#also i somehow gained 2 more betas

[redyarns]

HELL WEEK IS OVER HOLY SHIT HAHAHAHHAHAA I LIIIIIIVE

[icequeenbae]

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings [whole story]: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 4.5k (pt.1)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Chapter Masterlist: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: This has taken me so, SO long to write and edit that I cannot believe the time has come to post it lmao I just wanted to write something simple with the classic boy-next-door vibe but as usual, the story ended up being much longer than planned and I am going to post it as a mini-series. Please keep in mind that your feedback is what motivates me to write and post more <3 And biiig thanks to the lovely @beomcoups for taking on the beta duties on this whole story~

Network Tags: @bbh-net  @k-vanity  @ksmutsociety

PART 1

In the lobby or on your floor – those were the two locations where you’d been bumping into Baekhyun most often. Which wasn’t that strange, considering that you were neighbors. But it somehow always caught you off guard and left you flustered.

Just like the first time.

It happened almost a year ago when you were waiting for the elevator on the first floor of your building with your best friend Yuki, who came early to help you with preparations. A guy in a loose white dress shirt and jeans stepped into the elevator with you, politely greeting you before pressing his floor number.

‘Oh, you live on the 13th as well? So, you and our Y/N are neighbors!’ Yuki exclaimed.

‘Nice to meet you,’ you muttered and bowed, shy from the sudden introduction. He reciprocated, chocolate hair falling into his eyes charmingly.

‘You should come to her housewarming party! It’s in a couple hours,’ Yuki chimed in again. ‘You don’t need to bring anything, it’s just a small thing with a couple friends and neighbors. We’re making sure Y/N-ie settles in nicely here. So please come, we have tons of food!’

If anyone could ever say no to your friend… Well, you had never met such a person. You guessed that Baekhyun was simply too stunned by her enthusiasm, so he said he’d swing by for sure. In a way, you were thankful that she’d asked him – you’d have never had the guts to invite someone like that; especially not anyone as good-looking and cool as Baekhyun.

You regretted letting your bestie invite him the following evening when your party was in full swing for several hours. Most of the food was devoured, so now you were all drinking, crunching on snacks, and conversing; or trying to while jumping from one topic to another.

‘I wish we could gather more often. We all like to hang out with you, you know?’

As always, Yuki nagged at you for being too ‘stay-at-home’ of a friend.

‘I like to hang out too. But home is home. You know parties aren’t really my… favorite pastime.’

‘What is your favorite pastime, lying in bed cuddling your blanket?’ Chanyeol joked insensitively.

He should’ve known better since you were the most troubled in your group of friends regarding relationships. It was super tough for you to find a match, even when you made an effort to get out of the house and meet new people, mostly because of your history of failed relationships where your partners gained interest in someone else. It seemed like you were too plain to hold someone’s attention for long. So, you’d been ‘that single friend’ for several lonely years now. And at this time, you were actually in the very beginning of a new, promising relationship. You were still pretty insecure about it; thus, Yeol’s comment really did make you flinch. He was drunk, so that was understandable, but you still sulked at his words, mainly because they were true.

‘Hey, it doesn’t have to be a blanket.’ You frowned, pressing the straw to your lips in frustration.

‘I’m kinda sad that guy you’ve been talking to couldn’t come,’ Yuki interjected. ‘I wanted to find out what he’s like.’

‘Minho had work-related travel, so he’s resting up.’ You shrugged, sipping your drink timidly.

‘I’m sure the guy made this excuse just to avoid meeting your friends. How long have you known him for, like, two days?’ Chanyeol interjected.

‘It’s been a few weeks, actually,’ you corrected, and Hoseok, Yuki’s boyfriend, muttered a reproaching ‘hyung’ in his direction.

‘Gosh, you’re really this stupid while drunk,’ Yuki shook her head disapprovingly at your friend, who simply shrugged.

Baekhyun was pretty silent during the latest exchange, so when you briefly made eye contact, it reminded you that he could also hear all of that chatter. Which made you want to choke on your drink from humiliation. Thankfully, one of your friends still had some tact left that night, so they quickly changed the direction of the conversation. Still… you’d been mortified for weeks after the event, doing your best to avoid bumping into Baekhyun when leaving for work.

***

The next time you met, Baekhyun was also in the lobby of your apartment building. And once again, before a gathering at your place. Just days prior you had lost it and left your resignation letter at your boss's desk. Working such long hours under the constant pressure of absolutely unrealistic deadlines was taking its toll on you for sure. But when you found out they promoted a person, who was obviously less experienced and capable than you in working (but more capable in flirting with your manager), instead of you… It became the last straw.

Baekhyun appeared right on time as you struggled to push the elevator button with a whole case of beer in your hands.

‘Y/N,’ you heard his velvety voice call. ‘Nice to see you.’

‘Oh- Hi, Baekhyun.’ You greeted awkwardly, puffing from the weight you had to balance.

‘Let me help you with that?’ His suggestion sounded like a question, yet he instantly scooped the case from your hands.

‘You don’t need- thank you,’ you said, and he shook his head to indicate that it wasn’t a big deal.

‘So… having a party again?’ He asked as the elevator doors closed.

‘I wouldn’t call it a party,’ you hummed, looking at your feet. ‘I kinda had to quit my horrible job of 4 years, so my friends are making me celebrate it. Not that becoming unemployed calls for a celebration…’

You trailed off, not wanting to be a nuisance to your neighbor. He was just making small talk.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you taking a break now or looking for something else?’

‘I’ll start looking next week. It’s Friday, my friends are coming… So I’ll try to just clear my mind and rest for one full weekend before I start stressing about a new job. Hopefully, my friends wouldn’t talk my ear off about it – that’s what the beer’s for. My little trick,’ you chuckled sheepishly.

‘Aren’t your friends supposed to treat you in this situation?’ Baekhyun huffed, shaking his head to rearrange his hair and better see you.

‘They should… bring more alcohol with them, I think. I couldn’t have them over for nothing, though.’

The doors opened after a robotic voice announced your floor.

‘Well, anyhow. Thanks a lot for your help!’ You tried taking the beer from Baekhyun, but he didn’t let you.

‘Open the door first; you can’t do it while holding this.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ you fussed, pressing your password in.

Baekhyun quickly placed the case on the floor of your hallway.

‘You should come!’ You blurted out, instantly getting flustered. ‘If you want.’

‘I might drop by if I’m free,’ he smiled softly. ‘My family wanted to have a video call later. That may take long.’

‘Of course. Have fun!’ You nodded, beating yourself up in your mind for being so weird suddenly.

‘You have fun,’ he chuckled, stepping towards his apartment. ‘Oh, and Y/N?’

Looking up at him as he called your name, you were met with his warm yet serious eyes.

‘If you need anything… You know where to find me.’

That made you strangely sentimental.

‘T-thank you.’

He sent you a message later on and let you know he couldn’t make it to your party. But in a way, he was there – on your mind.

***

It was about three weeks after you’d broken things off with Minho. If you could even consider it one, the relationship wasn’t long, only a couple months. At first, you thought it could be something, realizing later that it was only wishful thinking. There was no way the two of you could make it work; you were just not compatible with each other. The more you got to know him, the more you were reassured of that. Your life goals were different, your outlook on relationships was different… even your ideas of quality time with a significant other didn’t match. This time, the initial infatuation wore off rather quickly – probably because you didn’t go out of your way to appease him. You knew it was probably for the better. Pretty much all of your relationships ended the same way, with your boyfriends telling you they found someone else. Someone… more exciting.

This was the case for your first relationship halfway in your first year of university.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t feel the spark, you know? You’re so… domestic,’ your then-boyfriend said in his breakup speech. ‘I’m young, I want to experience stuff, be bold, and have fun. And there are people that I can do this with, who’ll also enjoy it.’

It repeated less than two years later when you’d barely worked up the courage to try and start something with another person. When it happened the third time, you decided you weren’t really made for relationships. It was ironic since you always wanted to be in one. You were very affectionate and were keen on taking care of people. Yes, you weren’t that into big gatherings and parties, and maybe it was a little too difficult to drag you anywhere when you were stressing about the upcoming tests and stuff… But you weren’t completely closed off! Even with those limitations, you were very sociable and had many friends. Was it so bad that you didn’t say yes to every suggestion? Did your inclination to stay at home and have cozy dates instead of outdoorsy stuff make you a non-relationship material? It seemed like every time someone else appeared, your boyfriends easily decided to move on.

And even though you weren’t in love with Minho, this breakup still made you sour. What made this particular day suck was that you’d found out that he was already in a new relationship; happily broadcasting it everywhere.

You weren’t jealous of him for being with someone else. You envied him for being able to find another partner in mere days after you parted ways, while for you, it felt like you’d never find or be able to retain anyone. Ever. Never ever.

‘Earth to Y/N!’ You jumped from someone’s voice ringing in your ears.

Looking up, you saw that the elevator doors were held open by your dashing neighbor, who was staring directly at you.

‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you quickly entered. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Baekhyun smiled, pressing the button for your floor. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Um, yeah. No. I mean-’ You sighed. ‘I’m just a bit out of sorts.’

‘Trouble at work?’

‘No, my new job is great. A huge improvement on the previous one. It’s just… everything else is not nearly as great?’

Yeah, because you pushed yourself to get back on the market to finally not be alone, and here you were. Back to square one.The sniffling you produced startled even your own self.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ he replied, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want to talk?’

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t dream about boring you with my stupid problems.’

‘I’m sure they aren’t stupid,’ he said. ‘And I have ice cream. Almost any flavor you could think of.’

You looked at him silently, and he smiled again reassuringly.

‘It’s not mandatory for you to tell me anything. But I can treat my favorite neighbor with some ice cream, can I not?’

‘Am I your favorite just because you don’t know anyone else?’ You snickered gawkily.

‘No. Not just-’

He was interrupted by the usual announcement of your floor.

‘So, what do you think? You can change first and then come, no hurry. I’m free tonight.’

You puckered your lips, genuinely intrigued by his offer. Ice cream sounded perfect right about now. Although agreeing just because of the promised treats was pretty childish, you couldn’t help but be seduced by his suggestion. So, you gave him a shy nod.

‘Okay. Throw on something comfy and come over.’

You entered your respective apartments, and only after the door behind you locked… you realized that your heart was racing.

‘Damn you, Y/N, why did you agree to do this??’ You whined, catching a glimpse of your scrunched-up face in the mirror.

Fishing your phone out of your handbag quickly, you messaged Yuki.

You | I fucked up, Yu!!

You | Idk what to do now…. ㅠㅠ

Ki-yaah | What happened?? Did you like a pic on Minho’s new gf’s SNS??

Ki-yaah | I’m so dumb for telling you about this… I’m so sorry Y/N ㅠㅠ

You | No, not that

You | Who cares about Minho and his girlfriend??

You | I mean, I was a bit salty about this… But I met Baekhyun again!

Ki-yaah | Baekhyun? Your cute as fuck neighbor Baekhyun??

You | No

You | Yes?

You | My neighbor Baekhyun. I blurted out that I wasn’t in the greatest mood, and he invited me to his place for ice cream!

Ki-yaah | WHAT

Ki-yaah | YAH

Ki-yaah | THAT SLEEK BASTARD

Ki-yaah | I hope you’re texting me from his couch

Ki-yaah | Or kitchen counter

Ki-yaah | Or wherever you kids decide to do it

A bunch of obscene emojis appeared on your screen, making you blush on the spot.

You | Do it?? We’re not doing anything. I’m home!

Ki-yaah | So, you’ve already done it?? HOW WAS IT??

Ki-yaah | Waaah, you’re quick these days, Y/N-ah! Finally, you’re learning your lessons

Ki-yaah | I hope you wrapped it up though

Ki-yaah | I wouldn’t blame you if you skipped it, though, I can imagine how starved you are on good sex.. Still, safety first!

Ki-yaah | Wait, so was he?? Any good??

Ki-yaah | You’re silent!

She typed so fast that you didn’t even have a second to write back, mostly from shock – your friend wasn’t always this shameless, actually.

Then she started calling.

‘Yah, why aren’t you spilling the beans?? Too worn out to type, bestie?’ She smirked on the phone, making you cringe.

‘Because there’s nothing to spill! I haven’t even gone over yet.’

There was a second of silence.

‘… What?!’

‘I have to change; I just came from work, you know? My makeup needs fixing too…’

Your phone instantly started vibrating as a video call request came in, which you begrudgingly accepted.

‘Damn, you can’t go like this. It’s not seductive at all!’ She exclaimed.

‘I’m not going over to seduce anyone! And he told me to wear something comfy…’

‘What?? Hm, actually…’ She tapped her index finger on her chin, deep in thought. ‘He does look like the type to be into that.’

‘I-into what?’

‘Cute girls! I told you already, he was probably crushing on you since the time he came to your housewarming party!’

‘Pfft, that’s ridiculous. And don’t bring up him allegedly glaring at Yeol for his stupid comments again, I beg of you!’

‘Alright. But he’s always so nice to you! Oh-Em-Gee, you’d look so cute together,’ she squealed.

‘I don’t have time for this. I can’t have him waiting for much longer, and I need to shower…’

‘Yes! And remove your makeup while you’re at it.’

‘Huh?? If I redo my makeup… isn’t it gonna look strange? Like I’m trying too hard?’

‘You won’t have to redo it. You’ll have only very basic nude makeup on. Looking all natural and cute.’

‘I swear, if you say ‘cute’ one more time-’

‘Can’t a girl dream?? I can already imagine how cute your children would be…’ Your friend kept musing.

‘I’m hanging up.’

‘Yah, take this seriously. Clean up nicely, and let your hair down. Also, shave your-’

‘Yuki!!’

‘You never know!! One second, he’s licking ice cream off his spoon; the other, he’s l-’

Quickly tapping on your phone screen, you canceled this embarrassing call. The vivid images didn’t leave your mind as fast, though, so you shivered, shaking your head to get rid of the obscenities.

‘She’s a bad influence, for sure,’ you muttered, still ashamed of yourself for imagining your neighbor in such a context.

The time was ticking, so you decided that Yuki was somewhat right and needed to clean up. You also needed to hurry the heck up; you didn’t want to make Baekhyun wait too long. Thirty minutes later, you were in front of his door.

‘Come in, come in,’ he ushered you inside, having you change your footwear for the pink house slippers.

Why did he have those again?

‘Cute, right? I ordered them for my niece and got the size completely wrong, but they fit you perfectly. I guess I wasn’t wrong after all.’

He looked at your feet for another second before blinking and clearing his throat.

‘Let’s not waste any more time, everything’s ready. Come on!’

Everything? Did he prepare a whole reception?

You took a good look at the back of his head as he walked you to his kitchen, noticing that his hair was slightly wet. Did he also shower? You swallowed at the thought. He probably didn’t invest as much time into the preparations as you did, though. You blamed your best friend for the inappropriate thought she planted in your head!

‘Here, take a look.’

He opened his freezer, and you gasped.

There was an entire collection of ice cream. Cones, popsicles, buckets… All different flavors and manufacturers.

‘I see you’re impressed,’ he smirked. ‘I have a niece and a nephew, you know? Kids aren’t easy to please these days.’

‘Can’t deny that I am. How many do you have here?’

‘No idea… I just keep buying them. Which one’s to your liking? You can try different ones. I’m in the mood for mint choco and lemon.’

‘Those are my favorites!’ You jumped up like a kid.

‘Really? Both?’

‘Yeah! I haven’t seen a lemon ice cream anywhere, only sorbets! Where did you find it?’ You closed the freezer as he got the two buckets out.

Baekhyun suddenly seemed pleased with himself.

‘You think I give away trade secrets just like that…’ He replied mysteriously.

‘I wanna buy some too,’ you pouted, circling around him while he took the lids off. ‘If you don’t tell me… I’ll eat all of yours!’

‘Ha, go ahead. There’s more where that came from,’ he teased right back, hovering slightly over you.

Lowering your gaze to avoid staring directly at him, you noticed something.

‘What’s this?’

Baekhyun turned back to the counter.

‘Ah, this old thing? You know how ice cream scoops are sold in paper cups or cones? This thing,’ he picked it up. ‘Is to make those. Watch.’

He dipped the instrument in water and shook it slightly, then scooped the mint ice cream, creating a smooth green ball with tiny pieces of chocolate adding to its hue.

‘Cool,’ you muttered, genuinely finding that fascinating.

‘Right? It’s awesome!’

‘Let me guess: the kids don’t appreciate it enough?’ You asked.

‘Those little- Here, you try with lemon.’ He pressed on a small lever and dropped the green globe into a bowl.

You shook your head.

‘I’ll mess it up; you do it.’

‘Come on, Y/N. You can’t mess it up; it’s just ice cream.’

‘Just ice cream? You don’t deserve to know the secret selling spots for this!’

He snorted, moving to the side to give you more space to try and repeat his previous actions.

You dipped it in water like he did and shook it before moving the lemon ice cream bucket closer. Spending about twenty seconds taking aim, you huffed.

‘I can’t do it! Yours is so round and pretty; I am not that professional.’

‘I’ll help,’ he chuckled at your meltdown, holding your wrist and softly pressing down on your hand to guide it. ‘Scoop it this way to make it full and round.’

You did as you were told, yet your mind was far away from the scooping technique. The entire focus of your being was now set on the unprecedented proximity you were in. He held your hand, his chest so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off him. When you dropped a yellow ball of lemon ice cream into the bowl, you could only pray that he didn’t notice the goosebumps littering your arms.

‘See? Yours is even better-shaped than mine,’ he hummed close to your ear.

‘Y-yeah.’

As if sensing your perturbation, Baekhyun suddenly stepped back.

‘Trying just two flavors is a waste of an evening. Let’s get more.’

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in his living room at the small table in front of his couch. The bowl with at least a dozen different ice creams sat atop another one, which was filled with ice.

‘No one likes melted goo, right?’ Baekhyun chuckled while constructing this mobile freezer.

You tried all of them one by one, gushing about each flavor.

‘The grape one isn’t tickling my fancy,’ he said, nudging the oddly-colored glob away.

‘Really?’ You reached for it with your spoon.

‘Don’t even try it. That’s bad,’ he scrunched his nose. ‘I can taste every chemical they used to make this grape flavor.’

You laughed, trying it despite his protests.

‘It tastes like… very cheap jelly,’ you said.

‘Exactly! Such a strange texture. Hmm, I shall look for a better option then. My nephew Siwoo loves grapes.’

You smiled at his concern for his youngest family member’s preferences.

‘Your nephews must be the happiest kids in town with an uncle like that,’ you murmured, stealing a bite from the rest of the lemon ball that he subtly nudged your way earlier.

‘They’re pretty lucky, aren’t they?’ He agreed easily, earning a snicker from you.

As you savored the last of the lemon flavor on your tongue, he leaned in, eyes focused on your lips.

‘You eat just like Siwoo,’ he instinctively wiped your lower lip with his thumb.

Looking up at him, you caught the moment he realized what he was doing and retreated.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘It’s a habit.’

Pressing your finger to your lower lip, which was now burning, you shook your head neutrally.

‘It’s okay. You must spend a lot of time with them,’ you scooped more in your spoon to somehow soothe the burn on your lips.

