#there are a few of them that volunteered as well

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[mssorceressupreme]

Wanna Be Yours | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: helping a younger student resulted in you and the first-year walking into a prank not meant for you, and as you do so, you catch Fred's attention. the next day he tries to apologise with another prank and it backfires, but this only resulted in him falling even harder for you, he just knew wanted to be yours.

Warnings/tags: hufflepuff!reader (well it suits anyone really :D), love at first sight, he fell first and HARD, fred needs you so bad, pranks gone wrong, teasing, fluffy and cute, fred's a simp a/n: inspired by "Wanna be Yours by Arctic Monkeys"

———

The courtyard was alive with the soft hum of spring—branches swaying in the breeze, birds chirping from the castle walls, and a few students milling about on the cobblestones. Fred crouched behind a large stone pillar, his mischievous grin matching the one plastered across his twin’s face.

Huddled in a corner, the four of them—Fred, George, Lee and Oliver, were planning a revenge prank on Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy for their obnoxious antics during the Quidditch match earlier.

“Are you sure about this?” Oliver Wood asked, trying to sound stern but failing as he bit back a chuckle.

Malfoy had spent most of the game taunting Harry, and Flint’s borderline dirty play had cost Gryffindor two near-goals. That didn’t sit well with Fred and George, so what better way to get back at them than with a prank.

“Hundred percent.” Fred said, smirking as he held up a pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. “Alright, we rig this near the tree. As soon as they walk by, poof! Total chaos. Then, George, you release the Dungbombs—”

“Already got ‘em primed,” George said, patting his pocket with a devilish grin.

“Don't forget the slime and feathers!” Lee added, holding up a jar of fluorescent green goop in one hand, and a bag of feathers in the other.

Oliver, who had reluctantly joined but couldn’t resist some payback, frowned. “Let’s make sure they’re the only ones who get caught in this mess though, yeah?”

“Relax Wood,” Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s a foolproof plan. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Trust us,” George said, “We’ve calculated everything.”

“Right,” Lee affirmed, “It's simple charm, a bit of instant darkness powder, and—bam! Feathers, slime, and a nice little puff of stink powder for good measure.”

George cackled, clapping his twin on the back. “Beautiful. They’ll be too busy cleaning slime and plucking feathers off their robes to bother us for weeks.”

“That's what they deserve for acting like twits during the match.” Lee chimed in. "S'pose they do deserve it." Oliver chuckled, his reluctance turning into enthusiasm.

The trap was simple but effective: a hidden tripwire enchanted to release darkness powder, then a rain of slime and feathers from above, followed by the dungbombs. All they had to do now was wait for their targets. "Now, they're supposed to walk pass here any moment..." Fred told the others, as the four of them watched eagerly.

Fred’s eyes glinted as he nodded toward the enchanted tripwire stretched across the cobblestones, ready to unleash chaos on Flint and Malfoy the moment they stepped on it.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't.

From behind a stone archway, you appeared with a small Ravenclaw first-year in tow.

It wasn’t Malfoy or Flint who walked into the courtyard first.

It was you.

You were laughing softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth as you guided a nervous-looking first-year Ravenclaw girl who clutched her books tightly to their chest. The poor kid had taken a wrong turn, and you volunteered to show her the way to the library.

In your arms, you helped carry some of her load, making it easier for the first-year.

“Don’t worry,” you were saying, your voice kind and steady. “The library isn’t far. Just through the next hall and up the staircase."

Fred’s eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. He didn’t hear anything else. It was like the world had narrowed to just you—the way your hair caught the sunlight, the easy grace in your step, and the way your smile seemed to light up the entire courtyard.

How had he not noticed you before?

“Is Fred broken?” George whispered to Lee.

“Looks like it. Never seen him go this quiet before,” Lee replied, smirking.

Oliver elbowed Fred, snapping him out of his trance. “Mate, you’re staring.”

“Shut up,” Fred muttered, his eyes never leaving you.

"Who is she?..." He continued, holding true to Oliver's statement.

“Who?” Lee asked, following his gaze. He snorted when he saw you. “Her? Oh no. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Fred.”

Fred didn’t respond. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you but he was quickly snapped out of his trance as you approached the tree.

Oh shit. "Not the tree, don't walk past the tree..." He muttered to himself, hoping you would somehow magically hear him.

It was no use. Disaster struck.

You were met with instant darkness, coughing slightly as the powder released a thick fog around you and the first year.

Before you could grasp the full situation, a torrent of green slime and feathers rained down from above, coating you and the first-year from head to toe. The Dungbombs exploded seconds later, filling the courtyard with an awful stench.

The first-year yelped, clutching her books as the slime dripped down her robes. You froze for a moment, stunned, before shaking your head with a soft laugh.

Fred winced, guilt twisting in his chest.

“Oops,” George muttered, though he didn’t sound all that sorry.

Lee burst out laughing, "Merlin, did we just traumatise a first year?!"

“Poor kid,” Oliver said, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Fred, however, barely heard them. He was too busy watching you. Instead of panicking or getting angry, you crouched down immediately, brushing feathers off the first-year’s face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said gently, your voice soothing. “It’s just a bit of slime and feathers. Another tip, beware of silly pranks, it's all part and parcel of the Hogwarts culture." You comfort the kid, trying to lighten the situation by laughing softly, "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

The first-year nodded, her lower lip trembling, and you smiled, guiding her toward a nearby fountain.

Fred couldn’t stop staring. He didn't know who you were, but he did know this, he wanted to be yours.

You were covered in slime and feathers, an absolute mess, yet you still looked radiant.

There was something about the way you put the first-year first, your patience and kindness shining through, that made his heart thud in the best way.

You helped her cleaned as much as you could off her robes, murmuring reassurances the entire time before chanting, "Scourgify!", instantly her robes were as good as new.

