#Well aren't you rude Six

[asahicore]

bad news first - sjy (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. From the moment you'd met at eight to the day he moved to South Korea at fourteen, you and Jake were inseparable. But after years of being apart, you've come to terms with the fact that at twenty, you and Jake just aren't what you used to be. That is until you get a text from him, and all of a sudden, he's back by your side, doing his year abroad at the university you study at, and all your feelings for him float back up to the surface. genre. college au, childhood friends to ???? to lovers, painful mutual pining, one bed trope..... a sprinkle of angst (my hand slipped) but mostly fluff i promise and smut (mdni!!!), also i made sunghoon really weird in this and idkw, this is set in scotland.. edinburgh uni rep!! word count. 23k author's note. everybody say happy belated birthday to @zreamy.. happy belated birthday zo!!! being 22 years and 6 days old is cooler than just 22 years old anyway.. hope you like it bestie... if you dont... well theres a building on campus thats 17 stories high sooo.. enjoy! i hope everyone else enjoys too, since this is a bday fic for zo she couldnt beta read so i had to raw dog this so if its terrible.. not my fault! lmk what u think!! i also made a playlist for this, do listen along!!

“Alright kids, good news or bad news first?”

You looked at your teacher, then at the boy next to you, then back at your teacher. “Bad news first,” you said in unison.

You were only eight, but you were both wise enough to know that hearing good news second would assuage the blow of whatever these bad news were. Miss Dawson sighed as she crouched in front of you. “The bad news is your bus driver is on strike and won’t be coming. The good news is that your parents have been informed and are coming to pick you up soon.”

Following her instructions, you headed to the gymnasium and sat there silently among the other kids. Not many kids in your class rode the bus home, and the ones who did seemed to have drivers not on strike, so it was just the two of you. You were used to that, though - over January and February, you had made a sort of silent pact to stand and wait for the bus together. You sometimes shared snacks, but you never spoke. For some reason, you felt at ease with this boy, even though you didn’t know much about him. You had heard he had moved to Brisbane just at the start of this year, all the way from South Korea. You were pretty sure his name was Jake.

You handed him one of your Twix bars. Then he spoke. “I thought a strike was when you did really well in bowling.”

“Same,” you replied, mouth full of chocolate and caramel. “I’m not sure why that would keep the bus driver from picking us up.”

Jake looked at you with wide eyes, distress clear in them. “Do you think he went bowling instead of picking us up?”

This made you frown. “That’d be really rude.”

“It would. I always make sure to go bowling on the weekends, ‘cause if I missed school that’d be rude to Miss Dawson.”

You nodded your head in fervent agreement. “For sure.”

That weekend, his mum called your mum to ask if you wanted to go to the bowling alley with them. From then on, for the next six years, you were stuck together by glue. 

--

Twelve years later, Jake’s name appearing on your phone screen has become such a rare sight, you don’t believe it right away. It takes you a few seconds of intense squinting at the letters to actually realise your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

jake.sim15 hey y/n!! you go to edinburgh uni right?

You type and delete three different responses before settling for a simple yeah, I am! what’s up?, hoping you sounded nonchalant even though you very much felt chalant. You thought that whatever you sent wouldn’t be as weird as taking forever to answer such a straightforward question. 

As you wait for Jake’s reply, you scroll through your previous shared messages, noting with sadness that for three years in a row, the only instances you’d texted were to wish each other a happy birthday or when he reacted with a fire emoji to Stories of your dog, Milo. Before that, your last conversation was to congratulate each other about getting into your top choice universities and to discuss plans for your respective futures.

Futures that used to include each other, you think. His reply appears at the bottom of your screen before melancholy can fill your heart.

jake.sim15 i applied to go there for my year abroad next year annnnd i got in !! heh

You shoot up straight from your seat on the lounge chaise you’d been sunbathing on, a loud “Oh my God!” involuntarily escaping your mouth. 

“What? What happened? Is everything okay?” Chaewon asks frantically, rushing over to your side. “Oh,” she says when she sees your phone. “It’s a text… from a boy?” 

This makes Yunjin, previously unbothered by your panic, rise from her seat and take off her sunglasses. “A boy? Show me,” she demands, snatching your phone from your hands before you can protest. Upon seeing the texts on your screen, she lets out a loud gasp. “It’s not just any boy! It’s the one and only Jake Sim himself.”

“Give that back!” you plead, hand reaching for your phone, but Yunjin is already walking away.

“And he’s coming to Edi this September, apparently. He says he’s sorry for not saying anything earlier, but he was waiting for an answer up until now.” She scoffs. “Leave it to our uni to tell someone they’re in less than two months before term starts. Oh, you’re the first person he’s told, Y/N! After his parents. How cute,” she coos, protesting when you snatch your phone back from her. “Hey! I was reading that.”

“Those are my texts, Yunjin. I’m the one who’s meant to read them.”

She shrugs. “You would’ve told us anyway.”

“What are you going to reply?” Chaewon asks. With the both of them hovering over your shoulders and watching as you type a response, a sort of stage fright comes over you, making you send what might be the most unoriginal reply known to man.

“Awesome? Seriously, Y/N?” Yunjin reads, disproportionately disgusted with you.

“That’s a lot of exclamation marks. It almost makes it look like you don’t mean it,” Chaewon says.

“I do mean it!”

“Well, he seems to like it. A smiling-with-teeth emoji is a good sign, right?” she asks in an attempt to make you feel better.

“He has automatic caps off. That man is run-through,” Yunjin says, shaking her head as she walks back to her sunbed.

“You were excited about him texting me just a second ago,” you reproach.

“Yeah, before I found out he was a whore.”

“Yunjin, you know we don't slut-shame here!” Chaewon exclaims. Before Yunjin can say anything even worse in response, your phone starts ringing, and Jake’s name appears on your screen. “He’s calling you?” Chaewon gasps, making Yunjin sit up with a start for the second time in less than five minutes.

“This man is insane,” she remarks with all the seriousness in the world.

You run away from your friends, finding refuge in the outside kitchen area out of earshot. They don’t need to hear your conversation with Jake. You love them, but they can be weirdly unsupportive in moments like these.

“Hey, Jake,” you greet, hoping he doesn’t notice the breathlessness in your voice. It was because you had just ran, of course - you didn’t want him to think you were so nervous about talking to him after such a long time, you could barely breathe. Because you weren’t. At all.

“Hey, Y/N!” he replies, and the excitement in his voice makes your heart melt. “I hope it’s not weird that I called, I just thought it’d be nicer than texting, is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s nice to hear your voice,” you say before you can really think about it, and cringe at your own words. Years without talking and the world’s worst line is the first thing you say to Jake. Thankfully, before you start excruciating yourself, a chuckle pours out of Jake’s throat and blesses your ears.

“It’s nice to hear your voice, too. What are you up to?” 

“Oh, I’m on vacation with my friends. One of them has a rich aunt who owns a villa in southern Italy, so we’re just chilling by the pool right now.” 

“You always wanted to go to Italy! That sounds so nice,” he says. Your breath catches gently in your throat - he remembers, you note.

“Yeah, it really is. What about you, how are you spending the summer?”

Jake tells you about the local bookstore owned by a grandpa that’s always had a soft spot for him and that gave him a part-time job for the summer. “I’m trying to save up as much money as I can before I leave. If I treat you to a meal, will you show me around the city?” he asks, and you can hear the grin in his voice. It makes you realise how much you’ve actually missed him.

“You don’t need to treat me to a meal, I’ll show you around anyway.” 

Still, he insists, and you find yourself giving in quickly - because it’s Jake or because free food is on the table, you’re not sure. Probably both. 

You and Jake get to talking, but fitting years and years of catching up into one conversation is an impossible task, and before you know it, when you check your phone, you’ve been talking for over an hour. Yunjin is angrily waving at you, pointing at her stomach to indicate hunger like a caveman who’s just learned how to communicate. You apologise to Jake, telling him you have to go, and plan to meet during fresher’s week before you hang up.

A few hours later, you get a text from him saying it was nice talking to you and jokingly asking whether Yunjin was satisfied with lunch. It’s innocuous, but it opens a gate for more texting, which leads to long, rambling voice messages, which leads to late-night phone calls that remind you of when you were fifteen and still kept in touch. When August fades into September, you feel like you’ve got your best friend back. 

You remember why you were so in love with him at fourteen.

--

You see Jake before he sees you.  

Among the throngs of people, you manage to spot the dark, messy flop of hair on his head weighed down by a nice pair of wireless headphones. After a thirteen-hour flight from Seoul, a four-hour layover in Frankfurt and a final, two-hour flight to Edinburgh, he looks rightfully exhausted, using what looks like the last of his energy to spot the exit and the airport bus stop. Even wearing a simple denim jacket, white tee and grey sweatpants, he’s so gorgeous you forget what you came here for, until he almost walks right past you without seeing you. You put yourself in his path and hold your hand-written banner up, making yourself as obvious as you can as you call out his name. 

When he sees you, he stops dead in his tracks for a second, someone almost running into him before he remembers the crowd behind him. His tired features break out into a bright smile that has your heartbeat speeding up so much, you think it might run out of your chest. 

He had told you not to come, that it would be late for you and he didn’t want to bother you, but you had managed to get the information of his arrival before he forbade you from picking him up so you did it anyway, wanting to surprise him. After years of being apart, rather than waiting another day, you wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Jake briskly makes his way to you, dropping his bags next to him on the floor as he engulfs you in a hug, warm and tight as if he’s trying to make up for all those years. You hug him back as if someone would appear out of thin air and take him away from you again.

“This was the longest day of my life, I’m so happy to see you,” he says when he pulls away, and you’re so happy you can’t even say anything back, resorting to giggling and lightly swatting non-existent dust off of his shoulders. 

As you wait for the bus, he tells you about every trivial thing that happened to him on his trip, from how expensive a sandwich is at the airport to the German kid sitting in front of him that kept turning around to stare at him on his second flight.

“How did you know he was German?” you ask, amused.

Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”

Conversation on the bus is slightly disjointed as you jump from topic to topic with random pauses here and there before one of you finds something to talk about - but it’s okay, you hadn’t expected for the two of you to be as easy as before. It’s more awe at seeing each other after such a long time than awkwardness. Even though you’d caught up over summer, there was a world of difference between speaking on the phone and actually sitting next to him. You notice things like the shine of his hair, the creases that form on the sides of his lips when he smiles, or, unfortunately for you, the veins that run along his forearms and hands - things you hadn’t noticed previously thanks to the sometimes questionable quality of the front camera of his phone. Once in a while, your thigh brushes against his, and it reminds you that he’s really here. Even that he’s real, at all. 

In a tragic turn of events, Jake lives in the student accommodation you used to live in in first year, and coming back to it two years later is slightly traumatising. His three-person flat is in a different building as your old one, and you marvel at how it somehow still smells the same - like dusty, decade-old carpeting and the permanent stench of students’ dubitable cooking. He’s the first one to move in, which makes the place slightly eerie, but it means that you’re not bothering anyone by unpacking Jake’s stuff and cooking Shin Ramyun the previous tenants had left behind at 11pm. 

Your late dinner was meant for you to take a small break, watch a couple episodes of Friends which Jake had been shocked to learn you’d never watched, and you had been shocked to learn he was a die-hard fan of (since one year ago), then get back to unpacking. But the ramen sends an already exhausted Jake into a food coma so intense, he falls asleep on your shoulder five minutes into the second episode. 

You let him sleep as long as he needs, turning the volume down on his laptop and stifling your chuckles as much as you can. You feel like a cat has fallen asleep in your lap - you are now obliged by law to stay still until Jake wakes up. It’s not until an hour later that Jake’s uncomfortable sleeping position forces him awake, lifting his head off of your shoulder with a grunt. He looks around himself, at his room that’s not quite familiar to him yet, then at you, eyes still scrunched with sleepiness as a grin blooms onto his lips.

“Sorry,” clearing his throat of its grogginess. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one a.m,” you reply, and his eyes go wide.

“You should’ve woken me up! Does your shoulder hurt?” he asks, much more alarmed than he should be, and it makes you laugh.

“It’s all good. But now that you’re awake, I should probably head home.” 

“I’ll get you an Uber,” he says, already pulling out his phone. 

“It’s fine, Jake, my place is a ten-minute walk from here. I live just up the road.”

Jake’s fingers on his phone pause as he looks up at you. “Then I’ll walk you home.” He lifts a finger in warning when he sees you start to protest. “And don’t fight me on this. You did so much today, it’s the least I can do.”

As much as you love the idea of spending more time with Jake, even if it’s just ten minutes, you still don’t want to bother him when you know how tired he is. “It’s really safe around here. I can just text you when I’m home, if you’re worried about me getting kidnapped or something,” you say, taking his jacket from his hands and placing it back on his desk chair.

