#funny because i way over cooked it and forgot the tomato paste so i thought i ruined it

[suffercerebral]

made shakshouka so good that my mom asked me for the recipe AND cleaned the dishes for me after i cooked

[misora-msby]

embarrassing moments with inarizaki

inarizaki always looks so cool but you know they’re actually dorks and i am here to provide you the content to show theyre clowns. enjoy the headcanons :)

Kita Shinsuke

firstly. kita shinsuke being embarrased? making a mistake? unheard of.

he’s a perfect man and we all know it.

anyways

you two were having a nice dinner out together. 

it was a pretty fancy place so you decided to dress in a different style today

but you were beginning to wonder if kita liked it or not because he seemed to keep looking past your shoulder instead of at you

he was an observant guy so you were wondering if something had happened behind you

but you couldn’t hear anything weird so you assumed not

you decided to just stay quiet about it at first but now it was beginning to become annoying! 

why wasn’t he looking you in the eye to speak?

midway through your dinner, kita finally spoke up tho

“y/n, your shirt is slipping... yer bra’s showing.”

oh.

right. you were wearing your off-shoulder top.

“o-oh. shin, it’s that kind of shirt, you know?” you had to explain your outfit to ur bf with a pink face.

“oh... that so... well it’s cold these days so if yer feelin’ cold lemme know. i’ll give ya my jacket.”

GOD HES SO PERFECT KITA SHINSUKE I HOPE U MARRY HIM???????

Ojiro Aran

another man with next to no flaws.

but nature says everyone has to make some mistake.

so it was a regular school day, our aran has just come to class from morning practice and there’s still some time left until class starts.

all the girls in class are gathered around a table

he’s not sure why, it’s probably watching an idol video

but ur man wants to be a little romantic!!

plus he just showered so he smells Great uwu

he goes over and hugs you from behind, placing his chin on ur head.

“hey, bb whatcha ya doin”

all the girls gasp.

he doesn’t get whats wrong, it’s not like it’s a secret y’all are dating

pda to this level aint bad either

especially compared to his teammate miya atsumu

“ojiro aran.”

why is your voice behind him

he looks down and nearly faints when he sees he hugged the wrong girl.

to be fair she looked a lot like you from behind, just maybe 1cm shorter.

“i’m so sorry!” he keeps apologising to literally everyone and all the class is giggling bc they never seen their school’s ace so red before.

“didn’t think i’d come back from the toilet and see my bf cheatin”

“IT WAS A MISTAKE! I’M SERIOUS! Y/N U KNOW I LOVE YA!” 

hes so funny i swear

the volleyball team hears of it and it gets even better 

Miya Atsumu

it’s not a secret that miya atsumu, setter of the inarizaki volleyball team and invited to national youth training camp, had a gf

he was very much in love with u 

the whole class knew it because he’d show it off whenever he could too

so here comes valentines day

last year he received like... 50 different gifts from girls and guys aiming to win his love.

you didnt even give him one lmAOOOOO 

but this year, he had been not so subtly trying to hint that “i better not receive any chocolates this year when i’ve got a gf!”

he reaches school and plops into his seat.

there’s an anonymous box of chocolates with “please accept my love, miya-kun! <3″ on it

“the hell’s this?!”

“oh? chocolates?” - osamu who just popped his head into the class to shove into his twin’s face how much chocolate he got.

especially since the blond was off limits, the grey-haired twin had a bigger following now.

“do they not know i have a girlfriend...”

“well, ya might as well eat it. ya dont know who to return it to.”

“that’s like receivin’ their love!”

“no it ain’t. it’s just food.”

atsumu couldn’t argue with that and popped a piece in.

it was very delicious. the chocolate practically melted on his tongue and was the perfect sweetness and was filled with a delicious ganache too.

it was perfect

but he couldn’t accept this!

“it ain’t even good. too sweet and the filling’s sticky.”

“ah. really? is that what you think, tsumu?” you ask from the door where you had been watching the exchange take place.

“y/n! look at this! some weirdo gave me some choco and like... samu said to test it but i’ll toss it out, promise.”

“tsumu, i made that... i wrote it anonymously because i thought you’d know it was me and i wanted to tease you a little.”

“huh.”

osamu: “yeah actually i went over to her place to teach her how to make it.”

atsumu: “you said you went to suna’s place?!”

osamu: “i went there later but i first went to help her.”

you: “anyways if it’s not good i don’t mind if you toss it out...”

tsumu: “NO NO BABE I PROMISE IT’S GOOD”

you: “you just said-”

“BABE I SWEAR IT’S GOOD I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO ACCEPT A STRANGER’S STUFF”

“you’re always so honest though... are you sure?” you were having your fun teasing him now.

“BB PLSSSSSS”

he still cringes at the memory 4 years into ur marriage

Miya Osamu

osamu would DEFINITELY make home made dinner dates a regular thing.

this alone shows he’s the better twin - miya atsumu stan

he loves cooking and eating with you so sometimes when he’s got a day off you guys’ll set aside the afternoon to make a real nice dinner

imagine candlelit dinner with miya dorito body osamu in a suit

of course some fun stuff happens after too ;)))

and today’s your third anniversary!!

so osamu adds lots of ‘natural aphrodisiacs’ to the meal

i’m talkin

garlic bread and soup for an appetiser, a nice juicy steak with garlic and red wine sauce for the main, and chocolate coated strawberries for dessert

mm yummy

you two cleaned your plates completely (it was very delicious) and as you were washing the dishes, osamu comes up behind and wraps his arms around your waist

“yes, ‘samu?” 

“i’ve already prepared us a nice bath with yer favourite scents.” he’s got his head resting on ur chin

“really? thank you~ i’ll be there in a bit”

but he doesn’t let go of you while you’re still scrubbing at the baking sheets.

“osamu, you can let go for now.”

“don’t feel like it.”

“i gotta wash the dishes since you did most of the cooking.”

“mmm, i’ll do it if ya gimme a kiss.”

you roll ur eyes bc what a cutie 

u turn ur head to give him a kiss but suddenly he 

he burps

that garlicy wine smell is just kinda there

“ew! ‘samu!!”

his face is real red but he’s also trying not to laugh because he’s still a dude and this is absolutely hilarious to him

“want another?” he starts teasing

“i’m not getting in the bath with you.”

“wait wait wait i’m sorry, i’ll go brush my teeth and give you a proper kiss”

Suna Rintarou

you two were taking the train home today

it was quite late due to practice going a little longer than usual, so he insisted he walked you back home today.

sunarin can be a good boyf sometimes ok

it was getting a little crowded on the train tho, since people were heading home or going out for dinner

luckily you had already grabbed seats so you were quite comfortable sitting side by side. 

you and suna have the type of relationship were you dont have to talk all the time

silence is v comfy.

he’s just scrolling through twitter on his phone while you’re looking around the car, lost in ur thoughts

suddenly you notice an old lady standing a little bit away from you and you stand up

“baa-san, please take my seat.” you whisper in the crowded carriage

“oh how kind of you. thank you, dearie.” she smiles and takes your seat while you stand in front of her and suna instead.

suna doesn’t realise this exchange has happened tho

(he’s on his phone as usual)

probably starting some fights on twitter

he decides to try to be a little romantic and pretends to stretch his arm around (who he thought was) you.

“rin.” 

why is your voice right in front of him?

“young man, i appreciate it but i’m married.”

suna jumps as he sees someone he did not recognise next to him.

he looks up and notices you had moved.

you’re giggling

the granny’s giggling

atsumu and osamu sitting opposite on the carriage look like they’re going to cry because they’re trying not to laugh

“i was just stretching. really.” he mumbles and crosses his arms, face red as a tomato

he’s so embarrassed.

Ginjima Hitoshi

sometimes the inarizaki vbc would go for an after practice snack at the nearby family mart

they were really hungry after an intense preparation for nationals which was in two weeks so kita insisted they all get something to fill them up on the way home

but lucky lucky ginjima hhehe

you (his classmate who he had a crush on) were working at the cash register today.

“welcome!” you greet everyone as they enter

he cant help but stiffen up a bit 

why are u so cute and cheery today

the 2nd years already know what to do.

“heyy, i think last week i bought ya that ramen right? ya owe me my konbini snacks today!” - atsumu

“yeah. you lost a bet to me last week so u gotta pay up. a pack of jelly fruit sticks please.” - suna

“forgot my money today, mind payin’ for my snacks too?” - osamu

“like hell i’m paying for all of you. especially you, osamu. you eat too much all the time.” 

aran’s noticed what’s going on,

“hey, if it’s just for today you can do it right? if ‘samu don’t pay ya back tomorrow i’ll nag him ‘til he does.” 

“fine...” his basket is full when he goes to the counter.

he’s trying his best not to have a red face while watching u scan the items, ur hair swaying slightly as u look back and forth between the objects and the screen.

“alright. 4,890 yen please!” GOD he hated how expensive it was, that’s almost all his weekly allowance but bc it’s u and ur voice saying it it’s kinda ok

“mm, ok.” he still has his eyes on you while he takes out his wallet and puts it on the counter.

yes

his wallet, not the money

“...” “...”

“excuse me, sir. this is...”

he almost slaps his face wtf he’s so embarrassed.

“s-sorry. just a little absent minded after practice.” he starts pulling out his cash.

“it’s fine! i know how hard you guys practice!” you smile while performing the rest of the transaction and pass him his big bag of goods. “good luck for nationals, ginjima-kun!”

he almost runs out of the store and is about to fight the rest of the 2nd years for watching and (suna) recording

[maneskinrollercoaster]

~ And All That For a Lighter ~

Pairing: Damiano David x Naomi (fictional character)

Word count: 3035

Warnings: none

Summary: Naomi meets Damiano in a café for the first time.

Naomi entered the café all soaked, her cheeks red from running and her hair messy and wet from the rain. It was pouring outside which was the thing she despised the most. Surprisingly tho she felt good. Fresh. She loved walking around Rome in the morning and for the first time in her life she admired this rainy weather. Little drops of water flowed over her cheek. Her life was a big mess and you could say she needed something new.

When a month ago she found her boyfriend cheating with her best friend she felt like her whole life collapsed. That’s when she decided to change something. Start a new life. She started admiring things she’s never liked before, she started dressing differently, she became more confident in her own body. She even started working out which was the most unexpected thing since physical education was her least favorite subject in high school.

Naomi always thought love was the most essential part of everyone’s life, but a sight of Alessandro having fun in their bed with Sofia made her hate love more than anything. She decided to move on and live life completely and only for herself.

- Buongiorno Joey - she said reaching the bartender standing behind the counter.

- Buongiorno piccola, what can I get for you?

- One espresso please, and one brownie - the bartender nodded and started preparing her order.

She decided to sit down since she would probably spend a lot of time working on her laptop and enjoying this rainy morning. The inside of café was warm and welcoming, comfortable couches, puffy pillows and a lot of plants. She visited this café every day for the past two weeks and she found herself enjoying this place maybe even more than her new flat.

Naomi went to sit in the corner on a cozy red couch. She took off her soaked jacket and pulled out her laptop with a couple of notebooks. She was a student of economy and since she had to find herself some more things to do she decided to actually try harder to have a better degree at her college. She wasn’t so fond of the direction she chose but she knew it’s gonna bring her a prosperous life. In fact her favorite thing in the world was art. She started painting when she was 8 years old. Since then she really enjoyed staying all day alone in her room painting everything she could, from beautiful portraits to mesmerizing landscapes. She had a huge talent but she was too afraid to chase her dreams.

When she met Alessandro he quickly bashed her ideas of becoming a professional painter, saying that it’s not something she will build her life on and that she will be only wasting her time. She was mad at him for a couple of days but then she quit her painting dream and chose economy for her main subject.

- Ecco a te, one coffee and one brownie - said Joey bringing her order to the table and putting it right in front of her.

- Grazie mille - Naomi answered and smiled to him.

She took a sip of coffee and smiled. It was delicious. That was another reason why she kept coming back here every day. They made the best coffee she’s ever drunk.

Two hours passed and Naomi was still working on her assignment she was supposed to give in till next Monday. It was about lunch time so she decided she will pack her things in an hour and she will go find a place to eat something. She took the last sip of the coffee and finished her first task when someone pulled her out of her little trans.

- Ah shit! I’m all wet! - she heard someone saying and moment later she saw a guy reaching the bartender.

He was tall and had slightly longer, dark brown hair. She could only see his profile but only that was enough for her to admit that he was really handsome. He was wearing black trousers, black Dr. Martens, white tank top and an oversized black jacket. He looked good and Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

- Damiano! It’s so good to see you man! - Joey said and shook hands with the new guy.

Damiano. The name really suit him. Naomi didn’t take her eyes off him even once.

- Ciao, ciao, Joey! - his voice was attractive as well. Raspy and deep but really calm.

Naomi didn’t know what was happening. Usually she didn’t pay attention to any guys after Alessandro but he was different. He looked edgy and bold but he seemed nice too. She was staring at him. And not in a polite way. She was literally eyeing him from up and down and she didn’t even realize.

- Give me an espresso man, I’m so tired, I just woke up. Yesterday we had so much fun. Victoria came up with this new idea of the song and we all stayed up late till 4 am trying to figure out how to pull it up together. - Damiano said.

So he’s into music. Nice. Naomi was still staring at him so rudely but she didn’t care at this point. Music is also art - she thought and smiled slightly not letting go of his person.

- Typical you, Dam, you’ve never slept a full night, did you? - Joey said and they both laughed.

- Do you have a lighter maybe? I forgot mine. - Damiano said and started searching his pockets.

- I don’t man, sorry. Let me make your order. Anything else for you?

- No, no that’s all. I’m gonna go search for a lighter and I’ll be back.

He turned around searching for people but at this time the café was empty. Only Naomi sitting in the corner. He started walking towards her. Oh shit, he’s coming here, stop staring, stop staring, stop staring - Naomi thought and looked at her laptop trying to pretend that’s she didn’t just checked him out for 10 minutes straight.

- Scusi, I’m.. - he reached her table and started speaking but stopped when she looked at him. - I’m sorry to interrupt but do you have a lighter maybe? - he said after a second.

- No, I’m sorry. I don’t smoke. - Naomi blushed and smiled lightly.

- Okey, grazie. - he smiled and started walking away.

- But there’s a store at the corner, I think they might have some. - Naomi said

- Grazie, grazie. - he laughed slightly and waved at her.

Naomi went back to her tasks still blushing not knowing why. 15 minutes passed and Damiano entered the café again carrying two bags. He came up to Naomi smiling.

- I uh.. Sorry to interrupt again but.. Do you want to maybe eat lunch with me? I just thought that it’s lunch time and you’re sitting here alone and since you helped me with the lighter.. - he couldn’t stop speaking and Naomi blushed again laughing. He looked a bit nervous.

- Of course, I would love to eat lunch with you. - she said interrupting him.

- I’m Damiano - he said pulling out his hand.

- Naomi - she said and grabbed his hand to shake it but he turned it and kissed the top of her palm.

She felt something weird in her stomach, like butterflies but she pushed them aside and only smiled to him. Damiano sat on the couch opposite Naomi and put two bags on the table.

- I didn’t know what you like, obviously because I don’t know you, yeah very clever Dam, whatever.. - he started speaking and Naomi couldn’t stop but laugh at him loudly

- Don’t worry, I’m not a peaky eater - she said sending him a reassuring smile.

- Alright, well, I ordered pasta with shrimps and some pesto and cherry tomatoes. - he said taking out the box with food from the bag. - I also got you a cherry smoothie but we can switch if you’d like.

- Wow, and that all for a lighter? You really didn’t have to. But thank you so much, I was about to go for lunch anyways. - she said grabbing the box that he handed her.

- Yes well, you’re really beautiful.. I mean, no.. I mean you are beautiful but I just wanted to say that you’re really nice and yeah I don’t know I just thought you might like to eat something.. Not that you look like you’re starving but yeah..

- Heyyy, thank you, really, that’s so nice of you. - she said smiling widely.

Naomi took the first bite of her pasta and it was delicious. She remembered her grandmother cooking shrimps every Saturday and all her family gathering together for a family dinner in the garden. It tasted just the same.

They ate everything and after two hours of talking and laughing and getting to know each other it was time for Joey to close the café. Naomi stood up and packed her things, said goodbye to Joey and together with Damiano they stepped out of the café. It stopped raining and instead there was a full sun and a fresh breeze.

- So what are you gonna do now? - he asked standing in front of her.

- Umm.. I think I’m just gonna go back to my flat, make myself some snacks and watch Netflix till I fall asleep - Naomi laughed.

- Alright well, do you mind if I walk you home? - Damiano asked steeping a bit closer to her.

- Sure, why not, we can take a walk.

That day Damiano walked Naomi to her house and they exchanged numbers, planning to meet again. He kissed her cheek for goodbye and squeezed her hand and Naomi has never felt like that in a long time. She was happy and Damiano, even tho she met him today, made her feel really good. Naomi couldn’t sleep that night still thinking of him and wondering why she felt so different around him.

*3 months later*

- What do you mean you don’t like Star Wars! - Damiano shouted to Naomi while they both walked towards the beach where they were supposed to watch sunset and have a little picnic.

Since the day they met they spent almost every day together. Damiano surprised her with multiple occasions to go out together, either for lunch or dinner or even breakfast when he woke up earlier than usual. He found himself falling for her. In fact he realized he fell for her the day he first laid his eyes on her. He found her funny, spontaneous and really kind and caring. When she told him about her painting dream he was so shocked she gave up, that he argued with her till he convinced her to chase the dream even if she thought it was too late. Naomi really enjoyed his company, he made her feel really happy and safe and most importantly - loved. She knew she developed some feelings and she didn’t want to admit it but at the back of her head she knew she fell in love. He made her laugh and supported her when she was having bad moments. He became her best friend at some point. Both of them were taking things a bit slower tho, they were both afraid, broken-hearted after rough ended relationships.

- I just don’t, I don’t understand how they made so many movies out of such a lame plot. - she said defending herself.

- How can you even say that! The plot is amazing! The space action scenes, come on! - he said offended but smiling.

- Yeah I just don’t see the point of filming it, that’s all.

- I don’t know how Victoria can still be friends with you, we’re both huge fans of Star Wars! You’re lucky I like you - Damiano started laughing and put his arm around Naomi’s shoulders.

She got to meet Victoria, Ethan and Thomas. Bassist, drummer and guitarist of their band Måneskin. Naomi wasn’t really into music so she didn’t really know them and didn’t know they’re pretty known here in Italy. Victoria was the kindest person Naomi could ever see. When her and Damiano stepped into the studio where they were recording, Vic was the first to reach out to her. She hugged her tightly and was clearly really happy to meet her. She then introduced Thomas and Ethan to her. Thomas started joking around that Damiano finally found himself a girlfriend and Ethan was really polite, he kissed Naomi’s hand and hugged her too, smiling really kindly. They were all so nice. They started inviting her over for dinners or just to hang out by the pool. She also listened to them playing and recording their new songs. Damiano told them that she wanted to be a painter and they all started reassuring her even more, that chasing her dream is the best thing for her and that she should never give up. Naomi really felt like she finally found her place.

Naomi and Damiano reached the beach, they put the blanket on the sand, put out all the food from the basket and they sat opposite each other. They were both smiling widely and chatting about everything. They drank some wine, ate some pasta and then they sat next to each other admiring the sunset.

- I really like you, you know? - Damiano said glancing at Naomi. - And I mean, I like you a lot. You’re really an amazing person with so much talent and you’re just so caring and loving. You really make me happy. - he said not taking his eyes off of her.

- Dami.. - Naomi started but she was interrupted.

- What I want to say is.. - he took her hands - I fell in love with you Naomi. I fell for you hard and I’m pretty sure since the day I saw you at that café. I care about you so much and any time with you is my favorite time in the world. So if you want to.. We could try, you know.. Being together, like, in a relationship. - he said in one breathe.

Naomi was speechless, her stomach was squeezing and she felt her cheeks turning red. She never would have though that someone will make her feel like this again. She knew that he cares for her but she didn’t know that he would feel the same way she felt about him.