Only after she was cleaned up did you finally turn your attention to yourself. With the help of the cleaning spell, the feathers were out of your hair and the slime off your sleeves in no time.

“Merlin! Fred, you’ve got it bad,” Lee said, smirking.

“Oh, leave him,” George teased. “He’s clearly in love.” Fred’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t care. For once, he was speechless.

“How come I’ve never noticed her before?” The red head murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He was certain he would’ve remembered someone like you. “Maybe because you’re too busy pranking people,” Oliver said dryly. "Who is she?" Fred asked, ignoring Oliver's remark. "Seen her around a couple of times, especially in the library, she's in Ron's year." Oliver hummed, watching as you conversed with the first-year.

“That explains it,” George quipped. “She’s too smart to bother with Fred’s idiocy.”

Fred scowled, but his gaze remained fixed on you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, and he felt like everyone had disappeared, you were the only one in sight, to him.

He knew he had to make this right. He needed an excuse to approach you. Right! An apology. And of course, he had to impress you.

The Ravenclaw girl finally gave a small laugh as you finished off explaining the pranking culture at Hogwarts. “Thank you, I-..I think I know my way to the library from here now.” she said softly before hurrying off. ___

The next day, Fred had a plan. A proper one.

Breakfast in the Great Hall hummed with the usual morning chaos: the clink of cutlery, the murmur of conversation, and the occasional bursts of laughter from each houses' table.

Fred stood at the entrance, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of enchanted flowers—slime-free this time—that were charmed to sing a cheerful apology tune when presented.

He wiped his palm against his robes for what felt like the hundredth time. “This is foolproof,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“You say that every time,” George pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. He nudged Lee, who was barely containing his laughter. “What do you reckon? Will he get through two words before tripping over himself?”

“Five Galleons says he’ll combust,” Lee said, grinning.

“Will you two shut it?” Fred snapped, though the tips of his ears turned red. “This is serious.”

“Serious,” George repeated, mocking Fred’s tone. “You’re holding a singing bouquet, mate. Nothing about this screams ‘serious.’”

“Just watch,” Fred said, his voice low but determined.

That’s when you walked in, and Fred’s stomach flipped.

You were laughing as you entered, your head tilted toward one of your friends. That laugh—light, carefree, and far too distracting—was etched into Fred’s memory, playing on a loop since the previous day.

The sunlight streaming through the tall windows hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your smile. You were radiant.

Fred’s heart thumped in his chest as he stepped forward, the bouquet held out like a peace offering. “Hey!” he called, catching your attention.

You turned to him, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Yes?” you said, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a curious smile. What did he want from you?

Fred grinned, his confidence teetering on the edge of unraveling. “Listen, about yesterday—”

But before he could finish, the bouquet let out a sudden pop. A puff of pink smoke erupted, followed by an earsplittingly off-key version of “I’m Sorry About The Slime” that echoed through the Great Hall.

Fred barely had time to react before the bouquet detonated in a second burst, showering him in glitter and knocking him flat on his back.

The Hall erupted into laughter.

Fred groaned, staring at the enchanted ceiling, which now looked even farther away than usual. He could hear George’s loud, obnoxious cackling somewhere to his left.

“Five Galleons,” Lee said smugly.

Fred grimaced, but before he could even begin to think about recovering, a familiar voice broke through the laughter.

“Guess I’m not the only casualty this time.”

Fred turned his head, blinking in disbelief. You had flopped down beside him, lying flat on your back on the floor as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Glitter sparkled in your hair, and your grin was wide and unapologetic.

“What are you doing?” Fred asked, his voice caught somewhere between bewilderment and awe.

“Making sure you’re not the only one who looks ridiculous,” you replied, shrugging as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s only fair.”

Fred let out a breathless laugh, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “You’re mental.” But he loved it.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, glancing at him with a teasing smile.

From across the Hall, George shouted, “Right on, Romeooo!!” His voice was exaggerated and dramatic, and Fred could practically feel the heat rising in his face.

“Oi shut it, George!” Fred yelled, though his tone lacked bite.

You laughed again, and Fred swore his heart might actually burst. “You’ve got quite the fan club,” you said, gesturing toward the group of students, particularly, Fred's 'boys', who were now openly watching the scene unfold and chortling.

“They’re a bunch of idiots,” Fred muttered, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You know,” you said thoughtfully, “for someone who’s usually so good at pranks, this was a spectacular disaster.”

Fred groaned, running a hand through his now glitter-covered hair. “Tell me about it.”

“But,” you added, your voice softening, “I appreciate the effort and the apology.”

Fred looked at you, his heart stuttering. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “And between you and me, I think you pull off the glitter look better than anyone else here.”

Fred laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and for a moment, the rest of the hall faded away. “I reckon you pull it off better than I do.”

“Why thank you, it's actually my dream to be covered in glitter. Shining as bright as a quidditch trophy is the goal." You joked, but Fred smiled warmly.

You do shine bright, he thought.

As you stood up, you reached out a hand to help him up. Fred took it without hesitation, warmth spreading through him at the simple gesture.

“Come on, glitter boy,” you said, your tone teasing but fond. “Let’s get you sitting somewhere before you injure yourself again.”

Fred let you lead him to a bench at the side of the hall, his hand still tingling from where yours had been.

As you both sat down, he turned to face you, his usual confidence returning in a slow, steady wave, “I’m Fred, by the way."

You laughed, tucking a strand of glitter-dusted hair behind your ear. “I know. You and George are kind of hard to miss.”

Fred’s grin widened, his chest fluttering at the sound of your laugh. “Yeah? Well, you’re kind of hard to forget...uh?" As if on cue, you told him your name. "Y/N." You smiled. "Y/N..." He repeated back, how fitting, a pretty name for a pretty girl.

