#fic forecast

[the-blind-assassin-12]

WIP WEDNESDAY: FIC FORECAST EDITION

Hi friends, happy Wednesday! I hope you’re all doing well and having a good week so far. In an effort to keep myself on task and prevent decision paralysis every time I open Google docs, I came up with the idea of the monthly fic forecast - a writing report of what to expect in terms of updates. I’m hoping it keeps me more focused on finishing projects/parts of projects, and keeps you from wondering when the heck I’m getting back around to (insert overdue update here), but we shall see.

(Also hoping it’s more accurate than actual weather forecasts)

( @covetyou I PROMISE more Christmas Dieter is coming. I promise promise promise!)

IF ANYONE ELSE WANTS TO TRY THIS OUT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DO SO! And tag me if you do, so I can see what’s brewing on your blog!

[anbessette]

Fic Forecast

Not really a to-do list, since that would imply I'm being organised about this. More like me peering into the clouds of my mind and making predictions about stories that may emerge.

Sangcheng Qixi Fest Fill #1: Modern AU meet cute (pretty much finished, but won't be revealed until August) ✅

Sangcheng Qixi Fest Fill #2: Post-Sunshot misunderstandings and pining with a happy romcom ending (also won't be revealed until August) ✅

Chapter 2 of Bared Teeth (fully outlined and a bit over halfway completed)

Weird Nieyao porn no-one asked for (sprang into my mind the other day and has been enthusiastically writing itself in all the corners of my mind ever since, weaving in worldbuilding titbits and big feelings as if to trick me into getting too attached to chicken out)

Squid!Sangcheng with babies (I got the prompt for this so long ago it probably seems like I'm ignoring it, but I've written an outline and even named the kids, the stars just aren't in position yet)

Nieyao misunderstanding each other and mutually pining while having frequent angry sex (based on a kink meme prompt I submitted two years ago - at some point my brain decided "throwing the idea out into the world isn't enough actually, gotta write it")

Song of Jin Yao spin-off, with AU snippets of a few different ways Nie Mingjue could have found out about Meng Yao ✅✅☑️☑️

3zun kink fic no-one asked for (entirely physically possible and therefore not as weird as the weird Nieyao porn mentioned above, but still a bit weird) ✅

Nieyao angst inspired by an inside joke with myself

Treat (or perhaps two treats?) for Fat Bear Flash ✅

[ohsunnyboy]

coherent waves | lee anton ˚₊‧⁺˖

people say the first touch of fate feels like a circuit being completed. so why does lee anton's soulmate seem to hate him?

TAGS: soulmate!au, college!au, gn!reader, cute and awkward engineering majors!anton and reader, confessions in the rain, kiss!

A/N: this boy bias wrecked me SO hard i paused writing a sungchan fic for this haha self-indulgent SCREAMiing as always (to clarify, his mark is on his left, our right)

WORDS: ~1700

Everyone knows Lee Anton's face.

No matter what, everyone's got their campus crushes. The people they'd linger around a corner for in hope of seeing, those with soulmarks you wish would line up just perfectly with your own. Somewhere out there, someone's walking around with your first touch of fate around with them. It's for that reason everyone knows Anton as the campus crush.

It's impossible to miss the six feet of cuteness, the shoulders broad enough to span the Californian coast and the tan handprint branded across his left cheek. Lee Anton, the sweetest guy on campus whose soulmate was destined to slap him in the face once they met. Nothing in it spelt destiny for you, but it was definitely curiosity at first sight.

"Hey, are we okay? Just at group study…” And your brain sputters like a misfiring car. He’s right behind you, isn’t he?

You want to pretend you didn’t hear him over the bucketing rain – maybe even your thunderous heart. Without an umbrella, you’re screwed if you run down the library steps into the dark and you’d look insane to push past him back into the library. Damn.

Not once did you dare speak to him during the entire group study. Though the feeling of his curious eyes lingering on you alone lit you up like a fuse about to blow. No wonder he's asking you if you're okay. The entire time you acted like some tween with a stupid crush. Which you’re not. Clearly and obviously not. First year electrical engineering has enough problems to give you a migraine.

Something about being around him sets your brain off like a capacitor discharging. Everything firing off at once, without a thought of where to go.  

"No? Yes! Yes. Fuck – sorry. We’re fine." Is what you come up with.

And some boy can apparently render you stupid within two feet of him. Someone needs to remind you how you’re a candidate for the dean’s list again.

Your stilted answer and the ensuing silence cause the corner of Anton's lip to quirk into a grimace. "Ah – okay. Sorry, I'll see you Friday.” When he takes out his umbrella it nearly whacks you in the face before he starts to run down the steps, leaving not a glance behind him.

Ah, shit.

Stunned, you’re left with a) no umbrella and b) a burning sense of mortification about how badly that went. Before you know it, your feet are running you down the path he took. One problem at a time… c’mon fix this. "Hey! Hey wait up, please! Anton!"

Running in the pouring rain was something you never planned on doing tonight or any day of the week but for fixing whatever you’ve got with Anton – it seems worth it.

Whatever they used to say about stem majors being chronically unfit bookworms definitely applies to you, as your heart thuds in your skull and lungs start to give out. Somehow after months of trailing behind his broad back, you underestimated how quickly he can escape you. 

Finally, like a lighthouse in the night, his blue umbrella is radiant under the light of the bus stop. “Anton!”

