#toast loves strawberries
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god I fucking love strawberries
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#pastel#Aesthetic#pastel aesthetic#food#sweet#dessert#delicious#cooking#baking#pink#pinkcore#pink aesthetic#french toast#strawberry#strawberries#berries#berry#heart#heartcore#love#lovecore
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hi strawberry!! hope ur having a good day!! i absolutely loved ur headcanons for the main 4! they are soo cute i literally re-read them all the time 😭💗💗 do you by chance have any headcanons for butters?? <3
AAAA!!! more headcannons!!! makes my heart happy!!
cute little fun fact about me before we start- im a very indecisive person! basically meaning ive never really been able to choose a favorite character in South Park- i have way too many-
but i LOVE butters with all my heart! he’s a little guy and i wanna squish his cheeks! so of COURSE i have headcannons for him!! thank you for the ask toast <3
i hope you guys like them!
— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Butters!
HE’S SO TICKLISH
i am so certain he is just a ball of ticklishness!
i don’t know if he’s more ticklish than kyle though!
if anything- i think they’re tied!
has the cutest laugh ever ever ever!
his laugh 100% causes cuteness aggression
(i think someone intends to tickle him for only a minute- they hear his laugh- and they literally cannot stop. HE’S TOO CUTE!)
he’s a wiggly worm!
he leans into being tickled by accident- little silly guy <33
(he’ll lean one way to avoid it just to lean into the other side by accident!)
HE HAS A TICKLISH TUMMY!
im so normal about this you guys!!!!
(butters is a human version of the pillsbury dough boy!!!)
his worst spot is his stomach!! but his armpits are pretty bad too!
HE ALSO HAS TICKLISH HANDS
like- they’re not superrrrr ticklish- but they’re ticklish!!
he learned to do his own nails for that exact reason!
(yes!!! butters likes to have painted nails sometimes!!! let him have it!!!)
he has a little hello kitty sticker on his index nail! he’s classy! he’s stylish! he’s chic!
he really likes being tickled!!
(he’s touch starved :((( )
i think he could ask to be tickled for the longest time
could being past tense!!! because- poor little guy figured out that not everyone likes being tickled!
he totally thought everyone liked it as much as he did
( [f]artman burst that bubble real quick :( )
so now he’s a little bit more shy about it!
but there are certain people that are already well aware- so they give him his fill to cheer him up <3
he makes a lot of noises- squeals, squeaks, hiccups, you name it!!
gah he is SO CUTE :(((
teasing is SO effective he can’t handle it
if you wiggle your fingers at him it’s over!!!
he already starts giggling!!
(and i means GIGGLING giggling! you’re practically already tickling him!)
he curls up like a little hedgehog!!
i also imagine he cries when he laughs too hard- and it makes his lers feel SO BAD because they think he’s actually crying
he somehow becomes even more southern when getting tickled
his faint little twang gets amplified by a billion!!
HE COVERS HIS FACE WHEN HE LAUGHS!!!
i hate to say it- but i feel like mr. stotch (i hate him >:( ) has made butters practically hate his own laugh
he apologizes sometimes while laughing :(((
BUT HIS LERS ARE SO DEDICATED TO MAKE SURE HE KNOWS HOW CUTE HIS LAUGH IS
he takes teases SO literally!!
“awww, does that tickle?” “yehehehes!!! a lohohot!!”
(i always think back to wendy’s “are you just an asshole?” line!!! this HAS to be canon!!)
raspberries are SO bad for him!
and the poor thing falls for it every! time!
“hey, you know what my favorite fruit is?” “ohohoh chrihihistmas- i knohohow yohou’ve tohohold me behehefore!! im sohohorry-i dohont rehehemember! …ahahapples?”
he is also very aware that tickling is the first resort when i comes to getting him to do something
“no! i won’t! ….oh hamburgers- you’re gonna tickle me, aren’t ya’? please don’t! im sorry fellas, really-!”
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU GUYS :(((
and he’s such a sweet ler too!!
that’s not to say he doesn’t go all out- he definitely does!!!
but he constantly checks in! makes sure he isn’t crossing any boundaries!
surprisingly, he’s super duper teasy
“Awww! You’re just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen!” (thing pronounced thang!!! southern bell!!)
tickles are always his go to for anything
(sometimes he looks for excuses to tickle people- just to hear their laughs!!)
he randomly pokes at people! just for funnzies!
especially Kenny- poor Kenny gets poked way too much
(butters totally does the thing where he pokes and quickly looks away, as if he isn’t the only one standing next to kenny who could’ve done it)
he has a BLAST- whether he’s a Lee or a Ler!!!
hes such a good sport about it he’s so sweet :((
“that was fun!!!”
🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓
Professor Chaos!
oh no!!! who’s this evil, totally unrelated, fiend who’s invaded my butters headcannons??
well- i guess since he’s here! we might as well!
very ticklish!!! it really works against him!
he has a little maniacal laugh that he tries to keep up while being tickled
(but that only works for like- 5 minutes! then he’s all giggles and squeals!)
his minions tickle him from time to time!!
of course- completely on accident!
(or maybe those hamsters ARE evil?!)
but he just giggles a little, catches them, and puts them back in their little balls!
getting captured by Racoon & Friends/Freedom Pals is very common!
he tries to act all macho and evil
(it never works!! doesn’t even last five seconds!)
it’s the same song and dance every single time!
“mwhahaha! you really think you can get me, Professor Chaos, to tell you where I’m conducting my next evil scheme? you are wrong!” “…” “oh! u-uh- you think you can resort to c-childish antics, huh? w-well! i-im not ticklish! s-so, yeah!!”
hes very dedicated to his character!!
he does this little silly thing where…sometimes…he forgets what info he’s supposed to confess
sometimes he gets lucky!
