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newtkive · 1 year ago

Text

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that’s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨🤗and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

lmk if you want to be tagged!

410 notes · View notes

harringtonstilinski · 1 year ago

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14, 18, 22 - Stiles Stilinski (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader Word Count: 3,796 Warnings: tiniest bit of angst, fluff, Smut: no | yes; virginity loss, protected piv, Requested: Yes. I hope this meets your expectations! A/N: Hi, friends! It's been a while!! I hope you like this! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

You and Stiles made a pact when the two of you were 11 years old that if you hadn’t had any “firsts” by a certain age, you’d be each other's first. At first, you both thought it was silly that you were making this list of firsts, but as you sat on your bedroom floor looking at the list of neat and sloppy handwriting at the age of 14, you smiled a little to yourself.

Your bedroom door opening had your head snapping up to see why in the hell someone would bust into your room. The answer came in the form of your best friend, Stiles, practically falling onto your floor.

In between breaths, he said, “Guess… who finally… said hey to me.”

Pretending to think about it, you put your index finger against your jaw, humming in thought. “Let me see,” you said, quietly, tapping where your finger rested. Pointing up while widening your eyes, you said, “Oh! I got it! Scott!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he deadpanned. “No, I’m serious.”

Sighing, you go back to looking at the piece of paper from three years ago. “Let me guess; Lydia?”

Spazzing out, he said, “Yes! I was walking by her locker and she said hey.”

Looking up confused, you said, “Yeah, she wasn’t talking to you.”

“Ya’know, you don’t have to ruin my moment here,” he said, without missing a beat.

You giggled, still looking at the paper. Stiles sat next to you, looking at the paper as well.

“Oh, wow,” he whispered. “I forgot we wrote this.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “I found it last night shoved in the back of my nightstand.” You looked over your shoulder at him, his nose almost touching yours. Hesitantly, you asked, “Have you had your first kiss?”

Stiles shook his head, his eyes locked on yours. “No.” Before either of you knew it, he had leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours. It took you a moment before you kissed him back.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you pulled away at the same time. Keeping your eyes closed, you quietly asked, “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you haven’t had your first kiss yet,” he responded just as quietly.

~~~

Graduation day. The day you leave high school… forever. You’re excited about it because that means no more waking up at the ass crack of dawn, no more listening to teachers bitch about students not doing their part, no more fashion contests or popularity contests. Just… no more… for three months.

Stiles turned 18 a few weeks before you and your friends walked across the stage. Everyone wanted to have a joint graduation party at Lydia’s lake house… until a stupid supernatural creature ruined it.

A week had passed between graduation and the party, and while everyone was sitting around the campfire talking about their firsts, all you could do was cast your eyes downward, picking a spot on the ground to stare at as you tried your best to block out the voices.

Once you heard Stiles’ voice, you stood up, tears in your eyes as you walked into the lake house, hearing your name being called from behind you. Making your way up the stairs, you wiped a tear from your cheek that had fallen. Once you made it to the top of the landing, a hand grabbed your arm, gently turning you around.

“What’s wrong?”

Sniffling, you rested your forehead on Stiles’ chest, letting out a quiet sob. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Wrapping his arms around you, Stiles sighed and rested his chin on your head. “Couldn’t take what?”

“Hearing you all talk about your firsts,” you whispered.

Stiles put a curved index finger under your chin, lifting your head to look into your tear filled eyes. “You haven’t had your first?”

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall. “No. I almost did, but… he wasn’t the right person.” You reached into your back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper, holding it up.

Stiles looked at it, a small smile starting to form on his lips. “You carry it with you?”

Nodding, you closed your eyes again to let the tears fall before opening your eyes back up, Stiles’ eyes already on you as you said, “Ever since I found it.”

Without thinking it through, Stiles placed his lips on yours, a sigh coming from your nose. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, carefully walking you backwards into the nearest room, which happened to be the room both your stuff was in.

You made quick work to take off Stiles’ shirt, the two of you breaking apart for a moment to pull the shirt over his head before your lips were back on each other’s only to break apart again for a moment for your shirt to come off.

Stiles looked down at the tops of your breasts that weren't covered by your bra. He looked back up, your eyes locking before he leaned forward, connecting your lips again in heated kiss, his arms circling around your back to hold you to him, your bare stomachs touching.

You hummed at the feeling, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling back, you looked at him with a shocked expression, feeling your bra loosen around your chest. “I didn’t even feel you unclasp it.”

Stiles smirked, a cocky one. “I’ve had some practice.”

Your face fell at his words, the confidence you were gaining crumbling to the ground. Stiles noticed and quickly tried to reassure you, “That wasn’t a dig, I’m sorry. It was just–”

His words stopped when you crashed your lips to his again, getting lost in his lips. You didn’t register your bra completely coming off as you made work to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

Slightly pulling away, you kept your lips close to his as you took your bra the rest of the way off, breathlessly saying, “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he chuckled.

“Doing things without me feeling it.”

Laughing lightly, Stiles undid the button and zipper on your shorts as you started to push his jeans down his legs.

Looking at him with an almost serious look that was more laced with humor, you said, “It’s hot as hell, quit.”

Another kiss as he backed you up to the mattress, the backs of your legs meeting it before you fell back on it, crawling backwards on the bed to lay comfortably, your hair splaying out around you. Stiles crawled on top of you, pressing his lips to your stomach every so often before his lips were wrapping around one of your nipples, a moan sounding from your throat.

“Mmmmmm, Stiles,” you moaned, threading your hands through his hair. You looked down at the same exact time Stiles released the bud, only to make his tongue visible as he licked at it. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Chuckling, Stiles’ forehead met your breast as he laughed at your words. “Let me finish.”

“Then let me continue,” he said, looking up at you. As you nodded, he pushed himself up towards your lips once more, pressing his lips to yours before pulling back, giving your other nipple the same attention.

What you had failed to realize as he kissed his way down your stomach was the fact that your shorts were in a pile on the floor. “Wait, wait.” Stiles lifted his head, eyes swimming with a small bit of fear. Shaking your head, you took a breath. “It’s not bad, just a question.”

He nodded his head, readjusting his hands on the mattress. “Yeah?” “When did my shorts come off?”

He laughed at that, looking down at your stomach. Lifting his head to look back at you, he replied, “When you fell on the bed.”

Your eyes danced around the air above him before you tilted your head to the side a little. “Fair enough.” Looking back at him, you said, “Continue.”

Shaking his head, he looked back down at your stomach, placing a kiss on it. Your nerves started to come up as you watched him wrap his fingers on the top of your panties, anticipating what was going to happen next.

You watched porn before so you knew what to expect, but for it to actually be happening to you was… surreal. The moment that Stiles pulled the top of your panties down a little to place his lips there, you sucked in a breath, the anticipation killing you.

Stiles knew exactly what he was doing. He was fully aware he was taking his time and ultimately teasing you, but he wanted to make this moment with you last as long as he possibly could. Truth be told, he never wanted Malia as his first. She was just there for him in Eichen when Nogitsune possessed him.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down, a quiet “Lift” sounding from his mouth. If you hadn’t been staring at his mouth, you wouldn’t have heard him say it, your body on autopilot as you complied, doing what he asked.

After he dropped your panties to the floor, Stiles placed a kiss to the top of your slit, your breath hitching as he lowered himself, spreading your legs apart, revealing your core to him, your arousal shining. “Damn,” he whispered. He looked up at you, his signature smirk on his lips. “This for me?”

Nodding, you bit your bottom lip, anxious of his next movements.

Stiles looked back down at your core, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, revealing more of your arousal to him. He moved his eyes to your clit, staring at it for a moment before placing a kiss to it, a hiss coming from your lips.

“Stiles.” It came out in a half moan, half whine. “Do somethi–” A gasp sounded from you as Stiles wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently, your back arching off the bed a couple inches. Dropping back down, you moved your head to the side to look at him. “Fuuuuuck.”

He released your clit to lick a long stripe up your core, gathering a little bit of your arousal. “Damn, you taste like heaven.” He licked another stripe before stopping at your clit again, using his tongue to flick at your sensitive bud.

You all but screamed when you felt one of his fingers enter your pussy, a moan sounding out as he slowly pumped his finger in and out before slowly adding another one. Feeling your climax building, you threaded your fingers through his hair, resting your hand on the top of his head.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed, eyes closing at the pleasure he was giving you. It was way more than you expected. It almost seemed too much. But just as you were about to release all over his fingers, it all suddenly stopped. You looked down at him, shock laced all over your features. “Wha–” The answer that you received from Stiles wasn’t words, but his lips on yours, a promise of what’s to come through the kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss, standing by the edge of the mattress, bending down to retrieve his jeans that you had pushed down his legs earlier. Grabbing his wallet, Stiles looked at you, eyes roaming over your body.

You almost felt insecure with the way he was looking at you. Watching as Stiles grabbed a condom out of his wallet, you sat up, reaching for his cock, beginning to stroke him a little to help keep his erection in place.

Groaning at the pleasure coursing through his body, he closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of your hand on him. What shocked Stiles was the fact that you had slid down the side of the mattress, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

Moaning your name, Stiles threw his head back with his eyes closed, not wanting this moment to end. When you hit a certain spot on his cock, he bucked his hips, immediately regretting it when you whined and pulled back.

He looked down at you, making quick movements to help you stand up as your hand was at your mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hands on your upper arms.

You shook your head, closing your eyes for just a moment. “It’s okay.”

Stiles moved the both of you to sit on the edge of the bed, hand on your back. Truth be told, when he bucked, the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, almost setting off your gag reflex. Looking at Stiles, you softened your eyes even more than what they already were. “It’s okay, Stiles. Really.”

He stood, starting to pace, mumbling to himself about how he lost control and that he regretted it. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, his erection still ever present. Standing, you moved in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop his pacing, a smile on your face.

When his eyes connected with yours, your smile was still on your face. “It’s okay. I promise. I’m fine. Feeling passed just as quickly as it came.” Looking down at his hands, you grabbed the foil from him, tearing the packaging open to carefully pull the condom from the foil.

Remembering what your sex ed teacher taught you, you carefully rolled the condom onto his shaft before grabbing his hands, pulling him with you back to the bed. “Now, forget about all that and take me.”

Crawling back on the bed, you got into your previous position as Stiles crawled over you, hands on either side of your head to brace himself. He placed his lips on yours, giving you a sweet kiss before pulling away and looking down at your core.

You lightly moaned, closing your eyes, the feeling of Stiles’ fingers back on you like pure heaven. Opening your eyes, you watched as Stiles lined himself up with your entrance, gathering the arousal that had formed during both of his touches.

“Stiles,” you moaned, breathlessly.

He locked eyes with you, softness lacing his caramel colored orbs. “It’s gonna hurt.”

You nodded. “I know.” Carding your fingers through the side of his hair, you sighed. “I trust you.”

He mimicked your nod, giving a chaste kiss to your lips before looking back at the spot where the two of you were about to become one. Sighing in anticipation, you closed your eyes, groaning at the feeling of Stiles entering you for the very first time.

Tears formed at your waterline, the pain almost becoming too much. You hadn’t realized you held your breath upon Stiles entering your core until you felt his hand cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

What you loved in this moment was the fact that Stiles was letting you take all the time you needed to adjust to his size. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him to move and that it was okay for him to move.

After a moment, Stiles heard you sigh. “You okay?” he asked.

You looked at him, a tear falling from the corner of your eye to your ear, Stiles making a quick movement to catch it with his thumb. Nodding, you kissed the tip of his nose. “Yes. It hurt at first, but it doesn’t anymore.” Cupping his cheeks, you looked him deep in his eyes. “You can move now.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll start slow and then you can tell me if you want–”

Chuckling, you said, “Stiles, I know, and I will.”

He breathed a quick laugh, his breath fanning over your face. “Okay. Here I go.” Pulling out slow, the both of you hissed at the feeling before he slowly pushed back in. He kept the pace, listening for your cue’s on whether or not you were in pain.

Once your breathing evened out, your moans turned from almost strained and painful to soft and pleasurable. Stiles moved to rest his forearms by your head, almost cupping the top of your head with his hands.

“Stiles,” you lightly moaned. “You can go a little faster, maybe a tad harder.”

He breathed the word fuck, doing as you asked. He respected you so much, happy that you allowed him this moment with you.

As pleasure coursed through you, your moans grew louder, letting Stiles know that what he was doing was the right move, the right thing. You moved your hands from his cheeks to wrap your arms around his neck, Stiles instantly wrapping you in his arms the best he could.

“Stiles,” you moaned, loudly. “Gonna cum.” Stiles’ pubic hair was rubbing against your clit, sending immense pleasure through you. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it,” he whispered. “Let go, babe. I’m so close.”

“Stiles!!” You breathed in deep, your release shattering through you, Stiles instantly releasing with you. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, but it was only a couple minutes as you both regained your breathing.

Stiles leaned up a little, looking into your eyes. “Are you okay?”

Nodding with a small smile, you carded your fingers through his hair. “I’m perfect. Thank you.”

He kissed your nose in response, telling you that he was going to carefully pull out, the both of you hissing as he did. He walked into the bathroom, cleaning himself up before bringing a warm washcloth to you, carefully cleaning you up. He sighed a little to himself, seeing the tiniest bit of blood on the washcloth.

“What?” you asked, sitting up a little.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered, showing you the cloth.

Sighing lightly, you said, “That’s to be expected, Stiles. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Realizing that you were right, Stiles smirked that smirk that could kill before nodding slightly, moving to dress himself before helping to redress you. He helped you down the stairs, you reassuring him that you’re not fragile and that you’re okay enough to walk on your own.

When the two of you made it back to the fire and sat back down in your original spots, you looked at Scott, the True Alpha werewolf knowing what just happened between you and Stiles, a chuckle sounding out of your throat as you told him, “Shut up.”

