#while wobbling around on a cushion as well. like i don’t have to be on the ground

[fingertipsmp3]

Whyyyyyy is my quad lag back

[donatellawritings]

hiii mamita!! first off i wanna say i love ur writing and characterization SO MUCH!! ur my absolute fav latina representation in this fandom and im sending u sososo much love <3 secondly, could we pretty pls have rafe w latina reader who’s constantly using spanish around him and he eventually understands her enough to get some things but doesn’t say anything until she says something slick one day under her breath and he calls her out so she’s like oops🫢🫢🤭

tysm for the kind words, angel <3

this is so bff!rafe coded …

rafe was an obsessively busy man — the poor guy just had to keep himself occupied, or he’d find himself slipping off into the deep end. so, he never actually took the time to learn spanish, but he had a pretty basic understanding of the language, solely thanks to the fact that he spent most, if not, all of his free time around you, listening to your jumbled rants. and it was clear to him which words were profane and insulting, by the way you’d huff and roll your eyes whenever they rolled off of your tongue.

you see, rafe was fully aware of your bitchy side and how your sweet and delicate demeanor could quickly flip into a bratty and entitled state, especially when you didn’t get what you want — which just so happened to be your current dilemma with rafe.

it was simple — you wanted to soak up some sun in your brand new frankie’s bikinis two-piece, while your bossy best friend, rafe was adamant about going to the country club to catch up with topper and kelce, over a glass of whiskey.

lifting your miu miu sunglasses to sit atop of your shiny blown out hair, you leaned your head back against the cushion of your lounger, the sun deliciously biting your bronze skin, “pendejo,” you mumbled, rolling your bambi eyes as rafe began to walk away from where you reclined.

stopping dead in his tracks, rafe cocks his buzzed head to the side, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, “the fuck did y���just say to me?” he spoke, his voice low as he approaches you with quick and long strides, before yanking you up to your feet by your elbow.

with pouted lips, you kept your eyes away from rafe’s, “i didn’t say anyth—”

letting out an unamused chuckle, rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his, “y’lucky i don’t break y’fuckin jaw,” he warns, harshly releasing your face from his tight grip as he watches your eyes well with tears, “don’t start that cryin’ shit — fuckin’ kid,” he spits, balling his fists at his side for a brief moment, before opening his hands, muttering under his breath as he walks away from you.

furiously knuckling away the tears that threatened to spill down your flushed cheeks, you keep your head down, a wobbly pout on your swollen lips.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

rafe didn’t go to the country club that afternoon. and you sat by the pool for about an hour, mindlessly splashing your french pedicured feet in the light blue pool water — you hated when rafe was upset, more so when you were the reason for his anger. but, you also knew how volatile and impulsive the son of ward could become, so you decided to wait it out for as long as you could.

rising to your feet, wet footprints stained the pavement as you padded towards the door, you eyes sparkling with shock as rafe walked through the door, “what are y’still doin’ here?” he questions blankly, monotone and all as he brushes past you, shoulders tense and jaw locked.

ignoring the way your tummy swirled and churned with disappointment, you exhaled sharply through your button nose, deciding to force yourself to be unfazed by rafe’s harsh words, “i don’t like when you’re mad at me,” you whine, dragging yourself where rafe sat, legs spread and a sweaty bottle of cold beer in hand.

taking a quick swig of the beer, rafe shrugs, “and i don’t like when y’get a smart fuckin’ mouth with me, just because y’wanna be a spoiled fuckin’ kid,” he counters sharply, setting the beer down beside his foot.

you really pissed him off.

nodding your head, you quietly brought yourself to straddle your best friend’s hips, noticing the way he licked over his lips, before pressing them into a tight line, “can i give you a besito? i’m really sorry, rafey,” you sighed, batting your cutesy lashes as your softly brought your nails to scratch at rafe’s abdomen.

remaining silent, rafe earned a playful eye roll from you as you leaned your tits into his chest, pressing your full lips into his structured cheek with quick pecks, “i - mwah - am - mwah - sorry - mwah - papito,” you giggled between kisses, sealing your apologies with a stolen kiss to rafe’s lips.

craning his neck back to get a better look at you, your skin all bronzy and dewy from your earlier suntan, rafe raises his eyebrows, “papito? that’s a new one,” he comments, raising a hand to rest on your the sweaty skin of your lower back.

with wide doe eyes and parted lips, you gasp, “you like it?!”

letting out a defeated sigh, rafe pulls you in by the back of your neck to press a kiss to the top of your warm hair, “yeah, s’cute, kid.”

[er-osion]

Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

[kpoptrashlord-007]

2|3 – The Moon;; KSY

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Fluff, Humour(ish), (B)F2Ls

Pairing;; Hoshi x Reader

Summary;;

It’s Rose Day, or Yellow Day, whichever, or neither. It doesn’t matter because you’re spending the day with your three best friends. Nothing more, nothing less - just another uneventful May 14th eating singles curry. Or at least that was your plan. It seems, however, that Hoshi has a plan of his own.

Warnings;;

None! it's pure fluff, babie! well, aside from the murder of an innocent cellular device.

Notes;;

Here is the third instalment of a collab I am doing with @writeformesinpie - Holidays With Seventeen. Every 14th day of the month is considered a holiday in South Korea so we’re basing the prompts off those! May 14th is Yellow Day, or Rose Day! ... dropped my phone while trying to replicate Reader's actions, call that method writing

Collab Masterlist

Main Masterlist || SVT Masterlist

    “Why is he so late?” you groan, flipping your phone in the air before catching it with one hand.

    “Don’t do that."

    With a roll of the eyes you lean back against the couch. Plush cushions engulf you but do little to dampen the harsh clack of approaching footsteps. Joshua's hand slides into your peripheral before jutting out past your shoulder. His pretty fingers wiggle in expectation. Beside you, Seokmin snickers.

    "I won't do it again."

    "I don't believe you."

    And he shouldn't. Itching to throw the device back into the air, your fingers clamp around the cool glass screen. You tilt your head side to side as you decide the best way out of the lecture when a text message comes through.

Horanghae: almost there!

    You can't stop yourself from smiling. Showing the phone to each of your friends, you shake it, indifferent to its fragile nature. Consisting of a loose two finger grip, your hold on the device is precarious at best.

    "If you break another ph–"

    It wobbles about like a bobblehead before flinging free. In a glorious arc, it flies high and fast. Your mouth falls open in a strangled shout. Over the coffee table and past the lounge chairs, the phone disappears into the unknown with a sharp crack.

    Silence follows.

    You blink thrice in rapid succession. Inch by inch you turn to your couchmate. Seokmin mirrors you. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide. Disbelief ties his tongue and he merely gapes at you. Brows furrowing, you shake your head. He gestures toward the scene of the crime. With a huff you slump back into the couch.

    "Unbelievable," Joshua murmurs as he traverses beyond the visible realm and into the electronic graveyard where your phone now rests. He drops behind the lounge chairs right as the front door swings open. "It's shattered."

    "I'm here!"

    "No!" you cry, head falling into your hands.

    Seokmin rubs your back. "There, there."

    "What kind of greeting is that?" Soonyoung jokes, entering the living room with several bags in tow. They crinkle with each step before he tosses them on the table.

    Joshua pops back into view with a heavy sigh. "I'll take you to buy a new one."

    "A new one? But I'm one of a kind!"

    "Thanks, Josh. You're the best."

    "Don't mention it."

    "Are you guys seriously ignoring me when I come bearing gifts?"

    "Maybe if you arrived five minutes earlier we wouldn't have witnessed another phone's untimely end," Seokmin says, shaking his head in disapproval.

    "You're right," you fake-sniffle, pointing a finger at Soonyoung, "this is his fault."

    "My fault?"

    "Did you even buy us anything?" Joshua asks while looking through Soonyoung's haul. He pulls out two matching tiger-print jackets. Instead of a warm orange they're eye-stinging yellow. "There's only two sets."

    "Why would I buy you something?"

    "Not even a hat?" Seokmin's tone is incredulous as he jumps up to help the search.

    Joshua frowns. "Not even snacks.”

    Soonyoung nudges the pair aside. He's beaming as he shoves everything back inside the now tearing bags. Joshua and Seokmin glance at one another, communicating on a level you're not quite fluent in.

    "You know what I just realised?" Joshua begins, tapping his finger against his chin. "We need food. Not it."

    "Not it!"

    All three of you shout in unison. It's impossible to tell who was last, but it definitely wasn't you. You're never last! So the fact that Seokmin is sidling up to Joshua, leaving both you and Soonyoung on the wrong side of the table, is a tell-tale sign of fraud.

    "Then it's decided. You two will go."

    It was rigged!

    "Well, if we have to!" Soonyoung says without a hint of despondency.

    "But I don't want to! Can't we make our sad little singles curry here?"

    "Host's rules,” Joshua deadpans.

    Seokmin shrugs off your pleading stare. You understand him sacrificing you (you’d do the same to him, after all) but this isn’t a full grocery run – it’s a quick stop at a curry joint. It would make more sense if you all went. Then you could just eat there!

    Joshua disappears into the kitchen before you can suggest the obvious, putting an end to the discussion. Seokmin teeters by the edge of the living room table, fingers fiddling with the plastic bags, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

    With a small pout on your lips you turn to Soonyoung. Considering he only just arrived he doesn’t seem put out by the fact they’re sending him onto those mean streets to battle for a seat at the best curry place in town. It’s a warzone fuelled by the hunger of middle aged office workers – no one in their right mind would smile knowing the hardships you two soon face.

    “Let’s go,” you say, a distant echo in your voice.

    You’re a mere step closer to the door when Seokmin speaks up. "It's cold out there so you'll want to wear this!"

    “Cold? But it’s May…” you trail off, attention set wholly on the man in front of you.

    The bags crinkle as Seokmin rummages. Yanking out one of the jackets, he tosses it at you. With a quick shake you hold it up in all its glory. Dandelion yellow, bee fuzz yellow, pikachu yellow – it’s so yellow. You’re no longer in control of yourself as your eyes squint and your jaw drops. Seokmin isn’t finished unveiling Soonyoung’s treasures, however. Next comes a black cap. It hits you square in the face before falling onto your outstretched arms. On the front are small paw prints which are also… yellow. Just like the curry you're being sent out to the frontlines to buy for none other than–

    "It's Yellow day!" Flabbergasted, you gawk between your three friends; Joshua is rolling his eyes in the kitchen, Seokmin is laughing so loud the sound is reverberating off the walls, and…

    Soonyoung’s eyes are crescent moons as he grins at you, his nose scrunched and his mirth palpable.

    "You want to match… with me?"

    "Of course I do!” he says, pouncing closer. “Unless you don’t want to. Then I’ll just make DK wear it.”

    “Nope, not it, never in your life.” Seokmin shakes his head to and fro before tossing the other bag at Soonyoung. “Take your stuff and go, pal. We don’t have all night.”

    Despite the hurried waving of hands trying to usher you out the door, you take your time slipping into the jacket. The inside is cool and smooth, easy to slide on, yet it warms you the second you finish zipping it up nice and snug. While the design choice is questionable (you look like a holey slice of moon cheese), the jacket itself isn’t too bad.

    “You look cute,” Soonyoung practically shouts, throat bobbing as he looks away. “Let’s go!”

    He’s at the door and flinging it open with a little too much force before you can respond. The ‘Hey, you’re pretty cute yourself,’ and ’I really like you– in that jacket!’ and ’We’re just friends… unless?’ remain unspoken, but perhaps that’s for the best. Trotting behind him like a little show puppy, you strike a pose inside the doorway.

    “Tada!” you actually shout, and he jumps back in surprise. It doesn’t last long.

    “Tada!” he reciprocates, mimicking your pose.

    “Tada!” you both say in unison while springing 180 degrees to pose for Seokmin.

    He claps then joins in with a, “Tada!” of his own, and this time the pose is dynamic as you each shoot off a finger gun.

    “Ta–”

    “Just go!” Joshua yells from the kitchen.

    The apartment vibrates with laughter. Seokmin shoots his finger guns off toward Joshua, a brilliant grin plastered on his face which soon falls into a grimace. He flops onto the couch, yelling about how he’s hit and that you should save yourselves. You don’t need to be told twice. Entwining your arm with Soonyoung’s, you skip over the threshold and shut the door behind you.

    “That was close,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder and wiping away nonexistent sweat from your forehead.

    Soonyoung’s free hand slips into his jacket pocket. It reemerges with a delicate yellow rose. "This is for you. If you want it."

    The soothing scent of its petals kisses your senses long before you lean in to breathe it deep. You close your eyes and indulge the gentle floral paradise. When you ground yourself back in the wondrous now, Soonyoung is watching you with a curious expression that morphs into a playful smile. He’s still holding the rose but you’re quick to remedy that.

    "Of course I do, you cute little cheesy moon!" you swoon before pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

    The front door swings back open and Seokmin gasps. “They’re making out out here.”

    What a tattletale!

    Joshua’s response drifts through the open door. “Tell them not to come back.”

    “Turns out we have enough to make dinner for us two here but you two will have to eat at the restaurant, together, alone, without us,” Seokmin says with a forced, exaggerated frown. “Enjoy yourselves! But not too much. Not where everyone can see.”

    “Thank you,” you groan before tugging Soonyoung down the hall.

    “Be safe! We’ll miss you but not as much as you’ll miss us probably!”

    “I always miss you, bro!” Soonyoung shouts, looking wistfully back over his shoulder one last time before you turn the corner with him.

    “That guy,” you say, your tone uneven with laughter.

    “Are you ready to have the best Yellow Day ever?!”

    His sudden excitement shocks you and you’re nodding along to his enthusiasm even while your brain catches up. “Yeah!”

    “Are you ready to have the best curry ever?!”

    “Yeah!” You pause. “But won’t it taste the same as it always does?”

    “What? No way!” he says, booping you on the nose. “This is the first time we’re getting the curry together, as a pair. Like a–”

    “Couple!”

    “So it’ll taste even more–”

    “Lovely!”

    “Yeah!” he cheers, raising both hands for a double high-five.

    You complete the high-five with your own, ‘yeah!’.

    “Then what are we waiting for?” He beams at you and the whole world pauses as he repositions the cap on your head. “Onward to our date!”

   – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you! ♡

[cocoabubbelle-newblog]

SCOGUE-“Tember”(2024)

Day “7”: fun, unofficial follow-up to Day “5”

(Based on both my requested scenario for the lovely commission drawn by @lampofblob and a fun conversation with @withjust-a-bite !)

“O-oh dang! Scott, are ya okay?”

“…ow…”

“Ah’m s-sorry! Mah fool self didn’t knock ya down too hard, did Ah, Sugah?”

Scott groaned and shifted his awkward position on the pile of leaves that had cushioned their fall, blowing away a leaf that somehow made its way in his mouth. He didn’t know what Rogue was apologizing for. It was Evan and Kurt messing around during Logan’s training exercise that somehow caused that basketball to shoot like a cannonball into the forest. He and she had just been calmly walking and chatting when it zoomed straight towards him and her out of nowhere.

He had tried to get her out of range of the ball, but having blanked on trying to choose whether it was safer or faster to push or pull her out of the way, all he accomplished was clumsily holding her in place as the basketball collided with the back of his skull.

His shades had almost been knocked off, and Rogue’s gloved hands had frantically waved around either trying to catch them or check his head. The movement caused their legs to tangle, making them tumble onto the institute’s estate’s forest floor and send a flurry of multicolored leaves into the air.

Scott blinked his eyes slowly and groaned, but still tried to smile assuringly as he said, “U-ugh…don’t worry Rogue, I’m…”

His swimming vision focused somewhat, taking in the full view of the southern goth girl’s face.

“…”

He once overheard Kurt and Evan’s mostly harmless yet immature card scoring conversations of their three female friends and teammates (Kurt wanted to judge all four female occupants, but Evan drew the line at involving his aunt): Jean won the points relating to being the most lovely, while the adorable points were in Kitty’s favor.

All they managed to come up with to score for Rogue were factors contributing to what qualified her as most intimidating compared to the former two.

And well, yeah…Rogue might not have been as social as Jean or Kitty, but intimidating?

Gazing down at him—only a few inches away from his face and chest—with a worried, flustered expression, one hand nervously tucking a strand of her white-streaked hair behind her ear, Rogue looked far from intimidating.

In a daze, Scott unwittingly let his eyes wander:

Adorable dimpled chin, full lips, pronounced jawline and cheekbones, dark eyebrows and lashes…his eyes finally rested on Rogue’s eyes, which he always thought were strikingly light from the moment he ‘met’ her in that graveyard of Caldecott County, Mississippi.

“Scott?”

He had no idea why Kurt and Evan didn’t consider Rogue attractive.

In his opinion, Rogue was incredibly…

“…pretty…”

Even the soft sounds of the forest seemed to be in stunned silence after the word escaped him.

Both teens stared at each other, faces turning pale to pink to red in a manner of seconds.

“…huh?” Rogue squeaked out.

The normally level-headed team leader mentally scrambled for a save.