(mysterion or toolshed quickly whisper in his ear what hes supposed to say- and he goes along with it!)
but sometimes…he gets stuck with Racoon & Friends
(they don’t care if he can remember or not- they just tickle him until he remembers again)
BUT HE ALWAYS GETS THEM BACK!
this evil evil guy is the most evil evil ler in South Park!!
(ooooooo! scary!)
professor chaos’ super evil super effective interrogation!
(he calls it “Interronation”!)
wether it’s because he physically can’t pronounce it or that he’s just clueless is for you to decide! it’s both!
tickling is his only resort. if it doesn’t work?
…well- that’s never happened before- so he doesn’t have a backup plan!
but he goes ALL OUT
he has feathers, he has hairbrushes, he has a pair of The Racoon’s claws (he stole them >:D) anything that you think could be used to tickle a person- HE HAS IT!
he keeps it all in a little teal lunchbox (it has cute little stars!!!) that he got from his mom
(sure, he doesn’t use it for lunch, but it’s getting used!!)
but strawberry!! isnt it impractical to have to carry around a lunchbox?
yes! yes it is!
that’s why he also has a cute little tool belt with little slots to put everything in!
it’s made out of tinfoil! (he made it himself <3)
and he has spares in the back of his closet!! jusssst in case!
he teases a BUNCH
“i think someone’s gonna have to give up soon…you seem really ticklish here…”
he says the word “tickle” and all its many variations millions and billions of times
mostly because it’s super effective!!
(but also because he thinks it’s a fun word to say!!)
he also sings a little while he does- he’s silly!!
“🎶 i think someone’s ticklish! 🎶”
he makes every single time a new experience
(like, he starts every time brand new- as if he’s “discovering” each spot for the first time all over again!)
but, despite the fact that he’s an evil evil guy (ive mentioned he’s evil right?) he’s still super sweet
he stops every now and then, does a quick check in!
thats some of the only times you’ll see him break character- it’s so cute
“…ya’ good, Kenny?” “whahat?” “are you okay? can ya’ breathe-? do ya’ need water?” “…uhuh…nohoho?” “and what about here? is it okay that im tickling you here?” “uh…yehehah?” “oh! oh goodie! …round two!”
and he has waters on hand!! he buys the jumbo packs!
(you know? the little mini water bottles with the little motivational quotes on them? those little ones!)
the little evil guy doesn’t really have the heart to hurt anyone- he just likes hearing his friends laugh!!!
deep down he knows they’re gonna get him back a million times worse but it’s all in good fun! so he doesn’t mind!
all is fair in love and superhero civil war!
#south park tickles#strawberry hcs#lee butters#ler butters#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK TOAST IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG🥹#butters is so adorable 🥹 i love this little guy#he deserves so much!!!! he deserves to giggle and laugh and be all cute!!!#please matt and trey? pretty please? with a cherry on top?
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slip away from the buzzing streets
slip away with me, my love
#hope#love#mountain#mountains#parks#strawberry#waffles#brunch#toast#food porn#desserts#cow#animal#lgbtq+#cozycore#cottage aesthetic#cottagecore#cozy cottage#cottage witch#cottage core#cozy#scandinavian cottage
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I GAVE FRENCH TOAST A BOYFRIENDDDD RRAAGHHHHHH
his name is strawberry pie 🍓🥧 (he/him) and uhhh hes also a gay dragon and him & FT are gay boyfriends that kiss and do evil things like killing for funsies
#object oc#osc#strawberry pie#french toast#nate.art#god i would love tomake. more ocs for this world that they are in but i have no idea where im going w this yet
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🍳 our muses are having breakfast at a local food place (Caleb and Pogue @in--noctem, sorry for the anon I'm on the wrong blog xD)
Caleb probably wouldn't've agreed to skip school with Pogue if the night before hadn't left them both feeling so drained and upset. Mr. Parry had had yet another tantrum, smacking his son around while his wife cooked dinner (only stopping to tell them to get out of "her space" in the kitchen). As usual, Pogue teleported straight to the Danvers, glad that his parents didn't do any magic. Because it'd been years since Caleb had realized what Pogue's parents were truly like, he had a plan in place. He set his best friend up with a decent dinner, then called the police (who were familiar with the situation) so that they wouldn't think Pogue had been kidnapped. It always took a while longer than he would've liked to get Pogue to bed. There were bruises and cuts to be treated, and even then, Pogue was far from being OK (not that he was expected to be). On days like those, he had multiple nightmares, so the Danvers had learned to have him sleep in Caleb's room. The boys always ended up under the same sheets together, arms wrapped protectively around each other--but Caleb knew to untangle himself before Pogue woke up and freaked out.
They went out of town to avoid any suspicious adult eyes. Pogue, who had bought a motorcycle as soon as he'd turned 16 (he only waited that long because he knew he had to pass the tests before driving it) apparently found a diner on some day when he'd gone out of town instead of to the Danvers, post-dad tantrum. So, he drove the two of them there. Caleb knew that Pogue probably would've been more physically comfortable using one of their cars, but he didn't want his own mom worrying about them--even if she might not leave her room til the afternoon.
Caleb liked the place as soon as he saw it. The outside was plain, but it was perfectly clean, with bright paint and absolutely no dirt on any of the paneling. "It doesn't look like much, I know...food's not as good as yours, but it's a nice spot," Pogue said quietly, putting his gloves away for the moment. He was surprised to feel a gentle-yet-firm hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see one of those smiles that made him feel guilty and giddy at the same time.
"Thanks, man." Thanks for bringing me, for letting me come with you this time. Thanks for the compliment--even though you're always silently moaning when I cook us something.
