#i get embarrassed really easy so i was keeping my doodles close to my chest

[yikes-ajax]

"Why are you crying today?" Well you see,

[svchengss]

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

[let-them-read-fics]

Conflicted Connections

Requested By @rc11: “Reader is drunk and calls Rosé to pick her up since she’s worried. And on the way home, the reader confesses but since she knows Rosé is out of her league she gets all sad. All fluff throughout the way, and the next day she avoids Rosé since she recalls herself confessing and is to embarrassed to face her. Gets a lil bit angst but then they somehow make up at the end.”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,505

Warnings / Misc. – Mentions Of Alcohol & Partying, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein. 

A/N: Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this one, and I really hope you enjoy it. I stuck with the gist, but I added quite a bit :) AND WHO ELSE IS HYPED FOR THE SHOW??? 🥳 I can’t wait to see our girls own that stage 😌

PS ~~ The song used is called "Baby, I Love You" by Tiffany Alvord, and it was specially requested.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

With yet another steaming cup of tea in hand, Rosé makes her way back to her room, settling onto the soft cushions of the bed. Her notebook lays open in front of her, lyrics and annotations beautifully etched into the paper. 

She pulls her guitar back into her lap now, allowing her fingers to glide along the strings as she strums out whatever comes to mind. Nothing makes her feel as relaxed as this; she's free to sing whatever she feels -- to play whatever feels right. If only for a little while, she can connect back to her roots and remember how she felt as a little girl; when her heart and mind were unburdened by fear of judgement.

Life isn't always easy, but she takes comfort in the fact that her love of music will always remain childlike, in the sense that there's always something new to discover or tell the world. It goes without saying that being a songwriter is much easier when you're inspired, and Rosé can attest to that. A certain someone has become her muse over the course of the past few months, and her mind is constantly filled with ideas for new material. 

As another line pops into her head, she takes the page between her fingers to flip to a clean sheet. A few seconds later, thinking she found one, she begins writing. Soon, though, she discovers that this wasn't an empty page: in the upper right hand corner, a small heart is drawn, encompassing the words "Hi Rosie" and a small smiley face. Your initials are printed next to the doodle, and the sight brings a soft smile to her face. You must've sneakily drawn that when she wasn't looking one day. 

Her fingers run along the markings, tracing over the lines as your face flashes in her mind for the millionth time today. The universe must've been listening, because no more than 5 minutes later, her phone starts ringing. She reaches backwards towards the bedside table, and her fingers soon make contact with the device. 

"Hey, I was just thinking about you--" She starts, before being interrupted. 

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE--" Your voice booms through the phone as you sing loudly, nearly making Rosé go deaf in the process. She blinks a few times to refocus her thoughts before chuckling lightly.

"Y/N?"

"Rosie I'm at this really fun party, you should come hang out!" Your words come out slightly slurred, but excited nonetheless. It's a bit hard for her to hear you now over the music blasting in the background. 

"Ah, I don't know…" She trails off, voice unsure. She'd much rather spend the evening writing about you than at some random party. 

"Pleaaseee?" You drag out, making sure to whine for even more emphasis. "I miss you." 

Rosé's heart skips a beat at that last part, now thudding obnoxiously loud in her chest. She misses you too, probably more than a 'friend' should, but she can't help it -- you're simply too amazing.

She takes a breath, knowing that she'll likely regret her next decision -- after all, hiding her feelings becomes harder every time she's around you. Regardless, she can't find it in herself to say no to you. "Alright, fine. Where are you again?"

You let out a loud cheer upon hearing her cave in, and she just knows you look like a dork, likely having that stupid little smirk on your lips that she loves so much. 

After getting the address from you, she goes into her closet to find a good outfit. For anyone else, she might've just shown up in whatever was comfortable; but knowing that you're there is enough motivation for her to put a bit more effort into it. 

Her signature style shines through: she dons a black crop top and jeans, paired with a long, hickory colored trench coat. She finishes the look off with her white sneakers, giving the outfit that final umph that it needed.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusts her clothes and hair again before heading out.

-----

The moment that Rosé steps foot inside the house, her eyes widen. She's been to plenty of parties before, but never one as chaotic as this. A large crowd is gathered in the living room, making the area that was likely once spacious now appear cramped and tiny. Some people move with the rhythm, while others dance wildly to the beat of their own drum. The music was audible from outside, but inside is a whole nother story: it's nearly deafening now. 

In front of her, just past the living room, two guys are fist fighting. To her left, a long hallway is filled with couples making out, likely on their way to the bedrooms. She grimaces before pushing her way past everyone and walking towards the kitchen.

The bright strobe lights from the living room still manage to reach the area, but things are definitely a little calmer here. That's not to say that it's quiet, though: people are gathered around the counters, downing shots and cheering each other on at the same time. Some stumble around, nearly falling over as their friends laugh hysterically and help keep them vertical.

In the adjacent room, two teams of partygoers are busy playing beer pong. It seems to be boys vs girls, and Rose smirks when she discovers the latter are in the lead. 

She scans the rooms one more time, but you're still nowhere to be found. A pang of worry settles in her chest, but it only makes her more determined to find you.

And, 10 minutes later, she does. You're outside in the backyard, sitting near the fire pit with a bottle of wine in your hand. The flames are dying down now, long ago forgotten about -- the stars shining in the midnight sky had captivated you, stealing your attention away from keeping the fire fed. 

Before she begins her journey over to you, she takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful you look. The remaining embers flicker lazily, creating a deep haze that casts onto your body. The shadows contrast with the light, making your features pop in all the right ways. The sound of someone shouting again brings her out of her daze, and Rose makes her way to you.

At first, you don't notice her. Your eyes are wide, filled with wonder as you gaze up at the sky in awe. Space has always baffled you, and Rose thinks you look adorable when you get like this. 

"Y/N," she says gently, standing beside your chair. After pulling your eyes away from the sky, you meet her gaze. A light blush rises to your cheeks at the way she's looking at you. 

"Hi Rosie," you slur. The words come out cutely, but she can tell that you're much drunker than you had been when you called earlier. 

"How much have you had?"

You scrunch your face up in thought as the last two functioning brain cells in your head go to work. She can practically see the wheels turning, and she can't help but laugh at the look of effort on your face. 

"...a lot." You ultimately conclude, taking far too long to come up with such a simple answer. "Alex gave me a couple of his special mixes earlier, I had some shots, and now--" you declare, holding the wine bottle up triumphantly, "--this!"

As soon as she heard his name leave your lips, she frowned. Alex is one of your coworkers and friends, and he's totally in love with you. You're oblivious to it, but Rose isn't and she can't stand him. On top of the fact that he's a guy, he has the audacity to like you? Well, she can't exactly blame him for those things, but that doesn't mean that she has to like him. She's civil around him for your sake, but that's all.

"Do you want some?" You ask, always willing to offer her whatever you have. Sharing is caring, and you definitely care about a certain Australian beauty. 

She looks down at you before shaking her head. "No, I'm good." You swish the liquid around, peering down into the bottle as it glides from side to side. "Me too," you say, setting it down beside your chair. "Let's go dance!" You suggest excitedly, using your strength to hoist your body out of the seat. Sorely miscalculating your moves, your foot doesn't quite connect with the ground how you intended; you stumble, falling right into Rosie's waiting arms.

She was watching you carefully, having a feeling that this would happen. 

"Nope, I'm taking you home. No dancing for you." You whine and pout, but Rose doesn't budge. Eventually you give up, and allow her to hold you close as she helps you walk out of the house. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she has to fight the butterflies that take flight.

As the two of you near the door, Rose spots Alex in the living room. She shoots him a cocky grin, as if to say 'checkmate' before she leads you out the door.

-----

The ride home was getting off to a rather interesting start. It took Rosie a while to wrangle you into the car and buckle you in, but she eventually managed to do it. Now, though, a new problem is arising: you're being flirty, and she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"You're so pretty," you compliment, leaning over the center console to whisper the phrase in her ear. She gulps and attempts to calm her heart down, but she's having trouble. "Shush," she commands, blushing as she lets out a little giggle. She tries to remind herself that you're just drunk -- that there's no real meaning behind your words -- but it feels good to pretend.

After a moment, you return to your seat, and she lets out a sigh of relief. 

Barely 2 minutes later, you place a hand on her knee, saying gently, "You always take such good care of me. Thank you, Rose." She sneaks a glance at you, and her heart nearly melts at the smile you're sending her way. Your eyes are shining with sincerity, and she'd surely get lost in them if she weren't busy driving. 

The rest of the ride is filled with more flirting and compliments from you, all of which send her into a gay panic, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

----

Now, laying in your bed as Rosé rounds up some pajamas for you, the effects of the alcohol really begin setting in. You're still in the playful, teasing phase, but you know you'll have a major hangover tomorrow. Whatever Alex put in those drinks is catching up with you and running its course throughout your body.

"Rosie, do you like anyone?" You call out, toying with your fingers like a toddler. She emerges from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, just as you ask the very words she's been fearing.

She goes to respond, but you interrupt her with a drunken giggle. "Because I do. Her name rhymes with nosey." You chuckle at yourself, but she's too busy trying not to freak out to return the gesture. When you don't question her further, she relaxes her shoulders. How many more times could she get away with avoiding her feelings?

She pushes the scary thought away, instead opting to bring over your clothes and give you a minute to change. Thankfully you're coherent enough to do that on your own -- the thought of you flirting with her while half naked and self-assured sends her wild, and she knows she'd slip up and confess. 

Once you're dressed, she comes back over to the bed and sits down in front of you. She brings the rag up to your face and slides it across your cheeks and neck, knowing just what you need. This isn't the first time she's done this for you, and she can't deny the rush she feels when you look up at her with those big eyes, filled with gratitude.

You sigh at the coolness, relishing in the way that it soothes your hot skin. A soft thank you slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter shut, and Rosé almost lets herself imagine that you're hers. That she just brought her girlfriend back home and now she's taking care of her. But before she can get too lost in that fantasy, she pulls away, slipping the rag into your hand so that you can use it on yourself now.

"Well, I think my work here is done." She declares, patting your leg lovingly. She moves to stand, and the action prompts you to speak up.

"Wait," you start, grabbing her wrist before she can get away. You meant to tug gently, but you must've misjudged your strength; in an instant, she's close to you again, just a breath away. Her face is right in front of yours, and you can feel her warm breath against your lips. 

Her eyes are wide now, and a subtle tremble runs through her. She's never been this close to you, and although she's terrified, she doesn't want to move away. She wants to give in -- to lean forward the tiniest bit and capture your lips -- but she can't. Her breathing becomes labored as she notices your gaze move from her eyes to her lips. Do you like her back? Surely not, you're just drunk...right?

Her pink lips look so kissable right now, the gloss on them shining in the low lamplight. She's close enough that you can smell her fruity shampoo and feel every jagged breath she draws in.

"Y/N--" 

That's all it takes to set you into motion. You bring a hand up to her cheek, cupping it sweetly as you press your lips to hers. She sighs at the contact, melting into your embrace, and allows herself to let her walls down. Her lips move against yours slowly, unsure -- this is new for both of you, and you're testing the waters. One of her hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, and she pulls you impossibly closer. 

After she subconsciously bites your lip - the action drawing a groan from you - she snaps back to reality and pulls away. Her lips are red and swollen, and you have to stop yourself from leaning back in. She looks like she wants to do the same, but she centers herself before she can.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go. Goodnight, Y/N." She says breathlessly, swallowing as she runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't give herself anymore time to change her mind, and soon she's rushing out, failing to even give you so much as a second glance. 

Shocked, you sit back and let your mind try and piece together what the hell just happened. The kiss worked well in sobering you up, at least for the time being, but you wish it hadn't. Now, you're forced to sit alone with your feelings again, lips still tingling with the memory of hers against them.

----

The Next Morning

*ring ring*

The blare of your ringtone sounds especially loud now, making you wince in pain. Your head is pounding, and that definitely isn't helping. Quickly, you roll over and pick it up, keeping your eyes closed as you press the button and hold it to your ear. "Hello?" You ask groggily, voice still laced with sleep.

"Hey, Y/N. The girls and I are going out later; do you wanna come with?" Jennie's sweet voice asks. You rub your forehead, now opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling as you ponder your options. With a glance at the clock, you see that you've already slept a good portion of the day away.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty hungover right now Jen." You chuckle despite yourself, grinning when she laughs back.

"Rosie told us you might be dealing with that." Jennie laughs again, but you go quiet. Did she tell them everything that happened, or did she try and forget about it? After all, she basically ran away -- surely she regrets it. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone as out of your league as Rosé could like you back.

"Jisoo whipped up her special 'hangover-reverser' drink for you, as she calls it." She adds, hoping that'll win you over. Lost in your thoughts, you forget to answer her. 

Jennie takes your silence the wrong way, saying, "You don't have to come, but we'd love to hang out." She sounds sad at the thought of you staying home, and a feeling of guilt creeps into your mind. Work has kept you from hanging out with all of them recently, and they miss you. You miss them too, and quickly decide that a hangover (and the awkward situation you'll be subjected to when face to face with Rosé) aren't enough of a deal breaker to decline their offer. 

"I'll be over in a few. Tell Jisoo to make a couple more for the road… I'll need all the help I can get." 

Jennie laughs again, and you pep up at the sweet sound. She celebrates, and you can hear the girls clapping in the background, shouting praise at her for convincing you to come. The two of you say your goodbyes, and you begin getting ready.

-----

"Jisoo, you're a lifesaver." You confess, flopping back onto the couch. The unnie responds with a smug, "I know," from her place in front of the mirror. 

You lick the remaining liquid from your lips, and Rose shifts in her seat across the room. She can't get the feeling of your kiss out of her mind, and seeing you do that only makes things worse. 

"Here's the second one," Lisa says, smirking as she pats your shoulder and hands you the cup. You smile back at her and smack her butt as a wordless thank you.

"Alright, so where exactly are we going, girls?" You ask as you tuck your feet underneath your body.

"I was thinking we could shop around Hongdae. They changed some stuff since we were there last, and it looks awesome." Jennie informs.

"Sounds good to me." Jisoo replies from the adjacent room, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. 

Lisa agrees as well, and so does Rosie. At the sound of her soft voice, you make eye contact with her for the first time today. Ever since you arrived earlier, you've avoided her. She's done much the same, refraining from saying much to you at all. The girls haven't seemed to pick up on the tension yet, but they're observant; surely it won't take them long. 

As you replay the fateful events in your mind again, you allow your head to lull back and rest against the cushion of the couch. Last night, Rosé’s eyes were speaking all of the words she could never tell you out loud, sparkling with repressed desire. It wasn't hard to tell that she was nervous, but she kissed you like she had been waiting to for an eternity. So, clearly, your confusion at the whole situation is understandable. Why did she run away?

"Ready?" Jisoo asks, kicking your foot to get your attention. 

"As I'll ever be." You state as you stick a hand out to her. She understands immediately, swiftly helping you up. A little groan leaves you, your head spinning from standing up so quickly, so she doesn't move until you get adjusted. 

"Thanks," you smile, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Having such good friends always comes in handy, but there's something special to the little moments like these. She hums in response, and the two of you lead the way out to the car.

Rosé watches the whole encounter as she falls in line behind you, wishing she were in Jisoo's place. Last night was a wake up call for her, unexpected in literally every way, and she panicked. Looking back now, she wishes she would've at least explained her behavior to you. The kiss awakened something within her, releasing all of the feelings she's held in for so long. She didn't rush out because she didn't enjoy the kiss; if she had any idea that that's the impression it left on you, she would've ran back in and kissed you a million times over.

Lisa notices Rosie's furrowed brow and downcast eyes, and instantly knows something's up. 

Now in the car, she leans in close to ask, "Everything okay?" 

"Mhm." Rosie replies, doing her best to sound like her normal self. 

The years have made Lisa an expert at reading the slightly older girl, but she doesn't want to push her. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

"Okay…" Lisa trails off, coincidentally making fleeting eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. On any other day, you would've fought Lisa over the seat next to Rosé; but today, of course, is unlike any other. You're in uncharted territory now, and you have no idea when -- or if -- you'll return to normal. For now, you make do with the passenger's seat, keeping yourself busy by looking out the window. Jennie's driving is smooth, and you appreciate that in your altered state. A low pulsing still vibrates through your head every now and then, but it's become much more bearable. Jisoo truly knows what she's doing with that concoction.

----

Hongdae, Seoul -- A Few Hours Later

"Jennie," Lisa huffs out, struggling to carry everything she’s been handed. "How much stuff do you need?!" The maknae does her best to keep the bags from touching the ground, but that task is proving difficult. 

"We're almost there!" Jennie says, dismissing the younger girls complaints. 

A few minutes later, you're seated at the new restaurant Jennie's spent the night talking about. Seeing the girls so happy today has taken your mind off of your own problems somewhat, but sometimes the issues are unavoidable… like right now. 

Though she tries to be discreet about it -- even going so far as to hide behind her menu -- you can feel Rosé's eyes on you. The waiter seated you at a booth, and of course she happened to sit right in front of you. Having her attention has always been something you enjoy, but you're so embarrassed about what happened that you can't help but shy away from it now. If drunkenly confessing your feelings for her wasn't bad enough, you also kissed her. What could be next?

Rosie's dying on the inside a little more with every minute that passes. The past few hours were filled with plenty of fun and stupidity for the lot of you, stopping in just about every store you came across and joking all the while. But the entire time, you and Rosé kept your distance. Occasionally you'd crack a joke to make her laugh or the two of you would share a look, but the air around you was always thick with the emotions you couldn't give voice to. It also doesn't help that part of Rosé is afraid you didn't even really mean to kiss her. If she blames it on your drunkenness, she doesn't have to process her feelings; she can just go back to suffering in silence. When she looks at you, though, she knows there's no denying what you both feel for each other. 

"Can I get you started with some drinks?" The waiter approaches again, pen and pad ready to go.

"Do you have sikhye?" You inquire, raising your head to look at him.

"We do."

"Great," you smile, getting an idea. "I'll take one of those and a glass of water, please." He jots down your request before recording the other orders and setting off to get the drinks prepared. 

In order to preserve the plan, you don't dare look in Rosé's eyes.

