#i got a projected electricity bill -- that was A+ i was so pleased with it!! not bad at all!!! sooo much lower than i was assuming. yay.

[whoslaurapalmer]

the adult horror conversation with yourself of 'i could have tortillas with dinner tonight. i just had tortillas the other day. that's okay. i can, in fact, have tortillas again! i am putting a different filling in them! but if i have these tortillas, i will have a total of six tortillas left in the freezer. eventually i will have to buy more tortillas. by god, girl, you are allowed to eat the things you have in the freezer, instead of feeling like you have to save them for some potential eventuality so you don't run out of them, and like, what situation are you even imagining where the tortillas would be better to have later instead of for this particular dinner??? if you keep feeling like you have to save them for Something you will just not eat the tortillas!! eventually EVERYTHING runs out and you have to buy more of them!! that is the way the world works!! you are allowed to not have things aggressively stockpiled, except for like, tissues, but that was a purchasing incident on mom's card while she was still here, so you just happen to have, a bizarre amount of tissue boxes. AND WHILE YOUR FINANCES ARE STILL BIG RED QUESTION MARKS, YOU CAN, IN FACT, AFFORD TO GO BUY MORE TORTILLAS IF YOU FUCKING WANT TO!!! YOU GET THE STREET TACO SIZE AND THEY'RE LIKE $2.99!!!!! AND WHEN DID YOU EVEN BUY THESE TORTILLAS, HUH???????? YOU DON'T KNOW, DO YOU???? WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH THE TORTILLAS AT AN ACCEPTABLE PACE!! WHATEVER THE HELL THAT SENTENCE MEANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

anyway i'm eating the tortillas. or i mean they're on the counter defrosting while i have some chicken toasting in the toaster oven

[worlds-end-discotheque]

This isn’t a fully finished thought-project yet so please bear with me but I’m pretty sure Cuno is the one paying the bills for the de Ruyter apartment.

Or at least he’s trying to.

When you go into Cuno’s apartment, the first thing you realize is the chain and the warning about the electricity. From what we know about how Cuno protects his shack (and the state of his inebriation-comatose father) we can safely assume that Cuno’s the one who chains the door closed whenever he leaves. Obviously, no one in Martinaise would want to leave their home open for any reason, but the apartments clearly have deadbolts installed in the doors— so the chain is an extra measure. Cuno can’t have anything being stolen, even taking the extra effort beyond confidence in his own intimidation to chain it up.

The apartment has two rooms: Uuno’s bedroom, and the living room. Uuno’s bedroom consists primarily of the bed, the clothes line, presumably a dresser or some end table-like surfaces. Plenty of room for his substances and shit.

The living room has the sofa, which is clearly covered in Cuno’s clothing and a makeshift sleeping setup. The risqué pinup on the wall is basically confirmation that this is Cuno’s “space,” not something that he and his dad alternate or share. The L-Couch is Cuno’s bed, bedroom, and dresser, effectively.

Which leads us to the tiny desk. The items on the desk are minimal, but crucial: Cuno’s speed with the straw, Cuno’s textbook and homework, a lamp, the stack of bills, and an open phone book.

We’ve established already that Cuno and his father do not share space. Cuno is already a territorial kid, established by his limited safe zones in his own home. He wouldn’t leave his damn homework out somewhere where his dad could access it; the fact that the homework exists means that beneath his attitude, Cuno clearly has a deep level of care for his schoolwork and at least a desire to complete it. With how terrified he is of his father, there’s no way in hell Cuno would leave his schoolwork out in a place that his father could damage it or get angry for it. Which essentially confirms that the desk is Cuno’s space only.

The speed has its little straw, making it convenient to sip on consistently while doing work at the desk. (I do this with my water tumbler.) especially if you’re at the desk for a long time. With the open phone book, it’s clear that Cuno is at least trying to find the numbers for the companies that the bills are coming from. It’s not just a pile of mail on the desk— he’s doing research into it. Gathering phone numbers to take outside to one of the payphones. The desk is organized, business-like, unlike anything Cuno is— except for how he deals.

Which leads me to my last bit. Cuno’s insistence on selling you shit. Obviously, the best way for this kid to maintain a steady supply for his own addiction is to be a dealer. However, for a 12-year-old boy with a substance addiction in the world of DE where there’s nothing else to do, that level of self-control is absurdly high. There’s a meticulousness to it that betrays a primary aspect of Cuno’s approach: business. Cuno isn’t doing it for popularity, for “cool” points, and if his focus was only his own addiction then he would likely just steal them, take it all for himself. He’s not supplying his dad, that’s for sure. On top of that, he’s got a side hustle selling clothing and other crap he picks up, enough to try and pitch it to Pigs— repeatedly. There’s a lot to buy off Cuno, and it’s the one thing he repeatedly brings up in dialogue options, aside from insults. He wants you to know he’s willing to do business. He needs the money. Because the bills are stacking up, his dad could die any minute, and now he’s got Cunoesse too. (It’s not confirmed if she stays in the apartment with him, and I’m inclined to think not, considering the chain, his fear of her too and the fact that she stands on the other side of the fence than him— there’s a special separation there. There’s also no trace of Cunoesse-noted belongings nor a second space to sleep indicated on the couch; shivers, empathy, none of the skills speak up when inside the apartment about anyone but Cuno and his dad. At the same time, this is again unconfirmed).

I lost what I was talking about here, but the point is. Cuno breaks my heart and I want to adopt and take care of him so badly. It’s one thing to be a delinquent kid, it’s another to be a 12-year-old delinquent kid trying to pay your own damn bills in Martinaise. Fuck, man. I love this kid so much. He breaks my heart.

As much as I yap about my old man yaoi, I think Cuno is my favorite character in DE. He’s just… I need to take care of him. God help me. I wanted to kill his dad so badly. Sigh.

Anyways. That was my thought project. Thought Cabinet just adopted Cunology.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Sleep Paralysis: Collab'oween Day 1

GN!Reader/Male!Unspecified Creature.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; Maybe feeings of claustrophobia and references to the ocean; Fear of death but no physical harm to reader; Utter helplessness; Cunnilingus/Analingus (you can read as either, I don't specify genitals for reader); Penetrative sex; Creature man has a prehensile pp; 3rd person POV.

Word Count: 2080.

Notes: I'm not doing all of the days, just the six prompts I wrote! Please make sure to check out all of us doing this together: @undead-merman @letstalktea @inkyquince @angrelysimpping Also big thanks to Merman for making the banner and divider and all of their wonderful work on this project.

It gets closer each night. They know as the sun fades, as their eyes shutter closed and the warm fingers of Hypnos keep their lids heavy that it's only a matter of time before the personification of sleep partially releases his hold on them and that reality will blend with their nightmares. 

For months it's happened every night. They awaken without control of their body, not even able to blink, as eyes watch from the darkest corner of their room. It's just a trick of the mind, they know this, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying. 

They'd gone to their doctor. Been referred to get a brain scan by a specialist to ensure it wasn't anything malicious causing the paralysis. All tests came back fine. They were sent home with pills and a regiment to follow. None of it had helped. The only time it ever left was when the dawn broke. Winter was on the horizon. Shorter days. Later dawns.

Then, they'd thought that it wouldn't be able to hide in the dark if there was no darkness. They'd filled their room with nightlights in every corner, left them on as they went to sleep, confident that they'd finally be able to get through the night. They hadn't. The creature cared not for the lights strewn about the room. It was a void of blackness, sucking in the light and refusing to let any stray ray out of its grasp. 

Fine then, it's sunlight it doesn't approve of. UV lamps were bought and installed. Their electricity bill would suffer, so they tried to stay away from electronics during the day to compensate. There was a pile of unread books just begging to be read, afterall. Yet, as night fell and sleep abandoned them once more, the creature remained in its corner. The blue hue of the UV lamps only made it more threatening. Cold, sterile. Dead. 

They couldn’t even sleep through the day. Something pulled at them, keeping them awake even as they lay with their eyes closed in their bed with the room made as dark as they could for the day. Only when the moon was out could they find a fraction of rest.

After months, they found themself getting used to the creature. It was a black blob with (admittedly creepy) eyes - no discernable features, no intent of ill-will it would seem. It just wanted to watch them through the night. 

It just had to move, didn't it? It had to reach a clawed hand it had never seemed to possess before out toward them, its frozen form a threat again for the first time in a long while. The skin (If it had skin) was a black as the void it made; it was hazy due to the smoke that rose from the flesh. The only part of it that continued to move. The smoke. 

Perhaps it was the home. The place they lived was haunted, wanting to torment the poor soul living within. With little money left due to the lamp expenses, they desperately pushed every new lamp into a large box and took it to a car-boot sale. They were all new, but half price anyway. They just needed enough for one night in a local hotel. Just one. To see if it would work. 

Each night that passed as they sold the lamps, the creature got closer. Like it knew. More limbs came out from the haze; the other clawed hand, long seemingly muscled legs, the torso unfurling and appearing to be as large as the rest of it. A beast. A tall beast that could rip someone apart just by strength alone. Still it's face remained shadowed, the smoke dripping down like hair.

Not every lamp was taken, but enough so over the weekend event that they had the money to stay in a hotel. A single bed, no TV, shitty water pressure in the shower. It was only on the first floor but the windows were painted just all the same. At least it smelled clean.

Hope sent them to sleep that night - a tentative hope that was on the verge of snapping as each second ticked by on the old clock on the wall. 

That hope snapped the second their eyes opened with the street lights sneaking through the curtains. It was here. Worst of all, it was closer than it had ever been. Crouched on the edge of the bed, tall frame leaning over so that it looked down at them with those bright white eyes. This close it was easy to see that there was no pupil. No iris. Just white. 

Tears welled that they could not blink away, blurring their vision and making the creature even harder to make it. Panic grasped them tightly, their heart hammering in a chest that refused to twitch. They needed to breathe more, to take in deep, filling breaths. But they could only take in standard breaths as their head began to swim. It felt like being suffocated. 

If they could scream, they would. Especially when it moved right in front of them. It never moved when they could see. Never. It was now. That elongated hand reaching down, a claw tracing the path of the tears as they fell down their face into their hairline. Some of the tears fell into their ears. It made them itchy. 

The creature didn't keep its attention to their face. Its claw wandered down their body, pulling the blanket with it as it exposed them to the cold air of the hotel room. Their pyjamas were lifted, their tummy exposed. Would it start there? Rip of their innards and eat them as they could do nothing to watch? 

Slowly, it pressed its hand flat to their skin. The warmth was a surprise. A creature of such darkness should emanate frost, but its flesh bordered on burning as it pressed down. Would it crush them? Would it contribute to the suffocation that felt it was taking hold? 

It would not. At least, it wouldn't yet. Every touch was gentle as it flipped them over, every adjustment it made of their body made for their comfort as their head was turned to the side so that they could breath with their body laying on their front. It didn't feel right. It shouldn't be so gentle. 

The tears from their left eye now fell over the bridge of their nose and into the eyeline of the other. It merged with the other falling tears as they wet the pillow. 

Beside from the ruffling of clothes and the creaking of the old mattress, the room had been silent. As had the creature. No neighbouring rooms made bangs or bumps in the night. A harsh ripping broke the silence. Their clothes. The creature was removing their clothes. Tearing it to shreds with its knife-like claws and discarding the fabric on the carpeted floor below. 

Goosebumps rippled over their skin as the night's air fell on it. The creature's flesh was the only warmth they could wish for - and they couldn't only wish that it would stop and leave them alone. 

It was a coward. Turning them over so that it didn't have to look in their wide eyes as it tore them apart from behind. Taking their clothes as a butcher would a pelt. Taking advantage of their sleep condition, or perhaps causing it itself so that they couldn't run or fight back. 

Such a strange thing, to feel anger after all of that fear. If creatures like this beast could wander the earth, then perhaps their anger would fuel their spirit enough to find a second life after death and seek vengeance on the wretched thing. 

Despite the feeling that they couldn't breathe, they did not pass out. They wished they would, that they could drift off into nothing before they would feel the beast's claws in their back. This mercy would not be for them. 

And neither would the claws. Not as the creature lowered itself, the bed shifting as its long legs came to sit on the floor and its hidden face lowered to the back of their thighs. 

A tongue, long and thick, teased up their thigh until sharp fangs nipped at the flesh of their ass. The tongue returned quickly, flickering as it found its way to their hole. 

More anger. More rage filling their heart as they desperately plead with their libs to just move. Just the littlest amount of movement - a twitch, anything! Nothing would come. 

It kept poking, prodding, lapping away at their exposed hole while disgusting pleasure whispered up their spine and choked their breaths. ‘Stop,’ they tried to beg. To scream it until their throat would bleed. But what was the use? They’d been begging for months and yet no one was listening. If there was a god or even multiple of them, they’d long since been forsaken to this demonic presence. 

There’s a strength to the beast. It lifts them as if it were nothing, their limp body folding as it hoists their hips up and presses it’s face even deeper into their core; that damned tongue flattening and giving a smooth, languid lick that has their eyes rolling back in their head. It should have stopped at this indignity. Why didn’t it just stop there?

It took its fill of their hole, still following with its tongue as it lowered their body back onto the mattress. As if it couldn’t bear to part with them. And sure enough, its stocky form rose over them again, that red-hot skin pressing to their back as something new wriggled and writhed against their saliva-dripping core. It meant to mount them.

One last push. One last demand for a finger to curl, to prove that they weren’t locked away inside of their own body. Underneath its body. A wall of flesh pressing down, closing in and taking away all of the air in the room as their anger slowly drained into sorrow.