Your eyes softened, and for a moment, you studied Fred's features. He did the same, glancing at your lips occasionally.

You'd always seen him from afar, to you he was just a prankster, a jokester, busy with his schemes, you'd never thought you'd actually come face to face with him.

But now that you did, you saw him in a different light, almost.

“If this is how you usually apologise,” you said, your voice light again, “I’m scared to see what happens when you’re not sorry.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “Stick around, and I’ll show you.”

You leaned back slightly, your smile lingering. “I just might.”

And in that moment, Fred knew—he didn’t just want to impress you. He wanted you, all of you, your wit, your laughter, your sparkling eyes.

He just wanted to be yours.

[hazbinshusk]

husk x afab!reader. when the weather in pride turns suddenly antarctic, the residents of the hotel are left shivering and scrambling for better heating. you and husk however decide to sequester yourselves in your room, sharing personal space for the sake of body heat out of the prying eyes of your friends. and, well, can anyone blame you when things get a little... physical?

my dear @jazziesanura requested some cold weather cuddlefucking, and while I'm sweating to death down in aus, I'm more than happy to indulge my mutuals :) 2.3k.

featuring: a lot of fluff and smut, penetrative sex, alcohol.

“Oh, before I forget; I’ve got to call my ex later,”  you say idly, crossing the bedroom with two heavy-bottomed glasses of whiskey in hand. Husk quirks an eyebrow up at you curiously, a soft mrrp escaping him. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, his hat resting on top of the lamp on your bedside table. “We’re getting back together.”

Husk’s brow furrows even as he accepts one of the glasses from you, claws making a quiet tink against it. “What?”

You smile, nodding towards the ice-sheened window. “Because Hell has officially frozen over.”

Husk snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Cute.”

“Thank you,” you reply perkily, taking a sip of your drink. You can’t taste the notes of ‘green apple and caramel’ the bottle had boasted, but it was still better than the acetone-tasting crap Husk usually drank. It burns in your throat but unfortunately does little to actually warm you. The sudden temperature shift from the usually balmy days of Hell to what was basically Antarctic had the whole Hotel on lockdown while Charlie desperately shivered her way through trying to source extra heating outside the fireplace in the lobby. You were pretty sure Alastor had one in his quarters too, but he wasn’t going to volunteer it to the other residents, so most of them were gathered downstairs. Aside from the radio demon, you were pretty sure only you and Husk were the only ones who’d opted to stay upstairs. “I thought so.”

“’s a low bar, doll,” Husk tells you, finishing his drink and setting the glass aside. He holds a paw out to you invitingly and you take it readily, climbing across the mattress to settle in his lap. You straddle his thighs, your hand guiding his paw to your waist before sliding up his arm to take his shoulder. In open defiance of the cold – or maybe because his fur is just that thick – the only sartorial nod Husk has made to the change in the weather is a thick, bottle-green scarf wrapped around his neck. “Everythin’ you do is cute.”

“Fuck, you’re a charmer,” you sigh, and you giggle as Husk bumps his nose affectionately against yours. You rub your fingers through the fur at the back of his head, teasing at the base of his ear. “And a liar.”

“Degenerate piece of shit like me? A liar?” Husk’s voice is muffled slightly as he brushes his lips over the corner of your jaw. You smile as his whiskers tickle at the side of your throat. “Who would’a thought it?”

“Hush, you,” you admonish lightly, cupping his cheeks in your hands and tilting his face up to better meet your eye. Husk’s expression is soft, amused and affectionate in a way that might just be reserved for you when no one else can see. You smooth your thumbs over his cheeks gently. “Keep talking crap about my favourite bartender and I will have to kick your ass.”

“Shudder the thought,” Husk smirks, letting you bring his face up to meet yours in a kiss. One paw squeezes your waist, the other finding your thigh beneath the robe you have wrapped securely around yourself, and a contented little trill sounds against your lips as he lets the kiss linger. You brush your lips again in a few more brief, gentle kisses before you pull away again.

“Speaking of shuddering…” you feel a shiver wrack through you as the cold winds of outside seem to find a new crack in the walls to slip through. The chill of it seems to wrap itself around your very bones, and you huddle closer to the cat petulantly. In response, Husk smiles sympathetically, leaning up to nuzzle his face into the curve of your neck. He bumps his forehead against the underside of your jaw and rubs it there in a very catlike gesture you know he’d deny if you mentioned it. You hum as the cold touch of his nose skims across your collarbone. “Since when can Hell even get cold?”

Husk sighs. “Rarely happens. This is the… third time? Since I’ve been down here. Blows over in a few days, and we’re back to roastin’ all nice and crispy the way the Big Man intended.”

When a shudder runs through you again you groan in annoyance, and Husk smirks, opening his arms and wings up to you. “C’mere, you big baby.”

“Not a baby,” you pout childishly, but lean into all the same. Husk chuckles as you wrap your arms around his middle and bury your frozen fingers in the warm fur of his back, jerking away from your touch when you find his skin beneath it. You giggle, nuzzling your face into his collarbone and inhaling the warm-spice and whiskey scent of him.

“Not a baby,” he agrees, kissing the top of your head. “Jus’ a bit of a bellyacher.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Husk laughs, the sound rich and soft in your ear, and he curls his wings more tightly around you to better envelop you in his own warmth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You lose track of time, wrapped up in Husk’s arms, lulled into near sleep by the softness of his fur, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. A quiet purr is rolling through him, and when your legs begin to cramp from kneeling over his lap for so long, Husk gently rearranges the two of you so you’re laying side by side under the blankets, your face once more buried in his chest so you can feel the purr against your cheek.

Husk strokes careful claws slowly through your hair and down your back, his muzzle tucked against the crown of your head. He still struggles to understand what exactly you see in an old, washed-up addict like him, but it’s moments like this when he can swear, he almost feels as though the weight of that infernal, invisible chain around his throat isn’t quite there anymore.