- Dami.. Of course I do want to try, you make me the happiest, and honestly I didn’t know you feel the same way, that’s why I didn’t say anything. And also because.. - Naomi wanted to tell him about Alessandro but she was scared that Damiano will back off, saying that he will give her time.

- What’s wrong, bella? - he said gently squeezing her hand.

- I was in a relationship before. His name was Alessandro and we met before I started college. We were together for 3 years and everything was going just fine. But then.. One day when I came back home earlier than usual I found him cheating with my best friend, Sofia. Since then I just decided to not get into any relationship and live only for myself because I was too afraid to get hurt again - Naomi said looking down at their intertwined hands.

- Oh bella.. - Damiano pulled her into a tight hug.

He stroked her back and her hair and he was whispering to her ear. A single tear fell down her cheek but not because she was hurt but because of how gentle and caring Damiano was. He hugged her and made her feel better and she couldn’t find herself with anyone else right now than with him. He pulled away, looked into her eyes and smiled slightly.

- I was in a relationship too a while ago. It turned out we didn’t match and our life goals and perspectives were so different that we decided to end things. Maybe it wasn’t as harsh as your breakup but I felt awful for at least a month. I didn’t go out of my room and I lost all will to write music. Victoria brought me food every day but I just didn’t want to eat. But it all passed.. Listen, if you need more time it’s all good, I’ll give you space and I’ll wait till you’re ready.

Naomi was silent for a couple of seconds. In her head there was a battle. She wanted to let go of bad memories and trust Damiano completely, start a relationship with him, but on the other hand she was scared to get hurt again.

- No Dami. I don’t need time, I know what I want and I know how you make me feel and that’s why I want to try. - Naomi said hugging him tightly.

She knew she just overcame her fear and she felt free. Like a huge stone fell off of her heart. She felt amazing and she wanted to live this moment as long as she could. Damiano pulled away and cupped her cheek with his hand. He pulled her closer and she could feel his breath on her face. Slowly, but slightly Damiano leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Naomi touched his cheek and pulled him even closer. And then they both intertwined their lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

Naomi felt her stomach squeezing when Damiano put his hand on her back. It was their first kiss and the sunset was almost turning into the night. They pulled away after seconds and smiled widely at each other.

- I promise, I’ll always take care of you. - Damiano said leaning his forehead against hers.

- Always. - Naomi said grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers together.

That’s when they both knew that they found soulmates in each other.

[badwithten]

doesn’t have to be a love story

〉yangyang x fem!reader

〉highschool au

〉word count 3.7k

〉warnings swearing, alcohol, vaping, violence? (not really)

 〉yangyang and y/n have been close for a long time but it didn't really make sense.  those two didn’t mix, especially if there was no romance involved. this is why their friends found it so hard to believe that this wouldn’t end in a relationship, it won't right?  

“Yangyang it's pretty obvious you like her” It's not the first time he's heard those words, and he's certain it won't be the last. I suppose it was strange around here for guys and girls to be friends without a relationship. But that's all it was, only a friendship.

“It's not like that” He groaned and turned his attention to the block of wood he was supposed to be cutting for his hard material class, so far it was not coming along how he wanted. But he didn't feel discouraged, Xiaojuns one was way worse.

“Why don't you just say something?” Xiaojun was pretty reluctant with this whole Y/N and Yangyang thing, convincing himself that they were the end game. But in Yangyangs eyes it just wasn't like that. 

You two became friends in your first year of high school after being sat at the same table in math. You found joy in his jokes about the teacher and he thought it was funny he had to help you with your math every five minutes. Admittedly he wasn't the best at it either. 

Although the constant comments from his friends regarding the relationship between you two got annoying, he understood where they were coming from. He had never had this close of a bond with a girl before, especially not with a girl and it didn't lead anymore. But you were different. You were kind, funny, you understood him, you listened and even cooked for him when his parents went away for the weekend. Even though he loved his group of friends, they were ‘the boys’. It was difficult talking to them about things, it made it hard to talk about emotions or what he enjoyed in fear of not fitting in. He was probably being ridiculous but either way, it didn't matter, because he had you to express his feelings with anyway.

What Yangyang didn't know was that you were also dealing with similar comments from your friends. They were suspicious about the amount of time you two spent together. Even after you explained to them, several times, that he was just a friend nothing more. They insisted that you make a move. It made sense to them, you were always complaining about being single, how you wanted someone in your life. The way you would describe the person you wanted, someone funny, caring, passionate and stood up for what they believed in. All those things were Yangyang, 

But that's not how you saw it, if you and him had gone out, it just wouldn't have worked. The friendship you had was too special to risk that. You will always be grateful for the late nights spent with him, only heading home when your mum calls you telling you she's going to bed. 

Maybe it was because you saw a different side of him. Yangyang, the class clown, who ditches class, doesn’t hand in homework and writes rap lyrics on his tests. But the Yangyang you knew was sensitive, he took into consideration his surroundings and how he affected others and despite what many people think, he was intelligent. The conversations you two had under the stars never left your mind.

The sun was too hot for you to be stuck in such an uncomfortable uniform for any longer than you had to, yet Yangyang was nowhere to be seen. You agreed to meet him outside the gym after the last period since that's where his class would be, and he still managed to be late. This isn't surprising, he had PE. Five minutes after the bell goes, he and Ten finally pile out of the gym, the rest of their class nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey Y/N” Ten skips over with Yangyang trailing behind. He pulls you into a hug, you watch Yangyang roll his eyes from over Tens shoulder, causing you to laugh. “What's funny?”

Ten pulls away to look at you two but no one makes a move to say anything. “Well have fun on your date you two” Before you can get a word in to defend yourself he leaves, slapping Yangyang on the ass for good measure before dashing towards the front of the school.

“They’re still going on about that?” You and Yangyang finally make your way out the back of the school to start the long journey home. 

“Yeah don't worry about it, you know what they're like” You hum in agreement, not wanting to dwell on the awkward subject. Although you were both forced to hear these remarks every day, it was a different story when the other was with you. It just made things weird. Which caused even more confusion, you both strongly denied that you had any feelings, if so why did it make things awkward?

“Why did you get held in any way?” 

“Me and Ten kept getting balls stuck in the roof so we had to pack up” 

“On accident?” 

“Oh yeah definitely on ‘accident’. And you know what Mrs Hooper is like, doesn't like to have fun” You let out a laugh and rub your eyes, you forgot what he was like. You continue walking towards your usual hang out spot, the park down the road from his house. Stopping at the corner store first, getting drinks and chips to snack on.

“These pringles taste like ass” You look down in disbelief at the whole container of BBQ pringles that you had just bought after Yangyangs suggestion. “Why did you tell me to get these?”

“Well I think they're nice” He reaches over the table and snatches the container away from you.

“You baited me into buying you chips!”

“Not my fault you're slow” He gives you a cheeky smile and downs a few pringles followed by his redbull.

“Unbelievable”

“What's your speech on?” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting Yangyang to come whisper such things in your ear. 

“I haven't decided yet, I've just been playing the snake game” You look around the room to see where the teacher is, yet you can't see him anywhere, the reason why Yangyang is standing beside you.

“I know I've been watching you” He sits down in the empty chair next to you. “You could always write about me you know?”

“Yangyang, I love you” He leans forward, resting his head on his hand and batters his eyelashes. “But no”

“Tsk your lost” As the teacher walks into the room he quickly stands to head back to his original seat across the class. 

“Yangyang, what are you doing out of your seat?” Mr Smith, a usually pretty chill teacher, still didn’t appreciate people mucking around when he's gone.

“Y/N needed help, sir” Your eyes go wide and you stare down Yangyang, he has the biggest smile across his face.

“Why didn't you say so? I'll be there soon Miss L/N '' You turn and mouth to Yangyang.

‘I hate you’

“Aren't you cold?” Yangyang asks, you can hear in his voice that he himself is shivering from the cold, despite the fact he has a jacket on. 

“A bit but what am I supposed to do about it?”

“I got an idea” You expect him to offer you his jacket, or maybe his sweatshirt. But instead, you just get pain.

“Ow! Yangyang, did you just punch my leg?” You reach down and rub the spot he just hit, it wasn't that painful but you liked to play it up. 

“It'll burn up now, you're welcome” Even though it's pitch black, you just know that he has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“I think I should head home now, we have school tomorrow” You stand up and pat down your slightly damp leggings from the dewy grass. Yangyang also scrambles to his feet.

“Wait if this is because of the punch I’m sorry” 

“No, what the, it's just I have to walk home and it's already so dark” You pick up your bag and head towards the footpath out of the park. His house is on the way towards your house so you always end up dropping him home first,

“I don't wanna leave yet, my parents aren't home, it's scary living by yourself” You stop in your tracks, unable to believe what he just said.

“If your parents' aren't home, then why have we been sitting out in the cold for the past 3 hours?” You hear the rustle of his jacket, indicating he simply just shrugged. “Oh my god, Yangyang. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“Yes please,” You don't mind the idea of spending all night with him, especially if it means you don't have to walk all the way home. As you turn into his street you realize you've ever actually been to his house before, despite the countless times he showed up at your door. You were caught slightly off guard at how nice the place was, you don't know what you were expecting but something about Yangyang didn't exactly scream fancy. 

“Wow your place is really nice Yangyang” You comment as you take off your shoes at the door, the warmth comforting from the chill you had gotten.

“Thanks” Yangyang heads straight to the kitchen and you follow, unsure what to do with yourself. “Do you want anything to eat? We should probably make tea”

“Well, what is there?” He walks around the counter and opens up the fridge.

“Not a lot” You move around to look over his shoulder and are disappointed at what you see.

“Why is there only grapes?” 

“I don't know, grapes are good.” He grabs out the grapes and starts popping them into his mouth, unfazed by the fact that there's there's no real food in his fridge, apart from various condiments.

“How long have you been home alone for?” 

“A couple of nights”

“And you've been eating grapes the whole time?” He nods and continues eating. “Should I make some proper food?”

“Yeah, I can't cook”

“Pasta?”

“Yeah but I don't like onion or garlic, or tomatoes really” You sigh and rub your face, this was going to be a long night.

You and Yangyang weren't the best at being organised, meaning you left his house at eight am, it took forty-five minutes to walk to school, and school started at eight-thirty. Luckily for you, you had art first, meaning there was no real pressure to get to school on time. Not so lucky for Yangyang who had studies of society. You get to school and part ways. You know you'll see him throughout the day but your conversations are never as good when other people are around. 

You get to the art room and the teacher says good morning, no comment about being late although you know you'll hear all about it from Ten when you see him sitting by himself.

“Morning,” You say as you drop your bag down. “Where's Winwin?”

“Sick apparently” He shrugs and focuses on the work in front of him, carefully shading in the portrait of himself with charcoal. “And someone had to leave me all alone this morning”

“It was fifteen minutes” You roll your eyes and wander off to get your art from the folder up the front, it's not your best piece but it'll get you a pass. A portrait of Harry Styles.  “I can't believe they let you do yourself for this”

“Why would I not be allowed to?” You sit down next to him and start working right away. 

“The project was a charcoal portrait of someone you look up to or who inspires you” 

“Yeah, I look up to myself” You laugh at his confidence, something you wish you had. You can't blame him though, the photo he chose is very flattering. And Ten is talented, it's coming out like a masterpiece.

“You like shit by the way” Ten is known for not holding back his comments, but even then he always catches you off guard.

“Thanks” 

“You know what I mean”

“Yeah yeah. I stayed at Yangyangs last night and didn't have any of my stuff” Ten groans and turns in his seat to look at you deeply. 

“Y/N this is frustrating. Do you like him or not?” 

“We've been over this a hundred times Ten, no I don't like him” Ten Reaches forward and presses the back of his hand onto your cheek.

“Then why is your face heating up?” Your eyes go wide and you rest your head on your arms face down on the desk. You hear Ten laughs as he begins rubbing circles into your back. “You're allowed to have feelings for him you know?”

“But I just don't want to ruin our friendship, he's special to me”

“So you do like him?”

“Ugh, Ten I don't know!” Your voice is louder than expected and the class turns to look at you, embarrassment bubbles up more in your stomach as you stare down at your desk.

“Y/N, Chittaphon. Quiet down.

“Sorry Sir”

“Yangyang, why are you fifteen minutes late to class?”

“Sorry Miss, I had a guest round this morning and lost track of time”

“Ok just make sure you catch up, get Kun to explain the work to you” She sighs and flicks him away with his wrist, he hurriedly moves to the back of the class where Kun is sat, as well as a couple other kids.

“I thought you were home alone, who did you have round?” Yangyang is surprised Kun even heard what he said to the teacher, but apparently, it's one of his many talents. 

“Y/N stayed '' He immediately regrets saying anything but he knows he won't be able to lie for long either way.

“How was it?” 

“Fine” Kun looks over expecting more of a reply than that. “I don't know man, she made me pasta and we watched a movie. Nothing happened.”

“She made you food? She must be whipped.”

“What?”

“In creative catering, she wouldn't even let me try her icing to see what it was supposed to taste like. Mine ended up being sour.”

“Ok, so she cooked for me? That doesn't mean anything”

“Hmm sure,” Kun turns back to his history assignment.

“Wait tell me what it means”

“God, are you that thick?” When Yangyang just stares at him blankly he drops his head. “She likes you”

“She does?”

ten: did yangyang talk to you this morning

ten: about anything

ten: specifically y/n?

kun: Maybe? Why? Did she talk to you about anything

kun: He just told me she cooked for him

ten: y/n never cooks for anyone

ten: did he not pick up on that?

kun: Ikr 

kun: He seemed happy to hear that she likes him

ten: should i tell her that he likes her as well?

kun: Go for it

kun: Nothing will happen otherwise

The next day you managed to get to class on time, although you can't say the same for Yangyang. You walk into a semi-full class and head to the back to join Ten and Lucas, accounting was boring and you never understood anything but Lucas managed to make things bearable. Ten, well he mainly made things worse. 

“Y/N, exciting news” Was the first thing said to you by Ten which usually meant it wasn't good news. You groan as you sit down, already feeling defeated.

“What is it?” Lucas seems more excited than you to hear about this.

“Yangyang finally admitted his feelings for Y/N”

“What?” You sit up straight, unable to believe the words you're hearing. Ten has a grin and Lucas is laughing harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. “Are you serious?”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Ughh” You rub your eyes hard enough you're sure that they're red. “I just, I don't know”

“You like him don't you? Isn't this a good thing?” Ten has gotten a bit more serious, not expecting you to be so upset by this news. 

“Yes but, I don't know, can we talk about something else please?”

You're also surprised at this news, you never thought you liked Yangyang. In fact, you were so certain you didn't like him. But finding out that maybe you do? It changes everything. Him liking you back only makes things more real. You would think you'd be happy at this news but you don't know. That's the only way to describe things right now. Confused. Yes, you like him, he likes you back. That should be the end of the story. But maybe not. Things are different and you don't know why. It's impossible for you to sleep with all these thoughts rushing. It's even harder for you to go to school without your friends bombarding you with a million questions about Yangyang. You wouldn't mind if it was something else, but you're so unsure of your feelings you don't know how to answer. You're certain Yangyang would have been told you like him as well, Yangyang has more confidence than you and you wouldn't be surprised if he made a move. The thought of him doing so makes you anxious, you don't want him to confess, you don't want to say yes, you don't want it. 

Your phone lights up the darkroom. A text from Yangyang, a perfect distraction from your sleepless night. 

yangx2: hey

yangx2: wanna go for a walk after school tomorrow?

yangx2: i need to get some supplies for class

y/n: sorry i’m not feeling very well

y/n: idk if i’ll be at school tomorrow

yangx2: damn :/

yangx2: get better soon

yangx2: i have to go with lucas :(

y/n: haha you’ll be fine

You didn't show at school for the rest of the week, being too ‘sick’ to do so. Every time a text would come through from Yangyang asking how things were, the conversation would die as quickly as it started thanks to your dry replies. You didn't know how to feel, didn't know what to do. Ignoring him was the only way for you to process your emotions right now. You just needed time. You couldn't be off of school forever, but thankfully it was over soon. It gave you two weeks to sort your shit out. During those two weeks, Yangyang stopped reaching out. You felt bad for giving him false hope but you knew this was what was best. Well, at least you thought so. Maybe things would have worked out in a different life. But right now, it wasn't the right time.

When school started again you were nervous, it was a fresh start. You hoped time just sorted things out. You walked up to the front of the school where you usually meet with everyone. Ten arrived first, then Xiaojun, Winwin next, Kun and Yangyang arrived together and Lucas was probably off at the skatepark vaping with Hendery. Surprisingly things went well, too well.

Everything was back to normal, almost normal. It wasn't awkward with Yangyang, but things weren't right. And you could tell. You two were not as close, he didn't come to annoy you during English, or invite you to his hard materials class to bully Xiaojun. He wasn't Yangyang around you anymore. You were scared you ruined things but maybe he just needed time as well. You hoped that was all, you didn't want to lose someone like him.

The sleepout at Lucas’ you were all hanging out in a heated up way too quickly, with a mixture of sweaty drunk guys and various flavours of vape clouding the room. You couldn't bear to be in there any longer, deciding to slip out the back and sit on the deck outside. The air was harsh but it was a nice contrast to the hot smoke from the room within. Your cheeks were burning hot so the crisp air made it relaxing. You weren't out there for very long until another person escaped the room as well, Yangyang.

“Hey,” You say as he sits down next to you, it wasn't that you didn't want to see him, but it was the first time you two had been alone for a while, especially since he was a bit tipsy.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, it was just hot in there. Are you ok?”

“I'm great.” He looks at you as smiles brightly and you laugh, you miss seeing his face more often.

“Oh yeah,” You entertain his drunk ways and talk to him like a child. “What's got you in such a good mood?”

“I was talking to Nina on the phone”

“Nina?” 

“The girl I like remember, I'm gonna ask her out soon” Your heart sinks and you start to feel sick, although you're not sure if it's from the alcohol or this news. Jealousy spikes within you but you don't know why you have no right to be upset when you pushed him away. You feel stupid for believing that he ever liked you. Ten was just a troll wasn't he? He got you to ghost one of your closest friends who wasn't even interested in you. Thinking back to it, Yangyang always showed signs of liking Nina that he never did to you. Calling her pretty, defending her, buying her food. Yangyang never did that for you despite the fact you were so close. Your heart breaks, even more, knowing you never wanted it in the first place.

“Oh” You try to hide your pain through a smile, he would have been able to pick up if his senses were not blurred.

“Yeah she's great”

“I'm glad to hear that Yangyang, you deserve someone like her in your life”

“Hmm” It turns awkward, you don't know what else to say. Instead, you just stand and head inside. You need another drink to get through the night.

“You ok? I went to look for you at Lucas’ the other night but Ten said you left” Yangyang took you off guard as he pulled up a chair to sit by you in English. 

“Oh yeah, I just wasn't feeling well” It wasn't lying, you just didn't say why you didn't say why. If he asks you'll say that you ate something funny. But in reality, you felt awful because of him. You swallow hard and bring yourself to say the next words. “Hows Nina?”

“Oh, I finally did it” His smile is bigger than anything you've ever seen on him, his eyes brighter than ever before. And it suits him. Being happy suits him. You know you'll never be able to bring him that, but Nina can. Nina suits him.

“Congratulations, I'm proud of you Yangyang” It hurts you to say that but you need to. You have to because you can't be angry at him, you can't. You left him. You ghosted him. Even if he didn't like you, it was a shitty thing to do as a friend. You thought you were so lovable that he had to have a crush on you, but in reality, it was nothing more than a friendship. Not everything turns into love, does it?

[sambergscott]

your son is going to love you

Summary: Peralta dads are cursed, destined to have terrible relationships with their sons. When Jake finds out *he's* going to have a son, he spirals. Amy helps.

goes without saying that if you haven’t watched 7x10 yet maybe don’t read this

She wakes up at 2am needing to pee.

She’s been waking up needing to pee a lot lately.

It’s like their baby has no respect for her sleeping pattern, perfectly honed over the years to maximise productivity, while still fitting in the full 8 hours of sleep needed a day. Their baby doesn’t care about the 8 hour recommendation, he laughs in the face of scientists. With the bad back and heart burn and constant kick, kick, kicking of her bladder, she’s averaging 4.7. She thought babies didn’t start keeping you up all night until they were born but, oh, how wrong she was.