He grabs it back, putting it on before you can take it from him again, and rummages through one of his suitcases for a black, woolly scarf. Neither of you speaks as he wraps it tight around your neck, even though the early September weather isn’t cold enough to warrant it. His hands stop briefly on the scarf and a small smile spreads on his lips. You hope he doesn’t hear your sharp intake of breath when your eyes meet. “It’s not about that,” he says simply, voice low and unlike you’ve ever heard it before. You don’t think his voice had quite finished cracking when he’d moved away back then. 

Suddenly, he steps away, grabs his keys, and heads for the door. “Let’s go!” he says, voice back to its usual cheery tone. You don’t find it in you to question him, so you just follow him out, welcoming the night breeze that cools down your burning cheeks with open arms. 

The walk to your place is mostly done in comfortable silence, but it still goes by too quickly for your liking. You keep your hands in your pockets to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like reaching out for Jake’s hand that swishes back-and-forth as he walks. Instead, you bury your nose in his scarf and relish in the unfamiliar but comforting smell that his cologne has left behind on the fabric. You hug goodbye when you reach your flat, and you have to remind yourself to let go. He insists on you keeping the scarf. “My mum packed me, like, three, so you can have that one.” 

“Your mum still pack your things for you, does she?” you ask, tone playful.

“No-” he says, voice slightly whiny, before he realises you’re just teasing him. “Whatever,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You hope the streetlights aren’t bright enough for him to notice the flustered look on your face. The both of you stand there awkwardly for a second, before he lets out another chuckle. “Right. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you beam.

“Okay,” he says, but still doesn’t make a move to leave. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be off then.” He gives you one last smile then turns around, burying his hands in his pockets, and you watch as he walks away.

“Get home safe,” you call out after a few seconds. 

He pivots on his heels, and, with a wave of his hand, says, “I will! Go inside.”

“Good night!”

“Night, Y/N!”

When you walk into your living room, Yunjin is sitting on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, gaze trained on the wall opposite her, one lamp lighting the otherwise completely dark room. She looks like a detective in one of those bad cop shows.

“Gosh, what’s all this for?”

“You’re back awfully late,” she says, neither looking at you nor answering your question.

“Yeah, I was with Jake,” you shrug, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. She abruptly gets up from her seat, following you into the other room and staying close behind you.

“And?” she demands, mouth way too close to your ear and making you start.

“And what?” you ask. 

“What do you mean and what?!” she says, clearly agitated. “I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say, really. He seemed happy I picked him up from the airport, then I helped him unpack. He lives in Riego, by the way.”

“Ew.”

“I know, it was awful going back there.”

The two of you stare at each other as you drink your water. “Well?” she asks.

“What?”

“Is that it?”

You fill your glass again to take it into your bedroom. “I don’t know, we just ate and watched Friends.”

“You hate shows with laughing tracks,” she states like it’s an accusation.

“It wasn’t actually that bad,” you reply, shrugging.

She tuts. “Love will do ugly, ugly things to a person.”

“You’ve been in a loving relationship for the past two years.”

“This isn’t about me. Can we talk about how you’re still in love with the same loser from when you were ten?”

“I was fourteen, and don’t call Jake a loser when you haven’t even met him.” You ignore the roll of her eyes. “And I’m not. Not anymore. I’m just happy to have my friend back.” Yunjin gives you a look. “Okay, maybe I’m still a little bit in love with him. But it’s so little, it’s barely there.” Her expression is unchangingly unimpressed and you can’t help but throw in the towel. “Alright, fine. I still love him, what about it?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know that, no need to remind me.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

“My patheticness? I’ve tried, didn’t really work.”

“No, idiot, about Jake. You should go and get him! It’d be so sexy if you got together as 20-somethings after knowing each other since you were babies.”

“We were eight when we met. And I don’t know if sexy is the word I’d use here.”

“Anything is sexy if you try hard enough,” she says, and you have to laugh. “Anyways, you should confess your undying love and tell him you’ve felt that way since you met.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Guys might not show it, but they probably get all hot for stuff like that. Boosts their ego and shit.”

“Yunjin, I just got my friend back, I’m not gonna risk it. Plus, who knows, I might not actually be in love with him. It might just be my emotions acting up, like, seeing someone I used to like after a while. We’ve both changed so much, once I get to know him more now, I might not even feel the way I used to.”

“Notice how you’ve used the word might twice in ten seconds? You’re just trying to find excuses.”

You groan. “This is why I hate English Lit people.”

“You do English Lit.”

“I know, and I’m the only nice person that does it.” In your head, you add and Jake, but saying it out loud would only make this conversation worse for you.

“What’s that scarf, by the way? Did he give you that?”

You look down at the scarf like it’s a piece of incriminating evidence. “Can you stop grilling me, please? It’s late.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You sighed deeply. “Fine. Yes, he gave me-”

“It’s not even that cold outside!” she exclaimed in an outrage. “Don’t tell me he also walked you home?”

You pause. “He did.”

She gasped. “He walked you home because he’s in love with you.”

“He walked me home because he’s a good friend that looks after me.”

“He walked you home because he realised how hot you’ve gotten and he wants some of that.”

All you can do is sigh. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

“If you weren’t such a coward, you wouldn’t be going to bed alone.”

“Whatever!” you say, shutting the door behind you, shaking that preposterous conversation out of your head. When you get into bed, it takes you at least half-an-hour before you can settle down, but you know your constant tossing and turning isn’t due to your inability to find a comfortable enough position to sleep in. Between your evening with Jake and Yunjin’s pestering, thoughts run wild and incoherent through your head. 

You want to tell her every little thing that happened with Jake tonight, but you’re afraid it might do you more harm than good. She is most definitely the type of friend who will take the smallest action a guy did for you or the most meaningless thing he might have said and turn it into a sign that he has the hots for you, which usually does wonders for your confidence, but right now, you don’t need that kind of delusion. Did seeing your childhood best friend you used to secretly harbour feelings for make you feel some type of way? Of course, but that doesn’t mean you still love him after all this time, after six years of being apart, the majority of those years spent with no contact. It wasn’t like you parted ways with resentment, or anything of that sort, far from it; rather, you drifted apart naturally, as two teenagers with over 7000 kilometres between them would. At first, you’d call frequently and even write each other letters - but as you became more preoccupied with school, friends, and extracurriculars, your phones gradually rang less and your mailboxes became gradually emptier. You don’t even remember who sent the last, unanswered letter. 

Tonight isn’t the first time you replay the moment Jake announced that he would go away, but it’s the first time it’s a bittersweet memory. It used to only be bitter - but now that you’ve reconnected, you can look back at it with fondness, wishing you could tell fourteen-year-old you the hurt would only last so long. 

It hadn’t started unusually.

“So, bad news first, right?”

In your six years of friendship with Jake, this had been the first time you’d really been wary of what he would say next. The look on his face told you that this bad news wouldn’t be as easy to shake off as usual. Your definition of bad news was things like I got grounded so I can’t hang out, I forgot we had a test tomorrow so I can’t hang out, my allergies are acting up again so I can’t hang out.

“I’m moving to Korea next month.”

I’m on another continent, so I can’t hang out.

You remember the words not quite making sense at the time. “Oh? How long are you staying there?” you said, taking a bite of your strawberry ice cream which Jake had insisted on paying for, even though you knew he didn’t get much allowance.

“Forever.”

You stopped chewing, and the ice cream melted uncomfortably in your mouth. You don’t know how long you stayed there, frozen as you stared at your best friend in disbelief. It wasn’t until he lightly shoved your shoulder, only meeting your eyes for a split second, that you remembered to swallow and to say something.

“Forever as in… You won’t live here anymore? At all?”

Jake shook his head. He kept his eyes trained on the vanilla-chocolate ice cream sandwich he’d left in its wrapper. In the blazing hot Brisbane summer, it had probably fully melted two minutes ago. “At all.”

“Oh,” was all you found yourself able to say. For some reason, you hoped that continuing to eat your ice cream would stop you from crying, but to no avail. Hot, salty tears quickly started raining down your cheeks, mixing with the sweetness of your ice cream when they reached your lips. 

“It’s my dad’s work. Same reason why I moved here when we were kids in the first place. They wanted him here then, they want him back there now. We just have to follow,” Jake explained, sounding just as upset as you felt.

“Right.”

“Are you mad at me?” Jake asked, worry clear in his voice, and finally turned to face you. At the sight of you crying, he let out a small oh, tears of his own pooling in his eyes.

You frowned. “Of course not. I’m never mad at you, you know that. I just… You’re my best friend, Jakey. It’s gonna be so lame around here without you.”

“It’ll be lame there without you, too.”

You attempted a smile. “Well, of course. But at least you’ll get to make new friends, see new places. You’ll be in a whole other country, I’m sure you’ll have fun there. I’m gonna be stuck in boring old Brisbane for the foreseeable future.”

“Do you know how offended our friends would be if they heard you speaking right now?” he asked, nudging your shoulder with his.

You sniffled and let out a chuckle. “They’re all great, but… I don’t like them nearly as much as I like you,” you said, staring down at your hands, hoping he wouldn’t realise exactly what you meant by that statement.

A weight was lifted off of your shoulders when Jake answered. “I like you the most too, Y/N.” You tried not to think too much about whether he’d meant it platonically or romantically - none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was the feeling of his arms around you, his warmth enveloping your whole body, his familiar scent that you already missed. 

You felt him take a deep breath against you before he pulled away. He sniffled and did his best to put on a smile. “Right, enough of that. I’m not leaving until next month, so don’t think you’re rid of me just yet,” he joked, and it helped alleviate the weight on your heart, even if just a little. “You said you had something to tell me? Good news after bad news, and all that.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

You thought for a second. Today was the day you had planned to confess your feelings to Jake - you’d only told him you had good news to share. But what was the point now that he was leaving? If he felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if he didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.

Jake tilted his head, waiting for you to speak. In a split second, you made yourself forget your disappointment over having built the courage to tell him how you felt only for it all to fall through, and resolved to make the most of Jake’s last month here. You wiped your tears and mirrored his small smile as best you could. “Um, it wasn’t anything much. My mum made those cowboy cookies you like.”

Jake’s head fell back as he groaned in anticipation. “If she wasn’t happily married with three kids, I’d marry your mum. Let’s go right now.”

You laughed. “There’d be a bit of an age gap there.”

“We’d make it work,” Jake joked, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you walked towards your house. He beamed down at you, his bright, boyish smile that you loved to bits, and you beamed up at him as you grabbed the hand that hung off your shoulder in your own.

You walked as happily as you could. “Do you even speak Korean?” you suddenly asked.

Jake halted abruptly in his steps, a gravely offended look on his face. When you looked back at him in confusion, he rolled his eyes and started walking again, pulling you with him. “It’s literally my mother tongue, Y/N. I speak it every day at home.”

“Oh, right.”

At the time, you thought nothing could come between you and Jake. Not anyone, not anything, neither distance nor time. But they did. A week after he’d left, a boy from your class you’d talked to maybe once or twice asked you out on a date. You weren’t sure why, but you said yes. Then you said yes to being his girlfriend, even though you didn’t like him all that much, and you even said yes to reducing your texting with Jake because it made him jealous. When you’d broken up with him and wanted to catch up with Jake and apologise for your absence, you’d found that his new school in Seoul was a lot more demanding than yours in Brisbane, and he had to spend most of his evenings in academies if he wanted to get into a nice university. It’s when you learned that he’d be staying in South Korea for college that you decided to leave Australia too. Brisbane was a lot less fun without him there - why bother staying? You couldn’t go to him because of the language barrier and the cost of university there. If you were to essentially uproot your life, might as well go somewhere you could get a scholarship and understand the people around you. 

It seemed insane that someone you had thought would be by your side for the rest of your life, someone that was part of your most cherished memories, had been reduced to someone you casually texted once in a while. It seems even more insane that now that you’re finally done essentially grieving your friendship with Jake, he stands in front of you again, six inches taller but still donning those puppy-like eyes and smile of his.

For your sake, you just hoped you wouldn’t be as in love with him at twenty as you were at fourteen.

--

The next day, you show Jake around campus, which wouldn’t normally take more than ten minutes, but takes double that time because of the sheer amount of people there. Between the Societies Fair taking up most of the square, the tour guides leading freshers, walking slowly and taking in their new campus, and the pizza and drinks stands, freshers’ week always turns campus into what feels like the busiest place on Earth. You try not to let it hit a nerve for Jake’s sake, who’s clearly ecstatic at all the activity, but you like this place a lot more when it’s quieter. You walk through the Fair, laughing as Jake marvels at all the different clubs and societies at the Uni. 

“Gardening Society? Dungeons & Dragons Society? Wine society?” he exclaims, astonishment growing with every passing stand.

“And this is only the first day. They also have a Taylor Swift Society.” He grabs a flyer from about every society, even though you know he’ll join between two to zero of them. 

When you walk out, there’s a girl handing out samples of shampoo and conditioner, and you let her give you one, more out of politeness than anything. 