The bartender trails his paw lower, smoothing over your hip and down to where your robe has ridden up over your thigh. His claws tickle at the sensitive skin there, and you hum a groan sleepily into his chest. Husk smiles to himself, the expression catching when he feels your own hand trail down his stomach to hook your fingers in the waistband of his pants.

“Careful, sweetness.” he rumbles into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. “You know what you’re doin’ there?”

“Think I remember how it goes,” you mumble into his fur, fumbling briefly with the button fastening his slacks closed. “’Sides… you started it.”

“Did I now?” Husk’s eyes flutter closed and you feel him exhale heavily against your hair as you slip your hand into his pants and cup your palm against his cock. He’d be almost ashamed to admit that he’s half-hard already, if you weren’t apparently so eager despite the cold. His paw tightens reflexively on your thigh at your touch. “Oh, doll… thank fuck your hands are warm.”

You giggle into his chest, squeezing him teasingly and thrilling at the way his shudders in response. You feel his cock twitch, and you wrap your fingers around it, letting your fingertips trail teasingly over the head of it. Husk groans, low in the back of his throat. “Suddenly all this fur isn’t such a bad thing, is it?”

“Wouldn’t push it that fa—ah…” Husk breaks off with a light moan as you begin to stroke him, squeezing at the base of his cock. He exhales a smile against your hair, nosing at your hairline until you tilt your head back and let him brush his lips against your forehead. “Cheeky thing you are…”

“Husk…” you murmur, tilting your head back further, stretching up to dust kisses over the underside of his chin. “Touch me.”

Husk smiles, bumping his nose against yours. “Finally someone in this fuckin’ place gives me somethin’ I wanna do.”

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours, his kiss sweet and his lips deliciously warm as he echoes you with a muffled laugh of his own. His claws glide up your thigh to caress the curve of your ass, squeezing the muscle appreciatively. You smile into his kiss, quickening your hand slightly, teasing your thumb over the head of his cock. Husk’s teeth catch your bottom lip, and the brief flare of pain thrills you.

“Go slow, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, the bridge of your nose. “I wanna savour it.”

Cheeks pink with the cold and with his words, you nod, eager in a way that Husk almost finds innocent. It charms him, and when you hook your thigh up over his hip he wraps a possessive paw around it. When you push the underwear you wear under your robe aside and guide his cock to slide up against you, Husk kisses you again, groaning into your mouth as he flicks just warm, how wet you are for him already. You whimper as you feel the length of him slide against your clit, the barbs of his cock rising as he reaches full arousal. They tickle at the nerves there; a texture that makes your eyes roll back behind their lids as your excitement grows.

Husk cups your cheek, brushing his lips over yours again before pulling back. He watches your face intently as he presses the head of his cock into you, pupils blown wide as he watches your lips part in a soundless gasp at the feel of him slowly, slowly filling you. You hand finds purchase on his shoulder as though you’re anchoring yourself to him, to the way he feels moving into you, and Husk moves to kiss your forehead again, murmuring so quietly with his lips pressed to your skin that you can’t make out all the words.

“That’s it… feels… fuck…” his claws ghost against the side of your throat. “…good girl for me… that’s it, baby…”

Husk fucks you so, so slowly, each press of his hips into your accompanied by a soft sigh that fans across the top of your face and makes your lashes flutter. You run your fingers through the fur of his chest, reach up to carefully unwind the scarf that’s still wrapped around his neck. Husk lets you toss it aside, smiles as you replace where it rested against the side of his neck with your palm. You rub your fingers through the fur there, down to the massage the nape of his neck and between his shoulders. Husk kisses you again and you let the touch linger, your other hand – the one of the arm trapped beneath you – finds his paw and wraps your fingers around it. The bartender squeezes your hand back, kissing the spot between your brows tenderly.

“Husk…” you breathe his name into his neck, voice catching as he adjusts the angle of his hips. “Fuck…”

Every slide of his cock stretches you wonderfully, every drag of those barbs against your flesh sending sparks up through your spine to curl inside your belly. Husk keeps growling low, chanting your name like some kind of benediction as you squeeze around him. You hook your leg higher on his hip, pressing yourself closer, and you let out a curse, high-pitched and breathy, as it brings him deeper into you.

The heat of Husk’s body, his breath, his cock inside you, is such a contrast to the chill still clinging to your cheeks, and you nuzzle further into his chest as Husk fucks you, nice and slow and agonizingly deep, bottoming out inside you with every thrust. His claws tighten where they clutch at your waist, sliding around to squeeze at your ass, and you gasp into his fur as the move encourages you to stretch wider for him.

“Fuck, baby…” Husk groans into your hairline, voice muted as though he doesn’t want to break the space between you. “Fuck, you feel so good… feel so fuckin’… Christ, you’re gorgeous…”

That tone of voice, those words, they never fail to make you flush, and you tilt your head back and press a kiss to his chin. Husk meets your eye, ghosting a paw up over your side to brush hair away from your face, and he kisses you again.

This kiss lingers all the way through until your orgasm rocks through you, your breath catching in a quiet, shaky moan. Husk watches your face with an almost enraptured look on his, the softest of smiles pulling at the edge of his lips as you shudder in his embrace. He dusts kisses over your face, ghosting his lips over your cheeks, your brow, your nose and always back to your lips as he chases his own release. And when you tease your nails through the fur over his hip he lets out a moan of his own and spill himself into you with one more long, deep thrust.

“So good for me…” he croons, nosing at your temple until you meet his lips again breathlessly. When he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t pull away, speaking softly against your lips. “Love you, sweetness.”

You smile, squeezing the hand he still has wrapped in yours. Husk returns the expression, catching your other hand and lifting it to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of your fingers. Your voice catches a little when you whisper back:

“I love you, too.”