A couple minutes later, he returns with a big tray of drinks; it's a wonder he didn't accidently drop any on the way. Jennie and Jisoo ordered multiple for the table so you could sample them, and you smile at the gesture. They all look tasty, but one in particular catches your attention.

When he hands it to you, you wordlessly slide it over to Rosé. You know she loves it, and you did order it for her, after all. She lets out a little gasp of excitement, and you choose this moment to really look at her. Her eyes are shining again, and you laugh -- if anything is capable of cheering her up, it's something that she can eat or drink.

She beams at you while extending her hand, gently resting it against yours on the table. It's warm and comforting, and you can't help but want to hold it forever. Her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your wrist, and you almost melt at the tenderness of the motion. 

Thankfully the other girls aren't paying attention, or else you'd be thoroughly embarrassed. They continue on with their conversation, leaving you and Rosé to get lost in your own world for the next while.

More time passes, in which you place your food orders and the waiter later brings it out to you.

"Enjoy, ladies." He declares before bowing and returning to the host stand. 

"It looks so yummy," Rose moans, snatching up her chopsticks before digging in. The other girls agree as well, and soon all of you are eating like there's no tomorrow. The flavors go perfectly together, and you pat yourself on the back for choosing the dish you did.

"Do you wanna try some?" You ask after noticing Rose eyeing your plate. You quirk an eyebrow at her as you wait for her answer, which comes in the form of a sheepish nod. 

"That's my girl," you declare with a smile on your face, happy to bring back some of your playful banter. Rosie's heart speeds up at the title, but she tries not to show it too much. Although it's a bit unmannerly, you reach a bite of your food across the table to her and grin when she takes it. Her cheeks puff out in that signature chipmunk pose, and your smile widens. 

"Yah, that's delicious." She sighs, closing her eyes to allow her palate to focus on the flavors. 

You shake your head at how much of a dork she is for food, but giggle despite yourself. She really is the cutest.

-----

"Good evening, everyone, this is the manager speaking. Our lounge area will open in 10 minutes, and karaoke will begin shortly after!" 

Lisa looks at Jennie incredulously, her mouth hanging open. "They have karaoke, too?? How cool is that!" 

Jennie smirks, knowing how good she is at choosing places to take you guys. This joint is definitely somewhere that you'll frequent whenever you're around. "I know right?" She asks, satisfied with herself.

In Rosie's eyes, the karaoke announcement was fate working its magic. She's spent the day mulling over everything that's transpired, deciding earlier that all she needed was one more sign. Now that she had that last little push, all she has left to do is gather up all the courage she possesses. 

As the 5 of you finish up your meals and wait for it to kick off, she racks her brain for the perfect song to sing. She's going to confess.

---

Fully stuffed and satisfied with the amazing dinner you just had, you all follow the waiter towards the lounge area. Located in the back of the restaurant, it's complete with 1 main, corner stage, and 2 smaller ones off to the side. Plush couches and chairs stretch out in front of the stages, allowing the audience to kick back and enjoy the performances. 

A small bar is tucked away in the far corner of the room, stocked with a vast array of different liquors and mixes. Strips of light line the shelves behind the bartender, giving the space its own unique style, and you take some time to admire it all. A few small disco balls hang from the ceiling, placed strategically throughout the room to allow for the most amount of ambience possible. All of the different colors of the rainbow take their turn cycling through the projector, flashing and shining around the room in their random patterns. It's a very welcoming place to be.

You're the first guests in there, so you're free to choose whatever stage you want. "Which one should we go to?" Jisoo asks, doing a little half spin as she looks around the room. 

"Really, unnie? You have to ask?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs; she thought her best friend knew her better than that. Obviously Lisa wants to go to the big stage. How else would she show off all of her moves while she sings?

"You're so dramatic." Jisoo grumbles, sending the maknae an annoyed look of her own as she's dragged over to the performance area. You, Jennie, and Rosé trail after them, shaking your heads at their behavior. 

----

"Come on, we're going first." You bite back a laugh as you watch Lisa tug Jennie up from her spot on the sofa, where she had just sat down and gotten comfortable. Jennie tries to protest, even pointing at the drink she just got from the bar to convince Lisa to let her stay, but she isn't having it. They walk over to the kiosk built into the wall, and take their time in choosing a song to sing.

Their performance is a wild ride, to say the least. Lisa forgets the words at one point, opting to compensate by freestyling a rap and dancing around wildly while everyone hypes her up. She could've just looked at the lyrics on the stage screen, you realize, but that wouldn't have been even half as fun. Jennie breaks into the box of props sitting just off stage, pulling out a multicolored, frilly scarf and wrapping it around her singing partner. To finish off her own look, she rummages around until she finds a comically large top hat and pair of heart shaped glasses.

"Golden buzzer!" You shout out, pressing an imaginary button on the table. The girls celebrate, and your combined laughter fills the room. 

Next up is Jisoo, who decides to put her charm on full display and serenade all of you. She starts off on stage, letting her deep voice lull you into a state of entrancement before she approaches the couch. She greets each of you individually, giving you separate attention just like a rock star would, and all of you go wild for her. She tries to keep up the edgy, heartthrob persona, but it fades a bit when she cracks a smile, her eyes turning into those adorable crescents that you all love so much.

As her song comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In order to go through with your plan -- that is, singing a song to Rosie -- you have to calm your nerves a bit first. You splash water on your face and sigh as the chilly liquid slides down your skin. A bead of it trails down your neck, soaking into the cotton of your collar the second it hits it, and you're reminded of last night. A familiar warmth runs through you at the memory of Rosé's hands on your body, taking care of you like always. She's the definition of girlfriend material, and you always kick yourself for waiting so long to tell her about your feelings.

A basket of paper towels sits on the marble countertop of the sink, and you reach forward to grab one and dry your face. With one final look in the mirror, you throw the paper away and exit the restroom. 

Too busy mentally preparing yourself for the performance, you fail to notice that Rosé is already standing on the stage, mic in hand. You lift your head as you near the stage, and she makes eye contact with you; she looks nervous, so you give her a reassuring smile and move back to your seat. Behind the nervousness, you can see how excited she is; you're intrigued. 

"So, this song goes out to a very special girl here tonight. I hope you like it." She announces shyly, garnering some applause from the small group of diners that have filtered their way in from the restaurant. She presses play, and shakes her hands out in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety building within her. Up until now, keeping her worries in check had been doable; though as she stands alone on stage, looking down at the object of her affection, she's afraid all over again. And yet, somehow in an instant, you take some of those fears away. You're looking at her with so much love and encouragement in your eyes that Rosé thinks she can accomplish anything. 

The song -- one you're hearing for the first time tonight -- picks up, and she begins.

There are three words, & I want you to know they are true

There are three words, that I've been dying to say to you 

Burns in my heart, like a fire that ain't goin' out

I need to let you know

You're unintentionally holding in a breath as she croons the words out, singing straight to you. Her soulful vocals ring out across the space, making goosebumps appear on your skin; her voice always strikes a certain chord within you, the beautiful tones sounding like Heaven. She makes it feel like you're the only two people in the room; that even the world stopped for a moment to watch this play out.

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The smile on your face can't be wiped away by anything; no natural force of the universe could get in the way of this. Your heart swells at her confession as things finally fall into place. Possessed by the love you hold for the goddess in front of you, you decide to be brave and join her on stage. 

She squeals and covers her face as you approach, and the audience erupts into cheers at this. They whistle and clap loudly, and you can hear the distinct voices of the girls from behind you. Pulling her hands away, Rosé's adorable face is revealed in all its glory. She has tears in her eyes, and they let you know that the past 48 hours have been just as much of an emotional rollercoaster for her as they have been for you.

You press a kiss to the back of her hand, feeling your chest tighten at the way it lightly shakes against your lips. You take a step closer and wrap your arms around her waist as she hooks her right one around your shoulders. Her left hand holds the mic between you two, making it so that you can sing the next part together. 

I've never said, these words to anyone, anyone at all

Never got this close, cause I was always afraid I would fall

But now I know, that I'll fall right in-to your arms

Don't ever let me go

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The entire time you're singing, she can't take her eyes off of you. She watches as your lips move along with the words, your face scrunching up occasionally to aid in hitting all the notes, and she even forgets to keep singing a couple times. You're so close to her, just like last night. She vows that this time will be different, though. 

After you finish the verse, Rosé surges forward, closing what little distance is left between you. During the performance you had gradually migrated closer to one another, so that made her job all the more easy.

She leans into you and smiles at the feeling of your racing heart. It lets her know that this is actually happening -- that after spending so many months waiting to finally confess and have you return her feelings, it's happening.

She tastes the strawberry chapstick on your lips, and it reminds her of the time she told you it's her favorite type. You used to wear a vanilla kind… does that mean you switched to strawberry after she told you that? (Yes, yes it does).

You bring your right hand up to her jaw and cup it as you move to deepen the kiss. A soft groan escapes her lips at this, and she doesn't waste any time in kissing you back even harder than before. It's long-overdue, and she can't get enough of you.

All too quickly, though, Rosie gets lost in the embrace, and the lounge is filled with feedback as the mic drops to the floor. She jumps at the sudden noise before snatching it up, her face crimson with embarrassment. After placing it back on the stand, she turns to hide her face in your neck. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around her again. She snuggles in close to you, and you rest your head against hers.

"Awwww, they grow up so fast!" Jisoo wails, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. 

"Cough it up, Jendeukie." Lisa smirks, sticking a hand out in front of the other girl. Jennie shoots her a glare, but nonetheless reaches to the table in front of her to grab her purse. 

"Not another word, Manoban." Jennie says, shoving the 5 dollar bill into Lisa's waiting palm.

The younger girl clears her throat dramatically before saying loudly, "I TOLD YOU SO! Nobody ever listens to the maknae." 

You and Rosé can't contain your laughter anymore, and neither can the girls.

Soon the two of you are back on the couches, cuddling in the corner seat as the others make kissy noises at you. 

She's nestled up against your side, resting her head against your chest contently. 

"I know we kinda did things out of order and all, but I might as well ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile dorkily as she raises up to look at you, a playful smirk of her own tugging at her lips. 

"Absolutely, Y/N." She has stars in her eyes and a dreamy expression on her features as she leans in to kiss you again. 

[honeypirate]

AAAayYy Congrats on the 420 Follower Honey! I'm not surprised by the amount at all since how kick ass your writings are! I hope I did this right, but can I request Viktor with Indica/Sativa- 6, Joints- 8, and Pack the Bowl- 5? If I didn't do this right then, please tell me so I can fix it I don't have the best reading comprehension right now ;v; Once again though Congrats on your follower milestone!

Thanks for your request I hope you like it!

Viktor x reader/ theme park / established relationship / disaster date with good ending

Summary- Early stages of the relationship where Viktor doesn’t tell reader he’s scared of heights and gets sick easy on rides but goes anyway determined to make it a good day for reader.

Event Masterlist

Two month anniversaries were not a thing. You know this and you know how cliche and stupid they are since you haven’t even been dating for that long. But you still wanted to plan a date even if it wasn’t a real anniversary, you still loved being with him these last two months.

“A-an amusement park?!” He asks with a strange chuckle and you raise your eyebrows

“yeah I love them and I thought it would be fun to go with you. But I mean it’s okay if you don’t like them” you shrug but he panics, he doesn’t want to make you sad or have you not be able to do something you love to do

“No I totally love theme parks! We’re definitely going!” He says and hopes you buy his excitement and don’t see through his anxiety.

You hug him close and kiss his cheek, trusting him when he says he loves them. “we’re going to have so much fun!!”

Fun. You had promised fun. But here he is closing his eyes, his organs trembling as the car rises to the top of the track. You’re giggling in your seat excited to get to the top unaware of his stress because of the shoulder and lap restraints that were keeping you safe and keeping you just out of reach and unable to see his face.

He is almost positive that this machine is going to kill him. He has to close his eyes to prevent himself from calculating the likelihood that you’d both die today.

You’re laughing when it spins and loops but Viktor is holding his breath hoping he doesn’t pass out or throw up that would ruin this day for you. He wanted you to have fun most of all. He’d never let anything ruin this day for you. Your loud screams drowning out the fact that he was deathly quiet.

He tried. He really tries his hardest but after the third ride you stumble off in giggles and he runs to the nearest bathroom, green faced with an upset stomach from the loops.

“Are you okay?” You yell outside of the bathroom and he heaves, making your heart drop into your stomach. You wanted to have a nice day but instead you made him sick. He should have told you he didn’t feel well.

“I’m fine!” He yells back, voice breaking and throat sounding raw. You hear a flush and sniffing before water turns on.

“Hey” you say softly and frown, worry in your eyes at his pale and sweaty face.

“Hey” he says with an embarrassed laugh and he looks away

“Viktor?” You ask and he hums, looking shyly into your eyes with an expression like he’s in trouble.

“Do you hate theme parks?” You ask and his face flushes in embarrassment as he looks away and says nothing

You throw your arms around his middle and bury your burning embarrassed face into his chest “you should have told me!” You cry and he hugs you close with a small laugh

“I just wanted you to do something you enjoy. I wanted you to have a good day” he admits softly and you pull back, looking up at him with sincere eyes

“I enjoy everything I get to do with you.” You say and then cup his cheeks with a little smile and say “A date is automatically not a good day if you aren’t having fun with me” he smiles softly, butterflies in his tummy and he holds you to his chest again with a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I just didn’t want to ruin your day” he says and then grimaces when a food cart rolls by

“You could never ruin my day!” you say “any day that I spend with you is a success no matter what we do” you gently pull his face down and he leans toward you. You kiss his forehead and then take his hand

“come on” you say with a small smile “today will not end in disaster”

You go home first, so Viktor can brush his teeth and not have to stay with that feeling in his mouth, then after dinner, you take Viktor somewhere you know he will love.

The Academy of Natural Sciences, the museum he took you to on your first date.

He laughs and squeezes your hand as you hurry up the stairs “y/n you’re a genius. I love you” you feel your heart skip and breath hitch as you’re taking stairs two at a time, forty minutes until they close, you’re not even sure if he realizes he told you that.

Although he’s been here a few times he always loves it, loves to see the displays and see the pre-cataclysm fossils and the interactive sets.

You love to watch how excited he gets, prefer him telling you all about the things instead of pressing the buttons, hanging on to his every word.

“And that’s the reason why the..” he looks at you and then gets shy which how you’re looking at him. Eyes soft and sparkling as you gaze up at him, looking at him and not the display “w-what?” He asks and rubs at his nose, thinking he had a booger or something.

“I love you too” you say softly and watch as his cheeks flush immediately. He looks at you for a moment before a grin slowly spread across his face.

“Good” he says softly and presses his lips to yours.

Before you know it the museum is closing and you have to leave.

Instead of heading back to the cathedral, you walk around the city, watching the sunset and talking about the new displays at the museum that weren’t there two months ago.

He sits on a bench when you end up in the park, watching the families that are enjoying the sunset and the warm spring evening, and pulls you down beside him, making you chuckle. Holy Sol how he loves your laugh.

Viktor feels peace in his heart as you lean into him, his arm wraps around you and kisses the top of your head, sending butterflies to your belly and tingles throughout your body.

“So, disaster date averted?” You ask with a small smile as you meet his eye, your cheek against this shoulder.

He chuckles and gives you a small peck “yes, disaster date averted”

you smile and he sighs happily before pressing his lips to yours again, murmuring how much he loves you against your lips.

“One more thing, before this date is over” he says as you walk through the cathedral hallway to his bedroom.

He stops outside his door and places a small black flash drive with hearts on it doodled in a silver marker against your palm

“What’s this?” You ask and he looks shy as his cheeks flush

“It’s a .. a song” he says and you beam up at him

“Really?” You ask, stars in your eyes as you smile up at him, amazed and feeling so special that he made you a song

He nods shyly with a little nervous laugh and you hug him tight “thank you” you whisper into his neck.

You’ve heard some of his EDM before and listened to him talk about it with extreme passion, but he still was shy about it.

It was his hobby and you respected that him about it. You told him that you loved it and that you were proud of him, but let him choose for himself whenever he wanted you to hear it.

You press your lips to his, humming when he licks your bottom lip and you let him deepen the kiss, every feeling of love on his tongue as your hands move to his neck, one a gentle fist holding the flash drive.

You pull back and give him a giddy smile “come on, let’s go listen to it!” You say and enter his room, he nods with a happy laugh and closes his bedroom door behind him.

[pastaaa-bird]

Day 4:historical

@aphrarepairweek2021

Sorryforbeingadaylate

Oh warning for very minor swearing(only happens three times) but other then that there is nothing inappropriate and also there is implied period typical homophobia in this

Summary: An 80s human AU where a stressed out Chiara (nyo Romano) is saved from going crazy by a hero(Amelia aka nyo America)

Basically this is just fluff, fluff and more fluff

Chiara Vargas was a second a way from flipping her desk and raging down the halls, or at least she would be if she had not possessed just enough self control to hold back on the urge.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Chiara muttered, the sound coming out muffled from her face being squished against her desk in failure.

“OH, CHIARA” came a high pitch voice down stairs.

Reluctantly she lifted her head to the sound.

“WHAT?I'M BUSY”,she yelled back, mentally cursing her brother for disturbing her sulking.

“A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU",

“WHO IS IT?”,

“YOU'LL HAVE TO COME DOWN AND SEE",

After managing to hold back a bitter protest she stood up then stormed down stairs.

“This better be worth my time, Feli or l swear to Dio l’ll-",

Chiara came to a halt once she saw the girl beside Feliciano.

“Hey!” a cheerful voice as usual from the smiling blonde with pink sunglasses in her hair, dressed in her demine shorts,  red t-shirt and long white socks with a pair of roughed up old sneakers.

“Amelia- uh hi there" She replied while awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket, embarrassed at the realisation that she had heard her yelling.

“Nice to see you calm down, anyway l’ll you two ladies to it”, he winked at Chiara who rolled her eyes at the look, not sure whether to love or hate that it felt the exact same to when her grandfather would make comments about her bringing a boyfriend home.

He disappeared into the sitting room to join Valentino on the couch.

