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dragonflylady77 · 4 months

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This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨

@harringrove-relay-race

Read it on Ao3

I took the 500 words minimum word limit and blew it out of the water, so... enjoy.

(unbeta'd)

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I wanna do everything with you

the coffee shop au x college au x enemies to lovers x there was only one bed fic you never knew you needed... (also, with basketball!)

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“Out of the way, pretty boy.”

Steve grits his teeth and presses himself closer to the coffee machine so Hargrove has room to walk past him. Why the guy decided to bring in another box of coffee grounds during rush hour when there are three full bags in the cupboard already, Steve has no idea.

The Californian import is probably doing it to mess around with Steve as usual. Steve sighs as he gets back to making the next drink on his list. As much as he has enjoyed working at The Dolphin Café over the summer, he can’t wait for fall to arrive and classes to start. He won’t have to see Hargrove again after that.

He isn’t sure why Hargrove has it in for him like that, he’s barely talked to the guy since he started. Not on purpose, but they usually have different shifts and the way Hargrove stares at him sometimes when they’re working together makes Steve uneasy. Makes him feel things he’d rather not think about.

Billy Hargrove is hot and he knows it and he seems to loooooove the attention from everyone, regardless of gender. Golden curls, a killer smile, a sculpted chest he keeps exposing by not buttoning up his shirt, no matter how many times their manager reminds him he should and jeans so tight they look painted on. Yeah, the guy is the full package.

Too bad the full package is also arrogant as fuck and determined to get on Steve’s last nerve every shift. So Steve takes deep breaths and smiles even when he wants to scream, and he focuses on filling orders and the end of summer.

He is counting the days until he can see Robin again, once she’s back from her trip to Germany. He’s really missed his best friend all summer and he knows there is no way his dad would have agreed to their deal without her.

Steve will always be grateful to Robin for helping him craft a proposition Richard Harrington agreed on. They’d even got a lawyer involved and his father had signed off on it, promising he’d pay Steve an allowance while he’s in college if he managed to get accepted and hold a job all summer beforehand.

Steve knows how lucky he is to have gotten in, even if it’s on a basketball scholarship. The look on his father’s face had been worth all the extra work he’d put in. The knowledge Richard Harrington has lost this particular battle against his only son, whom he deems a complete idiot, is the cherry on top.

Now Steve just needs to survive the last couple of weeks at the coffee shop, with Hargrove breathing down his neck at every opportunity. Then he’ll be free, and in college, and he can hang out with Robin again.

***

“Tell me more about this guy,” Robin asks the second she gets in his car, her bags filling the backseat and the trunk of the Beamer.

Steve instantly regrets offering her a ride to her dorm. It’s a long drive back to Chicago and his last shift is still fresh in his mind. Well, what happened when he’d clocked out for the last time anyway. Steve said goodbye to the manager who reminded him he could still come back for weekend shifts. Steve once again declined his offer and told him he was done with the Dolphin Café, as staff anyway. Hargrove was behind the counter and stared at him for the duration of that entire conversation, his eyes full of what looked like hurt. Steve glanced away and walked out without a word.

“You know as much as I do already, why must we spend more time on the subject?” Steve knows he’s whining but fuck, it’s not enough that he spent all summer working with the guy, now his best friend wants to talk about him as well? Steve is so fucking glad he never told her about the dreams. No one, EVER, needs to find out about those.

“Because, dingus,” Robin starts, cutting him that look of hers that means she knows something Steve doesn’t. It’s a look he’s really familiar with by now.

He sighs. “What? Spit it out, Rob. It’s a long drive and I’d rather talk about something else.”

Robin snorts and Steve glares.

“The dingus doth protest too much, methinks,” she says and Steve groans.

"Stop it."

“Oh come on, Steve. From everything you’ve told me about this guy, it’s clear to me you have a crush on him and I th—”

“What? What the fuck, Robin?” Steve swerves a bit from the surprise but manages to keep the car in the appropriate lane. “Leaving aside the fact that I am, you know, straight, how exactly did you get to that conclusion?”

“Really? Did you not hear yourself over the past three months? Hargrove this, and Hargrove that, you haven't stopped talking about him.”

“Because he’s been a pain in my ass since the day he started at work! He’s constantly in my face, calling me names and making a nuisance of himself.” Steve is getting worked up, because why can’t Robin see the problem? He takes a few calming breaths, and focuses on the road.

“He’s pulling your pigtails, dingus.”

“What? No! He hates me, and I didn’t even do anything.”

Robin shakes her head and Steve doesn’t need to sneak a glance her way to know she’s rolling her eyes.

“Steve…”

“No.” There is no way. Is there?

“Fine. Enjoy staying in Egypt, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”

“Whatever.”

Steve is glad that Robin drops it then and moves on to talking about the classes she is gonna be taking when college starts.

***

Billy is stacking the latest batch of lemon blueberry muffins on the display stand when he hears a familiar voice. He glances up to scan the sparse Sunday afternoon crowd and spots Harrington walking towards one of the booths in the back.

He’s chatting animatedly with a girl Billy hasn’t seen before. She’s got light brown hair and big eyes and talks with her hands a lot. Harrington must have said something stupid because the girl punches him in the shoulder and he laughs it off, while rubbing the spot she hit. Their behavior gives off a sibling vibe, which does nothing to quell the longing in Billy’s chest.

They sit on opposite sides and the girl looks up at the menu on the big boards behind the counter. Harrington sneaks a few glances around and Billy looks away before they make eye contact.

It’s a surprise to see Harrington again after he announced his departure a week ago. Billy is still getting over the feeling of betrayal upon finding out his secret crush was leaving, as he was walking out the door.

He thought he’d have more time to try to turn the stupid rivalry into some kind of friendship. But he always seems to rub Harrington the wrong way, no matter what he says. From the day Billy started at The Dolphin Café at the end of July, he’d tried to make friends but Harrington wanted no bar of it.

Billy finishes placing the last muffin on the stand and puts the dome cover on top in time for Harrington’s friend to come up to the counter to order.

“Hello, welcome to the Dolphin Café. What can I get you?” he smiles as he asks and the girl smiles back, her eyes dropping to his name tag for a second.

“Hey Billy. I’m Robin. The best friend. Can I get two of those delicious looking muffins please, a cappuccino and a mocha with four sugars and extra whipped cream.”

“Ah, yes, the Harrington special. Coming right up.”

The girl snorts and Billy chances a glance in Harrington’s way. He is reclining in his booth, glaring at them, and looks away the second Billy’s eyes meet his.

“Is that an actual item on the menu or a name you made up just for him?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.

Billy feels his face warm up and he turns towards the coffee machine, praying Robin can’t tell he’s blushing. He busies himself making the drinks she ordered, mulling over his answer before things get too weird.

“Um…” He shrugs, sprinkling cinnamon on her cappuccino. “I mean, I did ask Hop to add it to the menu as a legacy item since Steve left, but he declined.”

“Aw, my poor dingus is not special enough to make the menu. He’ll be heartbroken.” The smirk on her face and the tone in her voice belie her words and it’s Billy’s turn to snort.

“Pretty sure he hated this place so…” Billy places the drinks on a tray, with the muffins Robin ordered. “You go sit down, I’ll bring them over.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

Billy follows Robin back to the booth and carefully unloads the contents of the tray on the table. He manages to not look at Harrington while he does but he can feel him watching his every move. It’s unsettling and rekindles the fire in Billy’s chest.

Fuck.

“Thanks.” The frosty clipped tone does things that it shouldn’t to Billy’s insides and he focuses on Robin instead.

“Enjoy. Sing out if you need anything else.”

“Thank Billy,” she says again with a grin.

With a nod, Billy leaves, stopping to clear a table and wipe it clean on his way back to the counter. He needs a smoke but it’s a while yet until his break. A loud group walks in and he is happy to be kept busy. He still notices when Harrington and Robin leave and wonders if that was the last time he’s ever gonna see him.

***

A week later, Billy walks into the gym for the first basketball practice. His advisor was surprised he’d picked a sport as an elective, he’s an English Lit major after all. Makes Billy want to cackle really. Seems people either think he’s a meathead and want him for his body, or they’re shocked to learn there’s more to books and case studies in his life.

He steps around the corner in the changing room and a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Keeping his eyes on the locker numbers, he locates his and heads over, dumping his gym bag on the bench in front of his assigned locker.

“Hargrove?” Harrington’s voice reaches him, surprise and dismay thick in his tone. “What the fuck?”

Billy glances at him and nods once in acknowledgment before focusing on getting changed. He can hear Harrington muttering about him to the guy he’s standing with a few feet away but he manages to tune them out. Force of habit, really. Growing up with Neil Hargrove has taught him not to react and he has become really good at it.

The coach walks in and sends them into the gym to do some laps as a warm up. After some drills to see where they’re at, he splits them into two teams. Billy plays skins, and to his great delight, Harrington ends up on the opposing team.

They’re both point guards which means Billy can get up close to try and stop Harrington when he gets the ball. He is thrilled to discover that Harrington is as competitive as he is on the court, even if he seems to have trouble staying upright when Billy crashes into him to steal the ball.

Billy offers Harrington a hand, half surprised when the other guy takes it, and he leans down close, the pendant around his neck nearly touching Harrington’s chin.

“You were moving your feet. Plant them next time, draw a charge!” He lets go of Harrington’s hand, his fingers tingling from the contact and steps over him to go back to his side of the court as they reset the play. He feels Harrington’s eyes on his back as he walks away but forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to get his breathing under control.

Fuck, that was exhilarating. Billy knows he needs to be careful how close he gets to Harrington because basketball shorts don’t hide much and he doesn’t need the embarrassment or the rumors that would follow him like the plague.

Once training is over, he showers in a corner as fast as he can and gets out of there, glancing at Harrington on his way out. He nearly walks into the door jamb when he clocks the hair on the guy’s chest and manages to dress in record time, despite the semi he’s now sporting.

Tight jeans conceal anything, thank fuck for small mercies. He shoves his gym clothes in his bag and hightails it out of there like hellhounds are on his tracks.

Once in his car, he allows himself to breathe, closing his eyes and letting himself remember the literal fur covering Harrington’s fucking chest. He’d give pretty much anything to run his fingers through that.

Billy groans, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve some of the pressure and turns the engine on. He’s got a shift at the Dolphin in ten minutes and he can’t afford to be late. Jerking off to the memories of Harrington naked in the shower will have to wait.

***

“One Harrington special!” Robin announces as she puts down Steve’s drink on the table, before flopping on the chair across from him.