She pats her husband to wake him up and come keep her company. If she’s awake because of their baby, then damn it, he’s going to be awake, too. But he’s not there, leaving her hand awkwardly patting a bare mattress.

“Jake?” She murmurs groggily, sitting up and switching on her bedside lamp. She’s half-expecting him to be sitting in the armchair playing Mario Party on his Switch (he has become a little bit addicted in the last few months and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s found him trying to beat Wario in the early hours of the morning) or have left a note beside her bed that he had a lead on a case and needed to go in with a scribbled ‘love you’ underneath and a lopsided heart. The armchair is empty, but there’s a light on down the hall and since there’s no way she forgot to turn it off before bed (she triple checks), she figures that it must be Jake.

Forgetting the whole reason why she woke up in the first place, she grabs Jake’s hoodie from the floor for warmth and pads into their living-kitchen-dining area. It’s the open plan-ness that made her fall in love with the apartment upon first visit and submit all her paperwork as soon as she was out the door. It’s the open plan-ness that would make the Property Brothers proud and the dumb people who go on that show foam at the mouth with jealousy. It’s the open plan-ness that allows her to see her husband straight away, snacking on the unfinished party food.

(Apparently people don’t feel like eating after a man cuts his thumb off and spurts blood everywhere. Who’d have thought?)

There’s a weird, pensive look on his face that draws her towards him.

“You OK, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he responds. He pops a tomato from the salad bowl in his mouth, then another, then another.

She narrows her eyes. He never eats tomatoes unless they’re in ketchup or on top of a famous Sal’s pizza. Something is wrong.

She thinks back on their day, mentally rewinding the events from waking up to the morning briefing to their private sex reveal in the break room and finding out they’re having a boy (the empty cake box and blue frosting around Scully’s mouth was very surprising indeed). They were both floating on Cloud 9 all afternoon, came home and Zoomed the entire family, falling asleep on the couch around 9.30pm because pregnancy is exhausting.

Nothing particularly awful stands out.

Unless...

“Are you thinking about your Grandpa?”

He’d been so excited to see him again, so excited to reunite Walter Peralta  with Roger, The Admiral with the Captain. To be honest, Amy was less than impressed. He’d been nice enough to her, asked her about her job, about the baby, small talked about the weather. But he never asked her about Jake, probed about the 20 odd years of his grandson’s life that he’d missed out on. Which is frustrating because she has a lot of embarrassing stories ready to tell and a whole photo album of Jake on her phone. He couldn’t care less about Roger or Jake, storming out of the sex reveal party after calling his son a screw up and turning off his phone so they couldn’t get in contact with him. He’s a selfish dick and her husband deserves better. Still, he won’t be thinking about what a monster Walter turned out to be, he’ll be finding ways to blame himself that yet another father walked out of his life again.

He nods silently and she leads him to the couch.

“Talk to me, Jake.”

He releases a shaky breath. “The Peralta’s are cursed.”

“With devastatingly handsome good looks?” She half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Because, hello, her husband is hot; she constantly overhears other women in the precinct talking about his glow up and it would be impossible to ignore the female attention he gets in bars and even just walking down the street before he scratches his face to show off his wedding band and wraps one arm proudly around his wife’s shoulders. She’s seen the pictures of a young Roger Peralta, too, and with that charm smile... she gets it.

“Thank you,” he smiles briefly, “but no. Peralta dads are cursed with terrible relationships with their sons.”

“That’s not going to be you,” she says without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?” He launches into a scathing personal indictment that leaves his cheeks stinging with tears. “I’m immature, obsessed with my work, messy, always late. My dad was never around when I was a kid. I don’t even know what dads do with their sons! And what if it’s in my genes? To be a crappy dad, abandon my kid like a dozen Peralta fathers before me. Your parents still don’t think I’m good enough. You didn’t even like me at first. It only makes sense that our baby would hate me, too.”

“Woah, babe. Slow down. Let’s unpack that one at a time.” She wipes away his tears with his hoodie sleeve and squeezes his hand. “First of all, you are way more mature now than you used to be. We bought a family friendly Sedan. You read parenting books. You were eating fruit, like, two minutes ago.”

“Tomatoes are fruits?”

“What? Yes, how do you not - not the point.” She shakes her head. “And so what, you enjoy your job. That’s a good thing, Jake! Do you understand how rare that is? You’re doing the thing you love while providing a decent income for our family. And besides, I’m way more obsessed than you. I have FOMOW, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love our kid more than anything. And as for the messy, late thing, if I can look past it because of how much I love you, so will our son.”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles.

“Now onto your point about not knowing what dads do, that is a straight up lie and we both know it, Peralta. You’re always hanging out with Charles and Nikolaj and Lord Knows Terry doesn’t shut up about all the activities he does with his girls.”

“I know what they do when I’m around, but what do you do when it’s 5am and they won’t go back to sleep?” He frets. “At what age do you introduce them to Die Hard? In Cry Hard With A Vengeance,” he quotes the parenting book she originally bought him as a joke but has kind of become his Torah, “Bruce Willis says right away, but what if he’s not ready to understand the complex plots? What if he prefers Timothy Olyphant to William Atherton? Oh my God, what if our son doesn’t think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

He’s spiralling and it’s a good job he’s with the only person who can truly calm him down.

“I think Bruce Willis is just trying to promote his franchise and that we’ll be watching more Paw Patrol than Die Hard for the next few years, babe, but I’m sure when he is old enough, he will love the movies as much as you.”

“Right,” he agrees, “you’re totally right. Action thrillers aren’t very baby friendly. I’ll just watch it on mute with subtitles.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She loves him so much. Which segways them nicely onto his final two points.

“My parents do love you. Sure, they’re critical, but that’s just the way they are. They’re the same way to all of us. My mom complains to everyone she meets about how I can’t cook, how Tony hasn’t settled down and made her any beautiful grandbabies yet, even Perfect David faces her wrath when he goes a week without phoning her. If the worst thing my mom has to say about you is that you’re below average in height, you’re doing OK. And as for me apparently not liking you at first, I did like you.”

He furrows his brow. “But you said you found me annoying and difficult to be around.”

“Yet I didn’t ask to switch desks, continued working cases with you and went to Shaw’s whenever I was invited.” She stares at him pointedly. “If I really found you difficult to be around, I wouldn’t have stayed. I thought you were cute and funny and good at your job and yeah, you were annoying too, but,” she shrugs, “it never put me off.”

“So what you’re saying is that you had a crush on me first,” he grins.

“No. You obviously had a crush on me back then, too. What I’m saying is that I love you, our son loves you and you’re going to be a great dad.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “My dad said the same thing. About our son loving me.”

“He’s right,” she replies. “I feel him kick every time you get home from work, every time you sing to Taylor Swift in the car, every time I mention your name. Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I don’t know, still nervous about the curse, I guess.” He twists his wedding band on his finger.

Amy bites her lip. “Are you not excited about us having a boy?”

She has to ask. His excitement looked genuine in the break room, but it’s no secret that he was hoping for a girl. A mini-Amy, he said. While she’s always been more accustomed to boys considering the Santiago’s have, like, a million of them, Jake couldn’t get over the image of a little girl in dresses and doing ballet and with long, dark hair that he eventually learns to braid.

“Of course I am,” he’s quick to assure her. “Stupid excited. Never been more excited for anything. Not even the Ninja Turtles reboot. But still... nervous.” He rubs his hand over his face, muffling his voice. “Everyone is assuming what kind of dad I’m going to be. Whether I’m going to be good at it or not. To be fair, the only person who doubted me is that murderer I arrested last week, obviously not my biggest fan. Everyone else is convinced I can do it. What if I can’t? What if I’m genetically wired to be a bad dad? What if I disappoint you and our baby and Charles who has been dreaming about this forever?”

“Jake,” she softens her voice, pulling his hand away from his face, “the fact you are so worried about being a bad dad proves that you will not be one. Nor could you ever disappoint us.”

“But you’re my wife. You have to say that.”

“I would never have married you and become your wife if I thought you were the kind of person who could abandon your kid,” she promises him. “You have been perfect so far, dealing with all the vitamins and over-scheduled sex and washing my clothes when I sweat through them and holding my hair back when I’m being sick. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, read every binder, bought me every weird food craving. You hang out with the bump every night, talking and singing to it. I know you’re going to be a great dad, Jake, because you already are one.”

She kisses him and it’s soft and tender and filled with love, only interrupted by the kick, kick, kicking of their son.

“Hey,” Jake says in his best authoritative dad voice/John McClane dealing with German terrorists voice (he’s been practising in front of the mirror following Bruce’s advice), pointing a warning finger at the bump. “I’m going to kiss your mom as much as I want, Peralta. I loved her first.”

Amy giggles, stroking her fingers through Jake’s unruly curls. His bedhead is always wild and it’s maybe her favourite thing in the entire world. She silently sends a message of her own to their son to inherit his dad’s hair. And eyes. And handsome smile.

He kicks again as if to say ‘OK, mom’.

And then she really needs to pee.

[saturrn-writes]

Fighting For You (TonyxZiva)

A/N: This takes place in the middle of S11E2 “Past, Present, and Future”; Tony has just found Ziva in Israel, they share a tender moment in the olive grove and then things get *spicy*

 I have also posted this fic on AO3. Please do not claim my work as your own. 

Rating: M for smut, fluff, language, slow-ish burn

TW// language, sexual content, arguing, blood (not sexual), mentions of pregnancy

 Word Count: 7244

      Ziva rested her forehead against Tony’s. “I’m fighting for you, Ziva,” he whispered, his voice breaking. She sighed.

      “I know.” She didn’t know what else to say. The tenderness of the moment hung between them like branches around them in the olive grove. She and Tony had been coworkers for years, but there had always been something more between them. The night of the car accident, she had been trying to tell him she loved him. She never had a chance that night, and there never seemed to be a good time. If she said something now, she was afraid of ruining the moment completely, afraid of losing Tony forever. Deep down, she was more afraid of what might happen if she let herself be too vulnerable with him, what would happen if he loved her back. 

      “Ziva,” Tony repeated, his voice barely audible. He felt frozen in time, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and one false move would send him plummeting to the bottom of the ravine below. He had fallen hard for the Israeli beauty, but he was never quite sure how she felt about him. After the NCIS attack and their trip to Berlin the two had grown closer, but the amount of unspoken tension between them was confusing. He loved her, wanted to tell her, but he was also incredibly physically attracted to her and wasn’t sure if it was truly more than that. Spending time with her in close quarters made him jumpy, desperate to touch her. Her fighting, dominant nature turned him on, but in this moment he wanted to take things slow and gentle. He had told her she wasn’t alone, and he needed her to understand that he meant it. 

      “Tony.” That one word was heavy with emotion, longing, tinged with a sharp sensuality that made his heart flutter and his pulse start racing. He had been shot at, kidnapped, and tortured during his tenure as an agent but this was the most afraid he had ever been. That maybe she felt the same way, wanted him the same way. Ziva reached a hand up to his cheek, thumbing the short beard he had grown in since Cairo. Her eyes caught his in an intense stare and he tried not to blink, scared the moment would be over or that it was all his imagination. 

      Ziva watched his eyes, watched him swallow in anticipation. She had never been afraid of anything, but this was different. This could change everything, and she didn’t know if it would be for better or for worse. She took a breath to steady herself, then swiftly closed the distance between them. 

 His beard was scratchy on her face, but his lips were soft, firm against her own. He grabbed her face in his hands, not wanting to let her go. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him toward her, kissing him with an unbridled hunger that lit his blood on fire. He shifted his hands to wrap them in her wild hair and she moaned softly into the kiss. The sound spurred him on, biting at her lower lip. Not one to back down from any kind of fight, Ziva bit back, running her tongue along Tony’s lip with a smile as he opened his mouth in surprise. His hands began to wander under the hem of her shirt, desperate for closer contact. Ziva finally pulled back, leaving her hands at the back of his neck. 

 “That was…” she trailed off. 

 “Yeah. Um.” Tony let go off her shirt. “I’m sorry.”

 “No, I am sorry. I should not have done that.” Reluctantly, she let him go. “I know we no longer work together, but we should not be doing this. Not here, not now.” She sighed. “Everything is upside down and sideways.”

 “It’s upside down and backwards, David,” Tony corrected quietly, smiling faintly at the Israeli. “But I know what you mean.” He checked his watch. “Are you hungry? Because I’m starving.” 

 Ziva chuckled. “You have not changed at all, have you?” 

 “Guess not.” 

      They walked back to the house in silence, hands barely touching. The truth was that they had both changed, but it was easier to pretend that they were the same as they had been when they first met. “There is not much food in the house, but we will make do,” Ziva informed him as she shut the front door behind them. She followed him to the kitchen, glancing out of the windows to check their surroundings. “It is all clear. I do not anticipate unwanted company, but if you can find me so can someone else.” She secured her gun back in its holster and shut the curtains at the kitchen window. Light still peaked through, but the olive grove was now a green haze through the white material. Tony was standing in front of the pantry with his arms crossed. 

      “You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t planning on having company. Any chance we can order a pizza or something?” He turned to face her. She was watching him intently, taking in the strong shape of him. He looked exhausted but happy, and she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. 

      “No pizza, but there is tomato and cucumber salad in the fridge. There might be some couscous in the pantry still. I need to get more supplies.” 

      “Sit down, I’ll cook.” Tony went back to rifling through the odds and ends in the pantry and cabinets. While Ziva watched from her perch at the table, Tony made the couscous and opened the container of tomato and cucumber salad. “It’s not much, but it’s a meal,” he said finally, placing a bowl in front of Ziva and setting one at the place across from her. 

      “Thank you, Tony.” She poked at the couscous with a fork. “I know that I told you coming here was a mistake, but I am glad you did.” 

      “I meant what I said at the airport before. You are not alone. I’ve always been here for you. I know we’ve had our moments and I know that it’s hard for you to trust anyone, but I’ll always be here for you no matter what. I promise.”

      “I know,” she replied, not quite meeting his eyes. “And I believe you. But there are still so many pieces I must put back together. I buried my father months ago, but I feel as though I am still burying him. I do not know if there are still people after me, and I am tired of running.” 

      Tony reached his hand across the table and took hers, tracing his thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to keep hiding and looking over your shoulder. You can breathe easy, Ziva, at least for now.” 

      She let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Tony’s eyes. “What about Gibbs?”

      “I feel bad for lying to him, but I understand why you didn’t want me to tell him I found you yet. You’ll have to talk to him eventually, though.” 

      “Perhaps.” 

      They ate their meal in silence, listening to the sounds of nature filtering through the windows. It was peaceful here, and part of Tony wanted to hide out here with Ziva forever. Just the two of them, making up for every missed moment they could have shared over the years. 

      “I forgot about the wine,” Ziva said finally, pushing up from the table and gathering the dishes. “Would you like some?”

    “Uh, sure.” Tony got up too, running water in the sink and reaching for a sponge while she poured two glasses of red wine. “You got any movies out here in the Israel boonies?” Tony asked as he took one of the glasses from Ziva.

      “No, sorry. We do not even have a T.V.” She sipped her wine, leaning one hip against the counter and watching Tony over the rim of her glass. Tony grinned at her in that way he had, the same smile he gave whenever he was giving McGee a smartass answer. “What is so funny, Tony?”

    “I was going to suggest a movie, but I hear strip poker is still a popular pastime.” Ziva rolled her eyes.

      “I was not aware that this was a frat house.” She was trying to read his expression, gauge whether or not he was doing his usual casual flirting or if this was a hint at wanting to continue what they had started in the olive grove earlier. It was hard to tell, but she didn’t want to ruin anything by asking about it outright.

      Tony finished his wine, set the empty glass on the counter, and crossed his arms. The joking smirk was still half on his lips. “I wonder if Adam likes strip poker,” he mused, and Ziva glared at him.

      “What?” she demanded, crossing her arms and clutching her glass in one hand. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him, but the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

      “Your little, uh. Friend with benefits. Adam.” Tony took a step forward towards her. She held her ground and kept her gaze locked on his, her eyes narrowing.

      “As I have already explained to you, it was one time. A moment of weakness.” Her voice was firm, but he heard a tinge of something at the edge. Regret or guilt, maybe, but that could have been his imagination. Her eyes scanned his face, and then the edges of her lips curled up into a mysterious smile. “Are you jealous, Tony?”

      He almost said yes, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he shrugged. “Just confused. I was serious about what I told you at the airport before. I guess I wasn’t sure why you would turn to him when NCIS has been your family all these years.”

      She sighed, her shoulders sagging a little in defeat. “I do not know, Tony. He was here, and you were not. We did not really talk about it before or after, it just happened and that was the end of it. We are all adults, so I do not understand why you are so insistent about this.”

      “I don’t know, Ziva, I guess I thought that after the attack on NCIS and everything that something had changed between us.” His voice raised as he continued, starting to pace the small kitchen as he talked. “There’s so much back and forth, and I feel like we’re constantly walking this fine line between friends and something more. I know you have a hard time trusting people and I know that you’ve been hurt before, but I really though that maybe something would be different. CI-Ray was a murderer, but you almost married him for fuck’s sake. I was always there for you, but whenever you need me you pull away. I don’t get you, Ziva! I’ve been trying since the day I met you but I don’t understand you at all. Every time I think I do, you go sleep with Adam or you go rogue, and I can’t keep doing this.”

    “How dare you bring Ray into this!” She was almost shouting, her tone matching his. “That was not about you! That is your problem, Tony. Everything has to be about you. Are you really that selfish?” She slammed her glass down on the counter and it shattered, shards flying and the last remnants of merlot trickling over the lip of the counter and onto the floor. Neither she nor Tony paid it any attention. “I devoted my life to Mossad and then to NCIS, to my father and then to Gibbs. Work has always been my focus and my priority, and everything else has been secondary. It is easier that way. You killed Michael, and I know you had your reasons, but I am sure that if you thought about it from my point of view for a second you can understand why that was traumatic. How was I supposed to know that Ray was a bad man? It is not always black and white, Tony, but you have no concept of nuance.” She took a breath, absently pulling a sliver of glass from the side of her hand before lowering her voice to her normal volume. “We work well together, and I trust you with my life, but that does not mean that something more makes sense or is comfortable for me.”

    “Newsflash, Ziva: life isn’t always comfortable! You of all people should know that. I’m sorry about Michael, and about Ray, and that clearly you have some serious trust issues that you need to deal with. I understand all that. But it feels like you aren’t even trying, and I’m tired of feeling like a yo-yo. You pull me in but push me away again as soon as I get close.” He took another step forward, his pulse racing in his ears. It felt good to finally say all of the things he had been holding back. He didn’t want to hurt Ziva, but he was also tired of having to pretend that she didn’t hurt him right back. Not to mention that her fiery aggression was turning him on again.

    Instead of stepping back she took a step forward, planting her feet and challenging him with her eyes. They were maybe a foot apart, but she wasn’t going to be the one to cave in and close the distance. “You do not have a great race record with women either, Tony. La Grenouille’s daughter, a million one night stands that you cannot even let stay in your apartment. You are a grown man that sleeps in a twin bed, Tony. That is a sign of commitment issues if I have ever seen one.”

    “It’s track record, Ziva.”

    “What?”

    “You said race record. The phrase is track record.”

    “You are insufferable sometimes. Did you know that?”

    “I’ve been told. But you love it.” His tone was challenging but he waited with bated breath for her reply.

    “I do,” she said quietly.

    “What?”

    “I do love you, Tony.” She reached out a hand to touch his chest, pressing her palm flat against his heart.

    “I love you, Ziva David.” He mirrored her gesture, resting his hand against her racing heart. Her skin was warm through the thin fabric of her shirt. They stood like that for a few minutes, neither of them daring to shatter the fragility of the moment. “And I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive. It’s not all your fault.”

    Ziva wrapped her fingers into a fist, pulling Tony to her by his shirt. “Rule number six, Tony. Never say you are sorry.” Her face was inches from his, her eyes daring him to close the distance.

    Tony felt his anger fade into desire as he looked down at Ziva, but his eyes widened in shock when he saw her hand. “You’re bleeding,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Is there a first aid kit around here?”

