#peachy’s series reaction

[peachym00]

its been well over 12 hours since I finished 4 Minutes ep4 and this gal was NOT prepared to STILL be thinking about the sheer amount of softness, awkwardness and genuine intimacy in Tyme and Great's first kiss/nc scene

got me smiling, giggling, blushing, kicking my feet for real

[lqfiles]

SCORE THAT GOAL! — 51. be your boyfriend?

previous — master list —next

notes ; a short chapter but one more official chapter after this !!!

BONUS — wc: 494

“okay, so next time i’m not letting you choose what we’re watching.” jisung placed the laptop aside before stretching his limbs on his bed. from beside him, you let out a laugh as you stretched your arms as well, leaning towards jisung by the end of it. “i’m sorry, but i love the winx club, i’m just trying to familiarise you with the lore.” jisung turned his head to look at you, stoic expression changing to a soft smile.

“right, because watching a movie made halfway through the series definitely helps me get familiar.” jisung chuckled before sitting up with his hands stretched behind him. “well, i thought of binge watching the first season but i didn’t wanna overwhelm you with all of that.” you continued to lay on jisung’s bed, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“by the way, i told jeno to not tell anyone about what happened friday.” jisung revealed, looking back your way to watch your reactions. you shrugged. “that’s okay, mark wouldn’t go around tattling so i don’t mind keeping it a secret. but i don’t know how long i’ll be able to keep it a secret from ningning, im sure she’ll find out.” you continued to play with the edge of your clothing and jisung hummed.

“let’s just not say anything at all? let them find out themselves.” jisung decided to lay back down next to you, gazing up at his ceiling. “so what now?” he questioned. “this is the part where you ask to be my boyfriend.” you grinned, turning sideways to look at jisung’s side profile. caught of guard, a slight blush crept up his neck before he moved up a bit, turning his body sideways after.

“alright, i don’t even know how to do this.” jisung awkwardly laughed but the look of endearment on your face made him feel much more comfortable. “it’s okay, i can do the honours.”

“no need, just give me a second.” jisung breathed in and out before taking ahold of your hand. the small gesture made you want to hide your face and you couldn’t look up at him anymore. “look at me?” jisung requested in a whisper.

you looked up to see jisung stare right at you. whether it was the lighting or his eyes itself, the way they glimmered as they looked into yours made you feel almost under a trance. jisung squeezed your hand to bring your attention back to him.

“(—), this will sound cliché but i truly do believe that i’ve never liked someone this much before. the thought of you being with anyone that isn’t me sounds wrong and i’d rather that possibility not come true, so.. will you let me be your boyfriend?”

jisung’s proposal put your mind into a frenzy and your heart did a thousand flips. nodding your head profusely, you wrapped your arms around jisung’s neck before pulling yourself closer to him.

“i’d love to more than anything else.”

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[okay-j-hannah]

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, slight NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, dementia, hospital death, abuse

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I COULDN'T RESIST 😭 Their chemistry is TOO GOOD

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar {You Are Here}

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Scott was frantically searching his bedroom for his phone, arguing with Stiles along the way. “The Argent’s plan was to use Derek to get the Alpha. They’re not gonna kill him.”

Stiles sways in a swivel chair, blatantly not helping. “Alright, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!”

Frown growing on his face, Stiles picks at the weathered wood of the chair, “You know this wasn’t why I came over.” He waits for a reply that doesn’t come – Scott is under his bed, throwing socks and crumpled papers out of the way. Stiles huffs, “We’ve had a major (Y/N) development… hello? Earth to Scott! (Y/N) slept in my bed last night!”

He grinds his teeth at the lack of a reaction, “And she asked me to take Allison to the formal, which is stupid because we could get Jackson or another lacrosse meathead to do that. I should be taking (Y/N) to the formal!”

Scott bangs his head on the underside of his bed, scrambling to get out, “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!”

Scott hushes him, “I hear voices in the driveway.” He cocks his head to the window and squints his eyes in concentration.

“Who is it?”

“My mom coming home from work… and she’s been crying,” Scott deflates, sinking in on himself. “And (Y/N)’s with her.”

Stiles wheels the chair towards Scott, looking ridiculous with his legs spread out and paddling against the hardwood floor. “What are they saying?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to cheer her up. She’s asking to see me. She’s worried.” He doesn’t even have the energy to groan his sorrow as he sits on the bed, void of dramatics.

Stiles takes a breath, hearing his friends anxiety without needing the words. “Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

The beat that follows is short and tense, resignation in Scott as he says, “I have to.”

“Well, we’re going to have to put a pause on that because (Y/N) is probably coming inside any second now.” Stiles straightens his jacket, “And she doesn’t want to be involved in any werewolf stuff, remember?”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to be friends with her and keep her from all that,” Scott sighs, laying on his back and covering his face with his hands.

“Like it or not, she may be the eventual love of my life, meaning you have to suck it up and deal with it.” Stiles chokes on his breath as you knock on the wall before entering the open door.

You wince at the coughing fit Stiles is in, “Good morning.” Your eyes fall on Scott, “I hear something went down last night,” you fold your arms, “Melissa just told me outside. She’s seriously torn up about it.”

Scott finally is able to groan his frustrations, “Everything is going to shit.”

“Someone’s down in the dumps,” you smile, but stop upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm on Stiles’ face. “Any updates?” You play with your fingers, worry evident in your stance as you look between the boys. “Look, just because I don’t want to be there for the werewolf crap doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it afterwards.”

“Derek took Jackson to the Hale House and drew Scott out,” Stiles resigns, “It turned into a giant werewolf battle that ended with Scott being shot by the Argents and Derek going missing.”

You whip your head to Scott, lines of worry in your brow, “Are you okay?”

Scott lifts his shirt in a silent reply – no bullet wounds in his torso. He rolls over onto his feet and grumbles, “Deaton patched me up.”

If it was possible, your brows arch even closer to your hairline, “Deaton like your vet boss Deaton? He knows about all this too?”

“Evidently,” Stiles shrugs his shoulders.

“And Peter showed up to threaten Allison’s safety. He thinks the Argents have Derek and now I have to be on guard 24/7 to make sure she’s safe. Not to mention my mom went out with the maniac last night and you are the number one first target should a werewolf want to kill my pack…” Scott was tangling his fingers in his shaggy hair, “And with not going to the dance I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

You walk to stand in front of him, “Scott,” you say softly, “Noone expects you to be a guard dog for all your friends 24 hours a day. That’s impossible and too high an expectation for yourself. You’re just a sophomore in high school.” You raise your arms to grab Scott’s wrists, easing them from his head, “You shouldn’t have to be worrying about all this – it’s why you’re failing your classes.”

He lets you hold onto his arms between you, “But I have to worry; it’s all my fault. And I’ve screwed myself in the long run because now I’m banned from a whole night where anything could happen to you guys.”

You listen, eyes soft and sad, “I wanted to talk to you about who you think should take Allison to the dance, just so you feel more at ease about it.” You finally let go of his arms, returning to your finger picking. “Any ideas?”

“Jackson,” he says, ignoring the silent cheers coming from Stiles behind you. “He likes her, and they have a decent friendship, even if he won’t admit it.”

You nod, “Sounds good. Do you need me to help in any way?”

“Are you going to the dance with Andrew?” he asks, checking all his boxes.

“I don’t know,” you say, “He hasn’t asked me yet, but I have a feeling he might after our date tomorrow.” The smile on your face says it all and Scott again ignores the despair hitting Stiles – the poor boy banging his head into his crossed arms on the chair.

“Let us know,” Scott says, now fixated on finding a way to protect his mom, “We still have a week until the dance.”

You smile, but your eyes are pinched with empathy, “I’ll try to have as many sleepovers as possible with Allison and Lydia this next week,” you say determinedly, “I know you were thinking about stalking her house at night.”

“Only to keep watch,” he says with a slight upturn of his lips.

“But you need your sleep,” you pat his shoulder, turning around, “Doctor’s orders.” You spy on the last remnants of Stiles’ despair as he wipes his face of emotion. You grimace at the terrible unevenness of his hoodie strings. “And have you figured out someone to ask to the dance?”

You move to pull on his hoodie strings, evening them out as you adjust the fabric around his neck. He gulps and takes a second to respond.

“Not yet,” he gasps out a laugh, “We’ll see.”

“There’s always Lydia,” you smile, flattening the fabric against his wide shoulders. “Or you could just go stag.”

~~~

You drive with Lydia that night. It had been so long since the two of you hung out that it was almost awkward visiting the strip mall together – the same one you went to on your first date with Andrew.

The white fairy lights were just starting to turn on as you enter a beauty shop. Lydia goes right for the latest face serums while you follow along. “Don’t you already have every skincare product alive?”

“You can never have too many,” she says, holding up something pink and shiny.

“Actually, too many products can mess with your skin barrier and…”

Lydia holds up a finger, “That doesn’t stop me from having them sit pretty on my vanity.”

You giggle, running your eyes over the pretty packaging of various bottles. They really knew how to draw your attention. “I need a new lip gloss,” you say, encouraging Lydia’s shopaholic tendencies.

“Let me show you some of my favorites,” she says quickly, purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

Shopping with Lydia was fun, especially when she made you feel beautiful and offered to buy things for you. She had you holding a few things for herself, but also a couple products for you that she refused to let you buy.

“Have you found someone to go to the formal with?” you ask nonchalantly, checking Lydia’s mood.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a couple lacrosse players. We’ll see who asks me by tomorrow.” She purses her lips and leads the way to the checkout line. “Do you know who Allison is going with?’

You hum your response, “Um… I think Jackson might ask her.”

Lydia takes a deep breath, “Sure. Why not.”

“Are you not okay with that?” you ask quietly, “I’m sure Allison will say no if you want her to.”

“I’m not going to control what that conceited little man wants to do. He was a moron to let me go – clearly I’ve been doing better than him since. You know after every lacrosse practice he just goes home? I haven’t seen him at a single after practice party.”

You pull your card out to pay for your things and she smacks your wrist. “How often does the team meet after practice?”

“Like once or twice a week,” she shrugs, “Jackson never liked to go, though. He doesn’t like doing things for popularity’s sake.”

“I’ve noticed he kind of just does things that serve his own best interests.”

“Exactly,” she says a little exasperatedly, handing you the shopping bag. “He’s so full of himself. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

You hold open the door as Lydia storms out, shoulders tense at the thought of him. “Hey, crazy thought…” you say with a giggle, “Do you want to go spy on him?”

Lydia stops on the cobblestone sidewalk, giving you a dose of skepticism. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on, we could just drive past his house,” you say, still smiling, “It’s what girls do after a hard breakup.”

Consideration fills her gaze, slowly starting to walk again. The click of her heels builds a rhythm as her confidence grows, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what he does on a weeknight. I swear he’s become so boring now.”

You laugh, linking arms with her and going for the car. You think about what Stiles said at the hospital. Jackson was focused on getting the werewolf bite. He was becoming an obsessive recluse in his hunt for power. It was no wonder that he avoided people that wouldn’t help him with his mission.

The drive to the upper class part of town was fast and full of loud music. Lydia looks determined as she turns into the neighborhood, headlights blinking off. You turn down the radio and look upon the grand estate that was the Whittmore house.

It looks renovated in comparison to some of the other houses on the street.

“They sure like a clean and modern look,” you remark at the plain white walls and geometric windows.

Lydia scoffs, parking across the street a little away. “He was always so proud of his money. Like it made him something he’s not.”

You feel a twinge of pity. “The poor thing. His Porsche is here – I bet he’s brooding in his bedroom.”

Pointing a finger, Lydia picks the window to Jackson’s room, “He’s up there; the lights on.”

The pair of you deduce what the reclusive boy might be doing. You were just laughing about anime porn and edibles when a loud voice starts yelling within the house you’re parked in front of. Lydia stops her laughter, looking to her right to peer out your window.

“Someone’s having a fight inside.”

You wince at the persistent yells, “Sounds pretty serious.” There was a crash and a boom. It made you jump being the closer of the two to the house. “Oh my god, what are they doing? Breaking things?”

A breath catches in Lydia’s throat when another bellowing yell seems to shake the windowpanes. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Your mouth falls open when it sounds like someone slams into the front door. “Maybe we should call someone for help.”

The front door opens and a teenager falls out onto his side. He scrambles to get away from whatever was happening within. He trips down the concrete stairs of the front porch and finally makes it to his feet.

You audibly gasp, recognizing the teenager as Isaac Lahey. “Holy shit, I know him!” You go to open the door and Lydia cries out.

“Wait! We should…”

“Lydia…” you spot something bleeding on the side of Isaac’s face, “He’s hurt and he needs help.” You don’t even let her begin a retort as you leap out of the car at Isaac’s retreating form. “Isaac!”

He flinches, turning around in a frenzied motion. He looks wild with fear, holding his hands out like he was going to stop whatever was after him. In a second he looks even more uneasy, “(Y/N)?”

“Get in the car,” you say, keeping your distance, “We’ll get you out of here for a while.”

He looks at the slightly open front door and the look of desperation on your face. He swallows hard and seems fidgety with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, taking a step forward. “I can help, Isaac. I work at a hospital – I can fix you up. Let’s go take a break somewhere else. Somewhere safer.”

Isaac looks to be choking on something – whether breath or words, you weren’t sure – but you feel a drop of relief as he follows your lead into the car.

Lydia looks petrified as she faces forward, two hands on the wheel. “This is not how I expected tonight to go.”

You put on your seatbelt and ask her firmly to drive to your house. “Is that okay, Isaac? My dad is at the firehouse and my mom is probably napping on the couch. She always does after having some of her tea.”

“Um…” Isaac wraps his arms around himself, trying to hide just like he did in the computer lab. “Yeah, sure.”

In those few seconds you look over your shoulder, you check the bleeding to the side of his face. The skin must’ve split open from some kind of force. In another second you notice the bruise around his eye.

It was yellow and green with age.

It’s quiet as Lydia tensely drives the car to your house. You try to silently thank her for going along with your plan. You were concocting scenarios in your mind as to why Isaac was so hurt. The yells, the bruises, the crashes and bangs, the fear as he scrambled away.

You think, sadly, of how alone Isaac always was. You realize that there wasn’t a single instance you could think of when he was with anyone. There was just that one time you spoke with him in the computer lab.

What was he actually dealing with at home?

Lydia was curt as she drove away from your house, no doubt brewing a passive aggressive text for you. Isaac, though extremely tall, seems to shrink beside you. He doesn’t look up as he follows your footsteps.

“Is this okay?” you ask gingerly, stopping at the door. “I just want to take you upstairs and have a look at that cut. It’ll be a quick bandage and then we can do whatever you like. We’ll take a break for a while.”

He seems to stew for a few seconds, not daring to look you in the eye. You suddenly wish to see them bright blue with the smile he got from laughter. The one you complimented him on. He finally speaks in a quiet tone, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Good,” you say, opening the door and going for the stairs. Peering over the banister you see just as you predicted. Your mother is fast asleep with a book resting open on her chest, and an empty mug of tea on the side table. “I swear that chamomile one she has puts her right to sleep.”

You walk upstairs and to the hallway bathroom. You put the toilet lid down and gesture for him to sit. Under the sink, and next to an array of things that sometimes help you when you feel faint, is a first aid kit.

Isaac looks wary as he holds his hands in his lap. It seems pretty plain what was going on. Something to do with an angry dad at home. You suddenly remember how apprehensive he was when you mentioned asking his dad for permission to go on the spring retreat.

“What was it that split your cheek open?” you ask gently, just a few inches taller than him as he sits.

He looks fearful to admit the truth. “I uh… fell.”

You nod, knowing it was a lie. “Pretty hard fall,” you give him a sad smile as he appears relieved you don’t question further. “I’m just going to clean it and put a butterfly bandage on, okay?”

He swallows again, wringing his hands, “Sure.” He winces as you swab a disinfectant wipe along his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“It’s okay,” is his reply. He continues to be on edge as you pinch the cut closed and place a butterfly bandage on it. You let the silence continue if that is what he wants to do.

You’re throwing away the used wipes now, “Is that what happened to your eye?” you ask, “Another bad fall?”

He looks at you and seems to soften at the understanding in your gaze. It was warm and safe. He takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Another fall.”

“Would you consider yourself pretty clumsy?” you ask vaguely, stating the obvious without saying it out loud.

He catches on pretty quick, “It depends. Some days are better than others.”

You nod again, “Would you like something for the pain? I’ve got some ibuprofen or Tylenol.”

He agrees and follows you down the stairs again to find your mother groggy on the couch.

“Oh, hello sweetie,” she says, rubbing her eyes, “Who’s this?”

“This is Isaac,” you introduce, filling a glass with water. “He lives by Jackson Whittemore.”

Angela smiles though her eyes are droopy, “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” She suddenly squints, “What happened to your face, dear?”

He freezes as you open the medicine cabinet, “Oh, just lacrosse practice.”

He looks grateful, adding quietly, “I uh… got tackled without my helmet.”

“Boys,” Angela says funnily, “Well, hopefully it heals fast.”

Isaac gives a half smile before accepting the medicine from you, “Thank you.”

You’re still gentle as you reply, “You’re very welcome.”

