#my laptop is literally wheezing right now

[freckleslikestars]

Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully in every episode of The X Files

[heartthrobin]

all's fair in love and war (2)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 7.87k

warnings: enemies to lovers, still so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, archie being my fav oc, cheese fest

an: literally fell asleep on my laptop last night editing this, i was so exhausted from school so i’m sorry it’s late !!! but i had the most fun in the world writing this and i hope everyone enjoys :)) don't forget to comment and repost your favourite writers

summary: Oliver is still impossibly miserable, maybe more uncooperative than before, except now when you look at him: you can't think of much else beyond how sweet his lips tasted.

part one

You can’t sleep.

You're not sure you'll find sleep ever again.

“I knew it, I knew it—“ Cherry had bounced the whole way to your dormitory, howling into your ear. “I knew it!”

The image of Oliver’s fluttering eyes swum around your brain as you blinked into the darkness of the poster bed. The taste of his tongue and his words still right against your lips.

It was a riddle of a calibre that you can’t seem to detangle. More than anything, you try to remember how strong has he tasted of Firewhisky - was he so drunk to really dismiss it to nothing at all?

You lingered on it all weekend.

Cherry didn’t help at all — he’s been in love with you forever, that’s literally so obvious — and Enzo even less so once he’d been filled in: Oliver doesn’t seem a bloke who let’s alcohol make his decisions for him, something about Scottish genetics I think.

The interaction plagued you: digging a wide hole in the base of your stomach. You mourned the thought that you may never have the opportunity to kiss those soft lips again, more than anything: preparing yourself for the feud between yourselves to worsen.

There’s barely enough time to make sense of your situation before you’re racing down over the grassy hills of the grounds, bag swinging violently over your shoulder and extraordinarily late for your Herbology lesson in the greenhouse.

Your morning alarm had rung right into one ear and out the other, a product of the tossing and turning you’d been doing for the last two nights.

When you swing the greenhouse door open, panting and face flush from the beating sun, the whole room turns to you. Sprout pauses where her hands are flailing in explanation.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” you wheeze, readjusting your strap over your shoulder.

Cherry is smirking at you from her bench, sidled up with Jane Emmet.

It hadn’t escaped you that you’d be sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors, but you’d precious little time to worry about it in the five minutes you had to pull a robe over your head and stick a toothbrush into your mouth.

Your eyes are purposeful in not looking over the room. Scared to catch the wrong eyes.

“Not a problem peach, we’re just repotting some Fire-Seed Bushes.” She brings a stubby hand to her chin, “uhm … well, Mr Kumar there in the corner doesn’t have a partner. Go join him by his pots.”

Archie has a lopsided smile on his face when you approach, a thick black curl drooping over his left eye.

“Hey.” He nudges gently.

You set your bag down and grab a pair of gloves, chuckling. “Hey Archie.”

The soil is warm when you stick your fingers into the dirt, shifting it gently enough not to mess over the edge of the bucket. There’s a Fire-Seed Bush sitting tentatively at the end of the bench, spitting sparks and emitting smoke.

“So …” Archie speaks first, the back of his hand bumping yours between the black soil. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a veiled question, a poorly veiled one at that. The question draws a laugh from the base of your stomach.

You shrug, adamant on missing the point. “It was alright, I guess. How about yours?”

He shrugs right back. “Wasn’t the greatest. Penelope Clearwater rejected me for Percy Weasley.”

You don't mean to, you really don't, but it draws another bout of laughter out of you - you clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I get it. Percy bloody Weasley?” His brow is creased, dirt-stained hands rising messily from the soil to swipe at a fallen piece of hair in his face. “Dead sure that bloke's own mother can't say he’s handsome. I’m better looking than him, surely?”

There’s the hanging insinuation that it was rhetorical, but you reply anyways: “you’re definitely more handsome than Percy Weasley, Archie.”

His head cocks down at you, stained paws finding his waist and pressing black fingerprints into the red jumper. “You really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

Archie smiles, bumping your side against his. You think he might be blushing. “You’re very charming. I understand what Oliver sees in you.”

You jolt involuntarily, spilling some black soil over the edge of the pot.

Swiping at the mess lazily, you play the comment off with another crumbly chuckle: hoping it convinces him more than it does yourself. “Oliver sees in me what a bull sees in a red cape.”

Archie’s reaching timidly for the Fire-Seed Bush, lifting it off the counter and holding the dangerous botanical at arm’s length. “Not true. The boy’s half in love with you.”

This conversation is getting awfully uncomfortable awfully quickly. It picks at your curiosity nonetheless.

“He said that?”

He’s quick to shake off the question, eyes still trained on setting the roots of the bush into the gap in the soil. “Oliver doesn’t have to say anything. He spends practically every fucking mealtime mooning over at your table, and he talks about you way more than necessary—“

“That’s just because I work on his nerves. Oliver doesn’t love me, he barely tolerates me.”

The boy turns on you, confusion set in his brow. “Why is this news? Last I saw you, your tongue was halfway into his stomach.”

Zachariah Smith and his Gryffindor partner look up at that. Your face goes hot all over - Archie doesn’t seem to notice.

“We were drunk.” You say softly, eyes stuck on a loose leaf crackling against the wooden counter.

There’s a special kind of fear that's crawling into your heart where you stand. The fear of putting too much faith into the words of Archie Kumar.

That it’s an elaborate ruse. A set-up, canons of confetti and a banner screaming “you’ve been fooled!” if you were to indulge his words. The danger of allowing your mind to drift too far off into the possibilities of a world wherein Oliver Wood doesn’t hate you - at least not as much as he lets on.

Archie looks at you out the side of his eye, you can feel it, but says nothing. He hands you a miniature yellow-handled spade.

Instead you fill the space. "I heard Isla Flynn has a crush on you."

He perks: "really?"

Across the room, Oliver is bumping elbows with Poppy Davis.

"Ow!"

A loose spark has evidently landed on her exposed arm. The sparks that Oliver was supposed to be watching for, the ones that he is intent on ignoring with the constant glancing back over his shoulder to where you and his best mate are in the corner of the room fucking giggling at each other like toddlers with a box of matches.

“Oliver — can you just focus for five seconds!” Poppy isn’t impressed.

Oliver isn’t either, with the situation as a whole. The pads of his fingers are blistered from the repotting of the bush and Poppy’s careless bumps and his general indifference to the task at hand.

It eats at his brain. What are you guys talking about? Is it about him?

You laugh again and it’s loud enough that it draws his shoulders all the way taut. There’s another snap of a spark and Oliver feels where it lands at his wrist, but he doesn’t react.

“Just pass me the bloody spade.” He grumbles.

-

The lesson passes more slowly than Oliver could swim shoulder-deep through molasses.

It feels like years later when he tosses his gloves into the box with the rest, when the class shuffles to return tools and begin slinging half-open bags over their shoulders.

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever packed up faster - Poppy is still scowling at him, he doesn’t care - before he’s knocking through yellow and red tied students to find Archie’s head of curly black hair.

“Hey!” He catches him by the wrist, tugging on it like a dog with a bone. Archie jumps, eyes winding down to find his friend. “What did she say?”

You’re far ahead, Oliver can make out the back of your head: hips bumping with Cherry’s up the hill towards the castle.

Archie grins. “She said Isla Flynn has a crush on me.”

Oliver groans, “Not about that, you prat. About— wait, really?”

"Yeah!" He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. "Can you believe it? She's got that hot Irish accent and everything."

Oliver nods, "Yeah ... yeah. Good on you, mate."

He's trying desperately not to steal this moment from his best friend, but he's fucking itching to know what else you and Archie had been giggling about.

"Did she ... say anything else?" He presses, more gently than his character usually allows. "Like about me?"

Archie shrugs without looking down. "I asked her, but she seemed tense about the whole thing."

"Tense?"

"Yeah, she said something about a bull and a cape, and went like all quiet when I told her you like her--"

At that, Oliver's stomach leaps up into his throat. He grabs his best friend by the arm, jolting him to a short stop. Some Hufflepuff bumps into their halted figures, grumbling before shuffling around them.

"You told her what?" His eyes flare erratically.

Archie shrugs, an innocuously confused look painting his features. "Well I said Oliver's half in love with you, or something like that and she looked all confused about it--"

Oliver's grip on his friend's wrist tightened to a degree that a ring was sure to form on his dark skin. "You fucking pinhead! You told her I liked her?"

Pulling his arm violently from his grip, Archie has the nerve to look affronted. "You don't?"

The morning sun shining over Oliver's head feels like it's growing hotter by the second, there's a dribble of sweat running down his spine.

"That's -- that's not the point. Even if I do, which I'm not saying is the case, she doesn't need to know that."

"Were you two obliviated in your sleep last night?" Archie's eyebrows are pressed down against his eyes, slouching down to meet his friend's face. "I caught you two making out like the world was ending less than three days ago! Surely she has to figure that you feeling something for her, she's not stupid."

Oliver struggles between his thoughts, worse around his words. "That was ... we'd been drinking. For all I know, she only kissed me back cause she was trollied off Dragon-Barrell--"

"She said that, too."

Eyeing him, Oliver's hands find his hips. "Said what, exactly?"

"That you were drunk, I mentioned the kiss and she said we were drunk."

A sensation he can only identify as closest to guilt seeps up into Oliver's chest from his stomach. "She thinks I kissed her just cause I was drunk?"

Archie's hand finds Oliver's shoulder. "You should probably talk to her, mate."

He sighs, eyes drifting over the silhouette of the castle in the distance. He shakes his head like it'll rattle the plaguing thoughts loose. "We're gonna be late for Transfig."

-

"I mean, Archie is his best friend." Cherry is trying to rationalise the whole story. "I don't see why he'd lie about it?"

You shake your head, knocking shoulders with a Ravenclaw girl trying to pass through the corridor. "I'm not entertaining it, Cherry."

"Come on," she sighs, practically skipping to keep up with the furious pace you've set. "Would it be so terrible if he likes you?"

"Yes." You don't look at her.

The redhead's eye-roll is practically audible, "Let me rephrase, would it be so terrible if he likes you back?"

You meet her eyes for the first time since you'd entered the corridor.

She sighs, "we're gonna see him in Muggle Studies in five minutes. I think you should say something."

"Forget I said anything, Cherry." Heat flares at your neck again, prompted by the embarrassment of even imagining how such a conversation might go.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but you feel Cherry's gaze warming the side of your face.

Burbage's classroom is over-populated with Gryffindors by the time you drop your bag against the marbled floor beside your desk. In the corner of your eye, your brain has already fixated on Oliver's silhouette leaned against the edge of his own desk. You flush hot all over again, as if your thoughts were transcribing into subtitles and floating above your head for the whole class to read.

The click of Burbage's heels prompt the lingering students to find their seats, "Please take out your copies of Muggle Wars: Cause and Effect. We left off on page eighty-seven--"

You suddenly regret snapping at Cherry. Wishing for the comfort of her presence, your eyes glazing over where she's perched in the first row of desks closest to the chalkboard.

Unusually, the class trickles on without disruption. There's a few glances over at your direction, like everyone is waiting for another outburst from the grade's most volatile duo. They're sure to be let down, you're adamant to not even breathe in the direction of Wood.

Burbage comments on it, too, nearly ten minutes from the bell.

"It's suspiciously quiet in your corner today, captains." she looks down through her fingerprint-smudged frames, brushing over you and then Wood three seats away. "Something the matter?"

You shrug, refusing to acknowledge the boy. He seems to be doing the same: completely unfairly, the thought that he wouldn't look at you made the hair on your arms stand straight. "We can start up if you'd like, professor?"

Her face contorts into that irritated look that you'd grown accustomed to when Professor Burbage addresses you. "You're flirting dangerously with another session of detention, miss."

"She's just answering your question, professor."

Nobody in the class seemed more surprised than Burbage, although that in itself was a feat. The two Gryffindor boys in the row ahead of you swivel all the way around in their seats to look at Oliver, who'd just spoken.

You fight the twitching urge to look at him.

"Detention for two, it seems. I'll be seeing you both Friday afternoon."

A calm air settles again over the class, as if order had been restored. You and Wood had lost the interest of the room and students shift back to the board where WHAT IS A PRIME MINISTER? is sprawled across it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

Sighing, your eyes find the clock against the wall. Eight minutes left.

You pick at the end of your quill irritably: electing to dip it into the ink at the edge of the desk and entertain yourself quietly by drawing a miniature snowman at the corner of your page, trying not to think about another Friday afternoon in too close of a proximity to Oliver Wood. There's a soft whir, barely audible if you weren't so focused on outlining pebble eyes, and a tiny paper-airplane whizzes quietly from under your desk: landing squarely on the nose-less head of your snowman.

Fear prickles at you. You don't look up for the source, lest a suspicious sideways glance earns you another weekend with the party-animal Charity Burbage.

Instead, you carefully undo the intricately folded wings of the plane. It's barely big enough to fit into your palm once open, the top of the little note marked in black ink.

It was the same handwriting that marked the sign-out sheet for equipment in the Quidditch storage rooms down at the pitch.

'Thanks for that one, smart-mouth.'

Your eyes flicker up to Burbage, who's back is turned, before you dip your quill into the ink and scribble out a response. In your peripheral, Oliver is leaned back in his stool: biceps folded over each other. There's an unexplainably airy-fairy, fuzzy feeling warming your rib cavity.

'Believe this one was your fault, dickhead.'

You quietly refold the creased edges, before tapping it lightly with the end of your wand: then watch how it takes off the airstrip of your page and zips quietly under the cover of desks to land back in front of the sender.

There's a long pause - enough for Burbage to draw out a whole flow diagram of something called "parliament" - before the edge of the paper wing grazes at your calf again. It lands quietly again.

'Maybe.

We good?'

There's a gentleness to the sentence. Like you can hear it from Oliver's mouth, like he's avoiding your gaze when he whispers it.

You hunch over the note again.

Oliver's knuckles are turning white, twisting his wand in his hands under the table. He shouldn't have said anything. He's regretting the whole fucking idea of the stupid paper-plane now.

He's trying not to watch you write, not to notice how long you stared at his writing before you picked up your own quill. He does anyways.

When the airplane flutters down into his palm, Burbage is already excusing the class. Stools are scraping against cold tile, the clutter of textbooks being crammed back into bags.

'Never :)'

His eyes run over the word once, twice, three times over. A smile is tugging at the edge of his lip, he forces it taut - but his eyes are still shining unusually brightly when Archie knocks his shoulder to his.

"What you looking so damn happy about?"

Oliver tucks the note into the pocket of his robes. "Don’t know what yer talking about."

-

"But professor, why can't Hufflepuff take Saturday?"

"Well, Hufflepuff already gave up our practice days for Gryff--!"

Hooch sighed so deeply she almost melted back into her armchair. "The decision is made, Oliver. The pitch is being cleaned out on Wednesday, your team can take Saturday for any extra training."

He could practically hear the smile creeping onto your face, the smug crossed-arm look he'll no doubt find when he turns to you.

Irritation bubbles up in his throat, a familiar companion in your presence, and just as he prophesied: you are grinning.

In the weeks that followed that day in Burbage's class, it seemed that both parties decided that the topic of their shared kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room was best left undiscussed.

The arrangement is working. At least Oliver thinks so.

You still bait him and he still snaps, rising to your taunts. He still finds himself in detention more Fridays than he spends free, and his body ripples with anger when you roll your eyes at him.

But it was in moments, like this now, where your little self-satisfied grin doesn't quite vex him to the degree it once did. It's now harder to find a retort, to snap at you with a sharp-edged comment. Not when amusement crinkles at the corners of your eyes where your black lashes kiss so prettily.

Hooch swivels in her chair to find a document between one of her cluttered drawers, you take the opportunity to stick the tip of your tongue out childishly at him.

Oliver draws a tight breath, he hopes his face is still taut in annoyance, because his heart has slipped like a stone down into his stomach. That's the other issue, the tiny little obstacle in these recent weeks: he can't stop looking at your mouth. It's distracting, disarming - paralysing at the best of times.

He strips his gaze away, before he can be outed by anyone in the room. "Whatever." He mumbles.

You seem disappointed in his lack of a real response, but it passes quickly - like a shadow - over your face.

"Thanks professor." You grab up your roster from her desk and turn to the door, practically skipping out into the corridor.

He huffs.

Somehow, you and Archie have become fast friends. Mornings around Fire-Seed Bushes and Venomous Tentaculas in the heat of Greenhouse Three seems to do wonders for a friendship.

It prickles at Oliver's nerves when you pass in the corridors, when you perk up with a high "hey Arch!" and he grins down from his towering height right back at you: "hey Y/n!"

You don't look at Oliver. He's notably sour the rest of the walk.

Alright, maybe the whole arrangement wasn't really working. You were a distraction to him before, no doubt, but somehow your powers of beguilement had tripled. Especially since you seem to be behaving perfectly normal: like you hadn't given Oliver the best snog of his life outside the Ravenclaw common room that night.

Maybe it was just alcohol, maybe he is the only one plagued by the knowledge of the other's taste.

The castle has turned impossibly colder, the bitter bite of winter stinging at the loose cuffs of his robes on walkthroughs of the corridors. He can't imagine how cold the air above the pitch is going to be on Sunday when Hufflepuff faces off Slytherin for a spot in the finals.

It's all Hooch has been going on about for the last two weeks.

Oliver's had to shift around at least four practices - Roger almost twice as much, he's a pushover - to allow for you and Marcus to have more time on the pitch. His complaints fell on deaf ears, Hooch dismissed him with a wave of her bony hand and a "your time is coming, Wood."

You prance into dinner late most evenings, hair in every direction and face flush with sweat: sticking it out like a bumblebee in those awful yellow quidditch robes.

Oliver only notices because, annoyingly, he's found that he is frequenting the bench at the Gryffindor table that faces over to the Hufflepuff's. His eyes drift over the yellow-tied heads to where you clump up with Enzo and Cherry, watches you talk around mouthfuls of toast lazily, giggle behind your napkin: head rolling back to showcase that smooth neck, how it runs down to the soft slopes of your shoulders: disappearing down into your button-up.

Archie has noticed, he's sure, but hasn't done more but allude to it with teasing glances or suggestive comments.

"The Hufflepuffs up to something particularly interesting over there, Ollie?"

The speed with which Oliver's eyes snap to his peas is almost comical. He shrugs and mumbles like a child. "Don't know."

-

On Sunday morning, you don't go to breakfast.

There's an uncomfortable gurgling in your midriff, like a snake is slithering between your organs and you're sure even just the smell of eggs on toast would bring up your dinner.

Instead you find yourself at the pitch a whole hour before the game is set to start. Marcus is running laps around the grass, something he's done since you've known him.

He offers a curt wave, face set like cold stone.

It reminds you of Oliver a little bit, the distraction in his eyes.

Oliver is never all the way there, wherever he is, you think. His eyes mist over like he's halfway between this world and another. You know it's Quidditch: he dreams it, eats it, sleeps it.

But lately he's foggier than usual.

You think it's your imagination, brush off the idea as you have all the millions of others you'd had in the preceding weeks about the surly brute that was Oliver Wood. He plagues you.

Just the vibrato of his unimpressed huff when you get your way, when you quip something purposely annoying at him. It's addictive, the feel of his sugar-brown eyes glaring a hole through you.

Lately, his reactions have been closer to underwhelming. Allowing for only a moment of eye contact: gone are the quick-witted retorts, the Scottish-laced "princess" usually attached. The thought makes you wince in embarrassment, knowing that you've been pressing him harder lately: like a seven-year old jabbing at a claw machine, outwardly desperate for that brown plushy on the top of the pile.

Maybe he's over it. So deathly mortified of your shared kiss that he doesn't want to know you anymore, much less take the effort to hate you. Your chest pinches tightly.

You dress into your match robes slowly, taking your time with the loops of your shoelaces and the buttons down the sweater you're wearing underneath everything. Oliver Wood should be at the bottom of your list of priorities, normally, but now more than ever.