~~~

Another graduation day. This time for you graduating from college. You were more than excited to finally be done with school for what will probably be the rest of your life, if you didn’t find something else to go for.

As all the graduation caps flew into the air, you had the biggest smile on your face, remembering all of your friends and family screaming and hollering and celebrating as you walked across the stage after your name was called.

Since all the guests had to wait outside for the graduate, you were practically buzzing to get outside to see everyone. The friends you made during your four years at college will forever be your best friends, but no one will ever hold a candle to your Beacon Hills friends.

Once you made it outside and spotted your family, your smile stretched so wide across your face, you thought you’d permanently become the Joker. You ran to your family, your mom engulfing you in a hug, holding you tightly to her chest. You hugged your dad next, putting your hand on each one of their shoulders, the smile never faltering as you looked them in their eyes, thanking them for everything they’d done for you this far in your life.

The smile on your dads face had you looking over his shoulder, spotting your friends behind him. Moving to squeeze yourself in between your parents, you all but jumped into Scott’s arms, the Alpha giving you a tight, brotherly hug.

Lydia was next, followed by Malia, Liam and Mason. Sheriff was even there! But you couldn’t spot the one person you wanted to hug more than anything; Stiles.

Looking around, you started to get worried as you heard gasps all around you. “Where’s Stiles?” you asked, looking at Scott.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just smiled at you before he whispered, “Turn around.”

You did as he asked, turning around, but not seeing Stiles… until you looked down, your spazz of a best friend on one knee, a velvet box in his hand. “Stiles,” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hand. “What?”

“We made a promise,” he said. “A promise as kids that we’ve kept.”

Letting out a quick, breathy chuckle, you said, “It was a pact.”

“Same thing,” he said, a smile on his face. “There were a lot of things that I regretted with that pact, but I’m happy I got to be it for you. For all of it.”

“Wait, what?” Malia asked.

Everyone laughed at her question, you turning to face her. “When Stiles and I were eleven years old, we made a pact that if we hadn’t had certain firsts by a certain age, we’d be that first for each other.” Turning back to Stiles, you whispered, “He was my first kiss, and first time.”

“And I’m now hoping I’ll be your first proposal,” he whispered back, to which you nodded.

“Can you get on with it even though we’re not a couple?” you asked, already buzzing with your answer.

“You’ve made me happy since we were kids, and I would love nothing more than to make you happy for the rest of our lives,” he continued. “Yeah, we’re not a couple, but you know everything there is to know about me. Come to think of it…” He trailed off, looking deep in thought. “I don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about me.”

“Stiles!” everyone exclaimed.

Looking back at you, Stiles shook all thoughts from his head. “Oh, right, sorry.”

“Just ask!”

“Will you marr-”

“Yes!” you all but yelled. “Now get up so I can kiss you!”

Stiles smiled, standing and wrapping you in his arms. “You didn’t see the ring yet.”

“I don’t care,” you said, cupping his cheeks and bringing his lips to yours. The kiss that solidified your love for the boy you absolutely loved since your first kiss at fourteen, your first time at eighteen.

He pulled back, smiling at you before he opened the box, revealing the engagement ring of your dreams. As he took it from the box, you put your hand out, excited to be his. Once he slipped it on your finger, you looked at him once more, cupping his cheeks again to tell him those three words you always wanted to tell him.

“I love you.”

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

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on September 24, 2023

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader insert #stiles x reader #stiles x reader insert #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan x reader

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uhhhj13iguess · 13 days ago

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masterlist

nsfw (not smut but like, mdni) (ᡣ𐭩) fluff (❀) smut (𐂯) hurt/comfort (✧)

here's a list of all of my works so far!! enjoy! leave requests pls!

stiles stilinski:

✮stiles, are you hard right now? in which you and stiles end up in a... tight situation (ᡣ𐭩)

✮in his flannel you show up for a study session in a particular choice of clothing (❀)

✮that was the best sleep i've had in months taking a car ride nap never sounded so good (❀)

✮kiss it better stiles helped calm you down the only way he could think of (✧)

✮the kind of love you deserve you go on a date with theo, and it's all stiles can think about (✧)

liam dunbar:

✮thank you for saving me liam lets his anger get the best of him and now you're hurt (✧)

rick sanchez (sigh):

✮rick sanchez x reader blurb (gn) you're a family friend staying for the holidays, and you slowly discover rick has a soft spot for you (unbeknownst to him) (❀)

headcanons:

✮high with stiles hc (ᡣ𐭩)

✮stiles x reader: roommates to lovers hc (ᡣ𐭩)

✮dating liam hc (❀)

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hanasnx · 1 year ago

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❝ not alone anymore. ❞

── billy quinn x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2k SUMMARY: you meet a handsome stranger at a party, and go out for coffee after. NOTES: i wrote this a year ago and am getting it out of my drafts. WARNINGS: gn!reader | implied: attraction | mentioned: innuendo | smoking | cursing | no y/n.