That tentacle-like cock of the creature burrowed its way into them, spreading them open and penetrating deep. Strange guttural noises were snarled by their head, the beast having its pleasure while their tears returned. Every thrust of the hips was more like a roll, like a wave coming in toward the beach and retreating once more. It was graceful, powerful, threatening to take them away with it into the depths below. 

How could they swim against the tide without the ability to move? How could they possibly stop the water from encasing each and every part of them, leaving not a single inch of skin dry? 

Their mind refused to wander away, instead it focused on the smell of burning the creature emanated. It grasped onto every touch and grab the creature made at their skin. It couldn’t kick or scream anymore. Just like the body it inhabited. God, they were so tired.

Sweat gathered on their skin, the heat from their creature making it feel like a sauna in the cheap room. Sharp nips were given to their neck and shoulders, fanged teeth having a taste or maybe even marking what belonged to it. Its tongue came back to clean their cheeks of tears. 

Why did it have to feel so sweet? The slow build to the orgasms that hit in waves matching its hips pulling in and out. Its cock moved by itself while it would thrust, slowly undulating, causing their throat to seize from how intensely their nerves lit on fire for it. 

Almost. Almost they were freed from being there. It was exhausting being used so thoroughly, their eyelids were heavy and promised the sweet release of unconsciousness. It never came.

Who's to say how long it stayed on top of them that night. They couldn’t see the clock, couldn’t say when the beast woke them from peace. It stayed until the sun’s rays peaked through the cheap old curtains. But it left with a promise, a lingering hand on the back of their neck as it rose up, thumb rubbing over the freshest bite. It would be back. 

They still felt numb when control returned to their limbs. Felt numb for the rest of the day until night fell once more and that fear built. All they could focus on was the fact that the semen dripping from their hole never cooled in their frigid winter air seeping into the room.

[fusion-ego]

.

the day to renew our lease is coming up

june 17th isn’t that far away

and while i wouldn’t mind staying where i am, i’m starting to get stressed about finding somewhere else to live

but most places don’t allow pets, when renting, and the cats are non-negotiable, so finding a house is the only other option

but what’s the point in trying to save money for a down payment on a house? i don’t make enough money to come up with that kind of cash in time for renewal day, and i don’t have anywhere i could go if i chose to move out instead of renewing the lease

and if i do renew the lease, then i keep on not making enough money to save up for anything important. and that’s assuming our landlady doesn’t try to raise rent - if she does, all bets are off, because i’ll just have to move out because i can’t afford, on a one-person minimum wage salary, to pay more than the $475/month i’m already paying when i also have to come up with electric and internet every month.

the only way to manage it, to come up with that kind of money, is literally to commit a crime, like fucking bank robbery or some shit. or, you know, paying only the most important of my bills and never buying anything at all except the essentials, in which case i relapse horrifically (and so does my husband) and there’s no point doing that to ourselves

i’m really starting to understand why people rob banks. and do other shit like that.

like i got it before, i understood, cuz i grew up in a less-than-$20K/year household that often had to feed and clothe 4 people, and crime would have made things so much easier for us, but now that I’m the idiot earning less than $20K/year while trying to juggle all my bills AND find the money for a house, it makes even more sense.

i don’t know how my mom did it all that time. i really don’t.

my dad selling drugs to supplement our income and finance his personal interests has never made more sense to me than it does now.

it’s probably the mania talking but i’m about this close to turning to a life of crime to get by lmao

if anybody has any tips on how to supplement my income (without turning to a life of crime) please do let me know lol

like my body is not... good for sex work, even cam work, cuz i have trouble doing, ah. penetrative stuff. so despite having tried that (and still trying that) it’s not really a viable option. transcription treats me okay but only if i can get high enough quality projects, which... not easy to do. writing and drawing have made me like $350 in total in the almost-five-years i’ve been doing that for money, so... not great as an option either.

life is just. dumb. and so is money.

i’ll get over it i just have to be dramatic first

[wonhuis]

man it fucking sucks to be me like what did I do for this year to be so awful

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

I’m sorry Young Sheldon’s lack of continuity and it’s excuse of Sheldon just didn’t know, misunderstood the situation, and was just basically wrong about everything will always annoy me. Why you ask? Because the moments where he becomes fragile, where he breaks down and spouts out some childhood tidbits of his are so genuine and seemingly traumatic for him, that I’m like seriously?

You’re just going to sidebrush the fact that this character seemed bothered that he could never relate to his father because his father wanted him to be into football, hunting, and archery when he would’ve preferred to do science.

You’re going to sidebrush the arguments his parents had that he listened to but apparently “misunderstood” when his dad was shooting up his mother’s china or when his mother prayed for the will to not grind up glass in his father’s own meatloaf?

You’re going to sidebrush the fact that his mother said that his father once fought a bobcat for a stick of liquorice?

Or the fact that his father after getting angry at the Dolphin’s win, wanted to shot the television and actually did. (I hope this gets shown in Young Sheldon).

Or how Sheldon used to cry after hearing his parents argue and how his mother admonished his father to stop yelling because Shelly’s crying and George Sr answers “He’s upset because his name is Sheldon”.

Or how Missy mentions that Sheldon created a Death Ray against the neighborhood kids who used to pick on him but instead pissed off the neighbor’s dog (I believe this might’ve been off-handedly mentioned in Young Sheldon though when Georgie asks one of the neighbor’s to buy a snowglobe and again when Mary confronts Brenda and Herb about their dog and Brenda mentioned I think the Death Ray)

Or how he messed with her Easy Bake oven and it fizzled out her eyebrows so that her mom had to scribble on eyebrows when she entered the second grade (the series happens a bit later when Sheldon is 9 years old so I guess this could be excused but god that screen rant article annoyed the hell out of me).

Or how he created a CAT scanner and tried to use it on her hamster Snowball but ended up killing Snowball and suffering radiation burns. How about that saying that came about after that incident, “Not a Snowball’s chance in a CAT scanner”. That saying is NOT even mentioned in the entire series!!!

Or how he tried to bring free electricity in his own neighborhood only for the Feds to come and ruin his project... (though actually I think they did try to make an episode... an episode probably exist of this actually so there’s at least that)

Or how he messed with the staircase for an experiment and broke his father’s clavicle.

And how he had to go to boarding school (which was never shown in Young Sheldon. It just shows him going to high school with his older brother).

Or how their dog Lucky got run over by a truck.

Or how Sheldon asked for a centrifuge for his birthday and got a dirt bike instead and was so upset about it that he came to hate birthdays. They don’t even show him hating birthdays! Just that he didn’t want to attend a birthday party. What about his own birthday? His and Missy’s?

Am I missing anything else? Please be free to add more if anyone can think of anything.

The point is, Young Sheldon is a good show, but it sucks as a prequel in my opinion. It’s retconning so much.

Exhibit 1, Sheldon’s family which is hinted to be poor IS NOT POOR. They are middle-class.

Exhibit 2, young Sheldon for some strange reason is dressed up like he’s a young version of Bill Nye or Urkel instead of the superhero tees that’s shown throughout the series and we know how neurotic scientist does not like change. Why is he dressed up like a middle-schooler as an adult but like a grown up (a dorky grown up) as a child?

Exhibit 3, George Sr is shown to drink a lot but no where does it indicate that his drinking is causing problems to the family aside from the fact that it’s eating their finances. It’s hinted that George Sr’s drinking has caused problems in his marriage with how much Mary wanted him to stop. In Young Sheldon, Mary barely tries to do anything about George Sr’s drinking.

Exhibit 4, Mary in Big Bang seems exasperated by Sheldon’s neurotics, in Young Sheldon, she indulges them (though it is likely she changes her methods of dealing with Sheldon later on...)

And again like I mentioned, it doesn’t bother to show the scenes mentioned by Sheldon. Instead it deliberately tries to make it like he’s got his personal memories wrong. He. The guy with the eidetic memory who can remember what people wear and Penny’s menstrual cycle and also when Howard and Leonard made a pact to never date Priya. Like wth is with this show. I’m sorry as a Big Bang fan...Idk how you can like Young Sheldon without ignoring the fact that it’s a prequel. Because it’s a great show, but it sucks as a prequel.

[b0amagination]

Hasan and Declan - 10

Series masterlist

Content warnings: noncon touching (touching wounds), intimate whumper, threat of electric shock and breaking bones, gaslighting vibes, discussion of depression and medication.

~~~

I had to split up the audio file for this chapter so click here for (RECORDING PART 2)

Previously…

~~~

(i started this chapter in media res so set the scene: it’s the next day, declan very much enjoyed his two granola bars, and now they’re sitting together and talkin’)

“I wish this weekend could last forever, darling,” Hasan sighed, leaning their head down on Declan’s shoulder. He shivered as their hands slid down his neck, heels pressing into his shoulders.

“I’m glad it won’t,” he snarked, immediately regretting it when nails dug into the previous day’s lashes. Fine. They wanted him to be silent.

“Mmh. That’s why we need to take care of a few things today.”

Declan only flinched in response.

“First of all, let me ask about your hobbies. I already know of streaming, which is out of the question, but I may be able to provide you with games.”

“I like archery.” That was true. Declan only used it to buy time and think of what he valued the most, but it was a little funny.

“Mmmm you better not keep it up if you actually want anything from me,” they traced down a welt, and it was still threatening even though he could tell by their tone that they were joking.

“Well, I used to play clarinet. Had to sell it a few months back, though. My papa tried to teach me how to crochet once. That was kinda fun. I… I don’t know what else.”

“Don’t get your hopes up on the clarinet, dear, but I can absolutely get you a needle and some yarn. What about films? Any favorites?”

“Clue,” he answered immediately, and wanted to shove the word right back down his throat. He wasn’t here to ruin his favorite movies for himself by associating them with this! “Please ignore that. Uhh… The Princess Bride, I guess. And Bill and Ted?” 

“You have very interesting taste,” Hasan commented.

“Well, don’t mind me, I’m just trying to decide what fun and tolerable movies I get to watch for the rest of my miserable little life.”

“Well, you’re right there. This is the rest of your life.”

Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Go ahead and believe it, asshole.

Hasan clapped him on the shoulders, moving to get up, and Declan scrambled away. 

“So hasty, darling.” They shook their head. “You’re so open with your discomfort for someone who doesn’t want it to be exploited.”

He curled in on himself. Did he have to be so stupid? And did they have to point it out?

“Aww hey,” they reached over and stroked his hair. “I would’ve figured it out eventually. Nothing wrong with moving quickly.” Declan shuddered and shrugged them off.

“Even quicker, we get to the point where you’re tired of touching me!”

“Ohh, I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon, if ever.”

“How convenient,” Declan grumbled.

“How indeed.”

Their thumb trailed down his jaw and slipped away as they straightened up.

“You know, I finished a special project yesterday,” they smiled, leaning down to a bag they’d left by the door. They picked something up, holding it behind their back, and Declan was even more on edge. 

“What was that?” he asked, standing up and trying to get behind them and see, but Hasan spun around, keeping it out of sight. 

“I’ll tell you, but you’ve got to stand still,” they said, watching him hesitantly plant his feet.

“No point in fighting, I suppose?”

“You’re really catching on.” The pride in their voice was not necessary. 

Hasan stepped closer and closer, heel to toe, making defined clacks that echoed in the space. They were almost nose to nose when Hasan dropped to their knees, one landing directly on his bare foot.

“Ow! Jesus, what are you- hey!” Hasan’s hands wrapped something around his ankle, which he couldn’t pull away in his shock and immobilization. Leather, it was a leather band, but there were small chains hooking around as well, and they had a lock they were putting through those, then the metal ring on the leather, and it clicked shut. 

They sat back on their heels and Declan stumbled away, unsettled by the weight of it. There was a small box on one side.

“What is this, house arrest?!”

“Essentially, yes,” Hasan chuckled, towering over his cowering form once again.

Declan scuttled to the wall, sitting against it so he had space to inspect the anklet. There was some kind of box on it, and he could swear it was buzzing with energy it hadn’t been a few seconds ago. It reminded him of…

“That was supposed to be for an electric dog fence, but I’ve… repurposed it,” they shrugged with a bashful smile. “I placed it around the perimeter of my house, and I’m sure you’re starting to feel that, seeing how close to it you’ve gotten. The voltage is far higher as well.”

“Oh my god, fuck you!” Declan growled, kicking the device against the floor.

Hasan strode forward, catching his ankle and wrenching it up. They looked down his outstretched leg with a bitter glare. 

“I’m really trying to give you a chance, here, Dec,” they sighed. “I could’ve snapped your knees the moment I brought you here and been done with it. Crushed your shins. Smashed your ankles. Ground every bone in your foot to a fine powder…”

Declan shuddered as they traced from his knee down to his ankle, paying special attention to the leather before finally dropping his leg, allowing him to curl into himself. He was so tense he was shaking.

“I would’ve been entirely satisfied in the knowledge that you didn’t have the ability to escape. But you know why I didn’t?” They paused long enough for him to shake his head. “Because I respect you. I respect your integrity and your feelings. I respect-”

“You don’t respect me!” Declan’s head shot up, incredulity shining in his rageful eyes. “You’ve made me feel the worst I’ve ever felt! You don’t listen to me! Don’t use that shit against me!”

“Yes, I’ve made you feel, but those feelings are ones I’ve accepted and encouraged you to explore. I’m always listening, I promise, but there are many requests that are unreasonable or contradictory to our progress.”

“Respect is fucking mutual! If you can’t respect all of me, then that’s it. You don’t get to call it something nice. You don’t get to feel better.”

