful” he said, making me blush.

He chuckled, he put the food on the counter and came over to me and kissed me. When we pulled away our forehead touched each other. I looked at his eyes to see he was doing the same. 

“I love you” I said happily.

“I love you more” he replied before leaning in and kissing me again.

Being with him, nothing could make me happier.

[gothethite]

Tired of people going 'all goth fashion is super easy to diy and everyone should do that instead' because like... yes a lot of it is but some very much not. So some thoughts on how much I'd recommend diying various goth fashion stuff as someone who does a lot of it:

Simple jewellery is definitely much better to diy and particularly chains and stuff. I remember going to dangerfield one time and they had a chain with a bat ornament on in for 20 dollars 🤣 ... you can get a bunch of chain from the hardware store pretty cheaply and the exact same bat pendant on it I had got like 20 off etsy for 5 dollars. It usually doesn't take that long and extra tools e.g. pliers are helpful but not necessary - 10/10 absolutely recommend for all goths or other people interested in gothic fashion

Same thing goes for distressed clothing/fishnet shirts there are tons of tutorials for that kind of stuff, and it generally doesn't require that much time, experience or materials 10/10

Minor clothing modifications e.g. some tailoring, adding/removing parts, mending damaged old clothing, changing buttons - this is something that is really useful in everyday life, usually doesn't take that long and is very useful for turning normal clothing into more spooky stuff 9/10

Designs on clothes or patches: if you get some fabric paint, screen printing ink, bleach or even acrylic you can paint designs onto clothing pretty easily. Personally I like dilute screen printing ink as it gives the nicest surface, but it can be a bit of a pain to use as you have to do a lot of layers, and it doesn't colour the fabric intuitively in the way that fabric paint or acrylic do 8/10 - would recommend very strongly to anyone who enjoys art, and recommend trying at least once to people who don't enjoy art as much (you can always make stencils), but it does take a long time and you need some materials. Also, for patches particularly for small bands it can be better to order them from the band to support the artist, but also lots of bands don't have patches or merch or international shipping to some countries makes it not accessible

Embroidery: often looks really good and professional in a way that painted designs don't, takes absolutely ages. 7/10 - would recommend very highly for people who enjoy textile stuff and maybe trying a bit for everyone but yeah if you don't enjoy it it's a pain

Smaller articles of clothing: I've made some waistcoats and shirts and stuff which have been pretty fun and it's really good to be able to do specific designs you wouldn't be able to buy (e.g. my skeleton one) and get stuff to fit right. They were all hand sewn and took a pretty long time (however you can also do it while listening to online classes or whatever), + a bit of time to learn techniques and stuff. Definitely a cheaper than buying them 6.5/10 - do it if you enjoy textile art stuff but will probably be a really painful experience if you don't and you're hand sewing. Also useful if you've got sizing or dimensions that mean you just... can't buy stuff that'll fit which is how I got into sewing

More complex sewing: I've made 2 (well, finished one and 98% of the way through another) long spooky coats and one cape with really complicated edges and embroidery and stuff. Coat 1 was entirely by hand out of not great fabric and took absolutely ages but was definitely vastly cheaper than buying it from the store, and it fit well and everything. With the cape, I got repetitive strain injury in my thumb that still is a bit of a problem 3 years later! With the final coat it was mostly by machine and then touching some stuff up by hand e.g. edges of the lining, making the eyelets and stuff, but it still took ages. Also, something I never see people talking about with diy goth clothing is how hard it is to get the materials - there were only 3 black brocade fabrics available in my city - One was really bad quality and I tried to make a shirt out of it, but it kept falling apart. One was 150 dollars a meter. The one I ended up using was really nice and reasonably priced, but I got the last 2.5 meters of it so it almost wasn't an option. So when people talk about diying clothing being cheaper it can actually not be that much because a clothing business can get fabrics in bulk + unless your city is really big there are probably not many options, so there's also shipping costs if you then need to order fabric. Out of curiosity I compared how much the coat cost in terms of materials to the price of a similar looking coat off dracula clothing which is a pretty well known and apparently quality materials and ethically made goth fashion shop and it came out a bit cheaper but not massively so (not counting shipping...) so 3.5/10 - fun to do if you enjoy textile art as a hobby, not even vaguely a practical alternative to buying a coat

And then there's other stuff like more complicated jewellery making and leather work which idk much about

[candycryptids]

Well, now I have to pop in and ask YOU a question. Which is hard because looking over all your characters pages, I'm sobbing on the fucking floor... I love them all so much????

But! I'd really like to know what sparked Chuusday's interest in technology and how did she get so good with it?! ♡

N..nobodies ever asked that before 🫣💦 So I’ll hammer some of the details out for you RIGHT MEOW! A 2sday-Wednesday special :3

Actually we’re gonna cover a lot of ground I haven’t talked about openly before so settle in

Chuu’s fascination with Machines n the like started REAL early, early when she was small. She wanted to…. Disassemble things. Crates, shelves, alchemist tools of the trade, Mammets… carts… she wanted to lay it all out. See how it fit together. And then MAYBE put it all back together again. And she lived on an island, in a port town, with her mom (an actual Viera) who was continuously unwell and kept getting worse every time she got better and sick again, and the sunseeker chirurgeon who was trying to treat her condition, and his partner, another sunseeker who if I recall correctly, was an alchemist. So. The house she was staying in had no shortage of things a Viera with curious + grabbing destructive hands shouldn’t be grabbing.

It takes coaxing to get her to start putting stuff back together again all the time, and by that point at least she’d stopped trying to pry nails out of things (wooden objects were a pain, she found, to take apart, and piece back together, the wood sometimes was old and slightly rotted, the nails came out unkindly, the shapes were often simple.)… things with screws and bolts were… fun. Her dads (in her mind, they were her dads, but out loud, it was sir, and mister) kept trying to send her out on Missions (chores; your mom isn’t doing well, we don’t want you to have to keep hanging around the house while her every breath rattles and her every cough is harsh and wet. Chuu knew. She was 14. It wasn’t hard to figure out…) for, small stuff. Fetch quests; go pick up ingredients for dinner, or hunt down this one small herb on the cliff side above town for this tincture I’m trying to make to help alleviate the cough symptoms. I have enough for now but having more to replenish what I’m using isn’t bad.. low stakes, yknow.

And when her Mom finally passed from her illness the pair kept Chuu on (Chuu herself will not comment on the her mom and the dads’ relationship, but I CAN and I’ll tell you those fuckers were poly. They might never have slapped a label on it but the love was there. It didn’t start that way, but it certainly was that way by the end.)

This ended up wildly off track didnt it. (Let me get it back on track, and in so doing gracefully gloss over the chunk of history I’m unclear on 💖)

She gets REALLY good at what she’s doing when she signs on with the Garlean Empire. It wasn’t… a hard choice. There was nothing left tying her down where she had been by that point; they’d offered direction, room, board… and, well… her current skills were enough to get placed under Midas’ guidance.

And she found that. Magitek is incredibly interesting compared to whatever she’s had her hands on before and she loves it. Purpose. Drive. She learns how to build things that she’d never dreamed of before under Midas’ guidance. She helps refine designs for two legged heavy artillery a lone person can pilot. To deal with the enemy. She does not think about who the enemy is. The enemy is a problem, and the Machine, glorious, flawless, violent, is the answer.

