#and i can on a good day walk to the corner store without it

[opiopal]

(Oh wowowow super long winded draft I totally forgot about.. have I proof read?? Kinda. But it’s late and I’m just tryna post some stuff, so here gang)

a hc that I have is that even when he isn’t around, mams is watching mc, how you may not be asking??? Birds!!

now I’m very sure this concept is not new to anyone at all, but I just wanna talk abt it anyways���️

cause maybe the first time mc is given permission to go out alone, they are HYPED!! Finally, they could do some solo shopping, or maybe eat lunch without the bill giving them a heart attack, or go into a bookstore without experiencing the eternally burning rage of Satan bc someone is being a bit too loud, ect ect. they’re seriously excited and happy to be treated like an adult and not some toddler with the ability to form sentences. However as the hours go by they start to notice… crows off in the distance??? A lot of them actually.

but they try to ignore it, since they always see those silly little creatures hanging around anyways! Most of the time there’s a good few hanging out whenever mams was around, but of course it was obvious that those were just his familiars, since he’d occasionally shoo them, or accept a little shiny present from them, or give them a little treat. And of course they recognized a few, since the crows had clearly taken a liking to mc, and has even let them do small things like tying little ribbons around their legs or petting their small heads.(Mc definitely has a little shoe box full of gifts his familiars have given them)

any other time mc saw crows it was when they were out with someone else, but they only ever saw 4-5 during their time outside, so they ended up just assuming that crows were just the pigeons of devildom. Because there’s no way that every single crow they have ever seen was one of mams???

but even though they tell themselves that, for some reason something in the back of their head is telling them that’s not the case.. however they are DETERMINED to enjoy their unmonitored evening! They were only birds after all, birds are allowed to exist! so they go about their day, maybe they even end up buying a few things for the brothers while they’re out! And once they return home to a(very relieved) Luci, mams is very quick to nudge his older brother and make a comment about how he just knew mc would be fine out on their own, seeming very proud of mc. In fact, he was probably the most calm out of all of the brothers. To the point where it even shocked pretty much everyone.

so from then, since on mc has clearly proven that they can handle being out by themselves, mc is allowed to go out alone whenever they want(of course as long as they let everyone else know first.) Though one day, maybe something happened previously, drama at school or an argument between mc and one of the brothers. Whatever it was mc decided that they needed a walk around town alone to clear their head. Mammon really didn’t want them to be all alone at that moment, but he didn’t fight them much on it since they did really seem like they needed time alone.

so mc went out and mindlessly walked around, spacing out at the sidewalk in front of them, glancing up at store windows occasionally if something catches their eye. After a while they choose to sit down at a small café, maybe they get a small snack or a cup of tea, still a tad frustrated, until they see a little black blur in the corner of their eye. So they look down and spot a crow hopping around at their feet. they giggle a little and turn their attention down to the little fella… but they pause upon noticing a ribbon tied around its little ankle.

Without much hesitation, they pick up the crow and sets it in their lap. Seeing that the ribbon was something they most DEFINITELY put on the bird. frustration creeps in as they point a finger at the crow and mumble “now when you see mammon again tell him that he is NOT slick.” they shoo the crow away after successfully looking like a crazy person in public, and sit at the table to boil for a while.

Soon mc gets a few strings of texts from mammon, only reading a few before just turning off their D.D.D. Because they certainly don’t have a single nice thing to say. they seriously couldn’t BELIEVE him, well, they aren’t surprised. But they do feel slightly betrayed.

for a few days mc is very obviously angry at mammon, though they don’t ever tell the others why. Though they do shut down any assumptions that mammon stole from them or anything like that. and I would like to think that eventually mammon and mc have a heart to heart about the situation, which in the end Mc agreed that having some birds follow them around isn’t as bad as one of the seven rowdy demon lords.

[arctic-hands]

If my knees ever progress to the point I need a chair instead it is going to suck ass because if I sit up straight for too long my back feels so agonizing like it's about to snap

[maskedbyghost]

Part 3 of Simon Leaving During Sex Like a Coward

It started with flowers. It’s not the kind you grab at the corner store in a panic, but ones clearly ordered days in advance — expensive, moody ones, all dark reds and deep purples. You didn’t open the door when they arrived immediately. You just stood behind it, your arms crossed, and watched them through the peephole before deciding to get them.

On day two, he texted.

I know I don’t deserve a reply. I just want you to know I’m not giving up.

You left it on read on purpose. And it felt good.

On day three, he was parked outside your building when you came back from work. Just standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking up when you approached, but not moving toward you.

“You stalking me now?” You said, not slowing your pace.

He didn’t smile. “No. I’m just here in case you feel like yelling at me in person today.”

You didn’t. You went upstairs and slammed the door a little harder than necessary, and when you looked out the window twenty minutes later, he was still standing there, doing absolutely nothing. Just waiting. Like a dog. A huge, sad, apologetic dog.

You caved on day five.

“Fine,” you’d said, opening the door just enough to stare at him through the gap. “You want a chance? Take me out. And I swear to God if you bring me to some ‘cozy little place’ where the waitress flirts with you, I will throw your wallet in a river.”

He didn’t even blink. “Got it.”

The first date was at a sushi place where the staff barely looked up. You sat across from him in silence until he cleared his throat.

“You look good,” he said, nervous in a way you’d never seen before.

“I know.”

He cracked a smile. You didn’t.

For a second date, he chose a little cafe by the river. You sipped your drink while he talked about stupid things, about his neighbor's cat and how he chipped a tooth once in a pub fight because he tripped over a pool cue — anything to fill the space. You just listened.

“You don’t say much anymore,” he said quietly after a while.

“I said you could take me out. Didn’t say I’d make it easy.”

He nodded, like he agreed with the punishment.

On the third date, he let you choose. You picked laser tag. You didn’t go easy. You shot him in the back six times and made fun of how slow he was, called him grandpa, and asked if he needed a sit-down break. He called you a menace and grinned through all of it. When the round ended, and you were both panting in the hallway, he looked at you with something like relief.

“You smiled,” he said, like it physically pained him to notice.

“It was at your expense,” you said, wiping sweat from your neck.

“Still counts.”

By the fifth date, you were letting him walk beside you without an awkward amount of space. Still no kissing. He reached for your hand once, and you pulled away with a look so sharp he apologized out loud.

“You don’t get to touch me yet,” you said.

“Right.”

“But you can carry my leftovers.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He got the tattoo on a Tuesday.

Didn’t tell you about it. He just showed up at your door again, holding your favorite overpriced dessert like it was a peace offering. You opened the door and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“No flowers today?”

“Didn’t think they’d survive the guilt trip you were gonna hit me with.”

“Smart.”

He stepped inside when you let him. “I got something,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“If it’s another apology letter I’m gonna start framing them like art.” You said with a smirk on your face.

He didn’t say anything. Just tugged off his glove and held up his left hand. On the inside of his ring finger, you could see fresh ink. Your name in cursive letters.

“…Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

You stared. “You tattooed my name on your ring finger.”

“Mhm.”

“Like. Where a ring would go.”

“Exactly.”

You blinked at him, still shocked.

“If this doesn’t prove how sure I am about you,” he said slowly, “then I dunno what will… but just to be safe—” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, sleek black bag from that stupid luxury brand you once mentioned in passing. “Bribery.”

You snorted despite yourself. “You really think a designer bag’s gonna make me forgive you?”

He looked sheepish. “No. But I thought it’d make you laugh.”

You took it from his hand. “I’ll laugh when I sell it and buy ten pairs of shoes.”

“That’s fair.”

You opened the bag. Inside was your favorite candy, a folded napkin from the cafe, and a tiny note that said “I remember everything.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then...

“You’re really not gonna give up, huh?”

“Never.”

You sighed. “Fine. You can kiss my forehead.”

He chuckled as he leaned in gently, pressed his lips just there, warm and steady, and didn’t ask for more.

It wasn’t until weeks later, after more petty jokes and slow conversations and him learning exactly how many hoops you’d make him jump through, that you finally let him spend the night again. You were already in bed when he came back from brushing his teeth, and you didn’t say anything as he slipped under the covers. Just pulled him in, hands on his chest, legs sliding over his, the way they used to.

He kissed you carefully. Like he didn’t want to push it. But you tugged him in with both hands, and he pressed you down into the mattress like it hadn’t been months, like he was starving for every second of you.

When he was finally inside you again, moving slowly, sweat running down his spine, and arms shaking from trying to hold back, he looked at you like he could cry.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking open on the words.

You rolled your eyes, breathless. “Is it my turn now to leave orr…?”

He groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, muttering something about you being a nightmare, and you just laughed and wrapped your legs around him tighter, because you knew damn well he liked it that way.

---------------------------------------------

idkkk....i kinda lost inspiration halfway...sorry if this sucks..

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbaybay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is��not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[letsbangts]

paint me, play me: moonlight || jjk

⤷ summary: you are the day; he is the night. you are the sun; he is the moon. not meant to collide—one must set for the other to rise. but what happens during that rare moment when an eclipse occurs? can you both coexist peacefully together?

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 46k+

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: e2l, college au, fluff, angst

⟶ content: grumpy!jk (+ rocker!jk, fuckboy!jk) x sunshine!reader (+ cheerleader!reader, artisit!reader, bimbo!reader), rockband!bangtan

⟶ warnings: explicit language, mean comments, jk being a jerk, jess is a b*tch, bullying?, insults, bickering, insecurities, self-doubt, past trauma, ptsd?, mentions of death, mentions of car accident, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, flirting, teasing, (idt there's anything else, but if there is pls lmk!!)

⟶ part: 1/4

↬ a/n: this took forever but I hope the wc justifies why lol but I’m so excited to finally have pt. 1 of pmpm out. the response I got from my initial post about this series was way more than I expected so I hope you all enjoy. and to my little freaks there’s no smut in this chapter but just you wait my loveys ;) happy reading! angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: AND LET IT BE KNOWN I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UNIVERSITY, ROCK, ART, OR CHEERLEADING. I have no knowledge about anything I’m writing about sooo readers discretion is advised. *also this is edited to the best of my ability but she is a beast so feel free to let me know of any mistakes*

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ moonlight ariana grande 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

series masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ main masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

i never knew, i never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands 'til the night i held you you are my moonlight, moonlight

New beginnings and change are hard for people, but you have grown accustomed to them. You have come to embrace them. There aren’t many things that could bring you down, and a new town and school aren’t among them. This move might be good for you; a shift in your surroundings may be what you need.

At first, you felt a bit nervous when your mom accepted a new job out here, but once you saw the new house, it sold you on the move. Then, when you looked up the university located here and discovered it is known for its Visual Arts major, all your worries faded. So, when you applied for a transfer from your previous university to Borahae and not only got accepted but also received a scholarship for all your achievements, you felt as if everything was falling into place. You felt as if it was all destined to be.

You walked around to familiarize yourself with the area; it was a pleasant town. It has a small-town vibe but is still a bustling city, and the people are very nice. When the adorable elderly lady who works at the convenience store you stopped by heard you were new to the town, she gave you your lollipop for free. You would never pass up free sweets, even though you were ready to pay.

With a skip in your step and a treat in your mouth that tastes even sweeter because free food is always more delicious, you head home with a newfound high – not from the sugar, but from the feeling that things are looking up.

You practically bounce up the stairs and through the front door, where you find your mom doing some of the last bits of the unpacking. It was overwhelming when the two of you first moved in, but you expected to be stressed out when relocating your entire life from one place to another. But as always, you both had each other to lean on.

You could not ask for a better mom, even without a biased opinion, because she is the woman who gave you life; she is the strongest and kindest woman you know. She has always been in your corner, cheering you on, and had your back when things got shaky. As you have gotten older, she has also started to come to you for support, and you have always been there to give it to her. The past year and a half have been tough on both of you after your dad’s passing, but you noticed she seemed to carry the weight of everything much heavier on her shoulders.

You have seen how this move has brought back that spark in her. Everything about your old home was like a constant reminder of his absence, making it difficult to move on from grieving. Although you both will never forget him or all the memories shared with him, a new space for building a new chapter in both of your lives has boosted her drive for life.

Your mom looks up from the box she was unpacking when she hears you come through the door, and a smile forms on her face as you walk into the living room.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back already! How was everything?”

“It was nice! Everything is so pretty and old-timey, and the shop lady gave me a free lolly!” You wave the dwindling candy in the air to show her.

She laughs lightly and continues unpacking, placing books on the half-full bookshelf.

“Well, that was nice of her. I will have to stop by myself and greet her. The town seems full of kind people; you just missed one of our neighbours. This sweet young man helped me bring in this box,” she gestures to the heavy box of books. “He mentioned how he and a few other boys live together next door. They’re actually around your age and even attend Borahae as well.”

“Oh, what a coinkydink!” you giggle.

“I know, right? And get this: he said they all play in a rock band! Talk about coincidence! They rehearse in their garage, so he wanted to be sure the noise wouldn’t bother us, but I told him not to worry.”

You nod with wide eyes and your mouth in the shape of an ‘O’.

“I wish I was here to say hi to him.”

Your mom waves her hand, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. You’ll meet him soon. I mentioned that I have a daughter his age and that you will be attending the same university as him. I’m sure you’ll meet all of them eventually.”

You nod again, with your lollipop perched between your pursed lips.

“Well, I guess I’ll finish the last few boxes in my room.”

You walk over and kiss your mom on the cheek.

She smiles and continues with her box. As you walk up the steps, she calls out,

“Keep an eye out for him; he was a nice boy. His name is Namjoon!”

☾☀︎

You walk down the sidewalk as fast as possible in your wedge heels. Being late on your first day isn’t ideal, but you had to be sure you looked cute. As you hurry towards the enormous building, your pink mini-dress flows in the light breeze. As you step onto the school grounds, you hear the roar of an engine. When you turn your head towards the sound, you see a motorcycle zoom past you at top speed.

“Ooh, shiny,” you gasp, coming to a halt as you stare at it, mesmerized until it banks the corner and disappears. You shake your head, pulling yourself from your trance and refocus, resuming the trek to the main entrance.

The large building makes you nervous; butterflies form in your stomach as you get closer. You see two guys at the bottom of the stairs leading to the main doors. The guy standing with the broadest shoulders is talking to the other guy sitting on the large stone bannister. The shoulder guy is laughing at something he said, but the other guy sits there with a neutral look as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

You approach them with a big smile, their conversation pausing as they both turn to you. The shoulder guy raises his eyebrows in question while the other looks you up and down before turning back and continuing to smoke.

“Hi! Do you know where the office is?”

The shoulder guy smiles and nods his head.

“Uh, yeah. When you enter the building, turn right, and you’ll see a big ass wooden door, that’s it.” He says, gesturing up the stairs to the building as he talks.

“Big ass wooden door,” you mumble to yourself, nodding. “Got it, thanks, Shoulders!”

You turn and walk away, following his directions before he can reply, causing you to miss his reaction to your name for him and the grin that spreads across the other guy’s face as he chuckles.

“Did she—Did she just call me Shoulders?”

“Well, that is like 75% of you.”

You also miss the guy holding a motorcycle helmet who walks up and joins the other two.

☾☀︎

In the office, you are filling out some forms, making sure all your ‘i’s are dotted with a heart, when you see a middle-aged woman walk out of the back office with a red-haired girl, immediately catching your attention.

She looks the complete opposite of you in her black denim dress, black fishnet tights, thick-winged black eyeliner, and a hoop nose ring.

The secretary assisting you interrupts the two’s conversation, notifying her of your arrival.

“Mrs Baek, this is Y/N L/N.”

Once the woman sees you, she grins and extends her hand for you to shake.

“Ah, Y/N! It is lovely to meet you. I’m Mrs Baek, the dean here. We are so honoured to have someone of your merit attend Borahae. I was very impressed by your work. You are such a gifted artist with a great eye for fine detail. I am sure you will make our school proud.”

You don’t notice how the red-haired girl’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Mrs Baek! I am so excited to be here!” you bounce in place while giving her hand a little squeeze.

Mrs Baek chuckles, giving your hand in hers a pat with her free hand.

“If you have any questions, my door is always open, dear.”

You nod eagerly, and with that, she turns to leave. She gives the red-haired girl a tiny nod, which she returns with a smile.

You and the girl are now left standing at the counter alone. She steps closer to you, her hand gliding across the wooden surface.

“So you’re new here, huh?”

“Yup! My mom and I just moved here—not to the school, to the town; we don’t live here.”

“I hope not; we’re here enough as it is,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Y/N, right? I’m Chaerin.”

“Nice to meet you! I love your hair, it’s so pretty, it reminds me of a–”

“A cherry?”

“Yes!” you gasp.

“My nickname is Cherry; all my friends call me that. You can, too.”

“Oh, yay! Are we friends?”

Cherry nods with a smile.

“Wow, I haven’t even gone to a class yet, and I’ve already made a friend. This place is great!”

“I heard Mrs Baek say you’re an artist. I’m guessing you’re an art major?”

“Yeah, Visual Arts. Are you studying art, too?”

“Oh no,” Cherry shakes her head fervently, “I can’t even draw stick figures properly. I’m a music major, Music Technology.”

Your mouth hangs agape because your new friend keeps getting cooler and cooler.

“What kind of art do you do?” Cherry asks.

“The one with pictures...” you furrow your brows.

“No, no,” she laughs at your confusion, finding it adorable, “Like, what do you specialize in? Drawing, painting, sculpting?”

“Oh! I’m good at everything, but painting is my favourite!” you beam.

“So you draw too?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Oh my gosh, this is perfect,” Cherry mutters, thinking aloud.

Before you can ask what she means, she grabs both of your hands, bringing them up to her chin with pleading eyes. You look at her in surprise.

“I know we just met, and I’m not usually this forward... that’s a lie, I am, but I don’t want to seem rude. But what are the chances that I would run into the new artist getting the dean’s praise? It’s like fate crossed our paths,” she rushes out her words in one breath, “So as your new friend, I need a favour from you. You see, my boyfriend is in this rock band with his friends, and they have been looking for someone to design a logo for them.”

“A rock band?” your look of surprise only grows.

First, you move in next door to a rock band, and now your new friend is dating someone in a rock band. What crazy odds.

“Yeah, Army of Bombs is what they go by. I help them with their songs sometimes. I know I’m a little biased, but they are amazing!”

“And you want me to design a logo for them?” you say slowly, taking her request in.

She nods desperately, squeezing your hands tighter. “Please, pretty please, with a cherry on top. No pun intended.”

You giggle at her remark and even more at her puppy dog eyes and pout.

“I would love to help you, but—”

Cherry, thinking you’re about to say no, interrupts.

“Look, I know rock music is probably not your thing,” she gestures up and down at you, “But I mean, you don’t have to like it,” she says, trying to reason.

You chuckle at the irony.

“No, that’s not it. I just—I don’t know the band well enough to design a logo for them,” you shrug with a small smile, not wanting to disappoint her.

“You can come and sit in on their rehearsals! You can get a feel of the band’s vibe. The guys won’t mind. They’re cool; you’ll like them.”

She stares at you nervously as you tilt your head in thought, considering her offer.

“Hmm, okay! I’ll do it!” you exclaim.

“Oh my gosh, seriously! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pulls you into a tight hug, swaying side to side. “You’re the best, Y/N! If you ever need anything, say the word, I’m your girl.”

You hug her back just as tightly.

“I can’t help this week though. I have a lot going on since it’s my first week here,” you tell her as you pull apart.

“That’s cool, I get it. Whenever you’re free, let me know. You can text me. I’m usually always at the rehearsals anyway. They rehearse at their house. Oh yeah, here, let’s exchange numbers.”

She pulls out her phone, encased in a piano phone case and hands it to you to put in your number. You pull out your pink rhinestone-covered phone and give it to her to do the same.

She enters her number and flips your phone in her hand. She looks at the sparkly case before glancing at you and chuckling as she hands the device back.

You look at her with wide, curious eyes.

“You really are like a little Barbie, huh?”

You light up at her comment, “Thanks!”

“They will be so pumped; I can’t wait to tell the guys about this! My boyfriend is waiting for me outside. He’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

“I’m excited to meet everyone,” you smile.

“Barbs, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” she smiles back.

You think the same thing.

☾☀︎

You are nearing the end of your first week; it has been great so far. You like all your classes, and your professors have been very welcoming; they have all heard of you and your scholarship. You’ve made connections with a few classmates and gained more friends, but Cherry still sits at the top of the list.

You and she have been texting all week, and it’s not just about the band logo; she has been making sure you are doing okay with adjusting to everything. However, she did mention that she told her friends that you agreed to design their band’s logo and that they were excited.

Speaking of bands, you have yet to meet any of your neighbours that your mom told you about. You would think no one even lives there if it weren’t for the music you hear coming from the garage almost every night. That Namjoon guy must be nice if he warned your mom about the noise because it is loud. But they are talented; you’ve caught yourself bobbing your head to the music numerous times. You’ll tell them you’re a fan when you finally meet them.

You are headed to the gym to try out for the cheerleading team. Art is a relatively sedentary and solitary activity, so you enjoy cheerleading because it gets you moving and allows you to socialize with others. Also, the uniform is super cute, and you love cheering people on.

You push open the gym door and walk over to the girls gathered on the bench, waiting for the tryouts to begin. You sit down next to a strawberry-blonde girl who is texting away on her phone. You notice a pink gummy bear charm dangling from her cell.

“I like your charm; it’s so adorable!”

She looks up upon hearing your compliment, and her eyes dart from you to her phone and back to you before she smiles.

“Thanks, I like your set,” she gestures to your hot pink sports bra and matching pants, “I see we both have great taste in colours.”

“I love pink and candy, so this is like they had a baby,” you say, taking the charm between your fingers and examining it more closely.

“You’re funny. I’m Rina, by the way,” she lifts her hand in a small wave as she introduces herself.

“I’m Y/N,” you wave back gleefully.

The doors open before you two can talk anymore, and the room fills with the echo of laughter. Three girls walk in, wearing purple and white cheerleading uniforms, and stand in front of the waiting students. The tallest girl among the three stands between the others and plasters a wide, fake smile on her face before she speaks.

“Hello, everyone. Welcome to the cheer tryouts for the Borahae Belles. I’m Jess, the cheer captain. And this is Mei,” she points to the girl on her right, “And this is Kat,” she points to the girl on her left.

“This is our second year cheering for the school; we had a stellar year last year, winning nationals,” Jess flips her ponytail over her shoulder, placing a hand over her chest, “And like I did last year, I plan on leading us to victory this year, so I hope you brought your ‘A’ game.”

Everyone’s faces fill with fear, but you aren’t worried. You are excited to be cheering again; you missed it.

“We would usually have tryouts out on the field, but the football team has practice today, so we had to settle for in here. As you can see, we only have a few roll-out mats, so try not to get injured because we really can’t deal with that right now,” Jess rolls her eyes, and the other two girls snicker.

“Okay, enough talk. Let’s get started!” Jess claps twice, and Mei hands her a clipboard with the signup sheet.

One by one, people start going to the centre of the room and performing their routines. The three cheerleaders give little to no response, simply calling out the next name after each performance.

“I’m so nervous, are you?” Rina whispers to you.

“No, not at all,” you shake your head.

“You must be confident.”

You are. You were cheer captain throughout high school and even at your old university. You don’t have a big head, but you know you’re good, so you’re confident you’ll make the team.

“I am; you should be, too. I bet you’ll do great,” you say, squeezing Rina’s shoulder in encouragement.

Just then, Rina’s name gets called out. She gives you a weak smile, gets up and makes her way to the mat. She performs her routine flawlessly, finishing with a back handspring, jumping into a herkie, and landing in a torch position.

“Yay, Rina,” you applaud enthusiastically for her, thinking she had no reason to be nervous.

You don’t see the dirty look Jess gives you.

Rina mouths a silent “thank you” and “good luck” and gives you a thumbs-up before she leaves the gym.

Four more people’s names get called out before you finally hear yours; you spring up and skip over to the mat.

“Hi, I’m Y/N L/N! I’m very excited to cheer for you.”

“Yeah, we know your name’s on the signup sheet,” Kat says as she and Mei snicker.

Jess tilts her head, eyes scanning you, “Why don’t you start your routine?” she smirks.

While you perform your routine, Jess sits up straighter than she has since tryouts began. Both Mei and Kat’s eyes are wide in shock. You’re good–excellent. You’re better than they thought you’d be, better than the others who have tried out. The two girls don’t say anything for fear of upsetting the captain, but you’re even better than Jess.

