#LIKE MILKSHAKES MAKE ME COUGH DUDE

[madame-mongoose]

After finding out I have a sugar intolerance/possible allergy (?) I've realized just how MUCH some things burn when I eat them. Like candy really isn't supposed to do that huh

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(Context)

"Get- off of me!" Lily grits her teeth, trying to kick the man's long arm. Unfortunately, it doesn't exactly work, considering how easily he was pinning her down.

"You're the ones who gave Rose so much trouble?" the man cackles. "Then how come I'm holding you down and him up so easily?"

It was true. A strange, oily, and inky black substance covered parts of the man's body. A majority of it was on his arms, which he was using to hold down Lily and hold Lil Coding up in the air.

The duo glance at each other before glancing back at the man. Lily opens her mouth to vocalize, while Lil Coding begins to summon his spear, but neither get very far, especially when Lily begins to cough and hack.

"Lily?!" Lil Coding exclaims, worry and confusion taking over him. He struggles more in the grip of the strange man, watching as he lets go of Lily. But his friend only gets to her knees, grasping at her throat as she continues to cough.

"What did you do?!" the Code demands.

The man only grins. "How do you think the ink could've gotten into her?"

Lil Coding stops to think before realization strikes him.

"Why did you say that like it was a completely normal thing to say?" Lily snorted as she took her milkshake from the counter.

Lil Coding grinned as he took his and sipped from it. "Because it's normal for me to say!"

"I wonder who you get your stupidity from." Lily teased with a grin as she sipped from her milkshake, and the duo exited the shop.

"Oi!"

Horror dawned on Lil Coding as he realized his predicament as well. The man dropped the Code as he also began to cough.

"It was a pain in the ass trying to figure out a mix that would work on you and not end up killing your friend other there." the man glances over at Lily, who was also coughing still, but the black liquid that was on his body was beginning to drip from her mouth. "I mean, come on kid, couldn't you have been human?"

"What.. d-do you want with us..?" Lil Coding demands weakly, and it feels like his mind is escaping him.

The man grins. "I need some little helpers back at Omnia Academy. Nothing too big, yknow, just kidnapping students to experiment on and then help with the experimenting. And so why not the kids that gave my friend and business partner such a hard time!"

The man then pauses. "Speaking of which, where is that lady? Haven't heard from her in a damn while."

"Burning.. in hell.." Lil Coding spat, though the black liquid began to spill from his mouth.

"Not surprising!" the man laughed. "But man, she owes me money now. Maybe I'll get it from her when my lab ends up exploding at some point. Or when I get found out. Whatevers first, yknow?"

Lil Coding had no clue how the man was able to joke and act like a casual friend at a time like this. He glances over at Lily, and his heart stops.

The strange substance had covered most of her body and seemed to lose its oily and inky appearance. Now, she looked like a purple and blue shadowy version of herself.

"If people saw a weird, inky and oily looking child, it'd draw attention, kid." the man snorts, as if it's obvious.

"Go to hell.." Lil Coding sneers, and he feels his mind slipping from him as the substance begins to overtake him as well. He can feel it cutting off several of his communication functions.

"I've got several reservations, kid." the man grins.

○●○

"Yeah, it's just really weird. Apparently, Mr. Damian has some new assistants for his Experiment Club. And everyone knows it's true because there's some more supplies in there and it's a lot cleaner, but no one has seen them!"

"Eh, you know how much a nut job that dude is. Maybe they're just clones or something."

"Oh that'd be horrifying and also would make a great movie."

"I am not going down there with you, Ben!"

"Come on, Mark!"

Damian snorts to himself as he shuts the door to the club room. He walks over behind his little area and opens a trapdoor, going through it and shutting it behind himself.

He descends down the ladder before letting the same strange substance from before appear on his body again. It was absolutely exhausting keeping up this human form, but in the end, it was worth it.

He walks into the lab he was somehow able to build underneath the academy. He was still surprised that he managed to con his way into getting the headmaster to agree to it.

He exhales and runs his hand through his black hair. In his pursuit to make sure he'd be able to live for an eternity, he'd turned to experimenting on the people of this strange little world. It was risky, especially with the Admins, the Anamoly, and all that, but he'd found ways to make it work.

For now, his best bet seemed to be meme energy, but since it was too pure for a virus like him, he needed to find a way to corrupt it.

He grins and looks over to a table, where a shadow-like Lily and shadow-like Lil Coding were preparing tools for his next experiments.

One of the many things he liked about being a virus. The ability to infect others. It was a damn doozy, though, trying to make sure it'd be able to get past the Code's antivirus and not kill the human girl.

But he had managed to do it. And now?

Damian had all the time in the world to pursue his eternity.

[anonymous-dentist]

C!Karlnapity one-shot from the Mall AU I saw on @casinoarc's blog last night when I was trying to sleep. You can tell I've never worked in a mall.

Five minutes before Quackity’s lunch break is set to begin, he is happily throwing wadded-up post-it notes at Purpled from the safety of the register. The register is the neutral zone. He knows this. Purpled knows this. Quackity also knows that he’s going to need to make a mad dash the second his break starts because he really doesn��t wanna become a pancake today. Purpled is giving him the Eye from the other side of the earrings display. There’s a post-it note stuck in his hair, bright pink. Hah, loser.

Unfortunately, all thoughts of escape are ruined when Quackity’s mortal enemy comes skipping through the doors with two milkshakes in hand. Quackity, for a moment, debates allowing himself to get beat to hell and back by his own employee. He’s technically the boss, so he can give himself time off if Purpled actually manages to hurt him.

But, Quackity knows, and he’s upset that he knows this and has this internalized. But Sapnap would be upset if they didn’t have lunch together, and Quackity ignores how he would be upset if he and Sapnap didn’t have lunch together.

So Quackity just sighs and raises a hand in greeting. Sapnap visibly perks up, smile forming on his face. This is normal. This is what they do three times a week, every day that Sapnap is scheduled (which is becoming more rare as the Vans upstairs threatens to close, a new 50% Off Closing sign in the display windows every other day, it seems like.) What isn’t normal is the way that Sapnap’s smile immediately falls again. Oh. He’s upset. Fuck. Quackity doesn’t know what to do with this.

“You’re early,” Quackity says. He goes back to making his little paper ball and lobs it with a carefully-aimed shot that hits Purpled right in the middle of his forehead. He fistpumps; Purpled shoots him a death glare that he only probably half means.

“I need to talk to you,” says Sapnap, dead serious, voice low. He leans across the counter conspiratorially. For whatever reason, it makes the pit of Quackity’s stomach drop in a weirdly pleasant way. Like a rollercoaster. But instead of something fun, it’s just Sapnap. “It’s important.”

He places the milkshakes on the counter. Quackity wordlessly takes the strawberry one and sips at it. Sapnap always gets a chocolate and a strawberry, and Quackity refuses to be a basic bitch, so he always chooses the strawberry one even though he really doesn’t like the taste at all.

“What’s up?” Quackity asks.

Sapnap looks around the store. Between the gaggle of idiot teenagers gathered by the band t-shirts trying to dare each other to go into the back and Purpled finishing up restocking the earrings, nobody’s really listening.

Still, Sapnap leans in closer and hisses, “Vans is closing. Next week.”

Quackity blinks. “And? That’s the best news I’ve heard since Schlatt kicked the bucket.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Quackity’s shoulder. It tingles.

“Dude, shut up!” he groans. “That’s my job you’re talking about!”

“So, what, you want me to get you a position here?” Quackity asks. He isn’t opposed, not strictly speaking, but it leaves a bit of a weird taste in his mouth thinking about it. Or maybe that’s the milkshake.

“Uh, maybe?” Sapnap scratches the back of his head just beneath his bandana a bit sheepishly before snapping back to himself, frown popping back onto his face. (Vaguely, Quackity doesn’t think that it looks good on him, unnatural.) “No! Shut up! I heard what they’re putting in instead.” He looks around again before whispering, “A Disney Store.”

Quackity chokes on his milkshake. He coughs and sputters, and does so just a bit harder when a concerned Sapnap leans across the counter and pats his back to try and help. Quackity swats him off, face red entirely just because he was choking. That’s it.

“A Disney Store?” he wheezes, looking at Sapnap, pained. “Fucking- really?”

Sapnap nods gravely. “Yeah. I heard it from George, who heard it from Sam, who heard it from Ponk, who heard it from Hannah, who heard it from Dream’s weird cousin.”

“X.D.?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that guy.”

Sapnap nods again, just as gravely. “Fuck that guy.” Then he shakes his head, probably trying to get himself back on track. “But! A Disney Store!”

“Fuck,” Quackity swears. He looks down at the register before him with a scowl on his face. “That’s bad news.”

“And I heard from Wilbur, who heard it from Dream, who obviously has some inside info going with his weird cousin, that they’ve already started hiring,” Sapnap continues. God, this gets worse every sentence. “So I’m betting that they’ve already got all the stock here. They just had to wait until a store was shutting down.”

“And yours just happened to be the unlucky one to go,” Quackity sighs.

Sapnap nods pitifully. In a rare fit of sympathy for the other man, Quackity pats him on the shoulder. He lets his hand rest there. He ignores both the burning of Sapnap’s cheeks and the burning of his own.

“Sucks to hear,” Quackity says, and he means it. He might give the guy a hard time, but he does unfortunately consider Sapnap a friend most of the time. He knows what it’s like to suddenly lose your job. The economy is in shambles. If Sapnap wants, Quackity can, and will, give him a job at Spencer’s. It’s the least he can do.

Sapnap sighs and ducks his head, still pitiful as hell. He’s pitiful. Quackity feels pity.

Quackity also feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Purpled’s face.

“You’re on break,” Purpled says, a shark-like grin growing on his face as Quackity’s own pales. “I’ll give you a head start.”

Quackity gathers his milkshake and ducks around the counter.

“Wait, what?” Sapnap asks, ever helpless.

“No time to explain,” Quackity breathes. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he has Sapnap’s hand in a firm hold and he’s pulling Sapnap out of the store in his escape.

“Oh!” Sapnap exclaims. He doesn’t sound unhappy. “Okay!”

If Quackity were to chance a guess, he would perhaps say that Sapnap is smiling behind him.

(And he would be right.)

Two weeks later, Quackity and Sapnap sit on the bench outside of the Forever 21 watching the builders get to work on the brand new Disney Store. It’s their shared lunch break. Well. It’s Quackity’s lunch break. Sapnap is still job-hunting. Nobody wants to hire a guy that’s only worked one place in his life, especially if that one place was fucking Vans.

Quackity bought the milkshakes today. Chocolate for Sapnap, strawberry for himself. Which is kind of ridiculous because he still doesn’t like the strawberry, but it’s routine. Sapnap didn’t come in at all during his last week at Vans, and Quackity hates to admit that he felt a bit like a widow. It’s ridiculous. But he got the strawberry anyway, and Tubbo- working there for whatever reason- gave him a wink as he handed the shakes over. Why? Fuck if he knows.

“It looks like shit,” Sapnap grumbles. His words are a bit slurred by the straw in his mouth. It’s weirdly adorable (Quackity shuts that thought down immediately.)

“A fucking Disney Store,” Quackity agrees. “Who the hell puts a Disney Store between a Lids and a Journeys?”

“The aesthetics clash horribly.”

“I need bleach for my eyes.”

“I need bleach for my drink.”

“I can hook you up.”

Sapnap bats his eyes at him. “Oh, would you?”

Quackity, in a rare show of stupidity, smirks and places a hand on Sapnap’s thigh. “For you, baby? Anything.”

Sapnap turns a spectacular shade of red that sends Quackity into a fit of giggles. He’s pretty sure his own face is just as red, but that’s oxygen deprivation. Literally just oxygen deprivation.

“Dude,” Sapnap coughs. He gives Quackity an incredulous look, though a smile teases at his lips (Quackity is not looking at Sapnap’s lips, he isn’t.) “What the fuck?”

“What?” Quackity innocently asks. He slurps at his milkshake, fighting back a grimace as the flavor hits him. “You asked.”

Sapnap shoves at his shoulder with a breathless chuckle. “Fuck you, man.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sapnap coughs again, and Quackity curls into himself with another fit of giggles.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Both Quackity and Sapnap snap to attention as a foreign voice cuts in. They both have to crane their heads back a little to get a look at the guy.

He looks concerned. He also looks a bit like something the Disney Store would spit out. Between the fluffy hair and freckles, he looks like a rejected Pixar character. Linguine if he was a loser in a mall in the middle of Assfuck, America. He’d maybe be less easy to make fun of if he wasn’t wearing some H&M shit. Quackity remembers seeing him walking around the inside of the store a couple of minutes ago. Manager? Shit.

“Uh,” Sapnap intelligently says. His voice cracks. Quackity gives him a Look. “Hi.”

The guy raises an eyebrow, face falling into a hesitant, but easy, smile. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Sapnap repeats.

Quackity subtly elbows him in the ribs. Sapnap jerks and snaps his head to glare at him. Quackity, cool as a cucumber, sips his milkshake, the picture of poise.

The man looks between them. “So. You two have been out here watching us for twenty minutes.”

“Free country, man,” Quackity easily says. “I’m on break.”

“We’re definitely not spying on you,” Sapnap adds.

Quackity’s grip on his cup tightens. He hears styrofoam creak and checks himself before he spills a large cup of pink shit all over his new jeans.

“Oooooh, I see,” the guy says. “Well, you’re freaking a couple of the guys out.”

“Sorry?” Sapnap offers.

At the same time, Quackity says, “Good.”

They both look at each other, then back up at the guy, who has turned his attention to Sapnap entirely.

“Hey,” he says. “I think I know you.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks. His voice cracks again, and he repeats, clearer, after a cough, “Really?”

Quackity rolls his eyes.

“Yeah! You used to work at the Vans here, right? I think I remember seeing you working when I came to check out the location,” the guy says, and isn’t that a coincidence? His look turns curious, if not a bit pitying. “How are you doing? I know we came in suddenly.”

“He’s in shambles,” Quackity says. “Inconsolable.”

“I’m doing alright, actually,” Sapnap says. Quackity gives him another Look. “It’s just, uh, been a bit hard. Job hunting. But that’s fine!”

“Oh, is that it? I can help with that,” the guy says. Quackity has a bad feeling about this. “We’re still looking for someone to work the morning shifts. Turns out half our applicants are students, go figure.”

“Go figure,” Sapnap weakly says. Quackity has a bad feeling about this. “Uh, are you sure? I, uh-”

The guy grins, a thousand watts and enough to make Quackity’s stomach drop. “Yeah! You seem like a good guy.”

“He’s spying on you,” Quackity flatly says.

Sapnap gives him a wide-eyed look. “Dude!”

And the Disney guy? He fucking giggles, and Sapnap flushes again, attention back on him, and Quackity has a bad feeling about this.

“No offense, but you’re kind of a shit spy,” the man lightly says. “That’s fine, though. We don’t judge.”

“I’m a great spy,” Sapnap says. He jumps. “Not that I was doing it.”

This is embarrassing. Quackity is embarrassed for him.

The Disney guy giggles again, and Quackity’s stomach drops again, and he decides that he can take the rest of his break downstairs with George, actually.

“I’m, uh, going to bother George,” he announces. He stands and ignores Sapnap… ignoring him in favor of talking with this new guy.

“I’m Sapnap,” he hears Sapnap say as he leaves. “Uh, is there an application form? Or is this one of those…?”

“Nah, right here is fine,” the new guy says. Quackity turns his head to see that he has already taken the spot that Quackity was just sitting in. “I’m Karl, by the way. Assistant manager.”

And that’s the last Quackity hears of the two, slipping into the crowd exiting the American Eagle with a scowl.

The fucking Disney Store.

[anxiousstark]

The four times the Pogues tried to pair you up with JJ + the time they realized you were already dating | JJ MAYBANK

Request:  Hi! I love the whole 5+1 trope so I wanted to request one with “Five times the Pogues tried to pair the y/n with JJ and the one time they realized the pair was already dating.”❤️❤️

I LOVED this idea. I changed it to 4+1. 

Warnings: FLUFF. Swearing (always), mentions of sex. The end might be not as good as the rest, wrote it when I was feeling a little down but I promised to upload today. Enjoy it.

Word Count: 2030

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

If you guys see my works in other websites, let me know, please. I only have Tumblr.

BIG MASTERLIST 

"Please," You begged, hands squeezing the muscular arm of the boy that was sitting next to you. "Just a little sip, JJ." You pouted. The envy spread through your body as you glimpsed at his pink milkshake, deliciously going up the straw until it reached his lips. You swallowed, mouth-watering. "Please, I'm going to die, JJ."

The blond boy rolled his eyes, reminding you that you didn't want to order anything. He continued happily sipping his milkshake, eyes fluttering close. Those milkshakes should be a sin. They tasted so good, and their coldness could fight against the heat of the summer of the Outer Banks. "Stop looking at me." He groaned. "I'm trying to have a moment with my baby." Of course, he was talking about his so-loved milkshake. His words made the other pogues chuckle while they continued to eat their food.

"JJ," You whimpered. His head snapped towards you, giving you attention for the first time since the waitress delivered the milkshake. "Just a tiny sip."

Nobody could ignore your puppy eyes. Therefore, JJ groaned, moving his glass so you could get a sip. You decided to take your time, admiring the metal straw, which was a project that Kiara decided to start in the Outer Banks. JJ nudged you, impatient to put his lips back on the straw. Finally, you savoured the milkshake, understanding JJ's heart eyes towards it. However, you couldn't stop taking sips, which made him groan while trying to take the straw from between your lips, putting his mouth closer to the metal straw AND your mouth.

The others watched the both of you with silly smiles on their faces. Sarah coughed. "So Y/N," You stopped playfully fighting with the boy sitting next to you to peer at your friend. "Have you thought about what I told you?" A couple of days ago, she started talking about the most handsome boys in OBX, and you weren't interested. Most of them were proud Kooks who would look at you as an inferior individual for not having as much money as them. "I mean," She fakely laughed. "If by the age of 25 you both are single you should date." She was straightforward, making JJ glance at her. She was hoping that both of you would end up being a couple because she had never seen two people having such a strong connection.

What Sarah Cameron and the others didn't know it's that under the table, JJ's right hand rested firmly on your thigh. Fingers caressing the inside, making you shiver.

The day had been awful. You liked your job because it provided you with much necessary money. But you didn't like how some costumers treated you.

Working at The Wreck was amazing, Kiara was there to help you with anything, and you loved her dad. However, when Kooks decided to come inside and order something, there would be nasty comments thrown at you.

Teenager boys labelled your body and beauty as if you were an object, which made you uncomfortable, and as much as you tried to keep calm, you couldn't promise not killing someone. Teenager girls judged your clothes, friends and of course, money. It was awful.

However, today was even more dreadful. Rafe Cameron and his friends had decided to step on The Wreck, which was unusual and meant they were seeking for trouble. As soon as your work clothes ended up being stained by someone's food, you knew the day would be worst as hours went by.

The Cameron boy concluded that it would be a great show if he stretched his leg, making you trip, falling face down on the tray full of food that you were carrying to table number 5. You wanted to cry.