“Dearest, please breathe. I think you’re misguided, and I think you’re taking this without the nuance that the subject demands.” Hasan explained, kneeling before him and taking his hands in their own. “We can’t manage every aspect of each other at every time. And I’m sorry if it’s upsetting you, but that’s a part of yourself I wish to draw out.”

“I don’t feel better! None of this makes me feel better!” He tried to tear his hands away, but the grip on them tightened in warning.

“Then what can I do to help, darling?”

“You can-”

“Within reason,” they interrupted, giving him a look.

“Nothing helpful is within your reason.”

“Then you better rethink what you consider helpful, because I’m still offering.”

“I… Hasan, I don’t know,” Declan sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine this situation being any better for me.”

“Think about comfort. About basic wants.”

“...I’d, uh, like to sleep without being chained up. And in a bed.”

“You know I can’t trust you without restraints right now.” That made sense. Frustrating, but at least he got some excuse that wasn’t bullshit for once— in the way he defined bullshit with Hasan, anyway.

“The bed? Please?”

“I’ve got an old camping cot in the garage,” Hasan offered, like that was the only option they had.

“That’s… you don’t seem strapped for cash.”

“You want the cot?”

“Yes,” Declan sighed.

“Good boy,” they crooned.

“Yeah, no, if you were testing I’ll let you know the results: that felt disgusting.”

“Felt pretty alright to me.”

“Just don’t do it again.” He knew damn well he couldn’t stop it, but it was worth a try. At least that wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to hear before. Though he wanted it even less now.

“I won’t ask you to act out, but if you don’t wanna be praised I can absolutely punish you instead.”

“Woo. I’m a good boy then,” Declan deadpanned. That was silly and borderline petty, but so was this whole situation.

“God, you’re funnier than you should be, especially now.”

“I know. It’s the mental illness.” Hasan reeled back, seemingly recalculating everything about him.

“Shit, wait, ah shit! Do you need me to pick up medication? Were you on any?!” They wrung their hands and Declan could see their train of thought going off the rails.

“This is what you care about?” 

“Yes!! Because shit like serotonin syndrome and withdrawal are real things! I am not prepared to take care of you for that!”

“Oh my god, calm down. I was, but a real low dose, thankfully. For depression. I was coming off them to switch, which obviously never happened and doesn’t matter at this point. They were fucking with my anxiety, and I don’t need their help to do that now,” Declan sighed, trying to lock the resentment down so he didn’t escalate the situation.

“Hmm, I suppose not,” Hasan giggled, “and there’s no point trying to get anything for you right now. If your depression starts getting worse during the day, let me know, okay? We’ll do something about it.”

“And now you care about my dumbass feelings.”

“You’re ill, Declan, and I’m sure you’ve felt the depths that leads to.” Their tone was eerily serious. Knowing.

“Nothing worse than what torture can do to me alone,” Declan tried to smile, but it fell flat. 

“You know that’s not true. They’re two entirely different things.”

“So, I suppose I’m not the only person here who has intimate experiences with mental illness?”

“Why did you think I have this tattoo?” Hasan slid their sleeve up to show their bicep and the black semicolon that stood out on their tan skin. 

“I… didn’t see it. I think the only time I could’ve is when you were… you know. So I didn’t notice.” A repulsive feeling spread through him at the thought that his kidnapper of all people was the first person they’d known who could relate even remotely to his experiences. They could take advantage of it, his mind supplied, and he tried to wave it off. 

“Well, now we know. Anything else you need?”

“Breakfast. And… water? Available regularly?”

“I think I can arrange something like that.”

“And…” He hesitated, but Hasan was listening. “Can I ask for lemons to put in it?”

“Now you’re getting needy. I’ll see what I can do.”

They winked and spun on their heels, leaving just like that.

~~~

Next...

~~~

Tag list: @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed!

[asphodelia-nx-04]

Property of Rachel Elliot Hale (Hideous Destructor)

If you’re reading this PDA, then one of two things has happened.

Either, I’m dead, and you looted this off me, Or I’ve gotten to the source of whatever the fuck AGM is doing, and I’m famous.

...After what I’ve seen so far, I’m starting to hope to Christ it’s the first.

Oh! That reminds me! I’m boobytrapped with 5 M67 fragmentation grenades on a deadman’s switch!~ I would start running if you’re still reading this!

Log0001.UMF File created, 04/19/2108, 12:27:32 PM

So, a recap. About 17 days and 19 hours ago, all hell broke loose from the various AGM genetics facilities worldwide. I will presume you’re already familiar with the monopolistic and hedonistic mega-corporation conglomerate, because if you aren’t, you have much, much worse things to worry about now than whatever the hell you did before.

Heh. Hell. We’ll get to THAT shortly.~

Mind some of the photos, by the way. My glasses are linked with my PDA and I take photos of shit I see with them.

If you’re not from around here, well, let me be the first to welcome you to Oklahoma! Let me also be the first to say, assuming you’ve survived my deadman’s switch, to please grab any firearms and ammunition still on my body and arm yourself to the teeth. Because now, AGM’s research has gone positively apeshit, to put it professionally, and all kinds of disgusting flesh abominations have started pouring through various portals, vats, reactors, and just about anything else that AGM, or their parent company, the UAC, has manufactured, and as you can see by reading this, I didn’t stop them.

Why? I don’t know. I’m just a fuckin’ engineer, man! I fix Pepsi machines and fluorescent lighting for a living, I don’t know shit about genetics. I do, however, know a lot about firearms, which is why I’m very glad to finally get my hands on some of our PMC’s hardware.

To the potential reader who has been in a coma for an extended period of time, and is likely gasping in shock if their coma was for 60 years, or rolling their eyes were it only 25 or so, yes, of course the giant mega-corp has a PMC, every “company” has a PMC now, because they’re all owned by the UAC. EVERYONE is the UAC.

Well, probably not *you*, but I am! And I hate it!!

Either way, AGM’s the genetics branch of the UAC, and they’ve been doing damn near *EVERYTHING*. Stimulants? Yep. Cyborgs? Absolutely. Genetic splicing? You bet. Cloning? Of course. Livable wages and benefits? ...Hah. As fucking if.

I was getting dressed for work, when the power goes out in my apartment. At first, I just kinda shrugged it off and assumed my account got charged by AGM for some stupid shit last minute, and didn’t have enough funds to pay my electric bill.

Then uh, then the building across from me goes out. And the ones next to it. And the ones next to them. And then the street posts. One by one I see and hear EVERYTHING go out. It’s pitch black, and after prying my self out of my sliding door I drive to work in the resulting chaos. At least, I wanted to, but all kinds of disgusting flesh monsters start pouring out into the streets, ripping out through the storm drains, sewers, and god knows where else. Everything was fine at first, but on my way to work, I’d see more and more weird stuff going on. Especially with those giant pink snakes sliding around. Hooooooboy, I’ll get to THOSE annoying little fuckers soon. On my way to the usual checkpoint, I’m greeted by two guards pointing their rifles at me. They’re not like the usual ones, either. I know those guys! If they’re still alive, don’t tell them I said this, but if they’re dead, they’re both assholes and owe me money.

Anyways, no, these guys look the same. Bald, slouching, one of em’s even shirtless. He’s barely even holding his gun right! That’s the giveaway, that he’s one of those weird “Blank” projects I keep hearing about. Blanks are what the guys and I call the new security guards that AGM has started replacing guys like Andy and Jake with. They’re notorious for aggression, being completely nonverbal besides some dull groans, and their weird exoskeletons and tubing. Which is why...

I tried to talk him down at first, but once he sprayed six rounds of 4.26mm past my legs (thank God these things can’t aim for shit.) I reached for my gun. After that, it was a very short conversation.

...God I’m so cool~

Blanks are problematic by nature, which is why most staff are issued a firearm in the first place. Rarely do you get anything standard though, it’s literally just whatever the hell they have lying around. In my case, it was a heavily used 9mm USP. Which is fine by me, I love this damn thing. Blanks are great for keeping civvies (not that anyone really works for a job that doesn’t ultimately benefit the UAC, of course.) out, but they frequently go haywire (Turns out the human brain doesn’t like being reduced to pure chemicals, wires, and exoskeletons controlled by radio waves!) which is why we get a gun, and some decent hazard pay. That is, when AGM decides to actually fucking pay us.

In any case, I look on his body to find any information, an instead I just find his pockets contain three stimpacks, 19 loose 9mm rounds, and three 4.26mm magazines for the G36C he dropped. (I always wanted one of these!~) Regulations say I’m not allowed to keep anything I find on a “Blank,” and the punishments I’d face for doing so are worse than termination. I’ll just say, the company will be taking much more than my job, and my wages.

That said, as I make my way through the checkpoint I find more blanks, and a sentry turret. The turrets are the most stable, reliable thing here if you could believe some shit like that. I would know, I’m the one who works on them! So if something goes wrong, it’s my ass on the line, you can sure as hell bet I’m doing a good job with them. Which is all the more reason why I was extremely unhappy by it firing like 30 rounds in 3 seconds at me, before I dived out of the way. I’m not even mad that it shot at me, I’m way more mad that it fucking missed! Are you kidding me!? Do you know how hard it is to get those barrels to swivel correctly on that stupid ass floor tripod? The gyroscope’s a diva that takes FOREVER to line up with a target, and the motor takes so long to spin up, that anyone else can just pick the thing up and take it home if they wanted to! After flipping the off switch, of course.

Besides, I made all sorts of modifications to this one to make it react faster, shoot even faster, and aim better. And it fucking missed every shot!! Are you kidding me!? Yes, I am mad about my personal project sentry gun not ripping my torso to shreds with high caliber caseless armor piercing rounds, thank you for asking!! >:(

I shoot it right in the battery, causing it to explode. The noise attracts a Blank from around the corner, and as he mindlessly trudges towards me, spewing his bullets in every direction, I liberate his kneecaps, and when he falls...I saw. It. Whatever it was. Body like a human, tail like a snake, and a head unlike anything I’ve ever seen. As I mouthed my disbelief at it, it’s hands catch on fire. No, seriously. I’m not kidding. I caught a pic of it to prove it!

Seriously!

Of course I put this horrid thing down. It’s like, a huge ass cobra-man. I’m gonna call them Snakedudes! Anyways, I put him down, and go to the checkpoint door. It accepts my override, and I walk along like it’s nothing. Going through the second checkpoint, I find it’s just...empty. Completely. Devoid of life, save for the groaning and hissing outside the walls. I open the door, and I quickly piss off like an entire army of blanks, and snakedudes. Ducking my head behind the door as it slides back down, I reload my weapons as I hear them shambling closer towards me. A cacophony of growls ring out as that door slowly opens, and I blindfire that rifle I took from the other ones. I hear lots of groaning as they fall over, and I peek out to take potshots with my pistol at the ones still kicking.

One firefight later, and the facility’s blank and snake free. I walk over to the entrance to the main elevator down into the facility, and I’m greeted with...

This.

This wasn’t me. It was like that when I got there. The trail of footprints lead inside, and judging by the smell and the buzzing of flies, they’ve been like this for a while. So then, if those blanks are there, why the hell were the ones in front of me unharmed? Either something tried to get out and got stopped, or something got in and these things I had to shoot replaced them.

Neither make any sense what the hell so ever, but there’s little I can do wondering about it. I walk over to the sign and take a second to catch my breath, and fill my lungs with what little “fresh” (if you could call this smoggy, tan sky “fresh” air by any definition) air I can, before loading my pistol, and stepping through into what may be hell. I pick up a neato MP7A2 off one of the many bodies, and check it. It’s like, 20 or so rounds. I’m not gonna stick around in corpse-stink and count each fuckin’ one! It’s enough to blow into a monster charging at me, and that’s all I need!

Down I go, light after light trickling past me, as I descend into darkness. The familiar smoggy air and its welcoming scent leaves as the elevator falls, and instead, I smell the rusty, chem-heavy stench of AGM’s inner facilities. Every long shift fills your nose with what I can only describe as molded bottom of the barrel coffee mixed with engine cleaner, rust, and fryer grease all in one. Fun. The lift stops, and the doors open to the receiving area. Those big, ugly letters face me again, just like the years and years of normal work before.

Course, this’ll be the last time I ever see this room again, I hope.

...God I wish I brought an air freshener.

[maryellencarter]

Okay kids, buckle up. I need money again (for the last time, pray god), but at least this time I have a fucking story to go with it.

Short version: My landlord is illegally trying to evict me and I just had to drop $60 on court costs to fight it. That's $60 that was going to pay for either my meds or the electric bill, take your pick. So I really need donations to get by for the next two weeks, after which I should be settling in at a much more mentally healthy job and in good shape. My Paypal is ethanrabbits@gmail.com and my Ko-fi is here. Thank you so much for anything you can contribute!

Long version:

So the last three months I've been off work due to a mental health breakdown. July and August, I haven't been able to pay my rent. I applied for rent assistance right away in late June, and emailed my landlord's office all the paperwork for both the rent assistance and the CDC Declaration of eligibility for the Eviction Moratorium -- the thing where if you're poor enough you can't get evicted during the pandemic because you would have to go to a shelter or a crowded living situation and be at risk for the Covid.

Middle of July, I received a *backdated* notice that if I didn't provide proof of rent assistance application, I was going to be filed against for eviction. Okay, there's a new property manager, maybe the filing got mixed up, so I go down and re-email all the paperwork and make sure the property manager sees it arrive in the email.

Beginning of August, I get a notice from the rent assistance people that the CDC has extended the moratorium for places in a high surge status, which I am in one, so I fill out and forward the newest eviction protection form which should cover me till October 3, and go down to speak to the property manager about it, when again I am assured that everything is on file.