“P-p-pretty good! I’m pretty good! See?! No concussion, at least, hehe…”

He tried to raise his hand to gesture at his head, only for it to wobble in the air in a confused panic when it almost brushed against her hips.

That was their cue to jump apart, both babbling apologies as they scrambled to their feet while getting the leaves off of themselves.

“Ah really am sorry, Scott,” Rogue apologized again, trying to fix her hairstyle, trying not to look at Scott with their momentary closeness still causing warm flutters in her chest, trying to ignore how annoyingly cute he looked with the few leaves sticking out of his hair, trying not to think about how she almost misunderstood his ‘pretty’ comment while he wore a dazed expression from the hit to his head she almost mistook for wonder as he looked up at her in that moment.

Scott shook his head and managed a smile. “Don’t be. I was the ‘fool self’ that froze and caused us to fall in the first place.”

Rogue let out a soft laugh, relaxing a bit.

That didn’t stop them from avoiding each other’s gaze as Scott searched the messy piles of leaves for and picked up the rogue basketball.

They both walked back to where the others that were training were in awkward silence.

“Sco-“

“Ro-“

They both blushed. Scott gestured with the ball for her to go ahead, but she shook her head and nodded at him to speak first.

“…earlier…”

Rogue waited patiently while stepping one foot over a log.

“Yeah?”

“…did I bump my head again after all, or did I hear you call me ‘Sugar?’”

The goth girl tripped. Scott made a move to catch her, but she jumped away and righted herself while blushing as deep as the roses blooming in Ororo’s greenhouse.

Somebodyburyhernowplease!

She frantically tried to come up with an excuse for the cursed endearment that finally escaped out of her dreams and daydreams of him and out of her mouth for him to hear, but all she could manage was a feeble “A-ah, er, uh-uhm,” when—!

BAMF!!

Kurt poofed in between them, making them both jump from surprise.

“Hey! Sorry to interrupt, but haf you seen zi ball?” He asked, tail whipping excitedly. “Evan made an awezome—YOAWST?!”

Rogue, having never been happier for Kurt’s inconvenient interruptions, snatched the ball out of Scott’s hands and swung it like a deadly hammer at the blue-skinned german boy’s head, a glare adorning her face as she growled “Oh, Ah got yer ball, YA FURRY LIL’ GOBLIN!”

From a distance, Evan had no idea if Scott was chasing after Rogue to stop her or if he was joining her in her attempts to pummel Kurt. He decided too late that it was the latter when the fuzzy blue elf poofed closer to him and shouted in a panic to run for his life.

[aheckinmess]

Precious Protectors [Shoto] (Fluff)

(One-shot 18/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Todoroki x OC, Shoto x OC, Shoto Todoroki, Shouto Todoroki, Pro Hero Shoto, Pro Hero Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Tigress, Shoto is a Ray of Sunshine, Pregnant OC, Enji Todoroki, Rei Todoroki, Mention of Natsuo Todoroki, OC and Shoto Have Children Already, Expecting Their Next, Featuring Protective Shoto, And His Dazzling Smile, Also There's Bunnies Involved, And Cute Child Interaction, Also OC Goes Into Labor, Panic Ensues

Word Count: 1,826 words

Summary: During her 32nd week of pregnancy, Ichijiku gets restless and tired. Shoto, being the good husband he is, takes the utmost care of her...as well as helps her deal with two twin girls who can be a bit of a handful.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

“What color do you think we should paint the nursery?” I hum, looking through the different color swatches in the store. Three colors draw my eyes to their soft, comforting tones: mint green, dusty blue, and a lilac purple.

“You seem to be eying the purple. Do you want that one?” Shoto brushes his hand against my back. “It looks nice.”

“I’m leaning towards the lilac, but what do you think?”

He picks up the three shades and spends a minute looking between them. I can’t help the smile tickling my cheeks at his focused expression.

“Let’s take these three paint swatches home so we can get an idea of what it’ll look like on the walls.”

“Good idea.”

. . . . .

We make it home and sleep calls my name. One long shopping trip has always been enough to tucker me out anyway, but with a full child growing inside me? My bottom finds the couch instantly and I puff out a heavy sigh as I flop into the cushions.

“Do you need me to get you anything, love?” Shoto takes a seat beside me.

“I’m just tired, Frosted Flames.” I coo, stretching one hand to squeeze his as my eyelids flutter dangerously. “But I could use a peppermint tea if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll get it started while I put away the groceries.” He gets up again and kisses my forehead. “Don’t try to get up and do anything. Let me take care of you.”

Of course, when I hear the bags shuffling even my desire to sleep can’t fight against my stubborn streak. Just the thought of Shoto having to put away everything and still have to make my tea makes me grunt and struggle to my feet. 

I reach down for a bag, thinking he’s got all the heavy items, and wince when I wobble at the unexpected heaviness of the bag.

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Shoto exclaims, catching me before I topple over into the table. After a breath, he cups my face. “I didn’t mean to get loud. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I hate seeing you have to do all the work.” I frown.

“I know, Tiger, but you have to be careful. If you overextend yourself, you don’t just hurt yourself now. You have others to look after.” He kisses my cheek and squeezes my hands. “Now, go rest and I’ll make your tea. Homura and Himari should be coming back from Mom and Dad’s within the hour.”

“Are you sure I can’t help a little?” I pout, letting my kitten eyes glow up at him.

“If you’re insistent upon helping, you can do the dishes. There’s only a few in the sink. Will that satiate you, troublemaker?” He chuckles, pinching my cheek.

“I think so.” I giggle, and head to the sink.

As I finish up the final few dishes, a flurry of white flashes outside the window showing the outside. I lift my head up and gasp, drying my hands and tapping Shoto’s side.

“Shoto-kun, look!”

He comes up behind me and his head thunks on my shoulder as he looks with me, his hands coming up around my waist and resting on the sides of my belly. At first, I think he’s missed it, but then I hear his breathing stop.

“Is that a rabbit family in our backyard?”

“There’s been one that I’ve seen off and on in the garden, but I didn’t realize she had a whole family!” I coo happily as the furry critters scamper under the rosebush.

“Looks like we’re not the only growing family here.” Shoto smiles and nudges me. “Now, come on. I’ve got your tea ready. You go rest while I finish the groceries and take a nap if you want to.”

I’m halfway through my mug of tea before I’m passed out on the couch.

. . . . .

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what–”

“Shh, Mommy’s asleep, Homura.”

“Oops.”

“How has Ichijiku been doing with the pregnancy, Shoto? No complications?” Mom's voice pulls me towards consciousness, though I keep my eyes closed and my breathing steady.

“No complications, just restless like she was last time.” Shoto explains.

“Daddy, we played Rescue with Grandpa and Grandma let us help her make dinner, like Mommy.” Himari’s voice chirps softly. “Can we visit them tomorrow, too?”

“Well, we’ll see.” Shoto chuckles.

“You know we’re more than willing to watch over them as often as you need.” Dad’s voice, always deep and stern, is surprisingly soft. I have a feeling he appreciates us giving him time with his grandkids. Natsuo’s been pretty adamant about distancing himself. “Especially since she’s in the 32nd week.”

“I know. We appreciate it, Father.” Shoto assures him. “Though the girls like helping Ichan around with things she still has trouble with. Don’t you, girls?”

“Yes, sir!” They chime in unison.

A smile forces itself on my face, so I open my eyes and yawn. I stroke my belly absently as two little girls with their father’s blue eyes barrel in my direction.

“Mommy! You’re awake!” Homura is quick to crawl into the little hole on the couch behind my back, and Himari squeezes herself in there too. Both of them rest their head on my arm and look at me. “Grandma let us help her cook like you do!”

“Is that so?” I grin, reaching up to boop each of their noses. “What did you make, little loves?”

They turn to Mom, who laughs.

“Vegetable tempura.”

“She helped me cut the kabocha!” Himari beams.

“And I got to mix the sauce!” Homura puffs out her chest. “And then before that, Grandpa let us play Rescue!”

“Really? Who did you rescue?”

“Grandpa!”

“He needed help being saved from a fire!” 

“Yeah.” Himari tries to whisper, but there’s no doubt the whole house hears her. “It was make-believe, Mommy. Grandpa don’t get hurt by fire.”

“Oh, okay.” I whisper in much the same manner. “I gotcha. You were very brave for helping him, anyway.”

“You really think so?” 

“I don’t think, I know!”

A little more conversation and I do my typical workout of heaving myself off the couch. Of course, Himari and Homura help push and pull to make the effort easier. Then I waddle over to give the in-laws a hug before stealing a kiss from Shoto.

“We appreciate everything you both do to help.” I reiterate, yawning once more for good measure as I head into the kitchen. Although I’m aching to feed my sweet tooth with M&Ms or chocolate-covered pretzels, my body craves fruit in this third trimester. 

I pull out a few bananas and start slicing them as Shoto waves Mom and Dad out the door.

“You make your fruit, I’ll get the girls’ ready for bed.” Shoto suggests, nodding towards the girls. “C’mon, girls. Let’s go brush our teeth and put on our pj’s.”

“Aww!” Himari huffs.

“Can’t we stay up a little longer?” Homura begs.

“Not tonight. You have school tomorrow.” He picks them both up and hugs them against his chest. “But I’ll tell you what. If you do well with your bedtime for the rest of the week, maybe I’ll talk with Grandma and Grandpa about spending the night this weekend.”

“Okay!” 

When he sets them down this time, two sets of footsteps tear down the hall towards the bathroom. I pop a few slices of banana in my mouth as I shake my head with amusement. I love them so much.

The girls head towards me for bedtime hugs and kisses when I feel it. I wince after I pull back and hold my stomach as Shoto leads them to bed. Shoto’s voice carries down the hall as he reads to the girls while I finish my snack. About ten minutes later, I’m walking down the hall to join him when another sharp, cramping pain crackles through my back and abdomen.

“Ichan?” Shoto’s at my side in a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I should be fine for a bit longer.” I assure him, breathing deep and steady. “But you might want to call the parents to come back and watch the girls for tonight. I have a feeling…”

“Is it already that time?” Shoto’s eyes widen.

“I think so.”

Car lights signal Mom and Dad’s return when my water breaks. Talk about timing. I grip the kitchen counter and swallow thickly. Time flickers by in a blur as my sole focus suddenly becomes the steady ebb and flow of pain as three little boys plan to make their debut.

“It’s gonna be okay, Ichan. We’re almost there.” Shoto reassures me as he helps me through the hospital doors.

One moment I’m in a wheelchair and the next I’m squeezing Shoto’s hand so hard I swear I feel his bones creaking. It’s 7 hours of remembering to breathe and Shoto’s whispered encouragement and doctors and nurses and pushing until a cry cuts through the room.

For all that work through 7 hours, his brother comes three minutes later, and their youngest brother makes his debut in another four. The symphony of three wailing babies graces my ears and prompts me to relax. My eyes lock in on three little bodies with limbs flailing before I search for Shoto.

“They’re here, they’re here.” Shoto whispers, wiping the hair out of my face and caressing my cheek before kissing me. “You did wonderful, love. They’re going to clean them off so we can hold them.” He promises.

Three bundled blankets with three heads of red peach fuzz return to us and tears glitter in my eyes as Shoto and I go to each boy in turn, giving them their fair share of love.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us.” Shoto smiles at me.

“For sure. But the first task is to pick names.”

“I know you had a few in mind.”

“I do.” I agree, thinking over the list I’ve been filing through in my mind. I look at the three little faces looking back up at me and it suddenly seems so clear. “Eiji, Enji, and Emiko.” 

It doesn’t surprise me that Shoto snaps his head to me.

“Enji?”

“I know you’re still working on your relationship with him, but they’re my three little boys. My three little protectors. It seems only fitting.” I explain, eyes fluttering as my body winds down from the effort and adrenaline. “Eiji is a name meant for protection through peace and prosperity. Enji, of course, your father has shown he’s capable of protecting the masses. And Emiko is meant for protection through smiles and joy.” 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“I learned from Himari and Homura that so long as I have a collection of names to pick from…their names will usually come to me after they’re born.”

Shoto looks at our three boys for a moment, then looks back at me, much softer.

“Our three little protectors…I like that.”

Want More Shoto? Try: What It Means to Be the Best

[hazbin-honey]

Physical Touch (not safe for work/minors DNI)

Alastor x Reader (GN)

**disclaimer: if you do not like nsfw content for Alastor- simply ✨do not read this✨**

The faint sound of static buzzed in the air as your fingers hesitantly reached out to unbutton the collar of the radio demon’s shirt. He had given you permission, of course, but a palpable tension hung in the air between the two of you since Alastor had asked you to do the honor of undressing him. Your fingers lightly grazed the exposed skin of his collarbone pulling a small gasp from him. Your eyes flicked up Alastor’s face and he had his ever present smile, although it seemed a bit tighter than usual.

“Don’t stop on my account,” He urged your fingers to continue their exploration in that fake transatlantic accent of his. With his permission, you unfastened the next button on his shirt, revealing more of his skin.

“Don’t be so shy, my dear,” Alastor spoke in a sickeningly sweet tone that seemed to be mocking your hesitancy, “I did say you could touch me.”

You made quick work of divesting him of the garment, unbuttoning the last buttons and then gingerly slipping the dress shirt down his shoulders. Alastor shimming slightly to assist you with the task of getting the lanky man out of his clothes. With a small tremor in your hands you lightly grazed your fingers against his chest, taking your time to feel his skin under your hands before working your way down his body.

“Is this okay?” You asked softly when you noticed Alastor’s fingers gripping the cushion of the couch below him as your fingers brushed against the skin of his abdomen gently. You gazed up at his face and saw that his smile seemed strained.

“Yes, darling,” He replied, his crimson eyes baring into yours with an intensity you were not accustomed to from Alastor. More used to him flitting around in a passive, dismissive manner. To have his full, undivided attention made you feel good, special even. “It is more than okay, please do continue.”

Alastor and you had been intimate before; however it mostly had been him touching you. Alastor was in control of all situations when it came to your pleasure and his. Not only were you in uncharted waters, but he was as well.

Your hand drifted down to ghost over the hardness straining against the fabric of his slacks. Alastor’s reaction was immediate, his hips bucked up against your gentle touch seeking more friction, his erection pressing eagerly against your fingertips. When you gave him an experimental rub, his eyebrows furrowed and he bit his bottom lip and his smile wobbled just slightly.

“Do you like this this?” You asked trying to be teasing, despite feeling your whole body light with excitement seeing Alastor unraveling before you. His fluffy ears were flattening back slightly as his hips involuntarily rolled against your hand seeking more of that delicious friction you had given him a taste of. The squeaking of Alastor’s gloved fingertips as the gripped the leather fabric of the couch became more pronounced.

“More,” Alastor’s voice came out raspy, unfiltered, “Touch me more.”

His eyes were tightly shut and his eyebrows were pulled down while his breath came out in pants. You were only too eager to oblige in his needs, your fingers gripping his erection through the fabric and rubbing up and down his shaft. A strangled moan he had been trying to hold back slipped between the clenched teeth of his forced grin.

“Please, more. I need more,” He whispered as his eyes opened slightly and he gazed down at where you were situated next to him. Never in your life did you think you would see Alastor beg for anything, but who were you to deny him?

“I’ll give you anything you want.” you replied

[halcyon-tarragon-marcawin]

Facing Yourself

The air smelled of fresh bread, chocolate, salt, and despair. Those last two could usually not be found in Ella’s bakery, and the development left her a bit uncomfortable.

Her friend Cynthia – who was more of an acquaintance than a friend if they were honest – had come in half an hour prior, with the saddest and most scared facial expression Ella had ever seen on her. It came as a shock, considering how confident the blonde usually seemed, how absolutely sure of herself. Ella had had barely enough time to lock the door and turn the closed sign before Cynthia started crying. And though tears rolled down her face freely, Ella could tell that she still held back, so she ushered her into her little office slash lunch space, where Cynthia promptly sank into the soft sofa and dropped her head into her hands, not even noticing how much she got swallowed up by the cushions.

Before Ella could ask what happened, Cynthia’s shoulders began to shake, and a heart-wrenching sob echoed through the small room. Without hesitation and in one fluid motion, Ella sank down right next to her and pulled the crying woman into her arms. Cynthia went slack against her, and it felt a bit like this usually strong woman had no bone left in her body.

They haven’t spoken, and they continued to sit in silence as Ella let her feel her emotions and cry them out. Beyond rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth, Ella was at a loss as to what she should do. Usually, Cynthia and her only met at social gatherings of mutual friends, or when Cynthia came by for something sweet at the bakery. Ella adored Cynthia and loved spending time with her, they just didn’t know each other all that well because they barely had anything in common to talk about.

After she calmed down a bit, Cynthia told her that Ben, her boyfriend, was cheating on her. Ella had never met Ben, and so she just blinked at Cynthia owlishly while uttering her condolences. More tears rolled down Cynthia’s cheeks as she said, ‘Him cheating isn’t the issue, it’s that I don’t even care.’