You raked a hand through your hair, the cold night air fogging your breath as you stepped out the sliding glass door. Escaping the full swing of the party inside, you took refuge out on the balcony, and with trembling hands you struggled to take out a cigarette and a lighter. It was freezing out here compared to the stuffy inside, where the hot bodies dancing acted as a space heater. The dampness of your lips caught the cig, allowing you to check your watch for the time, wondering when you should be heading out. Staring at it for longer than a second told you that it had stopped at one AM. “Shit,” you muttered through your lips dangling the cigarette. How long had it been then? Tapping it out of anger didn’t work either, the face of the clock staring blankly at you. Instead, you tried to light your cig, cupping your hand around it. The lighter sparked, but didn’t catch, no matter how many times you rolled it. “C’mon, really?” A couple more times offered no solution, and you were about to toss and stamp the tobacco in your frustration.

“Need a light?” A voice coming from the side startled you, jumping in surprise, and turning to the source. It was dark out, but you could see. The source was tall, and you watched him rifle his pockets.

“Please,” you replied, inviting him over. Gingerly, he stepped to you, and cupped his hand to protect the fire from the wind, offering it to you. You brushed your hair back and leaned in, letting him light the end for you. Gently, you breathed in, and pinched the cig between your fingers so you could blow the smoke away from him. He pocketed the lighter.

“Sorry to scare you, thought you saw me.” he told you, but by this point you’d already forgotten.

“Hm? Oh,” You wrapped an arm under your chest to protect your middle from the air and to prop up your elbow, sipping your cig leisurely. The smoke warmed your lungs. “no sweat. Don’t sweat it,” you mumbled, kicking the ground underneath you to hear your shoe scrape against the concrete. You sniffed, and glanced at him. “Thanks for the light.” He noticed your small smile, and leaned back against the wall.

“No problem. It seemed like you were having a hard time,” Apparently he’d seen you curse at your watch and your lighter.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “I think I’m just ready to go home.”

“What’s keeping you?”

“Nothing, I guess,” You shrugged, rubbing your temple with the hand that held your cig. “Feel like if I go home, I’ll wonder why I didn’t stay. I’ve got that fear of missing out, you know?” You glanced at him after you asked the question, and you caught him looking at you already. You idled, having calmed down from the nicotine rush, you registered who you were speaking with. It hit you how cute this guy was. Dark hair, styled up in disheveled locks. Handsome face, with soft lips and crystal blue eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn he glanced at your mouth.

“I get that,” he said softly, and you inhaled sharply at the sound of his lowered voice.

You adjusted, mimicking him to rest against the wall, and flicking off the ash from your cig. “What about you? Why are you hiding out here?”

“Not really my scene. I’m just a wingman.” He peered over his shoulder to spy his friend cozying up with the woman he’d been talking to. “Looks like I’m a retired wingman.” He returned his gaze to you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“‘A wingman’?” you parroted in disbelief, and you looked him up and down. “You?” His lips curled at the question, recognizing it for what it was. A subtle flirt. He gave you a sly look, and to change the subject you offered him the butt end of the cig, “Care for a draw?” He accepted it, your cold hands brushing past one another, and you watched the sharp angle of his jawline as he took a drag.

“Yeah, believe it or not,” he spoke through the smoke, some curling out from his nose. “I’ll be heading out soon.” You were still occupied by the butterflies that erupted in your stomach from the brief contact.

“Shame,” you muttered without realizing, and while he took his second puff he eyed you curiously with a tilt of his head.

“‘Shame’?”

You rolled with it, since it was too late to back track. “Shame,” You shook your head, listening to the bump of the bass inside shake the apartment. “I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come back in with me for a dance.”

“Dance, huh?” he said with interest, handing off the roach. The temperature of your skin giving him an idea. “I’m not a big dancer.”

“I bet you’re great, c’mon,” You found yourself wanting him to stay. “Just one, I’ll be really nice even if you make a fool of yourself,” you assured, coaxing him.

He merely shook his head, “Maybe next time,” It was an empty promise. “Nah, I wanna grab a cup of coffee. You should come with.”

“I’m just saying, I find it hard to believe that out of every animal on the planet you’d wanna be a… porcupine.”

He eyed you over the rim of his mug, brows furrowed. He hissed when he placed it down. “And I’m just saying, that in a world full of predators, I’m gonna be the guy with the impaling armor.”

You shimmied in your seat, sizing him up. “You wouldn’t wanna be a predator?” you teased. “Most guys I ask usually go for one of the big cats, gator, rhino, or gorilla—“

“—Those are the most popular options—?”

“— From the guys I’ve asked, yes!” A smile tugged at his lips from the conversation, and you continued. “It’s science, really.”

“Science?”

“Science. I’m telling you. There’s a psychology to it.”

“Explain,” He took another sip of his coffee. The diner you two occupied was cool toned, greens and silvers and blues. Empty, except for a gray bearded man in the corner, and the two of you sitting on the bar stools, facing each other.

“The guys who say they’d be gator, those are the rednecks,” You began, and with fake interest, your companion perked up in his seat, flashing you a wide eyed expression.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you told him playfully, reaching over to nudge his shoulder. He rested his cheek on his fist, and gestured for you to go on. “So those are gonna be the guys with the camo, they’re from Florida primarily, probably carry without a license.” You listed on your fingers, crossing your legs. “Gorilla guys are the big, buff for no reason— like The Rock-level buff— maybe less. From my research,” He raised his brows at you in feigned intrigue, knowing this was based on nothing but your own observations. “they’re more of the hit-first-ask-questions-later type. Rhinos too, however I think Rhinos are the more husky of the two. Other than that, those have been pretty interchangeable. Now, the cats, that’s where it gets interesting.” He checked his watch and glanced up at you, and you rolled your eyes at his bad joke. “I’m almost done. Lions are the vain type, usually long hair, real pretty boys, probably have a tattoo of one or want a tattoo of one.” Your eyes searched the ceiling, feeling hot under his gaze for talking this long. “Tigers are the serene type, zen, yoga, I’ve-trained-with-a-bo-staff and studied-abroad. Jaguars, usually black jaguars, are the goths. The piercings, the tats, the rockstar hair, skinny jeans, and tight v-necks.” You met his eyes.

“Done?”

“Mm-hmm,” You sipped your coffee, and added some cream before tasting it again.

“So what about porcupine guys? What do you think of them?” he asked, downing the last of his drink. You saw how his downturned lips attempted to hide his smile, betraying his eagerness to hear your opinion of him.

“Pretty cool, I guess.” You pushed out your lips, letting your gaze travel generously this time. “Tall, lanky—“ You noted the shift in his expression, and you revised, “—toned,” You narrowed your eyes, gauging his reaction. When it was satisfactory, you moved on, “Nice hair, pretty eyes. Very cool leather jacket.”

“What about personality?” he interjected, leaning back in his chair, and you were unable to ignore how he spread his knees.

“Calm,” Was your first thought, and he quieted. “charming, endearing.” Your gazes met, locking eyes as you finished. “Hopelessly alluring.”

As if to taunt you ever further, your companion inclined into your direction— and marginally you leaned in— but his purpose was to shed his leather jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Only encouraging his suspicions of your helpless attraction, you stare unapologetically, mesmerized by his elegant movement, and how close the two of you were. His dirty trick had done its dirty deed, and he folded the jacket within itself, tossing it onto the bar behind him so he could face you in his black turtleneck. One that highlighted his figure that had you wondering if he modeled clothing wear by the way he sported it like it was made for him. You moistened your lips and he glanced down at them, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

His voice was soft, feather-light and carressed your ears like a saint’s prayer. “So what animal did you choose?”

Having been lost in such a small and seemingly insignificant disrobing, you were stupefied. You shook your head as if to clear your brain fog, responding dreamily, “What?”

Since you required reengaging, he crossed his arms and fixed his elbow at the edge of the bar so he could insert himself further into the conversation. Demanding your attention, and begging you to check out how thick his arms looked in his sleeves. “You ask all these guys their philosophical animals so what did you say when they asked you?”

You flashed a confuddled furrow of your brow. Downturning your lips as you searched the corners of your mind for an answer even when it was doomed to chart a naughty course. “Um…” a single nervous chuckle emitted, “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked, actually.” All of a sudden, you were painfully aware of the kind of men you’ve been wasting your time with.

Perhaps the self-proclaimed “predators” had a bad streak of being conceited.

Somehow, he understood your entire thought process, watching your expressions shift. This was noted, but not commented on. “So?” he awaited your answer.

It took you a second to decide. He had spat his so easy, ready with an explanation as soon as you’d thought up the question. Did he choose a creature based on his preference toward it, or was it just the intelligent answer?

Did it really matter? It shouldn’t, yet here you were, worrying yourself over what this stranger would think of you. Pick you apart like you so carelessly did to the others in front of him. “I’ve always liked white foxes.” Insecure in your decision and how it shone through in your voice, implied an invitation for him to scrutinize you. You expected it.