Three months of dodging each other’s eyes and scampering out empty classrooms early, Anton’s eyes are at the edges of almost all your memories. You know his wide eyed look anywhere. But with as much grace of a new-born giraffe, you sidle next to him under his umbrella, unaware of the blush warming Anton’s face.

Thankfully there’s no one else about apart from him to watch you keel over for a solid minute to gather your breath. Internally you think you’re as bright red as the LEDs you use in the labs. That, and so soaked you’re sure you're waking up with a cold tomorrow. Though, it could be worse. It could be whatever happened earlier.

Caught again in his orbit, you feel it again. The charge crackling under your skin that makes you want to claw at it.

It’s a moment before anyone speaks, still too busy process what exactly is going on. Eventually you gain your bearings and look into his shifty eyes with resolution.

“Hey look – I’m super sorry about everything,” you blurt. “The entire thing with the study group and completely dodging you in class. I – well, it’s not on purpose but I don’t know why but it’s like I get caught in some interference feed within like a metre of you and I just can’t think straight. Everything just sort of fires off in an incoherent mess. I’m trying, I really do but for once, I just can’t explain it.” It pours out in what feels like one breath. You feel like you’re teetering on the spot, on the cusp of embarrassment or sheer confidence. At this point, it might just be both. “… Sorry if I made you uncomfortable about anything but you’re top of our year, so damn cool and collected all the time – I feel like my wires get mixed up.” 

There’s an ache in your neck from looking up to him and watching his reaction. Calm and collected as always. It must be the longest you’ve ever got to look him in the eyes properly. Until,

“Me too.”

Huh?

Anton pauses for a moment, worrying the inside of his cheek before admitting, “I… I really wished we could talk more but you’re always busy and I feel awkward butting in. You’re really intimidating in the group studies, you know? You know everything and get along with everyone so easily. I psyche myself out.”

As he talks, your cheeks warm in endearment and you shuffle closer while he’s distracted. The familiar scent of cherries that would haunt you around campus suddenly right under your nose.

���I mean, I thought you’d just be another person put off by this-“ he waves a self-conscious hand over his soulmark “-and being avoidant because of that. Though I guess I figured you didn’t care because you never lingered on it like… like everyone else.”

It comes to you all in pieces. Anton always ducking his head away, never looking anyone straight on, always pursing his lips and turning away whenever someone brought up soulmarks. Those rumours haunt him.

However, standing here you’ve never been more confident. You know your what your hand looks like.

Does he?

“I think it has a good story.” The look of disbelief he gives you is priceless but you push on. “I mean, mine’s just on my palm just like seventy percent of the population so it can be boring.” Under the light, you raise your hand to him, showing the contrasting darker skin on your right palm and the small shake of your fingers. Anton locks onto your mark with a laser focus that you’ve never seen before. “And besides… I think you know what your soulmark actually is.”

One step closer: you’re just a hairsbreadth away. So close you can feel is body heat through his hoodie and see your breath leaving goosebumps on the expanse of his exposed neck. In the reflection of his blown pupils you can almost see yourself.

He swallows, eyes never leaving your palm. "You know what everyone says about it." Anton chews at his lip, bitten raw from worry. It’s stupidly endearing whether he knows it or not. Instead of dropping it, you raise your hand, leaving it to rest on his shoulder in comfort. “That the only reason I get slapped is because I’m secretly an asshole?”

"You don't know that it’s a slap for sure.”

"Then what else could it be then.”

"Really, Anton?" you hum. He’s so tense under your hand you feel like he could shatter from where you touch him. His eyes dazed and lingering where your hand used to be "We’re both smarter than this.”

Under the streetlight, what he has is clear as day to you while you trace his mark with your eyes. The thumbprint that curls across his left cheekbone, to the fingertips that edge from his hairline to his jaw and even the light shadow that touches the corner of his lip – as if he’s pressing a kiss to the heel of their palm. "Whoever it is, they're holding you."

“…Whoever it is… ?” he murmurs.

Anton’s unwavering gaze finally bores into you. Two interstellar blackholes swallowing you up and bearing down. An infinite number of thoughts or none at all. All behind those eyes, calculating and calibrating. You wonder where he is in that brilliant mind of his.

“Do it.”

You’re so careful.

You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if you hurt him. Maybe this doesn’t work out? What if you’re just another person in the crowd watching and waiting for someone else. You knew from the moment you started high school, life was a bunch of problems that you had to solve. The sheer existence of uncertainty guarantees nothing in any aspect of your life. What is guaranteed already, what are the variables, what are you working with. Whatever this is – it’ll be another problem but not one you get to calculate – it's one you need to guess.

His skin is too warm, and your hand is too cold. Nothing sparks but something is complete in your heart.

It fades. The marks – yours, his, all of it. It recedes back as if it never existed.

"I told you so."   

The clatter of the umbrella is your only warning before his hands cup your face and he kisses you. He kisses you in earnest, softer than you'd expect and warm enough to make your knees weak. With a deceptive strength, Anton presses you back against a railing, and your arms loop around his neck, hands burying in his hair. Hidden muscles you used to wonder about, tense where you touch him.

Eyes closed to the rain, foreheads knocked together and not a care in the world. You’re pulled into him like air. Both of you are trembling with relief. Like coherent waves, you come together in sync and everything you feel is amplified between you two. It’s then you know exactly what was racing in his mind.

Smiling into your neck, Anton sighs. "I'm yours." His voice lower and a little bit breathier. It makes your heart skip a beat, and your mouth turns up at the corners.