Middle of August, two months after filing my request for rent assistance, I finally hear from a caseworker who says "send me your paperwork". I jubilantly send all the paperwork, go down to give my property manager the good news, and also -- see, I don't have a lease for September yet. I was offered one back in July, but I didn't want to sign anything until I knew what my situation was going to be with regard to rent assistance and paydays. So I brought down the paper that said "yes I am signing here to officially agree to the new lease you offered, please print the new lease so I can sign it officially", and handed it to the property manager as well.

Now, I have about $700 of late fees for July and August. This is legal under the eviction moratorium and I have understood from the beginning that I would have to pay them. My first paycheck back to work comes in this Friday, and when I went to request the new lease I had planned to discuss a payment arrangement as well, figuring I could pay about $600 on Friday and the rest in two weeks, based on my projected paycheck.

("Taught myself payroll tax law in order to predict my paychecks" should definitely be on my resume somewhere. I just haven't figured out where.)

But, dear readers, when I went down to drop off the form, there was some other client or resident in the office, so I didn't get to discuss a payment arrangement. No big deal, I figured. I'd discuss it when I heard that my lease was ready to sign.

Instead, last Tuesday, I was woken up at nine sharp by a process server with an eviction summons for me. Thank fuck, I've spent the last two weeks having a technical issue at work that's kept me getting paid but off the phones, because I was in no state to talk to people that day. Eventually I pulled myself together, broke out the legalese close-reading skills, and discovered that the summons includes one particular line item which (I hope and pray) indicates They Done Fucked Up.

This summons, ladies and gentlethem, includes the line item "The Plaintiff has not received an executed copy of the Declaration form as of the date of this filing pursuant to the CDC Order dated September 1, 2020."

Well, gentle readers, I was and am *pissed off*. I keep providing documentation to these fuckers and they keep misplacing it, and now they're getting me involved with The Legal System. I *hate* being anywhere near the legal system. I have massive PTSD triggers from being raised by an evil ADA. But by god, I speak legalese as my first language, and I am not going down without a fight.

So, not being able to get in touch with anyone to provide legal aid or assistance, I spent last Thursday trundling around downtown in decaying shoes and 105° heat, getting court paperwork printed and duplicated and filed and mailed. I dropped about $60 I hadn't planned to spend on court filing fees and certified mail costs and the actual baseline printing costs of all the documentation I needed to provide.

I did get two pieces of good luck that day. One, I finally heard back from my case manager saying that the rent assistance money for my landlord only has to go through one more person who will double-check the numbers. It's supposed to get final approval sometime early this week.

Two, I got a job promotion I've been working toward for years. Well, side-motion, it doesn't come with a raise, but I already make $16+ an hour, over twice our federal minimum wage. What it does come with is, except in rare cases I never talk to callers, I just answer them in written messages. This should hopefully be a perfect job for me, and allow me to work a solid 40 hours a week and earn plenty of money.

The catch is... it's work-at-home only. If I get evicted and can't make it to training on Monday week, I'm fucked.

So. My eviction hearing is tomorrow. If and when the judge is like "okay if we let you sign a new 12-month lease and stay in your apartment, what is your repayment plan on your late fees", I plan to be like "Your Honor, I have a payday on Friday and I am prepared to provide the court a money order for the full $700 of late fees on that date which will bring me fully up to date".

I'll do it, too. The catch is, that'll leave me with something like $200 in the bank for the next two weeks, and I calculate I need about $100 for groceries, $80 for meds, $50 for electric, and $80 for the cell phone bill over that time period. These numbers don't add up. :P

Soooo, yeah. I'm having to spend about $160 I can't afford because my damn property manager is an idiot and can't fucking print and file my fucking legal declaration. I really hope the court throws the book at the corporation and nails them with those "up to $200,000 fines" for breaking the CDC moratorium, although I am dubious because courts like corporations much more than they like stout genderqueer individuals without legal representation, however white and erudite.

But mostly, I really hope I can stay in my apartment and also afford my meds for the next two weeks. My Paypal is ethanrabbits@gmail.com and my Ko-fi is here. If you can spare *anything*, even a dollar or three, it would help so much.

God, I'm so sick of having to beg for help every few weeks. I just really hope nothing else blows up in my face... :-(

[fairyoftbz]

[13:27]

🎄Day 1 of the Christmas project🎄

Last day of November. It felt like the entire world was hit by a tidal wave of cold, freezing everyone on its way. Wrapped in your coat, you were taking hurried baby steps on the slippery pavement, the only thing that you wanted was to go home and stay under a hot shower for the following hour. You were legitimately freezing, fingers almost going numb despite your thick gloves. It felt like the low temperature got more and more aggressive throughout the past years, despite your choice of warm clothes.

But, as you paced down towards the exit of the university perimeter to go to the nearest Starbucks to buy a coffee, you felt something hit you on the shoulder. It was swift, round, and cold.

A snowball, the puffiness of your winter jacket fortunately toning the impact down, because it landed on your shoulder with quite some strength.

Turning around, you see a bunch of students fooling around in the snow, two of them staring at you from afar. You relaxed a bit when you noticed their childish behaviour, shrugging it off as you continued on your way, knowing that it wasn't probably aimed at you. One was trying to hide behind his friend, probably the culprit. Thinking that he wasn't going to say anything, you just kept on walking, ready to accomplish your mission of getting a warm beverage before going home. However, the student took the responsibility upon himself and jogged towards you, a hand gently landing on your upper arm to stop you from walking away.

"Hey, um, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to aim at you. Did I hurt you?" You looked up and noticed a good-looking man in front of you, somewhat out of breath, the tip of his nose bright red because of the cold.  "It's fine, don't worry about it," you shrugged it off with a smile as the man in front of you worryingly looked at you because, well, he had some strength and threw a snowball at full speed directly towards you.

It was meant for his friend - Sunwoo - but the latter managed to dodge at last minute, avoiding the projectile which hit you. You were sure that you would have a small bruise from the shock tomorrow morning, but it didn't matter, it wasn't like you were clutching your shoulder, gasping for air.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked again as he gently wiped the remaining snow off your coat, a smile appearing on his face when he looked at you. His gesture felt comforting and reassuring. He was kind of cute, you weren't going to lie. He was pleasant to look at. "I'm just glad I had my coat on," you giggled at your words but immediately stopped as you saw that he was still being serious, "no but don't worry, I'm just more startled than hurt, you don't have to worry too much about it," you reassured him with a smile.  "Jae! Stop flirting and come back, we're leaving!" you heard a male voice coming from behind, followed by a few snickers from his other friends.  "I guess your friends are calling you," you vaguely gestured towards the other young men behind him. You were about to bid farewell to him when he gently grabbed your forearm, again. 

"They can wait. I don't mean to come off as a creep but... Do you think... I could get your number? I wanna apologise by offering you a cup of coffee some time." Now, his nose wasn't the only red thing, his cheeks were practically glowing like a red light. You were surprised that a man ever approached you like this, it was the first time, and you didn't know what to say or do. "O-Only if you want it, of course," He immediately added as he took your silence for a form of doubt and you blinked a few times as you tried to think of a negative point about giving him your number. What could go wrong?  "No, no, it's f-fine," you were stumbling on your words, something that Hyunjae found quite endearing, as well as your reddening cheeks.

He took his phone out of his coat pocket and handed it for you to enter your number. You took the device with shaky hands, not sure if it was due to the cold or the man in front of you. Maybe both. 

Probably both. 

As you handed him his phone back, your fingers accidentally brushed, sending electricity down your spine. This situation seemed so unreal, so scripted that you started to think that you were the main character in a cliché Christmas movie. The young, handsome man randomly meeting you, the tender looks, the flirting. Oh god, stop Y/N, you're starting to blush!

"Thanks... Y/N," he said as he read what you've just entered on his phone, your name rolled off his tongue very naturally. "I guess I'll see you around. And again, I'm very sorry for hurting you," you gave him a soft smile as you reassured him one last time before parting ways, your mind still clouded that a gorgeous person like him just bluntly asked for your number and flirted with you.

The following day after the incident, you found the time to have lunch together as a first date, to which you were quite nervous, and a bit taken off guard. Hyunjae seemed genuinely a sweet man when you texted him, his words considerate and attentive, making you laugh and blush at the same time. This motherfucker was good at flirting, damn.

You arrived at the coffee shop you had both agreed on going a few minutes before the hour given, and Hyunjae was already there. Hiding for a few seconds near the entrance, you made sure that your hair and your makeup still looked good as when you had gotten ready in the morning.  Greeting the barista with a smile, you immediately paced to Hyunjae's table, where he was waiting for you while checking his phone. 

"Hi!" you sweetly said, and he looked up, his face lighting up when your eyes met. He looked like a model with his black turtleneck and navy-blue darted trousers, you were relieved to see that you had both made an effort to dress appropriately for your first-time meeting.  "Hi, Y/N," he stood up and gave you a light hug before drawing out the chair for you. Your cheeks immediately went up in flames, not anticipating this act of chivalry from him.  "Thank you," you said as you comfortably sat in the chair, the waiter coming to take your order.  "I'll have the English brunch with a cappuccino please," you said, and Hyunjae placed his order as well.

The date went well, you couldn't be happier. He was the same as in his messages, sweet, gentle, and caring, that's all you needed to feel comfortable with a man. While you were waiting for your food, he had his arms crossed on the table, and his upper body slightly shifted forward, you knew that his attention was on you and only you.

"I-I think your phone is buzzing," you said as you stopped explaining something to him, your forefinger pointing at the vibrating device next to him.  "Doesn't matter, it can wait," he stated as he lowered the button of the side of the phone, making it immediately go silent.

Much to your relief, he wasn't the type that only talked about himself, he was also very attentive and didn't hesitate to ask about your centres of interests or the subjects of your major. He was a marketing student, and you were studying political sciences, so you still had some things to talk about even if it wasn't related to you or your private life. When you were both done eating, you had tried to pay the bill, but he just wouldn't let you. And since you didn't want to throw a tantrum in the middle of the coffee shop, you politely thanked him.

"You'll pay next time," he replied, shooting you a wink with a smile as he handed the waiter his credit card.  "N-next time ?!" your reaction wasn't long in coming, making your date chuckle as he got his card back, as well as a receipt.   "All right, let's go," he said, ignoring your widened eyes while you absentmindedly put on your coat, still dazed by the words that came out of his mouth a few seconds ago.

When you got out of the building, the cold was there to attack again, biting at any showing skin unprotected by an item of clothing. As you nested your nose in the side of your coat, you couldn't help but let your mind wander as you imagined how it would feel to be in his arms right now. Not knowing how or why he looked hella comfortable and warm to you. Your brain couldn't look at him without saying: a source of warmth. Must hug. Maybe it was his big, puffed coat and woollen scarf, you didn't know, but your body was ready to throw itself into his arms at any point. However, you had another idea, cuddling has to wait a bit.

What about payback? Mh?

You seized the opportunity that Hyunjae was distracted looking at the buildings around you to gather some snow in your bare hands, the contact of your skin with the white powder sending chills up your arms. Shaping the snow with your hands, you quickly managed to create a snowball, slightly hiding it as Hyunjae was sometimes looking at you with a smile. When he made the mistake to have his back turned to you while looking at the front of a shop, you aimed and threw the snowball at him.

The projectile surprised him as it landed in the middle of his back, making him turn around. His face showed nothing but surprise before turning into mischief as he glanced at you with a smirk.

"You think you can get away with this, uh?" he mumbled, loudly enough for you to hear as you started trotting away while giggling, gathering some snow on the way to make another ball, ready to defend yourself. "Come back here, little madam," your laughter increased in embarrassment at the pet name, feeling your cheeks lightly blush as you didn't think he'd ever say something like that.

You started having a snowball fight in the middle of the park, some adults looking at you either adoringly or weirdly, but you both didn't care. You were in your game, your bubble. For once, you couldn't care less about what the other people around you thought of you. Currently, having fun with your date was more important to you than anything else.

A few minutes later you stopped a bit out of breath, shivering as you chased each other for a while.

"Come on," he said while extending his hand towards you, "you look cold, let's get going."

He was right, your hands were turning red and numb since you didn't have any gloves on. You grabbed his hand, and he plunged them in his coat pocket, keeping you close to him. While you rode the bus on the way to your apartment, you sat next to each other and carried on with speaking, as if you were still on your date at the café.  You were hopeful that Hyunjae was feeling the same as you did, and the light he had in his eyes as he looked at you, as well as his actions completely erased your doubts. Your hands were trapped between his two gloved ones, sometimes blowing hot air on them, or vigorously rubbing them together to create some warmth. This kind of gesture had your heart racing, scared that he would hear it from your proximity.

When you both stepped out of the elevator to arrive at your door, you fumbled with your keys with your frozen fingers and unlocked your front door, not knowing how to part ways.

"D-do... you want a cup of coffee or s-something else?" you offered, but he shook his head with a smile.  "It's very sweet from you Y/N, but I have to attend a lecture in a few minutes," he said as he got closer to you, his warm hands cupping your cold face.  "Good luck, and thank you for this date," you hesitantly mumbled, and he smiled, kissing your forehead before taking a step back.

You almost collapsed at the display of affection and smiled as he walked back to the elevators, shooting you a wink before pressing the button to call it.

"I'll give you a call when I get back to my apartment," he said, and you nodded, waving at him as he stepped into the machine, "oh, and make sure to warm up your hands by drinking tea, it's important to keep yourself warm!" "I will. See you soon!" you said before locking your door, heart filled with feelings for the charming uni student that threw a snowball at you a few days ago.