And then they blow up Bozja. Midas with it. An entire city, wiped off the map. She finds that the numbers- subjects- on the sheet that they’d been running experiments on have faces. Haunted, tired faces, with dull eyes and drawn cheeks and small hands. Children. You can’t just quit, but Midas was gone. Cid was missing. Nero was a thorn in her side and she didn’t want to continue work under someone less competent, or pursue someone else’s dreams. So …. She went missing too. Crashed an airship into Thavnair and stripped the wreckage to the bones for coin. Went into temporary hiding in Kugane, then Ul’Dah, and finally fell in with the slightly sketchy free company she’s with now. She maintains their airships and submersibles and they don’t ask where she came from 💖

I think I got a lil lost in the reeds and I was supposed to go to sleep like 4 hours ago but I kept turning this question over in my mind like a rubrix cube despite my best efforts >v>; The Long And Short Is; she’s always wanted to know how stuff worked, and falling in with Garlemald for (cautiously estimating her time there at about 30+ years) helped her understanding grow in great leaps. Around the start of 2.0 she awakens the Echo (Thrice damned Migraine Creator) and doesn’t realize it’s use until her next encounter with Allagan tech (where she interfaces on a personal level and. It kicks her new obsession up. And… allagans did quite a bit of soul research… it is, somewhat, why there is a Tuesday.)

… 🫣 thank you for the question !!!!!!! I’m. Hopin this makes even a lick of sense, ahaha… some of the stuff I had partially cemented in my mind… I had to fix, after reading the actual lore and wiki -w•;; but not much.

[apollomes-supremacy]

LO Dionysus design 🍇🎭

| Apollo | Persephone | Hermes | Ares | Artemis | Ganymede | Aphrodite | Eros | Zeus |

This will be a long post since Dionysus isn’t a character yet so I had to create him from 0.

The beginning of Dionysus’ introduction started on EP 93 (with Semele, Dionysus’ mother), but it has been more than 100 episodes and we got absolutely nothing from that plot, which is bad considering that other gods get involved in the og myth (Zeus, Hera and Hermes, mainly), but none of them (before and after the time skip) display any knowledge or memory of the event, especially Zeus, who is the one who accidentally kills Semele in the first place.

I already talked about it here, but im 100% sure that the child mentioned in episode 218 is Dionysus. He should be 10 yo right now and he’s the only character (vaguely) introduced who is around that age. Not to mention, Dionysus does have some connections with the Underworld. My main theory is that he will be adopted by HxP and will remain a child for the rest of the series (probably skipping the majority of Dionysus’ myths). And that’s honestly such a waste of potential. So I decided to give my take on him if he was in LO, like the redesigns I did with many other characters.

Design

My main inspo was 60′s and 70′s Hippie fashion, with a lot of patterns, accessories (crystals, evil eyes, beads, rings, etc), loose clothes and a more lazy/cozy look. He’s two shades of purple that split his face, which is meant to represent his duality as the god of parties and joy & god of wrathful madness. Hermes gave him nymph ears to use as a disguise when he was young, but he doesnt want to change them back because he grew up and feels comfortable with them. He has a very androgynous/feminine look, which leads to a lot of people thinking he’s an actual nymph.

In his true form (which can come out voluntarily, but usually happens when the god gets so mad that they are unable to control themselves) he can get really big. Leafs and grapes sprout everywhere, he gets another pair of arms made of plants’ stems and his eyes go full neon green.

Story

His story is very similar to the og myths, with just some small differences. He is born from Zeus’ thighs and goes to live with Demeter and Persephone as one of their nymphs to escape Hera’s wrath. There he starts to question a lot about himself, like his gender and his origins (he doesn’t know he is not an actual nymph), and when puberty hits, his body and his powers go crazy. Its also around that time when he meets and falls in love with Ampelos (and you know how that story ends).

When the wine he creates starts growing in popularity and Dionysus starts getting worshipped by some cities, Zeus decides that there’s no reason to hide him from Hera anymore, so he brings Dionysus to Olympus and reveals the truth, inviting him to become an Olympian. Dionysus says yes without thinking twice, so he moves in and starts to get prepared for his ceremony and his new life.

But there’s a problem. The Olympus lifestyle is way too different from Dionysus’. People are sophisticated, modern and even mean-spirited, while he is the complete opposite. It’s hard for him to fit in and he just wants to go home with the nymphs and satyrs, and he eventually does... illegally.

Personality & relationships

Dionysus is very outgoing and funny. He’s kind to everyone around him (not discriminating against nymphs, satyrs or mortals), but he can get very emotional very fast. He gets easily annoyed, which will prob just result in some unwanted vines around the house and a grumpy look, but the moment he gets mad is when everything falls apart (wrath form). Anger issues + no control over powers = no good.

He sees Demeter as a mother and Persephone and the nymphs as older sisters, while Silenus and the other satyrs served as fathers. His favorite brother is Hermes who kept an eye on him during his entire childhood and still cares deeply for him. He also has an interesting relationship with Apollo, he is very scared and intimidated by him (I understand why lol) but wants to start a friendship. Except for the fact that Apollo already has a soft spot for him, Dionysus is just oblivious to it. Ares is also scary and kinda mean, but he likes Dionysus and cares for him. He’s very indifferent towards Zeus, Hera hates him (he hates her too) and everyone else is pretty neutral, considering he doesnt know a lot of people outside of the nymphs and satyrs.

Powers

Dionysus is a fertility god (which in this universe doesnt mean that much), this means he has powers over vegetation (like Demeter) and mortals’ desires (like Aphrodite). Being the god of madness also means that he can make people so mad to the point of committing atrocities and completely losing their minds. In his true form, simply looking at him can lower your sanity. He also has the powers all the other gods have, like changing forms, cursing and blessing people, being summoned by mortals, etc. 

That’s all I have the energy to write rn. I tried to replicate the LO art style, and honestly I really liked the result! Hope you guys liked it too <3

(Also, Dionysus would be around his 20′s when the story takes place. He is Pansexual and is still confused about his gender but he’s fine with any pronouns).

[xappetites]

jouissance (2)

Phillip Graves x Reader | political marriage, Graves is down bad and buys an engagement ring, reader gets shy about her personality being taken into account to choose said ring, Graves' older brother continues to be an asshole | word count: 2,033

Phil’s always been smart, so it’s never really been a problem to see why Pete’s his father’s favorite. He’s the eldest, salt of the earth rancher following in daddy’s footsteps, obeying the old man to the letter of the law. While Phillip himself, well, he’s been a fighter his whole life.

School was a struggle, since he's never liked being told what to do, but he was just too damn efficient at acing his tests for any teacher to do shit about his attitude. They did call home to complain, though; got his dad good and fired up for when Phil made it to the house. Where he found himself doing everyone's chores for months on end before he backed down. Which is why, he figures, the old man was actually real pleased when he enlisted and got his ass into West Point.

Phillip Graves Sr. probably thought the military would straighten out his problematic namesake son, and maybe it would’ve, if Phil hadn’t run into the same problem, made even worse by a much stricter hierarchical structure. Thing is, he’s smart, he can pinpoint better ways to do shit, if you let him look at it long enough, and it gets on his last fucking nerve when people don’t even try to listen to what he has to say.

So he waited his contract out, poaching as many worthwhile guys as he could along the way, set his own private army up; and ended up exactly where he promised himself he never would: folding to his father's designs.

Except, it doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Here, heat drunk and mostly horizontal, lounging on a recliner as the senator’s girl swims laps from the dock to the property’s edge, he feels unburdened.