Mei and Kat glance warily at Jess, her eyes are narrow, and her lips are pursed from her sucking her teeth.

You finish with a toe touch and land in a liberty pose. Once you face the three girls with an anticipatory expression, Jess immediately breaks into a smile, which you return, unaware of her disapproving look throughout your routine you were too absorbed into to notice.

“You’re good. Y/N, was it?” Jess asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

She hums, glancing down briefly before continuing, “I shouldn’t say anything before the official list goes up, but I think you can consider yourself a Borahae Belle.”

You hop up and down in place, hands balled up, nearly bursting with joy.

You’re clueless about how the other two cheerleaders whip their heads towards the captain in surprise, taken aback by her complimentary words and acceptance of you.

You thank the three girls before practically bouncing out of the room.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Jess’s smile disappears.

☾☀︎

Cherry is sitting on the sofa in the guys’ garage as they get ready to rehearse, tune their instruments, and set up the equipment. Seokjin, who is rolling out the amplifier and plugging it in, calls her name.

“Hey Cher, when are we going to get to meet this art girl? I’m dying to discuss logo ideas with her.”

Hoseok, who was tuning his guitar, chimes in at the mention, “Yeah, it’s about time we finally got one. Every iconic band has a logo; branding Army of Bombs if we want to make our mark is a must.”

“She’s super busy this week; I told you she just moved here. Once she settles in, she will start working on the design. She’s going to sit in on rehearsals to help her get ideas,” Cherry replies.

“If she is as good of an artist as you said, shouldn’t she be able to draw something up at the snap of her fingers?” Jimin comments.

“The logo has to fit the band, and she knows nothing about you guys or your music. Also, rock and roll music doesn’t seem like her style, so she has to get familiar with it.”

“Did you get to see any of her work? You know, to see how good she is?” Namjoon asks.

“No, I never got a chance to,” Cherry shrugs.

The band exchanges pessimistic looks with one another.

“So let me get this straight, you asked a girl who doesn’t like rock and who might be a shit artist to design our logo? Well, that sounds promising.” Taehyung smirks, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“She is talented; I heard the dean praise her myself.”

“The dean would kiss anyone’s ass. You know how much people pay to go there,” Taehyung rebuts.

“She said she was honoured to have her attend the school. I don’t remember ever hearing that she complimented any of you.”

“She once told me I was, and I quote, “unbelievable” actually,” Jimin says.

“She wasn’t saying that as a compliment, you idiot. She said it in disdain,” Seokjin clarifies.

“Semantics,” Jimin waves off. “The point is that Cherry has probably roped us in with some new girl and opened our rehearsals to her without checking her credibility.”

“What are you blaming my girlfriend for?” Yoongi inquires as he walks in with Jungkook a few steps behind him. He sits on the sofa beside Cherry and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

“We just found out that she doesn’t know if the girl she got to do the logo has any real talent,” Hoseok updates while pointing at Cherry.

Yoongi turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed, “I thought you said she was good?”

“She is!” Cherry exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. All the guys jump in shock at her outburst.

“I can’t believe you guys are giving me such a hard time. You were eager to find someone, and now that I have found someone willing to do it, you are complaining.”

“We aren’t complaining, Cher; we are sceptical. She might be willing, but that doesn’t mean her work will meet our standards,” Taehyung states.

“Didn’t you see any of her drawings or something?” Jungkook asks while grabbing his guitar and putting the strap over his head. When he looks up, he sees the rest of the band staring at Cherry, whose eyes are rolling in exasperation.

Jungkook smirks and snickers, “You didn’t. Way to put in the work, Cherry.”

“Okay now, step off. We gotta give this girl a chance at least; I’m sure Cher is vouching for her for a reason.” Yoongi comes to his girlfriend’s defence, calming everyone down. He kisses her on the temple before making his way to his keyboard.

“Yeah, who knows? She might be like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says, intervening to lighten the mood. He pats Cherry’s shoulder as he walks by her and sits behind the drum set.

The guys take their positions, and Cherry leans back onto the sofa with a huff.

“I’m telling you, she’s good and doing us a big favour by agreeing to help us. Once you guys meet her, you’ll be eating your words.”

Namjoon does the count-off, his drumsticks hitting together with each number, “One, two, three, four.”

☾☀︎

Rehearsal ended a little while ago, and the band was scattered around different spots in the garage resting.

“Kook, what happened to that chick you were seeing? I haven’t seen you with her since Junho’s party,” Hoseok asks from his seat in the beanbag chair in the corner.

Jungkook, sitting on top of an amp, looks up from his phone, tilting his head in thought.

“Which girl?” Jungkook questions in return.

“Wow, seriously, man? You’re an animal,” Jimin laughs, shaking his head.

“The one who always showed up at the venue an hour before our shows and sat on stage the entire rehearsal,” Hoseok describes the girl.

“Oh her, I got rid of her a while ago.”

“Why? What was wrong with that one now?” Seokjin asks from the sofa, accustomed to the youngest one’s pattern.

“I just ended it,” Jungkook shrugs.

The older guys shake their heads, some chuckling at Jungkook’s nonchalance.

“Ugh, you are such a stereotypical rocker,” Cherry scoffs.

“Don’t hate the player, babe, hate the game,” Jungkook smirks, sending her a wink.

“Getting with girls shouldn’t be a game, Kook.”

“Hey, it’s all good fun, and we’re all consenting adults. It’s not like I hunt for these girls; they come to me.”

“More like they cum for you,” Taehyung jokes and daps Jungkook.

“Disgusting,” Cherry turns to Yoongi sitting beside her, “I sometimes question your choice of friends.”

“How come in moments like this, they’re not your friends, too?” Yoongi laughs.

“Speaking of girls, Joon, didn’t you say the lady who moved in next door has a daughter our age?” Jimin diverts, sitting on the armrest of the recliner Namjoon is sitting on.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, she said she goes to Borahae too, but I haven’t run into her yet.”

“She must be one of those students who live their lives studying–home to school to the library and back,” Jimin says, waving his hand, tilting his beer bottle back and forth.

“Wait a minute, did you say a girl our age? Why am I only hearing about this now? I would have gone over to introduce myself, like a good neighbour should,” Taehyung perks up on the stool he’s perched on.

“That is what we don’t want,” Seokjin points to the three youngest, “You three are prohibited from going next door.”

“Hold up! Why are we being singled out?” Jimin exclaims.

“Because you guys wreak havoc wherever you go, and her mom is nice and was cool about us rehearsing out here. We don’t need you ruining that by messing around with her daughter,” Seokjin explains.

“Excuse me, I am a perfect gentleman. These two are the ones you need to worry about,” Jimin says, pointing two fingers at Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me; I don’t shit where I eat,” Jungkook raises both hands in surrender.

“And I resent being classed the same as Kook; I am nowhere near as big of a hoe as he is,” Taehyung defends himself.

“We’re not taking chances; don’t go anywhere near the kid, all three of you,” Yoongi declares.

“Yeah, the poor girl just moved here. Don’t corrupt her with your sleaziness; give her a break,” Cherry smirks.

“I can keep my hands to myself, but if she approaches me and she’s cute, I make no promises where my hands will be on campus,” Taehyung shrugs before sipping his beer.

The conversation shifts after that, and various topics are discussed, from upcoming shows to party invites they have received. The current topic is their female escapades despite prior denials.

Seokjin is in the middle of a story when he gets interrupted by a low whistle from Taehyung.

“Hottie headed this way,” he announces, his eyes focused on the street where a girl is walking down the sidewalk.

All heads, excluding Yoongi’s and Cherry’s, turn to follow his line of sight.

“Those are our school colours,” Namjoon notes.

“Damn, since when did cheerleaders roam this street,” Hoseok says.

That causes Cherry to glance in reluctance briefly before doing a double take. She suddenly stands up from Yoongi’s side, “Y/N?”

The guys all redirect their eyes to her in question.

“Y/N? Didn’t you say the art girl was named Y/N?” Yoongi asks.

She stands up, walks out of the garage, and yells, “Hey, Y/N!”

☾☀︎

As you expected, you made the cheerleading team, but you were still excited when you saw your name on the list of those who made it onto the team. Rina also made the team, so you were extra happy.

You changed into your new uniform right after you picked it up and made your routine stop by the convenience store on your way home. You told Mrs Lee, the adorable elderly lady who works there, that you made the team and twirled around to show off your new outfit. She was just as excited as you were and told you how pretty you looked. When you went to pay for your lollipop, she refused to let you pay, saying it was a reward for the special occasion.

So now you are walking home in your cute uniform and with a celebratory lollipop in your favourite flavour: bubble gum.

You think you’ve reached peak happiness at this moment. You can’t wait to get home to tell your mom the news and have her happiness added to it all. You turn the corner to your street and walk down the sidewalk to your house. As you get closer, you notice your neighbour’s garage open, this being your first time seeing any sign of life from the residence.

You pick up your pace, wondering if this is when you’ll finally meet the elusive rock band from next door that you’ve been hearing through the walls all week.

As soon as the garage comes into full view, you hear your name called.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You look up your neighbour’s driveway to see Cherry waving at you. With a big smile, you run up to her and hug her, making sure not to get the sticky candy caught in her hair. The thought of finally meeting the rocker’s neighbours gets instantly forgotten.

“Cherry!”

“What are you doing here?” she laughs as you pull away from the hug.

“I’m on my way home,” you point towards the direction of your house.

“You live close by?”

“Yup!” you giggle.

“And what’s this,” Cherry gestures to your uniform, “You didn’t tell me you were trying out for the cheer team.”

“I guess I forgot to mention it,” you knit your brows and pout briefly before lighting back up, “But isn’t it great! Don’t I look so cute?” You give her a twirl with your arms stretched out at your sides.

The guys watch in amusement while Jungkook slides off the amp, rolling his eyes as he heads over to the mini fridge in the back.

“You look cuter than anything my eyes have ever seen,” Taehyung interjects from his seat.

You glance over Cherry’s shoulder and smile at the boy. She lets out a huff and grabs your hand.

“I guess this is a time as good as any to introduce you to the band,” she tugs you into the garage with her.

“How do you know them?” you ask as you walk behind her.

Cherry turns and looks at you with a confused yet amused expression, letting go of your hand, “Huh? What do you mean? Remember when I asked you for help? I said my boyfriend was in a band with some friends.”

You nod slowly, still not caught up.

She smiles at you and flails her hand at the guys dispersed around the garage, “This is the band. Y/N, meet Army of Bombs.”

Your mouth hangs agape at the news. Your rocker neighbours are the same band Cherry asked you to design for. Wow, another coinkydink!

She pulls Yoongi from the sofa by his arm, “This is my boyfriend, Yoongi. He is the keyboardist of the band.”

He gives you a nod in greeting before a look of realization crosses his face.

“Wait, haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, pointing to you but turning to Seokjin.

You follow his gaze and gasp, “Shoulders!”

“I usually go by Seokjin, but I’ll take the nickname as a compliment,” Seokjin says with a laugh as he gets up to shake your hand.

You laugh as you shake hands while Cherry’s eyes dart between the three of you, puzzled.

“You met her already?” she asks the boys.

“She asked us, well, me, Yoongi — as usual, gave no help, for directions to the office,” Seokjin tells her.

“That was the day I met you,” you add, lifting your lollipop back to your mouth.

“Wow, that’s so crazy. Fate seriously crossed our paths!” Cherry exclaims.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Y/N. I’m the band’s manager,” Seokjin explains.

“Or, as we like to call him, our roadie,” a voice adds, stepping forward to join the introductions.

“I’m Taehyung, the visual relief of the band, but my official role is bassist,” the boy says, bared with a suave smile. He takes your hand and is about to bring it to his lips when Cherry rips his hold of you and pushes past him.

“He is also the official buffoon; ignore him,” Cherry glances back, glaring at Taehyung, who sticks his tongue out playfully at her before smirking.

“This is Hoseok. He’s the rhythm guitarist. Jimin, he’s the lead singer.” The boys give you a friendly wave and a smile, greeting you.

“Namjoon’s the drummer,” the boy flashes you a dimpled smile.

The name catches your attention, and your perplexed expression has Namjoon and Cherry looking at you bewildered.

“What’s wrong?” Cherry asks.

“Namjoon,” you mutter, tapping your lollipop against your lips in thought.

Namjoon sends Cherry a worried look, and she shrugs.

“Ah!” you exclaim, and they both raise their brows at your sudden outburst.

“You’re the sweet young man,” you smile and point your candy at him.

He gives you an amused chuckle, tilting his head slightly, “Am I?”

You nod, “Yeah, my mom said you were a nice boy.”

“Okay, Joon, going after MILFs now,” Jimin hollers but receives a quick nudge in the ribs from Yoongi and a dirty look from Namjoon.

“Your mom met Namjoon? Where?” Cherry questions.

“Outside,” you point out of the garage, answering Cherry.

The boys let out a small chuckle; Cherry ignores them and gives you a stare, urging you to explain further.

“He helped my mom bring in a heavy box.”

When everyone comes to the same realization, their faces turn to shock. You glance around and giggle at their expressions.

Cherry grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face her body.

“Y/N, you moved in next door? Like into the house beside this one?” Cherry simplifies, trying to get a clear answer.

“Mhm,” you nod up at her, sucking on your lollipop.

“So you’re the daughter she mentioned,” Namjoon sends you a gentle smile.

“Well, now we know she for sure isn’t one of those students who live their life studying,” Jimin whispers to Hoseok, causing both of them to stifle a laugh.

A clink is heard from the back of the garage, catching your attention. You gaze in that direction, catching a glimpse of a broad back closing the mini-fridge door. As the person turns around, you encounter the most beautiful human you have ever seen.

His dark hair is black like the night sky, his skin is golden like a radiant star, and his eyes are big and intense like a black hole. He is like a galaxy walking on two legs, his gravitational pull too strong to escape; you feel the need to move towards it.

“Oh, right. Y/N, this is Jungkook; he’s the lead guitarist,” Cherry says, though her voice is almost like white noise to you, yet you still hear her.

“Jungkook,” you repeat.

For a brief moment, Jungkook, wearing a blank expression, his eyes unreadable, holds your gaze before breaking it, opening his beer, and walking over to sit on the stool in the corner. But you can’t ignore how your heartbeat quickens, the tingling sensation, how you somehow feel warmer.

“We never got to thank you for agreeing to design our logo,” Namjoon says, pulling you out of your trance and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“O-oh,” you blink, collecting yourself, “It’s no biggie!” you smile brightly.

“You’re doing us a solid; we’ve been searching for someone for months to do it,” Hoseok says.

“I’m so excited to do it and to sit in on your rehearsals. I’ve wanted to meet my neighbours. I can hear when you guys play through the walls, and I’m already a fan. You guys are super duper,” you say, giving them a thumbs-up.

Jungkook scoffs to himself quietly while the rest of the band smiles at you in gratitude.

“We’re excited to see what you come up with. Do you have any drawings so we can see your style?” Jimin asks.

“I don’t have my sketchbook with me; it’s at home,” you shake your head.

The boys give Cherry a doubtful look, which she ignores.

“Oh yeah! I have to go; I told my mom I would be back in time for dinner,” you say.

“Of course. We’ll see your stuff when you come to rehearsal. You’re still coming tomorrow, right?” Cherry asks as she walks you out.

You nod eagerly, “Yup, I’ll be here!”

She smiles, and you hug each other goodbye.

Before you take the few steps to your house, you turn and wave to the band.

“Bye-bye, see you tomorrow! It was nice seeing you again, Shoulders and Shoulders’ friend! And it was nice meeting the rest of you,” you call out, saying the last part while looking at the beautiful boy on the stool.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your words, occupied with his phone. The band bids you farewell, and you head to your house.

As you walk up the steps to your home, you smile with a blush, “Jungkook,” you muse, “What a pretty, pretty boy.”

☾☀︎

After your departure, Cherry turns to the boys with a raised brow.

“She’s nice,” Seokjin nods in approval with a smile.

“I can’t believe the person who asked for directions, the one Cher got to help us, and our new neighbour are all the same girl. What are the chances of all that?” Yoongi raises a finger with each point.

“I can’t believe you failed to mention how hot she was,” Taehyung says in disbelief to Cherry.

“Maybe because that has no relevance to anything,” Cherry deadpans.

“To you, but a hot cheerleader who is a talented artist and lives next door is like the female trifecta,” Jimin says.

“Oh, so now that you guys see she’s cute, you’re suddenly backtracking and agreeing with me that she’s got talent,” Cherry notes.

“I’m more hopeful about it,” Taehyung shamelessly declares with a nod, receiving an unimpressed look from Cherry in return.

“You guys can’t be serious,” Jungkook pipes up.

“What?” Cherry asks.

“You couldn’t find someone whose head isn’t in the fucking clouds.”

“Come on, don’t be so judgemental, Jungkook,” Cherry scolds.

“I have to admit, Cher, I’m still wary that she’s got any real art skills; she does seem a bit... ditzy,” Hoseok says gently, trying not to offend.

“She’s an airhead. I’d be surprised if she can even spell art,” Jungkook comments, his tone harsh.

“All of you should be the last to judge someone so quickly. Do you think when people hear you say you’re in a rock band, they don’t immediately assume you’re a bunch of wannabe rockstar losers before hearing how talented you are?” Cherry rebukes.

“You’re talking as if you’ve seen how “talented” she is,” Jungkook counters, his fingers making air quotes around the word.

“You know just as much about her supposed talent as we do. You’re just being defensive because she’s your new little friend,” Jungkook continues.

“And you’re being rude because she isn’t all doom and gloom like you,” Cherry argues.

“More like I’m calling it as I see it; she’s living in a world of her own,” he ripostes.

“And what does that have to do with her capabilities?”

Namjoon steps in to de-escalate the conversation: “She has a point: We can’t evaluate her abilities based on her personality. I say we wait to see what she shows us before jumping to conclusions,” he says, throwing Jungkook a look of reassurance; he adds, “We may be pleasantly surprised.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mumbles, backing off. But he remains very doubtful that you can bring anything of substance, not believing that there is anything under your surface of lip gloss, bows, and lollipops that will surprise him.

☾☀︎

The next day couldn’t come fast enough for you; it was a bit after lunchtime when Cherry texted you that she had arrived at the garage and that the band was setting up for rehearsal.

As you skip next door with your sketchbook held to your chest, it feels like you are floating on a cloud. You thought about the pretty boy with the pretty big eyes all night, and you couldn’t wait to lay your eyes on him once again.

The garage door is wide open. You turn to enter and nearly bump into the very man you’ve been eager to see. You look him up and down shamelessly; he is wearing baggy jeans, black chunky combat boots and a white shirt with a black bomber jacket. With a chance to look closer at him, you notice his plump pink lips adorned with two piercings, his right eyebrow pierced, his ears decorated with several earrings, and a small scar on his left cheek.

“Oh, um, hi!” you smile at Jungkook with a tiny wave.

Jungkook gives you a once-over, his face emotionless, and walks away without a greeting.

You pout slightly, glancing down at your pink frilly crop top and white jean skirt, but don’t stay hung up on it for too long as Cherry notices your arrival.

“Barbs, you’re here. Come in,” Cherry waves you over.

She gives you a quick hug, and the rest of the band greets you warmly with head nods and waves.

“Hey, Shortstack,” Taehyung says with a gentle pat on your head.

You giggle at the nickname the tall boy has given you. Cherry sees the book cradled in your arms and smiles at you, excited for the guys to finally see how talented you are and, quite frankly, to see herself.

“Is that your sketchbook? Can we take a look?” she asks.

“Mhm,” you nod and hand her the baby pink sketchbook, a picture of two swans with their beaks touching on the cover.

The guys abandon their instruments as they overhear and huddle around the red-haired girl. You sit on the worn-out black leather sofa, glancing around the grungy place decorated with posters of different rock bands and filled with musical equipment. Your eyes land on Jungkook tuning his guitar in the back, not concerned with seeing your sketches like the rest of the band.

You watch as Cherry opens the sketchbook, and her eyes light up. Her mouth drops open as she flips through the pages, and her eyes widen with the guys’.

“Y-You drew these?” Hoseok asks dumbfounded, pointing at the book.

You nod brightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N! These are amazing!” Jimin exclaims.

“I knew you were talented, Y/N, but I didn’t think you were this good,” Cherry chuckles at the pages, shaking her head.

“They’re okay; I’m better at painting,” you blush at the compliments.

“No need to be humble, kid. These are way better than okay,” Yoongi says.

At Yoongi’s comment, you watch Jungkook walk over to the group, look over their shoulders at your drawings, glance at you, and then walk back over to continue tuning his guitar, all while his face remains impassive.

“Huh, you are like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter shyly.

“I get why the dean was kissing your feet,” Hoseok says in awe, nodding.

“She didn’t kiss my feet,” you correct, shaking your head with knitted brows.

“He means why she praised your work,” Cherry explains.

“Oh... yeah. Mrs Baek is very nice,” you nod.

The guys all snicker, “Nice? Now that’s the first time I’ve heard that said about her,” Jimin tilts his head to the side with a slight shake.

“Well, the scholarship was nice of her,” you shrug.

They all look at you with faces of astonishment, and you give them the same look in return.

“What?” you ask, eyes wide.

“You got the dean’s scholarship?” Cherry asks, amazed.

“Yeah… is that bad?” you ask, worried at everyone’s shocked expressions.

“Man, we hit the jackpot!” Seokjin laughs with a clap of his hands.

“Getting a scholarship at Borahae, especially in Visual Arts, is very impressive, Barbs,” Cherry says as she comes and sits beside you, handing you back your sketchbook.

“You are very talented, Shortstack. Army of Bombs is honoured to have you design our logo; I’m sure you’ll make us proud,” Taehyung winks.

“I’ll do my bestest!” you declare with a determined nod but then pause before continuing, “On one condition, though,” you say, holding up your index finger.

Their eyes fill with apprehension, “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Remember to thank Y/N with $1 million when you become rich and famous,” you smile brightly.

They all chuckle at your cuteness when an irritated voice interrupts.

“Are we rehearsing today or not; because I have other places I could be,” Jungkook says in exasperation.

The boys roll their eyes and then move to take their positions. Seokjin sits beside you and nudges your shoulder with his; you turn to look at him.

“Thank you for helping us; we seriously appreciate it,” he says, shifting his eyes to the band. You follow his gaze to Jungkook. “All of us,” he finishes.

You look back at Seokjin, “I’m happy to do it,” you reply with a soft smile.

Cherry puts an arm around you, pulls you into her side, and gives you a little squeeze. You rest your head on her shoulder as the band begins to play. The loud music you previously had only heard through the walls shakes the room. Your body vibrates, and your ears ring as a sentimental smile forms on your lips at the nostalgia.

☾☀︎

It has been two weeks since you started attending the band’s rehearsals, and Jungkook still has not said a single word to you. He barely even looks at you, but when he does, it is brief, as if he is looking right through you.

The rest of the band seems to have accepted you into their circle quite warmly, even Yoongi, who isn’t very expressive; however, Jungkook remains cold and distant. You refuse to believe someone so beautiful could be so closed off. You have never been a girl who gives up quickly, so you have become determined to get the boy to embrace you just as the rest have — maybe even more. You can’t ignore the attraction you feel for him, not just physically, but it seems something deeper is compelling you to him.

Sitting in your newly designated spot on the sofa, Jungkook approaches you, and you perk up at the hope that this is the breakthrough you have been waiting for. But to your disappointment, as usual, your presence is dismissed as though you don’t exist; he reaches to the side table next to the sofa and picks up a water bottle. You stare at him as he chugs the liquid, watching his Adam’s apple bob and the sweat trickle down his neck.

He is captivating and handsome no matter what he does, even with the moody, intimidating aura around him.

Your eyes flicker down his body, and his arm catches your eye. As this is the first time you have seen him without a jacket on, you have never gotten to admire how his right arm, from his fingers going all the way up, is fully decorated with intricate ink designs.

This time, your gawking must be too much for Jungkook because only a second later, he sets his gaze on you.

“What?” he snaps.

You lift your eyes to his own, “What?” you blink.

The roll of his eyes is something you’re familiar with now, so you don’t take it to heart.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and exhales slowly through his nose as if calming himself, “You’re staring.”

You nod, “I am. I always do. You’re so pretty,” you say as if it’s obvious, gazing into his eyes.

You smile when his eyes meet yours. He turns his head to the side, looking away from you and clears his throat.

“You’re staring more than usual,” he states.

You seize the opportunity and jump off the sofa to his side; he flinches slightly at your suddenness.