[onecrazysquirrel]

Welcome to Dayton Ohio USA Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy and yes sometimes it's as filling as the candy bar especially at 6:31AM when you should be asleep and it's freezing cold outside at 21° while it feels like 17° and it's only supposed to get up to 32° and then down to 22° the best thing is that it's supposed to be bright and sunny all day according to the report now but brace yourself that could change at any moment. 

   The gracious God of all gods set his hand upon each of you this morning showering you all with his marvelous blessings and covering you beneath the shadow of his wing may you who do not already come to know his son who died upon a cross for your sins and in three days rose again to conquer death and the grave providing the only entrance to heaven and communion with God our Heavenly Father through Jesus Christ our Lord and may those who already know him be blessed in growing closer with him through the holy spirit in his precious name.

  I need to lay it down soon I believe but I wanted to share our morning visit and prayer session before I went to bed. I may wait however until I wake up because my focus is off and it is very hard to make this make sense. I went and helped close last night and I've not been to bed, I'm kind of worried that if I go to sleep I'll end up sleeping the day away or perhaps a few days again and I don't want that.

  Squirrel...

  Things haven't changed much over the course of the last day, my friend is still deathly ill to the point that it has us frightened we're asking God to strengthen our hearts and calm our spirits and to aid us in accepting his will whatever that may be. We haven't given up hope King David prayed naked faced down stretched full length on the floor fearfully pleading with God to spare the baby's life right up until he was told that the child was dead at which point he got up and washed his face and sat down at the table to eat. We are (short of being naked and not sure how many of us are fully stretching out on our floors) praying and pleading with God on behalf of my friend's life that he would heal her and fill her with renewed strength and vigor and believing that he will because she is his child also and she is essentially all that her child has left. So I am praying like David to the best of my meager abilities that she might be healed and our gracious and merciful God would prolong her life beyond the doctor's projections. I am already thanking and praising him for doing these things in Jesus name according to his perfect will.

  With everything that's going on right now I abhor thinking about bills let alone trying to keep a funding drive going I'm at the point that I could end up losing my main bank account and actually my all time favorite bank account and bank if I don't come up with $150 to pay back the loan that I borrowed to prolong utility services. I care but I don't whether gas and electric get shut off however this is the bank account that I use for almost all of my banking needs and this bank has taken better care of me than any I have ever known so please pray that this money comes in today preferably through Venmo or Cash App. I will pray and believe that the PIPP application will go through quickly and disconnects will be avoided.

  Thanks for visiting with me this morning and thank you for praying with and for us Jesus fills us with love and compassion for all of you his holy spirit overflowing our cups. May the holy spirit of the Living God be with you all as well and may Christ Jesus claim you as one of his very own may the blessings of the Holy of holies pour down upon each your heads and those of your households and his favor flourish within your dwellings and your temples according to his perfectly gracious and abundantly merciful will through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

If you would like to contribute and bypass the fees and processing time that it takes using this site please use one of the following methods. Try it using my code and you’ll get $5. CCRMRMW

https://cash.app/app/CCRMRMW

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Download the app using my referral link: https://get.venmo.com/k3Z8MOTT8lb

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

This is a request from @ringa-starr, and it is just super cute. This is a Bill Preston x Reader, and to make things even better, it’s a Cinderella AU. Putting two of my favorite things together. Gifs and characters are not mine. I hope you all enjoy this!

Description: Y/N jumps at the chance to go to the Prince’s ball, despite her stepmother’s disapproval. While she is there, she catches the eye of a certain curly haired blonde.

Warnings: none, just sweet and cute fluff

Y/N had just finished sweeping the floor for the third time that day. She knew that it was clean, but her stepmother insisted that it wasn’t. After the passing of her mother and father, Y/N was stuck living with the most horrible women on the planet.

Her stepmother, Lady Tremaine, constantly had Y/N clean the house until it was spotless. When Lady Tremaine first married Y/N’s father, she treated Y/N as if she were her own flesh and blood. After her father’s passing however, she showed her true colors.

Y/N’s stepsisters, Drizella and Anastasia, were the same way. Any chance they could they would insult Y/N, and today was no different. While Y/N was dusting the clock by the stairway, Drizella and Anastasia came gliding down the stairs in their extravagant ball gowns. Their mother followed right behind.

“Oh, the Prince will fall in love with me for sure,” Drizella gushed as she spun around in a circle.

“No, he’s going to fall in love with me,” Anastasia retorted. The two woman started to pull at each other’s hair, and their mother had to step in.

“Come now girls,” Lady Tremaine said with a slight tilt of her head, “That is no way for ladies to behave.”

The two sisters quickly nodded their heads in agreement, but they continued to glare daggers at each other. Y/N put her duster down, and told the sisters how beautiful they looked. She only received snorts of disgust in response. Y/N then turned to her stepmother, and mustered up all the courage she had in order to speak. “May I go to the ball? I have all of my chores done. I even have my own dress! Please, can I go?”

Lady Tremaine smiled. “Of course you can go! Hurry up and change, or we will be late.”

Y/N cheered as she dashed upstairs to change into her dress. It used to belong to her mother, and while it wasn’t as extravagant as the other gowns, it was still very beautiful. The shades of magenta brought out the color of Y/N’s eyes, and she couldn’t help but feel the excitement that was growing within her. Y/N made her way back down the stairs, and she was greeted by her stepmother’s wicked gaze. “What’s wrong,” Y/N asked.

“Oh this dress will never do,” Lady Tremaine said with a shake of her head. “Girls, why don’t you help your dear sister fix her dress.”

Drizella and Anastasia both lunged at Y/N. They began to rip pieces of the dress apart, all the while making comments on how much “better” the dress looked. When they were finished, Y/N’s dress had been reduced to practically nothing.

The sisters laughed as they went back to their mothers side. Lady Tremaine looked down at Y/N with a smirk. “Did you seriously believe we would let you go to the ball?! Ha! We would be the laughing stocks of the town. Our carriage has arrived, so just stay here in the house where you belong.”

The three despicable women left the house, and Y/N let the tears fall from her eyes. She ran out the back door and into the garden. It was the one place she could go to find peace. Y/N collapsed onto the ground as sobs continued to rack her body. Suddenly, a loud crash cut through her wails and cries. She looked up, and couldn’t believe what was in front of her.

It was a phone booth. Little bolts of electric slithered down the metal sides, and the only reason why she knew it was a phone booth was the fact that it said so at the top. As for what a phone was, Y/N was completely clueless. A man wearing a long grey coat stepped out from the booth and removed his glasses. He stepped towards Y/N and handed her a handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted.

“Who are you,” Y/n questioned as she whipped her tears away with the handkerchief.

“My name is Rufus. Think of me as your fairy godmother of sorts. I’m here to help you gain entrance to the Prince’s ball.”

Rufus walked back over to the phone booth, and pulled out a small bag. He handed the bag to Y/N with a smile. “This is for you. After all, it is absolutely necessary that you and the Prince get together. This should help with that.”

Y/N reached into the bag, and pulled out a remote that had a singular button in the middle. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she pressed it, but she tried it anyways. In a flash the remote projected a shimmering sapphire dress onto Y/N. To her and everyone else, it looked real. Y/N gasped lightly at how amazing it looked on her, despite being an illusion.

“Now, this device only works for a limited amount of time. Once the clock strikes twelve, the illusion will be gone. You have to catch the Prince’s attention before then,” Rufus explained.

Y/n nodded her head. “I think I can remember that.”

Rufus then pulled another remote out of his pocket, and when he pressed the button a lavish carriage pulled by white steeds stood in front of them. “We can’t have you walking to the palace now can we,” Rufus added. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes, but she was glad that Rufus had given her such amazing devices. After climbing into the carriage, it took off at a brisk pace. Y/N turned around and waved to Rufus, who waved back in return as he climbed into the phone booth and disappeared in a flash of light.

——————————————————————————

Y/N walked into the ballroom of the palace, and she was in awe at the amount of people that were there. They wore fancy dresses, and drank until they started to sway on their feet. She had to admit that she felt a bit out of place, but she tried to mingle as best she could.

Suddenly, the sound of a fanfare could be heard above her. Y/N looked up at the balcony above the ball room. A man with brunette hair appeared and gained the attention of the entire room. He cleared his throat and opened a piece of paper. “I, Ted Logan, introduce his most royal highness, Bill Preston.”

The crowd erupted into applause as Bill stepped out from behind a violet curtain. He waved to the crowd, and shared a friendly high five with Ted. Y/N thought that it was strange for a royal to have such a friendly relationship with his servants, but that would explain why the whole kingdom loved him. Bill left as soon as he appeared, but then he arrived on the dance floor. He looked around the room, and his eyes locked with Y/N’s.

Bill was completely mesmerized by the woman in front of him. It felt as if his heart was going to stop, and if Ted hadn’t shown up by his side, he would have been lost in his love-struck trance forever. “Why don’t you go and ask that babe to dance,” Ted suggested to Bill.

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Ted,” Bill answered as he walked towards Y/N. He radiated confidence, and the smile he sent Y/N’s way could have lit up the darkest cave. Once he was within a few feet of Y/N, he offered his hand to her. “Would you do me the honor and share this dance with me?”

All Y/N could do was nod as Bill led her onto the dance floor. She was worried that she would trip over her own feet as the tempo of the song began to speed up. However, Bill made sure that she did not fall, and Y/N became more comfortable around the Prince. They danced for what felt like hours, and Bill decided to lead Y/N outside to the gardens to get some fresh air.

“I’ve been most rude to you. I have spent the whole evening with you, and I haven’t even asked for your name,” Bill confessed as he sat down on a granite bench.

“It’s Y/N, and you haven’t been rude to me. If anything, you have been too kind,” she replied as she sat beside Bill.

“A beautiful name for a most bodacious babe.”

Bill glanced down at Y/N, and started to lean in for a kiss, but the chime from the clock tower interrupted him. Y/N bolted up from her seat. It was already midnight! She had to hurry before her disguise wore off. There was no way that the Prince would feel the same about her if he knew what she really looked like. Y/N dashed out of the garden. “I’m sorry, but I have to go!”

“Wait, Y/N! Where are you going,” Bill shouted as he ran to catch her.

Y/N didn’t look back as she made her way down the palace steps. Her disguise started to falter and in a flash she was once again wearing her mother’s torn dress. Y/N’s dress snagged on a loose piece of the steps, and she yanked with all her might. She didn’t care if the dress got ripped even more. The only thing that mattered was that she was out of sight before the Prince arrived. Y/N disappeared into the forest, not caring about whether or not she left the carriage behind. Bill and Ted finally made it to the palace steps.

“I think she’s gone dude,” Ted stated as Bill frantically looked around.

“No, she’s not gone Ted,” Bill affirmed as he crouched down to pick up the minuscule piece of fabric from Y/N’s dress. “Look! We have this fabric from her dress, and I have her name.”

“What should we do now, your highness?”

“Call all the guards in the kingdom. We will search far and wide, and I don’t care how long it takes. Come on Ted, let’s go find my future bride.”

Ted hurried back inside to alert the guards of the Prince’s orders, but Bill remained outside. He gazed out into the forest, and in his gut he knew that Y/N was out there. Bill didn’t care if he had to search for the rest of his life to find her. Y/N was his other half, and he would even renounce his future crown if it meant he could be with her again.

[suddenlysackler]

One Little Spark

Charlie Barber x Reader

TW: general somber tones, alcohol, covid19, election, anxiety, depression, some angst and cynicism if you squint

A/N: Hello! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? This is something I had written right after the election returns in November, got halfway through and then couldn’t bring myself to finish it. There’s a looooot of self projecting in it and it certainly is not my best, but I wanted to share something with you all. I miss you very much and hope to get back to posting more often soon. Thanks for reading!

...

There are three empty bottles of wine scattered around the living room now, something that might surprise someone given all of the talk about drinking in excess over the past five days to cope. 

Not that it mattered anyway because, in reality, you weren’t really coping. Neither was Charlie.

Your electricity bill would surely be head and shoulders above what it typically was on any given month and your bed hadn’t seen any use since the wee hours of Tuesday morning when the two of you had pulled yourself from the security and warmth of blankets and sleep to vote and then head to work. Work had seemed like more of a formality than anything else after slipping your ballot into the machine in the gym of the elementary school that had been deemed a polling place. No one in the office really got much done Tuesday and you had opted to work from home to keep Charlie company in the following days.

The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch with the sounds of news anchor speculation just a little louder than you cared for typically.

“Just in case something happens.” Charlie had said, remote in one hand while the other snaked around your waist as you drifted off to the most broken sleep of your life.

The pandemic had been hard on both of you in different ways — you were working with a skeleton staff due to Broadway going dark and, well, Charlie had no work. The two of you were getting along just fine financially, but the lack of things to do and people to see were taxing. Not only that, but Henry just so happened to be with Nicole when things began to shut down and neither she nor Charlie felt right sending him on a plane back to New York. 

All of this is to say that, since March, the two of you had not been doing well. It was quieter around the apartment than usual and three weeks into the stay at home order Charlie had put away the toys scattered around the apartment from Henry’s last visit to avoid the pang that shot through each of your chests every time someone tripped on one or caught a glimpse of another. 

Charlie didn’t know what to do with himself when you were finally called back into the office. Sure, he wrote and he organized virtual workshops and networked as much as he could and even tried to get some of his older stuff published, but it wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied and invigorated. You busied yourself with cooking when you were home and the two of you took as much time to walk or go for runs or whatever you could do in order to stay active and get some fresh air. 

The two of you had had the discussion multiple times since maybe June — would the election fix everything? Absolutely not. Would it get rid of the pandemic overnight? Again, not at all possible. But maybe, just maybe, if it was the outcome you were looking for, there might be some spark of life and hope instilled back into the apartment that had once been so full of joy and possibilities.