~~~

The next night turns into a better one as you go on your second date with Andrew. He takes you to a Barnes & Noble, buying you a book and a coffee inside. Sitting in the little indoor café, sipping hot drinks and nibbling on pastries, you discuss your favorite genres.

Andrew listens to you with bright eyes, a sweet smile on his face. He takes you back to his house after that, turning on a Disney movie like you agreed on the last date. It only took about twenty minutes before he was pulling your chin towards his.

The night ends with a long-winded makeout and a winter formal proposal.

You were fit to burst with the information the next day, wanting to talk to the girls about the whole thing – but Allison had been off the radar the last couple of days and Lydia was attending after practice parties with the lacrosse team.

No doubt scouting for her next boyfriend (and date to the formal).

The next best option was Stiles. He picks you up and takes you to the nearest gas station for drinks and treats. You grab all your favorites, including peach rings and a large orange creamsicle.

The perfect summer treats to remind you of your favorite season.

Stiles insists on paying for the load, throwing his gummy worms and sodas on the counter. “I’d slip you cash anyway if you tried to pay.” He’s amused by your sweet smile as you open the creamsicle.

He even opens the jeep door and holds all the packages before dumping them on the floor between you.

“You’re going to step on them as you drive,” you cry, reaching down to shove all the snacks towards your feet. You almost lose a line of melting orange from your creamsicle. You lick a long stripe up the cold pop, “Should we just stop at the park?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure,” he says, putting the jeep in gear. “You enjoying that popsicle?”

Your lips kiss the tip of the pop, embarrassed when it makes a slurping sound, “Of course, it’s the best desert besides cheesecake.” The park isn’t far from the gas station, Stiles parking in front of the field and playground, turning off the engine. You continue to kiss and lick the creamsicle until orange and white ice cream is coating your lips.

Stiles wonders what it would taste like to kiss it off.

“My mom used to take me to this park when I was little,” you say, settling against the door and kicking your feet onto the seats.

Stiles does the same, one leg bent onto the seats and the other off the edge, able to bounce if needs be. “My mom did too,” he adds, a finger at his temple and thumb at the beginning of his jawline. He considers you, “I can see you just dying to tell me what happened.” He says it with convincing eagerness, but his face is placid as he says it.

He chooses to focus on how you lick the last remnants of ice cream off the wooden stick. It made him squirm within five seconds.

“Well, Andrew did ask me to the winter formal,” you say in hushed tones, “But that isn’t the best part. We kissed again and not just a goodbye on the doorstep kind of kiss – like a on the couch with a movie in the background kind of kiss. It must’ve been like forty-five minutes before his parents got home.”

And before you knew it, you were delving into the details of the entire night, focusing on the exciting kiss at the end. You start to compare the kissing with other boys you’ve been with before, critiquing the skill level and any corresponding downsides.

You open the sugary peach rings, chewing on them as you say, “Overall, I’d give it a solid B or B-.”

“You’re kidding!” Stiles retorts, stretching a gummy worm between his fingers, “You just went off about how great it was.”

“Yeah, but…” you shrug, sticking a peach ring on the tip of your finger like it was a life preserver for it. “… his technique was a little much.”

Stiles bites the head off his gummy worm, “What do you mean?”

“He was kind of abrasive, I had to keep telling him to slow down.” At the look of confusion on Stiles’ face, you keep going – you forget that he’s never kissed anyone before. “From the first kiss it was like he was eating my face. They were very open mouthed, and he kept trying to use tongue. I finally told him to slow down after I felt our teeth knock a couple times.”

Stiles grimaces, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I didn’t peg him for being the aggressive kisser,” you shrug, “It might’ve been nice if I wasn’t so surprised – like I could’ve matched his energy a bit better.”

“So, you… wait – what kind of kissing do you like?”

You ponder the question, eating the peach preserver on your finger, “I like it slow at first, you know – like you hold a cheek and draw each other in. Then it should get heavier, like more firm kisses, and you usually start moving at that point. Like… you get closer and I might sit on his lap or something.” You pull apart another peach ring, playing with the sticky gumminess between your fingers, “Then I like it when… oh my god, this was another thing! He never left my mouth.”

Stiles was only able to listen because of (1) his feelings for you and (2) the possibility that he could get some pointers on how to charm you. He had to listen to your previous encounters – a very real knife of white hot pain stuck in his collarbone and digging down his sternum – but he was getting a front row seat to your kissing preferences.

“I thought that’s how kissing works?”

You throw a candy at him, and he chases it down his chest. “Yeah, one type of kissing. But that gets boring after ten minutes. I like it when they start to kiss my neck and chest. How did you think people got hickeys?”

Stiles grumbles, head drifting to not just your ice cream lips, but the warm pulse at your neck, and the beauty marks on your skin below that. He quickly understood the desire to kiss other parts of the body.

“I get it,” he says, taking another sip of his soda. He kept finding his throat going dry, “So start slow, get more intense, and don’t forget to kiss other areas.” He nods to himself, “And the tongue thing?”

You grimace, “It can be nice if they know what they’re doing.” You sigh, slouching against the car door, “Easton from down the street was a heavy tongue guy. Like he saw one couple frenching on tv and decided that was the best way to kiss. It was like… so so wet. My chin was covered in drool by the time he left.”

Stiles was already hot around the collar, skin splotchy with red and pink. But he was starting to get an awful anxious feeling in his stomach, “There are so many things to remember.”

You look endeared as you lean forward, “But when you’re with the right person, it just feels natural. You click like all the puzzle pieces fit between you. You stop thinking about all the details and just go with what feels good.”

He tilts his head, and he looks so nervous and curious, “Was that Adam from San Fransico?”

The breath catches in your throat for a second, “Nearly. It was like a first love. It did feel natural with him, but our puzzle pieces didn’t all fit right.”

Stiles bites at his lips, “I think I had something similar to that. Never to the point where we kissed, but… I kind of obsessed over Lydia for a couple years.”

Your eyes widen, “You’re kidding, our Lydia?”

He nods, embarrassed, “Our puzzle pieces didn’t fit right either. Come to think of it, it didn’t really feel natural either. I guess that’s a pretty crummy first love, huh?” He smiles like he pities himself.

You frown, so entirely endeared by him that you feel a warmth enter your chest at his somber expression. The desire to hold him and show him what it feels like to be natural and wanted came on hard and fast.

“You can always learn to be a good kisser,” you smile, “But yes, having your puzzle pieces all fit makes all the difference in the world.”

“And how did you learn to be a good kisser?” he asks, crumbling his candy wrappers and throwing them in the back.

“That’s a bold assumption,” you laugh, “I never said I was a good kisser.”

He shrugs, playing with the hem of his shirt now, “I can just tell. There’s no way you’re a bad kisser.”

You feel rosy at those words, “I just learned from trial and error. I never had a teacher or anything.”

“I bet you’d be an excellent teacher,” he mumbles. His eyes go wide, clamping his mouth shut, biting his tongue.

You’re giddy as you laugh, “There’s only one way to find out, I guess.” Your eyes trail around his mole-dotted skin, guiding you to his slightly chapped lips and the cupids bow that leads to his perked nose. You love how red and flushed his skin is.

“What are you implying, Miss. Westbrook?” His eyes are bright, but he is deadly still.

“I don’t know,” your hands go to your temples, laughing a bit breathlessly. “Must be a sugar rush, don’t mind me.” There is something hot and heavy filling the space of the jeep, and you suddenly want to open the window to let in some cold air. You feel Stiles’ eyes on you like a deer caught in the headlights.

The silence is deafening as you turn your peachy gaze to his. He is flushed and breathing heavy and…

You consider it.

“Friends can kiss.” You pout adorably as you reason, “Scott and I kissed.”

“Not willingly,” Stiles says in his breathless voice, a small smile curling his chapped lips.

You wave a hand, “It’s purely a teaching moment.”

“Exactly…”

“But we did already make a kissing pact.”

“We can null and void the whole pact. Make it invalid based on… new circumstances.” He looks deep into your eyes before snapping out of it, shaking his head. “Wait… no, I… kissing you (Y/N)…” he was really struggling, fidgeting in his seat. “I want to but… what if I’m a terrible kisser and you’re so nauseated by it that you never want to kiss me again? I don’t wanna – I don’t want to mess it up.”

You try to decipher the speech, fogginess entering your brain as you focus on the shadows dancing across his skin.

“It’s a chance you have to take,” a smile on the tip of your words, “I did say I would help you get your first kiss out of the way.”

He struggles for breath, “Does that mean the offer still stands… to happen right now?”

You inch across the seats, in the middle now and loving how Stiles was having such a visible reaction. He goes rigid, his mouth open and eyes turning desperate. He looks scared and wanting. It looks conflicting… and hot.

“If you really want a lesson right now.” You whisper it like a newfound secret, “Only if you want to.”

“If I want to?” he sounds disbelieving, “Of course I… I mean, I don’t think I could ever say no to you, (Y/N).”

Something blossoms in your chest and it’s warm and addictive, you chase after it – prompting you to get closer, “C’mere,” you say gently and smile at how responsive Stiles is. He moves forward like a puppy searching for a treat.

You raise a hand and pause right before touching his cheek, “You sure?”

“Positive,” he says immediately, nearly leaning into your hovering hand.

You smile, touching his face and winding your hand to under his ear, your thumb in the perfect position to rub along his cheekbone. His eyes flutter close and an inaudible sigh escapes his open mouth. With the tips of your fingers reaching the back of his neck, you pull his face closer to yours. You position him at a slight angle, and he responds to your direction instantly.

He opens his eyes to find your noses nearly touching. You’re both breathing shallow, sharing the air between you, feeling it breeze and dry against your lips. He smells like candy.

And you… you smell like orange cream and peachy sugar.

“Put one hand here,” you direct his hand to your waist. Your heads stay close, gazes flickering between eyes and lips. “And another here,” you put his other to the side of your neck. His hands are so large – his fingers so long – you feel them shake as they engulf the space between your neck and shoulder. His thumb rests on your jawline while the side of his pinky sits on your collarbone. “Do what feels natural,” you whisper. “It’ll come to you.”

One hand shakes on your waist, testing a light pressure while his other hand rests very warm against the side of your neck, afraid to move.

You tilt your head to match his and find his dark honey eyes illuminated by the park streetlamps. They were still slanted in nervous desperation. He didn’t dare move, but you can tell he wants to – wants to badly.

“Close your eyes,” you say quietly, and your lips barely brush against his as you speak.

His lids close instantly – he is so pliable under your hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nervously twitching his fingers against your skin.

You smile, still looking at his eager expression as you brush your nose against his slightly upturned one. And then you slot your mouth on his bottom lip. You hold it there as he tenses, his hand gripping your waist suddenly – the other digging his fingertips in the soft skin of your neck.

You pull away a few inches and say, “There… you’ve had your first kiss.”

His lips search for you, leaning forward until his eyelids fly open, “What? That’s...” his throat bobs and he clenches his teeth so you see the muscle bulge on his jaw. “Any more things you can teach me?”

You lick your lips, giggles falling out of your mouth until he cracks a small smile. You put your forehead to his, smiling wide, “The night’s still young.” You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You need to relax. You’re super tense, mischief. I’m giving you permission to move your hands to whatever feels natural.”

At his quick question of hesitance, you continue, “I would tell you if anything made me uncomfortable. As long as you do too.”

He nods frantically, eager to go again with less nerves this time. Winding a hand to the back of his neck and into the short crop of his hair, you pull him towards your mouth. You kiss him softly but curiously.

You peck and move. Lip lock and switch sides. Press firmly and repeatedly. And slowly the tension falls from Stiles’ shoulders. He grips you with less anxiety and with more curiosity. A hand drags up your side, feeling the dip of your waist up to your ribcage and the line of your bra beneath your shirt. His hand drags down the same path, feeling all the same things before landing on your hips, thumb feeling the edge of your jeans.

His other hand finally relaxes, long fingers winding around your neck until his thumb is resting right on your artery. The pad of his thumb tickling under your jaw. He was being light and soft near your face, only using the pads of his fingers – while his other hand was searching with more pressure.

He was just going down to put his hand on your thigh to squeeze when your breathing hitches. He pulls away instantly, lips pinker than before and eyes wide with worry. His hands are off you in a second and you almost… almost… whine in protest.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You take a calming breath, slumping your shoulders, “No, in fact you’re taking my advice beautifully. You relaxed and started exploring – that’s one of the best parts about kissing someone new.” You brush a few strands of hair behind your ear, made loose when Stiles moved his hand to the back of your neck.

“Then why did…”

“I…” it was your turn to be shy, “I liked when you gripped my leg.”

Stiles widens his eyes with wonder now, “I made you make that noise?”

“Like I said, you take advice beautifully… and it works.”

He smiles wide, his turn to laugh at your endearing shyness. “Can we keep going?”

You match his smile and reply by going in for more kisses. This time you cup both his cheeks between your hands and Stiles squeaks in surprise. Both his hands land on your thighs, squeezing them under his larger palms.

You take a sharp intake of breath instead of making a noise, and Stiles fucking smiles against your lips.

Your hands touch his abdomen, and he sucks in taut, probably never having been touched there before. You quickly move up to his chest to find the expanse of his pectorals. Like you expected, Stiles isn’t rippled with worked muscle, but there’s a kind of lanky natural muscle beneath his shirt. You trail your hands up past his collarbones and around his shoulders. With your arms there you can pull him even closer.

He has to move his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. He’s able to press you into him from that position.

Your hands search for his shoulder blades, fingers applying pressure there. His fingers were spreading wide against your lower back, thumbs wrapping around your waist while his fingertips touch your spine.

Your lips still fall into an easy pattern of firmly pressed kisses, switching sides and from top lip to bottom lip. Some are quick and rapid, others are longer and deeply felt. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you struggle for air at times.

“When can I…” he kisses you, “…move from your mouth?”

You smile, kiss him, smile again. “Whenever it feels like…” you kiss again, “…the right thing to do next.”

He hums deep in his throat, moving his hands up your spine beneath your shoulders. Then he moves his lips. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there.

“Is this good?”

You breathe with your chest pressed against his, “You see how my head fell back? That means I like it and I’m giving you more access.”

He makes another low sound and it sends tingles of pleasure down to your core.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, supporting yourself while the other hand scrapes against his head, short hair bristles tickling your palm. You love the sound it pulls out of him.

“Open your mouth a little more,” you say, “Bigger kisses.”

He responds eagerly, excited to see what the change will do to you. His mouth opens more, leaving big, wet kisses under your ear and down your neck. A shiver runs through you, making your shoulders tense a little.

Then your watch starts to blare with an alarm.

Stiles flies off you like he was killing you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cries, backing away to assess you. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

You steady yourself by gripping the back of the chair, realizing too little too late that your breathlessness was catching up to you. Your heart was working overtime. You lift your free hand, eyes scrunched as it gets harder to force air into your lungs.

“God, shit…” Stiles mumbles, coming closer again. He puts one hand on your chest, over your sternum. And his other hand holds the side of your face, thumb resting at your temple. “You feel my hand? Do you see it moving with your breaths? You need to move your breaths to your belly – your belly should move with breaths, not your chest. Try to make my hand stop moving.”

You look at him with watering eyes, your heart beating erratically in your ears. Stiles was counting the seconds until you start belly breathing – breathing with your diaphragm.

“There you go, that’s better.”

You slump into his neck and his hand wraps to the back of your head, the other to your back.

“That was unexpected,” you say quietly, lips tickling his neck.

He laughs, “I’m guessing you liked the other kisses more than the grabbing the thigh thing?”

“Maybe just a tad bit,” you say, “I told you I liked it beforehand.”

“You did,” he says, pulling you back to get a good look at your face. “You’re okay.”

You smile, “I’m okay.”

He starts to get this giddy look, “We kissed.”

“That we did.”

“Like a lot.”

“It was a lesson in many things.”

He screws up his lips, “And you liked it.”

“You take direction well.”

“I don’t know why guys don’t ask more,” he marvels, “It would make every makeout exactly what you want.”

“You are a rare breed,” you bite your lip and his eyes dart to look. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it.”

His quick answer pulled a laugh out of you. And once you start, you can’t stop. Stiles finds it cute and finds himself laughing too. Just two friends giggling in the car after an impromptu round of kissing. It was warm and light and felt… good.

“I don’t think you need to worry about messing things up with the next girl,” you say, scooting back to your side of the car, “You’ll do just fine.”

His laughing stops abruptly. “The next girl?”

“Yeah…?” you smile with a furrowed brow. “You wanted to learn to be a good kisser, right? To have your first kiss out of the way for any future girls?”