It’s nice, being this relaxed with someone he thought he was going to fight with for the rest of his life, or at least the first couple years. The way Pete did so famously with his oil heiress that even Phil overheard them have a go at it during one holiday or another, before she resigned to the particular blend of manipulation and pettiness his mother is so fond of.

No, Phil’s never had a fight in the few months he’s been traipsing around through weekly breakfast dates, being fed waffle bites and smoke tasting kisses.

He tells himself that it’s because neither of them care enough for it, but truth be told he just likes this girl who’ll gladly ride him at ten in the morning when he shows to pick her up, so he can play footsie at the restaurant table knowing how she sounds when she comes around him. 

Likes her to the point of requesting a safe link to call her from half the world away, probably making a weird face about it, since more than one shadow commented on it, ribbing him about it being ‘suspicious’. And that’s after he swore Vance to secrecy for hearing her answer with a surprised chuckle and sleep in her voice.

So now, he’s in town for Pete’s birthday with the folks, senator’s girl in tow, and the engagement ring he finally settled on burns a hole in the back of his mind. Nothing in his heart but the rabid, acidic satisfaction of doing what he can to ruin his brother’s event. He’s quite proud of it, too. Having spent months looking for a ring that encompassed all those things he’s come to associate with his soon to be wife —the glint of the thin chain she always wears, the lines of her clothes over her body; being warm and naked under her, chasing shapes across the overcast morning sky that looked endless from the giant windows of her apartment in the city.

“Your mother hates me”

Phil isn’t exactly expecting her, so he almost flinches when she drags herself out of the water, reaching to brush wet fingertips against the overheated skin of his arm. And since he doesn’t expect it, he can’t think before reacting. The shock of temperature and the instinctual violent response he’s trained in himself have him pulling her down over his thighs in a second.

She laughs high at being suddenly straddling his torso, crushed against his chest; it makes him pause long enough to look at her, sun kissed and shining water droplets hanging off her lashes.

“If she liked you, I wouldn’t.”

Phil can’t help but smile at how she isn’t afraid of him, even now; can’t stop the way his cock hardens under the pressure of her hips. But the impulse of brutality is still there, motion and strength, flesh on flesh. So it’s a rough, clumsy thing to get his mouth on her, clacking teeth and bruising fingers on the back of her neck.

Her gasp tastes of the Bellini she’d been sipping before her swim. And her hands come up around him for purchase, sliding delightful and drenched and cool against his flanks. Until she finds the curve of his ass and tugs with the same sort of fierce compulsion he’s lost to.

It jolts him enough to pull away, panting like a fucking dog against her. She’s out of breath too, but chuckles again, peach sweet, and she doesn’t let him go, just nudges her body a little further into his half chub. Her flushed face fills Phil’s chest with the sort of pride he feels for his shadows; amused and startled at the fucking stones on her.

“Marry me.”

It comes out of him as a demand, with one palm steady over her thigh and the other dipping into the chill of the cooler for the tiny square box he stashed in there just in case. 

“I thought that was a given.”

“Not until I’ve given you a ring,”

“You’re going to propose to me at your brother’s birthday dinner?” the look in her eyes is sweet fucking poison, shines like there’s nothing she’d rather do with her night but cause a good bit of chaos.

“No,” Phil flips the lid open and offers the ring to hopefully soothe the sting of disappointment that furrows her brow, “no one’s gonna yell at you during your proposal. But we’re gonna make damn sure everyone sees it tonight.”

He expects her to laugh, go along with it, because he’s used to having her on his side by now, in a way that suddenly seems incredibly dangerous. Hell, he’ll even take her complaining, but she just stares down at the ring in his palm in complete silence, expression unreadable.

“You don’t like it? Want it bigger?”

That gets him a giggle, higher pitched than anything he’s heard from her, even in bed. So he leans into the innuendo, even waggles his eyebrows, dumbstruck at how much he wants her to like this stupid thing. She has to like it, Phil’s not gonna have her wear something of his, that marks her as his, and not be fucking proud of it.

“I love it,” she says, in the end, looking like she can’t fully put into words whatever’s going on in her head, “it’s mine.”

“Damn right it is, baby.”

She has the gall to come off shy —when he slips the ring on and it fits as right as he knows it would—, sitting over his cock in her little bathing suit, kissing him like she means to make them late to this damn dinner.

“Your mom’s really gonna hate me now.”

“And why would that be?”

The playfulness finds its way back to her smile, squeezing relief into his bones until he’s pretty much hanging off the lounge. She follows, pressing her body onto his, tilted sideways so her body blocks the view from the lake as she gropes him over his shorts. And Phil needs this conversation to move away from his mom, expeditiously.

“‘Cause you’re her favorite and she doesn’t want you to be anyone else’s”

“Yeah, well, too fucking bad.” And he’s gonna let go for now that she doesn’t clarify if she means he’s now her favorite or just hers, which in a way are one and the same with that goddamn pleased cat look she keeps giving him. “Now, you’re gonna stop talking about my mom, you’re gonna get this ass in the house and I’m gonna bend my wife-to-be over the first surface I find. How’s that sound?”

“Like we’re gonna be late, husband-to-be.”

…

It’s been a hell of a long time since Phil’s had a family event like this. Generally he comes in, shotguns a drink or two, plays with the kids for an hour and dips with a bag of leftovers and the annoying opening notes of a headache. And he honestly thinks he could hardly be blamed, when the conversation revolved around either cows or school districts, or Marnie’s —Pete’s pretty blonde wife— friend’s struggles to express milk, of all fucking things.

Occasions at his folks’ saw him show up already tense, looking for his way out even before he made it in the house.

Well not today. Today Phil’s excited.

He feels it in every muscle, bubbling as laughter in his chest, easing his joints with the residual afterglow. So he breezes past the birthday boy, and the nephews and Mama Graves, keeping his senator’s girl tucked to his side out of a compulsion that’s borderline need.

She laughs under her breath at the ugly look his mother gives her, she pours his drinks and perches on the armrest of his single seater for cake slices in the den, like she did the first time, close enough to smell his aftershave on her skin. Therefore, Phil has no choice but to pull her all the way into his lap, abandoning his plate so he can play with her free hand. And he presses a deliberate kiss to the diamond on her finger just to see the glint in her eyes when he shit-stirs on purpose.

Her smile is the sharp one he likes the most, for a second that feels stretched huge like sugar syrup, before the gesture sends his father roaring into a mess of congratulations. Shouting and clapping shoulders, the old man rushes out for the champagne from the cellar; while Mama Graves follows close, most likely to slam a couple cabinets with the excuse of breaking the good glasses out.

“You know he’s only marrying you so dad won’t cut him off the inheritance, right?”

Pete’s voice rises, mocking, in the silence that’s left, because of course it is. Pete isn’t dumb either, he can pretend to behave when he’s got their parents eyes on him, but he has no compunction being a fucking asshole when it’s just someone he considers beneath him in the room.

It’s got Phillip’s skin itching in a way that’s also quite nostalgic. Their last physical altercation’s been a few years in the past, too, and he’s got a whole host of new tricks to keep Pete from thinking he can ever talk to his girl like that again. But she shifts, while he’s still considering it; chuckles into the skin of Phil’s neck, leaning so far back that she’s looking down her nose at the rest of the room.

“So?”