‘Not as much as I’d like. Most of the time, our schedules don’t match up, especially with them living in a different city. I try to have them over or visit them as much as possible.’

Baekhyun’s voice became warmer as he reminisced.

‘I get scolded by hyung a lot for spoiling them. But what can I do? At least they’ll have those pleasant memories and presents to remember me by while we’re apart.’

‘Are they close in age?’

‘About four years apart. Seoyul is pretty grown already; I can’t believe her little brother is going to school soon as well.’ He smiled, remembering something. ‘When she started her first grade, he was so upset. He cried every time she left the house.’

‘Aw, that’s so cute,’ you cooed. ‘So they’re getting along well?’

‘Yeah, apart from the occasional bickering. Siwoo is… a boy.’

‘A little daredevil?’

‘He’s driving his noona insane sometimes. To be honest, I was exactly the same at his age. We’re both lucky to have siblings several years older.’

‘Ah, so your hyung is much older than you?’

‘Seven years. He was almost like a father,’ Baekhyun chuckled. ‘But had he been even a couple of years younger… Pretty sure he would’ve given me a piece of his mind back then.’

‘I wouldn’t ever imagine that you were a maknae of your family.’

‘Why? I had so much aegyo as a child! Yes, my mom had to exercise lots of patience, but I was cute as hell.’

‘I’m sure that’s how it was,’ you hummed.

‘I’m still in the top-3 cutest of our family list. Might even be cuter than Seoyul at times; she’s way too serious these days.’

‘Wow, going over your nephews’ heads after the title… How mature of you.’

‘Hey, don’t blame me for being extremely cute.’

‘Show me some aegyo then,’ you challenged him with a smile.

‘Huh, you wish. You’re not ready for my aegyo, Y/N-ie.’ He responded sassily.

‘Is that so?’ You smirked, holding his gaze up until the chime of your phone provided an interruption.

Your bestie found a great time to pry into your business, which was evident from the message previews on the screen.

Ki-yaah | You’re not texting me back…

Ki-yaah | Which either means that you chickened out…

Ki-yaah | …or his stamina is REALLY freaking impressive

Ki-yaah | Which one is it??? I hope it’s the latter!

You inhaled sharply and started coughing, barely managing to swipe those messages off the screen before Baekhyun could see them.

‘Are you okay?’ He patted you on the back to help you overcome your coughing fit.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t realize it was so late… It was so rude of me to keep you up. Let me help you clean this up.’

‘Leave it,’ he shook his head, catching you by the wrist. ‘I’ll put this away later.’

‘I’ll… get going then,’ you stood so abruptly that your legs couldn’t keep up with you, completely numb from being in the same position for so long.

‘Y/N!’ Baekhyun rose to catch you by the arms. ‘Take a second, sit on the couch. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep.’

You swatted at your legs with your palms, urging the blood flow to restore quicker.

‘Sorry…’

‘Why are you sorry? I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you.’ He stated simply.

‘It’s just so late… and… you must have stuff to do.’

‘Nope. I actually had fun. I rarely get to sit around at home munching on ice cream and enjoying another grownup’s company.’

You bit your lip shyly at his words, and he suddenly tsked.

‘Although I feel like we were mostly talking about me. That’s a shame. I want to hear about you as well,’ Baekhyun mused, walking you to the door. ‘Well, let’s save it for next time.’

Next time, he said.

Next time??

You turned your back on him to conceal the shade of your cheeks and pretended to fidget with the doorknob.

‘Let me,’ he reached over you, pressing his warm chest to your back for a second to unlock the door.

But before you could step outside, his fingers wrapped around your forearm in a lax hold.

‘And Y/N… If you ever find yourself craving some lemon ice cream… I’m ready to provide it.’

With that, he pushed the door open and allowed you to leave his apartment.

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! Another BBH mini-series started 💫 I hope you enjoyed part 1~ Pls let me know what you think via comments, asks and reblogs, my darlings 💜 Also, I am very curious if you are picturing anyone in particular as Hoseok hehe 🙃

[scekrex]

Can I request some hurt/comfort for the overlord!reader series, that angst hit me hard, mostly cause I kinda come to see it as a comfort story, like Wow

Reader said his piece and Adam heard him but there is now a tension between them, Adam is avoiding reader again, like in the beginning but it feels like this won't be fix with just time. Reader throw himself into work, trying to ignore the empty couch that is just in his line of vision but when he went to the balcony in a force of habit, the lack of fluttering gold feathers finally push him to action

Confronting Adam, he gave him 2 options, reader can move to another place so Adam can have the place to himself or he'll escorts him safely to the hotel so he can contact Heaven and go home. They both have a blowout fight that finally clean out the wound so it could heal.

Optional dialogue, "just say you're tired of my ass and kick me out", "I sneer down at them like I'm any difference, that I'm not a sinner, I'm greedy, I want, I wanted the riches I could gain from you then I wanted your trust and your love, and now I want you to be happy and like a drug addict willing to do anything for their next fix, I will do anything so you could be happy again"

Okay first of all I'd like to say that I LOVE the optional dialogue. I adore it, I ate it and I used it bc it fit them sooo well. Also I hope ya like them solving their problems somehow - in their own kinda way I guess

Bird of Hell's Paradise

Tell me who you wanna be and I will set you free

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The time Adam had asked you to give him was the hardest time in all of your afterlife - not only for you but also for him. It was doing a number on the both of you and that showed. There were no sleepy cuddles, no lazy morning kisses and no cocky comments anymore.

The mansion felt empty and loveless, like a pit of depression that swallowed you both whole. The air once full of love, desire and trust had turned freezing cold and the only way you were able to ignore the hole in your chest where your heart used to be and the lack of a certain golden winged angel was for you to overwork yourself. You avoided the couch Adam had carried into the small room one day, it held too many memories.

Memories of you two cuddled up, memories of him carrying you over there to put you to bed because your stubborn self had been too proud and too determined to stop working by yourself so your little bird had to force you to get some sleep more than once. But throwing it out was not an option, not when you hoped that time would close the wounds and bring back the old times. So you remained in your office for most of the time, only left it when your body screamed at you to eat or when you had to use the bathroom - those were the only exceptions though.

And because you stayed in your office so much you were not seeing Adam at all. Sometimes you heard the rustling of his wings outside your door and though that happened rarely, whenever it did happen you felt the urge to get up, pull him into a warm hug and speak to him. But you never actually got up to do so. The angel had requested time and though it was painful to stay away from him for that long, you hoped respecting his boundaries would fix it all like a miracle.

But it did not. Adam never came in, when he heard you walking through the endless hallways, he would take a different turn and avoid you - he seemed neither willing nor ready to face you and the consequences this might bring so he stayed away.

Your head fell onto the table and you sighed, this would not do. You hoped the fresh air of your garden would lift the fog that was covering your mind and therefore your thoughts so you pushed yourself up, headed over to open the balcony doors and watched the green that lay beneath you. The synthetic sun gave no reflection of golden feathers away. Golden feathers which would usually peek out from behind trees or bushes. Golden feathers which would lay on the grass with its owner attached to it if it would have been a normal day. But it wasn’t and Adam’s wings were not visible - a thing you had hoped to see.

Time would not bring your angel back, time would not fix this conflict - not when the conflict seemed to eat Adam alive. So you pushed your body away from the railing and crossed your office to go seek your precious bird. Maybe talking to him would bring closure. Just as you opened the door to your office to seek for your golden feathered bird, said bird popped up in your door frame. He had not expected you to open the door, his eyes gave the surprise he felt away the second he spotted you. His reaction time was quick though, within a blink he tried to get away, tried to rush to the other end of the hallway, but you were quicker. Your hand grabbed his wrist, silently holding him into place and this time he did not flinch at your attempt to touch him. Though he did try to wiggle his wrist out of your grip to get away eventually.

“Adam,” oh how badly you wanted to call him all the sickening sweet pet names, how your mind told you to call him ‘dear’ or ‘my love’, but none of those were appropriate, not when Adam was mad. Or well rather hurt than actually mad - either way the former exorcist was upset with you and while you still weren’t blaming him for his reaction, you desperately wanted to sort things out. You had been avoiding each other for too long and you felt your mental stability crumbling slowly. Decisions needed to be made and if that meant you and Adam would part ways, then so be it.

“We should have a conversation,” your voice was soft, held neither anger nor disapproval, it sounded rather desperate if you were honest with yourself - and you were. You were desperate for clarity, desperate for this fight to finally end. “About what?” the brunette spat, clearly not liking the idea of talking to you at all, let alone about the fight and a solution for the situation you both were stuck in. You let go of his wrist and despite his body language saying that he would rather avoid you than talk to you he stayed. He stayed and waited for you to answer his question.

You considered your response for a moment, then answered, “About us.” And given the shock reflecting in his gorgeous golden eyes, Adam seemed not too fond of that answer, in fact he seemed to fear it. Something inside of him seemed to click into place and his mood shifted, instead of hurt and betrayed, he seemed now actually angry with you. His voice raised as he yelled, “Just fucking say you’re tired of my ass and kick me out already.” His words caused confusion to bloom inside of you and you frowned at the other male. Why would you kick him out? What made him think you would throw him to the flames willingly, knowing that the people of hell would tear him to pieces the second he would leave your place without you?

“I won’t kick you out, my love,” the pet name slipped - it was a force of habit. That, or you just longed for a time that was already gone, a time you had ruined by your own greed. “But I don’t want to fight with you either,” and for a moment your words seemed to calm his energy, for a moment you were able to see his eyes clearing up from the hate and the disgust he must be feeling towards you. But then his voice sounded so heavy when he spoke, too heavy for you to swallow, “Oh I forgot, some bitch will probably fucking pick me up right after signing that fucked up contract, right?” No. No, there would be no one coming to pick him up, not as long as you remained and considering that the only way to change that was angelic steel, you were quite confident to roam Hell’s rings for a couple million years more.

“I want you to choose, to prove that though I was greedy for money at first, I refuse to give you up, so instead of t deciding myself, I want you to have the choice of where this will go and what the outcome will be,” and those words actually seemed to make the brunette realize that you were being serious, that you were interested in what the former exorcist had to say. So Adam nodded, giving you the non verbal okay to continue speaking. “You have two options, de- Adam,” the fact that you interrupted yourself to call him by his name instead of the pet name that had almost slipped from your lips a second time caused the first man’s expression to sour, though he did not comment on it.

“I offer you to stay at this place here by yourself, I will move out and seek something new,” you watched his reaction carefully as you spoke and the offer you made him seemed to sound even worse to his ears than the fact that you had called him Adam instead of dear. Yet he continued to remain silent, he seemed really willing to hear you out - a thing that, though you appreciated it, also made you feel uneasy. Adam was no one to remain silent for that long. “Either that, or I will escort you to the hotel safely so that Charlie can try and-” “Fuck you, I’m not staying at the fucking place I almost died at,” the brunette growled, interrupting you quickly. You nodded, a point that was very valid in your eyes and because the choice was all Adam’s, his decision would force you to leave this place. The only thing holding you had been the first man and now that he didn’t want you anymore, there was nothing left that prevented you from leaving.

“I’ll have my things packed as quickly as possible,” you were about to turn around to enter your office again and start packing, Adam grabbed your upper arm firmly before you had the slightest chance to get away from him. “I don’t want you to fucking leave, you stupid fuckhead,” he hissed. His usually bright eyes seemed so much darker though they were glossy. Tears were about to be shed - a thing you had tried so hard to avoid. “I- fuck I don’t even fucking know what I want, “ the brunette mumbled as his eyes darted to the floor, inspecting it like it was so much more interesting than you.

Gently you put your hand on top of the one from Adam that was holding your upper arm, you gave it a single pat but that earned you his attention. “I sneer down at them all like I’m any different, like I’m not just as bad as them, like I’m not a sinner,” you started to explain yourself - would it help? You were not able to tell, but you hoped it would. “I’m greedy, Adam, I want. I want many things,” you gently removed his hand from your arm and took it in both of yours, squeezing it gently. His eyes looked down at it, carefully watching you holding his hand, he seemed not against it so you did not remove your hands from his.

“I wanted the riches I could gain from you before we knew about each other, then I wanted your trust and your love and now, in the end, I simply want my beautiful songbird to be happy,” his eyes met yours at your words and something inside of him seemed to crumble - it was the wall he had built up again to shield himself from the pain you had inflicted on him by breaking his trust. “And like a drug addict willing to do anything for their next fix, I will do anything so you can be happy again, even if that means that you will be happy without me by your side.”

Adam reacted differently than you had thought he would, instead of yelling at you and shoving you away, he pulled you in. The first man pulled you into a tight hug and before you knew it, it was not only his arms that were wrapped around your body but also his soft, golden wings. “Shut the fuck up,” the former exorcist mumbled as he buried his face in your hair. You felt how his body relaxed, how the heavy stones this fight had forced him to carry fell from his shoulders. You heard him inhaling your scent deeply, as if it would get him high, as if it would be the solution to all his problems. “We both fucking know I’d die without you,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, almost as if he was afraid it would change the meaning of his words if he dared to speak louder.

“Not because the fuck-ups of Hell would tear me the fuck apart over and over again, but because my soul would start to fucking rot without its motherfucking sunlight. And that’s you, bitch. You’re my soul’s sunlight.”

[nabtime]

Our Empty Graves I

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 1: im sorry mom ive got to go (I dug this grave I call my home)

Chapter Notes: title from Lonely by Palaye Royale Links: AO3 // Chapter 2

Danny stared down the barrel of his mother’s gun.

“How dare you,” she said, voice hoarse and barely there. Her hands were shaking. He knew, though, as he looked into the toxic green of the blaster, that her aim would hold true regardless.

He said nothing. Even if he was physically capable of speech in this form he would have nothing to say. He was exhausted, on all levels. He couldn’t do this anymore. His parents were the last of the stubborn Amity Parkers that refused to leave and there was no avoiding them when he was trying to defend what was left of his haunt, trying to defend the portal so that any ghosts causing mischief would steer clear. For their sake and his. The GIW had been in rare form lately and he wasn’t ready to find more ghosts strapped to a table.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the town was pulled into the Realms, stuck after he’d defeated Pariah with no way of sending everyone back to the material plane. But it felt like a long time now. He’d lost track of the exact date since he’d given up on being human.

“Where is he,” she snarled, shoving the gun closer, feet away from his face. “What did you do with my son?”

He could give nothing but a rattling echoey sigh, distorted and piercing. A smaller version of his ghostly wail and about the only sound he could make without mass destruction.

He was tired. Exhausted from his latest fight with Skulker. The hunter would not rest until he’d gained the rarest pelt of them all. Phantom’s. The child ghost. The Halfa. The Fetch. The ultimate prize. He didn’t have anything left in him after getting Skulker to leave, fighting for what was left of his life and winning by a hair. He couldn’t just dump the ghosts in the Ghost Zone anymore, not when he also lived there. They were either put in time out in the thermos or fought off. Everything within his body ached. Everything within his soul ached. He didn’t think he could survive this confrontation with his mother and he almost felt like… he didn’t want to.

He lay limp where he’d fallen after battle, resting against his own empty grave. His dad and Jazz had insisted on having the funeral after his first full year of being missing. His mom had gone off the deep end and refused to believe he was dead. She was only half right.

“You’re sitting on his grave,” she yelled, voice cracking with tears. “Where is he?”

He shook his head. He’d long since given up on returning to his family. On ever being human again. He died in that accident and pretending otherwise, no matter that he somehow wasn’t a full ghost, would only hurt everyone in the long run. He’d already hurt them so, so much.

His mom and dad were the last ones left in Amity and they needed to let go. They were already reduced to staying at a hotel for a good majority of the time, unable to stay within the Realms with their puny human bodies for long. They needed to move out, permanently. He couldn’t bare to see them waste away here. One Fenton haunting the Zone was enough.

After a few good beats of silence she drew closer- her gun drew closer. Her steps crunched in the dead grass around them, cast a sickly green from the glow of the neon sky.

“You wear the same HazMat my husband and I designed,” she said quietly. “You showed up the same time Danny had his accident.” The barrel of the gun made contact with the tinted shield that hid his face. “I need answers!” she screamed.

He knew his mother wasn’t dumb, however willfully ignorant his parents seemed at times. She was so close to connecting the impossible dots, but knew she would never make them. She didn’t want to. She wanted her son back and all that was left was a monster.

He could see his reflection in her goggles. The bright green pin-pricks that counted as eyes. The inhuman shape of the suit swallowing him. The face shield blocking any recognizable features and the entire ghostly glow that surrounded him. Maddie’s own face was hidden behind the face shield of her suit, but if he looked close enough he could see the fear and denial within her once familiar lilac eyes.

He pulled the gun closer and held it to his head. He was so, so tired.

“I watched your fight with Pariah, you know,” she whispered. “I saw how you Ended him.”

A jolt of surprise and fear flooded down his spine, his grip on the gun tightening. He hated being reminded of what he’d had to do to Pariah. Hated the blood on his hands and the feeling of the core he’d crushed within them. But this was another level. She saw him End another. His mother had witnessed him become a murderer.

“I could End you too, you know,” she said, a deep sadness in her tone. The fear within him spiked. She reached out a gentle hand and cradled his head. “End my little boy’s pain.”

Breath he didn’t need caught in his throat, a strangled sound erupting from his core. Inhuman and full of terror. He’d already been willing to let his mother shoot him, to let her take out her pain on his aching body. But she could actually End him here. She could End him knowing he was her son.

Pain like nothing else ripped through him, his emotions growing erratic and effecting his form. Everything warped and he dropped the gun like it burned as he scrambled back against his headstone, trying in vain to gather enough energy to fly. To get away.

“Hold still for me, won’t you, dear?”

Panic built within his chest, his core (his fragile, tiny core) rattling against his ribs. His arms and legs felt impossibly heavy as he clawed at the dirt to move away, digging and digging as he tried to hoist himself up over the headstone.

Here Lies Daniel J. Fenton Beloved Son and Brother Gone Before His Time June 13th 19XX – August 16th 20XX

And wasn’t it funny, somehow? That he’d be dying, forever and fully, over his own empty grave?

He could feel the heat of the blaster warming up for the killing blow. Sense the necrotic scent of rancid ectoplasm building behind him. It would take more than one shot to End him, to cleave him open enough for her to snatch his core. To crush it.

“It won’t hurt too bad, baby,” his mom cooed. An edge to her voice he couldn’t identify. “Just like getting a shot at the pediatrician’s all over again.”

He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He was tired but he didn’t want to End. Not here, not now. Not at the hands of his mother. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t let her shoulder that awful, awful guilt. He needed to get away. He needed so, so desperately to leave. Amity had long since emptied. There was no one left to protect within his Haunt. He needed to leave.

Something gave way beneath his leg, dirt folding into empty space with a horrific lurch. His face smashed into the ground as he unbalanced.

She shot him in the leg first. The one not buried in the dirt and hanging into nothingness.

A shattered wail was building in his core, as close to a scream as he could get. He was trying to gasp in as much air as he could through the clumps of dirt and fetid rot that surrounded all graves. He could feel the leak of warm ectoplasm leaving his burning limb. The more he lost the more it would take to recover. And the more it would take to get away.