A very slight shift in his expression, how he tilted his head, and his oceanic blue eyes traveling you from head to toe— was unhelpful in easing your nerves. “A white fox,” he hummed, interested, playful. “The storybook archetype of a clever and intelligent creature.” You swallowed. “The symbol of trickery, or luck, depending on your culture.” He bowed his head forward to catch your eye, looking at you through his brows, “Cunning, silver-tongued, and beautiful. However,” The start of his new sentence implied something promising, adjusting in his seat to tap his finger onto the bar. “a white fox suggests you hide something.”

It refreshed you to hear his thoughts about you. Eloquently stated, without sparing too many details. You hadn’t connected any dots without his assistance, but you were more alike to a white fox than you anticipated. Your famed animal inquiry allowed you a small and idiotic window into how people thought of themselves. Not only had he played your game, but he turned it around on you.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, unable to tear your eyes away from each other.

“I like a good mystery.”

#indy: one shots #ch: billy #billy quinn one shot #billy quinn #billy quinn fanfiction #factory girl fanfiction #factory girl billy quinn #factory girl bob dylan #billy quinn x reader #reader insert #billy quinn x gender neutral reader #billy quinn x you #factory girl fic #factory girl (2006)#factory girl 2006 #factory girl fanfic #factory girl billy quinn fanfic #billy quinn fanfic #billy quinn fic

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underground-legionary · 5 months ago

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Eternal Circle

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1963!Bob Dylan x reader (gender unspecified) Rating: this one is very PG Warnings: slightly angsty, English not first language, might be edited. Summary: Pretty much the title song of this fic, narrated from the perspective of Bob. Young artist longing. Author notes: Had this stuck in my head, needed to get it out. Kinda short, kinda hectic, enjoy! Constructive criticism always welcome, especially in terms of typos/wording/punctuation. Word count: 1.395

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An entire colony of shivers ran down Bob's spine as he felt a bid of sweat roll down the back of his neck - into the collar of his shirt, counting every vertebra. One of the stage lights at the venue was mercilessly radiating heat in its attempts to serve its sole purpose. Prior to becoming a known musician Bob has never pondered over practical and almost worldly inconveniences of being a performer. Music came first, and everything else was secondary. Now, sitting on a high wooden stool ready to deliver yet another song to a modestly sized audience, the young musician could not think about anything else. And yet, despite minute discomforts there was undeniably something charming in playing smaller, more personal shows, even after the whirlwind that his life has been in the months since Freewheeling was pressed onto vinyl. This is precisely why Bob still did them: sometimes at a bookstore or at a coffeehouse, anywhere where the intimate feeling of playing for people was still lingering in the air. Joan had a much easier time communicating with the terrific mass of people that was protest movement than Bob could ever wish for himself. Which, looking into himself, he did not know if he even did.

Slowly drifting away into his thoughts, the performer gently blew into his harmonica and tried a picking pattern to see if his instument was still in tune. The strings did not sound too bright - instead a warm tone started flowing from under Bob's fingers, demonstrating the strings' pride in the signs of their wear.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but for some time now Bob has been sensing a shift within himself. Uniquely renditioned and heartfelt every time before, now his songs came to him in a tired, excercised manner, flat in a way that stayed unnoticed by an uninvolved observer. Pieces like Masters of War or Talking World War III Blues have said all that they had to say, so it had been getting more and more easy for Bob to leave the delivery to the autopilot-of-head-and-hands and think about something else halfway through. It might sound like a contradiction, but at the same time Bob could also feel something building up in him, as if he was a spring, coiling tight before snapping and jumping into the mouth of the changing times, straight into the eye of the approaching storm. Something potent to show that behind the made-up symbol was a person, invisible despite being stared at, there, behind the blue eyes and devilish curls. People in this very room, however, were not ready for it just yet. Bob leaned to the microphone and announced:

‘Next song's a tune that's called A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall’. Upon this, a round of applause has made its way through the venue and the familiar strumming poured into the microphone. Bob's eyes stung slightly from all the cigarette smoke. He could go for a smoke himself.

While playing, Bob could not pinpoint what he was trying to connect with that particular night, his music or his audience. He was never interacting with the concertgoers all that much, always letting his songs speak for themselves, but sometimes being stuck in his head, alone, was simply too much. For a second he wondered whether he himself has become one of the 10,000 talkers with a broken tongue, without realising it? While his mind was roaming, his curious eyes were wondering as well. Among the hats, coats and chemically smelling updos in the dimly lit room something, or, rather, someone stood out. You leaned onto one of the decorative columns on the wall and listened, intentely and somewhat solemnly, a cigarette held pensively between your fingers. It didn't seem like you were particularly interested in smoking at that moment, but rather that you merely wanted to occupy your hands. Undeniably, there was something in the energy you exuded that made Bob's eyes linger and his chest tingle with warm eagerness. Was it the way your hair fell, your contours bent so sweetly or was it the intense focus you had on him like he was the only person in the world worth listening to? Was it the slight shock he felt at the sudden gravitational pull towards the shining star that was you? Bob quickly everted his eyes to avoid staring - looks have always been a delicate game, where one must tread lightly.

Yet, the musician knew he had to talk to you, he got tangled up in your magnetic force. He couldn't help but crave some closeness from this beautiful, breathtaking sight in front of him. He longed for learning the sound of your voice: was it low and husky or rather high with a more singing cadence? Should he speak with you, would you maintain this pensive disposition or would you let your laughter ring cheerfully for everyone to enjoy? What did your perfume smell like, your hair? How would it feel to dance with you, hear you whisper something into his ear, your warm body close to his?.. The next note he sang fell slightly flat. Suddenly Bob felt like an amateur and flustered like a boy.

Bob’s blue eyes darted back to you to see if you noticed, which, of course was a fatal mistake. When you two briefly made eye contact, the man felt his face flush slightly as if he got caught in something he was not supposed to be doing. Blessed be the stage lights for making up a good excuse! He couldn't help but grin a bit, the mood of the song now forgotten. As you dreamily averted your gaze, Bob was now persuaded you were partaking in this game of cat-and-mouse with him, and it made him feel bold. Your attention flattered him, he was but a man after all, his ego partial to the simple excitement of a beautiful woman such as yourself. After all, despite his natural wit, charm and ability to fill in any room he walked into with his presence alone, there was still a side of him that was all bones and angles, nose and a crooked grin, clothes not filled properly by body, young man who, mere months ago, wanted nothing but to play a song to his idol.

You smiled to some thought of your own and Bob felt another tug at the strings of his heart, ready to burst into song just like his guitar. Your eyes seemed to be on fire, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The song was long and there was more to be sung. From that moment Bob has dedicated this song to you entirely, whether you knew it or not. After that the young artist tried his best to focus and deliver his best performance. He even attempted not to look at you anymore to not let the rising heat in him be a distraction. Suddenly he became very aware of himself on that stage, of his unruly hair and the damned stage lights causing sweat to pool under his arms. When he approaches you, what does he say?..

And just like that, the song was over. The shy clinking of drinks put on tables and rustle of ashtrays being moved around - sounds that always precede applause in places like this - have reached the stage. The listeners were delighted. Bob stood up to thank the audience and bowed his head slightly.

‘Thank you, thank you’. He braced himself before looking towards the column where you stood, but you were gone. His grip on the neck of his guitar tightened slightly in confusion. Bob looked around the venue trying to find you as the content clapping of the listeners failed to die down. People are often greedy like that, they never want the entertainment to end, especially when the possibility of an encore is lingering around the corner. But just like that you were truly gone. Disappointment made Bob's chest feel tight. Could it be that you were only a figment of his longing imagination? Perhaps, you simply went outside and will be back soon? Maybe it is time for an encore after all.

Bob took a sip of water, sat back down on his tall stool and wondered, what song might be just good enough to summon you back.

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#bob dylan x reader #bob dylan #60s folk #self insert #imagine #bob dylan imagine

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musewritingsforyou · 2 years ago

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A Normal? Day

Summary: A normal day in the life of Beacon Hills Favorite Couple

Warnings: unbearable Fluff, plot points that wont make sense just yet

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I realized I dont have any of my Stiles work updated yet! This is just a short little oneshot to show people what my stiles writing will kind of be like. I wrote it to be included in a season rewrite that I am doing but It didnt fit great so now im just giving it to you for fun!

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*somethings that wont make sense to you will be explained if you go read my series rewrite in the next few weeks!*

A normal day in a supernatural world.

Step one, wake up.

Waking up is a long process for me. My lovely hyperactive boyfriend did what he always does for me each morning, wake up about thirty minutes before me, sit there as still as he can (which is not very still) to let me sleep in, give up after ten minutes and then get out of bed. Stiles woke up at six this morning, playing with my hair as I slept before he finally got out of bed. Like every morning since we started doing this, he placed his pillow and a spare flannel in my arms so I wouldn't ‘get cold and lonely’, and then went to get himself ready for school. This was a relatively short process, throw on some pants, decide between a sweatshirt or a flannel, find the backpack and then he's pretty much done. For me on the other hand, it's a little different.

“y/n/n, I gave you five extra minutes. You gotta get up.” I groaned and moved the pillow that was in my arms to cover my face. To my disappointment Stiles took it off and started peppering me with kisses until I opened my eyes with a scowl on my face.