[lexirosewrites]

Hiii I don’t usually go here, but I have had a few Disjointed Thoughts(™) for like WEEKS and I finally decided to share on this, the most holy (hole-y, hah) of days, Slick Sunday.

SO. O!Steve, A!Eddie, shocking. Steve is excruciatingly aware that, physically? He’s not really the Ideal Omega, at least by societal standards. Or his parents’ standards. Or his own, if he lets himself think about it too much, but that’s why he simply Does Not Think About It. Emotionally, he’s pretty solid. He absolutely loves his forcibly-adopted, feral, teenage pups. He’s excited to have his own one day, and to have an Alpha who loves him and their pups. He is always taking care of somebody, particularly the people he cares about, and most of the time it’s not even a conscious choice.

Physically, though?

Physically, he’s taller than an omega usually is. He spent so much time doing sports before he presented, and then after to keep up the image. Plus, let's be honest, he's absolutely keeping himself in shape and strong enough to defend/protect his little chosen pack. No matter how he or other people might feel about it, nothing is as important as keeping everyone safe, even after the UD is taken care of.

He and Eddie have been getting close, though. Eddie made enough anti-secondary-gender-roles speeches in school that Steve's pretty sure he won't mind that Steve is more invested in keeping them all safe than playing the part of “good little omega.” He was certainly impressed when Steve had to bite a bat in the Upside Down, and that's not very Omegan. The problem is, Eddie is such a perfect Alpha. Robin always makes a face when he says it, but Steve can feel it in his soul. Eddie is loud, exuberant, fiercely loyal, and protective of anyone who might need it, particularly when he cares about them. He's good with his hands, between his guitars and tinkering with his van when it has a new issue every month. He bickers with Wayne constantly over bills, trying to get his uncle to let him help more, leaving stray bills in Wayne's pockets when he loses the argument.

If Eddie can be such a good Alpha, Steve can try and be a better Omega, just a little. He does tone his more Alpha-like tendencies down a little, just to be safe- doesn't bring up playing sports/working out as much when Eddie's around, asks Eddie to help move things instead of just doing it himself, lets other people grab stuff from high shelves rather than volunteering himself. It seems to be going well, all things considered. He and A!Robin (who knows about the Omega-image issues, but not that he's been playing a bit more of the helpless Omega for Eddie, because she absolutely wouldn't approve) are sure Eddie's going to ask him to start courting any day now, really!!

To hopefully kick-start the process, Steve eagerly volunteers to help Wayne with some manual labor. Something with the siding of the trailer; it won’t be difficult, but it'll be a lot easier with two people. He'd have helped anyway, of course, but he's very aware that Eddie is devoted to his uncle and wants him taken care of. Surely, if there's anything that would outweigh any distaste from the non-Omega-like behavior, it's helping Wayne. The day of, though, he's on a ladder (Wayne is holding the ladder steady; Steve threw a hissy fit when he tried to go up himself), hammering in the last couple nails when Eddie gets home.

Normally, Eddie seems ecstatic to see Steve in any scenario- at one of their houses, after Hellfire to take the kids home, the few times they've passed each other in the grocery store- but when Steve looks over to say hi, he doesn't look… pleased. He actually looks kind of. Angry? Maybe? His eyes are blank, not filled with the warmth he's used to. His mouth is pressed together in a thin line, jaw clenched.

Steve has gotten pretty good at reading Eddie, knows his facial expressions like the back of his hand, but this is new. New and not happy. It makes him self-conscious, make him want to jump off the ladder and go beg forgiveness from his Alpha for whatever he did, but Steve pushes it down. He's got a job to finish, and if that face is directed at him for too long there's a good chance he's going to start whining- or worse, crying. Eddie gets back in his van immediately, though, driving off who knows where. Steve tells himself he was probably just having a bad day, and didn't want company. That's just a thing that happens. Nothing immediately to do with Steve, surely, and Wayne doesn't seem bothered so it's fine. Definitely.

A few days pass, and the party are all at Steve's house. The pups (who are nearly grown, now, but that doesn't stop them from being Steve's Pups, okay?) are mostly in the pool. The technically-adults are enjoying the sun and calling out warnings when the play-fighting gets a little too rough. Steve and Lucas are practicing basketball a few feet away, trying to nail a particular, super impressive move that even Steve can only do with about 40% accuracy. (I don't know basketball, I'm sure something like this has to exist though, right??? Indulge me lol) The two of them have been at it all summer, to better Lucas’ chance of getting varsity next school year.

Then Lucas nails it. Absolutely picture-perfect form, better than even Steve has ever done it. And they go NUTS. Everyone is looking over, confused but generally amused at their antics. Steve is so proud that he doesn't even think about it, just lifts Lucas up so he's sitting on one of Steve's shoulders, so Steve can hold him up with one arm and gesture wildly with the other while parading Lucas around, explaining exactly why this is so impressive to the non-athletes.

Except. Then he happens to look over at Eddie. And it's the face from the other day. Closer now, he can see that Eddie's knuckles are white where they're clenched around his beer bottle. Steve still can't get a read on it, and Eddie hasn't been in the pool yet so the scent blocker is keeping Steve from being able to tell what's the matter. Again, Steve's first instinct is to figure out what he did, how he can be better. But this is Eddie. He's probably just bitter about a sports thing interrupting whatever nerd conversation he was probably having, and he'll get over it quickly. Besides, Lucas deserves his moment.

Eddie is fine the rest of the night, and it doesn't come up, so Steve manages to mostly forget about it. But a week or two later, Steve is dropping Max off at home after physical therapy, and she's clearly too tired and exhausted for the stairs but she'll never admit it. Steve moves slowly, telegraphing his intentions as obviously as he can to give her an out, but she doesn't take it. So he picks her up, gently as possible, and carries her up the steps, grabbing her crutches as well.