The team filters into the change-room, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. Cedric is practically green, but Herbert looks like he's about to go down a water-slide he's waited over an hour in line for. Beyond the swinging doors, you can hear the crowd shuffling loudly into their seats.

Before your wits are completely about you, Hooch is rapping on those same doors. "Onto the pitch, Hufflepuffs!"

You muster up your best excuse for a captain's speech for what might be the last match you ever play as one. The team seem satisfied, you figure it's easy to find solace before a game when you know it's not your last. As the only seventh year, comfort doesn't come so easily to you.

The crowd is deafening when yellow robes take to the sky: Marcus looks over, offering another nod, not unlike the one he'd given you earlier. You can tell he's feeling the dread of finality too.

There's a whistle blow and the quaffle flies past your face with a speed that nearly evacuates your nose from your face. Lee is announcing in the distance and the rumble of adrenaline forces your fingers over the handle. It tilts and you dip, disappearing into the sky of players.

-

The winter air at Hogwarts was biting enough roaming the corridors, but thirty metres off the ground is something wholly unnatural. Your face was burning crisp from the icy wind, the feeling in your cheeks and nose lost to the Scottish cold.

Foggy white clouds puff out with each heavy breath. Cedric zooms past and Jane loops around his moving figure to knock a stray bludger in the opposite direction.

Your eyes flash between them and the fast approaching Malcolm, he tosses the quaffle at you with a grunt and you catch it at the tips of slippery, ice-frozen fingertips.

Shooting forward again, you duck under Marcus who is hurtling through the sky at you: gone is the look of friendly fondness from his eyes, replaced with a hunger for the leather-bound ball in your grasp.

Just missing the grasp of his meaty hand, the ball passes onto Heidi.

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff," Lee's voice echoes as if from heaven. "That brings the score to ninety for Hufflepuff and eighty for Slytherin!"

It's been nearly ninety-five minutes of sitting on your broom growing colder, and you're not alone.

Around you, the team is descending into frost-induced exhaustion: Jane's nose is as bright red as a Christmas ornament and Cedric has been peeping over the top of his thick woollen-scarf for at least the last half - barely enough to catch a glance of the whizzing canary and emerald robes, much less of a tiny golden snitch.

You sigh out another white breath, letting your eyes drift over the stands. It's saturated with moving heads of faces you can't make out and yellow and green swaying banners. Your gaze lingers on the top left, in the corner facing the castle. It's where Cherry and Enzo park themselves during every match, where you know they're screaming in support, clenching their teeth at every quaffle handover. You can feel them, even when their faces blur into the crowd.

Unintentionally, you think about how Oliver's mixed in there too. Somewhere between your peers. If you had been granted another moment, if the quaffle wasn't mid-air between two Slytherins just under your nose and you'd not taken the opportunity to snatch it from them, you would have meandered into the trap of hoping that deep down in his chest - even if it was core of the earth deep - he was rooting for you, too. That he seethed at a missed goal or clenched a tight fist at his side in celebration when a Hufflepuff makes a beautiful play.

Meanwhile in the stands, Oliver has decided that the desire to play his allegiances in secret has since disappeared from his heart.

He'd played it light in the first few minutes. Mumbling under his breath at a fumbled pass or a slimy move from the Slytherins, but by the forty-fifth minute he'd found himself on his feet.

"Diggory!" His hands waved in front of him, "it was right there you fucking git--"

A Hufflepuff third year a row ahead looked at him askew, but he paid her no mind.

Archie had taken the hint early. As soon as Oliver was out of his seat, so was he. Despite being Oliver Wood's best friend, Archie had somewhat limited knowledge of the game himself and eyed Oliver's reactions to find the appropriate moments to whoop and cheer. Oliver didn't say anything, but he appreciated it more than he could verbalise.

His eyes tracked you more than anything, when you were flying between players or just floating in place: eyes like a hawk, watching over the game. His heart swelled and his pride fell to the wayside.

Just short of the two hour mark, there was a rise in the crowd.

"The seekers have caught sight of the snitch!"

Oliver's stomach rose into his throat.

"They're diving for it, Malfoy and Diggory head to head-- and Slytherin grabs the snitch, winning by 140 points!"

It sank back into place, like a stone to the bottom of the river. He watched how you froze, how you twisted over your shoulder to find Diggory's figure lingering at the bottom of the field. You shoulders sagged, hanging in the air as the others dropped to the ground.

"Slytherin have made it into the finals against Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, back here at the pitch next month!"

After a long moment, the last in the sky, you followed them down.

The raucous cheers from the Slytherins were hard to drown out, he wasn't even sure Archie heard him toss a "i'll find you at the castle" before he found himself pushing through the masses of people.

He fought against the wave moving to find the stairs, eager to return to the warmth of their dormitories, but Oliver was markedly more motivated than the majority. He stomped on some toes and nearly tossed a first year off the stands to race down the stairs.

Only once his feet had found the mushy grass of the pitch, did he pause to consider that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. What was the rush for? To comfort you, tease you for your loss?

The latter option was definitely what he could do, what he could say. What was expected of him, if he was being honest. Recently, however, he's found it harder and harder to come up with remarks to hurt your feelings. Found that he quite prefers that little smile that tucks into the corner of your mouth when he says something unexpectedly fond. How your eyes practically gleam.

There's shoving from all sides of him -- get out the way, bloody hell -- and the teams pass ahead of him. Leading the march, despite it being nothing more than a slow trudge, is your figure: squashed between those of who he recognises to be Cherry Stretton and Enzo Musa's.

Their arms wrapped over your shoulders, talking animatedly into your ear on each side. Enzo tips his head to meet yours, a small touch of comfort.

Oliver sighs. He has nothing to say and no comfort to offer, wondering for a moment what he could possibly bare to hear in his own final moments as captain. He thinks that anything from your mouth would work.

So he waits, parks himself beside the stairs and waits for Archie: watching the six-legged figure disappear up over the hill.

-

You're not at dinner.

He knows because he's been watching the door for the better half of an hour. Archie pushes his plate at him, "Eat something there, Ollie."

Begrudgingly, Oliver brings his drumstick up to his mouth. "She's not eaten a thing since breakfast, it's almost eight."

Archie passes a sympathetic look over him. "Her friends are here, I'm sure she'll be by soon. There's no use you joining her on a hunger-strike."

He's right. Cherry and Enzo and some others that frequent your circle are talking around the table, around the spot that you usually fill. But dinner goes on and students leak steadily out towards bed without your return.

Eventually Oliver huffs, like an irritated bulldog, and grabs for the nearest napkin: unfolding it out in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Archie asks thickly, spitting bits of rice at him.

Oliver reaches for two chicken skewers, placing them neatly on the white square: alongside a dinner roll and a pumpkin pasty.

He wraps them over, double wraps it with another napkin too.

"What does it look like, Arch."

Placing it carefully into the deep pocket of his robe, Oliver goes to stand - lacking the patience it takes for Archie to answer, or for his inevitable teasing. "I'll find you back in our room."

He's halfway out the hall when Archie's voice calls out to him, "You don't even know where she is!"

Oliver shakes his head, brandishing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I know where she is." He mumbles for only himself to hear.

-

You’d watched close to twenty-one quidditch matches from the stands at the pitch on Hogwarts grounds: played in almost half of them. 

The seat is still slightly too small, just uncomfortable enough to make a person shuffle. Beyond the rim over the other end of the pitch you can see the orange sun dipping behind the horizon, drawing to darkness over your moment alone.

By now you're sure the party in the common room has long since found momentum. The one you'd been promised by the team, "it's your last game, cap, we need to celebrate!". You're sure someone somewhere is looking for you, bracing a plastic cup of Firewhisky with your name on it, but you can't find it within yourself to face it all just yet.

The silence of the evening is enough, you only wish you'd been fast enough to retrieve your broomstick that's somewhere off with Enzo. Just for one last lap.

The serenity of your loneliness doesn't persevere, however. You can hear shuffling up the steps, you're tempted to look but the sunset is slipping so quickly out of your hands that it's not worth the time wasted.

It's only when the footfalls draw closer, stopping when a body slumps into the seat beside you. The seats are so cramped that his knee brushes yours, the figure long since identified from the corner of your eye.

"Come to gloat?" You ask, eyes never leaving the sky.

He shrugs. "Not today."

You nod. His smell drifts on the breeze under your nose, like peppermint and soap and Oliver.

There's a long silence. Your robes crease against the fist sitting in your lap, you've yet to change out of your quidditch uniform, you know it will be the last time.

"You missed dinner."

"Does it matter?"

Despite your avoidant gaze, Oliver's is warming the side of your face. The evening air cools the same spot.

There's a shuffling that finally draws your eyes. Oliver is still in his robes too, and his hand emerges from a deep pocket with a folded napkin square. "Figured you'd be hungry."

He places it onto your lap with a gentleness you're coming to find more of in him. Something frighteningly warm erupts in your chest and your hands come up to it, pulling apart the napkin to find picky bits inside.

You're fighting between smiling and starting to cry. You do neither.

"You carried this in your pocket the whole way from the hall?"

His eyes flicker between the food and your face before he shrugs. "Yeah."

By now, you were fighting a losing battle and the smile pulled up at the ends of your mouth so tightly that your cheeks started to hurt. "Gross."

You pick up a chicken skewer regardless, biting into it and facing the sky again. You offer him the other one and he looks for a moment like he's going to argue but takes it quietly in the end.

The chicken is tender and only after you'd swallowed the first bit did you realise how hungry you'd actually been. You finish it without a word, going to tear the pasty in half and offering a piece to your companion.

You're picking at the roll now, tearing tiny bits off and feeding it piece by piece to yourself like a bird. "Last game."

He nods. "I know."

"What could someone say to you after your last game, Wood?" You pick at him, eyes flittering between him and the now nearly black sky. "You know, to make you feel better?"

Oliver shakes his head, leaning back and rolling his shoulders: as if the thought itself unsettled him.

"Nothing, probably. I'd probably just walk into the Black Lake and drown myself."

You think he's joking, but with Oliver Wood that was hardly a sure thing.

"You wouldn't."

"What's there left to live for?" He says it with an airy chuckle.

Shrugging, your head falls against your shoulder. "You'd have to figure it out, because I'd go marching in right after you. Carry you out if I had to."

Oliver stills, eyes wide and blinking at you. Your chest goes tight, the ghost of a smile pressing at your face.

"Bridal style and everything ..." You add quietly, stifling your chuckle.

He seems to come back to himself, nodding. "We should get back. Been a long day."

The napkin crumples in your hand, shoved down into the depths of your own pocket. You walk ahead, the pathway to the steps is only narrow enough for one person at a time, and he trails behind.

By the time you've hit the steps, Oliver moving down beside you, you're brewing around an apology. A way to thin the air, to ease where your chest is tight: swirling around well done, now you've made things awkward you git. It's halfway up to your tongue when skin brushes against the back of your hand.

Warm fingers explore your knuckles to find your cool ones, slipping to knot between them.

You work not to look down, because Oliver's skittish like that. From the corner of your eye, you can see he's concentrating his gaze ahead.

His hand tightens against yours, palm callous from years wrapped around the wooden handle of his broomstick. It's a little sweaty and sticky but you're smiling so hard you're about to be sick.

You dare to look at him, Oliver's smiling too.

-

Oliver hasn't been sleeping.

His last few days of seventh year are slipping like water through his calloused hands and he can feel it. Every hour that passes, shadowy and fleeting.

Classes feel shorter than before, the terrible jokes Archie bombards him with over dinner sound funnier than he ever remembers them being and the glimpses he catches of you in the corridor never feel long enough. The ceiling of his poster bed flashes with moments of the day that's passed, feeling like a dream you'll be jolted out of as soon as it gets good.

Even over all his hours of broody contemplation, none of it makes the final whistle any easier to swallow. It hits him like he's been smacked with a bludger in the chest.

"Gryffindor has won the quidditch cup, two-hundred and thirty points to twenty!"

He can hear the crowd's roar, the whoops of the twins floating somewhere below him. Harry's standing on the grass of the pitch holding up his tiny golden trophy. The pitch is red all over: Oliver won.

He won.

Every moment building up over the last seven years culminated into the final blow of the whistle. The wind is whipping at the hair over his forehead: Oliver thinks this might be the happiest moment of his life, but he's not entirely sure.

He never realised that it would all be so fucking soaked in sadness.

It's over. He's leaving the castle empty handed. His engraving will live on the Quidditch Cup in a dusty cupboard for years to come, yes, and he might have a frame up in his future apartment somewhere, reminiscing on the old days. That's all.

He's struck with the devastating fear that in a few short years, nobody will remember him. More than anything, he can't believe he hadn't come to this overwhelming conclusion before right now. Before Angelina is yelling to him, waving a frantic hand and sporting the biggest grin in all of Scotland, before he was seconds from taking the prize he's held in his mind for so many years into his very hands.

Will you forget him?

It nearly knocks him off his broom. He finds that it scares him the most, more than the thought of the dust-caked trophy or the lonely corner at the back of his cupboard where his Hogwarts robes will no doubt live until eternity.

He won't forget you, he thinks. He knows.

You're just so damn annoying. And beautiful, fucking whip-clever and hilarious sometimes--

The handle of his broom is tilting down to the earth now, the crowd zooming into a blur on either side of him. He hits a shaky landing, broomstick abandoned on the grass behind him as he's pulled into the arms of his team and well-wishers.

A golden trophy passes over the heads of the twins and it's shoved into his sweating hands. It's cool to the touch and so much heavier than he thought it ever could be, but he can't seem to keep his mind on the situation long enough to realise any of that. His mind is racing around the castle wondering where you might be and what's the fastest way to get there.

His eyes are racing over the heads of the roving crowd. "Wood, Wood! Speech!"

Shadowing over everyone is Archie's tall figure standing at the back, grinning down at him. The team watches expectantly.

This is it. The moment for the speech he's been practicing in his bathroom mirror since he was seven.

"I--" he looks down at the cup for the first time, his face reflecting up at him in glimmering gold. He finds he can't remember any of the words. "I need to go find someone."

There's a buzz of confusion, but Oliver doesn't linger: shoving the Quidditch Cup into Harry's arms.

"That's the shortest speech Wood has ever given." He hears Angelina quip, but he can't be arsed to turn. He's already flying, moving through the crowd at such a pace he might just have been on his broom.

The sea of students had long since started moving up to the castle, particularly the non-gryffindors: trying to beat the stampede of scarlet that is no doubt to come. Oliver's legs carry him over the smooth green hill up towards Hogwarts, head craning over students to find your side profile somewhere in the mass.

He catches few oy, watch it!'s and congrats, Wood!'s but he doesn't turn, doesn't stop running. Students bespeckle the grass like ants lining up for crumbs, and he's all the way up into the stone corridor leading to the Great Hall when he spots Cherry's velvet red curls over the crowd, and sure enough, he finds you're knocking her shoulder with your own.

It only takes one shout of your name and you turn to peek curiously back, by which time he's taken both your shoulders into his hands and steered you to the wall of the corridor.

"Wood! What are you do--"

His hands squeeze around the plush at your upper arms. "Oliver. My name is Oliver."

Your eyes are wide in surprise, the window behind you showcases the gardens and the pitch in the distance. Sunlight forms a halo over the crown of your head.

With a head tilted in confusion, you nod slowly. "Alright ... what are you doing, Oliver?"

He can feel the eyes of Cherry and Enzo burning a hole through the side of his head, but doesn't bother with it. You're blinking up at him, gentle and benign in your features. He wonders when it became like this, when you'd lost the tight brow and the frown every time you looked at him.

"I won the Quidditch Cup." He says blankly.

You nod, a small smile tucked into the corner of your lip. "I saw. Congratulations."

Oliver only nods back at you. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to come shove it in your face."

He's shuffling closer to your figure, and he's more than pleased to discover that you aren't cowering from it.

"Of course you did, because you're a prat." But you're smiling so hard now that it's impossible to take your jab to heart. "Is that all, Oliver?"

A warm sensation is spilling into his rib cavity and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity when they come to find either side of your face.

"No." His forehead is nearly touching yours and your hands have wrapped around his wrists. "I came to ask you out on a date. A sappy, disgustingly romantic date where I bring you flowers and pay for your hot chocolate. You'd hate it."

"That truly sounds horrible." Your smile is so wide he can barely see the whites of your eyes and it pumps more adrenaline through Oliver than any argument you'd ever shared over the last seven years.

"So, is that a yes?"

You're bouncing on your toes a little bit, bumping your nose against Oliver's clumsily. The babble of passing students and gawking onlookers has practically fallen mute to him.

"Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight after?" You whisper it, like it's a secret between just you and him.

He nods slowly, "pretty desperate to kiss you right now, if I'm being honest princess--"

You don't wait for him to finish, thank Merlin you don't wait for him to finish, and push up onto your toes: crashing against his mouth. You're kiss is as dizzying as he remembers, but softer this time. You kiss like you know he's not running away, hands pressing softly over his neck.

It's nothing like your kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room: where that one was desperate and hot and angry, this time it's born from longing and tenderness and acceptance.

It leaves him just as fucking breathless as the first time.

Somewhere behind him, he hears wolf-whistling (he's sure it's Cherry) and when you pull your lips off his, your face is flush with embarrassment.

"I will go on a date with you, Oliver."

He takes your hand into his, curling his fingers between your own. You lean up to peck him softly and bat your eyelashes at him, grinning innocuously when you whisper: "If you treat me like you did with Delilah, I'm throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

-

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[misteria247]

Do y'all realize just how lost the 87, 03 and possibly 07 boys would be about the internet and cellphones and laptops of today?

Like the 87 gang had home phones and communicators and if lucky those big bulky blocks that were supposedly considered cellphones.

03 boys and 07 boys had cellphones that were flip phones or the sliders that came in all those wild colors.

Can you imagine the absolute bafflement when they catch sight of the 12, Bayverse and Rise gangs technology? The absolute awe they'd feel at just how big the internet and technology had advanced??

Can you imagine how they'd feel about internet humor?????? How absolutely lost they'd feel when one of the younger turtles say an iconic meme or vine or tik tok?????

Like it'd literally go:

Rise Leo: This bitch be empty yeet-!!!

87 Raph: ????? The fuck is yeet??????

Rise Donnie: It's empty that's what it is.

Or-

12 Mikey: I'm feeling like the crying cat meme today.

03 Leo:.......the....the what?

Bayverse Raph: I feel like the cat meme that says Father I crave violence today little dude.

03 Leo: ????????????????????????????

Or-

12 Leo: You been to the soup store lately?

Bayverse Donnie: I haven't been at soup lately because I was buying clothes.

07 Mikey and 07 Donnie: ?!?!? What???? Does soup????? Have to do????? With buying clothes?????

And when the younger boys pull out there cellphones and touch screens and laptops they'll just be met with bewildered looks and it'd be like:

07 Raph: What in the shell is that????

Rise Mikey with his touchscreen phone: My cellphone???? Have you never seen a cellphone????

07 Donnie: You mean that's supposed to be a flip phone?????

Rise Mikey: A wHAT-??????

Or-

87 Donnie: This is incredible!!! It's so small and sleek!!!

12 Donnie: It's just a cellphone. I mean you've seen one before right???

87 Leo: Oh! You mean these things???

Pulls out this clunky piece of tech that was an 80s cellphone

12 Donnie with a painful wheeze: THAT WAS YOUR CELLPHONE???? I now completely understand why Master Splinter was so confused when he tried to use the TPhone holy chalupa-

Or-

03 Donnie: That's a computer??? It's so light????? And easy to carry?????

Bayverse Mikey: Yeah bro, the technology just gets better and better! Why?

03 Donnie: It just blows my mind I mean this is nothing compared to my computer back home!

Bayverse Leo: What's your computer like back at home?

03 Donnie: Oh! Well it's this!

Shows a picture of the old early 2000s windows computers

Bayverse Mikey whistles: Damn bro, you could kill someone with that thing.