He looks put out, slightly angry, and… defeated. “Right, we had that pact.”

“Right,” you say, wondering what was miscommunicated between you two. “Maybe we should… head home for the night.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, looking for his keys, “Andrew will probably be sending you a goodnight text any second now.”

You scrunch your brow, lips resting in a frown as he turns the jeep on. You’re quick to notice the steamy windows from your hot and heavy kissing. You would’ve laughed at it if you didn’t feel like something was off in Stiles.

With the air conditioning and heater broken, you roll down the windows and Stiles tells you to stay in the car as he wipes down all others outside.

You watch him with a finger between your teeth. Did you just mess up?

~~~

You spend the next couple days trying to convince yourself that kissing Stiles was simply practice kissing. There wasn’t anything past friendly feelings between you two. It was a no strings attached kind of makeout.

It had to be.

You didn’t have feelings for Stiles. You were going out with Andrew Wickstrom for gods sake.

And again you feel guilty. If you acknowledge any interest in Stiles, then kissing him was a betrayal to Andrew.

But it’s not like you were seriously dating Andrew.

But maybe to him you are.

You hadn’t found a reason to talk to Scott and Stiles outside your friendly conversations at school. Scott didn’t usually text you, but Stiles? If he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to climb the garden trellis, he would text you about the most random things.

Facts about honeybees, star wars memes, updates on a Dateline investigation you were following, werewolf puns, and links to things he thought would make you smile.

Recently? He hasn’t texted you at all. While he wasn’t avoiding you at school, he sure as hell was when you were home.

You are currently in the mall with Lydia and Allison, picking out dresses for the winter formal. All three of you are acting distant and suspicious of each other, which is not a good look for the pretty girls club.

Getting onto an escalator, you question Allison about her frequent absences.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

You wonder if there’s been a recently discovered secret in her family – maybe like a kidnapped werewolf?

“But Jackson’s taking you to the formal,” you say, “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, just two recently broken up friends supporting each other by going to the school dance,” Allison says with smiling sarcasm. “And what dumb, roided-up jock did you say yes to?” she asks Lydia.

“Ben Manley,” Lydia sighs, “More of a himbo if you ask me, but he’ll look good in the pictures.” She drags you two towards the prom dress section, quick to pull dresses to try on. She’s four hangers in by the time you find one you like.

“Advice,” you say to Allison, “Do I care if my surgery scars show, or do I go with a collar that climbs up to my neck?” You hold up one deep blue dress that has a lower heart-shaped neckline and another soft purple dress with a small v-neck shape that stops just under the collarbone.

Allison considers for a second, “The blue is more flattering, and you’d look great in that color. I’d say screw whoever doesn’t like you for your scars. They’re the reminder that you’re still alive.”

“Damn, okay,” you smile, “I’m going to try the blue one on.” You fling the purple chiffon dress onto a mannequin display and head for the dressing rooms.

Lydia is there with a small pile of dresses she’s already said no to. You talk to her loudly between the dressing cubicles.

“How’s it looking?”

“The cream chrome one is promising,” she says, “Hey, are we hanging out after this? I’ve got a new foot soaker I want to try. We can do mani pedis before the dance.”

You shimmy into your blue gown, loving how it flairs at your waist in beautiful night sky sparkles. “Yeah, I’d love a sleepover! It’ll be the perfect way to get ready for the dance.” There are two thick straps of the same dark blue fabric that go over your shoulders. The neckline falls lower in a heart shape, outlining the curve of your breasts and revealing your arms and chest.

The scar from your heart defect correction is less raised, less discolored, and less noticeable – but you see it run down the center of your chest. The small, three-inch incision scar from last summer is newer and still red and raised above your heart. And finally the four deep claw marks that dig around your left shoulder and arm – they leave actual divots in your flesh, and you can’t help running a finger over them. They went up and down like tiny rollercoasters.

“Get out here, Westbrook. I want to see if it’s a keeper.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your fingers through your hair to give it more volume. You step into the hallway and find Lydia in a shiny cream colored dress, complete with a black flower in her hair.

“You look amazing,” you say, smiling, “And the dress really shows off your legs. You gotta pair it with a heel.”

“I look amazing?” Lydia gawks, “Look at how flattering that one is on you! It doesn’t flair out like a ballgown, but enough to give you an airy look. And the top is stunning, it fits your figure well.” She doesn’t even mention the scars.

You grin, “I think that settles it. We’ve got our winners.” Lydia goes to change, and you agree to show Allison since she picked the dress for you.

You walk out barefoot, lifting your dress a little to give you easier access to walk faster. You find Allison holding a funny feathered dress to a mirror. It takes you a second to realize that she isn’t alone.

A man is there holding a silver dress to her figure. A man you recognize at a second glance.

It was Peter Hale, one of your long-term patients at the hospital – and the Alpha.

You run over, calling for Allison’s attention, “What do you think?”

She looks grateful to be rescued, “Absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). That’s the one for sure.”

“(Y/N)?” Peter says, “Ah, yes – you look stunning.” He goes to shake your hand, “Peter.”

You hesitate. He’s playing the ‘never-met-you-before’ coverup. “I think I’ve seen you before. Maybe… at the hospital? That’s where I work.”

He has a clever smirk on his face as he retracts his hand, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Somewhere else maybe…” you stare him down. “Like the local video store perhaps.”

“Never been much into movies,” but he does look at your exposed skin to admire his handywork to your shoulder, “You’ve got quite the collection there.” He smiles, “Wearing them like badges of honor.”

“Like a friend said,” you say, chin held high. “They’re a reminder that I’m still alive.”

He still has that subtle smirk, otherwise very rigid and unsettling, “Yes, you are.” He sounds like he would add, ‘not for long’ to the end of that.

The PA system comes on and a fuzzy woman’s voice says, “Attention, shoppers. The owner of a blue Mazda, your car is being towed.”

“What?” Allison says, “That’s my car!” She runs to find the front desk or the car outside.

You’re left with Peter, barefoot and in a pretty starry dress. He looks to you with a plain expression that held sinister notions regardless.

“Well played,” he mutters, “Scott.” You don’t dare look away from him as he talks to the thin air. “Just remember… you can’t be everywhere all the time.” He looks to you with roaming eyes, “It’s been nice seeing you, (Y/N). I’m glad you like my addition to your complexion so much. It makes me think you may want more to add to this masterpiece.”

You hate the way he stays there to gauge your reaction. You stand firm, but your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress.

“You really do look stunning in that dress,” he smiles, “It’d be a shame if it got shredded.” He walks away, leaving you feeling strangely violated and targeted. You feel angry and unsafe.

Scott was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arms, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You take a shaky breath, “He’s a persistent bastard.”

“Yeah, and he’s just threatened to attack you – probably at the dance judging by how he complimented your dress.” He stands straight, listening for Lydia or Allison. “Listen, I heard how you’re having a sleepover tonight. That’d leave me free to…”

“I’ll look after the girls,” you smile, still cold and shaky from the encounter. “You look after your mom and the boys.”

He gives you a look, clearing his throat, “Right, course.”

You squint your brow, “What has Stiles told you?”

Scott scratches at his head, looking anywhere but you, “Nothing much, he’s been quiet these days.”

“Impossible,” you snort, “You may be a super cool teenage werewolf, Scott – but you are a terrible liar.”

He looks defeated, “Look, he told me how you guys kissed and he’s… he’s kind of hung up on it.”

“In what way?”

He bites his lip, looking painfully awkward, “He doesn’t want you thinking it was a mistake. He’s… scared you regret it.” Scott shoves his hands in his pockets, “He realizes it might be weird trying to be friends, and you with Andrew… he’s trying to keep the friendship civil.”

“Civil?” you scoff, “It was a no feelings kiss.”

Scott keeps his mouth shut, nodding his head and backing away, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Your mouth is left hanging open as he walks away. Did you feel regret for the kissing? You put one hand on the silken fabric covering your hip, the other hand going to rub away the worry lines in your forehead.

Did you feel guilty because you had been going on dates with Andrew? Had you ever set clear expectations with Andrew before? If he felt like this was taking a direction into serious relationship territory, you would definitely feel guilty.

And Stiles not being completely himself…? Was that really because he was worried you thought the kiss was a mistake? Or was it because of some other unknown reason.

Returning to the dressing rooms, you knew one thing was for sure. You were in desperate need of a girls night.

~~~

In the second story living room of the Martin house, you three spend hours into the night pampering yourselves and raving about whatever came to mind.

When Harry Met Sally plays quietly on the tv in front of you, Allison leaning onto the couch and painting her toes a white color.

“I hope I don’t smudge these before they dry.”

“Here’s a fast drying topcoat you can put on them,” Lydia tosses a small clear polish. She was stuck in the armchair beside the couch with her feet bubbling in the new foot soaker. “I think I’m going to go with black for my toes. Maybe black French tips with my fingernails.” She admires her hands as you place the black polish bottle near her for later use.

You sit between the two, your toes drying an inky blue color while you prepare to paint your nails. You unscrew a pretty sapphire blue. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Please,” Lydia pouts, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you consider Andrew and I in a serious relationship?”

Allison frowns, focusing on her brush strokes, “Um… maybe? You guys have been dating exclusively, right?”

“Only two dates.”

“No,” Lydia clicks her tongue, “You guys have had two dates and a few noncommittal kisses. I don’t think that means you’re dating seriously.”

Allison dips her brush again, “But if you’re not seeing anyone else then people will think you’re exclusive.”

“But what if I have seen someone else,” you shrug, “I guess that doesn’t matter if Andrew thinks something different.”

There was a splash, “Hold the phone. Are you saying you’ve gone out with someone else recently?”

You pull an indecisive face, “Well, no – just maybe had a… makeout.”

Allison gasps while Lydia giggles, “Oh my god, with who?!”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.”

“Well, if you’re kissing other boys then you definitely don’t think you’re seriously dating,” Allison shakes her head, “Does Andrew?”

Your shoulders tense as you focus on your nails, “I don’t know. We never had a ‘what are we’ talk. And I never told him I didn’t want anything serious.”

“Ouch,” Allison grimaces, “I think he really likes you.” 

Lydia has her arms folded tightly, “Was it Josh Arnett?”

“Gross,” you accuse, “Absolutely not.”

“Tanner Humphries?”

“No, Lydia,” you huff, “What do I tell Andrew?”

Allison stretches her legs out and wiggles her newly painted toes, “You tell him the truth. At least, you tell him you don’t want anything serious.”

“I bet it was Lucas McCrary,” Lydia muses.

“Should I do that before the dance?” you ignore Lydia. “I think it’ll hurt him.”

Allison fishes in the bucket of self-care on the couch cushion, “It’s better than leading him on further.” She extracts an avocado sheet mask.

“Was it at least someone on the lacrosse team?” Lydia interjects.

You give a tired smile, “Because those are the only boys you know?”

“The only boys I care about.”

You finish one hand and ask Allison to help with the other, “What if Andrew decides he doesn’t want to take me to the dance anymore?”

“Then…” Allison takes the sapphire blue from you, “You go stag and hangout with us. I have a suspicion that Jackson isn’t going to be the most enjoyable date.”

“Oh! Please tell me it was Tyler O’Connell – no girl can get her hands on him.”

You laugh and faceplant into the couch, “Tyler O’Connell is gay. Danny has had a little crush on him for months.”

“Huh,” she huffs, “I’m usually good at catching those things.”

“I think I’ll talk to him after school tomorrow,” you rub your worry lines with your free hand. “If anything Allison, you and I could just be each other’s dates.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be abandoned by the end of the night with how Jackson’s been acting,” she sighs, doing a second coat on your nails. “I wouldn’t mind a sweethearts dance with you.”

Lydia is having an existential crisis in the armchair, confined with her feet in the soaker. “Well, it can’t be Cameron Sanchez because he’s going with that Brittany girl in homeroom. It’s not Henry, is it?”

“What’s with the tone?” you giggle, “I like Henry Greenburg even if Coach is a little harsh with him.”

“What about…” she widens her eyes, “What about dork #2?”

Allison freezes with the paintbrush still on your nail. You take a moment to decipher what Lydia just asked.

“Who is…” you clamp your mouth into a thin line.

“Oh my god!” Lydia stands with her feet still in the soaker.

Allison flinches, “Holy shit.” She looks at your nails, “Oh, shit – I’m sorry, (Y/N).” She takes a cotton swab to fix the smudge of blue going down your ring finger. “I just… I mean…”

“What was that dorks name?” Lydia squeals, waving her hands frantically and snapping at Allison. “He’s – god, what’s his name!” She looks ridiculous being rooted to one spot but moving her upper torso like a madwoman, “He’s the little weirdo… the idiot in love!”

Your face is positively blooming red, it’s scorching, as you bury your face in a couch pillow. Allison is quick to correct her mistake to your nails, replying in a much calmer and heartwarming voice. “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Stiles!” Lydia cries in triumph before frowning, “That’s his name?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “Yes, Stiles. And it was another noncommittal kiss. It was absolutely no feelings. I was just helping him out.” In your embarrassment you slap your free hand to cover your mouth, “God, don’t ask me why,” you mumble.

Allison waits for Lydia to ask – like she knew she would.

“Why?” Lydia says, still standing in the foot soaker.

“It doesn’t matter,” you pat at your flaming hot cheeks, “What matters is that I did kiss him, and I need to clarify with Andrew that I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“I knew he was going to grow on you,” Allison mumbles with a sweet smile on her face. She finishes doing your nails and sits back on the couch. “He’s been obsessed with you for months now.”

You shake your head, “Stiles is just… very enthusiastic. He was just excited about getting a kiss.”

“From you,” Allison smirks.

Lydia is jumping out of the foot soaker and toweling her feet, “At least he’s on the lacrosse team.”

You blow out a breath and hope it calms the redness in your face. “It’s not like that. He’s…” you hesitate. “He’s a good friend.”

Allison grimaces, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

~~~

You wring your hands as you pace at the end of the hall, next to the vending machines. You wait for Andrew to leave his last class, the bell having just rung. It was eating at you thinking of a way to talk to him without hurting his feelings.

But there was no way around it – even if the dance was in two days, you weren’t going to continue playing with Andrew’s feelings.

The tall, dimpled boy comes out and sees you instantly. He smiles and jogs to reach you, excited to see you waiting.

Shit.

“Hey,” he gives you a hug and a kiss to the cheek, “How are you?”

You swallow hard, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You pick and pull at your fingers, looking up at him with a face that scares him.

He furrows his brow, nodding his head toward the empty ceramics classroom. There weren’t any art classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Then let’s go talk.” He guides the way and opens the door for you.

You have a terrible guilty feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had to let someone down before.

Among the desks with spinning wheels dusted with dry clay, you stand in the middle of the room. “Andrew… I wanted to ask what you see between us… for the future.”

He still looks skeptical, but there’s a smile enveloping his face. “Well, I’ve liked how our dates have been so far. And I really like you, (Y/N).” His dimples are out full force, shadowed by the dim lighting. “I want to see where this goes. I think we could get serious. I’m – I’m looking for something serious. But… I want to hear what you have to say first.”

You pinch your fingertips, “Um… well I’m glad we’re having this talk.” You swallow thickly and the smile on Andrew’s face dips. “I… I’m not looking for something serious.”

“Oh,” Andrew says dryly. His face is in full shadow now. “I see, uh… have you always felt that way?”

You nod while you try to find your voice again. The look of hurt on his face was making the guilt in your stomach flare tenfold. “I don’t want a boyfriend in high school.”

He nods slower, looking to the ground. “I wish I knew that sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve been more clear in the beginning. I thought we were just having some fun.”

“Fun,” he laughs sardonically. “No, I should’ve been more honest with what I was looking for.” His eyes were sad, but he put a smile on his face. “I’m glad you told me.”

You nod, desperate for his words. “I totally understand not wanting to see each other anymore…”

“That would probably be for the best,” he runs a hand through his curly hair.

“And… and we can go separately to the dance,” you say quickly, “I don’t mind.”

He looks at you with slight concern, “I don’t want you to go alone.”

“I have some friends I can go with.”

The room feels smaller, colder than you remember. It was an awful feeling telling someone you don’t like them in that way. You did not like hurting people.

Andrew was nodding to himself in agreement, “Then I hope you have a good time with your friends.”

He was being so kind to you when you felt you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault he was sad. Your fault that he didn’t have a date for the dance. Your fault that his feelings were being hurt now.

A stinging was building behind your eyes. “Thank you. I hope you do find someone to be serious with. You deserve it.” A lump builds in your throat, “You’re a good guy, Andrew.”

He sighs deeply, “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, voice being overtaken by emotion. And you’re left in the dark, cold room. Guilt eating at you and shame whispering terrible things in your ear. You almost wish he had blown up about it; yelled at you for not being completely honest in the beginning. It hurt worse hearing his quiet acceptance of the rejection.

You’re grateful the classroom is abandoned when a tear falls from your eye.