“I was wondering if you would want to hang out, we haven't done that for ages”,

“Oh right, ugh l don't think l can”,

“Sure you can! You're not busy are you?”,

“l am, study”,

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Study? Our exams aren't till two weeks" ,

“I know, l know but l'm sick of revising everything on the night before the exam, besides l need as much of time as possible to understand this crap",

“Ah fair enough- how about l help ya with it? math l'm guessing?”,

Sighing at the memory of her many failed attempts at completing and understanding equations and formulas she nodded.

“Yeah, but are you sure?”,

“Definitely!”, stated Amelia with both hands on her hips and standing tall to her eagerness for the task.

“Alright then...",

A while later Chiara found her self back at her desk with Amelia standing beside her reading over her practice questions, nervously waiting for the results.

It felt like an eternity before Amelia finally looked up and spoke.

“And…that's like sixty five percent right!”,

“Sixty five?! Where did l go wrong this time?!”,

They had been at this for quite some time now. Despite Chiara’s frustration she stayed relativity calm for the most part thanks to Amelia’s encouragement and little jokes that made her either outright laugh or complain due to what she claimed was annoyance even if though she did find it humorous.

“Symbols, you forgot them again, there's supposed to be a measurement symbol at the end of this to say whether it's centimetres squared or cubed or meters squared- eh you get the point...", she paused then continued.

Miss Kirkland is your math teacher, right? She's real strict when it comes to small stuff like that so she takes off a lot of marks”, explained Amelia while doodling with the pen in the corner of the practice sheet of paper Chiara had used.

Miss Kirkland, certified smartass- even if it is technically her job to be one. Now, Chiara didn’t exactly hate her but she was far from a favourite in terms of teachers she was forced to put up with.

She hated how Miss Kirkland loved to call on those who she knew where not paying attention, there was a sense of snobbishness when it came to the way Miss Kirkland would proudly correct the unsuspecting student with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk.

“l hate this, I'm so close to getting this right but l keep screwing it up”,

“Come on it's fine! You've made awesome progress since when we started! It's only been like what….an hour? Give yourself some credit",

“…l guess you're right. But I'm also stuck for other things- like history and geography suck",

“ Wanna head to the library? They got good resources for both”, questioned Amelia now looking up from her doodling.

“Nah, I've had enough school for today. Let's do something else, anything in mind?”,

“Ooh! A few things-“,

Understandably Chiara was not surprised when they had arrived at the arcade on their bikes.

“Is this becoming an addiction for you?”,

“Ha-ha very funny, you have your obsessions and l have mine”,

“You even call it obsession, keep all this up and l'll be hosting an intervention for you",

This time Amelia genuinely laughed in response, Chiara savoured every second of the sound.

They were stuck there for a while, when it came to Amelia's great interest and Chiara’s competitive attitude it was easy to guess that there would obviously be competitions to see who could score the highest.

To Chiara’s dislike Amelia ended up winning proportionally more then she did followed by listening to the victory taunts from Amelia.

And it seemed that as quickly as they arrived they where off again.

“No, no, no, nah, no, nope, no”,

“Oh come on! l thought you weren't a quitter”,

“I have my exceptions, this is one of them",

Roller skating, she wanted Chiara to roller skate. Clearly Amelia wasn't aware of the fact that Chiara would likely crawl into the ground out of embarrassment if she would likely- no when, when she would end up falling flat on the floor.

“l'll help ya along! You'll be fine", urged Amelia tilting her head to the side with pleading eyes.

Upon arrival to the centre she instantly felt her heart sink knowing what would be expected her. After much convincing from Amelia and equally as much rants about what could go wrong from Chiara- she ended up agreeing to at least attempting to skate.

Chiara felt her chest tighten and face heat up once she suddenly felt the hand of Amelia intertwine with her own, guiding her into the skating area after they got their roller blades.

It was fascinated to see how effortlessly Amelia could move, practically gliding with ease although at a much slower pace due to guiding Chiara along. For this moment anyway, Chiara forgot how to feel anxious.

The last destination for the day was the local diner.

“Two milkshakes please, a double chocolate for myself and a strawberry and banana mix for her”,

“Coming right up, dear", replied the waitress.

“Oh and don't worry l'm paying, l owe ya for last time with the ice-creams�� reassured Amelia after she placed their order.

It was the small things that Chiara adored about Amelia the most, how she remembered her favourite foods was one of them. Along with her passing small notes with funny faces on them to her whenever they shared a class and she had noticed that Chiara was dying of boredom.

They sat on the high chairs in front of the counter top as they awaited her drinks, Amelia flapped her hands with giddy excitement once they were received, Chiara couldn't help smile at the sight.

She thought about sharing the milkshake together, putting the straw in her drink like those shitty romantic movies Amelia loves so much. It would be cute wouldn't it? Cuter to see Amelia's reaction to the gesture! She smiled to herself at the idea.

Then her face dropped.

No, no they couldn't, not here, although her smile was brought back again by looking towards her girlfriend who had all her attention on blowing bubbles into her drink.

“Should you really be playing with your food like that?”, she questioned placing the straw into her own drink.

“Might as well make the most of it when my folks aren't here to tell me off ", Amelia shrugged in response.

Chiara found her self agreeing with that mentality and joined in with the childish behaviour.

They cycled back to the house, it was getting dark already.

Amelia was invited in and the two walked past the living room seeing Feliciano and Valentino with their eyes still glued to their precious TV.

At peace now they were sat together on the back porch. There was a small garden behind the Vargas' house, it was closed off by the tall fence( put there mostly so the neighbour's cat couldn't hope over and ruin the vegetable patches or flowers).

The air was humid all day and was beginning to cool down with the sun getting lower and the clouds moving in.

For what could have been anywhere from a minute to a thousand years the two spoke about anything and everything, the topics seemed to flow so easily, naturally changing with ease.

Finally the two sat in comfortable silence, looking towards the sky who’s colours had turned into oranges, yellows and pinks.

This is what Chiara so deeply enjoyed, how they could just sit together and feel so secure.

Routinely this what would be done for one another if the other was upset and asked for so, this time was often spent with their hand held or being hugged by the other.

 There would be times where Chiara in particular would wish to be alone, in cases like this Amelia would go prepare or buy a snack for whenever Chiara is feeling okay again, it gave her something to look forward to when she needed to be alone with her own depressing thoughts.

Sometimes when Amelia would be upset she would just want to vent and vent with no words of “it will be okay" or “look on the bright side of things", Chiara was there to listen and agree with the difficulty of whatever situation she found herself in.

Chiara's head was rested on Amelia’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around her in response to it.

Now it was getting cold, thankfully she still wore her jacket…but maybe…

“Amy?”,

“Yeah?”,she quietly answered back to the nickname.

“It's getting a bit…chilly don't you think? Would you, would you like my jacket?”,

“Oh...Uh sure.If you wouldn't mind that is”, a blush covered Amelia’s cheeks, she was rarely flustered or at least visibly.

The jacket was a gift to Chiara for Christmas from one of her relatives, it was given oversized to her but she kept it since it seemed more comfortable like this. On Amelia the jacket finally looked normal, it fit her well and looked quiet lovely.

They went back to silence until Chiara broke it again.

“Thanks by the way. I really needed today- to get my mind off of all this stupid fucking stress l've been trapped in lately",

“Of course. We all need a break now and then",

“You could say that again…l love you" Chiara looked up, her chin now on Amelia's shoulder.

Amelia glanced down at her and grinned.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart"

The end

Okay now for me rambling

Uhhhhh l read through this and l don't think l made any mistakes? I'll edit this if there are and sorry if you saw any, idk l'm bad at checking for mistakes and l don't have someone to proof read for me

Oh and Valentino is human Seborga and alsooo not sure if l made it clear but Feliciano does know about their relationship and also Chiara is Bi and happy to feel valid in her relationship with Amelia as if it were the exact same as when she is with a guy and not something taboo in this time period

ALSO damn, sorry this isn't that particular to the 80s- l did leave out things l was originally going to add in though! Like l was going to have Felicianio and Valentino have a movie marton but according to Wikipedia they werent common around then and the ones that did happen were anime soooo y e p

Also thought about adding in a house cord phone but eh idk it felt nicer to have Amelia visit instead of having Chiara call her or if l tried writting it as Amelia calling and then showing up it just felt forced and weirdly put in any way l tried to write it in

AH l am so worried that this is boring or cringy, like l honestly can't tell if it is or is this fine-ehh l guess l've written worse um yeah if you've read this far thanks :)

(I'm editing this for mistakes and wtf 90 is so high why would she be shocked- damn l think l know why l originally wrote that, l was thinking Amelia said ONE of the questions is 90% right but before it l said she was correcting multiple questions so it reads as multiple questions being 90% right all together ANYWAY l corrected it so it's fine again okay bye -AND it turns out l missed some mistakes yet again-editing this for the 3rd time rip)

[melancholic-pigeon]

Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?

SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.

Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.

Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side. 

I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.

love you to the moon and back.

-J. ❤

Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.

(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)

Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity. 

Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade. 

He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.

It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.

"My other half says hello."

There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.

"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?" 

Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated. 

"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you." 

She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is. 

"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope." 

"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated." 

"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"

Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression, 

"He really does, doesn't he?"

Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself. 

His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.

"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."

He knows that feeling too. 

Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there. 

"You too, Mama." 

She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.

She's smiling, too. 

She smiles a lot, these days.

—

In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding. 

Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands. 

"Decorative. Sure." 

"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked." 

"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."

"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."

"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD." 

"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?" 

"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah." 

Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling. 

Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen. 

"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.

"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy." 

Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question. 

Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose. 

"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."

She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it. 

"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?" 

"See!"

"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."

His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties. 

"I know exactly where I'm going to put it." 

Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study. 

There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins. 

"I'll hang it up for you later."

She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.

Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.

It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.

It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.

"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."

"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.

"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."

"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.

"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit." 

"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen. 

It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.

Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading. 

"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers. 

"He's always welcome for a rain check."

"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling. 

Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time. 

"More bird!"

"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."

They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.

Percy's eyes sting. 

For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead. 

She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place. 

He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response. 

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them. 

"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey." 

Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all. 

When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it. 

Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.

"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything." 

"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.

It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive. 

-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words

[qatsby-art]

🥀A Pride Divided🥀

⚠️ Content Warning: Brief descriptions of blood and wounds. ⚠️ 

”And here we have our very own imfor- inform- ...infirmary!” Akina finally rattled off, sweeping her small tail and directing the tourist group of cub’s sight into the cave. The cubs oohed and awed at the moss lined cavern, the ceiling arching over their heads several giraffe neck lengths in height; stalactites dripped water into a clear pool at the center of the cave, filling the space with the calming sound of dripping liquid. 

 Cubs from neighboring prides were often brought into other faction’s territory along with their leaders and a few pride members during the seasonal meeting of the local prides. The meeting prides consists of the Pridelanders, the Coastlanders, and the Ashlanders. Kopa’s  pride, the Grasslanders, were once apart of this communion, though sadly the loss of their pride has caused for an empty invitation on their behalf.

Much to Akina’s delight, it was her grandfather Simba’s turn to host the meeting, so she has the opportunity to show off the fruits of her territory to some of the cubs from the other prides. Akina is an extremely bold, and boastful cub, thriving on showing out and trying to impress others. An infirmary wouldn’t be impressive to most cubs, but with their latest patient, she knew it would be an impressive sight to behold. 

“Follow me please,” Akina directed with authority, spinning on her heels and marching further into the calm cavern, “and keep your paws to yourself, there is vital medical herbs and equipment stored here! It’s a privilege for you to even lay eyes upon such a cherished area,” the cub chided on, nearly toppling over a rack of Shamanistic staves in her haste to look important. 

In the farthest, most pruned nest within the cavern laid a sleeping cub. His small frame nestled within the soft leaves of his nest and his flesh seemingly split at every seam. The raw wounds just recently being smothered with an aromatic salve, making his still blood-stained fur appear wet and sticky. His ears flicked at the sound of the approaching cub group. He raised his head sleepily, hoping it was his grandmother Nala bringing him his evening meal. 

The cub blinked his one remaining eye toward the cubs and deflated slightly at the sight. He really wasn’t in the mood for guests in his current state of being. “Oh, hey Akina,” he greeted in a bored tone. 

Akina halted the group several tail lengths away from the wounded cub, letting them once again gasp and whisper alongside her as they looked over his wounds. The cub flattened his ears in embarrassment and gazed at his paws, wishing them away silently. 

“This is Hodari,” Akina said cooly, looking over her cousin’s wounds with a weary eye. She’d been unsettled by his presence since the day he’d arrived with Imani and his sister Bakari. Imani unfortunately lied within The Cavern of Stars, awaiting her burial, and Bakari’s wounds were not grave enough for her to be confined to the infirmary; she instead was resting within Simba and Nala's cave. 

A lithe, bright orange cub spoke up from behind Akina cautiously, but clearly interested in Hodari. “What happened to him, Akina?” asked the Ashlander cub. 

Akina continued to stare at Hodari for several more moments, her eyes flicking uncomfortably over his wounds, recalling the night he was brought to the Pridelands; flesh hanging from his body, blood clotting and hanging heavy on his frame, and one eye enlarged, swollen, and bloody. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look away from him as Hodari turned away to continue his nap. 

“He- we were wrestling,” she began, turning to direct her attention to her small field trip group. “And I warned him before we started that he shouldn’t challenge the strength of a future queen...” Akina continued, raising her head and puffing out her chest slightly as the cubs quietly looked at her in awe, trying to imagine her strength. “But he wouldn’t listen. He insisted. And so I went as easy on him as possible,” she lied to herself and the group, boldly walking through them, head held high and guiding them out of the cave as they scrambled to keep up with her, now asking her multiple questions and wanting to know the secret of her power. 

Hodari jerked his head up angrily and winced at the pain he caused himself, growling as Akina was retreating. “That’s not true, Akina! You fat headed liar!” the cub bellowed as tears tinged his words. Hodari was extremely embarrassed and depressed by his current life and didn’t appreciate Akina using him as a pawn to gloat with. Akina had been very cold to him and his sister since they arrived a week prior; they were once close pals but now she treated him as if he were a ghost. He simply didn’t understand. 

The wounded cub sniffled back his tears and angrily resituated himself into the nest he’d been confined to for days. As soon as the Prideland’s shaman Talazami allowed him out of the infirmary, he was going to teach the future queen a lesson. 

—

I don’t think I explained it very well here, as I just wanted to get my foot in the door of introducing it, but Akina is suffering with PTSD when she is around Hodari and Bakari. Because of their incident with the hyena raid, Akina is terrified of hyenas and is sickened by the sight of blood and wounds. She doesn’t want to think that a hyena could inflict such damage to a lion, so she surrounds herself with fictional scenarios of how Hodari received his wounds. 

I started out this doodle as just a lighthearted way to crawl out of some art block, but I thought it would be a good way to introduce the beginning Akina and Hodari’s relationship as cubs <//3

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 4

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

Yukine was in the living room studying for midterms when his dad busted the door down and flounced into the room.

This was a common occurrence, as this man was not his biological dad, but rather a once concerned neighbor that adopted him and was therefore hardly a decade older than the teen. There could be many reasons why his dad, a man named Yato, was excited:

He saw something to do with Capybaras

He got an extra sketchy side job for pocket change

The weather was nice

He bought junk with said pocket change

Anything to do with his beloved girlfriend, Hiyori

Based on the way the young man skipped into the living room, high on cloud nine, Yukine could only assume it was the last option. With sigh, Yukine closed his textbook and readied himself to lose the rest of his study time. Yato tended to talk about his girlfriend for hours on end, like he’s never seen nor heard of them before her, and Yukine would not be able to focus. Now, Yukine liked his dad’s girlfriend. Loved her in fact. His dad was her art tutor- and class nude model- in college since she struggled with the subject as a medical major. Eventually she had become Yukine’s tutor in everything else except math, which was reserved for his dad. It was unclear if Yato hired her, or she did it out of the kindness of her heart, or the two just wanted to see more of each other, but Hiyori wormed her way into both their hearts.

“Yukine!”

“What?” Yukine drawled. His dad was a whirlwind of smiles and flailing arms as he tumbled towards Yukine. Used to this too, the blonde simply waited for Yato to sit directly in front of him without knocking him over. Yukine blinked as his dad struggled to find the words to communicate in a language they both understood. It tended to take some time, as falling in love with Hiyori Iki was a grand affair that wrestled your heart and tied your tongue. She tended to have that effect on people, as most kind-angels did. However, when all he did was wheeze and let out a strange coo mixed with a whine, Yukine couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes.

“I did it!” Yato beamed.

“Did what?”

“I finished that old lady’s kitchen and finally got enough money!” He burst. In a fit of laughter that strangers might have thought was madness, the young man rolled onto his back and kicked his feet. It took a moment for Yukine to realize his theory was somehow wrong before he crawled over top of his dad.

“What-ugh,” Yukine slapped away the hands that covered the man’s face, “what are you saving for? You never save money. I’m surprised we haven’t missed any bills yet.” Hands away his face, his dad’s bright blue eyes stared into Yukine’s hazel, full of unbridled joy . That was hardly a good sign; Yato was known for extravagant plans that he got far too excited over. Especially when they failed more often than not. Honestly, Hiyori was a saint for staying with such a spaz.

“That’s the thing!” The man gasped. He didn’t wait for his son’s answer, leaping to his feet to dash into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Yukine was rolling his eyes, of course it was about her. Yato ran back to his spot on the floor next to his son.

“Our two year anniversary is coming up in a few weeks and you know it’s around that time! The age, the lifestyle, the current situation,” he swooned, “her parents and Kofuku and Daikoku!”

“What. Are you talking about?” Yukine groaned as he kneaded his forehead. Just because his dad was capable of speech, didn’t mean he used it properly.

“I want to propose,” he said, “I want to propose to Hiyori.” The three magazines that he clenched in his hands were squeezed so tightly they crinkled. This time it was big blue eyes that watched Yukine struggle to find words. Yukine sucked in air, swallowed, stared, opened his mouth with nothing to come out, blinked a few times, then swallowed again. The logical part of this brain just shrugged, this was the obvious next step. They loved each other, were old enough, and that was usually the point of dating, what it led to. It wouldn’t change their day to day. The emotional side was shocked, blindsided, and completely convinced this would change everything.