“I was looking at your tattoos; I never noticed them. I like them! They are almost as pretty as you,” you take hold of his arm to examine the designs.

Jungkook rips his arm out of your grasp like your touch burns his skin. You don’t let his movement stop you, carrying on.

“They must have been painful. You are so brave to have done that,” you point at Jungkook’s arm, smiling in awe.

“They’re tattoos, not battle scars,” he grumbles, his tone grim.

“You’re so funny, Jungkookie,” you giggle.

His head whips, his jaw clenched, and he steps forward, towering over you.

“Don’t call me that,” his teeth gritted, his voice low, almost a growl.

Jungkook’s eyes flash dangerously, throwing a look meant to be a warning, but it completely unfazed you.

“Why don’t you like it? I think it fits you perfectly; your eyes are like big chocolate chips,” you tiptoe to peer into his eyes, not paying attention to how close your faces are to each other.

Jungkook stares back silently, then he leans back, looks to the side, blinks, clears his throat again, and pushes you back by your shoulders.

You turn your head to his big hand on your shoulder and blush; his touch is warm and not too forceful, just enough to create a suitable distance between you.

Then he tilts his head, “Are you always so annoying?” he sighs.

“I don’t think I’m annoying,” you say nonchalantly with a shrug yet pouting.

Jungkook only shakes his head, blinking once again before he walks away with a quiet curse escaping his lips.

☾☀︎

You waltz into the garage, no longer hesitant; it has become a place of comfort for you.

“Hi!” you announce your arrival and are greeted with hellos from those present. Your eyes shift, and you notice that a few members are missing, most notably the man of your dreams.

“Where’s Jungkookie?” you ask, not bothering to name the others absent.

Namjoon picks up on this but doesn’t mention it. He chuckles as he replies, “JK, Tae, and Jimin are on their way; they should be here soon.”

You nod, relaxing slightly; your eyebrows unfurrow, and your shoulders ease.

You settle beside Cherry on the sofa in your spot, pull out your sketchbook from your tote bag and open it to see the rough drawings you have made for the Army of Bombs logo. The book now has several pages of draft illustrations that you hope will lead you to the final design. You also pull out a new lollipop, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth, humming in satisfaction.

“What flavour is it today?” she grins and nods towards your candy.

You pull out the red sweet and point it towards her with a wink, “Cherry,” you giggle.

“Ah! The superior flavour, as expected, great taste, Barbs,” she says, shooting a finger gun at you.

“Bubble gum is the greatest flavour, actually, but cherry is a very close second,” you correct jokingly.

You hear gravel crunching, and then Jungkook and the other boys enter the garage. His figure almost glowing as you watch him walk in.

“Sup,” Jungkook says, greeting the guys and doing that dap-hug guys do.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you wave enthusiastically.

You don’t see how Cherry raises a brow at him, knowing his habit of ignoring you. He sighs and turns to you reluctantly.

“Hi,” his voice curt. The second the word is out of his mouth, he turns away, but you beam at the attention.

“Hey, Shortstack.”

Taehyung walks over and hugs you, patting your head.

“Hi, Taetae, where were you guys?”

“We were at the venue for our upcoming gig, just checking some last-minute stuff. Why did you miss us?” Taehyung pinches your cheek.

You nod, although you missed one of them more than the rest. Taehyung chortles, patting your head again with fond eyes.

“Sorry, Shorty. We had to take care of business,” Jimin taps your chin.

“Bold of you to call her Shorty,” Cherry quips, eyes darting up and down Jimin’s body.

“Haha. Funny,” Jimin laughs mockingly, “Why don’t you tell that joke to your boyfriend?”

“Touche, Park,” Cherry narrows her eyes at the mention of her equally short boyfriend.

Although, the whole band still towers over you.

“Why am I getting caught in the crossfire? I’ve been silent,” Yoongi comments.

Cherry waves him off, “Barbs, you should come to the show,” she taps your knee lightly.

Jungkook, whose back is facing you, winces at the invitation. The idea of you coming to their show already agitating him.

“Yeah, Y/N! You have to see us at our full effect!” Hoseok agrees.

“Really? That would be so cool!” you smile, bouncing in your seat.

“She has already been sitting in on all our rehearsals; is it necessary for her to come to our gigs?” Jungkook counters.

“Rehearsals and live shows are completely different,” Namjoon replies, “You have to come and see us to get the total Army of Bombs experience,” he adds, speaking to you.

“It’s not real rock and roll if you don’t have a crowd cheering you on, it’d be great to have you there,” Taehyung says.

“And it’d be great to have someone else to keep me company; Seokjin doesn’t cut it,” Cherry pouts to you.

“Now I’m catching strays,” Seokjin whispers to Yoongi.

“So you’ll come?” Cherry’s eyes are hopeful.

“I’ll come!”

And Jungkook grits his teeth at your answer.

☾☀︎

You’re in your bedroom with Cherry, and the both of you are getting ready to go to the guys’ show. They are playing at a bar known for having live performances—The Golden Bottle. It usually attracts a large crowd, but an even larger turnout tonight is expected since Army of Bombs is well-known in town.

Cherry had picked out your outfit: a hot pink latex strapless mini-dress paired with silver chunky platform heels. It’s still you—as Cherry had put it— “with just a little edge”. Since she picked your outfit, you’re doing her makeup in trade.

“When you told your parents you’re going to see a rock show, did they freak out?” Cherry asks as you apply her eyeshadow.

“No, my mom thought it sounded like fun! Plus, she knows you’re my friend, so she trusts me to go with you,” you tell her.

”What about your dad? You seem like you’d be a daddy’s girl?”

Your hand freezes as you move to pick up the blush brush, but you gather yourself quickly, hoping Cherry doesn’t see your falter.

“Um, my dad isn’t around,” you say, phrasing your words carefully.

“Hey, I understand. My parents are divorced too,” Cherry waves her hand at you, “My dad lives in a different city; I barely talk to him, let alone see him.”

“Oh, no, that’s not... I-I mean, that’s sad too... but,” you stammer over your words, “My dad, he, um, he passed away,” you finally get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N—” she begins, her eyes widening with a face of guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize; you didn’t know,” you cut her off, offering her a reassuring smile.

“How long ago? W-wait, oh god, I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? That’s insensitive. I didn’t mean to—” she starts nervously babbling.

“You’re not, Cher,” you let out an airy laugh, “It’s been a little over a year and a half. It was a car accident,” you tell her, knowing she probably wanted to ask but was already feeling remorseful.

”So it’s just me and my mom now,” you say, dabbing the blush brush into the powder.    

Cherry’s sad eyes look down as she fiddles with her fingers in her lap, not knowing what to say. You begin applying the peach powder on the apples of her cheeks.

“But you were right,” you break the silence. “I am a daddy’s girl, but he also would have thought it was super cool that I was going to a rock show.” You smile fondly at the thought.

Cherry smiles, and her body is no longer tense. She gets a view of her reflection in your vanity mirror and gasps.

“Oh my gosh, look at me! If they made a punk rock Barbie, it’d look like me,” Cherry laughs.

”Hey, no fair. You weren’t supposed to see yet,” you fake pout, “I still have to do my finishing touches.”

You twist open a tube of lip gloss and apply it to Cherry’s lips. Your tongue sticks out slightly as you focus, and Cherry pokes at it with her finger, causing you both to giggle.

“Okay! All done,” you back up, admiring your work, “I have finished my new masterpiece. You were pretty before, but now you’re pretty with sparkly eyelids,” you smile proudly.

Cherry gets up and hooks your arms together, dragging you to the full-length mirror to check out your final looks. She is wearing a black leather mini-dress that fits her like a second skin; she looks phenomenal.

“Damn, we look hot!” she exclaims, “Wait till the crowd gets a look at us. I bet the whole audience won’t even be watching the band play; they’ll be too focused on us,” she jokes.

“I hope Jungkookie thinks I look good,” you giggle as you fix some strands of your hair.

“Barbs,” Cherry’s voice now a bit cautious, “You don’t like Jungkook for real, right? Like, have feelings for him?”

“I do,” you nod, your eyes brightening, “Why is something wrong? Does he have a girlfriend already?” you question, worried.

“No, he doesn’t,” she shakes her head.

Your shoulders relax at her answer.

“But,” she continues, “I don’t think Jungkook is the best fit for you,” she rushes to explain when she sees you frown.

“He’s my friend, don’t get me wrong. I get it if you have a crush on him; he’s a good-looking guy. I just don’t think,” she pauses to think over her words, “You’re such a sweet girl, but Jungkook isn’t the type of guy to commit. And when it comes to girls, he isn’t the nicest, and I don’t want you to take him not liking you back personally.”

“He doesn’t have to like me back; me liking him is enough for me,” you shrug and give her a grin. “I think he’s the most handsome guy ever, and I want to get close to him.”

“He doesn’t open up that easily, so don’t take him not being the most caring to heart. He doesn’t consider others where feelings are concerned. You’re my friend, too, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You pull Cherry into a hug, and she rubs your back. When you pull away, you smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Cherry. I like being around him; there’s no harm in that. I won’t get hurt.”

She nods, “Okay, but still, just be careful, alright?”

You nod, and she sighs, “Then, with that, let’s get going, Barbs. Yoongi will have my head if we’re late.”

☾☀︎

You and Cherry enter the bar arm-in-arm, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke hits you. The aged dark wood reveals how old this dingy bar is. It maintains its historical familiarity, but a few newer elements show the renovations made to keep the place relevant for younger patrons.

The venue is full of people, bustling with life when you arrive. The two of you push through the packed crowd to the front of the stage, with Cherry leading. You navigate through the crowd with relative ease, thanks to her aggressive elbowing, while your eyes wander all over, scanning the mass of people, all about to see Army of Bombs perform.

“There are so many people, it’s like they’re celebrities,” you lean over, speaking directly into Cherry’s ear due to the noise of the patrons, the soft clinking of glasses, loud drunken chatter, others laughing boisterously in their groups.

“In this town, they are. Almost everyone knows of them or at least has seen them play before,” Cherry tells you, leaning in as well.

The lights overhead dim, and then the crowd erupts out into cheers. You can feel the energy pulsing through the air. You and Cherry stand pressed close together, shoulders touching as she keeps a secure arm around you to keep together amongst the upcoming chaos. You can see the silhouettes of the band as they take their positions. You find Jungkook’s figure right away. The stage lights turn on as Jimin takes the mic, and the feedback rings through the speakers.

“What’s up, everyone? We are Army of Bombs! Hope you’re ready to rock out!” he yells before turning and nodding to Namjoon.

Namjoon does the count-off, and the set begins with the last hit of his sticks. Jungkook plays the opening note to the first song, followed by Jimin’s voice as the rest of the band joins in.

The bar’s atmosphere becomes electric with the music, the audience’s screams, the many devil’s horns raised in the air, and the headbanging. The guys are performing their all, but your eyes remain on Jungkook: how fast his fingers move on his guitar strings during his solos, how his melodic voice resounds as he sings backup, and how his body glides around on stage in tune with the melody so effortlessly. The lights shine down, glistening as sweat accumulates on him, and you’ve never seen someone look so angelic and sinful all at once.

You and Cherry get lost in the music, jumping up and down while you sing along to songs that you have now memorized. All too soon, the last notes of the final song of the set fade, and the crowd roars, chanting the band’s name.

The guys all come to the edge of the stage out of breath, bowing and sending out waves and winks to the audience, basking in the glory. Jungkook pushes back his sweat-dampened hair, chest heaving as his eyes sweep the crowd; they find you.

His gaze lingers on you longer than usual, and you swear everything else fades; you two are the only people in the room as your eyes lock. The world moves in slow motion. You get tunnel vision; he is all you can see, and all the screams become white noise. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel your blood rushing through your veins. But then the spell breaks, and he’s walking off the stage with the rest of the band.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and spin around, spotting Seokjin standing behind you and Cherry.

“Hey, Shoulders,” you wave.

“Hey, I had to make sure the VIPs of our fan club attended the after-party. I’m heading backstage to meet the guys; I gotta talk to the bar manager, but we’ll be at the lounge afterwards, so meet us there,” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

“Okay, see you guys there,” Cherry nods.

Seokjin walks through the mass of people and disappears, heading backstage. Once he’s gone, Cherry grabs your hand and leans in to speak to you.

“Let’s go touch up our makeup first,” she says, and you nod. You let her lead the way to the restrooms, holding your hand.

☾☀︎

With the time it takes the two of you to wait in line for the restroom, freshen up your makeup, and elbow your way to the lounge, the guys are already there.

When you approach the entrance to the lounge, a security guard is blocking it. Cherry yells over his shoulder to get Yoongi’s attention. When he sees you two, he walks over and pats the security on the back, telling him to let you two in.

Cherry wraps her arms around Yoongi’s neck, kissing him on the lips and complimenting him on how much of a good show it was, and you think you see a blush form on his cheeks. You smile at their interaction and decide to give them a moment alone.

You look around, hoping to spot Jungkook, but there are too many people in the lounge to get a view of everybody. You spot Namjoon standing in a corner talking to some people, so you go to him.

He shifts his head while in conversation, and once he notices you approaching, he smiles and hugs you.

“Great show, Joonbug!” you speak loudly over the music playing.

“Thanks, I’m glad you made it. I told you it was way different than rehearsals, didn’t I,” Namjoon nudges your elbow with his.

”It was insane; it was like you guys were different people. I felt like I didn’t know you at all,” you laugh, and he does as well.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Invitation is always open to our shows; you’re more than welcome to them.”

“I will! I got told I am a VIP of your fan club, so I can’t disappoint,” you wink, “By the way, where’s everyone else? I want to congratulate them on the show,” you swivel your head around; finally asking the question that you have been itching to ask.

You follow the direction he points to with the neck of his beer bottle and see the rest of the band sitting on the couches surrounded by people, primarily women. You try to mask the frown that threatens to take over your face when you notice Jungkook sitting between two girls, his arm resting on the back of the couch as the girl on his right leans into his side.

Ignoring the twist of your stomach, you saunter over to the couches with your head held high. When you are close enough, Jungkook’s eyes flicker in your direction absentmindedly, and just as he glances away, he does a subtle double take once he registers it’s you approaching. He gives you a discreet up and down as you walk closer.  

Hoseok notices you, already seeming to be a bit tipsy; his arms shoot up like he just shot a goal.

“You made it!” he smiles, his voice booming.

You wave nervously as everyone’s attention lands on you, but your face flushes from having Jungkook in front of you. Jimin and Taehyung give you a much more blatant scan of your body up and down with approving smirks on their face.

Taehyung rests his drink on the glass table in front of the couch and gets up to give you a tight hug. When he lets go, his hands run down your arm, squeezing your hand as he steps back to glance over your outfit again.

“My, my. Shortstack, don’t you look extra lovely tonight,” he says.

“Lovely? She looks fucking hot!” Cherry appears beside you, wrapping an arm around you in a side hug, causing Taehyung’s hand to let go.

“I was going to be gentlemanly with my words, but yeah, you look fucking incredible, Shorty,” Jimin shoots you a wink, raising his bottle.  

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“Speaking of incredible, the performance was fantastic! You all looked so so so cool, you sounded so so so good, and—and everything was just amazing!” you beam, bouncing in place.

“You know how to boost a man’s ego, Y/N,” Hoseok chuckles.

You continue brightly, speaking to Jungkook, “Your guitar playing was really, really awesome, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook raises his brows and stretches his mouth in a tight line, his dimples emerging even though he does not smile.

“Wow, Y/N, I’m sad. You’re just going to ignore your cheer captain without even saying hi?” a voice makes you turn your head.

You failed to catch that the girl sitting to the right of Jungkook was none other than Jess, and with a quick scan, you soon see Mei sitting on his left and Kat sitting next to Jimin. A frown threatens to break out on your face for the second time when you see Jungkook’s arm resting on the backrest behind her. Somehow, it bugs you more now that you know the girl.

You compose yourself, keeping your voice bright, “Oh, Jess, I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you. Hi!”

“I didn’t think I would run into you here. I didn’t know this was your kind of scene,” Jess says, eyes raking over you in a judgemental manner you don’t pick up on.

But Cherry instantly does, and alarm bells go off as she carefully observes Jess’s behaviour. Jungkook sits silently and watches your interaction.

“They invited me to the show; they’re my friends,” you smile as you gesture to the guys.

“Friends, huh?” Jess turns to Jungkook, tilting her head with a fake pout and laying a hand on his chest, “Where was my invite? I thought we were friends?”

Jungkook shrugs in response, taking a sip of his drink. Your breath hitches at their contact, but you keep calm.

Cherry pulls you to sit down with her, and you find yourself sitting directly in front of Jungkook.

“Y/N is designing our band logo for us since she is an art genius,” Jimin says to Jess and motions to you.

“Ah! So you’re working for them,” Jess nods to herself as if she finally understands the situation.

Cherry narrows her eyes but grins as she speaks, “More like she’s a friend helping out; she’s doing the band a huge favour.”

“Well, AoB is the hottest band in town,” Jess rubs a hand along Jungkook’s thigh with her eyes fixed on him.

Your heart clenches. For one, because Jungkook accepts Jess’s touch and welcomes it—something he doesn’t do with you. Also, because she’s pretty, and a pretty boy like Jungkook belongs with a pretty girl like her.

She continues looking at you with a smile.“So I hope you’re able to design something worthy.”

“I hope so too!” you answer warm and cheerfully, oblivious.

“She will,” Cherry says curtly to Jess before switching her attention to Seokjin, “So what did you talk to the manager about?”

“Oh, right!” he claps, remembering his previous conversation. “He was so impressed with the response we received from the crowd that he offered us a full weekend gig! Friday to Sunday, baby!” he hollers.

The band also celebrates, with high fives going all around. You even catch a hint of a smile on Jungkook’s face.

“Fuck yeah!” Jimin fist pumps.

“What are we celebrating?” Namjoon asks as he and Yoongi join the group. He sits beside you, and Yoongi sits beside Cherry.

“We got offered a full weekend gig here,” Hoseok informs them.

“Man, that’s great! Y/N must have brought us good luck,” Namjoon punches your knee lightly.

“Or the manager must have finally caught up with the rest of town and realized how talented you guys are,” Mei says, fluttering her eyelashes.

Seokjin bypasses her comment, “It’s not for another month, and I’m not trying to rush anyone,” he glances at you, “But it would be a perfect time for us to unveil our logo.”

“That would be sick! Do you think you could finish it by then, Shortstack?”

Feeling put on the spot with everyone’s hopeful eyes on you, you stutter, “U-um, I—”

“Don’t pressure her, you nimrod. Art takes time; she’s not a machine,” Cherry chides him.

“It was just a question,” Taehyung defends with his hands raised.

“A stupid question,” Cherry disputes.

Namjoon leans over to you as they bicker, “There’s no pressure, seriously,” his voice soft. He nudges your knee gently with his.

You look at him and nod with a grateful smile.

“Have you designed a logo before, Y/N?” Jess asks.

“No, this is my first one. I’m so excited to do it.”

“Are you sure you can do it? I’m sure you’re good, but a rock band logo isn’t the same style as painting flowers and trees, right?”

This time, her words sting. It’s a common occurrence—people doubting your art. You don’t let it get to you; you know what you’ve done and what you can do. You don’t have to prove your talents to anyone; your work speaks for itself.

“It is, but I am good. I can do it,” you shrug with an assured tone.

“Enough about the logo. You guys are playing a full weekend; I’ve never heard of a band booking three nights in a row here,” Cherry enthusiastically changes topics.

“I know. The manager said he couldn’t remember the last time he booked the same act for an entire weekend, but the crowd’s reaction blew him away,” Seokjin matches Cherry’s enthusiasm.

“We should write a new song and debut it on our first night, create some extra buzz. What do you say, JK? Up to working on one?” Yoongi says, asking the member who has been silent so far.

Jungkook nods, “I have a few different scores I’ve been working on; I recorded some of them already. I’ll send them to you.”  

Yoongi nods in reply. You’re awestruck by this revelation; it shows on your face and tone of voice.

“You can write scores?”

His eyes shift to you, and he nods as his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers. Your eyes stay locked on each other until Jess’s voice cuts in.

“He’s a musician; obviously, he can write,” she sneers, with Mei and Kat snickering.

Cherry, fed up, is about to clap back, and her mouth opens, but you speak before she can.

“A lot of musicians don’t know how to write or read music,” You lift your fingers and count, “Jimi Hendrix, Slash, Eddie Van Halen, all of The Beatles, some of the greatest guitarists in rock and none of them could write or read scores. So it’s impressive that he can do both.”

Cherry looks at you with proud eyes, and the guys look at you taken aback. Even Jungkook looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes, although his face is still emotionless.

You fail to see how Jungkook hides his smirk when he raises his beer to take a sip and how his arm no longer rests behind Jess.

You bat your eyelashes, chuckle, and add, “But what am I saying? I’m sure you already know playing an instrument isn’t the same as writing scores, right? Since this is more your scene than mine.”

“Exactly, I meant he’s a trained musician, so of course he knows how to do both,” Jess tries to save face, her eyes shifting in embarrassment, “No need to get all defensive, Y/N.”

“Y-Yeah, Jess knows all about rock,” Kat says. Mei nods in agreement.

Cherry scoffs audibly and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go get drinks before I say something I won’t regret and hurt some feelings,” she glares at the three cheerleaders.

She gets up and pulls you with her. When you both reach the bar, she huffs, rolling her eyes, “Can you believe them? What bitches! The nerve! I’m usually a girl’s girl, but—ugh! I hate girls like them, acting all high and mighty when all they are are a bunch of desperate groupies. I was so fucking close to giving her a piece of my mind.”

She glances at you and smirks, “But I didn’t have to, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you. You sure are full of surprises, Barbs. Where did all of that come from?”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! I know you were giving her a taste of her own medicine. You kept your innocent demeanour but were quick with your comeback about guitarists. How do you even know all that anyway?”

“It’s just something I know,” you say casually with a shrug, hoping to bypass the topic.

Luckily, the bartender comes over before Cherry can say anything else. She tells him her drink order and looks over at you, to which you shake your head, not wanting to drink tonight. When the bartender walks away to make her mojito, she leans in to speak to you.

“I have to pee,” Cherry says as she looks towards the restrooms. “Can you grab my drink and wait for me here?”

You nod and give her a thumbs up, not bothering to give a vocal response over the music. She returns the gesture and manoeuvres through the sea of people.

You puff out your cheeks as you wait, tapping your fingers on the glass bar while staring at the shelves of alcohol bottles on the wall behind the counter illuminated by red and blue lights.

When you feel a hand on your lower back, you turn with a small smile, stunned at how quickly Cherry peed, but instead of your vibrant-haired friend, you face a sweaty, tipsy, dishevelled man.

The man is drenched in sweat but not in a soft glow from dancing. His face is dripping, several beads streaming down. The dark stains on his shirt sticking to his skin are apparent even in the low lighting.

His presence instantly fills you with worry. You step away, sure not to be within arm’s reach of him. He stands in front of you with a greasy smirk; although he is standing in place, his body sways due to intoxication.  

“Hey,” he says over the music, voice a bit louder than necessary.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning over the counter to get a glimpse of the bartender.

The tipsy stranger ducks his head into your view, blocking your line of sight of the bartender. You try to suppress a cringe when the stench of perspiration and booze hits you, burying your nostrils.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this? Get lost on your way to an Ariana Grande concert,” he laughs at his lame joke.

“I’m here with friends,” you say, hoping he will leave you alone if you mention you are with people.

It does nothing of the sort, and his smirk widens, “Hmm, with friends, so not with a boyfriend?” he asks, his speech slurred.

“Um—”

He interrupts, stepping towards you, invading your space again, “If I were your boyfriend, I would never let you out of my sight. A sexy woman like you should never be left alone.”

His bloodshot, predatory eyes and creepy attempt at flirting were making you extra uncomfortable; drunk guys and rejection often led to anger, and you did not want this guy to become aggressive with you.

“I-I’m not alone; my friend will be back soon,” you glance over your shoulder, pointing to the restrooms. “Uh, so—”

“I’ll keep you company then. It’s not safe for a gorgeous girl like you here,” he licks his lips and coats them sloppily with his saliva, taking a step closer to you. He leans in, his wet lips disgustingly brushing the shell of your ear, “There are plenty of bad men just waiting to get their hands on a sweet thing like you.”

With the crowd surrounding you, you cannot back away from him. As a sense of panic begins to form in the pit of your stomach, you internally scold yourself for not walking away from this guy the second he approached you.