Bayverse Leo:..........

It'd just be this huge shock on both sides and it'd be absolutely hilarious.

[anotheroceanid]

I wrote this sleepy, directly on my laptop and barely revised it, please have it in mind!!!

Your treat. @perseabeth @orchardsong

For context to everyone else, this is a unfinished one shot I was writing for the WTHB series, but I literally just made two scenes and called it a day and went back to the main story lol

Her eyes are only slightly closed as she enjoys the sun kisses on her skin. Percy tries not too look flushed while she help one of the new campers on how to hold a sword properly.

‘Are you alright, Miss Jackson?’ The little girl asks. ‘You’re red.’

Percy is obviously failing.

‘It’s never this hot in Atlantis. I think I got used to weather there.’

‘Oh, there must be nice. I don’t like when it’s hot.’

      It would be a surprise if she did. The was Boreas’ daughter. And Canadian.

‘It is. But I like warmth, too.’

For a second, Percy was silently judged by a seven-year-old girl, ‘Well, guess even the Hero of Olympus can have poor taste. If the barrier controls the weather, couldn’t someone turn on it’s AC?’

Percy wheezed as she heard an indignant "Hum!" near her ear. The sun tickled her cheeks, and Percy smiled softly.

‘Hey, do not wave the sword so… fast…’ She mumbled as one of Hermes’ boy threw his weapon a few metres away. Thank gods it was a wooden sword, because it hit right in the head of one of Demeter’s children, who immediately started screaming.

‘Keep going, Anne, you’re doing fine.’ Percy praised the daughter of Boreas as she ran the other way, where the six-year-old boy cried. ‘Chill, chill. It’s alright!’ She bent down to be at the child's height, so she could verify it’s head. ‘It’s alright, right?’ She whispered as low as possible, so the young campers that reunited around her wouldn’t listen.

‘Yup. Just good old drama.’ Apollo answered. Only her could hear him.

‘Great! I mean, hey it’s not bad, you know? You’re tough!’ Percy cheered, and the six-year-old seemed sceptical. ‘It’s just a little ouchie, isn’t it?’

‘No!’ He claimed loudly, hand dramatically placed on his head. ‘It’s a big ouchie! Kiss it!’

Percy blinked for a moment. Oh, this is cute. ‘Of course, of course.’ She said, as she kissed his forehead. ‘Is it better now or do you think you need to go to the infirmary get some syrup!’

‘I’m fine!’ He cheered. ‘No syrup, it’s disgusting.’

‘Okay, no syrup then.’ Percy laughed, and she heard Apollo giggling too. ‘Now get your sword and go back to practice, okay? Nico, would you assist me, please?’

On a distant corner, wearing a black hiking jacket that would make Percy melt in that heat, Nico Di Angelo frowned. ‘Am I not, already?’

‘The idea is to, for example, not let people accidentally throw swords on each other.’ Percy mouthed.

‘I don’t like kids.’

‘Then why did you offer help, Mr Retiree?’

‘Technically, I could be.’ Nico said.

‘Technically, he could be.’ Apollo muttered, at the exact same moment.

‘… and it was either that or helping with the strawberries. The dryads say I’m terrible with plants.’ The dryads are correct, Percy silently agreed, but said nothing. ‘But I’m terrible with kids too, so…’

‘You’re not terrible with kids. They are very welcoming if you try.’ Percy encouraged, though Nico didn’t seem convinced. ‘For cookies, then?’

Nico seemed to ponder for a moment. ‘Don’t draw skulls on them this time.’ He turned, moving toward the same son of Hermes, who looked at Nico like he was the coolest guy alive.

‘That’s a low blow, love.’ Apollo whispered, and she felt his fingertips stroking her neck. She felt a shiver down her spine. ‘Can I get cookies too?’

‘Stop that!’ She mumbled, trying to move her lips as little as possible. She had gotten pretty good at it recently; though it was particularly easier when she was surrounded by little kids she towered over. But poor Nico… Well, he was too overwhelmed by the speed the son of Hermes talked to pay attention to her. If his eyes grow any bigger, they’d fall out of his face.

Apollo chuckled. ‘Took me a lot of effort to get here. If anything, it’s your fault I turned touchy.’

Percy knew she was red like a tomato. ‘You’ve always been touchy.’

‘Unfortunately, I tend to get worse with time.’ He kissed one of Percy’s shoulders. ‘Will you come to Delos with me for the weekend?’

She bit her lip, knowing she should say no. However, it was not like Percy had anything to do at camp in the weekend. The friends that’d be at camp would be engaging in activities Percy had been avoiding and the other friends… Well, not her age. Percy didn’t see herself spending the entire weekend playing UNO with Cabin 7 and Nico, either.

Technically, she could go to Atlantis. There was no downside to that, even if sometimes Triton could be a bit overwhelming as an older brother. Then, father allowed Triton to be overwhelming, so she blamed it on him. Besides that, it was always fun in Atlantis…

‘Or…’ Percy started, ignoring completely her previous line of thoughts. ‘You could come to my mother’s apartment.’ Apollo got silent. Percy blushed. ‘Unless it’s something terribly offensive to invite a god to your mother’s apartment for a weekend. In this case, ignore what I just said.’

‘Do you want me to meet your mom?’ He whispered softly, and Percy felt his breath near her neck.

‘You know my mom.’ She answered, exasperated at the closeness. ‘Dude, I really need to focus on not letting a kid not pluck an eye from another.’

He ignored what she just said and kept going. ‘I saw your mom. Once. That didn’t count.’

‘You talked to her.’

‘Artemis talked to her. I just stood there and nodded trying to not look stupid.’

This was Percy’s time to chuckle. ‘Artemis would argue you failed.’

‘I would argue I failed that day! I’m pretty sure I was smiling a little too much. Didn’t she spoke to you about me?’

‘Nope. Not a word.’ Mostly because Percy blackout-ed a few hours after the Laurel Wreath Ceremony and didn’t remember most of it, because no one thought about telling her the free drinks weren’t alcohol free. Bless Rhode for helping her and keeping it a secret.

‘See? I caused a bad impression.’ He professed dramatically. ‘You cannot ask me to just show up in your door one random weekend and then meet your mom, I need planning time. I need to gather gifts, and maybe write a poem or a music to her.’

Percy pictured Apollo showing up at their door with a millionaire collection of jewellery and the next Billboard Hot 100 number one hit. That wasn’t the way Percy wanted her mom and Paul to meet her boyfriend. Boyfriend? Can she call him that? Secret boyfriend? Friend-with-Benefits who walk holding hands in Paris? Friends’ brother who she kissed indiscriminately when they were left alone? Friends’ dad she got cosy with? Percy never brought up the topic, and sincerely she was a bit nervous to do so, but she wondered what she should call it.

Not that she would be announcing it to anyone any time soon. Or ever. Well, ever was a long time to count with, but she’s not spilling the tea the next girls’ night.

‘My mom won’t be there.’ Percy revealed, licking her lips timidly. ‘She and Paul are visiting his family, so… We would be alone.’

Which wasn’t the case in Delos.

His mom was there. Leto was amazing, but that all knowing grin she would give them made her feel scandalous. Additionally, Percy would like to have a moment with her Call-It-What-You-Want without Thalia, Artemis and Hermes playing UNO on the living room. It was not as if she intended doing anything, Percy simply didn’t want that feeling of being watched.

‘Oh…’ Apollo sang devilishly. ‘This won’t help me cause a good first impression.’ He laughed, obviously finding fun in it all. ‘Which isn’t fair, considering my whole family adores you. And don’t dare arguing with me, you know it’s true. I’m talking about the side of the family that matters, by the way.’

They remained quiet for a second, then Percy spoke. ‘So, is it no?’

‘It’s an absolute "I’ll be there!", I’m just thinking how I’ll make it up for your mom… Any idea?’

‘My mom is chill; she won’t hate you for coming over when she’s out. Mom always says I can bring in, hm… ‘Boys, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘…friends.’

Silence, again. ‘Her favourite singer is definitely getting a Grammy next year.’

‘Her favourite singer is Freddie Mercury.’

‘Your family definitely hates me, my love…’

Mr D almost cries when she tells him and Chiron that she is leaving to spend the weekend "with her mom". Well, he didn’t cry. But he cried out a ‘You’re leaving me alone with them?!’ As he pointed his finger to a group of toddler demigods who played in the carpet. Apparently, they invaded Big House and refused to get out without a fight.

Chiron also gave her a pleading look as one of the toddlers pulled his tail. ‘Is it urgent?’ He asks, silently agreeing with Mr D.

‘I mean, she’s happy that I improved with the whole thing with the war, so we wanted to spend some time together, you know? Like the old times. Words like "gatekeeper" and "fight" were used against my father.’ Being around Hermes made lie much easier for her. Percy wondered it was some sort of blessing or if she was just learning it by familiarity.

‘Can’t you go next week?’ Mr D asked, as he moved his hands to flout a pointy pen out of one of the toddlers’ hands. The poor kid started to cry. ‘Or next month? Your mom won’t run away, Penny Johnson!’

She held a laughter as she watched Mr D pick up the child and try desperately to stop the monstrous tantrum over a pen. ‘They won’t grow in a week.’ She retorted, smiling devilishly.

‘Maybe we should get a permission on Olympus to age every kid to twelve as soon as they cross the barrier for the first time.’ Mr D suggested, looking rather serious.

‘You’re not doing that!’ She and Chiron rushed to suppress that absurd idea before the other gods heard it.

‘Oh, as if I didn’t suffer enough…’ Dionysus sighed. ‘How people do it without drinking?’

‘Preferably, everyone should do it without drinking.’ Percy frowned. ‘Give me the child, would you?’ She stepped in and stole away the toddler from his arms. He didn’t even fret from releasing them.

Percy rocked the toddler cheerfully, and they quickly forget why they were crying.

‘Just take them with you! Actually, why don’t you keep them?’ He suggested, as if it was the most brilliant thought someone could ever come out with.

‘I’m seventeen!’ She remembered to him.

‘Back on my days, you’d have a litter of your own already… Your mother will be there, won’t she?’ Oh, yeah, that… ‘A souvenir from Camp Half-Blood, isn’t it nice?’

Without even thinking twice, Percy come up with an answer. ‘It’s not her job to take care of other people’s kids.’

‘And is it mine?’ Dionysus pointed out to himself, and as Chiron and Percy opened their mouths to answer, with a finger raised, he added, ‘It’s a rhetoric question.’

‘So, here’s my rhetoric answer: tire them until they sleep and pray it last for a few hours. That was what mom did to me when I was this age.’

She put the toddler on the ground, and it ran to hug Mr D legs, who shrieked like he had just been electrocuted.

Percy grinned and left the Big House.

It’s almost night. She needs a bath. Camp got so crowded ever since the end of the war that the days felt longer with all the additional classes, they needed to encompass all different age ranges; not that the veterans would use it as an excuse to skip the underground parties. They were more frequent when Pollux was around. However, he had been pre-emptively sent to a spiritual retreat with the Maenads. A fancy way to say he’s temporary exiled from Camp, because apparently some gods (Athena) didn’t like the "bad influence" he had on their children (Annabeth). The Gods weren’t thinking straight if they thought teenagers would let his legacy go to waste.

The Stolls were getting a lot of money with the parties. With the brilliant mind of Leo Valdez, one of the campers that arrived last winter, they were literally keep the Underground alive. Percy suspected that Mr D knew but kept quiet about it because he didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun—especially when this fun kept his domain so close to him.

Percy watched as some nymphs giggled as they whispered to each other. The nature spirits were having the time of their lives. Good for them. Still, she had other plans.

From the Aphrodite Cabin, Drew waved to her, moving her lips asking if she was coming. Percy mouthed a "No, visiting mom", to what the daughter of Aphrodite made a pout. "Next one, then?" Percy read on her lips, to what Percy laughed and shrugged.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e15 #thinman (w. jenny klein)

don't really think about it until they show a bit of s1/2 in the recap and man, dean's voice got so much lower

SAM On a hunt? Why wouldn't I? DEAN I don't know, man. 'Cause lately with you, up is down and down is sideways, you know? I-I -- I don't know what you want.

does sam even know?

worked for will graham!

i'm trying not to cringe up into a ball knowing it's a ghostfacers episode... maybe it'll be fine.

HARRY Ah, the Winchesters. Yay. ED Says nobody. HARRY Ever.

it's funny because it's true

DEAN Am I supposed to be impressed with that treasure trail or the lady gun you got hiding in your, uh, pants there?

this show, sometimes

HARRY 50 shades of whey too much protein!

look at that, we got a tld! ghostfacers.com! but not in the search results window

two laptops and a full sized, albeit also vintage, stove. they sure find the interesting motels

why is sam looking so extra pretty today. hair must be in a pleasing (to me) configuration

kind of surprised they aren't talking about tulpas if it's the slenderman spn-universe equivalent. oh man. this episode aired 2 months before the girls stabbed their friend because of slender man.

and dean just smacked treasure trail boy on the ass, all right. we're having a normal one

DEAN You throw the right Tibetan symbol into the mix, you dumb asses ever think the Thinman comes to life as a Tulpa? ED Because thousands of people can agree that Thinman is any one thing? The lore changes blog to blog. He's not a Tulpa.

LOL thanks show, make me feel clever

SAM Okay. Just grasping at straws here, but when I think "teleport," I think "Crossroads Demon." DEAN Mm. Demon that likes to stab and watch YouTube. Why not?

DEAN You know what video would have gone viral, if we still had it? When you were five and you got dressed up as Batman and you jumped off the shed 'cause you thought you could fly. SAM After you jumped first. DEAN Hey, I was nine, and I was dressed up like superman, okay? Everybody knows that Batman can't fly. SAM Well, I didn't know that. I broke my arm.

DEAN I know you did. Man, I drove you to the E.R. on my handlebars.

okay i teared up because that was just so sweet, both relaxed and happy for at least a second. haha such a sap

DEAN Hm, good times. SAM Yeah, they were.

second over, emphasis on WERE

ED Harry was gonna leave, so I needed to give him a reason to stay. I-I made up Thinman.

what

SAM Listen, if you don't tell him, he's gonna leave anyway. Trust me here. Secrets ruin relationships.

laughed out loud. they would know!

look at that pretty face staring down the dude to get him to tell the truth

HARRY You crashed the Jenga Tower of our lives. I was gonna get married. I left her to run around with you, living some lie. ED Well, at least we were living it together.

this is so goofy. even more in your face than usual, parelleling a plot point to sam and dean's situation

ED Harry, we can get through this. We just debunk Thinman and then we go back to Ghostfacers. HARRY I can't. I can't trust you anymore, Ed.

so goofy!

HARRY None of it was real, Sam. Ed was just pretending, and now he wants me to pretend, like this is just something I could get past. SAM I know what you mean. Look, there are things you can forgive, and there are things you can't. HARRY So, which one is this? SAM That's something you got to figure out for yourself.

therapize himself a little along the way

DEAN So, the tires were only made for one kind of car. It's a 1989 Geo Metro.

man those little hatchbacks used to be all over the place, nearly all of them must be dead by now. specially the mid90s ish ones which were ... not very reliable

DEAN So, there was no teleporting -- just a couple of douche bags doing the "Scream" thing.

what did i say about looking extra pretty? and he usually is more buttoned up than this. very pretty lighting too

ED I've done all this crap for us. I-I don't know why you don't see that. HARRY No. No. You did this for you.

literally wheezing. not enough to take the same betrayal of trust plotline but even the same lines!!? LOL

from s9e13 SAM Okay. Just once, be honest with me. You didn't save me for me. You did it for you.

--

HARRY You roll with a guy so many years, you start to think he's always gonna be next to you. Like, when you're old and you're drinking on the porch, he'll be in that other rocking chair. And then something happens, and you realize that other chair has gone empty.

snorted. so like, okay. do you hear yourself say it, harry? very normal thing, just like planning on being with your friend forever. not wanting him to be with his lady and a regular job, but on the road with just you. i mean like, obviously, same can be said about sam and dean and that's probably part of the point but it's so loudly obvious that it's like *looking around* are you seeing this? are they saying this. i guess we can say like see, this is normal, just dudes being close bros. weird

WEIRD CHOICES. what a strange episode. good for those actors i guess getting to come back again and have a meatier parts in the episode

okay also tucking this episode in my pocket because i recall there's a thing with the retirement whatever brochure some time in the future, but also that makes me sad again that dean didn't make it to retirement age. womp womp

[kitten4sannie]

groupie anon back at it again!! also this nickname has me BLUSHING grhsfbksj also reading your replies is always so fun because I get to see my original message too (I have a terrible memory and so it's always a surprise for me too)

my rant is significantly shorter this time, though I do have to address one thing: calling yungi the 'twin towers' was FOUULL. it had me wheezing, that shit was hilarious and I will be using that from now on.

I write for different anime fandoms! (I feel like I gave my account away hahaha oh well, oopsie). see, I prefer writing fluff because it makes me blush and act even more delulu than I already am, but smut is your forte. you write it so well it makes me curl up into a ball and wonder what good I did in my life to deserve such immaculate pieces of literature.

also I spent almost all day at work today thinking about what I could write about for my first kpop fanfic and I've circled back to this one idea like 5 times.... sannie sick fic. SANNIE SICK FIC!!!!! no seriously imagine him all snotty and flushed, BEGGING to be cuddled but you can't because he's contagious, so you make him soup and tuck him in and he's so cute and soft and his hair is definitely greasy because he's been in bed for almost a week straight (but you give him a scalp massage because he's sannie and nothing can keep you away from him) but not even a yucky virus can stop his talkativeness and he keeps rambling until you shove a spoonful of soup into his mouth to shut him up and he's so FLIRTY like sir are you sick or are you drunk?? he's so in love and reader is just as in love with him back.

phew.

okay so sannie came up and suddenly I'm a liar for saying my rant would be shorter this time (isn't this the longest message I've sent so far??). I think you can tell why I enjoyed that san fic so much ahdbsjfbs he's got me in the tightest chokehold, there's nothing I wouldn't let him do. absolutely nothing, anything that was once off the table is very much on the table if he wishes it to be. the man can reach inside my body, pull out one of my kidneys, sell it, then fuck me into the mattress, and I would still get on my knees and beg to suck his dick afterwards. seonghwa, too, can treat me like I'm nothing but a couple holes to play with. I genuinely need to censor myself right now because if I say any more, the psych ward people might come for me.

also drummer jongho is so... yes. despite not reading any jongho fics, I will be found dead before I ever deny that that man does not give off the most attractive energy ever, but he's also a cute little teddy bear. personally, I love fics where he's my little brother hafjdbf, they're literally always the best ones ahaha.

uni started again for the year and I thought I'd be more busy with that and work, but I will personally make time to write that sannie fic because it's life or death at this point tbh. happiness doesn't come from grades, it comes from booseoksoon and sannie sick fics. also it would be nice to actually chat normally rather than through asks hahhaha.

until next time!! (I will read the valentine day hwa fic tonight, so you will probably get another message from me soon - I read the tags, I need a couple hours to mentally prepare for it)

P.S., my laptop crashed three times while I was writing this, but the universe will never stop me from sharing my love.

hey!! blushing pleaseee stop being so wholesome rn i can’t take it 😭😭 i love it too it’s like we’re public pen pals ;;;; pffff no same i have the memory of a fruit fly i prob won’t even remember what i typed out after i finish this sentence jshdgd

it was so foul fnrrrr but also so true!! i actually saw someone else on here use that term so kudos to them for coining that shit’s funny af and i’m glad you could get a good laugh out of it!

anime fandoms hmmmmm i’m gonna do a little investigating 👀🔍 ughhh i love fluff that shit makes me blush harder than hardcore smut i swear ??? pleasee you’re gassing me up sm it’s making me feel like debby ryan in that one movie 😭

little cut here

SICK SANNIE FIC ???? my third eye is open and my chakras are aligned like - you’re a genius dude!!! NOT FEEDING HIM SOUP AND GIVING HIM A SCALP MASSAGE AND HES ALL FLUSHED AND HES STILL FLIRTINGGGG EVEN THOSE HES DYING THATS SO FUCKING SWEET IM GETTING A CAVITY RN,, sorry for yelling but damn son

BROOOO I CANT - the thirstiness for san is so fucking relatable it hurts like i swear i’ve never been down this bad for anyone before but i would actually sell my soul to lucifer himself rn just to be a hole for that man but honestly anyone and everyone in ateez could get 25/8 and it’s cool the psych ward is knocking at my door as we speak 💅🏼

jongho was actually my very first bias!! his stage presence and voice during the their first mama performance (which was the first ateez thing i ever saw) blew me away and THEN i find out he’s the sweetest, softest, most respectful man to ever exist ??? and his gummy smile broooo holy shit

i hope uni and work goes well! exactly you should do the things you love 💕 feel free to send me a message! i don’t bite <3 i hope you enjoy it! i don’t blame you every time i see a tag for sub hwa my brain feels a little fuzzy ngl. i’m sorry it crashed ;; i appreciate you sharing it with me 💜

nooo i’m sorry it crashed! my phone closes tumblr all the time when i’m in the middle of typing and it takes years off my life 😔 god you’re so sweet 😭

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

hm

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[ceilingfan5]

for you

“It’s you!”