All across your veins it’s like a current is pushing through your skin. Anton and you, a circuit complete.

blehh i'm rusty but i'm starting uni as a mechEng student soonish so wish me luck 🫡 a reblog or a like always helps to encourage more thank you! ⭒ masterlist

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey hi hello so my dog ate my laptop charger 😭😅 (He’s fine! No shocks or harm came his way) Which means I can’t update my Fluffy Forcast this weekend as my computer has officially ran out of charge 💀 SO! I’m gonna tell y’all here!

☁️Fluffy Forecast Impromptu Update☁️ (Jan 6-Jan 10)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday (Jan 7): The Fall Of Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Thursday (Jan 9): Resolutions (Blue Lock)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pssssst- wanna see a cute dog? 👀

The culprit in question! Guilty for being a cutie patootie! (And for eating my charger 😭 He’s a puppy- it is what it is)

[gammija]

Wrote this all last night in a rush after thinking about aroace podlock too hard - not sure how good it is but people on the discord liked it! so y'all will get it too

[Rushing sounds. At first it sounds like white noise, but there's a rhythm to it, swelling and ebbing; waves crashing onto sand. Wind whistles past the mic occasionally, while soft footsteps can be heard underneath. A quiet beach...

...Well, quiet, except for John giving one of his characteristic introductions to a mailbag episode, before starting proper.]  

JOHN: ...Okay, first question is for Sherlock, from Gammijonk - thought the 'Jonk' joke was starting to die down a bit, but apparently not! This one can be quite a, uh, heavy one, mate, so totally up to you if you want to answer or not. 

They ask: "No need to answer if you feel uncomfortable," like I said, and then the question is, "As what sexuality do you identify, and how did you come to realize?" Again, I'll just edit this out and we can start with another one if you don't want to share that kind of info with the listeners.  

SHERLOCK: No need, it's... alright. I'm in a sharing mood, I find. Not sure whether it's the calming effect of the noise from the waves or something else. 

...I, uh, consider myself to be asexual.  

JOHN: ...Uh- what- but- I mean, not that I'm disagreeing with you on your own identity and such, but I thought you told me you were gay? 

SHERLOCK: I definitely did not.  

JOHN: No, I distinctly remember, after the Gloria Scott case - I asked you if you had been in a relationship with Trevor. And you said yes!  

SHERLOCK: Correct.  

JOHN: Okay, well, so, then...?  

SHERLOCK: I- well. Let's see... I could, try to describe it another way?

JOHN: Right, right. I've actually heard of that before, now you mention it... So that's you, then?  

Within aspec identities, there is often a distinction made between sexual attraction, and romantic attraction. Sexual attraction is when you look at a person and feel like you want to have sex with them. Romantic attraction is when you look at a person and want to have a romantic relationship with them.

For most people, these two kinds of attraction seem to be intrinsically linked, but just as someone could conceivably have a romantic relationship without sex, or two people can have sex without being in a romantic relationship, so too is it possible to feel one kind of attraction, but not the other.  

SHERLOCK: Ah, no. The distinction feels meaningless when applied to myself. 

But, I mentioned it, because I feel it illustrates something of the complicated semantics when it comes to identity, sexuality and romance.  

To get back to the original question for a moment as to how I realized; When I was very young, I wasn't thinking about attraction at all. Then, as a young teenager, my sexuality felt noteworthy only in that it seemed to make me worthy of praise, a rarity: other boys were constantly doing stupid things, willing to do anything to impress a girl-  

JOHN: -While you were only doing stupid things for the love of the game?  

SHERLOCK: Hah. Quite. Well, mostly in order to follow my hyperfixations wherever they lead me, but I won't deny that as a teenager I might not have always been capable of making the brightest decisions. 

In any case, as I got older, I began to realise that my lack of attraction was not, in fact, a sign that I was simply better than the other boys, but something that required a different explanation. So, I did what I do best, and I began to... experiment.  

During that time, I eventually entered into a relationship with Trevor Scott. And those relationships would lead me to eventually learn the terms asexuality and aromanticism, in fact. Looking back, I still didn't feel romantic attraction for Trevor or others then, either. But a romance certainly was the way I and him viewed it at the time. And I certainly did love him.  

JOHN: Right, that makes sense.  

SHERLOCK: So, you see, that's where your confusion stemmed from.

Anyways, now that I had a name for my experiences, after that there followed a brief and unfortunate period in which I felt like I had to figure out whether my asexuality originated in one of my neurodivergences, or if those were two unrelated ways in which I deviated from the societal norm.

Thankfully I quickly came to the conclusion that that would be a fruitless endeavour, like trying to prove a negative. There is only one version of me, and he is asexual, and he is autistic. Whether or not those two facts are related, is frankly irrelevant.  

...That answers the question, I believe?  

JOHN: It definitely does. Wow, mate. That was a lot of talking, for one of these! Man. Feels difficult to follow up with some question about what's our favourite, finger, or something... That was just an example, they, they didn't actually ask that.  

...Do you... want a hug?  

SHERLOCK: Uhm, sure? Yes. I could go for one. Any particular reason why?  

JOHN: Not really - just felt like giving you one.  

[Fabric rustles. It's quiet for a long moment, only wind and waves.]  

SHERLOCK: ... If we count the thumb as a finger, obviously that's my favourite.  

JOHN: Obviously?  

[END] 

[enjoythesilentworld]

don't slow down now

ch 3. white, like lightning

In which Simon asks Wille what his favorite color is. Over and over again. A for the tree's sake epilogue series.