In the other part of the Outer Banks, John B removed dirty clothes from his floor. "I'm so glad you are finally cleaning your room." Sarah leaned on the door, admiring her boyfriend. "It's a fucking mess in here."

"I'm not cleaning," He groaned. "I can't find the keys to the van." He found some dirty underwear, throwing it to the corner of the room.

"JJ took them," She jumped over the filthy clothes laying on the floor. "Don't you remember? Today it's Wednesday. Y/N works until late."

"Oh, true." Every Wednesday and Friday you stayed at work until late. Since you started, the blond boy had decided that he would drive you back home every night, not wanting you to walk on your own. Everyone was surprised by JJ's commitment to driving you every night you worked late. "We need to get them together. They are perfect. They care for each other so much."

"They truly look amazing together. Couple goals." She grinned when John B replied that they were also couple goals.

What John B and the other didn't know it's that as soon as you were inside the car, JJ hugged you tightly, your head resting on his chest while his lips hovered over your forehead. He offered words of comfort, fists clenched thinking of what Rafe had done.

Pope Heyward was sitting on his surfboard, enjoying the smooth flow of the waves, rocking him gently. He examined two of his friends while they were playfully fighting with the water.

You had decided to push JJ out of his board. As soon as he came from under the water, he told John B to take care of his surfboard as he had to drown you for doing that to him. You shrieked, trying to hide behind the girls, but the water slowed you down, and the blond boy was more agile. Everyone paid close attention, goofy smiles decorating their faces as they saw both of you trying to immerse each other.

"Oh my gosh," You turned around, glancing up at JJ. He had the biggest smirk on his face. Your hands were covering your chest, trying to process what he had just done. "Did you just take my top off?" He continued smirking, his right hand coming out of the water, showing the top part of your bikini. "JJ, I'm going to kill you!" You tried to grab the piece of clothing from his hand, your other hand covering your chest. However, he was taller than you, making it impossible.

Pope started making a gesture, telling the others to get out of the water so JJ and you could be on your own. John B was the one who tried to convince you to kick JJ out of his board, knowing that he would try to get revenge, which meant getting real close to you. It was their plan all along. And the next step to their plan was to leave you two alone inside the sea, hoping you guys would end up talking about your relationship.

What Pope Heyward and the others didn't know it's that that wasn't the first time JJ's fingers caressed your back until they arrived at their destination. Not the first time his hands explored every curve of your body. Furthermore, not the first time his fingers easily unclasped your bikini or bra.

Kiara thought that it was the perfect night for something to happen between both of you. You all were friends and cared about each other, but JJ was quite protective when it came to you.

The weight of the heavy rain provoked a powerful noise inside the Chateau, and the thunders seemed to get louder and louder. It was movie night, something you guys did every Saturday. Normally, you would cuddle with the girls while watching the chosen film, but not tonight.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were surprised to see that Kiara was cuddling Pope tightly. Next to them, Sarah rested on John B's chest. Your gaze examined both couples, confused. You always cuddled with the girls, especially in nights like these. You were terrified of loud noises, which affected your anxiety negatively.

The strident sound of thunder made you jump, not thinking twice before running towards JJ, who had an entire couch for himself. "What?" He asked when he saw you looking down at him with big eyes. Then, he noticed the position his friends were in and the fact that there was a huge thunderstorm outside. However, JJ didn't move, placing one of his arms under his head, inviting you to lay down on top of him. That wasn't something new neither, JJ and you cuddled all the time, which was another reason for why the pogues wanted to set you up.

To be honest, none of them paid attention to the film playing in the background. You were soundly asleep on JJ's chest, his right arm under his head while his left arm was secured around your waist. Fingers discretely caressing the patch of skin that was revealed.

What Kiara Carrera and the others didn't know it's that you were each other's safe place. There were night visits at each other houses, silently and lovingly holding each other at night, sometimes not so quietly.

You guys had planned to go to a formal party. At first, the boys didn't want to go, not being comfortable spending time around some stuck up Kooks. But Sarah and Kie had begged the boys, letting them know that their parents were making them go, and they didn't want to go on their own.

The surprise came when everyone was ready to go to the party, fancy dresses and suits. However, there was no sight of JJ. They found him on a hammock he had decided to set, being supported by two big trees. "JJ, dude," John B was the first one to talk, getting closer to his friend. Sarah couldn't hear the conversation as she had to move far from them, her phone ringing. "How aren't you ready for the party yet?"

"I'm not going." His eyes were closed, blond hair being moved by the gentle breeze of the night. "I don't like those Kooks." He gazed at Kie, reassuring her that he wasn't talking about her or Sarah. "I'm going to stay here. Have fun."

"But what about Y/N?" Pope asked, peering at the clock on his wrist. "Are you going to leave her at the party on her own?"

"No," Sarah interrupted, getting back to her friends. "It was Y/N," She showed her phone, being clutched with her fingers as her dress didn't have pockets, ugh. "She spent all morning puking. She isn't coming."

"Then no problem." JJ sighed happily, excited to enjoy a serene night under the moonlight while the breeze caressed his hair and body, stimulating goosebumps on his skin.

"Okay then," Kiara grabbed Pope's hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "There are burgers in the fridge. Let's go, we are going to be late."

Around one in the morning, they arrived at The Chateau, tiring faces and numb feet. The girls and Pope decided to spend the night there, not wanting to walk to their houses or moving at all.

JJ's bedroom was empty, which worried them as it was quite cold outside. "He probably fell asleep on the hammock. We should tell him to come inside." John B offered to go. Moreover, a couple of seconds have gone by when he came back, a big smile on his face. "They are keeping each other warm."

Everyone was confused, running outside to see what was going on, even though John B begged them to be quiet and give them privacy. They looked completely stupid hiding behind some trees, seeing you on top of JJ. Your hands were grabbing his face, kissing him passionately. Maybank's hands were on your waist, going dangerously down, wanting to feel you closer to him.

"You guys going to watch until then end?" They were shocked and embarrassed after being caught by JJ. "We can put a show for you." You giggled, letting your head fall on top of his chest. "Not the first time we do this," He winked. "We have experience."

"What the heck?!" Kiara stepped forward, grabbing her dress so she wouldn't stop on it. "How long has this been going for?"

"Around a year and a half."

"What?!"

[imjustherefortheaesthetic]

An incomplete list of shit my best friend has said

"I'm an amoeba. I do not conform to human ideals. I am simply slime."

"The trees have ears and I speak Vietnamese."

"If I ever start sucking dick for money, I'm gonna do it so that I have a loyal customer base." (he's straight)

"So shut the fuck up Captain Marshmallow Brain."

"Now everyone but me is a coward."

"Are you saying you want to play with a nipple every time you open your wallet? That's kinda lesbian not gonna lie."

"Fuck those wasps, they have delicious things hidden in their nests, I know it."

"I'll fucking stab you all."

"I'll smack that duck's ass so hard it comes out of its mouth."

"2+2=4. Infinity = death. Quick maths. Die you bastard die."

"I don't even think he's the smartest tool in the junk drawer."

"He's like a marmoset with a screwdriver."

"I'll moderate you in real life next time I see you, ya fuck."

"Ace keeps trying to non-consensually show me their spreadsheet."

"You aren't smart enough to be a smart ass."

"I mean there's the complete overlay of kinky ace people who play D&D."

"conspiracy theory noises"

"Can my gender role be weird dude who lives in the woods?"

"God is dead and I personally handled his execution. How may I help you?"

"I don't give a damn about your haunted lightbulb. Maybe it'll float over your head and you'll have an idea."

"Glad to know the single brain cell I have in my head occasionally coughs out entertainment in its dying gasps."

"Sometimes sucking a dick does not mean you're a bottom."

"God is taking a nap and left me in charge of you fucks, so who wants a fireworks launcher?"

"I really want a milkshake right now, does that mean I have a lust for cows? Nah that's stupid!"

"Why are dicks getting severed and am I allowed to do it without putting it in my mouth first?"

"You say that like I don't already show my nipples to random strangers."

"Don't sell your soul or your sanity to make your petunias better than Betty's."

"I wear a fucking garrote wire in my hair, go nuts."

"I mean fair, but I'm at least a decently advanced version of a magpie right?"

"Or what? I'm the one with a TSA horror jacket!"

"VIVA LA CHAOS!"

"Jellyfish do not commit ethical or moral violations."

Okay first of all, I am not Bitch, I am THE Bitch and it's Mr. Bitch thanks."

"Oh fuck I'm useful."

"Silence, I have so much blackmail on you."

"I'm all of those things (except femboy) and more it's called being talented."

"I don't have a 'superiority complex'. I'm just superior."

[vacabstudi]

Mall times

A/N: I started typing and I couldn’t stop..so here we are…no song recommendation today…

Walking through the mall was tiring, especially in heels. Eren at your side, watching you, but isn’t doing anything to help you. A simple “take the shoes off” slips from his mouth often which makes you groan in irritation every time.

You both arrive at a food court and you get to finally sit down, your boyfriend walking off to go grab something for the both of you. Soon enough, a tall man makes his way over to you. The man looks older, way older, and way more mature than Eren. He takes a seat right next to you and smiles.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks as he tilts his head a bit to get a better look at your face. You look at him and awkwardly smile, obviously uncomfortable and not into him. “Yea, my boyfriend was gonna sit here as soon as he comes back” you reply.

The man looks away from you and looks around, as if he was looking for something. He starts to softly hum as he continues to turn his head every which way. You slide away from him in the seat a little as the uncomfortable feeling starts to set in even more. A few seconds later pass and his attention locks on you again.

“Boyfriend? I don’t see him anywhere” he says as he pulls out his phone, pushing it in your direction. He points to it and smirks as he goes to hold up a phone gesture with his fingers. Your eyes land on his phone and you take your hand and push it back to him shaking your head.

“I have a boyfriend…he’s over there” you point to Eren, currently in line waiting to order you guy’s food. His back turned to you both as his hands rest in his pocket and his foot taps aggressively against the ground. The man turns to Eren and lets out a deep laugh.

“Him? Seriously?” He continues laughing. A stale expression on your face as you turn to face him. You didn’t understand what was so funny. Eren didn’t look bad, at all. You open your mouth to ask him what was the problem but was stopped by his hand coming up to stop you.

You raise your brow as he calms his laughing. “He looks like he’s boring” the man slides his phone back over to you. You roll your eyes and turn away from him, arm propped up on the table, chin resting in the palm of your hand. A pout forms as you look at your boyfriend who is now at the front of the line, finally getting the food.

You look away and glance over at a couple, sharing a milkshake with each other. The boyfriend grabs the strawberry from the top and holds it up to his girlfriend’s mouth. The girlfriend leaning in and taking a tiny bite. You smile to yourself as the couple reminds you of your relationship with Eren.

“So…you aren’t gonna put your number in?” The man interrupts you, you quickly turn to him, anger taking over. You let out a hard sigh and quickly open your mouth to respond to him but was shut down by a hand touching your shoulder.

“No, get lost”

You turn and see your boyfriend standing next to you, a nonchalant expression settled upon his features. Randomly, the smell of the random man’s cologne hits you in the face. It’s strong. Your nose scrunches up and your hand flew up to cover your nose.

“And if I don’t? Come on man, you two don’t even look like you belong together” the man comments as he points to the both of you. Eren tilts his head, his eyebrow cocking up in question, you still suffering over the man’s cologne suffocating you.

“Dude leave! Your smell is killing me!” You say as the man gasps dramatically. A cough made its way out as you pointed off into a random direction “go away!”.

The man was obviously hurt, he had gotten up and walked off with a small ‘hmp’. Eren laughed as you started to wave away the smell of the man. Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss your forehead and Pat your head.

Once you finished, you looked at Eren. Your eyes trailed down to his hand, you didn’t see any food. You looked back up at him. “Where’s the food?” You ask as he stands straight and scratches the back of his neck.

“…..I just noticed I spent all my money in the other stores…”

“EREN!”

[hedgiwithapen]

They're just kids. Referring to Jon and Mike.

(could be seen as a companion to “intergang has Jon” HERE  but could also be its own thing :) ) 

Mike finished using the pencil nub he’d found in his right sneaker to scrawl on the wall above his “bunk.”  Mike was here was right above If you can read this, you can read. He was bored. How long did it take to plan a rescue mission and fly to wherever-the-heck-Kansas? Like, a half hour tops.  Courtney owed him a milkshake if she made him wait any longer. At a scuffling outside the door to his cell, Mike perked up. “In here!” he called. “Shut your yap,” was the only response. Mike deflated slightly. “Let me out!” “Shut. up. Or I’ll make you,” Mike was pretty sure the voice belonged to the big guy who’d grabbed him. He still wasn’t sure why. He hadn;t been snooping around the cars  his Dad was fixing. Ok, he hadn’t been snooping much. He’d just noticed the inhalers, and thought, “hey

Maybe the driver’s medication shouldn’t be loose, I’ll let them know so they don’t lose it. Oh shit, that guy’s about to die and I have his medicine, you’re welcome.”  It was like a good deed, right? Heroes did that kind of thing all the time. Help little old ladies cross streets and rescue cats from trees and helpfully grab inhalers when someone starts having an asthma attack on account of all the smoke on account of ok, so maybe he’d had too much fun with the flamethrower on STRIPE and his dad had rushed into the back to fix it.  He’d reached into the car, handed the coughing guy the inhaler and bam. Trunk of a car, and then this bunker.  1/10, not the best field trip ever (though so far better than the 5th grade trip to a salmon hatchery.) “I didn’t do anything AND I didn’t see you do anything,” Mike continued. “So really this is fine. You just let me out, I pretend I ran away for a couple hours, no one goes to jail, I don’t miss my math test.” a lie on both counts, Mike absolutely planned on making the JSA put these guys away for, like, ever, and also using his kidnapping as an excuse to skip school for at least two days of recovery time. Maybe three.

“I said shut up, both of you!” “Eh, just leave it.” A second goon said from the hall. “They’re just kids, we’ve got shit to do.” A door slammed, a heavy metal clang echoing loud enough that it hurt Mike’s ears.  When it died away, he could hear just the faintest footsteps. He slumped against the wall a little. “Both, huh?” Mike asked. “Who’s over there?” If it was Courtney, he was legally obligated to laugh at her getting caught instead of saving him before they figured a way out. The answer, when it came, slipped through the vent at the top on the wall of his cell. Mike made an incredibly cursory attempt at climbing up to it before deciding that was pointless. “Uh…Jon.” “Is that a nickname or a fake name, are we doing fake names?” “What? Why would we be doing that, who’s we?” Definitely another teenager, possibly named Jon said back. “No reason, I don’t know, I’ve never been kidnapped with anyone before. I mean kidnapped before.” Mike said. “I’m Mike. Why’d they grab you?” “I don’t know, why’d they grab you?” “Not a clue.” A beat of silence before the other kid--Jon-- said “That’s probably not going to help us get out, is it?” “No,” Mike said, almost cheerful. “I think I’m here because I found some dude’s weird inhaler and he thought I saw something else. I’m pretty sure anyways. I’m between nemesis at the moment. That was a joke, I don’t have nemeses.” “... the inhaler thing, was it yellow?” “Yeah, I think so.” Mike started eyeing the hinges on the cell door. It opened inwards, which was real stupid.  He’d still need a screwdriver and a lever, but hey. MacGyver reruns had been on all Saturday while Courtney and her friends had been busy. “That was it, then. Intergang’s dealing drugs with them.” Mike groaned. “I got kidnapped because some dumb drug dealer stopped for a tire change?”

“...if it helps they’re XK. Super drugs?” Jon offered, his voice tilting up like he was genuinely trying to be helpful.. “That’s a little cooler.” Mike agreed. “So how’d you know that?” “I..uh.. My …mom might have pissed them off trying to stop them.” “Gotcha. Who’s your mom?” Mike chafes at the hesitation before ‘Jon’ answers. “Lois Lane.” Mike’s pretty sure he’s heard that name before. Or read it. Somewhere. “Oh! Newspaper lady. I have a paper route.” Jon huffs a laugh. “Yeah. So, obviously that’s not great.” Mike hums. “Yeah. Being just leverage sucks ass. I mean. From what I’ve read. In comic books. Not, like, that I’d know. Or anything.” “You know it’s really obvious that you’re lying, right?” “Really? Ok, so it’s not my first time getting kidnapped. It’s my… third, technically. And let me tell you, still not fun.” “Technically not my first either,” Jon admitted. “Listen, we can’t count on getting rescued. They have this place totally shielded in lead.” Mike wasn’t sure what lead had to do with stopping Dr. Midnite from tracking him, or Wildcat from clawing the shit out of pesky things like doorlocks. “Well that doesn’t seem safe. Isn’t lead poisonous?” “Are you planning on licking the walls outside? Also I don’t think intergang cares.” “Point.  Hmm.” Mike started fishing through his pockets. Gum wrapper, a pen, his wallet with all of six dollars in it, plus his school ID, and… “Wow. Are these guys idiots? They feel like idiots.” “What makes you say that?” “I have a plan.” Getting the hinges actually out was harder than expected, even with the little fold flat ,multitool Court had given him after the whole Cindy Incident, but not impossible. Leveraging open the door was another matter. “I’m pretty strong,” Jon offered. “Maybe I can get mine?” So Mike slipped the tool through the vent. “You better get me out too, though,” he warned, listening to the god-awful whine of metal on metal. Jon’s cell had apparently been actually furnished, which meant furnishings to use as a lever. Sure enough, a couple agonizing minutes later, a metal slat was shoved through the tiny gap between door and frame. “ I’ll work it from the outside, you  try from  yours,” Jon hissed. “Fast.” As soon as there was enough of an opening Mike shoved through, sweating just as much as the other kid was. They ran, rounding a turn. Mike drew up short with a yelp, Jon right on his heels. Two goons blocked the hall. “Dad,” Jon whispered. “I need you.” Mike wanted to call for his dad, too. The same thug who’d grabbed him shook his head, unclipping a weapon from his belt. “I thought I told you to stay put and behave. This didn’t have to go bad for you.” The second guy made a sour face. “Big boss had to know they’d try something. Keep ‘em separated next time.” “Kids need to do as they're told,” the first man said, his grip tightening on the gun. Jon tensed. Mike’s mouth went dry, staring. No one had ever pointed a gun at him before. “So there won’t be a next time.” He pulled the trigger.  

[joheun-saram]

“Is your refrigerator running?” (jjk)

Summary- Who knew the annoying prank calls you were receiving would become the favourite part of your day.

word count- 4.2k

pairing- fratboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, collegeau

warnings- none! just stupid jokes.

a.n- Part of my drabbles for @btsholidaybingo​, ticking off the Prank Calls tile! I’ll be posting these every week or so as I get them done. Check out the other drabbles here :)

s/o to the beautiful @heyitsmeee2​ for beta reading and helping me fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

-

“So how’s your new boyfriend?” Namjoon asked you as you chewed on your fries, almost choking at his insinuition. He laughs at you as he takes a sip of his milkshake, slurping obnoxiously, his eyes widening as he concentrates on the flavour.