Piercing blue eyes stared into Ella’s brown ones, wide and pleading for her to understand. Except Ella couldn’t understand something if she didn’t have sufficient information, which in this case she really didn’t. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out how to react, before finally asking, ‘Cynthia, why are you in a relationship with someone when their cheating on you doesn’t affect you at all?’

Now Cynthia was the one to bite her lip, and she ducked her head to avoid the eye contact she previously sought. Vaguely, she mumbled about how her parents approved of Ben and it had seemed better than being all alone. With a disbelieving stare, Ella said, ‘Cynthia, honey, you have to live with your partner, not your parents. Why aren’t you with someone you love?’

Cynthia’s lower lip started to wobble again, and a restrained sob tore from her throat before she reached out and threw her arms around Ella, hiding her face in the crook of the baker’s neck. Through a fresh wave of tears, she stammered out that she never met a man she could love, and she never thought anyone else was an option. Ella didn’t know Cynthia’s parents either, but she suddenly had a distinct feeling that she wouldn’t like them very much.

‘Is it possible that you’re upset because you’re trying so hard to be someone your parents want, and now that this one thing didn’t work out, you’re confronted with the fact that this is not who you are, and you’re scared of what that might mean?’ At that, Cynthia stilled and pulled back to look at her. Her expression was schooled to look perfectly neutral and devoid of any emotion. Ella started to overthink her words, remembering how her overly analytical mind often got her into trouble because people didn’t like having the truth dished out with so little pretence.

But then Cynthia nodded with a smile, her gaze dropping to their laps. She seemed to realize that, in her quest for comfort, she had climbed into Ella’s lap. But instead of feeling embarrassed, she seemed to settle in some more, and Ella couldn’t help but be relieved as Cynthia got some of her confidence back. In a whisper, she admitted, ‘This is why I came to you. You tell people what they need to hear, and you don’t judge when someone is perhaps a little different.’

‘Is that the only reason you came here?’ Ella gawked, almost a bit insulted. Cynthia chuckled, leaning her forehead against Ella’s and sniffed rather inelegantly. She elaborated with a smile that Ella was also the only queer person she knew and that she’d hoped not to be forced to feel as scared anymore. With a small smile of her own, Ella asked, ‘And do you?’

Cynthia nodded with a blissful smile before sobering up and looking at her with a sorrowful expression. ‘I’m glad you helped me with this first step. Something tells me that this will only be the beginning, though.’

Ella reached up and wiped away a few fresh tears. Her thumb kept drawing comforting circles on her cheek as she reassured Cynthia, promising, ‘And I’ll be the friend by your side through all of it, okay? I’ll be here as long as you need me. You don’t have to face this alone.’

[leviathism]

Reqs are open?!?!?👀👀👀

Can I request a sick fic with the boy™ Levi but he is the one who gets sick?

leviathan x gender neutral reader

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Leviathan was sick.

Usually, Leviathan pulled away from your touches after a few moments. Even though he was slowly getting better at physical affection, he still couldn’t take it for too long. But he still wanted it for short bursts of time and always gave you a certain glance when he wanted you to touch him.

So when you cupped his face in your hands and expected him to bashfully pull away after a few seconds, but he didn’t, you were shocked. For good reason. But you weren’t one to rush to conclusions. You needed to look for more clues. You looked closer at him.

The way his hair was falling into his eyes that looked up at you, the way there was a small smile adorning his small lips, and the cute little blush high on his cheeks made you realize he was the prettiest guy you’d ever laid your eyes on.

And that he was very, very sick.

First of all, he wouldn’t be smiling. His lips would be wobbling and he’d be biting his lip all the while if you were touching him. Second of all, his entire face would be red. Hell, his neck and chest would be red too. But this blush just looked like he put some of Asmo’s powdered rose blush on.

“Are you okay?” You asked and took a hand to brush his hair off his forehead. He nodded. There it was, the undeniable and damning piece of evidence. He didn’t hastily pull down his hair to hide his forehead from you.

He pushed past your hands and crawled onto you, sitting down on your lap like he belonged there. (He did). He rested his forehead on your shoulder. “I guess.. I feel bad.”

You were frozen but your hands automatically found their way to his arms. You could feel how he trembled lightly under your hands.

Now it may have not been obvious to most, but this was a chance, a possibility, an opportunity to deepen your bond and trust with Levi.

He would see how good you were at taking care of others and he would instantly fall deeper in love with you and let you touch him all the time.

“Your fingers are digging into me,” he complained, his face turning to face your neck. You let go of him. Normal Leviathan would never voice his discomfort, just suffer in silence.

You quickly slipped him off of you and stood up from the chair you were sitting in. You settled him back into his stupid blue gaming chair while he watched you in confusion.

“Where are you going?” He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. You pulled away.

“I’ll be back,” you promised, dodging when he went to grab you again.

You rushed to your room and into your bathroom. You began to dig through your cabinets to look for medicine. You found the right bottle and went to grab and wet a face rag.

You ran back, scaring him half to death with how you slammed the door open.

“Here!” You gave him a pill from the bottle. He swallowed it dry without any hesitation. You almost shook in delight. The undeniable trust he had in you was clear. You were clearly the best partner ever.

You led him over to his tub and cushioned him on the pillows and bundled him in the blankets.

You put the rag on his forehead after grabbing one of his headbands to keep his hair off his forehead. He stared up at you unsurely.

“I don’t have a fever…” He mumbled and peeled the wet cloth off his forehead.

“What?” You put a hand on his forehead and faltered. “…Oh.”

“It’s OK.” he placed it back on, eyes closing. “It kinda felt nice.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” He scooted over and you took the hint to get into the tub with him. “Did the medicine work yet?”

“Um, no.”

“What? It usually works right away for me…” You reached over the side and picked up the bottle. You squinted at it, wondering if it was the wrong one. Levi leaned closer, resting his head on your shoulder.

“…Human medicine might not work on demons but IDK.” You threw the bottle at the wall. You sighed out heavily. All your running around for nothing.

“Well, how do you usually deal with being sick?” You asked him, trying to ignore the sensation of his breath on your neck.

“Nothing.” He turned and threw an arm over you, trying to dig his face further into the crook of your neck and shoulder. The wet rag fell onto you. You held back a grimace. “I get better in like a day or two, to be honest.”

You stared at the ceiling, grumpy. Your plan hadn’t worked. You had made a fool of yourself. He probably didn’t trust you to the point of taking a random pill from you. He was just sick and delirious or something.

“Demons don’t usually worry about being sick like you humans. We don’t die from it, like, ever.” He continued to rub it in. “It still sucks though. But… you being with me makes it better.”

“Would you say that still if you weren’t sick?” You huffed, looking off to the side. He shuffled beside you, clearly unsure where your attitude had come from.

“Uh, yeah? You’re like the best person ever.” You turned your head to face him, surprised. “My day is always better when you’re around. I like it even if you’re just in the room and I’m playing a game or whatever, lol. Didn’t you know that already?”

“…No.” You did, but you also liked to hear it once in awhile. You grinned when you got an idea. An idea that would only work with a less shy and more sick Levi. “Can you tell me some more?”

[genderfluid-insomniac]

I found more motivation by @/eannagram for ya

omg Ivy! I couldn't help but write something after you posted your idea and I hope you like it!! I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible with not even one genitals and with language so have fun!!

Trial One /// nurse!scaramouche x gn!reader NSFW (based on this art and this art)  

“You can call the safe word anytime alright? You remember what it is?” A side of the balladeer you almost never saw, soft and caring while dressed in the very opposite manner. “Yes, I do. It's rainstorm.”

Dark purple jacket-like dress with a slit on either side of his hips, two gold buttons opposite each other till the upturned collar, short sleeves that ended around his upper arm and revealed small scars decorating his pale skin, and black heeled flats with lavender thigh high stockings being held up by garters. “Good pet.”

You’d never seen your boyfriend look so slutty yet beautiful, fitting him so well and to top it all off he was wearing a violet nurse hat with a white healing cross on it. It was his suggestion to try this out and you could stop anytime if either of you became uncomfortable, which made more sense when you saw Scaramouche putting on vibrant magenta latex gloves and grabbing a sizable syringe. Your eyes widened and goosebumps traveled down your skin, and tried to calm yourself because your lover would never purposely hurt you.

By the look of the glass bottle he stuck the syringe in, it was probably an aphrodisiac with its shimmery pink color and sickly sweet scent with drops of it leaking out the tip. A wide smirk was painted on his face when he glanced at you before setting the bottle down and tapping the glass section of the shot, walking over to you and crouching down to you.

“There is no need to fear my love. The pain will be brief.” He had you kneeing on a cushion and hands tied behind your back with pretty silver handcuffs for your “safety”, looking up at him hovering over your figure while grabbing your arm and injecting a good amount of the aphrodisiac into your veins. “Aw. Such a good patient. You deserve a reward for being so obedient and brave.”

Cooing at you in a mocking degrading manner and you preened at it, feeling the effects of the liquid instantly and suddenly panting. Heat shot through your body and pooled in your abdomen, you rubbed your thighs together eagerly and in search of friction for the arousal washing over your. All you could hear was the syringe being set down on the table and footsteps coming closer to you, opening your eyes you saw two lustful indigo irises staring back at you with a pout and hand wandering for something in his pocket.

“You poor thing, you’re squirming like a little worm. Are you alright?” A whimper passed through your lips and you clenched your eyes, hoping he’d just understand what you need. Clothes rustled and you peered at him when he pulled out a black bullet vibrator, rolling it between his fingers and his cocky gaze flickering back to you. “I do have a treatment that might ease your tension but I don’t know if you want it. So speak.”

Violently, you nodded your head and tried to form coherent sentences, only getting out babbles as you tensed and wiggled your thighs to try to get some kind of friction. “You need to use your words, slut.” Swallowing the built up spit drooling from the corner of your lips, and asked with a wobbly voice. “P-Please ngh~”

That was all he wanted as he scanned your flushed contorted face as you pleaded for pleasure only he could give you and softly chuckled, turning on the machine to its highest setting and slipping it in your mouth to lubricate it. The buzz tickled your tongue and cheeks as you sucked the petite vibrator, panting when it was put up your hole and back arching from the rapid change forced upon you. “It seems you still can’t take this treatment. Shame.”

Your hands wriggled and tried to reach out in hopes of grasping something or anything to anchor yourself to his voice and commands. Seeing him stand up through your blurry sight and taking off something under his dress, tossing aside and facing you so his groin was lined up with your face. You barely had any time to ask him what he was doing before his thumb slid your mouth open and thrusted his girth erect cock so it touched the back of your throat, hyperventilating from the action without any warning and trying to move yourself back before you remembered your hands were tied.

Scaramouche’s other hand wrapped itself around your neck and he sighed in relief, clearly holding himself back but enjoying the warm tight mouth you had and glanced down to see some slight panic in your eyes as you struggled to breathe. “Relax, brat. I’m just checking your breathing.” Wrapping his thighs around your face even more and breath hitching when you reflexively gagged. “Now now, surely your dumb brain is smart enough to remember you can breathe through your nose. Wouldn’t want me to mess my treatment up, would we?”

Cooing at the tears pricking your face and mind clearly processing how to inhale like it was just taught to you, eyes still cloudy from the pleasure and innocently looking at him as your guide. You tried to shake your head or respond “No” but neither of those worked so it came out more like incoherent nonsense and wiggling which got you a half hearted chuckle. “Oh-ho I see you're eager to start, so be a good slut and behave.”

To your relief Scaramouche started out slow with his thrusts and gave you time to right your mindset, gradually building up and letting out loud groans as you started to wrap your tongue around his shaft. It wasn’t long before your first orgasm overtook you and your body tensed, humming at the overstimulation of his voice and the vibrator buzzing away in your hole. The vibrations your climax gave you sent more pleasure through his dick and made him arch his back, lewdly moaning and feeling your lips tightly wrapped around his length.

Giving small licks to his slit and moaning in time with him whenever the vibrator hit a certain angle, glaring at him when the hold on your throat got tighter and Scara clicked his tongue in distaste in return. “It seems you’re having adverse effects to my treatment- shit~ mhm-” Closing his eyes briefly before looking down at your stuffed mouth with his cock down your throat. “-which means I’ll have- fuck- to give you a special kind- nghn~ of medicine.”

He picked up his speed and ever so slightly loosened the grip on your neck so you could breathe easier, mumbling praises and “almost”s to indicate that he was close. You were already overstimulated from your first high but the pain has already turned into pleasure and you were almost on the brink of cumming again, rocking your hips against the cushion and tensing your thighs together. Scaramouche’s hips stuttered and cock twitched before orgasming, white bittersweet cum ran down your throat and soaked your tongue.

“Good pet.” Clearly out of breath and still running off adrenaline his hand crept down to your cheek, wiping any excess drool and cum from them while his other pinched your nipples. He pumped a finger into you and pushed the vibrator deeper into you, triggering your second climax. Kissing your lips and silencing any of your moans as your body spasmed and you rocked your hips against his hand, tears slipping down your face and breaking apart to take in air.

Scaramouche took out the vibrator and turned it off causing you to flinch for stimulation, untying your hands and carrying you into your bathroom to clean you both off. Your eyes dropped and fluttered, chuckling, your lover kissed your forehead and whispered to you. “It’s alright to let sleep take you. You did great, love. You were such a good patient.”

[valdomarx]

Five Times Geralt Caught Jaskier (and One Time Jaskier Caught Him), for @kueble

“Geraaaaaaalt!”

That’s all the warning Geralt gets before a flash of bright, jewel-toned silks and a waft of chamomile scent bursts from the upper story window of the townhouse he’s standing outside.

“You dare defile my wife?” A rough voice calls from inside the window, getting closer. “And my brother too? I’ll kill you!”

And then the bundle of half-unlaced clothing and scrabbling panic that is Jaskier tips out over the window ledge and jumps, falling from the third floor in an ungainly mess.

Geralt reacts on finely honed instinct, sprinting forward and opening his arms just in time to catch Jaskier as he falls. He bends his knees as he grabs him to cushion the impact, swinging Jaskier in an arc down and back up until he’s cradled safely in his arms, bridal style.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, because he could have died, but Jaskier beams.

“I knew you’d catch me,” he says brightly, and reaches up to readjust his hat.

-

“My favor’te witcher!”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. Jaskier’s face is red and blotchy as he wobbles through the busy tavern crowd. He is not, as it happens, an attractive drunk.

"I’m s’ happy to see you,” Jaskier manages, gesturing with a bottle that smells suspiciously like cleaning solvent. “Have a drink with me!”

He tries to hand the bottle to Geralt, but trips over his own feet and is heading straight for the manky floor.

For a split second Geralt considers letting him fall, but if he breaks his nose it’ll mean no end of complaining. He jumps up from his seat to catch Jaskier as he wobbles and Jaskier squeals in delight.

“Love being in your arms,” he burbles, and Geralt rolls his eyes and marches him firmly away from the bar and toward their room.

-

“I said stay back, Jaskier!”

Geralt wields his silver blade in a whirling circle, pushing back the drowners encroaching on them from all sides.

This was supposed to be a simple job - a quick contract on a drowner infestation. But their numbers were greater than he had expected and Jaskier had coming running into the fray to “help”, armed with a tree branch of all things.

Now he is fighting off a hoard of hideous corpse monsters with one hand while shoving Jaskier behind him with the other. He beheads two of the drowners with a single stroke, kicking another in its rotten chest, clearing a path out of the boggy swamp. But as he turns he feels Jaskier grab his shoulder and slip in the deep mud, teetering toward the clutches of another drowner.

He moves fast, sweeping Jaskier up into his arms and frantically passing his sword from one hand to the other to beat back the monsters.

“You never listen,” he gripes. “I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Jaskier only giggles, damn the man. “But I have you to protect me!”

-

“Just leave me here, Geralt.” Mournful cornflower blue eyes stare up at him, welling with tears. “Leave me here to die.”

“For Melitele’s sake,” Geralt snaps. “It’s only a turned ankle.”

Jaskier gestures hopelessly at his ankle, which is admittedly turning an ugly purple colour. He’s propped against the offending tree root which had been the cause of this sad situation.

“On your feet and keep up, or I’ll leave without you,” he growls.

He softens that by offering Jaskier a hand to help him up. Jaskier takes his hand and makes it upright for half a second, until he puts weight on his bad ankle and collapses like his strings have been cut.

Geralt darts an arm out to wrap around his waist, holding him up. Jaskier clutches at the chest of his armor with a weak smile. “I don’t think I can go on,” he says, voice wobbling.

“Oh, for the love of -” Geralt grumbles. He turns and hoists Jaskier up onto his back like a pack, careful not to jostle his sore ankle, and gets him to wrap his arms around his neck. “I’ll carry you.”

“My hero,” Jaskier teases, playing with the strands of Geralt’s hair that fall down his back. “I shall compose a ballad -”

"If you tell anyone about this, I really will leave you in the woods to be eaten by a wolf.”

-

“Come over here and say that to my face!”

Jaskier is waving a broken bottle at a gang of large, burly men. They have furrowed brows and matching expressions of ugly cruelty.