“These are so useless,” you start, and Jake chuckles, unaware of the incoming rant. “I had that job of distributing them last year, and we would get a tip if we gave them all out. So naturally I put a bunch in my bag, but then I had to use them for like two weeks.” You sigh. “First of all, my hair did not like it. And second, the ratio is so off. There’s way more conditioner than shampoo when it should be the other way around, so you have to condition your hair even though it’s not properly clean. So stupid.”

“Sounds terrible,” Jake says, laughing. “Is that why you’re not doing it this year?”

“Oh… Not really. I dated the guy that takes care of this promo stuff, so it would’ve been kinda awkward…” you trail, immediately wishing you could backtrack on conversation. Talking about your ex with Jake wasn’t on your to-do list for today. Or ever.

“You dated your boss?”

“The manager, yeah, I guess. He was only 24, though, don’t worry.”

“I’m more worried about the power imbalance than the age gap there.”

You shrug, looking down at your shoes. “It’s not like he was that high up.”

“So, what happened? Why did you break up?”

“Well, he acted like our four-year age difference meant he could treat me like a little kid. It was nice being taken care of at first but then I realised how condescending he was and dumped him.”

“How long were you together?”

You pause. “Two weeks,” you admit abashedly, making Jake chuckle. “At least he didn’t waste my time and showed his red flags early on.”

“Any boyfriends since?” he asks, and you wonder whether you’re making up the unsure tone of his voice. As if he’s curious, but doesn’t want to show it too much. You hope you’re not making it up.

“A few, but they never last very long with me,” you say, a meek smile on your lips. “Furthest I got was three months.”

“And why didn’t it work out with three-months-guy?”

“He started comparing me to his mum a bit too often.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I ran out of there without looking back.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’ve got high standards. I would hate to see you date just any loser.”

You want to say, High standards or issues?, but you don’t want to make it weird, so you play it cool instead. “I would never. I have a mental checklist with everything a guy needs to have for me to date him.”

“A checklist? I have to hear about this.”

You sigh, debating whether you should tell him about it. Would he notice it’s based on him? Would he notice the only person that could tick practically every box was none other than him? Jake gently elbows your side, goading you on. When you look at him, he’s got a shit-eating grin playing on his lips, and you give in. You look off into the distance as you start listing your requirements. “Well, there’s all your basics like funny, taller than me but not too much, ‘cause I don’t want neck cramps, smart, takes uni seriously, has plans for his future, easy to talk to, not emotionally stunted and can actually have a vulnerable conversation. It’s also a bonus if he has a nice face.”

“How much of a bonus?”

You think for a second. “It’s more a dealbreaker than a bonus, actually. Nice smile is a must, definitely.”

“Okay. Got any more specifics?”

“I do have some particular ones. It’s nice if he’s a reader, but it’s terrible if it makes him think he’s better than everyone or if he tries to sound smarter than me. I like it if he has experience, I don’t want to have to teach him everything. But obviously I don’t want him to still be in love with his ex. Guys and their first loves, I swear… I also don’t really like picky eaters.” You look over at Jake and take a double-take. He’s typing away on his phone, but because of his privacy screen protector, you can’t see anything. You huff. “I also don’t like it if he has those protective screens on his phone. What’s on there that’s so important that I can’t take a peek? What are you even doing?”

The sweet sound of Jake’s giggles erases any trace of annoyance that you felt seconds ago. He turns his screen towards you, showing the list of mostly ticked boxes that he’s written up. “See? I check most of these,” he says with a proud smile. “Guess your standards aren’t that high.” You don’t tell him that your standards are high, he’s just that amazing. 

You do your best to look only amused at this even though inside, you’re all but freaking out. “Which are you missing?”

“Well, I clearly own a privacy screen. And I don’t have much experience. Not nearly as much as you, by the sounds of it,” he admits, somewhat sheepish. “But other than that, I’m practically the perfect man for you.” He looks down at you with a smile so bright, it makes you wish you had brought sunglasses. It takes everything in you not to scream right then and there. Yes, Jake, you are the perfect man for me, but I wish you wouldn’t say it like it was a joke.

You let out a stiff chuckle, and, rather than saying something stupid and possibly damaging, shift the conversation to him. “What do you mean by not much experience? Have you not dated anyone?”

Jake sighs. “Nope, not anyone. I went on a few dates, you know, went through a few talking stages and all that, but it never went much further. There was always something…” He glances at you then. “Missing.”

“I know that feeling,” you say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, a breathy sound.

“I don’t have a checklist to pinpoint what it is, though.”

You smile. “You should try, it might help.”

“I just… I guess I’m like you in that I also have high standards. But it made me not even want to give anyone a chance, especially since I knew it wouldn’t end up anywhere.”

“Don’t tell me no one has ever managed to reach the great Jake Sim’s standards?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course someone has. She’s the whole reason I have standards in the first place. It’s not my standards I compare people to, it’s her.”

Jealousy has never made you feel as sad as it is right now. “And… it didn’t work out between you?”

Jake looks at you, eyes searching for something in yours but seemingly not finding it, and so he turns his gaze away. You don’t know why you feel so disappointed. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “She didn’t feel the same way.”

Whoever this girl is, you can’t believe how stupid she is for passing up the opportunity to have Jake Sim. “That’s… It sucks, I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t think spitting on this girl would make him feel any better, so you keep those thoughts to yourself.

“It’s okay,” he says with a small smile. “It was a while ago already.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re quite over it, though,” you say, and you’re surprised but glad to see his smile widen.

“That’s true.” His eyes meet yours again. “I don’t think I’ll be over her anytime soon, either.” You have to look away to shield the pain that flashes through your eyes from him.

Pretending you don’t have feelings for your best friend and that you’re okay with him being in love with someone else is like riding a bike: even after years of not doing it, it only takes a few minutes for you to be able to do it perfectly again. Muscle memory, if you will. So you sigh dramatically and throw your arm around Jake’s shoulder, slightly pulling him down to your level. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have so much fun this year, you’ll completely forget about her. Promise. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. Yeah?” 

He smiles down at you. You want nothing more but that glint of melancholy in his eyes to be gone. “Yeah.”

--

Jake is only half-glad to see you haven’t changed much from your childhood and early teenage years. You’re still just as pretty, just as warm; it’s still as comfortable to be around you. You’re also still as dense.

Then and now, he did everything he could to make his feelings for you very, very obvious. Either you’re completely oblivious, or the idea of dating him is so horrifying to you, you understand but pretend you don’t. He really hopes it’s the former. 

He arrived in Edinburgh just a bit over a week ago, and you’ve seen each other almost every day. Out of those times, there isn’t a single one where he hasn’t tried to send something your way - something that says, hey, what if we stopped being friends and dated instead? Wouldn’t that be cool? Can’t you see how desperately I love you?, but you never latch on. The ball’s in your court, and he wants you to throw it back, but it’s been feeling more like a boomerang that always hits him right in the face when it circles back than a game of catch.

But he’s reminding himself not to be too greedy. Even if it’s just as friends, at least he has you back, so he’s satisfied with that. For now.

His first class of the year is on the following Tuesday morning, a ninety-minute seminar specifically made for exchange students called Discover Scotland. (He has Mondays free, resulting in a three-day weekend, which you and your 9am Monday tutorial are very envious of.) As interesting as the English Lit courses he’s taking seem, it’s this one he’s most looking forward to - except for the one class he shares with you, of course. Not even because of the seminars themselves, which will be about all sorts of topics on Scottish culture and history, but because of the coursework, as crazy as that sounds. It consists of a singular project, not due until the very last day of the semester, in which he has to travel to at least three different places in the country, research its background and provide a detailed account of his experience there. It can take any form: a written report, an in-class presentation, a podcast, anything. He could even film a TikTok if he wanted. Jake knew that being part of the Arts & Crafts club for two years in a row back in Seoul wasn’t for nothing - his scrapbooking skills would finally have their time to shine. 

That afternoon, he practically snatches you as you come out of your lecture, giving you little time to say bye to your friends, and makes you take him to the biggest stationary store you know in the city. If he wants to ace this project, he will need supplies. Many, many supplies. And it’s more fun shopping if you’re with him. You seem happy following him around the store, and when he asks you if you want to come on his trips with him, he can pretend it’s because you seem so excited about his project and not because he had thought of you accompanying him as soon as he heard about it.

As you stand in line at the till, you tell him that if he wants to start his project now, you could go to the beach together. You raise your eyebrows at him when he snaps your head towards you. “There’s a beach here?!”

“Did you not look at a map before coming here?” you ask, amused.

“I guess I didn’t…” he says, distraught at the new information. It only lasts a second, though. “Okay, let’s go now.”

“Now?” you echo, and he nods. “But-” you start, but are interrupted by your thoughts. “I guess there’s no reason not to. The weather’s nice and it’s not like I have any uni work yet. Let’s go,” you agree, looking up at him with a smile. You’re so pretty he almost forgets to look away, until the employee calls Next in a bored drawl. 

An hour later, you’re at the beach, barefoot on the sand and ice cream in hand. Strawberry for you and vanilla for him, he notes with a smile. Really not much has changed, he thinks. From the sand, to the water, to the promenade along the beach, Portobello is worlds away from the beaches back home in Australia, or those of Jeju Island. But it’s still nice, and because you’re with him, it’s even better. You’ve been walking around for an hour, splashing each other with water and mercilessly ruining sandcastles left behind before he realises you technically came here for his project. He writes down things he doesn’t want to forget on his phone and snaps a few pictures, sneaking a few of you when you’re not looking. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are with your hair blowing in the wind and the way the chill bites at your cheeks, but he keeps it a secret between him and his Notes app. 

Even though he lives two stops further down, he gets off from the bus with you, containing his excitement as best he can when you invite him up for a cup of tea. “Depends. What tea do you have?” he asks, trying and failing to play it cool. He’s just grateful he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you.

You roll your eyes playfully as you unlock the front door to your building. “I can make you hot chocolate, Mister Tea-Is-For-Old-People.”

He chuckles. “Actually, I’ll have you know I started drinking tea at uni.” When you turn around to look at him, a surprised look on your face, he nods proudly. “Mh-hm. I got addicted to caffeine very quickly into first year so I started drinking black tea for the sake of my heart,” he explains.

“God,” you say breathily, sounding mildly horrified. “A caffeine addiction sounds intense.”

“It was, yeah,” he says, laughing as he follows you into your flat. 

Yunjin and Chaewon are sitting at the living room table, watching an episode of what he thinks is Gossip Girl, and they greet him as normally as these two can, but he wonders what the knowing look they exchange is all about. He’d met them the previous weekend when you had all gone for drinks together, along with Jay, Yunjin’s boyfriend, and they had all but grilled him on his relationship with you. He hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to your friends feeling protective of you, and truthfully, he was just happy to get to talk about you. But now, he was wondering if you had told them anything about him that made them so curious about him. If you did, he hoped it was something positive.

He stands awkwardly in the kitchen, chatting with you as you boil the water and get cups out, but he can feel their gazes burning the back of his head. Clearly, whatever conversation he’s having with you, he’s also having it with them. “How do you take your tea?” you ask.

“Um, three sugars and lots of milk, please,” he says, smiling innocently when you slowly turn to look at him, a mix of disapproval, disgust, and offence on your face. 

You sigh deeply. “I mean, I’ll do it, but I’m not sure that’s even tea anymore.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss Caramel Frappuccino,” he says, recycling your bad joke from earlier.

“At least I don’t claim to be drinking coffee when I order a frap,” you argue. “And this is how you battled your coffee addiction? You’ll be getting another kind of heart problem, Jakey.” He doesn’t know if you even notice your use of his old nickname - the first time you’ve used it since he’s been here - but you don’t make a big deal of it, so he doesn’t either. Not outwardly, at least. Mentally, he’s running laps around your small kitchen.

Jake laughs it off. “I thought I came here for tea, not a health check-up,” he says, smile growing wider at the sight of yours. 

“Right, sorry,” you say, giggling. “I’ll make your tea just how you like it,” you add in a sweet voice. Jake knows you’re just doing it as a joke, but it still manages to make butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

His tea tastes even sweeter that day.

--

A few days after your impromptu trip to the beach, you’re waiting for Jake outside of his class. He heard of this donut shop he “absolutely needs to visit” and is dragging you along with him - well, “dragging” is a big word considering you’d follow him anywhere. You got here a few minutes early, not needing much of a reason to leave the library, so you scroll through your feed until Jake calls out your name. You’re only mildly surprised to see Jay leaving the classroom behind him.

“Y/N! Can you believe that Jay and I are in the same class?” he says excitedly as the two boys walk toward you. You feel like a dog owner being greeted by their over-enthusiastic dog after a long day (about three hours) of being apart.

“I can believe it, actually. You two do the same degree.”

You exchange quick greetings with Jay before the three of you start heading out. As you walk, Jake throws his arm around your shoulders so casually, it almost throws you off balance. Physical contact always came easy to him, but there’s something about him doing it next to someone else that catches you off guard. It reminds you of walking somewhere with Jay and Yunjin as they discretely held hands. It makes you feel like it’s not the three of you, but Jay with the two of you. Like you and Jake come as a pair rather than as two individuals. 