“Stop! He’s just a random guy with too much time on his hands! I don’t even know his name! Although...” You stared at your burger, trying to forget what your roommate was alluding to. Two months ago you had started getting phone calls from a stranger. It wasn't something from a horror movie, don't worry. It was harmless. He would call you at random times in the day to ask you silly questions. You don’t know how he even got your number but there was something about his easy going nature and lame jokes that made you want to continue talking to him. Namjoon suspected it was a byproduct of your loneliness, but it was comforting hearing his voice to break through your mundane day to day. 

"Hi, is this Y/N?" A deep voice spoke as you picked up the call from an unknown number.

"Yes this is she. Who is this?" You asked as you sat up straighter, your attention diverting from the paper you were writing. You had applied to eight jobs for after graduation and you were sure this was a call for an interview, even though it was 10 pm. Your eyes lit up as you hoped this was the big consulting firm you were waiting to hear from.

"I have a very important question that I was hoping you could help me with."

"Um.. sure go ahead." You fiddled with your pen, scribbling random shapes on your notebook, feeling somewhat nervous. Is this how employers usually talked? Did they do this to build anticipation?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Is your refrigerator running?" 

"Are you calling on behalf of the landlord?" Your voice was flat with disappointment. Surely, this was not an important question. Oh how you wished it was an interview call. You sighed.

"Please answer my question."

"Yes. It's running."

"Then you better go catch it, shouldn't you?"

And with that he hung up and you were baffled. Which decade was this dude from? Who does these lame prank calls anyway and more importantly why does your caller ID not show who it is? Thinking nothing of it, you go about finishing your assignment, albeit slightly aggravated. However, the calls continue. Everyday this stranger would call you with questions, sometimes with a silly punchline but oftentimes even sillier riddles.

"Okay, dude seriously. This is getting annoying." You huffed after a week and a half of receiving calls from the same deep voiced stranger, although you’d be lying if you said his little laugh after he told his jokes was not endearing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to annoy you." He seemed hurt and you couldn’t fathom why he would be hurt over a comment a stranger made over his prank calls. In fact, you were sure this was some hobby of his and he had a rotation of strangers to bother.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" You don’t know why you were indulging him, but you had to give him props for constantly calling you. It was kind of becoming part of your daily routine.

"Dixie. My name's Dixie." You could hear the mirth in his tone.

"Dixie? Oh I thought you were a dude, my bad."

"I can be a dude and still have Dixie as my name. Jeez, are you a bigot?" He scolded.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it that way, Dixie."

"That's Dixie Normus to you." He laughed at his joke, every syllable of his laugh separated as if he was a cartoon character.

"Oh my god. You're the worst!" Regardless of your words, you were laughing. Laughing hard enough to have the banana milk you were drinking to snort out of your nose, making you cough. For a moment, you were glad this stranger wasn't in the room.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" You could hear the humour in his words, shading them in anything but an apology.

And so it went, your mysterious caller, who refused to go by anything other than Dixie turned into a somewhat friend, if you can even call someone who you know no personal details about your friend. After a month the phone calls had turned from cringe worthy puns to actual conversations about your day. You had started to look forward to the unknown flashing on your screen, and sharing the mundane details of your day with Dixie.

In two months you learned a lot more about Dixie. He went to your university, he was an avid gamer, he majored in computer science, and apparently it was now part of his daily routine to call you whenever he was cooling down from his workout on the treadmill - explaining the creepy breathlessness of his voice and beeps in the background. Sometimes you had half a mind to go to the university gym during your calls and see your mysterious friend, but somehow you never found the courage. It was nice not knowing what Dixie looked like, not judging someone by their looks but just by the content of their words. There was no room for disappointment.

It also oddly comforted you that you would never meet him and during your nightly conversations you would end up sharing thoughts that you’d be too uncomfortable sharing with even your best friends. Thoughts about the uncertainty you had over graduating soon, thoughts about being sad over failed relationships, even thoughts about your random existential crisis that would plague you mid week. Dixie was empathetic and had a knack for comforting you with small jokes and his own struggles. You would never admit it to Namjoon, but Dixie was slowly becoming your closest friend, even surpassing him to a certain extent.

"You're insane you know that?" Namjoon chided as you talked about Dixie and how you considered him a friend now. Even though Namjoon was your best friend since first grade, he sometimes didn't understand why you romanticised daily events so much. He never understood why you kept giving Dixie the benefit of the doubt, why you kept picking up his phone calls even when you knew it was going to be a lame joke or two.

"I'm not insane Joon! Haven't you heard of pen pals? This is the same thing but with voice."

"Nah. I think it's your crippling loneliness. Which is why we're going to Jin's frat party tonight." Namjoon was not having any of your excuses. So what if your last relationship was a year ago. You and Yoongi were great together. He was the perfect boyfriend and after he went to LA to pursue his music career, you told him you'd wait. Turns out he wasn't on the same page as you since six months after moving, he called you to break things off. He was right though, it would have been stupid to wait for him when neither of you knew when and even if he was ever coming back. It was unfair to the both of you to keep dragging this thing along. But even if Yoongi hadn't been around the last year and a half, you just couldn't see yourself with anyone else. You still missed talking to him every night and sharing your day, laughing at stupid videos together or just listening to him playing the piano through the static line of your phone. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were lonely and the only reason you were so attached to Dixie was because of the way his phone calls had replaced Yoongi's and how you no longer waited at the end of your day staring at your phone waiting for your ex's call but instead you received real actual calls from your voice pen pal.

You sighed agreeing with Namjoon and went home, not exactly looking forward to the party and missing Dixie’s call.

------------------------

Jin's frat was notorious for the wildest parties on campus. It was always a cacophony of drunk students and a pit of hedonism. When Namjoon and you arrived, the party was in full swing and you thanked your best friend for having the foresight of pre-drinking. The bottle of grapefruit soju you had emptied earlier at your shared apartment ensured that you were not put off by the plethora of drunk guys trying to hit on you microseconds after you entered.

Looking for Jin and let's be honest, a little gin as well, you and Namjoon made your way to the kitchen, to be greeted by your tall friend doing a keg stand. Beer dripped down his chin as his fraternity brothers held him up, his feet almost touching the ceiling. As you poured yourself a gin and tonic, Jin climbed down from the keg to a chorus of applause. Much to your chagrin, he walked over, draping his arms around your shoulders and plastering your back with his beer soaked chest.

"Ew get off me you vermin!" You squealed, shivering in the gross feeling, your backless top doing nothing to shield you from your friend’s shirt as he refused to budge.

"Vermin? VERMIN?! I invite you to my house, give you free drinks, and an array of decent dicks to pick from and I'm the vermin?" Jin finally detaches, giving you a scowl as he leans against the kitchen island, pouring himself what you gather is his tenth drink of the night.

"Jin all of these guys are as gross as you. And I've told you I don't need to get laid!"

"Sure tell that to your vibrator working overtime."

"How did you even - " you sputered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Namjoon, obviously. And before you kill him, there are no secrets between friends and part-time lovers." He winked, making you roll your eyes. Namjoon and Jin had been on and off since the beginning of freshmen year, neither the type for commitment but to your dismay loved to tell you all about their rollercoaster of a relationship. You swear you could write a thesis on dysfunctional relationships using theirs as a case study.

"Ew. Please stop. I don't need to know about you and Joon getting it on."

"Well then let me introduce you to someone so you can get it on." He wiggled his eyebrows puckering his lips to annoy you. 

"I know all your brothers Jin and no thank you." You lightly slapped his lips making him groan as he grabbed your wrist continuing his tirade. You’d be lying if you said his frat brothers had never caught your eye - they were famous for their astoundingly good looks, in fact there even seemed to be an instagram page dedicated to people randomly spotting them on campus (@betatauinthewild). However, their good looks did not make up for the fact that they were a bunch of loud fuckboys. You loved Jin and Namjoon and would literally stab anyone who said anything against them but you had to agree that they were the biggest players of the group, finding a new person to bed almost every weekend. That is, unless they were with each other - case and point their dysfunctional relationship.

"Well we have a new brother and he's my little brother. He's a sophomore, he just joined, and he's your type. The whole quiet but nice guy type." Jin continued, ignoring you in typical fashion.

"I don't have a type."

"Please! As if Yoongi wasn’t a cookie cutter tsundere. Come on let me introduce you to him!" He grabbed your shoulder and pleaded, pouting and widening his eyes in the most adorable puppy dog face you had seen him pull.

"Can we not talk about Yoongi please." You sighed. You finished your drink and proceeded to pour another one. 

"Yes! Let's talk about JK!"

"Jin... come on. Let's just drink okay?"

"Fine but I'm telling you, you'll get along. He's a great guy."

An hour into the party, you had lost both Jin and Namjoon and were getting tired of Jin’s exceedingly drunk frat brothers trying their pick up lines of the day on you. Your head was hurting from the noise of the party and you were sure if you saw another couple subtly trying to test their exhibitionism kink you were going to puke. So as it was typical for whenever you went to these parties, you started to make your way to Jin’s room. Jin may be loud and obnoxious and being lusted after by pretty much the entire campus, but he was reliable for one thing: he never fucked where he slept. And so his room became a sort of sanctuary for you when these parties would get too much.

You made your way up the stairs almost tripping over two guys who had decided that making out horizontally on the stairs was a good idea - you did not envy how busted their backs would be tomorrow. Punching in the code you walked in to find that there was already someone there, reclined on the bed with his arms behind his head, earphones in, humming gently as he stared at the ceiling. You had never seen him before, but boy did you wish you did. His dark hair was splayed over the pillows, a smile ghosting his full lips. He was dressed in all black, much like you but unlike your lace bodysuit and skinny jeans, he was wearing a boxy back t shirt with ripped jeans, his feet in those questionable toe socks. And he was buff, even though his body was mostly covered you could make out the muscle in his arms, one of which had intricate tattoos etched on to. You’re unaware how long you stared at this stranger, but suddenly he turns his face looking at you. Seeing you there he immediately jumps up, pulling his earphones out, startling you in turn.

“I- I’m sorry. Y-you can’t be h-here,” he stutters out, a soft blush rising up his cheeks as he nervously pulls at his ear.

“I should be saying that to you. Why are you in Jin’s room?” You shut the door, leaning on it, feeling oddly territorial.

“I- Hyung needed my room.” You found the stuttering boy in front of you endearing. Something about how he bashfully stared at anything but you while speaking made you want to hug him. 

“Oh my god! You let him into your room? Drunk during a party?” You almost scream, but lower your voice seeing the alarm on his face. Walking over, you sat next to him, a few feet away so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Do you like doing laundry or something?” you joked.

Hearing your question the boy perks up, looking at you with a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I do actually! How did you know?” he asks excitedly. You almost felt bad bursting his bubble.

“I didn’t… It’s just - you know Jin’s probably having sex in there right?” You look at the abject horror on his face in sympathy, so you try to change the subject. “Nevermind. Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just got bored. Everyone there just wants to hook up or get blackout drunk.”

“You do realise which frat you’re part of right?”

“I know,” he chuckles, seemingly more relaxed as he lays down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “I honestly didn’t even wanna join but I’m a legacy so my dad really wanted me to be a part of it, Beta Tau pride and all.”

“Not to be a bitch, but dude you sound like a protagonist of a shitty college romcom,” you laugh looking down at him as he smiles, crossing your legs on the bed as you turn towards him, forcing yourself to ignore how cute he looks from this angle.

“You think you’re being a bitch, but that's a great compliment. I wish my life was a romcom. It’d be so easy…”

“Okay, emo. What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Hey I don’t even know your name! What have you got to lose?”

“Fine. There’s this girl I like and we always call each other… Well I call her.... at this time, but she didn’t pick up. So yes I’m emo, and yes I wish I was in a romcom so I’d go downstairs and randomly run into her.” He looks at you with a sad smile, shrugging slightly, and you feel yourself deflate. Not that you were interested in him or anything. You were sure it was just the alcohol in your system making you feel extra empathetic. Yup that’s it.

“Hey, that’s not stupid,” you say gently. “What if she’s down there did you check?”

“Well… I don’t actually know what she looks like… So, no…”

“Oh then maybe you should call her again! What if she was busy?”

“I don’t wanna be pushy, you know? I’m not even sure she thinks of me the same-”

“YO DIXIE! You in there?” A loud knock booms through the room accompanied by a deep voice. The attractive stranger next to you rolls his eyes before standing up, and at hearing his nickname you feel your heart kickstart, racing as you blink in disbelief. It can’t be…

“Dixie?” you stutter out.

“What’s up dude?” He opens the doors talking to Taehyung, one of the other Beta Tau brothers, as they start talking about something. You can barely hear their conversation, your brain full of scenarios and questions, your face crimson. You never thought you’d meet Dixie in real life. Do you tell him? Do you just run away? Why did he have to be so hot?!

Taehyung notices you on the bed for the first time and in typical fashion starts hollering and high-fiving Dixie. “Damn dude! The president’s best friend! Good for you!” He snickered as Dixie looked at him with his mouth agape, before turning to you. “Ay Y/N. Treat our boy JK well okay? He’s too nice for you!”

“Fuck off hyung!” JK, apparently that’s his name, shoves Taehyung as he grins widely before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and shutting the door, seemingly getting all that he came for.

“You’re Dixie…?” You stare up at him, standing up as you try to control the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around him. Fuck, maybe Joon was right you did have a crush on your voice pen pal.

“I- Y/N?” He looks at you, mirroring your wide eyes. “The same Y/N I’ve been talking to?”

“Call me,” you almost whisper.

“What?”

“Call me so I know it’s real.” You move closer holding your phone up as he pulls his out of his pocket to dial your number. Your phone rings, displaying a set of numbers instead of unknown for the first time, and the two of you just stare at the vibrating device in your hand. It seems like time stood still, the air thick with tension as your shitty ringtone bounces off the walls. That is until you start laughing. Not giggling, full on laughing, holding your stomach as tears spill down your face, as JK looks at you in alarm, his arms hovering near you as you double over.

“Holy shit! You are the protagonist of a romcom!” You finally wheeze out as you hold his arm for support, while he looks at you with a frown. You’re unsure why this was your reaction, but you recover quickly to start your interrogation.

“So what’s your name Dixie or JK?”

“Jungkook, actually. Dixie’s my gamertag and JK is just what Jin hyung calls me.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Umm… I might have stolen it from hyung’s phone…”

“Why?”

“Because he prank called my friends first.” He spoke with a pout, and you swear your heart forgot to function.

“Why keep calling?”

“Really Y/N? You’re gonna interrogate me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Keep talking Dixie!” You chuckled as his shy demeanor gave way to the Dixie, well the Jungkook, you knew. It was weird how fast the earlier awkwardness dissipated into comfort.

“What? I thought you sounded pretty! Sue me!” He shrugged, leaning back against the door, his hands in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement, momentarily distracted by how his forearms flexed. Clearing your throat, you continued as he smirked, not missing the way your eyes seemed to be roaming his body.

“You said you were trying to call the girl you like. So you like me?” You try to sound as matter of fact as you could, but your voice wavered slightly at the last part as you made the mistake of looking at his face. He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes that were boring holes into you, his smirk getting larger. Oh how you wished he turned back into the boy talking about how much he liked laundry.

“I thought it was obvious. I call you every night.” He stood straight, taking a step towards you causing heat to creep up your face at his sudden confidence. You don’t respond as he moves closer, causing his steps to falter. “Do you like me?” he asks, his voice a little smaller. You’re getting whiplash from the changes in his tone, but his question makes you feel warm. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, there’s butterflies in your stomach, your hands feel clammy, and you’re sure you can feel the heat off his body, so aware of where he stands merely inches away from you.

“I think so…” you move closer and he raises his hand as if to hold your hip but stops, hovering just centimeters away as looks at you, his gaze smouldering.

“What’ll make you sure of it?” he asks in a whisper, and before you can even comprehend the question, you are leaning up on your toes to press a light kiss against his lips. His lips are slightly chapped and you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat through them. Your skin tingles where he brings his hand on your hip, gently holding you. He doesn’t push you further, just leans his forehead on yours when you separate to whisper quietly, “This.”

“And?” His nose brushes against yours as you place your hand on his chest, his pounding heart mimicking yours. He slowly rubs his hands on your hips where they lay, and it’s like your skin is electrified.

“I’m sure,” you say as he crashes his lips on yours, pulling you closer as your arms snake around his neck. His reaction is much stronger this time as he moves his lips against yours feverently. He pulls you flush against him, your body molding against his hard muscles. His hands grip at your hips as he licks lightly at your lip, groaning as they part. It seems like he can’t decide what to do with his hands, roaming them over your sides, relishing the little moan you make as one of them cups your ass. His earlier shyness disappears, and who are you to resist him, as your hands in his hair pull him closer. It’s like everything finally makes sense, why you could never ignore his calls, why your heart raced whenever you heard him call your name through the static of your speaker. You had spent this whole time convincing yourself that he was just a stranger you could vent to when it was clear to you now that you were falling for him.

He whispers your name as you break apart, but his mouth continues down your jaw to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. His teeth drag across your collarbone, and you whimper at the way he soothes it with his tongue as you press your body even closer into his.

“Hey Y/N! Joon’s looking for you!”

The two of you break apart at the interruption, chest heaving and faces flushed. Looking up at Jungkook, you smile as he looks away shyly, his lip caught between his teeth, before turning to your best friend who is excitedly hopping in the doorway.

“I knew you would get along with JK!” Jin exclaims as you look once again at Jungkook before you both break out in a laugh. Trust Jin to know who you’d fall for before you. He comes up to pat his frat brother on the shoulder before his proud smile turns into a glare, warning the two of you that his room was for sleeping only and abruptly kicking you out. 

The two of you giggle as you make your way downstairs, unable to keep your hands off of each other, going from holding hands to hugging to sneaking kisses in the kitchen as you make your drinks. Before the night ends the two of you end up sitting in the backyard, kissing under the stars and planning your first date later that week, even though it felt like you had known each other an eternity.

You had never felt luckier to pick up a random phone call.

[bakusdumptruck]

Bakusquad Crack Post

Sup bitches 🤩how’s your day been? hope its been good! Anywayyy i was listening to a “Rolling joints with Sero Hanta” playlist and this popped up in my mind sooo here’s a little Bakusquad scenario 😏

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Pairing: aged up Bakusquad x GN Y/n

Warnings: Use of marijuana, swearing, injuries

Summary: A smoke session with the babes turned into a chaotic mess 

Ights sluts lets get into it 😈

Sero Hanta is the stoner of the group. Period. 

He taught everyone how to roll up just incase he was too high to function and wanted to smoke more

One night he texted the gc asking if everyone wanted to have a smoke sesh before they had to study for exams 

You all agreed and went over to his dorm together

All except Bakugou.

He called all of you “idiots” and “dumbasses” for getting faded before studying, but all Sero had to say for him to come was

“Ight bakubro, if you can’t handle it you could’ve said that instead of making excuses 🤷🏻‍♂️”

Bakugou showed up within 5 minutes.

Once everyone was together, tape boy had everything set up

There were 4 joints lined up, hella snacks, drinks, video games, and movies

He even had the LED a n d Galaxy lights on

Lordy it was gonna be a long ass night

NOW ON TO THE FIRST ROTATION 🤩

You know how I said Sero is the stoner? yup uhuh he got the MF GAS.