He doesn't push it, even if his Omega would be thrilled to bring her in and make sure she gets settled and drinks some water, because it'd make her uncomfortable and this is already a lot. They don't talk about it, they just say their goodbyes and Steve goes to drive home. He glances over at the Munson's trailer, purely out of habit, and in the window is Eddie. With the same facial expression as before. He turns away from the window before Steve can react, and the curtain is pulled.

Steve has the whole way home to question this, and the only similarity between the two events that could have caused that face is… Steve being too Alpha-like. The manual labor, carrying the pups around. He's too strong, too big. He's not a good Omega, and his Alph- Eddie, who isn't his Alpha yet and maybe now never will be- Eddie doesn't like it. He drops. Hard. He's not sure how he makes it back to his house, or inside. The next thing he knows, he's sitting next to the phone, Robin's voice coming distant but frantic from where it's dangling by the cord next to him.

Then she's there, in front of him. Worried, clearly, but Steve can't bring himself to do anything about it. He just stares. Time passes, clearly, because at some point he finds himself in his own bed, nest haphazarly built up around him where someone presumably tried to make it bigger without disturbing anything, staring blankly at the ceiling with Robin pressed against him.

His face is wet.

His eyes hurt.

Oh. He's been crying.

He remembers why.

His breath catches, and it's enough to get Robin's attention. She scrambles up, holding his face while she takes exaggerated breaths. He matches her breathing until he's sure they're past the risk of hyperventilating. He tells her everything- not just the times Eddie has seemed upset, but every time he's tried to be better, to be less, every time he's questioned if it would ever be enough. She clearly wants to comment, but she lets him get it all out first. When it's clear he's done, she bundles him in her arms. Calls him a dingus, so he'll crack a smile. They slowly transfer back down the stairs, curling up in a mass of limbs in front of the tv to watch whatever they can find without getting up.

Steve drives her home around midnight, knowing she has work tomorrow and he's got the day off. He swears he's fine, that he'll call if something changes. He waves her off, drives away, and heads in the opposite direction of home. He's okay for now, but if he goes home, he'll think about how empty it is, how he may never have an Alpha to help him fill the space and the quiet, and he won't be okay for long.

He ends up at the quarry. Still quiet, and he's still alone, but at least it's intentional here. He's not exactly watching the clock, but he's only idly thrown a handful of rocks down into the water when he hears a noise he could pick out anywhere. Eddie's van is pulling up, faster even than the ridiculous speeds he usually does. The gravel flies up as he slams on breaks, and the headlights are still fading out when Eddie throws himself out the door.

He hurries towards Steve, and when he's close enough, he drops to his knees. Steve tries to ask, tries to pull him up because that can't be good for Eddie's knees, especially when he's clearly in his pajamas and some untied shoes but Eddie grabs his hand and holds it in both of his own. Trips over his words as he tries to explain, rambles that Robin had called him after she got home, that Eddie had immediately run out the door, went to the house first and then drove around to find Steve.

Steve can feel the shame heating his cheeks, prickling in his gut. He's already mentally cursing Robin's overprotective nature. Of course she'd immediately tried to defend him. She'd probably told Eddie off, something embarrassing about leading him on or believing too much in gender roles despite his own nonconformity or whatever else. Steve tries to pull his hand away, but Eddie's got a firm grip and pleading eyes, and Steve's Omega is too desperate for some approval after his drop earlier to try too hard.

Eddie looks like he's tearing up, and Steve is too caught off guard by this whole thing to hold back the whine it pulls out of him. Even if he's hurt, seeing Eddie upset almost hurts his Omega more than anything else. Eddie's eyes go wide, and he surges to his feet, pressing Steve's hand to his chest and letting a reassuring rumble answer. Steve hates himself a little bit for how much it does calm him down.

Eddie rushes to explain. He's in love with Steve. He thinks Steve's easily the best Omega he's ever met, loves how much he cares for the people around him and protects their pups (Steve tries valiantly to ignore how his heart skips a beat at it being THEIR pups. He fails). The face Steve has been seeing has been Eddie straining to keep his Alpha from begging to bond with Steve on sight. Eddie wanted to court him, wanted to take it slow and romance him and do things properly because Steve deserves it, not ask Steve to have his babies in front of all their friends.

He's been waiting to ask, has been making Steve his own battle jacket since he'd liked Eddie's in the Upside Down as a first courting gift. Apparently, tracking down patches for artists Steve likes is a lot harder than finding patches for Eddie's favorites, and hand-sewing them all on has taken even longer. It's everything Steve could have ever hoped to want and so much more, and Eddie's not wearing any scent blockers, so underneath the heady smell of leather and comfort and Eddie, Steve can tell he's being honest.

The misunderstandings are forgiven. They start courting immediately, and Eddie gives him his own vest to wear as an IOU until Steve's is done. Robin is very mildly scolded for spilling Steve's business, which is cancelled out by the grin on Steve's face as he does it and the hug she tackles him in immediately after says she doesn't regret a thing. It's okay, though. Neither does Steve.

-irrelevantbutembarrassing

chomping on insecure omega Steve because he’s so biteable💕

[blvcklizard]

Given that Servamp is almost over I doubt it'll happen, but I'd sort of like to learn more about subclasses. Like, apart from the Melancholies, Lily's and the few "major" character subclasses we barely saw how each Servamp treats theirs and how they feel about it. Kuro had the right idea ngl-

Like, imagine you die and get revived as greed subclass, and now you're stuck with cleaning up the mess of a chaotic overly emotional 18-year-old for the rest of your basically never ending life. The fact that they have costumes implies that they've been keeping up with the shit he does. Guil, okay, he's been his caretaker since they were humans and pretty much volunteered to watch over him, but what about the others. Were they just like "okay this is my life now I guess"

[autistic-katara]

are u even queer if u havent pounced on an opportunity to get beat up by ur crush?