“Like that first time,” Wille said, punched out in harsh breaths with every roll of his hips. “Like that first storm in that library. God, I wanted to take you against those shelves, right then.” Wille was rambling, but Simon didn’t care, in fact he loved it, because with every word his thrusts got faster, harder. “I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget the way you looked in that beautiful lamplight. The way you looked at me. All that waiting, so patiently. My Simon. You’re so beautiful. I would’ve waited forever for you.”

A storm rolls in.

read here on ao3.

[just-french-me-up]

Heatstroke

Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : Explicit | 2.1k Tags : Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship, Blatant disregard for the laws of thermodynamics Summary : England is suffering through its second week of a scorching heatwave, and Dream's presence in his flat does nothing to cool Hob down... or does it? "I am not subjected to the Waking World's physics or weather patterns." "Neat trick that. Could use some of that right now, frankly." "Could you now?"

Heat was everywhere. It was the air he breathed, the water from the tap he drank, the sheets he slept on, the walls he tried to find shelter behind. It was under his skin, ever present, unescapable, and Hob felt as though he was going mad from it.

It had been one week of this, sweltering heat sweeping through the south of England, unleashing all of its scorching might, with London at its epicentre. The city had not been built to withstand such temperatures, and Hob's flat was no exception. Closing the blinds and sleeping with the windows open had worked for the first few days, but, insidiously, the heat had filtered in Celsius by Celsius, invading the space until there was no longer any respite from it.

Ever the harbinger of doom, the forecast had announced another week of this, sending London into a frenzy, between those who could afford to retreat north (or better yet, abroad, to more scenic and forgiving shores), and those who didn't have that luxury.

Hob was part of the latter.

Work kept him anchored in the city between lectures and research, the university administration staunchly refusing to trigger their remote learning protocol, citing the poor exam results following the pandemic as their main concern. God forbid they lose their prestigious ranking. At least the faculty's archives provided Hob with a few precious hours of cool air. Such commodity was hard to come by, these days.

At home, Hob had grown used to living in semi-darkness, the blinds permanently closed, only leaving a sliver of light in. He often congratulated himself on having bought a fan one heatwave ago, before the entire stock had been raided by his heat-striken fellowmen. It did little to cool him down, though. Hot air was still hot air, no matter how much velocity it hit you with. He spent his days in nothing but his underwear, moving as little as possible, taking his mind off the heat as best he could.

Nights were almost bearable. When he didn't spend them at the New Inn, Hob would lie on the couch, crushed by the thick atmosphere, listening to this or that book, his body far too hot still to fall asleep yet. He was struggling to follow his latest pick when a deep, familiar voice startled him.

"I was not aware nudity was the latest fashion."

Hob sat up awkwardly, staring at the dark silhouette standing by the bedroom door. God, when he'd told Dream he could waltz in whenever he pleased, he never imagined himself sweaty and practically naked when that happened. Well... not at the onset, at least. In spite of the relative darkness, he could see the quiet smirk tugging at Dream's well-studied, often worshipped lips. Also wait, was he wearing a turtleneck, of all things?!

"It's something of a national trend, at the moment."

Dream took a few steps around the living room, the hem of his coat swaying gracefully against his ankles. Hob could feel himself sweat just imagining the weight of those layers. Morpheus, statuesque as ever, didn't seem the least bit bothered.

"How are you not cooked medium rare, right now?" Hob asked, looking for the faintest hint of a flush on those fair cheekbones of his, finding none. That turtleneck had to be awfully warm around his throat, though, the black, soft-looking fabric clashing deliciously with his skin. If he could just slip a finger underneath... Another kind of heat spread through Hob at the thought, doing nothing to improve the miserable state he was already in.

"I am not subjected to the Waking World's physics or weather patterns."

He said it as though it was barely worth mentioning, boringly mundane, and not easily the most fascinating thing Hob had heard all week. Hell, all year. He relaxed against the back of the couch, observing Dream's slow prowl towards him, suddenly acutely aware of his lack of proper clothing and undignified posture.

"Neat trick that. Could use some of that right now, frankly."

A low hum rose from Dream's throat, a cross between a chuckle and a huff. He was looming over him now, their knees nearly brushing.

"Could you now?"

Whatever clever retort Hob's brain had come up with, it died on his lips as Morpheus' hand ran across his damp scalp, his fingers combing through his hair. His skin was cold, impossibly so, his touch leaving tingling trails behind, making him itch for more. Hob let out a hearty, breathy sigh, leaning into the palm of Dream's hand.

"Fuck, that feels good."

He didn't mean to sound so achingly needy, but it was, by far, the best sensation he'd had all week. He had tried to beat the heat in various (and increasingly desperate) ways, but nothing matched the soft, cold silk of Dream's skin sending shivers down his spine. It felt... clean. Like fresh fallen snow, pristine and undisturbed. Which was a descriptor he could not quite apply to himself, in spite of many daily cold showers.

"I'm disgusting," he groaned, thinking of the sweat no doubt covering Dream's fingers now, a sensation he didn't envy.

"You are human," he countered gently. "You can not pick and choose which laws of your world apply to you or not."

Hob flashed a sly grin.

"Save for one."

"Quite right," Dream conceded, amused.

His fingers were still raking through Hob's hair, providing much needed relief. Running so hot had helped Hob in the past, back when central heating was still but a literal pipe dream in someone's head, but what had felt like a blessing then passed for a curse now. Much like the walls of his flat, he'd been build to keep the heat in.

Dream's fingertips brushed his ear, causing delightful sparks to shoot down his jaw.

"How does it feel, then, getting to choose which principles of physics apply to you?"