She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t justify a goddamn thing. She simply stares at Pete as if she’s waiting for him to explain why he thinks he has any right to question her decisions.

The question floors him, Phil can see it in real time, how there’s no possible answer for it that doesn’t involve admitting that the effort to humiliate her failed so badly, that Pete’s probably gonna be resenting it for months to come.

She waits a minute for a response and then giggles when it doesn’t come, gloats so deliciously that Phillip has to cling to her; has to kiss her. He has to sit there and pretend to pay attention to his parents when they come back, because against all the odds he ever thought he was going to have to deal with, he can’t wait to call this girl his wife. He can’t wait to make sure no other man ever gets her in his ranks.

[twistedchristianscience]

forgot to post about him here BUT I finished my silly little Vashraptor fursuit just before Emerald City Comic Con (and Vancoufur)

except he's not actually "finished", just finished enough for me to wear him to those cons for a bit. he still needs a few more details, namely feetpaws, the stitches on his torso, a more raptor-like hand for his prosthetic, and claws. plus I'm not totally happy with his ears so I might redo them. I'll make legs and different prosthetics eventually, but that probably won't be for a while.

as per usual of raptors, he looks pretty silly at any angle other than side profiles, so its a little difficult to get good photos while im actually wearing him.

more ramblings + WIP shots under the cut because this was the most complicated project ive ever done and im insane

so far, he's taken about $700 worth of materials and 150 hours but I'll make another post with updated numbers when he's fully finished.

the headbase is made of EVA foam, with a hinge from WeaselsOnEasels (covered with that pink fabric because I accidentally put it on the inside, rip) and 40 teeth from DreamVisionCreations. the eyes and antorbital fenestrae have .5mm computer fan pvc mesh-- his vision and ventilation are fantastic, rivaling my suit with a 3d printed base, but fine details like writing and text are lost as per usual with vision meshes (that's not normally much of a problem for me with the furry conventions I go to annually and know the layout of, but it made navigating ECCC a nightmare since ive never been before and the venue is HUGE. I imagine ill have the same struggles if I go to sakuracon-- anyone wanna be my handler for that? lol). the unfurred section is coated with Plastidip and spraypainted dark brown. most of his mane is zippered on both sides so I can remove it and make interchangable versions (I plan to make spiked-up hair in yellow, half yellow/black, and fully black) while the tip of it is magnetic so it lies flat against the base. his tongue is also magnetic. I was originally going to make magnetic eyelids, but in all honesty, I might prefer to make them velcro as they tend to be easier to adjust + more secure than magnetic ones.

the part I hated making the most was his tail, not because it's bad, but because when I was almost done with it my dog got to it and chewed it apart.

you can see there's an awkward little bump along the top near where the light yellow and black fur connect-- when im wearing the tail that bump makes it look broken. but since he's so mangled anyway it can just be considered part of his design since I didn't add any scars to it

the tail feathers were a bit of a nightmare to make but the progress shots are cool

the part I loved making the most, and that im most proud of, is the bodysuit. I thought the scars were going to be a nightmare to sew, but they were actually the most fun and I love how they turned out!! he will be getting an interchangable mane down his back as well but I didn't have the time to finish it. I might also extend the shoulders a little for a better fit, particularly the left as theres a noticeable gap between the suit and the prosthetic as it is.

I showed this video of the pattern to a friend at When Furballs Strike a few weeks back and she told me I was insane. she is correct, and I'm fairly sure me actually finishing the bodysuit in a week only proves it further. but I did it anyway, and I had fun doing it.

Fur used: Yellow (Hair/Mane, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Buttercup Luxury Shag Light Yellow (Main Body/Face): MofuMofu Mi Yellow Long Fur White (Neck, Top Surgery Scars, Tail): BigZFabric White Short Shag Brown (Ears, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Fossil Grey Luxury Teddy Black (Arm, Tail): HowlFabric Natural Black Luxury Teddy Scars: HowlFabric Salmon Minky Tongue: HowlFabric Banana Minky Inner Mouth: HowlFabric Vanilla Minky Inner Ears: BigZFabric White Minky

note about the mofumofu fur: it's pretty thin, if you trim too much you can see the backing through it. HOWEVER. this proved to be a positive for the bodysuit, as it's MUCH more breathable than thicker furs like howl's and bigz's. (for the one day I could make it to ECCC and two days of Vancoufur, I wore this suit for 10-12 hours straight with a sweatshirt underneath and never felt like I was overheating, the minky scars most likely helped with it but STILL??) it also doesn't get as matted. whether or not it's worth the $55/yd price depends on what you need it for, if it's within your price range and you're particularly sensitive to heat, I'd say go for it. I only needed a yard for this as I'm kindof a little guy (5'5", 120lbs) so it was worth it for me.

[villain-in-love]

So basically... A Date With Death MC/Self-insert

Music:

Оно Выделяло Тепло by АИГЕЛ

Death Is A Teacher by Eden Iris

BRAT by Chris Marcell

...also Mixed Messages by Tom Cardy

Facts:

⬩ I have yet to come up with a separate name for her... So for now she's just Katarina.

⬩ Aspiring fashion designer of 25 years of age.

⬩ Currently works as an assistant in an atelier in the centre of the city.

⬩ Lives alone in a studio-type of apartments with her pet cat Seras.

⬩ She’s been getting into all kinds of disasters and life-threatening incidents throughout her life, miraculously surviving every time. Unfortunately, the people around her are usually not so lucky, so she had to witness many deaths.

⬩ At least a half of her family is dead by now, and she keeps her distance with the remaining relatives. Well, it's not that she was ever the type of person who would care about family, so she doesn't dwell on that.

⬩ She has two moods: an insufferable clown and an absolute bitch.

⬩ Most people consider Katarina to be intimidating and unapproachable, mostly because she’s not too fond of social interactions, along with having a sharp tongue and a domineering attitude. And since she doesn't really understand social rules, she comes across as mean and arrogant even when she doesn’t intend to.

⬩ Being conventionally attractive and dressing up in very classy, “formal” fashion doesn’t help her case.

⬩ However, if you get involved in an actual conversation with her, you’ll find that she can be very playful and humorous, she just supresses that side of her. And for a good reason, I must say, because she often goes overboard with her teasing, and her humour indeed can be rather mean.

⬩ Conversations with her also tend to easily slip into something that is either sexual or macabre (she might have some issues).

⬩ Katarina is a romantic at heart, but she never had a chance to date anyone, mostly because she has very specific tastes. But then a certain reaper came along, and it turned out that she's actually really flirty. Too flirty even.

⬩ By the start of the canon timeline she was going crazy from boredom and loneliness. Perhaps that’s why she decided to reply to a "Grim Reaper" weirdo who was spamming her with messages from an unknown app she doesn't even remember installing.

⬩ Anyways, since she was so pent-up, and Casper seemed like such an easy target… Yeah, she just went all out on him. Years of untold jokes and atrocious pick-up lines finally found their way out. She surely had a blast making fun of him.

⬩ It’s not like she completely refuses to believe in supernatural, you know. She’s an agnostic, all she needs is some substantial evidence. But instead of providing that evidence, Casper just kept making a fool of himself for the first few days.

⬩ He’s lucky that he’s so pretty and that Katarina has a thing for idiots with an attitude. This guy is exactly her type (and she’s going to make it his problem).

⬩ Unlike canon MC, Katarina wasn’t that surprised to find out that he’s an actual Grim Reaper. She just needed some time to process the implications (and maybe some vodka).