She caught an arm next. It felt like she was toying with him. Pinning him down like yet another specimen to examine on the table. He could feel bone crack with the point blank range shot, his skin partially melting with the heat and bleeding even more toxic green ooze. He used his other arm to claw further into the depths. He didn’t know what was beyond this, but if he dug in enough maybe he could fall through. His hand hit something solid and he cried, desperate to break through and escape. It was his only option. He kicked at it with his leg, steel toe of his boot just barely scratching its surface. His hands were closer to whatever shape it made under the dirt. He punched instead.

She shot the base of his spine and he could feel his nerves twitch and writhe uselessly. She shot him again in the same spot and they fell still. He couldn’t feel them anymore. His digging and punching grew more frantic. He used his broken arm despite the pain, just needing to get away, away, away.

Cuts and bruises from his fight with Skulker were making themselves known in the frenzy, screaming and burning with his hurried movements. The knock to the head he’d gotten wasn’t helping things either. Everything was going blurry with panic and it hurt, hurt, hurt. He was sobbing without sound and the shaking of his core was constricting his lungs and making his chest heave. He was an animal caught in a trap, eating away at its own flesh in order to flee. To live.

Bright green broke through the ground in jagged lines, crackling with power as he felt his bleeding knuckles shatter whatever barrier had lain under the empty space. Everything gave way and the last thing he could hear was his mother’s screaming as he plummeted. Sweet relief overcame the dread as black filled his vision.

═════ ◈ ═════

He woke, sometime later, on another man’s grave.

Here Lies Jason P. Todd Beloved Son and Brother Gone Before His Time August 16th 19XX – June 13th 20XX

[paramouradrift]

#Avatar BioShock Crossover AU" 2023 please!!!

This one's a doozy.

I don't remember precisely what triggered this one, but there was a period of a couple weeks last year where I got really into the idea of an Avatar/BioShock crossover AU. This spawned several AUs, only one of which made it into my WIP folder, apparently, so the rest must be lurking on discord with my beta reader. This particular AU has a few scant character notes, some timelines, and a discussion of themes that paint what I would consider a compelling but overly-ambitious picture.

The themes in play: destiny, causality, consciousness, free will, and moral choice. We are pulling material from BioShock, BioShock 2, BioShock 2: Minerva's Den, BioShock Infinite, Avatar: the Last Airbender, and Legend of Korra. Rapture exists in its own right, whereas Columbia is replaced with Republic City. Tears, Spirit Portals, and Spirit Wilds are all the same thing, linking Rapture and Republic City across time and space. Bending and Splicing are the same, as well, with the "Avatar" being someone who has spliced up to an incredible degree and not died of every kind of cancer. The Avatar State is thus a kind of berserk mode that uses up all the EVE in the Avatar's body, leaving them powerless and vulnerable at the end. Past Avatars exist as coherent ADAM ghosts.

Aang, in this story, is a Jack/Eleanor Lamb character originally from Rapture who escaped into Republic City through a tear, and set about trying to find a way back to Rapture's past to undo all of the damage he ended up causing. He's a man haunted by guilt whose efforts are ultimately futile, because that's not how causality works.

Korra is our Elizabeth, whose ability to open and close tears makes her valuable to Aang in his quest for redemption, but also makes her a target for everyone on both sides of the veil who wants a slice of the Rapture/Republic City pie. But opening and closing tears destroys entire sections of probability space, creating fixed points in spacetime and releasing a ton of spiritual energy that gets eaten by the bioluminescent mass that sits beneath Rapture, spitting ADAM slugs back out into the world, accelerating the chaos and decline of both cities.

I have here that Aang somehow travels back to the past and becomes the founder of Rapture, which means he later creates and then kills himself while trying to do everything he can to avoid that outcome. It probably made more sense in my head the time. The other members of the Gaang are listed as Rapture's Best & Brightest: Zuko and Sokka are divorced and miserable, with Zuko trying to be a single dad and Sokka inventing the Thinker; Katara is the city's foremost doctor and philanthropist; Suki is a detective/private security chief; and Toph runs the banks because nobody else is capable. She also laid a lot of the city's foundation.

The Mechanist is here inventing things. Wu is a popular singer with his own radio program. Suyin is a prima donna ballerina. Asami is...presumably doing something amazing, but I didn't write that bit down.

The villain rogue's gallery is all here as well, moving back and forth across the tears and causing mischief and mayhem. Zaheer's radical spirituality causes Aang (Rapture Founder) to ban religion, and Unalaq tries to get control of the Avatar Program so that he can become an Avatar himself. Ozai and Zhao extend their feelers throughout both cities, seizing power and resources for themselves. Amon slots himself nicely into the Atlas role (plot twist and all), so nothing really more to say there. Kuvira is apparently a former police officer turned mob boss capitalizing on the chaos for her own gain. Long Feng is a cold technocrat who runs a private security firm and manages assets for city big wigs. My note on him is "a less affable Sinclair."

Pro-bending/ADAM boxing is a thing, so Mako and Bolin are here trying to make it big in the big bad city/ies, which probably means I planned some background Wuko.

I have no idea what my endgame was. I don't know what the actual plot was going to be. This project wasn't one I seriously considered planning out in detail because I was in the middle of H&V/J&R work, and that takes priority over anything else with this level of ambition. Having said that, it might be interesting to take another pass at the concept and see if I can turn all of that up there into something workable.

WIP Game master post.

[skaruresonic]

If I had a nickel for every time I've seen the fandom of a Konami franchise being filled with anti-woke dudebros poisoning the well of criticism against a product, giving the fans of said product an easy excuse to dismiss every criticism against it because "You're just X-phobic" I'd have 2 nickels

How quaint

(bonus: both games are 2001 sequels to seminal first entry titles and considered overhyped/series' golden cows by some :P)

Yeah, like. It's hard to wedge in a discussion on what the game is actually about when both sides are too busy accusing each other of being bigoted. Meanwhile you're just standing there like "can we talk about the themes and gameplay now." Lol.

The number of times I've heard a YouTuber sneer "woke," as if that even meant anything to the SH2 remake's standard of quality in general, and noped out of the rest of the video are... well... more than one, to say the least.

Like, I don't really care in the slightest about whether Bloober injected "DEI" into the game; I care about whether they made a faithful remake, and in my estimation they haven't.

I don't think they had an agenda other than to gratify their own egos by leeching onto the creative work of Team Silent, because they've pretty much said so in their own words. It's frankly kind of stupid to go the conspiratorial route with how Bloober are pushing some "woke" agenda when the Silent Hill series has always been, more or less, "woke." Maybe not along the axis of race - it'd be nice to have an indigenous protagonist - but certainly along that of gender.

Seriously, if 1-4 released as-is today, they'd be decried "woke."

Harry Mason, an adoptive dad proving to be a far superior parent to his child than Dahlia Gillespie, an abusive mom who subjects her child to years of torture for personal gain? Preposterous! What do you mean he's not a secret predator?

A game where a terminally-ill woman is not portrayed as a total martyr, and her husband isn't an alpha male? Insulting! Not to mention how they ~sexualize~ Angela's trauma: Team Silent must be pedos somehow!

Don't even get me started on 3 lmao. The fucking field day they'd have with 3. "This game is a load of garbage because it's pushing a trans agenda!" (game is one big metaphor for unwanted pregnancy but also covers topics like religious trauma, guilt, revenge, abuse, and sin) "Why do they expect me to empathize with a girl protagonist? Everybody knows girls don't suffer the way boys do! Do they want me to change my gender right this second????"

4... well, tbh, I think they'd be okay with 4 since Eileen and Cynthia receive sexy outfits. But idk, they'd probably find something to bitch about there too ig. Maybe something about how Henry isn't chad enough to defeat Walter, or how Walter is a beta cuck because mommy issues. (shrug)

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Writer asks

Got tagged by @bluecatwriter. With another year of writing slowly coming to an end, why not look over some of my stuff? Thanks for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

143 works, however 2 or 3 of them are just some of my crossposted fanart.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 428,434. Wanted to get to 500k this year, but i suppose i am not quite there yet.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Still just Dracula/Dracula 2020. Some IWTV, some Fight Club. 2 for Empire of the Vampire which i have neither finished reading, nor is there a proper fandom for.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Death's Sunrise (of course, the only fic to gain over 1k kudos). 1,071 as of now

3 Sandman fics i don't care for anymore so i am not gonna name them (if you are curious, just look them up yourself, you know where to find them)

The Gathered Night 

Touch as Soft as Ice (Harkula Tumblr Prompts) (the tumblr prompt collection which i kind of have disbanded by now - i just post the prompt fics by themselves these days)

Ladybugs Don't Fly at Night 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but sometimes i just lack the energy. I do get a lot of comments, in all fairness, but even if i don't reply right away, i just want you to know that i do read and appreciate them all! <3

6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?

The majority is really angsty. If I had to guess, either DS or Completed - a quadruple drabble in which Dracula, in his delusion, is holding onto Jonathan's very dead corpse, somehow still waiting for him to come back to (un)life.

7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

Either something from Castles in the Air, my softer drabble collection, or something like Keeping Family - a very self indulgent murder husbands + accidental baby acquisition fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

By god, the things i find in my inbox some days are really something. (Side bar: just because a writer writes specific themes and topic it doesn't make it alright to send them death and grape threats christ on a cracker)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yes. My smut always flirts with the idea of consent and power dynamics. I think it's in general on the more intense side, although i do have some softer, slower works. A personal favorite of mine are the really sweet and sloppy ones - consensual somno and the like.

10. Do you write crossovers?

TGN, my beloved. My Dracula x IWTV crossover. Not really related to either Dracula or Interview with the Vampire, but i just wanted to put my 4 vamps (Jonathan, Drac, Louis and Lestat) like mentos into a carbonated soda bottle and shake them around real good, just to see what happens.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Er. Yes. Was a whole deal. Sorted it out. Kinda. Hope it doesn't happen any longer.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not officially (see no. 11)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would be down for it! I do some beta reading for KINGBeerZ on ao3, both for his Dracula fics as well as currently an original work, which is fun and interesting, but i could totally see myself actually co-writing a fic with someone else if we had the same vision for the story.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Forgive me, but yes, it is Harkula. Sorry not sorry. I like them messy, i like them problematic, and i am aware of it. Also i just like to see Jonathan properly dishevelled and out of breath.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

There has been one fic i pulled and have not looked at since. It was giving me trouble the second i posted it, made me have a mental break down and freak out. Didn't get much feedback on it the weeks after so i decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Probably wouldn't do it that way these days, but eh.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel like i am quite good with dialogue, quick snappy banter and teasing and the like. Maybe also the way i describe pain, body horror, etc.?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar. I swear. As a non native speaker, it is always grammar for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I either translate it right away, put it in italics, or leave it as it. Totally depends on what effect i want to achieve.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

With great shame i have to say that i started out on Wattpad. 15 year old me has discovered BBC's Sherlock and was unstoppable (well, at least until i switched to ao3 and nuked the wattpad account). On ao3 my first fic was DS, and the fandom Dracula (2020)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard to say. I still love DS despite the typos and messy plot, and am currently obsessed with TGN. But there are so many others i am quite proud of.

Leaving a tag for @argyleheir as well as @chthonic-cassandra and anyone else who feels like it, but absolutely no pressure!

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 10/09/2023

Nut Ward

Season 7 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume Ruby

Ripped by Nafun

Tentative rip name: Gentle Shack

I'll keep today's post short due to various circumstances, but I also didn't really have much to say on it beforehand. Long story short - I really like The Nutshack.

For those somehow unaware, The Nutshack theme is the intro used for an adult animated series of the same name, and it gained some steam as a meme during 2016/2017. It was, on SiIva, used very prominently in Season 2 in particular, and was even the meme used to announce the ending of Season 1 back in 2016. The theme had a golden time in the sun, and the face of the meme Tito Dick has enjoyed a place in the SiIva channel lighthouse for a long time now, but...the Nutshack posting does feel as if its fallen to the wayside a bit more recently.

Until, as recently as this year, it started to come back again. It never really *left* per se, but during Season 7 we've been getting a pretty damn regular stream of creative and inspired Nutshack rips, pushing the joke in all sorts of new directions. It once felt as if all Nutshack was good for was simple mashups and ironic shitposting, but rips like Nut Ward prove that notion entirely wrong. Its an arrangement of Gentle Breeze from Trauma Center: Under the Knife 2, a song most popular in YTP shitposting, with the instrumentation and vocals of The Nutshack theme - its not merely a mashup, but an entire arrangement all in the same style. I was already a huge fan of Gentle Breeze-posting since long beforehand, so seeing The Nutshack get the opportunity to get arranged into its sound during its "great revival", so to speak...it didn't make me emotional, per se, but it certainly brought a smile to my face.

I'm still not entirely sure what to make of Season 7 as a whole, or at least not comfortable with asserting a statement like that until its all over. But with the Nutshack's gradual return, the heightened emphasis on Grand Dad, and regular chaos like the Season's April Fools day event with INDUSTRY KNIGHT (Beta Mix) and all that surrounded the release of Skibidden Toiree, it kind of feels like a modern-day incarnation of Season 1. Or rather, Season 1 with an insane degree of quality attached to it.

[clegfly]

Oh god. I’ve been summoned. Gotta carry through now!!!!!

Okay so I’ve been wanting to talk about mr outback for AGES because woo boy do I have. Thoughts. And a really fucking insane theory that I’m not sure if I believe in or am just concocting for fun but I thought of it so HERE have my thoughts

First of them being: what exactly IS mr outback. I’ve had a slight theory for a while and I guess since we’re going batshit analysis crazy here I might unleash it to be devoured chomp chomp-

Note the wording here. Not you. We have a third eye. We have a sixth sense. He sounds almost like he’s talking from personal experience.

Now, he could be including himself and some of the other more aware, ancient beings in this universe in that ‘sixth sense’ but… if we wanna take it the most literal way, we can observe that mr outback is including HIMSELF when describing the dreamers, which… opens a WHOLE new can of worms, because if that’s the interpretation you’re meant to get here, then that implies a LOT of things, chiefly…

1. Dreamers remain in the plane of reality that headspace exists upon, wandering the spaces woven by other dreamers either long after the death or some other major event within the headspace.

33000 years is… an AGE. At first you chalk that up to him being some ancient dream being created millennia ago but if we are taking the interpretation of him BEING a dreamer of some sort this implies that they remain in the realm even after death, or again, maybe some other kind of event.

Hm… wonder where we’ve seen a dreamer succumb to their headspace and become trapped inside of it during their moments of death and despair before…

I digress…

That line of thinking also brings us back to a lot of characters that can and do exist inside of headspace, for a multitude of reasons so let’s break that down-

2. Are the three great creatures really just ancient beings native to this world/Sunny's dreams, or could they be something more?

You made a really good point about this implying that headspace natives can become more aware and powerful as time goes on, but I’m wondering now… considering mr outback is possibly a dreamer himself…

Could the three great creatures also have been at some point?

Thinking back to your analysis on omori and cosmic horror- the three great creatures and sunny all have things in common with that genre. Large, god-like creatures that manipulate the universe around them in their own ways. What if Abbi, Humphrey and BYC aren’t just imaginary friends but the exact opposite, dreamers who remained in sunny’s headspace and gained his favour somehow.

It reminds me specifically of the omori beta era, before it was planned to be a game and was intended to be a graphic novel series… and how Tako, who later became Abbi, was portrayed there.

Aubrey, kel, hero and basil (or Aubrey, hiki, k and flower if you want to be pedantic) were portrayed as imaginary friends, while others, including an early version of Abbi, were portrayed as an opposite to that concept. While the actual pages showcasing this are impossible to read, it’s been stated that these characters were once important, and oh look- they appear in a three as well! Not to mention the fact that they’re rendered in the same monochromatic artstyle as omori- while I don’t think all headspaces share the same aesthetic, as an early version of the concept having the “anti-imaginary friends” presented as a identical to omori himself paints a clear message on what they were supposed to be. And what characters they later became.

Again, this is horrible quality and I’m sure I can get better images somewhere, but it’s clear that it’s tako, uni and Meido- presented here like this immediately after (or immediately before? I am NOT fishing through my camera roll to find this image again) the headspace friends, who were clearly designated as imaginary at this point almost as a foil or contrast to them- I think THIS early concept may have been what inspired the three great creatures and their role in headspace- because if YOU were a dreamer that died and had to wander the spaces created by others like you for eternity, you’d probably check out the one made by the kid with the crazy powerful imagination.

Interestingly, depending on what headspace they’re in, their forms seem to conform to the aesthetic of the place. Outback deliberately notes sunny’s as more whimsical and cutesy than usual, and just look at the designs of the TGC- not to mention the clear inspiration from sunny's childhood woven into their designs. Humphrey being from the picture book, BYC being a mix of chimera keychain and that smug ass fucking calendar, and abbi being... pretty sure we came to a consensus as a fandom that she was based off of that one pet rock, ocotaco, and a few other things, but basically, all of their designs and the way they manifest to sunny change depending on his headspace which is really cool and interesting (same thing with outback)

Basically, I think it's very possible that the great creatures could be dreamers too, wandering alike to outback and being attracted to sunny's headspace due to the immense power of his imagination. They also likely befriended him which is part of why they stayed.

Another ANOTHER interesting point we discover here- sunny in the end has total power, regardless of the other dreamers within the headspace. I mean... Abbi can be banished, Humphrey and BYC's wills can be twisted to guard the truth from Sunny... he is in control despite the fact that the great creatures are clearly powerful themselves. Which begs the question and ties back to another point you made-

Is sunny in control because this is his headspace, or does Sunny's power and authority among the three rely on the strength of his imagination?

Is that what's being implied- that the stronger or more powerful a dreamer's imagination is, the more powerful they are amongst the others?

Because GOD that is INTERESTING.

This could also translate directly to size in a manner- outback is small, regular ol' npc sized, so from that maybe we can infer that he wasn't the most imaginative of dreamers, despite his clear coherency and wisdom.

BYC, Abbi and Humphrey are all quite large, hence their names- I think in order of size it goes from Abbi or BYC to Humphrey. which can maybe be a little mini theory on its own- maybe the reason BYC is the favourite is because they're the biggest (hence big yellow cat) and therefore have a stronger imagination and sunny can relate to them more deeply? (Also mari association because of the calendar) ALSO wondering!!!!!!!!

3. Do Mari and Basil also possess this sixth sense in a way?

Do I want this part of the theory to be even at least semi true because it would be such a cool thing to tie these three together? Yes, so I'm going to try VERY HARD to prove it sjdhshdf

You speculated that Dreamers likely have some sort of connection with the dead and the afterlife, hence... mari, and the crossroads, but what if mari and basil were connected to the plane headspace exists upon in at least some way too?

Heres a thing- stranger is ODD. Like, very ODD if you chalk him up to being a being native to headspace (or i suppose black space) because he knows SO MANY THINGS about the real world that he should not be able to know if he resides solely on another plane of existence.

E.g. basil's hospital room at the end of the good ending- HOW DID HE KNOW?