“I love you but I really hate you.” He gave me a classic Stiles grin as he moved backwards off of the bed.

“I know, you make sure to tell me that every time I wake you up.”

After walking out the door, and then back to it within seconds to make sure I was actually getting up, Stiles went downstairs to make some coffee and left me to get ready. I was running late, per usual, but by the time I made it to the car all of my things were there waiting for me, along with Stiles who held out a travel cup of coffee just the way I like it and forcibly handed me a banana.

“Eat.” I shook my head and motioned for him to drive.

“Too early, If I eat right now I'll actually puke all over your car.” He started the car and drove with one hand as he kept the banana extended.

“Babe, we do this every morning and every morning I remind you that-” I snatched the fruit from his hand as I finished his sentence.

“Breakfast is important and if you don't eat it in three hours you're going to come to me during class with a panicked look on your face telling me you think you're about to pass out. I know, I remember.”

I sound sarcastic like this every morning, but even through the snide remarks and the occasional unnecessary and undeserved insult, Stiles still looks at me like I'm the answer to the universe.

Step two, school. For this one I recommend that you don’t do what I manage to do every year, fill your schedule with all honors and AP classes, zero breaks or study halls, and more than three extra-curriculars.

I won't bore you with the rather slow details of a highschool senior. I will however give you this, classes are hard, I don't think I will ever be able to use a red pen in my entire life, and with each passing day somehow I find a way to be even more stressed than the day before.

The day ended with me sitting on a bench with Lydia and Malia, watching our boys play lacrosse from across the field and inevitably laughing our asses off whenever either of them would look over to make a face at us and get tackled or hit with something from the field. Ah the simple pleasures, you know? As we both waited for Stiles and Scott, Lydia and I spread our various school textbooks out on the bench in front of us, in all about sixteen heavy books set open as we studied. When Coach finally blew his whistle with one ear shattering blow after another the boys ran to us, practically dripping in sweat. Stiles bound up the bleachers, skipping some of the steps and leaned down in front of me, waiting for a kiss. I didn't look up from my textbook, and neither did Lydia as she responded to the boys while hovering over her calculus homework.

“Nice try boys, but before you even think about going anywhere but a dog kennel, you need to take showers.” There were a few mumbled protests but again without looking up she shooed them with her hands.

“Come on, off you go.” I giggled a little as they marched away in defeat, their cleats making a crunching sound when they reached the grass.

Step three, finally to get home, only to have to go to a pack meeting.

Like every other Friday the pack all met in Scotts living room, this time all agreeing to stay away from anything breakable. I promised Melissa I wouldn't let them destroy the house while she was out, and I keep my promises. At the moment there were no big problems. Though I still wince a little when I say it, it seems like everything in Beacon Hills is… normal. As weird as that sounds. But we still meet once a week, every week it becomes more of a group study/hangout than a real meeting, but spending time with our friends was more valuable than any solution we had come up with before. The only issue to discuss at this meeting was me. I wouldn't call it an issue exactly, but after finding out about my… species? People? Clan? I don't know what to call it, but after finding out about what I am, we still have almost no information about what that really means, for me or for them.

“Liam, as much as I appreciate the input, I don’t think being a truth seeker literally means that I can cheat on multiple choice tests. Even if it did, morally I will tell you again, cheating is a bad thing, and also none of my classes use multiple choice.”

They all tried their best to put Stiles and I at ease, telling us that in time we would figure it all out. But that was the thing, we didn't have time. We’re seniors just a few months from leaving this town for college, and once I leave I don't see myself flying across the country once a week just so that I can make sure I know the “truth” of Beacon Hills. The sun finally set and Stiles and I said our goodbyes, walking hand in hand out the jeep before heading to his house for the night.

Step four, stay up until three in the morning looking for answers about what supernatural powers you have. yeah , I know, that one's a kicker.

As soon as Stiles and I stepped foot in the door of his room we threw off our bags and changed into sweatpants. I took the flannel he gave to me this morning and placed it over my tank top as we stood in front of his clear board as if waiting for an idea to come to us by itself. The board was still blank, nothing there but a picture of me and Stiles together at the lookout in the woods. A little reminder that no matter what crazy ideas are thrown onto this board, we always have each other. We settled into our usual spots, Stiles standing and pacing in the middle of the room while I spread books and papers out over his bed, laying on my stomach and staring into the pages.

Finally, Step five, wait for the full frustration to kick in, and then once it's there, find a cute boy to calm you down.

I was laying flat on my stomach with four books in front of me, two from school, two from Lydia on the supernatural. I was hoping that in between my AP calculus homework and my college physics textbook I could figure out something new about my identity. News flash, it wasn't working. I groaned at the words in front of me, frustrated that for some reason the letters were swimming in and out. I took the books (all four of them) and slammed them shut before throwing them aggressively onto the ground in front of Stile’s bed and then taking the papers and just tossing them onto the air without any thought of aim or purpose. Stiles stopped pacing and stood still in front of his board, which now had a few red squiggles here and there along with the photo and a horrible attempt at drawing a wolf. He turned slowly to me with a marker in his hands.

“You good?”

“Not really.” He nodded and walked over, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed and putting the marker down. While I was still lying on my stomach he placed a hand on my back and rubbed it slowly.

“baby, do you know what time it is right now?” I placed my head in my hands and responded.

“No. Do I want to?”

“No, but I'm going to tell you anyway. It's three in the morning.” I said nothing and just signed into my hands. Stiles ignored my angry sighs and continued.

“Babe do you know what that means?” I shook my head.

“Well first of all it means that you are probably exhausted, which is why you're getting so frustrated with yourself, but more importantly it means that we have two hours before that night time diner downtown closes.” I looked up fast.

“Are you talking about the one with the pie, and the fries and the shakes.” He looked at me very seriously and nodded. Without another word I popped up on the bed and threw on a pair of crocs.

“Stiles, no matter what I say in the mornings when you wake me up, I love you so much I think you might even be higher on my list than eating pie at three in the morning.” He gave me a broad smile and kissed me on the cheek.

“Say no more, love.”

#teen wolf #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles #stiles stilinski #oneshot #dylan o'brien #reader insert

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heartsforjh · 19 hours ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 100 KIRBS <333 TO MANY MORE!

For your celly, can I request Luke and physical touch: “I thought you hated it when people touched you?” with reader on the receiving end (as in she's the one who isn't a fan of being touched)??

Thank you and good luck with your celly!!

THANK YOU! 🫶 now, 26 times. 26 times i fully listened to justin timberlake on repeat to produce this for you meg. also, while writing the part where reader couldn’t stay awake i actually fell asleep… 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy. 🙏

You had met Luke at Umich not too long ago. Despite being quiet and unassuming around most people, he was rowdy and playful with your friend group, always bringing an easy energy to the room. He was funny, considerate, and far more polite than the average guy you’d met at your new university.

Today your friend group decided on hanging out in one of the larger dorms, so that there’s more room for everyone to actually fit. Luke, as usual, is roughhousing with his friends, their laughter echoing through the room. In the middle of their chaos, Luke accidentally bumps into you, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Oh, shit, my bad! I’m sorry Y/n,” he blurts, steadying you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Lukey always finding excuses to touch his girlfriend.” Dylan teases, his grin wide and knowing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Luke shoots back instantly, looking a little flustered, his tone shifts into something firmer. “Don’t be weird like that. It’s not funny to make her uncomfortable.”

Turning back to you, his expression softens into a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll be more careful.”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “It’s okay.” You can tell he feels bad, but before you can say anything else, his friends pulled him back into their conversation. You stay quiet, still too shy to fully insert yourself, being new to this circle of people.

Later that day, the group bundles up for the cold weather and heads to the UMich football game. As everyone files into the bleachers, Luke maneuvers himself to stand next to you. It was hard not to notice, and you could easily hear Dylan snickering.

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t budge, determined to put himself out there. After a moment, he glances at you, his face softening when he notices your rosy cheeks from the cold.

“So, uh… is this your first football game? I mean, UMich game?” He stumbles, trying to get his question out without looking stupid, “You’ve probably been to other football games before, but… yeah, first here?”

You can’t help but smile at how nervous he seems. “Yeah. This is my first.”

His face lights up at your response. “Cool! You’ll like it! These games are a lot of fun.”

You tuck your hands deeper into your jacket pockets, shivering slightly. “I hope so. It’s freezing out here.”

Luke chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Michigan weather can be brutal. You’ll get used to it, though! I grew up here… well, partly in Canada too. Oh, but I was born in New Hampshire. Not that it matters…” He trails off, fully aware that he’s rambling but powering through anyway. “What I’m saying is, I’m used to the cold. And don’t worry, these games are always worth it. My brothers and I go all the time. Actually, we’ve got a lake house we visit in the summer together too—maybe you could come with sometime!” He slows down, hoping he’s not coming off too strong. “You know, if you’re around.”

You listen patiently, letting him overshare whatever his heart desires, “I’ll probably go home over the summer since it’s my first year here, but I bet I could find time to visit for a bit somewhere in there.”

“Really? Yeah… yeah, that’d be cool,” he says, his smile growing. He glances down and realizes exactly how close he’d moved towards you while talking.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, quickly shuffling back.