All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.

Jake asking you in a very unsubtle whisper whether Jay can come with brings you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Yeah, of course,” you say, smiling. It’s not a bad idea to have Jay along: hanging out with someone else might snap you out of your delusion.

Most of the walk to the shop is done in laughter as Jake and Jay realise how much random stuff they have in common, from their peanut allergies to the embarrassing Harry Potter phase they had as fifteen-year-olds. Grassmarket is really busy on Friday afternoons, and there’s a bit of a queue of other donut-enjoyers in front of the boutique, but you don’t mind. The sun is shining down gently on the square and it gives you time to choose your donut out of the ten or so flavours available. In the end, you go for white chocolate and raspberry, while Jake chooses Biscoff and Jay, tiramisu. 

“My friend Sunghoon would love this,” he says after taking a hearty bite. “He goes crazy over tiramisu. Like a cat with catnip.”

Jake chuckles, mouth full of Biscoff. “That’s funny, I also have a friend named Sunghoon who loves tiramisu back in Seoul.”

Jay punches Jake’s shoulder, eyes wide in amusement and shock. “Bro, that’s crazy. You have to be lying at this point,” he says, but Jake shakes his head fervently. 

“I promise I’m not. I’ve even saved his number with the tiramisu emoji.”

“There’s a tiramisu emoji?” Jay asks, already over questioning the existence of Jake’s Sunghoon.

The conversation circles back to the courses you’re all taking this semester, and Jake tells Jay about Discover Scotland and the trips he’s planned so far. “Well, if you really want to discover Scotland as a student, you need to go on a night out in Glasgow,” Jay says. Going by the look on Jake’s face, Jay’s idea seems to have struck a chord in him.

“Y/N?”

You nod, finishing your mouthful of donut before speaking. “Yeah, Glasgow’s really fun. We should go,” you say, laughing when the two boys high-five in victory. Between the train, the drinks and the club entry, going out isn’t a cheap ordeal, and getting to and fro also takes a while - even so, the smile on Jake’s face makes it worth it. 

He wipes some raspberry jam from the corner of your mouth, shooting you a wink, and you want to disintegrate right then and there, become one with the bench you’re sitting on and never have to face him again. The conversation resumes as Jay tells Jake about all the best places to go out in Glasgow, but you don’t hear a word - the feeling of Jake’s thumb so close to your lips takes away your ability for coherent thought.

“It’s decided, then. We’re going out tomorrow night,” Jay loudly announces. “Let me gather the troops.”

That’s how you find yourself in line for the club the next day, already tipsy from pre-drinking on the train and at the pub. It’s still warm enough for you and the girls to wear as little clothing as you want, but Jake insisted on giving you his flannel jacket anyway. If not for the warmth it brings, you’re glad to have his scent enveloping you.

The five of you work exceptionally well together. You, Chaewon and Yunjin have been a given since you met in first year, and Jay and Yunjin went so well together that he was but a natural addition to your little group. Jake’s only been here for over a week, but it’s like he’s always been around, and you couldn’t be happier about it. Him and Jay hit it off immediately, and although the girls needed some time to warm up to him (it’s not everyday that you meet your friend’s ex-best-friend she’s practically always been in love with; you understand why they might’ve been wary at first), they now tease him just as relentlessly as they do Jay. He takes it like a champ.

For a little while, you watch your friends speaking over each other, bickering over nothing, a smile on your face. Two pints of cider and some of Jay’s fancy vodka have made you more grateful than ever for them - if you drink too much in the club, you’ll be hugging them and crying about how much you love them. You’re not sure what that might look like around Jake, so you decide to keep yourself in check for the night. 

It takes about thirty minutes before you manage to get into the club. It’s not coat check season yet, so you head straight to the bar. “Sunghoon said he’d meet us here,” Jay says, lifting his head to spot his friend in the sea of drunk students. “Oh yeah, there he is! Hoon, hey!” 

You hear a loud “Jongseong!” being shouted from somewhere in the crowd, but you’re not sure who Jay is waving at until a boy whose face is mostly eyebrows is standing - well, standing as best as he can, with the copious amount of alcohol he’s obviously already consumed - in front of you. He gives Jay a hug and the three of you a nod of his head, a lopsided smile on his face. When he turns to Jake, his eyebrows lift first, then his face breaks into a wide grin.

“Jake, my man!” he shouts, taking a stunned Jake’s hand and bringing him into a hug. 

“Sunghoon? What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, chuckling and frowning in confusion. 

“I’m just partying, man! Same as you!”

“No, I mean here in Scotland, you dumbass!”

“You two know each other?” Jay asks, looking back and forth between his two friends.

“Jake’s my man!” Sunghoon exclaims, unhelpful and stumbling as he throws an arm around his man’s shoulders. Jake shoots you a distressed look but you just laugh at him.

“This is Tiramisu Sunghoon I told you about,” Jake says, helping Sunghoon stand up straight.

“God, what I would do for a tiramisu right now,” Sunghoon says, looking at Yunjin like she might relate. She chuckles awkwardly.

“I have no idea what he’s doing in Scotland, though. Hoon, I thought you were going to NYU for your exchange?”

Sunghoon pauses to think for a second, looking like he’s never heard of NYU in his life. “Oh, that! Yeah, I did an online orientation thing and… it did not go well. Let’s just say there’s someone in New York City who wants me dead,” he says conspiratorially. You all stare at him but he gives no further explanation. On your right, you hear Yunjin whisper what the fuck under her breath. “So I transferred here instead!”

“I didn’t know you were an exchange student,” Jay says, still looking just as confused.

“Yeah, man! But anyways, let’s not talk about uni right now. I’m on a bender, day three, baby! Do not talk to me tomorrow,” he says, chuckling until the smile suddenly drops from his face. “I mean that.” You look around yourself, glad to find everyone is just as baffled as you. “Let’s party!” Sunghoon cheers, intoxicated grin back on his lips. Jake and Jay follow, but you and the girls stay back for a second, taking in everything that has just happened.

“That. Is the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” Chaewon blurts, staring blankly at the spot Sunghoon stood in a second ago.

“Yeah, he also seems to be a raging alcoholic. And he’s what, twenty-one?” Yunjin says, a scowl on her face. 

“I could fix him.”

“Okay, let’s go,” you say, grabbing your friends by their wrists before either of them can say something worse.

Feeling generous, Sunghoon buys shots for all six of you, and you quickly down them before heading to the dancefloor. On your way there, a group of sober-looking girls hand Chaewon a giant, still almost full jug of red liquid, something that costs at least twelve pounds here. They say they’re leaving and don’t need it anymore, smiling as you profusely and astonishedly thank them. You look at your friends, mentally weighing the risk and drugging possibility this might present, but shrug and pass the jug around after taking hearty sips anyway. It tastes so much like fizzy cherries that you wonder if it even contains any alcohol, but sure enough, twenty minutes later, the three of you are spinning around on the dancefloor, screaming the lyrics to your favourite pop songs at the top of your lungs. Jake at a club is a completely foreign sight to you, and you can’t stop laughing at all the silly moves he pulls. 

You’re shaking your whole body to a Nicki song from the early 2010s when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. Before you can turn around and slap whoever this random man is that thinks he can touch you, a familiar voice whispers it’s just me in your ear, and you simultaneously relax and tense up knowing that Jake is standing right behind you. “There’s a creep staring at you,” he explains, lips and breath gently tickling your ear as he speaks. You look around the room and quickly notice a man standing in a corner, drink in one hand and the other in his pocket, unmoving as he eyes you with a smirk so slimy it makes your stomach turn. To avoid his gaze, you turn around, but you’re not sure the sight you’re met with is much better for you.

Jake peers down at you, eyes slightly glossed over and cheeks flushed from the alcohol, jaw locked in annoyance. He glances at the guy in the corner, who you assume is still staring when you feel Jake’s hands brush along your sides until they reach your waist. His gaze returns to your face as he brings you a step closer to him. Reflexively, you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Is this okay?” he mouths. All you can do is meekly nod. You watch as his eyes deliberately scan your face, going down and down. Time stills when they reach your lips and stay there. It’s like someone has put the booming music of the club on mute, and the only thing you can hear is your heart loudly beating in your ears. You suddenly feel very sober.

You swear Jake’s face is slowly inching its way towards yours when you’re abruptly taken away. Yunjin has grabbed you by the forearm, leading you and Chaewon to the bathroom as she chants “Bathroom break! Bathroom break!”, clearly unaware of the moment she’s just interrupted.

Because of the queue for the girls’ bathroom and Chaewon’s decision to console this random girl who was in the middle of a breakdown, it’s not until half-an-hour later that you emerge back into the crowd. You spot the boys at a table, two empty shots each in front of them and all three with a beer in hand. They will not be happy checking their bank accounts tomorrow morning. 

“Y/N! You’re back!” Jake calls out happily when he spots you, and you can tell right away that he’s much drunker than when you left him. His whole face is flush, his eyes don’t open quite all the way, and a lopsided smile won’t leave his lips - even like this, he’s so pretty that you want to grab his hand and take him somewhere it’s just the two of you. 

Chaewon gets drinks for the three of you and then you’re dancing again. It’s already one am at this point, and the remaining two hours until the club closes, fueled with alcohol and good music, go by in a flash. Before you know it, the DJ is playing All of Me by John Legend and the lights have been turned on, clear signs that you’re overstaying your welcome. The few people that have made it to closing time stumble out of the club and into the street, heading for either the nearest subway stop or the next party of the night. Since there are no trains at this time, your group walks to the close-by bus station, listening to Jake and Sunghoon grumble about how the clubs in Seoul don’t close until at least five or six and how trains run all night there. 

The bus is already at the station when you get there, and the driver doesn’t seem too pleased about having six mildly drunk kids get on his bus, but he’s probably used to questionable people taking public transport at this time of the day anyway. Physically, Sunghoon is sitting across from you, but mentally, he’s off somewhere far, far from this bus. With his head against the window and mouth wide open, saliva pooling at the corner of his lips, he looks like he’s any second away from obnoxiously snoring. Jay and Yunjin are sitting somewhere you can’t see them, probably eating each other’s faces; she once told you they had their “most mind-blowing sex” when both a little drunk, and much to your dismay, you haven’t been able to get that piece of information out of your head since. Chaewon is on the phone to her long-distance bestie Sakura, for whom it’s a nice eleven in the morning right now. 

This means that you and Jake are left alone, both of you still tipsy and not tired enough to fall asleep. You drop your head on Jake’s shoulder, and not only does he let you, he also takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and placing them atop his thigh. Clumsily, because he now has to use his left hand, Jake slips his phone out of his back pocket and shows you the photos he took all evening. As the night progresses, they get blurrier and blurrier, so much so that towards the end, you can’t tell what he was even trying to capture, and you laugh at how inappropriate some of these would be to submit in a university project. 

When he softly says your name, you don’t raise your head, simply humming to let him know you’re listening. You close your eyes, cherishing the way your name sounds on his lips. It’s his tone, tentative and vulnerable as he tells you there’s something he’s been wanting to ask you, that makes you look up at him. He, however, won’t meet your eyes, and settles his gaze on the window, even though it’s so dark outside you can’t make out a thing.

“How come you never replied to my letter? I know it’s been ages, but… I still find myself wondering about it.” The question is softly asked and you know he by no means wants to hurt you, but it still feels like a punch to the throat. You hadn’t remembered who it was that had sent the last letter, while he’d been wondering all these years why his words had been left unanswered. 

He seems set on not looking at you, so you rest your head back on his shoulder. Your hand is still in his. “I’m not sure, Jakey. I’m sorry,” you say, aware it’s not a satisfying answer. You’ve thought about why you and Jake had stopped talking for hours on end; you’ve discussed it with your friends and your mum, looked at it from all sorts of angles, tried to come up with real reasons other than time pulling you apart. But now that Jake himself is asking you about it, the words don’t come easy. You’ve theorised that you were afraid putting effort into sustaining your friendship would only hurt you in the end, because it was just that - a friendship. You could fool yourself into thinking you were okay only being friends with him when he was with you, that putting your feelings aside was worth it since you could at least spend time with him. But now that he was away, you didn’t have that anymore - it just hurt. So what was the point? And how could you phrase all this without betraying your feelings for him?

“Our letters were so sparse anyway back then, even our texts and calls were getting less and less frequent… And whenever I had a new boyfriend, I’d get into the same argument about being too close to you over and over again, even though you were literally on another continent.” 

“You know, I always felt sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“Those boyfriends of yours. I felt like you waited for me to leave before you started dating-”

“It wasn’t like that!” you exclaim, lifting your head again. Finally, he meets your eyes, gaze softening upon seeing your affronted expression. “It wasn’t like that,” you repeat, relaxing your tone. “If anything, they were the ones that waited for you to be gone. I'm sorry I let their jealousy get to me.”