"Yeah." Pogue started off for the front doors, Caleb only a step behind. There was music from the 70s and 80s playing, not enough to be anything but a quiet soundtrack. About half of the place was full, which was interesting for a restaurant's weekday. Pogue sat down in a booth not far from the bar, and Caleb sat across from him. It was all of 5 seconds before a waitress in a pink-striped uniform rolled up, beaming.
"Kiddo! How are ya!?" she cried, beckoning for Pogue to hug her. He did, a sheepish grin on his face as she kissed his cheek.
"Hey, Donna. Donna, this...uh, this is Caleb." He sat back down, and suddenly he couldn't look his friend in the eye. But Donna certainly could. She grinned mischievously.
"Caleb Danvers. Oh yeah, we've heard about you. What are ya in the mood for? Pogue always gets a stack a' cinnamon pancakes, but he says you make the best French toast--"
"Donna--"
"I'm just sayin'. Here, I'll get ya' a menu. Don't worry about what's for breakfast and f' lunch--Jimmy doesn't mind makin' both." Over the next hour or so, Caleb learned that Donna was taking classes to become a dentist's assistant, and she had a little boy named Ricky who thought Pogue was a god because he'd let him sit on his bike once. He also learned that Donna could read people's minds (not literally, he hoped), Pogue came to the diner about once a month (even if his parents weren't being horrible), and that Pogue had told Donna (plus the other two waitresses who knew him) all about Ipswich, minus the magic part.
Both boys left Donna and the rest of that shift a hefty tip--after all, they were the heirs to family fortunes--and took milkshakes and fries to-go. They went to Boston to explore, then had a picnic on the outskirts of Ipswich. Caleb had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't a date, that he was just keeping Pogue company while the other guy took a day.
He liked to think that they'd had enough fun to forget the night before, at least for a little while.
#thanks for the ask!#in--noctem#caleb: thread#I know the end is trashy but I ran out of ideas ;-; sorry#Donna is based off of the character in Suits :D gosh I love her she's 1 of the only people w/any common sense on a given day#yes Pogue bares his soul as he shamelessly devours pancakes. that boy shoves the food down & the feels come up#so yeah the waitresses know his parents are shitty. they also memorize his breakfast & lunch orders. he always tips well.#all of a sudden I HC that Pogue loves sugary cinnamon things. he loves Caleb's French toast. churros. oatmeal. horchata.#also I'm thinking he's a chocolate milkshake guy (if we're choosing btwn vanilla-chocolate-strawberry). chocolate & cinnamon are his loves
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My boyfriend made me breakfast yesterday <3
#food#healthy food#breakfast#i was hungry but i was taking the usual half an hour to do my skincare lol. so he offered to make me toast and tea 😌#he works in hospitality and is used to preparing high tea. so he does the prettiest fanned strawberries 🍓#i love him
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strawberry cream cheese fucks so good like it should be illegal how good it is why does no one talk about strawberry cream cheese why is this not even a topic anywhere why does no one know about the wonders of strawberry cream cheese. like it’s so versatile and yet no one mentions it. as if it doesn’t exist. doesnt the strawberry cream cheese mean something? to someone? does anyone else know about this? why has this gone untouched for so long? it’s amazing and yet it’s an unsung hero. where are the strawberry cream cheese lovers I need to find my people
#I feel insulted by how under appreciated strawberry cream cheese is#it goes on bagels yea but y’know what it also tastes good on toast and even plain white bread it jazzes up all kinds of bread#it’s soft and sweet and not overwhelming at all in all ways that you could be overwhelmed by a food#it’s the perfect all-rounder for a bread add on to make your bread experience more fun of u don’t want to go the salty buttery route#MUAH I love strawberry cream cheese#<— this is a person who has overcome their allergy to strawberries and has discovered a whole new world of ~fruits~#strawberry is the first fruit I overcame and it is also my favorite fruit now#don’t talk about melons to me I’ll cry <— this is a person who is very harshly allergic to melons#not a reblog
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Share your lock screen, the last song you listened to & the last photo you saved. Tagged by @toastandvegemite 😍
Tagging @strawberry-daiquiris, @thewindowatkirkland & @powerful-owl if they'd like to do it 💕
#all my backgrounds are tumblr user strawberry-daiquiris but this one is pretty PEAK thanks Silverstone#the playlist is a curated sebchal (also thanks for my gf)#don't even need to explain the max photo#the vibes are immaculate#all very on brand for me 😂#thank you for the tag ms toast I love an old school meme
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ah yes mr trebek i will take "plot twists ~no one saw coming~ because they don't make sense and are stupid" for $500 lmao
#nadia reads comics#i really thought wells was gonna try and nuke mj or something but no (well. he might still be in terms of characterization idk)#instead it's ''i wanna kill off a character from someone else's series who probably should be doing her own thing instead of being here''#like peter barely knows her lmao that's the wrong spider-man my dude wyd#in other news i made french toast and have topped it with whipped cream and strawberries#i'm not like mad-mad about this because i haven't been keeping up with her and am not attached to her the same as ie andi#but i do think this is a stupid-ass decision and a great example of pointless and random shock twists being prevalent in comics for a while#like yes every superhero dies at LEAST once but this is a dumb and shitty way to do it in this instance imo#esp for making it all about some white guy (like i love peter but cmon now. really.)