⬩ That is to say, after learning from Casper that the reason she was constantly getting into accidents was her inability to die, she went through the crisis of realising that she really is the reason that so many people that were close to her are now dead.

⬩ She’s also more chill than canon MC. Casper can actually talk to her seriously… Before she inevitably starts trolling him again because she can’t resist the temptation.

⬩ She graduated high school of art and design but didn’t get to the higher education because her parents died, and she was not ready to work and study at the same time. She managed to find a decent job anyways, but she still wants to get a degree in the future when she’s more stable.

⬩ She only has one friend who is just as bad as she is. Said friend lives in another city, but they talk on the phone constantly.

⬩ She adopted her cat about two years ago after stumbling upon her on the streets. Katarina is very protective of Seras and always tries to ensure her safety above everything else.

⬩ Unlike the way it looks in the game, her actual apartments are a mess, with paper, fabric and tools lying everywhere. Though honestly, this mess is nothing compared to how her working space in an atelier looks.

[sourcreammachine]

us state flag tierlist by how urgent the need to change them is

(not necessarily by objective quality, although they are ordered by my own personal preference within the tiers)

yeah everyone and their cunt’s done a tierlist of how good the us state flags are, but here’s one that’s more useful imo - how much they need to change. ie, how far up the statehouse’s agenda changing the shitass flag should be

the ‘perfect’ flags shouldn’t ever change. yeah, alabama’s good, i said it - it’s iconic and recognisable. and yeah colorado might be cheesy but it’s american cheese, it’s an icon. and arizona is the best flag do not @ me

‘ain’t broke don’t fix it’ means you can start nitpicking the flag, but honestly, nobody cares and there’s no point in changing. alaska and indiana are here because their mute colours hold back their excellent designs. california’s here because the bear should probably be bigger and have a different face. utah and mrs sippy’s new flags are both here because they’ve got the same problem - they’ve both chosen really horrible dark blues, honestly so bad that they should be in lower tiers, but they changed them too recently so they should stick for a while, until people get used to the, yeah, iconic and recognisable new designs. a placeholder for minnesota is here too, based offa the six finalist designs released on tuesday, because any of them would probably end up in that spot - imperfect but relatively good

‘minor tweaks maybe’ is where the nitpicks start becoming flaws and the good designs could be made perfect very easily. hawai’i doesn’t need the british canton, it just doesn’t. wyoming doesn’t need that seal inside the buffalo. and rhode island? well idk but it’s a bold design held back by, something. stew on it for a while

the final three tiers are the ones i believe should change. the first (non urgent) is for bad flags that remain somewhat distinct, and so are still managing to do their job - but could be had so much better. NC is ripping off texas. iowa and missouri are both overcomplicated and dull. and arkansas, ignoring the word ‘arkansas’ i’m definitely getting slavers’ rebellion vibes from it

the bottom two tiers unambiguously must change. ‘fairly urgent’ are the flags where there’s maybe one redeeming quality that sets the flag apart, and could be carried forward to the new one. LA’s pelican and OK’s osage shield are iconic, but they’re still a something-on-blue and need upgrading. florida is just alabama but with a seal, honestly pathetic and one of the list’s biggest tragedies. washington, yep, there he is, but it’s still just something on a plain background. i hesitated between putting delaware here or the tier below, but its boon is its recognisability with that yellowy diamond. then there’s georgia, probably the most controversial placement on the list. but yeah. that’s the fucking CSA flag. and the iconic state deserves so much better than just an undistinct crest on the slaver flag

and yeah the last category are where all the truly pathetic failures sit. the opening few have curious motifs that could be used for the new flag, like connecticut’s grapes, michigan’s elk and oregon’s 🅱️eaver. but they still suck utter pisswank, the distinguishing thing about them only becoming clear when you stop to look at it. the latter flags of the tier are fucking irredeemable trash. tell me you know which states those final four are when the picture’s zoomed out. it’s a fucking tragedy that new york the state is amongst the union’s worst, when the city’s iconic blue-and-orange could lend it so much inspiration (same could be said for IL being outshone by chicago). or if new york wants to make it distinct from the city, it could always look to old york shire’s iconic white rose. combine it with a tulip for old amsterdam and bam we’ve got a brilliant motif. i am honestly happy to call the vermontese flag the worst in the us, for a state with such history, with such a pronounced identity and spirit, how can it let itself have such horseshit. especially when the green mountain boys’ flag is such stupid, dumb brilliance. yeah, vermont is the worst because they should just change to the green flag end of story

BOUNS ROUND: provinces of canadada

perfect: la quebec

ain’t broke: sass, newfie & lab

tweak: nova scotia, new brunswick

non urgent: BC, PEI (both controversial picks ino, but they’re fuck ugly d@m)

change now: ontario, manitoba, albert

[thetravelerwrites]

Sheb and Meetak (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: FTM Goblin/FTM Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Goblin, Minotaur, Transgender Characters, Transgender Monsters, Puppy Love, Orphans, Sex, Oral Sex Series: Shelter Forest - The Towns Words: 4,824

The story for @tiny-werebear​ continues! After the two boys finally confirm their feelings, a new problem tears them apart, possibly for a very long time. Please reblog and leave feedback!

Medieval Monsters: The Towns (Beyond Shelter Forest)

Despite having lived in the city for several years before going to train in the country, Sheb and Meetak had never actually been to the arena. Fighting in general wasn’t to Meetak’s taste, and Sheb felt demoralized by watching professional fighters excel in the ring while struggling to even qualify in the knight’s competition, so the pair had never felt the desire to set foot inside.

Now, however, with retired champion Sheng at his back, Sheb walked into the ring with wonder in his eyes. Meetak and Mrs. Tillman had declined to accompany them and instead went straight to the city house to get Chen and Chu-Hua settled and begin the arduous task of preparing for the new school year. 

It was one of the few off-days and there were no fights scheduled, so many of the fighters were training individually or sparring with each other informally. Many of them stopped for a moment to salute Sheng or yell out greetings, which Sheng returned. Sheb looked around at the other fighters with an open, unguarded look of excitement. 

“Now,” Sheng said, bending to put a hand on Sheb’s shoulder. “You know why we’re here?” 

“To take my training to the next level?” Sheb said. 

“That, and to make a name for yourself,” Sheng said. “It’ll be far easier to make the cut when everyone knows your name, and the best way to do that is to show the entire city that your skill is undeniable. This place is designed to do just that. It’s sad to say, but the tournament is as much a popularity contest as it is a competition.” 

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that,” Sheb said darkly, recalling his many defeats. “Did you train knights as well as pit fighters?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Sheng replied. “Half of the younger fighters leave the arena to join the knight’s corps after gaining fame and recognition in the ring. Although, I will say, pit fighters are trained to be showy with their maneuvers, drawing a fight out to make it entertaining, whereas knights are trained to defend and kill quickly, since showboating on the battlefield could swiftly be the end of them. The styles are completely different, but a fighter can benefit from experiencing both.”

“Were you ever a knight, sir?” Sheb asked curiously. 

“No, no, I’ve always been a pit fighter from the beginning to the end. Sometimes, though, when the crown is in dire need of swords to repel an enemy or invasion, they’ll hire pit fighters as mercenaries to pad out their fighting force’s numbers. I fought in two such events.”

“Whoa!” Sheb breathed. “That’s amazing!” 