[gophergal]

the solution to the "are you normal about X people who turn out to be Y" debate is stop fucking assuming things about people

You wanna know what pronouns to use for an individual? Ask them.

As a general rule, don't make jokes about the identity you perceive of someone. Know your audience

How is that hard? Why do we all think ourselves such experts on the lives of other people??????

[justashadetalkative]

Details

Diamond very carefully does not think about how often Phosa and Linast act as child soldiers because the fact of the matter is that they are literal forces of nature that can barely be contained by the entire dimension of the Spire and sometimes (often) he needs that.

But like. They are. That is what is happening here. They are literally in the Spire’s defense militia.

[daz4i]

every day on midnight there is a guy who uploads a meme about what day of the war it is (49, currently) and every day there is a guy commenting updates on like if anything changed today. at some point another guy joined by giving fun facts about the number of each day. now the second guy has gotten bored and started adding more things too like fun facts and recipes. beautiful display of what despair can bring out of people (really funny memes. and solidarity ig. and tradition?)

[violetsandshrikes]

I met a girl when I was fresh out of high school in undergrad who frankly, annoyed me quite a bit, but I also had an inkling to continue to be compassionate to her given a few things about her life/background/family

I ran into her two years ago. Last week, her daughter turned 1. This girl, let’s called her “P”, is a really good example of why I never feel comfortable mocking trad wives

Her perfect trad husband, who was a shining young figure in the local religious community, volunteered in all sorts of groups, well loved in his workplace and everything else, beat her up at 1 month post-partum. I reached out to her after seeing her desperately asking for a stroller on a page, confused and slightly concerned knowing both of them came from wealthy backgrounds.

The reality for lots of tradwives living “perfect lives” is this: P was immediately ostracised. All the wealth of her husband and her family meant absolutely nothing if she wasn’t in favour and doing what she was told. Her child and her well-being didn’t matter. P, at 25 years old, was basically deemed an oopsie, and left on her own to figure out how to pay for herself, a baby, find housing, and every other task you can think of.

Having known many of these women (and supported many of these women), another factor most people don’t consider is this: they are intentionally raised to be helpless. When I immediately offered my support to P, she really needed it. This young woman needed to be guided through how to apply for government assistance, how to weigh up rentals and apply for them, how to apply for jobs, how to sign up for childcare. How to sign up for your own power and internet, and how to connect them.

It wasn’t that she was “stupid”, or incapable, or spoiled. While it looks like they’re being sheltered, in reality, these women are practically being held hostage. Sure, they might be allowed to learn things that are expected of them (see: basic cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, women’s bible studies, hosting, and so forth) but they are heavily controlled from family life into marriage life, and they are never given the opportunity or the reality of what many of us would consider basic adult tasks.

She’s doing okay now. Her daughter turned 1, is happy and healthy. They live frugally, but they have a roof over their heads and the essentials. I often babysit for her so she can attend counselling, or go to a woman’s support group. She is painfully aware that she has so much to learn about how to live as an adult.

I don’t envy tradwives, but I don’t find any joy in mocking them either. Even when they live the most picturesque lives, they’re also practically living a real life Jenga game. If (and often, when) it comes tumbling down, they’re screwed too, and they often have 0 skills to help themselves or find community (that again, isn’t carefully curated).

[prentissluvr]

four hours straight of dancing difficult choreo then three hours of being bent over painting children's faces then almost an hour of cleaning up the event MY BACK HURTS SO MUCH

[starlight-storytime]

essay in tags :p

[wavernot4love]

oh what do you Mean ag just announced a boom done tour and the first show is in my area. and also i see thursday play war all the time in full in less than a week .... a show which is also the first show of tour ....

big moment for wavernot4love lately

[strawbuddy-luv]

Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

[indestructiblelittlefuckers]

(Good morning!Today i have to watch the work seminar part 2 online, so I can definitely squeeze in some replies in the between! I hope you are all gonna have a nice Sunday!)

[jlheon]

𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) — psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓯renemies to lovers ; fluff, profanity, & lots of kissing (𝔀ordcount) one-thousand five-hundred forty 𝓹eng's note. these pics. #iWantThat 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon

“you’re late,” sunghoon says in the most agitating voice possible as you walk through the classroom door.

“i wouldn’t be late if you did your job,” you huff, walking right up to the desk he sat at and dropping the bags of decorations you had picked up from the party supplies store.

“hey! i said i would pick those up!” he says annoyed, sifting through everything you brought.

“mrs. kim said we needed them by today! why the fuck were you just sitting around?” 

“geez, loosen up,” the boy gets up from his seat, his tall body looming over yours. “let’s just go decorate the gym.”

the two of you split up the bags of party supplies and headed towards the gym where the rest of the council and student volunteers were waiting. 

setting up for the fundraiser was easy until you and sunghoon started yelling at each other over which color streamers should be used over the doorway. 

jake had to drag you away by the shoulders to come to help him with the balloons. sunghoon felt a bitter taste when he saw jake with his arm around your shoulder but decided to ignore it. 

“hoon,” jungwon calls out. “we’re out of balloons!”

“that’s why i should have bought the decorations…” sunghoon mutters under his breath before walking up to where you and jake were giggling. 

sunghoon walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “we have to go back to the store.” he whispers in your ear. 

you freeze at his touch but nod and say goodbye to jake. he lets go of you and the two of you walk out the exit leading to the parking lot.

the two of you get into sunghoon’s car and he drives off to the mall. 

there’s an awkward silence between the both of you, which you can’t decide if you like bantering with him over it. there’s so much tension due to sunghoon’s lingering touch from earlier.

once inside the mall, you quietly walked side by side into the automatic doors. 

only a few feet from the party supplies stores you halt. spotting your ex-boyfriend and old friend seemingly on a date.