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bread with jam, nothing better than that
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meal ideas!
low energy ("do not ask me to do any prep work at all, so help me god")
mozzerella cheese wrapped in pepperoni ("pizza tacos"!)
hummus and pretzels or naan (putting the naan in the microwave for like 10 seconds...heavenly)
canned chili (with shredded cheese and sour cream if you have it! boom done!)
instant miso soup (warm and lovely! put tofu in it for protein!)
cheese and cured meat, olives, canned fish, crackers, dried fruit, or whatever easy "charcuterie" type items you like
alternate bites of apple and spoonfulls of peanut butter (mixing honey or chocolate chips to the peanut butter is my favorite)
a "deconstructed sandwich": bites of lunch meat, pickles, cheese, cherry tomato, etc (I love roast beef and white cheddar for this)
yogurt and granola or fruit
put frozen potstickers + frozen edamame in the steamer/rice cooker, chill elsewhere with a timer set, then boom
tortilla chips + canned refried beans + cherry tomatoes + cilantro + jarred salsa con queso (or warm shredded cheese on top of the chips in the microwave for 30 seconds)
bagel + cream cheese + lox
microwave scrambled eggs (add things like green onion, soy sauce, or anything else you like!)
cottage cheese and fruit (mixed together or just on the side)
bowl of shredded rotisserie chicken + buffalo sauce + a bit of mayo + green onion (use a kitchen scissors to cut them right in!)
medium energy ("I'll boil water but don't ask me to chop shit")
boiled eggs and fresh veggies (put a little salt on top of the eggs!)
buttered noodles (my go-to nausea meal, it has never failed me. ideas of things to add: frozen peas, imitation crab, roasted garlic)
baked potato with toppings (I like cheese, bacon, broccoli, green onion, and sour cream)
quesadilla (add some canned beans, cilantro, or avocado!)
pot roast (requires a lot of time but not a lot of actual work. I love it with peas!)
cuban sandwich (bread, swiss, pickle, mustard, ham... my favorite thing to panini-ify by far)
pan-fried tofu with scallion sauce (this sauce goes well with everything and tofu is no exception)
pancakes or waffles! (I love mine with jam)
ham, pickle, and cream cheese roll-ups
fried eggs (with toast and lots of butter...so comforting)
fruit smoothie (bananas, frozen strawberries, yogurt...or whatever!)
I hate salad but could write essays on this copycat olive garden salad (throw it in a bowl! chopping required if you use onion)
spaghetti (controversial maybe but angel hair > spaghetti noodles)
pasta salad (olives broccoli fresh mozerella... those little mini pepperonis... yeah)
stir-fried thai garlic shrimp (I like using the mini frozen salad shrimps, it's easy! use jarred minced garlic to avoid chopping!)
tuna mayo onigiri
slow cooker ribs
buffalo chicken wrap (or any number of other wrap options! shred pre-cooked rotisserie chicken to make it easier)
if your local grocery store sells pre-cooked gyro strips, that can turn into an easy wrap with store-bought pita & tzatziki with tomatoes and onions!
couscous and chickpeas
tortellini + pasta sauce + spinach
high energy ("I don't mind chopping some things up!")
stuffed shells with spinach
chicken and roasted garlic (oh my god.....one of my all time favorites)
beef tacos (I like mine with cilantro and onion, and when I'm feeling especially high energy I love a tomatillo salsa)
chicken alfredo
tom kha gai (a thai soup and my absolute favorite! you just need access to galangal)
lasagna! (freezes well and then boom! low energy meal for later)
pad thai! (not as hard as you'd think, as long as you have access to tamarind paste!)
potstickers! (this is a lovely group activity if you want to cook with housemates!)
rice and beans
bang bang shrimp (ogughfhgfuh I love it. you can also do bang bang tofu!)
minestrone soup (so many nice veggies!)
fried rice (put whatever you have on hand in there! broccoli, peas, carrot, and beef is my favorite combo)
broccoli cheddar soup
spring rolls and peanut sauce
skewers (such as beef, onion, zucchini, bell pepper... you don't need a grill, oven works!)
roasted turkey with garlic parmesean asparagus
pork chop with mashed potatoes
panang curry
chicken gnocchi soup (use store bought gnocchi or make your own if you have a high energy day!)
bibimbap (super customizable depending on what veggies you like best)
butter chicken
plus! things that have helped me meal plan:
whenever you think of a meal you'd like to make, take 3 seconds to google search it, take a screenshot of the image results, and put it in a "food ideas" folder. instant visual menu!
the concept of "meal prepping" makes me recoil but I've learned that it can simply mean preparing shredded chicken, boiled eggs, or some other simple protein that you can customize throughout the week. shredded chicken can turn into wraps, salads, pasta dishes, etc... you don't have to meal prep yourself into the same meal all week!
when I have difficulty working up an appetite, I'll scroll through my favorite restaurant menus! there might be some foods I can't make at home, but many times they're very simple to recreate because the ingredients are literally listed!
#brought to you by: i see people complaining about coming up with meals for the week#and im like..this is my favorite thing to do........let me be your meal brainstormer#additionally brought to you by: eating something is better than nothing so some of these may not be complete textbook 'meals'#but sometimes you feel like shit and just need something! so!#also this energy scale is tailored to me personally so if some categorizations dont make sense to you thats bc its about me <3#food#i might update this with dessert ideas too later. or just add to it in general
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He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.
Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.
Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.
It was starting to become a problem now.
You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor.
10:55am and Azriel was still asleep.
The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it.
Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object.
The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke.
“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence.
One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down.
The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes.
You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful.
You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home.
You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you.
“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter.
The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.
“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out.
“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.”
“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—”
Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world.
“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—”
You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant.
She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow.
“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.”
“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud.
“Long day?”
You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.”
“Did I stutter?”
You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.
“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”
“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”
Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop.
He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?”
You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers.
You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”
His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.
“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”
“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.”
Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.
“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.
“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.”
Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands.
“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.”
“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.
You paused. “Yes?”
“He feels safe with you.”
You blinked once. Twice.
“Pardon?”
Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.”
Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.”
Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.
And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon.
Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked.
He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine.
“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.
“It’s past three, brother.”
Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey.
“What?”
Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.”
“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him.
Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses.
“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"
You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early.