Sheng shrugged. “I much preferred the pits. Killing folks who didn’t even know what they were fighting for didn’t suit me at all.” Sheng cleared his throat and looked at Sheb sheepishly. “Not that I’m saying anything bad about the knights, of course, they do a necessary job. It’s just not something I’m built for, is all I meant.” 

Sheb nodded sagely. “I understand.” 

“Now, today I’ll be introducing you to some of the fighters here. Some of them have agreed to teach you a few tricks, and some of the others will be potential opponents. For the next few weeks, you and I will watch some of the fights, paying attention to the fighters’ movements and footwork. Got that, son?” 

Sheb nodded, his long ears flapping. 

“There’s someone in particular that I want to introduce you to,” Sheng said, looking through the fighters and gave an unintelligible shout, motioning at someone to come over. “I think you can learn a lot from her.” 

Trotting over toward the pair was a kobold with shining red scales that glittered in the sunlight, scattering motes of light on the ground around her as she moved. She was barely taller than Sheb and was much skinnier, and that was certainly saying something since Sheb was as lean as a whip. Her large, wide, emerald green eyes took up half of her face, and she had two pairs of ivory horns jutting up from her head. She wore only simple-cut training trousers made of muslin and no top, but since reptilian races did not possess mammary glands, wearing tops wasn't necessary.

“Tokai!” Sheng said, opening his arms. The small kobold launched her tiny body at Sheng, and he gave her a bone-crushing hug. “How have you been? Whipping the lads into shape?”

She laughed heartily as well, her voice deeper than Sheb would have assumed based on her size. “Of course! Just like you taught me, old man!”

“Good, good!” Sheng put the woman back on her three-taloned feet and introduced Sheb. “This is my protege, Sheb. Sheb, this is a youngun’ I trained before I retired, Tokai.” 

“Ah, yes, is this the lad you wrote to me about, right?” Tokai said, looking Sheb up and down appraisingly. “He seems fit. Your training still seems effective, despite being retired.”

“I’m still a professional,” Sheng said in mock offense. 

Tokai held out her hand, which consisted of only two fingers and a thumb, for Sheb to shake. “Nice to meet you, hatchling.” 

Sheb took her hand in both of his and shook it vigorously. “A pleasure, ma’am.” 

“Tokai is a vicious fighter,” Sheng said. “Her specialty is taking down opponents even bigger than me. She’s knocked the stuffing out of me on several occasions.” 

“Really?!” Sheb exclaimed, staring at Tokai in awe.

Tokai laughed. “Yeah, it’s no sweat. I’ve taken down bigger fish than this lug.” She smacked Sheng’s belly with the back of her hand, something that both mortified and fascinated Sheb.

“How did you do it?” Sheb asked in astonishment.

“That’s why you’re here, eh? I’m going to teach you how. Ready to get started?” 

“I came here ready!” Sheb replied with excitement.

“Hold your horses, you two,” Sheng said, prying the two of them apart. “We’re only here to observe for now. Basic training only until I say otherwise.” 

Both of the shorter fighters groaned in disappointment in much the same way, deflating.

“Can I at least train with Tokai during my basic exercises?” Sheb pleaded.

“Oho, I see how it is,” Sheng said. “Replacing me, are you?”

“No, no, I just–” Sheb stuttered. 

“He’s just teasing you, kid,” Tokai said, chuckling, and turned to address Sheng. “My goodness, he’s earnest, isn’t he?” 

Sheng nodded and laughed. “He’s much like you were when you started.” 

“Hopefully less foolhardy,” Tokai replied. 

They set about doing basic exercises, and Tokai corrected a few of Sheb’s habits that Sheng couldn’t given their differences in size, since what works for a big fellow couldn’t possibly be effective for a small fellow, but there’s no way for the big fellow to know that. Tokai then started showing Sheb a few evasion tactics while Sheng watched the pair of them proudly. By the end of the day, Sheb had dropped some bad habits and picked up some good ones, and the two small fighters walked away with high hopes for the next day. 

Sheng walked back home with Sheb riding on his shoulder to the middle ring of the city, which was the nice-ish neighborhood for the kind-of-rich-but-not-wealthy types, a category into which Sheng and Mrs. Tillman squarely fell. Sheng had saved an extraordinary amount during his pit fighting days, and according to Meetak, Mrs. Tillman had amassed a small fortune during a few years of working trade routes on the sea and maybe a little bit of piracy, though Sheb wasn’t sure he believed the second part.

“So, we’ll actually get to watch bouts tomorrow, right?” Sheb asked, bouncing around. 

“Oi, sit still, minnow!” Sheng said, poking him. “Yes, we’ll be at the arena bright and early tomorrow.” 

“I’m excited,” Sheb said.

“I can tell,” Sheng replied. He picked up Sheb by the scruff and put him back on his feet as they walked up to a nice single-level terraced house with a red roof and a small-but-well-kept herb and vegetable garden surrounding it. “But temper your expectations, lad. We won’t be there the whole day; tomorrow afternoon is when this week’s round of death matches are lined up, and I’m not exposing you to that mess. My missus is working on legislation to have those banned, but there’s been a lot of pushback from wealthy higher-ups who enjoy that sort of thing.”

Sheb had heard some horror stories about the death matches: even people who survived weren’t the same afterward and the money they earned did little to assuage their guilt. Sheb shuddered. 

“Will I get to see Tokai fight?” Sheb asked eagerly.

“Oh, yeah,” Sheng said. “She’s currently the top of her weight class, so she’ll fight the bulk of the featherweight bouts. The only way you’d avoid a fight with her is if she lost three bouts in a row and was pulled from the rotation, and that’s not possible.”

“Awesome,” Sheb said.

Sheng opened the door and walked into the antechamber, whistling. A small brindle-colored dog skipped from around the corner and yapped at Sheng’s heels. Sheng bent and scooped up the dog, holding it like a baby. 

“Sheng, is that you?” Mrs Tillman called as the two of them came into the main chamber. She came into view with Chu-Hua on her hip.

The main chamber was made up of a kitchen, dining table, and a small sitting area. On either side of the main chamber were two doors, one of which was the family’s bedchamber and the other was a library and office space, where Sheb and Meetak would be sleeping. The fact that their house was made of wood and had more than a single room was a testament to their status: peasants in the country, if they weren’t renting from someone who owned land, had single-room huts made of mud and straw. Peasants in the city typically rented a single room in a dormitory-style building. Sometimes a family of six or more would be crammed into a ten-by-ten foot room. Having any sort of structure that someone personally owned with more than a single room was highly unusual for peasants, especially in a city as overcrowded as Dunmountain.

A maid hired to work while the small family was in the city, another symbol of their wealth, bustled behind Mrs. Tillman, laying out the evening meal onto the large table. 

“Welcome home, my love,” Mrs. Tillman said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Sheng’s cheek, who still had to bend down a bit for her to do it. He took a giggling Chu-Hua from her arms and kissed her little chubby cheeks. 

“Thank you. Where’s Chen?” 

“He’s in the garden, asleep. He climbed up and down the oak for about two hours before knocking out.”

“Sounds about right,” Sheng said, nodding. “Meetak out there with him?” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Tillman said. “He’s a good helper. Sheb, will you go and fetch the lads for dinner?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Sheb said, darting out of the door just off the kitchen. 

Meetak was indeed under the large oak in the back garden, weaving grass rings with Chen sleeping starfished next to him. He looked up as Sheb trotted toward him. 