~~~

“Why didn’t you stop by Lydia’s house?” Stiles accuses, arms in the air, “That was prime time to overhear girl talk!”

“I wasn’t going to spy and eavesdrop,” Scott scolds, leading the way out of their last class of the day. “That wouldn’t be right when I still need to keep you and Jackson safe.”

Stiles rubs harshly at his face, silly noises of outrage spilling out, “But how else am I going to hear how (Y/N) feels about the whole jeep-makeout thing?!”

“I don’t know, talk to her?” Scott deadpans.

“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffs, “I’m such an idiot. How else is she supposed to feel about it? She told me she doesn’t date seriously, and she told you how it happened with no feelings…” A white hot pain stabs his sternum, his heart roiling excruciatingly. “I just… I wanted it to be real.”

Scott sighs, pulling at his too long hair, “Listen, if she is seeing you in a friends with benefits kind of way, I don’t see why you can’t give it a shot.”

For a few moments Stiles dwells on the thought of having all the benefits of a relationship without commitment. It was tempting but... “I want more than that.”

“Wow,” Scott raises his eyebrows, “I’ve never heard such mature words leave your mouth before.”

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, “I just wish she’d talk to me!” He goes for one of the back doors by the vending machines, “She does this thing where she tells me the truth without the whole truth.”

“You mean with her heart?”

Stiles rubs hard at his eyes, “It’s got to be the reason for everything. I tried to get my dad to tell me about it and he pulled the ‘doctor-patient-confidentiality’ thing on me.” He grumbles, letting his backpack drop from his shoulders, “I’ve never… I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on like this.”

Scott sits on a hallway bench, watching his friend wallow in his self-pity and broken heart. “It starts out that way. But it gets easier.”

“What do you know about unrequited love, genius?” Stiles puts his hands on his hips, “You got to be Allison’s boyfriend with the dating and the kissing and the feeling her up…”

“Watch your mouth,” Scott points a finger.

Stiles slumps to the floor and against the stone wall. “And now we’re all targets in a major werewolf operation. How do you think the dance is going to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m still going to be there,” Scott says with a sad smile, “Even if Coach is up my ass.” He stands from the bench, “I should probably find a suit before my shift at the vet clinic.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles, lifting a few fingers in a goodbye, “I’m gonna grab a snack before I go – see you later.”

It took another minute before Stiles could get off the ground. Thoughts of you swirling permanently there. The feel of your warm, soft skin. The pressure of your lips on his. The thrill of hearing you react to the things he was doing. He could still smell the sweet fruity scent of your hair, your lips sticky sweet with sugar.

Had it all been a dream? You sure acted like it with how the whole night was yet to be a topic of conversation.

But the feel of you, as dreamlike as it had been, was grounded in his mind like a chain to a wall. He would never forget how your head fell back, how your fingers went through his hair, how your lips fit so well between his own. Fit like a puzzle piece.

He thought that the kiss would lessen his ache of unrequited love – that he would have at least gotten a taste. But sitting there with the deep ache beating a little stronger in his chest – he knew it was going to be even more painful to be around you and not spout what he was feeling.

Like he told Scott, he wanted more. It was more than the sugar left on your lips. It was the way his dad smiled at the homecooked meal. The way he felt he could mention his mom around you. The fact that you were the first girl he could be alone with and not feel completely at a loss.

He rubs his forehead again, standing as though lead was in his stomach. He felt nauseous. It was making him sick how much he wanted you.

Then an empty classroom door swings open and Andrew Wickstrom walks out, head down and expression bleak.

He walks right out the back doors into the late afternoon light. And the slump in his shoulders made Stiles curious. All thoughts of a snack out of his mind, he stands, abandoning his backpack, and inches toward the empty classroom.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but seeing you standing there, holding yourself as tears fell from your eyes was not it.

The deep ache in his chest pulses like it yearns for you. Having you in his vision was enough to make the roiling in his heart pucker with hope. But the lead in his stomach becomes heavier as he pushes the door open.

“(Y/N)?”

You snap your wet eyes to him, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

He continues to inch forward, eyes never leaving your face, “I was just going to stop by the vending machines before heading out.” He stops a few feet from you, “What happened?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes that just continue to stream. “I told Andrew I don’t want anything serious.” Your brow is furrowed into permanent lines, face screwed up like it’ll stop whatever emotion is trying to get out. “And he was pretty hurt by it.”

Stiles takes another step forward, fingers twitching at his sides. Was it okay to touch you? “Andrew doesn’t seem like the type to get real upset by a breakup.”

“He was being so kind to me,” you hiccup as you continue to hold back, “And I was hurting him.”

“But you were being honest, which is better than leading him on,” Stiles says quietly. He’s now just a foot away from you.

“I’ve never had to turn someone away like that,” more tears were cascading down your face, much to your chagrin, “It did not feel good.”

Stiles lifts one of his hands, meaning to touch your shoulder, but you accept it as an invitation for a hug. He almost sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you tightly, keeping you pressed to him like it would staunch the ache in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your strawberry scented hair, “If it had to be with anyone, though – I’m glad that it was Wickstrom. He is a good guy.”

You sigh and it stutters with emotion, “It’s all my fault.” You nuzzle into his shoulder, “If I was braver I would’ve kept it going.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was holding your waist with one hand and rubbing up and down your spine with the other.

“If I was braver, I’d get into a relationship.” You let the tears run from your cheeks and soak into Stiles’ shirt. “I’m a coward.”

Stiles runs his fingers down your back in a soothing motion, “It’s okay not to be ready for a relationship.”

“That’s not it,” you pull away, wiping at the tears making your skin itch. “I’m sorry, I’m talking nonsense.”

“No! No, wait…” Stiles was getting desperate, “You don’t have to stop there. (Y/N), I want to know what’s wrong. I want to know why. Please don’t brush it off like it’s nothing – I can see how it bothers you.”

You shake your head, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. “Trust me, this is not the time and place for that conversation.”

Stiles pinches his lips together, finding it more difficult to be patient. “What could be so terrible that you avoid it this badly?”

There’s a heavy silence and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something. He can see it on the tip of your tongue, eyes shiny and cheeks raw. It looks painful for you to say it out loud. He feels instant regret for trying to force it out of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, walking over to pull you into a quick, but firm, apology hug. “I’m sorry, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

You gulp, “I… I think I’ll be able to tell you soon. I just… right now with… it’s not the right time.”

He nods quickly, “I get it.” He puts some space between you, watching your face carefully, ready to catch you should your heart give out. He puts a thumb between your brows and wiggles it around like it’ll ease the tension enough to remove the lines of worry.

You melt a little, a smile curling the sides of your mouth, “I’m sorry you walked in on that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not sorry at all.”

You take a deep breath, remembering to fill your belly with it and not your chest. “I guess I’m going to the dance without a date now.”

There’s a leap in his chest and Stiles wonders if his heart was the one about to give out. “I can take you!” he says before you even finish your sentence.

You smile wide this time, “I probably shouldn’t go with another boy after just breaking things off with Andrew. I am going with Allison and Lydia, though.”

His leaping heart crash lands, “Sure, right – that makes sense.” He’s grateful for the dimly lit classroom keeping his embarrassment blush in shadow. “I’ll still be there though, for a dance or two.”

“I’d like that,” you grin, eyes bright but no longer tear-filled. “Could I get a ride?”