You try to muster your refusal, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak, “I don’t—No, I don’t want—”

You feel physically ill. Your breathing starts to pick up, and your palms turn clammy as they raise to push at the creep’s chest to create even the smallest distance between you two.

Suddenly, the drunk creep is yanked back by the back of his shirt, sending him stumbling back into the people behind him. He barely manages to catch himself with a hand on the bar.

A gasp leaves you, but despite the slight chaos, so does your panic. The man’s red, glassy eyes widen and match yours in shock. Your body stiffens. Slowly, you both turn your heads towards the source, your heartbeat pounding. Your eyes remain the same while his eyes narrow into slits filled with irritation as your sights land on your saviour. And as much as it adds to your shock, instant relief takes over your body, and you visibly relax as you release a breath.

“Everything okay here?”

Jungkook stands beside you, his stance intimidating. Towering with his hands in his front pockets, he shows no sign of agitation, but his stern calmness and his strong physique show he is not to be messed with.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What’s your problem?” the drunkard spits out, too intoxicated to recognize this is one of the guys he just watched perform.

“You good?” he asks, focused on you, completely ignoring the man.

“We were just having some friendly conversation, right, doll?” the persistent creep slurs his interjections, sending you a wink.

“I didn’t ask you,” Jungkook retorts sharply.

“We were just talking, bro. Ease up,” the man tries to defuse the tense encounter he has got himself in.

“Were you guys talking?” Jungkook looks down at you, waiting for your answer.

You look at him with big, uneasy eyes and shake your head.

Jungkook steps in front of you, blocking your view of your harasser. His firm body acts as a shield. You feel so small standing behind him but have never felt more protected, more safe.

Jungkook narrows his eyes in a glare with his chest puffed out, “Looks like now you’re done talking; conversation over. Bro.”

With way too much pride and ignorance, in an attempt to get in Jungkook’s face, the drunk takes a step forward, but instead of standing nose to nose, the men stand nose to chin.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the creep sneers.

But Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge.

Jungkook tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. He almost looks amused, but there is nothing funny about the way he lets out a snicker through his nose and bends slightly, burning gaze staring the man dead in the eye to say,

“The guy telling you to fuck off.”

There are about three seconds of them having a stare-down. Jungkook is unrelenting, his confident yet harsh stance unmoving.

The drunkard cracks under the unnerving pressure, and his alcohol-induced cockiness falters. Accepting the evident disparity between the two and becoming reconciled to the physical disadvantage he is at, the drunk finally gives up. With a parting huff, he mutters one last expletive and stumbles away.

You are still left with some remaining shock, partly from that whole interaction and also partly from Jungkook coming to your rescue. Relief could barely settle in your chest before it’s ripped away.

“Thank you, Jungk—”

Jungkook turns around, runs his tatted fingers through his hair, and his eyes settle on you, annoyed.

Your breath hitches, your entire body frozen in place. Jungkook had just jumped in and rescued you from a drunken creep. Yet, there isn’t a single ounce of sympathy in his expression—only irritation. It feels as though you have caused him an inconvenience. Gone is the protective man who was an impenetrable defender. Now stands an uncaring, vexed man.

He clicks his tongue.

“If you can’t hold your own, you shouldn’t come to places like this,” he gestures around vaguely, unimpressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Everything’s not all sunshine and rainbows all the time. There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

You are stunned in silence, not expecting to be reprimanded for being cornered by some intoxicated jerk and saddened that this is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you.

“What? You’re constantly running your mouth and suddenly have nothing to say. Where did all that insufferable boldness go?” he scoffs, continuing, “I mean, you’re a chick at a bar; you didn’t expect some tipsy guy to make a pass at you? You seriously can’t be that naive, Y/N.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of Jungkook.

For the first time since meeting him, Jungkook’s gaze is unwanted. You wish his attention were on someone else as you hang your head in shame and embarrassment.

It stings that this is the most you’ve ever heard him speak and the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express, but it’s nothing like what you’ve dreamt of; it’s all negative. It’s hurtful.

That familiar feeling surges back within you: being berated, talked down to, made to feel small.

Overwhelmed by everything that has happened—Jess, the drunk creep, and now Jungkook—all these confrontations are beginning to take a toll on you. You feel your throat tighten, and your breathing picks up once again.

“I d-didn’t—”

“I’m back! Sorry, that line was killer. I swear I was about to piss myself,” Cherry returns. Surprise on her face at seeing Jungkook with you, she quickly looks between you two, sensing the tension and scanning your face; she gently touches your upper arm, “Hey, you okay?”

Still avoiding looking at Jungkook, you sheepishly give Cherry a nod and a tight smile. Jungkook’s gaze drags a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, and a sniff before he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“If you insist on bringing her here, watch after your friend.”

Jungkook walks away, and from your peripheral vision, you see the same broad back that was protecting you minutes ago disappear into the crowd.

“What the hell is his problem?” Cherry says as she watches him walk away. “Did something happen? Was he mean to you? I’ll kick his ass if he was an ass to you.”

With a hand still on your upper arm, she uses her other to point in the direction Jungkook walked off to and is already taking a step forward to go after him.

You frantically shake your head, pulling her back by her wrist.

“No, no, he helped me. There, um, there was this creepy guy who was drunk and was bothering me. Jungkookie made him leave me alone.”

Cherry doesn’t hide the astonishment on her face; her eyebrows shoot up so high that if they go any higher, they will touch her hairline.

“Jungkook? He helped you?” she asks in disbelief.

You find her reaction interesting; Jungkook is standoffish, but was it so shocking that he would help someone in need? Even someone as aloof as him would swoop in when they see a damsel in distress and save them, so it shouldn’t be such a shock to his good friend. Right?

Or was this really out of the norm for Jungkook? And if so, why did he save you?

You nod.

“Oh…” Cherry glances in the direction Jungkook went, and after coming out of whatever thoughts were running through her mind, she turns back to you in worry, “Well, what about you? Are you sure you’re alright? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“No, I’m okay. The guy got a bit too close, but Jungkookie showed up before he could do anything,” you reassure her, putting on the best smile you can muster right now.

Her eyes flicker over your face, assessing your expression to be sure you’re telling the truth, and she takes your word with a worried nod. She pulls you into a hug as she sighs in relief.

“Okay, good. I’m glad someone was here to help you. I would have hated myself if my bladder had created the opening for some drunk creep to get to you,” Cherry shudders at the thought, “That fucker, though! What’s with tonight? I’m so sorry, Barbs. I did not want your first AoB show to turn out like this.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, Cher. I’m honestly okay,” you squeeze her hand and gesture around at the bar, “And no offence, but I didn’t expect this place to be crawling with prince charmings,” you giggle, attempting to lighten the mood regarding how the night went.

Cherry also glances around and giggles, “Fair, and hey, I mean, I did say we look hot. I should have been on high alert for creeps. Hotties like us always have to be on the radar for hopeless losers,” she rolls her eyes, smirking.

“I think Yoongs was keeping the losers at bay for you, you know, with his… face,” you wave a hand over your face and laugh.

“Yeah, gotta love my Yoongi the Grouch,” Cherry smiles fondly, her eyes twinkling at the topic of her boyfriend, “He’s like my own personal creep deflector. We should get back to him before we start attracting them,” Cherry grabs her mojito, the glass now covered in condensation.

“Do you mind if I go home? There has been a lot of excitement for me for one night. I’m still getting used to this rock and roll lifestyle.”

“Sure, let me finish this drink and tell Yoongi; then we can head out.”

“You don’t have to leave because of me. I can go on my own; I don’t want to ruin your night,” your words trail off as Cherry sends you a look.

“Barbs, I invited you. We came together, and we’re leaving together. I have been to enough shows; I know I’m not missing anything. Plus, I would never let you go alone at this time. Are you crazy? What kind of friend would I be?”

You smile, this one reaching your eyes. You have to blink back tears. Cherry’s friendship is unwavering; she is one of a kind.

With that, Cherry lifts her drink to her lips and chugs it down like it’s water, and you two are off to tell Yoongi that you’re heading out.

When you return to the lounge, subconsciously, your eyes find Jungkook. He’s back to sitting on the couch with Jess tucked into his side as if he never left that spot. You catch his eyes flicker over to you so briefly that you almost doubt it even happened.

Yoongi notices Cherry return without a drink and gives her a questioning look. She leans down slightly to speak to him.

“We’re going to go home now; tonight’s been a lot for Y/N,” Cherry tells him. Without Cherry even asking, Yoongi nods, downs the rest of his beer, and gets up to leave with the two of you.

“No way! You guys are going? You can’t leave yet!” Hoseok calls out.

Namjoon smirks at you, “Party too hard, Little Picasso?”

“I was right; this isn’t your scene after all, huh?” Jess remarks with that antagonizing smile you are becoming familiar with. Mei and Kat snickered at her remark.

“No, some drunk bastard was harassing her,” Cherry speaks for you.

That shuts Jess up quickly and catches the band’s attention. Jungkook sits up straighter as his body tenses. The rest of the guys focus on you, their faces now serious.

Jimin and Taehyung stand up, “Are you okay, Shortstack? Did he touch you?”

“I’m okay,” you smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Who was the son of a bitch? We’ll find him and take care of him,” Jimin says.

You wave your hands to stop them.

“It’s fine now. You guys don’t have to. It—He’s been taken care of,” you tell the guys to calm them down, your eyes going to Jungkook for a fraction of a second.

Jungkook, who is still avoiding looking your way, is biting on his lip rings—but otherwise seemingly totally removed from the conversation.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” your voice is smaller than usual, but your eyes are as big as a scared puppy, and you can feel your face heat up again from all the unwanted attention you’re causing.

“We can’t let him get off scot-free, especially doing something like that on our night here and to one of our crew,” Namjoon remarks.

Being called part of their crew doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you are too worried about them causing a ruckus because of you, especially after the whole Jungkook thing, his words still lingering in your head.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

“She’s right; he’s been dealt with already,” Cherry says, her eyes locking on Jungkook, who meets her gaze, holding it for a moment, then continues, “I don’t think he’ll be a problem again. Y/N wants to get out of here, and I can’t blame her. I would want to call it a night, too.”

Reluctantly, the guys settle down, and Taehyung pulls you into a hug and cranes his neck to look at your face, “This didn’t scare you off from coming to our shows, right?”

“Y/N? Are you kidding? Nah, she just joined the fan club; I even made her a VIP. Of course not,” Seokjin says, winking and playfully ruffling your hair.

The drastic change of now being flooded with words and touches of comfort warms you and melts away the anxiousness.

“Yeah, I can’t give up my spot that quickly,” you laugh.

“Well, just to be sure, I’m promoting you to fan club president, so it’s mandatory to attend live shows,” Taehyung narrows his eyes and points at you.

“Yes, sir!” you bring your hand to your brow in a salute.

“Get some rest, Prez. We’ll see you at rehearsal,” Jimin bids you farewell, hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head.

Hoseok and Namjoon also hug you goodbye. While hugging Namjoon perched on your tiptoes, you glance at Jungkook over Namjoon’s shoulder.

Jungkook, with his typical impassive expression, has his arm back to resting on the backrest behind Jess. He faces her as she leans into him, whispering in his ear, her nails running up and down his thigh, her hand getting close to his crotch; you’re sure her fingers have grazed over it.

You tear your eyes away once you feel a hand pat your back, “Let’s get you home, kid,” Yoongi says gently.

You give him a soft nod and smile, turning to leave. With your back turned, you’re unaware of how Jungkook’s eyes trail after you. Jess, however, is very aware; she follows his gaze when she sees how uninterested he is in her flirty words and wandering hands.

You hear a voice call out.

“I’ll see you at practice Monday morning, Y/N,” Jess says with her phoney smile, her hand still inappropriately gripping Jungkook’s thigh.

You plaster on a smile that matches hers and seal it with a friendly wave.

“See you bright and early Monday, Captain!” you hesitate but decide to continue, “Bye, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook appears surprised by how his eyes widen slightly, his brows twitching, but you get no other kind of acknowledgement of your goodbye. Not a word, a wave, not even a nod.

You and Cherry tell the guys one last goodbye, and Yoongi gives them a nod before you three make your way to the exit and bring an end to this eventful night.

“I should’ve asked her what the guy looked like. I could’ve told the manager to keep an eye out for him,” Seokjin mentions after your departure.

“The girls made it sound like he won’t show his face around here anymore, but we can tell them to let us know if he does,” Namjoon says.

What you don’t know, what the guys don’t know, is that Jungkook did talk to the manager. He had him check the cameras and pointed out the guy. The drunkard is banned from the bar now.

☾☀︎

You are at cheerleading practice, doing some warmup stretches with Rina by your side. Today, the team is supposed to be running through a routine for an upcoming game; this will be your first performance since joining the team, and you are so excited to experience that rush again.  

You are helping Rina stretch, holding her leg down, when you see Jess and her minions walking across the field towards the team.

Jess jumps into business without greeting the team; she claps her hands twice and yells, “Okay, into your starting positions! You should all have this down by now; if not, don’t bother. I expect perfection.”

Practice ensues, and it’s not the smoothest. Some people make minor mistakes: a little stumble, timing a bit off, pose slightly mispositioned. But Jess watches them like a hawk, scrutinizing everyone’s performance or sending Mei or Kat to chastise them immediately if she doesn’t do it herself.

As the end of practice nears, the field erupts into mild chaos as the football team arrives, gathering for their practice. Their booming voices and boyish roughhousing practically take over the area. The quarterback, Mingyu, walks away from his team; the players are huddled at the side of the field by the bleachers while waiting their turn.

He approaches Jess, Mei, and Kat. He is still far from them when he calls, “Hey, Jess. Are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

You are performing the routine flawlessly, as you always do when Jess stops when she reaches you as she makes her rounds around the team.

There hasn’t been any mention of seeing each other that night at AoB’s show, so you thought Jess had moved past it. The little back and forth you two had was probably so minuscule in her whirlwind of a life that she must have forgotten about it already.

“Hey, Gyu, hmm, I don’t know. Jungkook and I were supposed to hang out tonight. Unless he’s going, too,” Jess turns to you, “Y/N, you’re friends with Jungkook and his band, right? Do you know if they’re going to the party?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t mentioned anything,” you shrug, “But if you already have plans with him, why would he go to a party? ” you ask, slightly out of breath.

Rina’s eyes widen beside you, and Mingyu laughs lightly with his head down. You are unaware and lost in your genuine curiosity when Mei interjects.

“Well, obviously, if he didn’t mention it, then he’s not going because he has plans with Jess,” she narrows her eyes at you.

“You can hang out at the party; it’s gonna be wild! You know how we Borahae Bears get down! You should still pull up. All of you,” Mingyu says loud enough for everyone to hear, motioning to the cheer team.

Mingyu speaks directly to you when he adds, “Tell Jungkook and the guys to come, you as well,” he smiles.

“Thanks! I’m going to their rehearsal later, so I’ll let them know,” you smile back at him.

“And if I talk to him first, I’ll tell him,” Jess adds.

“R-Right,” Mingyu nods stiffly, his eyes shifting between you and Jess.

“Well, I should go start getting ready for practice,” Mingyu points a thumb over his shoulder, “But I’ll hopefully see you all tonight,” he flashes a wink before turning around and jogging back to his team.

“A party sounds like a lot of fun!” you say to Rina with a big grin, softly clapping your hands.

With you not facing her, Jess narrows her eyes at you while clenching her hands into fists, yelling, “Practice is over!”

You flinch at the sound and see her spinning around and storming off the field with Mei and Kat running after her.

☾☀︎

Since the night at the bar, things haven’t changed regarding your interactions with Jungkook—or lack of interaction, you should say. You’ve been attending the band’s rehearsals as usual, and just as he was before, Jungkook ignores your entire existence. But of course, just as you were before, you don’t let that stop you.

Despite his harsh words, you can’t forget how he was like your knight in shining armour that night. After spending a month in his presence, he may not treat you like a friend or be as cordial as you would like, but he was there for you when you needed help. He stepped up without being asked and protected you. To you, that means something, so even if he continues to ignore you, you won’t ignore him.

Jungkook can keep up his cold, grumpy attitude, but you know, within him, there is a kind man. What he said to you may have been hurtful at the moment, but when you reflected on it in bed that night, his words sounded more like a lecture for your safety than an insult. And although he may disregard you, he has never really been rude to you despite your persistent efforts to get close to him.

So tonight, like every other time you’ve entered the garage, you say hello to all the guys present—including Jungkook.

“I’m here!” you sing, dragging out the words as you skip in, still in your cheer uniform and, of course, with a lollipop in your mouth. It’s watermelon flavour today. And once again, Mrs Lee didn’t let you pay; something about that being the last one of that flavour, so there was no point in charging you for it.

“Hey, Prez,” Jimin smiles as he looks you over, “Had practice today?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “Hey, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook keeps tuning his guitar without raising his head to spare you a glance. Taehyung, standing beside him, gives him a serious look, “Dude.”

Jungkook raises his head, “Hi,” lowers it and resumes tuning his guitar.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, swinging his bass around to hang behind him, “Hey, Shortstack, how was practice? Were you getting thrown around in the air today?”

“No, not today, Taetae,” you giggle, “But I did tumble a lot today; look how red my hands are!”

You pop your lollipop into your mouth and hold your palms up in his face, “I’m going to end up with ugly, rough hands like you guys,” your words mumble due to the candy as you pout with a slight grimace.

Taehyung grabs your wrists with a fond smile, then furrows his brows as he pretends to examine your hands, “Well, aren’t you one tough cookie.”

You smile—wait, cookie, cookie. Hmm, why does that remind you of something? Cookie? Cook? Jungkoo—Jungkookie! Right!

You gasp, startling the members; even Jungkook’s head shoots up. He watches you sceptically as you approach him.

“I almost forgot! Jungkookie, I’m supposed to tell you about the party.”

“What party?” Cherry jumps in, asking as she and the rest of the members walk through the door, entering the garage from inside.

She walks over and throws an arm around your shoulder as you answer, “The football leader told me to tell Jungkookie and the guys to come to his party. What did he say… teddy bear party?” You tap your chin, thinking.

“Football leader? Do you mean the captain, Mingyu? The Bears are having a party?” Namjoon asks with an amused grin.

“Mingyu! That’s his name!”

“Sometimes I forget you hang around those frat douches,” Cherry says.

“You know, I think I remember Jaehyun telling me about the Bears having a party at the frat house,” Jimin comments.

“Why would Mingyu tell you to tell JK about the party?” Hoseok asks.

“During practice, Jess asked me if you all were going, even though she has plans with Jungkookie tonight,” you point to Jungkook with your candy. He looks confused by what you’re saying, but you continue, “But I told her I didn’t know, so Mingyu said you all should go. He invited the cheer team, too!”

“You have plans with that bitch?” Cherry asks Jungkook.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head, then juts it to you, “I don’t know what she’s going on about.”

“Jess said you’re hanging out with her tonight. You’re not?” you ask Jungkook, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

He looks down at you, surprisingly meeting your gaze, “No, I’m not,” he sighs.

You release a breath and can’t hold back the smile on your face, “Oh... okay,” you break eye contact, looking down at your feet as you blush. His stare and words take over you; you honestly didn’t expect a direct response from him.

Cherry squeezes your shoulder, “You seriously wanna go to this party?”

“Yeah, I have to! My friend on the team is going, and I told her I would go,” you see the look of reluctance on Cherry’s face.

“Pretty, pretty please! The muscle bear said it would be fun,” you add, attempting to convince her.

“Wait, did I hear you say the cheer team is going? Like the whole team? As in multiple cheerleaders at one party?” Jimin asks you.

You nod.

And Jimin turns to the band with a firm nod and says,

“We are going to this party.“

☾☀︎

The frat house comes into view, music already pumping through the walls. You can hear the music as you walk up the porch steps, the bass thumping through the floorboards under your feet. People pack the house from the inside to the backyard; even the front lawn has a few partygoers scattered. You’re arm in arm with Cherry as you step into the house, with Yoongi and Namjoon behind you, having chosen to come here with you two instead of leaving with the others. A decision they later regretted if their groans about how long you two took to get ready are any indication.

“Okay, first objective: find the alcohol. If I’m going to be mingling among jocks, I need to be intoxicated,” Cherry announces.

The three of you chuckle at her, but the guys lead the way to the kitchen anyway. You glance around, bodies swaying to the beat on the makeshift dancefloor in the living room, pairs locking lips against the walls, a rowdy game of beer pong in the corner. Your eyes fail to find any familiar faces; although you don’t catch sight of a certain doe-eyed boy, you are scanning the place in search of Rina.

You refocus when a red solo cup gets shoved into your hands. You sniff it, scrunching your nose at the strong smell; nevertheless, you cheers with Cherry and down the drink—tequila, oh God, it’s tequila— in one go. Once the shot burns its way down your throat, you ask Namjoon to mix you a drink, asking for something much sweeter this time.

With your drink in hand, you pull Cherry in, “I have to try and find Rina.”

She nods and turns to say something in Yoongi’s ear; he nods at her in reply, and then you are off to search for your teammate. Luckily, you don’t have to search for too long; you’re passing the beer pong table when you notice a head of strawberry blonde hair sitting on the sofa nearby. You grab a hold of Cherry’s wrist as you guide her over with you.

“Rina!” you call out.

Only when you get closer do you see that she is sitting with none other than the guy who invited the team himself: Mingyu. Rina pauses midcoversation, turning away from him.

“Y/N!” she jumps up and smiles as she swoops you into a hug. You chuckle at your seemingly already intoxicated friend.

“This is Rina, my closest friend on the cheer team,” you say to Cherry, then switch to Rina, “And this is my bestie for the resties, Cherry.”

The girls give their greetings after your little introduction, and just as you expected, the three of you get along seamlessly. After a few minutes, Rina seems to remember the football player she was conversing with earlier; she sits back down beside him, bringing him into the conversation, “I was just telling Gyu, I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen so many people enjoying themselves like this. It’s nice.”

The nickname doesn’t go unnoticed by you, nor does the way Mingyu flushes it; you make a note to tease Rina about it another time.

“It is! Thanks again for the invite,” you say to Mingyu.

“Don’t mention it,” he flicks his hand, “The football and cheer team have always had a good bond. Oh, and thanks for extending my invite.”

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, and you turn to see Jimin and Taehyung playing against Hoseok and Seokjin in a game of beer pong. Your eyes wander behind Jimin, landing on Jungkook braced against the wall, drink in hand.

When you set your sights on him, your knees almost give out. He looks hot—somehow hotter than usual. He is wearing his signature baggy jeans and black chunky combat boots; his black leather jacket, unzipped to display how his fitted white shirt hugs his firm body that sets you off, and his fingers, clad with several silver rings, send you right over the edge.

Beside him stands Jess, who is without her two sidekicks for the first time. She is leaning into him, whispering in his ear, and you get a sense of Deja Vu; images of them from that night at the bar flash through your mind, but you shake them out.

Jungkook said he didn’t have plans with her. She’s here because Mingyu invited her to the party. Jungkook wouldn’t lie to you—or at least he has no reason to. If they had plans to hang out together, he would have just said so.

Last time, your disappointment held you back from interfering, but this time, you have the warmth and courage of alcohol coursing through your veins. So, with a confident stride, you head in their direction.

“Prez!” a very tipsy Jimin stops you, tackling you into an embrace.

“Hey, Chimchim,” you pat his back.

He pulls back, but his hands remain on your shoulders, clutching them, “Thank you for reminding me about this party, Prez. This is amazing! You are the best! Forget president! You are officially the queen of the fan club,” he slurs.

“Man, how are you already this far gone?” Cherry walks over.

“Cher!”

He tackles her next, swaying their bodies back and forth. Now free from the shackles that are Jimin, you spin around and find your target with his eyes already on you. You don’t let it sway you.

You exhale sharply, then force yourself to meet his gaze. And then, with zero hesitation,

“Hi, Jess,” you give her the briefest of glances, then settle on Jungkook, “Hi, Jungkookie, you look handsome!” you run your hand down one side of his jacket along the zipper.

His eyes widen in shock, and his lips part, but no words come out due to Jess’s interruption.

“Y/N, I see you made it. Jungkook and I were talking about you and your little mix-up earlier. We cleared it up, though; no need to worry.”

She takes a small, almost inconspicuous step forward, her body between you and Jungkook’s. She squeezes your elbow in faux cordiality, and you’re left puzzled.

“Mix-up? What do you mean?”