Not to mention the knowledge he possesses on basil and his situation in reality that he still spouts in the omori route segments where sunny would have no way of knowing them. Clearly, there is something up with stranger- he cannot be solely bound to the plane. What if he is, at least partially, the conscience of the actual, real live basil?

And it's the same with Mari too- a hyper awareness of the plane and world she's in, the ability to reach sunny directly...

and how her and stranger/basil are linked as anomalies in the world constantly... both being linked to the truth and having heightened awareness of headspace.

It sounds similar to the three greats.

Not to mention the imagery and constant attention drawn to Mari and Sunny's sleeping patterns... and of course-

The white egret orchid. Both at Basil's house and Mari's grave.

"My thoughts will follow you into your dreams".

Spelling it out for us that both basil and mari are following sunny into his dreams- via the weird sixth sense they have. me when there's astral projection at the function (sunny's daily 17 hour nap)!!!

Basil and Mari don't seem to have their own headspaces though. The idea of basil maybe having a white space in canon was touched upon, but not much else.

A small theory one could make is that Basil and Mari have a very weak sense which is boosted by the orchids, which i think is also silly. The orchids being little power increasers... god even if none of this is canon at all (which it could very well not be) this lore speculation is so fun.

Anyway, there is a LOT more i want to touch on, but its almost been HOURS so. I'm going to leave it here and let you add on if you like danny sjdsfhbh

TL;DR- outback himself could possibly be a dreamer, which leads into a rabbit hole of many other characters being dreamers that is VERY interesting and reveals a lot of cool quirks and theories about this world and what happens within it.

God, I love this. I just. Want to keep exploring this idea so bad.

ALSO if you do wanna see a tad more content on this i recommend gray-spark (i think thats their name) on here... they do a lot of headspace (especially three greats) analysis which is all really cool and thought-provoking and inspired a good chunk of this.

OUGH I NEED TO SEE THIS MORE TALKED ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!

So are we ever going to talk about the “headspace is real and a type of astral projection” thing or.

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

 1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson 

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.  

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.  

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart. 

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping. 

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure. 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

 2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

 Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened. 

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything. 

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations. 

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera. 

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet. 

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community. 

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected. 

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader. 

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr. 

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved. 

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too. 

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure. 

 It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans. 

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people. 

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno. 

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality. 

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation. 

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth. 

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over. 

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men. 

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

[goodgirlofglory]

That which lingered on his mind / Chapter 1

Prologue - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+, Non-con, dub-con, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, smut, Graphic descriptions of violence, bondage (bound wrists), oral (f receiving), asphyxiation (choking), Cumplay, Some graphic descriptions of blood.

Chapter summary: Steve Rogers, Captain America and your former neighbor, used to harbour some secret feelings for you before he was turned into a Hydra asset. Now he’s come back to claim what he cannot rid himself of: his desire for you.

Author’s note: This one came to me a dark January night and hasn’t let me go since. This series will be about 7-8 chapters, so stay tuned! Not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. My work is not to be distributed anywhere but my blog. Reblogs are welcome, though. And I so appreciate reading your replies and tags<3 hope you enjoy ;)

It started out as any other night. You had a cup of tea and scrolled through your phone for a while before a violent yawn told you it was time for bed. 

It was a normal night.

Until you stood face to face with Captain America. Or at least, who you thought was Captain America. America’s hero and your former neighbor. 

You had never really paid any attention to news about the Avengers or Mr. Rogers, and had never been one to socialize with neighbors. He lived across the hall from you and was quiet and polite, never drawing more attention to himself other than a smile and a curt greeting now and then.

That was until he disappeared off the grid about four months ago. It was all the news could talk about for a good three weeks. Gossip in the building also started flourishing. Where had he gone? What happened? Was he dead?

Apparently not, for there he stood, silent as the grave, inside your apartment, half shrouded in darkness, blocking your way to the bedroom. 

 You didn’t really know what his uniform used to look like either, but from what you could remember he used to have a star on his chest, and not the squid looking emblem he now bore. His face was also an unusual sight, jaw covered in a gruff beard, hair long and pushed back. But worse were the eyes; steely, cold and intent on you.

 Had it only been good ol’ Captain America standing uninvited in your home you would have been scared. But this. This chilled you to the bone.

 What the fuck was going on?

 Your body froze as you stared at the man, who made no effort to speak nor move. Finally you found your voice. 

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Please leave before I call the police.”

You tried to sound tough, but your voice shook slightly at the last word. He must have picked up on that, for his otherwise dead eyes gained a slight glimmer. 

 “Please do. Their deaths will be on your shoulders.”

A small gasp caught in your throat. You were starting to become terrified. This was absolutely not the Captain America you had seen on the news nor the Steve Rogers you had greeted in the hallway. 

“Actually, don’t bother, you’ll never reach your phone,” he continued, sounding far too nonchalant for the ominous aura he was putting off.

Your eyes widened when you remembered leaving your phone on the living room table, all the way across the room behind you. 

What should you do? Run for it anyways? Scream for help? You opted for a seemingly less provoking approach.

“What do you want?” you asked, tears starting to involuntarily form at the corners of your eyes.

His eyes seemed to darken somehow, setting themselves on you with deadly weight, piercing your soul.

“You.”

Your fight reflex kicked in before you could think, and you lunged for the front door across the living room behind you.

But you barely got a few steps in before a thick arm snaked around your waist and janked you back to hit painfully against a hard, unrelenting body. You managed to shriek in fear before a second hand, big enough to cover both your mouth and nose slammed down on your face and muffled your cries, knocking your lips against your teeth. You tasted blood.

You kicked, hit and scratched at your assailant's body, but gained only a mocking snicker in response. His mouth came down to whisper in your ear, sending ice cold shivers down your spine.

“Please, keep fighting, it only makes this more enjoyable.”

You sobbed into his coarse hand, tears springing free from your eyes, wetting the skin of his fingers. 

 He tsked

 “Cuing the waterworks. He wouldn’t like that,” he breathed into your ears and tightened his grip on your face, effectively cutting off your air supply. You squirmed against his arms in panic, new tears falling, not managing to move him even an inch. His grip remained as tight as iron. 

 As your vision blurred and you slipped into dark unconsciousness, you kept wondering what he meant by “he”.

 §

 You awoke groggily, feeling the muscles in your arms ache as they lay over your head. You usually woke up with your arms thrown over your head, so it took a few seconds to remember what had happened.

When you did, your body surged upwards, but was promptly janked back against the bed. Looking up, you registered for the first time that both of your wrists were bound to the bedpost above your head, using the bondage ropes you had gotten as a joke a few years back. Looking down you saw that you were still fully clothed, with your oversized UNI t-shirt and cotton shorts.

 The knot looked intricate and a few janks told you it was secure as well. 

 Your breathing started to race as you understood you were stuck, and a cry ripped itself from your lungs at the realization. 

 “Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm voice came from across the room.

“HELP,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, ignoring the man who sat in the chair in the corner. It felt good to defy him, if only for a split second. 

 He made no indication that your behaviour bothered him, his stare as even as ever. 

“I will kill anyone who enters this apartment,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to endanger any of your good neighbors' lives. That’s not who he perceived you to be. I, on the other hand, have no problem killing everyone in this building if it helps you understand what is happening here.”

 “And what the fuck is happening here exactly?” you snarled, still janking at the knot around your wrists, bound just a little too tightly.

He smirked at that.

��Feisty, just like I hoped. It’s more...fun if I can break you first,” he mused.

He got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. When he got close enough you kicked out at him, and you would have hit him right in the gut if he hadn’t caught your foot. Not that it would affect him, you bitterly thought after.

He looked almost amused before twisting your foot around until you shrieked in pain.

“Oh,” he cooed, “remember to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to come checking in on you, would we?”

He let go of your foot, and you recoiled in the pain that shot up through your body. A sob escaped your gritted teeth.

He snickered.

“Pathetic. But I do see the appeal.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your jaw in a harsh grip, making you look him in the eyes as he leaned in so close his breath brushed across your face. There was a slight hint of mint to it.

“What's happening here, sweetheart, is that I’m gonna get some things out of my system.”

His hand let go of your jaw and moved down to slightly encircle your throat, lingering like a taunting threat. Your throat constricted instinctively at the presence of his calloused hand. A smirk played at his lips as you squirmed under his light touch. 

“I’m going to fuck you, Y/N”.

 You thrashed at that, nausea setting in your stomach, your skin prickling as the words landed.  

 “No, no, no, please,” you started to mumble in your panicked state, janking  more desperately on the knot around your bound wrists.

 “Oh yes, and the more you fight, the worse it’ll be for you,” Steve smirked as he moved around the back of the bed and started to climb onto it, grabbing your kicking feet with ease, straddling your thighs.

Helpless to stop it, you watched as he took a fistful of your shirt in both his hands and ripped the fabric open, split down the middle, exposing your stomach and chest underneath. In the chilly night air your nipples hardened and goosebumps spread across your skin.

You saw the feral expression that grew behind his eyes. 

He only hummed in response to your desperate whine, before letting a hand flitter up your hip.

His fingers stroked lightly up your torso, following every dent and bump, and you shivered at how soft it was in contrast to his earlier brutality.

Your breath hitched in your throat and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur, smugness shining in his eyes, mockery dripping from his voice.. 

You shut your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, tears welling in your eyes, trying to quell the impulse to scream. 

You had no doubt in your mind that no one in your building could overpower the super soldier, and you were terrified he would keep his word. 

You couldn’t let anyone else die. 

 A painful tweak of a hardened nipple brought you back to the room, and you cried out.

“Don’t disappear now, I need you present for this,” he instructed in a patient voice, almost like you were a disobedient child. 

 He bent down then, and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth while his hands landed on either side of your head, caging you in.

The sensation of his hot and wet mouth in contrast to the cold air of the room sent sparks flying through your body and, more horrifyingly, down between your legs. You bit your tongue out of shame, and tried to squirm away from his wanton mouth. It took only a single hand of his on your chest to effectively pin you down as he continued his ministrations on your nipple, sucking, licking and teasing with his teeth.

He radiated warmth hovering over you like that, his hand a searing presence on your skin, no doubt feeling how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage.

His smell filled your nose, musky, with hints of smoked wood and cedar, and something familiar and sweet - your own perfume. Did he go into your bathroom? Did he use your perfume on himself?

His mouth moved up your chest and to your neck, and he was so close, so overwhelming.

You squirmed slightly at his approach, but noticed that in this position, pinned under his thighs like you were, the fabric of your panties caught on your core, dragging along the awakened skin, and to your horror you could feel the slick starting to gather there. You stifled a whimper, face burning with dread and newly bloomed shame. 

His beard scratched your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“There’s that smell,” he murmured with a throaty sigh, “that smell he couldn’t get out of his head”.

What was he on about? Who was “he”? 

Your mind raced with questions as his tongue started to lap at your throat, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes and tried to resist, tried to fight your body’s reaction to his stimulation, but as his teeth nipped at a particularly sweet spot, your whole body shuddered involuntarily and a small gasp escaped your mouth. 

 His face snapped up from your neck, piercing blue eyes finding yours teary and terrified - and no doubt dilated.

He straightened after a second, and shimmied off from where he was still stradling your thighs. As soon as your legs were free, you started kicking out at him, rage and defiance surging, trying and failing to hit him in the chest as he effortlessly caught both your ankles and gathered them in one hand. 

He leaned forward, face smooth and emotionless, and landed an open handed slap across your face a second later.

Your head whipped to the side, and your breath left your body for a second as your head swam, a high pitched ringing filling your ears.

You gasped in shock, your whole body going stiff as pain spread from your cheek.

You had never been hit before, and especially not that hard. Tears sprang forth from your eyes as it dawned on you how utterly fucked you were. 

“Let that be a warning,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly not affected in the slightest by the violence he was so willingly dishing out.

The fight was out of you for now, and you could only breathe through the sharp pain that lingered on your face as he moved in between your thighs.

Sitting back on his haunches he started to remove the tactical suit on his torso, impatiently ripping at the fastenings as his eyes never left your face, red, swollen and wet from your tears. 

You averted your gaze, disgusted by him, disgusted by yourself, desperately trying not to reveal your body’s reaction to his.

When he was completely naked from the waist up, his hands turned to your sleeping shorts, removing them with deft haste and surprising softness before leaning back again, his touch leaving your body. 

Several seconds went by without any action, and your curiosity gained the better of you. Turning your eyes to him, you found him studying your body. His face was as blank as ever, but his eyes betrayed some sort of sentiment you hadn’t seen before.

“He used to dream about you,” he said after a while, seemingly more to himself. 

He bent forward once he realized you were watching him, caging you in again as he hovered over you, moving closer and closer.

Face still stinging from his slap, you didn’t dare move even a muscle as his lips found yours. It started slow, but soon he grew impatient, and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot, wet and dominating, moving languidly against your own. 

Breathless and reeling, a small whimper left your mouth, and the responding groan that emitted from his throat rumbled through you.

While still moving his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands reached down and you felt the distinct calloused warmth of his touch to the inside of your thigh. 

A small, panicked “no” croaked out of you, but he only swallowed it eagerly, not letting up his touch as it zeroed in on your core. 

You could feel his fingers touching the cotton covering you, and by the breathy laughter he huffed against your mouth, he no doubt felt how wet it was.

“Oh, doll, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest,” he mocked as he leaned back again and looked down at your ruined panties. 

You tried to hide your burning face in the nook of your elbow as he ripped your panties off before bunching them up in his hand and bringing them to his face. But his eyes caught yours in a steel grip as he inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a second before a pleased sigh left his lips.

You watched as his tongue swiped at the wet patch of the fabric before he put the panties in his pocket.

You thrashed at his obscene actions, nausea burning hot in the pit of your stomach, mixing with your undeniable arousal. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

As your mind raced against the reality of the situation, Steve laid down on the bed between your legs. His mouth attacked your pussy. 

A squeak escaped your mouth, hands janking at the knot around your wrists as he started devouring you, mouth moving between your clit and weeping wound with urgency, almost desperation. 

A full on groan left his mouth as he lapped at the juices that were steadily leaking from you. 

His hands found your breasts and started teasing your nipples, and you tried to squirm away.

You needed him to stop, you needed this assault on your senses to cease, because you could feel your resolve burning away as sweet, untainted pleasure started spreading through your body. 

Steve’s tongue swept up and swirled around your clit, and you tried inching away. One of his hands gave your breast a sharp slap before tweaking your nipple painfully again. Another warning. You headed it. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, but in contrast to the last time it almost sounded like he cared.

You shook your head weakly. 

He chuckled against your mound and gave your breast another slap, sending jolts of pain through your chest. 

“Don’t lie,” he warned, but there was surprisingly little malice in his voice. “But nevermind. This pretty, swollen, soaked cunt tells me all I need to know,” he said almost fondly before giving your clit a few licks. 

“Give in, Y/N, I can feel how much you want to,” he taunted in between licks and all you could do was lay still and take it, new tears streaking from your eyes and wetting the hair at your temples as you squeezed them shut. 

He was right. You couldn’t deny the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

“I’m going to stay still now, and you move however you want,” he said then, before doing just that. 

Somehow, having him stop was more torture than what he had been doing, and your stubborn pride, your better judgement and the stinging feeling of violation that burned in your chest fought against your body’s sudden need for stimulation - for his stimulation. 

Something in you snapped, and you tentatively moved your hips so your clit could find his tongue, stretched out waiting for you. 

You shivered. 

It felt good. 

You rolled your hips again, more firmly this time, and the resulting swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bud of nerves had your breath leaving your body in a shaky exhale. 

His hands gave your breasts an encouraging squeeze, before resuming their attention on your nipples, and you moved your hips with more fervor. 

Before long you were grinding yourself on his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs as your eyes stayed shut, losing yourself in the hot feel of his tongue. 

Desperation grew as you could feel that distinct coil tighten in your abdomen, and every draw of breath fueled the build up. 

Not thinking anymore, you bucked your hips on him in repeated motion, lingering on the edge of the abyss, searching for that which would make the coil snap.

A desperate whimper left your mouth and as a response, a rumbling groan from his throat vibrated right through you and you fell head first into your orgasm, entire body shuddering violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream. 

He was on you as you came down, lapping up your release and groaning as you trembled at the overstimulation. He was frantically groping at your waist and hips, strong arms and hands grounding you as you floated on the aftershocks of your high.

The moment the orgasm faded from your foggy mind, it fell in on itself.

How could you let yourself give in like that? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind trying to escape the whole thing, if only for a moment, go far far away, go numb, go blank. 

You weren’t allowed more than a few seconds reprieve, however, as you faintly heard him rustling around before you felt pressure at your entrance.

Before you had time to protest, Steve pushed his cock into you, giving a pleased huff as your body squeezed instinctively, drawing him in even more. 

Your eyes shot open and met his - wild and pleased.

“There she is,” he said with dark glee as he breathed hard. 

You fought to draw breath as your body seared with pain of the intrusion. His girth was more than you could take. It was all you could do to handle the stretch of his cock bottoming out, pushed inside you to the hilt.

“Feel that? Feel how your willing cunt is swallowing me like that, inviting me in?” 

He started to move a second later, not giving you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that sent sparks of pain up through your body.

You cried out at the agony, nails digging into your own palms. 

Above you, Steve growled as he bared his teeth at you, slamming his hips against yours. 

His cock was rock hard as it speared you, and he only seemed to grow harder at your pained cries. 

Through the pain and your strained whimpering sounds, you faintly heard him mumble.

“- all those incessant thoughts about you….never like this….if he only fucking knew...ripe for the taking, and the bastard didn’t as much as ask you out...”

His hand seized your throat as he stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, inhaling fervently. Hitched breaths was the only thing that escaped you at this point, as he kept up his torturing pace, abusing your pussy without halt. 

“- That fucking smell in the hallway...never escaping it...fuck…gonna fuck those thoughts right out...”

 Was “he” Steve? Was he rambling about himself? Or at least, who he used to be?

The pain had slowly subsided as you’d listened to the man’s crazed rambling, and a deep onslaught of pleasure was starting to make itself known with each punch of Steve’s cock. Soon your body started to tremble, and you fought against the coil starting to build again. 

Steve shifted his hips to run his hands down your sides, and the new angle hit the spot deep within you that made your breathless.

Your mouth opened in a complete and utter moan, and Steve’s head snapped up from your neck, something akin to surprise in his eyes as he took in your face. 

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” he asked, and his voice was thick with pleasure. 

You tried to avert your eyes, but his hand shot up and gripped your jaw, pulling your face so close that your breaths mingled. His stare locked yours in an iron grip. 

His thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips, reaching deep, so deep inside you, and a pleasured sigh left your lips to fan across his lips as he found that spot again.  

“Look at you. Steve would never think of you like this - he respected you. Little did he know you were a cock hungry little masochist,” he husked, pupils deep pools of dark desire. Your cheeks burned as you clenched around him at his words.

He grunted, letting his eyes fall close for only a second, and you noticed how his long and beautiful eyelashes fanned across his cheek. 

“Let’s see how much you can enjoy this, huh?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as one of his hands reached down to where his body was rutting into yours, and his thumb found your clit. 

You cried out as he started an unrelenting circling of the sensitive bud, and he mouthed at your jaw as he hummed in response. 