“You didn’t sleep again, did you?” You ask that Saturday morning, blinking away sleep and snuggling down even more into Charlie’s chest.

“No.” He shrugged, eyes trained on the ceiling as he listened to the same characters on the same news station talk about the same election returns that they had for the past two days.

Your stomach sank because, yeah, you hadn’t slept well, but you had at least slept. “Did you work at all?”

Charlie shook his head, taking a deep breath as he glanced back toward the television. 

“We should just turn this off, honey.” You whisper, reaching over to grab the remote and jumping when a large hand shot out to stop you. 

He shook his head once more, eyes pleading and round and bloodshot. “What if they call it?”

Holding his gaze steadily, you shake your head and encircle your hand around his wrist. “Then they’ll call it. We’ll find out one way or another.” You continue to whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “Someone once told me that if news is important enough, it’ll reach you even if you don’t have a newspaper or television.”

Charlie’s expression wavers somewhere between incredulousness, exhaustion, and desperation. He needs to know, needs to be put at ease, but he also knows the two of you can’t keep doing this. It’s not sustainable and if it’s not the outcome you want...Well, Charlie doesn’t really know what he would do. Especially after having waited so long. 

“Please, baby?” You plead, your own face just as desperate for some sort of respite.

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing his options but not really focusing on any one in particular — his mind feels like jello. His resolve is breaking. “Okay.” He finally breathes out a sigh of defeat and slouches back, turning the television off himself and visibly relaxing even more as silence envelopes the room. 

You crawl right into his lap and weave your arms and legs around his torso, a movement when he is completely pliant to. He snuggles right up to you and kisses the top of your hair, sniffling just a bit. 

“Baby?” 

“Yes, honey?”

“I’m sorry.” 

Charlie is sorry for so many things. He’s sorry that he hasn’t slept and he’s sorry that he hasn’t been the man you needed him to be for months. He’s sorry for moping as much as he has and he’s sorry for the fact that practically everything in your lives has been ripped apart in the past year. He’s sorry he can’t fix it.

You pull back and stare at him, then shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault.” You say softly, eyes just as round as his had been and now teeming with tears. “I wish I could make it easier for us, but it’s okay. We’re making it through.”

As Charlie opens his mouth to respond, both of your phones start to vibrate. Notification after notification populate the screens that you scramble to grab and his smile matches yours when you’ve finally digested the news. The election had been called and, to your delight, it was the news you had been waiting for.

The celebration that ensues is not what you had been picturing since Tuesday morning. No champagne is popped. There’s no dancing in the streets for either of you. The television is not switched on again. Rather, the two of you breathe the biggest sigh of relief that you had in months, years even. You settle back down into your snuggling positions and even cry a little bit. You talk and talk and head to the kitchen to have a bowl of soup together and just be together and take in the celebrations down below. 

No, this didn’t change anything for either of you. You knew there was still a long road ahead with plenty of your own trials and tribulations to come as well as those that faced the world in the coming weeks and months. But, despite the lack of change that had occurred in the span of the twelve hours since you had last paid attention to the news, that lack of change and all of the change to come could be concurred with Charlie by your side. You just knew it.

[srclovers]

Where, besides Tumblr, can people find you doing fannish things? (Obviously only mention sites and usernames you actually want to be found at. Don’t expose your secret identities on my account.)

What other names have you gone by on these platforms, including Tumblr, if any?

When did you join the IT fandom? And what got you into fandom, to begin with?

What are your favorite ships, or characters, if any, and why? What do they mean to you?

In what ways do you participate in fandom? (ex. Posting memes, reblogging/commenting on content, writing fanfic, making fanart, creating fanmixes, etc.)

Do you have any in-fandom inspirations? Other members of the community that drive you? (And if you have the time/energy, in what ways do they inspire you?)

Name and link some of your favorite works, please!

Do you have any works of your own that you feel particularly proud of, or wish more people would’ve consumed? Please provide links if possible.

Have you ever participated in a fannish event (ie. IT Week, a fic Big Bang) or applied to be a part of a fanzine? If so, which ones, and can you please link them?

Without any form of bashing or lashing out, what is something you feel this fandom is missing?

Where, besides Tumblr, can people find me doing fannish things? I only use this blog to repost reddie related things, but you can find me on Ao3 as srcbabies! I dabble in social media reddie fics (ch12 of Meant to be should be posted soon...) :P

What other names have I gone by on these platforms? Just these two in the IT fandom: srclovers + srcbabies 

When did I join the IT fandom and what got me into it? Saw the first movie and loved it, but still wasn’t obsessed, and then it was announced that Bill Hader was playing Richie... and it snowballed from there. Saw the second movie for Bill, ended up falling in love with Eddie + Reddie and never looked back, so late 2019 :) 

Favorite ships, or characters, and why? I love all the main ships (benverly, bike/hanbrough, stanpat) but my main otp is reddie <3 and I would truly die for any of them but Im an Eddie Kaspbrak stan first and foremost.

In what ways do I participate in the fandom? I sometimes make the occasional post but, I mostly write reddie fics :)

Any in-fandom inspirations? A TON. I wish I could tag every single person who writes reddie fics here, but the writers who are still keeping the fandom/ship alive are all AMAZING and DESERVE THE WORLD. If I had to name one author in particular, it would be Lynn1998 <3 

Favorite works: I Want To Know Your Heartbeat by SereneCalamity 

Do automata dream of electric spaghetti? by Mere_Mortifer

Agent K by Lynn1998

The king of the damned by Webtrinsic

Overthinking With My Heart by minthalo

Do I have any works of my own that I feel proud of? Definitely my two huge social media aus, Reddie Rights! and Meant to be. RR! was the first fic I was seriously invested in writing and it got so much hype and love from the fandom, it’ll always have a special place in my heart. The fact that it still gets kudos to this day makes me smile. Meant to be is my current passion project, the scenes I wrote for reddie’s development are my favorite that I have ever written. The amount of thought and detail I put into every chapter just makes me :) and I appreciate every person who tunes in for every update. 

psst. I also have a legally blonde reddie au 

Have I ever participated in a fannish event? I haven’t but maybe one day!

What is something I feel this fandom is missing? More Stanpat content! Theyre cute as hell!!!!

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, kevaaronday!

For @kevaaronday. I tried to use all the tropes you liked, though I played a bit with the coffee shop!AU request. It ended up being pretty long, but I hope it pleases. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Read On AO3

*****

Food, Drinks, and Pings

Stiles just wanted to clear things up—he did not work for Hale Corp, and he certainly did not work for said company’s inhouse café, The Family Bean. He was a writer, who just so happened to have been roped into the gig because he was best friends with the soulmate-fiancée of the best friend of one of the sons of the company’s owners.

See, one of Stiles’ best friends from high school was Erica Reyes, blonde, vivacious, and both crazy and powerful enough to castrate someone with her fingernails. She might look like she just stepped off the catwalk, with her hourglass figure, fluffy hair, and red lips, but she had a knack for business that led to a scholarship at a reputable business school. Stiles, on the other hand, took to writing like a duck to water, thanks to his overactive imagination and ability to turn a phrase. He could write anything and so he did—news pieces, articles, blogs, reviews, as well as a modestly famous soulmate series published under a pseudonym.

Erica’s soon-to-be husband and soulmate was Vernon Boyd III, a tall, dark, and delicious drink of chocolate, who was so fit he could bench press a baby elephant without breaking a sweat. He was the perfect picture of seriousness and silence, that Stiles used to wonder how he functioned as Hale Corp’s Director of Operations. After getting to know him better, he realized just how smart and charismatic Boyd really was.

Boyd’s best friend from childhood was Derek Hale, one of the sons from the famous and powerful Hale Family, owners and leaders of the mass media company, Hale Corp.

Stiles knew of the Hale Family, and who didn’t? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t know the famous family of business tycoons and titans, a family so rich they could buy a person’s soul even. Nor would someone fail to hear about one of the most powerful love stories that rocked the world.

Talia Hale was the eldest child of the main branch of the Hale family and was poised to take over the world. Desmond Fitzgerald, in contrast, was the only child of elderly parents, and they lived at a shabby, squat house with no electricity, scraping by each and every day. 

Talia’s father, the late and great Everett Hale, had visited the local community college as part of their charity program. Talia had tagged along, nineteen and already learning the ropes, and had tripped over the custodian who had been on his hands and knees straightening the welcome carpet.

Take a guess who the janitor was.

An accidental brush of skin, the burning of a Mark, and that was it.

Talia and Desmond turned out to be soulmates, and their Marks, her howling wolf and his crescent moon, had become one of the most romantic symbols of their time.

Now, where did Stiles and The Family Bean came in, you ask?

Aside from writing, Stiles knew his way around a kitchen. His mother had passed away when he was seven, and he had grown up with a Sheriff father who only knew the basics. Stiles had to learn how to cook a meal or risk them subsisting on fried everything and endless takeout orders.

So yes, Stiles knew how a kitchen worked. The thing was, Erica didn’t, and had spent high school eating Stiles’ meals and hanging around his kitchen. Nothing soothed her viciousness and temper like one of his desserts.

So whenever Erica was close to breaking someone’s jaw and risking a lawsuit, she’d invite Stiles over and he would come and work his magic at The Family Bean. It wasn’t like it was such a hardship. The place had a gorgeous kitchen, a full pantry, and a really comfy setup with cozy booths and colorful tables and chairs. 

It wasn’t only Erica who benefited. Stiles often found inspiration at the tail end of a whisk or in between beating a dough into submission while listening to Erica’s gossip. He had come to depend on her brand of sass whenever he was suffering from writer’s block, or dealing with annoying clients, or avoiding his editor, Danny Mahealani. 

It got to the point that Erica had HR make him a permanent guest entry pass—written down for Stiles S, Food Guy—and everyone knew him by name, the security, the delivery boys, the café’s actual employees, and some of Hale Corp’s employees.

That was what he meant by his original statement: He did not work for Hale Corp or The Family Bean. He was just Erica’s food guy and personal chef. Just another title to add to personal punching bag, platonic soulmate, best friend, and partner-in-crime, among others.

Boyd was surprisingly calm about the guy constantly hanging around his soulmate. Then again, no one would choose Stiles’ skinny ass for Boyd’s lusciousness, so Stiles could understand that he wasn’t much of a threat. Erica said that Boyd knew they were a package deal, and it helped that Boyd had been won over by Stiles’ banana bread. Either way, Boyd was cool and didn’t punch Stiles in the face for his and Erica’s weird platonic love affair.

So, in the end, that was Stiles’ life—work, his Dad, Erica, and his other friends.

Then the Hales happened.

It all started on a fine Monday morning with Kira Yukimura. She was pretty and petite, and the goddess who was actually the one in charge of The Family Bean’s kitchen. She wore floral dresses with studded combat boots, and held katana wielding lessons on Saturdays and a kids’ kitchen workshop on Sundays. Stiles adored her.

So when he walked in that day—after spending the entirety of the weekend not writing, because his protagonists, Peter and Wade, were being idiots—only to hear Kira’s cries for help, he was more than happy to tag in.

“I’m not crying.” She glared at him from where she was assembling sandwich orders, her gaze as sharp as her swords.

“But you still need help,” Stiles said. He put his laptop bag in one of the employee lockers, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater, and put on an apron. “Erica wants to do lunch, but I decided to come in early.”

Kira nodded towards the window. “All right, because I got a purple ticket for you.”

Stiles jumped up. “Ooh, cool! I’ve never handled a purple ticket before!”

Kira gave him a relieved smile. “Well, today’s your lucky day. One of my employees called in sick, another is late, and I’ve got five packed tickets from different departments, three of them being rush orders, not to mention today’s purple ticket is a little too vague. I’m both swamped and stumped.”

“I’ve got your back, K.” Stiles gave her a salute and bounced over to the ticket tacked up on the holder.

Purple tickets were orders sent straight from the Wolf’s Den. It was the codename for the top floors occupied by the Hale Family and their closest associates. Boyd and Erica’s office were there, too. Stiles had only ever seen it through photos. There was a lot of security posted there, as if guarding the gates of heaven.

Anyway, purple tickets meant VVVVIP orders, note the number of ‘very’s. Kira usually handled those, but she obviously needed help now.

“Now, what do the Lords and Ladies want?” Stiles murmured to himself.

The Family Bean:

MH: hot chocolate

CC: pancakes

SHB: waffles

VHB: dirty chai

LH: anything 

“You know who’s who?” Kira called out.

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles replied. He learned about this from Erica.

MH was Matthew Hale, the firstborn son and heir to the kingdom. CC was his seven-year-old daughter, who everyone called by her nickname. SHB was five-year-old Spencer, and VHB was his mother Valerie Hale-Barone, the firstborn daughter, second eldest, and the lawyer of the family. LH was Laura Hale, the third eldest and the maverick of the family. She was the only one not directly working for Hale Corp, and was more involved their side projects.

“Purple tickets are usually like that,” Kira said, looking at him with amusement. Stiles realized he had been frowning in confusion. “Despite being insanely rich people, they’re surprisingly not very picky about what they eat. Laura, in particular, will eat anything. It’s just difficult to give them variety or find a balance between upscale and too simple.”

“And now you want me to take a crack at it?” Stiles asked.

“Sure. It’ll be in my name anyway, and I don’t mind if you go wild,” Kira said encouragingly. It made Stiles grin. Most would be horrified at handing over their precious menu to someone who wasn’t a baker, much less someone who wasn’t a legitimate employee. But Kira had always been a rebel.