    “I am fine, Tony. I have endured much worse.” She pulled her hand away, wiping it gently on her pants. He caught her waist with his now empty hand, bringing her closer to him.

After another agonizing minute of heavy eye contact, Tony kissed her again. She tasted like wine and hope, a dizzying combination that Tony savored. The kiss was tender at first, but the gentleness evaporated into desire, need, and hunger. Ziva grappled with Tony’s shirt, desperate to take it off of him as he walked them backwards towards the counter. The small of her back hit the edge of the counter and Tony lifted her onto it with one swift motion, letting her pull him closer to her with her powerful legs. She eased her grip as Tony pulled back to help her with his shirt, but they found each other again quickly, the kiss all teeth and tongue and hands all over. Tony moved to nip at her neck and she moaned something in Hebrew, throwing her head back and dragging her nails over his shoulders.

Tony began impatiently tugging the hem of her shirt upward, dragging his thumbs along her toned torso as she pulled away from him again, raising her arms over her head. Her shirt dropped to the floor as she kicked off her shoes, once again seeking his mouth with hers. She shifted her weight slightly and pushed him back, sliding off the countertop and forcing him back against the wall, her hands planted on either side of him as she dragged her tongue leisurely up his torso. He bit back a moan as she bit into the flesh of his neck, sucking a deep purple hickey into his skin. “Did you think you would have the upper hand this whole time, Tony?” she questioned, her voice thick with lust as she pressed him closer to the wall. Before he had a chance to answer, she moved her hands from beside his head to his belt, her nimble fingers making quick work of the buckle and sliding the leather from its loops. She held it in one hand and leaned close to his ear, her free hand slamming back against the wall. “Since you do not have your handcuffs, I would be more than happy to make do with this,” she hissed, nipping his ear. He couldn’t hold back a moan at her words.

“I don’t even have a smartass comeback to that. That is easily one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard in my life. However, I want full use of my hands tonight.” As he finished his sentence, he dropped his hands to grip her waist and spun them around so she was pinned to the wall, knocking a picture frame sideways as he did. Before Ziva had a chance to react, he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head, leaning down to kiss her clavicle. Her moans sent a shiver down his spine as he kissed down her chest, tugging at the cups of her bra with his teeth impatiently as he reached her breasts.

She broke the hold he had on her wrists with ease and reached behind her to unclasp her bra as he slid the straps down her arms and tossed the garment back toward the kitchen. Agonizingly slowly he traced his fingers over her small, pert nipples as her back arched off of the wall and her hands found purchase in his hair. With a devilish grin he dragged his tongue over one nipple before closing his mouth over it, looking up to see her eyes shut and her mouth fall open in a delirious exhalation of his name. He used one hand to roll her free nipple, his other hand gripping her hip with a possessiveness that he didn’t know he felt towards her. He grazed his teeth over her nipple and she inhaled sharply in response, biting her lip to avoid giving him the satisfaction of another moan. Instead, she pulled his hair and dragged him back up to her mouth again, capturing his lips in a filthy open-mouthed kiss that left them both wanting more.

Tony slid his hands over her body and under her butt, scooping her up and walking slowly down the hall, stopping to press Ziva against the wall a few times and kiss her deeper as she wrapped her legs around him. He stopped again, fumbling with a doorknob behind her and almost falling forward as the door swung open. He flicked on the light, breaking their kiss again and frowning as he was greeted to the sight of a study instead of a bedroom. She extricated herself from him and gave him a playful swat on the chest. “The bedroom is the next one down, Tony, and the door is open.”

“In my defense, I was a little distracted,” he said defensively, glancing around the small room.

“You are not thinking with the right head, yes?” she questioned playfully, hooking her thumb in one of his belt loops and pulling him towards the desk.

“You could say that,” he conceded. Ziva swept a couple of books off the desk and pushed Tony onto it before straddling his lap and resting her knees on either side of his hips. She ran a hand through her hair as she leaned down to leave a trail of kisses over his chest and up his neck, stopping to nip his earlobes again before sliding her hand between them to settle over the bulge in his jeans.

“Someone is excited,” she murmured into his ear, palming him teasingly through the denim fabric. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone, but she was trying to maintain her composure as much as possible and not grant him the satisfaction of her caving first.

“Can you blame me, David? I don’t know if you’re aware or not but you’re probably the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. I could be misreading the situation, but it seems like you want to fuck me too so yeah, I would say that I’m excited.” He was speaking quickly, trying to keep a grasp on his sanity as her hand increased pressure and her mouth continued to mark him, claim him as hers. He bit his lip as she popped the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down. He leaned up, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to pull his jeans down and kick them to the floor. “As fun as this is, my back is killing me and you’re wearing too many clothes. Bedroom,” he growled, once again lifting her and walking toward the door, flipping the light off as they reached the hallway.

“Next door on the left,” she muttered against his mouth, trailing one hand along the wall until she hit the doorframe. He turned, pushing her against the doorframe as he pulled at the waistband of her pants. She gripped the doorframe with her hands and arched up away from the wall as he dragged her pants down her muscular legs, letting them fall before pulling her against him again and stumbling into the room. He hit the light switch and then settled his hands under her butt again, running his thumbs under the black lace of her panties before placing her on top of the unmade bed. He stood back to admire her graceful body as she rested on her elbows, waiting for him to join her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red from their vicious kisses. Her gold Star of David necklace shone from the tan skin of her chest and he smirked as he watched the swift rise and fall of her peachlike breasts as she caught her breath. Her stomach was taut, her hips slim but beckoning where they met her legs under the black lace. “I need you, Tony. Please,” she said, her eyes wide as she met his gaze.

“God, you don’t need to tell me twice.” He bent down to remove his boxers and she watched his muscular form appreciatively. He wasn’t excessively muscled, but he was strong, solidly built, a form that she knew from memory after so much time with him. As he straightened up her eyes widened even further. His cock wasn’t abnormally long but it was thick and veiny, and she bit her lip thinking about how he was going to feel inside of her. With a smirk, she hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her panties and dragged them slowly down her legs, letting them drop delicately to the floor beside the bed as Tony watched with obvious enthusiasm. He climbed onto the bed, leaning over her once again with a smile and lust blown eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as his hands roamed her body, stopping at her hips just inches from where she wanted him the most. He shimmied down to settle himself between her legs, kissing his way up her calf and up to her inner thigh. He stopped when he reached the inside of her right thigh, chuckling to himself. “So this is the tattoo.” It was a small knife, the blade pointing down toward her knee. He kissed it gently.

“Yes, Tony, this is the tattoo,” she said with a sigh, mildly agitated that he had stopped what he was doing. Her skin was on fire from his touch and his mouth and she was tired of waiting. With a low, almost feral growl she flipped them over, pinning him beneath her. Biting her lip, she reached between them to guide him to where she wanted him the most. With a cry of relief and pleasure she sank onto him, letting herself adjust to his size before she opened her eyes to look at him. His mouth was slack, his fingers gripping her hips for dear life as she squeezed around him. She was so tight, warm, and velvety and he knew in that moment two things: he was never going to love anyone else the way he loved Ziva, and he wasn’t going to last very long like this.

“Fuuuuck,” he finally said. “Why the fuck did we wait so long?”

“Shut up Tony,” she replied breathlessly, holding onto his hands as she started to move. She started slowly, rolling her hips against him as he bottomed out inside her, relishing the feeling of him stretching her out. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. The only sounds in the room were their moans and heavy breathing, skin on skin as Ziva maintained a steady pace, her nails dragging down Tony’s back. She was desperate for friction on her clit but that could wait; he had started to buck his hips up to match her rhythm and she was a little distracted by how good he felt. His cock twitched inside her and his thrusts got sloppier, but he tightened his grip on her anyway. He didn’t want her to be disappointed, but more than that he didn’t want it to be over already. As Ziva had pointed out, he had had more than his fair share of one night stands, but this was a very different level of intimacy and experience for him. He wanted to pleasure her more than he craved his own climax, wanted to wake up with her in the morning and fall asleep with her at night not just tomorrow but every day after that. He wanted forever with her, no matter what it took.

“Ziva, I-“. A shaking moan cut him off as he came inside her, gripping her tightly and kissing her with a desperate fierceness. She slowed, riding him through his high, murmuring words of assurance in his ear. Her touch was tender as she cupped his chin in her hand. “I’m sorry,” he panted, kissing her shoulder.

“Rule six, Tony.” She smiled at him, thumbing his lower lip. “I liked it very much.”

“You didn’t cum yet, though,” he insisted, shifting beneath her to grip the back of her thighs and lay her on her back. She whined at the loss of contact as he slid out of her and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her again. However, he knew himself enough to know that he needed a break before he could go another round. He smiled in satisfaction as he watched his cum dripping out of her pretty pussy onto the comforter.

Briefly, he thought of the photo from one of her undercover assignments, the one that showed her with a prosthetic pregnancy belly. She was smiling in the picture, glowing even, despite the fact that the pregnancy was fake, and he was hit with the sudden desire for a wedding and little DiNozzos, watching his pregnant wife painting a nursery in their home. He shoved those thoughts aside for the moment; there would be plenty of time for that later.

He returned his attention to Ziva, who was watching him intensely through her eyelashes, one arm thrown behind her and the other resting on her stomach. He traced one finger up her leg, from calf to thigh, briefly rubbing over her tattoo before drifting languidly between her legs, ghosting over her clit before trailing up over her hip and then resting on top of her hand. As much as he liked her dominating personality, he liked that she was at his mercy now. He smirked as he settled his hand on the inside of her thigh, inches from where he knew she needed him to be. Her lusty expression darkened, and she glared at him.

“You are not as funny as you think you are, Tony,” she hissed.

“Tell me what you want.” It was not a request but a demand, his voice making her stomach flip and the hand not under his gripped the sheets in anticipation.

“Tony, please.”

“Please what?” He tightened his grip on her leg, watching as she bit her lip. “Use your words, baby.”

“Tony, I need you to touch me. Please.” Any traces of the anger and frustration she had expressed earlier had dissipated into desire. She liked to be in control, but she wanted him to claim her, make her his however he wanted. She didn’t want to think about what would happen in the morning, about what this would mean for them both. She wanted to enjoy the moment, the feeling of bliss that came from Tony’s touches. “I thought you said I did not have to ask you twice.”

He shrugged. “I changed my mind.” He kept one hand on her thigh, slowly dragging his other hand over her hip and gliding his thumb over her clit. Her reaction was immediate, her back arching off the bed and her grip on the sheets tightening. As he applied more pressure, slowly starting to rub circles on her clit, she was struggling to bite back moans and cries of ecstasy. “You can be as loud as you want, no one but me is going to hear you. And trust me when I say I love to hear you.” He watched her face as he slipped one finger inside of her, then another as he continued to rub her clit.

“Tony!” She was very quickly approaching her climax, her mind going hazy and blank as he worked her over with his hand. His fingers curled inside of her and he relished the softness of her as he stroked her walls, the chorus of delicious moans and swear words coming from the Israeli beauty egging him on. She started to clench around his fingers and he knew she was close. He kept up his pace, watching her intently, and finally she fell over the edge with a strangled cry. Her legs shook, her toes curling and her fingers wrapping themselves in the comforter as her legs clamped down on his arm. Slowly, he slid his fingers out of her, the mixture of her cum and his coating them delightfully. As Ziva fought to catch her breath her leaned down to kiss her. To his surprise, she caught his hand in hers and brought his fingers to her mouth. He watched, wide-eyed, as she licked his fingers clean, sucking them fiercely. His cock twitched at her actions and he wrapped his free arm under her back, pulling her up to a seated position as she dropped his hand and captured his mouth with her own. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, still racing from her orgasm. Watching her writhe under him had hypnotized him and he knew he would be replaying that in his head forever.

Despite the intensity of her climax she was not sated, and her dominant side returned with a ferocity. She pushed him back to straddle him once again, but he wasn’t ready to give up the fight either. He gripped her wrists and used his bodyweight to flip them over, trapping her beneath him as he planted open-mouthed kisses on her neck and jaw. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding against him as she found his mouth with her own, kissing him desperately and murmuring in Hebrew against his lips. He relaxed a little against her and she used this to flip them over once again, almost sliding off the side of the bed. She laughed, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Oops,” she said, nipping at his lower lip as he tightened his grip on her. She knew she would have bruises in the morning from his fingers on her hips and the thought sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“I always knew you were a wildcat but goddamn,” he said, halfway between a whisper and a growl. “Are we going to fight again or are you going to let me fuck you?”

“You think you are so tough, Tony, why don’t you do something instead of talking about it?” She pulled away from him, once again challenging him with her eyes, daring him to do something. Taking her by surprise, he pushed her off of him, scrambling to his knees and flipping her again so she was face down, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling up on all fours. She could easily have kicked back at him, pushed him off the bed, hurt or killed him and escaped into the countryside. Instead, she spread her legs a little farther apart and arched her back, her perfect, round ass in the air and waiting for Tony to make a move. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her lip caught between her teeth, and he ran his hands appreciatively over the curve of her ass before once again burying his cock inside of her. The sound she made as she rocked back against him to match his pace was unbelievable, a mix of a moan and a growl and a cry of his name.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, grabbing her hair and wrapping it around his hand, pulling back to arch her back even farther. Ziva was completely at his mercy, once again tightly gripping the sheets as Tony pounded into her, all inhibitions gone as animal instincts took over. She snaked a hand beneath her to rub her clit as he dug his free hand into her ass, her second orgasm building quickly under her practiced ministrations. He felt her start to clench on his cock and he knew that he wasn’t far behind her. He increased his pace, panting, and her cries became an unintelligible mix of Hebrew and English as she came undone beneath him, her legs shaking and threatening to collapse. He wrapped an arm beneath her stomach to support her as he came again, easing his grip on her hair and rubbing her back, murmuring praises to her.

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled out of her and collapsed to her left, landing on his side and reaching out to brush her cheek as she curled up next to him. She was exhausted, mostly from the emotional toll the last few weeks had taken on her, and she struggled to keep her eyes open as the waves of her climax subsided. The heat that burned in the pit of her stomach, between her legs, the craving for him had lessened but still had not subsided, and she struggled to calm her heartbeat. Despite her dissatisfaction, she felt content, fulfilled, at peace for the first time in a very long time.

“You are not falling asleep on me already, are you?” she asked, playfully nudging him in the ribs as his eyes drifted shut. They flew open, surprised, and he met her gaze with a dubious expression.

“I had my suspicions that you were a hellcat in bed, but I don’t know how you have so much energy.” He rolled onto his back, one hand sliding around her and his hand tracing soft circles on her shoulder. Her skin was hot and sticky, and he could feel her elevated pulse. At his words, she averted her eyes, suddenly self-conscious. She turned over so her back was to him, tucking her legs towards her chest. He sensed her closing off again and he regretted his words. “I’m sorry, Ziva, I didn’t mean it like that.”

She sat up and crossed her legs, still facing away from him and now just out of his reach. The silence was uncomfortable and heavy for a minute before she finally spoke. “Maybe this was a mistake.” She didn’t regret it, but she worried that he did, worried that she was too much or not enough and that he would be the one with regrets. This self-consciousness was unfamiliar to her; she had experienced insecurity with her job and her abilities with Mossad and NCIS but had never felt incompetent when it came to carnal pleasures. But Tony was different, special even, and now that the initial heat of the moment had passed, she was unsure about where they stood.

“Do you really believe that?” he questioned, her doubt striking his heart. Slowly, he sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. “If you want me to leave I will. I don’t want to, but I will.” He glanced over his shoulder at her and she shifted to face him.

“No.”

“’No’ what?”

“I do not want you to go.” She reached her hand out to him. “And I do not regret tonight.”

“Then why do you think that this was a mistake?” He took her hand, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

She shrugged. “I do not know, Tony. This is unfamiliar territory for me.” She chewed her lip, trying to put her thoughts into words. “I do not want to be too much or not enough for you. In any sense, not just now. I know that I love you, and I also know that it has been a long time since I have had such a good time with someone. I do not want to take it for granted or spoil a good thing because I still do not feel entirely satisfied.” She looked at him through her lashes. “Which is not to say you gave a poor performance, because it was quite the opposite. However, I do not want you to feel pressured or inadequate in any way.”

“You are one of the most selfless people I have ever met,” he assured her. “But we’re both adults, I can handle anything you throw at me. We will find a way to make this work, in here and out there.” He nodded towards the darkened landscape outside. “I told you that I would take care of you, and I will. I promise. Tonight and tomorrow and as long as you’ll let me.” He pulled her towards him, wrapping her in a hug. “Just don’t shut me out anymore, please. I can’t handle that again.”

“I make no promises,” she replied finally. “But I want to find a way to make this work.”

He kissed the top of her head. “What do you need right now?”

“Just you.” She leaned up to kiss him again, slow and deep, drawing him farther up the bed with her. Once again, she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him desperately as the tender kisses got heavier and more desperate. She was suddenly afraid, not of being close to him but of possibly losing him after all of this. “I love you,” she whispered as he slid himself inside of her again, relishing the closeness of him, the way they fit together perfectly.

    He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, resting his head against her chest so he could listen to her heartbeat, hear her quiet moans as she kept a slow, steady pace. He could sense the exhaustion she felt and he tried to tell her that she could stop, but she was determined. She shifted her position slightly, seeking friction as the tiredness took over and she chased her own high one more time.

Seconds turned into minutes and then into nothing; time no longer existed, no longer mattered for either of them. The dark countryside beyond the windows melted away, the world beyond the edges of the bed ceased to exist. The only thing that either of them were aware of was each other, the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats echoing in their ears.

Ziva felt her orgasm building slowly, the slow burn in the pit of her stomach pulling her out of her reverie. Instead of rushing toward the edge she maintained her pace, relishing the gradual building. Tony was close but trying not to throw her off her rhythm, so he held onto her and whispered praises to her. Finally, after what felt like a glorious eternity, she said his name, a drawn out moan as her head dropped to his shoulder and she started to tremble from the force of her climax. He couldn’t hold out anymore, finally letting himself cum as he stroked her back.

With a sigh he laid back against the pillows, pulling her down with him and holding her close against his chest as she finally settled down. One leg was still hooked over him, keeping herself grounded and, at least subconsciously, keeping him anchored to her. Neither one of them wanted to break the silence. Unlike earlier, this wasn’t a weighty silence but a pleasant one, a quiet intimacy that cradled them both in warm happiness. He stroked her arm, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. He had never been more content than in this moment, never been more in love until now. “I love you,” he said finally. “I love you.”

“I love you, Tony.” She turned on her side, pulling the comforter up over both of them and snuggling against him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She was quiet for a moment. “For everything.” Those two words hung heavy between them, weighed down by all the things that they had never said to each other until now, or at all.

“I mean, you did most of the work,” he joked.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Her tone was flat, unamused. He sighed.

“I’m sorry. I really haven’t been able to say anything right today,” he said quietly.

“No, it is alright.” She rolled onto her stomach, tucking folding her arms under her head and watching him. “I do not want you to go another minute without knowing that I am grateful for everything you have done for me.”

“I told you before, Ziva, I will always be fighting for you. I’m not going anywhere, and all you have to do is ask.”

They drifted off, their legs tangled together under the comforter. In the hazy morning light Ziva woke, turning to see Tony fast asleep beside her. She smiled at him, watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. She felt at home here, safe, and she wanted nothing more than to stay here forever with him. She wrapped herself in the comforter and rested her head on his chest. “I will be fighting for you, too, Tony. Always,” she whispered, and fell asleep once more.  

[greekletters]

I'm oddly productive this week..

Prompt: You Forgot to Say the Magic Word

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

“I don’t know why you insisted on coming with me if you are just going to complain the entire time.”

“Well, I thought this was going to be a lot more exciting than it appears to be. You’ve always seemed to enjoy it immensely, so I wanted to come with you.”

“Weiss, not once have you ever expressed any interest in doing the grocery shopping.”

“That is untrue. I have gotten things from the store for us many, many times.”

“You had your assistant deliver it to the house. I doubt you even know how to get here on your own without GPS.”

“Now that’s just rude, and I am not complaining.” Blake stops in her place and stares blankly at Weiss.

“You literally just went on a five minute rant in the car about how you couldn’t believe they expected you to use a communal cart to place your food in.”