In the back of your mind a small voice was telling you to fight, to gnaw and hit and thrash until he understood that you didn’t want this. Another voice was arguing that you would only be hurt further if you fought more. There was no getting away from his intent and no overpowering him.

A louder voice was whispering that it was okay to give in. Give in to the way he felt on your skin, the way he moved in you, the way he looked at you. Give in to the pleasure.

 Your orgasm washed over you like a warm wave, spasming through every muscle as they sung with exhilaration. A shuddering groan left your lips and your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cock. He growled as he crushed his lips to yours, and you opened yours willingly, moving your tongue against his in a wet and sloppy kiss. 

“Good,” he praised in a groan after breaking the kiss, and to your surprise, something akin to pride bloomed deep in your chest at his praise. 

You were completely lost in the pleasure now, in the drag of his cock against your trembling walls, his musky og smoky scent and those blue, lust-blown eyes piercing you. 

His pace quickened again, and you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that he was closing in on his own release.

“I can feel you fluttering, doll. Listen to the sounds this pretty pussy makes. Maybe I should keep you?” he mused darkly, a small wicked grin on his lips. 

For a moment terror flashed across your eyes. Keep you? In the back of your mind the pain of your still bound wrists alerted you of the implications of that notion. Your cheek was still burning hot from his earlier “warning”.

As if he read your mind, he sneered.

“Take what he never had. Continue to take what he never had. Make you mine, let you have my cock every time I want, keep this tight pussy on a leash”.

You heaved for breath as his thrusts grew frantic, and he raised himself to his haunches, hands a bruising grip on your hips as he looked down at you. 

Under the dim moonlight his muscles rippled, shining in a layer of sweat, his hair disheveled and falling into his face, and those eyes, forever shaking the bones in your body. 

Your name ghosted on his lips as his brows furrowed and your back arched as your third orgasm seized you by every muscle in your body, your head thrown back in a desperate, strangled whine.

 “Fucking shit,” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and as your cunt pulsed around him, you drew his orgasm right out of his body. 

He gave a few stuttering thrusts before stilling, thrust to the hilt inside you. Through the blood coursing in your ears you heard his snarl as he emptied himself in you.

For a moment his face completely stilled, eyebrows raised, eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly open. In that moment, you swore you recognised your former neighbor, Steve Rogers, Captain America in those features. 

But in a moment he was gone, and this Steve, whoever he was, was leaning forward to crush his mouth on yours. 

Still coming down from your high, you eagerly opened your mouth for him in a rather intimate kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of your face. 

You almost sighed at the softness of it all when his teeth caught your bottom lip and bit hard enough to draw blood. You yelped in pain as the iron taste filled your mouth and he let you wrench your way out of the kiss, snickering as he leaned back up and licked some of your blood off his lips. His eyes were wicked  as he pulled himself out of you.

The emptiness he left behind was both a relief and a disappointment, even as your lip stung. You licked at the cut, wondering just what brand of danger had forced himself into your bed. 

“God, what a sight,” he murmured above you, fingers dipping down to spread your nether lips apart as his cum dribbled out of you. 

Embarrassment burned your face as he looked on, perverted astonishment painting his features. 

Two fingers swiped your slit, gathering both of your releases on them before bringing them up to your mouth.

When you did nothing but stare at him, he simply whispered “open”.

You obeyed, holding his gaze, and he pushed his fingers slowly into your mouth. The mix of the iron of your blood, the salt of his cum and the tangy taste of yourself made your face scrunch up, and he hummed low in his chest.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, face emotionless but for the shining sin of his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you nodded.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, approval coating his features.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep you, alright,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers down your torso.

As his fingers slowly caressed you, exhaustion drizzled over you, your vision blurred, and you fell into unconsciousness.

 §

 When you awoke, bright daylight was shining in through your window.

The soreness piercing your muscles was like nothing you had ever felt before, but the sleep had been even deeper, sitting like a pleasurable hum in your bones. 

You remembered immediately what had happened in the night and was relieved to find that your wrists were no longer bound. The bruises, purple and pink, would probably last for weeks. 

The ache deep in your core made your gut wrench in remembered dread, but somehow there was a feeling of anticipation there as well.

A quiet voice inside you whispered that you hoped he would stay true to his word, and come back. 

Author’s note: Christ. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a blood kink brewing inside me. 

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[sunel0]

Something Dark Is Waiting in the Woods: Chapter 2

<Previous • Masterpost • Next>

You can read it on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Relationship: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Kira Yukimura, Nogitsune (Teen Wolf), Dread Doctors (Teen Wolf)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical everyone but Theo, Possession, Background Relationships, Murder, Minor Character Death, they kill the DD okay it's fine, Familiars, Human Familiars, Under-negotiated Kink, or more like not negotiated but they are both into it, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Familiar Bond, Aged-Up Character(s), They are in university

Words: Chapter: 5995/Total: 9995

Chapters: 2/11

Huge thanks to @amatchinwater for beta-reading!

***

Stiles was woken up by a cold wet nose against his cheek. Something fluffy against his neck. That was weird. The only animal in their house was in Beacon Hills and it didn't have any fur anyway. There was also an extremely annoying ray of sun shining happily right into his face, making him scrunch up his nose but not being able to turn away because of the cold wet nose.

And then it hit him that they didn't have animals in the house.

"What the…"

And then whatever hit him the first time backed up to hit him again and he remembered finding his familiar yesterday. His eyes flew open.

And promptly closed again, because the sun was still there ready to give him the spots.

The nose nudged his cheek again.

"Okay, okay, I'm awake," he pushed the nose away, afraid the wolf would try to lick his face, which he wasn't mentally ready for yet, they didn't know each other like that yet. "I'm up." He sat up, blinking the spots away and stretching with a long, loud sigh. He could hear the wolf's claws hit the floor despite it being carpeted.

Those must be some big claws.

Stiles dragged his hands over his face, gaining the strength to stand up.

The weather cleared up a lot, but the sky was still gray and gloomy for the most part. And Stiles still somehow got sunshine in his face despite this. That sounded just like his luck.

Stiles checked his phone, yawning. 7:26 am. He slowly turned his eyes to look at his familiar indignantly. The wolf was looking in the direction of the kitchen that was clearly visible through the arch entrance between it and the living room.

"Is this going to be my life now? Waking up at dawn to walk you or something."

The wolf looked at him with its blue eyes, clearly deeply unimpressed. Then it turned around and walked in the directions of the kitchen.

Which made Stiles come to two conclusions: first, from this perspective he could tell this was a boy, and second, he didn't have any food to feed him properly. Or at least he didn't know what to feed him. Now that it was morning, he wasn't sure that he should give the wolf the ground beef he had in the fridge.

Stiles scrambled up, rubbing his eye, that was itchy for some reason. He hoped he wasn't allergic to wolf fur suddenly. That would have been kind of a big problem.

Very unfortunate indeed. Spending his whole life on allergy meds in addition to his ADHD ones. That painted a fantastic life perspective for him.

"I need to figure out your name though," he walked into the kitchen, where the wolf was smelling all the cabinets.

Well, as long as he didn't try to get onto the counter, Stiles guessed it was okay.

"Don't try anything," he said, wagging his finger at the wolf just to be glanced at and mostly ignored.

With a sigh, Stiles opened the fridge, peering into it with bleary eyes.

Wolves were terrible at being trained, weren't they? He was going to have to deal with a huge dangerous animal that would hardly listen to him? No, that couldn't be true. People dealt with them somehow. There had to be some kind of magic in place, Stiles just had to do more research about familiars.

How did it even happen if he hadn't done it before?

The meat was thawed but still cold enough, so it was probably fine. Plus it looked like somewhere during the night electricity came back up. Stiles was planning to make some burgers from scratch, and put it into the fridge from the freezer yesterday morning.

It was just some beef. He should probably Google what domestic wolves eat, since the wolf now had to be domestic, but he didn't have much choice right now.

Because it wasn't like he could get any other form of raw meat, and it was probably the closest thing he could get in general around the campus.

"Do you want some beef?"

There was a huge fluffy head sneaking to look into the fridge from under Stiles' elbow, sniffing the package in his hand with interest.

Stiles petted the head with his free hand and got an ear twitch in response.

He didn't know if this was good or bad. He didn't know anything about wolves, really. He should probably do something about it. Another subject to read up on.

Also, he should probably arrange a vet appointment sooner rather than later. What if this big boy got some parasites or something.

And buy all the things he would need for a wolf. The rules were probably close to a dog, right? How different was a domestic wolf from, let's say, a husky? A leash, a collar, a muzzle, some toys if this boy liked them, a bed, bowls, some shampoos, some clothes for when it's raining and some boots for when the asphalt is too hot…

Were there even vets that knew how to deal with wolves in town?

Was this even a wolf?

Did Stiles have money for all of that?

Stiles looked down at his familiar.

He looked back up at Stiles.

The fridge started beeping.

Stiles closed it properly and opened it again looking for he didn't know what.

This was going to be a long day.

***

"I think giving him the beef was a good call, but you should really find an actual vet. With a license and everything. The uni has to have someone who knows about wild animals, including the big ones, there are several there. And where else would they have one anyway?"

Scott had a point. Universities and a couple of big schools were kind of the centers of magical communities. It was, in a way, the easiest place to congregate around, so if there were magical vets specializing in something like big wild animals, they were most likely to be found in a university.

Stiles waved his hand with a chip in it around, anyway, dismissing Scott. He figured out he actually didn't have the money for a vet, and it wasn't that likely that the wolf would die on him, so he decided to take the risk.

"You are a real vet. Just a budget version. Exactly what a poor student needs."

The wolf was lying across Stiles' lap, like a huge heavy blanket, but breathing and with a heartbeat. And leaving black fur literally everywhere.

"I haven't even graduated yet," Scott rubbed his cheek on the other end of the phone screen.

The wolf turned around and took Stiles' chip gently into his teeth, eating it. He didn't even touch Stiles' fingers, but Stiles still didn't expect it, so he was startled a bit.

"Hey! You aren't allowed to eat this!"

"Did he eat your chip?"

"Yeah, he's being a naughty boy. You're a naughty boy, aren't you," he rubbed the wolf's neck with his free hand, smearing some grease from the chips onto the freshly washed fur, making a face at him, talking to him like to a baby.

The bath went way better than Stiles had expected, so he came to the conclusion that the wolf was most likely actually domestic, so Stiles needed to find his previous owners and tell them, maybe pay them something. Another thing on his endless list of things to do. The wolf jumped into the bath himself, waited patiently while Stiles fumbled with the water, and moved just right to help Stiles try to get all of the fur. And there was a lot to get. Stiles had to use his own shampoo, which was probably bad, but the wolf desperately needed a bath, and now neither of them had any shampoo.

Then the wolf waited patiently while Stiles got a towel and let Stiles dry him without any complaints. Even when Stiles had to resort to a blow-dryer. A very old and cheap and absolutely useless one that Mason once got for some sort of random modeling project or something and had never used since. It almost burned from the strain of trying to get through so much fur.

What didn't go well was the shedding. It was the beginning of spring, and Scott said wolves shed around this time, and, well, it seemed to be accurate, judging by the amount of black fur left literally everywhere. And the wolf had been here for less than a day.

But there was a lot of fur, both on the wolf and on everything around him, including Stiles himself, because the wolf wouldn't leave him alone even for a second. He sighed in Stiles' lap, apparently satisfied with life.

Probably leaving behind more fur.

And not even opening an eye to look at him when Stiles talked to him.

That looked to be Stiles' fate from now on. Being ignored and covered in black fur.

The fact that it was black was the worst part of it, really. There was no hiding it or from it. Nothing would cover it completely, unless his whole friend group re-qualified into Men in Black.

Maybe Stiles should collect it, weave it and then learn how to knit to make everyone clothes that would actually hide the fur attack.

Anyway, the wolf didn't even move when Stiles talked to him, seemingly fast asleep, there wasn't even an ear twitch. Despite having just stolen a chip. Stiles knew he wasn't asleep.

He nudged the wolf with his knee, but he was too heavy for Stiles to move properly.

"You should name him," Kira said from Scott's side, appearing on the screen of Stiles' phone.

"Yeah, probably. Do you want a name?" The wolf looked at him this time, lazily, his eyes barely open, and moved his head in a way that very much resembled a shake.

Was he a trained circus wolf, actually? Could he do that? Were there circus wolves? Were there still circuses with animals?

"No? But I need to call you something. I can't just call you ‘Wolf'," Stiles knew he was talking in this voice people only ever used for very little children and pets (or to be annoying), and he had already established that the wolf didn't enjoy it, but Stiles couldn't help himself.

It was an automatic response.

He still felt kind of euphoric from finding his familiar. Well, from his familiar finding him. That's how this magic worked. Your familiar would find you in the time of greatest need and shit.

Liam got his Sega when his parents were divorcing. Stiles tried not to think about what it meant for what was ahead of him in the nearest future, considering the wolf didn't come when his mother was dying and his father was slipping away with her.

The wolf turned away from him, but didn't leave completely, so Stiles counted it as a success.

"Lord Barkula! Like, you know, from that movie where he could only die from a lycanthrope's bite, but like… also Dracula…" both Kira and Stiles looked at Scott with a healthy measure of skepticism.

The wolf made a noise that vaguely resembled a laugh, and Stiles got briefly worried, but he seemed to be breathing fine and not choking on anything, so it must be okay.

"He's a wolf, not a dog."

"I know! But what do you call a wolf?"

"That's exactly what my question is."

"Is it even that different? We named both Jackson and Liam's familiars after jokes, why not mine?"

"Well, yours is way cooler…" Scott shook his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you got a wolf though," Kira interjected.

"I know, right?! That's so cool!" Stiles ran a hand over the wolf's back.

He seemed to enjoy touching, which Stiles was very relieved about. But then again, why wouldn't his familiar enjoy touching? Magic always made a perfect match. Like soulmates or something, but with animals.

"I wonder why you would become that strong," Scott's expression was thoughtful.

And this was also a great question Stiles hadn't asked himself yet. Well, more like he actively pushed it out of his mind.

He knew some of the magic theory about how familiars worked, and according to it, a familiar was determined by how powerful the magician would ultimately become, and it made sense when you got a familiar as a child when the familiar was clearly meant for a stronger person, your magic was still growing and changing, and you would grow into your familiar. But Stiles was an adult. His magic wasn't supposed to grow anymore. That's why most people found their familiars in their twenties – their magic was finally stable. And Stiles' magic wasn't strong enough for a wolf.

The thing was, the stronger the person was, the bigger and, hypothetically, smarter their familiar was, and a wolf was very much up there. Normally people had animals like hamsters or mice, cats were a bit less common, and dogs were already super cool, but a whole wolf – this was a lot.

Of course, these things happened. Stiles had a person with a bear in his class, which was super inconvenient. There were even known cases of people having had other people as familiars. Which was way out there, there were maybe two people like that now living in the world.

Well, their familiars weren't exactly people. They were were-creatures. Which automatically put them below witches in the magical society. Closer to the non-magical population, because apparently you couldn't be both a werewolf and a witch. Same as Kira was a Kitsune and Lydia was a banshee, and neither of them were witches and couldn't have familiars and their magic was different at its core, etc. Were-creatures could probably be fine in the non-magical world, but it was harder for them to properly control their shifts without magical help. So it was weird and created dynamics that were sometimes abused, but then were-creatures who learned their control well enough could live fine without witches that treated them badly.

Luckily, it still wasn't a general trend.

Although Stiles thought that Lydia could actually have something like a familiar, but not quite and there were no guarantees she would ever get it.

Anyway, a person had to be, well, extremely powerful to get a were-creature as their familiar.

And while a wolf did boost Stiles' confidence, like, immensely, he objectively wasn't strong enough to need one. So the question was, when and how he was going to become strong enough to need a wolf as his power bank.

The thought was terrifying even without Stiles spiraling into an anxiety-induced guessing game of growing and growing horror.

Because the magic was never wrong, and there were things that could make someone stronger. And none of them were good or safe or even wanted most of the time.

Like a possession.

For a short period of time. Like a flash of power that immediately went away.

Stiles felt the presence in the back of his mind, and it was satisfied with his thinking process. It was definitely getting bigger, slowly sending its tentacles deeper into Stiles' mind, finding its rooting there. Stiles was still surprised he didn't have a nightmare last night, but he didn't expect it two nights in a row. At least the demon wasn't strong enough to get to him in the waking world yet.

Or maybe it didn't go with its plans.

The wolf turned back at him, suddenly, sniffing the air, watching him closely, as if feeling something, something that interested him.

Interested but not worried. He didn't growl or show any kind of sign of feeling threatened.

Stiles wondered if it was actually possible for the presence and the wolf to feel each other through Stiles, because he could very clearly feel both of them. Or maybe he sensed Stiles' spike in anxiety? Could it feel the demon? Smell it on Stiles? Would he understand that it was dangerous even if it was in the body of his witch?

Stiles looked at his familiar, and his familiar looked at him.

"Can I spread a possession to my familiar?"

Scott seemed to be confused about the connection, but still nodded.

"Yeah, but only if you lose yourself completely. Your familiar is kind of the last safe space for your soul in case of possession. Some people had moved their souls fully into their animals until there was a way to stop their possession."

Stiles felt horrified.

"And what if they never figured it out?"

Scott shrugged.

Stiles shook his head.

Kira pressed her hand over her mouth.

This sounded like a terrible fate. Both for the human and for the animal, and them both together. A witch loves their familiar, and to knowingly move into them, probably push them out of their own body… That's why Stiles has never even considered becoming a magical vet when getting into university. Plants didn't get possessed.

On the other hand, they also usually didn't get one possessed.

Of course, only Stiles could get into something like that. If there was a way, he would find it.

The presence stirred some more. Stiles didn't understand what triggered it to wake up suddenly.

"Have you found something about what happened to you?" Kira asked.

Stiles shook his head.

They talked about Lydia and Jackson's wedding preparations.

***

The day went by amazingly uselessly. Stiles had done literally nothing, and was trying to tell himself that he was bonding with his familiar and that took a lot of time. He wasn't just losing valuable time, not even working, getting some money for some adorable raincoats for his familiar.

And this actually was mostly what he did: first he ordered some food for both of them (after asking Scott and doing some googling instead of finding a proper vet, of course), fed both of them, took the wolf for a little walk, washed someone's huge paws that left huge prints on the carpet, talked to Scott and Kira (again), and then just mostly looked at dog stuff on his phone sprawled on his bed with his head on the wolf's side. A wolf made a great pillow, it turned out. Stiels' one was also amazingly chill for someone the magic considered a perfect match for, well, Stiles.

The wolf seemed to be content with this and happy to just cuddle while Stiles was having an existential crisis out loud about how he was having a feeling that "the wolf" was going to just stick. He couldn't even name him properly. Was he going to have to lie that the wolf's name was actually "The Wolfred Campbell Pigsley III" or was it too weird even for him and his familiar?

"Maybe I should just call you Wolfgang to have a legit reason to call you Wolfy," he asked the wolf with both of his hands wrist deep in his fur over his head.

Stiles felt already exhausted just thinking about all of it slowly falling out. On him. On the bed. On the couch. On the carpet. Into the bath darin.