“I said,” the leader steps forward, snarling, “that we don’t want no filthy witcher or his whore on our docks.”

“I’ll show you, you bigoted bunch of -” Jaskier makes a run at them, fury written across his face, “- hey!”

Geralt grabs Jaskier by the scruff of his neck, sweeping him off his feet and over his shoulder. Jaskier yells and wriggles. “Not today, Jask,” he says, turning in the opposite direction and jogging away from the crowd of angry sailors.

“But you heard what they said! Those absolute arseholes!”

Geralt shrugs, Jaskier bouncing on his shoulder. “What does it matter?”

“It matters! Because someone has to - put me down, Geralt! - Someone has to defend your honour.”

Geralt snorts. “And that’s you, is it?”

“Of course!” Jaskier manages to sound like Geralt has offended his dignity, even when he’s being carted around like a sack of potatoes. Then his voice softens. “I just want everyone to think of well of you as I do.”

+

Pain.

That’s all Geralt is aware of: the red mist hanging before his eyes, the screaming of his limbs, the fire running through his veins.

Arachas venom, some deeply ingrained part of his brain supplies. Shouldn’t have got so close... What would Vesemir say...

But it was necessary. At least the villagers would be safe, now that Geralt has destroyed the spider’s nest.

He staggers out of the cave, legs barely holding him upright, the world spinning around him. He needs Golden Oriole, but he’d lost his potion bag in the darkness.

Too slow. The words move like sludge through his mind. Too clumsy. Time to meet your end, witcher.

He slumps, and stops fighting. His vision blacks out and he lets himself pitch face-first into the hard ground.

But suddenly there are strong arms around him, catching him and holding him close, and the frantic sound of jangling glass vials.

“Here,” a voice commands, pressing something to his lips. “Drink this.”

He does, recognising the bitter taste of a witcher potion, and the arms around him lay him carefully on the ground.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Gentle fingers brush the hair from his face. “It’s alright. I‘ve got you.”

“Jaskier?” he manages. His voice is weak and scratchy.

“That’s right, darling. I’m here.”

The coil of hopeless dread that had been tightening around his chest loosens. Jaskier’s here. Everything will be alright now.

“That’s it. Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Through the haze of pain and confusion, Geralt finds himself smiling.

“I know you will.”

[writingsbychlo]

to kiss a friend | stiles stilinski

word count; 13,915

summary; stiles stilinski has a crush. he doesn’t think it’s reciprocated. then, he gets kissed, a lot, and his whole world changes. 

notes; it’s just something super cute, y’all love it.

warnings; none, really.

Saturday night, the week your exams had finished, and you were in your final rundown of the last few weeks in your junior year of college. It was hazy, something like a smoke show, half a night you’d barely remember as you sat with bottles of alcohol and empty bottled surrounding you. Your friends surrounding you, the same people who meant nothing to you three years ago and were suddenly the most important people in your life.

“I think I need another drink,” Lydia mumbled, a slight slur to her words as she circled her glass in her hand, melting ice cubes clinking against the edge, and you giggled. Your glass was empty too, it had been for a while, and so were several others around the table. Your legs were a little numb from where they were folded underneath you, your head lolling back against the cushions, and you realised it was probably your turn to get the new round.

Standing up and grabbing for your glass, you wobbled a little on unstable legs, a hand coming out to smooth over your lower back to keep you steady as you giggled, and you turned to swat at the hand. “Watch it, Stilinski. That hand was bordering on dangerous territory.”

He grinned, holding his hands up in surrender and almost dropping the beer bottle in his hand, several laughs sounding around the group. Allison quickly downed what was left in her glass, and Kira held her’s out too.

With two glasses in each hand, varying levels of melted ice and different coloured straws, you headed back to the kitchen. One of Lydia’s playlists were on, an empowering mix of songs that she typically played when the girls were getting ready for a night out together, and it was jumpy. There was just enough rhythm to keep you excited, like dance music at the end of the night in the clubs when everything was moving towards going home, but still keeping the atmosphere high.

Grabbing for the bottle on the side, over half of it gone, in fact, it was closer to the bottom when you really looked at it, and you decide to measure by eye as you poured a dose into the bottom of each glass. A scoop of ice from the equally rapidly dwindling supply in the top drawer of Lydia and Allison’s freezer, and then onto the tonic. You’d long since run out of limes for flavouring, having severely underestimated how much you’d all be drinking in your celebration, and so as the bubbling solution filled up the glasses, you gave each one a little stir with the straw it held.

Taking the first two, you headed back toward the giggles, the laughter between them all guiding the way. “Okay, who was the orange straw?”

The girls all turned to stare at you, wide eyes with layers of mascara blinking dumbly at you, and the song changed. “You’re orange.”

“No, I’m pink.”

Allison made grabby hands for the blue straw, and Lydia frowned, wiggling a finger at you.

“Nope, I’m pink. I chose pink because it matches my nails, remember?” She waved the newest set of decorated acrylics at you, and you hummed. Your vision went out of focus a little the longer you stared at her, and the drop in the base of the song made you snap back to the moment.

“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure we swapped glasses at some point, but you can have it back.”

You moved across the room to her, dancing a little as you went, and as you shimmied past the boy still sitting on the couch beside your empty space, he whistled. Turning to look over your shoulder, Stiles grinned, swilling what was left in his bottle, and his eyes were scanning along your body with little shame or regard for the gaze you fixed him with. Your hips stopped moving, brows shooting up, and his gaze finally returned to your own.

“Don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the show.” He grinned, wet lips being licked for stray drops of alcohol once the bottle content was finished, and he placed the bottle down.

“Little liquor in you and you’re a whole new person, Stilinski.” You swung your hips again, winking at him before placing the glass down in front of Lydia as she sat comfortably in the armchair, and she sighed happily at it. She had a silly grin on her face, legs stretched out onto the footstool in front of her, and her toes were wiggling in time with the music, pedicure matching her manicure.

“Oh, you’re such an angel. Thank you.” She practically sang the words, leaning up to take your face in her hands, and she leaned in, brushing her nose against yours in a series of eskimo kisses that made you giggle, before her lips pressed to yours. A soft kiss, the kind you were used to receiving from her when she drank a little too much, and you pressed back into the simple peck, before she pulled away. Snatching up her drink and taking a large sip, you pulled back, smoothing down your skirt.

“Okay, what?”

“What?” You echoed, wincing as Scott’s loud singing with Kira to the love song playing was almost deafening, and you were surprised that Lydia’s neighbours hadn't come around to complain about the noise yet.

“What do you mean ‘what’? That's what I asked! What was that kiss about?”

“It was just a kiss, Stiles.” You ruffled his hair, his fingers coming up to wrap around your wrist and push you away, and you danced your way back to the kitchen for the final drinks. The conversation in the other room continued, and you reached into the fridge, only a few bottles left clinking around and cooling on the shelves. Popping off the cap of the beer, you balanced it between your fingers, trying to position the two glasses you held too, and raiding the one with the orange straw to take a sip of the drink. The atmosphere had changed, the music was turned down a little lower, and once Kira had taken the glass with the green straw from you, you settled back beside Stiles.

His arm stretched out along the back of the couch behind you, a soft mumble in gratitude as you handed him over the beer, and your eyes moved over the group. “What’d I miss?”

“Stiles’ meltdown.” Scott snickered, and you took another large gulp of your drink, Kira elbowing him in his side for it.

“I did not have a meltdown!”

“What d’you have a meltdown about?” You poked his cheek, and he frowned, sinking back further into the seat as the flush on his cheek from the booze and the heat only grew redder with embarrassment.

“I just don’t get it! Like, if you and Lyds aren’t together, what’s the deal with the kisses?”

“It was just a girly little tipsy ‘thank you’ kiss. No biggie.” You shrugged, leaning forward to place your drink down on the table that was crowded with glasses and bottles, some empty and some in use.

“So, you girls just do that?”

“We pretty much all do that.” Allison chipped in, Stiles’ eyes widening again at someone else joining the conversation, and the nervous scratchings of his fingers on the couch cushions behind you took up again.

“Like, pretty much everyone in a friendship group has kissed at some point. Not just ours. It’s just a friends-thing, I guess. Haven’t you ever watched ‘FRIENDS’? They’ve all kissed at some point!” Lydia burped to follow her statement, eyes wide in shock for a second, before she was collapsing in a heap of laughter at the noise she had made once again, and you grinned at the state of her. She deserved to unwind, she’d been having such a hard time with all the exams, just the way you all had, and now that the last of you had finished your last exam, it was time to unwind.

“I’ve never kissed any of you!” He gaped, staring at them all, and it was like a crowd of sugar-babies staging back at him in mildly drunk silence, wide eyes that were shining a little. Turning to face you, his eyes narrowed a little, and he sat up more to face you. “Who else have you kissed?”

Glancing over the group, you nodded your head. “Uh, pretty much everyone, actually. Except for Kira. Kira, why haven’t you kissed me yet?” She beamed, holding up her glass in a cheers motion, and Scott swooped in to clink his bottle against hers and steal the glory of it.

“I have to keep these lips exclusive to Scotty.”

“Hm, fair enough. I can admire that.” She winked, and you leaned back into the couch, legs tucking up underneath yourself once again.

“So, you’ve kissed Ally?”

“Saved her ass on a night out when she was getting hit on by a creepy old guy at the bar.” Lydia cheered, randomly, before picking up her phone to change the songs, and you loved the attitude she took on after drinking. “He was, like, sixty-something! He was so disgusted by the ‘sin’ of two women. It was hilarious.”

“Okay, and you’ve kissed Scott?” He growled his best friend’s name, turning to glare at him, and you nodded your head cringing a little.

“Yeah. He kissed me in sophomore year before his class. It was an early lecture and he was panicking about being late and he just kinda’ kissed me and ran off.” Scott groaned as he was forced to relive the memory, and Kira rubbed a hand over her forehead.

“Yeah, he did that to me, too.” Allison chipped in, slurping her drink and finishing it again, and she seemed to be the soberest of you all but you were absolutely certain she’d had the most, and you idly wondered where she was putting it all.

“I got a before-class kiss from Scott, too! In fact, he shouted ‘love you’ over his shoulder as he ran off across campus.” Lydia cooed when he buried his face in his hands.

“That was our first kiss.” Kira’s eyes rolled, and you sighed.

“Okay, putting that aside,” Stiles flipped off his best friend, who only returned the sentiment, and you forced his hand down to hide the rude gesture. “That’s it, right?”

“Yes.” You glanced over them all, head nodding slowly, and then you were wincing a little. “Well, actually, there was a very brief kiss with Derek, once.”

“Derek?” Stiles spluttered, and the girls all gasped. It was a secret you had kept a long time, only Kira being in the know on it. “As in, the super-hot cousin of Malia who graduated last year, Derek?”

“That’s the one.” You mumbled, watching the way Stiles slumped back into the cushions, a frown on his face. The chatter around you took up as everyone began sharing their ‘war stories’, all of the kisses they’d exchanged with various other’s in the group, even the ones who weren’t here, like Malia and Isaac. Reaching out a hand to rub at Stiles’ arm along the back of the cushions, he sighed as his head rolled to look at you. “Stiles, they didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t care about the kisses you did have, I care about the fact that you’ve never kissed me.”

You paused, his eyes searching your own, before he was turning to stare out across the group. With a hand on his cheek to turn his focus back to you, he licked at his lips again, clearly a little nervous as you leaned in closer to him. “You know, there’s an easy fix for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” You grinned, your mouth meeting his softly, and he sighed as you pushed up into him a little further. It took a moment before his lips were melding with yours again, and he was pushing back into you, just as eagerly. His lips weren’t as chapped as you had expected, considering how much nervous nibbling he did on them, and they were pleasantly soft.

Pulling back for a simple breath, his hand came up, lacing into your hair and rubbing over your scalp, before he was pulling you back in. Just the collision of your mouth to his left you breathless, the way his tongue soothed along your lower lip and the way that his teeth teased you a little. Despite the nervous appearance he gave off, he was much more confident in his motions than he let on, and you melted slightly under his touch.

Parting your lips for him, he groaned just enough for only you to hear, and you shuddered at the way that feeling vibrated all the way along your body. Tipping your head to the side, with a shaky breath you were pushing into him. Your hands came up, once smoothing along his chest and the other cupping his jaw, fingertips digging into his cheek. You could feel the movement of his jaw under your hand, the way his tongue poked out to play with your own when your lips parted enough for him. When you finally pulled back, it was reluctantly, his nose dragging against yours as the two of you caught your breath.

“Well, none of us ever did that.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, wiping a thumb under your lower lip and reaching over for your drink, taking a large gulp to calm racing nerves and lower a temperature that felt like it was shooting through the roof. “Now he’s been kissed, like a stamp card, he’ll kiss all of you, and then he’ll have caught up.”

“Yeah, but he won’t kiss us like that.” Scott teased, and the girls whooped, making you roll your eyes.

“I won’t kiss you at all, buddy.”

Just like that, with laughter and sweet jokes, the tension was melting away. Lifting Stiles’ arm and settling yourself underneath it, his fingers toyed with the ends of your hair as your back was settled half against his chest, spread out along the rest of the space. Your heart was still racing a little, and your mind still felt a little fuzzy from it all.

The phantom feeling of his lips on your own was lingering, you could still taste the bitter lager on his tongue mixed with the sweet cocktails you’d spent the night creating, and the feeling of blunt nails scraping lightly over your scalp. Lydia was moving, then. She was grabbing a few spare blankets and handing them out, and you settled one across your legs, preparing for the rest of the evening to come.

Monday mornings were never much fun, especially after a weekend of fun. When your exams were over, and you were no longer stressed. These final few weeks of classes were more for simply unwinding towards the senior year and getting yourself ready, preparing for any summer work you may have or making accommodation arrangements, than they were for working. It made finding the motivation to actually get out of bed and attend particularly hard, but coffee always helped with that.

The coffee cart that was part of a small business, set up by seniors the year before you’d joined the college as a part of an independent project was your favourite hotspot. They always had the best roasts and blends, and often had a quirky special of the week that you’d never heard of before, that had come and gone before you could even memorise the names. At the back of the queue as you approached was a familiar flannel and blue backpack, Star Wars stickers and patches decorating the fabric and beginning to peel from wear and tear, while the boy next to him had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. 

They were chatting, or rather, Scott was listening patiently to his childhood best friend as Stiles rambled about something regarding ‘intimacy’ at speeds you couldn’t quite keep up with, and his lips sealed to silence himself when your hands settled over his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who!”

“Jabba the Hutt?” He snapped back, and you could feel his cheeks crinkling under your fingers from his smile, your hands falling away, and Scott only laughed. A few complaints, idly mumbled from sleepy students as you joined the pair in the line, ignoring the protests, and Stiles finally turned around. “Aw, at least it's a pretty Jabba.”

“It’s a sleepy Jabba.” You sighed, a yawn threatening to break free, and you looked between the pair, expecting their conversation to resume, but instead, you were met with slightly tense silence. “So, what were you talking about?”

“Hangovers.”

“Slugs.” 

Scott elbowed Stiles, who rubbed at his ribs, cursing a little bit, and your brows rose. You were used to the odd interactions between the pair, you didn’t understand most of their jokes and sometimes the conversations they had went right over your head. “You were talking about slugs?”

“I..uh, yeah. I thought you meant, like, right now. Because, y’know, Jabba is a slug kinda’ thing. Well, actually he’s a Hutt, it’s right there in the title, but-”

“You’re lying.” You cut him off, raising your brows, and his shoulders sank a little. “But, I don’t want to talk about slugs, when I have only just gotten over my uneasy stomach after Saturday night, so, hangovers it is.”

Scott grinned, finger guns aimed at Stiles, whose arms folded as he muttered about ‘fun slug facts’ under his breath, the three of you continuing to inch closer to the front of the line. As you reached the front, you placed your orders, adding a quick snack onto it, and Stiles pulled out his car, offering it as ‘his treat’, before swiping his card. Moving to the other side to wait for your drinks. 

“Speaking of, how are you not hungover, Scotty?”

“Vitamin C fizzers in a glass of water and a really good workout to sweat it out of your system. Works every time.” He boasted, and Stiles made a revolting gagging sound, his face screwing up in distaste. 

“Yeah, well, those water fizzies taste like piss,

“They’re tropical flavoured,” Scott interjected, and you grinned, reaching up to take your coffee and a bagel in a bag, and the boys took their coffees, the three of you beginning your aimless walk.

“Right, fine. They taste like tropical piss, and I can’t imagine anything worse than then trying to drag my body through a workout.” Scott’s eyes rolled, a nostalgic smile on his face, and once you had tucked your bagel into your bag, you laced your arm through Stiles’. He folded his arm around yours, pulling you closer as that one hand remained holding onto the strap of his bag, and he blew on the surface of his coffee. “Not to mention, you asked me if I wanted spinach pancakes for breakfast.”

“Dude, what?” You turned to stare at Scott, Stiles copying you, and the man was fixed with two equally judgemental glares, free hand surrendering. 