“At practice today, you misunderstood when I said I wanted to message Jungkook about hanging out at AoB’s next show, for me saying he and I had plans for tonight.”

Now, as much as you may be a bit forgetful, there is no way you mistook how she went on about having plans with Jungkook tonight. She made it clear right when Mingyu mentioned the party.

“No, I didn’t, you said—”

“It’s okay; I understand how you could get confused.”

Jungkook is still looking at you from behind Jess with an expression you can’t determine. Being blamed for something untrue this blatantly with your crush watching would typically embarrass you, but being portrayed as a liar bothers you.

“That’s not what happened, you said—”

“Little Picasso, it looks like you need a refill. Let’s get you one, come on,” Namjoon suddenly comes behind you.

He takes you by the shoulders and guides you to the kitchen; you don’t have time to grasp what’s happening.

Once at the array of bottles, Namjoon begins mixing you a drink. While pouring the liquid into a new red plastic cup, he speaks.

“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

“Hmm?” you watch him.

“Jess. She’s trying to get a rise out of you, don’t let her.”

“But what she said wasn’t true. I heard her. I would never lie to Jungkookie,” you fret.

There’s a pause as he finishes mixing your drink and hands it to you. He sighs, “People like you are better off staying clear of people like Jess, who provoke others to make themselves feel superior. She’s the kind who will always take the opportunity to walk all over you if you let her.”

“We’re on the same team; I can’t avoid being around her. And she’s the cheer captain, so I can’t be rude to her.”

“I can respect that,” he nods with a sympathetic smile, “But that doesn’t mean you should let yourself get belittled.”

You lower your head, swishing around the drink in your cup.

“She’s patronizing because she feels threatened by you.”

“I never did anything to her,” you pout.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” he mulls his words, “Evny comes out without you having to incite it. From what I heard from Cherry, you are an equally talented cheerleader as she is, dare I say more. Among your other great qualities, you also seem to be gaining attention in other areas where she seems to fall short,” he smirks after his statement.

Namjoon looks over at Jungkook and Jess, the latter failing to capture the interest of the man beside her despite her forceful attempts. With your cup covering your view from taking a sip of your drink, Namjoon averts his eyes before you notice.

“Huh?” you wonder what other areas you’re exceeding Jess in.

He shakes his head, bypassing you, and continues.

“There aren’t many people like you, Y/N. You’re a very positive person, and the world needs that. Plenty of things and people will try to test how brightly your light shines but never dim it.”

His words wrap around you like a hug, a much-needed hug. A comfort you didn’t realize you needed till now.

“Thanks, Joonbug,” you smile, but a frown soon takes place, “I don’t like this, though. I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, but I don’t want her to make Jungkookie not like me too.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Jungkook isn’t someone easily deceived; I wouldn’t worry about that,” Namjoon pats your shoulder reassuringly.

☾☀︎

After your talk with Namjoon, Cherry came looking for you with Yoongi in tow, and Cherry, ever the encourager, kept the drinks flowing. One shot became two, and two became seven. You stopped counting drinks during several rounds of beer pong against Hoseok and Taehyung.

How Jimin got cut off by Seokjin but not you two is beyond you.

Now you and she have some concoction of a cocktail in hand as you dance—or try to dance in your heels to the EDM music blasting through the speakers.

After the current song ends, you and Cherry crash down onto the sofa, out of breath and plastered. The party is still in full swing around you. You two chat and giggle about insignificant topics for a while; your sense of time has long gone. There’s a peaceful lull in between when you are both sitting there with your head resting on her shoulder, no talking, just being. Your lingering thoughts break through the pause.

“Cher, do you think I’m naive?”

“Hmm? Where did that come from?”

“Just—” you shrug, “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The words pierce through the noise of the party; you wince, deflating emotionally and physically. You slouch deeper into the sofa. Cherry doesn’t seem to catch on to the effect of her words, yet she doesn’t stop there.

“You have this… innocence about you. A pureness as if you have been untainted by the world. It makes me want to shield you from it.”

“You don’t think I’m… useless?”

Cherry cranes her neck to look down at you so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes widen.

“No! Why would you ask that? Did someone call you useless?” she sits up straight.

You pull her back to sit comfortably and place your head back on her shoulder.

“No. Not recently, anyway; I have been called that before. I was just curious what you think.”

Cherry rests her head against yours.

“Do you think you’re useless?” she asks gently.

You shake your head, “There was a time I did; someone I thought loved me made me doubt myself. I know other people’s opinions don’t matter. But I still care about how the people that matter to me think of me, and you matter to me.”

“I think you are naive, but not in the typical sense. You are one of the wisest people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something when you know someone like Namjoon,” you both chuckle at that.

Cherry reaches for your hand and holds it.

“It takes a certain kind of person to walk through life so optimistic and unaffected by—well, by life.”

You inflate; your self-esteem is experiencing a huge boost tonight.

“You matter to me too,” she squeezes your hand, “I have always been a protective person, but the guys have always been around to look out for me. Since I’m an only child, I’ve always considered them family, so it’s nice that I have a sister to look out for now.”

The sentimental bubble bursts when Yoongi emerges, smirking down at your bodies on the couch as if dumped there.

“There’s my little boozer,” Yoongi pinches Cherry’s cheek with a grin on his face like a Cheshire cat.

She swats away his hand, and he laughs.

“You ready to head out? I should get you home before your mom sends the cops after me,” he tilts his head towards the front door.

Cherry groans, tossing her head back against the couch.

“Going home means moving. I don’t know if I can manage that,” her eyes are shut while she speaks.

“Again, with the dramatics,” Yoongi grabs her hands and pulls her up with a soft grunt.

“You too, kid. Let’s go,” he reaches out and pulls you up.

The three of you walk to the door, you and Cherry stumbling, Yoongi trying to make sure neither of you falls on your face. When you see Yoongi’s shielding hand on Cherry’s lower back, you remember Jungkook. You were having so much fun in your tipsy state you didn’t realize you hadn’t seen him since you tried talking to him earlier when Jess tried embarrassing you.

The cool night air washes over you; the contrast to the inside instant. The crisp breeze kisses your hot skin, and a shiver runs down your spine as you step onto the porch. The muffled music and laughter echoed from inside; you shut your eyes and inhale deeply to try and sober up with fresh air, but instead, breathe in the scent of cigarette smoke.

You have no time to relax when Yoongi’s low voice cuts through the quiet night air.

“Oh, sick, you’re here. I need to take Cher home, so make sure Y/N gets home,” Yoongi tells someone.

“Why me? Get one of the guys to take her.”

You open your eyes, and there on the porch is Jungkook, smoking a cigarette. The smoke curls up into the air as he holds it near his face, halting his movements at Yoongi’s order.

“Jimin and Tae are even more wasted than these two, believe it or not,” he refers to his girlfriend and you, “So Seokjin has his hands full with them. And I have no idea where Hoseok and Namjoon are.”

“Throw up,” you mumble.

Jungkook and Yoongi both quickly look at you with startled expressions.

“Hobi went to throw up. Joonbug is with him,” you drawl, clarifying.

“There you go, that’s why you,” Yoongi claps Jungkook on the shoulder.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll rip one of those piercings out of your face, Jeon,” Cherry rounds Yoongi and stands chest to chest with Jungkook poking at his chest threateningly.

Cherry hugs you goodbye, and the couple are off before Jungkook can make any more protests.

Just like that, you are left alone with the guy you have been enthralled with since you met him. The thumping bass and the joyful murmurs are the only sounds between you and Jungkook as you both stand there in painful silence.

You keep your gaze locked on the street, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating presence beside you.

Jungkook leans against the railing like he has nothing better to do, smoking the remainder of his cigarette, his gaze fixed in the distance on the night sky. You sigh, side-eyeing him as you shift, restless with your arms crossed. You try to remain calm, but inside, you are as excited as ever, pondering how to use this chance to your advantage.

He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other interaction, so you leave him immersed in his thoughts.

What makes this situation a little more nerve-wracking is that you know you are not really in his good books. Yet, you can’t miss out on this moment with him because being alone like this won’t happen again so smoothly. He dismisses you whenever he gets the chance or keeps his engagement short and curt when he does pay you attention.

A beat of silence later, you ask cautiously, “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” for the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “Until I got stuck chaperoning,” he snarks.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

His sharp response had felt like a slap. Your drunken pride steps in, “You don’t have to. I can take care of myself,” you meekly contest.

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time.

Instead, he merely shifts his gaze from you to the empty, streetlight-lit road ahead before he begins to move. He drops the butt of his cigarette, putting it out with the toe of his boot, then stomps down the steps as he takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You follow immediately, walking by his side until he says, “I’m ordering an Uber.”

Your chest tightens, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

It all flashes before you in a millisecond.

Tires screeching. Glass shattering. Metal crunching. Blood. Pain. Fear.

“No!” you react instinctively and grab his arm, stopping him.

When you meet his eyes, Jungkook eyebrows furrow. Surprised and annoyed, he sends you an intense, fiery glare.

“I can’t take an Uber,” you shake your head frantically.

“Do you expect me to fly us there?” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your hold.

Your mouth opens and closes, but your throat seals shut. What possible defence could you offer?

Your nails carved crescents into your palms as you clenched your fists, your eyes tightly shut, “I-I just can’t ride in an Uber,” you force out quietly, ashamed; your voice is barely audible. A single tear slips down your cheek before you hurriedly wipe it away

Jungkook hears your voice crack and your sniffle. His scowl falters for a split second as he takes in your appearance—your teary eyes, chest rising and falling far too quickly, hands trembling at your sides. You are practically hyperventilating.

“Jesus…” he wavers, staring at your face, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes flicking around awkwardly, “You don’t have to cry about it.”

He shifts uncomfortably; abruptly, he walks away, his back now to you. You are left standing there like an abandoned kitten. He calls over his shoulder without even looking at you,

“You gonna stand there and sulk all night? Are you coming or not?”

His voice is cold and detached—as if he’s doing this out of obligation rather than concern.

Your eyes narrow, and your lips press into a thin line.

“Not,” you frown.

Jungkook freezes, leans his head back, looks up at the stars and groans, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. He lets out a slow breath before turning to you to speak again,

“What?”

You shake your head, cross your arms in protest, and pout, “I don’t want to go with you if you’re going to be a grumpy pants.”

He looks genuinely perplexed. As if you have just spoken in tongues.

“Grumpy pan—Are you a child?“

You remain silent, fixed in your spot. Feet planted on the sidewalk, arms crossed, as you and Jungkook engage in a staring contest.

Jungkook rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, cocks his pierced eyebrow. He squints his eyes at you, slipping his hands into his front pockets, “And how exactly do you plan on getting home then?“

“By myself,“ your chin lifts defiantly.

“By walking there. The same route I have to walk. Because we’re neighbours,” he deadpans.

Oh. Right. Damn, you didn’t think that through. You try to conjure up your next comeback to counter.

“Do you always have to be this difficult?” he exasperates.

“Hmph!” you stomp your foot, turning away from him to face the road.

Jungkook, for a brief moment, can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jungkook mutters his curse to himself between gritted teeth, exhaling a long aggravated breath before returning to your side.

“Alright.”

You ignore him.

Jungkook places a hand on your upper arm, using it to have you face him. The warmth of his touch vanishes just as quickly as it came.

“Look, let’s just walk home. I won’t say anything,” Jungkook holds his hands up in surrender.

You peek at him through your lashes, “You won’t be a meany? You’ll be nice?”

“I won’t be mean,” Jungkook replies, disregarding the second part of what you said.

“And…” You bite your lip, trying not to smile. Your eyes are innocent, but your tone is playful when you tiptoe, lean in a little, hesitantly, and say, “We can stop to buy a lollipop on the way?”

Jungkook, holding onto his last bit of strength, doesn’t say anything. He breathes through his nose, pressing his lips together and responding with a stiff nod.  

Like a flip of a switch, your mood brightens so fast that Jungkook flinches slightly.

“Yay! Okay, let’s go,” you cheer and brush past him.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches you head off, swaying your hips.

“Come on, Jungkookie!” you yell back to him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

That damn name.

Jungkook walks after you, wanting to hurry and get you home as fast as possible so he can get away from you just as fast.

He is left thinking about how he has a feeling that wasn’t his last hurdle of the night.

☾☀︎

Jungkook, true to his word, is on his best behaviour. But that is because he doesn’t utter a word on the walk to the convenience store. Even when your heel snags on the sidewalk and you lose footing, he catches you by the elbow with a displeased grunt and proceeds on.

“Are you seriously going to stay silent the whole way?” you wonder.

Silence.

Your shoulders brush his as you walk, your steps in sync with his, although yours are more clumsy.

“I know you said you won’t say anything, but it feels like I’m walking with a ghost,” you mope.

Silence.

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands, “Maybe you are a ghost,” you raise a hand to poke at his bicep.

Is he made out of stone or something? His arm is rock solid, like a statue. Having the perfect view of Jungkook’s profile, he does look like an ancient Greek sculpture, with chiselled features and sharp, distinct edges that Adonis would envy. With the moonlight breaking through his hair, you marvel at his beauty.

Jungkook tuts and throws you a disapproving glare.

“Didn’t you want me not to be mean?“ he gruffs.

You gasp again dramatically, “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it, he speaks,” you joke.

The thought flashes through Jungkook’s mind. With your wide, happy smile, your hands cupping your cheeks. How you look up at him with big eyes, sparkling under the glow of the night—it’s almost… cute.

He shakes his head, this time not at you but to force the thought out of his mind before it accidentally spirals into something worse.

“We agreed on just walking home—”

“And to stop and get a lolly,” you add, correcting him.

“Yeah. Whatever. My point is I didn’t agree on any conversation.”

“But it’s boring walking in silence. Plus, you said you’d be nice,” you whine.

“I said I wouldn’t be mean.”

“Well, isn’t ignoring me pretty mean?”

But he won’t answer. He only makes a disapproving sound.

“I’m so nice to you. I don’t know why you ignore me all the time. I wish you liked me as much as I like you. Jess also doesn’t like me, so you aren’t the only one. What she said wasn’t true, by the way,” you turn to face him while walking, “I know what I heard. I would never lie to you, Jungkookie. Joonbug said you wouldn’t believe her, but I still wanted to tell you myself,” you ramble on, filling the silence.

“Jeez. How drunk are you?”

“Only a little,” you singsong, pinching your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny gap in between.

“But I got you to talk to me,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his arm.

He stares at you and tilts his head slightly, studying you. Then, he lets out this half-laugh, half-disbelieving breath.

You don’t look away. Jungkook’s warm stare seeps into your skin, grounding you in a way that feels too easy.

The pure gaze you give him throws Jungkook off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat endearing.

Jungkook’s stomach lurches. He snaps his head forward and coughs awkwardly into his fist.

Woah. Stop. What is with him tonight? How drunk is he?

You give in to Jungkook’s silence this time, sighing and letting him sink into his thoughts.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, flashing in the short distance.

“Jess’s words hold no merit to me. Whether what she says is true or not doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Because I don’t care about her,” Jungkook’s tone is flat, emotionless, as if he’s simply stating a fact.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, glowing in the near distance.

“The same goes for you,” Jungkook says casually before turning to enter the shop, his response so abrupt that it catches you off guard.

↬ THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ boo 1k block limit!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! it continues where this leaves off and begins with a new scene <3

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (2/2) | orange theory

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, and liam lawson + special feature franco colapinto and lance stroll (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : quiet moments where love is tested through the smallest acts because sometimes, peeling an orange says more than 'i love you.'

୨ৎ : genre : fluff & romance ୨ৎ : word count : tbd

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : race weekend <3 also if you guys liked the addition of franco and lance pls lmk and i will keep them in my one-shots <3

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you ask him to peel an orange for you one afternoon, not thinking much of it.

he blinks, looks at the fruit in your palm like it personally insulted him. “…you can’t?”

“i can. just asking.”

kimi rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, wordless. you assume he’s doing it just to get you off his back.

except every time you glance over, he’s still quietly focused. thumbs working carefully along the seams, jaw tight in concentration.

when he hands it back, peeled neatly, he mutters under his breath, “don’t make this a thing.”

but then the next day, there’s an orange in your bag. already peeled. wrapped in a napkin with a tiny corner note that just says: eat something.

he never says it outright, but you catch him keeping extras in the fridge. watching when you reach for one, subtly grabbing it first.

once, while traveling, he grumbles, “the oranges here suck,” and spends ten minutes trying to find the sweetest one at a random airport kiosk.

kimi’s love isn’t loud. it’s in the things he does without asking. in the way he makes space for you in his routines. and he never lets you notice until it has already become a habit.

ʚ・ollie bearman

“peel this for me?” you hand ollie the orange and grin.

“easy,” he says, like a man who has peeled maybe one orange in his entire life.

cut to him ten seconds later, absolutely struggling. peel halfway off, juice everywhere, face a little too serious for citrus duty.

“you good?” you ask.

“babe, i got this. trust the process.”

by the end, it looks more like orange chunks than slices, and your kitchen towel is a crime scene.

he hands you the peeled mess with proud eyes. “there. gourmet.”

you bite into a piece and smile. “tastes like chaos.”

ollie smirks. “tastes like love.”

you think it ends there, but later that week, he walks in with a little plastic orange peeler from the grocery store. “look what i got. so i don’t suck next time.”

you stare at him, stunned.

he shrugs. “i googled it. i’m evolving.”

ollie might joke and make a mess of it, but he’s the kind of boyfriend who learns for you. who sees the meaning behind silly little gestures. and yeah, maybe he can’t peel an orange like a pro yet, but he’ll try every time. that’s what makes it perfect.

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

you hand him an orange with the simple request: “can you peel this?”

yuki doesn’t even blink. “what? why can’t you do it?”

you grin. “just testing something.”

“testing what? this isn’t school. i’m not peeling oranges on command.”

he rants for two minutes. hands flying, eyebrows furrowed, pacing like this is a full-blown debate. then he snatches the orange and goes at it like it personally offended him.

you watch him peel with furious focus. lips pursed. intensity unmatched.

when he finishes, he tosses it on the table. “there. happy?”

you burst out laughing. “yuki… you passed.”

he blinks. “wait, what?”

“it was a tiktok thing. a love test.”

“you’re insane.”

but after a few seconds, he shifts in his seat. picks up the orange again and starts pulling the white bits off.

“still kinda ugly,” he mumbles. then softer, “next time, just ask for fruit. no tests.”

the next day, he peels you one again. this time without a word, just places it in front of you like it’s nothing.

he complains. he yells. but he also listens. learns. and peels your oranges like you matter, even if he grumbles the whole time.

ʚ・isack hadjar

you hand isack an orange and ask him to peel it.

he squints at you, suspicious. “why? is it poisoned?”

“no. i just want to see something.”

“oh. it’s a bit. i hate your bits.”

still, he takes the orange. peels it slowly, deliberately, while muttering, “can’t believe i’m falling for this again.” then hands it to you with a flourish. “there you go, citrus royalty.”

you laugh and take a bite. “that was the orange peel theory,” you say. “you passed.”

he stares at you. “the what?”

you explain. he shakes his head. “you realize i’d do it even if it was poisoned, right?” then casually adds, “don’t make that weird.”

later, he sends you a meme of a guy peeling 40 oranges at once with the caption: me proving i care about you.

he’ll mock your tiktok love tests. he’ll call them dumb. but he’ll do them anyway. every single time.

because behind the sarcasm and chaos, isack hadjar is actually a big softie. if peeling an orange earns your smile, he’ll keep doing it. with flair.

ʚ・liam lawson

“peel this for me?” you ask, tossing the orange into liam’s lap.

he blinks at it, then up at you. “…sure,” he says, no questions asked.

and he does. carefully. quietly. thumbs working slowly along the peel. no mess. no grumbling.

when he hands it back, he even splits the slices for you. “don’t eat the bitter part. i got rid of it.”

you’re stunned. “that was fast.”

he shrugs. “you wanted it.”

simple as that.

the next time you reach for an orange, he just takes it from your hand and starts peeling. like it’s muscle memory now.

liam doesn’t turn it into a moment. he doesn’t overthink. but he remembers how you like the slices stacked. how you hate the white strings. he even keeps tissues in the glove box of his car just in case you bring snacks again.

he’s that kind of boyfriend. quiet. thoughtful. constant. the type who peels oranges without needing to prove anything.

and it always makes your chest feel warm.

ʚ・franco colapinto

you ask franco to peel an orange for you and he lights up like you asked him to co-host a cooking show. “of course. one sec—should i get a knife? do you like wedges?”

you blink. “whatever works…”

five minutes later, your kitchen is a michelin-star performance. orange peeled, pith removed, segments arranged like art on a napkin. and a glass of water beside it.

“there. rehydration included.”

you stare at him. “it was supposed to be a tiktok thing.”

“a test?” he repeats, looking betrayed. “wait, i crushed that.”

and he did. franco becomes obsessed. peels oranges for you daily. puts them in your bag. posts stories like: she’s well-fed, folks.

franco turns fruit care into a full-fledged love language. he’s proud of his peeling skills. starts competing with himself over neatness and speed.

and every time he hands one to you, he says something like, “nothing but the best for my love.”

it’s not about the orange. it’s about how happy he is to give something to you. how he turns a silly test into a part of how he loves.

ʚ・lance stroll

“can you peel this for me?” you ask.

lance looks up from his book, then at the orange. he nods once and sets his bookmark down.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t make a joke. just peels it, slowly and carefully. removes every bit of the pith before handing it to you with a quiet, “here.”

you almost expect more. but that’s it.

he goes back to reading.

when you tell him about the trend, he raises an eyebrow. “you know i’d do anything for you, right? not just fruit.”

after that, he just starts doing it. no asking. orange? peeled. banana? peeled. strawberries? washed and in a bowl.

it’s not a big gesture. he doesn’t make it a production.

but he listens. he shows up.

and you start to notice how often he does things without being asked. like quietly plugging your charger in at night or packing snacks before a long drive.

lance loves in peaceful, reliable ways. no spotlight. just presence. and that’s exactly why it sticks with you.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[alpali]

Atsumu stands in the convenience store with pursed lips. Osamu had refused to cook for him so here he is, deciding on what he’s supposed to snack on. He scratches his head in thought.

“That damn jerk.” He mumbles under his breath.

He hears the faint chime of the doors, as they open and close. Then he’s back to concentrating. That is until a girl wraps their arms around his neck. His eyes going wide, as he stumbles a bit.

“What the hell-”

“Baby there you are!” You say a little loud, a waver in your voice.

“Please help me.” You whisper and his ears perk up.

He’s a little weirded out but he can sense the tension in your body. As if on cue a rather sketchy man turns the corner of the isle, staring you down.

His eyes narrow at the man, his arm now circling around your waist. He keeps you tight against him. The man inches a little closer, as if he’s glancing at the products. Atsumu clicks his tongue.

“Ya got a problem?” He calls out to the man.

The man glances up at him. Atsumu towers over him with ease. His unwavering glare and cold demeanor making the man step back. He gently guides you behind him.

“I suggest ya get yer sorry ass outta here. Before I make ya.” He smiles but the man knows better than to believe Atsumu is fucking around.

So with a scoff the man is leaving without another word or glance. You sigh loudly, a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in.

“I’m so sorry!” You shriek, bowing immediately. Atsumu is surprised, quickly trying to get you stop.

“S’fine really.” Atsumu hovers over you, wavering his hands like a mad man.

“Maybe next time be more careful. Don’t go trustin’ people like that.” He lightly scolds and you nod.

“Yer lucky ya got stuck with me though.” He laughs and you feel at ease.

“Please, let me treat you.” You say with a timid smile on your face.

He’s grins at your face. Only then does he really take you in. You’re beautiful and you smelt good too.

“Nah. S’alright.” He smiles, but you’re persistent.

“Please?”

Atsumu blinks and well damn it he can’t say no when you have a pretty face and sweet voice like that. Yet at the last second he pays for the things as you were reaching for your wallet.

You both walk out with different expressions. You’re wearing a pout and he’s staring down at you with a grin. You both stand outside awkwardly for a bit until you ask him a question.

“Sorry but do you know where the station is?”

He blinks.

“Want me to walk ya there?”

“N-No! You’ve already helped me so much.” You laugh nervously and he shakes his head.

“Nuh uh I’m walking ya.” He begins to walk.

“H-Hey!” You yell, falling into step with him. He smiles down at you as you pout.

“Do ya always pout like that?”

“No.” You grumble and he laughs.

You guys make small talk as he walks you to the station, making sure you’re close to him but on the inside of the sidewalk. He introduces himself and you introduce yourself as well.