The wolf made a sound so full of indignation, it was hard to understand how so much could be contained in one body, and even sat up, looking at Stiles with that doggy frown that apparently wolves had no problem using as well.

"What? You don't like 'Wolfgang'? You have something against it?" He took the wolf's face into his hands, shaking it a little, and talking in his baby voice.

The wolf huffed again, and wiggled away, only to circle himself around Stiles' back again, and Stiles felt so much eye-rolling energy emanating from him, he couldn't not chuckle. Who knew canines were capable of such specific and complicated emotions?

Also, the wolf hated to be talked to as a little cute thing, but he was so unbelievably cuddly, Stiles just couldn't contain himself. It was just so adorable. What did the wolf expect when he wouldn't leave Stiles' side for a second, constantly finding ways to put at least one part of his body on him? It was good when it was just one, because this boy was heavy, and Stiles was full of fragile human bones.

Which Stiles guessed was normal for a wolf, but he still didn't appreciate all of it pressing onto his very breakable body. He wasn't sure that much cuddling was okay, though. Maybe there was something wrong with him and he was afraid of losing Stiles so much he wouldn't let him out of his sight. Maybe he had some kind of trauma like that. Maybe he was left somewhere.

Or maybe it was just him feeling the need to bond more until the magic settled completely and then he would chill separately from Stiles.

Stiles wasn't sure which one he preferred. He couldn't afford a therapist for himself, how could he afford one for the wolf?

He slid lower against the warm fluffy side, his chin now almost pressed to his chest.

He was pretty sure it was the wrong texture for wolf fur, although he had never touched a wolf. But then again, he had to use his own shampoo on the wolf. So now everything smelled like that weird specific aroma that all things for guys had because as much as Lydia loved to complain about it, this was the only shampoo that worked for Stiles.

It seemed to have gotten some stuck dirt and, more concerningly, what looked like blood (but then again, Stiles didn't know how long the wolf had to travel, even if it was domestic and could be from anywhere, he had to get food somewhere) off the fur, so it was fine for now.

Stiles groaned when he remembered that he still didn't clean up the dirty prints all over the living room and in the bathroom.

But this was tomorrow Stiles' concern now. Stiles wished him good luck.

For now, he was going to choose things to spoil his familiar with.

In reasonable borders, of course. And probably still buy none of them.

He was meaning to start with food and maybe basic meds, like humans had, but he still somehow ended first in the dog beds sections (the choice for big puppies was way too limited for his taste, why was his wolf discriminated against in the puppy community immediately), and from there, in collars and leashes.

That seemed to interest the wolf for some reason, if the fluffy ear appearing in the corner of Stiles' vision was anything to go by.

"Oh now you want to be friends again, but not when I'm trying to figure out a proper name for you. I see, I see."

The wolf huffed.

He scrolled through the big dog collars and opened one with spikes on it.

"Do you like this one?"

The wolf just turned his head to the side a bit. His level of communication skill was still concerning for Stiles. He had to be brought up with humans.

Maybe he knew what collars and leashes were the best, so he just saw a familiar picture or something, and he reacted to it.

"Okay."

Stiles went back to scrolling, slowly, looking himself and letting the wolf look.

Until the wolf nudged his hand with his head.

"What? Did you see something?" he scrolled back up a bit, even slower this time.

The wolf nudged his hand again and then tried to point at something in the screen with his nose.

"This one? Do you like this one?" The wolf nodded.

Stiles wasn't sure exactly how intelligent wolves were, but he was fairly sure dogs didn't normally communicate in what was clearly human gestures even if they were brought up with humans. Was this also familiar magic, or did he get a genius familiar?

"I'm starting to think you have been brought up by humans with kids and have never been socialized even with dogs, that's why you're so weird. I should find the family then, tell them that you're fine," Stiles could feel something very confusing and complicated through their connection.

Because now he apparently could do that. The emotions weren't that clear in general, just a vague shape if he concentrated, but it was still weird to feel it next to the presence still in his head, but it was almost like the connection pushed it a bit deeper, making it relinquish whatever territory it had gotten before.

Anyway, the connection still wasn't strong enough yet for Stiles to figure it out.

The wolf made that laughing sound again.

The presence in Stiles' head still tried to reach its little grabby metaphysical hands toward Stiles' familiar.

Stiles felt instantly alert, and this apparently stopped it somehow. Maybe it didn't like to be noticed. Maybe it could only do things when Stiles wasn't paying attention.

Maybe it was just adjusting and planning how to attack Stiles in full force later, rebuilding everything with the new player in the game, since the wolf was also in Stiles' head and could become Stiles' last hiding place from full destruction. Why a demon would want to destroy Stiles if he wasn't fighting him for the body wasn't a question that Stiles had an answer to, but that didn't matter for the ideas he had built in his mind.

He had to hurry up with his research. Instead of laying here and staring at things he couldn't afford anyway.

The wolf must have felt something, through their connection or just because he was, well, a canine, and could smell hormonal spikes and shit, but he looked at Stiles with his ears up and alert, the body behind Stiles' head tense.

Did he also get a free service dog?

"It's okay, I'm fine. I just need to find a way to get rid of it. I'm not going to let it touch you."

The wolf looked at Stiles for some time more and then bumped the phone with his nose.

"Oh yeah. Do you like this collar? It would look amazing with your eyes. Although you can't tell, you can't see color. How do you even have a preference about collars? You're so weird," Stiles glanced at the wolf with a frown, fluffing the fur somewhere on his thigh with the free hand.

The collar was simple, actually. It was just a broad soft leather band with a silver metal piece and ring on it. The dark-green color of it would actually look beautifully against the wolf's fur, not the eyes, but Stiles said what he said.

"You are into elegant stuff, aren't you? I'm pretty sure this one could pass as a pretty kinky human choker. Although the one with the spikes could too. You sure you don't want that one? That one is metal," Stiles pet the one fluffy leg he could reach comfortably in slow motions now, playing with the fur.

It was so deep, Stiles was still amazed.

So much to put everywhere, huh. Stiles should be getting used to it, with all this cuddling, He was probably going to have it with every meal and every drink from now on.

The wolf pointed at the simple collar again, as if confirming his choice.

"Okay, I'm going to get you this one. But I'm getting the leash with skulls."

Stiles thought that they would clash terribly, and he liked the idea.

The wolf turned away from him and placed his head on his front paws.

"You don't understand the art of it! Both of those are going to be here tomorrow morning."

***

The next two days went in a similar way, and Stiles was getting more and more anxious about how he should find his routine again. He hated the routine, but he had to admit he was the most productive with one, and he still had things to do for school before the break ended. Also, he should work. And the wolf would probably benefit from a structured day.

The more his anxiety grew, the deeper Stiles sank into the floor he was laying on, even despite being quite happy that the demon in his body still hadn't done anything.

But right now that wasn't what he was thinking about.

In fact, he wasn't thinking at all. He couldn't.

Right now, Stiles was having a nightmare.

He was pretty sure that was what was happening, but he couldn't wake up. He didn't know how to stop this. He couldn't get out.

The house was covered in blood. Stiles knew he did this. He didn't remember how, or who exactly was in the house, but he was sure it was him. There was blood on his shirt, on his pajama pants, on his hands, he could feel it on his drying into a solid mask on his way too hot skin.

He felt laughter bubble up in his chest as he walked the corridor from his room to the stairs into the living room, trailing a hand against the wall, leaving a long streak of red on the light-blue paint. There was someone else in the house, he didn't care who, he wanted to murder them, slowly, painfully, relishing their screams, feeling their suffering fill him up with energy.

Stiles loved this.

Stiles hated this.

He was in his element.

He wanted to get out.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to use a knife or some glass for his next kill.

He didn't want to live in his nightmare.

Glass won.

He slowly walked into the kitchen, quietly, making sure to produce the least amount of noise possible so his little victim wouldn't know when to run. Stiles could hardly keep himself from whistling, he was so excited, more full of life than he had ever been before.

There was a loud bark behind his back, and the glass that he got out of the cupboard fell down, breaking into pieces. Well, that was according to his plan, but in his dream, there were no dogs.

His heart was beating like a rabbit's. He couldn't catch his breath, but he was pretty sure he wasn't having a panic attack, at least not yet. Which was good. It was a start. He looked down at his bare feet next to some broken glass. It was glittering prettily in what little light sneaked all the way around the house from the street to find its way through the kitchen window.

Stiles felt sick, and he was soaking wet with sweat, and he was trembling. Leaned heavily on one arm on the counter, wiping some sweat from his face with the other.

He slowly turned around, trying not to step into the glass, his back leaning against the counter now.

The wolf was sitting in the kitchen entrance, the ring on his elegant collar glittering in the same light almost as prettily as the glass, watching Stiles with what Stiles most closely identified as interest and excitement.

Still absolutely no concern. Did the wolf trust his witch that much? Didn't this clearly crazy shit bother him at all?

Stiles was probably giving him too much credit. He probably only felt Stiles' weird mood but didn't understand anything. He was a wolf, after all.

"Why are you excited, you weird ball of fluff?" His voice was hoarse, and his throat was so dry he could hardly speak.

It was like that time he ate sand.

The wolf came closer slowly, his eyes still on Stiles.

"Don't come here, there's glass, it's dangerous. It can cut your paws. It'll hurt," Stiles pointed at the glass and tried to speak clearly, like to a toddler.

Maybe the wolf knew some of these words.

Stiles slid down the counter, sitting on the amazingly cool tiled floor, despite his own warnings, but he couldn't stand right now.

The wolf sat next to him, taking Stiles' hug readily.

They just sat there for a bit, Stiles' heart slowing down, the wolf a warm calming presence. And the thing in his head was somewhere in hiding again.

"Thank you for waking me up, though" he placed a gentle kiss on the wolf's forehead. "Now that we're awake, how about a snack?"

Stiles stood back up slowly.

"It's not like you brushed your teeth before bed. Oh hell, I'll need to get you those little cleaning bones or something, don't I?"

He didn't sleepwalk normally, but he knew that sleepwalking and nightmares could be side effects of possession.

So his demon was getting more active. It hadn't done anything like that before.

Stiles had to do something about it, and fast. Like yesterday.

"Let's see what we've got here," he opened the fridge, making sure to avoid as much glass as he could, casting a little spell to get a glass out of the cupboard without even looking at it.

He turned around with a jump at the sound of breaking glass. And then another. And then another.

And then another.

All the glasses were throwing themselves out of the cupboard and onto the counter and breaking in a shower of myriad sparkly glass shards, almost like a frozen waterfall.

The wolf was looking at all of it, a bit to the side, startled. At least he was far away from the sea of glass right now, he must've jumped away or something.

"Shit, shit, shit, what the fuck, what's… stop, stop, stop," Stiles made the stop spell motion several times until he remembered the words, but it somehow worked anyway. Worked very well, throwing the doors shut so hard, they flew right back open again, gallivanting to a stop in the ringing silence that fell over the kitchen suddenly, like a snow blizzard.

Stiles couldn't pull off magic without words. He didn't have enough power. He looked at his hands, confused. This shouldn't be possible. First his simple spell took out all of the glasses instead of one, and now he stopped it without the incantation.

Stiles shouldn't be able to do this.

He shouldn't need a wolf familiar.

"What the fuck…" he muttered, still looking at his hands, moving them, bending and straightening his fingers, feeling like these hands weren't his.

By the feeling of it, the feeling of how much magic he threw out just now, he actually had to do more than close the doors, but there were magic absorbents in the wall, he hoped he didn't destroy them. The spell was way too strong. And just from an intention.

Was it possible that the demon in him was making him stronger? Was it going to have lasting effects, and was this why he got a wolf? He knew it was possible, he just didn't expect it to happen to him.

He was going to burn out soon this way. Was he going to die? Stiles suddenly was too exhausted to feel anything about it.

He really didn't want to deal with adjusting to the new power level, not right now, he felt exhausted by simply thinking, even if this level wasn't going to last long.

"Hell," said someone.

And it wasn't Stiles' voice.

That made Stiles tense up immediately. His brain flew back into panic mode again in an instant. He was home alone. He didn't recognize the voice, so it wasn't one of his neighbors. And they didn't have keys anyway, and Stiles was a cop's son, he made sure his doors were locked. So it was a stranger in his house in the middle of the night.

All of this went through his head in the second it took him to turn to the source of the voice.

Only to find a very naked guy in a very elegant dark blue collar with a silver piece and a ring kneeling where Stiles' familiar was sitting just a moment ago.

[princessmisery666]

Don't Pull This Thread - Part 8 of 8

Series Summary: Sam receives a call to tell him that his best friend from Stanford is in hospital. He rushes to her side and discovers she has secrets similar to his. Sam and Dean help her seek revenge until they discover her life is bound to the very thing they are helping her hunt.

Part 8

Summary: It’s the end, but who wins and who loses?

Warnings: alcoholism, death, angst, canon type violence.

W/C: 7k.

Notes: There are 2 endings. Ending 2 needed to happen to make Sharing Dean Winchester work. So you can decide which one you prefer.😋

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Amelia Richardson, OFC, other needed OC’s.

Pairing: back to being in denial Sam x OFC, Sam x Amelia.

Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes belong to me, before I knew better.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Series (inc. Prologue) // Main

Two Months after part 7.

Lexie POV.

I wake up in my bed in the apartment I shared with Sam and Dean while my broken ribs healed, which makes no sense because I fell asleep in a motel room in Delaware.

Sam’s flannel shirt. The one he said I could keep if I promised not to run away without saying goodbye. That makes less sense than the room I’m in. That shirt is tucked firmly away in my trunk and has been for two months because it physically hurts too much to see it, to smell him.

Sam’s clothes are thrown over the chair in the corner of the room, so I guess he’s around here somewhere. He will know what’s going on. I make my way to the kitchen, and Sam’s there. He has his back to me, sweatpants hugging his hips, t-shirt clinging to his arms, he’s making grilled cheese sandwiches. But there is no sound, no sizzle of the hot pan, no clink as he opens the fridge to get orange juice; I can’t smell anything either. I should be able to smell the cheese, frying bread, freshly brewed coffee.

I’m aware now that I’m not really here, that if I call out to Sam, he won’t hear me or respond.

A pretty woman with shoulder-length brunette hair and crystal-like eyes is sitting at the table. She has a warm, friendly smile, and I know she can see me. I’m not afraid of her though my skin tingles which tells me I probably should be.

“Hi,” she says. Her voice is light, calming, and sweet. I find myself somehow drawn to her, so I sit down across from her. “I’m Tessa.”

“Hi, Tessa,” I smile politely.

“Do you know where you are?”

I nod, I know I’m in my apartment, but I also know I’m not there. Sam is still silently making grilled cheese sandwiches.

Then the realization grinds into my brain like a hangover. I got back from Scotland six, maybe seven weeks ago. I found the witch, Sarai. I caught her, tried to get her to reverse the spell, but she wouldn’t; she was more afraid of Zak than me.

She told me Zak had made her bind her own life to that of a small child. Zak knew if I ever caught up with Sarai, I wouldn’t sacrifice another life for my own selfish gain. After three days of torturing her, I was convinced that Sarai had also been a victim of Zak’s dark desires. I let her go, only to watch her slit her own throat. The guilt and remorse she felt must have been too much, but her death only passed her guilt to me. Knowing a family had lost a child, essentially because of me, was more than I could handle.

I’d tried calling Sam, I desperately needed him, but he didn’t answer and never called me back. I had intentions of returning to The Roadhouse; I needed help to know if Sarai’s death meant the end of the binding spell, but I stopped over in Delaware for the night, and I haven’t left.

I am in a motel in Delaware, star-fishing on my stomach on the rock-hard bed, surrounded by empty whiskey, vodka, and tequila bottles. “I’m dead, right?”

Tessa seems relieved that she doesn’t have to explain it to me. “Yes.”

“Reaper?” I ask. Tessa nods curtly and smiles. Sam enters my view, placing orange juice on the table, and my breath catches in my throat. “Sam isn’t-”

“Sam is fine,” Tessa assures me. “I just thought seeing something familiar may make the transition easier.”

Relief fills me. Then the tears come, I’m dead. I failed at everything. I survey Sam moving around the kitchen. I didn’t kill Zak; I didn’t get Sam to forgive me; I didn’t get to thank Ellen, Jo, and Ash. I’ll never get to tell Bobby I’m sorry I ditched him or the reason why. I’ll never see Dean’s dumbass, smug smirk again. I’ll never hear Sam laugh or call me a nerd ever again. I have no one to blame. I drank myself into an early grave.

“I can move us somewhere else if you would like?” Tessa suggests.

“Can I see myself?”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, and in the same movement, I’m standing at the foot of the bed, looking at my dead body. I look like I’m sleeping, except there is no rise and fall to my chest. I’m too still. “How long have I been gone?”

“Three minutes.”

“Wow, you found me fast.”

Tessa shrugs, “I was in the neighborhood.”

She watches me as I scrutinize myself. “Was this always my end? Was this my destiny?”

I’m probably better off not knowing; it would probably be easier if this were always the way I was supposed to die. Heartbroken over Sam Winchester, unfilled revenge plans, unsaid words, then fall asleep in a drunken stupor to never wake again. I can think of worse ways to go.

Tessa shakes her head slowly, “no, it was an accident. You drank too much, forgot how many sleeping pills you had taken.”

I puff out a long breath. “I have so much unfinished business.” Tessa regards me sympathetically. “Everyone feels the same. Although, it’s more true in your case than in others. If it makes you feel any better, you can tick one thing off your list.”

I frown at her. I’m dead; how can I tick anything off any list?

“The spell is broken,” she points down to my lifeless body. “You are no longer bound to that creature. Sarai broke the spell.”

Tessa is right; it gives me some comfort, but I guess it doesn’t matter now that I’m dead.

There is a long, heavy silence. Then I have no choice but to accept my fate. It’s time to move on. I look hopefully at Tessa. “Will I see my family?”

I can’t quite read her expression. I think she looks proud, almost elated. “Tell Dean I said hi.”

-----

I jolt up and find myself in the bathtub, freezing cold water blasting me from the pulsing shower. The pressure is so hard I think it might peel my skin off. My eyes focus, and I wipe some of the gushing water from my eyes to see Dean. He’s sitting back on his heels, a tear from each eye sliding down his freckled cheeks.

“Tessa says hi,” I relay the message that’s fresh in my mind. He angrily wipes his face. “Dean-” the venomous glare in his eyes cuts me off.

“Can you stand?” he asks, climbing to his feet.

I slowly nod my head and take his offered hands to help me stand in the bath. He waits a minute, determining if I’m able to stand on my own two feet without assistance. When he decides I’m steady enough, his voice booms around the room.

“Take a friggin’ shower. I’ll be back.”

With that, he’s out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. I’ve never known him to be this angry, I’ve never heard that tone directed toward me, and it’s terrifying.

I strip off the drenched tank top and shorts I’m wearing, then change the water setting, making it hot enough to wash away the stench of alcohol and make my skin feel raw. As I start conditioning my hair, the motel door slams shut. I guess Dean has left.

When I feel that I am as clean as I am going to get, my stomach starts a hungry chatter, so I shut off the water and wrap myself in a somewhat clean-looking towel, leaving my hair to drip onto my shoulders.