“Hey! They weren’t just spinach pancakes.” He pointed at Stiles, glaring falsely for a moment. “They were savoury spinach pancakes, and I made bacon and eggs to go with it. Which you ate.”

“Because eggs and bacon are greasy. Unhealthy equals good. Green things equal bad.” You grinned, hiding it behind your coffee cup as Scott only sighed, clearly having given up on trying to convince his mole-speckled friend to be even slightly healthy, to do any kind of physical exercise, or even to take his vitamins. “Besides, the year is over. It’s all done. Why are you still being healthy?”

“Good health doesn’t end with exams, Stiles.” 

“Good health shouldn’t start. I’m here for a good time, not a long time. We all know that.” He winked, and you scoffed, steam still curling up and threatening to scald you if you didn’t blow on the drink before each sip. 

“I don’t know, I think you’ll live a long time. You’re gonna’ do something stupid like defy the logic of science and live to the age of two-hundred.”

“I’d better fucking not.” He grouched, making the three of you laugh once again. “So, you know, on the topic of it all, what do you remember from this weekend?” Stiles set the question down gently, and there was no stopping the smirk you were forming as he dared to look back to you, curiosity and slight vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Well, I remember you checking out my ass, if that's what you wanted to know. Sorry, Sti, I’ll be holding onto that for a while.” His cheeks went warm, a scowl forming and he used the linked arms you had to shove you lightly. The coffee in your cup almost spilled over the edges, and you cursed, trying not to burn your fingers, sticking your tongue out at him. “I don’t remember much. It’s all a little hazy. I don’t know, bits and pieces, I guess. Why, what do you guys remember? Something scandalous?”

“Nothin’ that matters.” 

You wanted to follow him up on it, to push a little further, but your phone was ringing in your pocket, the loud chimes and vibrations making you jump so violently that this time you did spill your coffee. Scalding liquid splashing over your fingers, your skin stinging, and you switched the cup to your other hand as you disconnected from Stiles. Shaking the stray droplets from your flesh, one sticky hand rooted around for the phone still ringing in your pocket, and you swiped accept on the call. “Lydia. Perfect timing, not injury inducing at all.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll have a whole fresh set of injuries if you’re not at this class anytime soon.” Checking the time displayed at the top of your screen, you realised she was exactly right, the class only minutes away from starting, and you’d gotten so caught up with Scott and Stiles that you’d left nowhere near enough time to walk across campus. “Starts in five minutes, and I’m not dealing with everyone’s weepy shit about the year ending on my own. You’d better be here.”

“I’ll be totally honest, I’m fifteen minutes away, so I’m gonna’ be su-”

“I’ll give you a lift.” Stiles shrugged, and you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly. 

‘Really?’ You mouthed, and Stiles nodded, knowing that Lydia was still ranting into your ear on the other side. “Well, Stiles is going to give me a ride, so, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

She cut herself off, a hum on the other end of the line and you could all but hear the sultry purr her voice would hold as she prepared herself for a dirty innuendo to fall, and you hung up before she could get it out. “Ready to go?”

“Dude, now I gotta’ walk home.”

“You could just sit in the back seat?” You offered, Stiles veering the three of you off from the path and across the grass in a shortcut to the car park, the slightly scratched baby blue paintwork of his jeep standing out among the other vehicles. 

“Oh, yeah, and suffocate on the stifling intensity of the tension between the two of you? While my legs are forced into my chest by how far Stiles keeps his chairs back because he’s got lanky fucking legs?”

“Well, that was dramatic.” You scowled, turning to swing a punch at Scott’s shoulder, and he howled as the buckle on his bag strap dug into his skin, turning to slap at your arms aggressively in revenge. “You live, like, five minutes from here anyway.”

“Well, that would be two minutes if I was being driven home!” He was moody, backing away from the two of you and sipping his coffee as he walked away. Stiles unlocked the car, the chirp it made as it was opened was a little off-key, but there was always something broken on Stiles’ car, so you weren’t all that unfamiliar with it. Holding open the passenger side door for you, you chucked your bag down into the footwell, scuffling against some dirt fixed into the practically threadbare carpet-guards. 

“Well, thank you, good sir.”

“You’re welcome, milady.” He slammed the door shut, grinned through the glass when you’d barely gotten your leg out of the way, and he was chuckling right around to his own seat. The engine spluttered a little as it started up, and you were convinced that one day all the duct tape under the hood was going to catch fire. “The east building, right?”

“That’s the one!” He flicked on his indicator just a little too late of taking out onto the road, and there was a loud honking of a horn behind you both as he settled onto the road that led toward your side of campus. “Isn’t your dad a Sheriff?”

“Yep!” You hummed, and he chuckled, slowing down a little bit now that he was out onto the main road, and his head twisted to look at you. “The indicator light is broken, the switch is a little sticky, sometimes it doesn’t come on until you give it a few tries, which makes it late.”

“Surely it cannot be legal for you to be out and about with your car like this?”

“I have an appointment for this afternoon, they pulled it up on my last inspection. Unfortunately, this is something tape can’t fix.” His joke made you scoff, and he rubbed a hand over the dashboard of his beloved car. “Gettin’ her all fixed up for the summer. She’ll be purdy like new by senior year.”

“I still think you should rename your car ‘Rosita’.”

“I’m going to rename you ‘fool’ if you suggest it again.” He turned into your parking lot, other students bustling around and beelining into the classroom with speed, the half-drunk coffee in your hand was cooling, and once the car had stopped, you balanced it in a dusty cupholder. “Here we go, with one minute to spare.”

“My hero.” You grinned, undoing the very necessary safety belt that kept you secure through Stiles’ driving, and grabbing your bag, brushing off dry dirt from the floor that was clinging to the fabric, you hopped out. Your side was facing away from the building, and as you reached back for your coffee, chugging as much as you could before running out of breath, you tipped away the last of it onto the grass, and put the empty cup back in the holder.

“Wow, that was the sexiest thing ever.” His face screwed up slightly, and you pulled the straps of your bag onto your shoulders, securing it there, and using your thumb to wipe under your lower lip as you licked the coffee flavour from them. 

“Shut it, Stiles.” Climbing back inside enough to balance one knee on the chair, you leaned across, hand circling behind his neck, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you pulled him in. he made a squeak, a soft sound in the back of his throat, his lips barely having a chance to press back in is shock, and when you retreated, his eyes were wide. “Thanks for the lift, I’ll see you at lunch, right?”

“Uh, yeah..” He licked his lips, coffee lingering on them the same way it had for you, and his cheeks flushed slightly, speckled moles standing out against his pale cheeks as they turned pink. “No problem, for the ride, I mean. See you..”

You were already leaving, a dazed boy sitting in his car for a few minutes and when you glanced back over your shoulder, he was still there. It wasn’t until you were through the doorway that the car moved again, beginning to reverse from the parking spot to leave. 

Lydia was already inside, a space saved for you and a pretty to-go cup that was decorated with flowers, a tea tag hanging over the edge. She was much more composed than you were, perfect liner done and her hair styled as always, where you tended to look a mess, particularly for the earlier lectures, and you were surprised that the two of you had ever become friends. 

“About damn time.” She huffed, using her foot to inch the seat out for you as you made your way to the reserved seat, settling down into it and dropping your bag to the floor. “You’d think you’d be looking less like a homeless person with how late you’re running.”

“Ouch, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You looked down at yourself, a wet mark on your top from the coffee had spilled, and you wiped at it, trying to get rid of it but the stain only spread more. “Okay, fair enough. Is it the holes where the thumbs go, or the sweatpants?”

“It’s the none-chic messy bun.”

“You bring a brush in your bag?” You turned your back to her, manicured fingers already coming up to undo the bobble and begin to weave through your messy hair. Opening the bag up, you rooted through her purse for her hairbrush. Baby-blue and foldable, it was at the bottom, the bristles popping back into their natural position as soon as you’d opened it up and locked the handle. 

She set to work, undoing the knots you’d forgone this morning in a sleepy haze, and beginning to detangle it properly. Once it was loosened up, she separated it into two sides, beginning to part it down the middle and leaving one half hung over your shoulder. 

For the first half of what was really just a chat between the students and your professor about plans for senior year, she was braiding your hair, neatening up the untamed strands and weaving them into a decent style. 

In the second half of your lesson, she was more preoccupied with showing off the latest products she was planning to order online, swiping through the cart she had constructed online. It was the middle of the day, and you wondered how she’d always been such a morning person, because you were exhausted but she had been awake at six AM from the day that you’d met her. 

She was the kind of girl who enjoyed the quiet of the morning, who got up to do a workout, have a shower, and style her hair perfectly before picking an outfit that left everybody else floored. 

For so long, you’d wanted to be exactly that kind of girl, trying to wake up early and find the motivation to do what she did so naturally, but the truth was simply held that you were just the kind of girl who much preferred to sleep in late, and didn’t have any kind of motivation to do anything until way into the afternoon. 

You’d learned to just accept that. 

When the bell rang overhead and the notebook you’d brought just in case hadn't even been opened, the students were all shuffling from the classroom. Some were teary-eyed, having been searching for confirmation and validation following exams as they waited nervously for results that wouldn't be in for weeks, yet, and some were simply unbothered. You remained as one of those students. 

You’d done your best, you knew you’d given it your everything and you’d studied as hard as you could, and so whatever result came it wasn’t something you would feel guilty for, it was simply the best you had to give.

“That stain isn’t gonna’ fade. It’s dried coffee, you’ll have to spray it was stair remover in the wash.” Lydia pointed to it, the sunlight in the outside of the building making it stand out a little more prominently, and you stared down at it. 

“I know.” You frowned, pulling the now dry but ruined material up to get a better look, and she chuckled. Peeling the hoodie up and over your head now that the better weather was in and the weather was warm enough, you bared your t-shirt to the world, and tied the hoodie around your waist. “Better?”

“Not really. You’re wearing a Star Wars shirt.”

“It’s Stiles’.” She looked you up and down, the hem tucked into the band of your jeans, and a smirk was taking over on her face once again. 

“So, how’d your ride go?” She winked, the two of you subconsciously following the same direction toward the tables that you knew the group would be at, having received a message almost twenty minutes ago informing you of their location as a few of them had met for lunch. “C’mon, details. I’ve kinda’ always wondered..”

“About what?” Your eyes narrowed on her, and her hips thrust a little, nodding when you gasped, and you couldn't stop the drop of your jaw when you tuned to her. “Lydia! We did not do that in his car before class! Jeez, what is wrong with you?”

“Hey! I mean the tension between the two of you is undeniable. When you actually put effort into the way you look instead of cosplaying like the before main character of an early 2000’s movie before the middle of the plot-” 

“You're mean today.”

“-he’s normally mentally undressing you at any given time. And, when you do decide to go all stressed and depressed college extravaganza, he still looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. I wasn’t suggesting you did it in the car, I thought maybe you were with him this morning, because you were with him last night. Did nothing happen after Saturday night between the two of you?” She stared pointedly, and while the table ahead of you was only a few moments walk away, she wasn’t letting up on the gaze until you answered. 

With a low voice, you gave in; “Nothing has happened yet, I’m working on it. Some of us like to take our time with guys and make it count.”

“Now who’s being mean.” She frowned, quickly getting over it when Kira shouted a greeting to the two of you, and those whose backs were to you all turned. Warm whiskey eyes met yours, and you waved, a smile taking up on his face as he waved back. Lydia rounded the table, immediately going to speak to Kira before she could whisk you away to your next commitment of the day. So, while you had a second, you moved over to Stiles, a hand landing on his shoulder as you stood beside him. 

“Nice shirt. Wonder where you got it?” He teased, tugging a little at the material, before his hand was coming up to your wrist, pulling you down a little to sit beside him, the two of you facing in opposite directions on the bench. “I’m glad you’re here. I had something to ask you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve only got a second free, so make it quick.” You teased, hand on his cheek, pulling him in closer. This time, he had a second to prepare, your noses bumping and he took a short intake of breath. When your lips met his, he was a little more secure this time, his lips moving slowly with your own in a series of soft and sweet pecks, his head tipping to the side when you pressed further into him. He groaned as your fingers moved up to his hair, scratching over the back of his neck, and when you pulled away, he had a sweet smile forming on his lips to compliment the same pink blush you were growing familiar with. “Okay, what did you want to talk about?”

“Huh?” He blinked several times, before snapping back to sitting up straight, eyes wide and teeth biting down on his lower lip, worrying it there for a second while you giggled. 

“You said you wanted to ask me something, what’s up?”

“Right, yeah..” You suspected you knew what he wanted to know, it was right there on the tip of his tongue, but you were betting on his nervousness and his awkward nature that he wouldn’t do it, and your brows raised to encourage him on. “Hiking. Do you like it?”

“You know I do. Do you?” 

“Yeah! Love it!” His voice was somewhat strained, and you knew he was lying, but he wasn’t ready to ask the real question yet, and so he was avoiding it. “Do you want to go hiking with me on Wednesday, just some me and you time?”

“It’s a date.” You promised, standing from the bench and getting ready to go, but leaving him speechless and confused with another peck as you stood taller than him while he sat. “I’ll see you later. Text me the details.”

Running his fingers over his lips, he only nodded, and Kira’s small arm laced through yours, an unnatural amount of body strength crammed into such a small person as she pulled you away to your next commitment of the day, and Stiles waved, mind still trying to catch up with his body as you left. 

Tuesday afternoon meant lacrosse practice, and despite the poor beginning to a lacrosse career you’d witnessed on video and in-person as of freshman year, Stiles Stilinski was a half-decent player by the end of Junior year. He’d made considerable progress, he was slightly less awkward and didn’t fall over his own feet as much, and he knew how to coordinate himself better, being able to both catch and throw the ball, most of the time. 

Springing to your feet as the orange shirts on the practice team scored yet another point, your arms were thrown up into the air, your roommate standing beside you as she cheered for her boyfriend. The tanned man on the field turned to the stands, helmet coming off and he winked at his girlfriend, pointing up into the stands with the stick. As the champion of the team, the sweet nature he usually held became a little cockier on the pitch, and it was something Kira often spent time daydreaming about and ranting to you at later night while picking out the colour with which to paint her toenails. 

“Yeah, go Tigers!” You jumped a little, voice sore from all the cheering you’d done, and Stiles took his helmet off. Bending in two in the field, he braced his hands on his knees, and both you and your friend sat back down. Stiles was panting, and you cringed a little, his skin flushed bright red and he was sweating. His game may have improved, but he was still in pretty poor shape when it came to prolonged physical exertion. “He’s going to die out there.”

“Hey, at least it’s an improvement from that video of them in high school.” Your stomach twisted a little in reference to the video, knowing it was the one where Stiles keeled over and vomited on his own shoes unexpectedly from the exertion. 

“That video is gross.” You waved a hand, brushing it off, and watching as the man in question put his helmet back on, returning to his starting position as the game was reset to start again. “I mean, at least he gets to play now. Before he was just bench-warming.’

“He just liked to be a part of a team, I think.” Kira giggles her words out, and you shrugged. The boys kicked off on the field again as the whistle was blown, the usual orange of their jerseys meshing in with the practice shade of blue that the other half were wearing to make them distinctive. When they scored again, you were back on your feet, cheering loudly for your boys on the grass, breathless and flushed from the effort, and you swore you were undergoing just as much exercise as they were. “You know, speaking of Stiles, what’s up with the kissing?”

“Huh?” You were panting a little, sitting down beside her again, and slumping back against the step behind you on the bleachers for support. 

“Well, y’know, boys talk and boyfriends talk.” She grinned to follow her statement, proud of what she had said. “Scott told me that Stiles was, like, completely melting down last night about the kisses you gave him. A good meltdown, I mean, because he’s obviously into you on a huge level. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do know that.” You sighed, one of her hands raising to rub up and down your arm softly, and your head twisted to her. “No, it’s a good thing. I’m into him too.”

“So, why the mysterious kisses?”

“It’s fun.” Your brows wiggled, her hand retracting to cover her mouth as she laughed loudly. 

“I’m serious! I know he’s into me, and on some level, I'm pretty sure Stiles knows I’m into him, too. We had a moment right before my first exam, he was going to kiss me, but we didn’t, y’know, go there. Now, we have the whole summer to make that shift.”

“That’s kind of sweet, I guess.”

“He’s been my best friend for three years, so, if we’re going to date for Senior year, I want to be comfortable in our relationship before it starts.” You shrugged, and she gave in to it, slumping back to match her position. 

“So, what I’m hearing, is you’re totally going to make a move on Stiles. But, you want to have a little fun first?”

“Obviously.” There was a smirk on your face, the two of you cheering again but not bothering to stand this time, your legs aching a little from the constant up and down’s you’d been doing. “He’s so cute when he gets all flustered. Just a couple more days of fun, and then I’ll break it to him.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

Three short blows on the whistle made you jump, more like a harsh screech than the queue you’d learned to drown out over the last hour and a half, and the players were all coming to a stop from their laps. Kira was on her feet in only a second, taking off down the steps to meet Scott, and they were on their way over to the benches. He was only a few metres out when Kira’s feet hit the grass, bolting straight over to her boyfriend, who caught her midway. 