“Shhhh, Robin, we’re in a library!” Steve whispers and Robin rolls her eyes.

“No one cares, dingus.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, watching Robin get her laptop out of her bag. He frowns. “What did you call my drink just now?”

“Oh, um, the Harrington special. That’s what Billy called it the other day when we were at the coffee shop.”

“I’m sorry. Billy?” Steve stares at her and she shrugs. “Robin, why are you on a first name basis with that guy?”

“Cos he’s nice? And funny? And, like, really really clever?”

“What. The. Fuck?” Steve has no words. He can’t comprehend the betrayal twisting in his gut right now.

Robin sighs. “He’s in my Romantic Poetry class and also my Literature of the Commonwealth class. He’s also in my Creative Writing Workshop class and we may or may not be working on a project together. Don’t be mad.”

“Robin. I… you… what?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I know you’d be weird about it.”

“Only because you seem to have swapped me for my fucking nemesis.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic. You’ve been hating the guy for months for no reason.”

“Robin! I told you what he did. How he was with me. All summer when I worked at the Dolphin! If anything, he’s the one who hates me.”

Robin gives him that look that says he’s being a giant whiny baby (her words) and Steve sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Robin won’t listen or take him seriously anyway.

“Steve, let me ask you this,” Robin starts, and he can tell she’s trying to be patient with him. “Why would a guy who hates you name a drink after you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know how his brain works, or why he called me pretty boy and sweetheart for three months straight. Makes no sense to me.”

“Really?”

Okay now she’s giving him the ‘oh can you so fucking dense’ look and Steve decides enough is enough.

“You know what, whatever. I’m gonna go.” He closes his laptop and starts gathering his notes. His statistics assignment can wait. He already got an extension anyway. “Need to pack for my trip. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I need to go to bed early or I’ll miss the bus.”

“Ah yes, the basketball trip. Billy mentioned it at our study session last night.”

“Last night? That’s why you blew me off for movie night?” Steve is getting more pissed off by the minute. He closes his backpack and grabs his coffee, though he’s not sure he wants to drink it anymore.

“Did you miss the part where I said we are working on a group project for a class?” Robin asks, leaning forward on her elbows, one eyebrow raised. He hates that she can do the eyebrow thing and he can’t.

“He better keep his hands to himself or I will punch him.”

“Yeah well, you can relax with your macho bullshit, cos he knows about me not liking boys.”

“You told him?”

“It came up,” Robin replies, mysterious as ever.

“Fine. Whatever. You know what? Keep your little secret rendez-vous and your brainiacs study sessions that I will never understand. I’ll see you when I get back, unless Hargrove kills me while we’re away.”

He leaves the library in a huff, Robin’s cackle following him out the door.

The next morning, Steve gets to the bus with two minutes to spare. He shoves his bag in the luggage compartment before stepping onto the bus, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. Of course he slept through his stupid alarm and now he owes Robin, again, because she called him to check he was awake.

He spots Hargrove at the back of the bus, with Tommy Hagan and Jason Carver, so he sits at the front and keeps his head turned towards the window.

They get to the school where they’re playing that afternoon and Coach gets them to run drills and warm-ups for a couple of hours. Steve manages to stay away from Hargrove as much as possible, though Hargrove seems to have dialed down the hostilities and only shoves him once.

Soon enough it’s time for the game and they get stuck into it, the instructions yelled by Coach taking precedence over everything else.

It’s a hard fought battle, the opposition is really good, but their team prevails at the last moment, thanks to Hargrove.

Finally, it’s over, Steve is exhausted but happy. He ends up next to Hargrove for the team huddle and for once he doesn’t mind being this close. They’re all riding the high of beating a good team and it’s a heady feeling.

After they’ve all showered and filed back onto the bus, they make their way to the motel. Once they park there, Coach announces that due to budget issues, they’ve had to reduce the number of rooms they could book and they’re all gonna have to bunk with each other.

A collective groan travels down the length of the bus at the revelation. Steve barely pays attention. He doesn’t care who he gets told to bunk with as long as it’s not Hargrove, and he’s pretty sure the other guy feels the same and will ask to stay with Tommy or Carver.

“Right, lads, me and Ms Ross decided that the easiest and most fair way was to lump you alphabetically.”

When Steve hears that, he knows he’s fucked. Because he knows the names of every guy on the team and he’ll either be bunking with Tommy, who he hasn’t talked to since ninth grade, or Hargrove.

Fuck.

Sure enough, a moment later, Coach says Hargrove’s name then his, and a room number. They get off the bus in pairs and grab their bags, with a reminder that they’re expected to be back on the bus at 8am the next morning.

In the lobby, most of the guys on the team arrange to meet at the diner across the road once they’ve dumped their bags in their rooms. Ignoring the noise, Steve gets the key from the front desk and heads down to room 7.

He gets into the room and stops in his tracks when he sees the bed. As in, singular.

One bed.

It’s a big bed, but it’s only one bed.

Fuck.

With a sigh, Steve drops his bag at his feet and he’s about to turn around to go back to the desk to demand a different room when he hears footsteps behind him. Clearly his day can get worse.

“Hey, Harrington,” Hargrove says as he enters the room, “what are you doing standing here in the dark?” He flicks the lights on and drops his bag on the desk to the side.

Steve watches as he takes in the large bed taking most of the space. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“It’s okay.” Hargrove shrugs then unzips his bag and starts looking through it for something.

Steve turns his head to look at him. “It’s okay? Nothing about this is okay.”

“Oh my god, dude. Don’t freak out because we need to share a bed. Jesus. We can put some pillows down the middle of the mattress if you’re that stressed about it.”

“I’m not stressed about it!” Steve is quick to say, earning himself a look of disbelief from Hargrove.

“Whatever. You going to the diner with the rest of the team?” Hargrove asks as he heads to the ensuite, holding some clothes and his toiletry bag.

“No, I… I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” The door shuts with a soft click and Steve closes his eyes. He needs to talk to Robin but he knows she is out on a date with some girl she met at work.

Once Hargrove has left the room to get dinner, Steve eats a protein bar he found in his bag then gets ready for bed.

He slips between the covers, ready to leave this day behind. He makes a point to not pile pillows between the two sides of the bed. No need to give Hargrove more ammunition.

***

Billy sighs and checks his watch again. He’s been staring at the ceiling for two hours and is no closer to falling asleep than he was when he got back to the room. Less, even. Because he was sleepy after dinner and not in a mood to get drunk with his teammates, on beer purchased for them by Carver’s boyfriend, the only one old enough to legally buy alcohol.

Billy was surprised to see no pillows separating the two sides of the bed when he walked in. Even more surprised to find Steve fast asleep.

He gives up and sits up, hazarding a glance at Steve. He’s lying on his side, the light coming from the crack in the curtains giving a golden shine to his hair. He looks peaceful and soft and Billy would love nothing more than to cuddle up to him and feel his arms around his back.

He runs through his conversation with Robin for the four hundredth time since it happened three days ago. He was surprised to see her in three of his classes but glad they got paired up for the Creative Writing assignment. From the interaction he had with her at the Dolphin last week, she seemed quick and witty and that hunch had proved right. She’d also clocked him as queer faster than anyone beside Heather ever had and her coming out to him had reassured him immensely.

He isn’t a hundred percent on board with her assessment of Steve’s feelings towards him though. That seems a bit hard to swallow considering the past three months, but she is Steve’s best friend, so Billy figures she might know what she’s talking about.

He’s about to turn the side lamp on and grab his book since he can’t fucking sleep when Steve lets out a whimper. Frozen on the spot, Billy listens, in case Steve is having some kind of nightmare he’ll need to wake him up from (Robin mentioned something about that).

But then the guy starts moaning, a low raspy sound, that causes Billy’s ears to heat up as his sweatpants get a bit tight in the crotch. Billy hears the rustling of the bedding, and Steve doing some kind of squirming that has Billy immediately on edge.

It only gets worse when Steve starts muttering. It’s not really words at first, and Billy rolls over so he’s closer, and can hear properly. He regrets it a minute later.

“P-please… Don’t stop, please,” Steve mutters and Billy bites his fist to stop from making a sound.

This is not happening…

Billy can’t believe he has to lie there silently while Steve is having a fucking sex dream. He moves away and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Steve, hands balled into fists at his sides, willing his dick to go down because this is beyond pathetic. Yes, he has a crush on the guy, but getting off to his sex dream feels one step too far.

Yet, Steve keeps making goddamn sex noises, and apparently willing whoever he’s dreaming about to keep doing whatever they’re doing to him in his mind and Billy is two seconds away from having a cold shower at three in the morning when suddenly he hears his name.

“Billy… Billy, please…”

Oh fuck.

His fingers dig into his thighs with the effort it takes to not touch his dick and get some relief. He can’t breathe, there is no air in the room, only Steve’s moans and whimpers and his desperate pleas.

And Billy knows it doesn’t mean anything, okay? He knows that Steve can’t stand the sight of him, no matter what Robin said the other night. And there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he’s just bad at flirting with a guy he actually cares about. Maybe there’s just something about him that Steve just can’t stand and it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t stop his brain from sending images of what he could be doing to Steve with his fingers and his mouth and, fuck, he really needs to stop thinking about that or he’s gonna blow his load in his pants like a fucking twelve year old.

He doesn’t remember ever being so hard as he is in that moment, when Steve’s breath quickens and he keeps saying Billy’s name over and over and over.

Billy needs to do something, either pretend to sleep or lock himself in the bathroom, because there is no way Steve will react favorably once he’s awake. He’ll either pretend it didn’t happen or be angry at Billy for no reason, as usual.

Unable to listen any longer, he races to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock before he turns the shower on to cover any noise he’s about to make. Leaning against the counter with one hand, he reaches inside his pants and wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the contact.

He is barely aware of the movements of his hand, his mind still in the room, in that bed, imagining a hand that’s not his touching him instead. He knows he won’t last long because he’s too keyed up from listening to Steve. He squeezes the head of his cock, and groans at the feeling, his knuckles turning white on the counter.

Billy closes his eyes, pretending Steve is there with him. He can almost feel Steve’s lips on his neck, Steve’s body against his as he jerks him off… The visual is so clear, so much what he craves, and he’s so close now, he can almost taste his orgasm.

“Billy?”

Steve’s voice reaches him through the door and wraps around him and he comes with a grunt he can’t silence, making a mess in his underwear. Panting and trying to catch his breath before his legs give out, he washes his hands and wishes he’d have taken the time to get undressed and step into the shower.