You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs.
Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.
He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart.
You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz.
“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you feel safe with me?”
He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside.
“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”
“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.”
You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#fluff#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger#acotar fanfiction#sleepy azriel is the best azriel#i swear i just need a man who wants to sleep with me all hours of the day and is a living furnace#is that too much to ask?
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“say ‘i’m the man!’”
eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.
you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.
you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.
“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.
“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.
your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.
“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.
eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”
“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”
the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.
“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.
“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.
“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”
your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.
“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”
“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.
“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.
he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.
eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.
“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”
“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”
“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.
“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.
“what did i—”
“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.
“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”
“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—
crash.
“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”
“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”
you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.
#izurou#eren x reader#attack on titan x reader#eren jaeger x reader#aot x reader#eren x you#eren yeager x reader#snk x reader#eren fluff
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☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)
percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)
contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).
kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)
SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.
however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.
you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.
you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”
jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”
you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.
when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).
jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).
when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.
you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.
“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.
“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”
he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).
the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.
“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).
“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.
“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.
“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”
“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”
“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.
“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.
he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”
“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”
(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)
jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.
you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”
“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”
“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”
“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.
“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”
a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)
“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.
you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.
“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.
“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”
“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”
percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.
steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”
percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”
“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)
there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.
“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”
“sounds perfect for her.”
“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).
you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)
“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”
you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.
you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.
you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.
percy laughs — a green light.
“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”
you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”
“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”
“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).
“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.
“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).
(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)
the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.
you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.
“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.
you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).
percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.
you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”
“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.
“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.
“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).
“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”
reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”
percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”
you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)
“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.
“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”
while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.
“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.
“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.
“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”
you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.
percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.
“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.
“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).
you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”
“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”
the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”
percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”
“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.
percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”
you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).
(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)
#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#percy jackson imagines#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#woc friendly#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x yn#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson oneshot#percy jackson one-shot#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson series#percy jackson x fem! reader#percy jackson oneshots#kashaf ki likhai
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no nut november — lee know (winner)
pairing: lee minho x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, smut (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex
a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi's and i’s collab <3
word count: 4.3k
series masterlist
“God, that feels so good,” you whine.
Minho’s head pops up from between your legs and he grins, chin shiny with your arousal. “You close?”
“I was until you stopped,” you grumble.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says with a pout.
You push his head lightly. “You’re not sorry.”
“You’re right, I’m not.”
You roll your eyes. “Just because you can’t cum doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“I thought we were in this together,” Minho whines.
“You really want to deal with a girlfriend who hasn’t cum in a month?”
“Good point.”
With that, Minho gets back to work. He’s teasing you purposely, this time, dragging his tongue up and down your slit without staying in one place long enough to be effective.
“Minho.”
“Hm?”
“Please...”
“Please what?”
“Need more.”
“Use your words, baby- hey. Don’t squirm.”
He presses down on your hips to keep you still, basically wrestling you into place. You surrender to him but only because you know he’s stronger. Minho smacks your cunt twice, each time making you jolt slightly.
“Let’s try this again. Use your words to ask for what you want.”
“Can I- can I have something inside? Like your fingers or your tongue?”
“What about my cock?”
“What about it?”
“You don’t want my cock inside of you?”
“Of course I do, I always do. I just... didn’t think that was on the table.”
“Why not?”
“Are you really going to make me say it?” you groan.
“You don’t think I can control myself?” Minho accuses.
“No, actually, I don’t!”
He sits up, hand over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me.”
“You just get very... passionate when we have sex.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that once you start, you can’t stop.”
Minho narrows his eyes at you like you’re challenging him, even though that isn’t your intention at all. You don’t want him to lose on your account, but you can only resist your irresistible boyfriend offering you his dick on a silver platter for so long.
“I can’t believe you think that little of me!”
“It’s not that you can’t last, Min- we both know you can. You just like to... finish something once you’ve started.”
“Is that supposed to be a pun?”
You grin. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re such a loser.”
“That you’re in love with.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky that’s the case.”
“And here I was thinking you’re the lucky one.”
“Oh, I definitely am. Listening to your terrible jokes is a small price to pay for getting to be your person.”
You push his chest bashfully. “Don’t get all cheesy now.”
“Why not? Can’t take it?”
“No, actually. I can’t. If you keep pouring your heart out to me like that I’ll die on the spot and then you’ll go away for my murder. “
“Worst they could get me for is manslaughter,” Minho scoffs like he’s brushing off the possibility.
“So comforting to hear when you have me pinned underneath you.”
He smirks. “Did you want to get fucked or not? I do have to work later tonight.”
You sigh, shrugging. If he was so insistent about it, you weren’t going to fight it anymore. You were only trying to do him a favor in the first place. His funeral and all that.
“Give it to me.”
Minho’s smirk turns into a genuine grin and he rubs your thighs in excitement. “I know you wanted something inside but did you want me to make you cum before fucking you?” You shake your head no. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just put it in.”
“So romantic.”
Despite the sarcasm in his voice, Minho scoots up so that his face is just inches above yours and kisses you deeply, getting you to moan so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like you, unsurprisingly, and like the strawberry jam you put on your toast in the mornings.
“Spread your legs a bit more for me, baby,” he whispers. You do, and he praises you for it. “There you go.”
One of his hands comes down in between your legs to rub your clit as he eases himself inside of you. The fit is perfect, like always, but the stretch is obviously a little more intense than usual.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
While he waits, he just lies on top of you, ignoring your complaints when you tell him you can’t breathe. Then, you tap him on the back twice to let him know he can move so he does.
Minho isn’t one to jump right into fucking the life out of you, preferring to start slow and build gradually build the pace, and today is no different. He’s even slower than he normally is, being extra considerate of your disposition.