Just the word ‘proposal’ was heavy in Yukine’s mind because ‘proposal’ led to ‘wedding’ which means ‘marriage’ which equals ‘family.’ Not that they weren’t already a family, they moved in to Hiyori’s place a little less than a year ago but that was a financial decision if anything. The more childish part of Yukine, the one that had originally protested the relationship and acted out during the first month of their dating, feared that this would take away even more of Yato’s attention. Because the fact was that marriage led to more children. But Yukine knew better than that by now. On the other hand, families, something Yukine had once before Yato, left a sour taste in his mouth. What’s more, this would without a doubt make Hiyori his ‘mother’ and this would mean Yukine wouldn’t just have a ‘parent’ but ‘parents,’ functioning ones that both loved him.

That last thought resonated in Yukine’s chest. Yato and Hiyori loved him very much, unconditionally, and he loved them. They were already a family and Yukine- Yukine wouldn’t mind calling Hiyori ‘mom’ if she ever wanted to adopt him. But most importantly, Yukine finally let his eyes drop from Yato’s and fall to the magazines. They were all for different jewelry stores, the outlines of their pages lined with little color tabs. Yukine could imagine they were covered in little notes and doodles from long before this moment. Most importantly, Yato deserved this. He was a single, smart, and kind young man that worked his way from the very bottom. Even Yukine was old enough to understand that for someone in that position- an impoverished college student- that Yato had taken on a lot, adopting him. It couldn’t have been easy to find someone. Someone as genuine as Hiyori who loved him just as much. Yato deserved this and he deserved to have Yukine support him. Which Yukine found that he truly, truly did.

“That’s great,” Yukine finally said. His voice cracked from the emotion and worry flashed across Yato’s face. But with one sniff and a genuine smile, Yukine showed that he was happy for them. The two dissolved into excited giggles and laughter, eyes blurry with emotion.

“I want you to help me pick it out. I want you with me when I buy it and help me plan the whole thing! I want you to be there with me, I need my kiddo for support,” Yato confessed. Blinking away the moist sheen, Yukine nodded once with a wobbly smile. His dad laughed with every ounce of giddiness and happiness that Yukine felt.

“Originally I was going to make one-”

“No,” Yukine said offhandedly as he wiped his eyes. Yato waved his hands and put down the magazines.

“I know! I know. This is super important and Hiyori deserves the actual ring. The best of the best! I can’t keep getting away with handmade gifts,” Yato said as he opened to a tab in each of the magazines. Yukine eyed the objects he circled and crossed out, writing everywhere.

“You make great hand-made gifts,” Yukine muttered as he fiddled with the cuff of his hand-made christmas sweater. His dad looked up to him, down at his hands, then back up with a smile.

“Well, I was thinking of making her golden knucklebusters, with diamonds of course, as an early wedding present.” Yato huffed.

“She’d like that a lot,” Yukine laughed, “just don’t let her parents see.”

“Oh god no! They already hardly like me.”

“They like you.”

“Yeah, cause I fix their house for free. Redo their kitchen,” Yato mumbled, “I hope they approve of this. I already asked them but the dad seemed more on board with it than her mom.”

“Hey,” Yukine nudged his dad, “that’s a good sign. At least you asked first.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right! This is good! She just needs to say yes.”

“She’ll say yes,” Yukine huffed with another roll of his eyes. Despite himself, even Yukine felt the small spark of fear at the possibility of Hiyori saying otherwise. They flipped through the magazines for a couple minutes longer, Yukine balking at the prices and mental math of costs per month.

“Ah!” Yato suddenly shot up and grabbed both of Yukine’s hands, knocking the book out of his hands.

“H-hey!” Yukine sputtered, wincing at his dad’s sweaty hands.

“But you can’t tell anyone!” Yato insisted, “this is a surprise. It has to stay a secret. Okay? Don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

“Okay!” Yukine finally yanked his hands away.

“You promise?” Yato urged, leaning even closer. His son shoved his face away and picked up his magazine.

“Yes! Yes! I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

They really were made for each other, Yukine thought a couple days later, like soulmates. Once again he was at home, heading to his room after Yato dropped him off. They had a family dinner later and Yukine wanted to chill at home with Hiyori while Yato went to prepare for the proposal. The house was quiet when he walked in so Yukine slipped the quarts of ice cream in the freezer and made his way to his room. Hiyori must be in bed. She hadn’t been feeling well recently, getting nauseous everyday for the past week. All those thoughts went out the window when, on the way to his room, the bathroom door cracked open and Hiyori’s head popped out.

“Yukine!” She hissed, “Yukine!” If it weren’t for her eyes being so wide and pleading, Yukine might have felt a bit more embarrassed by the sight. He stopped short in the hall.

“What’s wrong?” He said immediately. First she looked nervously off to the side, then to him, then up, then behind her, then back at him, letting out a whine disguised as a hum.

“What?” Yukine asked, a bit more nervously now. Still finding it difficult to answer, Hiyori’s arm slipped out and waved him over. Fearing she might have a broken bone, Yukine took one look at the house phone then walked over to the bathroom door, heart in his throat.

“Are you ok-ay!” Yukine squawked as the front of his shirt was grabbed and he was yanked into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. He quickly glanced behind him, at the barrier, then back at his friend. She looked nervous, which made Yukine nervous. He would even say she looked anxious, scared, but the air buzzed with an excited tension. In front of her, Hiyori played with her fingers as she struggled to meet his gaze.

“Hiyori, are you okay?” Yukine finally got out. She looked okay, well not ‘okay’ okay but physically safe. The sweat that beaded her brow and the way her knees almost knocked together said otherwise.

“Um,” Hiyori looked up then down, “yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I- I think so?” Terrified at the thought of anything bad happening, Yukine quickly approached her with his hands up.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Do you need me to call Yato? We should call-”

“No!” Hiyori blurted out, causing Yukine to flinch. At this point he was almost shaking, Hiyori was rarely against calling Yato, especially during emergencies. More than just being the man of the house, Yato knew everything! He was calm and cool under pressure and could take on any problem without delay, dropping everything to help. Yukine certainly didn’t want to deal with whatever this was without at least telling his dad. Seeing the panic bubble, Hiyori reached forward and gently held Yukine’s hands like she often did during these times.

“No, no, no, it’s okay! It’s nothing bad! Nothing’s wrong!” Hiyori comforted, “I just got worrie- excited! I’m nervous about something and I wanted to tell you in private. It’s okay, nobody’s in danger,” her words quickly calmed Yukine back down.

“O-oh, okay,” Yukine nodded, “so, so what’s up?” He stuck his hands in his pocket to hide their shaking while Hiyori went back to fiddling with her fingers.

“I have a, uh, surprise! For Yato. And I, uh, wanted to hear your thoughts first.” She stammered out. This was rather confusing, but Yukine was relieved to hear that was all it was. Maybe she had a big anniversary present planned that she wanted his opinion with.

“Oh okay, what is it?”

“Well it’s not an ‘it’ exactly. It’s more of a, uh, uh, thing? Not a thing! It’s not a thing! I’m a thing? I’m something? I-I-I have something to give to Yato. And you? The family. My family too, you know, once I tell them. I’m just not exactly sure,” Hiyori babbled just like her not-yet-fiance, looking all around. Yukine resisted the urge to roll his eyes- he stopped doing that to her ages ago- and he refused to rush her.

“It’s okay,” Yukine offered a smile, “I’m sure whatever the thing is, Yato will love it. You know how sappy he is, he’ll love it cause it comes from you and you mean it.”

“Haha, yeah,” she didn’t sound too convinced and Yukine worried about why.

“I mean it, he will.” Yukine tried again. This time, Hiyori seemed to get rather bleary eyed and she hugged herself.

“Maybe not this time, Yukine, I’m just not sure. I mean we talked about it but it’s too soon and- who knows- maybe he won’t?” She continued looking around the room, biting her lip. Yukine was still an awkward sort of a teen and not very good with crying young women so all he could think to do was squeeze her hands.

“Don’t say that, Hiyori, there’s nothing on this earth that he-”

“I’m pregnant.” Her confession rang throughout the empty bathroom, echoing against the tiles and Yukine’s ribs. The boy’s mouth clicked shut as all those images he’d imagined, with Yato fawning over another child that was actually his, flooded in. When Hiyori sniffed again, the pictures shattered, leaving a frightened young woman holding her stomach.

“Yukine, I’m pregnant,” she repeated. Swallowing Yukine let his hands lightly rub her arms up and down.

“That’s,” he breathed, “amazing.” The honest wonderment he felt bleed through his voice and Hiyori looked up at him, eyes shining with pure hope.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Yukine promised. They deserved to be happy and experience having a baby and raising them with all the love and care they gave Yukine. After all, they already saved his life. What more can he ask of them? Once again he found himself blinking away the moisture in his eyes, Hiyori trying to do the same.

“But, what about Yato? Do you think he’ll,” Hiyori bit her lip and Yukine struggled to find the words and push away any jealousy he felt. Of course he wanted to be Yato’s one and only, for the man to never have kids of his own cause he had Yukine. But that was as selfish as it was stupid. Yato had a lot of love and Yukine knew he was no different than a son to him. Yato would never abandon him for something he deemed better and Yukine would be there to support him. Both of them.

“He will absolutely love them,” Yukine assured her, letting out a dry sob, “he’ll make the best dad.”

“Well, hehe, I think he already does?” Hiyori wiped under her eyes and Yukine found himself laughing.

“That’s right!” Yukine said, joyfully, “he’s the best.”

“Yeah, he is. The best I could ask for,” she murmured happily. The room was considerably warmer, lighter as Hiyori set her palms gently over her abdomen with a soft smile.

“Now I just have to tell him,” Hiyori said, “and my parents.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy too,” Yukine sighed as he leaned against the door, “you haven’t told them yet?”

“No, they’re old fashioned and I would rather tell Yato first. So you can’t tell anyone!” Hiyori suddenly stepped forward with pleading eyes.

“Huh?”

“It’s a surprise! I want to tell him on our anniversary but I really need you to be there as support, so you can’t say anything, okay?  Promise me you’ll keep it a secret!” She begged. Yukine gave his answer before he could think, not realizing until later what it would entail.

“I-I will! I’ll be there! And I promise I won’t say anything!”

The anniversary dinner reservation was booked at the restaurant Yato took Hiyori to on their very first date. It stood on the corner of an annual festival that followed the date and where Yato often took them every year since. In the car ride, various levels of anxious excitement is so palpable one of them could cut it with a knife. The excitement mostly came from the two adults in the front seat. Yukine, who sat behind Hiyori, was the majority of the anxiousness. Both hands were stuffed firmly in his jacket, balled up in his right hand was a little box protecting a diamond ring, his left was gently pinching the image of an ultrasound. He kept trying to rip his hands out of his pockets, worried about the cold sweat ruining such valuable commodities.

“So Yukine, are you excited about the festival?” Yato peaked at him through the rear-view mirror, smiling gleefully. It was unclear if his dad noticed Yukine’s flinch, but he quickly shoved his hands tight in his pockets and tried a smile.

“Y-yeah!” His voice cracked and Yato let out an awkward laugh. In the passenger seat, Hiyori turned around to look at him with an equally wobbly smile and a nod.

“We’re glad you can come with us to dinner this time,” she said, “right Yato?”

“Sure are! Soon you’ll be too old for us to force you to come on our dates!” Yato laughed. Even with the implication, the air in the car was considerably lighter. Yukine found himself laughing too, secretly knowing that there would never come a day he would need to be forced. While anniversary dinners were different, dinners with your parents hopefully lasted forever.

“Yato!” Hiyori chided through her giggles, giving him a good whack on the arm. The family continued to snicker as Yato pulled into a parking spot. He ran around the car to open the door for his beloved, taking her hand and helping her out. Yukine’s amusement sank like a rock when both the adults gave him a pointed look and a nod, he was reminded of what was to come. Giving his name, Yato could barely contain his excitement as the waitress brought them to a raised booth in the back.

“Yato,” Hiyori said with a light gasp. It was unclear if she noticed that this booth was the only one with fake roses strung up along the back but Hiyori wore a look of awe as she sat down on the other side of the candle.

“Two years,” he sang in reply.

“Yukine, you can take off your coat,” Hiyori suggested.

“N-nah that’s okay!” Yukine said. Both of them must have understood the implication because neither of them pressed it. They took a glance at the menu and eventually, the waiter came to take their orders, offering the most expensive bottle of champagne that Yato had already paid for.

“Oh, uh, no thank you, I’ll just have water, please,” Hiyori asked as she shut the menu and handed it to him. Yukine watched the waiter flash Yato a lost look who just nodded as he handed his own menu.

“I’ll have a colosi,” Yato said. The meal picked up quickly after that, the three of them ordering good dishes. Shortly after they started to dig in, the violinist Yato had called from college- a man with glasses named Kazuma- came over and began to play.

“Mmm!” Hiyori slurped down her pasta, “this is our song!”

“Hmm?” Yato cocked his head.

“Our song! You know, the one they played at the after party for the art exhibit? Our first dance,” Hiyori said. She ducked her head, looking suitably embarrassed until Yato hummed.

“I remember! Of course I do,” Yato smiled, “best night of my life.” Love in the air, they finished their meal, sharing a dessert Yato treated Yukine too. Once the dinner was complete, Yato distracted Hiyori long enough for Yukine to run and give Kazuma a tip and the next phase. Then Yukine jogged after them, the three of them walking out into the festival. Hiyori, rather obviously, tugged Yato off to the right. The woman on track to being a doctor was clever enough to know her romantic boyfriend would be taking them to the spot of their first kiss. Of course he did that every year, but Hiyori hoped being in such a nostalgic place would help the news to be received more positively.

Still, the two of them put a lot of effort into making sure Yukine felt included. Part of him thought this was just done out of gratitude for his help, but they’ve taken him here more than enough times for Yukine to understand they just wanted him to have fun too. Of course, this was still part of Yato’s extremely detailed plan. A handful of the game stands held certain prizes that Yato planted for the proposal. So far, Yato carried a hand-made scarf that mimicked something Hiyori used to wear while they were dating, a small wooden house that was used in sketch class, a box of sparklers, and binoculars. Currently, Hiyori was selecting another prize Yato and Yukine won for her by playing darts. Based on Yato’s instructions, the man offered Hiyori the prize box of fake jewelry, one of which was real and hand made. Knowing her, she would notice the pink-flowered charm and select it.

“I’ll have to go back for that bottle,” Yato sighed as he watched his love look over the options.

“I can go back and put it in the car,” offered Yukine.

“No, no, no, I need you here with me,” his dad looked at him, “I can’t do this without you.” He sounded confident but his eyes were so scared that Yukine couldn’t help but nod. Yukine had made a promise to himself some time ago that he would protect this eccentric, kind-hearted man that saved his life, from others who would try to take advantage of him or go out of their way to hurt him. Just like Yukine once did.

“I have tissues in case she says no and I put the ice cream in the freezer for you.”

“Haha! That’s my boy,” Yato let his fingers noogie Yukine’s hair and they laughed. The moment of truth was upon them. As Hiyori came back to them, showing off her new bracelet with the claim that it was something Yato would make for her. They walked to the edge of the street, the overview circling out over the park with a fence and benches. Yato handed the house and sparklers to Yukine, wrapping the light scarf around Hiyori’s neck. The fireworks would start in exactly seven minutes and Yukine still had both objects in his pockets.

“Yato,” Hiyori suddenly said, “I need to talk to you.” She looked at Yukine who stared back at her with wide eyes.

“What is it? We can talk here, you know,” Yato tried to get Hiyori to come towards the railing, but she remained firmly where she was.

“I just decided that I want,” she looked around, “some cotton candy!” Hiyori frantically pointed towards one of the mini carts.

“Wha-? Right now?” Yato’s shock and fear cracked his voice but he quickly tried to cover it with a laugh.

“How about after the fireworks? They’re going to start soon and you know how much I like-”

“Please Yato?” Hiyori put her hands together and cocked her head. From the middle of them, Yukine sucked air through his teeth and looked at Yato. Those were the big guns, Yato rarely said no to begging.

“Uh, um, okay, Hiyori. One-one sec!” Yato started towards the treats, “come on, Yukine!”

“No, no! That’s okay! Yukine can stay with me!” Hiyori insisted. She smiled when Yato just sputtered then ran off to retrieve the sweets.

“Okay, give it to me,” she frantically hushed.

“You’re going to do it now?” Yukine gave a quieted exclamation.

“I have to! I can’t let this continue without him knowing!” Hands shaking, Yukine handed the ultrasound to Hiyori who stuffed it under the top layer of her shirt against her spine. Once glance at the clock told Yukine there was four minutes until the fireworks would light up the sky and Kazuma would light the sparklers next to the matching mini wooden house just below them.

“Okay! Okay, here!” Yato ran back to them, “here you go, Hiyori!” He handed her a pink mass of sugar, shoving it in her face.

“Wha-! Yato!” Hiyori sputtered. As she struggled to get the sugary treat out of her face, Yato dove his hand in Yukine’s pocket and plucked out the ring.

“Heheh, sorry,” Yato said as he stuffed it into his pocket, “I tripped?” he offered as she moved the candy out of her face. As Yato smiled awkwardly at Hiyori’s narrowed eyes, the first firework of the night boomed in the sky. Slack-Jawed, the three of them looked up at the sky, then back at each other.

“Ah! It started!” Yukine gasped.

“Let’s go get a closer look Hiyori-”

“Yato, I have something for you!”

“I have something for you too, but, uh, it’s over here. So let’s go over here!” Yato was quicker, and louder, than Hiyori and managed to grab her wrist and pull her towards the railing. Deciding that his job was done- and that he didn’t want to really get caught in whatever was about to happen- Yukine chose to stay a couple feet back.

“Yato, I- '' Hiyori's words were caught with a gasp as she looked over the railing. On the stone patio that surrounded the park were a bunch of pigeons eating the seeds Yato had Kazuma put down just as they left the restaurant. Feeding pigeons was something Yato did a lot in college and one of the places Hiyori would find him sketching before they started dating.