“It’s me.” Kravitz grins from the computer and does a cute little half wave like he always does when they do video calls, and Taako’s heart aches.

He’d give anything to be with him right now, to kiss his stupid handsome face, to flop against him and feel the warmth of another living body that just so happens to care about him very much.

But things are the way they are, and it worked out that their relationship has to go through just a bit of temporary long distance. Short. Brief. There’s an end in sight, no matter how far away it feels. No matter how nauseous Taako gets when he looks at the countdown always running on his phone. No matter how badly he wants to reach through that screen and pull him out and squeeze the breath out of him.

“What’s on the menu tonight, babe?” Taako says, like he’s not writhing in melancholy about the whole situation.

“Funny you should say menu.” Kravitz grins mischievously, and then shares his screen. “Have you ever heard of Cooking Simulator?”

“Already fear is chilling my bones.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Cooking Simulator does not load very well, or fast, and the menu music is fucking deafening, though certainly boppable. It’s kind of silly and kind of charming with a touch of motion sickness thrown in for texture.

“Soooo,” Kravitz draws out. “Love of mine. What should I make you for dinner?”

Taako laughs.

“A burger?”

“Coming right up!” Kravitz calls, and he clicks into the Confectionary kitchen.

“Great sign. Like. Incredible. Super.”

“Have a little faith! You don’t-” Kravitz interrupts himself laughing. “You don’t know- I could be a great cook in the digital sphere, you- you don’t know!”

Taako knows.

Immediately they are met with some issues. Like meat. Meat issues. There is no ground beef in the bakery kitchen. There are no burger patties in the bakery kitchen. There is no chuck, no roast, no turkey to stuff in the blender. The closest thing Kravitz can find, as he whips nauseatingly around the enormous refrigerator stuffed to the gills with eggs and butter and raspberries and entire blocks of baker’s yeast, is bacon. He clicks on the relatively large mound of bacon, which he gets to do individually per bacon slice, and both of them crow with laughter-

“It’s- so fucking small-”

“It looks like a bandaid!! Bacon bandaid! How many- Krav- How many of those constitute a burg?”

“Gonna say six,” Kravitz says confidently, because there are exactly six in the fridge, and he would have to order more otherwise. He immediately adopts and maintains a stupid accent, which doesn’t quite stay in one single wheelhouse, but does make Taako split his sides. “Sounds, um, sounds like a proper uh, patty to me.”

“You’re a monster.”

“You asked for this!”

Taako protests, but Kravitz just laughs, and proceeds to throw the bacon in the blender, along with an egg, for, you know, cohesion, and also flour, for reasons Taako daren’t and caren’t discern. This does not work out.

“Nothing a good attitude can’t fix! Honestly, Taako-” Kravitz snickers and takes the mixture to the mixer, slamming it in and setting it to stun and letting it rip. “You’re gonna love this. This burger’s gonna be so good you’re gonna cream your jeans.”

“Not my jeans!”

The bacon mixture inexplicably becomes a dough. Kravitz carries on and slops it in the oven, in the closest burger shape he can approximate--a little heart shaped pan.

“There are fuckin- there are round-”

“It’s romantical. Don’t unromanticize this for me.”

The heart pan also gets a dough treatment (twice)--“It doesn’t even look like it baked!!”-- and then they’re off to the races. Certainly not horse races, maybe...corgi. Or lizard. Or drunk bicyclists. Because next, well. Next is a problem.

“Kravitz, if you touch that mascarpone, I swear to fucking god-”

“Can’t have a borger without cheese!”

“You explicitly can! KRAVITZ! DO NOT MIX THE MARSCAPONE AND THE CREAM CHEESE!”

“I’m sorry, do you-” Kravitz can barely breathe for laughing. “Do you see cheddar? Some fine- some fine fucking parm-a-sin? Some respectable a-saw-jee-oh?”

Taako is literally fucking crying, and wheezing, and screaming (fuck his neighbors). He cannot abide by this. Kravitz. Kravitz, he cannot abide. This will not be abidden.

AND YET.

“You know what we need?” Kravitz asks, slopping the heart-shaped layers on the cake. Burger. Beef confection. Fuck, it isn’t even beef. Lord above. Christ on a bike. Ring ring. He’s coming through. And he’s blasted.

“Wh-” Taako gasps for breath. “What do we-”

“KETCHIP.” He grapes the bottle of red food dye with force.

“I-”

“Kechpup.” Kravitz slowly rotates the bottle onto the burg.

“Nooooooo!”

“Catstup.” Glowing pink light suffuses their crime. This is not Taako’s idea of what red dye should do to an object, but the game has its...limits?

“I want a divorce.”

“Kep. Spup.” Kravitz chucks the bottle across the digital kitchen, where it bounces off entirely respectable fictional equipment. He paps the top “bun” onto the disaster.

“There. We- We did-” Taako wipes tears off his faces and groans. “We did it. We done did it.”

“I think we should frost it,” Kravitz decides. He pulls out the piping gun and angles for the frosting dispensers on the wall, holding it aloft.

“Time to suckle,” Taako wheezes, and both of them are so lost in the sauce the call almost drops when the laptop falls off Taako’s couch. It takes seven full minutes for either of them to speak complete words at each other, and even then, the nonsense begins again. It takes even longer for Kravitz to actually retrieve and lovingly dispense the frosting, and their sin is done.

“There.” Kravitz picks up the plate with their burger and admires it.

“God, my jeans,” Taako says, voice hoarse from laughing like a buffoon. “Something’s happened.”

“Called it.” Kravitz whips the camera around a few times, and then chucks the burger onto the display area, where it entirely falls apart. “Let’s go to the pizzeria.”

“Great. I want sushi.”

“SUSHI??”

So maybe their call lasts well into the night, and maybe Taako’s bothering the neighbors, and maybe the couch is incredibly empty with only his ass curled up on it, but that love is still there, and still strong, and still absolutely fucking ridiculous. Some souls just match, even if they’re far away.

[capt-spooki3]

Hey hi hello, how are you doing, i miss you and am .5 seconds away from spamming all your work with likes and reblogs 💕☺️

So I've been thinking (uh oh).... Being close with Tommy and tubbo and telling them ur terrified to meet techno cause mans is so scary to you, and they tell him you're scared cause they're little shits. A d cut to like a few days later where you have to talk to him for smthn and he's making fun of youand teasing you relentlessly cause he knows you were visibly nervous to meet him, but he's being really nice besides the teasing. Thoughts? Interpretations?

You don't even have to respond, just know that I love you and your stuff and hope you have the best day because you deserve nothing less◖⚆ᴥ⚆◗

( ˘ ³˘)♥

am i positive if you're asking me for a fic? No, not entirely.

Am i going to write you one anyway because you're so sweet? Yes absolutely and now presenting:

My Unexpected Tutor

Platonic college au!Technoblade and Y/n

(plus besties with the rest of the sbi ofc 😌)

(Hope this is okay, i just took my own interpretation of it and changed it just a little👌)

Warnings: cursing, teasing, nervousness(idk)

3.3k works

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

With the final bell ringing and college classes ending for the day, you snatched up your bag and book you’ve read off and on that week before heading over to the courtyard that was near the on-campus dorms. Stopping by a vending machine first to grab a drink then seating yourself on a bench and getting comfortable while you wait for your company to arrive.

“Yeah! And that’s- HA! That’s when Wilbur just… oh!-” The nearing sound of Tommy’s voice cut off along with the softer laughing from Tubbo. You were very obviously engrossed in your book, but now you just feigned reading as you listen closely to the sound of slow footsteps nearing behind your bench. The two of them were horrible about being sneaky since you could easily hear hushed laughs as they desperately tried keeping each other quiet.

Right as you heard them stop moving, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself before turning around suddenly and lunging at them over the back of the bench with a half effort grab at Tommy’s extended hand, and yelling. Tommy screamed back, stumbling back a  few paces and Tubbo just stumbled before backing up to the bench and busted out laughing.

“Ey what the hell!” He scoffed despite not being able to hold back his growing smile, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll remember that bitch, I’m gonna get you back.” he walked over to you and sat on the other side of the bench, giving you a hard glare when you laughed a little bit though it was mostly from Tubbo’s hysterical laughter. He took a deep breath and calmed himself so he could jump over the back of the bench and sit between you and Tommy.

The two boys were your underclassmen, being freshmen while you were a sophomore. The three of you met in your coding class. You were there mostly to get your English degree and major in said area, but you figured while you had the opportunity you would take classes on things you didn’t know much about. There, you met Wilbur, a senior and Tommy’s oldest brother, and he helped you quite a bit with understanding bits of coding that were a bit too confusing for you at first and were quickly becoming friends with him. That was until Tommy entered the picture. First, you just saw him as Wilbur’s chaotic younger brother who just happened to be in the coding class as well but after some insisting that you get to know him from Wilbur, you hung out one weekend in the library. One weekend turned to two then almost every weekend once he introduced you to Tubbo as well and you all had become a true trio.

You got to know Tommy’s family pretty well. His single father, Phil, who was just like a second parent to you now, and Wilbur who acted just like the older brother you never had. You knew them well despite having known them all for less than a year. The only hang-up is when it came to Tommy’s other brother. You knew he had an actual name, but only knew him by his nickname since that’s what everyone referred to him by. That would be Technoblade. The two of you had a couple of literature classes together and the fact that he was only one grade above you, you’d figure that you could befriend him with ease. Now, it’s not like he was big and scary, he was more tall and lanky but he was smart and he had some vibe around him that just petrified you. You couldn’t ever build up the courage to be around him which made it quite an issue since you were best friends with his brother, though this wasn’t an issue you had ever brought up to any of them.

“So how did classes go for you guys today?” You asked as you pulled one of your legs up onto the bench and closed your book which you held close to your chest.

“Fucking shitty! I got a fuck ton of extra work, like I know it’s college and the weekend but let me live.”

“We got one essay to write, it’s two pages long.” Tubbo reiterated with a smile while Tommy grumbled and leaned his head back so he was looking up at the sky. “What about you Y/n?”

“It wasn’t bad, I don’t have any extra work other than a bit of coding to do. Oh speaking of, Tommy?” You reached your foot over and kicked his leg to get his attention, only continuing when he was looking at you. “Is Will gonna be free at all? ‘Cause I need some help with this stuff.”

Tommy perked up a bit, sitting up to get his phone out. “Oh you're right, I actually need help with it too.” He mumbled while texting and staring at the screen as he waited for a reply. “Uhh okay so he says… I’m visiting some friends so I won’t have time… blah blah uh but ask Techno, I heard he’s pretty good at coding. Nice! That’s perfect, you can just come over to my house and-”

“Ah, you know what- I actually think I’m okay.” You quickly interrupted him, pulling your laptop out of your bag to aimlessly scroll through the assignment you were given. “It can’t even be that hard I’m sure… I can figure it out.” You said with as much confidence as you could muster despite knowing full well you’ll be completely lost as soon as you try to start on the work.

“Come on, we both know that’s a lie, you're so shit at this stuff.” He said light-heartedly and watched you ‘work’. “Seriously, just come over. I’m sure Techno is good at this stuff, if anything we can pay him to do the work.”

“It’s fine- really. I think I’ll just wait for Monday, I can ask Wilbur for help then.” You closed your laptop, keeping your gaze on it for a moment before looking over at Tubbo and Tommy who were giving you both a puzzled look. “What?”

“You don’t…” Tubbo started to speak but Tommy pushed him back with an arm on the chest so he could lean over to look at you closer.

“You don’t have a crush on Techno, do you?” He said and squinted at them as if disgusted by the thought.

“What!? No!” You sat up taller and looked at him, baffled that he resorted to that.

“Well, then what the hell is the problem! Just come over and he can teach us!” 

“I just… he’s kinda…” You grew flustered and found a loss for good words as you realized you were going to admit this. “He’s scary.”

Tommy busted out laughing and wheezed hard, doubling over as he coughed and laughed some more, stumbling over words as he tried to talk but was laughing too hard. Even tubbo who was trying to hold back, joined Tommy which only made them bounce off each other in their hysterics.

“Wha- I’m serious! Do you two not think he’s intimidating!?” You looked at both of them desperately as you could feel the heat that had risen to your cheeks.

“He’s literally-” Tubbo’s laughter interrupted him. “He’s a nerd! How the hell is he scary?” He settled down a bit and nudged Tommy to get him to calm down too, luckily he got his fit of laughter out.

“Oh my god, no I’ve got to go home now.” He grabbed his backpack that had been discarded behind the bench and looked at you once more before laughing more. “Scared of Techno- oh my god. That's good, that’s a good one. Bye bitches!” He saluted both of you before running off.

“Tommy I swear to god if you tell anyone I will deck your shit!!” You stood up, holding your laptop in hand, to yell at him but just stood there defeated once he turned a corner around a building. Tubbo got up beside you, laughing as he put his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“I wish I could give him the benefit of the doubt… but he’s gonna tell Techno. And Wilbur. And Phil for sure.” 

“Yeah... I’m sure he will. I’m going to my dorm, I’ve got to call my mom.”

“Aww-” You put your hand over his mouth, but took it away as soon as he shut up so he wouldn’t lick your palm.

“Shut- I don’t wanna hear shit from you too. Anyway, get home soon and don’t get kidnapped.” You turned away to put your laptop and book into your backpack and zipped it up before pulling it over one shoulder. You looked back at Tubbo and put your fist up to him.

“I’ll kick them in the balls, don’t worry.” He laughed a little and bumped his fist to yours and walked backward a few paces, waving at you. “Tell your mom I said hi!”

You waved back at him and stood to wait and watch him walk off along the stone path until he was fully out of sight to make your way to your dorm, which was right in the courtyard area.

-

Monday came around and with the school day partially over, you made your way to your coding class. You of course didn't end up doing the assigned homework even though you gave it a good try and just decided to rely on Wilbur's help.

You walked into class and took in a deep breath, it was always cool and smelt of coffee since the teacher brewed a cup before your class every day. Making your way over to your usual computer you looked over to see Tommy sitting in your spot beside Wilbur and chatting to him. You guessed he heard you coming or saw Wilbur look your way because he looked back and grinned wide which never meant good.

"Ey look at who it is! Wonderful seeing you again, how was your weekend?"

"Fine." You said, looking down at him and kicking his foot. "I don't like how you're acting, what the hell did you do?"

He just feigned innocence and looked offended that you could assume such a thing. "Me? Me!?" He leaned forward, hand gracefully on his chest. "I cannot believe you right now, I'm hurt Y/n! Truly hurt."

You scoffed with an eye roll and sat on the other side of Wilbur since the seat was free. As soon as you set your bag down and went to turn toward the two, Wilbur was already facing you and leaning on the desk area for the keyboard in a way that looked like he needed to say something in secret.

"You good?"

He just waved you down and you leaned forward to listen. "You're not… actually afraid of Technoblade are you?"

"Tommy you little shit!" You jumped up, nearly hitting Wilbur but he moved back in time. Tommy laughed and fled to the other side of the room where he normally sat so you just grumbled and took your seat.

"Well?"

"Is no one else? He's intimidating, I feel like he'd call me out on all my insecurities if I inconvenienced him. And THEN he would hold me at knifepoint till I left him alone."

Wilbur snorted and hung his head as he softly laughed, you reached over and hit his arm before leaning closer to whisper. “I’m serious Wilbur! He scares me!”

He looked back up at you with the most amused look. “Come on, you can’t be friends with this family without knowing techno. Honestly. Talk to him today. You two have the same literature class at the end of the day right?” He asked as he sat up and leaned back into his chair to turn his computer on and log into the coding website.

“I mean yeah but- what does that have to do with anything.” You asked, but Wilbur didn’t reply as he just stared at his screen so you leaned forward to get into his peripheral vision. “Will, what does that have to do with anything? I’m not talking to him, I hope you know that.”

-

You were wrong. Nearing the end of your literature class, you sat there listening to the teacher while completely lost on the assignment. Usually, it wouldn’t be too much of an issue because you would just give it the best attempt you could and see where you messed up at the end to better understand the work. It wasn’t the best tactic but you liked it better than having to ask for help. But now, this was a big and grade-determining assignment, not one you could afford to flunk.

The class was given five minutes to start on or look over the work at the end of the class. You leaned back in your chair, staring at your paper at a loss, and listened to the sound of people moving around the class near you. You didn’t try to look up since you assumed it was friends going to sit together and gossip. That was until you noticed someone took the seat beside you and shuffled a bit closer. Pulling the paper away from your face to look, you froze instantly upon locking eyes with Technoblade who was smiling lightly. You had never seen him this close, the most notable thing was his dyed light pink hair that had grown out brown roots and you could even see in his smile how his top and bottom canine teeth were a bit longer than normal and looked like he had small fangs and tusks.

He pushed his glasses up before crossing his arms and leaning forward on his desk. “Hey so I know you’re terrified of me, but it looks like you’re having a bit of an issue.” You opened your mouth to speak but were just met with a loss for words and just averted your eyes, continually glancing back at him for a moment as you were unsure what to do. He snorted lightly, bringing his hand up to stifle his laugh, and cleared his throat. “Yeah sorry for bein’ so big and scary but I can help ya. Come one, show me what you are confused with Y/n.”

“You- you know my name?” You looked right at him finally to which he raised an eyebrow at you quizzically.

“Well yeah. Did you really expect me not to? You’re besties with both of my brothers and my dad loves having you over. I was just waiting for you to say hi to me.” He leaned back, fidgeting with a ring with his hands. “Didn’t think you’d actually be scared of me, thank Tommy for snitching. He talked about it all weekend.”

You groaned, leaning forward to run your hands over your face and sigh, swearing that you’d smack him once school was out.

“Oh shi-” You looked at Techno and he was checking the time on his phone. “Hey, class is about to end. You’re not gonna be busy are you?”

“Uh… not, no I’m not.”

“Great.” He got up, moving the desk back to its original place and trotting over to grab his bag, and looking back to you. “Get your stuff and meet me at the south entrance, we can work on it back at my house.” And without giving you a chance to try to object, he called to the teacher saying that he was going to leave a minute early to get his stuff together since he rented a locker a bit away from the classroom and the teacher waved him off.

Reluctantly, you went back to your dorm which was close to where you had class. You dropped off unneeded books and grabbed a granola bar from a box you kept in your room then headed toward the entrance Techno told you to meet him at. And of course, walking up the sidewalk to the doors you saw him there sitting on a bench with his bag beside him. He saw you and jumped up, waving you over to him as he started walking immediately. While you were still behind him, you sent a picture to Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur of him walking in front of you and adding the caption ‘i did it :P’. 