“You can go faster,” you urge him. “I promise I won’t break.”
You see him hesitate, almost like he wants to ask you if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. It’s something he’s been working on, trusting you to be honest about what you want in the bedroom, much like you’ve been working on telling him what you want in the bedroom. “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”
You moan as soon as you lock your ankles behind his back, the angle already pushing him deeper inside of you.
“Oh fuck,” you gasp.
“Atta girl. So good for me when you wanna be, huh?”
You nod, whimpering.
He keeps his fingers on your clit as he fucks you, wanting to get you to the edge as fast as possible. You assume he’ll draw back, slow down and edge you just like he had when he was eating you out a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t.
“Fuck, I’m going to- I’m cumming!”
You sob as it hits you, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and pulling him close. He makes a sound of surprise as he falls forward into you but easily accepts his fate and begins to kiss and nip at your neck.
Minho’s still fucking you even after you come down, even though your legs are trembling and tears are staining your cheeks. He seems entirely unaffected by the way your pussy’s clenching relentlessly around him. Meanwhile, you’re falling apart every time the head of his cock nudges your g-spot. Curse his dancer’s hips and performer’s stamina.
“Think you can give me another one?” he asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s infuriating.
You don’t get the chance to respond before you’re cumming again, whining his name and biting your fist so hard you think you’ve drawn blood. It isn’t unlike Minho to fuck you into a second orgasm right after the first, he loves overstimulating you almost as much as he loves edging you, but it always catches you off guard.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts.
“Yeah, I just c-came twice.”
“You’re always tight,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
You snort and roll your eyes while Minho kisses your nose.
“One more?” he asks, rolling his hips experimentally.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan. “Yes, please. Please make me cum again.”
Minho tries to gently coax the third orgasm out of you, taking his time instead of fucking your brains out like he just had been. You can tell he’s getting close too. He’s trying not to show it but he has a tell that’s a dead giveaway every time.
“So good for me, letting me do whatever I want to you,” he pants. “So fucking warm and tight and perfect. God, you can never get enough of this cock, can you? Just have to have it all the time.”
“Yes, always!” you agree even though you aren’t entirely sure he’s expecting an answer.
“That’s my fucking girl.”
You cum unexpectedly, shocking both yourself and your boyfriend. It’s all Minho’s fault, really. He can’t say shit like that and expect you not to gush everywhere.
He tries to make the most of it by thrusting deep as he fucks you through the orgasm. You clutch him to you, digging your nails into his back as your thighs tighten around his waist.
The cries of his name and the pulsing of your cunt drive Minho right to the edge and he’s suddenly frantic, whimpering and grunting in your ear as he desperately begs you to say the things he needs to hear.
“Tell me you love me,” he whines. “Please, baby tell me you’re mine.”
“I love you! I love you, baby. I’m yours, I’m yours. ”
It hits him hard- body going tense, eyebrows knitting together, mouth falling open as he cums inside of you. He looks so pretty like that, it’s a view you’ll never get tired of. It’s almost enough to make you cum again. You can feel it, feel his cock throbbing as he fills you up. You hadn’t used condoms with Minho for a long time now, didn’t need to when you were taking twice the typical dose of birth control for your awful periods. And you had been dating for long enough that you could trust each other with something as intimate as this.
Minho gives you and himself a moment to recover before he’s pulling out and rolling off of you. He feels around for one of the washcloths you always kept on the nightstand and finds one, cleaning himself and your thighs off.
“I’ll wet go wet another one with warm water for the actual mess,” he assures you. “Don’t want to use a dry washcloth on that. Your PH balance is already fucked up enough after what we just did.”
You wrinkle your nose at him. “Can you not say stuff like that until at least twenty minutes after we fuck?”
“You don’t think it’s sexy that your boyfriend cares and is knowledgeable about vaginal health?”
“I do, but I don’t think I would classify the subject as bedroom talk.”
“Agree to disagree.”
It isn’t until you’ve both showered and are laying in bed together that you bring the bet back up. Minho still has about an hour before he needs to be at the JYPE building and he’s trying to spend as much of that time with you as humanly possible.
“Min, the bet,” you sigh.
“What about it?”
“You lost. You guys shook on it like... a few hours ago.”
Minho shrugs. “Oh well.”
You sit up, detaching yourself from him to give him a look.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re the most competitive person I know..”
He grins. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment, but you’re welcome, I guess. I just mean you’re not even a little upset about being the first out?”
Another shrug. “Meh. You win some, you lose some.”
“Have you told them yet? What did they say?”
“I’m just gonna let them figure it out on their own,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend as it dawns on you. “You were never going to play, were you?”
Minho smirks. “Oh, I’m playing. I’m just playing a different game.”
-
“I’m not lying to our friends!”
“It’s not lying! It’s just not telling them.”
“It’s called a lie of omission for a reason, Minho. Because it’s a lie. And what if they straight up ask me about it? What am I supposed to say then?”
“Just change the subject.”
“Yeah, because that’ll work fine and not be suspicious at all.”
“Babe, please,” he pleads.
“It seems mean!”
“It is mean,” he agrees. “But it’s funny.”
“What if they all hate you after this?”
“They contractually can’t hate me. They still have to be in a group with me for the next two years and if we renew then even longer. Besides, this is me getting back at them for volunteering me to MC for Music Core. I was sick the day the representative came around to the company and they all recommended me knowing I wouldn’t want to do it because they thought it would be funny. Next thing I know, I’m in the audition room and they’re telling me I have to wear stupid hats and do aegyo every Saturday-”
“I thought you liked the hats.”
“They’re okay sometimes,” he huffs, refusing to admit what you both know to be true. “But it’s the principle of the thing.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Mr. Drama King. What do I get in return for participating in your little revenge plot?”