“Look at them all!” She gasped at the massive heart made purely out of hungry pigeons. In the center of the feathered shape was a small note, leaning on the matching mini home, with fancy calligraphy made clear by the sparklers that were stuck on either side.

“Is that a note?” Hiyori squinted, “I wonder what it says.” She looked at Yato when he cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you use your binoculars?” He offered them. Hiyori didn’t seem to think much of it, taking them and leaning over the railing.

“It says ‘Will You Marry Me?’ Aw I wonder who that’s- for?” Hiyori’s sentence fell off her lips, drifting through the wind as she lowered the binoculars and turned her head. Yukine watched her eyes drop to Yato on his knee, who was gently holding up the box and the ring. When she gasped, eyes growing wide, he nudged the box up higher and cocked his head with a forced smile.

“Will you?” he asked. It took a moment but Hiyori finally moved, closing her mouth and blinking rapidly.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Really?” Yato sprang up with a gigawatt smile, Hiyori laughing at him.

“Yes! Yes!” She professed, bouncing up and down with Yato. Quickly putting the binoculars around her neck, Hiyori quickly grabbed Yato’s face and they joined in a passionate kiss. From his spot, Yukine found himself bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping with the few people surrounding them. Through their love-sick laughter, and Hiyori’s many kisses, Yato took her hand and raised her to the ring. Before the rock could slip onto her finger, Hiyori jolted, finger freezing.

“What is it?” Questioned Yato, terrified at the way she took her hand back.

“Before you give me the ring, I want to give you my thing,” Hiyori said. Her weak words were slightly drowned out by the fireworks display and chatter of the audience but Yato just nodded with tight lips. Eyes downcast, Hiyori’s fingers slipped under her shirt. Then, she handed the ultrasound to Yato who blinked at once before he gently took it. Yukine watched him stare at it, almost incomprehensibly, for a little longer than necessary. Yato blinked again, turned it around and blinked once more. Adam’s apple bobbing, Yukine watched Yato’s lips say something that was too quiet to hear. Hiyori nodded, a jolting movement, trying to force a smile around her wet eyes. This was it, Yukine thought, they were a little family; a mother and her future husband. Yato was a husband, a father, a man of the house. Yukine’s clapping hands stopped and gripped his shorts.

Yato suddenly got his breath of life back, his head jolted up and he looked to Hiyori with an open jaw. He couldn’t force it close until he tackled her into a hug, holding her head and waist so close, like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Whatever Yato said convinced Hiyori it was time to slip the engagement ring on her finger as they squeezed each other tight. Their laughter sounded again, overshadowed by the fireworks and sounding considerably more breathless than before. Lit up by the dancing colors, Yukine watched them alternate between laughing, talking, kissing, and pointing at the objects in their hands. Just as Yukine’s happiness was starting to be completely overshadowed with loneliness and isolation, he watched both of them point at their gifts then turn and face the blonde.

“Yukine!” They cheerfully called his name, arms open to welcome him into their hug. Heart leaping for joy into his throat, Yukine ran forward without a thought. By the time their arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly against their bodies, Yukine’s wet laughter was bubbling out of his chest.

“Yukine! You double player you!” Yato exulted.

“You did such a good job!” Hiyori complimented with tears, “thank you so much!” The family gave another tight hug before pulling away.

“We really couldn’t have done it without you,” Yato sighed. He kept his arms around their shoulders, holding the ultrasound up against the sky, the three watched the final colors of the fireworks illuminate the tiny bundle of life that would be greeting them soon. As the final boom pounded against their beating hearts, Yato finally gave it back to his fiance.

“I’m glad it all worked out,” Yukine said, mostly to himself.

“Are you sure?” Yato asked him.

“Huh?”

“We just want to make sure that you’re okay with all this,” Hiyori started, “we know this is a lot and we just want to hear your thoughts about all this.” She gestured to everything but when Yukine gave them a blank look, Yato put his hands on Yukine’s head.

“Our family is getting a little bigger, are you happy?” He asked softly. Warmth spread throughout Yukine, building in his heart and fanning the heat behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Yukine breathed, “I’m happy.” He blinked and let out a hum of a laugh as Yato and Hiyori smiled at each other.

“That’s great because we have something for you too,” Yato grinned.

“For me?” Yukine blinked. What could it be? What more could they possibly give him?

“Yes, a surprise for you too! Mostly from me to you,” Hiyori offered. When she looked at Yato, smile matching his, the three separated and Yato lifted his top shirt to reveal a folded packet. He handed it to Hiyori who handed it to Yukine with a shy smile.

“If you want,” she tacked on. Yukine kept his eyes on her as he unfolded the paperwork, already knowing what it was before he looked it at. It was so familiar, nearly identical to the one Yato gave him so long ago, the one that now sat in a protective folder in Yukine’s bedroom.

“You want to? Adopt me?” Yukine asked. He squeezed the papers tightly against his chest. Unable to say anything more, Hiyori pressed her trembling lips together and gave a short nod, a couple tears falling from her eyes. He was back in her arms just as she opened them, sniffing against her collar bone.

“Is that okay? Will you have me, Yukine?” She tearfully asked as she brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

“Yes,” Yukine cried, “I’d love that. So much.” He had a mom now. Not that woman that gave birth to him, a real mother figure that loved and cared for him and his dad properly. He had parents.

“See?” Yato sniffed, “I told you he would gladly welcome you into the family!” He tried wiping the tears from his cheeks but it hardly made a difference.

“The family?” Yukine repeated, feeling the word on his tongue.

“Of course! Can’t be a family without you, kiddo!” Yato insisted. He pulled them back into a hug, each of the gifts to each other- sealing their love and connection- squishing under the force of their laughter. They came together in a rather unconventional way, and they were nothing Yukine imagined for himself, yet they were everything he could ask for.

His parents.

His family.

[sharkbaitsekki]

Emm, dimiclaude idea here, thought I'd throw one out there (don't feel pressured to do it!!) But what if Claude is trying to get Dimitri to chill and says "you're not perfect, just let go and do what you want" and the boi Dima is like "Ok. Ok! I can do this!" and quickly smooches the Claude and mentally Claude's like tHAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT but he's not complaining

“You look way too focused, Dimitri.”

“And perhaps you are not focused enough, Claude.” 

There was nothing new about their exchange, the two of them having had the same discussion in various ways over their study session. When Dimitri looked up from his books this time, Claude was balancing his pencil on his upper lip like a mustache. That, at the very least, was a new trick. 

“What... are you doing?” he deadpanned, watching as Claude wobbled, trying to keep his balance but ultimately failing. The pencil fell from its spot and Claude snatched it through the air, twirling it between his fingers. 

“I’m tired of studying,” he whined in response, leaning his chin in his hand. He tucked his pencil behind his ear like hanging up his weapon on a rack. “We’ve been at this forever.”

“We have been at this for an hour and a half,” Dimitri corrected, unimpressed, “For one hour of which you have been doodling cats on your course notes.”

“I also doodled the Professor and a fish sandwich,” Claude corrected, pointing out the doodles in question, “which, incidentally, I hope we’re not having for lunch today.”

“Claude,” Dimitri chided firmly. “Focus. I did not agree to study with you in order to allow myself a distraction from said studying.”

“And I asked to study with you because you always look too serious and I wanted to loosen you up,” Claude retorted shamelessly, kicking his legs up on top of the table. Dimitri swept them off without missing a beat. “Come on. You’ve really been working hard recently, so you should take a rest.”

“I don’t require rest at the moment,” Dimitri assured him, turning his eyes back down to his papers. “At the moment, I wish to understand the application of this formula in calculating catapult trajectories.”

“I’ll teach it to you,” Claude hummed, jumping off his seat and sauntering over to Dimitri to glance down over the young prince’s back. His lazy eyes sparkled with confidence, which simultaneously comforted and infuriated Dimitri. He made it all seem effortless. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“In return, I just want us to do one thing that you actually wanna do. We could go horseback riding, or go read some novels in the courtyard... doesn’t matter to me. But it has to be something you want to do,” Claude said, leaning on Dimitri’s chair. His knuckles brushed the back of his uniform and even though Dimitri couldn’t feel their warmth through his cape, he felt oddly soothed at the pressure on his back. 

“Studying is something that I want to do,” Dimitri replied, and immediately felt how off the sentence sounded. Claude felt it, too, giving him a lopsided grin that said ‘told you so’ in the most obvious way. 

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” Claude chuckled knowingly. “My guess is that studying is just something you have to do, considering how seriously you take your princely duties. Aren’t I right?”

“I don’t see how that could be a bad thing,” Dimitri insisted, crossing his arms. “I am simply being responsible. My birthright is not one to be taken lightly, after all.”

“Oh boy...” Sighing dramatically, Claude circled Dimitri again and grabbed his chair, dragging it noisily to Dimitri’s desk and plopping down next to him. At this distance, their shoulders brushed when he leaned into Dimitri’s notes. “Okay, let me show you. Maybe you’ll be a little more willing when this is out of the way.”

“I’m not-”

“Pay attention, Your Princeliness!” Claude chided playfully, and then tapped the paper with his pencil. “You have to start by determining the weight of your projectiles. Look.” He immediately began to scribble in the margin of Dimitri’s notes, and the blonde had no choice but to pay attention to him. 

Begrudgingly, he admitted that Claude was an excellent teacher, concise and patient with his explanations and guiding Dimitri into completing the exercise himself. By the time Dimitri figured out the final answer, he felt like he had actually learned how to do things on his own. 

“I’ve finished,” he announced with quiet pride in his voice, scribbling the last parts of the answer down hastily. 

“Hmm.” Claude’s voice was a little too close, and Dimitri realized that he had leaned in until both of their faces were nearly touching over the assignment. Somehow afraid to ruin it, he tried to quiet his breathing. “Well, you got it. Nicely done.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri murmured, not daring talk too loud in this proximity. His face felt hot for some reason, his eyes darting instinctively to follow the peek of Claude’s tongue through his lips when they became too dry. Claude was also looking at him, eyes glinting with something that Dimitri could not discern, and he looked away in embarrassment. “I... I suppose I should continue this series of exercises now.”

“You already got it right. No need to keep going,” Claude assured him, still not pulling away. 

“I must be able to do this on my own,” Dimitri insisted, feeling more and more tense. His heart beat fast, but not like it did in battle. Despite how wired he felt, Dimitri didn’t feel stressed.

“Come on, you’re not perfect.” Claude’s teasing hum vibrated through the air and Dimitri suddenly found himself thinking that he wanted to touch his chest and feel it in his hand. “Dimitri. Just do something you want to do, for once.”

And Dimitri finally felt it, the powerful urge to do just that, to discard expectation and follow his heart into the dark instead. His hands itched and his throat felt tight and he found himself wondering if this sort of anxiety was normal, or simply because of Claude.Claude, whose eyes still hadn’t left Dimitri’s face, still close and contemplative, warm and beckoning and taunting Dimitri to act, to discard his title and his burdens for just one second, just long enough to be himself.

Dimitri kissed him. 

He wasn’t sure what ultimately drove him to do it, but without questioning the urge, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Claude’s, soft, unsure, and brief. He couldn’t see Claude’s expression until he drew back and opened his eyes, stunned to note how wide they’d gotten. 

“Well then,” the other boy stuttered slightly, licking his lips. The action made Dimitri feel strangely hot. “I... wasn’t expecting that.”

“Is that really not what you were waiting for?” Dimitri asked, a whole new brand of anxiety sitting in his stomach. His once serene heart now felt like a storm in the making. “I-I apologize, I am notoriously bad at reading people and it is something I must improve if I hope to-”

“Dimitri.”

He stopped talking, hanging onto Claude’s every word, watching in anticipation as his stunned expression relaxed into something amused, almost fond. 

“Is that really what you wanted to do?” he asked, an easy smile stretching across his face. There was no malice to it, no trickery. Perhaps it was that genuine display that gave Dimitri confidence to continue. 

“Yes,” he answered, not expecting his voice to come out so firm. “It was.”

“Well done, then,” Claude chuckled, amused. “So... can I do something I want, now?”

“Yes,” Dimitri murmured, and even before Claude reached him, he had leaned over to meet him halfway. Their lips met again, easier this time, more instinctively. 

When he tangled his hands in Claude’s hair to draw him closer, deepening the kiss like a man starved for centuries, the pencil perched behind Claude’s ear clattered to the floor noisily. Dimitri didn’t hear it, instead breathlessly drowning in Claude, listening only for the sounds of his pleasure and realizing that this was something he had both wanted and needed for the longest time. 

[cauliflowercounty]

Meet Me in the Middle Pt. I (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House: Ilvermorny, your choice

Blood Status: You Choose

Warning: A swear :)

A/N: You’re from the US in this fic!

I/H = Ilvermorny house

-----

“Settle down, students!” Professor McGonagall calls out to the group of 7th years in front of her. She glares over at the twins and Lee who are busy sticking their noses up and imitating her. Once they notice her intense glare, they quiet down, trying to stifle their laughter, still giddy from the start of school energy and being reunited after a long summer apart. 

“This year,” McGonagall begins “we’re initiating a new program in partnership with Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the United States.”

A chorus of murmurs floods through the group.

“For those interested, we are starting a pen friends program. Because of the success of last year in fostering international relationships with the Triwizard tournament, we thought it would be beneficial for both the student body here at Hogwarts and Ilvermorny’s to participate in this new program,” McGonagall explains to the group. All of the seventh years start to whisper to each other excitedly. Many of them comment on how this hadn’t been a possibility before or how they wonder what the wizarding world is like across the pond.

“You’ll receive one pen friend and if you sign up, I expect you to represent Hogwarts well, and remember this is a commitment. Don’t send the person one letter and then never again or there will be consequences,” McGonagall warns everyone. Despite her severe words, people grin with excitement. Fred Weasley thinks about it to himself as all his classmates clamor with excitement. He’d like to have a pen friend from the U.S., but he’s busy wondering if he’ll have the money to send them letters. He and George hadn’t actually sold many of their products yet and he only had just enough money to send letters to his parents back home and the occasional Honeydukes sweet or Zonko’s product. “Postage to the US must cost a lot since owls can’t go that far,” Fred thinks to himself. Maybe giving up the occasional Hogsmeade indulgence would be worth it.

“Cedric would have loved this,” one Hufflepuff near Fred murmurs and everyone falls silent, knowing what the Hufflepuff just said is absolutely true. Everyone in this year definitely felt Cedric’s absence in their year, but in this moment, the air felt heavy with guilt. McGonagall nods in agreement and sets out a paper for sign ups, adding postage will be paid for by Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. Hogwarts students will also write the first letter. Fred smiles in relief. He won’t have to spend all his savings.

“Oi, Freddie,” George nudges him.  “Are you going to sign up?”

Fred nods and rushes up to the paper that his classmates are crowding around. He takes out one of his quills and scratches his signature onto the parchment with a flourish. Returning to his best friends, Lee looks surprised. 

“I didn’t take you for a pen friend sort of guy, mate,” lee comments.

“What can I say, I’m spontaneous,” Fred replies, sure of himself this was the right choice. Leaving the room with George and Lee, Fred heads to his dorm room to start writing his first letter.

When he arrives in his room, he gets out a piece of parchment and sets up a small workspace on his desk.  Just as he sits down, he stops and starts fiddling with his quill. After a few seconds of hesitation, Fred decided to suck it up and start writing.

Hello,

I’m Fred Weasley. I apologise if this letter is a little awkward. It’s my first time ever writing to someone I don’t know at all. I’m in 7th year and I’m a Gryffindor, which values courage and bravery, if you don’t know.  

I have a twin brother. His name is George. We’re like the school pranksters. We currently are developing a line of sweets that make you sick so you can get out of class and other products that people would want like little objects that go off to cause a diversion, We’re also thinking about fireworks, but our main specialty is sweets. It all shows promise.

Georgie and I have never been academics, we’re more pranksters at heart if I’m honest. We’re quite good at charms and enchantments, though. I’m rubbish at potions, though. I hate to be boring, but what’s your favorite subject? I can’t think of anything other than that to ask you, but maybe in a future letter, we can talk about more interesting topics other than school.

Hope to hear from you,

Fred Weasley

Satisfied with his work, Fred folds his letter up and seals it tightly with a wax seal. The next day, he turns it in to McGonagall, who informs him it will be sent within the week. Walking away from McGonagall, Fred starts wondering who his pen friend is.

~

As the following Tuesday rolls around, an unfamiliar owl swoops into the 7th year Gryffindor boys dorms. Attached to its leg is a neatly closed, pristine envelope with “Fred Weasley” written in unfamiliar handwriting.  It hoots loudly at Fred, who scrambles off his bed, knocking a few prototype sweets onto the floor he was just working on with George. 

“Oi! Watch it, Fred!” George protests, but Fed’s already at the window, trying to pry the letter off the owl’s leg. As Fred gets a better look at the letter, he finds the front has been stamped with a MACUSA red stamp reading “INTERNATIONAL” complete with an eagle beside it. Excited, Fred rips open the letter and sits down on his bed, ignoring George who’s trying to get his attention back on the products. Once he’s comfortable, Fred opens up the letter and starts to read.

Hello, Fred Weasley.

I’m y/n. There’s no reason to be sorry that your letter is a bit awkward. Letters like this are out of my comfort zone as well. If it makes you feel any better, your letter felt perfectly natural.

I’m a 6th year in I/H. It’s honestly the best house of all of them. Thunderbird is for adventurers, Pukwudgie is for healers, Wampus is for warriors, and Horned Serpent is for scholars. Fun Fact: Ilvermorny was actually founded by a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a No-Maj!  

You and your brother must be quite the dynamic duo. Starting a business is no easy feat, but it sounds amazingly interesting. I can’t believe you two were the first to think of sweets that make you sick to get out of class, but I’m glad you two got to the idea first. Please keep me posted on how your other products are coming along! They all sound amazing!

I also like charms and enchantments. My Charms teacher is really awesome. I honestly can’t decide what my favorite subject is. All of them have their ups and downs.

What’s it like at Hogwarts? I hear it’s a castle, but what’s the inside like?