Under Kira’s guidance, Stiles filled up a purple delivery bag for the Hales. The dirty chai latte was pretty straightforward, though he didn’t know how Kira usually made it, so he went with his own style. He also made a raspberry hot chocolate, strawberry cheesecake pancakes, mixed berry waffles, and, for the anything portion of the ticket, a berry breakfast parfait made of yoghurt and fruits and graham crackers.

“Tastes awesome and looks pretty as a picture too,” Kira said, nibbling on her own waffle as she sat atop the counter, swinging her legs to and fro. Stiles could see a hint of her soulmate Mark under her dress just on the outside of her thigh. “I still believe you should have been a baker rather than a writer.”

Stiles grinned as he hung up his apron. “I’m both, but one pays the bills and the other’s a hobby. It’s surprising how most people would think one’s the other.”

“Kira?” a voice called out.

Kira perked up and immediately slid off the counter. She straightened her skirt and stepped out the door of the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Derek,” she greeted.

Stiles peeked out unashamedly through the service window.

Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, DH or Derek Hale was the middle child of the family. He was the Chief Financial Officer, and was said to be shyer and quieter compared to his more unruly and flashy siblings. It made sense why he was childhood friends with Boyd. The two seemed to share a calm, quiet demeanor.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was quite handsome in an already attractive family, and every once in a while, he would get front row seats—or the view through the service window—to the man in the three-piece suit with the godly shoulder to waist to ass ratio. It was quite inspiring.

“I heard Val and the others had a purple ticket sent down,” Derek was saying to Kira. “I’m on my way up and I thought I’d bring it along and save you a trip.”

“Oh, thanks, Derek. I’ll get it from the back,” Kira replied. “How about you? Do you want anything?”

Derek thought about it. “Just a drink. Anything you want to make me.”

“So long as it’s sweet?” Kira teased, which made the man chuckle.

It was like a bulb lit up in Stiles’ head. 

He met Kira at the door when she walked back in, and it said so much about how awesome she was because she immediately said, “Yes, Stiles, you can make whatever you want. I mean, you’ve already tried your hard at the purple ticket. Might as well go all the way.”

“Thanks, K. You’re a goddess.” Stiles bounced off to the machines. He had always liked a challenge.

In the end, Stiles added his specially made ‘very merry berry frappe’ into the bag. He made sure to put it in a cup cozy to hide the purple color. He wasn’t sure if Derek would mind, but it just wouldn’t do for one of the bosses to be seen with a colorful drink. He let Kira whisk the bag away and they watched Derek exit The Family Bean.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Stiles murmured, eyeing the man’s backside.

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira giggled, clinking her extra glass of frappe against his. “And you’re teaching me the recipe by the way.”

“Not on your life.”

It took eight days before Stiles could once again visit The Family Bean. He had had a burst of inspiration following his last visit and had locked himself up in his apartment. His Dad John and his editor Danny were used to these binges, so they had taken turns visiting him to make sure he was alive and eating actual food rather than inhaling takeout, junk food, and soda. 

He had sent off the first few chapters to Danny yesterday and had then slept for about eighteen hours, before Erica had barged in to make sure he hadn’t died. She had been pissed at him last week, annoyed that she hadn’t sampled Stiles’ berry-filled menu, but she’d gotten over it and had even brought groceries before dragging Stiles to The Family Bean for some fresh air and free lunch.

And if that wasn’t enough to perk Stiles up, she and Kira proceeded to tell him how well-received his menu was.

“The kids absolutely loved it, and Laura practically licked her parfait cup clean,” Kira said as they sat around the table for lunch. She had prepared honey sesame chicken, egg rolls, and sweet potato salad. She definitely had Stiles beat when it came to savory meals.

“Valerie was surprised that her dirty chai tasted great. She wasn’t biting people’s heads off more than usual,” Erica shared. She was running her fingers idly over her soulmate Mark, the three claw marks that spanned across her forearm.

Stiles felt pleased at the compliment, but he couldn’t help sending Kira an apologetic look. He didn’t want to usurp her clients and her kitchen. 

Kira just laughed. “It’s fine. I know it’s due to your magic fingers and secret recipes. Just teach me how you do Valerie’s dirty chai and we’re good.”

“Sure thing, but it’s nothing special” Stiles said. “I did bring dessert, as thanks for letting me play around last time.”

Kira bounced on her seat. “Tomato pie?” 

“With extra bacon and jalapeños, just how you like it.” Stiles grinned and showed her the pie, making Kira squeal.

“You gals eat up. I’ll mix us up some lattes, if you want anything,” he offered.

Stiles went to the kitchen to fix up Erica’s usual iced cinnamon honey latte and Kira’s vanilla almond. He was in the middle of finishing them up when he heard voices out at the main area. He recognized Boyd’s low voice and decided to make him a cup of blond roast with soy milk. He paused when he heard unfamiliar voices and took a peek out the service window. He instantly recognized the small group that had joined Kira and Erica.

There was Boyd, who immediately sat down beside Erica and kissed her cheek. His soulmate Mark was obvious, a rose on the back of his left hand. Stiles liked their marks, very beauty and the beast.

Having come in with Boyd was Derek, who looked just as handsome as he always did in a fetching dark blue suit. With him were his younger siblings, twins Cora and Cameron Hale, the artists of the family, who made music and art, played a bevy of instruments, and also drew and painted. Stiles was only two years older than the twins, but they had more talent in their pinkies than Stiles had in his whole body.

The twins’ Marks were one of the most popular, not just because the two were celebrities, but also because they were incredibly visible. Even from a distance, Stiles could see the compass between Cora’s collarbones and the lighthouse that popped up over Cameron’s collar at the left side of his neck. 

Suddenly feeling shy, Stiles stayed in the kitchen and watched and listened.

“Nice spread, Kira. Is that for us?” Cameron asked.

“No, you Hales have your own food upstairs,” Kira said. “I heard Wild Flour Italian sent lunch over.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Jennifer Blake owns that joint. She’s been trying to get us to come over. No doubt she’ll just use it as some sort of advertisement. I’d rather take a bite of this.” She pointed at their table.

“That pie looks good,” Cameron said. “Can I have a bite?”

Stiles saw the gleam in Erica’s eye.

“Go on,” she said. “They’re good.”

Stiles watched as Erica and Kira offered the Hales a slice each. For some reason, he felt anxious to hear about how his food will be received. It had been nice to hear the rave reviews from Kira and Erica, but it was different seeing their reactions in person.

Cora let out yum-yum noises, which buoyed Stiles’ spirit. 

“Okay, that’s pretty tasty. I love the caramelized bacon.”

“Wait, is this tomato in pie? Like a tomato pie?” Cameron asked, inspecting his plate. He took a large bite.

Kira bounced on her seat in excitement. “Yes, isn’t it good?” 

“Who made this?” Derek asked. He didn’t look displeased, but he didn’t look happy either. He had a really good poker face. It might be good for business, but it was hard for Stiles to interpret. Stiles noted that he kept on eating the pie though.

“My Food Guy,” Erica said with a smug grin.

“Her Food Guy’s the one who made the berry-eautiful purple ticket that received quite the sensational reviews,” Kira added. She glanced at the service window and Stiles knew she saw him hiding there.

“The one who made my drink, too?” Derek asked.

Kira nodded. “The same one.” 

“Spence went gaga for those waffles,” Cameron said. “And Mattie couldn’t believe someone got CC to eat fruit.”

A loud ring cut through their conversation and everyone started pulling out phones to check. It was Derek’s.

“Mom’s calling. Time to go,” he said, standing up.

In reply, Cameron started shoving the rest of the pie in his mouth and also popped in a couple of egg rolls.

“Where’s the Food Guy, though?” Cora asked, head turning to the kitchen. Stiles ducked down behind the counter. “If he makes stuff like this, I wanna meet him.” 

“You can order a purple ticket if you want, but he’s not here all the time,” Erica said, and Stiles glared at her in his mind.

“He works part-time?” Derek asked.

“Not quite,” Kira said. “He’s—”

They were interrupted once more by a ringing phone, and this time Boyd spoke.

“Talia wants you all upstairs. Now.”

Stiles peeked out again. Cameron attempted to bring the entire pie tin, but settled for polishing his slice off. He then joined Cora in writing up a purple ticket order. After a moment, Derek put an order in too. The Hales left in a hurry and Stiles leaned right out of the service window just as Kira came bouncing towards it.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Boyd said, with a smirk.

Kira giggled. “Order up, Food Guy. You got a purple ticket.”

“I’m so proud.” Erica mockingly wiped a tear away. “Stiles, my Food Guy, charming the Hales off through the power of food.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” Stiles glared, ducking back into the kitchen.

At the last minute, he reached out and grabbed the purple ticket from Kira, ignoring the others’ laughter.

Over the next three weeks, Stiles prepared four more purple tickets. According to Kira, his drinks and desserts had become quite attractive to the Hales, both because of the taste and the mystery.

“At this point, they don’t even want me handling the tickets. They always ask if The Food Guy is around before they send their orders down,” Kira said. This time, she was the one helping Stiles prepare and pack. 

The Wolf’s Den was going to be holding meetings nonstop, so Stiles had to prepare a variety of drinks and snacks. It would have been easy if they had simple requests, but the Hales were a mix of eclectic and frustrating.

“I’m glad you’re cool about this, but the Hales are bound to find out that the one making all their desserts isn’t even an employee,” Stiles said, as he added an extra shot of syrup in Laura’s honey and milk iced coffee. Just like her usual orders, she had asked for ‘any drink that’s sweet’ which was such a large ballpark that Stiles wanted to clock someone over the head, maybe her.

“I’m more surprised that you keep making these for free,” Kira said.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a challenge, and I like challenges.”

“Really, just for the challenge?” Kira asked. “Stiles, Valerie fell in love with your version of her dirty chai. I did it the exact same way you did, but she insists that it tastes different. Same with Cameron’s favorite spiced coconut coffee. Same with all the desserts you made for the kids…”

Her face turned serious. “Don’t you think there’s more to this? Don’t you think it’s a ping—”

“It’s just for fun, Kira. It’s nothing,” Stiles said, heart rabbiting in his chest. He pushed it down firmly. “Plus, it’s surprisingly inspiring for my stories. Right now, I’m writing a new story for my spy series and I’m trying to solve this thing going on between James and Quentin.”

Kira’s face fell but she smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “Ah, well. Whatever you say, Food Guy. I’m just happy I get free labor out of it.”

“So you’re the Food Guy?”

The two of them jumped up in surprise and they turned around to see that someone had come in through the kitchen doors.

“Nathan, hello!” Kira greeted. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

Nathaniel Hale was the youngest of the brood at nineteen, and with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was quite the heartthrob in an already beautiful family. If that wasn’t enough, he was an athlete and a rising star in soccer.

Stiles didn’t really care at the moment, too busy wondering if the kid had heard what Kira had been saying.

Nathan leaned against the counter. “Everyone was arguing over who was going to pick up the ticket this time. I walked out while Laura was arm wrestling with Cam.”

Kira laughed while Stiles looked away, suddenly awkward.

“Uh, that’s cool and all, but I’m not remotely interesting enough to warrant an arm wrestle.”

Nathan shrugged. “Your stuff tastes amazing.” He smiled at Kira. “No offense, Kira. You’re still queen. But you… you’re interesting.” He gave Stiles a look. “You know, I’ve been ordering the same caramel vanilla iced coffee from The Family Bean for years now. You made it once and now everything else tastes different.”

Stiles couldn’t help flinching. Oh yeah. Nathan had definitely heard Kira.

But Nathan turned to Kira, breaking the stare. “Anyway, is the ticket ready? Can I take it up?”

Kira smiled and handed over the bag. “You just want to lord your victory over the others.”

“Of course. That’s what having siblings is all about.” Nathan scoffed, but grinned. “Anyway, thanks.” 

Kira smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

Stiles watched Nathan leave and rubbed his left shoulder. He had a weird feeling about all this.

A single touch was all it took to find someone’s soulmate. However, people couldn’t just go around touching one another. Some did, but there were laws against touching people without their consent. So Nature, in all its wisdom, gave people the capability to locate their soulmates by following a trail.

The best trail was through family members. Take for example one other famous Hale love story, that of Valerie. Her husband, the Italian magnate Piero Barone, was from a family of vintners. During Talia and Desmond’s trip to Italy, they met Piero at a wine tasting event and immediately felt what Mark experts called a ‘ping,’ a connection between them that hinted at the identity of Piero’s soulmate. Piero followed the Hales to America, met the family—all of which gave off similar pings—was finally allowed a Touch Test with Valerie, and the rest was history.

There were other kinds of trails, like what happened between Boyd and Erica. They both attended the same university, though Boyd had graduated several years earlier. However, even without knowing Boyd, Erica inadvertently joined the same groups and organizations that he had, and even lived at the same apartment that he had rented when he had been a student. Then after Erica graduated, she decided to take a year off to travel. Months later, when Boyd went on sabbatical, he ended up following almost the exact same itinerary. They finally met by chance during an alumni event and got to talking, which revealed all of the things they had in common. Before the event was even halfway through, they had done a Touch Test and found their match.

Stiles’ favorite trail story was of his parents’. John and Claudia met when they were children. Having no siblings, they didn’t have the benefit of a family trail, and being young meant there weren’t a lot of experiences that could link them. However, they had always known there was something special about one another. They grew up together, grew apart, and met later on in life. They still didn’t have the same life experiences—she was a librarian, he was a deputy—but the moment they saw one another again, they just knew.

Sometimes people just knew.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were serving twink in the menu.”