“Always.”

~~~

Melissa trades patient files with you at the newly refurbished nurses station. You exchange some words of note about certain patients on the floor. She reminds you to drink more water and you remind her to take a break.

She smiles at your avoidance, “How are the dance preparations going?”

You show her the shiny blue nail polish on your fingers.

She squeals and admires them, “Ah, I miss dances. And the dress?”

“Like starlight,” you breathe, taking a twirl around the hall, “But with flats because I am not venturing into battle in four-inch heels.”

Melissa sighs, “Dances are so much more fun with girls. Scott refuses to show me his suit and he’s never home anymore.” She leans against the counter, “I hope he’s okay.”

You give a thin smile, “He’s doing his best. With Allison and lacrosse and his grades… he’s doing his best. Trying to do more than that actually.”

“He expects a lot of himself,” Melissa nods. “I’m glad he has friends like you with him.” She checks her watch when she asks, “And the Andrew thing?”

“Over,” you shrug, a day after the breakup and still a little tender. “We wanted different things, and I thought it best not to drag it out.”

“Man, better than just ghosting him,” she says with a bitter tone, “How mature of you.”

You remember the terrible date she went on with Peter Hale. Jackass. “It was the right thing to do. And I’ll just save a few dances for my friends. It’ll still be a nice night.” You sit in a swivel chair, arms folded, “There’s no way I’m going to miss my chance to go to a school dance.”

Melissa gives you a soft, sad smile, “Well, kiddo – I’m off to make my rounds. Mr. Hendrickson has been calling my button for the last ten minutes. I swear I’m going to take his tv away if he keeps asking me how to change the channels.”

You laugh, saluting her off, and returning to the rest of your charting. You were just marking when you administered medications when a soft tap to your counter caught your attention.

Standing there was Scott and Stiles.

“Hello,” you say cheerfully, “How are my boys?”

Both lift their hands to reveal brown paper bags. Scott grins, “We might’ve brought you guys dinner?”

“Greasy takeout,” Stiles corrects, “But edible enough for dinner.”

You sigh, heart warmed, “Well, your mom just went into room 18 down the hall,” you point, “But we can take our break when she gets back.”

“No, I’ll wait for her,” Scott says quickly, already down the hall, “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Stiles shrugs at your look of suspicion, “Where do you usually eat?”

You lead Stiles from the elevators to the hospital cafeteria. There you find a round table by the windows to sit. It was dark outside with the perfect view of the moon over the mountains. Stiles seems a little uncomfortable as he follows you through the building.

He keeps looking behind his shoulder and peering into patient rooms with big eyes.

“Burgers and fries?” you ask hopefully.

Stiles lays the meal out on grease stained napkins, “Bon Appetit.”

You lean into him, “Thank you, I wasn’t planning on dinner tonight.” You start with your fries as he looks at you with contempt.

“Because that’s a great idea with your prone to fainting condition.”

“Why did you guys really stop by?” you always start with your fries, saving the main meal for last. You focus on them as Stiles thinks of something to say, eating his hamburger like it was his first meal in days.

He gives a funny half shrug, “Scott needed to check on his mom with his whole ‘patrolling-the-pack’ schedule. He asked if I wanted to come, and we came up with the excuse of getting us all dinner.”

“Brilliant,” you say, finding that the drink he brought was filled with your favorite soda. “Any news from the Alpha?”

“Not since you guys went dress shopping,” he wipes at his mouth with his sleeve. “Which, by the way, I would’ve loved to come to.”

“No you wouldn’t of,” you laugh, “Helping girls carry their dresses and waiting forever to critique every outfit with the same indifferent words… sounds terribly boring.”

He takes a deep breath as he downs his drink. “Sounds like fun. Helping you pick out a dress? I’d run out the red carpet so you could practice your model walk. We’d play montage music with different colored lights. We can make trying on dresses fun.”

“I don’t know how to model walk,” you giggle.

He nods in mock seriousness, “You just have to look like you’re about to sneeze and the thing you’re wearing is giving you a massive wedgie.” He moves his shoulders around in a pretend walking motion, his face slightly pinched like his nose was itching.

You were laughing by the time he coached you into making the same ridiculous face. Then he flinched when a group of resident doctors walked in loudly, ready for their dinner. He looks uncomfortable again, picking at his fries half-heartedly.

You consider him for a minute, “You don’t like hospitals, do you?”

He huffs a laugh, “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re being more twitchy than usual.”

He eyes you, “I’ve been here plenty of times, you haven’t made that observation before.”

“You’re really thinking about it today,” you press, “Is something wrong?”

He ticks his jaw, playing with his fries. “I used to eat in here a lot… when my mom was here.”

Your chest goes tight. Of course it has something to do with his mom, “Stiles, I’m…”

“My dad used to leave me here when he went to work,” he keeps going, “The nurses were all my friends, and I ate dinner in the cafeteria all the time. They would save an extra chocolate pudding for me sometimes.” He smiles in painful fondness, “I was alone when… when she…”

He couldn’t say it.

You scooch closer to him, letting him talk without you interrogating him. He looks at your eager expression with a soft smile, “She had frontotemporal dementia.” He leans closer to you subconsciously, enjoying the security he felt near you.

“It started with little things like she couldn’t pick up her keys and she wouldn’t sleep at night. Then she couldn’t function at her job, so she stayed home. Then she started to get… scary.” He takes a deep swallow, “She started seeing things – hallucinations – and became paranoid sometimes. We had to hospitalize her soon after that.”

You knew the symptoms of frontotemporal dementia. Some of the long-term patients at the hospital had dementia. But you let him continue to talk without your input. You could guess that he didn’t talk about his mom very often, especially her death.

You put a hand on his arm as silent support.

He takes a breath at your touch, “When I’d visit, I didn’t know if I’d see my mom or the patient dealing with dementia.” His eyes look a little glassy as he continues, “It was hard spending so much time here. I knew she wasn’t going to come home. And then one night when my dad was on call… it was just me at her bedside.”

You rub your thumb into his forearm, “How old were you?”

“Eight,” he says, sniffling as the emotion burns his throat. “Seeing her deteriorate that fast… it was awful.” His lip trembles, “That was my mom, you know?”

You move your arm around his back, resting your head on his shoulder. It was a hug you could give while sitting at a table. “I know.” You squeeze him tight, “It must’ve been horrible.”

His breathing was shaky, “It was,” he rubs roughly at his eyes, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even Derek Hale.”

“What about Mr. Harris?”

He makes a considering face, a smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

You pinch him, “That’s terrible.” You trail your fingers across his back, looking for more tears, “Why tell me?”

He watches you wipe away a tear before it reaches his chin, “Because I wanted you to know.” He shrugs, eyes a little redder, “I like you, and I trust you.”

You watch him with rosy cheeks. An immense feeling of pride was swelling in your chest. Stiles chose you, out of dozens of people, to talk about the death of his mom. A horribly sensitive subject for him. He had gone out of his way to be in an environment that reminded him of uncomfortable things to bring you dinner. He opened up to you and gave you a large part of his heart.

He was doing it partially to tell you things he wanted you to know – things you needed to know to be close to him – but also to partially tell you that it was okay to open up about horribly sensitive stuff.

He wanted to hear your story too.

But how could you now? You feel a pang in your chest. How could you explain to Stiles that you would reach a similar end before too long. An end like his moms.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover

[jeonride]

svt reading list / fic recs!

don't forget to like + reblog fics that you like to support the authors <33

navigation

FICS ! ✧*。

svt hospital | svt x fem!reader (fluff, angst, you should really start to read this!) by @taeyegu

in pursuit of wedded bliss | svt regency au, romance, historical au by @fantasyescapes17

kinktober 2022 | (smut) by @duhnova

doting on you! | svt hhu x pets series (fluff, mild angst, smut) by @lovelyhan

apartment 5c | 96 line (fluff, slice of life, humor, smau) by @suhnshinehaos

the king's gambit | 95 line (smut, fluff, angst, slowburn) by @duhnova @onlyhuis @onlymingyus

angel's trumpets | joshua, wonwoo x undercover cop!reader (light angst, suspense/thriller, cheating, smut) by @sunnylovespickles you have to read this this is so amazing

demon's play | seungcheol, dino x fem!reader (smut, dark, fantasy) by @bitchlessdino

bad girls make good boys cry | joshua (smut, fluff) by @duhnova

little miss naughty | jeonghan (smut) by @hoshzone

doe eyes | dino (smut) by @duhnova

midnight appetite | mingyu, wonwoo x female!reader (smut, threesome) by @writeformesinpie

just peachy | seokmin, wonwoo x afab!reader (smut, threesome) by @xddaengx

sweater paws | jeonghan (smut, fluff, sub!jeonghan) by @duhnova

wine & dine | seungcheol (smut, fluff, husband!cheol) by @ally-127

eggs, bacon, and sausage sandwich | wonwoo, mingyu x female reader (smut, threesome) by @bitchlessdino

work husband | mingyu, wonwoo x female reader (fluff, cute omg, office au) by @rubyreduji

moira | seungcheol, chan x oc (mystery like that, contains smut) by @sunnylovespickles

biting his pecs | jun (nsfw) by @onlyhuis

made with love | joshua (fluff, dad!joshua) by @icyminghao

just deserts | minghao, wonwoo x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @seungkwansphd

don't listen in secret (ot13 series, fwb) by @j6shua

dressing room | hao, wonwoo + fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @cheolhub

good to us | mingyu, wonwoo x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

gamers do it better | wonwoo, seungcheol x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @sluttywonwoo

new rules | performance unit x mafia au by @toruro

can i buy you a drink? | mingyu, wonwoo x female!reader (smut, threesome) by @97-liners

DRABBLES / HARD THOUGHTS ! ✧*。

wanting you to beg | hhu (smut) by @hoshzone

17.12 | joshua, smut by @lovelyhan

dad!hoshi by @number1mingyustan

sub!mingyu (smut) by @euphoricsunflowers

touch starved (hhu) by @wqnwoos

svt as the children of greek gods by @rubyreduji

smut vernon drabble by @rubyreduji

smut reactions (ot13) by @sluttywonwoo

condescension in bed (minghao, seungcheol, wonwoo, joshua) by @toruro

cum inside (ot13) by @hoshzone

degradation kink (ot13) by @nsfwhao

drunk svt with their s/o by @gyuslcve

humiliation kink (ot13) by @cheolhub

who would be into pussy slapping? from here until "accidentally swiping onto nude picts" are made by @sluttyminghao

them with vibrator cock ring (ot13)

accidentally swiping onto nude picts (ot13)

svt as type of affections by @yrhome

partner privilege (ot13) by @blue-jisungs

svt do your make up by @lovingseventeen

hip hop unit masterlist by @bibinnieposts

COMPLETE MASTERLIST! YOU NEED THIS by @bibinnieposts

[astralnymphh]

imagine knight!ellie & princess!reader on a runaway from the kingdom and they’re searching for a place to stay for the night and then accidentally entering a brothel where ellie is ofc being flirted on and the reader is just being a grumpy jealous brat. when they finally found an inn, reader ended up seducing tf out of ellie.

✮ omfg, i need this so bad to be a part of my knight!ellie series. maybe on one of the readers' little clandestine sneak–abouts?? i can just visualize ellie being swarmed by a bunch of partially nude women/nigh on nude women, they're all poking at her, fondling the icy steel of her pauldrons or the dry leather and cotton of her chestpiece, twining her head in various direction with a pinch of their digits to her jaw, and her ears are snowed under the clamor of oohs and ahhs— a peachy blob actually begins to shade her cheeks and nose. not because she revels jubilation and arousement in these maidens, so curious to touch her like a horse idling within a stable— but because the extent of hands and wagging of fingers just overwhelms her. i feel like knight!ellie can get overwhelmed without difficulty. sure, ellie harbors the fondness of women and bosom alike, but she is respectful and true–hearted. ellie has an eye for you and only you. be it in the midst of many girls yapping and pleading for 'comfort' and a 'morsel of coin', she will cherish vigilance and devotion— to you.

✮ like the moment regards and apologies are set bound from her lips to your ears, standing an inch away from you— you're already taking a wag of your own digits on her waist and thumbing her taut abdomen from beneath her night–chemise or however they call those light pieces of mens undershirt. her reaction rains a stark contrast to that of with the harlots earlier, leaning a bit more on her cocky and playful nature— lip biting, brow wiggling, pressing the fore of her hips gently into yours, rucking her shirt over her head to reveal her bandaged–up chest (at least, that's what I think women might use as 'bras' in the 14th century??) or just plain topless. ellie will lie beneath your shadow any day, so— it was intrinsic for her muscles to be then ensconced nicely in the mattress with you straddiling her, getting her to obey, eagerly holding your thumb in her mouth and lapping the flat pad, clawing hollows in your hips above layers of your dress— she'll let you strip of those whenever you please. fuckin, "Was not aware my lady has a fire within her, a fire I wish to consume."

overall, ellie is respectful but so playful towards you cause you're just as playful as her !! at least in the series. (random, but imagine her licking you under your nightdress and being so high and mighty that she'll 'make you squeal' with just her tongue GAHHH)

KNIGHT ELLIE SAVE ME KNIGHT ELLIE SAVE ME (SPECIFICALLY KNIGHT!ELLIE ON HER HORSE WITH A NESTING OF SNOW IN HER HAIR PLEASE PLEASE THATS LITERALLY A SCENE IN BOFAF PROLOGUE) SAVE ME SAVE ME

[yuurivoice]

with the new reveal in the the L+F episode, there have been some small timeline issues within the fandom’s understanding, which makes me curious

would you ever consider making some sort of online timeline (such as within carrd or another website making site) in order to avoid confusion?

I've been considering my options there. Having some sort of evergreen post SOMEWHERE at the minimum would be great.

My real goal is to have all of that sort of info on the channel proper, and have it logical and easy to find. I have some thoughts on how to accomplish that.

Situations like this one in particular are special cases because typically I circumvent the confusion by writing it into the script and adding clarity that way. But, cliffhanger. So even though within the next minute or two of the next episode you'd have all of that information..........we're looking at like...weeks or a month away from that actually happening for the audience.

I think where I fucked up this time was that I didn't really consider how we've had issues in Auron's content as well where it's been so long since the establishing of the context, they forget that like...certain events have happened in a specific timespan, and what events then happened after the fact. Currently, Lost & Found is the furthest ahead chronologically, in the Spring-ish of the new year that follows the events of BS3 + Auron's Escape series. It's not unreasonable for folks to have forgotten specifics like that because it has taken literally years for me to get here, so if I had really thought about it, I would have given a little more to work off of and re-establish some of that information.

But, fun fact......I decided to do this particular reveal on a whim. It felt right. I wasn't sure WHAT to do with the audio itself, I knew we'd see Casper's car for the first time, and I thought that Charlie couldn't actually be that dumb. Certainly not if he had enough time to start thinking too much about things. Then I was like......ya know? What if I just...did a little more than I thought I'd be doing with this audio.

There are quite a few bandaids that need to be pulled in terms of reveals and connections leading into Shattered. Felt like the right time for this one, and raise the stakes for everyone by marrying these two particular threads.

I've struggled particularly with how to convey that Auron hasn't been peachy between Christmas and Spring-ish times. I thought about diving right in but realized that people could be thrown off. I thought about adding some context on the front end of Shattered, but we're not quite there yet.

And while the hardcores have caught onto the brief, viney threads that connect Charlie to Auron at this time, being more deliberate about it right now at this time feels good.

I am very amused at the general reaction. So amused, that I wrote the bulk of the next episode last night right after the premiere, because this is too good not to capitalize on. lol

Edit: Forgot to add that I'm aiming to have my timeline solution in place for the Echoes of Evalas drop because we're going to run into the same exact issue with Evalas things. EoE takes place around Shattered in the timeline, but various Evalas spinoffs are years prior. So it's paramount that there is some sort of resource to point people towards. I've been thinking about creating a "Guide to YuuriVoice" playlist that would have a fresh channel trailer, series synopsis, broader timeline clarification, and whatever else might be needed that I can think of. I just need something to be finished for me to go ahead and get that rolling.

[mebiselfandi]

Hi there Meb!!!! It’s your AnonX again 🫶🏻

I can’t tell you how much I love your new work Cerulean. It’s like for the first time I read it, I had to pause in between paragraphs, to look at ins/tumblr/x… for a bit, then continue to read the fic. Since it’s just so good and my brain was too overwhelmed that I had to take a break from it. So I finished my first round of reading in the day and continued to a non-stop second read aww it’s still so good that I can’t stop smiling.

The whole fic gives me a vibe of the song Lucky(Jason Mraz/Colbie Caillat), that light, fluffy, summery sweetness, and PEACHY!

Your characterization of them is so beautiful and realistic. Normally they are happy silly bros in interviews or so, but you see the tenderness behind them and that’s also how I imagine them to be. The softness and desire lying between them is so dynamic, love it!!

The whole fic got that “separation in proximity” feeling, I love your wording! As a non native speaker of English, I also learned some new words and expressions from your work. I really appreciate that aspect of reading fanfics lol

I’m really looking forward to seeing the other Jude Trent you mentioned in your comments, and I’m always looking forward to more!!! Wanna see how they celebrated Jude’s birthday, like Trent making some effort to let the birthday boy do something he normally wouldn’t agree to.

Hope to see you soon, take care. ❤️

Hi anonx🥰❤️

You read it twice?😭😭😭😭😭😭 I adore you sm do you know that? Cryin into my pillow rn. Didn't expect this overwhelming of a reaction to that fic but people seem to love it sm and I really did enjoy writing it cause it's just a love fic, no pesky 'does he love me, does he not' that I usually love to write about. Its my comfort fic (writing wise) so special to me

I don't think I've heard that song before but I am adding it to my playlist rn and I will be listening to it later. Thanks anonx🥰🩷

Don't get me started on the underlying tenderness and desire, I will scream. I have about two teaspoons worth of chill about the way they are with each other. They banter each other sm and yet are the first to defend the other. It's so :(((( my heart ouch

Aw I'm glad you picked up some new phrases and your English is great considering its not your native language. As for my other judetrent fics, I am definitely working on them. Probably the second chap of my last one will be out tomorrow and the next part in the Cerulean series will be out next week. Fingers crossed of course 🤞

Thanks for the comment you're so sweet ilysm hope you're well❤️

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever / Weekend | Tagging @thesingularityseries @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @euryalex @sstewyhosseini @detectivelokis @purplehairsecretlair @jinfromyarikawa @shegetsburned @clicheantagonist @locustandwildhoney @fourlittleseedlings @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @jacobsneed @voidika and anyone with something to share <3

*chanting* Leslie, Leslie, Leslie, babyyy.

Dropping a little snippet from Chapter 10 that totally got hijacked from John (and Sabrina) by Leslie and Calahan, which I find so ironic, because John would SO hate that (payback for butting in with his flashback chapter at the beginning of the WIP, js). Am I living for the chaos these two bring to the table, absolutely. # did someone say bromance?

September 1, 2018 | The night of Joseph Seed's arrest

Leslie sighed as he parked his jeep in front of what could be barely described as a motel. Just as he was promised over the phone, the sign out front announced they had vacancy. It had seen better days, with most of it's letters unlit against the darkening sky. After driving for so long, though, he wasn't going to be picky about the place he'd be catching a few hours of sleep at before heading off to find Sabrina. He had to admit, the County she had chosen to call her new home had an appeal. He could picture himself living here had she accepted his offer, finally given him a chance. It's all in the past now. Friendly visits is all you're getting, Rina. He got out of the vehicle, striding over to the motel's entrance, already feeling beckoned by the promise of a hot shower and actual bed to rest on. He pushed the wooden door open, the bell above it announcing his arrival to the older woman that was standing at the reception. The rustic interior looked far more promising than the outside of the building and he felt a twinge of hope that maybe his night wasn't going to go so bad after all. The feeling was short-lived the moment he was greeted by a sudden loud shriek and series of curses. What the fuck? "I ain't talking to you, get out now! Fucking Seeds. OUT. We're not selling."