- y/n y/l/n

George looks over at his brother and notices how widely he’s grinning. George notices the “international” stamp on the envelope and realizes what it is and now he’s no longer mad at Fred for knocking the prototypes on the floor as Fred scrambles to grab some parchment to write back.

~

A two and a half months later, you and Fred have exchanged many letters; you’ve exchanges so many you’ve both forgotten what round you’re on. A week ago, Fred sent along some of his products after you told him about the two Wampus bullies in your year, James and Martin, who enjoy tormenting you about your looks, smarts, and everything else under the sun. The package included a box of sparklers and then some sickness-inducing sweets. Alongside the box of charmed sweets, he also sent a box of real chocolates and a note.

The red box with the “W” has the charmed sweets in it! DO NOT EAT UNLESS YOU WANT TO BREAK OUT IN BOILS! The other box has some of my mom’s English toffee for you to try.

Giggling a little from his warning note, you wrote back and thanked him profusely for the gifts and promptly used the sickness sweets on both Wampus lugs, who ran off to the infirmary with large puss-filled growths protruding from their face in embarrassment.  When your dorm mates asked who the real chocolates were from, you feel your heartbeat in your chest as a light blush flushes over your cheeks, thinking of Fred.

Getting out of Potions, you take a walk outside to study as an owl swoops down. You take the letter, recognizing Fred’s handwriting.  

Y/n,

I’m glad the sweets worked. The two of them absolutely deserved it and now we know the boils can last for over 48 hours. That’s valuable information for Georgie and me.

Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I was wondering if I could know what you look like? We’ve been mailing each other for such a long time and It’s been on my mind. I usually have a face I can put to a name. I’ve enclosed a picture of me in this letter and If you’re comfortable, I was wondering if you’d send one back? No pressure.

F.W.

P.S. The canary creams are a hit!

You look behind the letter and pull out the enclosed picture. You see a tall pale boy with flaming ginger hair. He’s smirking along with someone who looks exactly like him in the background messing with a familiar orange and purple Weasley box. In the picture, Fred has circled the twin in the foreground and labeled it “Fred” and the one in the background “my less handsome brother, George.” You let out a little chuckle. This is exactly what you expected from Fred.

~

A week and a half have passed since Fred sent the letter with the picture in it. With each passing day, Fred worries he’s driven you off with being too forward. He’s considering writing a letter to apologize and beg things can go back to the way it was. he misses writing to you and having to enchant the parchment so it looks scrambles so Umbridge doesn’t read his mail to you about the D.A. and then getting back mail you’ve charmed to look like doodles in a notebook. It was like your own code that you’d both have to undo to read.  

He missed hearing about ilvermorny and your classes. He longed for the day he could hear about the plan you’d set up with Fred’s help for revenge on James and Martin where you’d charm fireworks to go off and chase them around the Ilvermorny grounds until they admitted they were assholes.

George and Lee assured him that he had nothing to worry about, that you probably got busy with school work and will write back soon. Lee also suggested your letter might have gotten lost in the mail, but that thought only made Fred worry. Maybe you had sent a message long ago and you weren’t getting a response because he hadn’t gotten one yet, and maybe he shouldn’t send a letter now because it might pop up once he sends his own letter and he’ll look like an idiot. he can only hope a letter from you is on its way now.

As Fred begins to descend into another pit of worry the next day, an owl comes to land at his side. Fred grabs the letter with fervor, nearly knocking the poor owl off its feet in excitement. The owl hoots angrily in protest at Fred’s sudden movement and flies away after pouting and ruffling its feathers. He rips the envelope open, almost damaging the letter itself. Taking out his wand, he rushes to a bathroom so no member of the inquisitorial squad or Umbridge herself can see him take the charm off the paper that currently has a drawing of a sloth on it.

Dear Freddie,

I’m sorry for not getting back to you in the last week or so. I had a midterm and I didn’t want to let you down by only sending you a scrap of paper saying I had a test. I hope it went well.

Thanks for sharing that picture with me. You and your brother are very cute together. I didn’t expect your hair to be so bright, but then again, I’m not around many people with red hair. I’ve also sent you a picture of me. It was taken during Care of Magical Creatures. The niffler unit was my favorite. They’re like magical platypuses!

I hope it’s what you expected? I don’t know what to say (haha).

Wow! The Canary Creams are working finally? That’s awesome! Did feathers get everywhere? Who was the poor test subject?

I’m glad everything is working out, Freddie.  

- Y/n

Fred smiles down at the paper from within the stall. You’ve always been supportive of the business. You were almost as excited about it as he and George were. He looks down at the picture you’ve sent along with your letter and his heart skips a little bit. 

You’re smiling at the camera with a niffler in your arms. As the picture moves, you laugh as the niffler squirms and tries to reach for the shiny watch on your wrist. As he observes the picture more, he sees there’s a warm twinkling in your eye. you look so happy. Returning to his dorm room, Fred opens his trunk and tucks the photograph into the corner of his trunk next to some logo designs and a family picture with a pair of horns and a monocle drawn on Percy. He smiles. That’s where that picture will stay.

~

Time has passed, yet you and Fred have kept in touch. Fred’s now living above the shop in Diagon Alley with George after their grand escape from Hogwarts, which you supported him through one hundred percent despite never ever meeting.  

Throughout the months, you’ve both been mailing and you’ve helped him develop new products, acting as a remote filter and outside perspective for the twins, which you enjoyed the process of.  

All the while Fred has supported you through your last year at Ilvermorny since you’re a year younger than he is. Even though he didn’t finish school doesn’t mean he can’t support and help you at all.  

Through your letters, you’ve started calling him “your special Freddie,” making Fred’s heart swoop and swoon as he imagines what your voice sounds like saying it to him.  Time goes on and he’s falling, but Fred doesn’t resist it.  You’ve always been there for him and he knows he’ll be there for you through think and thin.  As he realizes he’s in love, he starts to worry that you won’t return his feelings, but even if you don’t he still wants you in his life.  You make him happy.  It’s as simple as that.

After getting up one morning, Fred heads down to the shop to do inventory downstairs. He notices that it’s darker outside today, even more so today than usual. Both he and Georgie have noticed things have been darkening lately with Voldemort and his followers running around Britain, but today is especially dark.  

Fred hears a knock at the door of the shop. The shop was closed today and most of the regulars knew that this wasn’t a time they’d be open. Cautiously, Fred draws his wand and approaches the door, careful to not step into view in case it wasn’t a welcomed guest. Fred peeks around the corner and notices it’s his father. Wand still drawn, he cautiously approaches the door.

“Which twin said ‘honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?’ at the station before my third year?” Fred asks through the glass at the man he thinks is his father, knowing his dad wants to abide by Ministry guidance about identification.

“Fred did,” Mr. Weasley answers but notices how Fred’s face sinks a bit at his response.  “You did. Sorry, Fred.”

Fred cautiously lets him in, not putting his wand away,

“Fred, Dumbledore is dead,” Mr. Weasley explains.  “Snape was the one who carried it out.”

“That tr-” Fred starts, but Mr. Weasley holds his hand up.

“I know, Fred. I just wanted to come by and tell you before you get it from the Prophet. I also wanted to tell you... We’re not safe anymore. The ministry has most likely been infiltrated or will be infiltrated in the next few days. Keep your guard up. With Dumbledore gone, this fight just got much more difficult,” Arthur explains, sighing deeply and rubbing his face.  “I trust you’ll tell George?”

Fred nods as his dad says goodbye and gives him a “see you soon” before apparating away. Fred locks the door and puts down the shutters with his wand. He rushes up the stairs and scribbles on a piece of parchment his last letter to you before the war, explaining what’s happening, that the mail is probably going to be tracked and opened, that things are getting dangerous. He insists that you shouldn’t write back even if it’s tempting and that he’ll write to you once the war is over.  Fred considers signing it “Love, Fred” because this might be the last time he ever writes to you, but doesn’t; he just writes:

See you on the other side of the war, y/n. Stay safe. 

Yours truly, Fred Weasley

-----

Read Part 2 Here!

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?

[mattzerella-sticks]

A Dumb Idea (1.4 k, coda to 14x15 “The Last Holiday”, Sam & Dean, Dean/Cas)

(ao3)

They celebrated Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, even the Fourth of July. What about the other holidays? What about Valentine's Day?

Mrs. Butters actually had a plan for that, but she left before it could come to fruition. Sam, however, stumbles on Dean and a leftover piece from said plan. Something Dean would rather Sam not see. When he does get a peek as to what it is, well... Dean and Sam have a lot to talk about.

           Sam didn’t intend this. He called Dean’s name, first. Except his brother didn’t react. Head bowed, headphones on as he studied something before him. Music loud enough Sam faintly heard it from the kitchen’s entrance. Easily obscuring his footsteps as Sam approached, curious.

           Moving closer, Sam saw a pencil in Dean’s hand. Wrinkled paper waiting underneath it. Marred with illegible words. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “What are you writing?”

           Dean jumped, headphones slipping off his head. Zeppelin blaring, echoing across the room until his brother slammed a fist on his mp3. “Christ, Sammy,” Dean turned, glaring. Both hands covered the folded paper, pencil forgotten as it rolled away. “Don’t do that! Could’ve had a heart attack.”

           “You have a better chance at going deaf than having a heart attack, Dean.”

           “At least then Eileen could teach me sign language,” he said, bending forward. Somehow maintaining eye contact with Sam. “And we can gossip behind your back with complicated, advanced signing that you can’t do because of your big moose hooves.”

           Snorting, Sam brushed the insult aside. He won’t be distracted that easy. “What are you doing?” he asked, again, “What are you writing?”

           Dean’s lip twitched. His gaze flit between the paper and Sam. “I’m not writing anything.” The pencil, thrown from the table’s edge, landed with a guilty clatter. “Okay, I was writing something,” Dean admit, dragging the page towards him, “It’s… a grocery list.”

           “Groceries?”

           “Yeah, those things you buy?” Dean rose with a nervous giggle, the paper pressed against his chest, “Mrs. Butters wasn’t here for that long Sam, you must remember food doesn’t naturally poof out of thin air. So I set to taking stock of what we needed and… actually, I just finished.” He inched backwards, Sam trailing after him. “Might as well go and get the groceries, now that I have the… the list.”

           Sam shrugged, grinning, “That makes sense.”

           “It does, doesn’t it?”

           A beat later, Sam pounced. Dean, anticipating his attack, spun on his heel. Sam’s chest colliding with his back, blanketing it. But Dean hadn’t considered his next move, because the kitchen island blocked any attempt at escape. Trapped between Sam and it, all he could do was play defense while Sam used every dirty trick on making his brother let go. Because Sam already ran through the scenario in his head, planning for this moment. From the second he saw Dean hide that paper.

           It wasn’t what he intended; Dean left him no choice.

           He tickles, he pinches, and he pulls. Finally, Dean surrenders his hold on the paper. Sam snatches it and bolts, his brother chasing him. “Sammy!”

           “Grocery list my ass!” he yells behind him, skidding around a turn in the hall. Narrowly avoiding Dean’s fist, laughing as he slams into the wall Sam avoided. “Let’s see what you were really writing…” His eyes scan the front of the paper, reading aloud what Dean scrawled in bright red ink. “I never really believed in angels,” he says, slowing, “until I met you.”

           Dean slams into him, both sent tumbling. They lie on their backs, panting, the paper in Sam’s hand with Dean’s creeping closer. Sam feels it go taut as Dean grabs hold, yet he won’t fight further. Perhaps afraid of ruining what’s there. Of the cheesy pick-up line titling his inner thoughts, bookended by doodled wings and a giant, colored heart stamped on the bottom.

           “Really,” Sam gasps, “you got so worked up over that.” His body burns with exhaustion, having overexerted himself. Although not really. Sam should be more concerned with his stamina, except there were other matters that need his attention.

           “Shut up…” Dean’s cheeks were red, from embarrassment, exercise, or a combination of both. “Shit’s personal.”

           “And grade school,” Sam says. He lurches into a seated position, Dean popping up alongside him. Neither letting go, still. “What are you doing writing a Valentine’s Day card?”

           “Why does anyone write a Valentine’s Day card, Sam?” Dean stares at his feet, thinking. The grip on his end goes slack, hand falling to his side. “Read it.”

           Sam hesitates. “Are you sure?”

           “You’ve already seen enough,” he sighs, pinching his brow. “Come on. Do it, before I change my mind.”

           Noting the twinges of irritation threaded into his voice, Sam knows he won’t have long. He flicks it open, first three letters stealing his breath. Glancing at Dean, he sees his brother curled. Physically making himself smaller, like Dean could disappear if he tried hard enough. Sam keeps his initial thoughts silent, saving it for the end.

           Which was the right choice. If the first word were a seed, then the rest of his message was the flower. Each sentence like a petal that together created a beautiful image. Of a secret love. Simmering feelings, strengthening over time. Insecurities laid bare that Sam had expected yet never confirmed until now. A simple plea – a prayer – that leaves him raw, despite the words having come from someone else.

           Sam closes it, wiping at his eyes. “I…” he clears his throat, “Wow. You were planning on giving this to Cas?”

           “Yes…” Dean pouts, snatching the card from Sam. He lets Dean take it. “Maybe, I – I don’t know.”

           “But you wrote it,” Sam says, “Did you… did you mean it? Everything?”

           “Of course I did!” He waves the card about, snarling, “If I didn’t mean it, it wouldn’t be there.”

           Nodding, Sam slides closer. Throws an arm around Dean, tugging him into a loose hug. “How long have you been sitting on this?”

           “On the feelings or the card?”

           “The card.”

           Dean relaxes, leaning on Sam. “A few days now. You were getting ready for your date with Eileen and, well… when Mrs. Butters was still here, she was going on about the next holiday we should celebrate. With Eileen here, maybe invite her over and do a whole Valentine’s Day dinner…” He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “And I was eating some of her snickerdoodles, and she looked at me. Clucked her tongue and said how it’d be perfect to set me up with a girl as good as Eileen. I… don’t know if it was because I was in such a good mood, or it was easier, explaining to a stranger, but it all came – it came rushing out. I couldn’t stop myself. Then… when I was finished… y’know what she did? She magicked up that paper and the – the pencil back in the kitchen. And said I should put everything I said down there. Invite Cas over and then give it to him.”

           Sam braves a smile for both of them. “Sounded like it would have been fun.”

           “No,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t. Because then Cas would read my card and… and he’d know how I really feel.”

           “That’s a problem?”

           “It’s a problem if he doesn’t feel the same!” He throws Sam off of him, scrambling to his feet. Sam stands, too. “I have all these big, awful, disgusting… intense, amazing, fantastic feelings for him, but what if that’s where it ends. That for him I…” Dean shudders, body shaking. “I’m just a friend. And this whole time I’ve been imagining more than what was there. Hoping that maybe, the reason we always found our way back to each other, was because we were meant to.”

           “Dean,” Sam starts, cautiously approaching him. Gentle, like he was a wild deer. Skittish, alert for any surprises. “You won’t know if you don’t try… I’m sure that, when Cas sees that, he’ll be happy. More than happy!”

           “You don’t know,” Dean says, lifting the card. Scowling, he holds it on either side. “This was a dumb idea anyway… I shouldn’t have ever listened to her.”

           “Dean, don’t –“

           He rips it. Rips it again. A third time, and many more after that until confetti rains from his fingers. Sam watches this happen with a pit in his stomach, all of Dean’s hard work disappearing in an instant. Resolve crumbling as fast.

           Dean sniffs, swiping his nose. “Let’s… forget this ever happened, okay Sammy?” he says, stalking down the hall, “Got more important things we should be focusing on anyway…”

           He disappears, footfalls echoing until those, too, end. Sam stays, staring at the pile of shreds.

           Sam bends, sweeping them into his hands. Makes sure they’re all there. Then he heads towards his room.

           Cas is due back soon, anyway. If Sam acts quickly, at least some of what Dean wrote can reach him. Enough for them to have the conversation that’s been looming overhead for years now. The clock is ticking, and Sam will be damned if it runs out on those two.

[cestlestial-beings]

sex dream

Summary: Claire has a sex dream. Sam overhears her moaning his name.

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Sam Winchester, Claire Novak, Dean Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester/Claire Novak Word Count: 1900 AO3: Link

Sam is kissing Claire and it feels good, it feels good because it’s him, because she’s wanted him for so long and now they’re here, right where she wants to be. She hums, satisfied, against his lips, and then his mouth is leaving hers, trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck. He nips lightly at the skin and her breath catches. She wouldn’t have expected to like it, but it feels like he’s marking her, making her his, and it makes her core ache with desire.

More kisses, across her chest. He swirls a tongue around her nipple and she grasps at his sleeve helplessly, breathing hard. His teeth graze over her breast as he keeps going down, down between her legs.

His tongue slides along her slit and skims over her clit and pleasure spikes through her, so strong it almost hurts. She gasps. Her fingers run through Sam’s hair—thick and soft—as his tongue slips inside her and she moans. “Sam,” she says. He’s all she can think about. “Sam. Oh my god. Sam.”

And then she wakes up, his name on her lips.

---

Crap. She’s in the back seat of the Impala. When she opens her eyes, Sam is partly turned, looking back at her with raised eyebrows, and Dean’s gaze is reflected to her through the rearview mirror. 

Both of them look away immediately. Sam clears his throat as casually as he can, but it still seems forced. She feels her face start to heat up. They know. They know. She moaned Sam’s name just as she was waking up. Who knows what else had come out.

Even now, she can feel the wet between her legs. She crosses her legs, and she grits her teeth together tightly as the pressure is applied to her already aroused clit.

She forces herself to stay awake for the remaining two hours of the car ride home from their hunt, back to the bunker—her home now, for the past few weeks. The palpable awkwardness is painful, and Sam keeps glancing back at her, but she doesn’t want to doze off and let anything slip out again.  

When they get back to the bunker, she makes an excuse and all but runs all the way back in to her room. She shuts the door and flops back on her bed. This is so bad. Her face heats up again and she wishes she could just disappear. How different are things going to be with the Winchesters—with Sam—now that they’d overheard her moaning his name during a sex dream?

---

Claire is on her way to the kitchen, but freezes when she hears Sam’s and Dean’s voices. 

“You need to let her down easy,” Dean says, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food. Claire edges closer to the door, keeping herself as quiet as she can.