Steve is knocking on the door now. “Are you done? Dude, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Gimme a minute!” Billy’s voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears and with the shower going. He shuts the water off and unlocks the door, steeling himself to face Steve before he opens the door.

Steve’s hair is a mess and Billy forces his eyes to a spot to the side of Steve’s shoulder as he pushes past him and into the room.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice stops him in his tracks and he turns around slowly, taking in Steve who’s standing in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the light in the bathroom. Billy doesn’t remember Steve using his actual name before tonight, he’s always called him Hargrove.

“Yeah?” Billy asks softly. He’s still feeling wired from the whole thing and doesn’t have it in him to maintain the usual bravado in front of Steve. He is not sure what to think when Steve steps closer until he’s standing a foot away. Billy makes sure to keep his eyes up, his gaze following the trail of beauty spots on Steve’s shoulder and up his neck.

He is not so out of it that he doesn’t notice Steve’s eyes tracking down then back up, snagging somewhere on Billy’s naked chest then his mouth before Steve locks eyes with him. The warm spot in Billy’s gut starts boiling.

“Um, Robin said… um Robin has this theory, and… and I think she might be right.”

Billy sighs. He just wants to clean up and get into bed but Steve has never looked at him that way before so his curiosity gets the better of him. “What theory?”

“About me and how I’m not actually, you know… straight.”

“Okay…” Bill isn’t sure what to say. He’s not exactly surprised, in light of the dream Steve was having not that long ago.

“She said something else too.”

“Oh?”

Steve moves forward and he’s so close now that Billy can feel the heat from his body. He doesn’t know where to look or what to think. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and realizes his mistake when all he can smell is Steve and it’s overwhelming.

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Steve asks, his tone sounding more assured now. “You know, Robin reckons you have a crush on me.”

Billy chokes back a moan and bites his lip. Steve’s eyes immediately zero in on that and Billy shudders.

“What are you doing, pretty boy?” Billy whispers, his heart in his throat.

“What feels right,” Steve whispers back, his face so close he’s all Billy can see. “Stop me if you don’t wa—”

Billy breaches the gap and slants his lips onto Steve’s, groaning when Steve tangles both of his in Billy’s curls to pull him closer. Steve’s lips are softer than Billy imagined and he grabs Steve by the waist, using Steve’s needy moan to slide his tongue in Steve’s mouth.

The kiss goes on, hands grabbing and pulling, as they stumble backwards towards the bathroom, bodies pressed close from shoulder to toe.

“Fuck meeee…” Billy whispers when they break to breathe, blinking to adjust to the light. He feels like he’s seen God and can’t get enough of Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

“Maybe later,” Steve replies with a grin, and Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips at the thought.

“Steve…”

“You know,” Steve starts, moving away to turn the shower on, his eyes never leaving Billy’s even when he takes his shirt off and drops it on the floor, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name.”

“Yeah?” Billy stares as Steve walks back to where he’s standing by the countertop, his eyes straying to Steve’s waistband hanging low on his hips before moving back up.

“Yeah…” Steve stops in front of him. “I wonder how loud I can make you say it…”

Billy gasps then loses the ability to make words when Steve drops his pants. Then Steve hooks his fingers in the waistband of Billy’s sweatpants, a question in the tilt of his head. Billy nods in agreement, and Steve slides his hands around then down, over the curve of his ass, fingers splayed, before he pulls Billy’s pants and underwear down.

“Wanna shower with me?” Steve asks and that shakes Billy out of his trance.

He steps out of his clothes and slides his hands around Steve’s waist, pulling him up, and laughs happily when Steve curses even as he wraps his arms and legs around him.

“Baby, I wanna do everything with you.”

He steps under the warm spray with his precious cargo, pressing him into the wall and finding his mouth again.

*****

Please look forward to the lovely/wonderful/amazing work from the next contributor, @harringrovest.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #harringrove relay race #coffee shop au #college au #enemies to lovers #there was only one bed #all of the tropes #because why not

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romione-trope-fest · 1 month

Text

Capture My Heart

Title: Capture My Heart

Author: adenei

Trope: Muggle AU

Brief Summary: Work meets play at a work picnic/team bonding event. Hermione gets a little more than she bargained for when a certain redhead is held captive during a healthy team bonding game of Capture the Flag.

WC: 2,541

TW: n/a unless you count excessive forearm mentions

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

What am I, twelve?

Hermione paces back and forth in front of the currently unoccupied ‘jail cell.’ Really, it’s a piece of rope tied around a few trees just off the beaten path of the trail that is her team’s home base. Swiping through her phone, she’d rather be anywhere else than playing this stupid game at the stupid company picnic.

Don’t they realize she still has a ton of work to get done? Cases never end for a public defender, especially not when certain detectives seem to be a little too good at their job, putting deadbeats who can’t afford their own lawyer behind bars.

It’s not his fault. She should be grateful that there’s someone who actually does their job and takes it seriously, but her workload is screaming otherwise. And since her department refuses to hire an additional person, Hermione will continue to aim all of her resentment at him.

Now, if only the other side would just capture her team’s flag so they can be done with this God forsaken children’s game. Then she can get back to the office. Yeah, that’d be great.

Bored out of her mind, Hermione goes back to scrolling the newest set of case files that were emailed to her that morning. It’s the only thing she can do considering she was given the most boring position on her team. Like a group of lawyers and paralegals are going to catch and apprehend a bunch of detectives. And even if they did, what was she going to do? Hold them in contempt? Honestly.

A rustling from nearby catches her attention, and she locks her phone before shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. At least the fall weather and smattering of dead leaves on the ground prevents anyone from sneaking around too stealthily.

“Oi, Hermione, where are you?” Ernie MacMillan, her desk partner, calls from down the path.

She rolls her eyes, though no one can see her. “Right here, where you left me, remember? To guard an unoccupied makeshift jail cell.”

“Hey, not my fault McGonagall forced you to participate. And lucky for you, it won’t be unoccupied anymore.”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffs. “Like any of you caught one of those egotistical prats.”

“Hey, I take offense to that!” The second voice makes her freeze, a shiver running up her spine.

Of all the people, does it have to be him?

Hermione might not just be resentful of that one particular detective for keeping her overworked. It might also have something to do with the fact that he is extremely attractive, charismatic, and all around swoonworthy. And she’s not the only one who thinks that. He’s also way out of her league given all the single straight women in the county building have a crush on him.

And who wouldn’t? With messy waves of striking auburn hair that’s faded on the sides, piercing ice blue eyes that can spot the assailant in any situation, and a lopsided smile that’s not only welcoming but inherently trusting, it’s hard not to be attracted to him. But that’s nothing to Hermione. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s his intelligence that turns her on—that and the infuriating way he always rolls his dress shirts up to his elbows, showing off his perfectly sculpted forearms any time he books a criminal.

If he ever is single, she assumes it’s never for long. There’s probably a line of women waiting to date him. Not that she’d know or anything. She refuses to delve that deep into his personal life—if for the sole fact it’ll kill the tiny shred of hope she has for something as minimal as getting a drink with him sometime.

Screw getting a drink with him. You’re about to be left alone in the woods with nothing to do. Take advantage of the situation!

Oh my god, no. Get it together, Hermione.

Right. Even as images of potential scenarios flow through her mind, she shakes them out of her head. The last thing she needs is for Ron Weasley to see her drooling over him. Especially since he and Ernie are fast approaching.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t meant as a compliment,” she retorts, unwilling to let him get under her skin.

Before the detective can speak again, Ernie cuts in. “Yeah, well, try not to insult him too much. Even holding one hostage increases our chances to win.”

“I thought jailbreaks were against the rules?” Hermione asks. Not that she cares. She’ll willingly let him go in five minutes just to have her peace and quiet again—if only to daydream about him behind his back.

Ernie makes a big show of shoving Ron into the makeshift jail cell then looks back at Hermione. “They are. So make sure he stays there.”

“Or what?” Hermione crosses her arms. “You’ll make me buy coffee for the floor Monday? Sorry, I can’t. I have a full day in court.”

“Again?” Ernie groans.

“Yes, which is the reason I’d prefer to be back at the office and not in the woods for a silly picnic to begin with.”

Ernie grimaces and attempts to placate her, even though they both know it means little to nothing in their field of work. “At least there’s overtime?”

“I suppose. Though it’d be nice to have a weekend to myself once in a while.” Then Hermione turns to the captor and grumbles. “All thanks to you.”

“On that note, I’m going to get back to the rest of the team.” Ernie backs away a few steps, then takes off at a jog.

Hermione side-eyes the bane of her existence—pointedly as she leans against a tree. Ron holds up his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t blame me for doing my job. You’d think crime rates would start to go down eventually.”

“Please, Ron,” she chides. “You of all people should know that crime is always going to exist.”

He saunters—fucking saunters—over to her and props himself against another tree, once again showing off his forearms. Of course he’s still managed to highlight them despite dressing casually with jeans, a heather gray t-shirt, and a dark blue flannel unbuttoned over it. It’s in striking contrast to her jade sweater, jeans, beige peacoat, and brown leather boots.

Ron looks at her through his light blonde lashes. “So what do you suggest, Hermione? That I not do my job? Turn a blind eye to evidence in an investigation or stop asking key questions during interrogations?”

His gaze never falters, and she can’t help but feel like it’s piercing through her, like he’s trying to solve the mystery that she is to him. It’s uncomfortable in all the right ways, sending jolts of energy through her and making her forget where she is and what she’s doing. In all honesty, it’s making her want to jump his bones.

Which would be completely unprofessional.

Ugh. This is why she tries to avoid work functions outside the office. It’s much easier to avoid her attraction in that environment. But here, in the woods with the sun shining through the trees and the foliage creating a warm ambience, it’s hard not to let her imagination run wild. It’d be too easy to let herself believe he’s eyeing her with the same want she’s been harboring for over a year.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she forces herself to say. “Just, I don’t know, try a little harder to suggest other lawyers. I’m only one person, and I can only do so much.”

Ron twists his mouth and cocks his head as he thinks about her suggestion. “I guess I could, but then what excuse would I have to come see you if I’m not delivering cases?”

His playful demeanor hosts an undertone of seriousness that causes Hermione’s breath to hitch. This time, she’s the one to search his eyes for a deeper meaning, but she’s absolutely terrible at reading people. That’s why she took the public defender position—it was meant to be a stepping stone while she strengthened her abilities to read a jury. Then, she’d be able to go after the job she really wanted. One that would help her do some good in the world.

Giving up, she decides to just ask him outright. “Why would you think you need an excuse?”