You don’t mind the closeness, but you weren’t gonna make it more awkward by telling him so. The two of you continued chatting, the conversation flowing naturally until the game ends and everyone decides to head back to their dorms.

A few days later, the group gathers at Luke’s place for a movie. You’re curled up in a beanbag, with Luke sitting next to you on the floor, his head resting against your seat. The movie drags on, and you find yourself nodding off.

However, your eyes quickly snap open when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to help me make popcorn for everyone?” Luke asks softly. You nod, grateful for something to keep you awake. He stands and offers you his large hand, which you take without hesitation.

As he leads you into the kitchen, he glances back and notices you rubbing your eyes.

He laughs quietly. “Tired?”

You nod, stifling a yawn. He realizes he’s still holding your hand and quickly lets go, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning against the counter as he grabs the popcorn supplies.

“You know, if you’re that tired, you can just crash in my room after this,” he offers casually, glancing at you.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh! No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insists, his tone genuine. “Those beanbags suck to sleep on. Trust me, I know—my brothers used to make me sleep on them when we were kids.”

You laugh softly. “Why?”

“Well I was the youngest, and sometimes I didn’t want to sleep in my own room at night…” He trails off, suddenly regretting his honesty.

“You were scared of the dark?” you tease, smile somehow looking even more amused than before.

“Monsters, actually,” he corrects, with mock indignation.

Your laughter bubbles out, the sound light and free. It’s the most you’ve laughed since coming to UMich, and Luke was beaming with pride at the sight of it.

When the popcorn is ready the two of you head back into the living room. The group eagerly grabs at the fresh bowl as you settle back into your beanbag. Unsurprisingly, not even two minutes pass before your eyes start drooping again.

A soft laugh from Luke is the last thing you register before you feel yourself being lifted. You instinctively tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his warmth lulling you further into sleep. He carries you upstairs with ease and gently lays you on his bed, carefully tucking the covers around you.

“Just get some sleep,” he murmurs quietly, mostly to himself.

As he turns to leave, you reach out and catch his hand. Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “Please stay,” you whisper. “You can lay with me.”

“Uh… are you sure? I can sleep on the beanbag. It’s not a big deal.” he says, hesitantly,

You frown, words laced with tired honesty. “I thought you hated sleeping on the bean bags?”

“I thought you hated when people touch you?” he counters softly, eyes searching yours.

“I do,” you admit. “But it’s okay when it’s you.”

His lips curve into a small, shy smile as he climbs into bed beside you. You waste no time cuddling into him, your head resting on his chest. One of his hands caresses your hair tenderly, while the other settles lightly on your lower back.

The two of you know this isn’t something “just friends” would do, but neither of you seem to mind. You were content with that in the moment. As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his comforting presence, you decide the feelings you’re starting to acknowledge can wait until tomorrow.

tags: @beenucks @mainly-miracle @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton

join the taglist here! :)

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realestsmiggles · 6 days ago

Text

Unnecessarily long rant post about various tcc related things

(selfships, ships, bad headcanons, columposers, "femcels")

I like actually hate tcc selfships so much, I don't care when people say freaky shit about tcc people cause most the time they're joking and I do it too. But like genuine selfships, like drawing themselves or an self insert or an oc with tcc people (what am I even supposed to call them)

Like I hate seeing those blogs where it's like "Dylan's little girl >.<" (extremely directed, you know who you are..). Or like drawing themselves with their favs (in a not joking way), even edits and "___ x oc/reader" fics. Theres another person on TikTok who makes edits of them x Andrew blaze, it makes me so mad cause I think im finding a cool edit and then I get flash banged with some randoms face.

Also I really don't care for the "well what if they're coping, this is a coping mechanism" argument like no, I don't care, cope some other way WITHOUT SHIPPING YOURSELF WITH KILLERS. Having a crush or intrest in a tcc person is okay but like genuinely shipping yourself with them is lowk kinda weird. Cause like I hate seeing people ship themselves with Eric or Dylan (in a serious sense, not a stupid funny haha) and they're everything Eric and Dylan hate. Like I hope you know they would've shot you if they knew about that

The selfshippers are usually so annoying too, like "ohemgee!!!! Don't say that abt Dylan he's mine!!1!1!1!" And then you get doxxed or some shit, like please go outside and touch some grass. Half the time they're greasy as hell or those "ohmigod I'm such a femcel lol!! >__<" just bcuz they're tcc and a female whose just a little different.

It's a little different with movie tcc people, like Andre and Cal because they are fictional and didn't actually shoot up a school. Even those ones are on thin ice, but I don't see as much of them luckily but I do see a lot of shitty Caldre.

Shitty Caldre as in Calvin is suddenly a AuDHD he/they shy femboy and Andre is a big tough guy whose actually secretly a big softie for cal and they go on little dates. Like no oh my god you clearly did not watch the movie, the only way I think of them as "dating" (using this VERY loosely) is them just being normal teenage boys, like when guys their age flirt because they're close friends. Sometimes a little bit of Caldre is okay but only when they're properly displayed the same way they are in the movie. Same with dylric, they were just close friends and had a distaste for gay people (from what I know) and I don't really know how to feel about dylric, but anytime I see one of those "Eric and Dylan kissing and being gay boyfriends >___<" posts I cry a little.

Plus the bad headcanons attached to both pairings, like I just wanna rip my hair out everytime I see one of those long headcanon posts and there's not a single good one, it's always like the "when they cuddle.." things. If I'm gonna take time out of my day to read a headcanon sheet it better be good, or bad fanfics like why am I even reading this. Sometimes bad fanfics are good but it's always the like 100-500 word ones that make me want to peel off the first layer of my skin, cause you can tell what kind of person is lurking behind that screen, it's probably some 11/12 year old that found out about zero day but never watched the movie. I feel like sometimes most people in the zero day fandom never watched the movie, also personal opinion I don't think that Andre self harms if I'm being so real here. Like I get where they're coming from with Cal but I don't get it with Andre.

I also don't like the people who dress like Cal and Andre, I own the shirts and sometimes I wear them but I never genuinely dress up as them, I usually wear them around my house, it's more of a "oh no I have no clean laundry" and I just have to wear it. But like people who go into full cosplay, like I saw someone genuinely buy a wig for it, like please ohmygyat. It just feels like seeing a columposer and I have a hatred for columposers, like tell me why you thought it was a good idea to leave your home in a wrath or natural selection shirt, like Columbine isn't underground, it was a real national tragedy.

Liking Columbine is fine as long as you aren't doing anything weird or harmful, but I feel like dressing as them puts you in both categories. But they always think they're so cool, it's always the most basic Columbine fans. They always listen to KMFDM or Rammstein and if they're trans (9 times out of 10 they usually are) they go by Dyl or Dylan. Plus they just take all of their personality from Eric and Dylan, it's always those intro posts that are like "name: Dylan music: KMFDM drink: Dr Pepper".

Please get a real personality oh my god 😢�� cause I see like 20 people like that a day, please can we get some originality in this community. But the kind of columposers I hate the most is the ones that think they're the next Eric Harris, like calm down edge lord you're 14... they're manifestos always sound the same like "I hate everybody..... nobody understands me... they're all gonna feel my wrath... I'm gonna be worse than Eric and Dylan could ever be... mwhahahahah..." like shut up oh my god. You are not Eric's top guy bud, then they own a natural selection shirt and when they try to actually shoot up their school they just get caught cause it's always the people in private school trying to be the next Columbine. Like it's not my fault you live in the suburbs chill out.

It's so annoying to come on this app or look at the news and it another retard who thinks they're the second coming. And I have no shame admitting that I hate that Samantha chick, she honestly seemed so fucking annoying. And I hate the stupid "ERM... if you hate her you're misogynistic..." like what 😭. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean I'm a bad guy for hating her, I wasn't thinking about her gender when I decided I hated her ass. There's a new case every week, she's not special. She honestly was the worse thing I've heard about, everytime I hear about her I want to gouge my eyes out, she was just a supreme edge lord who thought she could be Eric. She thought she was so special for hating women like she wasn't a woman, like how fucking stupid are you, plus it's kinda pathetic how she only killed two people (all respect towards them) and then just killed herself, like oh my god at that point just kill yourself in your own house.

I also know the argument of Adam being a columposer is gonna come up, like "how are you gonna say you hate columposers but you worship one". Like yes I'm aware of the fact his shooting was "inspired" by columbine but he was also delusional as hell, like he was an autistic schizo that didn't leave his house. There was a lot more going into that shooting than just Columbine in mind, I don't really think of him as a columposer because it was a lot of psychological issues as well but I get where people are coming from when they say he's a columposer.

But still on the topic of Samantha and her being a woman hater, I just fucking hate femcels, not real femcels but "femcels >___< 🎀" LIKE OH MY GYAT. You aren't a femcel you delusional creep, you're just a female on tumblr get over it, you aren't special. Theyre all the same too, I feel like all femcel accounts are run by the same person. Theyre always some cutecore shit and have micro bangs, they all look the same.