He'd meant it as a tease, expecting another one of Dream's huffed chuckle, but the reaction he got was more intense than what he had bargained for. Morpheus' gaze was consuming, to say the least, his pupils almost too wide and eerily dark to pass as human. A hand left his scalp to follow the line of his neck, fingers trailing down his throat like drops of icy rain.

"At present?" Dream's voice was a low murmur. Hob could almost feel the warmth of his breath against his ear although Morpheus over him, his back straight. "Exquisite."

Hob's adam's apple bobbed at the brush of his fingers. He did not fully understand how Endless' senses worked, but he could bet everything he owned that Morpheus could actually feel his heartbeat through his skin, his heart wreaking havoc in his chest. His lack of proper clothing left him exposed, the effect of Dream's ministrations painfully obvious, preternatural abilities or not.

"You are quite warm," Dream pointed out, as though he was only now realising the extent of Hob's predicament.

"So that you're choosing to feel."

It was hard to fight the edge in his voice between the cold caresses exploring his shoulders and Dream's almost predatory gaze. His only garment was getting too uncomfortably tight, his erection pressing against the fabric with yet more torturous heat.

"Touching you would hardly feel the same if I shielded myself from it."

Exquisite, he had called it. Touching him felt exquisite, even like this. Hob could hardly fathom it.

"So I am the sun-soaked rock you cold-blooded beauty like to lie against for warmth," he quipped, smirking up at him.

"In a way, perhaps."

Dream's hands reached his torso, sending more shivers through him on the way down. Hob could feel his throat go dry as Dream lowered himself on his knees in a fluid motion, his pupils wild through his lashes. A hand trailed up Hob's thigh, tremors following in all of his leg. He did not expect the gasp that escaped him when Dream wrapped his fingers around his cock through his boxers. The cold felt odd, at first, though far from unpleasant. Quickly, Hob found himself wanting it more. The clash between his burning skin and Dream's was intoxicating, making his hips roll at the touch.

"I thought you liked touching me," he groaned, frustrated by the pesky, unbearable barrier between them.

Dream merely smiled, that fucking cheeky smile he'd given him in 1789, and Hob's hips bucked of their own volition. Fuck that perfect face of his, God! To add insult to injury, Dream's thumb brushed light circles against the head of his cock, drawing a hiss out of him, his cock aching for more.

"Dream."

His attempt at being firm melted into something more pleading, but Hob was past caring. He needed and he wanted and he was not above begging. Mercifully, Morpheus pulled down his boxers, exposing him hard and sensitive to his cold breath. A strangled moan rolled out of him as Dream lapped at the throbbing tip, the ice on his tongue on the verge of burning, but ultimately divine.

"Fuck!"

Hob threw his head back, reclining fully against the sofa, his body trembling from the heat, Morpheus' mouth and the pleasure rushing through him. The surreal combinaison of sensations was making him dizzy in the heavenliest way possible. By the time Morpheus had him in his mouth, his hand stroking the base of his cock, Hob was moaning mindlessly at the ceiling, his hand tangled in Dream's hair.

"Fuck, you feel so good, love."

He could barely focus on words half of the time, babbling praises, stretching his back to accommodate the surge of pleasure threatening to undo him. He could not remember what he'd said after a while, but Dream hummed around his cock with such sinful wantonness Hob felt blood rush to his cheek.

"Don't stop," he panted heavily. "Don't stop, you're going to make me come."

Dream dragged his tongue along his length, drawing relentless swirls around the head of his cock. Hob grabbed the arm of the sofa, holding onto it for dear life. Morpheus' cool breath against his oversensitive skin caught him off guard. Dream's eyes were black now, bottomless pools of stars calling for him to jump and drown in them. When he spoke, his voice purring and sultry, Hob could hear it as close as if he'd spoken right next to his ear.

"I want you warm on my tongue, Hob Gadling."

Fuck! The words were barely gone that Dream wrapped his lips around the tip, his eyes still staring into Hob's as he teased it with a pointed tongue. Overwhelmed, Hob spilled with a gruff shout, tension stretching all of his muscles taut, before his body sank into the sofa, boneless and breathless. He could feel the stifling pressure of heat in his lungs, exertion weighing his body down even more than before. The cold press of Dream's body came to alleviate the ache as he leant against Hob, a hand against his mad, immortal heart.

"Never died of a heatstroke before," Hob chuckled hoarsely, his voice nothing but a prolonged wheeze.

"This is quite a serious accusation."

He did feign offense really well, that one.

"I think you tried your best."

Hob wrapped a heavy, lazy arm around Dream's waist, seeking skin under all those layers.

"Wouldn't mind you trying again," he added, his brain still floating hazily inside his skull. Dream pressed his forehead against his, bringing him some relief. "I could get you out of all that bloody fabric, for a start."

"Perhaps you will. I am told the Waking World will suffer another week of this," Dream said, pointing his chin at the nearest window. "I would hate to withhold any helpful assistance from you."

"I'm sure you would."

They held each other in comfortable silence, Hob slowly catching his breath.

"Sleep is notoriously difficult for humans during such times," Dream said after a while. "It makes for strange dreams. Or no dreams at all."

"It's been a struggle for a few days, yeah."

Hob slowly furrowed his brows, replaying Dream's words in his head. A stupid grin then stretched his lips, pushing against his cheeks.

"Is this your way of telling me I've not been visiting often enough?"

"I would not word it in such terms."

He gave Dream's hip a light squeeze. Did he posh himself up on purpose to visit him?