The two of you chatted while you walked through the neighborhood and despite light teasing on how scary he was, he was easy to talk to and you had a lot in common with him. It was a shame you hadn’t taken the initiative to talk to him before. In no time, you were walking through the door after him into the familiar home where Phil greeted you with a surprised but happy look and offered snacks which Techno graciously took before heading to his room.

To your surprise, Technoblade is the best tutor you have ever had. He is attentive and incredibly patient when trying to figure out where you are having struggles and he’s smart. Like he knows every single bit of what is supposed to be brand new information from the class. Not even two hours into him helping you, you understood the assignment completely and you both spent the next three hours sitting on his bed and working together. You joked with him and he held the same energy while keeping the focus on working and even swapped laptops with him to check it over for each other.

You broke your gaze from the endless lines of text on your laptop screen to look at the window and seeing the orange sky around trees and over top of houses that indicated the setting sun. “Oh my gosh!” You scrambled off the bed, carefully stuffing papers back into your bag. “I didn’t even realize what time it was- Technoblade thank you a million for helping me. I appreciate it so much, but I need to get back to my dorm! I promised my roommate I’d help her cook dinner tonight.” You grabbed your laptop off of the bed and put it into your bag, closing it all up quickly.

Slinging it over your shoulder and adjusting it, you turned to make your way out of the room but you were stopped by a tug and looked back to see Techno holding onto your bag and looking displeased. “Not yet.”

“Wha- I need to go though-”

“It’s a tradition in this house to hug anyone before they leave, you should know that from my dad.” He let go and opened his arms up to you.

You turned to him and tilted your head a little. “You’re joking…”

He just smiled smugly and waited. You glanced at the doorway but gave in and closed the bit of distance, hugging him to which he returned snugly and spoke softly to you. “You’re a good person. I’m glad to have gotten to know you and I hope you’ll come back. I promise I’m not all that bad.” With that, he slowly let go and patted your arm before gently shoving you toward the doorway and plopping down on his bed. “Have a good night!”

“Uh.. yeah, you too!” You said back, still surprised by the exchange. His words swam through your mind as you went to leave the house, hugging Phil on your way out and wishing him a good night as well. Finally checking your phone on the walk home, you found a supportive and proud text from Wilbur, a dirty joke from Tommy, and something in between from Tubbo.

You laughed to yourself, amused by the differences in the messages. It was times like these that you most found appreciation for the three. Mentally you had to correct yourself though. The whole family was good. This you can say for sure now.

[abutterflyscribbles]

Cryptid Meet Cute

She had the most dead eyes Bog had ever seen, even though he looked in the mirror every day.

Catching her eye in the apartment hallway was not unlike looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull in a dark crypt where the torchlight flickered over the curve of the bone to create shadowy illusions of eyes shining within. The dead-eyed woman’s dark makeup around her eyes really sold the image. Actually, Bog wasn’t sure if it was makeup or deeply stamped rings of exhaustion.

Bog found the woman unnerving, for all she was at least a foot smaller than him. Height didn’t really seem to matter in this case. The massive dark atmosphere around the woman was compacted so densely into her small frame, weighty as gold though with none of its glitter, that he thought the floor might  bow under her when she trudged through the halls. He was almost positive he heard it creak, at the very least.

Really, Bog was used to being the gloomiest, grumpiest, most dead-eyed person within ten miles or more, no contest. Until now. He felt oddly challenged and a little surly for feeling like that. Maybe it was because when he made eye contact with the woman they ended up staring at each other, motionless and unblinking, each waiting for the other to break the deadlock. Usually people didn’t maintain eye contact with Bog for more than a few seconds and scuttled out of range as soon as possible. He had literally never been in a situation where he would look away first.

So far neither Bog nor the dead-eyed woman had followed the staring contest to a conclusive end. Someone would open a door, or call out to one of them, or walk between them, some outside intrusion breaking up the silent confrontation.

“You looked like two serial killers who were going after the same victim and were at a creepy awkward stalemate.” Steph told him after witnessing one of the encounters, “If I’d walked between you I’m pretty sure my soul would have started bleeding out of my ears.”

With all this in mind Bog was now standing in front of the dead-eyed woman’s apartment door. Marianne. Steph had said the woman’s name was Marianne.

Bog had been shocked. “You know her?” he had asked.

“I know of her. Thane works in the same building as her. She’s the IT guy there, some sort of tech wizard. Dunno, Thane is scared silly of her so he’s never talked to her. But according to the rumors she can fix anything even if you drop kicked the computer into a lake.”

In this time of desperation Steph’s words had come back to Bog, providing one last thread of hope, a lifeline of dental floss. His laptop, a wheezing, battered piece of equipment, had wheezed what might have been it’s last breath, taking all his work documents with it. If it was a patient in a medical drama the heart monitor would be flat-lining and the doctor urgently calling for the paddles.

No, he didn’t have anything backed up. Shut up.

And the dead-eyed--Marianne was the one with the paddles that might shock life back into the unresponsive patient and restore the work files before they followed the laptop into the light..

There were bloody hand-prints on the door. And paper skulls. and black roses. The roses were bleeding. The usual Halloween type decorations.

It was the middle of August.

Right.

No problem.

She was tiny. If it came to a fight he could take her down.

It might be a Pyrrhic victory though.

He knocked on the door.

[hangovercurse]

Bad High

An innocent weed baking session turns into a nightmare

Reader x Colson Baker

Warnings: Drug use, anxiety attack, language

A/N: Consume responsibly kiddos.

Word Count: 1597 

masterlist

Colson knew it wasn’t your first time taking weed. In fact, he’d taken it with you before. But something in his gut told him that maybe this was a bad idea. It was weird, he had never thought weed would be a bad idea.

Maybe he should have listened to his gut. 

It was a pretty normal day in the MGK house. You and him were sprawled out on either side of his couch, your laptop laying on your lap and his guitar in his. 

“Okay, play it again and tell me if this works.” He looked up from his guitar, which he had been strumming for the past five minutes. 

You pressed play on the pre-recorded beats that you had stored on your laptop. As the sound started, Colson began strumming his guitar. The melody he played was nice, but didn’t quite match the beat that you’d already picked out. 

Once the beats stopped, he let out a sigh and threw his head back. “Why isn’t anything working.” He whined and you smiled sadly at him. You and Colson had been working together for years since Slim brought you to write and mix on Bloom. You’d seen each other at your bests and worsts, and this was one of those worsts. 

“Maybe its not the melody, maybe we need to adjust the rhythm. I can mix a new beat and we can start over.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried 3 beats already, I don’t think its your rhythms, I think I’m just off today.” 

“Then lets take a break, Col. We can come back to it later. Besides, we’ve been sitting on this couch for hours and my ass hurts.” You chuckled, swinging your legs off of his and to the floor, pushing your laptop to the coffee table. “And I’m hungry.”

He frowned before leaning his guitar against the side of the couch and standing up. “Fine. I need to smoke anyways. “

You smiled slyly, an idea coming to you. “Or...” You started suggestively, “We could bake something.” Colson raised an eyebrow at you. “It would fix both our problems. We get food and we get high.” 

Colson chuckled, shaking his head. “And people say I’m a bad influence on you.” You smiled, getting to your feet. “But you have a point so, let’s do it Miss Badass.” He made his way to his kitchen, you trailing behind him. 

When you made the suggestion to make edibles, you forgot how much of a pain they were to actually make. But, an hour later you and Colson took a pan of brownies out of the oven. “I think we may have put a little too much in there.” He comments as the smell hits your nose. 

“I don’t think I can even smell the brownies.” You laughed as he took out a knife, cutting a small piece for you. 

You scrunched your nose at the size he handed you. “Look, Y/N, there’s a lot in here. I don’t want you taking too much. You’re literally tiny. If I give you more than this you’ll die.” He laughed as you took it from his hands.

“Have I ever had trouble holding my substances before?” You questioned, biting into the treat. The taste was just as bad as the smell, overwhelmingly weedy. 

“I’m not even taking that much, ok?” He said, shoving a piece in his mouth as you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, but if this doesn’t hit I’m gonna hold it against you forever.” You chuckled, heading back to the couch and flopping down. 

Colson came in after you, switching on the TV and grabbing one of the Switch controllers, tossing you the other one. “Mario Kart?”

“I will crush you.” You joke, facing the screen.

The first few races went by faster than you realized, and Colson had beaten you in every single one. 

“Okay, that was totally unfair. Who blue-shells a person in the last five seconds of the lap?” You pout as he laughs, still celebrating his fourth win. 

“Literally anyone who’s in second and has a blue shell in the last five seconds of the game.” You rolled your eyes as he played the next track.

You were both siting up at this point, very intensely focused on the race. The countdown started and you pressed the A button to go. As your car started racing down the track next to Colson’s toad character, the colors got brighter than normal. 

You started squinting, but kept playing. “Damn this shit hits hard.” You muttered as the world around you started getting hazy. You kept playing, but as you started your second round, your heart started to race. Your hands were pretty sweaty and the lights were getting too bright. 

What started as a pretty normal high was quickly turning into something you’d never experienced. Your chest felt heavy, like you were breathing under water. You felt like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs. Your vision unfocused from the TV and your concern for the game disappeared as you let the controller drop to the coffee table. You could vaguely hear Colson’s voice, but the noise from the game was too loud, and only getting louder. 

You could feel your body shaking, but you couldn’t move enough to raise your hand and see yourself. 

fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me. What’s going on.

Your thoughts swarmed a mile a minute, and every inch of your being was overwhelmed with light and sound. You tried to turn your head to find Colson, but found that your movements were much slower than expected, too slow.

Eventually, your teary eyes made contact with Colson’s blue ones, and the joy in his face turned to concern in an instant. 

He rushed over to your side, remote forgotten. His hand made its way around you, pulling your body into his side. You buried your head in his chest as everything blurred and spun. 

“Hey Y/N. Hey it’s alright. You’re alright. I’m right here, okay? I got you.” You nod into his chest, tears falling from your eyes as you tried to breathe in. 

“It’s just a bad high, I promise. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Okay. Can you let me know what’s going on? Can I help you?” 

You had rarely seen him so concerned like this except when Casie was involved. You coughed lightly into him, trying to get some form of air into your throat. “Can’t breathe.” You muttered as you wheezed. 

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath, so soft you almost couldn’t hear it. Everything sounded like it was coming through a thick pane of glass. “Ok baby,” he grabbed one of your hands that was lazily wrapped around him and brought it to rest on his chest. He breathed in slowly and heavily, and then out. “Breathe with me babe. In.” He breathed in, and you tried to follow him, only to choke and cough. 

“Y/N, it’s ok. C’mon, try again.” He breathed in again but you couldn’t stop your labored breathing. Your chest was too tight to breathe in, so your body settled on hyperventilating. You shook your head as he touched your jaw, lifting your head to look at him. 

“Breathe with me, c’mon. In,” He breathed in again, and you followed, “and out.” You let out a short breath before sniffling. The light in the room got too bright, and you had to close your eyes to keep it blocked out, your head ducking back down but his strong hand held you in place, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, feeling guilty that you were ruining his high. 

“No, nope. You don’t have anything to be sorry for sweet girl.” His voice was soft, and you could feel his breath hitting your face. You opened your eyes slightly only to find his face mere inches from yours. “Keep breathing with me.”

The hand that was still resting on his chest rose and fell with his chest. You tried your best to mimic his breaths which fell on the bridge of your nose. You could feel your chest start to loosen up and your the buzzing in your head started to fade. Your eyes focused on Colson’s face, his eyes filled with concern watching your every move, his lips slightly parted as he continued to breathe heavily enough for you to feel. 

When you finally felt calm enough to speak, you whispered, “thank you. I- I don’t know wh-” 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, ok? I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His thumb continued to rub circles into your cheek and you leaned into his touch. 

“I’m okay. I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Please. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His breath was still landing softly on your face. 

“Okay. I’m okay. Just a little tired now.”

He let out a light chuckle, “I’m sure you are.” He pulled you into his chest, his head resting atop yours and his arms enclosing you. “Let’s take a nap, yeah?” You nodded as you wrapped your arms around him, smiling softly.  

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling you down with him. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep with your head laying on his chest and your arms wrapped around him. Colson stayed awake longer, watching you breathe with a small smile on his face. Occasionally he would lean down to press soft kisses to your hair before he finally fell asleep. 

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 17]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, intercrural sex, lots ‘o teasing, dirty talk/the absolute tiniest bit of degradation, some cum play/cum eating, seungcheol having a kink for thighs/thigh highs 😳😗 welcome to the weekend my bbys!! I hope yall are having a good day/night!! Also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow(also an updates post)!! 💕 Might be a regular thing for the next 4-ish weeks ‘cause I have been so busy this month 😭 and I can’t believe there’s only 3 more chapters of CB left!! 😭😭 some bangers on the way tho LMAO 🤣 As always, thank you so much for the love and support!!💕💕 Have a great rest of your weekend and enjoy ch 17![cheol voice] seventeen right here 😌💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - x - x - x

Seungcheol doubles over in laughter, tears blurring his vision as his laughs turn into quiet wheezes.

“God, this is so embarrassing.” Seokmin mutters; cheeks burning crimson when he glances over to Jeongguk who shrugs back. “Maybe I really should quit…”

Jeongguk scoffs jokingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied. No offense, but all the staff here probably have at least seen her before and you just so happened to lie to her actual boyfriend. That’s honestly really lucky if you ask me! You should buy a lotto ticket!” Seokmin whines back, shifting on his heels as he watches Seungcheol start to wipe the tears away.

“Hyung, can you please take this Edible Arrangements I got you so I can go ask Namjoon-hyung to fire me?” This only causes Seungcheol to laugh harder and this time, Jeongguk can’t help the giggle that bubbles past his tightly pursed lips.

“Please!” Seokmin begs, shaking the basket of skewered fruit at the older male. “I heard the diner across down is still hiring, I can still save the rest of my dignity if I leave now!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, eyelashes wet with tears when he takes the gift from Seokmin’s hands to place it on the countertop of the concession stand. “Hate to break it to you but she works there and one of the staff is also one of her regulars so I think your best bet is workin’ here. Embarrassment and all.”

“So, okay… But you’re not mad?”

Jeongguk peels the cellophane off of the basketed fruit, looking to Seungcheol for permission before he takes a skewer. “Go ahead. And no, I’m not mad. If anything I should apologize too, I shouldn’t have let you keep lying when I already knew. But also, to be fair, we weren’t really… official ‘til recently.” Seungcheol shoots the younger male a sheepish smile; cheeks a pretty pink of their own. “And it’s kinda been nice meeting you guys too. It’s great to know you’re not all weirdos.”

Seokmin laughs lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool, ‘cause this place pays really well and I’d hate to stop working here and you guys are a lot cooler than the coworkers I had before.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, leaning up against the countertop as he picks off a strawberry from the basket.

“Don’t even get me started on this coworker I had at the last place. His name was Mingyu, I think? Suuuuuch a kissass. I had to move to manning the register at all times just so I could avoid him pickin’ his nose in the backroom and then pretending like he was doin’ shit.”

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

Seokmin’s inquisitive voice has Seungcheol turning; setting the rollerskates in his hand down onto the bench. “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re, like, watching your girlfriend?” He tilts his head in thought, eyes blinking up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to overstep or something if it’s weird, y’know? I’ve been thinking about what Jeongguk said earlier...”

Seungcheol grins back at him, eyes twinking. He’d also thought about that before too, when he first found out that Jeongguk had also watched your streams.

“I don’t really mind ‘cause at the end of the day, it’s you watching me fucking my girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it… well?” You giggle, tugging the white thigh high up your leg.

Seungcheol pulls off his shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed; tossing the wrinkled material onto the floor as he laughs under his breath.

“He did give me an Edible Arrangements while I laughed so hard I cried. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

xcaliburDK: good news, i didnt quit!!

chwenon: i was gonna say

chwenon: u literally started like last week

universe_WZ has donated $75

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

therealchan99: u look rly pretty in ur white set!!!

“Aww, thank you! It’s one of my favorites~ And ‘xcaliburDK’, I’m glad you didn’t quit!” You wink at the camera, giggling softly in Seungcheol’s lap as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

A shiver runs up your spine at his gentle touches and you easily melt under his soft kisses and roaming fingertips. He ghosts them across your breasts, teasing you through the thin lace as you mewl and squirm against his cock that’s pressed firm against your ass. “A-ah, S--Seungcheol…”

tangerine_kwan: she looks so happy now that she can call ur name out lol

alphagyu97: now i cant pretend its me tho

gentleman_josh95: i mean i guess but are u even built like him

alphagyu97: well

Your body slowly starts to fill with warmth; soft stuttered breaths falling from your lips when he drags his fingers down your torso until they play with the hem of your panties. “M-more… tease me m-more…” He grins against your shoulder; hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties and tugging it away from you before letting it snap against your skin.

“‘Cheol!” Whining, your legs snap shut on impulse as you feel a gush of wetness soaking into your panties.

“Ah, ah, ah, part those legs, princess. Don’t make me have to punish you.”

kitty_junjun: no thats what the shibari stream is for right? Right? 😩

artist8hao: is that really happening bc i want to see it

alphagyu97: u guys should do it and think of it as like a rebrand of the channel ykwim

hoshi_tiger_xx: jdfkjhf like a grand re-opening under new management

therealchan99: what is this, a restaurant?

chwenon: u guys should come up with a new channel name too or sth

Seungcheol manages to read off a few of their comments; committing some to memory knowing that your eyes were still sealed shut as you focused on his soft touches.

He drags his fingers down further, humming when he can already feel how wet you were getting. “Hmm~ Already soaked through your pretty panties, baby~” Your head rolls back against his shoulder, nodding gently as you start to grind against the fingers that he uses to press into your clothed, wet folds.

“F-feels good w-when you, ah, t-tease me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol smirks, eyes twinkling at the camera. “You really like it, huh? When I just touch you gently like this. Not enough to get you off but just enough to get you soaking wet until you’re begging for my cock.” He pauses; pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “I wanna try something with you, pretty baby~”

You gulp as you raise your head from his shoulder and he retracts his hands from your body as you shift your body and slightly turn to the side to face him.

Seungcheol’s eyes are blown wide with lust and you can already feel his cock throbbing against your lower back as he smiles dreamily at you.

“I think you’ll like it too.”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips as Seungcheol’s cock slides past your tightly clasped, yet shaky, thighs.

“O-oh, ‘Cheol, this--this is…” The words die on your tongue as your head falls forward and Seungcheol is quick to reprimand you, just as he draws his hips back.

“Baby, I want you to watch yourself on the screen. I want you to see your cute face while I tease your pretty body.” He moans; thrusting between your wet thighs as your hazy eyes peer at the laptop’s screen. Your lips are swollen and your pupils are blown wide when you catch yourself and you can see the head of Seungcheol’s cock only just breaching past your clamped thighs when he thrusts forward.

You let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he alternates between thrusting between your thighs and letting his cock slide against your soaked, panty-clad mound. 

He hadn’t bothered to undress you at all, but you didn’t mind. The material of your panties only added onto the pleasure with every drag of his cock against you.  

Seungcheol teases you even more; dragging his hands down to your thigh highs and letting his fingertips play right underneath the hems before pulling the material away from your thighs and letting them snap against your skin, much like he’d done with your panties.

“Ah, fuck, m-more! P-please…” He repeats the action a few more times, playing with the sheer fabric of your thigh highs before he draws his hips back. Except this time, when you expect him to thrust back between your legs, he wraps a hand around his cock instead, guiding himself until the head of his cock is rubbing up against the sheer fabric.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty with cum all over your pretty thighs. I should cum all over your panties and your white ‘lil thigh highs and get them all soaked. Don’t you think they’d be cute? Sticking to you like a second skin? Translucent ‘n soaked through with my cum?” He laughs under his breath, watching through the laptop screen at the way you bite your lip and furrow your brows at the thought.