Leslie eyed the angry woman in confusion, speaking out in the calm tone he used anytime he'd have to interview a diffucult witness, "M'am, I'm here because I have a reservation." "BULLSHIT. John GODDAMNED Seed has no reservation here. I SAID, GET OUT.", she practically screamed the last words before reaching underneath the reception desk and pulling out a shotgun. The stare she gave him was full of complete loathing, something he had only experienced from suspects to that point, the fact she cocked the weapon didn't help matters. He tried again as pushed his black jacket aside, revealing the detective badge that was attached to his belt, "My name is Leslie Parish. I called about a room few days back, I'm not sure if I spoke with you, m'am…maybe this is why you're confused." Seconds passed by in silence with the woman glaring at him in suspicion before she slapped a hand over her mouth, then let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. I have to say, I confused you with somebody else.", she muttered as she put away the shotgun and Leslie released the breath he was holding in anticipation of a shootout.

"Are you having trouble with someone, m'am? If I can be of any assistance-", he was tired, but not one to ever refuse help to citizens, especially with how on edge the woman seemed. "No. No. It's all just peachy. I'm Abeline, we did speak on the phone, Detective.", she reached out a hand for Les, which he shook. The whole time she eyed his arm with a strange expression. "Glad to hear that. But I have to ask about your extreme reaction…" "Ah, no offense, it's just that you're a dead ringer for a person not liked at all around this parts, so don't get shocked if folks look at ya strange or pull out their guns when you approach.", Abeline pursed her lips as she considered him, "Damn, boy, even your eyes are blue." Why am I not liking any of this? "M'am?" "Don't mind me, silly old me. I'm going to get your room ready, dear, give me five minutes.", she gestured to an old couch by the window overlooking the motel's entrance, "Sit. I will be right back." Leslie took a seat as instructed, finding himself lost in thought as he ran a hand over his dark beard mindlessly, wondering if everyone in the County was that level of direct and trigger happy, and how Sabrina was settling in. It didn't take long for Abeline to return, a cheery smile pointed his way as she came downstairs, though he swore he heard her mutter under her breath, "Something ain't right." "I'm sorry?", he spoke up, set on clearing up whatever was bothering the woman about him once and for all. "Dear, I just have to ask. Are you sure you have no connection to anyone with last name Seed?", her tone was dead serious. "Uh, no, m'am." "Call me Abeline, dear.", she laughed, "No need to be so formal." "Okay.", Les replied as he smoothed down his hair, wishing the strange conversation would be over. I'm too tired for this. "Good, good. I hope you got here without any issues. This is", she dropped an old looking key in his palm and pointed in the direction of the stairs next to the reception, "the key to your room, number's on the tag, you're on the second floor. If you need anything, I will be right here." "Thank you, m- Abeline. Have a nice evening. ", he smiled and grabbed his bag from the floor. "Good night, Detective.", she called out as he climbed up the stairs.

In a couple of minutes, he was unlocking the door to his room and with a sigh he dropped his luggage by the entrance. The space was small, but cozy, with a bed that called his name. He stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster, leaving both on the comforter. The rest of his clothes followed suit until he found himself down to only his boxers and headed off to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water did wonders to his tense muscles after the long drive from Portland. He stepped out way too soon, wrapping a towel around his waist and pattering over to his bag to grab a fresh pair of underwear. In record time, he sorted his belongings, feeling content as he crawled in bed, contemplating how Sabrina would react when she sees him in the morning. Over the last few months, they had managed to stay in touch, even agreed he'd visit her sometimes in the future. Anytime they talked, he couldn't help but hear worry in her voice. It was the reason why when Captain Buchanan offered him to take some of his saved vacation days, he had accepted. He needed to make sure she was actually doing okay, that she wasn't putting on a show for him like she used to back in Portland, always refusing to rely on anyone. Despite his weariness, he found himself unable to drift off, staring at the ceiling for hours in wait for sleep to come. It was then that he heard a plane flying overhead and he looked at his watch in curiosity. "3 am. Who is flying that early? Are we back in the city or what?", he muttered as he stifled a yawn. He turned on his side, staring at the shadows formed from the dim light coming in through the windows. Back in Portland when he would find himself struggling to fall asleep, it was usually Sabrina who kept him company over the phone, another reason why the last few months hadn't been too easy to navigate. He missed the routine they had going, her friendship. Leslie couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had finally drifted off, but the next thing he heard was a loud knock on his door. "Detective. There's a situation.", Abeline's muffled voice carried in from the hallway. "M'am, can't this wait?", He groaned in protest, looking at his watch with blurry eyes. He expected it to be an early morning, but to his shock he realized he had overslept. 2 pm? Fuck. "I'm coming.", he muttered as he dragged himself out of bed and cracked open the door, not even realizing the woman would be getting an eyeful of his bare chest as he peeked outside. "Oh my goodness. I assumed you would be awake, I'm sorry.", Abeline shifted her gaze back to his face with an embarrassed smile. "It's alright.", he rasped out. "I- It's kind of hard to explain, but there's something you might want to see, Detective." Leslie nodded, "Give me some time to get dressed, and I will be right down." "Of course." He closed the door, releasing a tired sigh as he ran a hand over his face in hopes of chasing away the sleepiness that was still lingering. He rushed over to the bathroom to freshen up and quickly got dressed.

As he got back down to the lobby, Abeline was waiting with a steaming mug of coffee. She passed him the cup with shaky hands, "An apology for the rude wake-up call, dear." "Thank you.", he took a sip, feeling grateful for the much needed doze of caffeine, before he asked, "What do I need to see?" She pointed to a TV at the corner of the reception and wordlessly moved behind the desk and turned it on, fidgeting with her fingers as a well-dressed man appeared on the screen. "This is the man I mistook you for, Detective.", she whispered as the stranger spoke of sin and saying yes. He didn't see much resemblance between himself and the man. Leslie rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming, the words coming from the TV certainly made little sense to him. He half-paid attention to the religious ramblings until the man took hold of a woman dressed in law enforcement attire. Her face seemed familiar to him, and to his horror soon, he realized why: he'd seen her in pictures Sabrina had sent him. They worked together. He knew that uniform. Her injuries paired with the distressed look she wore made his blood freeze. "What the hell?", he muttered, getting closer to the TV, his blue gaze glued to it now. "…don't worry, we will come for you. Welcome to Eden's Gate.", were the last words the man spoke before the recording ended, only to begin all over again. "Eden's Gate?", he turned to Abeline, "What is this?" "They're a cult, dear. Have been plaguing the County for ages, but our good old Sheriff couldn't do much about it. The man you saw, John Seed, his brother is the leader. We're used to their propaganda, but this broadcast is different, has been looping all morning." "A cult?", his tone took an incredulous note. Sabrina hadn't mentioned anything to him. Fucking hell, Rina. You were hiding this so I don't worry for you, I know it. "Yes, dear." "That woman… she's a Deputy, is she not?" Abeline nodded, "Joey. Poor girl. I fear how she ended up there. Detective, there's more… all communications are down." Leslie strode over to the landline, picking up the receiver and dealing 911. "Dead. The line is dead.", he whispered. Next, he pulled out his phone, his eyes narrowing at fact he had no service. All of his most recent notifications were from around 3 am, then nothing. "I told you we're cut off. Lost count how many Eden's Gate trucks have been passing by on the road since I woke up." "What are you saying, Abeline?" He abandoned his coffee cup at the desk, reeking a hand through his hair as he paced around the lobby. Worry of the unknown gripped him, fear that Sabrina and her sister were in trouble too. He held his breath, waiting for the woman's reply. "I- I think what we've all been fearing is gonna happen, is happening: Joseph Seed kicking his people into action. That his brother is taking over the region."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, December 28

Ms. Barton: Hey! We're all stuck here, okay? So now let's just sit quietly and, pretend we're reading something until we're really sure that old Commandant Snyder's gone. Then we're all outta here! Xander: Does anyone else wanna marry Ms. Barton? Cordelia: Get in line.

~~Band Candy~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Tradition (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by VeroNyxK84

Midnight Rendezvous (Xander, Angel, NR) by Rivana

Keep Your Friends Close (Xander, Angel, G) by Rivana

Unsighted (Crossover with Psych, G) by Rivana

Family (Xander, Spike, M) by Rivana

Dark Son (Xander, G) by Rivana

You took the words right out of my mouth (Giles/Jenny, G) by Bobbie23

Old Friends (or something like it) (Crossover with Bones, G) by Rivana

Misconcepstions (Crossover with Labyrinth, G) by TheFruitBat

Flowers Among the Morning Dews (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by cawthraven

Beyond Time and Space (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by rkm

Charades (Buffy/Spike, PG) by EllieRose101

The Living (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by temporarytitle

A Peachy Christmas (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by JSBirsa

The Merry Month of Magnus Presents... Take Me Home (Buffy/Spike, PG) by tbd

Sexy December 28th (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Lady Emma

[Chaptered Fiction]

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 6 (Crossover with Teen Titans, T) by dogbertcarroll

For The Dark, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Faith, E) by CharcoalTeeth

La Hija., Chapter 1 (Crossover wtih Smallville, Spanish language, M) by KalK

every city's got a graveyard, Chapter 1 (Crossover with Stranger Things, NR) by hairstevington

Buffy/Angel (Post TV Series), Chapter 1 (Multi, M) by Salvatore_Legacy_2021

Closer, Chapter 73 (Buffy/Spike, R) by all_choseny

Hello, Darling, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Spikelover4ever

Cherry on Top, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxineeden

Last Hurrah, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, R) by ClowniestLivEver

Friend of a Friend's Cousin, Chapter 6 (Crossover with How I Met Your Mother, PG-13) by ClowniestLivEver

The Grapevine, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by ClowniestLivEver

Hi Granny!, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by Desicat

Easy Street, Chapter 5 (Crossover with The Walking Dead, FR18) by Arke

Potter Twins 5: The Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 16 (Crossover with Harry Potter, FR15) by Plato

The Magic of Sunnydale, Chapter 4 (Crossover with Harry Potter, FR15) by Buffyworldbuilder

Xanderpocalypse, Chapter 9 (Multiple crossings, FR15) by AxelBlade

The Prodigal Boyfriend, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by myrabeth

Aftermath, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Rea

The Merry Month of Magnus Presents . . . No Rules, Just Right, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by bookishy

Other, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Grief Counseling

Love Lives Here, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

The Freak Show, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by hulettwyo

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( ͡♥ ͜ʖ ͡♥)---🤖| Buffy the Vampire Slayer 5x15 "I Was Made to Love You" | Normies Group Reaction! by The Normies

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Actually, Cordelia and Xander's Relationship Made Sense on 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' by PopSnippets

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[Fandom Discussions]

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[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

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[bunnypansy]

Welcome to the Cinema!

Here Are A Few Genres You Might Enjoy!

#pansy speaks (my thoughts, feelings, and random things I have to say)

#pansy answers (answering your asks)

#pansy reblogs (things I reblog)

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#ratedNC-17 (NSFW, graphic depictions of dark content)

Film Series

Twisted Wonderland

Obey Me

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Mystic Messenger

The Arcana

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Nu: Carnival

Meet The Director!

Hello, it's nice to meet you! You may call me Pansy or Peachy, I use he/him and bun/bun's pronouns. This blog may not be very active, because I'm busy, but I write when I have time/energy!

Most of my writings will be self indulgent, but feel free to send in requests anyway. I don't typically write for fem readers or FemCs- y'all got enough content -so it's going to be primarily gn reader, or male. I also heavily prefer writing male characters, you're gonna get mostly those unless you request and I'm in the mood.

!!I WILL WRITE DARK CONTENT IF I WANT TO!!

All my writing will have ratings, content warnings, and summaries at the beginning, beyond that you are responsible for your reaction. If I have tagged something incorrectly, please provide a correction in the replies or in messages.

That being said, happy viewing!

Original Works blog; Redd Velvet

[peachym00]

approximately 15 minutes and 19 seconds into 4 Minutes ep 4 and all I have to say is I LOVE how soft spoken Korn is but also why the FUCK didn’t Win put his pants back on when he hid lmao

[umilily]

Hiii it’s Shoey! So sorry for my absence, I’ve been busy with work sadly (ヽ´ω`)

Buuutt I'm here back with my meru rambling teehee, I've been thinking about him and kaname a lot

1) thinks about. kaname at some point waking up and meeting the reader in coffee cups and the absolute mindfuck and shenanigans that happen after. It would either "why are fucking my brother." or he looks up to you? Somewhere in the middle ground? Kana waking up and being back in sync is definitely a pot hole of itself but it's a fun thought

2) hi. bunny meru. been thinking about him again and. Just imagining putting on the outfit he has on or some sort of alternate outfit. It's such an outfit but I think it would be fun to wear ya know? boobs might be a problem but hey and plus himeru yume goes crazy I need to see his reaction to reader putting on the thing

3) do you ever stop and think about how kaname is butterfly coded and oremeru is moth coded. yeah

anyways I'm gonna go night its late here so if these feel lackluster sorry it's the sleepiness getting to me kay byeeeee

- shoe anon

welcome back shoe, good to hear from you <3 i hope you're not too stressed out from your work :)

yesss... rambling! i've been so busy lately, this feels like a real treat. i much prefer to think about kaname and meru than about biochemistry lmao thanks for always sharing your thoughts with me <3

1: “why are you fucking my brother” lmaooo don’t tempt me to actually put that line in a fic. But yeah, I’ve been thinking about that scenario as well. it’s probably the biggest thing I haven’t actually decided on whether I should have that happen in the series or not. It’s so tempting and I have a lot of thoughts on what could happen in that scenario, but also I’m worried that the sheer amount of issues that would arise with that development might be a little too much to properly fit into the format of the series, if that makes any sense. I imagine that Kaname would be very torn between how much he looks up to his brother and being angry about meru just taking over his life and acting like he’s doing Kaname a favour. Between that and meru just being completely overwhelmed by the situation and being too emotionally inept to understand Kaname and act accordingly, I imagine the overall situation in the household to be quite tense with poor reader just stuck in the middle of it and trying to mediate. Because of course meru (being a bit of a control freak) would insist that Kaname moves in with you when he gets discharged from the hospital. Imagine being home alone with that kid while meru is at work and Kaname just constantly switches between singing the highest praises about his brother just to be grumpy the next minute, complaining that his brother treats him like a child and doesn’t take him seriously. Also, consider the following: I think the reader and Kaname would end up getting along just fine and naturally meru is happy about that and it puts his mind at ease to know that his brother isn’t lonely when he himself can’t keep him company. so everything’s just peachy, right? Think again, because when is anything involving these people ever not complicated. i would imagine that once meru thinks about it, he’d actually get jealous (a little or a lot? lol) when he considers that Kaname and him basically look exactly the same and considering the type of person he himself is and how complicated he can be, he starts to worry that reader could ditch him for his little brother. (as if they would ever lol) and of course that trainwreck of a man would not say anything and just bottle it up until he snaps and- well what would happen in that scenario might be a thought for another day (that I may or may not have a WIP about, buried somewhere in my fic folder on google docs lol)

I haven’t given up the hope that we might get some more crumbs on that whole topic soon, so I’ll be a little patient before I actually decide on whether to write about that or not.

2: I feel like if you’d actually wear his clothes secretly and he caught you, he’d try to act annoyed about it like “you’re gonna stretch the fabric” and all, but he’d also find it way too cute to actually be mad and you could tell lmao just imagine trying on the bunny ears and he just comes home and stands there in the door like 🧍‍♂️ when he see you. he’d probably be so embarrassed lol

3: … actually, I’ve never made the moth connection, but now that you point it out, he really is :o if you have any further thoughts on that, please feel free to elaborate, I have to ponder on that for a bit… also: this is a very random thought that is only vaguely connected to this (?) but do you ever think about how most people like butterflies, but at the same time think that moths are creepy? (or is that just the case with the people I encounter?) Anyway, rude! What did moths ever do to them? they’re cute, fuzzy little friends… now I’m thinking about meru in a very fluffy sweater lol

[tender-rosiey]

𝐎𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘? | gojo x f!reader

| pt 7 | - | pt 8 | — [SERIES MASTERLIST]

ᴀ/ɴ: I love writing fluff so much 😫

after that conversation on the roof, another three months had passed and gojo recklessly lost himself in the happiness he feels around you, and forgot about what he was going to confront you about.

but all is well, he is sure he will tell you about it soon and that your reaction will be a bit more mellowed down now.

“so you are trying to tell me that megumi yelled that you’re a kidnapper once because you didn’t get him what he wanted?”

gojo huffs while you laugh, “exactly! he acts like he wasn’t bratty and stuff but OHOHO! he was awful!”

“you properly deserved it anyways,” you snort and he gasp offended.

you are finally at the door of the classroom and gojo opens it for you with a light bow, voice light and teasing, “after you m’lady.”

“don’t mind if I do then,” you say but not without stepping lightly on his shoe making him yelp nonetheless.

the students watch your dynamic in wonder; you both came a long way, not long ago you were at each other’s throat. at least, you were; they noticed the continuous advances their teacher made towards you back then and how you deflect him off with a harsh glare.

but now you indulge him in said antics even if it’s just a little.

“okay so today we are just go do some sparring since there are no missions,” gojo explains before leaning slightly on you and resting his arm on your head, “plus I would like some time with this pretty lady.”

you roll your eyes with a half-hearted scowl, already used to his sweet words and you know better than to believe them, at least for now.

Itadori raises his hand up, “I want to spar with y/n-sensei though!“

“as if! I am the one who will spend time with her. ME ALL ME!” gojo shouts childishly before latching onto you and sticking his tongue out at his student.

Itadori screams accusingly, “YOU HOG HER ALL THE TIME! LET US SPEND SOME TIME WITH HER!”

“YEAH!” nobara shouts, getting in the mood.

the both of the start chanting, “free y/n-sensei! free y/n-sensei!”

while the no-brain duo was fighting with their teacher, you separate yourself from gojo despite his whines and sat beside megumi and started conversing with him.

“I heard you used a domain expansion,” you start and megumi nods, “that’s pretty cool of you; I am proud!” you grin and the boy mutters a small ‘thanks’ with a small hue of pink adorning his cheeks.

however you don’t get time to revel in the conversation because gojo is once again by your side, “you never compliment me when I do my domain expansion!” his lips are jutted out in exaggeration to show how sad he is.

“satoru, you can do it multiple times and you are dubbed the ‘strongest’, aren’t you?” you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, a cheeky smirk adorning your face, “would be quite the disappointment for the great gojo satoru not be able to lay out a domain expansion.”

gojo thoughts seem to zero on what you called him, satoru.