“It is a valid concern for our safety.” Weiss sticks her nose up in the air while pulling her hand sanitizer from her bag.

Blake shakes her head, holding her hand out because she knows Weiss will make her take it regardless of whether or not she wanted any hand sanitizer.

“Wait! Don’t touch that.” Weiss says abruptly, causing Blake to jump.

“The handle of the cart? It doesn’t move on it’s own, you know.” Rolling her eyes. “And you need to chill out or I’m going to make you go sit in the car.”

This was going to be a test of will for Blake. She could already tell. Never again would she grocery shop on the weekend. For fear of Weiss wanting to come with.

“Fine.” Weiss begins to wander the immediate area, browsing with suspicion. “How do you know what we have to get?”

“I make a list of what I would like to cook every week, and the stuff we eat. That way I don’t have to wander around the store like a lost puppy looking for food.”

“Are you saying that I look like a lost animal?” She looks across a stack of fruit at Blake, eagerly awaiting her response.

“No, but you do look like a snooty rich lady that has never done her own grocery shopping before. And like all the food is covered in disease.” Grabbing some bags from the stand nearby, Blake begins placing some different items in bags and putting them in the cart. Marking them off the list on her phone as she goes.

“What is on our list?” Weiss leans over, curiously trying to eye the screen.

“You know,” putting the phone back in her pocket “I shared this note with you and it’s been on your phone since the first time I went shopping for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would’ve noticed.”

“I’m dead serious. Check.” Motioning towards the phone in Weiss’ hand.

Quickly unlocking the phone screen, she navigates to the notes app. Sure enough, she finds it in the shared folder. ‘Blake and Weiss’ Grocery List’ last updated yesterday around eight.

“Ah. I see.” Clearing her throat. “Why do you share it with me, if I never come shopping?”

“So if there is anything you want that I didn’t put on the list, you can add it?” Blake says, like it’s totally obvious.

“Well, good to know.” Straightening her posture and walking a few steps away through an aisle with vegetables, Weiss reopens the list and reads down it.

It seems highly organized. Which she expected nothing less from Blake. It appeared to go in order of the sections of the store. And it contained almost every single thing they kept in the house.

Weiss had never really spent much time thinking about it before. She had always been privileged enough, too privileged, that she hadn’t ever had to do her own shopping. Or cooking for that matter. Blake did all of it. Mostly. They did go out on occasion.

Continuing to scroll, Weiss notices a lot of food on the list is required to make various different meals. But there are a few single items like snack foods or random out of place items. Taking her chances, she adds her favorite flavor ice cream to the list and closes the app.

Blake continues to shop, seemingly unaware of the addition.

“Hey Weiss, which one of these looks better?” Holding up two tomatoes for Weiss to compare.

“They’re both red.”

“I know that.” Shaking her head back and forth. “Which one looks better though?”

“In what way? They both look dirty.” Weiss grimaces when Blake attempts to hand them to her.

“I know. I wash them before we eat them. But if you are going to come grocery shopping, you have to participate in the shopping part. It’s a requirement.”

“The one on your right, I guess. The other one has a bruise on it. And I don’t want to eat it.” Her face scrunches.

“See? It’s not difficult at all.”

“You do this every week?”

“Every other week.”

“Too stressful.”

“Buying the food we eat?” The mild look of unamused disbelief on Blake’s face is very telling.

“Picking which ones to get, making the list, coming here and touching the dirty cart. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” Shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Because we need to eat, and if you were to die of starvation I would be sad. Because I like you a little bit. Now, push the cart.” Blake walks off down an aisle, leaving Weiss behind with the cart full of fruits and vegetables wrapped perfectly in individual plastic bags.

After a few seconds of flailing, trying to figure out how to push the cart without actually touching it, Weiss gives up and begins to make her way towards Blake down the aisle.

Blake is looking at the list on her phone as she absentmindedly places a few items in the cart and continues to move forward.

“Do you want me to make pasta this week?” She looks back over her shoulder at Weiss, who is overwhelmed by the number of various items on the shelves.

“What?”

“Pasta. Do you want any kind of pasta this week, or no?”

“That’s fine.” She grabs a blue box off the shelf, eyeing it oddly. “There’s macaroni and cheese inside this box?”

“Yes?” Not sure if Weiss is asking a trick question.

“How?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that.”

“How can there possibly be macaroni and cheese in here? The box would be soggy. Is it in a bag or something?” The look of pure concern on Weiss’ face is enough to break Blake’s stoic expression. And she begins laughing.

“Are you for real?”

“I don’t see what is so funny.” She stops pushing the cart and places her hands on her hips.

“You’re hilarious. That’s what’s funny.” Blake grabs the front end of the cart and pulls it along behind her.

“At least answer my question, since you feel like laughing at me.”

“There is macaroni and cheese in the box, Weiss. You have to cook the pasta and then mix the cheese into it. It doesn’t come already prepared.”

“Oh.” Feeling dumb for not thinking of that, she grabs the handle and continues her duty of pushing the cart.

Weiss continues following Blake with the cart as her eyes are trained on the list. They make their way down a few more aisles before coming closer to the frozen section. Blake looks down the aisle but continues right past it.

“We don’t need to go down this one?” Weiss asks, knowing that it’s where the ice cream is.

“Nope. Nothing from the list is down there.” Blake hears a small whine coming from Weiss’ end of the cart and smiles.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, we have to get some other things before we can go.”

Huffing, and annoyed about not getting the ice cream that she added to the list, Weiss follows Blake once again, this time towards the dairy and meat sections. After about five minutes of silence and cold shoulder, Blake turns back towards Weiss.

“Okay, what has you grouchy now?” Raising an eyebrow as she questions.

“Nothing.” Weiss crosses her arms over her chest.

“Uh huh. Sure. Is there anything we are missing from the list?” Testing Weiss to see how stubborn she was willing to be.

“Don’t you have the list?” Weiss asks, passive aggressively.

“I do. But I think I got everything. I was just asking you, just in case.” Leaving the option open for Weiss to say anything if she wanted to.

They pass by the end of the frozen food aisle once again. Weiss looks longingly down towards the ice cream.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Blake asks one more time, smile on her face.

“Fine!” Weiss stomps her foot and walks down the aisle by herself and slings the freezer door open and looks into the cold storage container in front of her.

After a few moments of searching, Weiss hears the wheels of the cart making their way down the aisle.

“You have no idea what kind of ice cream we eat, do you?”

“I put it on the list.” She says defiantly.

“I saw.”

“How?” She looks out of the corner of her eye at Blake.

“Any time you make a change to the note, I get notified.”

“Can you just grab the ice cream so we can go? I’m freezing.”

“You forgot to say the magic word.” Blake’s sheepish grin makes Weiss roll her eyes.

“Please?”

“Okay.” Weiss leans over and places a kiss to her cheek just before she reaches in the freezer and grabs the ice cream and tosses it in the cart. “Can you mark it off the list for me?”

“I have no idea how to do that.” Weiss shrugs her shoulders and takes her place to push the cart once again.

The only thing Blake can do is smile and shake her head as she taps the little circle next to ‘ice cream for Weiss’ on the list.

[deep-sea-skiving]

What goes on in Japan... stays in Japan- weird Kate Bush moments and interviews.

Kate Bush is world- renowned for doing things her way, no matter how weird or how strange it may appear to us common folks. However, there are some Kate Bush moments where it seems we may have slipped into an alternative universe, where even Kate Bush maybe is too weird for Kate Bush. These are some of the moments where as a big Kate Bush fan, I'm confused, lost and completely dumbfounded.

That time where Kate Bush did a 1978 seiko watch advert, which really had little to do with watches.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah4r1IDfqgc

So I'm going to do my best to try and explain what’s going on here. We first start with the seiko branding seems normal enough right? Well that's it that's all the normal you’re going to get, it just gets more eccentric from here on out. So you might recognise the music, it’s ‘Them heavy people’ however in Japan the song was re-named for release as a single as rolling the ball, where it reached number 3 in the charts. Fun fact, Japan was the only country where this song was officially released as a single and the cover art of the single came from this Seiko advert. Nevertheless, I do not remember the fabulously loud metronome featuring on the track like it does in this advert. So we get Kate, doing Kate things expressive facial movements and eyes. we’re ready for the elaborate dance routines which picture together a emotion filled storyline, you know the normal Kate Bush stuff but alas no we’ve now got 3 Kates shoulder swaying, then doing the pretend to be an ancient Egyptian regime? Then what’s this? Sorry I thought I was mistaken, I thought I saw  Kate Bush riding a motorbike. Well it is Kate Bush riding a motorbike, she seems kinda angry mind you probably because she just saw her past self throwing those dance moves. This creates a few, a lot of questions. Like why is she riding a motorbike? Where is she going? Is that a wind machine? What’s the story behind this? This is a watch advert, right? Does the watch come with a motorbike? These are all crucial questions which sadly will remain unanswered, just like what is the meaning of life, is there a god, what happens when we die and where are all the baby pigeons? Then we get what must be one of the most cryptic slogans in a watch advertisement, remember it's a watch ad. ‘We have many varieties of mood within us, its up to you to choose’. Varieties? This isn’t a pick n mix you know. The thing which makes this a lot more funny than it really should be is the delivery. Why does Kate sound so unmotivated and monotone, its almost like she said to the people in charge of this project ‘you really want me to say this?’ Its probably a case of lost in translation, but that doesn't hide the fact that this was almost definitely taken in one take.

That one time when Kate Bush didn’t even sing one of her own songs, instead she just danced and oh God she danced, alright. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdFxy47wnzU (Sorry for the poor quality, I can't find decent footage anywhere)

Staying with Japan, we get another bizarre reincarnation of ‘Them heavy people’. First up we get an interview conducted entirely in Japanese and to make it just that little bit better the translator seems not to be doing the best job. Consequently, we’re got a Kate looking like she hasn't got the faintest clue what on earth is going on, so is going with the classic nod and agree approach to deal with difficult social situations and interactions. Then you’re thinking after the interview like any normal show the singer is going to sing their song right? Well if you thought that, well you’re wrong. Sorry. Instead we have two Japanese singers singing the start of ‘Them heavy people’. English is obviously not their strong suit cause we’ve now got all new and improved lyrics for example, inconvenient time has now become incumbent time. One of these singers is desperately clinging to the biggest smile ever to try and hide up the fact that she has no clue what she’s trying to sing. All things considered they’re really trying their best and actually are doing great. So where’s Kate, this is her song right, shouldn’t she be singing? Singing is over it's time for action and when I mean action, I mean a big dance number. Is this what it is like to have an out of body religious experience cause I have no clue what's happening but I don’t care I love it. Seriously Kate Bush’s dance moves should never be underestimated, ever. This is definitely one of those moments where you think you have moved into an alternative timeline.

The one time Kate Bush talked about vegetarianism to TV ‘chef’ Delia Smith.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7UFXa4XYIQ

Vegetarianism wasn’t very common in the late 70s, early 80s but I'm pretty sure it’s not that much of an abstract concept to comprehend, its not a cult Delia ok? Right off the bat I've got to say that Delia’s vegetarian dishes at the beginning weren’t really doing it for me. That nut roast especially didn't look edible and that non meat loaf was definitely something you would use to feed the birds or use as a makeshift building material. Around these dishes there's random chopped tomato, whole peppers, lettuce and what appears to be flowers? just in case you forgot we’re talking about vegetarianism you know plants and things.Then Delia proceeds to ask questions concerning Kate’s vegetarian diet and some of the dishes which have been made earlier by her sister-in-law. However, the questions Delia does ask really makes me question her credibility  as a ‘chef’. DS: Now what’s this? KB: Brown rice, DS: How do you cook brown rice? KB: really easy with salt and water. One, how does a celebrity chef not know what brown rice is and two more importantly, she doesn’t know how to cook it? Correct me if I'm wrong but I don’t think brown rice is completely different concept to you know, white rice or rice in general. The completely awkward exchanges in this clip just make it one of those moments where you can't believe that this really happened.

Kate Bush- master tea maker, second to no one.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fUeylMSi9w

We all know that Kate does love a good old cup of tea. Well who can blame her? Pretty sure 90% of my body’s liquids are made up of simply tea. However, loving tea does not excuse you from this horrendous crime. Kate, the tea gods are very disappointed. Got to say this is traumatising to watch. What is she doing? Like Kate you’re not pouring shots you’re pouring hot boiling water. You’re pouring hot boiling water everywhere. The cups are overflowing and she’s not stopping to pour each individual cup oh no that’s too simple, she's making tea like she's watering plants. Just sprinkle it everywhere maybe she's in a rush or maybe she knows a secret technique to make the ultimate cup of tea, we’ll never know. Again moments like this are just incredibly peculiar, so much so you almost can’t believe that they are actually real!

[parkernotes]

sick day

also available on ao3

post-endgame / sickfic / domestic fluff

featuring worried parents pepperony & big brother peter

word count: 4646

The shrill sound of the bell indicating the end of the last period of the day is definitely the best thing Peter has ever heard. Mrs. Warren starts reminding them about the next week's quiz, but her voice gets muffled by the sound of Peter's classmates packing their bags and dragging their chairs across the floor noisily as they stand up. Peter is able to hear it due to his super hearing, so he messily writes down a reminder on his planner before throwing everything inside his bag and hurrying up to catch up with Ned who is already waiting by the door.

"So, MJ and Betty told me during lunch they want to go grab some pizza tonight, are you in? I think Zach and Tyler are coming too, but I'm not sure," Ned says as they step out of the classroom into the hallway, already packed with students. He pauses for a moment before continuing, "You know, it's enough time for you to… hang out. In Queens. For a while. If you know what I mean. We were planning to meet up at 8."

Peter chuckles, but shakes his head. "I'm gonna spend the weekend at the lakehouse. I'll only have time to pack a bag when I get home, so no hanging out in Queens today, I guess," he explains, tugging the hem of Ned's jacket, silently indicating he needs to stop by his locker.

Ned hums as Peter inputs his passcode on the lock. "I thought you were going to be around again this time. It's been a while since you went there, yeah?"

"Not that long," Peter says, pulling out his Chemistry and Calculus textbooks. His Physics one is already inside his bag, and with three different exams scheduled for the following week, he will have no choice but get some revision done during the weekend. "It's because Pepper went on a business trip, and Tony had to tag along, for some reason. Guess it was pretty important."

Tony mentioned something about going with Pepper to California to deal with some issues of the company - Peter didn't really understand what those entailed, only that the couple would be gone for two weeks. They left Morgan in Mrs. Rhodes' care, who is by all means Morgan's honorary grandmother. She invited Peter over multiple times the past few days to hang out with them, but due to the pile of homework he had to complete, the countless of tests his teachers were scheduling plus patrols, he had no time to barely breathe, let alone visit them. It didn't stop him from feeling bad, though.

Peter doesn't think he has sleep for more than four hours during the past week while trying to balance all aspects of his life, and it's getting to him. Despite the stamina that came with the spider bite, he can still only push himself so far. He feels quite lethargic due to the exhaustion, and just can'twait to fall asleep in his room at the lakehouse tonight.

"Well, we'll miss you, man," Ned says as they start walking towards the exit again.

"I'll come back Sunday afternoon, though," Peter says as they head down the steps. "Maybe there'll be some time to hang out."

"Alright, you let me know," Ned says.

They hurriedly do their handshake when Ned spots his bus parking in front of the school, and Peter watches him run towards it in order to grab a seat, pushing some people by accident in the process. He smiles a bit to himself, but as soon as his friend is out of sight, he can feel the exhaustion creep on him again.

He feels bad for not patrolling after school as usual, but at the same time he knows he wouldn't be able to do much. At best, he would stop some muggings before falling asleep on a random rooftop out of pure fatigue. He doesn't really want to be woken up by a desperate call from Tony asking if he's alright - not again - so Peter decides it's probably for the better.

xx

Happy knocks on their door at 5 p.m. sharp, only a few minutes after Peter is done packing his bag. From his room, he hears May opening the front door and greeting Happy excitingly, as if they hadn't seen each other just yesterday.

Peter cringes to himself. He still refuses to stop and think about that .

He pauses when he hears a third voice in the living room, loud and familiar.

"So, where's the kid? Please don't tell me he forgot we were coming."

At that, Peter stands up right away, heading to his door as May laughs, answering he's just getting ready. He walks through the short hallway and into the living room, pausing as the three adults turn around to face him.

"Tony," he breathes, a big smile on his face as he closes the distance between them. Tony catches him in a warm hug, chuckling against Peter's hair and patting him on the back.

"Missed me much?"

"I didn't know you were coming!" he smiles as he steps back, glancing up at the other man. "Hey, Happy!"

"Hi, kiddo," Happy says. "How have you been?"

"Good, good," Peter says, despite everything.

"You look a bit tired," Mr. Stark points out, not unkindly. "School's been tough?"

"He's been working hard," May answers for him, her tone proud but somewhat concerned at the same time. She pats him on the back softly while looking at Tony. "This weekend will be good to him, so make sure he rests a lot."

"Don't you worry, there will be no studying done under my watch," Tony reassures her, winking at Peter. "So, you ready?"

Peter nods, already turning towards his room. "I'll just get my bag!"

Turns out Tony was already in town to meet with someone and decided to wait for Peter so that they could head to the lakehouse together. However, he also finds out Happy will actually be staying behind with May, which is fine, but also totally weird. After hugging May goodbye, he tries to glare at Happy but only ends up receiving an amused - but also suspiciously nervous - chuckle and a hair ruffle from the man.

Once finally on their way to the lake house, Peter can't help but nod along sleepily as Tony talks away about his time with Pepper in California, sat comfortably on the passenger seat of one of Tony's many fancy cars. They're not even out of town when he finally dozes off, head resting on top of his hoodie crumpled up against the window.

He doesn't know how much time has passed once he wakes up, but they're on the road. The sun is setting on their left, and the sky is all shades of purple and orange. Music is playing softly from the speakers, and Tony glances at him once Peter raises his head.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, thanks for conking out on me," he says.

Peter smiles, stretching his arms in front of him with a groan. "Sorry, it's been a long day."

"I'm just kidding," Tony says, but Peter already knows. "Sleep more if you want. We have around half an hour left before we get there."

Peter nods, raising his hands to rub up and down his arms. Even though the AC is off, he feels colder than usual.

He catches Tony looking at him again through his peripheral vision, and soon he's supplying helpfully, "There's a blanket in the glove department."

"Oh, thanks," Peter says around a yawn.

He opens the glove department and pulls out a carefully folded Paw Patrol blanket, certainly Morgan's. It's thick enough though, so Peter doesn't hesitate before covering his upper body with it, resting his head on the same place as before. He's out again a few minutes later.

xx

The next time he wakes up is by Tony shaking him gently, a hand on his shoulder. Once Peter's eyes flutter open and focus, he realizes they've arrived at the lake house, and night has fallen.

"We're here, bud," Tony announces, opening the door on his side to step out.

Soon enough, the dark landscape is illuminated by the warm light coming from the inside of the house as the front door opens and a tiny figure steps out. Morgan comes running directly towards Peter as he steps out of the car, and despite all the fatigue, he picks her up easily.

"Pete! I've missed you," she says, loosening the grip her short arms have around his neck only to kiss him on the cheek with a loud smack .

He giggles despite himself, twirling them both around. "Me too," he says. "Sorry for not visiting you at Mrs. Rhodes house."

"It's okay," she says.

Peter puts her down and she runs to greet Tony just as Pepper steps out of the house, heading towards the car. Peter meets her halfway in a gentle embrace, sighing softly against her shoulder.

"How have you been, sweetheart?" she asks, pulling Peter back to look at him properly. She brushes a curl away from his forehead, studying his face attentively. "May told me you've been so busy with school."

"Yeah, it's been hard, but I'm almost done with most tests," he shrugs, smiling softly.

He's sure Pepper knows how tired he feels when she says, "After dinner you'll go to bed right away, yeah? We can do whatever you kids want to do tomorrow."

"Yeah," he breathes, smiling gratefully. He turns around to face the car, "I just have to get my-"

"Tony will bring your bag inside for you," Pepper interrupts, raising her voice so that said man can hear. She wraps an arm around Peter's shoulders, leading him to the front door. "Right, honey?"