Jake smiles, the tenderness in his gaze making your whole body turn to jelly. He squeezes your hands. “It’s okay. I just… I felt like I was always in the way of your relationships, even after I left.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry about that. They should’ve had more trust in me.”

He pauses, gaze dropping down to your intertwined hands. “I would’ve been jealous.” When his eyes find yours again, there’s something in them that you quite can’t place. It creates a ball of nerves that pull at your stomach. “If I were dating you, and you had a guy friend you were as close with as we were back then, I’d be jealous. You know, I’d assume he had feelings for you. And that you might have feelings for him, too.”

Because I did, you think. I did, and I still do. You try to communicate that thought to Jake, but telepathy works especially bad when one has as much alcohol coursing through their veins as you do right now. So instead, you say the opposite of what you’re thinking, turning away from Jake to avoid his gaze. You watch the dribble of saliva trickle from Sunghoon’s lips. “That’s not a great view of male-female friendship.” 

Jake’s retort comes immediately. “But we were different, right?”

His words echo through your head until they make even less sense than they did initially. Different from what? From who? You’re not sure - but you like the idea of you and Jake being different, special. You especially like the idea of Jake thinking so. So you look at him and smile. “Right.” 

Slowly, his grin fades and turns into a worried expression. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“We’re still different now, aren’t we?”

You want to wrap him in your arms so tightly neither of you can breathe. You settle for running a hand through his hair and pinching his cheek. “Course we are.” Your whole being relaxes when his face breaks into a smile again. 

--

The next morning, you wake up to Yunjin plopping down on your bed unceremoniously, shaking you awake, and asking you if you want anything from Snax Café. On one hand, you’re grateful that she thought of you and that in thirty minutes’ time, you’ll have the greasiest sausage wrap and hash browns known to man in your hand; on the other, you’d like to think that she knows you well enough to know to order your regular from there without asking. But that’s probably the hangover talking.

You stumble out of bed, thanking last night’s you for having remembered to take headache medicine before crashing. Even if your stomach is very upset with the copious amount of alcohol it needs to rid your body of, and your throat is begging for water, at least your head doesn’t feel like it’s been split into two. As Yunjin barges into Chaewon’s room just as she had done yours, you head for the kitchen to get yourself a tall glass of revitalising tap water. You’re only mildly surprised to find Sunghoon passed out on your living room couch - it takes you a few seconds to remember that the three of you took pity on him when you learned he lived over an hour’s walk from the station, so you let him spend the night on your uncomfortable, cold leather sofa. While you down your glass in three gulps, you hear Yunjin shaking Sunghoon awake and asking him loudly if he wanted something from Snax.

“Fuck, I’d kill for a Snax right now,” he groggily says before he’s even opened his eyes. When he does, they dart around the room until they land on Yunjin, who's crouching in front of him. He looks like he thought her question was asked in a dream and not in real life. He also looks like he's not quite sure where he is, or who Yunjin is. It isn’t until Jay comes wobbling out of Yunjin’s bed to the couch opposite Sunghoon that the memories seem to piece back together in his head. The three of you watch him like he’s an unstable mental patient and you’re his doctors. 

“No need for that, I’m ordering it on Deliveroo.” He nods his head and goes back to sleep for the time being. 

Just as you’re about to text Jake, your phone rings with a call from him. His raspy morning voice as he asks you whether you slept well makes you want to put your head in an oven heated at 200 degrees Celsius. However, you resist the urge, and answer him with a smile, then ask him the same question.

“I slept pretty well too. I’d have slept in longer but one of my flatmates decided to have a Sunday fucking brunch and his friends are so loud. Can I come over?”

You’re very aware of the other people in the room, especially of Chaewon who has just walked in and is eyeing you suspiciously as if to say, Why are you smiling so hard at ten in the morning? You know the girls would jump at any opportunity to tease you about Jake, and with the added presence of Sunghoon in the room, you can’t have that. So you stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat and answer as nonchalantly as you can. It also gives you the chance to reflect on why Jake Sim asking you whether he can come over makes you want to giggle like a giddy schoolgirl so much.

(Maybe it’s because when it comes to him, you’re still the giddy schoolgirl you used to be.)

“Yeah, of course. I was going to ask you if you wanted anything from Snax, actually.”

“Snax? What’s that?”

“Oh my God, Jake, am I about to introduce you to Snax right now?”

Twenty minutes later, the six of you are sitting around your small living room table, all varying amounts of tired, dehydrated and famished as you dig into your breakfast. Given your current levels of energy, it’s fairly quiet; plus, the food hits such a spot that it’s hard to talk and eat at the same time. Jake eats like he’s never had a breakfast wrap and hash brown in his life. It’s an endearing sight if you’ve ever seen one. 

You spend the afternoon together, watching movies curled up in your bed, and you try desperately not to think about the implications of that - except that’s hard to do when Jake is right next to you, legs and arms ever-so-slightly brushing against yours, his warmth so close yet so out of reach. You purposefully let him pick movies you’ve already seen so that you don’t have to focus on anything but your own thoughts and the faint but dizzying scent of his body wash. The both of you had an innumerable amount of sleepovers as kids, so this shouldn’t feel weird, but it decidedly does, probably because you’re much more aware of him now in a way you weren’t before.  

As hard as you try to figure out what exactly he meant by “different,” you draw a blank. The only way you’ll understand is if you ask him, and you’re far too scared to do that. You don’t want to seem so hung upon a singular word he used when he was tipsy. It might be slightly dramatic, but you felt like some sort of balance had been restored since Jake was back in your life - the problem was it made you scared to do anything that might threaten this newfound equilibrium. It at least seems like different means a good thing to him, and that’s enough for you. 

You look over to him when the second movie comes to an end. He’s sleeping peacefully, lashes caressing the skin under his eyes and cheeks looking rounder than usual. It’d be so easy to reach a finger out and trace the line descending from the top of his forehead to his chin, gliding along the bump of his nose and feeling the plumpness of his rosy lips, but you settle for drawing that line with your eyes instead.  

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep with him next to you and your heart beating so loudly in your ears, but you find yourself waking up a few hours later, the sun already starting to set. Jake is already awake, scrolling on his phone, one arm casually behind his head as if being in your bed is as comfortable to him as being in his own. When he sees you’ve woken up, his honey-coated smile washes warmly over you, and he makes a joke about how he keeps on falling asleep when he’s with you. “I feel that at ease, I guess,” he says, and you hope you’re not making up the small blush that spreads over his cheeks. 

--

Semesters are always a short and intense affair, but this one passes by even quicker with Jake by your side. Before you know it, it’s midterms already, and you and Jake have travelled enough for him to complete his project and make another one just for the hell of it. He had scoured the internet for the cheapest train tickets and most noteworthy sites, planning trips that lasted anywhere between three hours and a day for the two of you. All you needed to do was follow and trust him, which was the easiest thing anyone could’ve asked of you. 

You’ve gone back to Glasgow, during the day, this time, as well as St. Andrews and Aberdeen. You’ve practically visited every loch and castle in a one-hour train ride radius of Edinburgh, and Jake has more lined up for the second part of the semester. He’s even said that your trips should continue being a thing next term, and you couldn’t have agreed faster. With every new destination, every train ride spent looking out a window or laughing about everything and anything, any odd Scottish food you try for the first time, you somehow fall for him a bit deeper. You didn’t know your love for him could bloom any more than it already had - but Jake is the gift that keeps on giving, and, unwillingly or not, he always finds new ways to make your heart speed that much faster.

Attentionate, affectionate, sweet Jake who always makes sure you’re comfortable wherever you go, always gives you his jacket or tucks your hair behind your ear to prevent it from falling in your face. Who, as time passed, grew more touchy, would hold your hand, ruffle your hair, pinch your cheek, which was simultaneously devastating and elating. Who, you could tell, started to linger more, both in his touch and in his gaze. Questions of does he love me back or am I seeing what I want to see? nearly drove you mad. 

--

“I feel like at this point the only way she’ll understand that I like her is if I kill myself and write in my suicide note that it’s her fault for not loving me back.”

Jake has been pacing back and forth in Jay’s living room for approximately twenty minutes, with no end in sight. At least he’ll have gotten most of his ten thousand steps of the day in.

Jay sighs heavily. “Okay, I really don’t think you need to go that far.”

“Sounds romantic to me,” Sunghoon says, mouth full of salted caramel popcorn.

“I hope you never get a girlfriend,” Jay retorts, looking at his deranged friend with a scowl. He turns back to his (slightly more) normal friend and gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I mean, I told her we were different. Different. That we weren’t like regular friends. I tell her she’s pretty every chance I get. I give her my jacket all the time, even though this country is fucking cold. I’ve even given her a t-shirt of mine, sprayed with my perfume and everything. And don’t get me wrong, I do it ‘cause I love doing that for her-”

“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.

“But what the hell else can I do? Like, she has to be ignoring it on purpose at this point.” 

“You could always, you know… tell her?”

Jake scoffs, fixing his friend with a derisive look. “Wow. What a great idea, Jay, I never thought of that one before!”

A popcorn lands right on Jay’s cheek. “You’re so clueless, man,” Sunghoon says, a shit-eating smirk on his lips. As if he knows any better.

Jay looks back-and-forth between his friends, an expression on his face like he’s been disparaged. “Sorry, I didn’t know being straightforward and honest was such a bad thing. It would just make things a lot clearer for the both of you.”

“But… I’m scared,” Jake says. 

“Man up!” Sunghoon suddenly yells, punching the sofa next to him, making his friends jump. “How can she ever figure it out if you don’t tell her?”

“You were on my side just a second ago, man, what are you doing?” Jake asks, confusion written all over his face. Sunghoon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, retreating into silence as he stuffs his mouth with another handful of popcorn.

“Just ignore him,” Jay says. “But for once, he did say something that makes a modicum of sense. You think you’re being really obvious, but you might not actually be. Which could be a good sign, you know. I heard girls were super aware of a guy liking them if they weren’t into him, but being totally oblivious if they did like him.”

“Where did you hear that?” Jake asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“...Instagram Reels,” Jay reluctantly admits, frowning at Sunghoon who bursts into laughter. 

Jake holds the bridge of his nose between two fingers like his head aches. “You’re both so useless, I’m never coming to you with my problems ever again.”

“I’ll pretend I’m not offended by that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, anyway,” Sunghoon says. He’s smiling but Jake genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“But seriously, if you think you’ve done everything, then just do one last thing that’s so obvious she can’t misinterpret it,” Jay says.

“Like what?”

“Like kissing her, or some-”

“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.

“That’s wild, man,” Sunghoon uselessly butts in.

“It’s just an example, calm yourselves,” Jay says. “Or, again, just straight up tell her how you feel. It’s what I did with Yunjin, and it worked.”

“You and Yunjin are dating?” Sunghoon asks, bewildered.

Jay shakes his head at him. “Where the hell have you been, bro? We were literally cuddling on the couch the other day.”

“I just thought you were really good friends, or something.”

Jake groans, holding his head in his hands. Sunghoon was of no help whatsoever, and Jay was so on point that it annoyed him. Confessing was the only solution - but Jake was so afraid of being rejected and losing your friendship that he had barely entertained the thought. But he had found the courage to do it once, and even though his planned confession had fallen through back then, he could get himself together and do it again. 

It was the day he had told you he was moving to Korea, which he himself had learned that morning. Originally, he’d texted you because he had news to share - good news. Or at least, he hoped they were good. He hoped the soft, lingering looks you gave him weren’t a figment of his imagination but rather the confirmation he needed that you liked him back. He hoped that like him, you cared too much about your friendship to make the first move into something else; that by confessing first, you’d be relieved of that responsibility; that his wish to hold your hand and kiss your forehead wasn’t one-sided. 

He decided not to prepare anything - just a couple sentences that he’d rehearsed over and over in his head. Declarations of love, bouquets of flowers, chocolate and couple keychains, all that could wait until after you’d said yes to being his girlfriend. He didn’t want to win you over just once, he wanted to show you every day how much he loved you. Fourteen-year-old Jake was absolutely head over heels for you; so imagine his disappointment when, as he was getting ready to meet with you, his parents called him downstairs, a tone to their voice Jake wasn’t familiar with, but that couldn’t mean anything good. 

“Your dad’s job is sending us back to Seoul next month,” his mom announced, not beating around the bush. He felt everything quite literally crumbling down around him. His friends in Brisbane, his school, his hobbies, but above all, you. He’d lose it all. And what was the point now in telling you how he felt? If you felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if you didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.

What he had planned to be good news turned into the most awful ones. The thought of it happening all over again makes twenty-year-old Jake shudder. But he wouldn’t let himself be trapped by time again - sure, in seven months, the academic year would be over, and he would go back to Korea. But that didn’t mean that those seven months should be spent in agony, or the following ones either, for that matter. You would make it work. What was long-distance to someone who loved someone else as much as Jake loved you?