“What do you want?”
“The rest of the SKZOOs.”
Minho purses his lips, holding back a scoff. The only SKZOO you owned was Leebit, obviously. You actually had a couple of Leebits around your apartment but Minho had jokingly banned you from getting any of the others because, in his words, he was supposed to be your favorite member.
“Having the others doesn’t mean you’re not my favorite,” you’d argued. “Do you want Leebit to be lonely?”
“Leebit doesn’t need friends,” Minho had insisted. “He’s happier by himself.”
You weren’t convinced but you also didn’t feel like arguing with your very stubborn boyfriend on the subject. You were content with Leebit for the time being- until now, that was.
“That’s really what you want?” Minho asks.
“Mhm.”
He sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Fine. Deal.”
You grin triumphantly and kiss him on the cheek. “Pleasure doing business.”
“You’re a menace.”
“And that’s why you love me. We’re made for each other.”
-
Your plan was to simply avoid the members and their partners for the entire month. If you didn’t run into them, you wouldn’t have to lie to them. Easy peasy. Right?
“Jisung did what?” you gasp, standing dumbfounded in the middle of your bedroom as your boyfriend gets dressed.
“Planned a surprise birthday party for me,” Minho repeats.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s my best friend?”
“But... your birthday was last month. And how is it a surprise party if you already know about it?”
“You know he’s not good at keeping secrets. Or planning ahead.”
You sigh and put your hands on your hips as you watch Minho button his nice dress shirt.
“Do I have to go?”
He pauses to look up at you. “What do you mean do you have to go? You don’t want to?”
“It’s not that,” you explain, “I’m just worried about someone bringing up your stupid bet and having to lie to them.”
“I’ll do most of the talking,” he assures you. “Just stick by my side.”
Thankfully, the party Jisung had planned was on the smaller side. Only Minho’s closest friends were in attendance which meant that you knew almost everyone there. Han had admittedly outdone himself with the setup, too. You couldn’t even recognize the JYPE ballroom with all of the decorations and lights strung up everywhere. You told him as much when you saw him.
“If only the guy was actually surprised,” he grumbled to himself, “but thank you. I’m glad you like it.”
The ‘sticking by Minho’s side’ method only worked when he was actually by your side. Midway through the party, he excuses himself to go talk to one of his friends, leaving you to fend for yourself until he returns.
“Oh my god, I feel like it’s been forever!” a familiar voice echoes from behind you.
You turn to see Hyunjin’s girlfriend holding her arms out to you for a hug, and quickly reciprocate, briefly wrapping your arms around her in greeting.
“It’s been too long,” you agree.
“Where have you been?” she asks. “The other girls have been asking for you.”
“Oh, you know,” you mumble, “work has really picked up lately so I’ve just been swamped.”
It’s not technically a lie, you have been swamped, but you’ve also been actively avoiding your friends at the same time.
“Ugh, that sucks. It must be so stressful,” she sympathizes, then lowers her voice. “How have you been doing with... you know?”
Fuck.
You take a deep breath and swallow the guilt that threatens to claw its way up your throat as you scramble to come up with a bullshit answer. “About as well as any of us, I figure.”
“Fucking tell me about it,” she groans. “I nearly killed Hyunjin when he told me about it. I still might.”
You laugh. “If he goes missing, I won’t say anything.”
Suddenly, Minho’s back by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back. He greets Hyunjin’s girlfriend warmly. She wishes Minho a happy birthday and then excuses herself to go find her own boyfriend.
“What were you two talking about?”
“Who’s asking?” you ask in response.
“The birthday boy.”
“He has no authority here, sorry.”
Minho’s jaw drops in faux shock. “You’re really not going to tell me?”
“She just asked me how I was holding up through all of this No Nut November bullshit,” you admit.
“Wait, she actually asked you about it?”
“Yes, she actually asked me about it. Girls talk about this stuff.”
He winces and rocks back on his heels. “Damn, I’m sorry, baby.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t fucking leave me again. What was so important you had to ditch me for in the first place?”
“I went to go say hey to that girl Jeongin likes,” Minho explains, nodding in her direction.
You look over to where she was now sitting with Jeongin and nod in understanding. “That’s her?”
She was one of the guests you didn’t know super well. You had only seen her at a few group functions and she mostly kept to Jeongin and some of the other younger members.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I just thought she might be interested to know that her crush on Innie is mutual.”
“What?”
“She likes Jeongin back.”
“No, I know she does.” One of the other girls had told you about Jeongin’s little crush and how the two were practically shooting heart eyes at the other all the time but were completely oblivious. You just hadn’t been able to put a face to the name until now. “How do you know that?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Minho mutters defensively.
“But why would you try to meddle in their business? Shouldn’t you let them figure it out for themselves?”
“If I didn’t interfere they’d never act on their feelings,” he argues.
“And why did you decide to ‘interfere’ now of all times?” you push.
Minho smirks, knowing you’re on to him. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Why are you trying to make him lose? You’re already out so why does it matter?”
“I’m just trying to keep it interesting!”
“You’re being an asshole, is what you’re doing!”
“You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“Don’t change the subject!”
“What do you say we get out of here?” he suggests, completely ignoring what you’d just said.
“You can’t leave your own birthday party early!”
“Says who?”
“It would be rude, Minho.”
“Fine, then let’s find a closet or something.”
“You really want to fuck like twenty feet away from everyone you’re up against for No Nut November?”
He shrugs. “Who doesn’t like a little challenge?”
-
Jeongin loses next, then Hyunjin. Changbin follows not long after, then Chan, then Felix. All the while, you continue to have sex with Minho. He comes over a lot more often, fucking you in every room of your apartment and then falling asleep in your bed just to go again in the morning.