"Yeah," Tony grunts, and Peter looks behind his shoulder only too see him balancing Peter's bag on his right shoulder and Morgan on the left one.

xx

Peter feels weirdly dizzy when he steps out of his room after showering and changing into some comfy clothes. He suspects it might be because he hasn't eaten in a while, or because he hasn't slept for a long time the previous night despite his nap on their way from the city, but, either way, he feels like crap.

He plops down on the couch next to Morgan, who's attentively watching My Little Pony on Netflix. He can hear Tony and Pepper cooking in the kitchen, and the smell of homemade tomato sauce drifting from there.

Peter closes his eyes, resting the back of his head against the soft cushion of the couch. He hears Morgan giggling at a particular funny line and Pepper complaining about something Tony's done in the kitchen, but soon these sounds become muted and he starts to fall asleep.

He almost dozes off when he startles himself with a violent sneeze.

Morgan jumps from where she's sat next to him, looking at him with wide eyes before saying, "Bless you."

"Thanks, Mo," he says, the sound coming off a bit nasal.

He makes a quick trip to the bathroom to blow his nose, and settles on the same spot next to Morgan when he comes back. This time, he falls asleep without any interruptions.

"Bud, dinner is ready," Tony's voice drags him back to reality. "You're really worn out, hm?"

Peter groans in response, feeling the man's brushing through his hair. A moment passes, then the hand pauses.

"You're a bit warm," Tony observes. His hand travels down to press against Peter's forehead, then his cheek. "How're you feeling?"

After a moment of consideration, Peter opens his eyes tentatively. "Head hurts a bit. I'm feeling kinda weak, too," he admits after a few moments of hesitation, not feeling like hiding it.

"Well, you might be coming down with a fever," Tony sighs, a worried crease between his brows. "Pep, can you get me the thermometer?"

Pepper, who had just entered the room with the plates to set the table, frowns at them. "What happened?"

"Kiddo's a bit warm. He's not feeling very good, either," Tony replies, hand gently landing back on Peter's hair.

"Oh no, sweetheart," she sighs, placing the plates down on the table. "I'll be right back."

Morgan makes her way from the dining table, where she was excitingly waiting for her spaghetti plate, to the armchair near Peter and Tony. She looks down at Peter with a frown, so similar to her dad's - Peter softly smiles up at her, reassuringly.

Pepper comes back only a few moments later with the thermometer. She turns it in and hands it to Peter, who closes his lips around it with a sigh.

"Come help me put the table, baby," she calls Morgan. "Peter's just fine, hm?"

Morgan follows after her mom silently, not before throwing one last fearful glance behind her shoulder.

Once the thermometer beeps, Peter pulls it off and Tony takes it to check the reading.

"105.3," he pronounces. "Well, you do run a little hotter than us, but that's a little bit high for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Tony sighs, looking down at him empathetically. "I would only really start worrying if it goes above 106, though. I think with some proper food in your system and a long night of sleep you'll be just fine."

"God, I hope so," Peter groans, rubbing his hands across his face. "That would suck."

He hears Tony chuckle, and in the next moment the man is standing up. "C'mon, before Morguna eats all the food."

xx

Peter usually helps to wash the dishes after dinner when he's over at the lake house, but this time Tony brushes him off.

"I can handle a few dishes on my own," he says, patting Peter on the shoulder and turning him towards the staircase. "Go on, I'll check on you after I'm done."

Peter can only nod sleepily in response, slowly starting to climb the steps behind Morgan and Pepper. The little girl is already proclaiming which bedtime story she wants to read this time, and once they reach upstairs she turns around to look up at Peter.

"Do you wanna read, too?" she asks, reaching out to take Peter's hand in her own tiny one.

Peter's heart breaks a little. Throughout dinner, he tried to speak up and join the conversation not to frighten Morgan with his condition, but it wasn't much. Looking down at her, he can easily understand she doesn't want to let him out of her sight just yet.

Pepper puts a hand on top of Morgan's head, gently brushing her hair back while giving Peter a reassuring look. "Peter needs to rest, sweetheart," she then says, looking down at Morgan. "You can play with him tomorrow, alright? Say goodnight."

Morgan pouts, reluctantly letting go of Peter's hand. "Goodnight," she says.

Peter smiles tiredly, reaching out to pat her in the head. He'd usually give her a hug and a kiss, but he doesn't want to risk spreading any germs. "Goodnight, Mo."

After turning around and heading to his room, Peter doesn't even bother to turn on the lights. He makes a beeline for his bed and crashes into it, then tiredly arranges the covers on top of his body.

He wakes up to someone touching his hand. He startles, eyes shooting open, but once his vision focuses he sees Tony sitting on the edge of his bed in the semi-darkness, holding Peter's wrist against his chest. The lights from the hallway are entering his bedroom through the narrow opening of the door, and thanks to that Peter is able to see the watch Tony is slipping on his wrist.

"What…?" he begins, trying to sit down.

"Hey, it's alright," Tony reassures him, easing him back against his pillow with a hand on his shoulder. "Didn't mean to wake you up. This is to track your vitals during the night, okay? FRIDAY will let me know if your temperature rises."

"Oh," Peter replies, bringing his wrist closer to his face to inspect it.

"How do you feel?"

"About the same," Peter replies, eyelids already starting to feel unbearably heavy again.

Tony sighs, tucking the covers up to Peter's chin before standing up. "Even though you have the watch, let me know in case you need anything, yeah?"

Peter hums in response, eyes fluttering close. The last thing he hears is Tony softly wishing him a goodnight and the door behind closed with a muted click after he steps out of the room.

xx

The next time he wakes from sleep, is to quiet voices talking in his room.

Before even opening his eyes, the next thing Peter feels is a pounding headache and how... damp his clothes feel. He whimpers softly at the pain, and suddenly he hears someone shushing him and a hand brushing through his hair.

"Pete, come on, I need to give you some medicine," Tony's voice says. "Can you sit up?"

Peter tries, but there slightest movement he makes with his head makes the headache pound at his skull. "Hurts," he manages to groan softly.

"I know, kiddo," Tony replies. "The medicine will help."

He blinks his eyes open, and he spots Tony sitting on the exact spot to when he was slipping the watch on Peter's wrist. Behind him, Pepper is standing up with her arms crossed over her chest, looking over them with a frown.

"I'll get him another shirt," she says once as Tony helps him up.

Looking down, Peter realizes his shirt is almost soaked in cold sweat.

"Come on, arms up," Tony tells him quietly, minding his headache, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Peter weakly lifts his arms in front of him, and Tony drags the fabric up his chest, through his head and then through his arms until he's shirtless. He whimpers, feeling colder than ever, but soon enough there's another shirt - completely dry this time, thank God - going over his head.

The movements make Peter feel a bit dizzy, so he closes his eyes as he leans back against the pillows Pepper arranged against the headboard of the bed.

"Don't fall asleep, Pete," Tony urges. When Peter's eyes flutter open, he sees Tony opening a small pill bottle. "Give me your hand."

He drops two pills on the palm of Peter's hand and gives him a glass of water.

"This should work for your metabolism. Superhero Ibuprofen, if you will," he says conversationally as Peter swallows the pills. "Courtesy of Bruce. Your Aunt should have some back in Queens, too."

Peter feels a wave of warmth wash over him. Knowing that there are people thinking ahead for him, taking care of this kind of stuff even though he thought he would never get this sick ever again, makes him feel a little bit better despite the pain.

Peter didn't even noticed Pepper was gone, but suddenly she steps out of the adjoined bathroom of his room with a wet cloth and a hand towel.

"Come here, sweetheart," she guides him forwards gently so that Peter is sitting on the bed but not leaning back against the pillows. She uses the towel to wipe off some of the sweat from his collarbones, neck and his face.

While she does it, Tony hurries to change his pillowcase, so that when Peter's eased back to lay down on his back again, he's not grossly covered in cold sweat anymore. The slightly cold wet cloth is placed against his burning forehead, and as Tony adjusts it against his skin Peter can already feel himself drifting off.

"Th'nks," he manages to murmur before falling asleep.

xx

Peter's temperature doesn't rise again throughout the night, but he doesn't sleep very well. He turns around a lot and the movements only serve to make him even more dizzy. When morning comes, instead of waking up to FRIDAY or Pepper announcing that breakfast is ready as usual, the door opens slowly and Tony steps into the room with a bowl on one of his hands. Peter wasn't deeply asleep to begin with, so his eyes flutter open at the noise.

Peter only blinks up at Tony as he sits down on the edge of the mattress and places the bowl on the nightstand. Through his mostly clogged nose, Peter can smell oatmeal, banana and honey.

"Your temperature dropped," Tony observes, voice almost a whisper. He raises a hand to brush Peter's messy curls away from his forehead, and he notices that the wet cloth placed there during the night is gone. "Feeling any better?"

"Head doesn't hurt anymore," Peter replies. "It feels kinda heavy though. Feeling kinda weak."

"That's because you haven't eaten anything since dinner," Tony observes promptly. "Try eating this and then going back to sleep, alright? You gotta sleep it off, rest as much as you can."

"Kay," Peter agrees, only because he just wants to get over this sickness as soon as possible.

"Good kid," Tony praises. "You should get sick more often. You're never this compliant."

Peter scoffs. "Ha ha," he says, slowly getting up. "You know I-"

He interrupts himself when the door creaks as it's slowly pushed open. Both he and Tony turn around to look, and sure enough Morgan is peeking through the narrow opening, wide eyes fixed on Peter.

"Mo, weren't you eating breakfast?" Tony asks.

"I finished already," she replies, unusually quiet.

Tony sighs fondly, reaching his hand towards her. "C'mere."

Morgan hesitantly steps inside the room as Peter reaches for the oatmeal bowl on his nightstand.

"Your brother's fine," Tony reassures her, pulling her up to sit on his lap once she's close enough. "He's improved a lot already, yeah? It happens. He'll be up soon enough, climbing up walls and giving us all heart attacks."

Peter smiles. "Yeah, don't worry," he agrees, holding back a wince at how hoarse his voice sounds. "We'll get to play before I leave."

"Today?"

"I'm afraid not yet today, baby," Tony answers for him. "Maybe tomorrow. Petey needs to sleep as much as he can to be strong again."

Morgan huffs, but nods. "Okay."

She only stays for a few more minutes, still looking terribly sulky as she goes away to find her mom. Peter sighs after swallowing a spoonful of food, feeling terrible about the whole ordeal. He was supposed to be perfectly fine , playing on the edge of the lake with Morgan during the morning and then coming back inside to revise for his exams during the afternoon, only to spend the evening before and a little bit after dinner with Tony in the garage. He missed them all so much, but now he's making them spend their time looking after his sorry self.

Being sick really fucking sucks.

"Stop sighing, you're depressing me," Tony pipes up a while afterwards, looking up from the phone he pulled out of his pocket. "Don't blame yourself for this, alright? Pep and I were expecting this. She spent a long time away from everything familiar to her, but even now that we're back her routine is still not back to normal. It would be kinda weird if she wasn't acting up a little bit."

Peter thinks a little about it. Before Tony and Pepper had to leave for California, Peter saw them practically every weekend and therefore was able to spend a lot of time with Morgan. She's still probably facing the same separation anxiety as he is, but worse. Not surprising for a five year-old.

"Still sucks," he concludes grumpily. "I hate being sick. I didn't think I would fall sick again after the bite."

"Me neither," Tony sighs. "But it's alright. The good news is that you're improving really quickly, so you should be fine by dinner."

"Yeah," Peter nods, putting the bowl back on the nightstand. He rubs his hands over his face. "Gosh, I feel so tired."

"As expected," Tony sighs, patting his ankle above the covers before standing up. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up for lunch."

xx

Peter naps during the day as advised, but again, it's a weird kind of sleep. He can't get comfortable no matter what, and his head starts to hurt again. He dutifully eats the soup Pepper brings him a few hours later, but he's quite dizzy and doesn't even manage to finish it. Tony gives him another dose of medicine and tells him to go back to sleep, looking down at him with a worried frown Peter thought he wouldn't see again this weekend because he's supposed to be feeling better already.

Well, his condition does improve a little bit, but he still feels like utter crap. Tony thought he would be as good as new by dinner, but he doesn't make it to the dining table. They bring him more soup, and afterwards Tony convinces him to take a shower. Peter manages to shower on his own, leaving the door unlocked in case he crashes, but thankfully that doesn't happen while he's under the showerhead. However, it's once he's weakly pulling a pair of clean sweatpants over his boxers that he loses his balance, colliding painfully against the sink before descending to the ground.

"Fuck," he hears Tony say, and in the next second the man is dressing Peter's trembling frame in a shirt and hoodie. Peter didn't even notice he had entered the bathroom. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

Peter shakes his head softly, but his vision suddenly becomes blurry as his eyes well up with tears.

"Kiddo, what's wrong? What hurts?"

"Everything," he whimpers, quite pathetically. But it's true - everything hurts. His head feels heavy and fuzzy, his nose is clogged all the time, he feels like he's fucking freezing , and while he was supposed to rest during the day, his fucked up brain decided to give him disturbing nightmares instead.

He starts crying out of pure exhaustion, mental and physical. This weekend was supposed to help him relax and recharge, but so far it only made him more miserable and turned him into a huge bother to Tony and Pepper.

"Hey, hey, hey," Tony says, sounding quite startled. He wraps a hand around Peter's shoulders, crouching besides him on the bathroom floor. "Don't cry, buddy. It's alright, I'm here. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm so fucking tired," Peter whines, choking on a sob. "I just wanna rest but I can't."

"Oh, Pete," Tony sighs, pulling into into a warm embrace. Peter rests his cheek on his chest, hiccuping softly as tears run down his cheeks. "It's okay. You're getting better. I know it sucks, but it'll be over soon."

He runs a hand up and down Peter's trembling back, squeezing him against his chest for a moment before pulling back. He wipes Peter's tears away with his thumbs, even if they keep on coming.

"Come on, let's put you in bed," he says, standing up and pulling Peter up with him.

Tony tucks Peter in, but follows suit and lies down next to him on the bed once he's settled and covered in blankets like a human burrito. He wraps his arms around his covered frame, tucking Peter's head under his chin.

"Try to rest now, yeah? I'll be right here with you," he reassures Peter. "If it doesn't work, I'll still be here."

Peter sniffles. "Okay," he whispers back. "'’M sorry."

Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. "You have nothing to apologize for," he says. "It's not your fault you got sick. It probably had to do with some weak self care skills, but it wasn't your intention. We'll work around that, yeah? Don't you worry."

"Okay," Peter says again, sleepier by the second. "Th'nk you, Tony. Love you," he adds as an afterthought.

He both hears and feels Tony chuckle lightly. "Love you too, kiddo."

[panda-noosh]

Action! {Lance x YouTuber!Reader}{Au}

Words: 6723

   Summary: Being a YouTube guru is hard enough without the added stress of living with Lance McClain, the man who insists on bombarding into every YouTube video you try to film. His viewers love him, and secretly, so do you.

   Pairing: Lance x YouTuber!Reader

   Notes: p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6 - p7 ; I'm in such a long fic mood I'm so sorry.

    “Hello everyone, and welcome back to my channel!”

   The intro rings off of your tongue in the natural way it always had done – a simple greeting for the thousands – sometimes millions – of viewers who would soon be clicking on this very video.

   The make up scatters the table in front of you, your ring light shining in front of you with your camera placed firmly in the centre of it. A less-than-professional set-up, but you didn't need anything more than what you had. Your fans appreciated the sometimes low-quality aesthetic of your videos.

   At least, you hoped so.

    “Today, we're going to be doing the full face with one product challenge. I was tagged to do this by multiple people, and I'm sorry I'm only getting to it now. I've been a bit absent from YouTube because of some-”

    “Because she forgot to go grocery shopping!”

   Lance's voice startles you, making a yelp escape your throat. Your elbow shoves concealer off of the desk, sending it toppling into the plush pink carpet of your filming room.

    You snap your head to look at your room mate as he barges in the door, faux anger plastered on his features though it is clear he is trying to hide a grin.

   “Are you serious?” you bite, scrambling to pick up the knocked off product. “I'm filming!”

   “And I'm starving,” Lance replies. “Plus, you forgot to go grocery shopping, so there's nothing for me to cook. Meaning we have to go out for dinner tonight.”

    You raise a brow, folding your arms over your chest. “Can you not just order take out? I need to get this video filmed.”

   “Delivery is far too expensive nowadays,” Lance says. “Finish up filming and then we're going out for dinner.”

   “Lance-”

   But he's already span on his heel, facing away from you to make his way out of the door. “No excuses, Y/N-ah! And hurry up! I'm getting dizzy.”

   The door closes behind him and you slump back in your chair, gazing at your camera. How Lance managed to do that, you had no idea. How he always managed to make you feel this way. How he always managed to interrupt your work – if anybody else had done that, you would have freaked out. You were like a lot of other Youtubers – a complete workaholic. Your life was surrounded by the internet – emails, brand deals, YouTube comments and Twitter mentions that had your name glued to them.

    Whenever people got between you and your work, the business you had set up for yourself from the very ground up, you got mad at them. But Lance always got away with it.

    You had met Lance not long after college. You were looking for universities to enroll in and had met him at one of the open days. The two of you became close, moved in together, until eventually you both ended up dropping out of university to go your own paths. Lance was currently in training to become a pilot, and you were a YouTuber.

   An unlikely pairing, but one which oddly worked.

    You grumble to yourself in disbelief at your own softness for the boy. You would have to tell him off at some point, just to ease your own nerves. But until then, you had a dinner to get ready for, and what better way to do that than to film a Get Ready With Me? Room mate revenge edition.

    Lance sat down in the seat in front of you, a tomato dangling from his lips which he had just pulled loose from the patty of his burger. You barked down chips, one arm folded over your waist as the other picked at the chips in front of you, stuffing two at a time into your lip gloss coated mouth.

   Lance watched you closely for a moment, observing how you sat. You noticed he often did this whenever it was silent between you two – he liked to see the little movements you did. How you would dart your eyes around the restaurant as if somebody was out to get you, how you would laugh at the air every now and then as a funny thought erupted in your brain, or how you would sometimes suddenly dive for your phone so you could write down an idea that had suddenly sprung into your head.

   Today, none of that was happening. You were simply staring back at him, creative juices flowing.

   “Did you know tomatoes are fruits?” Lance says through a mouthful of said-fruit.

   You narrow your eyes. “That doesn't even make any sense.”

   Lance's eyes widen as if you had just offended his entire being. “Are you saying I'm lying? Because I'm not! I read it on a Facebook pop-up ad.”

   You snort. “Seems legit, Lance.”

   “It was,” Lance grumbles. “You honestly can't hate on me. I'm the one with the unlimited number of facts up my sleeve.”

    “Oh yeah? Give me another one.”

   “I'm saving them for whenever it's quiet,” he says, before he takes a bite out of his burger. You watch him closely as he chews thoughtfully on the bite, before he turns back to you. “Did you end up finishing your video?”

   You sigh, slumping further down in the booth seat and popping another chip in your mouth, followed promptly by a chicken nugget. “Not the one I was planning on filming. I would have looked a mess at the end of it, and I couldn't be bothered reapplying it all for the dinner, so I just did a GRWM.”

   Lance raises a brow. “You don't even need to doll up. We're literally in a diner eating greasy food with our hands at 5 in the afternoon.”

   “It's the effort that counts,” you counter. “And plus, I need a video for next week. My pre-filmed ones are running a little low.”

   “I can tell. You've done nothing but organise future videos for the past two weeks straight.”

   It was the truth. Pre-filmed videos were beginning to run thin, meaning you had to restock. It wouldn't be long until you were due to attend the Video Star event in LA, and you would be damned if you didn't have videos prepared for when you were away. Your channel had been thriving on a good schedule for the past eight years, and you wouldn't let that streak slip.

   “Speaking of which,” Lance says, suddenly. “I've been meaning to speak to you about some videos of yours.”

   You raise a brow. You mostly did beauty videos – the odd tag, the odd collab with a family member to jostle up the fun, but they were never videos you thought Lance would like to watch. You had never seen him watch any of your videos, and he only ever spoke to you about your never-ending schedule, not the content.