Ordinarily, that comment would have had Stiles lashing out with his sharp tongue, but upon looking up, he hesitated. First of all, the other person was clearly drunk and it was only, Stiles checked his watch, three-forty-seven in the afternoon. Second, the other person was none other than the infamous Peter Hale, Talia’s younger brother.

The eternal bachelor, he was called, well known for his many dalliances and relationships. He was also the Hale with the most well-known Mark, not because it was at a visible spot, but mostly because he tended to flaunt the large image of a bird in flight that was across his chest via his tendency of wearing unbuttoned shirts.

In Stiles’ opinion, Peter reminded him of one of his book characters—the rich and powerful Anthony, who, underneath all the bravado, was desperately looking for his soulmate, only to find it in the fair-haired, gentle-hearted Steven, who wouldn’t take his crap. He wondered who Peter’s soulmate was.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Uncle, come back here!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jogging over to them, looking both pissed and worried at the man leaning against The Family Bean’s pristine counter.

Peter ignored him. “Oh, lay off, Derek. I want a drink, and this twink is going to make me one.”

Derek turned to Stiles. “Peter, do not call—” He paused, dark eyes widening.

Stiles felt his heart jerk in his chest and his left shoulder burn. He felt like he had been hit in the head, so did Derek going by his gaping.

Peter suddenly tilted sideways, interrupting their stare down. Neither Stiles nor Derek were able to catch the man before he ended up sprawled across the counter. The sight of him had Stiles dredging up some semblance of control. He sighed.

“You are very rude, and also very drunk, but because I feel sorry for you, Mr. Hale, I’ll make you a free drink.”

Derek let out a gurgle and then a cough, obviously holding back laughter. Peter propped himself up on wobbly elbows. 

“You feel sorry for me? Don’t you know who I am, kid?”

Stiles was both annoyed by Peter and buoyed by Derek’s reaction. It was probably what sharpened his tongue.

“You’re Talia Hale’s younger brother, but between the supposed—ahh, what was it—Big Bad Wolf of Media and this so-called twink, I’m not the one nursing a hangover at this time of the afternoon.”

Stiles shook his head and walked off, ignoring Peter’s angry, garbled words and the sudden chuckle from Derek. The latter made Stiles’ shoulder ache.

Stiles ignored that and prepared a quick takeout bag. He could hear Peter and Derek arguing out on the main area. It was the work of minutes to prepare a quick smoothie and throw in some crackers and fruits. He walked back out and handed the bag to Derek, but then quickly tucked his hands to himself. The other man’s piercing stare was making him sweat.

Peter grabbed his drink and took a gulp of the smoothie, before asking, “What’s your name, kid?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Not even a thank you. How rude. 

“Not a kid, and there’s no need to know my name since you’re just going to forget it.”

Peter smirked lasciviously. “Oh, that mouth on you.”

“I’m also not into geriatrics,” Stiles was quick to bite back.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Geria—”

Derek suddenly burst into laughter and the sound of it seemed to fill Stiles’ heart and mind, making his face flush and his body warm. Derek smiled at him and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away. He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m happy to help. I’ll tell Kira you guys dropped by. See you around.” He glanced at Peter. “Not you. Drop dead.” He stepped back.

“Wait!” Derek lurched forward, startling Stiles and also Peter, who, true to Stiles’ words, slid off the counter to the floor. They ignored him.

Derek leaned forward over the counter. “I’m sorry if I’m forward, but are you—”

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” 

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring Derek’s calls and Peter’s drunken warbling. He leaned against the door and slid down until he could curl up into a ball. He placed a hand over his burning shoulder.

Sometimes people just knew.

Stiles was tempted to stay away from The Family Bean after that. He really wanted to. But it was hard to stay away.

Even harder to stay away from a ping.

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to let that slip away.

Still, it was hard to face up to it and admit that he had a soulmate.

So for the next two weeks, Stiles stayed away from the front of house, always hiding in the safety of the kitchen. He kept on making purple tickets whenever they came, but he avoided coming out for any reason, especially after Derek started coming by nearly every day. Sometimes he even brought his work over just so that he could stay as long as possible.

It confused Kira and Erica, but they assumed Derek just liked the food. The other Hales also started coming by and many times, Stiles could hear them asking Derek why he was hanging around The Family Bean instead of working in his office. Always, Derek kept mum.

Because as it turned out, Derek hadn’t told anyone about the ping.

In fact, Stiles had a feeling that the only person in the Hale family who knew was Nathan. Maybe because he had already been suspicious of it. Out of all the Hales, he was the only one who didn’t ask Derek about why he kept hanging around the café.

The other one who knew was Boyd.

Derek had been called to a meeting one day, so Stiles had felt it safe to come out and work at one of the booths. He had already fallen so far behind on his writing commitments. After a few minutes, Boyd had dropped by and had joined him. Stiles knew he was typing gibberish on his laptop, but he kept on as an excuse not to look at Boyd, who was looking at him intently.

Finally, he spoke, “Looking back, I guess it wasn’t just your banana bread that won me over.”

Stiles jerked, sending a series of characters across the screen.

Boyd kept on. “I always had a good feeling about you from Erica’s stories, but when we met, that was definitely a ping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Does Erica know?”

Boyd shook his head. “I love her, but Erica would have thrown a party if she knew.”

Stiles sighed, both in relief and in trepidation for the moment Erica find out.

Boyd studied him. “Derek’s a good guy, you know.”

“I know I got that impression from all the stories you and Erica had of him,” Stiles said. “I always thought it was surprising considering he could afford not to be a nice guy.”

Boyd studied him, making Stiles shift in his seat. “Is that the reason you won’t meet with him? Or do a Touch Test? Because he’s a Hale?”

Stiles almost protested, but he deflated. “…I don’t know.”

Boyd hummed under his breath. “Well, you’ve always played your cards close to the chest when it comes to soulmates, but I know you’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “But you better make it soon. Erica and the rest of the Hales are bound to figure it out.”

Stiles groaned and sank down on his seat. 

“Noted.”

The day after that, a still-conflicted Stiles was once again at The Family Bean. Kira had gone up to the Wolf’s Den to deliver the latest purple ticket, so he had to stay and man the counter. 

The door let out a little tinkle, and Stiles froze the moment he saw the woman entering the café.

He’d know Talia Hale anywhere.

Stiles almost panicked, but then he remembered that she didn’t know who he was. He took a deep breath.

“Um, good afternoon, Mrs. Hale. What can I get you?”

The woman smiled, quite warm and friendly despite her fierce reputation. “Just some tea, please. And are there any new desserts?”

It had been a moment of weakness, but Stiles had actually brought over some peanut butter stuffed cookies and added it to the purple ticket in the hopes that a certain Hale would like them. He still had a few cookies left, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer them to her.

“I smell cookies,” Talia said pointedly. “I’ll have some of those.”

Stiles gulped. “Ah, we have some peanut butter stuffed cookies. Let me get those for you.”

He swallowed his nerves and served the woman, who took a sip of tea and a bite of the cookie right there on the counter.

She smiled, studying the cookies. “Very tasty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stiles smiled politely. He turned away to leave and maybe gather his strength in the privacy of the kitchen.

“When we started hearing about The Food Guy, I admit I was quite intrigued. It’s very rare for someone to grab the attention of my entire family.”

Stiles paused and turned to her.

He should have known.

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Talia smiled, sharp and knowing. “And you, Food Guy.”

“Any reason for the visit?” Stiles asked, shifting on his feet.

“I wanted to meet you,” Talia said, taking another bite of her cookie. 

Stiles frowned. “That’s all?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“Uh, well, I…”

Talia shrugged and sipped his tea. “I don’t blame you for any misgivings you might have should you prove to be soulmates with my son. I’m well aware of the reputation of my family. My late father, Everett, embodied the might of the Hale name better than anyone. You should have seen him back in the days.”

Stiles held up his hands. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had to explain.

“It’s not that there’s a problem with Derek or your family. Being a Hale isn’t the problem… not entirely…” he hesitated, but then plunged on, urged by the ping he could feel inside him and the desire to make someone understand. “My mom passed away when I was seven. She was soulmates with my father. He was—I was—we were never the same after.”

A heavy silence fell, and Stiles was both nervous and intrigued. Talia’s face changed. Something in her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips.

“Forgive my sudden melancholy, but I was just reminded of something.” She sipped her tea. “I was reminded of my youth. My father, Peter, and I had never been the same after mother walked away.”

“Walked away?” Stiles was taken aback. It was rare to hear any mention of Talia’s mother, but everyone had chalked it up to grief at her passing. “But you all said she died—”

Talia interrupted him delicately. “People think of Marks as the be all and end all where the only answer is yes. But even soulmates are a choice…”

“Desmond grew up without a penny to his name, so he rejected me as he could only see himself as an embarrassment to the Hale family. My opinionated father had, unfortunately, been a contributing factor to that line of thinking. I grew up with a rather jaded view of Marks and pings, and I had seen his rejection as a challenge and not a privilege. Desmond and I, our story had been tempestuous, quite unlike the romanticizing people had done.”

She finished the last of her tea. “If I may be allowed to request one thing, all I ask is that you make a choice so that Derek can do the same. No one in this family will certainly blame you for it.”

Talia pushed her empty cup and plate towards Stiles, and smiled. “Have a good day, Food Guy.”

Stiles watched Talia walk away.

He had some thinking to do.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried not to crush the boxes in his hands. He was nervous and his left shoulder was throbbing.

“Ready?” Kira asked him. She was carrying the other delivery boxes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied.

Kira smiled, both encouraging and proud, and nodded to the guard on duty. The man held open the double doors for them, and Stiles was instantly met with a wall of sound.

“Purple ticket delivery,” Kira called out, leading Stiles inside.

The office was spacious, as it should be if it was going to accommodate all of the Hales, and all of them were there. There was a long table at one end where Talia, Matthew, and Boyd were talking and laughing. Desmond was on one couch, talking to Piero and Erica. Laura and Cora were seated on armchairs and were arguing loudly about something. Peter was egging them on. CC and Spencer, were seated in front of a television at a kids’ play area set up in the corner. Cameron was with them, all of them singing along to whatever cartoon was playing. Derek, Valerie, and Nathan were huddled around a table, looking at blueprints.

“Oh, yes! The food’s here!” Cameron cheered, which sent the children shouting as well.

Kira navigated the area like a champ, while Stiles slowly shuffled after. “You guys ordered a lot. I had to ask for help. This is Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s head suddenly jolted in his direction, nor Talia’s proud smile, nor Erica’s sudden screech of “Stiles!” which had everyone else turning their way. Stiles winced. He was going to get his ass kicked later for not telling Erica about this.

“Well, well…” Peter grinned. “Hello there, twink.”

Stiles shuddered. “Still not into creepy old geezers.”

“Oh, wait, wait! Is he the guy who called you a geriatric?” Laura asked, before shrieking in laughter.

“And the one who said Peter should drop dead,” Cora added, cackling. 

Laughter rang around over Peter’s protests, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He felt warm all over, like the pings going off in his head were doubly delighted at the Hales. He glanced at Derek, who was smiling warmly.

Stiles winced when he caught Erica’s gaze though. She looked between him and Derek and her eyes widened. But Boyd was suddenly there, hand over her mouth and whispering to her.

Stiles helped Kira take out all of the food and the ravenous Hales were quickly upon them.

“Food Guy’s stuff tastes awesome,” Nathan said, licking his cupcake’s icing. He waggled knowing eyebrows at Stiles, who bit back a grin. Cheeky kid.

“Please pass our compliments to the chef, Kira,” Desmond said, reaching for his drink.

Kira giggled. “You can thank him yourself.” She waved at Stiles with a flourish.

Stiles felt a little like a deer in headlights when all their gazes alighted on him.

“You’re Food Guy?” and other iterations of the exclamation rang around the room.

Stiles flushed. “I’m glad to hear you all like what I’ve been making.”

“Oh, wow! How wonderful!” Piero piped up. “I haven’t felt a ping in such a long time. How nostalgic, don’t you think, dear?” He turned to Valerie.

“That’s a ping?” Matthew asked, confused, before his face cleared and he rubbed his chest. “Oh, hell, this is a ping.”

“Is that the tingly feeling here, Uncle Mattie?” Spencer asked, pointing at his tummy.

Erica finally managed to get out from under Boyd. “Stiles, did you ping with Derek? Is that why you’ve both been hanging around The Family Bean? You’ve both been pining over each other!”

Stiles groaned, while gasps and shouts suddenly rang around the room.

Kira sighed. “Way to ruin it, Erica.”

“You mean I was pinged through a tomato pie?” Cameron was asking, wide-eyed. 

Cora started laughing. “Oh my god! Uncle Peter flirted with Derek’s soulmate!”

“That’s Uncle Derek’s soulmate?” CC asked.

“Yes, he is.” Nathan looked like he was immensely enjoying all this, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was a little shit.

Derek stepped towards Stiles. His face was a little red, but he was smiling and Stiles thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen.

“My family’s a mess. Please ignore them,” Derek said, ignoring the protests from his siblings.

Stiles chuckled. “At least they keep things interesting. It’s just me, my Dad, and her.” He jerked a thumb at Erica.

“Oh, fu—dge you!” Erica said, glancing at the kids. She turned to Boyd. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “I was giving him space to process things.”

Stiles ignored them and turned to Derek. He only had one chance to do this.

“Ah, sorry, it took a while. I was figuring stuff out, but I thought we should get to know one another first.”

“Of course,” Derek said immediately. He reached out a hand. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced at Talia, who was whispering to her husband. She winked at Stiles.

“Soulmates are a choice.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. He could feel his Mark tingling in anticipation.

“Me too, Derek.”

He reached out and took his hand.