“Because detectives don’t usually hang around with attorneys.”

“Probably because all they do is pile on more work for us.”

If ‘they’ means Ron and ‘us’ means her, then yes, that would be true.

“So, you’re saying I could drop in to say hi whenever I feel like it?” Ron raises an eyebrow to accompany his question.

“If you want, but then people might think we’re friends…”

He pushes himself off the tree and steps toward the rope separating himself from her. The motion sends an uninvited thrill through her. “Aren’t we?”

“I figured we were closer to work acquaintances.”

She shrugs, attempting to keep things light and breezy while her body is on fire, desperate for her to open herself up to something more. But she won’t. Not yet. Especially when she’s wary of his intentions. After all, the rest of his team is vying for their stupid flag that’s somewhere on the grounds of the park.

His hand claps his chest, and he makes a show of stumbling to his knees. “Oh, you wound me, Hermione.”

“Please, stop being so dramatic.” She lets out an unbecoming snort through her laughter. He grins at her and she rolls her eyes. “This better not be some ploy to distract me in an attempt to get the flag.”

Ron stands back up and places his hands on his hips, once again flexing his forearms. God, she hates it so much. “Come on, Hermione. If I cared about the game, I wouldn’t have let myself get captured.”

She bursts into more laughter. “Yeah, right. There’s no way you got captured on purpose. That’s even more suspicious.”

“Why?”

“Because all I’ve listened to this week is how ‘we have to take down Weasley.’ How you’ve ‘single-handedly won the game for the last three years.’ Who’s to say you’re not distracting me just to get closer to your goal?”

“Maybe my goal isn’t the flag this time.” There’s something about the way he says it that wipes the smile right off her face.

“W-what?” she squeaks.

“Maybe I got captured under the guise of sacrificing myself for a teammate to get closer to the flag when really, I just wanted to spend time with you outside the office.”

Despite the fact that her heart is positively pounding in her chest, she keeps up her front with an eye roll. “Why?”

“Because I like you.”

The words hang between them as she blinks blankly at him. “I—you—” She swallows hard. “You do?”

Tentatively, he lifts the rope and steps underneath it. The tips of his ears are pink, something she’s noticed every once in a while but never thought anything of it.

“Uh, yeah. Thought it was obvious.”

Oh my god, is this actually happening?

For a moment, she’s completely enraptured by the way he inches closer in an almost tentative matter. But then her mind chooses logic and once again blares the warning signs that this is a game.

“Not as obvious as ‘no jailbreaks,’” she reminds him.

He stops and she inwardly kicks herself for ruining the moment—if there’s even a moment to be ruined. But then he grins at her and takes another step forward. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

She can hardly believe it. Hope rushes over her again, and it’s all she can do to try and keep it contained. The last thing she needs is for him to see how completely enamored she is with him. Even still, a little giggle escapes her throat as she volleys a quip. “That’s rather bold, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But hopefully it’s worth it.”

“Why?” She quirks an eyebrow at him, the unknown meaning behind his words suddenly sobering her.

A million possibilities flood her mind until he offers a sheepish grin and elaborates. “Because maybe I’ve forfeited the game for personal reasons.

“Personal reasons?” she repeats.

“That center around asking you out.”

Asking me—holy shit.

He waits for a beat as Hermione stares, slack-jawed, at him. Then, he adds, “So, uh, any time you want to put me out of my misery and let me know if it was a wise choice would be great.”

He’s serious. He’s actually serious. Ron Weasley came here with the intention of asking her out. He could have any girl he wanted, yet he’s here, alone with her, detailing his plans of asking her out.

She wants to savor every moment. Taking her time, Hermione steps closer to him, memorizing the hope in his eyes, the worry on his browline, the way his cheeks are completely red like he’s embarrassed. Then, a smirk forms on her lips. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“You technically haven’t asked me anything yet.”

“Oh. Oh. Well, uh, would you want to grab dinner or something?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hermione taps her chin. “I’ve got quite the case load right now. I really shouldn’t. Next week is going to be brutal. There’s no possible way I could give up part of my weekend. Unless…well, I suppose I could be persuaded.”

Even though she’s messing with him, she still finds herself succumbing to his gravitational pull. Because despite it all, the last thing she wants to convey is the possibility that she might say no. Of course, she’d have to question his detective skills if he could ever believe that.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to. She’s not quite sure where the brazenness comes from, but she doesn’t resist the pull urging her even closer. Her hand reaches up, sliding the soft fabric of his flannel between her fingers, which invites him into her personal space, and he grasps her hips.

For a moment, she forgets that there’s even a game going on, and that they’re at a work function—one she’d very much like to leave right now if at all possible. But first, there’s another thing she’d prefer. And luckily, he doesn’t make her wait.

His voice is suddenly husky, filled with lust as his eyes flit down to her lips. “I think that can be arranged.”

She tilts her head up as he leans down. Their first kiss is gentle, tentative, as if he doesn’t believe she’s given him permission. But from the moment their lips meet, the fire within her reignites, and Hermione wants more. Hungrily, she reaches up, fingers combing through his hair, urging even closer and deepens the kiss.

Ron moans, squeezing her hips as he backs her into the nearest tree, and if she’s not careful, she might just let him do whatever he wants to her right then and there.

That thought seems to snap her back to her senses, and she breaks away, her eyes taking a moment to catch up to her mind. Though heavy, she forces her eyelids open and meets his gaze. “So, dinner?”

Ron nods. “Don’t think they’ll miss us if we leave early, do you?”

“Not a chance.”

#submission #muggle au #romione #romione muggle au #romionetropefest

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barbinaj-blog · 6 months

Text

After Hours - Hasan Piker Fanfic

tags: Lawyer AU, Coworkers to Lovers, Public place, SoftDom Hasan, Slight Degradation, Dirty Talk, Fingering

(((Minors DNI, 18+)))

“Pass me that stapler?” Hasan asked, not looking up from his stack of endless papers. His nose was pointed at his heavy workload, brow stuck to a deep line that bisected his forehead.

I didn’t respond verbally, just grabbed the rectangular office item and held it suspended in front of him for a few seconds.

His face lifted to look me in the eye, a single inky curl bouncing in front of his glasses. His forearm, now exposed because of his rolled up sleeves, slowly raised up his hand to push his glasses back up from the tip of his nose to properly see my blank expression. Or rather, an expression I had forced myself to put on since I’ve been put on this case with him.

Something about Hasan just jerked my ovaries slightly to the left. It only really gets obvious when we’re alone, which doesn’t happen often; but over the past week, this case that both our supervisors put us on duty to comb through made it so we had to put in even more overtime since starting at Grandor & Belfort.

He let out a sigh. “Please?”

“You’d think you were raised by wolves.” I placed it near his computer on the shared desk we were on in the library. He scoffed and swiped it as quickly as I left it, his finger brushing mine ever so slightly.

“Wolves would have been a cooler origin story for me, for sure.” He quipped flatly. I tried to stifle my snicker but half of it slipped out of me.

“Yeah? So you and the boys can bond over being true alphas?” I shot back.

“Only on the weekends, we don’t wanna do too much. Alphas don’t have to.” He grunted as he stood up and went to the bookcase, seemingly searching for another tome to rifle through.

I shook my head in wry amusement at how he can be such a levelheaded brat. It was impressive honestly. Which, if you ever saw Hasan from across the street, that would be the last thing you’d think he would be like.

Standing at an impressive 6’4, he was like an industrial container. Big and thick, a bit hairy and generally to himself. His hands were almost always balled up, and I’d notice his thumb would always be picking at his palm. Probably at the calluses he’d formed from constantly grinding weights into his fists everyday, without fail. Except for tonight.

“Did you find the terms set by the first trial?”

I didn’t realize i had been staring at him till he asked. I jolted back to work, fishing in my own mountain of copies. I stood up to try and find the file, biting the insides my cheek.

“You did find it, didn’t you?” I craned my head around to see his face a little bit too close. I felt the whispers of his breath on the back of my neck—typically, I’d be incredibly uncomfortable with someone, particularly a man, being right behind me, but this time my entire body was caught in the vice grip of adrenaline.

He smelled really good too.

“Y-yeah I swear I did…” I whipped my head back to my side of the desk, but I couldn’t focus in the sea of white sheets and black ink surrounding. All I could hear is a my heart thumping against my rib cage, practically trying to claw its way out of me.

“It’s right here…” His voice softened like soft serve melting on a hot day, dripping down slowly like his arm over my shoulder to the file that was on my right. He was tall enough to reach it, but I didn’t have the sense to duck so his chest wouldn’t brush up against my back like it did.

He pulled back and took a beat. “Could you pass it to me?”

My face was hot, and I quickly grabbed the paper and flung it at him without another word.

“Sorry, did I do something?”

“No, it’s allergies.” I squeaked.

He paused. He took the item from my hand and i felt his presence leave from behind me. I just stood there frozen and tried my best to not disintegrate into dust. My eyes fluttered and began to unblur, so I finally sat back down, my legs giving out much quicker than I had thought.

I felt something cold on my head and jumped at the sudden sensation.

“A peace offering.” Hasan plopped a can of fanta in front of me on my desk. I rubbed my shaved head and watched him also sit in front of me, opening his own can of the fizzy drink.

“And a sign that we should take a break.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, his wide frame hiding the chair out of sight. He took a sip, and kept his eye on my for a second while drinking. I cleared my throat and took that as a sign to quench my thirst.

“Thanks.” I popped the can open and took a light sip, still trying to compose the waves of somersaults that my gut was experiencing. “Fanta is my favorite.”

“I prefer diet coke, but fanta is up there with the greats.”

“Diet coke is literally car cleaner.” I heard myself say.

He shrugged. “Need to keep my engine clean. All this horsepower needs maintenance.”

A giggle nearly made me choke on my drink. “And that’s why, as a society, men are left behind. You just compared yourself to an object like it was nothing!”

“I’m calling myself an object! It’s acceptable if a man does it.”

“What, so if I did it then it would be different?”

“Oh 100%.”

“How?”

“Because.”

My brows pushed up, and I leaned in a little waiting for his response.

“Because you’re you.”

“And that means?”

He let out a short puff of air, and shifted in his seat a little. “That means that if you did it, it would mean something.”

I blinked at his answer. He continued “It would mean that your thoughts are impure.”

“And yours aren’t?” A dry chuckled escaped me.

He flashed a smile that I could only call mischievous. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“I’m asking.”

“And I plead the 5th.”

My back slumped back against my chair, arms crossed, my mind fizzling at what he meant by my specific objectification of him being different.