   You lean forward. “Right. Continue.”    He takes a bite out of his burger. “I had this – this idea. This genius epiphany, if you will.”

   “Rare.”

   “Shut up.” He swallows thickly and points the burger at you before continuing. “I've been featured in quite a few of your videos, right? Whenever I pop in and start yelling and stuff like that. Plus, I'm always on your vlog channel. Why not have me actually – you know – sit down and do a video with you?”

   You nearly choke on the air you are inhaling, hardly believing your ears.

   You and Lance had never discussed doing a collab together. The idea alone seemed weird. Sure, Lance's voice had been heard in the background of your videos on multiple occasions, him earning the nickname as Y/N's Phantom Room Mate, but there was never any discussion of anything other than that. Him sitting beside you as you did one of your routine videos seemed almost absurd, but you find yourself oddly appealed to the idea.

   Almost as soon as he says it, ideas are popping into your overworked mind. That was the thing with you – everything was an idea. Everything had potential in it, some more than others. Bringing Lance onto your channel seemed to trigger your brain, opening up a wide range of ideas which you suddenly become eager to try out.

    “My channel?” you ask. Lance nods eagerly, never taking his eyes off of yours. “My make up, beauty and fashion channel?”

   “Yes Y/N, I'm well aware of the content you create. You can dress me up or do my make up, or even do a Q&A if you want. It doesn't matter. I just wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

   You frown. “There is no fuss.”

   “There will be fuss when I show my beautiful face.” He chuckles, licking grease off of his fingers before slumping back in his seat and spreading out his fingers across his stomach. “So what do you say? Me, you. Video.”

   You pout. It was a good idea. There was a lot you could do with Lance by your side, and your viewers on your vlog channel always seemed to love him whenever he made an appearance. It would be for the benefit of your viewers. It would also give you some videos to post during your time away.

    You sigh and nod your head gently. “Sure. Why not? Let's do it.”

   “If I move too much, will the camera go out of focus?” Lance asks as he messes with the chair you had set up for him by your desk.

   You shoot him a sideways glance as you busy yourself with fixing your mascara, a casual look foe the question and answer session you were about to film. Nothing over the top.

   Whilst you wore a simple white shirt tucked into light blue jeans, Lance had come with a hawaiian dress shirt pressed to his chest, the top few buttons undone paired with ripped, black skinny jeans. His usual, casual style of a hoodie and sweat pants had been abandoned, and you couldn't help but appreciate it.

   He looked good. He always looked good, but today he looked extra good. He looked a little bit more like a man, and you could appreciate that.

   Even though you didn't mind him dressing the way he usually did.

   “Only if you do anything crazy,” you reply. You sit back on the white seat beside him, shoulder brushing his slightly. “Are you ready or not?”

   “I was born ready.” He smiles widely at the camera, despite you having not even started yet. “Wait, what are we even doing?”

   You roll your eyes, opening Twitter. The hashtag 'Y/N Room Mate Q&A' had been trending for over three hours now, questions upon questions from curious viewers pouring into the board at a speed you found difficult to keep up with. One's that said too much, ones that said too little, ones that were just downright weird.

   “A Q&A,” you reply. “My viewers have been dying to know who you are, so what better way to introduce you than this?”

   Lance nods gently, draping an arm over the back of your chair to look at the tweets which you continually refreshed.

   Soon, you put an end to the refreshing of the page and decided to finally begin the video. You shuffle away from Lance just a little, look up at the camera, take a deep breath, and-

   “Hello everyone, and welcome back to my channel! Today I'm joined with a very special guest – my best friend and my room mate, Mr Lance McClain!”

   Lance grins widely, waving furiously at the camera. The act alone makes a blush creep along your cheeks – one you hope that your bronzer and concealer cover up well enough to not make obvious. “Hey everyone!”

    “Now, I asked you guys on Twitter to send me some of your questions for me and Lance to answer, and you guys really did deliver. It was trending and everything.”

   Lance splutters, turning to you with wide eyes. “Really?”

   You nod. “It's insane. They're insane.” You send a cheeky grin to the camera before looking down at your phone. “Okay, first question: What if your favourite and least favourite thing about living with one another?”

   You turn to Lance, hoping to find any expression that would suggest he was thinking, but it doesn't take long for him to speak up with an answer to both inquiries.

   “My least favourite thing about living with Y/N would definitely have to be when she forgets to buy groceries,” he says, and you can't suppress the groan which escapes your mouth. Lance laughs as you slump down in your seat, shaking your head.

   “I did that one time!”

   “One time too many,” Lance barks back, clamping a hand to your knee. “My favourite thing about living with her – well, there's a lot I like about living with her. She's my best friend, afterall. Maybe it's the way she puts up with my busy schedule. Yeah. I like that about her a lot.”

    You raise a brow, looking up at Lance for a moment with a small smile appearing on your face. “How genuine of you. I only put up with it because you being in the house is a chore.”

   Lance squeezes your knee, a giggled “Hey!” escaping him. You chuckle along with him, shuffling up in your seat to answer the question yourself.

    “My least favourite thing about living with Lance would have to be . . . He interrupts my filming a lot. It's almost like he just knows I'm filming and he chooses that time specifically to come and yell at me for stupid stuff.”

   “Stupid stuff?” Lance exclaims. “My starvation isn't stupid, Y/N-ah. It's actually quite serious.”

   You wave your hand, dismissing his comment though the smile appearing on your face is bright and joyful and you want to wipe it off, keep the deadpan, serious look but you can't help it.

    “My favourite thing about living with Lance would have to be . . . Um . . . The way he pays half the rent.”

   “I'm really about to move out.”

   You bark out into laughter, shoving Lance playfully. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! No, you're great fun to live with just in general. Whenever I'm having a bad day, you never fail to come into my room with a cup of coffee and we'll just sit up and watch romantic comedies for the entire day. You take care of me.”

   Lance looks at you, his expression visible in the view finder you find yourself looking into. His smile is small, almost weak looking but his eyes are soft, as if your words really did hit home with him.

   He taps your knee gently, and it's only then that you realise he actually hadn't let go of your knee since he placed his hand on it earlier. The thought makes your face burn and your quick to look down at your phone, preparing the next question.

    “Okay, next question~”

  The questions continue until the footage is a good hour long, and you're almost certain your entire neck will be cramped by the time you've finished editing it to a reasonable length.

   You send out a quick thank you tweet to everybody who sent in questions before turning the camera off and slipping the SD card out of it, sliding it into your pocket for later use.

   Lance groans as he stands up, knees and back cracking due to the lack of movement he had endured for the past hour. “That was fun!”

   “It got a little weird at the end,” you say, turning to look at him. “You putting lipstick on your eyebrows certainly wasn't what I had in mind when I invited you for a Q&A.”

   Lance shrugs, rubbing at the red lipstick that was stuck on the fibres of his eyebrow. You had yelled at him through laughter, tapping the table in an attempt to calm you down – this was a side to you the viewers had never seen before. Laughing uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face. You were never overly serious in your videos, but they were professional enough that you never made an attempt to make inappropriate jokes. You were there to help girls and guys with their make up routines when they needed it – jokes just added extra minutes onto the video.

    But here you were, wiping at your streaked mascara all because Lance had filmed a video with you. You were still laughing, thoughts of his funny answers swimming through your mind and making the choked laughter erupt all over again.

    “Tell me when you're going to upload it,” Lance requests. “I wanna watch it.”

   “Do you wanna proof watch it before I upload?”

   Lance shakes his head, making you frown. You thought for sure he would want to check over the footage, make sure you had edited in everything he wanted and took out everything he didn't want. His first time on YouTube would have to be special.

    Lance notices your confused expression and smiles softly, gently placing a lipstick stained hand on your shoulder. “I've seen your other videos, Y/N. I trust you enough to make me look good.”

    You flush, the comment surprisingly flattering you. It was nice to know that you're hard work, the hours you put into editing these videos, is paying off and somebody is noticing it. It's enough to make your cheeks flush a colour darker, though Lance doesn't stay still long enough to pick up on it.

   “Anyway, are you feeling Korean food? I want bulgogi.”

  The comments were streaming in, and every single one sent a tingle of nerves to spiral through your chest.

   It had never been like this. At least, not for the last six or seven years of you uploading videos.

   You remembered your ten year old self uploading her first video – a Lally Kally review – and how nervous you had felt whenever you got your first comment. It was something along the lines of, “How cute!” followed shortly by, “Where are her parents?”

   It was similar to how you were feeling now. This twist in your gut as people commented, though the comments rolled in a lot quicker than when you were ten years old. You refreshed the page every two seconds, trying to capture every comment before it disappeared amongst a pile of others, but it was soon seen to be impossible.

    You sigh, pulling the covers higher up until they are bundled under your chin. Comments like these should be making your heart pound because they were compliments, but your heart was pounding for a reason a bit different than that.

   “I've never seen Y/N look so happy. I'm glad she has somebody like Lance to make her laugh like that.”

    “Look at the way Lance looks at her, omg!!!!”

    “Honestly, I always thought these two were just friends. The way Y/N would talk about him always made it seem that way, but seeing them together is making me think there's something else to it.”

   “Has she ever smiled like that in a video?”

   “More! More! More!”    “What's their ship name? I want that shit trending immediately.”

   They were nice comments – far from hate comments, at least. People seemed to like Lance. People seemed to like Lance and you together even more, and that made you feel weasy, almost.

    Lance was eventually going to read the comments. You knew it wouldn't take him long to figure out how YouTube worked, and the thought of him seeing all of these comments about how you two would make the perfect couple made you oddly anxious, because what if that made things awkward?

   You knew it wouldn't. You knew Lance was better than that – he would never ditch your friendship over the things others were saying, but the thought still ate at the back of your mind, a stupid worry you couldn't shove away.

    You rewatched the video for a third time that night, trying to avoid the way the clock said 4am. You had been up editing until 12am, replying to Twitter mentions until half 1, and now you were locked onto the YouTube comments, rewatching your own video on loop and reading what your viewers had to say.

    It was YouTuber tendencies to be a night owl, apparently.

   You had to admit that there was an obvious clash between how you acted in this particular video with every other video you had posted. In your other videos, you very rarely even had guests, so there was never any reason for you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. Your videos often consisted of voice overs, also, rather than you speaking directly to the camera. But even with the voice over and lack of guests, you were definitely still obviously a lot happier in this video than any other one you had filmed.

   The way you rested your head on your palm and looked over at Lance was an action you hadn't even noticed you were making whenever you were filming. It was so natural. The way Lance would be in the middle of speaking and his eyes would flick down to you, and he'd blush just a little and send you a small wink, all without stopping his sentence – it was so natural whenever you two did it off camera, but watching it back made you realise just how suggestive it all looked.

   Sure, it was cute. It was deadly cute. But you didn't need Lance knowing you felt like that.

   You rub at your tired eyes roughly before finally closing your overused laptop. You set it to the side and cuddle under the covers of your sheets, your mind repeating the YouTube comments on a loop in your head.

   “You two would look so adorable together!”

   Two weeks had passed since you had uploaded the video, and you were almost positive Lance had read through every single comment that was on it. He checked them daily, showing you the ones which made you squirm uncomfortably, but Lance didn't seem bothered by them. In fact, the majority of them were making him giggle.

   But your troubles would soon be set aside, as it was finally time for you to make your appearance at the Los Angeles Video Star event – one you had been anticipated to attend for the past two years, but you had never bothered.

   Being around other YouTubers never interested you. You had a few YouTuber friends, but none that you met up with on a daily basis. Other than meeting your fans, there was never any pull factor to showing up at these events.

   This year, you had read through the tweets from your fans, begging you to go, and you had cracked, accepting the invitation. You had been booked on plenty of panels, and you weren't ready for any of them.

    The conference hall is huge, you notice. Almost as soon as you step inside, you're suddenly itching to text Lance, to ask him to calm you down in the way he always manages to do so. But your phone has been turned off for the sake of the cameras, and there's a crowd of girls squealing because oh my god, Y/N L/N just walked in! and you quite frankly don't want to look rude.

   You're led to your seat on the panel by some of the hosts, a seat right beside Hunk Garrett, one of your good YouTube friends. He owned a YouTube channel with a good million subscribers called HunkGrub, where he basically just ate food, cooked food, talked about food – anything to do with food. Every challenge that had to do with food, you can guarantee that he was doing it within days of it becoming popular. In fact, quite often he was the one who started them.

   “Well, long time no see, stranger,” he says to you as you take a seat.

   You take a long swig of water before replying, needing something to quench the thirst which had been brought on by the nerves. “Sorry. I'm not very good at texting.”

   Hunk frowns, looking at you with a raised brow. “You honestly look like you've seen a ghost. First time here?”

   You nod shakily. “First time in LA. I didn't realise everybody here was so . . .So, uh -”

   “Self aware?” Hunk suggests, and you wince at how harsh the phrase sounds, though you know there is no better fit for it.

   Hunk nods and leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest as he looks out over the appearing crowd. The big hall was definitely filling up at a pace which you struggled to keep up with, some people even being held back before they launched themselves onto the stage at the line of YouTubers who were also currently filing in.

   “I saw your video with your boyfriend a few weeks back,” Hunk suddenly comments. Your eyes widen, head snapping around to look at him.

   “Lance isn't my boyfriend.”

   Hunk raises a brow, his turn to look surprised. “What? How? You two were so-”

   You wave a hand, not wanting to talk about the one thing which had been plaguing your mind since you clicked 'UPLOAD' on that video. The positive response had been overwhelming, but you didn't need to hear about how cute you and Lance looked when you were perfectly aware of what it looked like.

    “So you just . . . You just look at your friends like that all the time?” Hunk continues anyway, ignoring your clearly uncomfortable aura. “Lance just looks at you like that all the time? Are you friend zoning that poor boy?”

    “Hunk!” you hiss, slapping his shoulder which causes a mesh of screams to emerge from the audience. “Would you just – Christ, we're not dating.”

   “That's not what I asked.”

   “I'm not friend-zoning him. You can't be friend zoned if you don't like the person who's friend-zoning you, and Lance McClain most certainly doesn't like me as anything more than a friend.”

   Hunk smirks now, looking at you like you were a three year old trying to excuse why the vase was broken. “You're getting worked up, babe. That means something whether you want it to or not.”

   “Would you just sh?” you grumble, folding your arms over your chest. “I'm nervous enough as it is.”

    “Would Lance make you feel better?”

   “I swear on all that is holy, Hunk Garrett, I will-”

    “Please mind your language, everyone!” the host exclaims into the microphone, sending a whistling to vibrate amongst the crowd. “We're live and we don't want to face any legal trouble, so all offensive comments and all rude words must be left for after the live stream is turned off. Sound good?”

   The crowd screams in reply. You take a swig of water. Your fellow YouTubers nod and grin, shining personalities an amazing contrast to the bundle of nerves you are in the centre of it all. You don't even know why you're in the centre. Was the centre special? Was it because you were new here?

   You take a deep breath in an attempt to settle your anxiety, setting your water down to place your hands in your lap, fiddling with the strings on the camoflage, baggy trousers you had decided to wear with your hoodie. Street fashion that you only ever planned to wear in a place like this.

   Soon, the live stream had begun and the questions were being fired your way and everybody elses way. You had to admire the way the other Youtubers and the way they so calmly answered each question as if it was no big deal. The way they comforted crying fans who stood up to the microphone shaking at the chance to speak to their favourite content creater.

   The few fans who had given you that welcome had only gotten a shy smile and a, “Please don't cry,” in return, and you had thought that was enough. But watching Allura jog down off stage to go and hug her sobbing fan made a swarm of guilt to erupt in your stomach. You should be doing more. You should be showing the fans just how much you appreciated them, but your social skills were a little too rusty, stopping you from doing anything too bold.

    Things seem to wind down after a little while. You become less anxious, lounging back in your seat and laughing along to the comments the panel are making. You even make a few jokes yourself, smiling in content at the way your fans scream in appreciation and laugh along with you, shocked to see this slice of humour that you very rarely place in your videos.

   Still, you know the question of Lance will soon show up, and the thought of it's impending arrival is enough to make you even a little bit tense, a little bit drawn back. You have to come up with a good enough answer before the question is asked – but you don't even know what the question will be, so trying to form an answer seems close to impossible at this point.

   It's after the panel host announces that there is only time for a few more questions that one of your fans finally steps up to the podium and asks what everybody had been thinking all night.

    “Are you and Lance dating? If not, have you ever had feelings towards him?”

   You swallow the golf ball sized lump in your throat, hiding it with an embarrassed smile and a chuckle as the crowd erupts into screams of delight that somebody had broken the ice and asked you the one question which was surely playing at their minds all night. You want to pretend it's all okay, but the flaming heat arising up your neck and attacking your make-up covered face will surely give away any subtleties you were trying to hide.

    You shake your head gently, keeping the reassuring smile on your face, never breaking eye contact with the fan who was nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. You noticed her make up look was one you had done on your YouTube channel only a few weeks ago, and that reassured you that she meant no harm. She was a supporter, and you would treat her with as much love as she had shown you.

    “Lance and I are just friends,” you reply after the crowd has settled. “We've lived together for . . . Three years now? Coming up on three years, so we're very close. We know each other better than anybody else and that's maybe why we looked so close in the video we shot together. But I can promise you that we're nothing more than friends.”

   The girl nods, and you think it's over. You think you've cleared yourself until the panel host turns to his microphone, a cheeky grin on his face as he says, “And what about the second question? Have either of you ever felt feelings for each other?”

   You bite down hard on your lip. So hard you're almost positive you've drawn blood, but the feeling of the pain distracts you from your embarrassment and the dread forming in the pit of your stomach. The crowds screams become unbearable, hacking through the ear piece in your ear which makes the questions louder for you to hear. They were adamant for this, and you didn't want to lie. You didn't want to make it seem like you would never have a chance with Lance, because you liked to hope otherwise. You liked to hope that there was room for you two to be something more than friends, but it was a scary thought. The thought of admitting everything to this room full of strangers before you had even discussed your feelings with Lance seemed stupid, but it was now or never.

   Now or never.

   You lean into your microphone, laugh lightly and shrug. “I think – uh – I think it's almost impossible for me to not feel something for Lance, you know?”

    What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

   You continue on anyway. “He's been by my side through thick and thin for a long time, and he's my best friend. He's seen me at my lowest and at my worst, and he's one of the only people on this planet who know how to properly calm me down when I'm feeling stressed. It's hard to not feel something whenever somebody knows you that well. But again, we're just friends.”

    And the crowd screams.

   You scramble for your phone as soon as you enter your hotel room.

   Lance had been watching the live stream. He had to have been watching the live stream. He had promised you he wouldn't miss it for the world. He felt bad enough for not being able to accompany you to LA due to his training schedule, so you knew he would find anyway he could to support you without actually being by your side.

   That meant he watched the live stream. He had to have watched the live stream.

   Your thoughts are confirmed whenever you open your phone to a stream of messages, as if Lance had been live messaging you throughout the entire thing. You quickly read through them, thumb nail in your mouth and dread forming in the pit of your stomach.

    Lance: bitch you look so pretty damn you cleaned up well for this one.

   Lance: are those my military jeans? I knew I lost them somewhere.

    Lance: why is nobody asking you questions? I want to hear your voice.

   Lance: you look like you're about to throw up all she did was ask you what make up concealer you used lmao.

   Lance: ask Hunk to make me food.

   Lance: aw, that fan was crying over you! I love seeing how much of an impact you have on them, it's adorable.

   Lance: you look so happy. i'm happy that watching you be happy.

   Lance: okay but the panel host 100% has his eye on you and it's lowkey pissing me off don't ask why yeet.

   Lance: SOMEONE ASKED ABOUT ME HJFISDJIOSHGIUO.

   Lance: aw, you're my best friend too, Y/N x

   Lance: wait.

   Lance: why didn't you tell me?

   Lance: fuck, Y/N, did you really mean that in the way I think you did? can I call you?

   Lance: i've been wanting to hear that for so long. my heart is racing so hard right now.

   Lance: I hope I didn't misunderstand. please call me as soon as you get these. I want to confess with my voice, not over text.

   Lance: shit. i'm so anxious right now. I had no idea.