But he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He has to start by really resolving to do this, and in the off-chance that it actually goes in his favour, he’d start worrying about long distance then.

First, he has a trip to plan.

--

You should’ve known that a trip to the Scottish Highlands in the middle of November was a risky choice in terms of weather. The day started off nicely enough - no sign of rain when you woke up or as you watched the sunrise through the train window. Clouds turned the sky a bright white at first, then increasingly greyer and greyer. You feel the first drops of rain after lunch as you walk around a small village. By four pm, it’s pitch black and storming like you’ve rarely seen before. You head into a pub to grab a drink as you wait for the rain to subside, but subside it does not. You end up ordering fish and chips, one each, although one serving is enough to feed three. Even after taking your time eating, the bad weather does not let up. The last train, which is meant to be at eight pm, has been cancelled. Luckily, there’s an inn right across the road from the pub; you have no choice but to spend the night. 

The inn receptionist is sitting so low on her chair, you can barely see her over the desk until you’re standing right over it. Her face is hidden by a book and it’s only when you say hiya that she seems to realise you’re there. You had never heard of the book or of its author, but you recognized the cover design as that of those romance novels with repetitive plots and weirdly misogynistic love interests your mum and every other middle-aged woman was obsessed with.

Her smile widens as she looks between you and Jake. “Hi there. One room for the lovely couple?”

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Yes, please,” Jake interrupts, smiling down at her, then at you. “It’ll be cheaper if we share a room.”

“Our only room with two single beds is already taken, I’m afraid. One double bed okay for you two?”

You feel like you’re about to faint, so you’re glad Jake is there to answer. “Yeah, of course.” How the idea of sharing one bed with you is so okay to him, you’re not sure - granted, you’ve done it before, but this feels different. For all intents and purposes, this is a hotel room you’re staying in. And you’re staying in it with Jake. 

You try to calm your breathing as the receptionist guides you to your room, chatting casually with Jake on the way there. As she unlocks the door for you, she informs you that check-out must be done before eleven in the morning tomorrow, then bids you good night and leaves you to it, still wearing that smile you swear has mischievousness to it. The door clicks shut behind you, and it’s just Jake and you again, together in this small room until tomorrow morning. Your chances of survival are very, very low. 

Your room is a humble one, consisting of a desk, a cupboard, two armchairs, a small, separate bathroom and the infamous bed. Every surface seems to be covered with wood, from the ceiling, to the walls, to the old-fashioned furniture. Only the floor is a soft, beige carpet. Especially with the darkness outside, it makes for a gloomy room until you turn on the lamp by the entrance; it casts a warm, golden light in the room, one that would make you feel at ease if it wasn’t for Jake’s presence next to you. The implications of being essentially trapped in a barely-lit room with him are heavy on your mind, especially when he looks this gorgeous with his hair still damp from the rain and the soft lights playing on his face. 

His voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Right. Do you, um, do you wanna shower first?” he asks, setting his bag on one of the armchairs.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” There has never been such an awkward tension between the two of you, but you know you’re not doing anything to ease it. You hope a shower will help you get out of your head and make you relax.

You feel the tension leave your muscles under the hot water, but your stomach is still in knots. You’ve never been this nervous around Jake before; back when you were fourteen and again in these past few months, you’d gotten so used to dealing with your unspoken feelings for him that you could almost forget about them when you were with him. They’d come back to you when you were alone and dwelling on the moments you’d spent together, on his words and actions you desperately tried not to read too much into but always ended up doing anyway. But right now, they’ve floated to the surface, becoming as obvious to you as a stain on your skin you can’t rub away. You’re scared Jake will notice it, and, in the worst case scenario you often thought about, would run away and never speak to you again. 

At least the raging storm outside would make that a bit harder.

When you step out of the shower, you curse yourself for not having worn more comfortable clothes on this trip. You definitely can’t wear these jeans and button-up sweater to lounge around. Thankfully, the inn provides two long bathrobes that you could wear over underwear and your tank top, but you wonder where on the scale of inappropriate this would be to wear with Jake in the room. He’s seen you in short pyjama shorts before, but this, like everything else that would usually be normal between the two of you, feels weird today. 

You wrap the bathrobe around yourself, tying it in place around your waist, and decide that it’d only be weird if you made it weird. And if Jake found the sight of your bare legs weird, then he was the weird one.

The scene you’re met with as you walk into the room makes you want to retreat into the bathroom immediately. Jake is lying on the bed with his upper half against the headboard, one leg extended and the other one bent, resting his head against one palm, using his free hand to scroll through his phone. His t-shirt has ridden up slightly, putting the waistband of his Calvin Kleins into view. Worst of all, when he sees you, his face breaks into a grin. 

Your stomach twists when he gives you a once-over, letting his gaze linger on your legs. “Did you bring a bathrobe with you or was it included?” he asks with an annoyingly handsome smirk.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I bring a bathrobe with me wherever I go,” you say sarcastically. “Now shut up and go shower, you stink.” Reverting to insults is always the solution when you’re internally freaking out.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He takes so long in the shower that by the time he comes out, you’ve dozed off in bed. As if you were a child, he wakes you up with a boop to the nose, crouching next to the bed and smiling at you. His wet hair falls on his head like that of a movie star in a shower scene, which you find extremely unfair, and his cheeks are red from the warmth of the water. 

“It’s still early. Do you wanna go grab another drink?”

“In our bathrobes?” you say, laughing. “Nah, I don’t really feel like drinking anyway.” Read: I’m not sure what I’ll do with alcohol in me.

“Okay, no worries. Um, I think I saw they had board games in the lobby?”

Your ears perk up at this. “Ooh, what kind of board games?”

Putting jeans on underneath his bathrobe, Jake slips away for a minute and comes back with Monopoly, Uno, and a deck of cards. “They didn’t have much for two players,” he says, dumping everything on the bed. 

You already knew that anything would become fun if you did it with Jake, but you definitely didn’t expect to spend almost five hours just playing Monopoly and card games with him. Neither of you stays put for very long, always switching from sitting criss-cross to laying on your stomach, making fun of the other’s bathrobe even though you’re wearing the exact same thing. You make each other laugh as you make up your own nonsense rules and disregard the laws of your games, attacking the other ruthlessly for a couple extra points or coins. Jake even makes you go get snacks from a corner store that’s miraculously still open because you lose the first round of Uno. 

After some time, Jake lets out a loud yawn, which in turn makes you yawn too. He checks his phone to find that it’s close to midnight already. “Time for bed?” he asks, and your nervousness that had finally dissipated as you played came rushing back. 

You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you clean up before brushing your teeth. Even that, with Jake by your side, becomes a silly affair as he pulls faces in the mirror and nudges your hip with his. You stay behind to use the toilet, and when you come back out, Jake’s already in bed, bathrobe tossed on one of the armchairs. This means that Jake is just casually in a t-shirt and boxers, waiting for you to join him in bed. Luckily, his back is turned to you, so you quickly take off your own bathrobe and slide under the sheets, careful to keep your distance from him. The sheets are cold underneath you, and you know it’ll take a while before your body heat warms them up - although you feel very hot and bothered because of the man lying next to you. 

“Gosh, I’m really sleepy all of a sudden,” he says, words distorted by a yawn. You only hum in response, and he reaches for the lamp to turn it off. Just like that, you’re in complete darkness, and Jake’s body is mere inches from your own. 

It’s eerily quiet for a while, and when you’ve managed to slow your heartbeat and regularise your breathing, you start trying to fall asleep. You toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position until Jake’s low, sleepy voice breaks the silence. “Can’t sleep?” he asks, and you freeze.

You sigh. “No. I’m sorry for keeping you up,” you say guiltily.

“It’s okay. I can’t really sleep either. It’s a bit cold in here.”

You pause. “Right. Yeah, it is,” you say, even though you feel like you’re sweating buckets. 

The room plunges into silence again, long enough for you to think Jake has fallen asleep. You feel something cold against your foot, only realising as it slides up your calf that it’s his foot. “Jake!” you whisper-yell, withdrawing your leg as he bursts into giggles that warm your heart. “Your feet are so cold,” you say in-between chuckles.

“I’m cold all over,” he whines. “Have they not turned the heating on yet? It’s already mid-November.”

“People are used to the cold here.”

“Well I’m not. Can we cuddle?” he suddenly asks, and he must somehow feel the way you freeze in place because he stammers out a justification straight away. “For, I mean, just for warmth, you know. I don’t think I’ll sleep otherwise.”

His foot finds yours again and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, fine,” you say with a sigh as if you were doing only half-heartedly for his sake. As if this was some big sacrifice you were making, and not something you’d daydreamed about one too many times before. 

Your heart is beating a thousand miles a second when you scooch closer to Jake, his hands finding your waist as easily as if they’d been there a hundred times before. He pulls you in much closer than you had expected, holding you tightly against his chest, one arm for you to use as a pillow and one hand resting on your lower back. You try to calm your respiration so that he can’t hear how short of breath you are, but based on his own breathing, he seems to be out in five minutes. It takes you longer to fall asleep, every shift of his body sending shivers down your spine, but you manage to relax after some time, letting his warmth envelop you as you drift off to sleep.

--

The feeling of waking up with you in his arms is so unreal, Jake thinks he might still be dreaming.

He looks down at your peaceful sleeping face and can’t stop the smile that spreads on his lips. Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but this is a sight he particularly wants to commit to memory. He watches fondly as the bright sun rays of the early morning hit your face, making you scrunch your eyebrows and bury your face deeper against him. You grunt softly, and when he feels you shifting and stretching your legs, he pretends to fall asleep so you don’t catch him staring. It seems like you’ve raised your head, chin tilted towards him - if he’s lucky, you’re watching him “sleep” just like he did seconds ago.

He contains a smile at the joke that forms itself in his brain before shooting his eyes open, catching you off guard during what you thought was a private, secret moment. 

“Shit!” you yelp, practically jumping off of him and rolling onto the other side of the bed. He bursts into laughter, proud that his little prank was effective. Before you can scold him, he makes his way to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing your back against his chest. He thinks he feels your body tense; but then you bring your hand over his, swiping your thumb back and forth against his skin, and you relax in his hold. “You’re so annoying,” you complain, but your voice is tender, almost weak.

He buries his face in your hair, trying not to be too loud when he inhales there. “Sorry,” he says, the smile evident in his voice. “The opportunity was right there. Caught you staring, huh?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Jake is more than happy to enjoy this moment in silence, but there’s something burning the tip of his tongue. It’s been there for a while now, but he thinks he’s finally found the right moment. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“There’s something I couldn’t tell you last night, but I feel oddly okay saying it right now. Are you listening?” 

“I am, yeah,” you say gently, voice so soft it caresses his skin and draws goosebumps from it.

His chest expands and falls with a deep, shaky breath. With your back right against it, he’s scared you’ll hear that his heart is beating faster than it should. “Bad news first?” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“Uh-oh.”

“There’s no roundabout way to say this, so here goes, I guess.” He takes another breath. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” You tense in his embrace, and he waits for you to say something, anything before he continues.

“Oh,” is all you say. He hopes it’s a good oh - even if it isn’t, he doesn’t let it deter him.

“Yeah. I really debated telling you this… I know you might not feel the same way. But I also know that if I don’t say anything and make the same mistake twice, I’ll beat myself up over it for the rest of my life.”

“The same mistake?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder.

He gazes down at you tenderly, pushing hair away from your face with a gentle hand. “I already felt that way back when we lived in Australia. I was about to tell you but when I learned that I was moving, I didn’t wanna risk ruining the little time we had left together.”

The look on your face both breaks his heart and patches it up again. “Jakey…” you say, voice just a whisper. You turn around to face him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. The fact that you’re not saying much is making his stomach twist in agonising stress, but he takes it as a good sign that you’re still holding him tight and not running away.

“I think I’d be the luckiest guy on Earth if you felt the same way,” he says, hopefulness clear in his voice. 

And then he finally hears the words he’s been dying to hear all these years. “Of course, I feel the same way, Jake,” you say, eyes meeting his. “This isn’t bad news at all, it’s like, the best possible news ever.”

It takes him a few seconds, but when your words sink in, a bright smile graces his features. He feels tears coming up - tears of relief that you feel the same way, of sadness that it took the both of you so long to get here, of happiness that something new might start - he’s not sure. Perhaps everything at once.

“Of course?” he echoes, smiling wildly. “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

“Oh, gosh,” you murmur, burying yourself into him once more. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

He tightened his hold around you, bringing you to him as close as physically possible. “Me neither.”

The feeling of you tangling your bare legs with his and bunching up the fabric of his t-shirt in your fist awakens something in him - he had been in his head, thanking the heavens that you loved him back, reeling from his belated confession, but he was now very aware of his body. And of yours. He was reminded of Jay telling him to kiss you - although he hadn’t needed to go there to reveal his feelings to you, it was still a possibility. It was even more so now that he knew you felt the same way. 