The rotation was Bakugou, Kiri, You, Mina, Denki, then Sero

You all have a high tolerance so after you saw Bakugou coughing up a fucking lung, yall knew you were in trouble

Everyone coughed... except Sero. He just busted a lung laughing💀

So the joint is finished and you’re all feeling fuzzy

yes you’re high, BUT its not enough to get you guys staring at the wall thinking about space and aliens

Just high enough where time is slowed down and your body feels light

Denki randomly shouted to play video games and everyone agreed

Guess what you’re playing 👀

Ju-on. The fucking grudge game. 

Why did Denki choose this game? oh he just wanted to see if it’d be a scarier experience if you’re all faded

It was 😃

Kiri volunteered to play the first stage to show off his Manliness 😤

So there he goes walking into the abandoned building 

yall know how you can use another wii remote to trigger jumpscares? 

yeahhhh Kiri didn’t know about it... and Bakugou was in charge of that

Everyone was chillin, lowkey feeling at edge to prepare themselves for anything about to pop up

Here comes the scene where he opens the door and scary bitch is on the other side waiting to grab him 

K: “Uhhhh this doesn’t feel right... am I supposed to go this way?

B: “No shit dumbass, its telling you go that way isn’t it? What are you scared or something 😏 I thought you were too manly for this game”

K: “I-I’m not scared... just making s-sure.”

M: “Hehe you’re stuttering kiri”

K: “...I’m just cold”

Right before he grabbed the door handle (I kinda forgot how the game went oops 😅) bakubitch tiggered a jumpscare

K: “Okay here I g- what the fuck 😃”

It didn’t work.

K: “Oh that wasn’t too bad! The games gonna have to try harder if it wants to scare m- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Scary bitch popped up outta no where and grabbed him

S: “DUDE FUCKING RUN AWAY”

Y/N: “KIRI THE BITCH IS RIGHT THERE WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING”

K: “FUCK- CAN’T YOU SEE IM TRYING”

B: “BITCH SHAKE THE CONTROLLER. YOU HAVE TO SHAKE THE CONTROLLER”

K: “AHSJHS WHY ISN’T SHE LETTING GO”

D: “I-IT”S TELLING YOU HOW TO SHAKE IT. GO LEFT, NO NOW RI-”

Kiri accidentally punched Denki in the face 🙃

All: “...whAT THE FUCK AHAHAHSHAH”

yeahhh so thats how the game ended 😭

Denki was laying on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell just happened and why everyone was laughing at him

D: *in his head* “I just got punched square in the face 😃 and they’re laughing at me 😃 This is fine. 😃”

K: “B-bro are you okay 😭 iM sorry AHAsh its- its just everyone was screaming and AhahhAHAHA IM SORRY 😭”

Sero let him start the second rotation as an apology for laughing instead of checking up on him 

Honestly yall don’t know if you can go on to the third

Everyone was hella faded at this point

Eyes red, dry mouths, and hungry stomachs

Mina ordered TacoBell knowing everyone was gonna want to eat more than the snacks and you all sat on the floor munching away

You all started talking about stupid stuff:

S: “So like... what happens when we get scared half to death twice”

M: “👁👄👁”

B: “👁👄👁”

D: “👁👄👁”

Y: “👁👄👁”

K: “👁👄👁”

D: “I’ve been scared half to death multiple times... im fucking immortal.”

After a few more high conversations Mina suggests to make tiktoks 

Have yall seen the tiktok where Mina and Y/n do the trend where they wink at the camera and all the boys are watching and Baku comes up to kiss Y/n? 

yup you do that BUT

When Bakugou grabbed your cheeks and went in for the kiss he missed and fell flat on his face 💀

*Cue everyone falling on their asses crying*

Best believe the tiktok went viral 🤩

After the third joint yall decided that the room was too suffocating and went out for a walk 

It didn’t seem like a bad idea... until you all got outside

Denki and Sero were singing “Milkshake” at the top of their lungs while wall twerking on the trees

Kiri and Bakugo were racing to see who’s the fastest but kept tripping over their own feet

You and Mina were recording everything those dumbasses were doing.

All of a sudden yall found yourselves in a clear area a bit far from the dorms

Bakugou laid in the grass staring up at the stars and you all joined getting into a little cuddle pile

At this point the effects of the joints hit at once and everyone was out of their heads

They felt like their spirits were floating out of their bodies

*BOOM*

M: “...did you guys hear that”

All: “yes”

M: “should we go check it out?”

B: “Hell yeah. What if it’s a villain? I bet I can beat their ass in less than a second”

Y: “First, thats literally impossible. Second, We can barely fucking move. How do you expect us to fight a villain 🙂”

A Nomu popped up in front of you

D: “Uhhh aye Bakubro... you think you can beat his ass in less than a second?”

B: “FUCK YEAH WATCH THIS YOU FUCKING EXTRAS.”

...

HE FUCKING MISSED Nomu: “ERRHSJAKFjhuSGHD”

Y/n: *shoots up on their feet then falls over immediately* “DAMNIT I CAN’T STAND UP STRAIGHT WHAT DO WE DO”

Everyone started to use their quirks

Sero shot tape to the nomu

Denki sent 1 millions volts

Mina just kept shooting acid out

Kiri hardened up and threw punches like his life depend on it

Bakugou was screaming “die” and kept exploding shit

and You were also using your quirk to the best of your ability

K: *heavy breathing* “guys... i think we got it”

B: “Ofc we did... we literally went bat shit crazy on it”

When the smoke cleared it was still standing in front of you guys... unharmed...

AND IT MULTIPLIED

K: “😶RUN AWAY”

you all started running back to the dorms

well, tried running back to the dorms

Everyone was bumping into each other and tripping

S: “WE’RE GONNA DIE”

Y/n: “WE’RE NOT GONNA DIE JUST KEEP RUNNING... FUCK THEY’RE GETTING CLOSER

Denki ended up facetiming Aizawa in hopes that he would help

A: “Denki, its 4am what do you w-”

D: “SENSEIIII NOMUS ARE CHASING US. SEND HELP.

A: “Why are you guys out of the dorms? aND WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME USE YOUR QUIRKS. YOU HAVE YOUR HEROS LICENSE FOR A REASoN”

D: “WE TRIED. WE MISSED AND IT MULTIPLIED. WE’RE ALSO HIGH AS FUCK BUT WE’RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT”

A: “... did you say you were high?”

D: “IRRELEVANT. SENSEI WE’RE GONNA DI-”

The nomu caught him.

A: “Denki... Kaminari... hello?... *sigh* you guys are gonna be the death of me.”

You all ended up getting knocked out by the nomus and taken to the League of Villains hideout 

B: “...Never thought i’d be here again”

S: “ I still have the last joint in my pocket... ya’ll wanna smoke?”

Dabi and Shiggy stared at him like he was crazy but agreed anyway 🤪who’s gonna pass up a free joint? not them. 

So everyone got high again and chilled until the Pro Hero’s saved your asses :)

Oh and also don’t think Aizawa let you guys off the hook. 

You all got house arrest and extra BRUTAL lessons for the next 2 months 

The End :)

Yeahhh idk what this was but I hope you all enjoyed it!! I really wanted to write something angsty but as I was writing I couldn’t take myself seriously and ended up making jokes 😭

[mediocre--writing]

Hello again from the anon who sent the first ask about childhood friends Billy crushing on Steve and venting to his mother. You wrote it amazingly, by the way. I would love to see Steve chasing after Billy in the next part, rather than the other way around. Maybe he doesn’t understand why Billy’s been distant and he misses him. I’m not sure if the timeline is accurate but it could be around the time Steve suspects her of having something with Jonathan so he feels very alone and sad and misses his best friend and Billy wants to cry all over again.

part 1 2

billy wakes up the next morning with the weight of his worries pressing into his chest. in comparison, the weight of his secret has been carefully lifted off his shoulders by his mother and was being kept and cradled with the upmost care.

he was left with a list of chores sitting on the dining table and another note reminding him to pick up his extra work from the school.

before even looking a the list of chores, billy did the bare minimum to make himself look ready enough for the day and made his way to the school.

getting his assignments for his last four periods was easy, they were sitting with the receptionist in a little red folder, but his first period, mrs. kelman, hadn’t given hers in yet.

the secretary, being the lazy ass she is, just waved billy through to go to her room and grab the assignments.

her room, of course, was one of the farthest points from the front entrance of the school, so billy power walked most of the way there, wanting to get out of there before he saw someone—a specific someone—and they started asking questions.

knocking on the door once he’d reached it, mrs. kelman came to answer it, muttering something about him being a heathen and a pain in her ass, but billy didn’t care.

because how could he be so dumb? really, you’re friends with a guy your entire life and forget you share the same first period? and you couldn’t wait another thirty minutes to get your assignments?

god, billy wants to shove his finger in the pencil sharpener.

“you’ve got a book?”

billy is staring out the windows of the back of the classroom when he hears mrs. kelman clear her throat, “do you have your book at home?”

with a small cough, billy assures her his copy of the book is at his house. she proceeds to explain the worksheets in detail while handing him, not one, not two, not three, but four packets of work pages he needs to complete ‘by tuesday, if not, i don’t care what you did do, it’s all a zero.’ psycho bitch.

billy, red folder and packets in hand, practically struts out of the classroom before she can come up with any more work to give him.

he’s not yet half way down the hallway when he hears shoes squeaking behind him, his name being called in a voice he really wants to ignore.

“billy, dude, you didn’t answer my calls last night,”

“went to bed early,” billy responded, not caring to turn around or stop walking. nevertheless, steve caught up to him, rushing to block billy’s path.

“well then, talk to me now, what happened yesterday? you haven’t been the same recently, i’m worried,” steve practically begs billy as they finally stop in the hallway.

“i have chores and about fifty pages of work i need to get started on, steve, so if you don’t mind...” billy stepped to walk away but steve grabbed his elbow.

billy’s packets and papers went down to the floor. “ok, i’m sorry about that, but why won’t you talk to me? and what’s with full naming me? you never call me ‘steve!’”

billy bent down to grab at the papers and shove them into his red folder, cradling them in his arms, “well, steve, sometimes people change and you may never know why. maybe they don’t fit in your life the way you thought they did, maybe you finally see the things the way you probably should have seen them all along,” billy scoffed, “have fun at the party tonight, steve,”

as billy walked off, steve felt sick to his stomach. billy was sarcastic and dry most of the time, but never to steve. with steve, there was never the underlying tone of annoyance there was at school and billy never rushed to get away from anyone, at least not this desperately.

steve was off for the rest of the day. it was hard not to notice the constant fidgeting and how he’d stare off into space in gym, the only class he really liked or actively participated in.

by the end of the day, his fifth period (a class he shared with nancy) steve was completely shut down.

wasn’t listening to the teacher or responding to either nancy or tommy’s attempts at getting his attention. he was just thinking about billy. about what he said. how he said it.

that emphasis on how people ‘don’t fit in your life’ and how angry billy was while saying it. how honest the words sounded coming out of his mouth, like he spoke with his entire chest and wanted steve to hear every single word for what it was.

but steve was never good at dissecting literature and hidden meanings, all he knew was what’s at face value.

and billy’s speech at face value was just a message that billy no longer wanted steve in his life. that he had moved on to bigger, better things.

but this, this felt like something his english teacher would scold him for not seeing the depth to.

and steve worried. worried his way through the rest of the day and into the next. worried all through the friday night party and the weekend. worried the monday billy was still suspended.

worried the entire week while billy was back. while billy still wasn’t talking to him or acknowledging him or even fucking looking at him.

steve had thrown himself into nancy that week, been driving her to school and home every day and had taken her on a date twice on school nights.

both times, without realizing, they’d ended up at the diner billy’s mom worked, the one billy would bus tables for in his free time to make a little extra money.

the first day, a tuesday, they’d been served by the diner lady herself, and steve had chatted like they were old friends.

neither mentioned billy, who was clearly seen in the window to the kitchen cleaning dishes.

the second day, a thursday, steve and nancy had come after the movies to get milkshakes. steve got vanilla and nancy got strawberry.

they didn’t see either billy nor his mom that day.

billy was working, though, steve knew because his unmistakable car was parked in its usual spot to the left corner of the building.

steve searched his entire brain, something he’d never done before, to figure out what billy meant.

he wanted to ask someone who knew more about literature than any teacher he’d ever had, but billy was the person he couldn’t ask for help this time.

steve never realized how much he depended on billy for everything. and he means everything.

date ideas for nancy. billy had the best spots.

how to keep nancy smiling. billy had the best pickup lines and corny jokes to make people smile.

keeping steve from not failing his classes. billy was the only person capable of getting through steve’s thick skull.

girl problems and regular teenage angst. billy always knew what people were feeling and how to react.

steve was so dependent on billy and he was absolutely crumbling without him there.

and nancy was frustrated. steve kept spacing out and ignoring her during dates. he wasn’t as charming as before and he was clingier than usual.

‘an absolute nuisance and is acting so desperate’ were her exact words.

this is what she told jonathan byers one night while they sat with their brothers and their friends at the diner after a long afternoon at the arcade.

this is what billy heard while busing tables behind them, unnoticed, before he opened his big mouth.

“done with that?” billy asked with a sickly sweet smile while pointing down at nancy’s empty milkshake glass.

as she made eye contact, her face burned bright red while she tried to control her facial features, “refill?” was the only thing she could squeak out.

billy kept the smile plastered on his face, “‘course!”

he made sure to spit in her stupid strawberry milkshake before he brought it to her.

“do that again and you won’t be working here anymore, boy,” the owner of the diner—benny—whispered to billy while holding onto his upper arm as he walked away from their table.

“yes, sir,” billy said, fake apologetically, because he grinned while walking back to the kitchen.

damn all the money in the world, nancy wheeler was a bitch and deserved her spit-shake.

billy had come to peace with the fact that steve was straight and in love with nancy.

really, steve couldn’t control who he liked.

ok so he was bitter as hell, but it didn’t stop him from being a decent person.

steve, on the other hand, was in the midst of a gay panic—not that he knew what that was. all steve knew was that he missed his billy—

wait when did ‘billy’ become ‘steve’s billy?’

and since when did steve think about billy more than he thought about his girlfriend? especially while he was alone in his house, laying on his bed.

he should be thinking about his girlfriend. his pretty, sweet, incredibly smart, charming, beautiful, blue-eyed—wait! not billy! think about your girlfriend, dumbass, not your best friend!

steve didn’t sleep that night. he stayed up thinking about billy.

about how it had been almost two weeks since he last hung out with billy and over a month since they’d last talked, like actually had a conversation. about how he didn’t even know what his girlfriend was doing this week, even though he knew she told him.

about how he needs to talk to billy.

he needs to figure out why he’s obsolete in billy’s life now. about why they drifted so quick it’s like something shoved a knife between their friendship.

and so, on that sunday morning, while most of hawkins would be out for church, steve drove over to billy’s house, knocking on the door of people who didn’t wake until noon most sundays.

“oh my god,” steve groaned to himself, knocking harder, “open your fucking door, people,”

the door swung open so fast it scared steve a little, almost knocking on a person—billy’s mom.

“hi,” steve gave an innocent smile, though he was met with a grumpy glare.

“why?” she asked desperately, “you know not to come before 12, 10 if it’s an emergency. it’s sunday, the day of rest, and here i am, not resting,”

“i need to talk to billy,”

“yeah,” she nodded, “see, he’s aware that it’s the day of rest, so he’s still sleeping,”

“i don’t care,” steve was stubborn.

she shrugged, “he punches you it’s not my problem. i’ll be resting so scream really loud if he kills you, the neighbors should hear and they’ll call someone for ‘ya,”

she winked at steve as she made her way back to her room, hoping to god that they’d either make up or make out, and she knew she probably wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. these were her boys she was thinking about, after all.

steve walked quick to billy’s door, turning the knob and moving to billy’s bed, sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap.

“i know you heard me knocking,”

“shhh...”

“billy,” steve groaned as he shifted to look at billy ‘sleeping.’

“he’s asleep. call again later,”

“you are your mother’s child,” steve snapped jokingly.

“well then she’s a smart lady. go away, steve,” billy pulled his pillow over his head.

“no,”

“—mmk,”

“talk to me, billy!”

“no,”

“why not?”

“he’s sleeping,”

“jesus christ!” steve stood up, pulling the pillow off of billy’s head and hitting him with it repeatedly. “get up and talk to me you brat!”

billy sat up after the second hit, but steve just kept going.

“what is wrong with you!?” billy put his hands over his head, pushing the covers off himself.

“me? what’s wrong with me!?” steve dropped the pillow to his side as he made crazy eyes at billy, “you’ve been ignoring me for the past, like, month!”

“no i have not!” billy pointed his finger at steve as a teacher would a student. “you have been the one attached at the fuckin hip with wheeler, so don’t you say that i’m the issue here!”

“i talked to you all the time!”

“about her!” billy stood so he could look steve in the eyes properly. “i don’t give a shit about her, steve! i really, really do not care about her in any way besides whatever concerns you! so i’m so sorry that i’m not very attentive on your hour long rants about how ‘nice and soft her hair is,’”

“don’t mock me!” steve exclaimed, insulted by billy’s bad impression of him.

“she’s a bitch!” billy yelled.

“don’t call her a bitch!”

“ok.” billy shrugged, “she’s a prissy bitch,”

“go fuck yourself,” steve complained, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“no!” billy yelled, taking a step foreward. “she talks about you behind your back. to byers. says you’re desperate and a nuisance. is that the same girl you’re so in love with, steve? huh!?”

steve’s face fell a little at the accusation and his eyes darted around billy’s room.

“liar,”

“when have i ever lied to you?”

steve was quiet.

billy, in a softer voice, “i’m not lying. i just don’t want you to be all in love and her not feel the same way, you’re not good together,”

steve had shuffled around to sit at billy’s desk. “wow thanks,”

“i’m serious,” billy’s face was kinder, not as harsh, “she’s already all grown up, and you’re not. it’s a good thing, steve. you’re happy and carefree and want to... go skydiving and she just wants to... play mahjong at the retirement home,”

steve cracked a smile but it fell just as quick, “she really said all that?”

“i spit in her milkshake and she drank the whole thing,” billy admitted, leaning against the desk next to steve’s legs.

steve smiled, “‘course you did,”

they sat quietly for a minute, taking in billy’s words and the consequences of them.

“i’ve been really worried about you,” steve admitted. “you ignored me for a week then got into a big fight, which you haven’t done since that one boy made fun of me freshman year, and then you didn’t even act like i was around. thought you hated me after what happened in the hall,”

“don’t hate you,” billy leaned closer to steve, knocking their shoulders together, “could never hate you. just... frustrated, i guess?”

“cause of nancy?”

billy shrugged, “yea—“

steve turned to look at him better, “something else, though,” he stared at billy for quite some time, “your dad didn’t call—“

“no!” billy shut down the idea, “no, it’s not him. he’s lone gone now,”

“then what?”