   You don't waste a moment, and you don't entirely know why. You should have been panicking, trying to avoid him as much as possible after your embarrassing confession that you sent to hundreds of people, but you can't stop yourself from pulling up his contact, clicking on his name and ringing him.

   He picks up on the second ring.

   “I'm sorry,” is the first thing you say, suddenly pacing your hotel room with your hand gripping your hair. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I'm sorry I said it to the fans before I said it to you. I didn't think. I was just letting out my feelings, and-”

   “When are you home?” Lance asks, his voice strained.

   “In three days,” you reply. Lance groans, the noise startling you. “Why? Is something wrong? Did you break the kitchen counter again?”

   “Jesus Y/N, I need to see you.” The sternness in his voice takes you by surprise and you freeze your pacing to listen closer, afraid you had misheard. “I need – I need to see your face after hearing what you said. I need to kiss you. I heard that's the best way to let someone know you like them back.”

    Your eyes widen, jaw going slack. Here you were, alone in LA, miles and miles away from your best friend. You were out here living your dream, surrounded by fans, and you wanted nothing more than to be back with Lance right now, curled up in his arms in the way you had been dreaming forever.

    “Don't say that,” you say. “I was doing okay but now I feel like I need to see you.”

   Lance chuckles gravelly, his throat sounding dry through the phone. “Three days. We can last three days.”

   You barely lasted three days.

   But on the third day, you had never run so fast. The taxi had dropped you off a few minutes from the flat complex. You had thrown your fee at the taxi driver, hauled your suitcase out of the back of the taxi and launched yourself into a full-on sprint down the pavement, the smile never leaving your face as you did so.

   You pushed open the door to your flat, tossed your suitcase to the side as you frantically looked around for Lance. He was nowhere to be seen, and disappointment soon began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

    He might be working.

   You frown, running a hand over your face and sighing into your palm. You just wanted to see him. Now that you knew how he felt, you never wanted to leave him again. This was the kind of thing that only happened in movies – you wanted to relish in it for as long as you could, but work schedules were a bitch.

   But then the sound of a door slamming down the hallway startles you back to reality, and suddenly Lance is yelling, running into the living room and sliding to a halt on his black socks against the frictionless wooden floor of the living room.

   He stops himself sliding right in front of you, where he finally wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him, doing a twirl with you in his grip. You laugh, throwing your head back in pure bliss as every knot made from travelling that had appeared in your body suddenly seems to unravel and the world seems right again and you're home, where you should be.

    You're pleasantly surprised whenever Lance takes his chance at kissing your neck with the way you throw your head back in laughter. His soft lips press against the vein in your neck and you inhale sharply at the sudden contact, hands pulling at his hair to let him know you approved.

   “Never leave again, please,” Lance says, voice muffled by your neck. “I'm a complete wreck without you here. Both physically and mentally. I haven't washed a single pair of socks in a week, and we no longer have green plates.”

   You groan, pulling him away from you. “How many did you drop?”

   He raises a brow in sarcastic misunderstanding. “I have no idea what you mean.”

   You go to respond, but he doesn't let you as his lips finally crash onto yours, closing the gap you so desperately detested between the two of you. The feeling is like an eruption, like you've finally found the other half to you that you had been aimlessly looking for for your entire life. He had been there this entire time, hiding behind a mask and a label of 'my best friend.'

   Now here he was, lips pressed to yours in the perfect way it was always meant to be. You were almost certain you could have burst with happiness, but instead you pressed your lips harder against his, releasing your excitement into the kiss that was the cause of said emotion.

    It was weird how a single YouTube video could change everything. You placed a mental reminder in your head to thank your fans for their comments.

[sutterbabe]

#8 Mitch Marner

can you do a mitch marner one where everyone knows you guys don't get along but fighting or arguing is something you secretly like (and he secretly likes it too) and there's chemistry and sexual attraction that he can't take it anymore and kisses you and it's like aggressive kissing idk it's not really smut but like the next time y'all see each other you guys don't argue anymore and everyone's like ?????? pls and thanks!

Warnings: Angry kissing *you cant see it but my eyebrows are doing a thing*

Song suggestion of the day: heathrow by catfish and the bottlemen

You’d known Mitch Marner for way too long and for the record he’d always been insufferable. You would have been perfectly content to stay friends with Connor and Dylan, till Mitch came barrelling into your trio. He and Dylan were like two peas in a pod and you hated it. Then you’d moved to London and so every time you saw Dylan and Connor, Mitch was always there. You couldn’t stand it. He was so annoying and immature and he’d never leave you alone. You didn’t think you could dislike another person more. Con was always the mediator when you fought, he was shy but he really had a way with people that he didn’t give himself credit for. Connor and Mitch weren’t as close as Dylan and Mitch were, plus he was definitely more of an introvert than the other two so you ending up talking to Connor a lot more than you did Dylan. This became yet another reason for you to despise Marner, not that you hated talking to Connor but that you missed Dylan. It was worse when Dyl and Con weren’t in London. You had to feed your hockey addiction so you found yourself at knights games where you’d be forced to see Mitch. To add to that, you’d see him around town all the time also. You finally thought you’d catch a break when you were accepted to a Uni in Toronto. You’d get to see Dylan and Connor and avoid Mitch easier when they were there for games. Those first couple of months before the draft were pretty lonely. You’d seen Connor brown around town a couple of times and remembered him from when he was playing with the Otters. You and connor got on pretty well and he was from Toronto so he helped you find your feet in Toronto, which was awfully nice of him. Then Mitch went and got himself drafted to Toronto, much to your distain.

So know here you were, with 80% of your close friends playing hockey because Connor McDavid knew everyone and approaching strangers was a terrifying prospect to you. Besides hanging out with the leafs rookies would have been a great time if Mitch hadn’t been one of them. You were currently at one of the boys places, laughing as they all argued while playing NHL17 and Brownie shuffled about in the kitchen looking for food.

“MITCH!” you yelled as he went to score, just because you couldn’t resist pissing him off. The act of doing so, you must admit, was way too easy to do and also way too much fun.

“Fucking hell, Y/n!” Mitch yelled as Willy scored the GWG as a result of Mitch’s lack of concentration. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Willy laughed. “Yeah it is.” he replied, with a grin, offering his hand to you for a hi five, which you accepted with a smirk.

“Of course you’d say that, y/n helped you cheat!” Mitch protested indignantly.

“It’s not my fault you suck.” you retorted. “And for the record, it’s not cheating. You could have just ignored me.” you shrugged.

Mitch shot you a glare. “I want a rematch.”

Auston rolled his eyes. “Sure mitchy, as long as you don’t lose the puck again.”

“Oh jesus ch- That was not my fault!” he gestured wildly at you with his arms and an indignant noise. “You all fucking saw!”

“Would you let it go?” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t hear a fucking apology.”

You let out an exasperated scoff. “Oh my god,” you muttered incredulously. “You want an apology now? How about I write it on gold paper with a fucking wax seal, huh?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous, as always.”

“As always? Excuse you, you don’t fucking know me. Besides, if anyone was ridiculous, I’d be you. You’re asking for an apology because you suck at a freaking video game.”

“That is not what happened!”

“Can you two give it a fucking rest for a moment.” Connor piped up from the kitchen. “Actually, one of you do me a favour and make lunch, having you both in the same room is a nightmare.”

You glared when Mitch went to get up at the same time as you. “I don’t fucking trust you with food.” you snapped.

“I don’t trust your cooking.” He retorted.

“Too fucking bad.” You replied, darting off to the kitchen before he could even think of getting there first and set about making lunch, your could hear Mitch swear and race after you.

“You can’t even fucking reach the shelf.”

you scowled as he appeared in the doorway, smirking as you tried to reach the pasta sauce before walking over and swiping it off the shelf with ease.

“Shut the fuck up.” you snapped, doing your best to hip-check him out of the way after you’d snatched the jar from his hands.

“Okay, don’t thank me.” he muttered.

“I don’t need your help.” you retorted.

“Oh yeah, because you’re so great at making pasta.” he rolled his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I am. What are you saying? Is Mitch Marner too good for pasta? Sorry that I don’t cater for assholes.”

“WOw.” he muttered. “First of all, ‘you don’t fucking know me’.” he replied, imitating you.

“Seems I do from that sort of response. Now shut the fuck up before I actually decide to poison you.”

“Yeah right. You couldn’t tell the poison from the seasoning.” he rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, you never know with your cooking.”

“Get the fuck outta the kitchen and go back to sucking at video games.”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Mitch retorted. “And that is definitely not how how you make pasta.”

You fixed him with a look of disbelief. “How the fuck do you make pasta then.”

“With no salt!” he exclaimed. “Who the fuck puts salt in with your pasta?”

You blanched. “You don’t salt your pasta!”

“No one salts their pasta. What kind of awful-?”

“Oh my god, you idiot, everyone salts their pasta. Who the fuck do you think you are? Is Mitch Marner too good for salted pasta now?”

“I bet Dylan-”

“OF course Dylan salts his pasta! You really think I’d be friends with someone who doesn’t salt their pasta?! I have standards! I cant believe-! WHat the hell are you doing to my pasta sauce!”

“You need tomato paste in it.” Mitch told you, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You were close to losing it. “NO YOU DONT”

“YES YOU DO THATS HOW YOU MAKE IT”

“OHMYGOD NO ITS NOT THAT IS NOT HOW YOU MAKE IT ARE YOU STUPID?”

“HOW THE HELL DO YOU LIVE WHO SALTS THEIR PASTA AND DOESNT PUT TOMATO PASTE IN YOU CANT COOK”

“THATS RICH COMING FROM YOU. YOU BURNT CHICKEN NUGGETS.”

“GET OVER THE FUCKING NUGGETS”

“I WILL NOT GET OVER THE FUCKING NUGGETS THEY WERE MINE AND YOU WERE GOING TO EAT THEM.”

“THEY WERE IN DYLANS FRIDGE AND I DIDN’T EAT THEM”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU FUCKING BURNT THEM YOU PIECE OF SHIT AND THEY WERE IN DYLANS FRIDGE BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO FORGET THAT HES MY FRIEND TOO YOU FUCKING FRIEND STEALER!”

“IM NOT A FUCKING FRIEND STEALER YOU LITERALLY NEVER TALKED TO ME.”

“YOU WERE A DOUCHE THE FIRST TIME I TALKED TO YOU”

“I WAS NOT YOU GLARED AT ME THE WHOLE TIME AND I ASKED YOU WHY”

“THAT WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME YOU SPOKE TO ME. YOU LITERALLY WERE BEING ANNOYING AS FUCK AFTER A GAME I REMEMBER”

Of course, you remembered the first time mitch had spoken to you because you payed attention to the movements of attractive people in your friendship circles. You remembered still being a rather quiet person and Dylan suddenly plonking mitch down in your trio was a rather uncomfortable change. You took forever to make friends and Dylan’d insistence to force you to become friends with this literal stranger from another team was not your idea of a great start. Mitch however, was way too easygoing and maybe a little bit teasing and that hadn’t boded well. You’d thought at least Dylan would have been understanding. He’d hated Mitch forever but now suddenly they were friends.

“SO YOU FUCKING IGNORED ME FOR LIKE THE FIRST SIX MONTHS WE WERE FRIENDS?!”

“WE ARENT FRIENDS”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU HATE ME FOR SOME REASON”

“I ONLY HATE YOU BECAUSE YOURE A PAIN IN THE ASS. YOU HATED ME FIRST AND THEN YOU ALL FUCKING FORGOT ME THAT ONE TIME”

“THAT WASN’T JUST ME!”

“AND OF COURSE YOU TOOK DYLAN AND CONNOR AWAY FROM ME BECAUSE EVERYONE LOVES YOU. MITCH MARNER CAPTAIN OF THE KNIGHTS. WINNER OF THE MEMORIAL CUP. 4th OVERALL. OHL ALL STAR. OHLS HIGHEST SCORING RIGHT-WINGER OF THE YEAR. MEMORIAL TROPHY. OHLS MOST OUTSTANDING PLAYER OF THE YEAR. PLAYOFF MVP. TORNAMENT MVP. LEADING SCORER. OF FUCKING COURSE”

“I NEVER STOLE THEM FROM ANYONE.” Mitch protested. “ITS NOT MY FAULT.”

“OF COURSE NOT. BECAUSE NOTHINGS YOUR FAULT IS IT. YOU’RE SO FUCKING PERFECT. NO ONE FUCKING CARES WHAT I DO SO LONG AS I TELL THEM HOW YOU ARE BECAUSE YOURE ALL ANYONE FUCKING CARES ABOUT.”

“EVERYONE FUCKING CARES ABOUT YOU! I CARE ABOUT YOU! YOU THINK YOURE THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS BUT ALL YOU CAN FOCUS ON IS HOW MUCH IM HINDERING YOU AND IM FUCKING SICK OF IT. ITS NOT MY FUCKING FAULT”

You both stood there staring at each other wide eyed for a moment. There was a slight headache blossoming beneath your temple. You wanted to scream at him. HE CARED ABOUT YOU. That was literally the most infuriating thing he could do. You wanted to hate him for it. You wanted to yell and scream and cry all at once.

“Fucking say something!” He yelled after you’d stood staring at him for a good minute. But you couldn’t. What would you say? What could you say? You wanted to tear out your hair because this boy was determined to ruin you. He was impatient, and still angry. You felt a sort of numb as you stood there staring at him. You watched him surge forward, with that fire in his eyes that always gave you a surge of pride, a sort of white hot warmth blooming in your chest. You knew what he was doing, where this was going. You hated him for it. Hated yourself even more for wanting it. You saw his deep inhale as if time had suddenly slowed. The steeling of his nerves before the plunge. This was Mitch Marner, this was not how things were supposed to happen. It was wrong. You hated him. But then, it was your hands curled round his collar, tugging him roughly down to meet your lips. It was your fingers tangled in the locks of his hair, tugging at the roots. It was your lips he was kissing.

He was so angry. You could feel it. The kiss was hard and impatient. His hands were either side of your face, holding you there. You bit down against his lower lip more than once, the satisfaction you took from the growl it caused him to illicit was unholy. He’d backed you up against the kitchen bench, lips moving furiously against yours. You could feel the little rumble of noise that would rise in his throat every time you tugged at his hair. There was a definite taste of tomato lingering against his lips, you knew he’d had a taste of the pasta sauce! He pulled away and you were left staring at each other.

“the pasta’s going to burn.” you stated quietly, ducking past him to the stovetop.

“oh.” he replied softly with a nod. “okay.”

“Who’s winning?” Mitch asked Connor as he sat down on your other side. Connor was frowning at the two of you after he noticed you hadn’t told mitch to move.

“Uh, Auston I think.” Connor replied just as you heard Auston whoop triumphantly from the other room. The hockey player in question walked happily in to join you just a few moments later with Willy sulking behind him and Zach laughing at the both of them.

“Looks like we have a winner.” You smirked and Auston nodded.

“Wills went down 2 nil with out you there to help him cheat.” he informed you triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes and glanced at Mitch who didn’t seem as angry about his loss as he had when it had first happened. Connor and Auston exchanged looks and you coughed awkwardly. “Uh, we made pasta? Is that okay?”

“’we’?” Connor questioned. “Since when have you and Marns done anything together except argue?”

You glanced at Mitch before answering. “Well, you know they say cooking is very therapeutic.”

“You literally yelled at each other the whole time, why do you think we turned the volume up so high?” Auston scoffed.

You and Mitch shrugged. “Hearing problems?”

You laughed at that and glanced at mitch to see him grinning at you while everyone else just glanced at each other, completely perplexed.

[talesofzero]

Study Lag

College AU; Harlock + Tochiro 14/16 - Cooking Together/Napping

I got two requests for these boys, so I decided to combine them into one longer story instead of two real short ones, and I think it’s cuter this way. For @blastedheadhk and @armonia-grafica. 

~1k words

“You know, I just thought of something.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t have to take exams if I’m dead.”

Well, that was some impeccable logic if I’d ever heard it, but he probably could have convinced me of anything at this point. I’d read the same page seven times without any of the words reaching my brain. I’d survived on nothing but coffee for the past two days, and my stomach felt like it was filled with acid. When I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure Tochiro was still breathing, I found him face-down in his textbook – one of the thick ones, probably made a good pillow.

“Maybe next time don’t take eight classes,” I said.

He wheezed some sort of response.

“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked. Not that I had any room to talk, but he was worse at keeping himself alive than I was. Keeping him fed would be enough of an excuse to take a break so I could eat too.

“I’unno,” he answered. That was good enough for me.

Standing, I stretched the knots from my back and strode over to him. He howled a weak “no,” as I dragged him out of his chair.

“Ramen?” I asked as I hauled him over to our meager food cabinet.

“I’ve eaten so much ramen I think my blood is broth.”

“Macaroni and cheese?”

“Gross.”

“Tomato soup?”

“Why do you hate me?”

“Well, what do you want?”

His brows pinched behind those thick glasses of his. “…Pancakes,” he decided.

I let out a puff of air, trying to remember if we had all the required ingredients for pancakes. “What does our instant mix call for?”

“Just water.”

“Modern technology is a blessing.”

“Don’t have any syrup or butter though.”

“Damn.”

“Got jelly.”

“Fuck it, it’ll work.”

Contrary to dorm policies, I pulled out our hot plate from the back of our cabinet of precariously-stacked dishes. The only outlet close enough to a surface for the cord to reach was by the bathroom sink. I cared so little at this point, I could have eaten off the floor.

Tochiro set to work measuring out the powdery mix and water. I was a little worried he might fall asleep in the batter once he started stirring. A yawn caught him every few seconds, which made me yawn too.

“Stop it,” I demanded.

“I can’t help it. I see you yawning, and then I have to yawn.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” I said through another yawn.

“I can’t wait to sleep for five years after exams are over.”

“What does it even feel like to sleep?”

The trouble with us making pancakes, which I didn’t recall until after we’d poured the first one out into the pan, was that we didn’t own a spatula. Well, we used to own a spatula, but it was plastic and melted into a pan we’d left it sitting on.

This was why we usually ate cup ramen.

“So how are we going to flip it?” Tochiro asked as we watched the bubbles begin to form.

“You’re the engineer here.”

He did that frown that twisted all his features. It was a sure sign that he was really thinking on the issue, but given the state of our brains, I don’t know why I expected a revelation.

“What if we did the whole…?” He mimicked putting his hand around the pan’s handle and flicking up. “You’re pretty dexterous and stuff.”

“But you’ve taken all the physics classes.”

We spent a few moments staring at each other, waiting for someone to brave flipping the pancake. In the end, Tochiro grabbed for it. “Well I’m not going to let it burn.”

“Should I pray?” I asked.

“Please, like you’re religious. We’d get smited or something.”

“A good excuse to miss exams.”

“I don’t think my professors would accept it.”

With his tongue poking out on one side, he took a deep breath, and gave it a shot.

The pancake did not move.

I snapped my fingers as the realization hit. “Oh, I didn’t put any oil in the pan.”

“Harlock, why?” he sighed.

“Listen, we’ll just flip it with a fork or something.”

I would have used one of the covers from my hardcover books, but they were all rentals, so that was out. Our pancakes all turned out with odd, lumpy shapes because we never could get the fork trick to work right. Eating them with strawberry jelly wasn’t half bad though. We sat on the lower bunk, my bed, and took turns pulling from the huge stack of ugly pancakes we’d made using all the mix left in the box.

“I forgot how much I love food,” Tochiro said before shoving another half a pancake in his mouth.

“It’s almost like we need it to survive or something,” I said.

“Whoa, slow down there. They’ll kick you out of school for being too smart.”

I squinted as I considered the idea. “That makes no sense.”

“Look, I’m trying to be funny. I’m too tired to make sense.”

Another good point. Couldn’t argue with him there.

Another trouble with us making pancakes was that the carbs knocked out what little grasp we had left on being awake. Tochiro fell asleep first, his head knocked against my arm. I should have woken him up. There was so much studying to be done. All those tests and papers.

…But fuck that, I decided.

Letting my head rest back against the wall, I closed my eyes. If I moved to go get my textbook, Tochiro would wake up, and he really needed to get some rest.

Yeah, I’d stay put for him.