You can’t risk being at the dorms because neither of you are very good at keeping your hands off of each other, but you don’t want to raise suspicion by not being around so you drop by a couple of times throughout the month under the guise of bringing Minho dinner or picking him up for date night.
When the boys ask about you, Minho gives them the same excuse you’d told Hyunjin’s girlfriend about work. They don’t pry, thankfully, probably too intimidated by your boyfriend to invoke your name more than once every three to five business days. Minho could be a little possessive at times, even around the friends he’d known longer than he had known you, and that was working in your favor this month.
The other six having lost meant that Seungmin was the only one left standing. Technically, he had already won. But he doesn’t know that. Only you and Minho know that.
You expect Minho to tell him the good news as soon as Felix announces his failure, but he doesn’t.
“November isn’t over yet,” he points out.
“You’re just going to let Minnie suffer?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Probably.”
-
Minho feels a little bad about having you lie on his behalf, but not bad enough to stop you from doing it. You’re just as much of a little jerk as he is, which is why he knew you’d agree in the first place. Sure, your moral compass is a bit more aligned than his, but that’s what makes you such a great pair. You’re there to reign him in when he goes too far, and he’s there to push your boundaries.
“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” he asks when you come back from a girls brunch all giddy and breathless.
You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place to save yourself from lying to them all morning but Seungmin’s girlfriend had begged you to, seeing as you were the only two whose boyfriend’s hadn’t caved and therefore weren’t getting laid like the other girls were.
You didn’t want to leave her hanging like that, so you went. And now, you’re practically glowing with adrenaline as you recount the last two hours to Minho.
“I said that you won’t even touch me,” you exclaim, making Minho’s smile falter. “And that you’ve resorted to sleeping on the couch when you stay over so you don’t accidentally get too close to me in your sleep.”
He scoffs. “Did you have to make me sound like a total fucking loser?”
“Would you rather I have told the truth?”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. Thank you for doing that.”
You take a seat on Minho’s lap and hum happily. “You’re welcome.”
-
When the clock strikes midnight on December first, Minho’s surprised by the radio silence from Seungmin’s end.
“Do you think he’s asleep?” he asks you.
“Maybe he’s fucking his girlfriend into oblivion,” you suggest with a shrug. “I hope he is for her sake. Poor girl was desperate for dick.”
Minho isn’t really sure how to respond to that so he doesn’t. He just hums in acknowledgment and turns the lamp by your bedside off so that your room is doused in darkness. You pat his thigh comfortingly under the blankets.
“We’ll find out tomorrow, babe.”
“I guess we will.”
Seungmin doesn’t text the groupchat until the afternoon, hours after Chan’s texted asking who won. Minho shows you the texts and you read over his shoulder as the messages roll in.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: lost an hour or two before midnight. congrats minho.
Lee Felix SKZ: minho won??? Why am i not surprised at all lol
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: I think we all saw this coming.
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: pun intended.
Bang Chan SKZ: so where are you going to take your gf?
Minho: actually, you all should congratulate Seungmin.
Bang Chan SKZ: what?
Hannie: what? did you lose yesterday afternoon or something?
Seo Changbin SKZ: ???
Minho: I was the first to lose.
The groupchat is silent for a single beat before it starts blowing up with messages from all of the members furiously cursing Minho out. He laughs as he scrolls through them.
Bang Chan SKZ: all in favor of voting lee know out of the group?
Kim Seungmin SKZ: i think it’s unanimous.
Minho: Relax, Minnie. You won. You’re getting the trip.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: RELAX? YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME TO FUCKING RELAX??? I COULD HAVE BEEN FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND THREE DAYS AGO AFTER FELIX LOST BUT NOOO YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUNNY MAKING THE REST OF US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS
Yang Jeongin SKZ: i mean it is kind of funny
Hannie: you’re not mad innie?
Yang Jeongin SKZ: i was out second... or i guess technically third so i was never going to win anyway. minho got me a girlfriend out of this so i can’t really complain too much
Minho: Listen, I’m happy to be the sole contributor to Minnie’s vacation since I was the one to orchestrate all this. The rest of you can donate to that nonprofit we talked about at the beginning of the month. I’ll make a donation too obviously but don’t worry about the trip.
Kim Seungmin SKZ: I don’t want your pity money
Minho: it’s not pity money, it’s sorry for being an asshole money
Seo Changbin SKZ: if he doesn’t want it, i’ll take it
Kim Seungmin: don’t you fucking dare
Minho: anyway, if you guys are done bitching I’m going to go spend some time with my girlfriend now. I hope you’ve all learned your lesson.
Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: our lesson???
Lee Felix SKZ: wym?
Bang Chan SKZ: oh don’t tell us you’re still mad about that
Minho: not anymore. we’re even now.
Minho puts his phone down on the counter as soon as it starts to ring with a call from Seungmin. He swipes the decline icon and turns his attention to you.
“Was it worth it?” you ask.
He opens his mouth to answer but his phone rings again, cutting him off. It’s a call from Chan this time. He declines it and turns the phone off completely so that no one else can bother the two of you.
He leans forward and kisses you hard, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as his hands settle on your ass.
“Was it worth it?” he repeats, smirking. “I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”
sorry again for the wait- as you all know i've been going through a lot lol
nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady---boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter @skizzel @sillyrabbit76 @sahazzy @kpfly @zerefdragn331 @wonuziex @sirleeknow @ashcapybara
#no nut november stray kids#no nut november skz#nnn skz#stray kids smut#skz smut#lee know smut#lino smut#lee minho smut#minho smut#stray kids x reader#lee know x reader#stray kids x female reader#skz x reader#skz x female reader#lee know fic#lee know fanfic#lee know fanfiction#stray kids fic#stray kids series
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