Being a femcel or just an incel is just being frustrated with the lack of sexual or romantic opportunity in their life, that is the dictionary definition. You aren't a femcel if you bedrot, like Columbine, tcc in general, cutecore, hate women or men, if you're just delusional, or a Sematary fan. I feel like no one actually knows what being an incel or femcel means and it pisses me off so much because it's like saying the sky is green. Like you aren't a femcel, there's literally men in your dm's and you have a boyfriend shut up oh my god. It's just so infuriating seeing people being wrong all the time, I hate when I see false information.

It just makes me so mad and that's what most of this rant has been about, I hate seeing people be wrong like you're wrong because this tcc person would've hated you so much. You're wrong because that's not how these people were displayed in the movie. You're wrong because you're not gonna be the next Eric and Dylan. You're wrong because you're not a real femcel.

Sorry if this came off as annoying in anyway but I feel like i genuinely needed to get that off my chest cause im tired of it all.

#tc community #tcctwt #true cringe community #teeceecee #true crume #adam tcc #tcc fandom #tcc tumblr #tc #tcc columbine #eric columbine #eric and dylan #dylan columbine #lanzamaxxing #samantha rupnow #rant post

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Fuckboy women when?

(Right now-)

Fuckgirl Yan who claims she only sticks around for the good times and can't be tied down by anyone. Fuckgirl Yan who has tattoos on her chest, arm, and back with your name hidden in every one she wears proudly and wears crop tank tops so everyone can see - but will immediately drop a fling if they point them out or dare to say your name.

Fuckgirl Yan who shows up at your house the ass crack of night when her apartment is much closer to the place she just left, stoned or drunk out of her mind claiming your couch as her territory. Always steals something when she's gone by morning, but never pawns it off like she does with others belongings. Kind enough to remember to order something to leave behind for you when she's craving something your fridge doesn't already have or make breakfast before she heads out

Fuckgirl Yan who shrugs any and everyone off her shoulders when you walk in the room. Fuckgirl Yan who wraps her arms around your wrist or neck when people approach you for conversation. Remembers your name despite forgetting everyone else's when they leave her line of sight, but only ever calls you Baby and into heavy detail about the freaky shit you've definitely done together (most likely a lie) when people ask what your history is

Fuckgirl Yan who despite earlier claims of only being around for the good parts will drop everything and one when she sees a frown on that pretty face of yours. Immediately gets rid of the problem by cracking jokes or breaking fingers if it was some undisclosed third party that got you down

Fuckgirl Yan who lays in someone's bed with their head on her chest, scrolling through the many photos she's sneaked of you and the rare few you took together. Fuckgirl Yan who knows she isn't good for you, but it damn sure feels good to believe in the what-ifs

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #female yandere #yandere insert #Dylan my oc #Fuckgirl Yan #yandere hcs

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daintylovers · 8 months ago

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I’mmmmm not gonna lie to you, stiles being a jerk was so hot I would LET him call me names and manhandle me and stare at my boobs wait this isn’t confessional? Oh sorry, I need to find the nearest catholic church

seeeeee- like its hot because it's unusual for him

he's normally nicer, not sweet necessarily. but he doesn't take things far.

but he's getting really fucking tired of being pushed around by everyone, so when you start egging it on?? game fucking over.

like yes! he will call you names! doesn't matter where you are, or who is around (werewolf hearing goes crazy when he bends down to whisper lewd things in your ears- one time scott overheard and even he started blushing)

the manhandling thing is more common. mostly because he doesn't recognize his own strength. he was bullied for being this lanky kid his whole life, so he is just completely unaware that he can be stronger than anyone.

but it's a huge turn-on- for both of you. playfighting i feel is pretty common, so when he pins you down with ease- your wrists bundled in his palm- he feels his dick start to strain against his jeans. looking down and seeing your flushed face, cheeks burning from the combined effort to win, and because holy shit he's so fucking hot and on top of me, has HIS mind racing a mile a minute. when he peeks down and spies that your shirt has ridden down, revealing more of your cleavage, as your chest rises and falls with the beat of his heart- it takes everything in him not to have you right then and there.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanfic #dylan o'brien #reader insert #quick blurb #i want him #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x reader

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supercap2319 · 1 year ago

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Nightwing (Dylan O'Brien) teaching Tim Drake / Robin (Jaeden Martell) how to fuck the BatFamily's whore properly. Just like Batman (Jensen Ackles) taught him!

Dick let out a small moan of pleasure as he sank his cock inside Y/N's hole. It was tighter than he remembered, but it was still just as warm and as slick. Bruce was out for the evening, but that doesn't mean Dick would miss out on showing Tim the ropes of what it truly means to be a member of the BatFamily.

"Fuck, Y/N. Are you just naturally tight or do you use magic to make your hole tighter than a pussy?" Dick groans as he thrusts his hips back and forth to the slut underneath him. Tim was watching in the corner, eyes wide with surprise, but it was clear that he was aroused.

Dick noticed this and smirked. "You see, Timmy, Y/N's been the BatFamily's whore even before me. He takes great pleasure in being filled by cocks. And he'll serve you too and future Robins as well. Now, do you want a turn?"

Tim looks between Dick and the other man on his back with his legs in the air. He had such a "fuck me" face, that Tim couldn't refuse but give him a good fucking. As well as a virgin can give a good fucking. Dick pulled out of Y/N and made some room for Tim as the younger male rolled on a condom and at Dick's encouraging words, he sank inside.

It was then that Tim realized that Y/N was indeed tight. And he was very warm. Tin moans as Dick guided him into his first fuck, helping him rock his hips back and forth. Y/N moans and arched his back. "Harder! Harder Tim!"

"You heard the slut." Dick chuckled. "Fuck him harder."

Tim smirks and picks up speed as Y/N moans and squirms as he's fucked like the cheap whore that he is. While this is going on, the camera surveillance fee is being sent to Bruce's phone right now as there's a noticeable bulge in his pants. "Fuck!"

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #dick grayson #Dick Grayson x male reader #tim drake #tim drake x male reader #robin x male reader #nightwing #Nightwing x male reader #batman #batman x male reader #bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne x male reader #jensen ackles #jaeden martell #dylan o'brien

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newtkive · 1 year ago

Text

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 3 - infamous minecraft night

summary: the usual minecraft night ensues, and newt comes to a realization.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

note: the first meme is minho i swear. anyways first written chapter yaaaay !!

The only sounds coming from Newt’s apartment were the whirring of his pc and the shuffle of his friend situating himself on the living room couch. Newt was stationed in the corner of the small apartment, typing away at his computer, head down and floppy blond hair over his forehead.

“Dude, chill. You’re going to give yourself carpal tunnel from typing that fast.” Minho said from his spot on the sofa. His hands were behind his head, feet on the coffee table and shooting a judgmental look Newt’s way.

The older looked over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I told you to stop putting your nasty feet on my table.” He retorted.

Minho rolled his eyes, dramatically stomping his feet back on the ground. Another look was shot his way, curtesy of Newt before he turned back around, focusing again on his screen. “We getting on Minecraft or what, man?” Minho sighed, putting his laptop on his lap.

“Uh, yeah, go ahead and get on. I just finished my work and I’m gonna join the call.” Newt mumbled, taking hold of his mouse to click off of the library website he was editing, and switch to the Discord app. It took a second for him to find ‘The Glade’ group, noticing three active members in the voice chat to the left side of the main chat. He suddenly saw the chat moving as an alert popped up, showing that a familiar name was typing.

y/n: yooo newt get on!!

y/n: i see you online. get on call! we need a voice of reason

Newt’s dark eyes flew across the screen, a small smile gracing his lips as he read what you said. Behind him, Newt could hear Minho scoffing. The sound must have sobered the blond up, since his smile fell and he coughed to snap himself out of it.

“Dude, how come she asked you to join? I’m online too!” Minho grumbled like a spoiled kid.

Newt smirked, sending him a look again from over his shoulder. “Because she needs a voice of reason, or so she says. You’d only serve to make things worse in whatever is going on in that call.” The older snickered, and a harsh glare came from his friend. Newt swore he heard Minho mutter a few curses under his breath as he turned back around, but he let it go.

Clearing his throat, Newt clicked on the voice chat and prepared himself. An onslaught of voices immediately filled his ears, a mix of halfhearted arguing and giggles from Alby, Gally, and yourself. As usual, dark eyes instantly found the small square that housed the image of you and Newt couldn’t control the smile that lit up his face.

“Newt!” You beamed right back at him, waving through the screen.

“Y/n!” The blond reciprocated the wave and felt his cheeks heat up as you giggled a bit.

A few groans lit up the call belonging to Alby and Gally. The two had a similar set up going on; sitting in front of their fancy gaming computers while adorning a headset, a bit distracted as they played Minecraft.

“You could say hey to us too, Newt.” Alby sassed, with a broad grin and raised brows.

“Yeah, but you guys probably caused whatever problem is going on." Newt chuckled. This elicited a furious nod from you in the corner, and Alby immediately began wagging his finger in the camera with a series of 'no, no, no's.

"Sure, go see what Y/n did to my house." Gally remarked the bottom left corner of the screen and rolled his eyes.

"I only blew half of it up because you destroyed my shed!" You gasped at Gally. Newt's smile grew at their antics.

"You mean my shed that you've been squatting in!" Gally shouted back at her. There was a hint of an amused smile on his face despite the obvious irritation about the TNT blowing his hard work up. Newt figured it would have been a bigger deal if it was anyone else's property, but Gally was an absolute beast at Minecraft; he could fix any damage within mere minutes.