“Oh, hey!” He said, brushing the grass out of his lap. “How was your first day at the arena?” 

“Great!” Sheb said, poking Chen’s bare tummy to wake him. “I met one of Sheng’s old students! She’s amazing! She’s almost smaller than me and she can take down big guys like Sheng! I can’t wait to start training with her.” 

“I think I’ve heard her name in passing,” Meetak said, standing as Chen ran for the kitchen door on all fours. “Is she really good?” 

“I haven’t seen her fight yet, but she did my basic exercises with me, and I can already tell she’s incredible. She showed me some things that even Sheng doesn’t know, because he’s too big to do them.” 

“That sounds really promising,” Meetak said. “Hopefully you’ll learn a lot from her.” 

“I’m sure I will,” Sheb said, running ahead. “I really like her.” 

Sheb couldn’t help but notice that Meetak’s face went a little blank, and a frown set his eyebrows downward momentarily.

“What’s the matter?” Sheb asked.

Meetak shook his shaggy head and smiled, standing up and dusting off his hands. “It’s nothing. Let’s go get cleaned up to eat.”

Six months passed in the blink of an eye. Sheb, now eighteen, had gained exceptional techniques by training with Tokai, and today would be his first bout in front of paying spectators. He was starting small: he would be fighting amateur people from the common populace in his weight class who had paid to compete, betting on their victory. If they won, they would earn double their bets, but if Sheb won, he would keep the money they paid, with a fifty percent cut taken out for the arena. 

There was extra pressure to succeed on that fact alone. If he got too deep into debt to the arena, he would become an indentured fighter and wouldn’t be able to leave. It was a gamble, but it was the only way.

Meetak had decided to come out to watch Sheb’s bouts. It was the first time he’d ever set foot inside the arena, and though it wasn’t his taste, he wanted to be supportive of Sheb. Meetak knew Sheb couldn’t see him in the stands from where he was in the ring, but Sheb had told Meetak before going to the holding area that knowing he was there was really comforting.

His first bout was between Sheb and a human man; short, middle-aged, and unhealthily skinny. He seemed like a person who had once been quite strong but had lost all his strength for whatever reason, perhaps through a long disease or simple mismanagement of his lifestyle. He carried himself with the countenance of a far larger man, as perhaps he may have once been, swaggering and smirking snidely. It was this false bravado that made Sheb’s instant defeat of him that much more satisfying.

The next fight was with another goblin, one who was a bit older than Sheb and seemed quite drunk, perhaps put up to the fight by his friends, who were in the stands loudly cheering him on. Sheb smirked slightly, recognizing an easy win, and dispatched this one as quickly as the last. 

“Why are they only letting him fight those people?” Meetak asked Sheng. “They’re not exactly a challenge. I could knock those fellows out.”

“‘Flogging the fools,’” Sheng said. “That’s what we call these bouts. It’s an easy way to gain notoriety, and it’s completely fine to finish these quickly and without much showmanship, since a new fool will show up right away to replace the old one. There’s honestly no end to the stooges who’ll show up with no prior training, trying to win some money. The ones you see in the ring are only a tenth of the ones who show up. We have to weed out the ones who are sick or being coerced, otherwise there could be a huge legal mess. As much as people like the death matches, it’s another thing entirely for some kids to watch their grandpa get stomped to death.” 

“So the ones Sheb is fighting are the ones who make it through?”

Sheng nodded. “Since Sheb still ranks as an amateur, fool bouts are all he’s qualified to fight, but if he’s undefeated by the end of the week, he’ll move into the official line-up as an amateur champion. He’ll be somewhere between amateur and professional, which is right where he needs to be if he wants to be a knight. Going pro would be detrimental to his plans.” 

“Why?”

“The knight’s order rarely takes on squires who were professional ring fighters. By professional I don’t mean their reputation, I mean it’s how they make most of their money. I’m not sure why that’s the case, but it was a law that was passed a few decades ago. It’s probably because of money. Most laws exist because of money, in some way or another.” 

“Huh,” Meetak said. “I didn’t realize the ring hierarchy is so complicated.” 

“Ah, yes,” Sheng mused. “And it changes constantly. Whoever’s the champion today may not be the champion tomorrow.”

“Weren’t you the champion of your weight class for decades, though?” 

Sheng grinned. “I was a special case.” 

Sheb won another seven fights against the “fools,” as Sheng had referred to them, before exiting the ring for the next weight class. By the end of his bouts, it was clear even to Meetak’s untrained eye that Sheb was in a far higher league than any of the people he’d fought that day, so much so that it seemed asinine to make him wait a full week before moving up the ranks. 

Even still, the next week played out in the exact same way, and when it was announced that Sheb had been moved into the champion’s line up, it was a huge triumph. When Sheb heard it, he jumped into Tokai’s arms, joyfully hugging her tight. 

Meetak felt a sudden cold sting of jealousy wash over his neck and shoulders from where he sat in the stands, watching. He was sure Sheb meant it innocently; he had always been a bubbly, enthusiastic person. But still… it bothered Meetak. 

It didn’t help that Sheb talked about Tokai constantly, to the point that Meetak was sick of hearing about her. Meetak had met her briefly before, and she seemed like a perfectly decent person, but… Meetak couldn’t bring himself to like her. He knew it was petty jealousy, but it didn’t change anything. 

It also didn’t help that since Sheb’s transition to being completely physically male, they hadn’t explored their feelings for each other any further, putting anything related to their relationship on hold so that Sheb could focus on training. Meetak didn’t want to be selfish and insist that Sheb define their relationship formally, since he was so close to achieving his goal, but… they were both adults now, and what Meetak felt for Sheb was more than just teenage infatuation. He was genuinely in love with Sheb. 

And now this other person was in the way, and it just made Meetak anxious and insecure. It felt like Sheb was getting farther and farther away from Meetak, and he didn’t know what to do to stop it, if he even could, and Meetak felt as though Tokai was his biggest obstacle.

The night Sheb was accepted into the champion’s line-up, Meetak and the family had a congratulatory dinner in Sheb’s honor, where Sheb’s favorite food, fire-roasted trout, was served with a variety of vegetables and some rare dried fruits. After the dinner, Sheb decided to turn in early, since he’d be starting in the champion bouts the following morning. Meetak followed him.

“I actually get to fight Tokai in the ring tomorrow!” Sheb said, instantly putting Meetak on edge. “I know I won’t win against her yet, but she says it’s only a matter of time before I surpass her!” 

“Oh, well, if that's what Tokai says,” Meetak said sarcastically before he could stop himself.

Sheb narrowed his eyes at Meetak. “What’s your problem? I thought you liked Tokai.” 

Meetak sighed. “Do you… like Tokai?” 

“Well, yeah,” Sheb said, confused. “She’s a great fighter, I’m learning a lot from her.” 

“No,” Meetak said, scrubbing his face. “I mean, do you like her? Are you attracted to her?”

Sheb’s mouth dropped open and he didn’t answer for a full minute. 

“So you do?” Meetak asked, defeated. 

“No!” Sheb insisted, jumping to his feet and launching himself at Meetak. “I don’t like her like that! I love you!” 

“You promise?” Meetak asked, squeezing him tight. “You really do love me?”

“Of course! I told you I did!” Sheb pulled back and looked at Meetak with a grin. “Are you jealous?” 

Meetak frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.” 