“Then what if I said you were a wet blanket of a person.”

He scoffed, looking away for a beat and swinging his heavy gaze back at me. “Yeah? You into that sorta thing?”

“No—” I stopped midway through my sentence because he was smiling at me. His lips were curled mischievously, his mouth slightly ajar. I could see his the underside his tongue as it pressed against his palette, as his eyes stayed deadlocked between my nose and chin. I swore his eyes slid over my lips too.

“You shouldn’t chew on your lip like that.” His voice was low and breathy, and quiet. But I heard him. “You do that a quite a bit.”

My face bloomed a heated blush, and I released my bottom lip. “Bad habit.” Shit. My poker face might be worse than I thought. I felt myself squirm in place.

“It’s cute.”

My eyes shot back at him. He was even more relaxed, his two forefingers holding his temple with his elbow on his arm rest.

“You got a booger though.” He scrunched up his nose at me. My hand snapped to cover my nose, and swivelled my back to him as my insides melted in embarrassment. I wiped my top lip beneath my nose, trying to capture the little thing that cost me my dignity in front of him.

“D’you get it?” He laughed.

“Hasan, I appreciate the concern but I’d love if you didn’t make more fun of me right now.” My voice trembled at the end.

“I’m not” He chuckled. I felt the chair turn back around, my sight line at his crotch for a split second. He crouched down to my level, his lashes low on his face and lips slightly parted. I saw the shimmer of his tongue swipe over his bottom lip.

“Move your hand,” his voice vibrated low and my lower stomach caught the frequency like a tuning fork. Buzzing with want and excitement. My hand wilted away from my lip.

“You’re so gullible.” He reached out, in what seemed like slow motion, and traced a feather light line over my cheek, trailing to my lips. His thumb pressed into the seam of my mouth, slipping in easily.

“Shit…” He hissed. I could barely keep my eyes open as the wave of pleasure washed over me. I had forgotten to breathe it seemed, my vision getting spottier and my head felt like it was floating off my body.

“Hey hey, breathe, baby.” My eyes popped open at the pet name and I gulped some air back into my lungs.

“There you go baby, there you go…” He eclipsed the space between us, tugging his finger out my mouth, despite my whines of protest. I could barely hear my own voice from the rush of blood going to my head.

As quickly as his finger left my lips, the tip of his nose pecked mine and I laid my forehead against his just to take a moment of rest.

“You’re squeezing your legs.” He said quietly. I hadn’t noticed it till I felt his hand on my knee. He slid his hand down my thigh, my breath growing more irregular by the moment.

“Hasan, please, I—” He reached my centre, using the friction of my dress pants against my growing need, palm out. I pressed my hips forward, searching for that feeling. A piece of lighting struck my core and he silenced my moans with his mouth. His lips were like sweet relief, quenching my desperation with his taste.

Kissing Hasan was something I thought about, but in practice I couldn’t believe how good it felt. It couldn’t have felt better, and the more he pushed into me the more I let him in. Rival to his tongue was only his hand, large and quick, already in my pants and past my underwear.

“Fuck…you’re so wet for me…” His voice sounded strained from something, but I wasn’t ready to detach from his lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he took that as an opportunity to lift me from my chair to the desk.

My fly had been unzipped and he sunk deeper into my folds, so slow and cruel. Everytime he left my sweet pressure I ran back to it, bucking against his movements to guide him where to go. The back and forth was agonizing, but so perfect. The inconsistent pleasure was addictive.

“You’re so cute, trying to tell me where to go…” He said in a mocking tone. “You like when I touch you here?”

I nodded into his shoulder, clamping my lips together.

“Yeah? You like this don’t you? In a public place? Getting all wet for me?”

I could barely respond with anything more than moanful breaths—he was making me lose my mind. My mind was fogged up by his smell and his voice, his breath, his taste. I wanted to taste him again.

“I’m not talking to myself, am I?” I looked up at him, and pushed my chin up to his face to kiss.

“Nuh-uh. I asked you a question, baby. Answer.”

“I do, I love it, please Hasan,” He drove his hips forward and that spread me open even more. My knees were higher up near his torso, causing me to use one of my arms to steady myself behind me. He used his free hand to tug my pants down from my ass, and I lifted myself to get them off in one fell swoop. He captured my lips again, and I sang my praises into his mouth at the return of his tongue.

He kept pressing into me, slowly and gently laying me down on the table. He cradled my head and pushed the laptop and books out the way, still digging at my shivering insides with his thick fingers.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re not gonna cum are you? Just from me fingering you like this?” He started to pull my pant legs off, making me more exposed but freer than ever. He kept my thighs pressed together, crossed at the ankles, laying across his left shoulder.

A mangled groan at the back of my throat seeped out of me as he started fingering me faster and faster, his thumb now bullying my clit. “Hasan, please don’t sto—”

“You’re not listening babe, I asked if you’re gonna cum from me just playing with your pussy in the library. Are you?” He was panting too now, pushing my straight legs closer to my chest, his face looking down on me with nothing but lust and something a shade darker than sex.

“Yes, please, it feels so good, I can’t take it any longer…!”

“Then cum.” He kissed me and I was whisked away. He kept nudging inside me, and I succumbed to the fall of my orgasm. His tongue and fingers were acting as one, and I felt my core flex and bit on his lip, riding the choppy waves of my release.

A minute or ten passed by, I couldn’t tell, as he slowly ended his reign of pleasure over me, leaving trails of kisses on my cheek and my neck, to my unbuttoned blouse near my collarbone.

“You made such a mess on me, babe.” He licked at my jaw, while slowly emptying my entrance and rubbing my sensitive button.

“You’re gonna have to pay for that, sweetheart.” He smiled against my neck as it all faded to black.

—————

If you made it this far, leave a like or a comment. Let me know if this needs a part two!

#smut #pwp fics #hasan piker #oneshots #imagines #ao3 #new writers on tumblr

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iamfandomcrazy · 7 months

Text

Oneshots I will (hopefully) get to

Wednesday gets hurt and Tyler takes care of her

Dean gets in trouble

Wednesday spends the afternoon with the sheriff so they can "bond" as per a request by Tyler

Body swap AU

Wednesday has a baby shower

Wednesday is pregnant and, much to her horror, finds herself craving affection from Tyler more than usual

Wednesday and Tyler go to the first ultrasound for their baby

Wednesday and Tyler have to deal with the loss of their baby (by miscarriage)

AU where Tyler went into the army and surprises Wednesday when he comes back

Another Xavier bashing fic but with hyde!Tyler this time (but hyde doesn't really 'come out' it's just mentioned that he's a hyde)

Tyler and Donovan go on vacation and coincidentally, the Addams is there

Tyler and Donovan, plus Elvis, for X reason have to be out of their home for a while so Gomez and Morticia offer them a place to stay for a while

Wednesday secretly wearing Tyler's jacket (or something along those lines. I haven't fully figured it out yet)

AU where Wednesday can read minds

Based on the post by @therulerofallpotatos where Tyler takes his kids to the park, they want him to transform into hyde so they can play on him. Another kid joins and that happens to be Amanda Buckman's son. Chaos ensues

Joel stops by the Weathervane and sees Wednesday for the first time since camp

An idea from @pey0805 where Tyler is at the police station during parents weekend when Gomez gets arrested and he and Wednesday get flustered when Donovan suggests there's something going on between them

Wednesday and Tyler tell Dean they're going to have another baby (I like thinking of them just having Dean but I couldn't get this out of my head)

Little Dean is jealous of his new brother

Enid, Ajax and (unfortunately) Xavier spy on Wednesday and Tyler's first date

Tyler is in prison drowning in self loathing when he receives a visit from Wednesday

Wednesday helps Tyler watch over his little cousin

3 times Elvis ruined the mood

Wednesday and Tyler talk about their insecurities

Wednesday has had it up to here with the sheriff interrupting them so when he calls and interrupts their evening, she takes matters into her own hands and answers the call

An AU that takes place during their date when Wednesday says she's only doing it because she owes him and Tyler doesn't believe her (I got inspiration from the 'Wednesday and subtly thirsting' gifset)

The birth of Dean

Tyler feels like he's in the middle of an argument between his girlfriend and Thing when Thing shows up at school in his locker

AU where Wednesday is a witch and she takes Tyler on a late night ride on her broom

Based on an incorrect quote. Tyler takes Wednesday to the zoo

Crossover w/Legally Blonde. Elle is the lawyer for Tyler's trial

Wednesday gets a job at the Weathervane to show Tyler that what he does is easy when he teases her about not working

Wednesday insists that she isn't jealous so Tyler takes that as a challenge

Wednesday, Thing, Enid and Tyler watch Wednesday's memories from when she was at camp (a watching fanfiction sort of thing)

Donovan tags along when Tyler teaches Wednesday how to drive

Tyler's grandmother visits and embarrasses him in front of Wednesday

AU where Wednesday is a doctor and when Tyler is visiting Lucas in the hospital he sees her and knows he has to find a way to talk to her/get her attention. So he pretends to fall so she'll have to look him over. Only he actually hurts himself

Dean is now a teenager and really wants to ask out the girl in his class. The problem? It's Xavier daughter. Can the adults tolerate an evening together when Xavier's daughter (and him...reluctantly) attend dinner at the Galpin/Addams house?

Something for Halloween/Wysdaythe13th

So yeah....that's a lot lol I probably won't get to all of them but who knows how many I'll do

y'all know I got a lot of ideas lol

Edit: anything that's scratched out is what I've already done

#wednesday addams #tyler galpin #wyler #weyler #wednesday netflix #wednesday and tyler #wyler fanfiction

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tsukimefuku · 1 month

Text

Human resources, tasukete!

You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

Tags: Implied/Past Nanami x OC/f!Reader. Higuruma x OC/f!Reader. Slight jujusanpo vibes. Crack taken (somewhat) seriously. Slice of life vibes. Humor. Angst. Fluff. Gojo, Shoko and Ijichi are at a loss. Reader is terrified of Shoko.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma long fic I might write. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"So, Hiromi, I have some concerns." You said, sat beside him on a bench, as you both took a break from strolling around Tokyo. You had a bag of sweets to bribe Gojo the following day, and licked mindlessly at your popsicle.

"You always have concerns, my dear." Higuruma answered, sipping on his soda through the straw, glad the cold beverage provided him with some relief in such a hot day. "What is it?"

"I have no idea if we should be publicly involved. I mean, I don't mind keeping it to ourselves, but-" You stopped to ponder for a moment. "Does Jujutsu High even have some kind of policy regarding relationships in the workplace?"