I step out of the bathroom to find the curtains open, sunshine pouring in, the crack of the window allowing a gentle breeze to blow through. The floor is clear of all the alcohol bottles that were there yesterday. A pair of clean grey sweatpants, bra, panties, and tank top are laid out on the freshly made bed.

I take the clothes to the bathroom to dress, in case Dean decides to come back before I’m dressed. If he’s coming back, I hope he’s coming back. What if Sam is with him? I can’t deal with seeing Sam right now.

I get dressed, brush my teeth, and dry my hair. When I exit the bathroom again, Dean is sitting at the small table by the window eating a burger and fries. He doesn’t look at me, just continues focusing on his food.

He nods toward the burger and fries in front of the other chair. “Food’s probably cold by now.”

I sit down and dig into the food without a word. The anger radiates off him in waves. If I had a knife- if I knew where any of my weapons were - I could slice a chunk of his anger from the air and eat it like a piece of pie.

I’m afraid to look at him. I don’t need to look at him to see the disappointment and hurt in his hazel eyes; I can feel it. If I look at him, I fear I might choke on the fries I'm eating with the fury blazing in his eyes.

We both finish our food without talking. I’m on edge the whole time, thinking Sam is going to spring through the door any second. Each passing second he doesn’t, I become less anxious about it happening and more upset that he isn’t here too.

I haven’t spoken to Sam since we slept together. I waited three days before I tried calling him, but he never picked up. I sent messages and e-mailed him, but I never got a response. I kept all communication light and friendly, not mentioning anything about our last meeting. I hoped we could go back to being friends, which I expressed to Sam in my messages, but I had well and truly broken us. Things were never going to be the same again.

I lost the man I loved and my best friend.

I focus on my milkshake, picking at the corner of the paper cup, and Dean visibly inhales and exhales before he speaks. “You saw Tessa?”

I meet his eyes, nodding, “I was with her before you woke me up.”

“Woke you up?” He challenges, his brow raised. “You get that you were dead, right?”

I do understand I was dead, but now I’m not; he saved me. I test the water with a joke. “Guess I’m an honorary Winchester now that I’ve been brought back from the dead.”

“It’s not a badge of honor to strive for.” He sneers at me, “you’re a sitting duck here too. You’ve been here too long. You know better.”

Dean is scolding me, telling me off as if I were Sam, and I couldn’t be happier. It means at least one Winchester still cares about me.

“Not exactly in the right frame of mind.”

“I can see that,” he gives me a sly grin, “not enough room for the two of us in the brooding drinking ourselves into oblivion wagon, sweetheart.”

He called me sweetheart; his anger is ebbing. I manage a small, genuine smile and sigh, relieved he’s not angry enough to ship me off to Bobby’s demon prison for the foreseeable future. “Where’s- Does Sam-”

I can’t finish the question. I know why Sam isn’t here. I crushed him, so it doesn’t matter where he is or what he knows. I collect the burger wrappers and tidy up.

Dean continues my inquiry for me, “Does Sam know I’m here, or does Sam know you drank yourself to death because of him?”

I shrug and throw the trash away, “both?”

“Yes, he knows I’m here,” Dean explains, turning in his chair to look at me. “We were working a job with Garth when Ellen called, said Ash had a lead on you. I left Sam with Garth and hauled ass here.”

I lean against the counter’s edge of the small kitchenette and stare off into the distance with Sam’s face clear in my mind. I wonder if Sam put up any resistance about Dean coming to find me. Did Sam want to come, or have I broken him enough that he no longer cares?

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean suggests standing up. “No offense but it really does smell like someone died in here!”

I laugh wholeheartedly, and the sound is foreign to me. I don’t remember the last time I laughed.

-----

Dean drove nine hours straight to get to me, so he needed to stretch his legs and didn’t want to drive anywhere just yet. It’s early afternoon, and the sun is shining, so we walk, briefly stopping at a small diner to get some coffee to go. It makes it easier to talk, being shoulder-to-shoulder with him rather than having to face him.

He told me he called Sam when he went to get food. Dean didn’t tell him I was dead. Instead, he told Sam I was sleeping off a bender, and it took him throwing me in the shower to wake me. He didn’t say if Sam was relieved or expressed any sort of emotion about my well-being, and I don’t ask.

By the time I have updated Dean on the events of Scotland, we’ve found our way to a small park. Dying, not properly eating for a few weeks, and still having enough alcohol in my system to be way over the legal limit has me exhausted by the time we find a bench.

I sip my coffee, and we watch the world pass by for a minute. “I broke the spell,” I tell him nonchalantly. “Well, at least I think I have.”

He twists on the bench so that he’s facing me. “You could have led with that,” he chides, pushing my leg playfully.

“Tessa said when Sarai died, the spell broke. Does that sound right to you?”

Dean shrugs with a small frown as he thinks it over. “It makes sense; kill the witch, spell breaks.”

We sit in silent contemplation. Lost in thought, I forget my coffee, and it goes cold in my hand. I shiver as the sun hides behind the clouds. Dean takes my cold coffee and drops them both in the trashcan a few feet away.

He extends a hand to me, and I take it standing up. “Thank you, Dean. I’m sorry I-”

He cuts me off, holding a hand up. “Stop!” He has that brotherly advice expression, and his tone is serious; he’s giving me an order. “I don’t need you to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I need you to fight, you hear me?” He puts his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.

Not that I could go anywhere, even if I wanted to. His fixated gaze is enough to hold me on the spot. I do hear him, loud and clear. The concern and affection in his eyes shock me into the realization that even though I lost my family, I’ve gained one as well.

I lost my siblings, Tyler and Cody, but I gained Dean and Jo. I lost my Dad, but I inherited Bobby. I lost my Mom, but I found Ellen. Ash is the crazy cousin everyone loves but can only tolerate in small doses. Then there’s Sam. Family is deeper than blood; it’s love, understanding, sacrifice.

Dean’s eyes hold mine, and I don’t ever want to let him down again. I don’t ever want to see the look of disappointment in his eyes because of my actions.

“I need you to get off your ass, quit the pity party, and fight!” His deep voice vibrates through me. “You find that son of a bitch, and you call me because I want to be there when you slice that fucker’s head off. You hear me?”

The first time he asked was rhetorical; this time, he wants an answer. I nod enthusiastically, “yes, I hear you. But it hurts Dean, what I did to Sam, it physically hurts. It’s not something I can stitch up, take a couple of painkillers for, and then rest for a few days.” I sigh, exhausted. “I tried that, and it didn’t quite work out,” I grin and wink at him.

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a funny smirk. “Too soon,” he jokes. We share a beat of silence. “Lex, you’re on the last corner before the finish line, and all you have to do is put the pedal to the metal. Then you drag your ass to my brother, and you make him forgive you.”

I yank the hunter into a hug. I shake my head against his neck, chuckling, “you couldn’t even manage one motivational speech without mentioning my ass, twice!”

I feel him shrug his shoulders as he reminds me, “remember who you’re talking to, sweetheart.”

A Year and a Half Later

Zak leers over me, mouth full of teeth, practically drooling at the prospect of biting me. I scramble back on my hands, my face flush with exertion from our fight. The handle of the knife is still protruding from the outside of my right thigh; the blade is so deeply embedded in my flesh it’s scraping the bone. My back hits a wall, and Zak kneels over me immediately. I recoil into the wall, expose my neck a fraction, to give him a sense of security, and simultaneously pull the needle from my boot, flip the plastic lid off and plunge the dead man's blood into his neck.

His mouth grazes my neck, skin breaks, and then he collapses on top of me. He’s unconscious by the time his head lands in my lap.

I waste no time getting to my feet, it hurts like a bitch, but I can deal with the pain later. I find my machete amongst the decapitated vamp bodies and return to his limp form. The squelch of his head disengaging from his body is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.

I catch my breath, staring down at his head before taking my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture. It’s not a sight I want to forget. Maybe that picture can wipe the horrifying last images of my family and Wyatt from my mind.

It’s over. It’s finally over. There’s movement behind me, and then I hear Garth, “what did I miss?”

Thank god he’s not dead. “Nothing and everything as always, Garth.”

I sit on the hood of my car and stitch my leg. The cut is deep and painful, but the bleeding stopped, so no major arteries have been hit. I can tentatively move it, but the muscle burns when I do. I’ll probably limp for the rest of my life.

Garth has collected four of the nine bodies by the time I’ve patched myself up, so I help him with the others and load them onto the pyre he’s already made.

He gives me the honor of lighting the fire, and I sit on the hood of my car, watching the bodies as they are reduced to ash. I call Dean’s number for the millionth time in a month. I don’t expect an answer or a callback.

“This is Dean’s other, other, other phone. If you have this number, you need serious help, so leave a message, and I’ll hit you back.”

“Dean, it’s impolite not to call a girl back.” I take a deep breath and smell the beautiful toxic burning air. “It’s over. You missed all the fun. I’m done, and I need to speak to you about that delivery of your brother. I prefer yellow bows, just an FYI.” Dean promised to deliver Sam wrapped with a bow once I was done killing Zak. I take another deep breath, “call me, please.”

The tables turned for me when Zak found out the binding spell had been broken. I became the hunter and not the hunted. It took a long while, but with the help of the hunting community, I tracked him down, and here I am with Garth, burning his body.

I desperately want to tell Sam and Dean about it, but I don’t know where they are. No one has heard from the Winchesters for a year.

The number I have forDean is the only one that’s still working. All of Sam’s numbers were disconnected about a year ago, according to Garth. I never rang Sam’s number. I had to finish the job before I went back to him.

I kept in contact with Dean as much as possible after he saved my life in Delaware. I know they were fighting Leviathans, Dick Roman. Dean’s numbers went dark about six months after Sam’s. Dean’s mailboxes filled up fast, and then the phone company cut them off.

Ellen, Jo, Ash, Frank, and Bobby are gone. I’ve done everything I can to try and find Dean and Sam, including making a Crossroads deal. I wanted to know what happened to them, where they were; the demon showed up but refused to make any deal. Crowley showed up shortly after and told me in no uncertain terms I was wasting my time and all demons were under strict instructions to not give me any information or face his wrath.

I’m not even sure Crowley knows what happened to them.

So now it seems like it’s just me, Garth, and a handful of hunters. Garth hands me a beer, and we toast to the fire. “Thanks for the assist, Garth.”

“Anytime, darling.” he smiles happily, sliding up next to me. “So what now?”

“Sam,” I tell him without hesitation. Sam has always been the answer to that question, what do I do after I’ve killed Zak? My answer has remained the same; I find Sam, make him forgive me, then spend the rest of my life showing him how much I love him.

------

The day after I killed Zak, Garth leaves, and I decide to take a week off. I need time to process that it’s finally all over, that Zak is gone. Plus, my leg needs time to heal before embarking on any long drives across the country. I’ve spent three days in the motel, watching crappy television and getting takeout delivered to my door so I didn’t have to walk too far. By day four, I’m going stir crazy. I needed to get out, see some actual human beings.

The walk to the bar is slow and strenuous; my leg feels like it is on fire by the time I sit at a table. After I take my time to thoroughly enjoy a chicken burger, I challenge two fiftyish looking Dads to a game of pool at the back of the bar. A three hundred dollar first round goes to me, then they go for double or nothing. It’s easy money; I can’t lose.

Five shots into our second game, I sense eyes on me. I know I'm being stalked. It’s too apparent, and I’ll give myself away if I immediately look up and start surveying the crowded bar. I keep my attention on the game. I tick off the members of Zak’s pack in my head, viewing each kill in my mind, seeing each face burn to ash. Garth and I killed them all, I'm positive we did, and it’s unlikely there are two evil things in the same town at the same time.

Hank, the better one of my two opponents, walks to the other end of the table to take his shot. It’s the perfect opportunity to casually scan the bar behind him. No one is a threat in the immediate vicinity; no one is watching me.

My eyes travel to the end of the bar, the best position to view the entire room; at the same table where I sat earlier to eat my dinner sits Sam Winchester. He’s gawking at me like I’ve got two heads.

“Keep the money,” I tell my adversaries, throwing my cue on the table and starting to limp toward Sam. I keep my eyes locked on him. I’m twenty feet away when a pretty woman with black curly hair wearing medical scrubs approaches him.

I halt and watch him kiss her happily in greeting, then turn her round to lead her out of the bar, his arm affectionately on her shoulder, her smiling up at him like a lovestruck teenager. I catch his eye again, and when I take a step toward him, he shakes his head subtly at me.

He must be working a case. I’ll blow his cover if I talk to him. I count sixty seconds in my head when the door closes behind them and then rush out as fast as I can on my bum leg. I’m quick enough to see the Impala’s tail lights as the driver brakes to take the corner at the end of the street.

Sam POV

Amelia called to tell me she had an emergency walk-in and that she was going to be late. I was uneasy in the house alone; I can’t explain why. I just had to get out. I send Amelia a text while I’m driving to the bar to tell her to come there when she’s done, and she can drive us home.

I sit at my usual table, scrolling through the news on my phone, when I hear her whole-hearted laugh across the room. I realize I’m totally off my game. I never once swept the bar when I came in; I didn’t check for potential threats. If I did, I would have seen her sooner.

Lexie Walker is playing pool with two middle-aged dads. She’s laughing with the taller of the two as they shake their heads at the guy who just took a shot. It must have been a really bad shot.

Her face is bruised, her left eye black, her right jawline is purple turning yellow, she limps around the table on her right leg to take her turn, and she has three long red lines on her neck. However, she’s smiling; she looks happy. She’s genuinely enjoying herself, and she seems lighter, free.

I see the moment she feels my eyes on her. She subconsciously rubs the scar on her wrist that Zak left; it’s a tell she has when she’s nervous. She waits a few minutes before she sweeps the room, waits until it looks natural and not forced.

Her blue eyes land on mine, and the air leaves the room. She barely hesitates before she puts her cue down and makes her way over to me.

Lexie moves slower than usual, whatever injury she has to her leg reduces her speed, and I can see the pain pinch her brow as she tries to move faster, weaving through the tables.

Amelia is suddenly in front of me; I didn’t even see her come in. I kiss her hello, then turn her around, leading her out of the bar, telling her I’ve missed her and just want to sit on the couch and catch up on Game Of Thrones.

I look over Amelia at Lexie and subtly shake my head to stop her from following me.

------

“You okay, baby?” Amelia asks me half an hour later when we’re settled on the sofa. “You’ve been a little distant since I picked you up.”

I half-smile and nervously adjust myself in the seat. “Yeah, I’m good, just tired.” I place a kiss on her head, and we both focus on the tv.

As the episode nears the end, I feel Amelia relax against my side. She’s fallen asleep. I allow myself to release a long breath. Lexie is here in Kermit, Texas, and I ran away from her. Why is she here? I haven’t seen her in almost two years, haven’t spoken to her in just as long. Not since The Roadhouse, I put her out of my mind. Dean and Cas disappeared, and I quit.

I thought about calling her, tracking her down, and telling her what happened with Dick Roman. I was so lost in my internal debate that I hit a dog, now known as Riot.

Riot raises his head and looks toward the front door two seconds before the doorbell chimes through the house. I hold my breath, and Amelia wakes up groggily. “Who the hell is that at this hour?”

I jump up and walk briskly to the door, opening it to see Lexie staring back at me. Neither of us moves. Do I hug her? Do I not hug her? How do I feel right now? Apart from panicked and ashamed because I’m going to have to tell her what happened.

“Lexie?” Amelia questions from behind me.

Amelia knows about Lexie; she found a photo of her one day, and I had to explain. I told her Lexie was my best friend, how we met at Stanford, that we lived together for a while with Dean, and then Lexie took off to explore the world. It’s not a complete lie, I guess.

Amelia pulls Lexie’s focus from me, and she shakes her head like she’s shaking off a bad memory, “hi, hi. I’m sorry to barge in, but--”

Amelia motions her in, “come in,” she tells her, smiling enthusiastically. Lexie crosses the threshold hesitantly, looking up at me. I hold my arms out, and we hug. It’s awkward and forced because we’re both nervous, but what else are friends supposed to do? Lexie doesn’t know what Amelia knows about me, so she’s taking my lead and covering my ass in the process.

I introduce the two ladies officially, and then we make our way to the living room. We situate ourselves in the lounge, Amelia and I on the couch, Lexie on the armchair. Riot has taken a liking to Lexie, resting his head on her lap while she scratches his ears.

“Are you okay?” Amelia asks, concerned seeing Lexie’s bruised face and earlier pained walk.

Lexie sighs like it’s no big deal, “trouble with an ex-boyfriend,” she explains, meeting my eyes. “But it’s taken care of; he won’t be hurting me or anyone else again.”

I smile proudly at her; she did it. Zak is dead. There’s a long silence, but before it gets awkward, I ask, “how did you find me?”

“Honestly,” Lexie begins a slight blush to her cheeks, “I’m in town visiting said, ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been driving around, and I saw the Impala in the driveway.”

Lexie POV

“I’m in town visiting said, ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been driving around, and I saw the Impala in the driveway.”

Translation - I followed Zak here because he knew where Sam was. Zak was going to use Sam as bait to lure me out or use Sam’s seemingly perfect happy life to hurt me. I found him before he could cause any damage, and I sliced off his head. I saw you in the bar, and I have been driving the streets for the last two hours looking for the car.

“Speaking of, where’s the sullen, cocky owner of said car?”

Sam and Amelia share a disconcerting look, and she reaches to take his hand. I want to slice her head off and watch it roll across the pristine cream carpet, watch her blood splatter the walls of their home. Home - Sam has made a home.

Sam clearing his throat brings me back to the room. “Lex, Dean is gone.”

“Gone where?”

“He died,” Sam says matter of factly. “Almost a year now.”

My lips move, I feel them moving, but only air passes them. Words escape me; thoughts evade me. Dean is dead, and Sam is playing house with some random chick. I mentally kick myself; this isn’t Sam. He’s a demon or a shapeshifter; I should have run the tests.

I have to get out of here. I have to leave without raising suspicion. Seeing Sam, or whatever creature this is that looks like Sam, has thrown me for a loop. I’ve completely lost my focus, let my guard down. I’ve walked into a strange house with no weapons and no backup.

“Are you okay?” Amelia questions standing up and stepping around Sam’s large legs. “I’ll get you a drink.”

I spring to my feet and jar my bad leg. “No, no,” I call after her. “I’m fine, I just - I should leave.”

I hobble my way around the coffee table, heading for the door. “Lex, wait,” Sam follows after me.

I walk as fast as my damaged leg will allow me without breaking into a run. I make it out the door without being attacked, and then I run to my car.

------

“Pick up, Garth, pick up!” I groan into the ringing phone. I throw clothes haphazardly into my bag, gliding around the room, collecting my belongings, and packing them away.

Whatever creature Sam is, if he has his memories, he will be able to find me. I need to get out of town, formulate a plan and come back. Garth’s voicemail picks up my third call, and I hang up without leaving a message.

I pick my now full bag up from the bed, slide my gun into the waistband of my jeans and put my cell phone in my jacket pocket before heading for the door. I almost collide with Sam as I step out.