Stiles was trailing a little behind, slumping down on the first few benches of the bleachers and grabbing his bag, finding his bottle. Chugging frantically at the water, he had drained half of the water from inside before ever even lowering it down, taking a few gasping breaths, and you took your time in walking over to him. 

Placing your hands over his eyes, he was still swigging at the water in his bottle, lowering it and smiling a little, a few drops escaping down over his lip and dripping from his chin. Taking off both of the gloves he wore once his bottle was placed down, his hand came up, taking yours from over his eyes, and pulling you a little closer. Kneeling on the edges of the bench on either side of his hips, you laughed softly as your front pressed up to his back, hands lowering over his shoulders until you could hook your chin on the top of his head. 

“Hey. Did you watch the whole thing?”

“Sure did, was cheering for you the whole time.” You teased, moving to sit beside him on the bench, Straddling the metal with a leg on either side, he turned in your direction a little more, one elbow resting on the raised level behind him to face you. “You're getting better!”

“Yeah? It's the weed and the ADHD meds. I can focus way better. Check it out!” He held out his hand, the flat palm facing you barely trembling now, as opposed to the near-constant shaking he’d had when you first met him, and you smiled. “Barely a shake!

“That’s all that keeps you focused, huh?” You took his hand, lowering it down to sit on your waist as you shuffled closer, and he swallowed thickly, gaze following his hand, before he was looking back to you.

“Well, y’know, when you’re in the crowd, it gives me something to play for, too.” His fingers flexed on your waist, daring to inch closer to you and his knee bumped against yours. “You’re kinda’ like my lucky charm, I guess.”

“Now that’s how you charm a girl.” With a hand smoothing over his chest, you took a fistful of his orange jersey, pulling him down closer. With a moment of teasing, you left him hanging there, lashes fluttering over his cheeks as your foreheads pressed together, and he was still panting from the game, soft washes of warm breath over your lips. “You made me proud out there.”

“Oh, yeah?” He whispered, nose dragging with your own, and his exhale was shaky when your lips brushed over his own. “Good enough for a kiss? Because it’s not nice to tease, you know.”

“I suppose so.” Your tongue came out, licking lightly over his lower lip, a quick flick that was barely present, but his entire body shook. 

“Oh, fuck.” He mumbled, before your lips were descending onto his own. The other hand came to your waist, tugging close enough that one of your legs shifted to sling across his own, your jeans scraping over the metal but neither of you flinched at the sound, because you were drawing in the way it felt to get lost in one another’s kisses. Your hand slipped up, scratching over the hairs at the base of his neck, before slipping up into his hair. 

Slightly damp, sweaty locks and you should have been repulsed, but you could feel the throb of his heart underneath your other hand, beating erratically and the press he made up into your touch. 

He groaned as your fingers tugged on the hair, lips parting to take a breath, a  peck placed to the edge of your lips, before he was moving back in. He was needy, chasing your lips each time you pulled back for breath, lips never lonely for long, and as the kisses became more desperate he became bolder. 

Tracing his tongue along your lower lip, his head tipped to the side, sweet button nose bumping against your own and your lips parted for him. 

“We should slow this down.” He whispered, smiling at the kisses you continued to press to his lips, and he returned them eagerly. “This is getting intense.”

“No, we should keep going.” Your teeth scraped over his lower lip, his breath coming out in a sudden huff.

“Fuck it.”

Like a slow tease, something sensual and erotic, the kind of feeling you might go insane for. His tongue traced yours, not as sloppy and handsy as your drunken kiss on Saturday had been. That had been frantic, a first taste, desperate on both sides as you delved into something you’d fantasised about both ether ventured into, but this was so much more. This was slow and careful, memorising the taste of one another, the way his tongue tangled with your own, and the easy way that his hand slid up along your body to cup your jaw. 

His thumb was moving absentmindedly over your cheek, cradling your face in the kind of way that made everything inside of you go soft for him. Despite the tension of the moment, despite the way his tongue was playing with yours, wet lips sliding together and jaw beginning to ache from the messy kisses, you had butterflies. 

“Alright, Stiles!” He stiffened, pulling back as his body jerked from a pat on the back, cringing at the harsh slap, and you chuckled. Wiping a thumb under your lip as heat flushed your face in your embarrassment, you avoided the gaze of players wandering past, the few boys that were jogging past the lower bleachers where you were sat. Stiles held an equal expression, swollen lips that were somewhat spit-slick. 

Leaning in, you laughed away your humiliation as your face pressed into his neck, the musty smell of sweat lingering there still on damp skin. His hand came up, fingers smoothing soothingly over your scalp, easing lightly through your hair, and you leaned a little further into him. 

“You know, if I’d been getting that kind of treatment in high school, I’d be a lacrosse star by now.”

“I didn’t know you in high school.” You pouted, and he smirked, letting you pull back as you moved to sit before him again.

“Who said it would be from you. When I’m a super-famous athlete, I’ll have tons of chicks chasing me.” He grinned at your shock, before covering his body as your hand came out to smack at his chest, covering himself and laughing under his cursing. “I’m kidding! Oh, my God, stop the assault!”

“You suck!” You muttered, standing up and moving away from him, but his hand caught your own and his fingers weaved with yours to stop you going any further. 

“Look, me and Scott are gonna’ go for burgers, and I assume Kira is gonna’ come. Do you want to come with us? I’d really like it if you did.” His chin rested on the back of your hand, staring up at you with puppy eyes, and there was no way you could resist. “Pretty please?”

“Of course. I’m hungry anyway. But, I’m not going with you smelling like sweat.”

“But, you’ll make out with me when I smell like sweat?” He mocked, swinging his bag onto one shoulder and not letting go of your hand, standing to meet your height. 

“Uh, I’ll make out with you when you’re all hot and sporty. When the sweat gets cold, it smells, and I don’t want that all over me all night. Go shower.” You prompted, and he sighed over-dramatically, before twisting to show you the towel and supplies in his bag. 

“I was going to, don’t worry.” He moved away, letting you sit back down on the steps and for Scott to follow after Stiles, jogging to catch up with his friend. They had been the last two out on the field, even the coach being long gone, and your friend once again came to sit beside you.

“Spicy.” She purred, and you leaned over, bumping your shoulder against hers enough to send the tiny girl tumbling a little, and she giggled as she came back to sitting up. “Okay, well, since it’ll take all of five minutes for them to shower, boys get it so easy, I have to ask a question. Something I’ve been wondering since Saturday.”

“We share a room. You could have asked me at any time. Your bed is, like, teen feet away from mine.” You teased, and her face screwed up a little.

“Yeah, but in a sorority, someone is always listening.”

“Oh, okay. Intense.” You hummed, leaning in a little closer so she could whisper the secret, despite nobody else being around. “So, what is it?”

“I wanted to know about your kiss with Derek.” Your brows raised a little, biting on the inside of your cheek to contain a cheeky smile at her nosey curiosity. “Not that I don’t think you deserve to kiss him, or whatever, but since he’s spent literally every moment we’ve known him pining for his ex, I bet there must be a story.”

“It's not as exciting as you think, I promise.” She only seemed more curious, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin propped atop her hands, waiting. “He was drunk, it was the anniversary of that house fire thing with his family. He was, like, really drunk because he was legal by then and it was his first time being served, so his first time really being able to drown his sorrows in booze.”

“This story is depressing.”

“Yep.” You sighed, mind going back to the day you’d been comforting your friend. “Gross, too. He was totally gone, tried to kiss me in thanks for comforting him. He only let me help him because I caught him at the store buying enough liquor to take out an elephant. Anyway, he tried to kiss me, I told him no, and while he was apologising, he threw up. He then proceeded to pass out on me, and he weighs a lot. I was stuck under him, covered in drunk Derek and vomit for, like, three hours.”

“I feel sick thinking about that.” Her hand clapped over her mouth, and you nodded, your stomach churning. 

“Why do you think I suddenly went on holiday the following weekend? Derek used a little fraction of all that life insurance, house insurance… random other insurance, payout money to take me to New Orleans to make it up to me.” The locker room doors were opening again, and your boys were once again wandering across the grass, change of clothes and freshly showered. “I had to burn those clothes and scrub off about eight layers of skin to get rid of the smell.”

“Did he remember it?”

“No. He just remembers waking up a pile of his own vomit with his face mashed into my stomach.” She grinned, standing up to brush off her skirt, and you followed after her, wandering over to the boys as they came to a stop. Stiles definitely smelled better now, the smell of something fresh and earthly surrounding him. 

His hair was wet, droplets no longer forming on his hair but it was still messy, a little darker from the water it held and less fluffy, only towel-dried. It was tempting. He read your mind, dipping his head down as your hand raised, and he chuckled when you ruffled it until the strands were sticking up madly. 

Leaning up to follow it, you pecked the tip of his nose, and he returned the gesture, daring to reach out and take your hand this time, fingers weaving together again. 

“Let’s go get some burgers.”

The first Wednesday morning that you’d had off classes or work in almost a full year since getting a new schedule, and as promised, the weather was sunny and only getting warmer. Your phone buzzed, a message to confirm your company had arrived, and you swung open the door of the sorority house, stepping out into the early morning sun as it began to rise across the sky. 

“You didn’t bail on me! You rocked on the balls of your feet, a set of crocs on your feet. There was a cooler in one hand, a lunch for the journey that you had packed for both you and Stiles in advance, and a backpack in the other ready to go on your shoulders. “You know, I expected to get a text from you saying you couldn't go through with it, and we’d do something else. I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so excited!”

You made your way over to the car, watching as he got out, the windows on the front and the back already rolled down as the warm temperature threatened to be overwhelming later into the day, and he opened up the back of the car.

“I packed us lunch, not a breakfast, and it’s like nine AM, so I was thinking we could pick up breakfast on the road-” He had been humming, nodding along as you spoke but as soon as you’d put down your bag and your box, he was sealing an arm around your waist. Pulling you into him, your front met his, and your words died in your throat. Molten gold eyes scanned over your face, a loving glance for a second, before he was dipping down. Long lashes ticked your cheeks, your breath stolen from you as he pressed a delicate kiss to your lips. 

Your hands found his shoulders, clinging for support in your shock of him initiating such affection, because in the last couple of days that had been entirely in your hands, and now he was reciprocating and taking just as much control. You’d expected it to come before the end of the week, but this was earlier than you’d anticipated, and it left you in awe when he finally pulled back, moving to press a kiss to your cheek, too. “Good morning.”

“Yeah. Hi. Good morning.” You whispered, leaning in again to press another drawn-out peck to his lips, and he smiled a little when you pulled back. 

“So, you wanted to get breakfast on the road? McDonald’s drive-thru?”

He closed the back of the car, the door slamming and sealing into place before opening up the passenger side door for you, and you took your seat. Closing it a little more gently this time, he hopped in himself, the engine was loud as it started up, and something was a little different. The smell of the car was different, and while you knew that Stiles had taken his car for a full-check up ready for the summer, there was something else.

A pine-tree scented air freshener hung on the mirror, polished of the usual layer of dust and fingerprints that you would find there from his fidgeting and adjusting. You continued to look around as he drove, the music playing softly on a fixed radio that wasn’t as crackly as it had been months ago, and it suddenly clicked to you. “Oh, my God, you cleaned your car!”

“Took you long enough to notice.” He smirked, the indicator working perfectly when he used it this time to switch between lanes and you shuffled a little more in your seat. The worn leather had been renewed, fading patches painted over with colour to fix them and re-stuffed with new filling to plump them up again. The dirt-filled footwell carpets had been stripped, soft felt under your feet that were black instead of brown and grey, and there was nothing crunching or rattling under your seat each time he came to a stop. “You like the freshener?”

“It’s super fresh. Like a forest. Like the forest we’re going to.”

“The girl at the counter recommended it, there was a lot.” He sighed, and you could picture the box, having been to the mechanic’s shop with him once or twice, and there were at least twenty different options sealed in little packets. “They had all these little organiser boxes, and you keep telling me that I should get this car organised and stop having things rolling around under the seats, so I picked some up.”

“This is awesome. I’m very impressed.”

“My car is a chick magnet now.” He grinned, rolling to a stop and joining the breakfast queue at the drive-through, and your head rolled to the side to look at him. 

“Oh, yeah? I wouldn't push it that far. You still haven’t cleaned the outside.”

“I saved that, because I know how much you love going through the carwashes.” He inched forwards, closer to the speakers, and your hand settled over his on the gearstick, tracing the veins in the back of his hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about you. You’re such a great guy, Sti. That’s all.” He smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead, and your cheeks heated up once again, leaving you to hope he couldn't see it. “So, once your chick magnet is all clean, you’ll be unstoppable. It was clearly the car holding you back.”

“Well, there’s only one girl I’m trying to get here.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Stiles, but Lydia won’t get in this car even if you scrub it top to bottom with a toothbrush.” He paused for a second, sitting up more as he scanned you for humour, and when your smile broke free his laughter did too. 

“You’re the fucking worst. Just decide what you want.” He scoffed, turning away and hiding his beam as your turn at the speaker came up. 

The two of you coasted through the drive-thru, the bags together of your food sitting on your lap and around you, feeding Stiles bites of hash browns and McMuffins and he drove, giggling each time a piece of food rolled down his chest and got stuck in his lap when he failed to take the food from your fingers. You tried to keep it clean, packing up the waste into the paper bags to keep it clean. You admired that he'd cleaned it, you really did. While you knew that the mess in his car had never overly bothered him, he knew it bothered you. You weren’t a stickler for cleanliness, nothing like Monica Geller, but his particular brand of disorganised organisation had never made sense to you. It was much the same with his bookshelves, Stiles had an order for everything that never made sense to you, no matter how many times he tried to explain them to them. 

It was something unique to him, as a lot of things were. He was unusual, in the best way possible. He had too many thoughts to ever contain in his head and he never stopped talking, but when his anxiety died down and he got comfortable, there were times when he was happy to simply sit in quiet for a while, and listen to music or make the most of the company he had.

Your joint playlist was on, the radio fresh and blasting music as soon as the two of you had hit the highway, and the sun continued to rise in the sky, getting warmer and warmer. By around midday, the light had only gotten brighter as it shone out across the land until both of you had put on your sunglasses just to be able to see out, the mood was only getting happier. 

Singing at the top of your lungs with the windows down and weaving through emptier countryside roads, Stiles’ free hand finally left the wheel. You’d been expecting it, the lingering touches that you were awarded throughout the drive were all hinting towards something, and as you were beginning to last thirty minutes of your journey he took that leap. He had always been an affectionate friend, ever since the day you’d met him, everything from a handshake to a hug meant something, and so as his hand settled over your thigh, you couldn't sense the nervousness behind it. 

Starting at your knee, his palm skimmed over your skin lightly, settling in the middle of your skin, nails scraping lightly as he held on, fingers flexing and digging into the muscle there for just a second, before growing comfortable. Running your fingers over the back of his hand, he parted his fingers a little, letting you weave your own through his, and link your hands together. Pulling his hand a little further up to sit comfortably in your lap, your other hand cradled your join ones, and his thumb played absentmindedly with yours. 

His gaze left the empty roads, just for a plot second, eyes lost behind the glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, but nothing could hide the smile he had. The SatNav on the dash was doing the final bits of guiding for the both of you, barely another car in sight as the early afternoon in the middle of the week left you to your privacy, and as soon as you arrived, you were falling out of the car. Despite the large space, it felt stuffy after being packed in for hours, and you were stretching on shaky legs once the seat belt around you was undone.

“So, uh, how long exactly is this trail?”

“Ten miles!” You beamed, rolling your ankles on each foot to free any tension, and Stiles came to stand beside you, and an appalled look on his face. He stared up at the mountainside before you both, covered thickly with a layer of green trees, rising so far up into the sky you thought they may meet the sun, and you could barely see the trail through the thick layer of leaves. It was beautiful, a display of all different shades of green, meeting a deep blue sky, dotted with pretty clouds and creating the perfect setting for your day.

“Are you serious? You really think I can handle a ten-mile hike, most of which looks like it’s going to be uphill, by the way, an-” You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips as he stared down at you, and the words he’d been intending to say instead just became a happy hum in the back of his throat. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks gently, and you giggled a little into his mouth at the needy sound he made as you pulled away. Granting him a kiss, you pulled away for certain this time. “I’m messing with you, Sti.”

“I hate you.” He grouched, bumping the tip of his nose against your own, and your laugh was almost breathless as he leaned in to press a slow kiss to your lips once again. Pressing back up into him slightly, he shuffled forwards, your bodies meeting, but the pressure of his foot came down on your toes, and you yelped slightly, snapping apart and bumping your nose against his. Your hand flew up, rubbing at the bridge of your nose as his eyes went wide, and you couldn't help the chuckle you released. 

“Of course, you’d step on my toes while kissing me.”

“Why in hell are you wearing crocs for a hike, anyway?” He teased, poking his toes against your rubber-covered feet, and you pulled back, presenting them proudly. The bright green was speckled with little badges, one of a hot dog, one with the first initial of your name, and a cat on the other foot. 