“Pretty name.” He comments and you flush.

“Thanks.” You mess with your hands and he smiles.

When the station comes into view, he pouts. He didn’t think he’d be this let down at you having to go.

But just letting you go…felt so wrong to him. His heart panged in his chest.

“Well this is my stop.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Right.” He mumbles.

“Thank you Atsumu, you’re very kind.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He waves his hand.

It’s funny.

Two complete strangers, bidding goodbye as if you’d see eachother the next day and the day after that.

A red thread wraps itself around the both of your hearts. And as you both are a distance away.

It tugs.

Causing you both to lock eyes, for what seems to be the last time.

You send him a warming smile and his eyes soften.

With that you’re gone.

Atsumu is left standing there, the bag in hand. He feels rather empty. He walks the rest of the way home with a complete frown on his face.

The next day he’s walking with Osamu through the halls, on there way to volleyball practice. As Atsumu rambles about his sets, his words get caught up in his throat.

And there’s that tug again.

He stops in his tracks.

His eyes scanning everywhere in the hallway. When he looks behind him he finds you there, as if time has stopped.

You both mirror eachother, but Atsumu is quicker.

His eyes sparkle, his smile growing.

And that red thread finally ties its knot.

[xiaberryy]

“Thank you, Caleb!” the little girl who was beaming with joy stood on her tiptoes to plant a sweet kiss on Caleb’s cheek.

ten year old Caleb was stunned, eyes wide and ears flushed red. he didn’t think he did something particularly special. it was just some snack she’d been craving. so, he saved up three days of his allowance money to take her to the nearest convenience store after school.

it wasn’t much but her reaction made him feel like he gave her the world. he puffed up his chest proudly, a boyish grin spread across his red tinted cheeks.

the next morning, Caleb woke up earlier to finish the homework she neglected out of frustration. the sounds of pencil scratching on paper roused her from slumber.

she sleepily rubbed her eyes, “Caleb..what are you doing?”

he swiftly swept the eraser particles strewn across the paper before flapping it proudly, “oh, y’know..just helping out a certain pip-squeak with her little math problem,” he faked nonchalance, the corners of his lips twitching.

“what?!” she gasped as she sat up. she wasted no time discarding her blanket and rushing towards him.

her eyes widened when she saw how accurately he mimicked her handwriting. he also purposely made some mistakes and left faint marks of the previous answers to make it seem natural.

“Caleb, you really are the best!!” she squealed before eagerly peppering kisses on his cheeks. two on both sides, he noted the improvement.

since then, she noticed how Caleb became progressively nicer to her; he’d do her hair so good it earned her praises from everyone, pack up the most mouth-watering lunches, sneak her some sweets and snacks every time grandma banned her from eating them; of course, she’s elated to receive this treatment.

however, Caleb noticed that the amount of cheek kisses he acquired wasn’t linear to his efforts to please her.

weeks passed by and she found him staring, pouting, then full on sulking out of nowhere. she blinked owlishly every time she caught him doing so.

the gears inside Caleb’s head turned, generating various ideas to obtain her cheek kisses. after all, he couldn’t just wait anymore! he knew how dense his little princess could be.

he’s determined to get at least one kiss by tonight. while she was in the shower, he let himself into her room and looked around. his eyes landed to the time table of her school subjects.

“math..” he recalled her complaining about another homework on their way home today. since he did the one she had last week, it’s obvious she’d be lost without his help.

once he heard the bathroom door creaking, he swiftly escaped from her room.

a few minutes after that, he could hear faint sounds of footsteps heading closer to his room.

his hand balled around the pen in his grip as he tried his best to look like he wasn’t eagerly waiting for her arrival.

under 10 seconds, the creaking of his door signaled her arrival. as usual, she let herself in without bothering to knock.

“Caleb, i don’t understand my homework..” she dragged her feet as she walked up to him, “can you help me?”

his heart hammered against his ribs. chants of yes, yes, yes! echoed in his mind. he was internally pumping his fists and doing a celebratory cartwheel.

he coolly looked up from his own homework. scanned her paper. then, flashed her a warm smile, “sure. it’ll cost you four cheek kisses, pip-squeak,”

he placed his elbow on the table, chin on his palm, and tilted his head before pulling his lips into a cheekier smile, “would you like to pay upfront?”

[dollishmehrayan]

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Hey Ofstarsandvibranium,

I have 2 ideas about ER-Mom. Can you do a story about the first-time reader coming to the ER. Or she gives advice to Mel and / or Dennis.

Personal Door Dash

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Robby x F!Reader

Summary: In the early stages of you and Robby dating, you decide to stop by his work to deliver him some lunch.

Mom of the ER | The Pitt Masterlist

It'd been a few days since you've been able to see Michael. He's been working a lot, so your forms of communication has been primarily through texting, phone calls, and facetime.

You admit, you've been clingy. He's so sweet and kind, smart and funny. You're drawn to him and want to spend as much time as possible. So after the fourth day of him not being able to go see you. You decide to go see him.

You pick up some takeout from an Italian restaurant near the hospital. You even get some extra garlic bread for his colleagues. When you enter through the door, you get stopped by security.

"Sorry, ma'am, can I help you?" the young man asks you.

"Oh! Hi! Sorry, um, I'm here to drop off some food for a doctor here." You lift the takeout, the smell of garlic and herbs wafting from the bag.

"What's the doctor's name?"

"Robinavitch."

He nods, "Okay, wait here. Gimme one minute."

"Thank you!" you give him a polite smile and patiently wait by the door.

You watch as he heads around the corner but you don't see where he's gone after that.

_______________

Ahmad knocks on the door to the room Dr. Robby is in, "Hey, Dr. Robby?"

The doctor excuses himself from his patient, "What's up Ahmad?"

"There's a lady here to drop off food for you."

Dr. Robby looks at him in confusion, "I didn't order any food. Did she say her name?"

"No, I didn't ask. Sorry," Ahmad looks at the doctor a little sheepish.

Robby sighs, "It's fine, uh, lemme finish up here and I'll be out in a few."

_______________

You're still standing there waiting patiently when the security guard comes back, "He said he'll be a few minutes. He's just finishing up with a patient."

"Sounds good. Thanks!"

You stand there and the security guard sighs, "That food smells good."

"It's from the Italian place a few blocks down. Georgina's! Actually," you pull out the box of extra garlic bread, and grab one. You hold it out to him, "Here!"

The security guard is hesitant, "Isn't that Doctor Robby's food?"

"I bought extra for him to share with his department. So it's fine!"

He takes it, "Wow. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Oh! Here's a napkin too," you pull one out and he takes him, "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Ahmad."

"Nice to meet you, Ahmad. You might be seeing me more often." You say and then see Michael in your peripherals.

You turn to him with a wide smile, "Hey."

Michael pecks your lips, "Hi, are you my personal Door Dash now?"

You snort, "Maybe. I'm sorry for ambushing you like this. I just wanted to see you for a little bit and wanted to make sure you're eat, so," you hand him the takeout and he's surprised by the weight.

"Jesus, honey, you order the entire restaurant?"

You roll your eyes, "No. Your food's at the bottom, but I ordered a box of extra garlic bread for your staff."

"You didn't have to do that."

You give him a nonchalant shrug, "I wanted to."

"Well thank you. I'll make it up to you, I promise," he looks at you with regret.

"I know, Michael," you lean in and kiss him, "I can manage a little longer without seeing you now. Just needed a little glimpse in person."

"You won't have to wait much longer. I promise you," he murmurs and kisses your head, "Thank you again for the food."

"You're welcome. And make sure you share that garlic bread!"

"No promises!" Michael says as he walks away, heading to the break room to store the food away.

________________________

"Tingnan mo siya," Princess says to Perlah, nodding in the direction of you and Dr. Robby. Look at him.

"Sino yun?" Perlah asks, both nurses watching as their attending doctor interacts with you. Who is that?

"Asawa niya ba yun?" Is that his wife?

"Hindi siya kasal." He's not married.

"Sigurado ka ba?" Are you sure?

The two nurses continue to gossip in Tagalog, not knowing Dana has rejoined them at central, "What're you looking at?"

The women startle and turn to their charge nurse, "Does Robby have a wife?"

Dana scoffs, "No," she peers over the nurses and watch as you two kiss and make your good-byes, "Holy shit."

When Robby heads their way and they're ready to pounce, "Nope!" The doctor says.

Dana follows while Princess and Perlah stay back, giving each other a look.

"Since when did you get back into dating?"

"Recently."

"How recently?"

They enter the breakroom and Robby pulls out the box of garlic bread and sets it on the table, "She got you guys some garlic bread."

Dana nods in approval, "I like her already," she flips open the lid and takes a piece of bread, "Where'd you meet her?"

"At the grocery store."

"What, were you grabbing at the same apple and your hands touched?"

"Last jug of milk," Robby says plainly and Dana stands there looking at him.

"I can't tell if you're joking or not."

He shrugs, "It's a new thing, okay? Don't make it weird. I'm-I'm rusty so we're trying to go at an easy pace."

Dana holds up her hands, "Alright, but I'll let you know now that Princess and Perlah have probably told the entire department by now."

Robby sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "It's-Whatever. I don't have time for this and don't eat all the garlic bread. Share." he points a finger at her and she takes a bite, watching the Robby exit the break room.

Chewing on the bread, Dana nods, looking at it. She mumbles to herself, "This is some fucking good garlic bread."

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

New Year's Night. l Joel Miller

Summary: not everything could be perfect

Warnings: fluff, some worries and concerns, they still don't tell others about the pregnancy, Joel is protective

A/N: what would life be without a little drama or angst?

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

As you entered the building, you quickly took off your gloves and hat; it was much warmer inside. You listened for a moment, then went deeper, searching for the source of the noise. Even though it was incredibly cold outside, the renovations were still going on. Another house had to be made habitable as soon as possible, and Jackson was steadily growing. Even without patrols, Joel had his hands full, but he was doing what he was really good at, so it gave him satisfaction. Although he never hid it - a well-stocked DIY store in the area would be nice too.

You peeked into one of the rooms and saw his broad shoulders as he crouched in the kitchen under the sink, struggling with some pipe.

“Fuck…” he hissed under his breath, “Fuck the valve, I should have fucked this whole thing up and…”

“Am I bothering you?”

Joel turned around abruptly at the sound of your voice, and after a moment of surprise, a smile spread across his face. “You came to the rescue?” he asked.

“With coffee, if that helps,” you replied, showing him the thermos of the hot beverage.

He stood up and reached for a cloth to wipe his hands. “It’s bloody cold, you should be home,” he said.

You opened your jacket, showing him the thick woolen sweater you wore underneath. “I’m wrapped up warm, and the cold isn’t scary to us.”

Us. Joel smiled, looking at the place where your child grew up safe and sound. The days passed, and everything became more and more real.

He took the thermos from you and poured himself some steaming coffee. The warm drink warmed his insides pleasantly.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" you asked, walking around the kitchen and looking into the empty cabinets. "Are you going to the party tonight?"

“I could have guessed you didn’t come here without a reason,” Joel mumbled, taking another sip to hide the smile that appeared on his lips.

The New Year’s party was a long-awaited event in town. You’d mentioned it a few days earlier and made it clear that you wanted to go. But Joel loved to tease you. “We have a lot of work to do,” he said as he left the house, and you rolled your eyes.

“I could always go with Jesse,” you threw it out casually.

“And isn’t he dating Dina?”

“They broke up a few days ago.” You leaned against the locker and looked at Joel. You knew his game perfectly and you loved playing it anyway. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, we can go.” He immediately noticed how wide your eyes were in delight. “But I’m only doing this because I feel sorry for Jesse.”

“Asshole.” You hissed.

Joel spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness at your words, but the corners of his mouth turned up. Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and the quick steps of heavy boots headed your way. A moment later, a teenage boy with a shock of red hair appeared in the doorway. He must not have been expecting you, because he nodded quickly.

“Hi, Billy.” You greeted him.

“Good morning, Mrs. Miller.” He replied in a slightly frightened voice, you blinked in surprise, but he was already turning to Joel. “Mr. Miller, we have a problem with the sewage outside. Mr. Johnson wants you to come.”

“Sure, I’m coming. Bloody sewage.”

Billy was clearly pleased, he nodded in your direction and practically ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Mrs. Miller?" you repeated, surprised.

Joel waved his hand and closed the thermos. "He's young, and his mother raised him really well."

"Yeah, I can see that." you replied, pulling your gloves out of your jacket pocket. "Maybe I should go to that party with him?"

Joel looked at you, then burst out laughing. "Zip yourself up properly before you go outside."

The room was full of people, and the music mixed with the hum of conversation. Everyone was in a good mood. Good food, beer, and pleasant company. That was a great way to spend the last evening of the year.

“I don’t think we’ll be here long. Elijah’s been restless since morning. I think his teeth are coming out.” Ann corrected her son, who was squirming in her arms.

“Really?” you let the boy squeeze your finger. “I’m glad you came at all. Joel must have taken a lot of persuading.”

“You know damn well he does it to annoy you. It’s just his nature.” She laughed. “I’m surprised you’re even here. Didn’t he want to wrap you in a blanket and hide you safely in the house?”

“He tried! But I ran away.”

You both laughed. Ann had kept her word and hadn’t told anyone except Shane about your different condition, because it was obvious. Shane didn’t seem particularly surprised, but he was glad you hadn’t insisted on more patrols. “Joel would have buried me in the foundation of the house if I had agreed,” he said.

Your condition wasn't visible to others yet, and the thick layers of clothing certainly helped. The second trimester was slowly approaching, and you welcomed each day with relief.

Something small unexpectedly bumped into you. A group of children were running around the room to the sound of music and carelessly bumping into people.

"Hey! Watch out, kids!"

Joel's voice caught the attention of the children and they all froze for a moment before politely walking over to their friends.

"They're just kids," you scolded him, barely holding back your laughter.

"I know. Are you okay?"

You nodded. If Joel had always kept an eye on you, of course for your safety, now he doubled his attention. It was understandable and although you sometimes pointed out to him that he was overreacting and that if he was in such a state now, what would happen when you were already in the sixth or eighth month, but you were always grateful for his support.

It wasn't like you didn't worry anymore. Your jokes were only meant to mask the fact that every day you were grateful that your condition wasn't changing, that nothing bad had happened to you. And Joel knew it well.

“If the world was normal, I probably wouldn’t be so scared for you. Now I have more and more grey hairs every day,” he said one morning.

“This is our new normal. And I think we’re doing really well here,” you replied, stroking his cheek. “I know you want us to be safe. And we are.”

The music changed and soon you felt Joel place his hand on your back. “Will you dance with me?”

You couldn’t refuse and soon Joel was pulling you onto the dance floor, where a few people were already there. A strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his solid body. He was a really good dancer, you had to admit that.

“So, what are your plans for next year?” you asked.

Joel cleared his throat and smiled. “You. And the little one. And Ellie, I promised to teach her how to play guitar, but we’re still bad at it.”

“I like those plans.” You replied, brushing your lips against his jaw. “Those are good plans.”

You danced in silence for a moment, but it didn't escape your notice that Joel was clearly worried about something. Even though he was smiling and being there with you, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"What's going on?" you asked as the music stopped.

He bowed his head, but then spoke again. "The last patrol found traces of a camp. Quite a large one."

"Are they refugees?"

Joel shook his head. He looked around the room and slowly led you to a place with fewer people. He took a deep breath. “Jesse and Shane noticed a large group of people. They’re riders or something. They’re hanging around.”

You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. Suddenly, the charm of the party was gone. “Do you think we’re being threatened?”

He looked at you, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know…” He finally said, “I wish I could say no, but I can’t. We’re increasing patrols, we need to be more careful.”

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Joel tilted his head and looked at you with a mixture of fondness and concern. “Stay out of this, honey.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. “We could use your help, but you’ve got the most important cargo inside you right now. Okay?”

You nodded, allowing him to wrap his arm around you and kiss your temple.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait @mmmunson

[endofthelinegang]

robert "bob" reynolds

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  bob reynolds x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  dating Bob Reynolds means loving someone gentle, wounded, and quietly devoted — a man who gives love like it’s a sacred promise, not a performance. Through emotional highs and lows, he builds a world with you that’s slow, deliberate, and filled with the kind of quiet safety he never thought he’d have.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ none besides bad words

Bob is deeply introspective — and honest about it. He reflects constantly, especially after arguments or miscommunications. With you, he’s always circling back: “Did I make you feel unseen when I said that?” It builds a foundation where you feel safe to be human, because he’s not trying to win — he’s trying to understand you. He wants to be able to discuss things rather than have constant arguments. 

He craves stability but isn’t always sure he deserves it. That means you become his grounding point. He’ll start looking for you the second he walks through the door, like home doesn’t fully exist until you’re in view. When you bring him into your routines — your morning coffee, your playlist while you clean — he treats it like a privilege to be included. If you have to run to the store or the gas station he is there. If you wanna watch a movie he bring his book and sit with you. Finally if you wanna do anything with him you barely have to ask, in fact he usually only hears the “Hey do you wanna-” part and then he follows up as you go to do it so he knows more of what is going on. 

He loves being touched, but only on his terms at first. You notice how he relaxes into your touch slowly, cautiously. The first time you instinctively reach for his hand and he doesn't pull away? He watches your fingers like they’re made of something holy. Eventually, you find him reaching for you, thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles during movies, tucking you into his chest during storm, letting you play with his hair while he reads books, and letting you put your legs on his when you do whatever little thing you wanna tinker with. 

He spirals sometimes — but he fights hard to stay above the water. When he feels it coming, he doesn’t shut you out anymore. He’ll gently say, “I need a quiet day, but I want you here.” So you bring him whatever he wants, read nearby, or just lie beside him. Being allowed to witness those days — without having to fix them — becomes the quiet intimacy that defines your bond. 

He has deeply specific tastes. You learn quickly that Bob doesn’t just like things — he feels them. He’ll explain for ten minutes why a certain guitar chord feels like autumn heartbreak. You catch yourself falling for him more during those long, winding tangents, just watching his eyes light up while talking to you. He loves music, it is one of the only good things he can recall from being high so much in his teens. He also likes to try and paint, he knows he is not great at it but he does like to see what he can come up with. And he loves to do those things with you. 

He is loyal beyond reason. It’s not performative — it’s bone-deep. You never wonder where his loyalty lies. Even on hard days, you know: he chose you. And if anyone ever hurts you? Bob turns terrifyingly focused. Not violent — just unshakeable in his defense of you. You ever need a plus one he is there. 

He asks permission for everything early on. Your first kiss doesn’t happen in a whirlwind — it happens after he looks at you for a long moment, sitting so close you could practically feel his bottom lip touching yours, with his lips parted, and  he asks quietly, “May I?” It sets the tone for everything that follows: respect, softness, reverence. You always feel safein his arms — never cornered.

He is surprisingly domestic. He finds comfort in doing things for you. Fixing a lightbulb, unclogging a drain, reorganizing your fridge. He’ll hum while sweeping your room, look proud when you notice. Sometimes you wake up to fresh coffee and folded laundry, and you realize: Bob takes care of you the way he wishes someone had taken care of him.

He makes you feel chosen, not trapped. He tells you often — “I’m here because I want to be.” When you have bad days, when you cry or say something too sharp, he still stays. He reminds you that being loved by him isn’t a performance test. You are enough, and he is choosing you — even then.

He journals but doesn’t let anyone read it. You find out about his journals when you catch him writing at 2am. One day, when he trusts you deeper than he thought possible, he lets you read a page. It’s a dream about you. A memory of your laugh. Your name written like it means something salvific. You cry reading it. He holds you after.

He worries about overwhelming you. He’s scared his past, his sadness, his depth will swallow you whole. So he checks in, constantly: “Do I make things harder?” The first time you say, “No, Bob, you make things softer,” he stares at you like you just gave him a new reason to live.

He remembers every story you tell him. One day you mention a bakery your grandmother used to take you to, and weeks later he drives you two towns over just to get their cinnamon bread. “You said the smell reminded you of her.” He doesn’t just listen — he cataloguesyou like you’re sacred.

He’s got a crooked, beautiful sense of humor. Your favorite thing is when he cracks a joke mid-breakdown — deadpan, absurd, perfect. He never uses humor to deflect — he uses it to lighten, to remind you both you’re still here, still real, still together.

He’s sensitive to your emotional cues. If your voice changes even a little, he tilts his head and asks, “Did something happen?” He doesn’t press, but always leaves a door open. And on the nights you can’t find the words, he’ll just hold you until they come. Or until they don’t. Either way, you’re not alone.

He likes doing puzzles and crosswords. You start helping him with the ones he saves just for you. Sundays become your puzzle mornings, coffee steaming, knees brushing. He teaches you the clues he loves best — the wordplay ones. You start looking forward to the quiet click of answers falling into place with him beside you.

He’s big on pet names but never the usual ones.You’ll be brushing your teeth and he’ll come up behind you and say, “What’s the world’s luckiest creature doing this morning?” Sometimes you laugh. Sometimes you get teary. Because he says it like he means it — like you’re the miracle he gets to keep.

He doesn’t like mirrors. So when you’re getting ready, he’ll often stand behind you and just look at you. Not the mirror. Just you. You start to notice how often he compliments how you see him — not how he sees himself.

He buys weird stuff when he shops alone. You come home to find a lava lamp, a taxidermy owl, and a tiny bonsai tree one day. He shrugs: “They looked like they needed us.” It becomes a game. You fill your space with beautiful, odd little rescues — like him. Like each other.

He gives quiet but heartfelt compliments. He doesn’t shout his affection. He slips it in while handing you a cup of tea: “No one has a smile like yours.” Or whispers it in the dark after a nightmare: “You are the reason I come back.” You learn to listen closely — his love is laced into the silence.

He loves you deliberately.With Bob, there’s no autopilot. He loves you like a man who had to relearn how to live — and decided you were worth it. Every morning he reaches for you like a prayer. Every night he holds you like an answer.

He thrives on consistency, even in the smallest ways. Bob loves knowing your routines. If you like tea at 4PM, he’ll start setting the mug beside the kettle at 3:59, every day without fail. He never makes a show of it — he just remembers, quietly turning your comfort into a rhythm he honors with care.

He teaches you how to be patient with yourself. Being with Bob makes you slower in the best way. He doesn’t rush conversations, apologies, or healing. So when you’re harsh on yourself, he’ll just say, “Give yourself the same grace you give me.” And you do, eventually, because he leads by example.

He doesn't laugh often — but when he does, it's everything. It’s sudden, usually low and breathless, like it startles even him. You make it your life’s mission to earn those laughs. And the first time you make him wheeze-laugh until he’s crying? He looks at you like you’re the first light he’s seen in years.

He has entire playlists for you. Not just “your song” — full playlists, carefully ordered, titled weird things like “If I Could Speak in Color” or “You, When You’re Sleeping.” He plays them when you cook together, or during road trips, smiling quietly as the lyrics say what he sometimes can’t.

He talks in metaphors when he’s overwhelmed. Sometimes it’s easier for him to say, “It feels like the sky is pressing down,” than to say “I’m anxious.” You learn the language he uses to describe his mind. And instead of asking “What’s wrong?” you begin to ask, “Where are you today?” And he always answers.

He can’t fall asleep without hearing your voice. If you’re apart for a few days, he calls you just to hear you breathe while you talk about your day. If you’re home together, he waits for your voice to anchor him — murmured thoughts in the dark, even just soft humming. Silence used to be scary. With you, it’s just peace.

He notices your moods before you do. “You okay?” he’ll ask on a day when you haven’t said anything yet. When you blink at him in surprise, he shrugs. “Your eyes don’t crinkle the same when you smile.” He doesn’t push — he offers. And you realize what a gift it is to be seen like that. 

He lets you in on the hard stuff, eventually. There are things he doesn't say right away — his past, his fears, the guilt he still carries. But when he does open up, it's never dramatic. He just says it simply, like he's handing you a piece of his armor. You never try to fix it. You just hold it — and stay.

He gives love the way a survivor does: carefully, but completely. Bob doesn’t love with fireworks. He loves like a storm survivor building a cottage on the shore — every nail steady, every wall built to keep you safe. When he says “I love you,” it doesn’t feel like a confession. It feels like a vow.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I loved the recent "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" imagine....what about...

Calling your boyfriend husband on ACCIDENT? 😍🤭

By the time that I'm actually getting around to this, "calling your husband boyfriend on purpose" is now no longer recent. Oops! Sorry! (If you want to read that imagine you can find it here.) But is it really an accident? I feel like it could honestly be both, but the accident factor would make the whole thing so much cuter!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): fluff, brief alcohol, suggestive themes, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Can you help me, John?”