"I missed you too."

The proud git would not say it, but the way he leant heavier on Hob spoke louder than words, anyway.

"So, would it please you, other... visits? Should the weather continue to interfere with your sleep?"

Hob did not have the heart to tell him those were called "date", in this day and age, although he suspected Dream would sooner disappear for a millennium rather than 'wording it this way'.

"Yes. It would, shitty sleep or not. Although I admit I do enjoy your blatant disregard for the laws of thermodynamics."

"I thought you might."

[romanscool]

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just saw this and it made me giggle because this is so Daniel from wcmn coded,,, like last chapter? if you haven't read it, im sorry for referencing something that only about ten people will understand but yeah,,,

I need to yap and write about max's weird thing for Daniel's teeth (and retainer) now,

[dipplinduo]

Okay but where is Ribombee dipplin. >:[

She's getting a makeover. 💋💄

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Someone please give me bardic inspiration to complete chapter 2 it’s so close to being done I just need the connective tissues and flowery language to turn half paragraph bullet points into actual paragraphs

[ohsunnyboy]

living wine | song eunseok ˚₊‧⁺˖

song eunseok is good at maths, a vampire or an extreme lightweight. one of those is false, and it's not the one you think it is!

TAGS: college!au, vampire!eunseok, human!reader, gn!reader, vivid descriptions of blood, veins and feeding, kissing and caressing, gets suggestive by the end!!

A/N: eunseok has such vampire-esque visuals i couldn't help myself hehe self indulgent as per usual (idk why this turned out so long i just wanted to write some hot bloodsucking)

WORDS: ~2400

"How on earth did you get all of this wrong?" You stare at the question sheet and back at his laptop. The fang about, find out! sticker on it fraying and stained with takeout. "I thought communication studies was meant to be easy?"

"It's not wrong. There's no wrong in comm studies," he groans, still rolling about the floor of your dorm like a toddler. “I swore to Sungchan this would be the last time I change my major and he's going to tear me apart if I can't ace this."

"Oh boohoo, your mysterious campus vampire aura will be ruined. What will everyone do?" you intone, rolling your eyes.

Said mysterious vampire, Song Eunseok, buries his face into your plush cushions and groans some more. Imagine communications being the biggest of your worries in the world.

As a political science major, with a minor in vampire relations, it seemed natural when you stumbled into Eunseok's friend group at a You Can Fang event at the college. A vamp and human mixer to encourage integration due to well... reasons.

Because the thing is, vamps have only been about for 30 years.

Which is a lie. Or rather, a condensation of the fact that they've been generally acceptable for 30 years. It's only now do you find tick boxes for vampires on questionnaires, 24/7 blood banks and raw blood on the a la cartes to cater to the perpetually living.

Apart from that, it's been since the dawn of time they've been kicking about, seamlessly blending into society by acting like the rest of you. As evidenced by the one stretched out like flattened dough on your plush carpet. Eunseok physically exists at 18, has the vainness of a 15-year-old but has been kicking around for 22 whole years.

Which somehow doesn't qualify him from doing college level anything even half well.

"You still there?" Eunseok’s voice is muffled from where he's face down on the carpet, that or it's his fangs digging into his lip. He’s been limp and lethargic like this for far too long.

"Yeah, yeah just baffled at what you've written," you hum.

You shift the laptop from your lap to the floor next to you, choosing to study the moping princess. Eunseok’s brown hair is almost black in the dim of your room while also sticking up everywhere from running his hand through it constantly. Even his clothes look out of it, which is a feat for someone who always aims for college campus chic. Further, while it’s traditionally vampiric to be ghastly pale – Eunseok’s always had a tan from when he was bitten at 18 that just stuck around – his skin somehow looks even worse in the lamp light.

"What's wrong, Eunseok? You've been like this all week," you sigh.

Thump-thump. The clock ticks three times; it’s nearly midnight and the full moonlight peeks through the blinds. Thump— he shifts. “It’s nothing..." Curling further up into a ball. Like you believe that, he’s a professional whiner.

"Real convincing. How about you sit up and look me in the eyes when you say that,” you quip back. With some more prodding at his head with your foot, Eunseok sits up petulant.

You take your time to look at him properly now: Eunseok’s sunken eyes and dry mouth. It makes your own lips purse in concern. It’s a far cry to what your Eunseok usually looks like however it’s all signs of what you’ve been suspecting all this time. Idiot.

"I am completely fine,” he says it with the utmost uncertainty of any college student lying through their teeth about already having started a paper that is due the next day.

"Seok... you're paler than a sheet." When you say it, his face nearly brightens up. "That’s not a compliment!" And only then does he huff out a small laugh, eyes casting to the side.

“I’m fine, promise. Just…long night?” Eunseok mutters but it comes out like a question. You know he sleeps poor in general but that’s no excuse. You pay way too much attention to him, is what some voice says at the back of your mind, but never mind that.

Maybe it’s a reassurance when he snakes a hand around your ankle, but his cold embrace only reminds you of what he is. Maybe it’ll make whatever you plan to do just a bit easier. The question’s been dancing on the tip of your tongue since the start after all.

"...When's the last time you fed?" your eyes search for his as you ask, but he seems hellbent on avoiding your gaze.

"Why? are you offering?" Eunseok snorts and you can taste the sarcasm in his tone. He shakes his head again, before finally raising his gaze to yours apologetically. "...Look this week's been so bad. All the blood banks are low, my new TA is Satan incarnate and Sungchan chipped my tooth last time I tried feeding from him so I couldn't even feed properly then.” His finger’s drum across the skin of your ankle: pinching and smoothing.