“What, you don’t like my croc pins? I just ordered another one online. It’s gonna’ be an ice cream cone!”

“No, I like your crocs, for some good forsake reason, but they don’t seem like appropriate footwear for a hike.” Your toes wiggled inside of them, your socks slippery against the material, and you rounded to the back of his car, leaving him to follow. Once it was opened up, you were taking your bag, opening it up to reveal the set of hiking boots that were positioned on the top. “That makes more sense. Of course, you’d have specific boots for going hiking.”

“Don’t complain to me when you have blisters at the end of the day because you didn’t bring the correct footwear!”

Sitting in the back of the jeep, he mumbled under his breath, something about not wanting to do this in the first place, and you only smirked, ignoring his comment. He’d get over it once the two of you had started. He did every single time, he would complain for the first mile of the walk, and then once he could see the beautiful landscapes below him, and how far he’d already managed to come, he’d go quiet and enjoy it. 

He pulled off your crocs for you, your feet swinging over the dusty flooring of the parking lot and you pulled up your first foot. Tugging on your first boot, you adjusted your foot within it, slowly doing up the laces along it, and tying them tightly up at your ankle. As you were lifting the second foot, Stiles was glancing around, his foot tapping on the floor. 

“Any toilets around here? I don’t think we’re at the stage of me peeing in a bush in front of you, yet.”

“You’ve already done that, actually.” His head snapped back to you, looking utterly mortified, and he was waiting to see if you were messing with him again. A series of squeaky noises left him, something you assumed was supposed to be a question asking for clarity, and once your second boot was done up, you dropped your leg and gave him your full attention. “In sophomore year, we were drinking at Derek’s place and walking home. You were drunk and needed to pee. Scott told you not to do it, but you did. We didn’t look, I promise.”

“We?” He echoed, cheeks heating up even more.

“Yeah. Kira and Isaac were also there.” You cringed, and he let out a groan, head tipping back to stare at the sky as he processed that statement.

“Okay, well, I’m not ready to pee in front of you sober, yet.” You pointed behind him, a sign that led the way to the toilets, and as you climbed down from the car, you took your bag and the cooler box out with you, slamming the back of the car. 

“Go pee, and when you come back, check the trail map and choose the one you want.”

“You rock. You’re the best.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, backing away from you quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogged away, leaving you to chuckle as you watched him go. Cross packing everything that had been keeping cold into your backpack now that there was pace, you shuffled it all around to make it fit, zipping the somewhat heavy back bag up, and adjusting it comfortably over your shoulders. 

It was the perfect day for you to go hiking, no more worries about exams or school stress, instead, you were completely free. Only a few other people were milling around, barely a handful at that and you doubted any of them would end up doing the same trail as you were, giving you plenty of privacy. 

Stiles was already heading back in your direction, stopping in front of the large wooden board with the different trail maps displayed on. His finger traced over a few of them, brows furrowing and lower lip once again being held captive by his teeth as he considered the options. He took his time, leaving you hanging as he studied them all, and just when you were considering just calling him over, when he was finally making his way back to you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was just thinkin’ that if you didn’t hurry up, the sun would set before we ever hit a trail.” He rolled his eyes, hand shoving at your shoulder that you stumbled slightly, and after placing the empty cooler onto the back seat, he locked the car, Grabbing the back of your backpack, he spun you around forcefully, snickering to himself when you almost tripped over your own feet, and he sealed his car keys away into the front pocket of the bag, securely. 

“Well, I picked one. The one with the white markers.”

“How long is it?” The two of you made your way over to it, a large arrow on a white background pointing the first way to go, and you headed in that direction together. 

“Four miles all around. Like, a middle ground between us, and we can have the lunch you packed for us at about halfway around.” You nodded, adjusting the back on your arms, and staring up at the pathway before you. Silence fell between you both for a couple of minutes only the scuffling of your shoes along the path and the slight stumble Stiles did each time he tried to kick a pebble. 

Just like that, Stiles was full of chatter once again. He was commenting on everything that passed by, and once the sunny parking lot was cleared and you were sheltered by the tree canopy overhead and shaded from the sun rays, he was opening up again. He couldn't stop his chatter, nothing but excitement as the two of you set off and the only time he paused or stuttered was when the pathway evened out a little, and you laced your fingers through his, palms pressed together as your fingers wrapped tightly. 

It was clear to you, every moment you spent with Stiles since the first weeks of your Junior year when the shift between you and Stiles had been made that the sky surrounding you both cleared. Nothing was ever a perfect match, there was always going to be something between the two of you that just never matched, like jagged edges of a jigsaw puzzle. However, there was a lot about you and Stiles that did work. You’d be a pretty damn good match, and that was no secret.

Despite how much he hated physical exertion and nature at all, he was more than willing to go hiking for you. Despite how much you hated the dirty he let build up in his car all year, you were still willing to ride with him. 

He liked to hang out, and be simple, he wasn’t one for dressing up fancy and he never judged you for doing the same. He liked video games, and crime documentaries, and puzzle books, and you liked to sleep in late, and eat the majority of junk food over healthy food, and to steal his funny shirts with jokes on that you could never find online. 

It would take work, as all relationships would. But, the more he chatted and pointed things out, skipping between unfinished stories and gesturing so wildly with his hand motions that sometimes you had to duck, you realised he was perfect for you. You liked to listen to him talk, once you’d gotten used to deciphering his jumbled messages and worked out how to slow him down. You liked it when he got anxious and chose to mess with your fingers, or doodle little pictures in his notebook that he’d show to you, or begin frantically half-finished sudoku and crosswords in his puzzle books that you got to finish. 

The temperature was getting warmer, leaving you to strip your jacket off and leave you in your t-shirt only two miles in, approaching the highest point on your hike, the trees clearing once you reached the top, and pools of clear water were gathered. There was a waterfall that you’d passed not far back, a stream you followed constantly running downhill from the pools you were encountering now at the top. Flowers grew around the edges, everything from dragonflies to little frogs was around, birds in the trees and butterflies and bees moving between the flowers, and there wasn’t a single other person in sight. 

“Okay, I’ll admit, this is pretty damn incredible.” Stiles sighed, clearly having decided that the two of you would be stopping here, because he came to a halt, his hand still wrapped with yours pulling you to a stop as well. 

“If you came hiking with me more often, you’d get to see more incredible scenery like this one.” You teased, elbowing him slightly, before freeing your hand. You hadn't realised until now, but your palm was a little sweaty, rubbing it on your jeans before spinning around, and searching for the flattest spot. The ground was lumpy, as was to be expected in nature, before finding a small spot of grass on the ground beside some trees. Just enough shade not to burn, but still enough sun to keep warm, and you patted the grass, finding it dry. 

Sitting down, you patted the grass beside yourself, and he came over, collapsing down into the spot beside you. Leaning his back against the bark of the tree, he toed off his shoes, wiggling his toes in the cooler air and letting out a sigh of relief. “So, what’d you pack?”

“Oh, I brought a whole bunch of stuff.” You grinned, unzipping your bag and showing off the contents inside to him. “All your favourites, of course. Even those gross pickle-flavoured chips.”

“They’re delicious, but thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” He picked them out, beginning to help lay out everything that the two of you had to eat around the both of you on the grass. 

“Eh, it’s no big deal.” He shook his head, a finger underneath your chin to pull your focus back to him and he bumped the tip of his nose with yours. 

“It’s kinda’ a big deal.” He mumbled, pressing a series of sweet kisses to your lips, once you could barely keep up with him as teased you, pulling away each time you tried to press back. When you huffed out, a little irritated and moderately pouty, he gave in, teeth taking your lower lip and pulling it out for a second as he smirked, before letting his mouth slant across your own. 

Turning a little, you leaned into him more, his hand skimming down from under your jaw to sit on your waist, fingers adjusting on your waist, before smoothing around to sit on your lower back. The other one was still holding the two of you up, quickly collapsing underneath you as he lay back. Leaning over him a little more, you weren’t ready to let the kisses end just yet, and clearly, neither was he. 

He pulled you with him, a hand laced into your hair now that it was free and pulling you with him, his tongue tracing along your lower lip. He grunted, chasing your mouth when you sat up a little, the hand on your lower back tightening to hold you close, and you licked the taste of him from your lips. 

“Mh, no. Come back, more kissing.” He whispered, puckering his lips, and you were more than happy to indulge in it as soon as you had left him, but you paused, your lips brushing against his. 

“I have to tell you something.”

“After we kiss, okay?” He mumbled, pressing up into you some more, and your giggle was lost to his mouth as the space between you was sealed once again. Your hands found in his chest, weakly pushing him back and you failed a couple of times, unable to resist the pull between your lips and his own, but he gave in, slumping back into the grass and giving in. He smirked up at you, tucking loose hair away behind your ears, and you tried to steady your racing heart. “This is whatever’s been going on lately, isn’t it?”

You could only nod, sitting up properly beside him, and he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“I figured as much. Not that I haven’t been loving it, but I have been wondering.” He sat up some more, twisting to face you again, and he lifted one of your hands away from pulling out strands of grass, holding your hand in his lap, comfortingly. “I have this theory that you have really bad news to tell me, and you’re trying to make it easier on me. Like, you’re moving to another country for Senior year and never coming back.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Stiles. Don’t worry.” You grinned, and he let out a large sigh, shoulders sagging slightly as he let that fear ebb away. “It’s not bad news, I swear.”

“Then, why do you keep kissing me, then?”

“Well, last Saturday, you said you wanted to be kissed more, and that you felt left out,” He took a deep inhale, probably to argue with you, to say you didn’t kiss everyone this much, or to protest that neither of you was drunk or mourning, and you pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. That act resulted in his lips puckering to press a peck to the pad of the digit. “Let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.” He mumbled, words a little distorted, and you lowered your finger.

���I know there’s something between us, alright? I’m not stupid, and I know you feel it, too.” He nodded his head, staring dumbly and biting his tongue to resist speaking. “You are my best friend, Stiles. You mean so much to me. I had a better plan for all of this, I really did, and then you wanted to be kissed and it changed. Then, you started blushing whenever I kissed you and I liked knowing that I could do that to you, but in the last two days, it’s been way more intense.”

“Can I talk now?” He interrupted, and you sighed, unable to help the smile though, because it was exactly what you expected from him. 

“Yes.”

“You rejected me.” He frowned, his eyes leaving your own for a second, and you tipped his face back up, forcing him to hold your gaze. “I tried to make a move, I tried to kiss you a few weeks ago, and you didn’t want me. So, I’m really confused now. I wasn’t upset that nobody had kissed me, I was just upset because other people got to kiss you. I don’t want anyone else to kiss you. I want that to be my job, I want exclusive kissing rights to your pretty lips, and I thought you wanted that too. But then, you turned away when I tried to kiss you and you never brought it up again, so now my head is just.. spinning.” 

“Because you have the worst timing.” You laughed, a frown forming on his lips at that and his brows dipped together with his confusion. “Stiles, this is new. I know we’re gonna’ work well, we will be great together, but there’s going to be ups and downs. I couldn't face that in the middle of my exams. I wanted to be able to give you my full attention. You tried to kiss me before my first exam, Sti! My head would have been spinning and I would have failed them all.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you that one.”

“Even before that, you have to know why I never kissed you, like anyone else.” You waited, and he shook his head, staring blankly, and for one of the very few times you’d achieved it, he was speechless. “Because it doesn’t mean anything with them, Stiles.”

“And..  does it mean something with me?”

“It means everything with you, baby.” His lips pressed together, wobbling at the edges as he tried not to smile, and he hid it by leaning in to steal an extra kiss from your lips, one that you were more than happy to grant him now. 

“I could get used to hearing you call me ‘baby’.” He whispered, breath tickling your lips before he was kissing you again, your smiling barely making it possible. “So, what I’m gathering here, is that you want me just as much as I want you, and we have all summer to make out and get used to the idea of you and me being a thing.”

He pulled back, brows wiggling at his cheeky comment, and your giggle was light. “I’m hoping we can go on dates and things too, y’know.”

“Of course, but, there’ll be lots of kissing too, right? Because I like kissing you, I’ve been waiting a long time for it. C’mere.” He crooked his finger, drawing you back in, and his lips were pouting again for you. 

“Yeah, okay, lots of kissing too. Exclusively.”

“Better be.” He whispered, and then his mouth was meeting yours, pulling you back into him and trying to avoid the picnic food between you from being crushed. His hand was back on your hip, pulling you close, and as he whispered the favoured pet name back to you, you melted for him. 

He made your head spin, and your stomach twist into butterflies, and your heart race, and you loved every second of it. 

[battlecries-dear]

The epic highs and lows of drinking too much white gull

Why write a book report due in six hours when you could instead write witcher fic <3

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: mutual pining, drunk Geralt, pre-relationship, just incredibly soft, nothing happens because Geralt is drunk but there's an admission of feelings (sort of)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1k

“I’ve- hmm,” he paused, surely there was a reason he hadn’t made this known before? Surely? But the way Jaskier was looking at him, an easy smile on his face and bright eyes looking into the witchers very soul, removed any doubt from his mind, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to kiss you.”

read here on AO3

Geralt was plastered. It was a week into his latest winter at the keep and he had let Jaskier wrap him and his brothers into some blasted drinking game. While the wolves shot white gull, Jaskier was perched on a pile of cushions and furs, ‘oh that witcher brew is far too strong for my delicate constitution' he had said, and produced a gentle honeyed wine from somewhere.

Adding a game to their drinking had brought out an unmatched competitive edge to him and his brothers. Eskel was still looking alright, but Lambert had long since slumped across the table in defeat, much to the joy of the others.

And Geralt was plastered.

His eyes kept wandering to Jaskier where he sat, he was so far away, Geralt just wanted to reach out and touch. The wine he had been drinking was still wet on his lips from his last swig, and it set a lovely pink across his cheeks and nose. Geralt had half a mind to curse those thoughts, but he was far too caught up in not wavering where he sat to focus on his usual dance of feeling and repressing.

This time when he looked over, Jaskier met his eye. That embarrassed him for some reason he couldn’t name, and he quickly looked away. Jaskier let out a low chuckle that set something alight in Geralt. Before he could think too long on that, Jaskier was speaking again.

“Eskel, as lovely as this has been, I’m afraid it’s time I put my dear witcher to bed. Any more gull and Geralt is going to pass out right at this table,” he laughed again, Geralt could barely process the words he was so caught by the curve of Jaskiers lips, “and contrary to popular belief, I don’t have the strength to carry him to bed I fear.”

“-Don’t need you to carry me,” Geralt mumbled.

“That’s the point love, I couldn’t even if you did,”

Jaskier’s laugh was bright, Geralt thought, like the sun. Or like staring directly into a lantern until white spots danced behind your eyelids. He thinks he’d quite like to dance with Jaskier, maybe not now though, he tried to stand to prove his point and definitely wobbled a bit.

“Hmm.” Is what he said instead of asking Jaskier to dance, that felt like a victory.

“Prob’ly a good idea,” Eskel said, his jumbled words somewhat betraying his steady posture, “Lamby was out first so he gets to sleep on the table,” he punctuated his sentence with a smack to Lamberts back where he was slumped

“‘M not asleep,” Lambert said, voice somewhat muffled by the table he was faceplanted against.

“G’night then Lambert, Eskel,” Jaskier said before coming up next to Geralt and winding an arm around his waist, “Until tomorrow wolves,”

Eskel and Lambert both offered parting words of varying coherence but Geralt couldn’t hear them. How could he when he could feel every inch of Jaskiers firm arm pressed around his waist? How could he when he could feel the hard line of Jaskiers shoulders where he had slung his arm over for support?

They began the walk back to their adjacent rooms and it took a minute of focusing on the feeling of Jaskiers body pressed against his before he realized the bard in question was talking.

“-brothers are so fun Geralt, I don’t know why I was so worried about meeting them, or, well, I do know why I was nervous, but it seems silly now, and-”

Jaskier kept going and Geralt tried to listen, he really did. It was usually just teasing when he pretended not to listen to Jaskier, and the bard knew this. But now, with his head all fuzzy and his skin pleasantly warm, and Jaskier pressed close, close, closer against him, he couldn’t think.

He had been just staring at Jaskiers profile as he talked, letting him lead the way to their rooms.

He really wanted to kiss him, he had always really wanted to kiss him, why hadn’t he? He never even told Jaskier this, that seemed a shame.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said simply to halt Jaskiers speech.

“What is it, my dear?”

“I’ve- hmm,” he paused, surely there was a reason he hadn’t made this known before? Surely? But the way Jaskier was looking at him, an easy smile on his face and bright eyes looking into the witchers very soul, removed any doubt from his mind, “I’d like to kiss you.”

Jaskier faltered for a second, the smile on his face dropped for a moment before snapping back into place.

“Geralt, dear, you’re drunk,” He sounded sad, Geralt thought, and that wouldn’t do.