“it’s no—“

“it’s something,” steve insisted.

for as awful as steve was on his own, all alone with nancy or in school, for as bad as he was at reading people, billy was an open book to him. he knew every tell he had and could almost read his mind.

“no,”

“yes,” steve was stern.

“no, steve,”

“talk to me,” steve almost begged.

“no,”

“why do i love you?” steve whispered quietly to himself, making billy’s head shoot up before he remembered that he and steve had been saying ‘i love you’ since two weeks after they met.

“steve, you don’t need to worry about—“

“you?” steve guessed. “i don’t need to worry about you? how is that right when all you do is worry about me?”

“i don’t—“

“you do!” steve had a fire in his heart now, “even when you’re upset with me you’re still a good friend. you still look out for me and spit in my awful girlfriends milkshake while she talks crap about me!

“i don’t get why you do it, billy, because i don’t return it and i didn’t even realize until now!”

“you don’t have to,”

“but i should!” steve was pacing in the middle of billy’s bedroom, “i am the worst to you and you just don’t do anything about it! i love you. i love you so much but i’m such an ass to you and i can’t even—“

“i love you too, steve, we’re there for each other. always have been—“

“no,” steve’s eyebrows went up and he steadied his shaking hands. as he realized it for the first time, steve spoke, “no, i love you, billy,”

billy was frozen.

didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare even blink.

it was a dream, it had to be.

“i love you and i want to care about you more than i do. i’m a shitty person as is, but, i want to be there for you like you always have for me,”

“i love you, too,”

“why are you crying?” steve’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks down billy’s face, rushing over to wipe them away.

“‘m happy. they’re happy tears,” billy sniffled as he looked up at steve, “promise,”

and they kissed.

steve didn’t even think about nancy. billy didn’t think about the shadow under his door that was most definitely his mom listening in.

they ignored the way it was a really bad kiss, especially for two boys with such reputations that they have, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

billy enjoyed the way steve’s hands pushed his messy curls away from his face and steve enjoyed billy’s hands rubbing his lower back.

they didn’t have to think beyond that moment, didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

their only plans past that moment were for steve to break it off with nancy, then they’d go get chocolate milkshakes and eat cherry pie at the diner.

[dramaworthyofsrk]

Like Passing Notes in Secrecy, pt. 2

Ahhh so exciting to see that y’all did not absolutely hate it :) Here’s the second part (of 7 I think also!) and I hope you like it! 

Summary: The relationship you and Peter share, as told by the notes that you two pass to each other. Inspired both by the song lyric used for the title and for that moment in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before when Josh says to Lara Jean “still think you’ve never gotten a love letter?” 

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

“So you still haven’t told her?” Ned looks to Peter with an expectant expression, hoping for once that Peter will tell him that actually, he has told you. 

Instead, Peter just shakes his head as he always does, “no Ned, I haven’t. Don’t you think you would know if I had?” 

“Had what?” You ask as you come join Peter and Ned at the table, a milkshake in hand. 

“Nothing,” Peter states, shaking his head again. “Where are our milkshakes?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “umm probably still in a tub of ice cream, waiting to be ordered.” 

Peter stares at you. The rules of the diner are that you trade off on who of the three of you is going to order and it was your turn this time which meant you should’ve ordered for everyone. “You really didn’t-” he’s cut off by the woman working the milkshake bar calling his name. 

“Of course I ordered for you guys,” you say, rolling your eyes and getting up so Peter can slide out of the booth and grab their shakes. “Okay so,” you face Ned with wide eyes the second that Peter is gone, “what were you guys talking about?” 

Ned shakes his head, he knows better than to give into you like that. “Sorry, I can’t say.” 

“Nedward, come on,” you try even as he protests and says that’s not his name, “you have to tell me!” 

Peter comes back in the middle of Ned’s protests, handing one of the milkshakes in his hand to Ned and looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to slide down so he can sit. “Whatever you’re trying isn’t going to work.” 

You elbow Peter lightly, “just because you think you know what we’re talking about doesn’t mean you actually know what we’re talking about. Besides not everything is about you, Parker.” 

“Well that’s how I know you’re lying,” Peter retorts, taking a noisy sip from his milkshake. “Because everything everywhere is always about me.”

 You shake your head and frown in Ned’s direction, “guy interns with Tony Stark once and suddenly thinks he’s just as important as the man himself.” 

“Speaking of the Stark internship!” Ned exclaims before turning to Peter expectantly, creating an opening that he hopes the other boy will take. 

“Well…?” you ask after Peter says nothing and continues sipping on his milkshake even as both yours and Ned’s eyes are turned to him. 

“Oh,” Peter says after a second, finally pulling himself away from his straw, “I have no idea what Ned is talking about.” You know that’s not true, but if Peter doesn’t want to tell you, you guess he doesn’t have to — no matter how much the idea of him keeping something from you hurts. You change the topic as it’s clear you aren’t going to find today and you tell yourself not to think about it but you can’t help but wonder for the rest of the day.

You repeatedly say that you aren’t going to, but you apparently have no self control, so you write a note to Peter addressing it the next day in class. 

why are you and Ned being weird?

you mean…

more so than Ned is always weird?

oh yeah bc you’re usually mr. normal

yes more than usual

yesterday at the diner?

we weren’t being weird at all

maybe YOU are being weird

stop projecting dude

very funny Peter

i know i’m not being weird

you’re really not going to tell me?

Peter doesn’t respond to the last note but he walks over to your desk right as class ends. “I would tell you if there was something to tell, but there isn’t.” 

“Peter,” you give him a wary glance, “we’ve been friends for too long and you’re far too bad at lying to try it with me.”

Peter finds it quite interesting that you say that because he’s actually been lying to you for months now, and you seem to have no idea of it as this is the first time you’ve directly questioned anything. ��I know that, that’s why I’m not lying to you.” 

“If you say so…,” you finally respond, letting it go for the time being but reminding yourself to not forget about it. 

Peter knocks his shoulder into yours and it makes you smile a bit, “trust is the foundation of true friendship, you know?” 

“Okay, Peter,” you snort, “which one of May’s self-help books did you read that one out of?” 

Peter gives you an offended look, as if he hasn’t gotten bored and managed to read every single one of the books in question. “I read it off of an Instagram post, I’ll have you know.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, “you must have quite the boring explore page if this is the stuff that’s showing up for you.” 

“Like yours is any better,” he argues. 

“It’s actually all Spider-Man videos these days,” you sigh as you open your locker and Peter can’t figure out if you think that’s a good thing or a bad one. 

“He’s a cool dude,” Peter responds, hoping that you’ll agree with him and say that you like the blue and red superhero too. 

You shrug in response, “he’s alright. I’ve never disliked him, but he seems to accidentally bring chaos with him wherever he goes, just like you, Peter.”

He knows you’re saying it to make fun of him and not actually link the two, but he’s just so used to hiding it that he gets nervous for a second, forcing himself to calm down before he responds to you. He lets out a nervous cough, “whatever I’m not that bad.” 

It’s not how you thought Peter would respond and that fact gives you pause but you let it go and move on with the conversation. Peter is most definitely acting shady and hiding something from you, and you know you should respect his privacy and all that other stuff that they tell you to do, but he’s your best friend which means you most definitely are determined to find out what the hell is going on with him. 

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 19.04.21 lb

here's what you "missed" (lbr tho, not watching tellywood is not called MISSING, it's called "FREEDOM") last week on this shitshow:

kabir pehla mauka dekh ke vatttt liya. #livefree my love.

kiara died the most inglorious death - forcefed a peanut butter milkshake.

riddhima as per usual, the moment someone drops dead in their vicinity, turned to vansh and was like:

ghar mein saaaaare 90s bachche start playing CID-CID. kaabil detectives watching this bs like......

besttttt part is that none of these dumbasses are ANYYYYYYYYYY closer to opening the damn black box than they were 2 weeks ago.

meanwhile someone keeps threatening riddhima ki they're gonna tell vansh the whole 6 hours secret. ho hum. sansaaaar ko khatam ho jaana hai lekin yeh manhoos raaz nahi khulna.

aslkdjaslkdjlsakjdlaskjd anu mom and her new-found spirituality and daily meditation is actually sending me.

mummyji being super helpful and telling riddhima ki dadi has the torch now. love how the whollllllle family is just playing passing the parcel with this thing, getting their grubby fingerprints all over it, as if it's NOT A VALUABLE PIECE OF EVIDENCE IN A MURDER.

dadi meanwhile is burning a hole in her phone screen staring at kiara's tattoo. bachchon se leke buddhon tak sabne isko ghoora hai, lekin majaal hai, inmein se ek ko bhi kuch samajh aaya ho. why can't y'all just accept that maybe it means nothing, it's just one of those dumb foreign language tattoos, that probably say "ek plate gobi manchurian" or some shit.

riddhima's here asking for the torch and dadi is just like BHAKKKKK NIKAL YAHAAN SE while having flashbacks to brandishing the mashaal like some crazyass charlotesville nazi.

another flower delivery for riddhima that vansh is receiving at the door, and sis loses it. runs like PT USHA and grabs the flowers and note outta his hand thinking it's another threat and tears it up.

vansh here like:

but also she cut her hand so ofc he's using mauka to suck on her finger. MAN IN THESE CORONA TIMES, Y'ALL REALLY KILLING ME WITH THIS GANDAAAAAA NON HYGENIC BEHAVIOURRRR.

lmao the bouquet was from vansh, as an apology (for what? no like, we've lost count of all the shit you do on an hourly basis, so which exact thing are you saying sorry for right now????)

also what adbhut new way of being pregnant is this that the immj2 ladies have cracked, ki inka itnaaaaaa se bhi pait nahi nikalta????

anyway, some blah blah cutesy romance bakchodi that no one has time for. i liked it better when y'all were constantly horny.

angre as usual here with some manhoos khabar that has vansh frowning and storming away.

police aayi hai. excuse you, we don't recognize any cops here but our one and only KABIR. HAIN KAHAN HUMAARA LADKA??? MISSING HO RAHI HAI YAAR?!?!!!? KYUN LAGA RAKHA HAI FALTU KA YEH SHOW WITHOUT THE BEST CHARACTER THAT EXISTS IN IT?

anyway police is like we heard there was a murder here, and vansh is like huh whaaa here no??? no dead ppl here, no sir. you may leave. police waale bhaiyya is like bhak chutiye, aise thodi hota hai, warrant laaye hain, hatt saamne se.

angre taking out a rolled up carpet, a trick outta the vihaan book. but it's too small to have anything rolled up in it, so.......

doesn't stop the police from making a big deal of searching it though, while vansh side mein se taane maarta hai. waise bhai kaaafi good mood mein hai aaj kal. looks like someone's been taking their meds these days.

riddhima just randomly falling down behind them. like..... ???????

this police is literally too dumb to function. THEY CAME WITH A WARRANT TO SEARCH THE WHOLE HOUSE, JUST LOOKED INSIDE THIS ONE ROLLED CARPET (THAT TOO AFTER GETTING DISTRACTED BY RIDDHIMA'S RANDOM GIRRNA) AND WERE LIKE OK DONE THERE'S NOTHING HERE BYE. LMAO WHAT THE HELL, MY CAT PLAYS HIDE AND SEEK WITH MORE FOCUS AND PURPOSE THAN THIS.

husband wife and anu mom giggling over how riansh ke do takke ka pyaar is enough to chutiya banaofy everyone. kya hi bakwaaas.

the slightest of movement and vansh is dizzy. lol is he severely anemic like me???? join the club, bitch. we have iron supplements.

oh boy, cut to a while later and bro don't look too good. he's still smiling at riddhima's banter and all, but.......... idk man, he looks like he's having a daura of some sort.

riddhima's amazing medical knowledge (or just plain common sense???) finally kicks in and she's like, u ok dude? imma call a doc. and he's like nooooooo i'm fiiiiiiiiiiiine. ok whatever. maro apne iss stupid secret container room office mein. bewakoof.

ISKE BEECH MEIN BHI ROMANCE. BHAAD MEIN JAO YAAR TUM LOG.

asldkjaslkdjlaskdjlaskdj angre ne laash ko vyom ke ghar rakh diya. as if there aren't enough creepy things lying around in there in the first place.

ok vansh seems to be getting real breathless and sickly.

meanwhile idhar angre is doing some kinda depraved play with kiara's laash and........... man everyone in this show is a fucking psychopath.

also it's now been like 3, 4 days since the chick died and ..................... body's not smelling ripe yet?

vansh coughing his way through opening that stupid orange coloured black box and.......... abbe chutiye, zinda rahoge toh khol paoge?????????

anyway the tattoo code whatever only has 5 digits and he needs 6 and meanwhile anu mom has come yelling about how siya's gone missing. great. ek pallllllll ka chain nahi is pagal-khaane mein.

find some letter in her room. vansh's coughing is getting worse and worse. bro, time to get a covid test.

at least siya was helpful enough to tell everyone she's going to saste!bhaiyya.

asli bhaiyya is understandably very very upset. and thus coughing and huffing puffing even more. SOMEONE TAKE THIS DUDE TO A DOCTOR THIS IS GETTING DISTRESSING TO WATCH OML.

anu mom toh is full-on ignoring vansh actively dying in front of her rn and is like OH GOD SIYA KAHIN KOI "NAADAAANI" MEIN ZINDAGI KHARAAB NAA KAR BAITHE (meaning: OMG VIRGINITY KHATRE MEIN HAIIIIII!!!!!!!!)

riddhima is like dude you're not fucking ok and he's still like I'M FINE I'M JUST WORRIED FOR SIYA. idk man i'd be more worried about your obviously failing phepdein and dil than your sister's hymen, but that's just me i guess.

riddhima is calling vyom and threatening him, and nothing gets vyom hornier than being threatened, so ofc, bhai mood mein hai.

vyom, unlike all other tellywood baddies (and even goodies), is a big believer in consent. good on him. 10 points to him over every other chutiya man in this show.

he's informing her about how vansh thikaane lagaofied the laash at his place. oufffffff, y'all need to respect poor dead kiara instead of just shuffling her body back and forth like this. uski aatma tum logon ke upar mandaraaayegi, dekhna.

riddhima's like idc about all this i just want siya to be safe and he's like too late babe. sardi, khaasi, na malaria hua; humko love love love loveriaaaaa huaaaa.

vyom's like siya aayi apni marzi se hai, par jaayegi meri marzi se. guess he don't believe in consent so much anymore. (revokes the 10 points i gave hm earlier. also taking away 50 points for this uglyass suit. bhai tu shirt utar, wohi behtar hai.)

vansh has now progressed to coughing like the people from the pre-movie anti-tobacco ads now.

hides the orange black box in yet another secret room hidden behind some panel, where all the raisinghania wealth is hoarded like pirate's booty in all these crates. y'all crazy, its 2021, put that shit in offshore bank accounts you dumbasses.

anyway he tells angre all this shit kaafi detail mein, and lord idk how angre ke neeyat doesn't phisalofy to just off this fucker and take over the whole thing himself. zero ambition this boy has. ishani hoti isske jagah, toh pakka karti. precap: riddhima trying to console vansh about siya; vyom being a creepy ass monologuing loser as per usual; vansh pays a visit to vyom exuding hella lotta sexy energy.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part eight Word count: ±2900 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part eight summary: Zoë might have accepted the boys help, that doesn’t mean they get along. If the hostility between them isn’t enough, Sam and Dean have some unresolved issues of their own. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     A little less than an hour later, Sam, Dean and Zoë are sharing a table in In-N-Out. All three scheduled in some time to trade their business suits for their everyday clothes. The boys are comfortable in plaid shirts, worn jeans, and dusty old shoes, while Zoë looks like a totally different person now that she left her black pumps, blazer and dress pants in her hotel room. She’s wearing her hair down, her blown locks playfully curled up after last night’s shower. Her grey shirt has the famous Pink Floyd logo on it; a ray entering a triangle and breaks off into a rainbow when it exits. The brand new biker jacket hangs over the back of the bench while she plays with the loose tie of her All Stars shoe, wiggling her foot rhythmically. 

     U2’s Beautiful Day is playing in the background. It fits, considering the clear blue sky and warm sun outside. Satisfied, Dean and Zoë devour their burgers while Sam has settled for a milkshake, since they don’t have salads at this restaurant. Stunned and a little disgusted, he watches how Zoë intends to break the world record, tailed by Dean. The younger Winchester stares at them both, as the huntress swallows the last bite of the massive Animal Burger and starts on an additional cheeseburger she ordered. Apparently, Zoë doesn’t feel the need to hold back, despite having company, but then again, she wouldn’t change her demeanor for anyone.

     Dean doesn’t even notice her manners as he shares her appetite. He’s more annoyed that she finished her burger before he did. He looks up for a moment as she licks the sauce from her fingers after finishing, then continues eating even faster than he did a moment ago.

     “Dude! Seriously, a food race?” Sam chuckles.      “Wholth?” Dean says with his mouth full.      He swallows his bite, which apparently was a little bigger than he anticipated. He coughs and hits his chest with his fist, Zoë can’t help to laugh when she sees tears appear in his eyes.      “What are you? Fuckin’ five years old?” she grins.      “I wasn’t racing you,” he mutters hoarse.      “Oh, you so were.” She sniggers, dipping one of Dean’s fries in mayonnaise. “Are you gonna eat that?”      Obviously enjoying herself, she waits for his reaction. He watches her move the fry to her mouth with a look of shock and repugnance on his features. How dare she?      Zoë chews on the snack provokingly. as expected he goes for the counter attack.      “Don’t touch my fucking food,” he warns, pulling his portion of fries to his side of the table, clearly annoyed with his colleague stealing. “And I wasn’t racing you, ‘cause if I did, you would be many burger lengths behind, woman.”      “That’s what’s bugging you the most, isn’t it? Dean Winchester just got defeated by a girl,” she nags.      “I can take you with ease,” he claims, confidently.      She laughs in return.“You wouldn’t stand a chance.”      “Wanna bet?”      “Knock it off, you two.” Sam breaks it up and looks from one to the other. “Now, could we concentrate on the case? We all got better things to do.”      “I have better things to do. You on the other hand just have an unhealthy obsession with helping me,” she corrects, as she drinks from her milkshake through the straw.      “Whatever,” Sam counters with a huff. “Let’s focus here. We’re dealing with a frustrated child spirit most likely on a killing spree.”      “Yeah, but how the hell is she still here? I already burned her bones,” Zoë brings to mind.      “She must be connected to some kind of object then, are you sure you burned everything?” Dean checks.

     Zoë slightly tilts her head and glares at him with an attitude. Is he fucking kidding?      “We’re sure, I was there with her,” Sam confirms, jumping in before the huntress can snap at his brother.      “Nothing more romantic than a night at the graveyard,” Dean comments with a little grin, earning a death stare from Sam, and so he continues seriously. “We need to figure out what’s keeping her here before she goes all Mike Tyson again.”      “She probably targets the people who are directly or indirectly responsible for her death. I don’t think she’ll rest until she kills every single one of them unless we do something about it,” Zoë speaks up.      “So, who could be her next target?” Sam wonders.      “It could be anyone, but the biggest candidates for a one way ticket to the land of the dead are probably Mrs. Shire and her son, maybe even Mrs. Dawlson,” Zoë realizes.      “Who?” Sam and Dean question at the same time.      “Her teacher at Elementary School. She knew about the abuse,” she informs, sipping her shake.