He looked at you and shrugged. "Whichever you decide is fine by me." He took another sip. "They might, given there are some missions involving two or more parties."

"Yeah, but there are those two weird siblings that usually go together on every mission, so I don't know, really." You paused. "Do you think they need to follow labor laws of any sort?"

Higuruma snorted at the sheer absurdity of it, grinning sardonically. "Well, I really don't think so. And if they do, any sensible lawyer would refuse their case. I mean..." He vaguely gestured in the air.

You smiled, a little embarrassed at the stupid question. "Yeah. Probably not. But it is a possibility they have some sort of internal policy about it, so I'll try finding out about it, okay? Because they barely tolerate me, and your sentence is merely suspended, as far as we know."

"Well, if we make our relationship known," he said, pulling you from your waist to press against him. You chuckled, and he planted a small kiss on your lips. "I'll get to kiss you whenever, wherever. I'd like that very much."

***

"Spill it." Shoko said, turning around and looking straight at you, while holding her cup of coffee. You were both seated at the morgue, as you helped her with her reports, having nothing else to do today. She clearly noticed your eyes burning a hole through her back, choked up on words.

"So, if someone hypothetically had a relationship with a co-worker here in Jujutsu High, how should they proceed?"

"What?"

"I mean, paperwork. What should they do?" You explained.

She was silent for a few moments, a little taken aback by your question. "Are you and Nanami-"

You sighed. "Shoko, the question is hypothetical."

She walked towards you, putting her coffee cup over one of the gurneys, and hovered, ominously. You involuntarily made yourself smaller, pinching your shoulders, as you sat on a small bench.

"Well, hypothetically, are you and Nanami together?" She inquired.

Shoko had seen the glances, smiles and eventual hugs you two had shared in vulnerable moments. On top of that, she was familiar with Nanami ever since high school, and knew for a fact he wasn't the smiley-huggy type of person. The tension between the two of you was palpable to anyone whenever you and him were both in the same vicinity.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You answered, slightly scared.

The ominous energy grew dire. Shoko wanted her tea and she was going to have it one way or the other.

You leaned back, defeated. "No, it's not Nanami."

"Say what now?" Shoko asked, surprised. "Who is it?"

"Can you promise me not to talk to anyone about this, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine." She dismissed your concerns, shaking her hand in the air. "Now who is it? Don't tell me it's Gojo-"

"What the hell, Shoko!? Ugh, no, never." You answered, shivering, and not in a good way. A great friend, but a man child, after all. "It's Higuruma."

"Oh..." She let out, "He's kinda brooding, I can see the appeal. But... I always thought you and Nanami-"

"Me too. I was wrong, clearly." You replied, sharply, feeling a knot bubbling up your throat.

"What do you mean?" She inquired.

"Ask him." You spat out, grabbing her cup of coffee and taking a sip. You grimaced. How does this woman drink this with no sugar or sweetener whatsoever?

Shoko noticed your face twisting, taking the cup back from your hands. "Sugar is for the weak."

"Then, I'm a weakling." You retorted, getting up. "I'll try to find out if there is anything I should or not do about this regarding Human Resources, or whatever the hell you have in place here."

"I mean, if I were you, I'd just keep it to myself." She pointed out, earnestly.

"Well, I thought about it, but I'm worried that saying nothing might be detrimental to me or him, given our... Particularities."

"Hm. Maybe you're right." Shoko answered, as you made your way out of the morgue.

Nanami how tf did you let that happen?! Shoko chastised him, texting as soon as you left the morgue.

Ieiri, I have no idea what you're referring to. Could you please be more specific?

The woman you so clearly love is dating what's-his-face black suit.

The typing icon appeared and disappeared on Shoko's screen around six times. It disappeared for a minute, and then came back, lasting a long time.

It's for the best. I hope she's happy.

On the other side of the conversation, Nanami was splayed over his sofa, staring at the ceiling, trying to not feel too sorry for himself. His efforts weren't working as well as expected, as he drowned in a mixture of jealousy and longing for you. But at least, like this, he'd surely have no other chance to slip up and hurt you like he did ever again.

At least, he tried muttering to himself, willing this fantasy into existence.

At... Least. He covered his face with his forearm, sighing deeply, as he picked his book up to resume his reading session. The words on paper were no longer making any sense.

***

Gojo saw you approaching him in the dojo. He had his casual on, white long sleeve shirt and glasses, after training one of the first-years.

"Hey, Satoru! How are you?" You said, walking towards the sorcerer holding a paper bag. "So, I remember you liked this particular type of kikufuku-"

"Stop right there," Gojo answered, leaned against the wall, tilting his head to the side with his frivolous smile plastered on his face. "I know bribery when I see it."

You sighed. "I mean, do you actually care that this is bribery or not?"

He chuckled, extending his hand and motioning you to proceed. "Of course I don't. Give it to me. What flavor are those?"

"Matcha."

"Oh, yeah. Very nice." Gojo said, satisfied, as he took the paper bag from your hands. "What do you want from me this time? Saving somebody else's life? Just my fantastic company? Tell me!"

You chuckled, sitting on the ground, looking up at him. "Human resources."

"... The what now?" He answered, pushing an entire kikufuku inside his mouth, looking very pleased. "Wow, I need to know where you bought these. Is it a new store?"

"That's unimportant right now." You shut down his rising antics. "If someone has a relationship with a co-worker here at Jujutsu High, do they have to report it?"

Gojo looked at you, surprised, swallowing his sweets. "Hm... Seriously?"

"What?"

"Why would I know the answer to that question? Do I look like I have a secret sorcerer affair or something?"

"... Huh? This isn't about you, Satoru. What the hell." You retorted, incredulous. "I just need to know if there is any paperwork involved."

He simply shrugged, munching away. "Beats me. No idea."

This was useless.

You got up, in frustration, and that was when Gojo actually processed the words you just had said. "Wait, what do you mean 'you need to know' anything about that? Are you-"

"Bye, pretty boy!" You said, leaving the dojo completely empty-handed. What a waste of money on those kikufuku. Gojo seemed happy to receive them, at least.

***

"Ijichi, you're my last hope!" You jumped him, almost yelling, and the man nearly passed out when you left the bushes looking like a maniac. He thought Master Tengen's shields could have been compromised, and he was being lunged at by a curse.

You were walking around the campus relentlessly, like a predator in the middle of a hunt, trying to catch Ijichi before he left, considering most of his days were spent at home office, from what you had gathered.

"Y-yes, Ms.? H-how can I help you?" He asked, shaking briefly like a frail twig, before recomposing himself and adjusting his tie.

"How do I report a romantic relationship to whatever you guys have for human resources? Or I don't have to?" You asked, holding his shoulders, looking intently at the man, while taken by some kind of desperation.

He was, indeed, your last hope, before you had to speak directly to Yaga in order to inquire him about it.

Ijichi blankly stared at you, buffering your question before he could muster up an answer. "We don't really deal with those kinds of things administratively. So you don't have to report anything, I g-guess." Are she and Nanami-san...? He began pondering, mentally.

Ijichi never got to finish his thought, though.

You sighed, relieved, and pulled him into your arms, hugging the assistant tightly, almost jumping like a schoolgirl. "You're my hero, thank you!"

His face faintly blushed at the sudden appreciation received from a sorcerer, with no back-handed innuendo. "Y-You're... Welcome."

You let him go, smiled, and started frolicking your way out of the campus, glad there was nothing to report to any kind of higher authority other than your own anxiety due to this whole situation.

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penaltyboxboxbox · 1 month

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hi dave!! i love love love your parents au - it’s honestly everything. do you plan on expanding it ? how about other couples children ? pierresteban, galex or lolex for example ? any headcanons you wanna share ?

PARENTS AU!! i am truthfully always thinking about it it always just takes a million years to draw since it always involves so many people in the drawings djsnkdnskd and children are more difficult to draw than adults...BUT yeah ill probably draw more of it eventually when a good idea strikes....

going to ramble about some random parents au thoughts for diff ships below the cut thanks

pierresteban child: YOU ARE A CHILD OF DIVORCE ! i think this kid is an only child despite pierre definitely wanting more kids. esteban gets the weeks and pierre gets every other weekend. pierre is still salty its not the other way around. becomes like a lawyer or doctor or something because esteban high key says youre not becoming an athlete as long as i live and youre going to apply yourself

strollonso kid. originally i named her Gael, but i may rename her i've become quite fond of the names Gracia and Nina so...playing w those.. ive drawn her like once and need to again. another only child, spoiled absolutely rotten though. racing baby for real they put her in a car the second she can walk and like . they take her far like girl who is going to say no when those are your dads. anyways. i think she is a girly girl 👼☝️ she loves talking on her cell phone and wearing her van cleef 20 motif and driving at speeds of 240kmh

i need alex to be a cool uncle. if george had a kid george's kid would be like why cant you be cool like uncle alex and george would be like. go to your room.

UMMMMMM ok im out of ideas . what else do i even ship enough to put a baby in them. idk

#ask #parents au

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911onabc · 9 months

Text

tidbit teaser tuesday

tagged by @rewritetheending @panbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @prince-buck-diaz

i know i know i KNOW i said i would finish divorce lawyer au before i went back to college athlete stuff. but. idk i'm really tired lately and writing this stupid little au feels like a warm hug. so. yeah <3