“sunghoon,” you whisper, tapping on his shoulder. “do you see what i see?”

he rolls his eyes at you finally breaking the silence but then looks up to see for himself. once he does that the two seem to have had the same idea, making eye contact with the other.

“oh shit they saw us,” he panics, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the photo booth you were conveniently standing next to.   

the photo booth is small. way too small. sunghoon is already sitting as you uncomfortably sit on the ledge with your legs peeking out from the curtain. 

“get up,” he instructs. 

“what?” you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not letting them see me again! especially not with you!”

“i meant like come here,” sunghoon grabs you and settles you on his lap, so the both of you fit into the small space.

“oh my god, what if they come over here!” you panic resting your hands on his shoulders. “this is bad! especially since i’m with you of all people-”

“with me?” sunghoon questions. 

“well, like when we were dating, he always thought you had a crush on me, which isn’t impossible! i had to keep reassuring him but he never believed me! like me and you are barely even friends-” you ramble, balling sunghoon’s shirt in your fists as you freak out. 

“woah, calm down,” he tells you, prying your hands from his uniform so you don’t wrinkle it. “it’s not like they’ll come to talk to us.”

just as the words left his mouth the sound of two sets of footsteps were picked up by your ears. you started to become overwhelmingly nervous. it was the first time seeing your ex-boyfriend since the split and the fact your childhood best friend was on a date with him. 

even if you drifted, shouldn’t she have some sense of girl code?

“you’re shaking,” sunghoon stares at you. 

“no i’m not!” you shake your head, your heartbeat being undeniably fast. “but like i haven’t had a date since him and that’s kind of sad for me-”

“i swear i saw her,” the familiar voice of your old friend says, sounding so close. “it could have been anyone though.”

“no, i saw her and that motherfucker,” your ex hisses. 

“wow, i’m ‘motherfucker’,” sunghoon whispers, rolling his eyes.

“if he made a move on her i swear.”

“hey, i have an idea,” he says in your ear. 

sunghoon reaches for his phone out of his pocket, holding you close as he leans over slightly to pay the machine for a photo. the screen activates after processing his card and he selects a random frame. 

the camera starts going and you sit confused as sunghoon starts posing. you can’t help but watch him. he always looks pretty but you must admit he knows how to pose. 

you peek over to the curtain to see two pairs of legs standing outside the photo booth. you can only assume it’s them. 

“you weren’t looking in any of them,” sunghoon recalls, pressing print on the screen. 

“oh, sorry,” you turn your attention back to him. 

“it’s fine, let's do another one,” he says nonchalantly as he pays for another photo strip.

this time sunghoon shifts in his spot, making it so that your face can be seen on the screen without having to turn you around in his lap.

you awkwardly copy sunghoon’s poses until by the second to last picture you hear him again.

“that fucker is in the photo booth,” the male voice outside says, seeing as he drops the photo strip back into where it fell from. 

“come closer,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“fine,” you lean onto him. “but don’t show my face too much. i’m not wearing concealer today.”

“you look just as pretty,” sunghoon leans closer so your lips barely brush the others. “maybe even prettier than usual.”

he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, gently stroking it before closing the gap. 

you hate to admit it but kissing sunghoon was everything you expected and more. you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about his lips on yours during one-on-one meetings in the conference room. when his hair is still damp from his after-shower practice and his face is still slightly flushed.

park sunghoon can make you mad, especially when he got secretary over you in freshman year. but you cannot deny that even when bitter about the council's choice you wanted to kiss that proud smile on his face. 

he made you mad when he stole your posters when you were running for secretary again the next year. but after he found you crying in the far stairwell he explained he only did that because he thinks you should run for president instead. sunghoon even pulled out another stack of flyers he made for you that he spent the whole night doing.

the sunghoon that got you both kicked out of a council meeting for arguing with each other is the same sunghoon with his lips molded perfectly against yours. 

the same boy that had you studying your ass off when class ranks came out, since he’s your only competition, is the same boy in front of you now with his lips locked on yours.

you start to feel dizzy by the decreased amount of air in your lungs by the minute but you can’t bring yourself to let go just yet. when you start seeing black specs dotting your vision you finally pull away to see a heavily panting sunghoon with a flushed face. 

“sorry,” sunghoon apologizes as he catches his breath.

your heart sinks. he only kissed you to distract you and probably so your ex will see the photos when they print.

“oh,” you fight the frown threatening to appear on your face. “it’s okay. he’s probably gone now.”

“i would have asked for your permission but you looked really stressed and i thought it would help you get your mind off your asshole ex.”

“thanks,” you say with a pout sunghoon finds adorable.

“you still seem sad,” he pokes at your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “maybe another kiss?”

“maybe,” you say shyly. 

sunghoon is out forty dollars by the time you and he are done kissing in the photo booth. he kept mindlessly swiping his card as his lips stayed on yours to prevent anyone from kicking you two out since you were there for a considerable amount of time.

you’re interrupted by sunghoon’s phone ringing profusely. 

“where are you two?” jungwon asks in a panic. “we need those balloons.”

“traffic,” sunghoon says as you plant a line of kisses down his neck, hands tangled in the hair at his nape.

“hurry up,” jungwon advises him.

you and sunghoon return to school an hour and a half after you originally left. with a bag of balloons and a stack of photo strips. most of them capturing purely just of you two making out.

when stepping foot in the gym and you go over to hand jungwon the balloons he so desperately needed. he quickly notices the matching hickeys forming on both your necks and how disheveled your uniforms and hair appear.

“traffic huh?” jungwon asks as his eyes flicker between both of you.

"lots," you nod as you walk away to help minjeong tie balloons.