“I--I want t-that… I want S--Seungcheol t-to make, ngh, a m-mess…”

angelhan: i kno we say this all the time but can u upload some pics of that later

angelhan has donated $75

universe_WZ: seconded cuz thatd look so fuckin hot

universe_WZ has donated $50

alphagyu97 has donated $75

alphagyu97: fuck, like a lil angel covered in cum

Seungcheol teases you and himself at the same time; rubbing his cock against your fabric-clad thighs. He spreads precum onto the material, licking his lips when it already becomes translucent and sticks to your skin.

He positions his cock back between your thighs once he’s had his fill and quickly finds himself doubling his pace when he sees how wet you’re getting his cock without even having taken your panties off. “God, look at you. I don’t even need to fuck you to get you this wet. You just need to rub your ‘lil cunt against my cock and it’s enough for you, huh? I should make you sit on my lap, rub your pretty ‘lil pussy on my cock ‘til you’re cumming over and over again.”

“Ngh, yes! Fuck, Seungcheol! I--I can feel your c-cock throbbing between my l-legs… Please, please c-cum, mmh, all over my s-skin…”

“That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ desperate to be covered in it too. And always so fuckin’ pretty when you are.”

You let out a whimper as you try to focus on watching yourself just like Seungcheol had asked you to. Your lips are parted in soft breaths and you can’t seem to unfurrow your brows as Seungcheol chases his pleasure behind you.

angelhan: what if

angelhan: seungcheol in thigh highs lmao

universe_WZ: sub.cheol

sleepy_wonu: sub.cheol

universe_WZ: jinx

sleepy_wonu: fuck u 

You lick your lips at the thought; although you knew Seungcheol would have a hard time relinquishing his dominating nature.

But your mind wanders as you continue to think about it; various images of Seungcheol tied up underneath you while you fucked yourself on his cock running through your mind. You let out a shaky moan, to which Seungcheol hums.

“What are you thinkin’ about, princess?”

“Um… ah, n-nothing…” He thrusts between your legs hard, making you jolt forward as you yelp.

“Princess...”

“I--ah! J-just thinking a-about… y-you tied up, ngh, to--to the bed and m-me fuh--fucking myself on your c-cock… ‘n me u-using, mmh, my toys o-on you...” Seungcheol smirks, pulling his cock from between your shaky thighs as he slightly pushes you over until you're on your back.

He spreads your legs as you look up at him and he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock as he jerks himself off above you. “Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be so cute trying to be the domme for a night.” Seungcheol teases.

You find yourself clenching around emptiness as you think of the possibilities. You definitely wanted to try it if Seungcheol was willing.

“Fuck, but first, gonna cover your pretty body with my cum.” He groans; thrusting up into his palm as he chases his high.

“C-cum all over me, Seungcheol…”

The donations and comments sound off in the back as you maintain eye contact with Seungcheol who’s brows furrow when he starts to feel himself about to cum. He scoots back a little; growling when his cock throbs in his grasp and he cums all over your, already, soaked panties.

You let out a moan when rivulets of cum hit your lower abdomen and you’re quick to reach down and scoop some up to bring to your mouth, smearing the warm substance against your puckered lips before licking it off. Whimpering, you dip your fingers into your mouth; this time pretending they were Seungcheol’s instead of your own.

He guides his cock until the head is aimed at your thighs; streaks of cum settling into the sheer material of your thigh highs. “God, you’re so damn pretty...” Groaning, he milks his cock for every drop of cum before he’s stopping to catch his breath.

“You came so much but I didn’t cum yet, ‘Cheol~” Pouting, you turn your head to the side to face the camera. “Tell him he has to make me cum now~”

kitty_junjun: well u heard the lady!!

hoshi_tiger_xx: make her cum and let her cream her cute lil panties even more

therealchan99: oh fuck yeah, get her off without fucking her cute cunt

Seungcheol leans over your body until the two of you are almost face to face, eyes twinkling with playfulness when you feel his sticky hand playing with your thigh highs again.

“D’you hear that? Let’s give them what they want, baby.”

The sounds of donations and comments once again get lost as Seungcheol finds himself on his knees between your legs.

“Ready?”

When you slide into bed after your camshow’s ended and Seungcheol has properly taken care of you, he’s quick to tug you into his chest. 

The two of you let out soft sighs at the warmth that envelopes you both as you finally start to settle in for the night.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol clears his throat, catching you just before you drift off to sleep.

“This is so random but have you considered, I dunno, rebranding your channel… with me? I was thinking about it and kinda wanted your opinion...”

You blink up curiously at him, urging him to continue. “I mean, yeah, of course! I don’t really know where to start though since it’s always just been me. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to either so I never brought it up.” You snuggle into his warmth, yawning as the sleep threatens to take over.

“But let’s talk about it later, ‘cause ‘m tired now, ‘Cheol. You really didn’t have to make me cum twice…” You mumble, “I can still feel my legs shaking...”

His soft laugh reverberates in your chest and he’s quick to press a kiss against your hair as he tugs you in closer.

“It’s ‘cause I like to spoil you. And okay. I’ll remind you when you’re more conscious.”

“G’night, ‘Cheol...”

“Goodnight, baby.” 

[junicai]

Learn the Alphabet with Aria + Friends ;

273,175 views • 15 Mar 2021 • uploaded by [haechanieski]

A is for: “Adios”

Filming a JCC episode was always something Aria looked forward to - either because she got to watch it later and laugh, or she was a guest star herself. Johnny had taken it upon himself to uphold the communication part of his series name, and asked Aria to teach Czennie some Irish while she was around. 

“And how do you say goodbye?”

“Adios!” Aria spoke with full confidence, a beaming smile directed to the camera. 

Johnny behind her snorted. “Adios?” 

Aria blinked, before spluttering. “Oh no not adios that’s the wrong - that’s not Irish.”

“Isn’t that Spanish?” 

“...yeah.”

B is for: “Baby~”

Aria was leant forward her knees, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of her that was playing the 90s Love music video. It was the first time she had seen it edited and polished, and she was anxiously anticipating her own scenes. 

An Aria appeared on the screen, running her tongue over her top teeth before scrunching her nose and giving the camera a wink. She spun on her heel, tossing a jacket over her shoulder and tilted her head so her sultry smirk was visible to the camera. 

The boys around her clamored loudly, and Aria cringed away from the video - right into Ten’s awaiting embrace who clasped her head in his grip and stopped her from turning her head away from the laptop.

“Baby~” Ten sang, curling his arms around Aria. “My baby is all grown up~” 

Aria whined, thrashing weakly in Ten’s grip in an attempt to shake the boy off. “Nooo.”

“My baby~” 

C is for: “Chewing Gum”

“Yes! It’s been a long time since we performed our debut song.” Aria took over from Chenle who had been speaking into the phone cradled in his hands. The voice-only vlive had been unplanned, and neither idol had been willing to put their messy bedheads on video for their fans to immortalize on twitter. 

Chenle snickered. “Noona is just thankful that she gets to wear things other than pajamas on stage now,” He teased, jostling the phone as he leant over to poke her. 

“That’s not true! Bubblegum will always have a special place in my heart.” Aria defended herself, crossing her arms in front of her stomach to protect it.

Chenle retracted his hand to stare up at Aria with a disbelieving face. She looked back at him, as the boy burst into laughter. 

“Bubblegum?” 

“Chewing gum! I said chewing gum. You misheard me.”

“Bubblegum-” Chenle was wheezing, hand gripping Aria’s arm tightly.

“I’m a foreigner! I have an accent!” 

“Noona, that’s in English?!”

D is for: “Deicide”

“Jaemin! Leave me alon- ow.” Aria’s attempts to fight off a cuddly boy proved ineffective, the boy in question succeeding in drawing the squirming girl onto his lap and securing her in position with his arms around her waist. 

Aria let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes in resignation. 

“Okay, yes, okay. Fine. I’m done you win.” 

Jaemin smiled, satisfied, and tucked his head into the crook of Aria’s neck, humming to himself. His content mood was quickly yanked away from him however, as Aria leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Jaeminne. If you don’t let me go to finish doing my hair, I’m going to remind you of the fact that I have zero qualms with deicide, and you have yet to reach god-like standards.” 

Paling slightly, he retracted his hands and Aria pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping off his thigh. 

E is for: “Eomma”

Aria squealed as she was tackled down, hitting the ground with a thunk as Jaehyun leapt for her from across the room. “No no no I’m sorry I take it back I take it back-” 

Jaehyun was grinning down at her as he slid his hands up her sides and began to tickle her, pinning down her flailing arms as she tried to hit him. “Oh yeah? You’re sorry now?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sorry I promise - you’re not - I didn’t mean it -” Aria struggled to get the words out, unable to catch her breath. 

“Eomma!” She cried out, face red and hurting with how much she was laughing. “Help mee~” 

F is for: “Fudge”

Stumbling around the dorm in the dark was never a good idea, but it was late and the other members besides herself and Donghyuck were already asleep. Aria hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so the only lighting the pair had was the fading light from their phone flashlights. 

“I can’t see it, but I know I put it down here somewhere? Do you think it’s behind the tab- FU-dge. I like fudge, do you like fudge?” Aria leant over the table to rest her arm on Donghyuck’s shoulder, peering at him curiously. 

Her eyes were pinched with pain, and she was hopping slightly. 

“Did you stub your toe on the table?” 

“Psh, no! This is a serious question Hyuck. Fudge preferences are serious business.” 

G is for: “Gorgeous”

“Oh! Gorgeous dahling. Positively stunning.” Aria spoke in a pompous voice, face pulled down with pinched lips and squinted eyes and obnoxiously raised eyebrows. She fluttered her hand around in an aggressively dramatic hand gesture, before spinning on her heel to flounce out of the room. 

Mark and Taeyong exchanged a wide eyed glance. Clearly the ‘Greek God’ inspired video had gone more to her head than they had previously anticipated. 

H is for: *intense heavy breathing*

Jungwoo took one look at Aria lying on the practice room floor, and immediately proceeded to flop down - belly first - onto the unsuspecting girl. Aria let out an oof, choking slightly at the sudden weight on her chest. 

“Jung-w-oo,” She coughed out, slapping weakly at the weight of the older boy. 

He only hummed in response, not moving from his position, despite the fact that Aria’s zip on her hoodie was digging into his cheek. He swung his arms up to cover her shoulders, and soon he was lying completely on top of her, obscuring the smaller girl from view. 

All was quiet for a moment, before Aria broke the silence with exaggerated, heavy breathing, panting for air. Her eyes widened comically, and she was smiling despite the fact that Jungwoo was actually crushing her lungs slightly.

Still, no attempt was made to get off her, and she slowly resigned herself to her fate. 

I is for: “I surrender”

The camera was set up a safe distance away, so that when the bag of flour fell to the ground and poofed up in the inevitable cloud of white dust - the piece of equipment was unharmed. Because of this, it was given a perfect view of the sequence of events that immediately followed: 

Aria, grip-less in her socked feet stepped backwards out of the flour coating the floor, misjudged the circumference of the circular cloud that had by then settled, and promptly slipped over, clattering to the ground with a thud and disappearing behind the counter with a half-formed yelp. 

The screen was empty for a moment, still, before a hand shot up from behind the counter, coated in the white flour.

“I surrender,” Aria waved her hand back and forth like a flag, commiserating with the now ruined flour lining the tiled floor. 

J is for: “Jesus Christ”

The walls were lined with fake and real cobwebs alike, barely visible in the complete lack of light offered from the red blinking lights of the cameras that recorded each NCT 127 member as they crawled their way tentatively through the haunted house’s hallways.

Aria shuffled past old beams that looked far too close to collapse for comfort, sneezing after her nose was ticked by a hanging vine that she hadn’t seen before it was already brushing her nose as she scooted past. 

The hallways were quiet, only the sound of her own breathing audible to her heightened senses. That was, until a hand shot out from behind a load-bearing beam, gnarled nails reaching to grab at her skin. 

She jumped back, letting out a vocal-chord ripping shriek. “Jesus Christ!” 

K is for: *Kiss*

“So, Aria is not a lover of skinship?” The question was posed to Taeyong, the leader having been given the choice to choose his member’s punishment after losing the game they had been playing. 

Taeyong let out a short chuckle, seeing where the interviewer was going with their question. “No, no she’s not. Only if we initiate it - and she’ll normally kick us off pretty quickly.” 

Aria was shaking her head, making slicing motions in front of her neck to signal Taeyong to stop, no, please anything but that, stop it-

Taeyong paid no mind to her, and soon Aria was settled on a stool in the centre of the studio floor, knees tucked into her chest as Jaemin, Ten, Doyoung and Taeil - the members of her losing team - all gathered around her in a circle.

One by one, they all pressed a single kiss to her cheek, Aria cringing away from Ten’s hold when he went to press another peck to her forehead, and Doyoung coming behind her to hold her still. 

When the four boys retreated, Aria was red in the face, the blush adorning her cheeks visible despite the foundation.

L is for: “You don’t love me”

“Hyuck, I have to go.” 

“Noooo.” The boy whined from his position sprawled over the mattress, legs spread and hands clutching onto Aria’s wrist to prevent her from leaving. “Stay. M’comfy.”

Aria sighed, tugging at her wrist futilely. “Hyuck, I’m literally going to the bathroom. I’ll be five minutes - less if you let me go now.”

Donghyuck only whined louder, tightening his grip. “No!”

Tossing her head back to the ceiling, Aria yanked her hand out of his grip, plugging her ears against the screech of protest that left Donghyuck’s mouth.

“NO! Come back!”

When Aria made no motion to return, having exited through the doorway hastily, he threw himself back onto the bed. “You don’t love me anymore!” 

Her response echoed down the hallway, punctuated by the slamming of the bathroom door. “I do! You’re just a big baby and I needed to go!”

M is for: *Mine*

Aria slid beneath the reaching arm of their maknae, patting him on the side to make him edge a little to the left as she too reached for one of the cookies that were set up on the small snack table. 

The white chocolate chips were tempting her, and after staring at the still-full plate for twenty minutes, there was only so much she could do in terms of self restraint. 

Scurrying back to her original seat, she settled back in comfortably, bringing the cookie up to her mouth and nibbling at the crunchy edge of the treat.

N is for: “Neo”

“Nono?” Aria bent her neck down to peer at the boy who had entered through the door, dropped his bag, slid off his shoes and then promptly snuggled himself into Aria’s side without so much as a hello.

Jeno nodded in acknowledgement, but made no attempt to explain his curious behaviour. 

“Dude,” Aria sighed, hand already moving to run through his hair despite her long-suffering eyeroll,  “You’re not being very neo right now.”

O is for: “Ow”

Sitting beside Mark in any context was never a good idea when one wasn’t wearing sleeves or long trousers. He was a very, volatile, laugher, and once he got going it was impossible to stop.

Unfortunately for Aria, her short dress afforded her neither of the aforementioned luxuries, and so she was sure that by the end of the day she was going to be covered in black and purpling bruises from Mark’s non-malicious attacks. 

The movie on the screen flickered to a new scene, one that sent Mark into another burst of raucous laughter. His hand raised, and clapped down on Aria’s arm, again, and again, and again.

“Ow, ow, ow ow ow ow, Mark!” 

P is for: “Potato juice”

Lucas held up his glass to the camera, grinning as he said, “Apple juice!”

Taeyong bit back a smile as Jungwoo fit himself into the frame, holding his own glass and affirming Lucas’ statement. “Apple juice!” 

The camera was spun around, focusing briefly on the apostles of darkness who held up their own glasses of apple juice, before it panned down the row to where Aria was sitting, cradling a glass of clear liquid in her hands that she was taking small sips from. 

Taking notice of the camera focusing on her, she took another sip of her glass before holding it up in a cheers. “Potato juice!” She cheered, bringing it back to her lips and paying no mind to the startled cough Doyoung let out, choking on his own apple juice. 

Doyoung spun to the camera, gently pulling the glass from Aria’s grasp. “Water. It’s water.” His tone dropped a few decibels, “Did Jaehyun give you this? I’ll kill him.”

Q is for: “Quickly”

“Quickly! Hurry up!” Renjun yelled, rushing over to help Aria into the inflatable costume to begin her run.

 “Yah, Renjun! I’m not on your team stop yelling at me!” Aria retorted, pushing his fumbling hands away and pulling up the straps onto her shoulders. 

R is for: “Ruff”

The door swung open with a quiet creak, Donghyuck only hearing it when the handle made contact with the wall behind it. He spun around in his chair, eyebrow lifting at the sight of Aria partially in through the doorway. “Hey?”

“Ruff.” Aria blinked at him, unmoving.

“Uh, ruff?” Donghyuck responded in kind, his eyebrows now knitting together in confusion.

Nodding satisfactorily, Aria exited the room with a wave. “Mark! I told you I could get him to bark on live.”

S is for: “Saranghae”

 It was a group-wide agreement that in 127, the title for cutest either went to one of the maknaes, or their oldest hyung. Apparently that agreement also spread over stan-twitter, because suddenly Taeil and Aria were being pitted against each other in an aeygo-off. Fan edits and polls were made, and TaeilvsAria was trending on Twitter for nearly a week.

Eager to encourage the trend, it was all too easy for the staff to set the pair up in front of a camera and press record. 

Two minutes in, and neither member had broken, both maintaining their stoic faces - although Aria’s lip was slightly red from being bitten, having resorted to pinching the skin between her lips to prevent a smile from breaking out on her face when Taeil had tucked his hands underneath his chin and pouted.

She inhaled, thinking hard on how to end the competition swiftly, exhaling with a small smile as she settled on her next plan of attack. 

Spinning around, Aria set her gaze on Taeil, letting her eyes widen and her lips fall into a natural pout. 

“Oppa~” She wheedled, moving to clasp his hand in hers. “Saranghae~”

Taeil’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes in defeat as he dragged Aria into his embrace. “Cheater.”

T is for: “Tough biscuits”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Yangyang argued, pointing at Aria.

“Then, tough biscuits.” Aria stuck out her tongue in retaliation, stealing the game controller from his hands and flicking the game to Minecraft. “I suck at those shooty-games, let me have this.”

U is for: “Unnie”

With her mask pulled up over her nose and lips, Aria was pretty confident that she wasn’t going to be recognized by a member of the public as she strolled down the street towards the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors a few streets over. 

She was humming happily, but jolted as she felt an arm snake itself around her waist. Immediately on high-alert, she went to push the unknown person away, before catching a glimpse of their face. 

“Unnie!” Aria’s entire demeanor changed, face breaking out into a bright smile beneath the black facemask. 

Irene smiled back at her, squeezing her waist lightly. “Hey, angel! How’re you?”

V is for: “Very untrue”

“And Aria normally naps during this time anyway, so we should be happy she’s awake for this.” Jaemin informed the few thousand czennie watching the vlive, phone tucked in between two chairs in the greenroom. 

Aria’s mouth dropped open at the obvious betrayal. “Hey! Very untrue! False information! You liar, I do not.” 

Jaemin snickered, leaning into the phone. “You can see the marks on her cheek from the arm of the chair too, right czennie?” 

The dancer leant over and thumped him on the back of his head for that.

W is for: “Wait wait wait-”

 Aria was sprinting down the hallway, phone clutched to her chest and panting. Yuta followed in quick pursuit, rapidly gaining thanks to longer legs and shoes that offered more grip than the tenuous grip offered by Aria’s slippers.

“Wait wait wait, Yuta, no I don’t want to die!” She breathed, pumping her legs faster in an attempt to flee from almost certain death. Perhaps, taking candid photos of the man while he was unconsciously snuggled up to Mark’s side as he slept was, in hindsight, not the best idea. 

Yuta was rapidly gaining on her, despite her best efforts. 

“Please don’t kill me!” 

X is for: “Xièxiè”

Accepting the glass from Kun’s hand, Aria smiled up at the man. “Xièxiè.” 

Kun, who was already moving away and back into the kitchen responded in kind, before flinging himself into another bout of conversation; but this time, with a language switch. 