“No kidding. What did you even do driving for so long?” “I uh…” Eddie trailed off. His voice was soft and broken up, obvious that he had been awake too long. “I don’t know. I listened to a couple of podcasts. I sang along to the radio for a little bit.” “You sing?” “I-not really,” Eddie clarified. “Not well. Just to keep me from passing out on the road.” “What kind of music do you listen to?” “I dunno,” Eddie said. “Whatever is on the radio, I guess.” “That’s weird.” Buck said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s not weird!” Eddie protested. “Songs are on the radio because they’re popular. People like songs on the radio.” “Sure,” Buck said. “But we’re in the age of streaming. You can curate playlists to have whatever you want on them and only have music you like, and you’re choosing to just roll the dice on whatever some local DJ is playing?” “I guess I just don’t really care that much.” Eddie offered up as an explanation–one Buck personally felt was a bit of a cop-out. “That’s kind of a red flag.” Buck said. “A red flag?” Eddie questioned. “That you don’t have opinions on music.” “I never said I don’t have opinions on music,” Eddie groaned, but Buck imagined that he was smiling. “I just meant I’m easy to please, I’ll listen to whatever. I don’t think that’s a red flag.” “Yeah,” Buck said. “Not normally. But you weren’t with anybody, so it’s not like you were doing it for somebody else. It’s weird. Red flag.” “Okay, whatever. I wasn’t really spending that much time listening to music anyways.” Eddie mumbled. “Well then what else were you doing? With all that time?” “I was uh–” Eddie “I was thinking, mostly.” “About what?” “Mostly about how I had been excited to go home for Christmas for weeks,” Eddie said. “To like, see my family and everything. But all of a sudden, you kiss me in the goddamned gym, and…and I know that you’re going to be there the whole time I’m back home. So for a good portion of the drive I was just asking myself why the hell I was leaving LA when I could stay there with someone I like a whole lot more than my high school friends and probably most of my family. And also, I was thinking about what we could do, if I did turn around and go back to LA, which, uh–well I kind of had to stop myself from thinking about that for the purposes of road safety.” “Oh.” Buck said. He wanted to say more. Something charming or funny or sexy, only it kind of felt like his brain was short circuiting. He was panicking–just a little bit. Because, well, Eddie liked him. Eddie, who was popular and perfect and a little bit of an asshole. Eddie, who had shoved his way into Buck’s life and endlessly embarrassed him. Eddie, who was a man. Eddie, who Buck liked so much that he was starting to wonder if he had ever actually liked anybody else at all. Because liking someone had never felt like this. It wasn’t a bad panic, more like nervous excitement. But it was panic nonetheless.

tagging @bucks118 @rogerzsteven @barbiediaz @diazass @alyxmastershipper @heartbeatdiaz @heartshapedvows @housewifebuck @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @honestlydarkprincess @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @buck2eddie @transbuck @cowboy-buck @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @wikiangela @useramor @folk-fae @roy-kents @king-buckley @bekkachaos @butchdiaz

#tidbit tuesday #writing tag #college athlete au #buddie fic

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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1 - The Mistake

reader x jihoon

masterlist | Chapter 2

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, food, bad decision making

wc: 3.9k

a/n: thank you all for being excited!!!! the first part is mostly the same as the teaser though there’s been some minor grammatical edits! I’m can’t believe it’s finally being dropped!!! I hope you all enjoy the chaos!!

updates: every tuesday

taglist: open! send an ask or comment!

If Jihoon was stopped on the street and told to name three facts about you, he could probably do it. He doesn’t know your favorite color, or what you ate for dinner last night, but he knows where you went to school (since it’s been the same school as him since elementary school) and where you work (since it’s the same law firm he works at). He might struggle for a bit for a third fact, but eventually he’d settle for this: you are hopeless when it comes to love.

Unfortunately, Soonyoung isn’t asking three facts about you, he is asking what Jihoon has planned for your anniversary. Jihoon blinks at Soonyoung, standing beside his table.

“My anniversary?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “With yn?”

He runs a mental check of any possible thing that Soonyoung could be referring to, then checks his calendar on his phone. Both come up empty.

To be honest, Jihoon would be more surprised if there is something he’s forgetting. Despite knowing you for so long (in the way that he’s grown up with you but hasn’t had an actual conversation with you since he was seven), he’d never call you his friend; at best, you're a coworker.

But the way Soonyoung is looking at him now makes him wonder if he’s forgotten something, and worry that whatever he’s forgotten is important.

“You don’t have anything planned?” Soonyoung says, loud enough for the couple sitting at the table across from Jihoon look up. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to notice. “Dude, it’s been a whole year. I can’t remember the last time yn has had a boyfriend for a full year, you have nothing planned?”

Boyfriend? Jihoon stands up, snapping his laptop shut. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, and quite frankly, I don’t have time for it. Tell yn, or whoever is behind this prank that it’s not funny and to grow up.” He leaves Soonyoung standing there frowning, leaving the coffee shop and pulling his satchel over his shoulder.

It’s a short walk from the coffee shop to the firm, and Jihoon uses it to think things through. Here’s what he knows: 1) Soonyoung is your best friend since middle school, 2) he isn’t the type to lie about this for fun, and 3) you have sworn off dating (a fourth fact!). So either A) Soonyoung lied (uncharacteristic) or B) you’ve lied (not out of character for you, you are a divorce lawyer). He figures the second option makes the most sense, though the why still troubles him. He waits for the elevator, staring at his distorted reflection that makes face shrink and his ears look comically large.

The doors open with a small ding and a stream of people flow out. Jihoon politely steps to the side to let them through before getting on. Thankfully, it’s a much less crowded ride up, only a couple other people, none of whom are going to the firm on the nineteenth floor. Jihoon is able to focus completely on the person he otherwise has spent very little time thinking about: you.

Despite knowing you for so many years, Jihoon really couldn’t say much about you (see above limited list of facts). What he does know is mostly filtered through Wonwoo, whose office is next to yours and separated by rather thin walls. Jihoon didn’t expect Wonwoo to be into gossip, especially since he’s known you since law school and actually calls himself your friend, but Jihoon has heard more about your love life than he ever wanted to. That’s why he knows of crucial fact #4: You have sworn off dating.

He knows—from Wonwoo—that after your third boyfriend in as many months, you gave up on ever being able to balance dating and work, tired of having your heart broken over and over again. According to Wonwoo—who allegedly heard this from you over the phone with your friend (which Jihoon thinks is at the very least an invasion of privacy, but Wonwoo argued you were on a personal call during work hours so it’s free game)—you cited your failures in love to your own tendency to “catch feelings too fast” (he isn’t sure if Wonwoo was quoting you or using his own words, but they stuck with him). From Wonwoo’s lamenting, he knows that you’ve since sworn off dating, giving up on the pains of failed romance. So why does your best friend think that you’ve been dating him for the past year?

He isn’t thinking when he walks into your office without knocking. You’re on the phone, though you hang up quickly when he walks in. You’re frowning, and he wonders if Soonyoung was on the phone when you hung up. You stand as he pulls the door shut behind him.

“I can explain,” you say, confirming his suspicions. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so you haven’t lied to your friends and told them we’re dating?” Jihoon says, folding his arms.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” you mumble.

“It is bad,” he says, shaking his head. “Honestly, you’re lucky I don’t report you to HR. This is borderline harassment, you really should know better.”

“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Seriously, did you think you could get away with it? Soonyoung went to middle school and high school with us, surely you knew this wouldn’t last,” he says. “What were you going to do at a reunion?”

“Well, I didn’t go last year,” you mumble. You leave out neither did you, but when you meet his eyes, he can tell that you aren’t totally beat. Not yet.

“I just thought you were smarter than this,” Jihoon says. “I mean, we don’t know each other well, and I know you never scored as high as I did on tests, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.”

“I get it, you think I didn’t think this through,” you say. “I really am sorry, but I don’t have the time to listen to you lecture me for a full hour, so can you at least make it quick?”

Jihoon blinks. “Why?” He says, more statement than question. “Why did you lie?”

You sigh, slumping into your chair. “Long story very short, I had a few too many bad relationships and I decided I wasn’t going to date anymore because apparently I have a tendency to fall in love with brick walls.”

Jihoon figures it’s a bad idea to tell you he already knew that, opting to nod so that you continue to explain.

“The problem is, pretty much none of my friends believed that I would actually be able to keep it up,” you say. “They thought that I’d fall for the first person that gave me an ounce of attention. The thing is, it actually did work. I haven’t been on a date in a year, and I think it’s been really, really good for me. But my friends didn’t believe it.

“So I lied. I told them I started dating someone from work, and I did think it through: I said someone from the firm, since they don’t know anyone, and because my mystery boyfriend is a lawyer, they weren’t surprised when he was busy all the time and couldn’t come to anything. Plus, since it was someone from work, I could say that we had to keep everything quiet because I told them dating wasn’t allowed. Everything was perfect, actually.”

Jihoon can almost see your logic. Almost. “Why me?”

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your closed laptop. “They wanted a name, and yours was the first I thought of, and then the lie just sort of took on a life of its own.” You have the audacity to smile. “Did you know that you’ve been in love with me since elementary school?”

Jihoon scoffs. “There’s no way they believed that.”

“You’d be surprised,” you say, with a fond smile. It vanishes when you meet his glare.

More than anything, Jihoon is confused, but the one thing he is absolutely certain about is that he doesn’t want anyone walking around thinking he’s dating someone that he isn’t, especially not when that someone is you.

He can’t think of anyone more different than him; your office is testament to that, filled with all sorts of knick knacks and brightly colored pillows, mugs from around the world strategically spread around your bookshelves, which hold a combination of books on law as well as classic novels and collections of stories. He remembers that before you went to law school, you majored in English. Pride and Prejudice sits in between a copy of War and Peace and Beowulf, with a bright red glass ornament keeping them upright.

He thinks about his own office. His only decorations were at the insistence of Seungkwan and Seungcheol: a plant that Jihoon was actively trying to kill (and starting to suspect is fake), a set of colorful highlighters that he would never use that Seungcheol said “brightened the room,” and a framed photograph of all of his friends at Seungkwan’s graduation. The last piece, a gift from Seungcheol, is the only one he will admit he doesn’t mind having in his office, but he could live without everything else. He doesn’t know how you manage to work with so much going on in your office.

But the biggest difference between the two of you, Jihoon realizes, comes from a fundamentally different understanding of the world: while you seem to find love in everything (and everyone), Jihoon simply doesn’t believe it exists.

The street lights in front of Joshua’s building are out, again. It used to set Jihoon on edge, but he’s come to expect it more often than not, and waits patiently as he rings the buzzer to be let in.

He’s also late, again. The door swings open and he waves at the man behind the front desk. He should know his name with how often he visits Joshua’s apartment. There’s no one in the lobby and he gets to ride the elevator to the sixth floor alone.

Mentally, he prepares himself for the chaos of the night. It’s been months since everyone has been able to get together (and even then, Wonwoo had to cancel because there was a complication in his case that left him stuck at the office even later than Jihoon). Still, the rest of the group—Joshua, Seungcheol, and Seungkwan—were finally able to meet up, which means that the night is going to at the very least be interesting.

They didn’t wait for Jihoon to start drinking. He has to knock three times before the door finally swings open. Unfortunately, Mingyu is behind the door, and he practically lifts Jihoon off the ground, wrapping him in a hug. Jihoon has met him maybe six times but apparently that means that he’s close enough for a suffocating hug.

“I haven’t seen you in six months!” He shouts, dragging Jihoon inside. The rest of the boys, in varying degrees of intoxication, tackle him as well. Seungkwan is close to tears, babbling in his ear about how long it’s been, and Seungcheol is one step away from kissing him on the cheek (Jihoon dodges it).