“Yeah, love. Give me a minute.”

The counter top is covered in groceries. It’s the first big day in the new apartment with John. The two of you have been dating for a few years now, but this is the first time you’ve properly lived together.

John comes around the corner in nothing but a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sweaty from building furniture.

“There’s ice cream. Don’t want it to melt.”

“Course.” He gives you a quick kiss before digging through the bags, removing items as he goes.

The two of you work seamlessly, putting away all the groceries quickly.

“Give me a kiss.”

John grins, and goes in for a tooth-achingly sweet one.

“Thanks, hubby.”

The word is out without thought. You don’t even realize you’ve said it until John blinks, a bit startled.

“Hubby?”

You don’t know what to say. You’re staring at him, a bit flustered.

But John smiles. He leans in, stealing another kiss. “You want to marry me?”

“Do you want to marry me?” you counter.

“You proposing?” teases John.

“Stop answering my question with a question.”

John chuckles and pulls you close. “Wifey sounds good on you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“The husband will love this!”

Husband slips out naturally, as if you and Kyle have always been together. The two of you have been dating for years, but there is no marriage. There isn’t even an engagement. But Kyle isn’t around to hear the slip up—at least, you don’t think so.

The store assistant smiles. “Happy to help,” she says brightly before walking away.

You exhale slowly, and turn around, nearly smacking into Kyle.

“Holy shit,” you say, placing your hand on your chest. “You startled me.”

Kyle has a smirk on his face with arms crossed over his chest. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“That I swore?” you ask, perplexed.

“No,” he laughs. “You called me your husband.”

Oh shit.

“You heard that?”

Kyle leans in as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I did.”

“And?” you prompt, trying to brush this off as nothing.

Kyle shrugs. “Think I like it.”

You blink. “You like it.”

Kyle glances around but there isn’t anyone nearby. He takes a step into your space, lowering his head as if to kiss you. “Say it again.”

You lick your lips. “Husband.”

“Again.”

“Husband.”

Kyle closes the distance, stealing a kiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Across the pub, your boyfriend is ordering drinks at the bar.

The two of you are enjoying a free weekend. They are few since Simon is always working—always off on some mission.

What isn’t all that nice is the woman talking to Simon at the bar. He’s politely ignoring her, but she clearly cannot take a hint. She’s smiling at Simon like she wants to climb him. Plus, you’re feeling bold. You have a few drinks in you at this point. The liquor is hot. It is poison.

And you’re ready to strike. Show some fangs.

You stride toward the bar, shoving yourself between the woman and Simon. Wrapping your arms around Simon’s waist, you snuggle up to him.

“Hello, husband,” you croon.

Simon’s mouth quirks with amusement as the woman behind you snorts and makes a flippant remark.

Going up on your toes, you reach for a kiss, and Simon obliges. It is slow. Wet. Way too intimate for such a public setting. You kiss him like you’re starved.

When the two of you part, the woman is gone.

Simon’s hand dives, grabbing your ass in a possessive hold. “Husband?”

“It slipped.”

“Sure it did, love,” laughs Simon.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is John. My husband.”

Husband.

The word slips out and you’re not able to draw it back. You can’t correct yourself. Not in front of your peers. You’ve fumbled this completely.

Johnny’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline, his gaze pointed as he glances at you. But he doesn’t correct you either, and you decide to roll with it.

“That’s lovely,” replies your boss. “How long have you two been married?”

This is a new job. It’s the first company party you’re attending, and bringing a plus one is encouraged.

But you’re not able to answer. Johnny steps up and takes the lead.

“Newly,” he says, grinning like it’s true.

Your boss laughs. “That accent! My goodness. Scottish?”

“Aye. Born and bred.”

“How lovely.”

Johnny inclines his head. His hand delicately grabs your arm, pulling you in. “Pleasure meeting you.”

The two of you move on, but Johnny takes a turn, drawing you to the side, his head lowered.

“Husband?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“It slipped out,” you mutter.

“Your coworkers are gonna think you’re a married woman.”

“I know.”

“Should make it official,” shrugs Johnny.

“What?”

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his own. “You heard me.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sour Candy

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You and Tyler have known each other most of your lives, so what happens when you finally admit your long harboured feeling for each other?

Disclaimer: This does contain swearing and smut (towards the end) so 18+. A lot of fluff, mutual pining, oblivious idiots. Brother's best-friend/ best friend to lovers. Tyler helps reader with prom-trouble, mentions of anxiety, tornadoes, reader being an EMT, blood and minor injuries. Mostly fluffy moments between Tyler and Reader. Also, this is a long one -- kinda takes place over ten-ish years (starting from senior prom). Not fully proof read.

You’d known Tyler since you were a kid. When your brother was in the fourth grade and he brought home a scrappy blonde kid who introduced himself by shaking your father’s hand and handing your mother some flowers he’d picked from the side of the road on the way home, you saw your brother had a friend for life. 

A good one. 

And it was only proved time and time again. 

Of course, they were still boys so you couldn’t join in all of their games. But you’d still sneak to your bedroom window to watch them play cowboys in the backyard when you should have been in bed. 

Stuipd older brothers getting a later bedtime.

However, as you thought back, the time when he proved it without even trying was during your senior prom. 

For weeks you’d been looking for the right dress. You’d tried on at least forty with your mom over the course of two weeks, another ten – some repeaters – with your best friend, and a further fifteen with your brother. 

He’d stomped into your room when you were in the middle of completing extra credit for your chemistry class. 

“Come on,” he said. 

“Where’re you goin’?”

He just stood by your bedroom door with a hand on his hips. A look you’d see often when he finally had his own kids. “You’ve not picked out a dress yet and your prom is in three weeks. Mom says I need to help you find one.” 

You looked back to your homework. You were almost finished. 

“It can wait. Come on. Let’s go.”

Two hours later you were inside yet another dress store trying on different dresses. 

“I thought girls were meant to be excited when dress shopping.”

You rolled your eyes from behind the changing curtain as you wriggled another dress up your body. “We do. I know I do but…it’s…” You grunted as you pulled the dress up. Was each one getting heavier? 

“What are you doin’, ridin’ a bull in there?”

Eventually you pulled the curtain across and picked up the dress as you walked out and turned to look in the mirror. “It’s exhausting.”

“So why not just pick one? What about this one?”

You turned in the mirror a few times, considering it. Then shook your head. “Not this one.”

“If you’re not that bothered, why not just-”

“Because it’s gotta be perfect,” you turned and told him. “I know people party at college but I’ve already seen some of my assignments. I’m gonna be swamped if I wanna pass with honours. This is the last night I get to be…free? I want it to be perfect.”

So, for the next thirty minutes, you tried on more dresses until finally your brother knocked on the curtain. 

“Knock, knock.”

“What?”

“Don’t bite my head off.” He stood back and held up a dress. “Tyler said try this one.”

You held up the hanger before looking back at your brother surprised. “Tyler’s here?” Peaking your head around the corner, you spotted him standing leaning against the wall across from you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he drawled, a slight grin on his face. “He said he needed back-up. Try it on.”

“I think I’ve tried on every-”

Your brother pushed your face back inside your dressing room, along with your dress. “Just try it on.”

You sighed and did as he said. Another day, you might have fought him on it. But you were tired. And hungry. 

Letting the other dress drop to the floor with a heavy thud – you were thankful to be out of it – you let out a long breath before finally unzipping the dress and trying it on. 

It went on easier than a lot of the others, and it didn’t feel as restricting. Finally opening up the curtain, you walked out and stood on the small step up before looking at yourself in the mirror. 

And for the first time you had that smile slowly growing on your face. The feeling your mom had told you about. The giddiness and excitement to put it on again. 

“So, is this the dress?” You looked into the mirror and found your brother and Tyler stood back. Tyler had his phone out, recording the whole thing. 

You nodded. “This is the dress.”

“Hallelujah!” Your brother threw his arms in the air and turned around. “I’ll go and tell the cashier.”

As your brother disappeared, Tyler closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before sauntering over to you. “Glad he called me?”

You smiled, turning to look at him. “Very. Remind me to bring you instead of him when I chose a wedding dress.”

Tyler chuckled and looked back at you through the mirror. “I’ll be there.”

Little did you know, the week before your prom, your opinion on the prom would do a complete 180. 

“A-actually, I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

The dinner table went silent. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

You parents exchanged a long look before looking back at you. “Why not, honey?”

“I…I just don’t feel like it, s’all.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Your dad asked. “I thought you were excited to wear your dress?”

You nodded in a slight panic. “I am. I am. And thank you for getting it for me. It’s just…I don’t want to go anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

That was the only answer your entire family got out of you all week. 

“She’ll come back around. Maybe it’s just her cycle.”

“Keep the appointments, just in case.”

Your mom nodded. “I will.”

A week later however, you were lying on your bed staring at your ceiling. Your mom had still taken you for your hair, make-up and nail appointments. Even if you weren’t planning on going, the nails would last you a few weeks and your hair would last a few days. The make-up was just a bonus. And it wasn’t too much. It could pass for day make-up with something a little extra. 

But you still weren’t going. 

Your brother had tried talking to you, as had your parents. They’d called your best friend’s house to ask if she could come round and help but she wasn’t home. 

So, they had to call a last resort. Or rather, he showed up at your home. 

“What y’all doin’ down here?” Tyler appeared at the end of the hallway, finding your mom, dad and brother either stood or sat outside your door. 

“She won’t come out of her room.”

Your brother tilted his head. “Technically we haven’t tried to get her to come out but she’s been in there since she came home.”

“She had any food?”

“We picked something up on the way home,” your mom explained. 

“Tyler, son, do you think you can try and talk to her?” Your dad asked. “She might talk to you.” 

Tyler nodded. “I can try. She still fixed on not going?”

“We think so.”

Tyler nodded and slowly they all disappeared down the hallway and downstairs. Tyler knocked twice. 

“Y/n? You in there?”

There was no answer. But Tyler waited. 

“I’m gonna open the door in ten seconds if I don’t hear a reply. For all I know you could be dead-”

“It’s already open.” Your voice replied from inside. And slowly, Tyler turned the knob before opening up the door. “I’m here.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey.”

You just turned and looked back up at the ceiling. And Tyler closed the door behind him before leaning against the wall beside it for a moment. Your room was clean. Like post-exam, anxiety-flurry clean. The window was open with your net curtain softly billowing to outside. Your dress was hung up on your clothing divider in the corner of your room and you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. 

“Wanna tell me what’s been goin’ on? One minute you're excited for prom, planning every last detail and now you just…don’t wanna go?” Tyler slowly walked over to you. 

“That’s about it. Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Nobody’s stoppin’ ya.”

Tyler laid down beside you on your bed, turning to face you for a moment before reaching over and wiping away one of the small tears from the corner of your eye. 

“You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on with you?” Tyler’s voice was soft when he spoke to you, waiting for you to answer. And for a while, you thought about it. 

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s between you, me and these four walls, sweetheart. Like always.”

You smiled at that. Over the years, as much as Tyler had been your brother’s best friend, he’d been there for you, too. One afternoon when he and your brother were playing hide and seek, he’d climbed the tree only to find you sat against your bedroom window in tears. He’d slid it open, crawled inside and hugged you. He was the first person to know you were getting bullied at school. He was also the first person to help you through your science homework when you got stuck with it and the first person, outside of your family, who you knew you could go to for just about anything. 

“Well,” you took a breath. “I found out my best friend not only stole my date for prom, but is also now dating him.”

“What?”

Three months before prom, you’d been asked by one of the guys in your school to go to prom together and you were ecstatic. Not only had you harboured a crush on him for almost two years, but he’d noticed you and wanted to take you to prom. He didn’t have a girlfriend, he hadn’t been dared to ask you out or some other kind of bullshit. He’d asked because he wanted to take you. 

Only, your best friend, who’d known since day one about your crush had been sneaking behind your back and just over a week ago you’d caught her texting someone and smiling like an idiot at her phone. It was after she told you she had to go to work that you’d gone to the local coffee shop to pick you and your mom some drinks up. That was when you saw them. Sat in the corner, talking to each other before your best friend leaned over and kissed him. 

That was when it clicked with you that the guy she’d been so secretive about for the last two weeks was your date to the prom. 

“Shit. Y/n, that’s…”

“Fucking unbelievable? I know.”

“That’s why you don’t wanna go to the prom?”

You nodded. “Knowing they’re both there. I just…I don’t wanna.”

“You shouldn’t let them ruin your prom night. You can still have a great time.”

“Oh, it’ll be wonderful. Sat in the corner for the entire night.”

“Look,” Tyler reasoned with you. “Just go for an hour. And if you hate it, I’ll come and pick you up and we can sit in the Walmart parking lot for a couple hours so your folks think you’re still out having a good time.”

You looked over at Tyler. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded as easily as breathing. “Of course I would.”

Ten minutes later, you were finally putting your dress on. “Wait, Ty- can you zip me up? I can’t do the rest without my hair gettin’ caught.”

Tyler turned back from your door and walked across as you turned around. Holding it at the bottom, he was slow to pull it up and when he’d finally finished, you turned around only to be met with his gaze. 

“You look beautiful, darlin’.”

You felt yourself smile, if with a little blush. “Thanks.”

Then he stood back. “Your mom’s probably gonna want pictures.”

You nodded. “I know. Meet you downstairs?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You took a few moments after the door closed to find your breath again. Puberty had hit Tyler like a freight train after middle school. And along with his town's fame of climbing the bull riding ropes, so like every man and woman in town, you haven't failed to notice how attractive he’d become. But it wasn’t just that. The feeling you got in your chest when he looked at you could rival any tornado that had torn its way through the fields. 

But then you reminded yourself of who he was to you. Your brother’s best friend, secretly one of your best friends. 

Nothing could ever happen there. 

Your mom took plenty of pictures of you and both your brother and Tyler drove you to your prom. 

“Want me to kick his ass?”

“I can give him an alibi,” Tyler added, looking over his shoulder at your brother before looking back at you in his passenger seat. 

“No, that’s…thanks guys. But I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you’re my sister. The offer always stands. Twenty years from now? Or twenty minutes? Just give me a call.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

As you hopped out of the truck and headed inside the venue, your brother climbed his way over the seat and into the front all the while Tyler’s eyes never left you. 

“You wanna head to the batting cages?”

It took a minute before Tyler realised someone was talking to him. You really did look beautiful. 

“Oh, uh, no. I can’t tonight, man. I’ve gotta help my mom with the attic.”

Your brother just nodded. “Fair.”

Tyler drove your brother home and just as he hopped out of the truck, reminding him about the rodeo training next Thursday, a text beeped from Tyler’s phone. 

“See you later, man.”

“See ya!”

Once your brother was finally in the house, Tyler looked at his phone. 

I know you said an hour-

It had been forty minutes. 

But I think I’d rather spend tonight in the parking lot than here.

Tyler smiled at the text. He’d hoped you’d have fun but he couldn’t lie. Having you prefer the idea of wasting a couple hours in the parking lot of the grocery store with him made his heart beat faster than usual. 

Once his truck pulled up, he found you already sat on the steps outside. Spotting him, you stood and quickly rushed over to his truck. 

“Is everything okay?”

Tyler could hear the music beating from inside just before they announced the King and Queen. 

You nodded, hopping into the other side. “Thank you.” You surprised Tyler by leaning over the truck bench and hugging him tight. 

He hugged you back for a moment before you sat back down. 

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You chuckled. “You have no idea. But I’ll tell you once I’ve got ice cream.”

Tyler drove to the twenty four hour grocery store twenty minutes from the venue. Inside, he was quick on your heels as you rushed to find the frozen section. You called out two of his preferred flavours and he picked one. You grabbed two tubs before rushing to the party section and picking out some spoons. By the time you got to the checkout, Tyler handed over the cash before you had a chance to. 

And sat on the back of his flatbed, eating ice cream under the parking lot lights and the stars, you told him everything that had happened in the ninety minutes he’d been gone. 

You told him how you’d found your other friends and for a while it was fun, until they walked in. And for a while it was calm until after twenty minutes things went from zero to sixty. Your date had tried to apologise to you, along with your ex-best friend. They told you about how so in love they were and how it was just meant to be even though they never wanted to hurt you. After that, chaos kinda ensued. You’d told them how it had hurt and planned to leave. That was when you’d text Tyler. 

But then your ex-date caught you outside. He’d apologised and told you your friend had surprised him that day in the coffee shop since he thought he was there to discuss you. Then he tried to make a pass at you. But you’d put a stop to that before his hands could touch you. Then your friend found out about the pass when her date went back inside with a reddened cheek and stormed outside. It all kicked off before the teachers came outside to break up the fight and took them all inside. 

“I was just thankful to get out of there.”

“I don’t blame you but if you’d have told me-”

“You would have stormed inside and done more than what I did. Tyler, I handled it. It’s okay. But, please don’t tell my brother. Or my folks. I don’t need anyone starting a duel to defend my honour or some shit.”

“Okay, but if he ever so much as looks in your direction again-”

“Then you can do with him as you see fit. Just nothing illegal. I don’t want to visit you in prison.”

Tyler chuckled. “Deal.”

Neither your folks or your brother knew what actually happened on your prom night. Just that you had a good time. You never told them that Tyler had picked you back up or that you’d been sitting in the parking lot eating ice cream before he asked you to dance. 

And Tyler, as promised, never told them. 

That night, despite its beginnings, was a memory you cherished. And continued to do so. 

Little did you know, your future held so many more. 

Just a little over five years later, you’d long since finished your degree and had gone on to work as an EMT. Tyler had also graduated from college himself, swapping out getting his head stomped on by bulls for learning everything he could about the weather and chasing tornadoes. 

However, despite work, there was something neither of you missed. And that was the yearly road trip to your parents cabin. It was surrounded by rolling hills and was at least forty minutes from any small town stores.  And since Tyler had indirectly joined your family when your brother met him in fifth grade, he and his family had been invited to join each year. 

However, where you would usually travel with your folks and your brother, your brother was travelling up with his girlfriend and you didn’t feel like third wheeling your parents. 

“You can ride with Tyler,” your mom told you as she turned towards Tyler’s mom who was sitting with her at the kitchen table. 

“That’s a brilliant idea!” His mom replied. “Oh, it’ll give you kids a chance to catch up.”

“I don’t mind driving myself-”

“What’s going on?”

Tyler's mom smiled up at him as he walked inside and kissed her on the cheek. “We were just saying Y/n could ride with you. There’s no point in all of us taking our cars and it’ll give you kids a chance to catch up.”

Tyler just smiled. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“You sure?”

Tyler nodded. “Want help packing your stuff into the back?”

You didn’t know why you were a little shocked. This was Tyler. If he was anything with you it was helpful. 

So, the next day just as the sun was starting to peak out over the fields, you all clambered into each of your respected vehicles and started the seven hour drive to the cabin. 

It took all of an hour before you and Tyler started talking about the two things you’d both been avoiding for the last two days. Talking about your break-ups. 

You knew Tyler had been dating a girl he’d met at the rodeo. She’d been working at one of the food stalls with her family for years and once he started college, they’d run into each other. From what you knew, they seemed deeply in love. 

Until two weeks ago when your mom let it slip over your weekly phone call that they’d split up. 

You didn’t quite know what to say at the time. There were a lot of mixed emotions; why did they break up? Was it for good or was it just a break? Did she break up with him? Why would she? No girl would ever get much better than Tyler. Or did he break up with her? 

Meanwhile, a week later you’d come home to a surprise break up. Your boyfriend’s things were all packed up and he was waiting on the sofa for you to come home. You’d asked what was going on and then he dropped the bomb on you. He’d lost feelings for you, a few months ago, but couldn’t find it in his heart to leave you. You asked if there was someone else and he denied it. And, to his statement, he was yet to post a new girlfriend on any social media page. 

You’d unfollowed him, but your roommate from college was keeping tabs on him. 

“Do they know yet?”

You looked over at Tyler. “Know what?”

“That you and Richard broke up.”

You looked at him, a little shocked. “How do you know?”

“You’ve been avoiding the questions, same as me.” Tyler told you. “Does anyone know?”

You sighed and shook your head. “You’re the first.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You wanna talk about yours?”

Tyler shrugged. “They say it’s better out than in.”

“They also say that about a fart, but you know.”

Tyler chuckled at your statement as you turned and looked out of the window at other cars passing by on your right. 

“Did she break up with you?” You asked, turning back to look at Tyler. You didn’t want to talk about yours much, but you still had questions about his. 

Tyler was quiet before he nodded. “Yeah. I’d kinda seen it coming. We hadn’t been talking as much as we used to and it wasn’t like a comfortable silence either.”

“How are you feeling after all of it?”

“Well, it hurts, but I’m gettin’ there. How about you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know. I think I’m more hurt I didn’t see it coming. Just…came home and he told me he’d lost feelings for me months ago. Worst part is, I didn’t even notice. But the more I think about it, the more I noticed what I’d missed.” You took a deep breath. “But, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Do you still love him?”

You thought about it for a long moment and Tyler couldn’t ignore the slight stabbing pain in his chest as he waited for you to answer. Did you still love him?

“Ask me again in a month.”

Tyler just nodded. 

The rest of the drive covered almost every topic of conversation twice and not once did either of you get bored. Every couple of hours Tyler pulled into a gas station and you’d take a break. You had offered to drive but Tyler had declined. You didn’t quite know why since you had driven his truck before. 

“Ready to go?”

Twenty minutes later on the road, you and Tyler were in a relaxed conversation when the sky started to change. It had gone from a cloudy blue sky to a swirling grey colour that seemed a lot darker in the distance. 

“Is that?”

You leaned forward, pulling your seatbelt with you in order to look out of the front window. 

Above the sky in front of you, you watched the clouds swirl around itself before a small vortex started to slowly lower down. 

And you were mesmerised. 

“Wow. That’s beautiful.”

Tyler’s eyes turned from the tornado to you. And he couldn’t look away. The traffic had come to a stop, waiting to see if it would land on the ground or not. And still, Tyler couldn’t take his eyes from you. And in that moment, his mind took a mental picture of you. One that would pop up over the years just before he’d fall asleep. 

The tornado might have been beautiful but you…

You were gorgeous. 

Your expression both intrigued and mesmerised at once. Before, you’d looked a little sullen, still grieving your relationship. But now, sitting there, looking at you, Tyler saw you alive. It was the same look in your eyes that you used to get when you were all kids. Excited, eger, ready. That last time he’d seen you look like this was at your graduation. He’d heard it in your voice when you’d call him every once in a while and he’d ask you about your job. 

But he was finally seeing it again. 

However, he didn’t have a chance to look for too long because you were turning to look back at him just as the wind started to whistle outside. Most of your family were long past the tornado so they would be safe. 

You watched Tyler, watching the tornado. You didn’t know what he was seeing but whatever it was, he was calculating something. And without another word, he turned his engine back on and turned his truck off the highway. 

Suddenly, Tyler was driving past the speed limit down a backroad. Far behind you, the sky only seemed to grow darker and the wind was only getting louder. 

“Tyler-”

“Cars’ll only start flying. It’s safer out here but we need to find someplace in case it decides to shift.”

He was right. You knew he was right. 

At the end of the backroad, it wasn’t too far from a motel and community swimming pool. Tyler threw on the handbrake before you both hopped out and ran towards the office door. The darkened sky was travelling in your direction. 

“Do you have a shelter?”

The owner behind the desk looked around just as the shutters outside started to rattle. “Yes, I do. Follow me.”

“Is anyone else here-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

From behind the desk, she pulled a fire alarm that rang out through the entire motel. Then everyone started running, following the owner to the storm shelter a little further out in the field. 

Tyler made sure you were in front of him as the doors opened up and he helped you down inside before helping the others. And for a moment, that felt like too long, you were slowly slipping into a panic. He wasn’t inside yet. 

But when he was and the owner slipped the bolts across the door, you hugged him tight. 

“Hey, come on. Stay down here.”

Without a second thought, Tyler pulled you down to sit on the floor behind one of the shelves. 

“Hopefully it’ll just miss us.”

You just looked up at Tyler as he looked back at you, your hands tight on his shirt as his arms wrapped around you. The wind only started to get louder. Someone screamed when the door rattled and everyone got down and held onto anything they could just in case. 

But Tyler just held onto you. 