Being so used to the constant flip-flopping between languages in the WAYV dorms, he thought nothing of it, but after asking a question and receiving no response, he peered back into the main living area to see Aria sitting there with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Uh, Xièxiè?”

Y is for: “Yessir”

Taeyong explained what it is Aria had to complete for her mission, handing her a small slip of paper that she was to hide from the other team before they came into the makeshift base that had been constructed a few minutes prior. 

Aria nodded, completely serious. “Yes sir.” 

He waved her away, happy that she understood the level of importance that he had just entrusted her with, and Aria happily departed from the conversation - 

By the means of vaulting a table and scrambling over a chair before exiting the door.

Taeyong blinked. And then shrugged, turning his attention elsewhere.

Z is for: *Zzzz*

Snuggled up beneath a blanket is exactly where Aria wanted to be at that very moment - not sitting in the back of a van, squished between Johnny and Yuta. The two men were broad-shoulders, and that left Aria to be batted between the two like a ping-pong ball. 

Despite the abrasions to her temple however, Aria found herself slowly drifting off - the lengthy schedules and lack of sleep finally catching up on her. 

Her head dropped to the side, first falling forward before it was gently maneuvered onto Yuta’s shoulder, where he tucked her closer and into his side. 

Letting out a pleased hum, Aria snuggled closer into his warm coat, sighing softly as she drifted to sleep.

thank you for watching ! - haechanieski

[ahkaahshi]

sleeping over at their s/o’s house for the first time [scenarios]

pairings: sakusa kiyoomi; hirugami sachirou; kuroo tetsurou x fem reader

genre: fluff and humor, as per usual

warning(s): n/a

notes: kinda popped off on hirugami’s part. couldn't help myself. not sorry bout it either. can’t wait til we get to see more of his cute lil face in the anime.

he is so painfully awkward I love him

will just stand in the entryway with his duffle slung over his shoulder, staring straight at you until you tell him when he can put his stuff

this literally isn’t his first time over at your house but he acts like it???

poor baby’s obviously nervous about ~ spending the night ~

immediately washes his hands

brings his own pillow

asks if you’ve sanitized all your surfaces recently/if anyone in your household has been sick lately

does he wanna play video games? not until he’s wiped down all the controllers.

does he wanna watch real housewives? no, but you put it on anyway because you know he secretly loves the drama

does he want a snack? possibly? but refuses to eat on your bed because lying on crumbs is nasty

all he does is get under the covers and hang out

only moves to brush his teeth and, of course, wash his hands

will do a face mask with you but only after thoroughly reading the contents of the bottle/package

wears his hoodie and sweats to bed

is asleep before 10pm

2/10. total party pooper who only gets points because he’s hot and dislikes the same housewives as you do

Moments after releasing a rather loud guffaw at a funny scene from the television show you have playing on your laptop, you hear a small groan echo from beside you. Turning your head to the source of the noise brings your attention to your boyfriend, whose tall form rested on the bed beside you, ensconced in your blankets. His eyelids flutter open and his eyes the color of charcoal fasten on you before narrowing in a small glare of annoyance from underneath the sea of black waves atop his head.

Maybe you would’ve felt even the slightest bit intimidated if his face wasn’t close to being absorbed by the yellow fabric of his hoodie--and if he hadn’t flattened his hair against his forehead by closing the drawstrings to secure his hood around his head.

“Kiyo!” you whine, crossing your arms in front of you chest, “Were you really asleep just now?”

His dark eyebrows furrow as he answers matter-of-factly, “Yes. You know I go to bed at ten o’clock, (f/n). It’s ten thirty.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes at him and protest, “But this is a sleepover! Would it kill you to stay awake a little longer so you can spend some precious time with your beloved girlfriend?”

“Lack of sleep can lead to sickness. Sickness can lead to death. So, yes, staying awake longer to spend precious time with my beloved girlfriend could kill me.”

“I hate you.”

He lets out a long sigh and reaches over towards your laptop to close it, putting an end to your Real Housewives marathon. Once he’s moved it off of your bed, one of his arms snakes around your waist and pulls your body down towards the mattress. His midnight gaze doesn’t falter as he says, “If you get sick, I won’t be able to spend time with you like this, so sleep with me.”

Your heart skips a beat at his tenderly spoken words, and you crawl underneath the covers so you can place your head on his muscular chest and curl up beside him. The feeling of his warmth surrounding you is enough to make you melt into his arms and forgive him for completely ditching you in favor of sleep.

“(F/n).”

“Yes, baby?”

“If you kick me off the bed, this will be our last sleepover.”

sweet boy who is very excited to spend the night at his girlfriend’s house!!

brings snacks and movies

he enjoys doing any activity with you, whether it’s watching movies, playing video/board games, or just cuddling on the couch and talking

not hard to please at all!!!

watches rom coms with you. secretly a hopeless romantic

you’ll probably spend at least ten minutes of your night trying to catch pieces of popcorn in your mouths

and another ten doing the same thing with m&ms

poor boy is too tall to fit under your blankets, so you have to give him an extra one for his legs and feet

bedtime attire consists of boxers with corgis on them, a sweater, and crew socks to keep his tootsies warm 🥺

brings you a pair of matching, corgi-patterned sleeping shorts bc he wants to twin with you

your parents are gone, meaning you can do chaotic activities...

... like baking at 2am!!

he loves to bake (and you can’t convince me otherwise). pls bake with him

wants to stay up all night with you but ends up passing out around 3am after y'all eat all the cookies you made together

11/10, best sleepover ever

Few things were more romantic than spending an evening with your boyfriend on your hands and knees, against the cold, tile floor of the kitchen, cleaning up the aftermath of the mess you’d created.

Lifting your gaze from the white goop coating the flooring, you glance over at Hirugami, who looks completely unfazed and unbothered despite his face still being decorated with dollops of whipped cream. Beholding this sight once more sends you into another fit of laughter that makes it hard for you to keep yourself steady.

“What?” he asks, a small smile creeping onto his lips at seeing you so amused.

In between breaths, you manage to ask, “Why’ve you still got whipped cream on your face?”

With a roll of his chestnut brown eyes, he uses his fingers to swipe some of it off so he can help himself to another serving. “Obviously,” he scoffs sassily, “I’m saving it for later.” His smart comment makes you snort rather unattractively, which, in turn, causes chuckles to pour out from his mouth. “I’m assuming that’s what you’re doing too, right?”

Your (e/c) eyes widen, since you thought you’d done a good job of clearing up the results of your whipped cream battle from your face. A glance at your reflection in the glass of the oven where the cookies were slowly baking soon proved you wrong. Instead of being irritated by this discovery, however, you let out another, wheezing laugh and fell onto your side.

To any outsider, the situation would’ve looked rather strange--an incredibly tall volleyball player dressed only in corgi-patterned boxers, a sweater, and socks, face covered in whipped cream as he fell about laughing with his girlfriend who wore a similar ensemble and was sporting the same whipped cream situation. However, in your defense, it was two o’clock am, and you were high on sugar.

"Come over here and I’ll get the rest off your face, then,” Hirugami suggests, extending his long arms towards you that beckon you closer to him. After you scoot closer to him, he pulls you into his embrace and starts peppering your skin reddened from laughing so heartily with kisses. With each press of his lips against your face, your heart flutters in your chest.

He only pulls away from you when the oven beeps, alerting you that the cookies you’ve been awaiting are finally ready. But he does so with hesitation, seeing as he’d been caught up in savoring the sweet taste of your lips instead.

“You ready to eat some cookies?” he asks with a grin.

Your reply makes him snicker: “Always.”

is fully prepared to stay up the entire night (spoiler alert: doesn't)

made an entire party playlist for y'all to listen to throughout the evening

expect lots of dancing, vibing, singing, and buzzfeed unsolved episodes

brings dance dance revolution over to your house and then proceeds to challenge you to a dance off

was not prepared for what you brought to the table

tries twerking to distract you but still fails

will go on a midnight mcdonalds run with you

is the kinda person to share deep, late night thoughts with

only with him can your conversations go from discussing the questions of human existence to debating which form of potatoes is the most elite

will 100% do face masks with you to keep his complexion lookin godly

INSISTS on watching scary movies

expectation: “don’t worry, babe; I got you!!”

reality: is visibly shaking underneath the covers, questioning all the shadows in your house

wears only a pair of shorts to bed even tho it’s cold af (he runs hot, if ya know what I mean heheh)

8/10. would’ve scored the last 2 points if he hadn’t stolen the blankets and made you wonder if your house was haunted

"(F/n).”

The familiar and gentle voice of your boyfriend rouses you from your semi-conscious state, and you hear the sheets of your bed rustle.

“I’m so tired, Tetsu... what is it?” you wonder groggily, not even bothering to open your eyes to see what’s upset him.

“I think your house is haunted,” is his response. Though he speaks calmly and coherently, his hazel eyes are wide with fear and darting around the dark bedroom.

“Oh, stop. I knew it was a bad idea to watch those supernatural Buzzfeed Unsolved episodes before bed.”

The bed sinks behind you, and you feel the warmth of the blanket he’d stolen from you earlier around your body as he pulls you towards him so your back is flush against his chest. While you appreciate his closeness to you, you can tell he’s far from relaxed. The grip his fingers have around one of your shoulders is tight, as if he’s using it as a stress ball.

You murmur his name with indignation and pry his cold hand off your shoulder, but press a gentle kiss against the back of it. “Baby, go to sleep.”

He noticeably stiffens when a quiet whoosh sounds from another part of your house. “What the heck was that?” he asks from where his face is buried in the back of your neck, too afraid to look around and risk finding something he might not want to see.

“The dishwasher.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, “the dishwasher... of course...” 

With a gentle groan, you lift your head so you can turn and press a gentle kiss against his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. As soon as you plop back down onto your pillow, Kuroo takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, desperate to get a wink of sleep.

The sound of a creak brings both of you to attention moments later, however, and your heart begins to race.

“That was the house settling... right?” you whisper.

He pulls the blanket over both of your heads, fully cloaking your bodies beneath it and says, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

At this point, you realize it’s going to be a long night for reasons other than those you’d expected.

[blahkugo]

Biggest Fan

DABI x HAWKS x READER

Music! AU inspired by THIS photo set...or, the one in which Dabi, Hawks, & Endeavor are a famous rap group, and the reader gets VIP treatment. 

NSFW begins after the ~~~ for those of you who don’t care for plot! 

Warnings: 18+!, SMUT, cursing, threesome, rough sex (? not sure what your definitions of the word are but they do be slapping you around…), just pure filth basically 

You’ve been squealing into the phone for the past ten minutes. Honestly, you can’t believe the words coming from your best friend’s mouth, even after asking her to repeat them a fourth time. 

“Babe, even if you weren’t my agent, I would have found a way to get you in,” Rumi scoffs into the speaker, unphased by your relentless questioning. Though she’s always been a bit impatient when it comes to your antics, she knows how big of a deal this is to you. “How could I not? You talk my ear off about them.”

“I owe you for the next thirty years!” Your screech turns the heads of a few other customers, and you can feel the irritation radiating off the glare of one particularly peeved woman seated near you. But who cares? You’re too excited for a few middle-aged drags to dampen your mood. 

“Remember what you just said the next time I try to skip out on an interview,” her laugh echoes loudly; she must be at the studio.

“Yes! Whatever you want, Twinkle Toes. It’s yours!” She begins to grumble at the use of the old nickname,

“How many times have I told you not to-” You catch the scowling woman turning towards you.

“Got-to-go-text-me-the-details, love you!” The parting phrase comes out a hurried ramble. Unbothered as you are by a few stares, direct confrontation definitely isn’t worth the trouble. You’re out of the bistro and in your car before anyone can open their mouth. 

The cup of iced coffee you press to your flushed face does nothing to curb the elation threatening to bubble over from inside you. Rumi really has outdone herself this time. Being that she’s both a long-time best friend and client of yours, you know just how hard she’s been working to book a job of this caliber. Images of the two of you icing sore feet after hours of grueling practices spring to mind, making your bad ankle throb. If you could tell your younger selves who they are now— an internationally acclaimed dancer and a talent manager with a novel’s worth of influential clients— they wouldn’t believe it. And the work was paying off in more ways than one. Soon, Rumi will be making her music video debut...and you’ll actually be in the presence of your favorite artists, Suns of Icarus. 

The rap trio’s been all you can talk about forever. No, like really, forever. Even back at arts school, Rumi had to talk you out of choreographing dances to their music practically once a week. You can still hear her promising you that your 70 year-old ballet instructor did not, in fact, want to see you pirouette to a song that's chorus consists of Hawks saying the word “pussy” over and over again. Usually the memory would drown you in embarrassment (especially considering the story is Rumi’s favorite icebreaker), but now even that can’t hamper your mood. You sigh cheerily, pulling into your reserved parking space. Tomorrow, you’ll be surrounded by your idols.

-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask for the third time in an hour, tugging at the hem of your silk tank. Though you’re wearing your favorite suit, you can’t help but feel out of place in the large dressing trailer. After all, it’s  not every day that you accompany your clients on their gigs. Your job is getting them the gigs, and usually you prefer it that way.

“(Y/N), quit stressing! If you looked any hotter the guys would have a heart attack,” your best friend bellows loudly. “Doesn’t she look smokin’?” She questions the hairdresser who, apart from a nod and reassuring smile, you can’t quite understand over the sound of the blow dryer. “Who’s the bad bitch that got me this job in the first place? Oh right, that was you,” she pumps a manicured finger towards you to echo the claim, “so woman up!” 

She doesn’t put her finger down until she sees your face soften. It’s not like she’s wrong. “Professional smooth-talker” is basically your job description. In Hollywood people are afraid of you, the woman who can make or break a career. Who are you to let a couple of talents get you riled up? You allow your body to relax in your seat. Even if those talents are the group of boys that you’ve been crushing on since you were 16. Recalling that fact has you scrambling out of the trailer, face beet-red yet again.

“I’m going to grab something from the coffee cart. Be right back!” The door shuts behind you with a loud thud. Rumi should be spending this time going over the routine, not talking you down from the ledge you’re attempting to throw yourself off of over a few stupid guys. Besides, you’ll probably receive a polite greeting at best. The world’s favorite musicians have more important things to do than indulge your fantasies. 

Having iced coffee and a bagel in your hands is all you need to feel the tension in your shoulders dissipate and your smile return; truly a working woman’s comfort meal. The spring in your step is restored as you walk back to the trailer, too entranced by the savory goodness to properly hear the voice that hollers from your right. You do, however, hear the scolding that follows the catcall,

“How many times have I told you not to hit on people that work for us, birdbrain.” Your entire body swings towards the familiar nickname and a piece of bagel nearly falls from your mouth. Not even a few feet away, Dabi holds your favorite vocalist in a one-handed headlock, attempting to ruffle the blonde’s hair while keeping a cigarette balanced between his own fingertips. 

“Not the hair, man! The stylist’s already had to touch it up twice today!” Hawks’ shrieks are muffled beneath the bicep of his counterpart. 

“Go apologize,” The lanky man shoves Hawks towards the spot your feet are now cemented to. Though he’s reprimanding him, you swear you detect a hint of amusement in his tattooed face. “I’m sorry about him, sweetheart,” he calls, lips contorting into a smirk that should be illegal. You feel your thighs press together on their own; the situation isn’t made any better by the pretty boy walking towards you, hands threading through his golden locks in an effort to fix the havoc Dabi wrought. 

“My bad,” he flashes you an award-winning set of teeth you’ve previously only had the pleasure of viewing through your laptop screen; somehow they’re even pearlier in person. The glimmer of a tiny gem catches your eye and you notice one is sealed to his canine, only dazzling you further. “I meant what I said though, you’re gorgeous,” his hand moves from his own hair to twist a piece of yours between his fingertips. The lack of boundaries leaves you feeling stupefied, but he doesn’t let up, going as far as wrapping the lock around his polished index finger. God, even his hands are pretty...What if they were trailing the inside of your thigh and—  Your mind shouts at you to behave, a fruitless undertaking when the object of your adolescent desires is touching you ever-so softly. 

“Um- I- Thank you?” The stuttered phrase comes out confused. Where the hell is the professional smooth-talker side of you when you need her? “I’m Rumi’s agent and uh- I-I’m a big fan!” Heat blazes through your face and chest; you’d slap yourself for the outburst if they weren’t here. 

“Oh, really? She told us all about you!” He waves a hand towards Dabi. “Oi! Matches! She’s not an assistant, she’s Rumi’s manager!” The gloomier man extinguishes his cigarette before making his way towards the two of you, smug expression wavering only when he glances at Hawks. A short wheeze leaves the blonde when his chest is smacked lightly by his partner. 

“I told you not to call me that.” Dabi turns his attention towards you. “(Y/N), right?” He sticks a hand out to shake and you quite literally drop the remains of the bagel to reciprocate the motion, a move that makes you redden and him snicker. “Rumi told us you’re our biggest fan,” his sly grin tells you your loud-mouthed best friend had probably spilled too much information their way. Oh, she’s definitely going to get an earful later. 

He doesn’t drop eye contact the entire time he’s speaking to you, and you find yourself enchanted by the deep sea-blue of his irises. You would literally swim in those pools if given the chance. Only when Hawks clears his throat do you realize you’re still shaking his friend’s inked hand. After dropping it rapidly, you urge yourself into composure out of pure distress. 

“Sorry, I’m honestly a bit starstruck. I’m sure Rumi told you how much I love your music,” you finally sound a bit like your usual self. 

“She didn’t really mention our music, did she Matches?” Hawks chirps, dodging Dabi’s fist this time.

“No, I don’t think she did, dipshit,” he spits the insult through gritted teeth as a final warning. “But I do remember her telling us something about being your first two crushes...or was it your ‘sexual awakening’? I can’t really remember the term she used…” Your knees almost buckle at the obvious teasing, and you silently swear to murder Rumi when she’s done shooting this video. It’s evident that the mockery is highly amusing to them— the glints in their eyes border on ravenous. 

Because you’re not typically someone whose presence is taken lightly, the thought of being toyed with by a few arrogant men has your blood boiling. You’ve already dealt with too many pretentious assholes who don’t believe women, especially younger ones, belong in management; you didn’t claw your way to the top of the industry for all of that hardship to go to waste. Ever the more perceptive of the duo, Dabi seems to realize the shift in your mood. 

“Relax,” he reaches a hand towards you before thinking better of it, choosing instead to tug at the thin, silver piercing adorning his bottom lip. “We’re only teasing. She didn’t say anything like that, obviously.” You stare at him incredulously, arms crossing your chest. “Why don’t we give you a tour?” Though he’s the one who makes the offer, it sounds as though he’d rather be doing anything else. 

“We’re not really assholes, promise,” Hawks jumps in, crossing his fingers over his heart in a show of good faith. “This one just gets too big headed around beautiful women,” he points at the heavily-inked man, who simply rolls his eyes at the accusation. You’d thought the blonde was…well, nothing more than the stereotype his hair color implied, but he’s sharper than he seems. It appears that unlike Dabi, who comes off curt and ungenuine, Hawks’ wit stems from his charm. 

You can’t help but think of how the two of them compliment each other beautifully. That’s probably why their entire fanbase thinks they should be dating. With that ludicrous thought, your exuberance returns. After Hawks assures you they don’t have to be on set any time soon, you find yourself taking them up on their offer. They seem to be a handful, sure, but how long have you dreamt of spending uninterrupted time with your favorite members of the group? Besides, it’s only a tour. What could go wrong?

-

It’s apparent only five minutes into your time together that Hawks (despite his insistence you call him Kiego, it’s difficult after years of referring to him by the stage name) does not know the meaning of personal space. He spends the better part of the tour hooking an arm through yours, touching your hair, or pestering Dabi. While some may take this over-familiarity as a sign of disrespect, it feels more to you as though he’s simply comfortable in his skin. 