     Dean seems confused. After all, he knows Zoë only arrived here last night. “How do you even know that?”      “Because I had a fucking chat with her, asshat,” she claims, snappy.      Dean bites his tongue and shakes his head slightly, letting a silent sigh slip from his lips. This woman is unbelievable. If it wasn’t for Sammy being so dead set on helping the bitch, he would get the hell out of dodge.      Ignoring her comment, he picks up a few fries and stuffs his mouth full, not noticing the exchange of looks between Zoë and Sam. As soon as the youngest Winchester makes eye contact, he knows she didn’t talk to Mrs. Dawlson; she saw something in one of her flashbacks.      “There could be a dozen more possible victims we don’t know about,” Sam states, quickly filling the void before it becomes noticeable.      “True, but to figure out who might be next, we need to find more info on what happened to Laura,” she declares.      “We already know what happened to her. Her dad abused her till death followed, nothing to add to that,” Sam says.      “No, I mean after that.”      Zoë leans forward, snitching another fry from the hunter across from her, who snaps his head up to her, staring her down and wondering where she got the nerve to steal his food twice.      “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that no one found out about this murder yet? Because that what it was; murder. Her father killed her. Child services should have been all over this, especially with another minor in the household. Laura was buried without a conviction, while she obviously did not die of natural causes,” the smart woman brings to mind. “Why is that?”      “I mean, the system is flawed. Maybe they missed it?” Sam suggests.      “No, I don’t believe that. She must have been a mess, considering what her victims look like,” she ponders.      Both boys nod as a sign of agreement; she has a point. Dean rubs his chin as he thinks. Then his facial expression changes, the metaphorical light bulb switching on in his brain. He glances up at the woman opposite of him, who watches him questioning.

     “Dr. Hughes”, he says out of the blue.      “I know that name,” Zoë realizes, trying to remember where she has heard it before.      “It’s the doc from the morgue that we talked to,” he fills in. “He did the slicing on Shire’s dead body and also mentioned Ronald was a friend of his. I thought he responded weird when Sam mentioned the Hobbit dude.”      “Is the Methodist Medical Center the only dead men’s storage in town?” Zoë asks the whizkid on Dean’s right.      “Not sure. Let me check.” Sam takes out his laptop and sets it up on the table. As he works the computer, Zoë continues their brainstorming session.

     “One way or the other, we need to get our hands on Laura’s death report and we need to figure out who wrote it. I’m guessing someone covered for Shire,” she speaks up.      “How is that even possible these days, with all the paperwork and the forensics?” Sam rubs his temple, taking in Zoë for a second, but then returns his gaze to the laptop screen in front of him.      “You think we’re the only ones who lie and deceive?” Zoë returns, smartly. 

     “We need to talk to more people. Someone who was there and experienced the abuse first hand and might know more about the cover-up. The Shire dude’s wife maybe?” Dean suggests.      “We can’t turn up on her doorstep and confront her. If she doesn’t know her husband possibly erased evidence, it’s just gonna bring a shit ton of drama and a hell of alot explaining to do when she starts asking questions,” Zoë makes clear.

     She forks her fingers through her hair and checks her phone for the time; shit. It’s almost 1 PM. Frustrated about the many blank pages of this case, she sighs, pulling at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. There’s so much about this job that doesn’t add up.      “I don’t get how she could still be here. There was nothing left of her remains,” she sighs.      “There has to be an explanation for that,” Sam ponders, as he stares at the address on display. “Anyway, there are no other morgues in town besides the one at the hospital on W. Kingshighway.”   

     “I tell you what.” With a neat throw Zoë tosses her empty plastic cup into the garbage can across the aisle. “Sam, you keep an eye on the Shire family. Dean’s gonna have a chat with Dr. Hughes, see if you can get some info on the death report. I’m gonna tail the teacher for a while,” she decides.      Sam nods approvingly before his brother can object. He folds down the laptop screen and gets up. “Sounds good to me.”      “Make sure you keep your eyes open, that little pain in the ass manages to beat up grown ups without the people next door noticing,” Zoë warns as she picks up her helmet from the bench.      “You think this is our first rodeo?” Dean responds with a scoff.      “You didn’t see me coming the other night in Rochester,” she counters sassy.

     As she passes him she pets his shoulder, the one she put a bullet in only two nights ago. Dean flinches when a dim pain shoots through his arm again. That fucking b--      Before he can call her names, she exits the fast food restaurant, probably expecting the Winchesters to follow like obedient dogs. Stunned, he watches her walk over to her motorcycle, huffing in disbelief. First she doesn’t want their help, and now she’s giving out orders like she rules the fucking world. He didn’t think it could be possible, but his detest for her just grew to an all time high.

     “Mark my words, one of these days I’m gonna shoot her down,” he announces frustrated.      “Ahuh,” Sam responds, cynicism on his tongue as he puts the laptop in his backpack. “Just make sure you don’t pull a gun on her in public, will you?”      “Can’t make any promises.” His brother huffs. “Anyway, you can have the car if you drop me off at the hospital. Let’s get this over with so that we can put some distance between us and the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

     Sam’s lips form a constricted smile, luckily his brother doesn’t notice. He has to admit that he’s enjoying the fact that his big brother is being told what to do by a girl, while normally he only takes orders from one person and one person only; their dad. What he finds interesting, however, is that despite a few muttered objections, Dean actually follows through with it. 

     “And you know what’s the fun part about all this?” Sam nags as they exit In-N-Out.      “What?” Dean responds, annoyed, scanning the parking lot in order to spot Zoë’s Road King.      “You have to dress like a penguin again.” The younger Winchester grins as he opens the door to the passenger’s seat.

     His brother stares at him over the top of the car, realizing he’s going undercover as the FBI Agent Young once more.      “Ah, come on! Can’t we trade?” he asks desperately.      Sam laughs and sits down. “No way, dude.”      Dean does the same and closes the door, complaining. “Man, I hate suits.”      “You think I’m comfortable in one during these temperatures?” Sam returns.      “Sam, even if I’d be freezing my ass off, I will never be at ease in that ridiculous outfit,” Dean states while turning the ignition, allowing Gimme Three Steps by Lynyrd Skynyrd to play on the cassette deck.

     “I’m not trading places. I can work some stuff out while I’m guarding the house,” Sam explains, looking outside the window, squinting his eyes to protect them from the sun.      “What stuff?” Dean questions, making sure it’s not just some lame excuse.      Sam looks aside and hesitates for a moment, but then tells him anyway. “I want to call some friends of Dad,” he admits.

     He feels Dean’s piercing gaze, but doesn’t look up. It’s only a matter of seconds before Dean pops the first question.      “Why?” Dean asks sternly.      “Why?! I don’t know about you, Dean, but I wanna find him,” Sam returns defensive.      Dean grips the wheel a little tighter; as if he doesn’t want to find Dad. Seriously? “So do I, but I don’t think it’s wise to start calling random hunters to ask where he is, Sam.”      “I won’t call ‘random’ hunters. I’ll call a few old friends, and why the hell not?” his brother questions.      “Because Dad doesn’t want to be found,” the oldest of the two claims.      “How could you possibly know that, Dean?! Seriously, do you have some kind of telepathic connection with the guy or what?” Sam reacts.      “Hey, you’re the psychic one, not me,” Dean counters. “If Dad wants us involved in his hunt, he will contact us one way or the other. You know that.”      “No, I don’t! I haven’t heard a word from him since I left for Stanford. I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man,” the younger brother argues.      “You were the one who fucking left, Sam. And let me tell you somethin’,” Dean pauses to enforce his words. “I trust him because he’s a damn good hunter.”      “He’s human! He makes mistakes just like anyone else, only this time you won’t be around to back him up. It’s not some monster that he’s hunting, this is the monster! The one that killed Mom, that killed Jess!” Sam adds up.      “You think I don’t realize that?” The car stops at a traffic light and Dean turns to him, his piercing green eyes judging his brother, the same way John so often has. “Of course I’d rather be backing him up right now, but he decided to do this alone and I accept that.”      “Why the hell, though? Just because he says so?” Sam huffs, shaking his head disappointed.      “Hell yes, because he says so!” his brother snaps. “He leads this mission, and we stick to the orders he gives us. It’s about fucking time you show him the respect he deserves.”      “He has to earn that first,” the younger Winchester responds.      “He earned that a long time ago. Every time he protected you, protected us. Everything that we were taught, all the skills that we’ve learned. You were so caught up in the illusion that school was gonna work out, that when he objected because he didn’t want you to be on your own, you cut all ties,” Dean barks at him as he accelerates faster than necessary. “Why the hell do you want to find him so bad if you hate his guts, huh?”      “I don’t hate his guts,” Sam says, his voice a lot less hostile than a moment ago.

     Dean takes his eyes off the road again and glances at the passenger, noticing the defeated expression on Sammy’s face. Annoyed with himself he looks ahead again, shutting his eyes for a second when a pang of guilt distinguishes the anger in a matter of seconds. He meant to give his little brother a reality check, but all he did was hurt him.      “Sam, I get you want answers. But calling his friends isn’t the way to do it. We just gotta be patient.”

     His brother's jaw clenches and he looks away, not denying nor confirming that Dean is right and that he himself will listen. It doesn’t matter anyway; there’s no way he can turn his brother’s mind around. And Dean claims Sam is the one who is like their old man? Just now he was sure to sit next to a younger version of Dad. 

     He can't agree with the reasoning behind Dean’s actions, though. His older brother dragged him out of school to find Dad and now that it’s coming down to that, he doesn’t want to go out on a search. Sam on the other hand, he has to find him. Not only does he have some unresolved issues with his father, John is also the only hunter who has been tracking the thing that ruined their lives. He is the key to finding answers. It’s all he can think of; hunting down the bastard that killed Mom and Jessica. 

     Without saying another word, Dean drives his Impala to their motel, convinced he made his point, even though he hurt his brother’s feelings to get the message across. But Sam isn’t going to let go, neither will he trade places with Dean on their jobs. During his hours of watching the Shire family, he’s gonna make those calls and he is going to find their father. Whether Dean likes it, or not.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).    

Read chapter nine here

[threeletterslife]

03 | Redefining Destiny

→ previous | next

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: profanity, graphic depictions of blood, pain and torture, brief mention of sexual activities (but yn’s too innocent to understand yikes), smoking and strip clubs

→ wordcount: 3.5k

Jungkook isn't too particularly fond of working at the burger parlor—the greasy smell of the french fries and burgers boggles his senses the more he is stuck in the hot kitchen. And just as he thought it couldn't get worse, it did. You walk in with about twenty of your annoying friends.

All of you are talking so loudly that Jungkook can hear you from his place behind the counter.

"Dude, Y/N's totally gonna get accepted."

"I mean, if she doesn't, who would, though?"

"Exactly!"

"Interning abroad is literally the best kind of experience, Y/N. You're so lucky!"

Jungkook rolls his eyes when he hears your chirpy voice. "Aw, guys! The results aren't even out yet!" you giggle. "But fingers crossed, right?"

Too bad Jungkook's on cashier duty at this time of day. Luck just was never on his side. You scrunch your brows and make a grossed-out face when you finally catch sight of Jungkook behind the counter.

"I didn't know you worked here," you say, frowning. Your army of friends rolls their eyes, murmuring their agreements about how shitty Jungkook is. "Don't know how I feel about you handling my food."

Jungkook glares at you. "I'll fucking spit in your food so you feel extra welcomed here."

You gasp, hands flying to your lips in mock shock. "Screw you, Jeon," you snort. "Hope you're having the best of luck getting laid these days." You have the audacity to give him a teasingly flirtatious wink. Jungkook almost gags.

"Fuck you. Hope your ethics grade looks immaculate," he fires back.

You almost lurch forward to hurl something at Jungkook's face, but luckily, your friends latch onto you, preventing you from hurting the pissed-off man. "Y-You know what?!" you shout, struggling in your friends' grasps. "You know the frick what, Jeon? I can always raise my ethics grade! But you can't save that horrible reputation of yours even if someone dangled a solution in front of your face!"

Jungkook's never felt this much hatred for one single person in his life. And that's saying a lot, considering he's been in the mafia for nearly seven years.

"If you don't want to order food, I suggest you leave," he says coldly, glaring at you through slitted eyes.

You don't back down. "I'm going to order, idiot—"

"Fucking order, then," Jungkook sneers.

"I was going to!" you yell. "Until you so rudely interrupted me. Ahem," you say, clearing your throat. "So, I'll have fourteen small french fries, unsalted. Eight vanilla milkshakes. Four chocolate milkshakes. One strawberry milkshake. Hold the Maraschino cherry on all of those... Um, seventeen cheeseburgers, four hamburgers... And twenty-one cups of water. Get it to me stat," you demand.

"What a hog," Jungkook scoffs under his breath.

"Excuse me?" you say. "Did you just call me a hog?"

"Yes. Why yes I did," Jungkook bites back.

"Where's your manager?" you threaten. "Do you need me to call the manager?"

Deep breath in... Deep breath out... Jungkook clenches his fists, gritting his teeth as he stays silent. No need for his manager to get involved in this craptastic madness. Although he'd love to say something snarky back to you, he can't risk his job, so Jungkook bites his lip and ignores your comment. "That'll be ₩132,465," he mumbles.

"Sorry, what? I didn't hear you," you sing.

"₩132,465," Jungkook says louder, glaring at you as you smile smugly at him. It's taking him so much control to not lunge at you and make you regret ever messing with him.

"Alright!" you giggle. "Let me just... count this out—" You pull out your wallet, which is loaded with more money than Jungkook probably has in his savings. "One... Two... Three," you begin, painstakingly slowly counting the bills as Jungkook waits impatiently.

Just to spite you, when you hand him the money, he recounts the bills so he can waste your time. The two of you glare at each other even as Jungkook hands you the receipt. You snatch it from his hands, never losing eye contact with him as you begin to walk away from the ordering counter.

Jungkook continues to glare at the back of you as you settle down with your friends in the biggest seats at the burger parlor.

God, he hates you so much. It irks him that you were so very popular as well. What the fuck did your friends even see in you?? Jungkook glares at you (as you remain oblivious) the whole time you stay.

Your friends are like your brainless followers, cheering you on for your amazing academic accomplishments. Jungkook scoffs. If he had the money you had, he'd be educationally apt, too. The only thing that keeps him from completely blowing is that he tells himself he had been richer than you at one point.

And it was true. At just the tender age of twenty-three, Jungkook had known the luxurious life of extravagant parties, shiny, black limousines and rich delicacies that melted on his tongue. He had known wealth, lived in it. But that had been taken away from him, of course. Everything he ever knew and loved had been. You were a bitch for ruining his life more than it already was ruined.

When you and your friends finally leave the parlor after hours and hours of chortling and giggling and laughing, Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes had been starting to hurt from all that glaring. He grumbles, making his way over to your table to clean up the mess—but you and your friends were surprisingly neat eaters.

Quietly, Jungkook takes the trays and scrubs down the table, working mindlessly and quickly. But he notices something yellow and sparkly on the seats. A... handbag?

One of the girls must've left it. Jungkook sighs, finishing up his cleaning and holding up the bag with two fingers. He assumes whoever left it would come back for it... But meanwhile...

Old habits die hard, indeed. He had always been such a kleptomaniac in his Crescent days, and that still hasn't changed. He reaches his hand into the expensive-looking yellow purse and finds a phone. Huh. It looks brand-new—the latest model of the iPhone that had come out just two weeks ago. The one that cost way too much for a hunk of metal that was supposed to make calls and texts. He taps the screen, curiously and almost flings the phone away in disgust.

He's met with a lock screen photo of you taking a selfie with two other girls. Narcissistic, much? He practically throws the phone back into your bag and fishes out your high-end wallet. There are wads of bills in there, which tempts Jungkook to take just a few of them... He grits his teeth. No more stealing. Not after leaving the Crescents. Jungkook shoves the wallet back into the bag and looks around the nearly empty burger parlor.

Maybe he should just toss the purse in the trash. He'd love to see you come back into the parlor and frantically dig through the dump, breaking your precious nails and dirtying your expensive little clothes. But he sighs. He doesn't really want to stoop that low...

Jungkook tosses the purse on the counter and begins to work on closing up the parlor, scrubbing the other tables, mopping the floors and turning off the kitchen lights. The last of the customers are leaving and the place is starting to become quiet.

Until the door slams open and you walk in with a fury.

"Where is it?!" you huff.

"Parlor's closed," Jungkook scoffs. "Leave."

You ignore him, catching sight of your precious purse sitting on the counter and making a bee-line towards it. "Sunny!" you shriek.

"Sunny?" Jungkook laughs, rolling his eyes. "Did you name your fucking purse?"

You ignore him again, frantically digging through your purse and pulling out your wallet. You glare at Jungkook as you slowly begin to count the bills.

"I didn't touch anything," he lies. "Why would I steal dirty money?"

"I don't know, because you're a horrible human being?" you scoff. "At least you didn't throw it in the trash..." you mutter to yourself.

"Oh, I was going to," Jungkook says.

You glare at him before turning on your heals and strutting out of the parlor with your showy, yellow purse in hand.

Not even a fucking 'thank you.'

You might be the rudest person Jungkook's ever met. It's such a pity he's always bumping into you.

"T-Taehyung," Jungkook stutters quietly, reaching forward in the dark shadows to his dying friend.

'No,' Taehyung mouths as he catches sight of Jungkook in the darkness. 'Run for your life. I'll be fine.'

Jungkook shakes his head, tears staining his cheeks as he watches Taehyung bleed from his mouth, a steady stream of blood running down from his head too, where the intruders had kicked him.

'Leave, JK,' Taehyung pleads soundlessly. 'They don't know you're here. You still have a chance to live.'

Jungkook shakes his head again, letting out a silent sob from his lips. 'No!' he mouths aggressively. 'I'm not going to leave you.'

'If you stay with me, they'll kill you.' Taehyung gives Jungkook a bloody, toothless grin. 'I'll hold them off so you can escape. I've got a bit of strength left in me.'

'You're dying, Tae,' Jungkook sobs. 'You're dying.'

'I'm strong, JK. I think I can handle a few more knife scathings. Leave.' Taehyung bravely grins at Jungkook, but Jungkook can see the tears welling up in his friend's eyes. 'Please... leave.'

'Tae...'

'You won't forget me, right JK? But you're going to live the rest of your life without missing me too much, right JK?'

'Tae!'

Taehyung coughs up blood but keeps his signature mischievous smile on his face.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" a gruff voice barks. He kicks Taehyung's head to the side, causing the poor man to cry out in pain. "I'll kill you slowly as you did to my friends. You'll regret you're still breathing when I'm done with you."

Jungkook holds back a choked sob. He can't watch anymore. He can't.

"LEAVE!" Taehyung shrieks, blood splattering everywhere. Jungkook knows that had been for him.

"You want me to leave, you pathetic motherfucker?" the intruder laughs. "We're in for a long ride, then."