he never thought that his given name could be said so sweetly, but then he remembers your smirk and cheeky words, and pouts; still, at the same time, you make it sound so pretty even with the teasing lit to your tone.

he lets out a content sigh before leaning back onto the chair, he figures that the teasing and challenge you provide him with is one of the reasons he likes you.

after the past months, he has finally come to accept that yes, he has romantic feelings for you. gojo had also learned that in the world he lives in, he needs to take any chance he gets and enjoy what he has.

a life without regrets, that’s what they all dream of.

“sensei, are you okay?” Itadori asks, noticing how unusually quiet his teacher has become.

gojo raises his thumbs up, “peachy!”

megumi grumbles, “what happened to the sparring?”

but the boy figures at least they have the chance to spend some peaceful time full of smiles and free of the toxicity they have to deal with on their missions.

peace is rare in the jujustu society, so rare that it can be a mere fleeting moment. hell some of them never get to experience said peace until their dying moment.

megumi gets elbowed on the back of his head, harshly snapped out of his thoughts, and he glares at the culprit, itadori. the pink haired boy smiles nervously before stuttering out, “I d-didn’t mean to—“ the poor boy doesn’t get to complete his sentence before megumi lunges at him.

you watch in amusement while nobara is screaming with a huge grin on her face, “fight! fight! fight!”

you feel a tap on your shoulder and you look back to see gojo who whispers, “lets get out of here; I have something to show you.”

you look back at the students before placing your hand in gojo’s waiting one and he pulls you giggling like a school girl outside of the school premises.

“brace yourself, sweetheart!”

the sea, he teleported you to a beach. the waves are crashing gently on the shore and the sun is gleaming through the horizon. the sky is painted pink, red and a hint of blue and gojo’s heart is painted a romantic red and white as he sees the smile on your face.

“we’re at the beach!” you shout, kicking your shoes away and taking your socks off. you run, giddily towards the water and squeal in happiness when the water hits your feet.

gojo walks slowly towards you, hands in his pocket before he speaks out, “good thing you took your socks off; if you went in with it, that would make you a totally different type of freak.”

his words cut your moment of joy short causing you to glare at him, “turn your infinity off.”

“it’s basically off with you though, since you can still reach me and everything,” he cockily smiles.

you grumble, “I said turn it off.”

“okay, mommy.”

the response makes you even more sure of your decision as you splash the tall man with water.

“hey! that’s betraying trust!” he yells, laughing.

he, in return, enters the water with you and continuously splashes you with water, and you scream before falling back.

“time out! time out!” you say and he stops, still cautious with a cunning smile on his face.

“aww you cryin’?” he taunts while you move your hair away from your eyes.

you stick your tongue out and he does the same; gojo approaches you and sits down in front of you.

“I hate you so much,” you mumble and he laughs.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you have said that,” he breathes out.

you blink tiredly, and gojo leans to closer to you, “I noticed there is no malice anymore though.”

“do you really hate me, sugar?” he whispers and suddenly the small distance between you both comes to your notice.

the two of you start leaning closer, eyes closing and his hand rests on your cheek gently.

“y/n,” he uttered your name like it’s a sacred prayer, “I need to tell you something.” his eyes meet yours, his blindfold already slipped to his neck, “it’s important and I won’t forgive myself if I do this without telling you this.”

“can I tell you something important first though?” you speak up, averting your eyes.

he nods, deciding it’s better that he would’ve time to organize just how will he deliver it to you.

“fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”

“huh?” he says before you push him away.

“how long were you going to let this play out?”

gojo stands up silently, “so you knew?”

you take your shirt off and squeeze the water out of it, “never thought you could stoop any lower than you were, but yeah I knew.”

“guess I was wrong,” you sigh.

gojo’s hand reaches out for your shoulder, but to his surprise he quickly retracts it only to find a new cut on it, the blood dripping.

“try to get closer to me for information? could’ve just asked, you fucking ass,” you hiss and gojo feels that something more than the cut on his hand is burning.

“I was going to tell you anyway, is that so hard to believe?” he admits in hopes of defusing the situation but to no avail.

you walk to him, “then throw me out and with an infamous line of ‘you should’ve known better than me being actually attached to someone’, right?”

he shakes his head and your eyebrows furrow in disgust.

“you still have the heart to lie? what is wrong with you?!” you yell, your temper and fury finally surfacing.

you give your back to him, “I give you the benefit of the doubt but you go on and stab me in the back?!”

“y/n, it wasn’t the only thing I would say,” he asserts.

you retort, “oh really? were you also going to rub in the fact that I actually gave you a chance?”

“you know I am not like that—“

“I DON’T KNOW YOU!” you scream, with frustration, sadness and anger. they are all emotions that demand tears, but you’ve cried enough and you would be damned if you cried for a man like him.

“I know nothing about you!” you clutch yourself chest, “you are telling me I know you?” you take a breath to steady yourself, “you’ve been nothing but fake and shallow. that’s the only thing I know.”

“If you are wondering when I unraveled your little game, it was two days ago,” you added.

gojo walks towards you but a barrier separates the both of you, one of the many things you mastered of your technique that he oh so wanted to learn about, “I heard nanami and shoko talking about it…how you only started talking to me to learn more about my technique.”

“from now on, this is the last time you get near me. physically or emotionally,” you finally step away, nearing the gate of the beach.

you look back at him, “I’ve always wanted to go see Kyoto in the spring, but you should know that, right?”

the waves are crashing roughly on the shore and the sun is nowhere to be seen. the sky is painted black and dark blue and gojo’s heart is painted with the same colors as he sees your retreating figure.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[ncityrave]

Playing God: Chapter 3

Pairing: Vampire!Lee Jeno x Archaeologist!Reader Genre: Vampire!AU, Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Humor, Angst. Rating: M Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death and dark magic. Profanity. Jeno's a little prick.

Taglist: @sunbaekery, @kaja2016, @nominsgirl, @ncitylover, @thejeongjaehyun, @jungwooisms, @kkakkdugi, @m1ss-foodi3, @floweronacloud, @ryu-naa, @neomorning, @neoboyoftheweek, @lovejustlikemob, @peachie-bear (can't tag).

A/N: I know Jeno doesn't have an English name >.> (that I know of), but what do we feel about "Dominic"? 👁👁

Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Next Chapter

From the dashboard, mountain ranges rose into the skyline. Behind the staggering horizon, the sun peaked out with streaks of red and orange washing over the landscape, warmth flickering along endless waves of white-tipped arches. You tapped your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, bouncing in your seat. Despite the muted chorus of German tunes playing in the background and the roaring of the engine, the car was quiet to your ears. It was funny how someone can make an hour feel much longer with just the right amount of disinterest.

“How’s the flight?” you had asked.

“Fine,” said Dominic.

“Are you tired?”

“No.” You thought you caught his eye twitch.

“Would you like to stop by for food?”

“No.”

How expanded is your vocabulary?

You bit the tip of your tongue, pushing down the desire to rile him up just to get a reaction. Besides, the fear of him mauling you in the car was the only thing forcing you to play nice. Investigators sent to handle these concerns were always not human, the Purgatory Treaty required this.

They had a whole political system running alongside human governments. Executive branches, judiciary departments, legislative divisions. Their civilization lived and breathed akin to your own. Eternal Courts, the highest court of their judicial system, were the ones that oversaw these investigations. Their world relished in order and cohesion. Granted, it was at the expense of extreme social divides among their different species. Your father joked a lot about how their upper class’s pride could overshadow the most arrogant human’s dispositions.

You wondered what he was. A mage? A fay? Perhaps part demon, there were many of them popping up nowadays. Definitely not a Forgemaster—the practice of such magic was forbidden since the Immortal War. You hoped he wasn’t some snob born into old money.

His species wasn’t the only thing that caught your interest. Since finding out about his visit, your mind raced with the possibilities of why he was here in the first place. It wasn’t every day the Courts ordered investigations on human grounds. Add that to the carvings and you had the perfect recipe for sleepless nights.

“Dominic,” you said, breaking the silence once more. “Welcome to Austria. I never got to give you a proper welcome.”

For the first time since getting in the car, he looked over at you. Dominic shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” It's void of any gratitude.

“So…what brings you here?” you tried to probe. It may have been more forward than you intended. He glanced at you knowingly.

“That’s information I can’t disclose.” Hesitantly, you nodded, unable to hide your disappointment.

You can’t say you weren’t expecting it. If there was anything they were good at, it was secrecy and making sure they never had to deal with humans for longer than necessary. They liked to keep to themselves, live amongst themselves, marry within themselves. You’d always known what they thought of your kind: lesser, naive, impotent. You could admit many of those assumptions were true, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t have their own weaknesses. Immortal or not, we all had our secrets.

“Nothing personal, just orders,” he added.

“No, no. Totally get it,” you said. Even to you, it didn’t sound convincing. You tried a different route; maybe buttering him up would serve you well. “It must be cool working on these cases, huh?” You glanced at him with a smirk on your face.

“Excuse me?” He sounded genuinely bothered, looking at you with eyebrows pinched together. Your smirk dropped.

“Because—because, you know, you get to catch bad guys and all. And most of them aren’t even human—”

“If you’re trying to insinuate that my job is ‘cool’ for glamorized stories, then you’re mistaken. It’s dangerous and requires rigorous training and expertise.”

That sounded oddly like a scolding and it only made you tense. Embarrassment crept up your neck in hot waves, rushing in your ears. You aren’t lost to the incredulity laced in his gravelly voice. Perhaps he wasn’t a snob, but he definitely was something.

The hold you had on the steering wheel tightened. You glanced over at him, unsure. Damage control was desperately needed.

“You know, my team and I aren't all work and research all the time,” you stammered. “There's a ski resort nearby. We've been meaning to go and the coming weekend is a great opportunity. Maybe you’d like to join us?”

His reply came quickly as if he already knew his answer. “I’m not interested.”

“Oh...well. Understandable. I’m scared of falling on my face ‘cause I’ve never skied before.” An awkward chuckle pushed out from your chest. He barely seemed amused, and you gulped. “We've gone down to one of the nearest towns and they have this wonderful restaurant that I think you'd like to go to.”

“Maybe.” He looked back out the window. The cabins were close, you could already see the brown roofs peaking underneath the alps.

“You know, I have this co-worker and he likes to keep a whole case of pirated DVDs. We can put on some films. I can’t promise you won’t see any people passing across the screen ‘cause the tapes are recorded straight from the movie theater.” Dominic let out a drawn-out sigh. You cringed; the finger tapping against the wheel quickened.

Well, that was one way to get a reaction out of him.

He forced a smile. It looked like he was in physical pain as he did so. “Not a fan of films.”

“I'm sure we can find some type of activity to relieve any work stress—”

“That won't be necessary.”

The impatience dripped from his voice, tone lowering with every word he spoke. It shut you up. Strangely, it also irritated you. Patience was something you bragged about at Human Resource seminars. The fact that this man already pushed enough of your buttons within a fraction of the time came as a shock. You weren’t exactly sure what was his problem, but you were willing to bet it was much more than jet lag.

Dominic sensed your exasperation. “I don’t need any distractions,” he added with finality, going back to staring out at the mountains.

Feeling no less irked, you shoved down the urge to frown at him. No, frowning was too light a reaction. Scowling would be more appropriate. Still, you tried to keep your face as stoic as possible even if you knew that if he so much as looked at you, he’d see steam coming out of your ears—if he hadn’t already noticed your deathly grip on the gear shift.

The air abated as soon as you arrived at the cabins. It was petty, but you could've wordlessly dashed inside as soon as you pulled back into the driveway and left Dominic to fend for himself. But you stopped yourself, planting your feet right beside him as you helped haul his bags inside. The sun finally made its grand appearance, a thin sheet of clouds riding the lazy breeze. Sunlight shined down and reflected off the sheen of ice on the driveway. The birds greeted the morning with enthusiastic chirping. The earthy smell of wet dirt was thick in your nostrils.

Pulling your jacket closer, you noticed Dominic’s nonchalant attitude about the cold. He barely shivered despite the thin cloth of his attire. He towered over you as you led him to the front door, watching you struggle to find the right key with your shivering fingers and occupied arms.

“Would you like my help?” he asked impatiently, a hand already out. Placing the keys in his palm, you tell him which key to use.

You watched him carefully, noticing a pendant the size of your pinky that seemed to pulsate between the dip of his collarbones—as if it had its own energy. He noticed your lingering gaze and you looked away, up at a flock of birds migrating for the winter. The two of you made your way inside, your body relaxing with the caress of the heater’s warmth. The cabin was quiet; the others were still drifting through their dreams while you quietly led him to his room.

A few minutes later, his bags were haphazardly placed inside the tiny corner room overlooking the mountains. From your place by the door, you could see the opening to the excavation site through his window. Daylight beamed through the glass, reflecting rainbows that sparkled like Christmas lights on the black of his clothes.

“Thank you,” he said curtly, tossing the smallest bag onto the bed. “I’ll join you all once I’m settled.”

Dominic didn’t give you much room to reply, immediately closing the door, and leaving you alone in the hallway. Unsure of what to make of him, you padded towards the kitchen and came face to face with Seungcheol sitting by the counter.

“Good morning,” he greeted, raising a steaming mug towards you.

You let out what sounded like a funny mix of a groan and a sigh. Seungcheol tried to hide his smile, watching you mindlessly wander around the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator without even taking anything.

“Is it too early to ask what's wrong?”

“The investigator dude,” you grumbled, looking around with caution. Something inside you entertained how funny it would've been if you left him all alone at the airport to find a ride on his own.

“What about him?” Seungcheol asked, leaning against the counter.

Shutting the refrigerator door, you strode toward him, lips pressed in a tight line. “Barely smiled at the airport even though I woke up at 4 in the morning for his stupid red-eye flight. Wouldn't talk to me on the car ride back here and if he did, it was only a word. Just one.” Seungcheol nodded along, sipping on his coffee.

“Sounds tough,” he commented casually, watching you wave your hands around in frustration.

“An introduction would have been nice. ‘Hi! Nice to meet you. Thank you for waking up at 4 AM and picking me up from the airport even if you’d rather sleep in.’” Your hand closed on the refrigerator handle one more time, prying it open. Finally, you decided to pull out an apple, and munched on it angrily. “Wouldn’t even tell him why he’s here.”

“He seems like a fun guy.” The glare you sent Seungcheol’s way would’ve had him second-guessing his words if it weren’t for the fact that he’s known much longer than anyone else in the cabin. And because he knew you, he knew this was just the stress finally getting to your head. “You can’t blame him. It’s part of the Treaty, we can’t meddle in their business.”

You frowned. “Why are you siding with him? Side with me!”

Seungcheol laughed. “Because it’s the law. I side with the law.”

“Don’t talk like that. People bend the law all the time and I’m pretty sure tipping us off would grant him the maximum penalty of a slap on the wrist.”

Seungcheol grabbed at another mug, pouring coffee, the faint sound of flowing liquid following. “You look like you need one.”

Reaching out, you took the mug between your fingers. Its warmth drifted along your skin, soothing the chills—akin to the first flames of a bonfire.

In the silence, you started entertaining the thoughts that had been living in your head much longer than Dominic. Leaning onto the counter, you looked down into the dark liquid. “I can’t stop thinking about those markings.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

There was a dense pause. “You know what’s funny? I fought for something like this. When I finally get to it, it’s just…” You shrugged, lips pressed. “I feel like if dad were here to help it wouldn’t be so hard.” The corners of your eyes burned, a common occurrence whenever he was mentioned.

“He’d probably poke at something until it moved and make sure you weren’t stuck in your head.”

“Since when am I not in my head?”

“Exactly my point,” said Seungcheol jokingly. “You two made quite the duo. One with her thoughts in the clouds, the other trying to drag down his own.”

With a sting at your heart, you thought back to your father. Your mother always said you had that same wild look in your eyes he had when he was younger. You guessed that was why he always had to bring you back down to earth.

“If he were here, he’d know what to do.” You brought your arms up, subconsciously hugging yourself.

“Well,” said Seungcheol, walking up to stand beside you, “he would’ve been proud of you. That you should know.”

“I do. I just don’t know if that’s enough.”

“And you are hoping doing the things he didn’t get to do is?”

You tensed. The silence that followed told Seungcheol all he needed to know. No one hated to bring up the topic of your father as much as you did. Maybe if his death wasn’t as painful as it was, you would have eventually learned to let it go, move on like everyone else.

But it wasn't fair. Hearing about your father’s death over a phone call the day after he excitedly told you he was coming home after an expedition broke you in ways you didn't even know were possible.

It was supposed to be a quick project, he said. Soon, he would tell you all about it, he promised.

Looters, you’d been told. Collateral damage. Caught in the crossfire.

You had your backs to the kitchen opening and heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Turning around, you two found Ryujin walking in, hair sticking out and face puffy.

“Good morning,” she yawned. Ryujin sensed the energy in the room, face falling flat. “Is it not a good morning?”

The pendant glowed on Jeno's chest. A soft burning nuzzled against his skin as the necklace conjured up its enchantment, and when Jeno drew the curtains closed its glow instantly faded. Solar Charms were what Jaemin appropriately nicknamed “Vampire SPF.” Charmed by witches, they protected vampires from their most fatal weakness. They were rare, not the type of magic to be sold off to just anybody.

Jeno was surprised when Joohyun chased after him with the pendant between her fingers. A gift, she said, because he needed it more than she did. Also because he was one of the more polite clients she’d encountered. If her warnings were any indication, Jeno didn’t want to know what she did to those who weren’t civil by her standards.

Admittedly, he missed the sun. There were many days he had to stop himself from sneaking a peek at daylight back then. Joan always scolded him for being so reckless. Reckless or in denial of his new life, that was debatable. Either way, he’d never been so thankful to see the sun. Though his corneas that were accustomed to the dark would beg to differ.

A vibration by his pocket shook Jeno back to his senses. Taking his phone out, he saw Donghyuck’s name flash onto the screen. “What?”

“Good to know Joohyun’s Charm wasn't fake.”

Jeno let out a snort. “I think I’d know if a witch was trying to scam me.”

One day, Donghyuck tried to purchase a temporary invisibility potion from an alchemist to play pranks on Jaemin who’d taken from his secret stash of 3 Musketeers. There was less invisibility and more smelling like a fish for an entire month. It cost him well-earned money and his dignity.

Donghyuck let out an irritated groan. “You promised never to bring that up again.”

Jeno brought a finger to the curtains, pushing the fabric aside. He could already see people getting on with the work for the day. Hard hats on their heads; shovels over their shoulders and toolboxes heavy at their sides. “Correction, you whined about us not bringing it up. We never agreed to anything.”

Donghyuck huffed out and Jeno could imagine the disgruntled look on his face. “Besides the point. How’s your business trip?”

“White,” Jeno answered. He moved back from the window, brought his bags into the closet adjacent to the bed, and unpacked his belongings. “The accommodation is…subpar.”

“You say that as if we’ve had enough experience traveling, to begin with.”

Jeno smiled at that. “I think I have the right to judge.”