He tries to be subtle as he brushes a hand up your back to the nape of your neck, gently grazing his fingernails against the skin there. He has to suppress a self-satisfied smirk when he feels you squirm under his touch, lifting your head to fix him with a scolding look. Your stern expression fades as soon as his eyes fall on your lips, however, and you quickly mirror his gaze. His lips part, and he feels his whole body shake as he takes a deep breath in. Who knew that you’d share your first kiss on a random Sunday morning in the fuckass middle of nowhere in Scotland?

Maybe you take pity on him, or you recognise the effort put into being the one to make the first move, or, as he’d like to think, you just really want to kiss him - either way, you’re the one who closes the gap and presses your lips to his.

Your lips. So soft, so delicate against his, absolutely perfect. It’s a simple, tentative touch, but he’s craved it for so long that it makes his head spin. He frowns, despite himself instantly needing more than this feather-like feeling of your lips brushing against each other. His mind tells him to calm down and take it slow, but his body takes over, urging him to grab the nape of your neck a little harder, to hold you a little closer to him, to kiss you a little stronger. Thankfully, you let him do all of this and more, hands finding purchase in his hair and returning his intensity tenfold. 

He doesn’t know what’s better - the fact that you’re kissing him or the kiss itself. The way your lips move against his is intoxicating; it wraps itself around its mind and leaves no room for thoughts that aren’t of you. You seem to want him as desperately as he wants you, to have waited for him as long as he did for you, and this is what drives him crazy. You press your body against his and he sees stars; you let out a moan against his lips and he kisses you deeper, ready to do anything to hear that melody again. 

Unfortunately, the only melody he gets to hear is that of his phone alarm, informing you that it’s quarter to eleven and that you have fifteen minutes to leave. Check-out at eleven am had sounded nice yesterday; now, he would stay in this dingy inn his whole life if it meant he got to keep kissing you. 

The both of you reluctantly break apart, bursting into giddy laughter when your eyes meet. As said before, Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but with your pupils blown and your lips plump from kissing, this might just be the prettiest he’s ever seen you. 

“You know, I like you a lot, but I’d like you even more if you could stop time,” you say.

He looks down at you with a smile, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen on your face. “Sure, I’ll learn how to control time for you.”

“Thanks, Jakey.” You peck his lips, lingering, and he closes his eyes to savour your sweetness. 

“Anything for you, baby.” His eyes widen at the nickname slip, but you erupt into giggles.

“Baby?”

“Would you look at the time, we really got to go,” he says, detangling his limbs from yours. He pauses for a second. “Baby,” he repeats, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before bouncing from the bed.

You get ready together, and the mundane tasks of stripping sheets from a bed and packing bags become the funnest things he’s ever done. You’re all over each other, attacking the other with kisses and hugs; Jake doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this happy. 

And this is only the beginning.

--

There’s a glint in the receptionist’s eyes when you check out of your room, as if she knew something you and Jake had been oblivious to all along. It’s the only one in town, so you go back to the little pub for a full breakfast with eggs, hash browns, haggis, and sausages. You get coffee so strong you think you might not sleep for the next four days, while Jake drinks tea that is equal parts sugar, milk, and actual tea.

From the moment you leave the pub to the moment you arrive at your doorstep, Jake’s hands barely leave yours. When they have to, like when you’re searching for the perfect seat on the train or when the controller checks your tickets, they’re back together within a minute, like two magnets that can’t stay apart for too long. The rain has long subsided, leaving place to a bright blue sky and wet blades of grass that shine in the sun. 

Now that your mutual feelings don’t need to be kept secret, you tell each other about everything you had to go through, like you pretending your good news was your mum having baked the cookies Jake liked and him seeing your new boyfriends every two months on your close friends story. He tells you about all the hints he’s dropped, causing you to facepalm over and over again. It feels like two friends catching each other to speed on all the latest gossip, except the topic of that gossip is you.

The juxtaposition of your familiarity with Jake with the novelty of behaving like a couple, of not having to hold back with your touches or gazes or words, is nothing if not jarring. But you have a feeling you’ll get used to it in no time. 

As you unlock the front door to your building, you don’t ask him if he’s coming up - to you, it’s a given that you’ll be spending the rest of today and every day after that together. So when he doesn’t follow you, staying still on the threshold, you turn around with a questioning look on your face. 

“There’s something I need to do this afternoon,” he says, taking both of your hands in his.

“Can’t I come with?” you say. Jake wavers for a second, but sadly, he stays firm in his decision.

“Sorry, baby, it’s a surprise. I’ll be back at seven with takeout?”

You can’t possibly be mad at him when he calls you baby and offers food in the same breath. “Only if you bring takeout.”

“You only love me because I feed you, don’t you?” he asks, a smile on his face.

“Yup,” you reply. You’re standing on a step, so you bend down to kiss him - you intend for it to be a peck, but when your lips touch, you’re unable to pull away. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, in the warmth that takes over your body and makes your brain all fuzzy. 

A loud, affronted gasp from behind you makes you jump from Jake, and when you turn around, Chaewon and Yunjin are standing in the stairwell, staring at you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. 

“So this was a sexcapade?” is, much to your horror, the first thing Yunjin says.

Thanks to Chaewon, neither you nor Jake have the time to dwell on this sentence as she comes running down the stairs and pounces on you. You don’t know how a woman so small can have such force, but her hug is so tight you can barely breathe, let alone hug her back properly. “I knew you could do it!” she exclaims. When she pulls away, she seems so moved, it looks like she’s about to cry. “You finally popped your Jake cherry,” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for Jake to hear. A bark of laughter escapes his throat.

“Okay, thanks, guys,” you say, escaping this awkward situation and going up the stairs. “I’ll see you later, Jake!” you yell over your shoulder. The girls seem to be on their way out, and you’re more than happy leaving him to deal with them on his own. God knows you’ll get the worst of it when they come back. 

As soon as you get to your flat, you make a beeline for your bedroom, plopping on the bed. You’re the same person, and this is the same room. But something within you feels entirely different, like a scar that you had been carrying around had, without you even noticing, healed so well you could barely see it anymore. You lifted your hands in the air, looked at the back of them, then at your palms. They were the same old hands that had been with you your whole life, and you were almost shocked that there wasn’t something utterly different about them after having held Jake’s hand for so long. Just to be sure, you sniffed your right hand, but it didn’t smell any different, either. But you still felt Jake’s hand on yours, like headphones you’d been wearing for hours and still felt on your ears after taking them off.

Yunjin and Chaewon are back from their shopping half-an-hour later; they got you a chocolate fudge cake from Tesco to congratulate you. “You guys are acting like this is my birthday…” you say, eyeing the cake greedily as Chaewon cuts it into three equal parts (even though it says serves eight on the packaging). 

“This is more important than your birthday, Y/N,” Yunjin states as she pours oat milk into three cups of Earl Grey tea. “This is, like, the moment of a lifetime.”

“Are you saying a girl’s importance depends on her having a boyfriend?”

“Yes, Y/N, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Especially when said boyfriend is the guy she’s been pining after for all of her teenage and adult life.”

You sigh. “Well, he hasn’t exactly popped the boyfriend and girlfriend question yet.” They both turn to look at you, an annoyed look on their faces. You stand up straight, uncomfortable under their gazes. “What?”

“Usually, I’m all for clarity on this issue,” Chaewon starts. “But isn’t it pretty obvious here?”

“You’re still gonna have to tell us everything in minute detail, but Jake’s already told us what happened. He had no qualms referring to you as his girlfriend, so I really don’t think this is something you need to worry about. What you should worry about is when and where you’re going to hop on that dick.”

Chaewon bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit. “Gosh, Yunjin, you really do have a way with words.”

“I know. This is what having a Jane Austen hyperfixation at fifteen will do to you.”

Following Yunjin’s orders, you tell them about the events of the previous day and this morning over tea and cake. They ooh and ah and gasp in all the right places, ask you very specific questions and even make you draw a picture of the room you stayed in. You’ve talked to them about Jake so many times that there’s only so much to say now - but still, you talk for hours on end, deviating off-topic so often you end up talking about something else entirely. 

You’re in bed reading for your Middle English Literature class when the doorbell rings. It’s seven on the dot, so it can be no one else other than Jake. It’s been mere hours, but you’ve missed him enough to last you for weeks. 

He brought takeaway from the Indian place you’d raved about a hundred times but hadn’t brought him to yet. Somehow, your heart grows even fonder as you watch his reaction to the food, the raise of his eyebrows, the widening of his eyes, the excited shimmy of his shoulders. When you ask him about his afternoon, a wide smile breaks out onto his face, like a lightbulb illuminating a room. Without a word, he scurries to your room, bringing back some sort of book with him. He hands it to you  with a shy smile and curious eyes, eagerly anticipating your reaction. The cover reads Y/N and Jake in his clumsy but endearing handwriting, with the date of his arrival in Edinburgh and an em-dash scribbled underneath. “I haven’t booked my flight home yet, so I’ll add the second date later,” he explains. 

When you flick through it, you’re met with photographs of you and Jake on all of the trips you’ve done so far, as well as the various adventures you got up to in the city. There’s even one of you sleeping in the library at two am during midterms when you had forgotten about one of your essays, due at midday. Jake had come with coffee and words of encouragement, and now he could brag that the high mark you got was thanks to him. It’s not only photos - it’s also ticket stubs, receipts, stickers, and even a dried flower you had found pretty on your trip to St. Andrews. He’s also written quite a lot, from diary-like entries about what you got up to that day or songs that reminded him of you. 

“You misspelt right here,” you say, pointing to a sentence that reads This is the café write next to the hotel where the last Harry Potter book is said to have been written!!! under a photo of you drinking a massive cup of hot chocolate. The more you look at the typo, the more it makes you laugh, until you have tears brimming in your eyes.

Thanks to Yunjin’s messiness, pens and pencils are strewn over your coffee table. Jake, flushed red in embarrassment at the small mistake, snatches a pencil and aggressively erases write, spelling it correctly the second time around. “This is the level of today’s English Lit undergrads,” he murmurs under his breath. His frown disappears when he looks at you and he laughs along.

You continue looking through the album until you land on a page titled Why I love Y/N. From top to bottom, left to right, it’s filled with Jake’s tiny handwriting. You can tell he put effort into making it neat. There’s a singular photograph of you, one that dates from the first days after Jake’s arrival when you were walking around in the Meadows, the park right next to campus. The sun shone down on you and you smiled brightly at Jake behind the camera.  

You’re not a quarter through reading when tears swell in your eyes, rendering your vision blurry. You wipe them away before they can fall and stain the page. Jake has detailed every last thing he loves about you. It can hardly get cornier than this, but the fact that he wrote this about you makes your heart so full, you’re afraid it might explode in your chest. It ranges from basic things like the way she makes me laugh or her pretty face when she falls asleep in the train (or anywhere, for that matter) to more you-specific things like the strict pastel colour-coding she uses for her notes and her perseverance when eating spicy food even though she can’t take it. He mentions things about you that you didn’t even know, and that feeling of being known in-and-out, of being really seen by someone else only brings more tears to your eyes. Your favourite line comes at the end - the way she makes any place feel like home. A proper sob pushes past your lips at this, and Jake, who had been watching you with an anxious smile, rests a palm on your knee and inches closer to you.

“Why are you crying, is- Did I write something bad?”

You shake your head fervently. “No, no, Jakey, this is… It’s perfect. I’m just…” you trail, letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle. You look at him with a smile before pulling him into a tight hug. “I love it so much. I love you so much.”

You can feel Jake relax against you. “I love you too, baby. I’m glad you like it.”

You pull away after a small while, and turn the next page over. It’s a picture of you over breakfast this morning, with words WE’RE DATING!!!! written underneath it, and those simple words make you so happy, your cheeks ache from smiling. But every page after that is empty. Jake scratches the back of his neck. “I, um, I thought we could fill the rest out together. I debated just doing it myself and giving it to you at the end of the year, but I thought it’d be more fun doing it together.”

“It would. This is such an amazing idea,” you say, flicking back through the pages.

“I thought of it because of that project I had. When I started working on it, all the photos I wanted to include were of you, but I wasn’t sure how much my professor would appreciate that… So I decided to make one more personal. One for us,” he says shyly, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

“Thank you so much, Jakey.”

He smiles. “It’s no worries.”

“Did you do it all this afternoon?”

“I had started it before, but I added it most of today, yeah. Which, by the way, awful timing. I wanted nothing more than to spend today with you.”

Your heart leaps. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to hearing such words from Jake’s mouth.

Sometime later, you’re laying in bed with Jake between your legs, watching the most recent animated Spiderman movie. With the tips of your fingers, you draw random patterns on his forearm, and if it wasn’t for his occasional chuckles, you’d think he had fallen asleep. You chat for a bit after the movie, but you find that after such an emotionally-packed day, you’re ready to call it a night fairly early. But when the lights are off and it’s just you lying against Jake’s chest, his fingernails grazing your scalp and his familiar, comforting scent clouding your judgement, all thoughts of an early night are thrown out of the window.