Jungkook wakes up upside down on his bed, the blankets on the floor and the sheets completely soaked with sweat. He cries, covering his face with his hands. He cries for his best friend. He cries because he didn't save him. He cries because he had to leave him to die.

"Right, JK?"

Taehyung's playful voice echoes in Jungkook's head over and over again.

"Right, Tae," Jungkook manages to whisper against the sheets.

He is such a mess, shaking and sobbing from the memories. It almost seems like it had happened yesterday with the vividness of his dream. He wishes Taehyung were here to comfort him. Taehyung would ask if he wanted to smoke a fat blunt or take a trip to the strip club with the money he 'borrowed' from Namjoon... Taehyung would know how to comfort him. Taehyung would tell him to man-up and stop sobbing like a big baby about it.

Jungkook shudders, sniffling as he slowly gets up from his bed to find the covers that had fallen to the floor. He adjusts his pillows, wipes his tears away with the back of his hand and gets back in bed, manuring his feet so it doesn't touch the wet spot on the sheets where his tears and sweat had accumulated throughout the night. He's still breathing hard and shaking slightly from the remnants of the bad dream.

But he tries to fall back asleep by putting happy thoughts in his head. Those days when he and Taehyung had done everything together... Those days when he thought his future would be with the Crescents... Those good days...

You wake up with a loud gasp, head jerking forward as you sit up immediately. Your roommates are still sleeping soundly, thank goodness, but you can't stop the queasy feeling swelling in your stomach. Maybe your period is a whole two weeks early?? But your cycles are always regular...

The darkness of the dorm room makes you feel weirdly lonely—even with your two friends near you, sleeping in their own beds. Your alarm clock glows a magnificent shade of green; the numbers 3:27 staring back at your perplexed face. You're supposed to wake up early for a study group session in the library, and this little awakening would surely ruin your chances of ever getting to the session early for once.

You try to suppress the foreign feeling in your stomach by tucking yourself back in bed, curling up in a fetal position. Maybe you were starting to contract the stomach flu??

You're confused because sleep has never really been a problem for you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hope lying still in the dark will help you drift back to sleep. But the attempt is futile. So you lay in bed, keeping your eyes closed as you mumble a few prayers for your friends and family. Miraculously, once you finish, you're tired again, and the weird feeling that had woken you up is gone.

It just must be one of those nights, you think before falling asleep.

You wake up at 10 a.m. in the morning with leisure. Sitting up slowly and taking the time to stretch out your arms and straighten your back. The sun is strangely high in the sky, you notice as you yawn and rub your eyes. When you finally glance over at your alarm clock, your eyes turn wide.

"Frick!" you yell as you realize you're the only person left in the dorm room. You're late to the study session... again.

In record time, you brush your teeth, tie your hair and a bun and throw on some clothes strewn on your desk chair (hoping the colors don’t clash too much) and rush out with your backpack in hand—you pray that everything you need is in there and your laptop is charged enough to last three hours.

You blindly run across your campus before reaching the library and quickly scanning the tables to see if the study group had started without you. But you recognize only one person in the study group sitting alone at your usual table in the corner behind the American literature section. He's quietly reading his notes with his laptop already perched right next to him. The way he looks up prepped and ready disgusts you.

"Jeon. Jungkook," you say, gritting your teeth as you slide in the chair across from him.

"God, no," he replies, seeing you and rolling his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" you spit back at him. "I'm in your study group. We've been in the same study group for months."

"Oh," Jungkook scoffs. "Must've slipped my mind because you're so irrelevant."

"How dare y—"

"You look like you had a rough morning," he interrupts you.

You eye him up and down, glaring at him through slitted eyes. But you self-consciously tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, patting the bun sitting on the top of your head to make sure no stray hairs were awkwardly sticking out. Your random choice of clothes doesn't look as bad as you thought either—you'd thankfully grabbed a pair of denim shorts and a slightly wrinkled black t-shirt.

Funny that Jungkook was commenting on your obvious hastily prepared appearance when he looked just as unprepared as you.

"Well, you look like you had a rough night," you say. "Dark circles look good on you, Jeon. Ugliness suits you."

"I was up studying," he answers without missing a beat. "What were you doing? Naming your other purses?"

"Shut up."

"Whatever."

You give him one last rude look before starting to unpack your study materials. Yes! you cry in your head when your laptop wakes up with a solid 47% battery left. You slam your notebook down the table, looking at Jungkook as you do so. He acts as if he sees right through you.

"So," you sigh. "Where the heck is everyone else?"

"Would it fucking kill you to cuss?" Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I feel like I'm babysitting you." But one death threatening glare from you has him answering your question. "Maybe they ditched."

"I can't believe we're the only two responsible students," you sigh. "I expected better."

"Maybe they have something better to do than study ethics in broad daylight in a quiet, boring ol' library," Jungkook says.

"I can name a thousand things on the spot that would be better than studying ethics with you," you say. "But look where I am. I still came."

"Fine. You win a fuckin' gold star, Y/N," Jungkook says, scoffing. "What do you want me to do, give you brownie points?"

It's annoying how he never backs down to you, always having something snarky to say up his sleeve. And it boggles your mind that he's usually so quiet around everyone else. You're the only one he so actively speaks to—but you'd rather not have it that way because the longer you sit and waste your time with the insulting repartee between you and Jungkook, the more likely you would get a hemorrhage from the stress alone.

"Just—" you sigh, pausing to rest your hand on your face. "Just, shut up, Jeon. Let's study."

"That's what I wanted to do the whole time," Jungkook says. "Before you—"

"I will wack you with my textbook," you say. "Wow. Wouldn't have thought you were into pain play, Y/N," Jungkook snorts.

"Pain what?"

"Never mind," Jungkook sighs. "Whatever. Let's review the notes."

"Okay, fine," you huff. "And I recorded the professor's lecture so we can listen to that too."

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows. "Ugh, what a try-hard."

"Excuse me?" you say, actually a bit offended. "Fine, I'm a try-hard, but unlike you, I'm gonna be so freaking successful. While you're still here, I'll be interning abroad to become a lawyer."

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook says as he raises his eyebrows. "I was already pretty fucking successful in America. Lived in a mansion... owned a high-end car..."

You snort. "What'd you do? Steal all that money?" you joke.

"You could say that," Jungkook says in a dead-serious voice.

You roll your eyes in response, amazed that he was able to take a lie that far. "I heard you dropped out of college before you came to Korea. What are you, 30 years old?"

Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. Jungkook doesn't look a day older than 22; it infuriates you that his skin is so soft and crystal clear and his hair seems to bounce up in natural curls. Dang it. Yoojung is right. It makes me madder that he's actually good-looking. You would never admit this out loud to anyone, though.

"Nice try, genius," Jungkook says. "I'm 27."

"At least you're not in your thirties," you sniffle, upturning your nose and furiously flipping in the pages of your notes to find the latest lecture.

"Is there anything wrong with dropping out?" Jungkook asks. "Damn. How far do these rumors go?"

You huff. "Rumors spread faster than wildfire. And I don't care if you dropped out or not if you can catch up on our studies now. Just ugh, I'm embarrassed I'm literally being seen with you right now. Let's hurry up and finish." "So I'm an embarrassment, now?"

"Yes. And you can't say otherwise or try to argue with me," you say, lifting one of your eyebrows. "Because I know I'm right."

"And you want to become a lawyer? If you knew you were right, you'd definitely have a better argument than that."

You let out a silent, frustrated scream in your head. "My gosh, just please, shut up," you mumble as you unlock your phone for the first time this morning to escape Jungkook's immature insults. That's when you see hundreds of unread messages.

"Oh my gosh," you groan. "Ohh my goshhh. They switched the location! And I didn't see until now!"

"What?" Jungkook says as he whips out his own phone and scrolls through his messages. "Fuck," he curses. "Why were we the only ones who didn't see this?"

"I know," you say. "It could've been me, you and someone else. Better yet, me and two other people. Anything would've been better than this." You sigh, slamming your laptop shut and shoving your study materials back into your backpack.

"Where are you going now?" Jungkook says, sighing.

You shoot him a glare. "Where do you think?" you sass before walking away without another word.

Man, Jungkook sucks, and your patience and ability to forgive is tested over and over again when you coincidentally meet him literally everywhere you go. It's infuriating. But what can you do about it?

—previous | next

—masterpost

[filthy-rat]

Mary Had a Little Lamb

AO3 Link

You were never really one for parties, so you aren’t exactly sure how you managed to let your friend, Angel, drag you out one crisp autumn night.

From what they had said, this party was going to be mostly drinking and smoking weed and playing video games—all things you enjoyed, right? So maybe you would have a good time. You think about the inherent awkwardness of talking to people and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and your stomach clenches in fear. Ugh, maybe not. You make a mental note to do a better job of hiding your melancholy from them the next time they start giving you the Concerned Face.

As you approach the run down apartment building in the heart of the city, apprehension gnaws at your gut. For the third time in your five minute walk, you come to a halt, frowning at your companion.

“I don’t know, dude, I-I really shouldn’t—”

“Ugh, c’mon!” Impatiently, they stomp back to you, latch onto the sleeve of your jacket, and tug you along. “It’ll be fun! I’m sick of you moping around the house!”

“...I wasn’t moping,” you mumble, stuffing your hands into your pockets and shrugging off their hand from your sleeve. “And besides, do you even know anyone at this party?”

“Like, one or two people. But it’s a party, you’re not really supposed to know everyone.” They link arms with you, continuing to pull you down the street. “Listen, if we get any scummy vibes, we’ll bounce, okay?”

“Fine.” Huffing out an irritated sigh, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“There’s supposed to be some really hot guys here, too.” Angel flashes you an excited grin.

“Yeah, ‘cause hot guys have a history of being into me.”

“Oh, my god, stop that or I’m gonna kick your ass.” They nudge your elbow with theirs and give you another look. The dreaded Concerned Face. You hate it when they do that.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get up there before they drink all the good beer.”

“Hell yea.”

Arm in arm, the two of you make your way to the building, and Angel leans in to press the buzzer. A disgruntled, raspy voice on the other end asks shockingly few questions of the two of you before opening the door. There’s no elevator. You groan as you realize you’ll have to hoof it up five flights of stairs.

You can hear the music pounding from about a floor and a half below, and it only gets louder the closer you get to your destination. When you finally reach the correct floor, you’re gasping and clutching at a stitch in your side and regretting your life choices. Why the fuck isn’t there an elevator?

“C’mon, it’s this door,” Angel says, after catching their breath, and they approach a door at the end of the hallway.

The worn wood is absolutely slathered in band stickers and old Halloween decorations and painted-on pentagrams. Though the plaque on the door reads “66”, someone has taken a red marker and added an additional 6 to the end. You give Angel a dubious side eye.

“Listen, these guys are… a little rough. Just give them a chance, though. Most punks and goths are good people.” They give a nervous laugh, grimace, and knock on the door.

After a moment, it opens to reveal a thin youth with multicolored dreadlocks tied in twin tails and a bridge piercing. Arching a perfect brow, she saddles the two of you with an unimpressed eye, and steps back to see if any other partygoers will claim you.

“Who the fuck are these herbs?” asks one of them, putting an emphasis on the letter ‘h’ that makes everyone laugh.

You shoot Angel a glare. Punks and goths are good people, huh? They have the decency to look a little chagrined, and rub anxiously at the back of their neck.

“Angel!” shouts a voice, and you vaguely recognize one of Angel’s friends—you’ve never formally met the guy—as he approaches and pulls them into a one armed hug. “Hey, you finally made it! I was wondering when you were gonna get your slow-ass up here.” With the music so loud, they have to lean close and yet still practically shout to be heard.

“You could’ve fucking warned me there was no elevator,” Angel says, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Show me where the drinks are before I change my mind!”

Without another word, the two of them disappear arm in arm deeper into the shabby apartment, leaving you standing in the door awkwardly. The girl at the door eyes you up and down, her expression blatantly judgemental, but merely gestures inside with a grand sweep of her arm. With a polite but nervous smile, you step over the threshold and immediately glue yourself to the wall just inside the door. There are people milling about everywhere, drinking, laughing, making out.

You’ve never felt more out of place in your entire life. A part of you wants to leave—but you can’t do that to Angel. So you’re stuck there, leaning against the wall and pretending like you don’t exist.

The music pounding through the stereo lulls momentarily as another song is chosen.

“Hey there, sweet thing.” A voice, much too close to your ear, makes you jump and you whirl on the spot. “Tell me you ain’t wearing a fuckin’ Stryper t-shirt.”

Leaning his shoulder against the very same wall, the epitome of rough, roguish charm, is a pale, gaunt-looking young man. His dark hair is pulled down in front of his face in a messy devil lock, and there’s long, red lines of blood—hopefully fake—dribbling down from the crown of his head to his chin and onto the front of his sleeveless Candlemass shirt. A wrinkled, hand-rolled cigarette is tucked behind one ear, and the vest he wears rattles with many pins when he moves. You don’t think you’ve ever seen tighter jeans in your life. It’s like they were fucking painted on. Are those fishnet tights you spy through the shredded knees?

Who is this guy?

As you take in his appearance, eyes wide, he reaches out and gently cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to his face. He gives you a knowing smirk, eyes hooded, and your whole face feels very warm.

The music starts up again, but quieter this time—a slow power ballad. You’re distantly aware of people pairing up in the background, but your eyes are focused on his.

“You lost, little lamb?” he says, his voice low, almost a purr.

“N-No, I came here with my friend.”

With an arch of his thick brows, the bloodied stranger casts an exaggerated look around you, then resettles against the wall with a shrug. “Don’t see you with anyone.”

“...Yeah, they kinda abandoned me.” A brief, rueful smile tugs your lips.

“That’s okay. I’ll be your friend,” he says, flashing a wicked grin that quickly makes him seem less a friend and more a wolf.

Is that why he called you ‘lamb’?

“...I don’t even know your name.” But, fuck, do you want to. You can’t remember the last time someone this hot even gave you the time of day.

“I don’t know yours either,” he points out, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips. “Names are so fuckin’ superfluous, kitten, but you can call me Mary.”

“Mary?” Your brow furrows. “That’s a strange—”

As he fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame to the end of the cigarette, he gestures with his free hand to his bloody face. He takes a drag and exhales a plume of smoke, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a joke.” A beat. He heaves a sigh, and shoots you a scowl. “Why do I even fuckin’—Bloody Mary, get it?”

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” You’re not quite sure you do get it, really, but he seems to be satisfied with this answer. You change the subject. “So, do you live here?”

“Sometimes, if I feel like it.” He plucks the cigarette from his lips and offers it to you, held delicately between two long fingers. The black polish on his nails is chipped, you notice.

“I don’t smoke.”

Mary smirks. “It ain’t tobacco, lamb.”

“Oh.” Frowning, you look down at the smoldering cigarette and a little bubble of panic rises in your chest. “I-I’ve never uh. Done it. This way before.”

Mary arches a brow.

“Me and my friend, w-we usually put it in brownies.” You feel silly just saying it, and avert your gaze with a grimace.

“Oh, well… you wanna shotgun it?”

You look back up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What is that?”

“C’mere.”

He leans in closer, until his lips are nearly touching yours. For one heart-stopping second, you think he’s going to kiss you, but no—he stops just shy of contact. The tip of his nose brushes featherlight against yours, though, and goosebumps erupt across your skin. His eyes are hooded, and there’s something so sensual and alluring in those dark depths that it makes your stomach do a little somersault.

“I exhale, you inhale, yeah?” His lip quirks into a crooked smile.

You give a slow nod, afraid that if you moved too suddenly he’d bolt like a wild animal. He lifts the joint to his lips, takes a long hit, and holds it for just a moment. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips. When he exhales a cloud of smoke, you inhale too quickly, and the unfamiliar burn of it makes your lungs spasm and you jerk backward with a cough.

Mary gives a rueful laugh and reaches past you to an open ice chest on the kitchen counter. With his free hand, he fishes out a can of beer and cracks it open. It foams and he holds it out at arms’ length with a quiet, disgruntled ah, fuck as suds splatter onto the carpet.

When it finishes spewing, he pushes the damp can into your hands, and you gratefully gulp it down to soothe your burning throat.

“Wanna go again?” he asks, once you’ve recovered enough to speak.

You eye him with apprehension. Do you want to go again? You’re pretty sure another close encounter with Mary might kill you. On the other hand, you’re craving more of that closeness.

“Okay.”

“Cool. This time,” Mary says, and he sidles a step closer, centimeters away from his body making contact with yours. “Don’t suck it into your lungs right away. Into your mouth first, like a milkshake.”

Or like something else? Your cheeks flush as this filthy thought enters your head. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he leans in. This time, you’re ready, and though your throat burns again, you manage to cut your coughing time by half. The cold beer helps. Mary reaches around you and extinguishes the roach in a nearby ashtray, then settles back against the wall, his shoulder touching yours. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence as the weed works its magic. It isn’t long before you feel yourself loosening up a little.

“So… is Mary your real name?” you ask, casting him an expectant glance.

Before he can answer, however, both your attentions are diverted. In the living room before you, where most of the party seems to be congregated, a girl is sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing idly with an empty bottle of wine. She leans forward and gives the bottle a spin as she talks, and when it finally comes a stop, the mouth of it points to a taller girl leaning on the wall across from her.

“Ha, now you guys have to make out,” giggles another partygoer.

An nervous titter rises up from the other partiers.

Wordlessly, the girl on the floor gets to her feet, approaches the girl on the wall, and draws her lips downwards in a kiss. Several wolf whistles and appreciative hoots rise up from the crowd, and eventually the two part, looking flushed but grinning. The tall girl leaning against the wall grabs the other girl’s hand, and fishes out a marker to scribble a phone number across her palm.

Mary tilts his head back against the wall he’s leaning on and gives you a curious look out of the corner of his eye. You pretend like you don’t see his gaze linger on your body.

“Someone else spin!” demands a partygoer, and another person grabs the wine bottle.

“What is this, a party of stupid horny teenagers?” snorts someone else, and everyone drowns them out with a chorus of boos. Someone throws a pillow at them and everyone laughs.

“You wanna play?” asks Mary, his lip curving into a wolfish smirk. “Get someone’s tongue down your throat?”

“W-What?” Eyes widening, you tear your gaze away from the display before you to look him in the face. “No…” Not unless it’s yours. Even though you don’t say that last part, you can’t help but glance down at his lips as you think it.

“No?” He turns towards you, leaning now on one shoulder instead of two, and lets the side of his head rest lazily on the wall. That smirk only grows more wicked. “Oh, so you want your tongue in—”

A collective squeal rises up from the partiers congregated in the living room as the game of spin the bottle has now become a game of truth or dare, it seems. Instead of making out with a stranger, someone’s been dared to flash everyone. With a gasp of shock, you look away as a dude gets to his feet and starts fumbling with the fly of his pants.

Mary doesn’t look away.

“Do you want to play?” you ask him, looking up at his face.

“Always, kitten.” Tearing his gaze from the flasher, he looks down at you with those gorgeous dark eyes of his, and he gives you a wink.