“I’m not! I’m happy! You never said anything after I became male, so I thought you didn’t like me anymore now that my body was different!” 

“What?” Meetak said, aghast. “That’s not true at all! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Sheb admitted shyly. “I was scared you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“That’s nonsense! Everything I’ve done, I did for you! Honestly, I’ve been really curious about it,” Meetak said, blushing under his fur. “Your new body, I mean. I’ve wanted to… see it… and… touch it… I’ve wondered… if… touching it feels good. If you’d like it if I touched it.”

Sheb gulped and he leaned forward to kiss Meetak slowly, deeply, before pulling back and saying in a trembling voice, “You can touch it. If you want to.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.”

Meetak set Sheb back on his feet, and Sheb slowly began to undress, blushing furiously. Once done, Meetak could see his body fully, including the organ sitting half-hard in between his legs. Sheb was visibly shaking, and as Meetak lay his hand on Sheb’s flat, mildly muscled chest, raking his fingertips over his nipples, Sheb shuddered, his legs quivering. Meetak made slow progress downward, and Sheb’s cock continued to get bigger and harder. Finally, Meetak’s fingers brushed the base of the cock, and Sheb nearly dropped to his knees, gasping. 

“Did that feel bad?” Meetak asked, stopping but not removing his hand. 

“No,” Sheb breathed. “It was good. Really good.”

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

“Please. ”

Meetak closed his hand around Sheb’s cock, squeezing gently and slowly pumping it up and down, and Sheb moaned. Due to the height difference, it was a little awkward to reach down, even while Meetak was kneeling, so he picked Sheb up and sat him on the reading desk and sat at the chair. Now, he was able to see and feel better, though Sheb’s blush crept down his chest. 

Sheb’s cock wasn’t long at all; it fit into Meetak’s large hand completely with room to spare, but it was thick and bulbous in the middle, and it jumped in time with Sheb’s heartbeat, which was going pretty fast. The thought that Meetak wanted to taste it stuck in his mind and wouldn’t come out, so he bent his head and licked the tip, making Sheb yelp.

“What are you doing?!” Sheb screeched. 

“Did it feel bad?” 

Sheb huffed and considered it. “...no, but… isn’t it gross?”

“No,” Meetak said. “It feels nice.”

He leaned forward again and licked the shaft, making Sheb throw back his head and groan. After circling the head with his tongue, Meetak sucked Shebs member fully into his mouth. Sheb hissed and bucked against Meetak's mouth, grabbing his horns to steady himself. Meetak gripped Sheb’s hips and held him in place.

Sheb lay back on the desk with his legs dangling over the side, his head thumping slightly on the wood, allowing Meetak to do as he pleased, clearly enjoying it. His breathing was heavy and uneven, and he thrust upwards a little as Meetak continued to suck. 

“Meetak, stop, I’m–!” Sheb wheezed just as warm, thick fluid shot into Meetak’s mouth. Sheb moaned over and over until he was spent, and then laid limply on the desk. Meetak released Sheb’s cock from his mouth and wiped his lips. He lifted Sheb off of the desk and laid him back in his bedroll completely nude. After a moment, though, he sat up, looking at Meetak with misty eyes. 

“That was… really nice,” Sheb said. “I really enjoyed it. I’ve touched it a few times myself, but it didn’t feel as good as that. Do you… want me to… play with you?” 

Meetak shook his head. “I’m still… not alright with my own body just yet,” He said, shrugging. “I’m too self-conscious for it to feel good.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Meetak nodded. “It’s alright, really.” 

“If you say so,” Sheb said. “Wanna make out a little?” 

Meetak grinned. “Yeah.”

Another three months later, Sheb decided to enter the knight’s tournament. Sadly, the tryouts were not open to the public, so Meetak wasn’t able to watch, but he paced in front of the knight’s square gates, waiting for news. 

It seemed like it took all day, but eventually Sheb came out of the doors, looking beat up. 

“Well?” Meetak asked. 

“Meetak…” Sheb said, jumping up on Meetak and kissing him. “I made it!” 

“You did?!” Meetak squished Sheb against his body. “Congratulations! I knew you could!” He set Sheb back on his feet. “When do you start training?” 

“Tomorrow!” Sheb said excitedly. “I have to report bright and early to get my assigned knight and start work as a man-at-arms.” 

“I knew you could do it,” Meetak said, hoisting Sheb onto his shoulder. “Let’s go tell Sheng and Mrs. Tillman the good news!” 

There was a celebratory dinner that night, and Sheb and Meetak stayed up late, talking about the future. The next day, Sheb returned in the afternoon from being assigned far more subdued. 

“What is it?” Meetak asked in alarm. 

“Let’s… go to the library. I have to tell you something.” 

Feeling his blood run cold, Meetak followed Sheb to the library and closed the door behind him.

“What’s going on, Sheb?” 

“I’ve been assigned to a knight,” Sheb said, sighing. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Meetak asked. 

“The knight I’ve been assigned to isn’t stationed here. He’s at the kingdom capitol, Holdwater.” 

Meetak’s heart stopped, then sped up. “But… that’s months of travel away.”

“Yeah,” Sheb said shakily. “They’re sending me out in a week.”

“A week?!” Meetak yelped. “Why so soon?” 

“Actually, they wanted me to leave today, but I asked to have a week to say goodbyes.” 

“So…” Meetak felt like he couldn’t breathe. “You’re leaving?” 

Sheb looked at the ground for a moment, then looked up at Meetak. “Do you want me to stay? You’ve done so much for me, this is only possible because of you. But you’re my best friend and my lover, and I love you. If you tell me not to go, I’ll stay.” 

“You’ll stay and resent me,” Meetak said sourly. 

Sheb shook his head. “No, I always knew me becoming a knight was a long shot, so I was always sort of prepared to fail. The only reason I succeeded is because of you. I don’t want to lose you.” 

“Should I come with you?” Meetak asked. 

“You can’t,” Sheb replied. “You promised to be Mrs. Tillman’s assistant for helping me achieve my goal. You wouldn’t be happy coming with me knowing you didn’t fulfill your promise. You know that.” 

“I know,” Meetak said fretfully. 

“Do you want me to stay, Meetak?” Sheb asked. 

Meetak took a big, big breath and released it slowly. “No. You have to go. I have to stay. For both of us to have our dreams… we have to say goodbye.” 

Sheb pulled Meetak into a hug from where he was sitting on the desk. “I’ll always love you, Meetak. Always. And I’ll write you letters as often as I can. And it may not be forever.” 

Meetak frowned. To him, it certainly felt like this would be a long farewell.

The week passed by far too fast, and before Meetak knew it, Sheb was packed and ready to board the cart bound for Holdwater. Meetak squeezed Sheb tightly, willing himself not to cry. 

“You have to become a great knight, Sheb,” Meetak said, his voice unsteady. “You have to be known all across the country. So that I can tell everyone that that wonderful, brave knight is my very best friend.” 

“I will,” Sheb said, his face buried in Meetak’s neck. “I swear.” 

Sheng gabe Sheb a bone-crushing hug, and Mrs. Tillman kissed Sheb on the cheek. Meetak picked Sheb up, placed him on the cart, and took a step back. 

“Goodbye, Sheb.” 

Sheb’s returning smile was quivering and watery. 

“Goodbye, Meetak.” 

The coachman snapped the reins and the cart took off. Meetak stood there, staring down the road, long after Sheb left his sight.

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