I drop my bag and pull my gun. Sam’s hands are in the air immediately, “Whoa, whoa! Lex, it’s me.”

“Bullshit!” I growl cocking my gun.

“Lex, please. I promise it’s me.” he lowers his arms and pulls the collar of his shirt away to show me his anti-possession tattoo is still intact. I waiver and drop my gun from pointing at his chest to his leg. “Let’s go inside, and you can run every test.”

I back up against my better judgment but keep my gun trained on him as he follows me into the room. He uses my holy water to splash his face with no reaction. He cuts his arm with my silver blade, and apart from the hiss of pain as the blade slices his skin, he has no reaction.

“Now, can you put down the gun?” he questions, raising his brow.

I shake my head, “No. Because now I'm pissed that you are actually you, and you didn't call me to tell me about Dean!”

“I can explain.”

------

“So let me get this straight,” I start after Sam gives me a summary of the last year and a half events. “You killed Dick Roman, Dean and Cas went poof, you ran over a dog, quit hunting, and are now living the Apple Pie life with a veterinarian?”

Sam nods his head, “pretty much.”

“Did you even look for Dean?”

His downcast eyes answer the question for me. “He disappeared with Cas, so I figured that wherever they are, they’re together.”

“And if where they are, is Hell? Or Heaven? Neither are safe places to be for either of them!”

“I don’t know, Lex,” Sam groans frustratedly, standing up from the table. “I found an out, and I took it.”

I sit at the table and watch him as he runs his hands through his hair, pacing slowly. I don’t know this person, he looks like Sam, smells like him, has the same mannerisms, sounds just like him, but I don’t know him.

The Sam Winchester I know would literally move heaven and hell to find his brother, making stupid, reckless, life-endangering decisions to find out what happened. Instead, this Sam Winchester has settled into a mundane life with a dog; and it suits him.

“Sam,” my mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow three times before I can speak. “Are you happy?”

He turns slowly to look at me, dropping his arms to his sides. “I think I’m as close to it as I’ll ever be.”

My stomach twists, and my vision blurs. I put my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands to hide my tears. This is not how our reunion was supposed to go. I expected there would be happy tears, angry words, and a lot of apologizing on my part. I never expected there would be my sad tears, deep, meaningful words, and the only apology would be Sam’s for not calling me and telling me about Dean.

I want to confess to being in love with Sam, admit that I pushed him away to save him. I have always been and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with him. I want to tell him he didn’t just cross my mind from time to time but that he took up residence there. He set up a home in my head, and he was always there at the forefront of my thoughts no matter what I was doing. I lived with him in the fantasy as often as I could. I dreamt about him more nights than not. I cried myself to sleep regularly, craving his touch. I wrote him letters that I never sent.

However, I cannot tell him any of that now. I cannot utter a single word of the scenario that I have played over and over on a loop in my head, practiced in front of a mirror, because he is as close to happy as he thinks he will ever be.

I wipe my hands down my face, get up on shaky legs, and pick my bag up.

I grip the door handle before Sam asks, “Where are you going?”

“To find Dean,” I explain, over my shoulder.

I owe it to Dean to look for him. Regardless of where Sam thinks he is, I need to find out for sure. Sam can keep his life; I will find his brother. I will bring Dean back from wherever he is, and Sam can continue to find his happiness.

Ending One

Sam POV

“To find Dean.”

I stare at the space she was just occupying. I can’t let her go; I don’t want to lose her again. I run out and slam her car door shut after she’s thrown her bag into the back seat. She turns her back to me and walks a few steps away. She’s crying, her shoulders heaving as she snivels in the air between sobs.

I rush to stand in front of her, stopping her with my hands on her shoulders. “Stop, wait, please.”

She shrugs my hands off of her but doesn’t move. “Wait for what, Sam?”

“I need to think about this, to process.”

“No, you don’t. You made up your mind,” she tells me, swiping the tears off her cheeks. “You decided to get out; it’s a good thing. I’m not going to let you ruin that.”

I really look at her, at all her bruises, the glisten of tears on her face, the motion of her shoulders as she tries her hardest not to cry again. I trace a tear as it runs from her eye and crushes it between her lips. I’m envious of the tear that gets to caress her lips.

“Sam, I need to say something; otherwise, I’ll never forgive myself, and I’ll understand if it makes you hate me.”

I don’t say anything; I’m scared of what she’s going to say. My palms sweat, and I feel sick. She’s going to say goodbye, I know it. She’s going to tell me that this is the end of the line, and I’m never going to see her again. I don’t want that; I can’t deal with that. I throw caution to the wind, and I lean in and press my lips against hers.

The last time I kissed Lexie, in her bed at The Roadhouse, I didn’t know it was the last time. I didn’t know I was kissing her goodbye. We had just made love for the first time. I was the happiest I’ve ever been; then she told me she wasn’t in love with me. She said she didn’t feel the way I did, and I left. I never spoke to her again because I was broken; I was a mess. She wasn’t some habit I could spend ninety days detoxing from, I had to sever all contact, and that’s what I did.

Now she’s standing right in front of me again, valiantly going off to save my brother, and that severance wasn’t enough to bury my feelings, only hide them in a lockbox in my head.

Now I can feel her skin as I gently cup her face because I’m aware she’s bruised from her fight with Zak. I can taste her; beer, whiskey, and salty tears, that lockbox has sprung wide open, and I don’t care if she doesn’t love me because I love her. Lexie runs her hands across my stomach and rests her hands on my hips, tiptoeing to get as high as she can to kiss me deeper.

We both lose our breaths and pull apart at the same time. Lexie still has her eyes closed, and I study her while she catches her breath. Her eyes dart under the lids, almost like she’s dreaming.

I realize I shouldn’t have kissed her; it was wrong of me to do it. I drop my hands and go to take a step back, but her hands grip my hips. She opens her eyes slowly, smiling deliciously at me, “don’t even think about moving, dork.”

I feel the dumb, dorky grin in my soul as I lean in and kiss her again. She wriggles out of my kiss, gasping, “wait, wait, I need to tell you something.”

She takes a step back and waits until she knows she has my full attention. I don’t think my heart can take another rejection from her, so I drop my gaze and don’t look up until she demands I look at her. “I’m in love with you, Sam. I pushed you away to save you, and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It hurts more than any physical injury; it killed a part of me to do it. I have always and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with you.”

The tears in my eyes make her swim in my vision, and I take a step toward her. I want to kiss her, but she moves back again, holding her hand up, letting me know she’s not finished.

“You believed me so easily, so quickly when I told you I didn’t love you because you never felt you deserved to be loved. I know you think you’re damaged goods, that you’re cursed because everyone around you dies, but Sam Winchester, I have been in love with you since the day I met you, and I’m still standing. Can you forgive me?”

My answer is a passionate, all-consuming, intoxicating kiss. I push her against her car, and she yelps as I lean in and put too much of my weight on her wounded leg. “I’m sorry, sorry.”

She takes a few short, shallow breaths and tells me she’s fine. I stay pressed against her timidly. Now that I have her, I’m not willing to let her go. I pepper her neck with kisses, not because I want it to go any further right now but because I want to feel her skin against mine.

Lexie’s pain subsides, and her breathing returns to normal. I stand straight and look at her. “What now?” she asks, searching my face.

“We go find Dean,” I tell her with a nod before kissing her again.

Ending Two

Lexie POV

I throw my bag onto the back of the seat, and when I look up, Sam is standing in front of the car watching me, arms folded over his chest. I stand poised with one leg in the car, but I can’t leave without knowing, without telling Sam how I feel, without giving him all the information so he can make the right decision for him.

I walk back to him but keep a small distance between us, “Sam, I need to say something; otherwise, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll understand if it makes you hate me.”

I wait until he meets my eyes and then take a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Sam. I pushed you away to save you, and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It hurts more than any physical injury; it killed a part of me to do it. I have always and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with you.”

I’m talking too fast because I’m nervous and scared he’s going to hate me for putting this on him now when he’s found something outside of the darkness. But now that I’m saying it, I can’t stop, I have to tell him everything.

“You believed me so easily, so quickly when I told you I didn’t love you because you never felt you deserved to be loved. I know you think you’re damaged goods, that you’re cursed because everyone around you dies, but Sam Winchester, I have been in love with you since the day I met you, and I’m still standing. Can you forgive me?”

Sam drops his eyes and shuffles from one foot to the other. “I forgive you.”

I don’t want to ruin what he has. I don’t want to take anything away from him, and I know I have no right to ask, but I’m going to ask anyway. I exhale slowly, “Come with me, leave her, be with me, and we’ll find Dean together.”

Sam’s eyes meet mine, and I find the courage to hold his gaze even though I know his tears aren’t happy, relieved tears that I’m finally saying the words he’s wanted me to say for so long. His tears are pity tears for me because he’s made up his mind, he’s over me, and he’s not coming with me. I know it before he says the words, “I’m sorry, Lex,” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t come with you.”

He takes a step toward me. He wants to comfort me, but I take a step back, holding a hand up to stop him. “Take care of yourself, Sam.”

I turn and march back to my car, Sam calls my name, but he doesn’t pursue me.

Tags list info.

Don’t Pull This Thread: @miss-tricksy / @sam-winchester-love44

So Get This - Sam Winchester: @supernaturalgrandma /

Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911

[jinpanman]

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love​ for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies​ for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher?  Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life. 

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well. 

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?” 

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—” 

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears. 

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down. 

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What? 

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out. 

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?” 

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen… 

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.” 

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions. 

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision. 

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?” 

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day. 

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.” 

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions. 

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours. 

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession. 

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again. 

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze. 

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night. 

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding. 

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring? 

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that. 

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work.  You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time. 

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji. 

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth. 

Oh god. 

Your brain really just went there. 

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten. 

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you. 

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.” 

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!” 

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection. 

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok. 

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care. 

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days. 

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight. 

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously. 

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.” 

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!" 

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.” 

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend. 

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

[secretsandwriting]

o this hasn’t been beta read because I started at 1:30 and I really wanted to post tonight because I haven’t in a while so please forgive any mistakes!

Also, based on this

Trying not to trip and fall down the staircase while trying to keep up with Snape was a disaster. However it did make you grateful for the charm that shrunk your luggage so it fit in your pocket.

Three years ago, Dumbledore started an exchange program where 4 students would switch dorms for a month to learn about their fellow students. This year, you were the Hufflepuff chosen and headed for Slytherin.

Once reaching the bottom of the stairs, Snape informed you of the password, rules of the dorm, and all that you would be required to do during your months stay. Including the essay about your experience. Lovely.

Pansy was your “host” of sorts. Basically, you would be spending quite a bit of this month with her. Which was going to be interesting. At this point you were expecting the worst, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to try and have a good time.

Settling in was easy enough, due to the fact you had come until late due to Snape being busy. It was time for bed. Therefore meaning, Day 1 over. 29 more to go.

It wasn’t until the next morning when you were getting ready did you realize what Pansy being your host also included. Draco, Theo, and Blaise. This could go really bad, fast. Pansy had finished before you, but she waited semi patiently for you. Either she was nicer then she let on, or she was threatened.

The boys were already waiting in the common room, they also ignored you. So you just silently followed the group to breakfast.

It wasn’t until day 3 that they spoke to you about something other than the necessary school topics. Due to a group of muggleborns putting their heads together and figuring out a bunch of charms to make electronics work at Hogwarts, you could have your phone and use it. So you were, in the middle of the common room. In a dorm full of purebloods, most with questionable family. Probably not your smartest idea but you were bored.

They were talking and ignoring you, your homework was finished and none of the books you had with you seemed interesting, and frankly you were in a bad mood, so you pulled out your phone to catch up on a show or movie. Theo noticed first.

“What’s that?” His tone portrayed he was at the very least going to insult you based solely on your blood status. He drew in the others attention and you knew Draco would and Pansy agreed with Draco on almost everything. Blaise might stay quiet but his pretty face did all the talking.

“It’s a muggle thing, so considering you know nothing accurate about muggles and technology you wouldn’t understand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish this.” Putting both earbuds in, you started the show and focused on it. Not noticing the slight bit of a smirk on Blaise’s face.

Days 4 and 5 passed by, but it wasn’t until day 6 that you earned any respect. It was lunch, it had been a long day and you had a headache. Overall it had been a really bad day and it wasn’t even half over. A few seats down from you was one of the first years, he had been minding his own business when a Gryffindor started picking on him. For some reason that was the last straw.

You got up and walked over to the Gryffindor and without warning, decked him in the jaw. Silence overtook the great hall.

“Leave him alone or next time I’ll make it so you can’t have any kids.” Then, without skipping a beat, you went to the infirmary and stayed until late in the night. When you went back, the common room was empty and everyone in your room was asleep.

Day 7 was weird. While getting ready, Pansy asked you how you slept. Then you had at least 2 first years around you at every meal. Different ones each time. There weren’t half as many mudblood comments and you had gotten at least 3 smiles from different people.

That night you couldn’t sleep, the day had been too weird and you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. So, you decided to go look out into The Black Lake. Blaise was already there but you decided to go anyways.

Sitting on the opposite end of the couch you looked out into the inky wanted of the lake. Silence hung over the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually quite nice.

“Why’d you punch him? The Gryffindor? I thought Hufflepuff’s weren’t capable of violence.”

“We’re fully capable of violence but it’s not something we normally want to do. However there is a line and if it’s passed we’re not against extreme violence. I pinched him because he was at least 15 and the bot was only 11 at most. Picking on a kid like that no matter why, is just pathetic. Also, I was having a bad day but still. He deserved that.” Blaise nodded, and silence took over again.

As the days went by, you grew closer to Blaise with your nightly lake watching. It wasn’t until your last week you realized how much you were going to miss it. But when you thought about it, you realized it was Blaise you were going to miss.

Somehow, in nights of noting but silence. You had gained a crush on the boy. You didn’t know anything about him, nothing. But you liked him.

You decided to just enjoy the last week and then move on. After all, you hadn’t even had an entire conversation with him before.

You couldn’t even do that.

Blaise was gone. He had been transferred to the magic school in Italy. You wouldn’t see him again.

[giuliafc]

Betrayal Chapter 6: Chat Blanc

<< 1 -- 2 -- 3 -- 4 -- 5 -- 6: Ao3 || FFN -- 7 >>

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Coffeebanana

Summary: Alya and Nino go back to school and Marinette and Adrien have a good talk.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 17 — Mistake/secrets. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

Alya looked at her watch. "It's time to head back to school, guys," she exclaimed. "We have literally the time to walk across the road." Alya and Nino stood up, and Adrien released his transformation and made to stand up too, but Marinette, after releasing her own transformation, grabbed his leg and signaled him to sit down.

"We'll be late back to school, M'lady."

"I know… can you cover us, Alya? I have something to tell Adrien and it can't wait for patrol." She waited for Alya to give her a thumbs up and drag Nino down the trap door. When they were alone, Adrien sat down next to her, looking confused.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Marinette took a big breath. "We promised last night to tell each other everything." She looked down and took firm hold of the material of her jeans. "I had no idea how hurt you were because I kept secrets from you, Minou. The pain I saw in your eyes last night when you found out that I told my identity to Rena before you was an eye opener."

"Well, yes. I didn't like that. Especially finding it out when we landed on her balcony and asked for her help."

Marinette's eyes filled with tears. "I'm really sorry, that was a huge mistake on my part. I…was breaking down badly and needed a friend."

"But I'm your friend too," muttered Adrien. "You always said that Chat Noir was your partner and your best friend. I tried to help, to initiate the talk, but you pushed me away. But... it's okay, I understand. Kinda."

More tears fell out of Marinette's eyes. "I'm sorry Adrien. I…"

He cut her off. "We've fixed the issue now, Marinette, it's fine." He grabbed hold of one of her hands and she squeezed it firmly.

"It's not. I can tell that you're still hurt. I told Master Fu so many times that I didn't want you kept out of the loop. Yet, as soon as I take over his role, I make the same mistake." She dropped his hand and cupped both hers on her face, starting to sob. "I was so scared! I tried to protect you, but instead I just made things worse and I was nearly going to cause the very thing I was trying to protect you from!"

"What do you mean?" He put a hand on her shoulder and used the other one to gently take her hands off her face and tilt her chin to look him in the eye. "You're scaring me now. What were you protecting me from?"

"Chat Blanc," said Marinette listlessly. Then she noticed his confused frown and sighed. "Do you remember St. Athanase's day?" Adrien nodded. "That day I made a silly mistake and used my Miraculous for personal gain to deliver a present to your room, right to your bed."

"Yes, something from a fan in Brazil, you said? I tried to find out who gave you that parcel, to thank them, but I was never able to."

"Of course you weren't. It was a lie." She blushed to the roots of her hair when he pouted and folded his arms to his chest. "Th-the present was from m-me."

"I had seen your signature on it, but I thought somebody had commissioned the beret from you. I didn't think it was a personal gift for me, Marinette. Had I known, I would have worn it every day. It was exquisitely made."

A shadow of a smile popped on her lips. "Thank you. Initially I had signed the card that I left with the present, but when I came out of your room, not noticing that you had come in right behind me, Bunnyx appeared and brought me to this horrifying future where you had been Akumatised." She paused at his gasp.

"W-why…?" he muttered, but she cut him off.

"I don't know. Bunnyx was adamant that I shouldn't know more about it, but somehow by seeing me getting out of your room as Ladybug and finding a present from Marinet—"

"—with hearts embroidered on it!" he thought aloud.

"Uh, yeah, that…" She blushed darker. "Of course now it makes sense that you had worked out my identity, since it was, well, you. But until yesterday I had no idea and when you called me Marinette and you attacked m—"

"I attacked you?" he shouted. "I'd never make myself hurt you or fight you, M'lady!"

"You were an Akuma, Adrien." She cupped her hand to his cheek and gave him a peck on the lips when she saw the panic in his eyes. "You'd destroyed the world. Nothing was left. I was turned into an ash statue, and Papillon had followed the same fate. I think you may have been the only living being left. You'd even destroyed the moon."

Adrien considerably paled.

"You attacked me because you wanted my Miraculous to make the Wish and bring things back to what they were…before."

"Before what?"

Marinette looked down. "That's the bit I don't know. You said that 'our love had done this to the world'."

Adrien gasped and his complexion became even paler. "I-I was an Akuma though, right? You can't really trust what an Akuma says?"

"That was my mistake." She met his panicky gaze with her sad one. "I pushed you away to protect you. I…tried to shelter my heart from you the best I could so I wouldn’t fall in love with you. But…I failed miserably at that too. And felt terrible about it. So I pushed you away even more, and nearly caused the very Chat Blanc I didn't want to cause. I'm so sorry."

Adrien blinked as his heart sped up. "Wait a second, did you imply what I think you were implying?"

Marinette smiled shyly as her gaze dropped. "Yes, Minou. I also fell for you twice."

To be continued… day 18

-----------------------------

Author's Note

There you go. Chat Blanc is out of the way. This prompt was so good for it, I couldn't ignore it. I know it has been done and redone but… it fit perfectly!

I hope you liked it and will leave me a comment. You know that comments are my bread and butter!

Until (hopefully) tomorrow, bug out!