“Fine.” The weed and beer have made you more confident—perhaps stupidly so. “Let’s play.”

Mary’s face splits into a crooked grin—a wicked flashing of teeth that does very little to soothe your nerves—and his hand grabs yours. You barely have time to grab another beer before he’s yanking you towards the circle of partygoers that’s begun to crowd around the spinning bottle.

You think maybe Mary’s going to sit beside you, but instead, he elbows his way into the circle across from you, and sits cross-legged on the floor. The game continues without interruption, and everyone decides if they’d rather kiss the person the bottle lands on, tell a truth, or do a dare.

Most people pick dare.

In the five minutes it takes for your turn to arrive, you’ve seen a lot of tits and ass from strangers. More than you’d ever care to see, really. You get the impression that these people aren’t exactly creative when it comes to thinking up dares. Or they’re just really horny. Most of the dares involve getting naked or showing off body parts.

Finally, it’s your turn.

You swallow hard, pointedly avoiding Mary’s gaze, and give the bottle a twist. It spins and spins and spins in a seemingly endless loop.

You chance a glimpse at Mary. Those dark eyes of his are hooded and staring at you with such an intensity, as if he’s reading every filthy thought you’ve ever had in your entire life and he’s imagining ways to sweetly torment you with them. Your stomach does a little somersault. Somehow, you just know where the bottle’s going to land. Mary’s lip twists into a subtle, wicked smirk, and the bottle comes to a stop.

It’s pointed to the girl just to Mary’s left.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Mary arches an eyebrow at you, an unasked question lurking in the inky depths of his eyes. But now the girl is asking the question and your attention is diverted away from him.

“Truth or dare?”

“...Dare, I guess.” You make direct eye contact with Mary as you say it. You think he looks a little impressed, but it’s hard to tell.

The girl chews her bottom lip in thought. “Dare you to…” She gives you an impish grin. “Let us look through the pics on your phone for one minute.”

A collective “ooooh” rises up from the congregation and several pair of eager eyes fall on you. A hot blush crawls up your cheeks, and as you fish your phone from your pocket, unlock it, and hand it to her, you silently pray you deleted those nudes you took a couple of weeks ago just for fun.

As your darer scrolls through your picture gallery, Mary leans to look over her shoulder, occasionally flicking his eyes up at you and smirking. The minute seems to drag on forever, and you busy yourself with taking sips of your beer, but you can’t help anxiously watching as they go through all your photos.

“Oh my God,” giggles your darer, and she turns your phone around to show you. “Cute selfie but is that a fucking dildo??”

A cackle rises up from the crowd of people as you look at the picture. You’d taken it a couple of days ago but never posted it to your social media for this exact reason. Sitting on the dresser in the background is a large, silky purple dildo. Face hot and red now, you snatch away the phone, grumbling under your breath as you stuff it back into your pocket.

“It’s my roommate’s,” you mumble, but no one hears you.

Mary gives a snorting giggle.

The person to your left gives the bottle a spin and the game continues. Several shotgunned beers, flashed body parts, eaten teaspoons of mustard, and one extremely loud streak later, it’s Mary’s turn.

The bottle lands on you. Mary cocks his head to one side, his eyes patient but there’s an unspoken challenge there that makes your pulse leap with anticipation.

“Dare.” He says it without even waiting to be asked.

“Okay…” You think for a moment, then flash him a grin of your own. “Dare you to sing us a verse from your favorite song.”

This seems to have finally flapped the unflappable Mary. His intense, challenging gaze falters a bit, replaced with utter bewilderment. He blinks, and a subtle blush rises to his cheeks, barely visible beneath the lines of dried blood. A thrill of pride surges through at the thought that you managed to surprise him.

“And no cheating, Goore,” says the girl beside him, elbowing his ribs gently. She flashes him a smug smirk. “They said sing, not growl.”

Mary casts her an irritated glower, before flicking his eyes back to you. For a moment, he contemplates, and his gaze holds yours the whole time. Someone turns down the music so that he can be heard better. With a clear of his throat, he closes his eyes, and begins singing.

I'm crucified Crucified like my savior Saintlike behavior A lifetime I prayed

I'm crucified For the holy dimension Godlike ascension Heavens away

A stunned silence follows this brief display. Everyone is staring at Mary with disbelief in their eyes, including you. Never would you have suspected that such an angelic voice could’ve come out of such a rough-looking guy. Several people clap, but Mary has eyes for only you. The intensity to his gaze fills you with both anxiety and elation. You’re unsure if there’s a punishment or a reward coming for you the next time your turn comes up.

You’re unsure which idea thrills you more.

The game continues, and a few uncreative rounds later, your spin finally selects Mary as your darer again.

He flashes you a mischievous grin, and your pulse spikes with adrenaline. By this point, you’ve had a couple more beers, and you’re really beginning to feel the effect. You’re a little braver, but only a little. A tiny, cowardly part of you wants to chicken out and pick truth, but Mary doesn’t even give you a choice.

“Dare you to make out with the hottest guy here.”

Fuck.

Judging from the smug grin and the intense smolder to his eyes, he knows he’s got you now. He cocks his head to one side, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, as if preparing himself for the inevitable.

Well, if he’s going to be so insufferable about it.

Holding his gaze, you turn to the guy immediately to your left, lean in, and capture his lips in a searing kiss. He grunts in surprise, but at least he reciprocates. Several hoots and whistles rise up from the crowd as the kiss continues on for a minute or two. You briefly toy with the notion of sliding into the stranger’s lap, but decide this will suffice for now. After a moment, your eyes open and you meet Mary’s gaze.

That insufferably smug look on his face has utterly evaporated. He stares at you, his expression hovering somewhere between heartbroken and incredulous. Then that, too, dissolves, and he looks away with a scowl.

“I need some air,” he mutters, and he gets to his feet.

Avoiding your gaze, he picks his way through the circle, and strides off. Guilt sinks its hot teeth into your stomach and you break away from your unsuspecting kissing victim.

“Mary, wait.”

With clumsy, drunken movements, you scramble to your feet, tripping only a little, and hurry after him. You find him out on the tiny balcony of the apartment, leaning on the railing and smoking a cigarette. Trying your best to be stealthy, you slip out onto the balcony. He doesn’t look up as you shyly approach the railing beside him.

“...I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Mary exhales a lungful of smoke, and casts you an unreadable glance out of the corner of his eye.

“For that, back there.” You frown. “I don’t know why I—“

“Forget about it.” He gives a shrug, turning his gaze back out to the glittering city stretching out before you, and takes another drag of his cigarette. “Got no fuckin’ reason to be mad, do I?”

Your heart sinks a little. He has a point, but you hate it anyway. Slowly, you shuffle a half step closer, until your arm lightly brushes against his, and look up at him. In your half-drunk state, you can’t find yourself to be ashamed of your ogling. He really is beautiful, even with lines of red dribbling down his face. The neon lights of the city below throw odd shadows across his features, highlighting the curve of his cheekbones, the crooked angularity to his nose, the definition of his brow. His lips look so soft and inviting. You find yourself studying them while biting your own.

“...It’s you, yanno,” you mumble quietly, rotating to lean your elbows on the railing. “I was just… I dunno, being stupid, I guess.” You look away from him, frowning at nothing in particular. “You know it’s you, that’s why you asked.”

“What’s me?” he asks, as he flicks the spent cigarette over the railing. With hooded eyes, he finally turns his head to look at you, and you just can’t resist anymore.

Wordlessly, you reach for his face and pull his lips down to meet yours. Obediently, he lets himself be pulled. He hums out a chuckle against your mouth, low and quiet. There’s some minor adjusting as he sidles closer, one hand sliding up to the back of your neck while the other yanks your hips against his, and his lips part in silent invitation. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and there’s some kind of unnameable metallic tang on his tongue, but holy fuck do you need more.

A soft, desperate moan escapes you, immediately swallowed by his kiss, and he adjusts more, sliding one of his thighs between your legs. You grind yourself against him with a whine. His hands fall to your hips, squeezing you and guiding you just right on his thigh. For a moment or two, he seems content with this—your lips on his, his tongue in your mouth, your crotch grinding against his thigh. With a groan through clenched teeth, he breaks the kiss and brings his lips to your ear.

“Better tell me what it is you’re after, little lamb,” whispers Mary, as your hands fumble with the overly-large belt buckle at his waist. “Or else I ain’t gonna fuckin’ know.”

“Want you,” you mumble incoherently, whining as he gives the thigh you’re riding a bounce. “Fuck me, please. Please.”

“Mm…” He makes a show of considering your proposal, cocking his head to one side. He leans in a little, and you think that he’s going to kiss you again, to get you going, and take it a step further. Then his face splits into a wicked grin.

“Nah.”

And he just pulls away.

You gasp in shock, your mouth hanging open in betrayal. As Mary Goore steps away from you, leaving you panting and needy and utterly unsatisfied, he gives a little cackle. So this is your punishment for disobeying his dare. God, what an asshole!

At the sliding glass door, Mary pauses, flashes you a shit-eating grin accompanied with a two-fingered salute in farewell, and disappears back inside.

What the fuck.

[smuckersblr]

Crybaby parody part 2

I’m back stinkies! Here’s your starker for the day, better eat up because this the last part<3

"Fuck you, Barnes, I do have more taste than you, remember the last guy you fucked? Yeah, he wasn't even a 4 outta 10!" Peter growled, waving his hands for dramatic effect, Bucky's arm around his shoulders falling and then going right back to their resting place once his flailing seized. "I'm just sayin' Pete, I don't like the guy, he doesn't really fit your type." Peter looked around his friend group, wide-eyed and waiting for people to rush to his side to defend him. But all he got was silent nods with avoided eye contact. "My type? My type! What the hell do you mean by "my type"."

 Wanda scratched the back of her head and awkwardly made eye contact. "You dated a guy who was a professional underground fighter who was covered in tatts." Natasha stepped in, once Peter looked in her direction. "Yeah, remember that one time you had that fling with that mafioso kid?" Bucky laughed and pulled Peter closer to him. "So basically me." Peter pulled back from Bucky's grip, shaking his head in disbelief, and laughed at his friends. "You guys are insanely right, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed a little range in the men I choose to date." 

The diner was scattered with the usual squares near the windows doing everything in their power to ignore the crybabies that evaded their space. Peter stirred his milkshake absently, a lost look on his face that didn't suit him well. Bucky, sitting at his claimed spot right next to Peter, brushed Peter's cheek with the hand connected to the arm that was wrapped around the teens' shoulders--trying to bring Peter's focus back to his friends. Then there was Wanda and Natasha, both in front of them and Sam at the diners front counter, trying to flirt up with the waitress working in that area. "Let's just change the topic." Peter mumbled under his breath, sulkily sipping his milkshake and ignoring Bucky's laughter and that imposing arm wrapped around his shoulders. Peter only allowed Bucky to be touchy with him because that was just Bucky, it was his love language and they've been friends since diapers. "Ok well since Peter's got a thing for a square, I guess it's only fair that I admit that the tall blonde is pretty attractive." Natasha said offhandedly, picking up a french fry and eating it with an argue-with-me-I-dare-you look. Wanda nodded with the same look and Bucky scuffed. "The dude is a total ass, sure he's an 8 but he can't even stand being near me even when I have no other choice since dumbass Mr. Braxton sat us together." Peter looked away and tapped his fingers against the dark wood of the table, "Well that's because any sane person can't stand an hour sitting next to you without getting a little agitated." the girls laughed loudly, Peter bit his lip to hide his smile that was slowly growing. Bucky gaped at Peter and huffed, pulling his arm away from Peter and pouting to himself and his burger. "I'm not agitating, you are." was his lame comeback, which made Peter pity him enough to give a pat to the big guy's bicep. "You know I'm kidding Buck, I can't stand an hour away from you and you know it." Peter cooed while leaning on Bucky with a pouty lip and big eyes. Bucky tried to hide his smile and coughed to hide his laugh. The girls were still cackling by the time Sam came back over to their table, making Wanda scoot closer to Natasha so he could sit on the edge. "What'd I miss? What's Bucky bitching over now?" Sam looked around at his friends, purposely ignoring the death glare from Bucky. "He's just butthurt that Peter said it's agitating to be around him for an hour." Wanda stirred her salad poking at a crouton. "He's not wrong." Sam shrugged and reached over Wanda to steal some fries from the middle. "Says the guy who got kicked outta fifth period because he couldn't shut up." Peter blocked out the rest of Bucky's and Sam's bickering once his attention had snagged on one fellow student across the diner. It was just the back of the teen's head, but Peter knew that group who sat with that teen from anywhere, it was Tony. which was startling to say the least, because instead of the usual baggy formal clothing he would always wear to school, was a leather jacket of all things and his signature neatly gelled hair, was now a messy nest. It gave him a "just had sex and didn't bother to fix my appearance" kinda look. Peter loved it. "Uh, I gotta pee." Peter's abrupt voice made the conversation his friends were having pause, Nat giving him a weird look. "Okay..." Bucky took his arm off its resting place and he stood up to allow Peter out from the corner of the booth.

Peter didn't bother pretending to head towards the bathrooms then sneak back out to discreetly say hi to Tony. He made a bee-line to the squares table. The conversation at hand was terribly nerdy, but the person who was mid-rant about some video game(Bruce?) stopped his rambling. The guys' eyes were saucers once Peter made it behind Tony. the whole table setting their sights on him. The last pair though were the ones Peter only sought out. "Hey, Pete." Peter's heart fluttered like a damn damsel, he bit his lip and held his hands behind his back coyly. "Hey Tones, lookin' good I see you've taken my comment to heart." Tony knew the reaction he would receive from Peter already, but the actual visual of Peter fucking Parker blushing and biting his lip like a coy schoolgirl was a fucking treat of its own. "Yah well I thought it was time for a change in the wardrobe." Steve who sat beside Tony tried hiding his laughter with a cough behind a fist, his other friends also not buying Tony's false nonchalance. "I love your hair too, looks...." Peter reached out one hand and combed his fingers through the brown strands before saying: "Sexy.".

"Really? I thought it was giving me very much... homeless man chique." Rhodey snickered, the other two idiots laughing at his jab. Tony turned around sharply and gave his best death glare to the idiots. "Shut it." He tried to discreetly hiss under his breath, but of course, Peter heard and to Tony's horror, joined in his friends' laughter. "Oh great now you too?" Tony moped, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head down on them, hiding his embarrassment. "No, no, Tony I'm sorry I just-" Peter couldn't finish talking without another fit of giggles coming out. "You can't lie to me Tony, that was pretty funny," Tony grumbled to himself, trying to play out his little moping sesh even when Peter sat in the empty chair next to him. But he couldn't ignore Pete any longer once he felt him lock his arm around his own. A tuft of hair tickling the side of Tony's face, and then the butterflies started. "Forgive me, Tony." Peter whined, rocking Tony side to side from shaking his arm. "No it's too late, you hurt my feelings." Tony sat back in his chair once more and looked in the opposite direction from Peter, trying to tune in his friends' conversation that slowly started up again in the midst of their teasing. "Tony~!" Tony was really trying here, he only had so much willpower in him when it came to Peter. "Nope, I've already decided that I can't forgive you." Peter humphed and crossed his arms, sagging in the chair he had claimed as his. Then an idea struck. Peter had gotten close once more, this time whispering into Tony's ear: "What if I kissed you to make it better?" and Peter knew he had won this little game they were playing, right when he felt Tony tense up and slowly looked over to Peter. God did he just want to devour him right there and then, but no, Tony didn't want their first kiss in front of all his square friends. As cheesy as it was, he wanted their first kiss on their first date. "Go out with me." Tony knew Peter was taken aback at this, but there wasn't any hesitation with his answer. "Okay..."

-------

Their first date was a fiasco to put it shortly. Tony had the idea to go out at the local movie theatre in their town, he knew there was going to be a scary movie playing that night, which in his mind equaled discrete hand-holding and maybe a make-out session halfway through the movie. And of course, that didn't go to plan once they walked through the rows to try and find their seats, apparently, it was packed that night, and to his luck, the theater was filled with Crybabies. Peter had told him it was fine, he would make sure they didn't say anything stupid to Tony, but sadly that wasn't the problem. The problem was that there was someone constantly putting their feet on the back of Tony's seat throughout the first half of the movie. Tony's hand was sweaty so he couldn't hold Peter's hand like he originally wanted to. They had also gotten candy along with their popcorn and Tony totally forgot that kissing someone with chocolate breath is so not appealing. So to say their first date was a shit show would be putting it mildly.

But Tony should've known that Peter would make things better than they turned out that night. On the way home Tony's hand was taken off the wheel and settled on Peter's thigh by Peter's own doing. Tony had given his thigh a squeeze and didn't remove his hand from its place until he stopped in front of Peter's house. Tony being the gentleman he was, walked Peter to his front door, rubbing his (still) clammy hands on his shirt before Peter turned around to face Tony once more. And that was when the night had turned around from being a failure to a semi-amazing-but-totally-amazing first date. Peter had leaned in and kissed Tony's cheek, of course not without plastering the front of his body to Tony's. Tony stood there that night, holding Peter against him. Not wanting to let go and having to wait a whole night before being able to see him again. And then... "My parents aren't home."

It was like TV static in Tony's head, his whole body freezing up, then relaxing in a split second. "Oh.." was all Tony dumbass Stark could say to that. But amazingly, he got inside the house with Peter, being led straight to Pete's room where Tony would never admit out loud that he was dreaming to see. "Sorry about the mess, Natasha was helping me find my outfit for tonight." Which made sense once you saw all the clothes strewn out on Peter's bed. Peter's unmade bed, wow Tony's good-boy side is showing. "It's fine, it smells nice in here." What the fuck! Tony mentally face palmed himself and immediately wanted to die and never face Peter ever again.

"Why thank you, Mr. Stark, you know your compliments mean a lot to me." Peter grabbed Tony's hands and pulled him deeper inside his room. The moon's glow gives Peter's face a beautiful pale blue glow that makes Tony's heart stop for a second. "Really? I'd assume you get them often." Peter smiled and turned around, messing with the records that sat next to a dusty blue record player. "Sure I do, but their words mean nothing compared to your's Tones," A soft lilt of trumpets slowly started along with violins. Peter gave a little twirl and toed off his shoes before slowly waltzing towards Tony. "Your words set my skin on fire," His arms reached out, the devilish smile on his soft lips never dropping along with his hips that swayed side to side. "Your voice makes my heart stop," He placed Tony's hands on his hips, reaching for his shoulders and laying his head against his collar bone. "You make me feel brand new, Tony..." Tony didn't realize he was slow dancing now with Peter, his mind was currently reeling with Peter's own confession. He might love Peter. "Stop, before you make me fall for you, then you won't be able to get rid of me." Peter's soft laugh was muffled by Tony's rumbled shirt, "Who says I wanna get rid of you? What if I want you all to myself?" Tony didn't know what to say for a second, the song carried on to fill the silence between the two slow dancing in a dark bedroom that smelt like tulips. "Then you can have me."

(A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this! I think imma end this lil short story here since i dont really like the idea anymore and sorry about it taking a while, I had no more brain juice left in me:(  But get ready for more stories to come!!