“I don’t think I should bring it up unless she does,” Sam replies. “It’s just a harmless crush, if that.”

“She’s nineteen, Sam.”

“Jesus, Dean, you think I don’t know that?”

“I’m just saying. It’ll hurt less if you tell her now.”

“Or it’ll make it uncomfortable for everybody.”

Their conversation gradually shifts to a different topic, and Claire slips away. She’ll come back later. She can’t face them now.

---

Music blares in Claire’s headphones as she sits in bed, idly doodling a vampire in her notebook. Her door opens slightly and she jumps, pulling off her headphones.

Sam peeks his head in.

“Don’t you knock?” she asks.

“I did,” he said. “You didn’t answer.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I have to talk to you,” he says.

She pauses. He wants to talk. This is going to be A Talk. About the dream. About how she feels. She’s suddenly shy and defensive. She shrugs and swings her legs over the side of her bed. “Um. Sure. I guess.”

“Can I come in?”

“Mi casa es tu casa.” She gestures to the bed, and he sits down next to her. She feels his presence like he’s a fire, warming her just by being near.

Sam takes a deep breath. “So I’m under the impression you might be… Feeling something for me.”

Claire buries her face in her hands, already feeling her face start to burn. “Oh my god.”

“Because…”

“Yeah, I know why you think that.”

“I mean… It’s fine if you do feel that way,” Sam says. “But I want to clear the air a little bit. Nothing like that will happen between us. It’s kind of… inappropriate, you know?”

Inappropriate. She scowls and snaps her head up to look at him. “Inappropriate? Yeah? How?”

“The age difference alone, it wouldn’t be right for me to—“

“I’m an adult.”

“Barely.”

“I’m so fucking sick of this, Sam!” His eyes widen at her outburst. “You think I’m adult enough to have your back on hunts. I’m adult to drink you and Dean under the table. But somehow, in this, I’m too young? Who the hell do you think you’re protecting?”

“Claire—“

“Don’t make excuses about ‘it not being right.’ Just tell me why you don’t want me. I’m not mature enough, right? You don’t like a girl who hasn’t had enough time to process her teenage trauma?”

“Claire—“

“Or is it just me? I’m not good enough for you? Maybe you just—“

And his lips are on hers. Every word she had ready to spill out in a rant against Sam disappears from her head, and she’s just kissing him. He cups the side of her face and his skin is rough but his touch is gentle as he pushes her hair over her shoulder, pulls her in closer.

She’d kissed other people before, and a few of them had been bad at it. A few of them had been good. But Sam is phenomenal. Gently sliding his tongue along her lips, swirling their tongues together as he strokes her cheek with his thumb. She feels a warmth settle in the pit of her stomach.

He pulls back and she lets out a small noise, needy and disappointed. She already misses his lips. 

“You are good enough for me, Claire,” he says softly. “I just don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she says, and she grabs his flannel and pulls him close again and kisses him again, and she feels his mouth curve up in a smile against hers.

God, she’s waited so, so long for this. She fumbles with the buttons on his shirt and he helps until it’s open and she pushes his shirt off. Jesus. She’s seen him a couple times before without a shirt but only briefly. And she’d never seen him before like this, all hers. She runs a hand down his pecs and along his stomach. “Oh my god,” she says. She feels self-conscious in comparison—sure, muscled enough, but there’s still a little chub from the extra road trip snacks, and—and his mouth is on her neck now, his tongue against her skin, and she forgets about that for now. She just wants more of him on more of her, so she doesn’t resist when he slides off her t-shirt, unhooks her bra, tugs it off of her.

One hand slides up her soft stomach and cups her breast, the other slides down to the waistband of her plaid pajama pants, into her panties which are—fuck, which are the embarrassing ones that Alex gave her as a joke before she left to hunt full-time, the ones with vampire fangs and the words BITE ME on the ass—but she forgets about that too as Sam strokes along where she’s already wet and to her clit. She gasps as his fingertips brush over the sensitive area.

“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” she lies. 

“What do you like?” he asks.

She feels a fleeting moment of panic. She’d explored on her own, a little, but not enough to know what would she liked. Finally she recomposes herself and raises an eyebrow. “How about you try and find out?” 

He laughs and takes her challenge, laying her back on the bed and shimmying her out pants and panties as he kisses her stomach. Thank god he doesn’t notice the vampire-themed underwear.

She’s surprised at how okay she feels with being completely bare in front of him like this. Flickers of self-consciousness push at the edge of her mind, but this is Sam, and Sam is safe.

He pushes her thighs up over his shoulders and runs his tongue along her folds. She inhales sharply as his tongue flicks over her clit. His tongue continues to explore her and she grasps helplessly at his hair. God, it’s just as soft as she’d imagined and—god—the stubble scratching against her inner thighs is somehow so erotic and—GOD—his big hands running over her bare skin feel good and—“God!” she moans, as she comes. “God. Sam. Sam.”

She tugs him up and he crawls up to meet her, pressing his lips to hers again. His lips taste like her—she thinks—but he still tastes like him and it’s intoxicating.

She struggles to catch her breath as she pulls away and meets his eyes. “Sam,” she says. “I need you inside me.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“But I’m on the pill,” she says desperately.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He runs his fingers lightly down her cheek. “Do you really want more?”

She nods.

“There’s other things we can do,” he says, and his hand slips between her legs. He slides in two fingers and she bites her lip, holding back a moan. “This good?”

She wants to say no, she wants to say she wants more but damn if his fingers stroking inside her as he kisses her again doesn’t feel good and soon, too soon, she comes again, and this time it’s so much that she doesn’t want more. Sam seems to sense it and pulls his fingers out, giving her space.

“Fuck,” she says hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling as she tries to catch her breath. Sam is watching her, a slight smile pulling up the edge of his mouth.

Reality starts to come back to her as she comes down from her orgasm high. Sam had come here to tell her that a relationship would between them would be inappropriate, and then this had happened. What if this was it, what if he regrets it and things are never the same and…

She rolls onto her side to look into his eyes. “Sam,” she says softly. “Tell me this isn’t it. Tell me this isn’t the only time.”

He sighs and takes Claire’s hand in his. “It doesn’t have to be the only time,” he replies, and relief rushes through her. “You’re right. You don’t need protecting.” He smiles faintly at her.

“Good,” she says, and she gives him a quick kiss. She laughs softly.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I can’t believe I was embarrassed about that sex dream a couple days ago,” she says. “Turns out it was the secret to getting laid all along.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“You want me to tell you about it?” she asks, running a finger down his chest.

He licks his lips, his eyes half-lidded with desire. “Yes. In detail, please.”

She smiles. 

[mexicancat-girl]

Quiet (with you)

Another MarcNath fic written for #MLPrideFest2020 and Pride month in general

AO3: Link, 3600 words

.

...

Even after making friends, Marc still likes to write under the stairs.

Maybe it was just an ingrained habit at this point.

Marc didn’t do well with crowds, or loud places. It was all too chaotic. Ironic, considering he loved loud music; but dealing with people in real life was different than listening to his favorite albums.

Either way, Marc started his habit of siting and writing under the stairs since the start of the school year, too anxious to deal with both the cafeteria and his crippling loneliness of not having any friends to sit with. He has friends to sit with now, but his anxiety was a fickle thing. Sometimes he just didn’t want to seem like a bother.

The stairs were a place he enjoyed, though. They were quiet. Out of the way. And no one looked under the stairs, so it provided a nice little hidey hole. He could be isolated, while not being wholly alone.

After all, if he stayed under the stairs in the courtyard, he could hear and see when lunch let out and he had to go back to class. He couldn’t do that if he wrote in, say, the Library. The Library was too quiet, too out of the way. Marc would forget altogether about needing to leave, entranced in his writing, making him accidentally skip classes like some sort of delinquent.

And he wasn’t a delinquent! He just got lost in his head when he wrote…

Marc fiddles with his pen. Someone takes that moment to step close to him on his left.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says in a yawn. Marc snaps up his attention to Nathaniel, who hovers over him for a few seconds, before unceremoniously dropping to the ground to sit next to him.

Or, well. It looks more like he collapsed to the ground.

“Are you okay?!” Marc yelps, nearly chucking his pen and notebook aside in his haste.

Nathaniel just blinks back at him blearily, posture horribly slouched. He has dark circles under his uncovered eye, as if stamped on the pale skin there. His vibrant red hair is mussed, like he’d just been sleeping.

“M’fine,” the redhead sighs out, giving another jaw-cracking yawn right after. “Just tired.”

Marc frowns over at the other boy in concern. “Nathaniel…”

“Mmm?” he hums listlessly in reply.

“Did…did you get any sleep at all, last night?” Marc hedges, staring at the exhausted-looking artist.

“…Maybe.”

“How many hours?” he presses carefully, concern welling up even stronger as he watches Nathaniel duck his head and slump down even further.

“…A few.”

“How many exactly?”

“Like…Four?” is the weak response.

“Nathaniel!” Marc gasps, scandalized and concerned.

Nathaniel just groans, burying his face in his hand. “M’fiiiine.”

“You’re sleep deprived! That’s not fine!” he retorts, setting aside his notebook and pen to turn in place and put his full attention to his friend-slash-crush.

“Well, I’m still alive. So I think—” a yawn disrupts Nathaniel’s drawl “—I’m good.”

“You have to sleep,” Marc decides, quite logically. “You’ll pass out any second if you don’t. And you’ll end up missing class.”

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t already,” the redhead laughs dryly.

“You what?!”

Nathaniel just shrugs, looking vaguely sheepish as he says, “I fell asleep in class again. No big deal.”

“Is this a common occurrence?” Marc asks, brows flying up in shock. “Does this happen all the time?”

“Well, not all the time…” Nathaniel hedges, pink dusting his cheeks and uncovered eye darting away. “Just…Every once in a while.”

Marc sighs, shaking his head. His crush doesn’t seem like he’s jumping to elaborate, and Marc knows how stubborn the boy could be.

One more thing the two have in common to add to the pile: they both had a shit time asking others for help.

“Why did you only get four hours of sleep anyways?” Marc can’t help but ask, curious.

“…I forgot to?” the redhead cringes.

“You forgot to sleep?!” Marc yelps, leaning forwards to gawk in horror. All he gets in reply is a sheepish, tired laugh. “Nathaniel! How can you just forget?”

“Marc, when you have ADHD, it’s easy to forget a lot of things,” Nathaniel deadpans, looking a bit more dead inside as he does so.

“That’s not an excuse, and you know it.” Marc chides, giving a pointed look. “You have a phone. Set an alarm to remind yourself to go to bed.”

“…I do that. It doesn’t work.”

“Set multiple alarms, then?”

“If I do that, I just get pissed that my phone keeps interrupting me. And then I keep drawing anyways.”

Marc sighs, tapping a finger against his cheek. “There has to be a solution…”

“Prob’ly,” Nathaniel shrugs, another jaw-cracking yawn spilling from his mouth. “Look, I just… really wanna take a nap right now.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you up when we need to go back to class,” Marc tells him automatically, freezing slightly when he realizes what he’d just offered.

Oh God, was that weird? Who the hell would want to take a nap under the stairs? Not only is it creepy, it’s all solid concrete down here, hardly a comfortable place to sleep for any amount of time—

Nathaniel, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the offer. In fact, he smiles back at Marc, bright and genuine even through his apparent exhaustion.

“Really?” the redhead asks, as Marc awkwardly sputters and nods. “Thanks, Marc, you’re the best…!”

With a concerning amount of cheeriness and enthusiasm, Nathaniel flops right onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes, apparently settling in for a nap then and there.

“Y-Y-You’re welcome…?” Marc tells him weakly.

The redhead hums, but doesn’t do anything else in reply. He just shifts to his side, facing Marc, and…completely zones out.

Marc watches in fascination as the other boy instantly falls asleep. Just like that.

For someone that apparently had trouble going to bed, Nathaniel didn’t waste time actually falling asleep, it seems.

Marc slowly and carefully picks his notebook and pen back up, making sure he’s quiet and doesn’t startle the other boy awake.

And then he writes.

-----

Every once in a while, Marc looks up to check up on Nathaniel.

The redhead keeps on sleeping, dead to the world.

It’s probably creepy to do, but after more and more time passes, Marc’s gaze is drawn to watching Nathaniel’s sleeping form. Like a magnet. And eventually, he just sort of. Watches him sleep.

After all, there’s not exactly many opportunities for him to stare unabashedly at his crush without possibly getting caught by said crush. There’s also the factor in play that sleeping is a private and intimate thing, and Nathaniel had no problems just…hunkering down and taking a nap by Marc’s side.

Either Nathaniel really trusts him and isn’t bothered by the possibility of Marc judging him, or he’s so exhausted he genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion.

Both options make Marc’s stupid gay heart flutter, just a bit, in his chest.

Nathaniel looks so… peaceful while he sleeps. His face is slack, lips parted slightly as he breathes slowly and deeply. The exhaustion and stress melts from his features. His lashes are delicate as they fan out across his cheekbones, kissing the small smattering of freckles there. His bangs are mussed and out of his face completely for once, hair feathered out, fire spilling against the concrete. 

The other boy doesn’t snore, either. But he does drool, just a bit.

The sight makes Marc smile. It’s probably achingly lovestruck and fond. He doesn’t fight it.

Marc shifts—slowly, carefully—until he’s sitting level with the sleeping redhead. He pauses, heart in his throat, when Nathaniel mumbles and shifts a bit. And then tenses when the boy butts his head against Marc’s thigh.

Marc watches with bated breath as Nathaniel snuggles against his leg like a cat, apparently drawn to Marc’s body heat. He even curls up a bit and throws his leg over Marc’s extended one, knee hiked up, the weight trapping Marc’s right leg in place.

Marc’s face feels like it’s on fire. He tries very, very hard not to squeal. And also tries to ignore the fact that if Nathaniel migrates further, he’ll end up in Marc’s lap.

Though Marc honestly can’t complain about that, even if the prospect makes him want to go into cardiac arrest from mingled embarrassment and joy.

Fumblingly, Marc brings up his unoccupied leg, balancing his notebook precariously onto his raised knee. He doesn’t even know what he writes—if its cohesive at all, or just the ramblings of a madman desperately in love—but he has to at least occupy himself. If he doesn’t, he’ll die on the spot, or his mind will overthink everything.

If he doodles a few too many hearts on the page than is considered normal, well. No one’s around to see him.

-----

“Damn it, Nath…! Where are you?!” Alix seethes under her breath, stomping across the cafeteria.

She was a woman on a mission.

Somehow, in the five seconds Alix took her eyes off Nathiel in Miss Bustier’s class, he managed to slip past her. He was a slippery one, and too quiet for his own good.

Alix was pissed. Mostly concerned for Nath’s health and continued wellbeing, but pissed all the same.

That dumb tomato-boy was probably off somewhere, passed out in a corner of the school like a homeless person. Vulnerable and ready for any old bully to waltz by him. All because he was avoiding Alix, since she tended to strongarm him to stay awake and eat a proper lunch and wallow in his mistakes of staying up til nearly four in the fucking morning. Again.

Either way, Alix was going to find his stupid ass, and drag him to eat lunch so he could have enough energy to not pass right the fuck out and end up in the nurse’s office.

She’s checked his favorite hidey-holes in the Art Club Room and the Library. With those options eliminated, she has no reason to really stay on the top floors. So she ends up stomping all the way back down to the main floor.

And then realizes that she may have forgotten one last spot.

Quietly, she moves away from the stairs. And when she’s got enough distance, carefully hiding behind a column, she crouches and looks under the stairs.

Marc is there, as she expected. His bright-red hoodie and messy hair are fairly recognizable.

Passed out next to Marc is a very familiar form that Alix instantly recognizes as her dumbass best friend, one Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

Alix would normally stomp on over and wake Nath up. But the actual sight before her makes her pause, and consider.

Marc is sitting down, one knee propped up and seemingly trying to write in his notebook, and looking to be struggling at it. Probably because Nathaniel is half-using him as a pillow, his head all but in Marc’s lap, a leg thrown over Marc’s extended one.

Marc’s sort of trapped under Nathaniel. Though he looks so enraptured and awed at the fact that he’s being used as a pillow, he probably wouldn’t move from his spot in a thousand years.

It’s…an incredibly cute sight.

And it’s also a bit surprising, too.

Not the fact that Marc’s looking down at Nathaniel with a look so gooey and lovestruck, he pretty much has hearts for eyes. Alix’s picked up near-instantly that Marc has a bit of a hopeless crush on her best friend.

No, the more surprising part is Nathaniel taking a nap on Marc.

Nathaniel never feels bothered about taking naps at school, just plonking his head on his desk and diving straight into dreamland. But sleeping around other people is a bit different.

Nath likes to cuddle when he sleeps. But he only does it to people he really, truly trusts. He won’t just sleep on any person.

So far, the phenomena only extends to family. Which includes Alix and Jalil, because Nath all but considers them his siblings. But he doesn’t sleep on any of his other friends.

The fact that he’s sleeping on Marc shows that he trusts him. A lot, at that.

It shows that he even considers Marc family.

“Interesting…” Alix mutters quietly under her breath, her mouth breaking into a shit-eating grin.

Feeling devious, she carefully fishes her phone from her pocket, and clicks it on. A few swipes later, and she’s zooming in on her camera to take a dozen photos of Marc and Nathaniel in their current position.

She’s so going to tease the shit out of Nath later over this.

Hell, she might as well start a new album for them, at the rate that this is going. She hadn’t even realized Nath was crushing back on Marc.

Hell, Nath might not even know he has a crush on Marc.

This is ironically hilarious.

And hey! They’ll all make great photos for the wedding, she’s sure. She should know; she’s going to be Nath’s best man. They pretty much made a blood pact on it when they were younger. She’d be his best man, and he’d be hers, if they ever got married.

With a smirk and a cheery hum under her breath, Alix carefully and quietly backs away, so she won’t be seen and ruin their cute little moment.

She could let it slide. She’ll let Nath sleep, this time.

-----

It feels both like an eternity, and no time at all, before the sounds of students migrating out of the lunchroom get louder and louder.

With a pang of regret and longing, Marc realizes he has to wake Nathaniel back up.