Tyler could feel your hands trembling as you held onto him. So, raking a hand down your hair, he held you closer. “We’re safe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

By the time everything went deadly silent, you didn’t know whether it was because the tornado had stopped or if you had lost all sense of hearing. Your heartbeat had been drumming in your ears after hearing Tyler’s voice close to you. 

“We’re safe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

However, when you all started to finally emerge from the shelter, rather than a feat of destruction, you found the grassy field’s upended, some stray pieces of fences and spare garage parts – none which looked close to being from one car itself. And the tornado had swung around the entire motel itself. 

By the time you and Tyler loaded yourselves back into his truck, he turned and looked over at you. “You okay-”

You hugged him. Just like you had done when he came and picked you up on Prom night. You held him tight. 

“Thank you.”

He held you back, his hand rubbing up and down your back for a moment. “You okay?”

You sat back and nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

Tyler watched you for a moment before reaching into his glove box where he pulled out one of the packets he bought from the gas station. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Sour candy. They’ll help with the nerves.”

You just looked at Tyler perplexed. 

“The sourness…it helps distract the brain from any anxiety. Supposedly. Not quite sure if doctors have written medical journals about it but…it’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler nodded, “Get your seatbelt on. We should be able to make it before dinner.”

Driving back towards the highway, Tyler had to double back on himself before finding a new way out. By the looks of it, not too many people had gotten hurt. Some bumps and bruises but the tornado had done most of its damages on the fields. 

With an extra hour of traffic on top of your estimated arrival time, Tyler’s truck pulled up outside the cabin just as the smell of a barbecue floated down from the top deck. 

“Where did you kids get to?”

“It’s a long story, mom.” You kissed her cheek as she came running outside to meet you and Tyler. 

“Did you get lost?”

Tyler shook his head, “Tornado hit us after the second pit spot. Had to take a detour.”

“Oh, my goodness. Are you both okay?”

“We’re fine, mom. Just tired.”

In the days that followed, you kept your eyes on news articles talking about the tornado that had hit you and Tyler. He explained everything he knew about them, and after a ride into the small town and a pit stop at a coffee shop, you decided to pull up some videos of Tyler’s tornado chases. 

Your brother had told you about it in passing, but you’d thought he’d been kidding. You knew Tyler had put together a team and in the summer months would drive up and down tornado alley, chasing each tornado they found. 

But you didn’t think it was anything like what you were watching. 

You didn’t think it was anything like what you got caught watching.

“Pretty cool, huh.” Tyler appeared over your shoulder, placing a coffee cup down beside you. You hadn’t even heard them call your name. Had you really been that distracted?

Tyler then stepped around you and sat across from you. 

“Do you really do this for a living?”

Tyler nodded. “Pretty much. I teach a couple community college classes in the off-seasons. Presented the weather a couple times for the local report. But, it’s looking good so far.”

“How do you do it? How do you drive into one of these things?”

Tyler felt something in his chest bloom as he saw how you looked at him. Intrigued. Plenty of people had judged him, called him an idiot for doing so. But they were also the same people who called him an idiot for being a bull-rider. 

“Well, how do you run into a crisis to help people?” He asked you. You were an EMT. He knew that. He’d also heard some of your terror stories, as well as the funny ones. 

“Because it’s my job.”

“Aren’t you scared when you do it?” He asked you and you shook your head. “Well, that’s what it’s like. You don’t face your fears. You ride ‘em.”

You felt yourself smile. “Always with the cowboy wisdom.”

Tyler just smirked and you felt a small chaos of butterflies in your stomach. “It came with the hat.”

By the time that stay was over, you were a lot more relaxed than you were when you’d first arrived home. And your heart wasn’t hurting as much as you thought it would have been. 

“You should come with me.”

“What?” You turned and looked at Tyler, unsure of what he meant since neither of you had talked for about an hour. You’d just let the country songs on the radio wash over you both as cars sped past you both, clearly in a bigger hurry than you and Tyler. 

Part of you was glad he was taking his time getting back home. There were still plenty of hours left on the road without any traffic, but the time away with Tyler had made you realise something. You missed him. His smile, his voice first thing in the morning before coffee, his company over said coffee. 

Unknown to you, he was purposely taking his time. He’d missed you too, and he’d be damned if he rushed what time he had left with you. 

“You should come with me,” he repeated. “Us. My team and I…” He checked the road in front of him before looking back at you for a moment. “We’re gonna be chasing again soon. There’s meant to be an outbreak in Tornado Alley soon. You should come with us.”

“Tyler-”

“Just think on it,” he told you, his eyes secretly pleading with you to consider it. “I’ve seen you watching our videos. And some of our rivals, which I’m gonna ignore, but-” Tyler smiled. “You should come with us. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Tyer knew he would. 

You watched him, looking between you and the road. You’d probably never tell anyone out loud, but you wanted to. It was true – since that tornado hit the motel, you’d felt yourself getting hooked. The thrill you felt in your bones, the laughter that encapsulated your lungs before things became serious. It was the same thrill that made you want to do your job. 

But there was also the other thing.

Tyler. 

You’d have this time with him, in his space. With his friends. Within his life. Even if just for the day. You’d be with him, without the watchful eyes of your entire family. You wouldn’t have to worry if your brother spotted just how differently you looked at Tyler compared to other guys. You wouldn’t have to worry about your parents worrying about you – they worried enough about you and you were the one that helped people. Being an EMT puts you in a myriad of different situations, everyday. And they not only liked Tyler, they trusted him. 

And so did you. 

So, you said yes. 

A little over four years later, you were still with Tyler and his team. Not only that, you were a part of the team. It had taken one season of chasing with them to know you wanted to do it again. So, taking as many extra shifts you could away from tornado season, you’d join them on the road in season. 

Bumps, injuries, cuts, bruises, splinters – anything and everything – you fixed. Whether it was for the team or if it was for the general public when the team would head in to help with the aftermath, you helped out where you could and who you could. 

“Shit,”

You sat up from the camper chair. “What? What happened?”

Boone appeared from behind Tyler’s truck, holding out his hand to try and see it in the light better. “Splinter. I think.”

Putting down the beer, you stood and walked over to him. “Let me see.” Boone placed his hand up right in your palm. “Yeah. Kate, can you pass me the zipper kit?”

From the side of your camper chair, she handed it over to you. Zipping open the hard case, you let it rest open on the side of Tyler’s truck before taking out a pair of tweezers. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah, just say- ow!”

You smiled, holding up the wooden splinter. “Got it.”

“What happened to a countdown?” Boone said before sucking on the side of his finger. 

You just looked at him. “Last time I gave you a countdown you pulled your hand away and I had to get Dani and Tyler to hold you still.”

“That’s because it hurt!”

“Well, it’s out now. Just be careful.”

Boone nodded. “I will. Thanks, Doc.”

You smiled, packing your things away. “You’re welcome.”

Twenty minutes later, you heard your name being called from the balcony of the motel. 

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

You looked up and found Tyler leaning over the balcony. 

“Can you come up here a second? I need you for…something.”

You didn’t like the sound of that ‘something’ so grabbing your travel med bag from the back seat of his truck, you headed up to his room. 

You knocked on the door twice before entering. “Ty? You okay?”

“I don’t want you to get mad-”

“What did you do?”

Tyler fully emerged from the bathroom and held up his hand and you gasped. “Tyler.”

“It was purely an accident. I was tryna’ fix one of my truck parts and it got caught.”

“Jesus, come here. Tyler, this is deep. Are you sure you just caught it?”

Tyler nodded, hissing as your fingers pressed lightly into his palm. “Yes. Ow, hey, that hurts.”

You sighed, pulling him back into the bathroom behind you. Accidently slamming the toilet seat down, you twirled Tyler around you feeling his fingers brush against your back as you pushed him to sit down. Throwing the tap on, you shoved his hand underneath it and held it there. 

Muttering to yourself as you cleaned up his wound, Tyler watched you. The attentive and focused look in your eyes. Every now and again he’d hear you repeat his words, doing an impression of his voice, quietly under your breath and he’d laugh. This hadn’t been the first time he’d gotten hurt, and he doubted it would be the last. But if it meant he got this time with you; the quiet moments, the mocking tone out of worry masked by anger, the ability to take a long lasting mental image of you before the imprint of you on his skin and heart sunk deeper. 

Then he’d put up with the pain. 

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?” The soft smile from Tyler’s face didn’t drop. 

“Lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you lo-” You managed to stop yourself before you said the rest of the sentence out loud. Like you love me. You knew he would reply and your heart wasn’t ready for the truth – whatever the truth was these days. 

Some days you’d catch him looking at you and there would be this look. It was in his eyes and his smile. It was different, compared to the way he looked at everyone else. Maybe it was just because he’d known you longer, or some psycho-freud thing where a patient falls in love with their nurse. Either way, for a moment, you’d let yourself believe it was what you thought it was. That he did feel the same. That he did get the same tornado of butterflies in his belly whenever he looked at you. 

“Like I what?” Tyler pressed, his expression dropping for just a moment as he leaned in. Could you see it? Could you see the way he was looking at you? 

For a moment, you held his gaze. His green gaze bore into yours as your eyes flicked around his face, From each of his eyes and down to the curve of his lips. And just as you let the wall in your mind slip in front of him, you remembered why you were there. 

His hand. The blood. The water. 

Shaking your head, you stood up from the wooden desk chair you’d pulled inside when you went back for your medical bag. Clearing your throat, you shook your head. 

“Nothing, just…like that. I can’t work properly when…when you watch me.”

Tyler sat back, the smile slowly coming back onto his face. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled quietly before flicking your eyes back to his for a moment. And he looked back. Again, for a moment, you let the wall in your mind slip. 

But you were there to help him. 

Looking away, Tyler looked away, too and shifted in his seat. Every now and again, you’d hear him hiss and you’d apologise loud enough for him to hear. Twenty minutes later, you were done and finally wrapping his hand. 

But, you took your time. Not only to be safe with the cut but also because there was just something about having Tyler’s hand in yours. His touch, you didn’t know when or how, had made an imprint on you. On your skin, on your head, on your heart. 

Tyler’s fingers held onto yours for a moment as you tucked the final piece of bandage into place. 

“There you go,” you said, quietly. 

“Thanks.”

And you both just stayed like that for a while. No talking, just touch. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him in fear that, if you did, the wall in your head would completely fall and you’d never be able to get it back up again. 

Tyler was your best friend. The person you told the most to. He was also your brother’s best friend. And your team mate. 

When you finally did speak, it seemed to come out in a whisper. You told him how to keep his palm dry for a few days. You’d check on it every now and then but he should be okay in a week's time. 

“We better get back.”

You eventually nodded, wishing you didn’t have to. 

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?” Kate asked as you came and sat back next to her, Tyler hurrying to the other side of his truck to replace the piece he’d been fixing. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Only, by the time you all headed to bed, you couldn’t sleep. The feeling of Tyler’s hand was still tingling on your skin and every time you closed your eyes, the look in Tyler’s eyes was staring right back at you. 

So, finally pulling the covers from you, you wrapped yourself in your short dressing gown, slipped on your shoes and opened up your motel door. 

And for a while, you stood out on the balcony. Everyone in the lot was in bed, fast asleep. A gentle breeze was passing through but the heat of the day was still hovering in the air. Nothing but fields surrounded the motel so away from the dim lights dotted around the parking lot, the only thing that provided any real light was the moon hanging in the sky, along with the dusting of stars. 

However, just as your mind was beginning to clear of one certain green-eyed cowboy scientist, a door opened from down the hall. 

At its entrance, Tyler stood in a plain white t-shirt and some long cotton pajama bottoms. His hair wasn’t as neat as it was earlier, but it wasn’t stuck out completely either. 

Clearly, he couldn’t sleep, either. 

“Hey.” your voice was quiet as he looked up at you. 

“Oh, hey. What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You answered honestly. There was no point trying to lie to him, not that you could think of a plausible lie at that moment. Tyler always had this magical power to read you when you didn’t want him to. “What about you?”

Tyler slowly walked until he stood beside you, leaning against the railing with you. “Same story. Wanna talk about it?”

You turned away from him. “Not particularly.”

“You sure? You’ve got that I’m-tryna-make-sure-Tyler-won’t-read-me look about you. Gotta be serious if you’re looking like that.”

“How do you do that?” you asked him. “How can you read me like that?”

Tyler just shrugged with a smile. “That’s the thing, Sweetheart. I just can.”

“Very smooth.”

Tyler gave a breathy chuckle. “So? What’re you tryna keep from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You shook your head, trying your best to hide your smile. “Nothing. Really. It’s not something you can help me with.”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

You tried not to smile too much so you kept your eyes from his, keeping your gaze on your chipped nail polish. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You didn’t know when he’d first called you ‘sweetheart’, just that he was the only one who ever called you that and that he’d done it for years. You were also the only one he used that nickname with so it wasn’t long before you answered to it. 

And that every time you heard him call you that, the gentle butterflies in your stomach would start swirling and fluttering their way into an EF-3. 

You had to find a way to change the subject, to turn his attention away from you. At least for a little while, before the moon moved higher and shone directly down onto you like a large spotlight. 

“How’s your hand doin’?”

Tyler flipped it over. “Good. I think. It’s not hurtin’ too bad. Bandage might be a little loose, but-”

“Show me.”

Tyler’s hand was back in yours as you stood in front of him, checking the bandage over. It was coming loose, a little. 

“It should hold til the morning,” you told him after tightening it. “Then I can clean it again and change them out.”

Tyler nodded, taking advantage of the time he had with your hand back in his. “Okay.”

Carefully, his fingers closed over yours and he stepped a little closer. 

You could feel his gaze on you and it only made your heart quicken. Your hand in his, you didn’t want to let go. But you knew you had to. 

“Tyler…”

“Y/n, look at me.” You couldn’t bring yourself to do as much. You knew if you did, you wouldn’t want to look away. “Sweetheart, please look at me.”

With a breath, you forced your head up to look at him. Even in the moonlight, even with the long day and tiredness behind his eyes, even in his pajamas on a rickety old balcony…

Tyler was still as handsome as ever. 

And you were so deeply, madly, stupidly in love with him. 

Tyler’s other hand itched to touch you, to reach up and brush the wild strands away from your face, to cup your jaw. And it did. 

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Tyler held your gaze to his and he lightly shook his head. “Sweetheart, the only thing I could regret in this moment would be to walk away right now. Not without asking you this.”

You were both quiet for a moment, waiting for Tyler’s heartbeat to calm down in his chest for a moment to let him speak freely.

“If I kissed you right now…would you run away?”

If it was anyone else, if it was any other day, you would have taken longer to answer. You would have taken time to answer before, probably, saying ‘yes’ – no matter how much you wanted to say ‘no’. 

But the wall had broken. 

Not even broken. It had been shattered into a million pieces. And you didn’t have time to rebuild it. Not that, after his question, you would even want to. 

So, before you can stop to think. Before you can stop your heart from answering before your head, you spoke. 

“No.”

You wouldn’t run away. 

You wouldn’t want to run away. 

You felt your breath hitch in your chest as he moved closer, his thumb caressing your skin. Whatever silence had been passing in your ears was suddenly gone, replaced with your heartbeat. 

If he didn’t kiss you soon, you might die. 

But if he did, you’d probably still die. 

Finally, he did as much. 

It was soft. New. And yet somehow…right. 

You leaned in closer, kissing him back. With a contented sigh, your lips parted ever so slightly and he took the opening. Tasting your lips for the first time was a feeling that would forever be imprinted in his memory. Mint from your toothpaste but something…sweet. 

Your back bumped against one of the metal rods set every few paces above the metal railing of the balcony. Tyler’s hand pushed through to the back of your head, his entire being practically swallowing you whole in the darkness. 

Reaching up, you pulled him closer by his neck, a soft groan rippling from his chest. You tried your best to ignore the ache it gave you in between your legs. 

Before you knew it, your back was no longer against the metal rods outside your room, but rather up against the back of your motel door as it closed behind both you and Tyler. 

His hands were everywhere, and you still couldn’t get enough of his touch. Carefully, his hands slid down your body, tugging you in by your hips before his palms came under your ass and lifted you against the door. Your legs wrapped around him as if you’d done it a thousand times before. 

And, technically, you had. 

Just never in this position. Or in this situation. 

Your heart beat out of your chest and Tyler could feel it. Under his tongue, he found your pulse. It was going almost as fast as his. A small moan left your throat as he sucked and nibbled at your pulse point, all before softening it with his tongue. 

Pushing his face back to yours, you pushed a searing kiss against his mouth as your hands tracked through his hair. He was careful when carrying you over to your bed, slowly laying you down as he climbed over you. 

His hands pushed down your thighs until he was met with your dressing robe. And for a moment, he leaned up and broke the kiss. 

He made light work of untying your robe and by the time it fell open, despite the face you still had your pajamas on, he was looking at you like he’d just found pure gold. Slowly, his fingers traced up your body as he pushed the robe from your shoulders. 

Your legs spread wider for him as he knelt up to take you in. 

“If you wanna stop at any point-”

“I won’t.”

Tyler looked directly in your eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s important to me that I have your consent. If, at any point, you wanna stop. We will. You have my word on that.”

You sat up on your elbows, your gaze not breaking from his. “I trust you, Tyler. And consent goes both ways.”

A small smirk came to his face. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this. I have no plan on stopping if you don’t want me to.”

“Good. Because I don’t either.”

Reaching up, you pulled him in to kiss you again, and he got to work. Removing your robe, you came to kneel on the bed along with him. Eventually he threw the robe across the room, just before you pushed him down and straddled his lap. 

As you did so, he helped you remove his shirt and he couldn’t help but take a mental image of you as you took one of your own. 

You’d known Tyler was muscular. He was a bull rider once, but that mostly sent your eyes looking at his ass and thighs when you weren’t looking for cuts and bruises.  But the chest and arm muscles on this man…maybe you’d been looking at the wrong part of him all these years. 

But, he did have a nice ass. 

“You okay there, darlin’?” Tyler drawled. 

“How the fuck-”

Tyler chuckled, his fingers deftly tracing up and down your spine. “It’s a lot of lifting and protein, mostly.”

You didn’t know what else to say as you looked back at him. Leaning in, you kissed him again. 

As one of his hands pushed through your hair, your own trailed down his body before you started working at the drawstring of his pants. 

You squealed a little as he flipped you onto your back, and a small laugh left both of you before he started to rid himself of the bottom half of his clothing. Then he pulled yours down. They, too, got tossed somewhere else across the room. 

As he leaned over you, you hooked one of your legs around him and pulled him closer. You could feel his smile in his kiss. And as you shifted a little under him, you felt the hardness of him push against you. 

With your hand, you palmed his cock before letting your fingers run down its shaft. Tyler’s kiss became stronger as you carefully wrapped your hand around him, pumping up and down. 

His body jerked as a groan left him. And when he saw that wicked glint in your eye as you lay under him, your pussy only growing wetter for him, a deep groan fell from his lips. 

“Fuck, baby.” Tyler growled below your ear and into your neck. 

Leaning closer, he started to nibble at your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on your. Finally, his fingers slipped down your front and pushed your legs further apart. 

His fingers ran down your folds before bringing your wetness to circle around your clit. With a little pressure, he continued to circle his fingers around as your hips bucked, his cock getting its first touch of your pussy. 

You pushed yourself up until you were straddling him once more. And with his help, you slowly lowered yourself down onto him. A small whimper left your lips as you eased yourself down his shaft. 

“That’s it, sweetheart.” 

You pulled up a little, hearing a strangled groan from Tyler as his fingers bit into your flesh. 

Once more, you eased yourself onto him. With your eyes locked on his, he pecked a kiss to your lips. 

“Take what you need, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

You started off slow at first, circling your hips. Eventually, you picked up the pace as Tyler’s head dropped to your chest. He could feel you pulsating against him, getting ready for more. And if it wasn’t more than he ever dreamed of…

“Fuck, Sweetheart. You’re too good at this.”

Continuing to circle in his lap, his hips bucking against yours begging for more, your hand fisted his hair and pulled his head back. Leaving his neck exposed, you leaned forward and left your own mark for him to discover in the morning before finally kissing his lips. 

Softly biting his bottom lip, your fingers relaxed and slid down the back of his neck before softening the sting with your tongue. You felt Tyler’s finger bit deliciously into your skin as he reached for your thighs and pulled up closer to him. 

“Baby, fuck.”

Leaning in closer, you let your tongue slip into his mouth as you kissed him. With the kiss becoming wet and hot all at once, you slowly lifted yourself from him. 

“Baby, I need you to keep- oh. Fuck. That-that’s it, Sweetheart.” Tyler watched as you slowly rode him, his cock pumping in and out of your glistening cunt. “Fuck. You’re taking me so well.”

You moaned, feeling his fingers trace your body as you circled your hips once more, his cock buried deep inside of you. 

“Sweetheart, can I touch you?”

“Yes.” You hissed the word, your head falling back for a moment as your cheeks flushed and your body begged for more. 

Slowly, his fingers slid between the tops of your folds before finding your clit. A loud moan escaped your throat and by the time you looked back at Tyler you found a tender yet smug smile on his face. “You like that, baby?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you want me to do it again?”

He kept a small pressure on your clit, but refused to move his fingers until you answered him again. You swallowed thickly before nodding. And for a moment, his fingers teased you, tapping gently at you. Then he stopped. 

“I need your words, darlin’. Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes. Please,” you begged him. 

Finally, his fingers moved, applying a gentle pressure before curling you. Your hips bucked. He could feel your walls beginning to clench around him as you tried your best to keep a steady rhythm. 

“Take what you need, darlin’.”

His fingers pushed deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaking.” 

You felt Tyler’s free hand push back up your thigh before rounding your ass and pulling you down on him once more and squeezing. 

“You’re so fucking hot like this, sweetheart.”

Finally, his lips were against yours, his tongue dipping in and out of your mouth as he kissed you, only to leave you wanting more. 

A soft moan gargled at the back of your throat as you held onto his shoulders, deepening his kiss and letting him stuff you with his cock. 

Pulling his hand from your folds, you let out a whimper before a groan as he switched hands. And with some of your wetness still coating his fingers, his hand traced up your sides before rubbing slowly against your pebbled nipple. 

With guttural moans, groans and gasps, your eyes locked onto Tyler’s as he kept you riding through your high before you felt him empty himself inside of you. 

Your gasp and moan was muffled with his searing kiss once more, his hand coming to the back of your head to keep your lips locked onto his. 

Eventually, the room settled with heavy breaths and closed eyes. Your forehead resting against his, his cock still inside of you, he just held you there for a few minutes. 

“Did you mean it?”

Tyler, with heavy breaths, leaned back to look at you. “Did I mean what?”

“That you’d been dreaming about this?”

Tyler swallowed, a little nervously, but his eyes never left you. His clean fingers pushed the stay hairs from your head as he did so. 

“Every word.”

“How long?”

Tyler couldn’t give you a date. He just knew… “A long time.”

You didn’t say anything. But you did lean down and kiss him. It was tender, this time. Soft and kind. Tyler was careful when flipping you over to lay down on the mattress. And he was careful still when he pulled himself out of you. 

“Stay there. I’ll help clean you up.”

It was the first time it had happened, but you stayed where you were, watching as Tyler pulled his pajama bottoms back on and walked across to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a warm cloth and with soft kisses pressed against your belly and hips, he helped clean you up. 

“Tyler?”

He looked up from where he was knelt by your feet. “Hm?”

“Promise me…promise me this isn’t just a one time thing.” He looked at you a little confused, but you looked away. “Because…you mean a lot to me, Ty. More than you know. And I…I don’t think my heart can take this just being casual.”

Tyler’s eyes remained on yours, despite the fact you weren’t looking at him. So, putting his hand up to your face, he made you look at him. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t plan on this being a casual one-time thing. I’m too madly in love with you to do something like that.”

“You are?”

Tyler smiled, a little relief resting behind his eyes. He’d waited years to finally tell you. 

“For a long time. I don’t know when it changed, but I know it did. So, I promise. This is not a one time thing.”

“You’re really in love with me?”

Tyler chuckled. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed by now. Pretty sure Kate’s got a wager with Boone on how long it would take for you to notice.”

“So earlier…when you were looking at me…”

Tyler nodded, the soft smile never leaving his face. “Yeah. Because I do. I do love you, Y/n.”

Your eyes tracked over his face. Nothing but truth. 

Tyler could physically see the weight fly off your shoulders. “I’m in love with you, too, Tyler.”

One look at your face, and Tyler knew he didn’t have to question it. So, leaning up, he pressed a kiss to your lips as you fell backwards and pulled him with you.