Before you could retort, the sound of another person joining the call cut you off. A vertical screen stretched to fit the layout, and a blurry image of a familiar brunette was shown.

"Heyyyy, guys!" Thomas sing-songed out, holding his phone up in the air like a stereotypical dad. He was clearly walking along the snow covered streets, wired headphones in as he adjusted his beanie. The crew let out a chorus of 'hey man's and 'hey Tommy's'.

"Where the hell are you?" Newt asked, laughter laced in his voice, head tilted to the side to decipher where his friend was going.

"Uhhh, I'm on my way home," Thomas started, looking around as snow began to fall a bit, almost seeming unsure of his own words, "I think, at least."

"You think?" Newt echoed, amused.

"You're like one of those kids who need a leash on their backpacks." You said, grinning at your best friend as he trudged along the almost barren stone street of New York.

Thomas shrugged, a little laugh bubbling out. "I guess. I kinda got lost, I thought this old lady was following me so I faked her out and went a weird direction. Now I'm in a fancy neighborhood." He explained.

Alby, Newt, yourself, and even Minho from behind Newt let out a loud laugh.

"Dumbass." Gally snickered, grinning for once on the call.

"Tommy, you're nuts." You mumbled, hand moving rapidly along with your mouse as you tried to fix your shed, eyes glancing back and forth between the screens.

"Who was that? Is Min there?" Alby questioned, squinting at Newt's image on the screen.

Newt scooted his rolling chair to the side to reveal Minho's slouched over form on the couch. The man's smile comically fell as he was revealed, almost like he had an upset image to keep up (he did). "Wow, you know my laugh anywhere. You're obsessed with me." It was Minho's turn to sass out, as usual.

Alby rolled his eyes and Tommy grinned at the sight of their friend. "Minho! Hey, buddy!" The latter waved enthusiastically as he trudged the quickly darkening streets. Minho simply flashed a middle finger, making him pout.

"Join the call, Min. You should get on Minecraft too." You piped up, eyes looking away from your phone camera and glued to your laptop.

"No, fuck you guys. I'm mad at you." Minho all but shouted, arms crossed and leaning back on the couch.

Newt scooted more into the frame again, shaking his head. "He's pissed still, as you can tell."

"You're the one who removed him." Alby said, clearly annoyed.

"But you guys are the ones who didn't add me back!" Minho shouted again, glaring at the screen from his spot.

"I added you back!" Alby corrected him.

"Oh, please." Minho didn't know how to reply, so he just scoffed at the man. He was right after all, and Min didn't like being wrong.

Newt shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He shrunk the screen a bit to pull up Minecraft, eager to see what kind of damage was done to everyone's homes.

They had build up a cute little town: dark oak houses, each unique to every person who built them, all leading up to a giant cherry blossom mansion that Gally resided in. The shed beside the mansion housed any stray horses found—each horse assigned to a different person—and your own little blue bed. You refused to live in your own home after everyone made fun of the dirt house you and Tommy built together. Unlike you, Tommy stood his ground and stayed inside of it. You chose to spite everyone who made fun of you and move into the public stables, inconveniencing them.

Newt crossed his arms and patiently waited for his game to load as he tuned back into the conversation. You had convinced Minho to play with all of you if you gave him your hard earned diamond—emphasis on the singularity of the use of diamond. You often had a hard time mining without dying, so you took pride in your jewel.

"Oh, c'mon. That just means you'll steal more of my shit." Newt said, pretending to sound exasperated.

At the sound of his British accent rolling through your speakers like honey, your eyes immediately darted back to the screen to see Newt's smirk. A blush emerged on your cheeks and you bashfully smiled. "No, I won't! I swear." You said, a bit embarrassed.

Newt didn't mind you borrowing his things, and he had an inkling that you knew that. "Sure, I bet that'll last for an hour." He chuckled.

Internally, Newt was giddy at your interaction like a school girl. Now he was internally embarrassed. At the perfect time, his game screen loaded and he began playing the game to distract himself.

"Guys, promise me you'll tell me if there's someone behind me." Thomas piped up while trekking through the streets. Everyone monotonously agreed, not fully paying attention.

"Guys, c'mon!" Thomas whined incessantly, sounding like a little kid. You giggled and assured him you'd keep an eye out, and he seemed to calm down at those words.

With that, the group gaming really started up. It was weird without Thomas being online and his little character not moving around, but his constant talking filled the void.

On the other side of the screen you were reeling at the sight of Newt. He was focused on the game, lip between his teeth, brows taut, and messy, thick, blond hair splayed over his forehead like a golden crown. Brown eyes constantly flickering around the screen but somehow finding their home on you in the end—or at least you hoped.

Newt was thinking similar things about you. Eyes catching your form every time you moved your hair to the other shoulder, or ran your hand through it. He tried not to be obvious and strayed away from glancing over at every movement, but it was hard. If he caught your gaze, he would waggle his brows a bit, and you would dissolve into that cute little smile that lit up his stomach in butterflies. Thankfully, no one noticed your interactions—or at least that's what both of you told yourselves.

By the time Thomas got to his own apartment, and those affected rebuilt their in-game homes, things were slowing down and tiredness overcame most of you. Even Minho's shit talk from behind Newt had almost came to a halt. The first one out was Gally, claiming he had work tomorrow. Next was you.

“G’night, you guys. I have a 9 am Zoom class tomorrow, I gotta be up early.” You grumbled. A hand came up to lazily rub at your eyes as you carried your phone to your room, and Newt resisted the urge to say something along the lines of 'goodnight sweetheart' (which he didn't know why that popped up in his brain).

The group of guys chorused a goodnight to you, all waving. Newt stared at your image, your sweet smile that would stick in his mind long after you hung up. The sound of you leaving echoed in his brain as he stared at the spot where you once were. That is, until Alby's video replaced where yours once was and he scowled.

"What's with the stink face?" Thomas gawked at his friend from where he laid on his bed, phone sat up next to him on the pillow. His friends sudden smile turning into a stoic expression startled him.

"His girlfriend left, that's what." Minho said, walking up behind Newt. Min placed his hands on Newt's shoulders, and the blond shot him a dirty look, shaking his hands off.

"Shut up. The fuck does that mean?" Newt grumbled. Everyone seemed to notice how bothered Newt sounded, which only made smirks grow wider. Everyone but Tommy, who was just about half asleep by now.

"Ahhh," Minho started and tapped Newt's bicep, "just as we all thought." Minho left it at that and stood up straighter, hands on his hips. Newt looked up at him entirely confused.

"Do you guys talk outside of the groupchat?" Alby asked.

"We talkin' about Y/n?" Thomas slurred out.

"Yes, dumbass." Minho leaned down so Thomas could see his annoyed face, but his eyes were closed.

"Uhhhh, not too much, no." Newt shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

Minho gave him an 'are you actually stupid?' type of look, arms crossing as he gazed down at his best friend. "'Why does it matta?'" He mocked his accent, "It matters cause it'll show her you like her!" Arms flew up in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

All Newt could manage to do was look to the side, tongue to his cheek as he ignored the blossoming blush thanks to the topic.

"Min is right, dude! You should talk to her more." Alby's words seemed more encouraging than Minho's. Maybe it was due to the fact that all Minho ever expressed was sarcasm and disdain, but Newt just didn't find him as earnest as Alby at the moment.

"They're right," Thomas piped up, lazy smile on his face. "She's super easy to talk to."

"What?" They all bellowed out in unison.

"You talk to her?" Newt was flabbergasted at this new revelation.

"Uh, duh. She's my best friend. So what?" Thomas scrunched up his brows, eyes cracking open.

Newt just scoffed and shook his head. He wasn't jealous, just.. at a loss for words. "Alright, on that note, goodnight." Newt punctuated his goodbye with a press to the 'end call' button.

The black screen faced both boys, and Newt quickly stood, beelining for his kitchen to make some tea.

"Dude, you call me dramatic." Minho grumbled. Newt just gave him the umpteenth pointed look of the night from his spot next to the sink. As soon as the blond turned around to put the kettle on, filling it up for two, Minho let his knowing smile show.

"You stayin' the night?" The older one called from the kitchen. He decided to ignore whatever that humiliating topic was prior.

Minho plopped down on the couch, head in the pillow, and fishing for the television remote. "You know it." He said. It wasn't odd for Minho to spend the night, as the couch was honestly dedicated to man at this point. Newt liked the company anyways.

The best friends fell into a rhythm of one finding a Netflix show and the other preparing two mugs of tea (Minho usually detested it, claiming it was too British for him, but he surprisingly learned to like it. He would never admit it, but he actually found himself making some tea when he was at home).

Newt had the previous short conversation replaying in his mind over and over as he zoned out while waiting for the water to boil. Did he really like Y/n like that? Yeah, she was gorgeous, and he always found himself looking for her approval and reactions, but he didn't want to be that guy who liked the only girl in the friend group. Although, he knew the situation wasn't really like that.

As Newt brought over the steaming hot mugs and sat on the opposite couch from his friend, waiting for whatever action movie was pulled up to play, he decided talking to Y/n more wasn't such a bad idea.

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