Joshua is clearly more sober, settling for a quick hug when he finally disentangles himself from the others.

“Work was good?” Joshua asks.

Jihoon shrugs. “Work was work.”

“You’re late,” Seungkwan says, still clinging to Jihoon’s arm.

“You should be grateful I came at all,” Jihoon says, though he doesn’t push Seungkwan off. It isn't worth the effort when he knows that he’ll latch on again as soon as he can. He still shoves Mingyu before he can take his other arm.

Jihoon lets Seungkwan drag him onto the couch. It’s long past dinner time, but there’s still plenty of snacks laid out. Despite the faulty lighting outside, Joshua’s apartment actually looks nice. He’s traded cheap beer for a growing collection of wine next to his bookcase that is no longer solely populated by fantasy books. Jihoon still has his doubts about the quality of the wine.

“You’re still coming Saturday, right?” Seungkwan says, resting his chin on Jihoon’s shoulder.

“Yes,” he says, pushing him gently on the forehead to get him off his shoulder. “Just like when you asked yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.”

“Well, it’s not like you always show up,” Joshua says. He sits on the other side of Jihoon, the rest of the boys spreading between the couch and floor. Mingyu stretches out on the floor, long limbs resting in front of Jihoon.

“I come when I say I do,” Jihoon says, lifting his feet so they are resting on top of Mingyu’s shin instead of beneath them.

“Except for Johnny’s wedding,” Seungkwan says.

“And my birthday,” Seungcheol says.

“Oh, and that one time we went to dinner to celebrate your promotion,” Joshua says.

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” Jihoon says. “Out of my control.”

“I’m telling you, if you just went on one date, it would fix everything,” Seungkwan says.

“Here we go again,” Jihoon mutters.

“No, no, the logic is there!” Seungkwan says. “If you actually dated someone, you’d understand that you can’t just blow things off, that other people’s feelings do in fact matter.”

“Plus you wouldn’t be such an uptight little bitch,” Seungcheol says. “What?” He asks when everyone stares at him. “It’s true.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I don’t know why you all are convinced that my love life is why I’m like this. What if this is just who I am?”

“Did Jihoon just admit he’s an ‘uptight little bitch’?” Mingyu asks from the floor.

“I thought it was an accepted fact,” Joshua says, then apparently realizes that he hasn’t had enough alcohol to excuse rude comments because he takes a very long sip of his wine and looks anywhere but at Jihoon.

“Anyways,” Seungkwan says, smacking Jihoon’s chest. Jihoon thinks it was meant to be a reassuring pat. “We’re getting distracted from the really important things.”

“Which are?” Joshua asks when Seungkwan trails off into silence.

“The fact that Jihoon has never once been on a date,” Seungkwan says.

“And you guys wonder why I always ditch,” Jihoon mumbles. “Besides,” he says. “I have been on a date. Multiple dates.”

“Those don’t count,” Seungkwan says. “We set them up.”

“A date is a date,” Jihoon says. “How does that not count?”

“Okay, there’s a date and there’s a date,” Seungkwan says. “You go on a date because your friends set it up and it’s too late to say no, but you go on a date because there’s something else, a feeling, a— a—”

Jihoon frowns at the stuttering man beside him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Let the man speak!” Joshua says. “He’s got a point!”

“What point?”

“You!” Mingyu says, lifting his leg to bounce Jihoon’s feet. Apparently his alcohol impaired brain thinks this is hilarious because he does it a couple more times until Jihoon digs his heel onto his thigh (and maybe a little too close to his crotch). “You, Lee Jihoon, have never told someone how you felt. Actually, have you even felt anything before? Seriously, I mean, I haven’t known you nearly as long as these idiots but have you ever told them you love them? Or even care about them?”

Jihoon looks around, Seungkwan at his side, Joshua on the floor leaning against the coffee table, Seungcheol on the far end of the couch, and Mingyu, who’s managed to lift his head off the floor. Though no one else says anything, he can tell they agree with Mingyu, waiting expectantly for him to admit that he has a problem.

And that’s when Jihoon realizes he knows exactly how you felt: cornered with no hope for escape because the people you care about most in the world are convinced that your lack of a love life is somehow congruent with your happiness. Though it’s still just as ridiculous to him, he understands it. And even though there isn’t a drop of alcohol in his system, the words are out before he can stop them.

“I have been on a real date,” he says. “Multiple actually. With the same person. Because I’m dating someone.”

Jihoon has been friends with the guys (with the exception of Mingyu) for the better part of ten years, some of them even longer. He knows them better than his own family, and he knows that when they are quiet, it never bodes well.

Joshua is the first to break, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his snort as a cough. It devolves from there, Seungkwan practically shrieking with laughter while Seungcheol pounds the arm of the couch so hard Jihoon worries it’ll break. He lifts his feet off of Mingyu because the larger man is bouncing them with his laughter.

“I am!”

“Sure,” Seungkwan manages through tears. “Just like Mingyu has a real job.”

“Hey!” Mingyu says. “You were one of my references!”

Seungkwan waves his hand, leaning fully onto Jihoon, whose patience has begun to wear thin. “Seriously, though, you expect us to believe that?”

“Yes!” Jihoon says, because there’s nothing he can do but stick to his lie. “I have been seeing someone!”

“And they’re real? A human being?” Seungcheol asks, then pouts when Jihoon smacks his knee.

“Yes, they are real, and yes, they are human,” Jihoon says. For some reason, he thinks about your smile (not that you’ve ever directed it towards him). “And they’re… nice.”

“Wow,” Joshua says with a whistle. “You heard it here first: Jihoon’s definitely not made up date is real and human and nice.” He ignores the glare, running to the kitchen to get another wine bottle instead.

“So, does this very real, nice, human date have a name, or do you need more time to make one up?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yn,” Jihoon says. “From work.”

“Yn, like yn ln?” Joshua asks, returning with a very full glass.

“Yn? Why is that name familiar?” Seungcheol asks.

“Didn't they go to the same college as us?” Joshua asks.

“And law school, right?” Mingyu says. Jihoon curses his friends for having such good memory and caring about his life.

“Wait, aren’t they the person that you went to school with ever since you were kids and you said something like ‘they’d fall for an lemon if it tasted sweet enough?’” Seungkwan asks, sitting up.

How his drunk little brain could remember that specific phrasing is a mystery to Jihoon, but he grits his teeth and says, “That was a long time ago. They’ve changed. I’ve changed.” He rolls his eyes at Seungkwan’s laugh.

“You’re really going with this?” Joshua asks.

“Going with what?” Jihoon asks with a sigh. “I am dating someone! I don’t know why you all find this so hard to believe!”

“Okay, for starters, you didn’t tell us that you started seeing someone,” Joshua says. “And you also have only ever said bad things about yn.”

“Okay, well, despite what you all apparently think, you aren’t entitled to every tiny detail of my life,” Jihoon says. “But we started dating a month ago.” The lie comes easily now, though a small part of him is screaming that this is all a mistake and he’s going to regret all of this. He pats it on the head and pushes past it looking for good things to say about you.

“What about yn?” Mingyu asks.

“What about them?”

“You know, why you like them,” Mingyu says.

Jihoon’s face curls into a scowl before he can stop it.

“Okay, since feelings are hard for you,” Joshua says in a rather patronizing voice, “why don’t you tell us something about them? Anything.”

“Anything?” Jihoon studies his fingers, thinking about his very short list. He can’t talk about school (Fact #1), or work (Fact #2), or even your pitiful romantic life (Fake #3), because apparently they already know about all of those. There’s no way he can talk about Fact #4, so he’s stuck scrambling to put two thoughts together while they all stare at him expectantly.

He can see their already limited belief beginning to wane as the silence continues, so he blurts out, “Yn has terrible taste in music.”

“Worse than you?” Seungkwan asks.

“Shut up.” He knows that he needs to change topics before they ask who exactly you listen to and he’ll really be screwed. He thinks desperately of every time he’s seen you over the past twenty years. He remembers when the office ordered burritos, and tries to remember the color of the sauce you chose. Red, right? “They like spicy food. Like, really spicy food. And…”

And despite all your heartbreaks and failed relationships, not only in your own life, but in negotiating divorces every other day, you still somehow believe in love. That’s probably the thing Jihoon admires most about you, but he doesn’t think he should say it now since it would (accurately) imply that he still doesn’t believe in love.

He settles for, “they see the world differently,” because that’s basically the truth.

Joshua takes another long sip of his wine while Mingyu lays back on the floor, breathing slowing. Seungkwan tucks his head back on Jihoon’s shoulder. It’s clear they still don’t believe him, at least not fully, but for the first time tonight, Jihoon has told the truth, and that seems to be enough to at least shut them up.

Jihoon starts to feel claustrophobic with Seungkwan still clinging to his arm and giggling, pushing him farther into the arm of the couch. The reality of what he has said hangs over his head like a fuming storm cloud that hasn’t dropped its load yet. But it hangs low, dark and churning with lightning and thunder that warn the destruction of anyone foolish enough to get stuck below it.

Apparently that isn’t enough to stop his mouth from saying things before he can really think it through. In his final act of this magnificently idiotic night, Jihoon adds, “And they are coming with me on Saturday. As my date.”

Seungkwan gasps. “Seriously?”

“Can you get another ticket?”

“I can do anything if you are actually bringing a real live date!” He jumps off the couch, diving for his phone (Joshua catches him before he faceplants and manages to distract him from whatever drunk texting he was about to attempt).

Jihoon is finally free to breathe, looking up at Seungcheol to find a strange look in his eyes. “Is this a good idea?”

Jihoon almost laughs. If only he knew the half of it. But he doesn’t know, which just means that he’s looking down on Jihoon, so he shrugs. “It’s beyond time for you all to meet them.”

Seungcheol shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He’ll be the hardest to convince, too busy thinking he knows better than everyone. Maybe he does, but Jihoon will be damned if he admits it.

Jihoon needs to leave before he says anything else dumb. He stands up from the couch and immediately finds himself on the floor. Mingyu. He had forgotten the tall idiot had fallen asleep right underneath his feet. Now Jihoon is on the floor next to him, listening to the rest of his friends howl with laughter while Mingyu blinks and frowns. As if he hadn’t thoroughly embarrassed himself already.

Plus there’s the fact that he somehow needs to figure out how to actually ask you to be his fake date for the indefinite future.

Yeah, Jihoon is pretty much screwed.

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #woozi #lee jihoon x reader #lee Jihoon #woozi angst #woozi fluff #lee jihoon angst #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #as a matter of fact

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