“Remember, you’re not there to ski down slopes and make friends with the locals.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Jeno grunted, struggling to unload his suitcases with one hand.

Static is all Jeno heard for a few fleeting seconds that he thought Donghyuck dropped the call. But as his fingers almost pressed down onto the Disconnect button, he heard his friend speak up again. This time, with fear in his voice.

“Chenle’s really worried about those markings.”

Jeno froze in place. Chenle has lived long enough to experience every ugly wart that bloomed with passing time. Barbarities that stayed as permanent and disturbing as hot iron brandings. There weren’t many things that worried Chenle, much less scared him. He had the powers and people to deal with hassles and gadflies without much effort. The fact that Chenle was restless over those markings had everyone in their group on edge.

“Nothing gets past him. His worry is sensible.”

“Do you think his hunch is right?” Donghyuck asked. His phone barely caught the whisper. “Do you think it’s the Brotherhood?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Donghyuck exhaled. “The Charter’s been keeping more contact with him recently.”

The Charter—what humans would identify as a government to their species. Aggravating, the lot of them. As you would expect from any other source of authority. Jeno wasn’t their biggest fan, but he had needed to butter them up to be given permission to investigate.

“They should try taking cases on their own if they want quick results,” said Jeno through clenched teeth.

“I’m surprised they even allowed you to go.”

“Well, they can’t make an example out of delinquents if someone’s not doing the dirty work for them,” Jeno grunted.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asked, sensing his friend struggling. Jeno was fighting with a caught zipper. The damn bag refused to open.

“Stupid bag won’t open,” Jeno whined. He heard Donghyuck let out a hefty sigh.

“For a moment, I thought Joohyun’s Charm was a hoax.”

“You flatter me with your concern,” Jeno replied sarcastically. “Again, I trust Joohyun not to turn me into cat bait for an entire month.”

“You know what?” Donghyuck started, voice rising a few octaves. “I called you to wish you well, but I’m sensing a lot of hostility.”

“It's the jet lag.” A smile formed on Jeno’s lips.

“Ha-ha. What an excuse.” Donghyuck fell silent again, and Jeno waited patiently. “Be careful.”

Donghyuck liked to treat most things as a game. For a great portion of his life, he was always the designated immature one among his siblings, friends, peers. Even if turning forced him to grow up, Donghyuck held onto the one human thing he had left: humor. You could take away everything from him, but he’ll find a way to get the last laugh. For the first time in many years, Donghyuck didn’t want to laugh. He wanted to care. And worry.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jeno reassured. “We’ve dealt with greater things before.”

“And it nearly killed us.”

“It's different now.” Jeno wasn't sure how else he could quell Donghyuck’s worry except to reassure him that the worst had already passed them.

“I hope so.” Another pause, as if Donghyuck hesitated. “Anyway, I’m required elsewhere.”

Jeno laughed. “Yes, I'll be in communication with you soon,” Donghyuck said a quick goodbye before dropping the line, but his words remained heavy in the air. The Brotherhood.

When Carmilla died, Jeno feared that he’d spend the rest of his life running through forests and ducking under bridges. Her hold was far-reaching and there was only so much mileage he could cover before circling back into Doyoung’s merciless grip. Donghyuck and Jeno barely escaped within half an inch of their lives when they ended up cornered by a night creature thrice their combined size. With Jeno dilapidated and Donghyuck lethargic from going so long without feeding, the two were ready to let the monster sink its teeth into their flesh and call it a day. Luckily, Minhyung and Jaemin appeared just in the nick of time.

“I rescued your whiny, grumpy, I’m-too-strong-to-be-saved ass,” Jaemin would always tell him. Though it annoyed Jeno that they never let him live it down, he remained grateful for them.

The four trekked across the Korean peninsula, sleeping in caves or renting questionable accommodations with moldy doors and pest-infested rooms. There was a time they snuck into a farm for shelter. To say sharing a room with a cow that had a perpetual case of farting was the absolute worst experience Jeno ever had aside from nearly dying would be saying too little. Yet, they persisted because at the northern borders awaited allies.

Locating China was the least of their worries when night creatures roamed the land; so they were quick and stealthy, finally reaching their destination—all limbs accounted for. Renjun was the first to greet them at the border and he quickly brought them to a rundown home where Chenle, Qian Kun, and Xiao Dejun waited with clean clothing, comfortable bedding, and fresh blood. The four had weakened significantly on their travels and gulped down the liquid until their stomachs ached. The war had them all weak and doubtful. Not that that was the only dilemma they had to face.

The underworld split between mourning the loss of the vampirette or celebrating it. Carmilla left a gaping power vacuum in her wake and alongside it the question of who would step up and fill that void and it was clear as daylight to Jeno what they needed to do: make sure to never let someone like her rise to power. Jeno didn’t need to do much to convince his companions.

Over the years, vampires who hadn’t been blinded by pride and greed made sure to keep the fine line of the immortal and human world at an equilibrium. Many joined them soon after, seeking the one thing that everyone lost in the war: stability. But like gravity keeping us from soaring, there was a malicious tug that wanted to continue what Carmilla started.

They called themselves the Brotherhood. Lee Yongqin, Dong Sicheng, and Wong Kunhang were its generals from China. Lee Taeyong, Moon Taeil, and Jeong Jaehyun from Korea joined them soon after. They greased the circle’s ruinous gears, made sure its maniacal machinery flowed smoothly. Kim Doyoung watched from atop like some tyrant.

The Brotherhood was a malignant cancer to the world; a group of vampires, demons, and Forgemasters who held close to the belief that they had a given right to rule over societies far and wide. They took Carmilla’s blueprint and made it their own—impossibly more twisted. Maybe even the Devil would have cowered at their feet.

Jeno and his colleagues had endured the waves and downpour the Brotherhood brought to their corridors for centuries now. For the most part, they faced their schemes like a seawall successfully weathering wave after crashing wave. But even the sturdiest of barricades would eventually crumble to a great storm, it was only a matter of time.

If looks could kill, you were positive Dominic would drop to the floor at any given moment. Across from you, he seemed so unbothered, so entertained by Minghao’s company. Then again, it was Minghao and he could make a story of goldfish swimming around in its tiny fish bowl the most entertaining thing in the world. Suddenly, Dominic let out a small laugh.

The bastard actually knew how to laugh.

You weren’t sure if that should annoy you more or provide some form of relief. All you knew was you were watching them from your place at the table like some creep. To make matters worse, you thought you could confide in Sooyoung about his unsociable demeanor, but she couldn’t find any ounce of reason to glare at him the way you did—like some stubborn spot of dirt on a newly cleaned window.

“He’s been here less than a day,” said Sooyoung. She nudged your side and took a seat by you.

Refusing to take your eyes off him, you leaned over so she could catch your whisper. “There’s just something about him…”

“You say that about all people you meet. You told me you didn’t want to talk to me at first because I walked too slow.”

You turned towards her. “Still do.”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes. “Passive aggression won’t make things easier.”

“Maybe. But it can make things more entertaining.”

“What happened to ‘no workplace conflict’?”

“This is different. He’s…not a coworker.” A shallow chuckle bubbled out of Sooyoung’s chest. Still, she looked down at you with a look in her eyes. You knew her well enough to know exactly what it meant. It was the type of look an older sister would give their younger sibling seconds before a scolding.

“You’ll get him out of your hair soon; fighting him won’t help.”

By the time it took your mind to come up with a snarky comment, you noticed Dominic making his way towards you both. Gone was the relaxed look that grazed his features. It had morphed into a more serious expression, eyes trained on you.

“May I speak with you?” His gaze fleeted over Sooyoung. “Privately.”

The door clicked behind you as soon as you both reached the office. Light leaked from behind the blinds in striped patterns, barely illuminating the room. You heard the soft lull of conversation floating through the cracks of the door. A hand reached up to flick open the lightbulbs, eyes straining as your sight adjusted.

“Minghao has a great lot of stories,” he said, humor light in his voice.

“He’s the one with the DVDs,” you replied. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay so far.” You tried to make it sound more casual than monotonous, but the efforts were ill-fated.

Dominic inserted his hands in his pockets, looking around the office. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, mountains are usually cold, especially since it’s almost winter,” you replied sarcastically. When he looked up, you quickly put on a sweet smile. Dominic saw right through it, jaw tensing. You walked to your table, lowering yourself on the chair. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Dominic didn’t waste any time on exposition. “I need as much information on the site as possible. Operations in the past weeks; artifacts found; names on the team.”

“You don't get to come to my site and demand all these things without giving me a little context as to why you’re here,” you sputtered. It was supposed to be an act of protest. Although the waver in your voice barely made it sound like defiance, more like a prepubescent boy quarreling with a parent.

He looked at you earnestly. “I wasn't asking.”

You brought your hands in front of you, palms flat on the surface of your desk, and leaned forward. “You must be fun at parties.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said impatiently. “Again, information I can’t disclose.”

“If it’s on my site with my team, I think I have the right to know,” you insisted. Dominic stayed silent. “Okay then,” you sighed. Crossing your arms over your chest, you took in his stature with a bored look on your face.

He chuckled. “You're not getting anything from me if your main goal is to negotiate some exchange. If you don't remember, I work under the Charter’s orders. Not yours.”

You heard the obstinacy in his voice: solid, staunch, there. Wendy must have warned whoever he answered to about your own bullheadedness—not that you wanted to spare him any pity. He matched your tenacious determination, his gaze never shaking.

Eventually, you realized you were doing neither of you a favor. Beyond that, you were messing with an investigation and God knows how the Charter deals with those kinds of people. You didn’t need more reason for this project to stray any further away.

“Fine.”

Begrudgingly, you got up and walked towards the line of metal drawers against the wall behind you. Metal scraped against metal with a sharp scratch as you opened one drawer, and flipped through the folders organized inside. You turned to Dominic, a thick stack of papers in your arms, and made your way back to the desk. The files dropped to the table with a heavy thump.

“These are our records of all the things we’ve recovered. Books, dinnerware, jewelry, even some articles of clothing that didn’t get completely obliterated during the explosion.” You caught the twitch of his nose but continued. “Most of them are still going through lab work, so I can’t guarantee I can give you any more than pictures for the meantime.”

“This will do,” said Dominic. You looked up at him impatiently. “What?”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Dominic rolled his eyes, licking his lips before forcing out a hoarse “thank you.” It’s the most unenthusiastic expression of thanks you had ever heard.

Your feet brought you back to the drawers, busying yourself by mindlessly flipping through Sooyoung’s obnoxiously color-coded organizer to get away from the musky scent of his perfume. Neither of you spoke, moments passing by in silence.

“Have there been any carvings by chance?” he asked.

At once, it was like all the air in the room pressed against your chest. Your heart squeezed, afraid even the slightest movement would send tremors down your back. Dominic waited, fingers pausing by a photo of a mangled night creature’s remains.

You slammed the drawer shut, a loud bang resounding through the room. You hadn’t included those photos in the official reports yet—not when Yeri still had no answer to what language those markings were in—meaning the photos weren’t in the pile you gave him. How did he know?

“Why?” It came out shaky.

The suspicion in your voice was palpable. So thick in the air, Dominic could almost feel it against his calloused fingertips. His expression faltered, not expecting your response. Quickly, he forced his face to harden.

“I guess that answers my question,” he replied snarkily, cocking his head to the side.

The word rose instantly, threatening to tip over your tongue.

Asshole.

At the last minute, you tempered your tone with the tiniest drop of patience. “Yeah, whatever. Why are you interested?”

You walked around the table, meeting him eye-to-eye, hands squarely on your hips. His gaze remained stern, unwavering. He huffed out his chest. Some lame show of dominance that would’ve had you laughing if the look on his face didn’t shake you. Eyes as bottomless as midnight waters looked down at you, challenging you.

After a slight hesitation, Dominic spoke before you could. “If it's any consolation, it's nothing serious. You're all safe if that's your concern.”

His words were calculated, intentional. Like some script he had practiced just for you. You laughed at him.

“You'll protect us, won't you, Lee?” It's a jab. A silly little tease to throw him off his high horse. But his stare wavered. It was so quick. So fleeting. You almost thought you imagined it, but you didn’t have much time to think it over. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived. Dominic was back to his brash disposition in a flash.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Your back tensed, pinpricks running down your arms. You thought he maxed out his ability to make your blood boil for the day. It appeared he could do so much more with just one word.

At that instant, you realized three things.

One, you hated being called sweetheart.

Two, Dominic knew something about those carvings.

Three, you were determined to pull it out of him one way or another.

© NCITYRAVE. All rights reserved.

Thank you so much for reading this fanfiction! I hope you enjoyed it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't be afraid to send in critique or comments, it's my biggest motivation to keep writing these stories. 💖

[serenityseventeen]

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― One last thing...↓

If you're having trouble finding something, I'll recommend these (my favorites of 2021):

"Starry Sea in a Healing Cocktail" | "Peachy Romance by the Blossoming Waves" - barista!wonwoo

"I'm in Love With Someone Else" - neighbor!potter!joshua & bf!taekwondo athlete!seungcheol

The Last Day of Summer With You (ot13 imagine series)

"I'm still in love with you" | "I'm still in love with you (2)" - taekwondo athlete!seungcheol

"Man in a Movie (1)" | "Man in a Movie (2)" | "Man in a Movie (3)" | "Man in a Movie (4)" | "Man in a Movie: Epilogue" - ceo!chan

- ♪ serenityseventeen...

[plant-flwrs]

plant-flwrs masterlist!

updated immediately after a new fic is posted.

requests are temporarily closed

some guidelines: 

pronouns 

no incest/george x fred x reader

 no professor x student pairings

i write for just about any character in the hp universe, but if you’d like to make sure, just send an ask!

smut is marked with an asterisk (*)

HARRY POTTER - golden trio era

Fred Weasley:

House Unity: Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

Smiling Kisses: (requested) Your flirtatious friendship with Fred is taken to the next level after he tries to kiss you at breakfast.

Roller Skates: (requested)  The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

The Missing Piece: (requested) Fred with a bookworm, introverted reader

Rivalries As Old As Time: (requested)  Fred and George are usually united on everything, but Fred’s crush on Draco Malfoy’s sister is definitely something they disagree on.

Heart Of Glass:  (requested)  Fred broke up with you just before the war, and when he couldn’t find you after the battle cleared he thought you died. You’re alive and well, living as a celebrity among the muggle world. One night reunites you two, and neither of you can deny the feelings that spark.

Never Too Old For Fun: (requested)  Fred is caught in your snowball fight, and he can’t stop thinking about you afterwards.

Insecurities: (requested) You and Fred are hopelessly in love with each other, but you don’t believe him when he finally admits it.

The Bookshop: (requested) Fred discovers a quaint little bookshop with a gorgeous owner, who happens to be a Longbottom.

Bets Off: (requested) Fred makes a bet with George that entails fake dating you for at least a month. He never expected to fall in love with you.

Weasley Family Christmas Photos:  You’re included on the traditional Weasley family Christmas pictures.

The Map’s Findings: (requested) Harry and Ron think they’ve discovered a secret relationship between you and Fred. Little do they know, they’ve just been clueless to the obvious romance all around them.

Undetachable: (requested) Fred protects you during Bill and Fleur’s wedding

Lacquer: Fred asks you to paint his nails

Ruined Parties: Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

Romeo and Juliet: Fred reads Romeo and Juliet and can’t help but fall in love.

George Weasley:

Sweet Treats: (requested) Stumbling into the kitchens late at night, thinking he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, he came across you. George realized you were exactly what he had been looking for.

Budding Romance: (requested)  George needs a tutor for Herbology, but has no plans on learning.

The Yule Ball: (requested)  “You didn’t want anything to do with this ball if George wasn’t with you, hell you didn’t want anything to do with life if George wasn’t with you.”

Drama: (requested)  You and Cho Chang never got along, and when push comes to shove, George gets to see just how angry you can get.

Studying: (requested)  Exams are stressing you out, but George always seems to be there to help you relax.

Mischief: (requested)  George falls for the mischievous pureblood Slytherin who couldn’t care less about blood status.

Family Is Complicated: (requested) The Weasley’s have never liked George’s girlfriend, and one snide remark makes George finally lose it.

Similar Shadows: (requested)  Living in the Malfoy shadow conditioned you to behave a certain way, avoid certain things. But, once your able to use the Quidditch pitch to finally prove you are something different than your last name, everything seems to fall into place. You even catch a certain Weasley’s eye.

Flushed: (requested)  George’s girlfriend never blushes, and it’s all he wants to see.

Essays Can Wait: (requested) George is just too cute to ignore, even if he’s trying to distract you from two huge essays.

Coward: (requested) George asks Alicia to the ball when he really wanted to ask you, but he makes it up to you.

Cat Person: (requested) You tell George you’re an animagus

*Late Night Rendezvous:  You and George sneak off to the library for some privacy *

A Secret Santa Proposal: George gets you the perfect secret Santa gift

Hedonism in High School: George Weasley joins your study group, even though he doesn’t need the studying.

Draco Malfoy:

Cologne: You smell Draco’s cologne in your Amortentia, and he notices your reaction.

Three’s a Crowd: sequel to Cologne! Cedric Diggory takes notice when Draco hasn’t officially asked you to the Yule Ball. Cedric only wants to make sure you don’t go alone ;)

Peachy:  Draco has always liked you, he just didn’t realize how much until you turned up to class with a hickey he didn’t give you.

Drunk: (requested) You and Draco are enemies until one drunken night leads to a confession of secret feelings.

Christmas Parties: You help Draco through his nerves about one of his parents’ Christmas parties.

Ruined Parties: Older brother Draco! (not romantic) Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

Ginny Weasley:

Sun: Six years of being in love with Ginny Weasley. Watching her date boys and capture the attention of Harry Potter. Eventually, confessions are the only things left.

Luna Lovegood:  

Picnic:  Luna surprises you with a picnic.

Exploration: (requested) Luna helps you explore your feminine side.

Hermione Granger:

Library Confessions: (requested)  Hermione overhears you confessing your feelings about her.

Neville Longbottom:

Secret Admirer: (requested)  Your secret admirer also turns out to be your Herbology tutor.

Misc:

The Teenage Girl at 12 Grimmauld Place: Sirius has an overdramatic daughter who can’t help but interrupt The Order’s meeting.

Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley:

Dreams Come True: Hermione felt like her feelings for Ginny wouldn't be a problem. She could manage. Until she had to spend the summer at the burrow.

HARRY POTTER - marauders era

Remus Lupin:

Under The Mistletoe: (requested)  Staying at Hogwarts for the holidays seemed like the best way to avoid distractions, but with the Marauders there, distractions are guaranteed. Especially when your crush on Remus proves to be incredibly distracting.

Wolfstar (Remus Lupin/Sirius Black):

Will The World Burn?:  Remus and Sirius and their blissful life surrounded by books, tea, rain, crumpled bedsheets, and each other.

Eternal Spring (Series Masterlist): Remus was fine being alone until a mysterious and loud man crashes his motorbike into Remus’ life.

Misc:

New Years Eve at The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters:   The Order of The Phoenix celebrates the new year.

Puppy Dog Eyes: James uses Padfoot in a failed attempt at flirting with you.