“Jask- no Jask- well, yes I’m drunk. Definitely. A little. But that doesn’t. Hmm. Even when I’m sober I-” Geralt was far too gone right now to properly process the emotion plain on Jaskiers face and it stopped him in his tracks. It felt like a rejection though. Oh yeah, that’s why he had never said anything. Jaskier was still stood close with a hand on his shoulder to keep him from swaying where he stood. Geralt quickly took a step back. “Sorry,” he muttered out quickly and began to turn away.

Jaskier quickly reached out and held Geralt in place. Geralt wobbled a bit where he stood from the movement.

“Geralt, love. If you truly want to kiss me, believe me, I will not stop you-” Geralt took a step forward at that, Jaskier chuckled and splayed his palm against Geralt’s chest to keep him back, his hand felt burning hot against Geralt’s chest, “Let me finish dear. If you want to kiss me, I will not stop you in the morning when you’ve slept off the gull. When I know it’s truly your want and intention."

“But-”

“No excuses, you’re making this supremely difficult to refuse but ask me in the morning,”

Geralt considered for a moment, through the drunken fog of his mind he thought it would be best to kiss Jaskier for the first time with a clear head so he would be sure to remember it all in detail.

“Ok, ‘ll ask again in the morning.” He paused for a second, “Could we share a bed tonight though, wanna be close to you.”

“Sweet Melitele Geralt, if I had known drunkenness turned you into such a flirt I would have started brewing white gull years ago,” Jaskier laughed, “Yes love, come on.”

Jaskier led them both into his bedroom and into his bed. The bard had no sooner laid down when Geralt moved to wrap his arms tightly around him.

“G’night Jask,” Geralt mumbled where his face was pressed against Jaskiers shoulder.

“Goodnight Geralt,”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Kalim and Jamil, 🐍, platonic

Oops, this one became kind of longish 😅

Order Up!

Typically when Jamil was roused in the middle of the night, it was for one of two reasons: either one of the many animals in Kalim’s menagerie was roaming about, or an assassin was afoot. A crash or a bump in the night only spelled trouble for him. He had learned to arm himself with his magical pen before answering to any suspicious sounds.

But when Jamil cracked open his bedroom door, he found no tiger or killer standing before him. Instead, a smiling boy in silk pajamas, stared back. His eyes glittered like garnets.

“Kalim.” Jamil relaxed slightly, but maintained a defensive stance. “What are you doing at my doorstep at this time of night?”

“Ahahah, sorry! I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take a walk around Scarabia until I was tired again.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that. Someone could have easily slipped in and ended your life while you were alone.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I ended up wandering to your room then, Jamil!!” He laughed off the thought of death so naturally. His boisterous voice carried down the empty corridors, an eerie call upon the desert winds. “Cuz I know you’d never hurt me.”

Debatable. Jamil bit back his sarcasm.

“I’ll escort you back to your chambers,” he stated firmly.

“Actually! I was hoping I could chill in your room for the rest of the night, Jamil!”

“Excuse me?” The vice dorm leader frowned and folded his arms. “Is now really the time for that?”

“I think so! I really miss the sleepovers we used to have as kids! Now that we’ve got our own rooms in Scarabia, we never get to have them anymore,” Kalim blabbed. “Remember the time your sister joined us and we took turns braiding your hair? Oh, and the time we tried making our own popcorn with fire magic!! And...”

“Kalim.” Jamil cut him off. His gaze was quiet and analytical. “You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

At this, Kalim fell silent. His smile wobbled, as did his voice. “... Ahahah. I knew I couldn’t fool you, Jamil. I even did my best to try and look strong, too.”

“You wear your emotions on your sleeve.” Jamil took a step back and to the side, waving a hand. “... Well? You wanted to come in, so come. It’s safer in here than in the hallway.”

A bit of Kalim’s pep returned to him as he crossed the threshold, the door shutting behind him. He quickly acclimated himself to the space, cozying up on the carpeted floor while hugging a cushion to his chest. Jamil joined him, sitting crossed-legged across from his dorm leader.

In the silence, he dared to ask another question.

“... What happened?”

“It was a snake,” Kalim replied. “A big one—as big as a building. Maybe even bigger than that. I was... I was trapped in a huge hourglass. Sand was tipping onto me. I looked, and I saw you there.

“The snake, it...” He stopped himself to gulp down the lump in his throat. “It wrapped itself around you, and it squeezed so hard that you...”

Kalim couldn’t complete his thought. Searing tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t stop them from flowing down his cheeks.

“I banged and banged on the glass, but it wouldn’t break. I was right there, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help you when you needed me the most, and you... you died.”

“... I see.”

Kalim hugged his cushion tighter, his nails digging into its plush fabric. The tassels coiled against him.

“It was just a dream. As you can see, I’m very much alive and well.”

Kalim laughed shakily. “You don’t know how relieved I was to see you.”

“And you have no idea how much of a heart attack you nearly gave me.” Jamil heaved a sigh.

Honestly... What sort of person cares less for their own safety than that of others? I will never understand how your mind works.

Again, he held his tongue, swallowed his viper’s venom.

“I’m here, Kalim. It’s fine. You can rest with ease.”

“But you might not be tomorrow. Because of me, you might go away.”

Jamil said nothing. There was no need to—the space between them was flooded with memories. Poisoned meals, assassination attempts, blood spilled, sacrifices made.

Duty bound.

“I won’t go away. Of that, I am certain. I’ll always be with you.”

Whether I want to or not.

They were simple words, and a harsh truth. Words that made his heart ache—yet they brought a smile to Kalim’s face.

Foolish, ignorant Kalim’s face.

“... Thanks, Jamil. You always know what to say to make me feel better!” He grinned through his tears.

“Of course.” Jamil offered a rehearsed line in return. “But now the hour is late, and the time for chatter has long since passed. You should sleep.”

He nodded to his bed. “You can use that.”

“Okay! I’ll join you!!”

“... Join me? No, I will take the floor—”

“Then I’ll take the floor too!”

“HUH?!”

Kalim blinked back innocently. “Isn’t it obvious that at a sleepover, you’ve gotta sleep right next to your friends?”

“That was when we were children.”

“There’s no law that says we can’t, though! Come on, Jamil! It’ll be fun!! Just like the good old days!!”

“I don’t...”

“Pleeeease? Pretty, pretty please?

The vice dorm leader rubbed at his temples. “... Fine. If it will get you to calm down, then...”

“Yay!! You’re the best, Jamil!!”

Kalim hurried to the bed collect the blankets and more pillows, making his hands heavy with a tangle of fabrics. A moment of hesitation later, Jamil appeared to assist. The colors and patterns wove together in their arms, wrapping around them like serpent’s scales.

A soft, coiled embrace for them both as they fell deep into the night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: That slow creep, tho

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You looked down at your body and fidgeted. The skirt was so short you pulled on a pair of stockings in an effort to hide your legs, and it was tight like the blouse. Both pieces seemed to be just a size too small. The boots were higher than any heels you’d worn before and you felt awkward in the get-up.

Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.

You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.

“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.

“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”

“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.

“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.

“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.

“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”

“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.

“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.

“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.

You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.

The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.

“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked. 

The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.

“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.

“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”

“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”

You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.

“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.

“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.

“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.

“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”

“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.

“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.

“No, I just… can we go?”

“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”

You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…

You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.

Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?

“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.

“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.

“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”

His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”

“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”

“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.

“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”

“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”

“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”

“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”

“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.

“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”

“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”

“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”

“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”

You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself. 

While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.

📚

Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.

He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.

“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”

You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.

He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.

“They’re a bit tight,” you said.

“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”

“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.

He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.

“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”

He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion. 

“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”

“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”

“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”

He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”

You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly. 

This house was far enough from the city, far enough that you were stranded, and much of the area was new to you. The realisation made you tremble as you counted the page numbers.

[esamastation]

Breath of the Wild snippet

Link is bored. It's a little startling how easy it's to see – how easy he's to read these days. Where before, hundred years ago, he'd been as unreadable as a brick wall, a look of serious determination as though permanently etched to his face, now he's an open book, covers flung wide. The serious frown still makes an appearance, of course, it's his default expression, Link's face simply rests in a way that makes him seem as though he's almost scowling, but now, should an emotion cross his mind… he does nothing to hide it. 

Like now, as his attention strays and his eyes wander and every so often he smothers a sigh or a yawn or a longing look directed at the door. It's in part painfully and in part endearingly clear how little attention he's paying to their meeting, and how much he wishes he could be elsewhere.

Zelda smothers a smile and then realises she's allowed herself to be distracted, and quickly turns her attention back to the meeting taking place in Impa's house.

"... a little difficult to test," Purah is saying. She's sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, her seat cushion abandoned and papers flung about her – most of them about her anti-aging rune. "I can't even promise the test subject will survive the process, never mind that it will work even fifty percent of the time... so finding people to volunteer has been an issue."

"What, no old folks interested in regaining their misspent youth?" Robbie asks with a slight snort, adjusting his goggles. "I'd happily test it, if my work wasn't too important to risk!"

Purah gives him a look. "Well, duh. Most folk are the same," she says and shakes her head. "And besides, the population and age statistics don't exactly trend towards the elderly these days. The average life expectancy of both Hylians and Sheikah both trend about forty years younger than it used to be pre-Calamity. And the only way for people to reliably grow old these days –"

"Is to have a family or other support network, helping them," Impa muses, rubbing at her chin. "Which means they have things too dear to lose, for an uncertain chance."

"Just so," Purah says and folds her little arms, adorable in her seriousness. "I did post queries around Hateno village, of course, but I only had a couple of takers, and they all turned tail when I explained the risks. And we can't improve the chances without further testing. And we can't do further testing without candidates. And we're not likely to get more candidates with the chances being what they are - it's a vicious circle." 

By the door, Link looks ready to nod off. 

Zelda hums, looking at the papers Purah had brought, conflicted. It's incredible work, just as a concept, and Purah hadn't just left it at theory – and the results certainly speak for themselves! Purah is now, what, hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty years old? And she looks as though she is a girl of six, with all that time ahead of her and not behind. If the technology could be made reliable, it would no doubt change the future in ways Zelda can scarcely imagine… for the better, she hopes, for all the people of Hyrule.

But right now, she has more selfish reasons to make enquiries into the rune.

Zelda looks at Impa, sitting on top of a pile of pillows, her weathered, aged face thoughtful. Their eyes meet and Zelda steels her resolve. "Might there be any potential candidates in Kakariko village, Impa?" she asks.

"Hmm. I doubt it. Young Zain, maybe?" Impa muses. "Well, he's not so young. He's in his seventies, he has bad knees and no surviving relatives to support or be supported by. Bit of a sour grape, that one, though. Sceptic. Hard to convince."

"I'm sure if the Lost Princess and the Hero who stopped Ganon ask for it, anyone would be happy to give it a go!" Robbie says, slapping his folded knees. "Especially if they learn what it's all for!"

Zelda smiles, wincing, and looks down. Using her standing for such a thing… sure she'd done things of that nature before, pleading people to join their cause, ages ago… but never with the risks so high, and potential results so uncertain. She'd never liked asking people to risk their lives, for her or otherwise. Even with a cause so important...

"It would be a somewhat awkward thing to ask, though," she muses and looks down. "It is an awkward thing to ask. I'm… I'm sorry to have to ask it of you."

After all this time, all these years, all the service they'd already put in, to ask for so much more of them… but she had to. No one woman could rebuild a kingdom by herself. She needed help, she needed allies – she needed Impa and Robbie and Purah. With such a foundation, Hyrule might yet rise, better than ever, but for that to ever happen… Impa and Robbie needed to go through what Purah already had, and extend their already prodigiously long lives even further. They all deserved their quiet retirement, after all the effort they'd put in, but for Hyrule, Zelda would make this cruel request.

"Ha!" Robbie says, striking a pose. "Like I wouldn't do this without being asked! As soon as Purah can improve the odds – no, as soon as we can improve the odds –"

"What's that, you old coot, what do you mean by we?" Purah depends, bouncing to her feet. "If you think I will let you ever into my lab, mister, you're sorely mistaken –!"

"If we work together, combine the efforts of Akkala and Hateno tech labs, we're sure to succeed! With Cherry's incredible computing power and your Stone –"

"Your creepy ancient furnace is getting nowhere near my Guidance Stone!"

Link startles awake at the noise they're making and Zelda smothers a giggle while Impa sighs.

"I will ask Paya to check in on Zain, maybe he will be interested," Impa says and shakes her head. "But it's still a small test study, with only two subjects. I'm sorry, Zelda – as much as I wish to do this, I am with Robbie on this. The chances are too low and I have too much to lose, right now. Paya is nowhere near ready to take over for me here. There needs to be more candidate's, first, and I don't know where we can get them. But," she hums and looks away. "There might be someone who does."

Link yawns and then freezes, finding all of them staring at him. Then, clearly baffled, he points at himself quizzically, and Zelda offers him a smile.

Impa chuckles. "You've been all over Hyrule now, Link – you've traveled farther than probably anyone has in a hundred years. Better than anyone, you know the state of her people. Do you think there is anyone out there who might be interested in Purah's study – in regaining their youth, even at a risk?"

Link scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully and then takes out the Sheikah Slate, opening the map with an easy, well practiced wipe of his fingers over the screen. Zelda leans in, once more amazed – and a little jealous – of how far he'd gotten with it, how full of markers the map is. Hundred years ago, she'd estimated that there might be as many as a dozen sites of ancient Sheikah technology all over Hyrule. Link had discovered over a hundred. They now glow on his map, like glittering blue gems, the Towers and Shrines he'd seen and mastered.

Link zooms in on the map and then puts down three other markers. One in Zora's domain, one in Gerudo Town and last in Lurelin Village. Turning the slate around, he shows the map to everyone.

"Of course," Zelda breathes in realisation. "The Guardians never reached so far, so their populations were never so scattered or scarred. In Zora's domain, in Gerudo Town and in Lurelin, people can grow old peacefully, without fear of attack."

Link makes a face and a wobbling gesture with his hand and then shrugs. Zelda smiles, sadly. "Aside from monsters and other disasters and misfortunes, of course," she agrees. "But without fear of attacks by Guardians, they were allowed to prosper."

"Not the Rito, though?" Robbie asks, his goggles whirting and shifting like the eyes of a gecko as he looks between the map, Link and Zelda. "Or the Gorons?"

Link shrugs, rubbing at his neck.

"Gorons age like rocks, Daruk always said," Zelda muses. "And I suppose with Rito it can be difficult to tell their ages. If we send out invitations to the study, we should include them as well – assuming that the treatment by the rune isn't Sheikah exclusive…?"

Purah rocks back and forth on her feet thoughtfully, almost as though she's about to dance. "I… don't know? I calibrated the first version based on my own physiology, so it might be best to stick to Sheikah and Hylians for a start – but I can't see why it couldn't be adjusted. Gerudo are closer in structure to us than Rito and Gorons, or Zora for that matter. Might be best we start there, when we begin making modifications to include everyone."

"So, begin with Lurelin," Robbie says and nods. "How do we do that?"

"We'll make some posters and Link can zip in and out of Lurelin Village to post them," Purah says and strikes a pose. "It's just a snap for the Sheikah Slate."

Impa hums in agreement. "Best we make advertisements for Kakariko and Hateno as well, and perhaps some of the stables," she muses. "You never know who might take us up on it, and getting this technology to work at hundred percent will be a benefit to everyone."

"You're right," Zelda agrees, nodding. "Purah and Robbie, I suppose you two know best what should go on the poster. Can you make it?"

"It'll work much better, with your name under it," Robbie points out.

"We'll write a draft and you can copy it and put your royal touch and seal to it," Purah says and does an excited little dance. "This is so exciting! We'll get so many applicants and my little Guidance Stone will get to do it's thing!"

Zelda offers her a smile, all the while wondering, not for the first time… how much of a royal she even is, at this point. With the castle in ruins and the Kingdom in shambles, with no one to rule it for a hundred years… all that Zelda is now... is a story. The Princess that went to fight Calamity Ganon as the Kingdom fell asunder all around her. Not many even believe it. That might change with this meeting and the following cooperation, especially when they'd begin reaching out further, but right now… 

Princess of nothing indeed.

"So much was lost," Zelda murmurs, carefully resting her hands in her lap to keep herself from wringing them. She shouldn't concentrate on the losses. Not when there's so much to do. "It will be good to build something for a change. To improve things."

"Indeed," Impa says, nodding her head, her heavy hat tilting. "But if Calamity Ganon taught us anything, it is that we should take all due caution."

"Yes. And speaking of which," Zelda says and lifts her eyes to Robbie. "Your research in Akkala – I would very much like to hear more about it. Link showed me the armour and weaponry you made, they're very impressive – how did you manage it?"

Robbie all but launches himself into the story of Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, the research he'd done there, the progress he'd made, enthusiastically recounting the creation of his Ancient Furnace, Cherry. Zelda leans in, allowing herself to be drawn in, and by the door Link settles down with a sigh and begins nodding off again.

-

Hmm hmm. Took me 3 years, but I finally finished botw.

I might continue this one and it might end up a Stargate crossover. Who knows.