"...and then everybody's also been busy with the new semester,” you conclude.

"Exactly.”

The silence consumes the room. You’d liken it to someone taking a fluffy blanket and smothering you in it. Dying in comfort and screaming in silence.

The sensation of Eunseok’s fingers on your skin is what grounds you. Pinch and soothe, thump-thump, pinch and smooth, thump-thump. Goosebumps have started to rise up your leg as you watch his movement. Thump-thump, pinch and smooth. You’ve grown used to his cold whenever you press against each other, even when he tries to stay away. Despite it, your heart races all the same.

Thump-thump, pinch and smooth.

The carpet bites when you crawl to him.

"Woah, woah hold on. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing.” Eunseok holds out his hand like that’s going to stop you. “You've never been fed on before,” he says it with such a painful sincerity that you think it’s meant to hurt, but right now, waiting in silence is hurting you more than he ever could.

"You need it, idiot. Besides, I trust you enough.”

"I've been a vamp for like 4 years! I don't trust me enough!"

"What happened to feeding from Sungchan a minute ago? You literally led the safe feeding talk at that You Can Fang thing last year!" You kneel back, saving yourself from your tone.  

Eunseok’s pinching and smoothing down the skin of his own hand. Nerves line him but you know he can hear your heart much better than you can your own. Thump-thump-thump—

"It was from his wrist, and it wasn’t term yet. I’ve – well, I’ve looked at yours, your veins are way too faint,” Eunseok mumbles. His beady eyes dipping towards your throat, while your own eyes track his tongue as he wets his lip. “You know I’d have to feed from your neck.” His voice trembles under the suggestion. Under this light, it should be impossible to tell if he’s blushing, but you swear he’s buzzing with heat.

You’re not stupid: you pay attention to your vampire education and etiquette classes. Enough people walked out of that feeding talk red faced and a little shifty eyed at anyone that had bite marks at the neck. The blush that sears across your face now probably mirrors theirs.

The thing is, you’ve made up your mind a long time ago.

“I’m offering, Eunseok. Don’t be more of an idiot than I think you already are.”

Thump-thump-thump—

Eunseok’s pupils swallow up the whites of his eyes, and in the next instant, you’re being lifted, straddling his thigh, his arms a crushing force wrapped around your back and cradling your head. Burying his face into the skin of your throat, he makes a high sigh of relief. Fire licks up across where you touch, eating you alive before he’s even sank a fang.

Even if he’s stone cold under your touch, the room feels like it’s been plunged into a broil, losing yourself in a steamy haze. He noses at your pulse, the tell-tale thump-thump-thump— of your own must be as loud as the fucking heavens crashing down on him. Amber and roses, the scent that’s haunted you everywhere since you got it for him, reminds you of all that he is.

(Yours.)

A breath, another, another, before Eunseok’s head tilts up from where you’ve locked your arms around him, and you come to stare at his impossibly dark eyes paired with his pearly peeking fangs. “…Are you sure?"

You close your eyes, seeking patience. “Take as much as you need, idiot.” And Eunseok exhales so hard his whole-body shakes. Your hand tightening itself at the mess of his hair. Come on, take it.

His eyes flutter, stupidly long eyelashes ticklish against your skin, his head ducks and you get a second before he presses his lips to your neck, drops his fangs and bites.

The pain is a pinch.

A sensation that will root itself into your guts and sear itself into your muscle memory. It crawls up your jaw and shatters across your head; it splits from your skull, and it streaks down your back; and then it sets aflame everything you thought was burning already. Distantly, he groans into your skin with the same neediness as before.

Where there is fire, his lips come to sooth. Eunseok lets out a soft, needful sound as he presses his lips over your skin – and maybe you do too. Every inch of you breaks into shivers. Thump-thump-thump-thump— an anthem backed by chorus. You can feel yourself losing grip in his hair, but Eunseok just pulls you impossibly closer into him, propped up in his arms as you give more onto him. Drinking you in and eating you whole.

“Thank you,” he starts mumbling into your skin, over and over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Eunseok slurs it out like prayer. Blood drunk is the word you can find floating in the haze of your mind. You turn the thought of it over and over in your head with fascination. You have to bite back a whine.

Even without the blood, you could lose yourself to the feeling of his roaming hands. Always so close to edging under your sweatshirt but catching himself every time. His hands clench at your hips, taut in a way he’s never been before.   

"Please, Eunseok..." Amid your daze, you find the strength to nod, finding his hands and slipping them under and then up, and up. You reward him, pressing a kiss to his hair. He answers with a groan that shudders down your body. Tracing the line of your spine, ribs and collar. Leaving you gasping into your quiet dorm room. You’re half aware of your agape mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head, every part of you singing as Eunseok takes.

Propped up in each other’s arms, you don't know which one of you has given more to the sensation. Far away, you think you could sit like this for hours. Wrapped up in everything Eunseok. Subject to a degree of sheer want that you’d never want him sharing with anyone. Yours, yours, yours. It’s the anthem of your heart when you’re pressed against each other in one hot line.

…It could be another age when you feel his fangs detract. 

All you hear is your heaving breaths against the tick of the clock. The hum of your blood has plastered itself to the walls of your mind, another fixture that you’ve somehow adjusted to. Just like the cold that meets your neck again, and again. A break in the ice after drowning for hours.