Rude or not, his bold actions do nothing but spur your heart to beat out of your chest. Every time he guides you towards an attraction with a cheerful comment, you swear his fingers purposefully dash under your layers of clothing, brushing faintly at the skin of your waist in a way that makes your heart (among other parts) flutter.  

“And as I’m sure you know, we’re filming this music video mid-tour,” his hand flits away as swiftly as it skimmed you, prolonging the torture of wondering whether his movements are purposeful or a figment of your twisted imagination. After showing you most of the fabricated scenery— and even the gorgeous, cherry-red convertible that was rented— for the video, you’ve arrived at the group’s infamous tour bus. You once read that most of their concerts end with the vehicle being mobbed by ruthless fans, one of the sole reasons you’ve never attended a show. Someone as busy as you doesn’t have time for all the horrid traffic the mobs cause. “Wanna see inside? It’s actually pretty roomy.” 

You nod, eyes trailing towards Dabi, who’s busy stomping out the most recent cig he’d been puffing on. Aside from the occasional chuckle at your flustered blunders or annoyed curse thrown towards Hawks, the taller man had kept mostly to himself. His indifference confuses you, makes you wish you hadn’t reacted so bitterly to the loose smile and banter he offered you upon first meeting. At the same time, part of you is irritated by his standoffish personality. From what you’ve seen so far, his remarks serve the single purpose of humiliating others for his own amusement— a stark contrast to the misjudged softy he’s portrayed as on camera. 

You’re guided onto the bus and Dabi follows, cursing under his breath at something or other. Sociable as he is, Hawks begins to chatter again, seeing no issue in being the center of your attention. You realize the space is much roomier than it seems. State of the art technology allows the bunk beds to fold back with a press of the button, leaving room for a decently sized couch. It’s also much cleaner than you would expect three young men living on the road to allow. 

“And the lowest one was my bunk, just in case you’d like to see it again later,” he whispers the sentence as though it’s his best kept secret, wagging his thick brows exaggeratedly to key you in on his joke. “Hey, why are you laughing? I’m totally seriou–” The doors swivel open and your giggles are cut off by heavy footsteps and a booming voice,

“Oi! Keigo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You have to crane your neck to see the pillar of a man’s scrunched, stoic face. Endeavor, the pyrotechnic-obsessed “hype man” and third part of Suns of Icarus’s trio, stands a few feet from you, clearly exasperated by something his bandmate has done. Hawks must know precisely the reason for the bottle-redhead’s tone, because his face pales. 

“Enji, we made a new friend!” He pulls you into his chest in an obvious attempt to shield himself from the giant, but your face heats at the close contact regardless. 

“You were supposed to be on set for your solo scenes ten minutes ago,” he crosses his sculpted arms, “so let’s go.” The lively man is being whisked away by the larger one before he can utter a word of rebuttal. “Nice to meet you,” he calls casually to you over his shoulder. 

“Dabi, keep (Y/N) company! I’ll be back!” Hawks shrieks with a dramatic flare. The man was truly born to be an entertainer. 

An unbearable awkwardness envelops the two of you once you’re alone. Without his best friend around, Dabi drops any semblance of amiability, but it’s not as if he was trying very hard before. He plops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. You sit as far away from him as possible, but realize you don’t have your own device to keep you busy. After a few nervous minutes of twiddling your thumbs, you attempt to break the silence.

“So, Haw– Keigo and Endeavor use stage names, why don’t you?” You spout the first question that comes to mind, hoping it’ll spark an interesting conversation.

“Dabi is my stage name,” he answers curtly, without looking up from his cell. 

“Oh...but– even your bandmates call you by it?” 

“Yep. Don’t care for my real name,” his eye roll sends ice through your veins.

“Excuse me,” you snap, “have I done something to offend you?” The frustration in your tone wins you eye contact, at least. 

“Nope.”

“Unbelievable….I’m going to need your publicist’s information.” 

“Huh?”

“Well, anyone who can make you seem like the world’s most ‘misunderstood heartthrob’ on camera certainly deserves a pay raise, dontcha’ think?” His eyes drop to send a steely glare your way, but you’re too fed up to feel intimidated. You smirk at him, a single eyebrow raised in twisted satisfaction. There’s the bitchy self you know and love. 

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he sits up, “but I know everything I need to know about you.” 

“Oh? Enlighten me then, sir.” 

~~~

“You may think Keigo likes you, but he likes everyone. You’re, what, thinking you’re special because he’s throwing some attention your way?” Dabi inches closer. “Hoping he’ll get in your panties?” 

“It’s not like that at all–”

“Don’t lie. The idea of being with someone you’ve idolized for years is thrilling, isn’t it?” The heat that rises on your cheeks is enough to confirm his suspicions. “He doesn’t like to see people for who they really are, but I know your type...just another tramp that’ll use him and move onto the next,” his smug expression returns after that little rant. Paired with the tattoos covering most of his face, he appears every bit as wicked as the skeleton his ink emulates— devilish, even. 

“You’re wrong.” You can’t think of a proper argument when he’s so close to you, basically breathing down your neck. 

“Am I?” His hand trails up your clothed thigh, and an unwelcome shiver crawls up your spine. “So you’re going to stop me when I do this, right?” Then, he kisses you. 

It’s not at all soft, or compassionate, or anything resembling your naive teenage fantasies of the artist in the slightest. Rough, slender fingers wrap around your jaw and yank your lips to his. He doesn’t stop at a peck either, choosing instead to assail your mouth with all of his pent-up rage. The cool, hard metal of his lip ring strains against you, a pleasant contrast to the quick heat traveling the rest of your body. You want nothing more than to prove him wrong— to throw him off you, tell him to go straight to hell— but he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and- God, it just feels so good. Your mouth parts in a breathless moan and Dabi takes the reaction as an invitation to swipe his tongue against your teeth. With your bodies melding together violently, the make out feels simply a continuation of the intense argument you were having moments before. 

Pulling you between his lap, he shifts you so that your back is flush across his chest. Nimble fingers make quick work of your clothes. You just barely raise your hips so that he’s able to take your pants off with ease, but you’re sure he notices the eager movement. When you’re left in nothing but your panties, you feel the rumbling of his solid body behind you as he laughs, the sound bitter and pleased all at once.

“Oh you really are a whore,” he chides. “Who’d you wear these for, hm?” He runs his fingers across the band of your red lace thong. 

“Not you,” you bite back, feigning disinterest towards the dangerous position he has you in. The asshole’s not going to get to actually hear you admit defeat so easily. One of his hands kneads your chest and the other grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together so that you’re unable to speak.

“Not me? Take a good look at yourself, sweetheart.”  He lifts your head upwards and your breath hitches; the entire ceiling of the bus is covered in a dark, reflective surface. “Who has you naked in their lap right now?” he whispers onto your neck, licking a long stripe upwards until his teeth graze your ear. You watch fervently as he strokes his digits across one of your perked nipples, tweaking the bud roughly. “Who are you being such a slut for?” He’s aware he won’t get a response because his left hand still grips your face, demanding you watch his every move. 

Dabi then snakes his fingers down your midriff tortuously slowly, brushing lightly in a way he hasn’t touched you yet; as if the skin there is delicate, worthy of his valuable adoration. The ink traveling his arms makes him appear so ethereal, so sinister and compelling, that you can’t help but let out a muffled mewl. Once he reaches your panties, his fingers dart beneath the material and the tender moment is lost. An onslaught of pleasure wracks your body when he begins to draw quick circles on your clit. He lets go of your cheeks, now sore and reddened from both pressure and bliss. 

“I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” his fingers glide against your soaked slit, “who are you being such a dirty slut for?” You contemplate not giving him the answer he’s looking for, and part of you is sinfully curious about what may happen if you enrage him further; however, that idea is put to rest immediately when he snaps his head up to look at you through the mirror, blue eyes pooling with lust and a hint of something animalistic. That stare, paired with the relentless strokes across your clit, provokes your moaned answer,

“F-for you, Dabi.” He uses his free hand to insert two, thick digits inside you.

“Say it again.” 

“I’m- fuck– a s-slut for you,” you practically sob out. You press the back of your head into his shoulder harder, squeezing your eyes closed and biting your lip. 

“Not going to keep your eyes open? Fine.”  The fingers are removed from your clit and you’re about to let out an unsatisfied whine, only for him to grab the back of your head and mash your swollen lips to his once again. Then, after another brief caress of your abdomen, he’s back to touching your sensitive bud. All of your moans are silenced by his mouth, and you feel the vibrations of a low groan from his own throat when your ass grinds against his clothed member. When your stomach pulls taut you know you’re seconds away from feeling that all-encompassing pleasure, the tidings of an orgasm so close to washing over you. 

“Oi, Matches! You didn’t throw her out did you?” Hearing Hawks’ voice call out from the front of the bus has you reeling your lips away from Dabi, and though he slows his movements, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your core. Rather than push you away, he takes the other hand off your clit to hold you tightly against him. “(Y/N)? Dab–”

For a few seconds, the only sound you can hear is your own heart beating out of your chest. Takami takes in the scene in front of him— your bare body splayed across his best friend in the lewdest of positions. You know your face is blooming in embarrassment as you wait for a reaction, for his face to drop in disappointment, anger, anything. Instead, he smirks. 

“Starting without me? That’s no fair,” the golden-haired boy actually pouts, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes, something almost bloodthirsty. Though this is happening right in front of you, you can’t truly believe it. Dabi relieves the pressure of his arm from your chest.

“Look Kiego, the whore’s fucking drenched for us,” he lifts his fingers towards the beautiful man in front of you proudly, as if showing off a trophy or a new toy. Then he pops the damp fingers in his own mouth, humming at the taste of you. Hawks’ tongue dips out of his mouth, darting across his bottom lip. 

“I want a taste,” he leers at your bright panties, now soaked through. You think you must have died and gone to heaven, what with the two Adonises staring at you as if you’re their last meal. Hawks kneels at the foot of the couch, brings his face right up to your navel, and licks a long, cold swipe. His digits toy at your waist like they were earlier, except this time the movements are decisive and fierce. Just as he’s about to tug your panties down and place his mouth where you want it most, Dabi seizes his jaw and pulls his partner into a long, sloppy kiss. You let out a sigh at the view and— teases that they are— the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Is watching us turning you on?” Dabi taunts cruelly. 

“Looks like she’s a bit of a pervert, hm?” Hawks retorts, sliding a finger across your clothed slit. The movement causes your entire body to quiver, your senses on high alert. Without another word, he leans down again, shifts your panties to the side, and takes your clit between his lips. The way he laps at you hungrily makes you believe your initial judgment of him was completely inaccurate, and when he inserts two lengthy digits inside you, the thought is confirmed. Hot, white pleasure consumes your body as your core clenches around his digits. He simply cocks an eyebrow at you and chuckles darkly, holding you tightly against him by your waist so that you’re unable to wriggle away. Gone is the lovable persona you were introduced to, replaced now by someone entirely foreign, deviously lewd. 

“Fuck, Hawks,” you whimper, greedy for more. 

“Thought I told you to call me Keigo,” he scolds beneath you, biting the inside of your thigh so that a sharp gasp leaves you. 

“I-I’m sorry, K-Kei–” You’re cut off mid-moan when Dabi kisses you, wrapping one slender hand around your throat and squeezing. His other one threads through your hair and tugs harshly. A painful hiss leaves you but the sound only makes him pull harder, smirking against your lips.

It’s as though they’re competing for your attention. If one of the men evokes a sob or whimper, the other attempts to outdo him— and they have no regard for your body, becoming instead the battleground for their lascivious rivalry. You lose yourself in the intense sensations, unaware of time or its passing, instead focusing solely on the coil tightening in your abdomen. Every gasp, every moan, only pushes them further, and soon your legs are shaking as you feel yourself nearing the delicious edge. 

Just as you’re about to let go, allow yourself the mind-numbing relief of an orgasm, Kiego withdraws his fingers. Rubbing your bruised thighs together is a desperate attempt at friction, but the momentum is completely lost. Your core clenches around nothing, and you cry out, hopelessly bitter at the emptiness between your legs. 

“Sorry, princess,” his hair is sticking up, golden locks tousled from the harsh grip of your fingers. And yet he still looks perfect. He wipes your juices off his chin with a thumb, “but that’s for starting without me.” Despite the apology, he sounds absolutely delighted at your loss. You whine again, hoping it’ll change his mind. “What do you think, Dabi? Should we let her cum?” 

Hearing his name, the tattooed man takes his attention away from your chest and the onslaught of purple marks his lips’ were just peppering on your throat. 

“I don’t think so,” he tweaks at one of your nipples, eliciting a soft groan from you. “I want the bitch begging for it.” Dabi pushes you away from him and stands to unbuckle his belt. “Besides, don’t think she’s done enough to earn it.” You should be outraged at the way they decide your fate as if you’re not even present, but in reality it only thrills you, your clit throbbing at the lack of control. 

“You’re right,” your idol sneers, canines bared and gleaming as he unzips his own pants, “and I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

They switch places, shifting you so that your breasts are pinned against the couch between Kiego’s legs. Dabi grinds his hips against your clothed center, and you mewl at the long-awaited friction, hard member straining against his briefs. 

“Get to work, princess,” Kiego calls to you, boxers down to his knees. You can only balk at the sight in front of you. His cock is thick and long, essentially everything you could’ve ever hoped for, but that’s not it. 

Rather, it’s the shiny, silver ball pierced through the shaft and poking out from the top of his head that stops you dead in your tracks. He notices your eyes widen at it, but only snorts, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanking you roughly towards him. 

“Oh, that little thing?” Now he’s shoving you against his length, using your face as nothing more than a means for friction. “Just a drunken dare from Matches.” The nickname provokes the other man into leaving a stinging slap against your behind. And just like that, the angered man drives himself into your cunt. 

“I told you,” slap, “not to,” slap, “call me that.” With each thrust into you, Dabi releases an onslaught of pent-up anger onto your rear, the biting pain causing you to cry out around Kiego’s member. 

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that,” he leans his head back against the couch with a deep groan. “Such a pretty little whore, choking on my cock.” One of his free fingers shoots out to wipe at your tears, hand moving ever-so-lightly to cradle your jaw. The gesture might have been sweet if his other hand wasn’t forcing you down further to swallow him whole. 

“Mmmph–” you scrape carelessly at Kiego’s thighs in an attempt to secure yourself, moans coming out garbled with his cock down your throat. 

“Not done with you yet, slut” Dabi still pounds into you relentlessly. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being stuffed from both ends, knees on the verge of giving out until he fastens his hands around your thighs, pulling you into him with even harder plunges. “Fucking take it.” Something hard and cold grinds inside you, and you’re acutely aware of the ridged piercings now pressing against that perfect, spongy spot in your heat.

When he reaches an arm around to rub furiously at your clit, you’re sobbing. Kiego’s deep, golden eyes watching you, Dabi’s unrelenting fingers and thrusts, it’s all too much. 

And then you’re finally letting go. Legs shaking, mind wracked with white as you clench your eyes shut. Your mouth moves away from Kiego’s shaft, only concerned with riding out your high. The tattooed man behind you doesn’t stop his movements either, still pressed deep inside you until your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you’re tapping furiously at his waist. Kiego smiles, taking himself in his hand and slapping his cock against your cheek while he strokes himself. 

“That’s it, baby,” he smooths your hair back, grunting. “You look so pretty when you cum.” He pumps himself a few more times before he finishes, sticky liquid spurting across your lips and into your hair. You reach around to grab at Dabi’s waist again, willing him to stop. He removes himself from inside of you only to flip you around and your cunt clenches at the feeling of emptiness. 

Pulling you into a long, winded kiss, he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip to taste Kiego’s release. Then he’s pushing you to your knees once more, hands threading through your hair roughly.

“Suck,” he scowls down at you. Though you’re breathless, still reeling from your orgasm, the simple command spewed at you has your lips wrapped around him in a second.

He isn’t as girthy as Kiego, but just as long. A trail of piercings go down his length, and your tongue brushes against the cool metal while you wrap your fingers around the area you can’t reach. You stare up at him through thick lashes, piercing blue eyes ogling you as you take him further in. His hand is still perched on your head, but he makes no movement to push you down— instead, basking in your slow seduction. 

You’re sure you look a mess, dried mascara down your cheeks and still covered in Kiego’s cum, but Dabi only revels in the power he has over you, positively thrilled at the way you no longer fight for dominance. He breaks eye contact only when the blonder man tugs him into a kiss, deep and passionate, and the sight only urges you to swallow him deeper. 

“I like her with her mouth so full,” Kiego whispers against Dabi’s lips. 

“Just as long as the bitch isn’t speaking,” the other man groans, rutting into your mouth so that you know he’s close. 

Soon he’s pulling out of you to pump his shaft, your mouth wide open so that the head of his cock brushes against your tongue. Kiego reaches down to move Dabi’s hand, grabbing at his partner’s length so he can stroke it himself. It doesn’t take long after that for the brooding man to cum, head thrown back in a loud grunt while the tantalizing male next to him coaxes him through the orgasm. Kiego angles him so that his hot, white liquid gushes onto both your face and tongue; you suck at Dabi’s head until he forcibly pushes you off him. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty locks. “Knew you were good for something.” With that final statement, he turns away from you, pulling his pants back on and returning to his spot on the couch as though he wants nothing more to do with you. 

Kiego walks away as well, and you’re sure you’re about to be kicked out now that they’ve had their way with you. A part of you is angered, but a larger part is still processing what just happened, savoring the earth-shattering orgasm the pair blessed you with. 

You look for your discarded clothing, trying to compose yourself so you’re able to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Kiego walks back into the common area, wet rag in hand. He doesn’t speak until he pushes you into the couch, rubbing the clean towel over your face softly.

“So, you’re coming to our concert next week, right?” 

---------------

Tags:

@mindninjax @rat-suki @bakatenshii @yukiimanic @theygottheircages @lookslikeleese

DM me if you’d like to be tagged!

[halinski]

Red Light, Green Light

I lost the original ask when I tried to post the other day but thankfully I had this saved! Thank you to the anon who sent this!! It was a great challenge and obviously it took me a long while (so I hope you’re still around!) but I’m actually quite happy with it :D I might finally be gaining some confidence with writing hehe lots of thanks to @kcfriedchicken​ for always putting up with me and cheering me on, and also to @livinginfictions​ for the thorough beta!! <3

[Read on AO3]

Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.

No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.

Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now... 

He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.

He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...

Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.

He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.

"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.

Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.

"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."

Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."

Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.

"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.

"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.

God, Derek was a goner.

Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again. 

"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.

"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.

"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."

"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're a goner, Hale."  Stiles was right about that on one count.

Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.

Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"

He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.

"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.

--------

Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.

Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.

“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.” 

Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.

“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.

Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away,  and  a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence. 

"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.

"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement? 

“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”

Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them. 

--------

Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.

Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.

Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.

Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.

"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.

"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"

Erica raised her arm from her lounged position. 

"Yes."

"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers. 

He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.

"Patty's. You're driving."

Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops. 

He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.

He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?

Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.

The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.

Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?

But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short. 

"Erica." Because of course. 

Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him. 

"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.

Derek crossed his arms.

Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.

"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.

Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.

Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"Because I say so," Derek muttered.

"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride. 

Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.

"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid. 

Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.

--------

Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie  later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.

Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes. 

Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat. 

He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.

Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.

"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even  though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"

Derek snorted. "In your dreams."

"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."

"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."

"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."

Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused. 

"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride,"  Derek countered.

"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"

"Eyes on the road, Stiles."

"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."

"And both hands on the wheel."

"Stop acting like my dad—"

"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."

"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service." 

Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.

"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.

"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.

Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.

Stiles turned to him.

"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.

Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.

It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.

"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.

Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—

"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"

Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.

Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze. 

"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.

"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"

"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.

Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.

But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.

Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-

There was a deep intake of breath from beside him. 

"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.

"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.

"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.

Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."

"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."

"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift. 

Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy. 

Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.

"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.

"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.

"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."

Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.

"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.

It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.

Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.

"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!" 

Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.