Well. It’d been good while it lasted.

At the very least, Marc can make some corrections about his daydreams of a blissful domestic life with his crush. Including the newly revealed fact that Nathaniel’s a cuddler.

“Nathaniel…Wake up,” Marc says, ducking down and gently shaking his shoulder. “We have to get back to class.”

“Five more minutes,” the redhead half-groans half-whines, raising his head slightly just to plop it straight on Marc’s thigh, burying his face there.

Marc all but jumps out of his skin. He’s so startled, he yanks his leg away, watching in horrified mortification as Nathaniel smacks his face slightly on the concrete.

“I’m up, I’m up!” the redhead yelps, jolting up, blue eyes wide and staring around himself wildly as he shifts himself into a sitting position.

“I-I-I’m so sorry,” Marc gasps, instantly hovering over his friend. “OhmyGodNath—”

“S’fine! S’fine,” Nathaniel says, shaking his head wildly, before bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his face. “My fault for smacking myself anyways.”

“A-Are y-you okay?” Marc worries, hands fluttering to and fro.

“I think so…?” the redhead blinks, cheeks dusted pink. “Ummm…Sorry, c-can you see if I have a bruise, or—”

“Y-Yes, of course.” Marc quickly leans his face in, scrutinizing the other for injuries. Other than the growing blush (no doubt of embarrassment) on Nathaniel’s face, there’s no major change in color that’s a warning sign for an injury. “N-No, you’re fine. Your nose looks a little red, but that’s it.”

“Thanks, man,” Nathaniel sighs, leaning back and rubbing at his nose, eyes averted. “I mean, I’ve had worse on my face after waking up, but still. It’s nice to have someone to check.”

“I’ve fallen asleep on my notebooks before…” Marc offers, wincing sympathetically. This earns him a small smile in return, which is worth the slight embarrassment of his admission.

“Oh, same. I’ve conked out right on my notebooks and sketchbooks before. Woken up with writing from my notes or smeared marker on my face,” the other says, laughing awkwardly, obviously self-conscious even if he jokes about it.

“I-If you need to, you probably have enough time to double-check in the bathroom…But I think your face looks great,” Marc starts, before his too-authentic words catch up to him. “Um! I-I mean, fine. Your face. Is fine. You’re fine.” Marc nearly closes his eyes and drops into a prayer for God to smite him where he sits. “S’fine.”

“Uhhh…Right,” Nathaniel coughs, smiling, blue eye glimmering with mirth. “Anyways. Sorry for making things, like…awkward? But I appreciate you letting me nap with you. Really. I felt like dying.”

“N-No problem! It’s no problem at all!” Marc is quick to wave his hands in front of himself to wave away the other’s concern. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah, Alix doesn’t let me get away with sleeping during lunch anymore,” Nathaniel sighs, smile turning crooked and abashed. “She says I’m scrawny enough that I can’t afford to be skipping meals.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny,” Marc answers automatically and loyally. Apparently, his brain-to-mouth filter has gone and died on him in the past hour. He would blame Nathaniel for being so cute, but honestly, this is more of a him problem than anything. He’s too big of a gay disaster for his own good.

Nathaniel just smiles and laughs. Not in a mocking way, but in a way like he’s thought Marc made a funny joke.

“Alix would say otherwise, but thanks,” he says warmly, tugging his bangs behind his ear. Marc is hit with both of Nathaniel’s blue eyes crinkled in fondness. It all but punches the breath straight out of him. “Did I bother you at all, by the way?”

“N-Not at all!” Marc is quick to assure, even as he averts his gaze in a way that’s no doubt guilty. “I-I still got a b-bit of writing done…”

“Good. I didn’t want to mess up your flow or anything…Y’know, since this is your spot to write and all,” the redhead says, self-deprecating, averting his gaze. “And…Thanks again for letting me chill here. It’s actually really peaceful.”

“W-well, this isn’t my spot, per se…I-It’s not like I own it?” Marc starts, a bit mystified, but backpedals a bit so he doesn’t seem rude. “B-But you’re welcome! You can come by anytime. It’s not like I’d ever turn you away.”

Wait. Why did he say that?

Marc freezes, trying not to panic. Did he just admit he’d never turn Nathaniel away? What if that blows his cover? What if Nathaniel realizes he means it genuinely, but like, in a very non-platonic and incredibly gay way?

“Ooh, permission to sit here in your secret spot…? I’m honored,” Nathaniel grins back at him toothily, before finally moving to stand. “I’ll come by more often if you come sit with me at lunch more. Deal?”

Nathaniel holds his hand out to Marc, smiling expectantly back at him. Face warm and heart aflutter, Marc reaches out. Nathaniel clasps his hand and heaves him up off the ground, nearly over-balancing in the process.

“Woah! You’re heavier than you look,” the redhead laughs, obviously teasing as he makes a show of wiping his forehead.

Marc huffs, bending down to snag his pen and notebook. “Or maybe I have a solid three inches on you, so I have more body mass.”

“Well gee, thanks for reminding me that I’m short,” Nathaniel drawls back.

The two eye each other with mock annoyance, before they burst into laughter.

Marc feels a potent mix of fondness and joy settle in his chest, nestled with the swarm of butterflies there.

It’s always…freeing…to laugh with Nathaniel. It reminds Marc that they really are friends. That Nathaniel doesn’t just tolerate him. That he maybe even enjoys Marc’s company.

“Get back to class, sleepyhead,” Marc teases, using his unoccupied hand to wave as he starts to step back.

“You get back to class!” Nathaniel retorts, grinning wide, raising a hand in goodbye.

Marc’s already a few meters away, when a thought strikes and a surge of confidence fills him. He has one more thing to say.

He turns around and walks backwards to look at Nathaniel, who’s still standing in the same place as before, yawning and rubbing at his eye. Marc makes an exaggerated and over-the-top pantomime of smoothing his hair down, as he calls, “You should probably fix your hair, while you’re at it!”

Nathaniel startles, staring back at him. Marc can’t help but smirk back, amusement growing as the other boy blushes and instantly starts to comb his fingers through his hair, flattening it back in place and re-arranging it so he doesn’t look like he’d just tripped out of bed.

Even with his efforts, his red hair looks tousled, full of flyaway strands that just won’t sit still.

And coupled with his blushing face, well. Nathaniel looks like he’s done more than just take a cat nap.

Marc turns right around and speed-walks away before Nathaniel can say anything else, or his own mind can fall deeper into the gutter.

-----

As Marc makes his way to class, he clutches his notebook to his chest and bites his lip, but the smile spreads wide and crooked in his mouth anyways.

He just…He just made Nathaniel blush.

He giggles a bit under his breath, pressing his knuckles against his lips, no doubt smearing his lip gloss. But he can’t even bring himself to care. He’s too giddy. The butterflies buzz and flutter in his chest, alongside his heart.

He can’t wait for Nathaniel to join him under the stairs again.

Marc may like the quiet and solitude, but…He thinks he likes being quiet with Nathaniel even more.

[honeypirate]

How The Crow Flies part 3

Master list

A/n : I don’t know where the girls teams play for preliminary games and is kid it gets said. I just finished season two.

It’s been a few weeks now since practicing with them, you had to focus more on your own practicing with your team to prepare for the prelims. You kept a steady text thread of memes with Tanaka, occasionally talking about other things but always going back to memes, you had to admit you loved how goofy and funny he was. You beat Noya in every eight ball game you played, but he always won at pong. But your conversations with Asahi were by far your favorite. He preferred to talk to you in class and phone calls but even texts were deep and meaningful, your feelings for him quickly got stronger the more you got to know him. Tsukishima asked for number after a week or so, which seriously surprised you. You were beginning to think he actually didn’t like you, but now you frequently discussed your favorite crime podcasts. Daichi ended up helping you a lot with one of your classes and he had some good tips with volleyball, it was like he adopted you into the team and was your captain too.

When it was finally time for the prelims you were lucky that the girls games were in the same place as the boys just different gyms, your game being later on meant that you could watch them play their first. You walked into their side of the gym to see Asahi and encourage him. It’s still a while before their game so you watch them warm up and you join them for it, stretching next to Asahi you joke around with him and it actually calms your nerves for your game. “Orange is really your color Asahi” you say as he stretches his hamstrings, bending his body down so his face was lower and a lock of his hair was down the side his face lost from his bun. You reach up to twist the hair between your fingers softly. “You’ve really calmed my nerves just talking to you, you’re like my good luck charm” you drop his hair which now has a little cute wave from your fingers and he blushes and gets shy “I’m glad I could help you” he says quietly. “I wish I had a good luck charm for you. But I know you don’t need one. You’re the best Ace I know so go out there and kill it like I know you can” he looks moved by your support and his face turns an even darker red but he looks so determined you’d kiss him if you could. He mumbles something you couldn’t catch when Daichi calls everyone over to meet before the came starts. Before they get into position Asahi comes over, and places his jacket around your shoulders and before you can ask why he says “Kiyoko isn’t here today so you can sit on the bench but this is so you look like our manager” you blush, you meant to go up into the stands but now you don’t have to “thank you. I was just going to go the stands but this is so much better” he nods and then lightly shoved you towards the bench so the game can start. You zip up the jacket and notice it smells like sandalwood and men’s deodorant.

The amount you cheered for them when they won their game, it was like you were the one who won. When they came over you ran and jumped on Asahi’s shoulders while screaming cheers for them, Tanaka and Noya jumping around you guys. “Y/n!” Your Captain, Yui, comes in the gym “our game is about to start! Let’s go!” She yells and you hop off of Asahi’s shoulders and take off running to the other gym. Sending a wave behind you to them and they just laugh. You completely forgot about his jacket until you had to take it off for your game. Your game was close, you won the first set, but your setter got hit in the face with a ball at a weird angle and broke her nose sending in your second but she hardly made it to any morning training with you guys. It was a close second game but they took it. Then you guys lost the third and half of your players started to cry when they got to the locker room. “Guys we played amazing! I know it sucks to lose and it’s normal to feel regret, but we did our best. And we were a great team out there. So feel the loss as much as you need to feel it but know I’m here to support you on and off that court!” You were still fired up, honestly you did your job, you saved almost every spiked ball, and from Noya’s tips you got a lot of the blocked balls as well. You know you did amazing, and so did your teammates. So why let it still bother you? Why hold on to it? You always let things go easy. They did their best and you would never ask any more from them. You pulled your captain aside “Yui I know you’re taking this hard, even if you don’t show it, and that’s okay. Just know I am here for you okay?” She nods “thanks y/n. I really appreciate it” she then goes off on her own. You shoved you stuff in your bag, opting to keep your uniform on and you throw Asahi’s jacket back on before you run off to the boys games, they should be in the middle of their first set now against the iron wall so you rush to see them in action.

You round the corner to catch them block one of Asahi’s spikes. “Oof” you say quietly and make your way around to the bench. Intensely watching the game as Hinata and Kageyama break out their quick attack. Your cheering brought Asahi’s eyes over to you, noticing that you showed up he quirks his brow silently asking about your game. You just shrug with a smile then give him a thumbs up and a wink. When Date Tech calls for a time out, he comes over to you “are you okay?” He asks awkwardly, but genuinely concerned for you, “yeah I’m okay. We played amazing and won the first but our setter broke her nose in the second set so it is what it is.” You say as you stand up and hand him his water bottle. His fingers brush yours and since your adrenaline was gone and you’ve been sitting for a while you actually became cold. “how are your fingers that cold?” You laugh “I don’t know really, I get cold at weird times.” You zip his jacket up as he goes over to get pointers from Ukai then goes back into the game. They play amazing, in these past few weeks you’ve become their number one fan. You love how connected this game has made you all.

It’s time for the last set. Your heart is racing for them and you shove your hands in the pockets of his jacket for the first time. Your hands brush a small folded piece of paper and you can’t help but pull it out and open it. It’s a little doodle of the time you teased Tanaka with a little caption that reads “she’s so funny” it makes you smile and you love it so much you can’t help but shove it in a little pocket of your gym bag. They’re at match point now. It’s so close. You’re anxiously playing with the zipper on the jacket. How did Noya make that save?! Twice?! And once with his foot?! He’s so amazing! And Asahi! He’s doing so amazing! He can make this last ball! He can clear the wall! You’re cheering them on so loud!

You think you actually lost your voice from your cheers when they won. You jumped on Asahi’s back again and he laughed and spun around with you, you hopped down and you high fived him screaming in excitement. “You guys are AMAZINNNGGGG!!! YOU DID ITTTTT!! Asahi you GOT PAST THE IRON WALL” you both laugh together and when he realizes that your hands are still in his from the high five he blushes and you smile at him so full of excitement and praise for how well he played. You celebrated with them and when you went to unzip your jacket to give it back, he stopped you grabbing your hands “are you riding back on our bus?” He asks you and you look down embarrassed “If I could? My team already left, they took the loss really hard.. I guess I didn’t really think it through when I left them to come watch you guys” you scratch the back of your neck and he laughs “it’s okay. You’re always welcome with us. Keep it until we get back, don’t want you weirdly freezing on us. You’re my lucky charm now” you blush and he blushes and you both avoid eye contact.

You gather up your things and help them pack up, praising them for how they played as you went to sit and watch the Aoba Johsai game before heading off to the bus back home.You get in the bus and sit next to a window, when Asahi gets on you smile at him and nod towards to empty seat next to you, he nods at you and winks. He actually winks at you, it makes you laugh out of shock but blush feeling butterflies in your chest. He sits next to you and you talk for a while, showing him memes on your phone and playing text games for a bit “that’s my contact name?” He asks quietly before he looked over watching you play him back you laugh, you changed his name while you were sitting in the bus waiting for him, you changed it to my lucky charm. “Yeah I changed it earlier, do you like it?” You look up at him and smile, it’s dark in the bus and the low glow form your phone lit both of your faces. You noticed the subtle glow of blush on his cheeks as he nods. Soon you both are just sitting in the dark as the rest of the bus sleeps, you feel yourself falling asleep but the bus is kind of uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from Asahi’s body next to you and it’s just so comforting. You lean against him and move your arm under his lacing your fingers together, you feel him tense up like you knew he would “is this okay?” You whisper quietly and he relaxes “yes” he says so confidently it makes your heart pound. You relax into him again and he squeezes your hand before you both get a tiny bit of sleep on the way home.

When you get back to the school you hesitate, you don’t know if you should walk home or wait with them. You go to unzip the jacket and Asahi takes your hands in theirs stopping you. “Wait for me? I’ll walk you home.” You feel relived and you nod and smile. He takes one of your hands and you walk into the gym tigether. They have their meeting and they run through some practices, you help with whatever they beed. When you’re done you get up and as you throw your bag over your shoulder Asahi comes back to you and catches it before taking it from you and throwing it over his own shoulder “Let’s go” he says with a smile and you head off together towards your home. the rest of the team going a different direction. After a few minutes of comfortable silence he resches over and takes your hand again lacing his fingers with yours. “Are your hands ever warm y/n?” He says with a laugh “only when I play volleyball. Other than that, a cute boy holding them is the preferred way to warm them up” you bump your shoulders softly together and smile at him. Before you get to your house you stop and squeeze his hand, taking his other hand in your other as well “my hands are so small compared to yours” you say quietly as you look down at them, dainty in his big strong ones. You look up into his eyes, your faces lit up by street lights “Thank you for walking me home, I know we’re not there yet but you know how my mom is” you laugh and remember the time your mom made you let her talk to him on the phone. Your eyes sparkle as you reach up and pull out his pony holding his bun up letting his hair fall around his face. You rake your fingers through his soft locks with a small smile on your lips. “I stole the paper in your jacket pocket” you say quietly and he freezes up, shocked, his face turning red and he obviously forgot about it. “It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Well. Okay. second compared to you” you didn’t stop softly playing with his hair “y....y/n” his voice is quiet, timid, and when he doesn’t continue you keep talking “you’re amazing, Asahi, you know that?” You tuck his hair behind his ear and place your hand on his cheek. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so tall so I’m gonna have to just wait until you’re confident enough to kiss me yourself” you were already on your tip toes this whole time and when you stand flat on your feet again you run your hand down his chest. Taking his hand you gently pull him along with you to your door, the whole way he’s quiet and looks serious. When you get to your door you unzip his jacket but before you take it off he stops you again “y/n.” His voice was shy but serious and he spoke quickly “I am timid and not the most confident with girls. But I like you a lot. I have for a while now.” He leans down presses his lips to yours. Your heart explodes and you’re filled with joy, you feel your skin tingle as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, he pulls back way too soon and you can’t help but frown when he pulls away “Did you... not like it?” His voice was worried and shy “no!” You yell before laughing and quietly continuing to speak “No not at all Asahi,” you play with his hair softly and look deep into his eyes “I just was sad it was over so quickly” he blushes a deep red but smiles at you and reached up and holding your face softly in his hands, his thumbs softly rubbing your cheeks before he leans down and kisses you again, a little more bolder this time, you frown again but you can’t hold the smile and laugh that comes when he kisses you three more times quickly and he laughs softly “there’s that beautiful smile I love.” Your mom knocks on the front living room window next to the door and you sigh, he softly rubs your cheeks before letting go and standing up straight, “Come with us again tomorrow. Bring my jacket then. That way it will smell like you” he gives your hands a squeeze and grins at you before leaving you smiling on your doorstep.

[autumnsart22]

Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :) 

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n. 

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else. 

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more. 

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently. 

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by. 

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later. 

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck. 

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me. 

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space. 

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere. 

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall. 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize. 

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see. 

“Wait--!” 

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide. 

They were all of Oikawa. 

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror. 

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore. 

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!” 

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted. 

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?” 

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that? 

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.” 

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan. 

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.” 

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up. 

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left. 

“Have a good day!” 

“See you tomorrow!” 

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!” 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could. 

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?” 

Oikawa blinked. “You do?” 

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off. 

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself. 

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. 

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.” 

“Ok…” I pouted. 

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.” 

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.” 

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.” 

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot. 

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa. 

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.” 

“God--” 

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?” 

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask. 

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?” 

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.” 

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out. 

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears. 

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed. 

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.” 

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.” 

Chapter 13

Chapter 15