Eunseok laps at the puncture wounds at your neck with enthusiasm. His hands planted firmly on your hips, holding you in place. You want to squirm as he leaves a trail of kisses to chase after the blood that drips from the wounds. Savouring every drop of you.

You bring a hand up, to cradle his working jaw, marvelling at the flush on his skin, the utter mess of his hair, how he holds you so gently.

“You… you taste like living wine. You know that, right?” Eunseok croaks out, eyes closed, head down. Something in you is struck with awe, you’ve never seen him like this. “Taste so fucking good.” He punctuates it with a kiss at the base of your throat, searing with want, humming from satisfaction.

He continues to trail them up all the way to the corner of your mouth. Teasing at your lips with his red stained ones. “You’ve ruined this for me. Don’t want anyone else feeding from you,” he purrs.

Instead of sitting there limp, you capture his face and plant a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t want you feeding from anyone else either.” You can taste your blood on your lips as you smile and look him dead in the eye. “You’re mine too.”

Thump-thump. Eyes wide open, he stares back at you with the same craze. Partnered with Eunseok’s own brand of a self-satisfied smirk that’s driven you insane since you met him – it's mix made for devastation.

“Feel better now?” you croak out.

“All thanks to you,” he hums.

Moonlight pierces into the room and you can see him clearer now. There’s some more colour to his skin, flush from exertion, with your blood a lip-stain. Even his dazed eyes are somehow more alert than before – in spite of being a notorious lightweight.

“Let me take care you.” Eunseok preens under your hands and moves.

You nearly go dizzy from the rush as Eunseok manhandles you. Lifting you from under the knees, plastering you to his front, legs bracketing his waist, before depositing you onto your bed. A laugh escapes you from the rush of Eunseok caging you in, while landing a glancing peck on your lips

“Oh?” And you quirk your brow. A cheeky grin on your face at his own amused look. "A round two?"

However, Eunseok just rolls his eyes and collapses beside you. “We both have class in the morning and it’s like 1am.” The cheeky bugger buries into your side and slings an obnoxious leg around your hip. “I’ll get you like a Gatorade in the morning for your electrolytes when we wake up, yah?”

To be honest with yourself, there’s not enough strength in you to protest or even roll your eyes back at him. Your heart’s too busy guiding you to sleep while a hand finds yours in the night.

Thump-thump… pinch and soothe.

(Needless to say, you had to wear a turtleneck to class tomorrow morning.)

pls lmk how this turned out bc this one was a learning experience for me! a like or reblog would be lovely if you enjoyed ty <3 ⭒ masterlist

[pastelitey]

modern!au Ranchers save me,, save me modern!au Ranchers...

[nostalgia-tblr]

one of my general multifandom problems (and i accept that it's a me-problem) is that there's not many pairings where i usually want to read a lot fluffy fic about them. i don't know why that is, and i'm also not saying it's bad if other people do (because like i said there are pairings i want to read mostly fluff about), i'm just setting the scene here, okay?

so anyway, fanon lokius is really fluff-focussed (in both fic and discussion) and partly it's that there's been a point where someone's decided it's "the wholesome pairing" that's much healthier than "the selfcest" and leaving aside the issue of whether or not selfcest is Bad, it means (at least as i interpret this) there's a certain amount of fannish investment in there not being any darker or less wholesome side to lokius. it's a happy healthy loving zero-red-flags relationship in a good 99% of fandom takes. which is fine obviously (gosh i'm really disclaimering this one aren't i!) but i like the darker side and the "actually this was pretty fucked-up" readings so even though i am in theory interested in lokius, i'm not much into fanon lokius (which i'm sure people will tell me is canon lokius and i disagree there but whatever) much at all, to the point where i barely interact with that bit of fandom really.

it's like when you read meta about some pairing you just Do Not See and you're thinking "WTF is this? when did this happen? how did they arrive at this apparently common take that is new and confusing to me?" only i do see why people would be shipping them so i'm more like "yeah that bit was very shippy! they should kiss! no wait where does the torture fit into all of this? are we just not... well, that's fine i'm sure someone else has... no? oh okay."

so that's where i am on that one. i'm not mad i'm just disappointed. *locks you in a torture-loop until you're willing to agree with me* (*in a wholesome and very pure way obvs*)

[the-shipping-forecasters]

Three Houses, Two Fics, One Cup (of Coffee)

After reading as much as we can in the (very prolific and talented) FE3H fandom, we return with two of our favourites. Normally we narrow it down to three (which would have been very thematic), but sadly Nick has been going through some shit, so its up to Grace and James to make up for that.

Grace, ever a 00s emo, latched onto her fellow edgelord in Felix. So today she tells us about (Almost) Completely Cliche by sunflowersailor, our first Coffee Shop AU for the year!

Meanwhile James (finally) learns the appeal of Werewolves, camping, and buff women chopping wood, and he has JajaLala's "Where Is My Werewolf Lover?" to thank for that.

Fics and Approximate timestamps:

(Almost) Completely Cliche by sunflowersailor at 24:30

Where Is My Werewolf Lover? by JajaLala at 50:00

Have a listen here:

Or here

Or any reputable Podcast provider!

While I'm here, we've got an Instagram now, come follow us at fanficsandchill, and eventually James will start posting things on it!

[thebirdandhersong]

SIX thousand words??????

[artychaild]

Omg Arty back with da stocean content! He will not be stopped!!!

Anyway Stone Ocean found family! This (I believe) is officially my longest single-chapter fic so far, and I’m actually pretty proud of it! Reads comments kudos and shares would be super duper appreciated!