You shouldn’t feel so nervous - you had fallen asleep in his arms last night, and it had gone well. Really well. 

“This is different from yesterday, isn’t it?” Jake suddenly says, breaking the heavy silence with a low voice. It’s like he read your mind.

“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.

No other words are needed. You brush the tip of your nose along his neck until you reach his jawline, pressing soft kisses there and delighting in the increasing shakiness of his breath. The feeling of your lips meeting is so intense, so all-encompassing, that you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle anything more.

This is still new territory, but you’re both so eager to discover it that it makes for a messy kiss, lips moving against each other ravenously, tongues beckoning moans from the other. It’s a kiss that somehow leaves you breathless and breathes oxygen back into your lungs at once. 

In a matter of seconds, Jake has flipped you on your back and is hovering over you, one hand holding him up and one hand free to roam your body. He slips it underneath your t-shirt, brushes it along the side of your waist, his touch leaving behind a trail of fire blazing on your skin. It’s so distracting, you can’t even kiss him back properly anymore. Jake doesn’t seem to mind. At first, when he starts pressing hot kisses to your jawline and your neck, you think he’s giving you a respite - but when he gently sinks his teeth into the skin there, leaving marks that will later remind you tonight wasn’t a dream, chuckling as you squirm and whine under him, you understand that this is anything but a respite. 

You curse your earlier decision of not wearing a bra, because it gives you no preparation whatsoever to the sensation of Jake brushing his thumb against one of your nipples. With a loud gasp, your back arches off of the bed, which only aids Jake in raising your t-shirt up over your breasts. 

He takes a minute to admire the sight of you panting and half-naked underneath him. It makes you feel shy, and you want to do something so that he stops looking and starts doing, but his gaze holds you in place. His pupils are blown with lust, eyes raking over your body and taking everything in. You have a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that it’s you he’s looking at with those eyes. 

His soft lips attach themselves to your nipple while his fingers continue their work on the other one. You’ve never felt this sensitive, never felt this on edge, like you might fall apart at any second even with so little simulation. Your core throbs, impatiently waiting to be tended to, but you’re already trembling so hard from Jake’s attention to your breasts that you don’t know what will happen to you once he actually touches you down there.

“You doing okay, baby?” he asks, the rasp in his voice making you want him impossibly more. You grip his hair and he looks up at you, a tender smile on his lips. You nod your head yes and he laughs. “Yeah? You want more?” You pause at his question. You do want more, but is it worth your sanity?

It takes you a second to decide that it’s worth that and more. You nod again. 

Jake seems to have sensed your hesitation. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I am. It’s just a lot.”

His expression of worry softens into a smile. “I’ll take it slow for you, love. It’s a lot for me, too.” He leans in to press soft kisses to your cheek, and some of the tension in your body diffuses. Whatever happens, Jake will be there to take care of you. “But it feels good, right?” he asks, lips moving against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.

“Good.”

You can tell that Jake really does want to take it slow - his movements are more deliberate, gentler. But eagerness, both yours and his, soon takes over, and a minute later, he’s trailing kisses down your body until he reaches your lower stomach. Your breath quickens as he hooks fingers underneath your leggings and underwear, sliding both garments down your legs and leaving you bare to him. You think the feeling of his lips on the fleshy parts of your inner thighs is what might actually do you in, make you lose your sense of reality forever - but then his tongue darts out against your clit, a barely-there touch, and your whole body flatlines. 

Your reaction eggs Jake on, who, more confident now, takes the sensitive bud in his lips and alternates between sucking and licking motions. A knot ties itself embarrassingly quickly in your stomach, a knot that tightens and tightens as Jake flattens his tongue against you, licking up your juices from your entrance to your clit; a knot that threatens to come loose when he slides a long finger inside of you. You can’t take more than thirty seconds of this.

“Jakey,” you say, voice practically a moan. Your brain is fuzzy and it takes a distressing amount of time to form a simple sentence. “Can you come here?”

“Is something wrong, baby?” he asks breathily, sliding his finger out of you and coming back up so that his face is right above yours. 

“No, just… I want you.”

Any trace of worry on Jake’s features dissipates as he cocks an eyebrow, one corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Is that so?”

This kind of boldness would usually have you rolling your eyes, but here, it only makes your core throb more violently. It’s almost humiliating how much you want this man. It’s definitely humiliating, how easy it is to swallow your pride and play into his game. “Yes, please,” you say, eyes pleading with him.

He smiles almost giddily before burying his face against the side of yours. “My baby’s so polite,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Take this off, then,” you say, grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt. 

“So she says please and gives orders,” he jokes, quickly obliging anyway. 

Not once in your time apart had Jake posted any sort of beach trip or pool photos, so this was the first time you saw his bare chest. God, was it one for the history books. You trace the defined lines of his muscles with a finger and wonder how he had managed to get even more perfect. He lets you marvel at him for it, clearly proud that you’re gawking so shamelessly, but your mind drifts back to more urgent matters when he presses himself into you, his clothed cock, hard and hot, brushing against your folds. “Fuck,” you sigh, bucking your hips into his to feel him over and over again.

It’s so much, but it’s not enough; Jake instantly gets your message when you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling him to you and kissing him feverishly. Your lips don’t part as he slides his boxers off, and you drink up the nectar that are his moans as you take him in your hand, pumping him a few times.

“Condom?” he asks, but you shake your head.

“I’m on the pill. And even so… I usually always use a condom, but I don’t want to now. Not with you.”

Jake closes his eyes as he takes a deep, stabilising breath. “I feel totally normal about that. Not crazy at all.”

You giggle, and he opens his eyes, a wide smile gracing his lips before he bends down to kiss you. “You ready for the night of your life?” he asks against your lips. “It’s gonna last five minutes, tops,” he says, making you laugh again. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t do anything about it. I think I could’ve cum just from eating you out.”

“That would’ve been hot.”

“Really? We’ll make it a challenge for next time, then.”

When Jake plunges into you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He fills you up, slow inch by slow inch, until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. You both need some time getting used to the feeling - Jake drops his head in the crook of your neck and lets out a sound between a grunt and a moan, something you’ve never heard from him before. You grab onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you try to tether yourself to him. You hold him so tight that he has no choice but to let his body rest on top of yours, his arms coming to circle your waist and bring you even closer. 

His movements start out halting, the pleasure so overwhelming that it makes it hard for him to move steadily. In time, he falls into a torturously slow rhythm, but it’s the perfect kind of torture, the kind that has tears brimming in your eyes. It’s so hard to take, and yet you want more. You’re brought closer to the edge with every thrust of his dick into you, especially as he picks up the pace and lifts your hips to meet his. The new angle has his tip brushing against that spot deep inside you that makes it hard to breathe. 

You can tell he’s just as close as you when he loses that steady rhythm he had found, his motions growing more desperate, harsher, quicker. Conscious of your roommates, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as your orgasm washes over you, your whole body on fire, so sensitive that the few more seconds Jake needs to come undone himself drive both your body and your mind into overstimulation. Even the feeling of him pulling out, drops of hot liquid dripping out of your entrance, is too much and makes you let out a small, tired whine. 

Jake peppers your face with kisses as he holds your waist tightly, brushing his thumb back-and-forth on your warm skin, sticky with sweat. “You did so well, baby. So good for me.” You think you might be ready for a second round if he keeps talking to you like that. “I love you so much.”

You sigh deeply, as if you were just told disconcerting news. “Okay.”

“Okay?!” he echoes, looking up at you with an outraged expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, I love you too, I just- I’m not used to this yet! You can’t just tell me you love and expect me to be normal. You have to warn me first.”

“Can I just warn you now that I’m going to tell you I love you every time I get the chance?”

You sigh. “I guess.” 

“Can I tell you now?” he asks, and you hum. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Jake tuts. “I highly doubt it, but whatever makes you happy.”

You hold Jake close to you, one arm around his shoulders and the other hand playing with his hair as you come down from your high. You think he might’ve fallen asleep, and you’re close to drifting off yourself when he speaks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Not just the sex, although that has been on my mind for a while now,” he says, making you laugh, “but all of this. Being together, getting to be in your arms like this, kissing you whenever I want. Calling you my girlfriend.”

“Me too, Jakey. I waited so long I didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Jake chuckles. “How stupid were we not to have noticed we felt the same way?”

“Very stupid. I think we felt so sorry for ourselves that we were stuck in one-sided love, that we didn’t even realise the other was going through the exact same thing. But at least we’re now.”

“At least we’re here now.” You and Jake yawn at the exact same time, making you burst into giggles, giddy with sleep and love.

“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.

Jake hums, burying himself deeper against your body. “Sleep well, my love. I’ll be here.”

--

After years of pining after each other, you and Jake find it a bit hard to keep your relationship to yourselves, or your hands off of each other.

At the beginning, all of your friends had been happy for you, but that quickly went away when your and Jake’s honeymoon phase never died down and the PDA just kept on going. If the glue you were stuck with previously was metaphorical, this one was pretty close to being real. Superglue kept you together, your moments together rarely spent without some sort of physical touch. Yunjin fake-gagged so often, you were afraid she might actually vomit one of these days. It took Sunghoon two weeks longer than everyone else to clock you and Jake had started dating.

This meant that in private, there was truly no holding back. Jake back-hugged you any chance he got, to the point you started to think he was more koala than human - although that’d imply he saw you as a tree. Make-out sessions were a particular favourite of yours - how could they not be when your boyfriend’s lips seemed to have been carved by God himself, soft and plump to the heavens, like they were made to be kissed. Really, you were just honouring God’s will when you kissed Jake.  

The goodbye that comes at the end of the year is not an easy one, and the month spent at home before you fly to Korea seems to never end. But you get there eventually, and as nice as it is to catch up with Jake’s parents after so long, you feign sleepiness after lunch as an excuse to get some time alone with your boyfriend. Ironically, this “time alone” is spent so intensely that you do end up falling asleep afterwards. 

You have to admit, you really did a number on your boyfriend this time - what can a girl do when she missed her boyfriend this much? Jake is still passed out when you wake up from your nap, so you slip out as discreetly as you can from his embrace and get out of bed. You head for the closet first and swipe the comfiest looking sweater of his that you find there so you can stay warm as you look around his room. A pang of melancholia hits your chest - most of the pictures and objects on his walls and shelves are parts of his life you weren’t around to witness. Friends you don’t recognize, places you’ve never heard of, phases you’d never known he’d gone through. But then you see the frame on his desk, a faded photo of the two of you at ten years of age, eating ice cream on the bench outside of your house. Milo is sitting at your feet. Jake’s family hadn’t adopted Layla yet. You realise that even if there’s whole parts of your life you didn’t get to share with each other, nothing could touch your memories, or your future.

You want to go back in time and tell fourteen-year-old you that no matter how painful it might seem at the moment, it will all be worth it for the sight of Jake Sim slowly drifting into wakefulness, patting the bed next to him, and noticing you’re missing with furrowed eyebrows. When he opens his eyes and they settle on you, a sleepy smile will grace his dazzling features, and he’ll say, “Come back to bed.”

You’ll be even more in love at twenty than at fourteen.

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[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

The funniest thing about the Creator having a child thing (to me anways) is that the Archons act like their poor dear deity was an innocent in the whole situation, when you just KNOW that all the potential fathers (with the exceptions of Abyss Prince Aether and maybe Childe) were the ones being seduced.

Kaeya is a flirt, but he's not the type to bed someone willy-nilly, much less a deity. Nev is the Hydro Sovereign, he would have too much respect to try anything uncouth towards the Maker of All without their express permission. Kaveh would have to be blitzed out of his mind to even THINK of flirting with the Creator, much less bedding them. Childe, well...honestly it's a 50-50 split on that imo, he might if he thought it would go well and/or get him power of some sort. Traveler Aether would be focused on finding his sister, he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted by things like that...and Xiao? Xiao would never try anything that could even be mistaken as rude towards the Creator. Heck, I think getting a kiss on the cheek would be enough to make the poor guy panic.

So uh, I guess what I'm asking is...how did the dad's initially react to learning the Creator wanted to do the horizontal tango with them?

Help you are actually so right, in most scenarios I can only picture the reader being either shameless or forthcoming enough to say it to their face that they find the boy attractive or anything close.

I know there are at least a handful who while they fantasize about it wouldn't even dreamm of telling you that .

Their grace is so forthcoming

WC 1,2k

Flirty banter gets misunderstood for real flirting but they exploit the bug

Childe

“Your grace, you are shivering a lot!” he exclaims loudly as he pulls his harbinger coat onto your shoulders. The tsaritsa held a kind of ‘greetings party' with her harbingers, even if the atmosphere was tense and the chatting short, each of your sides being taken by the tsaritsa and Pierro. Sooner than expected everyone left. When you notice you left an accessory behind and meet face to face with the redhead alone in the room.

“Hm, I guess I'm a bit cold”

And without missing a beat or looking up from the clasp he was trying to secure he chimes faster than he can think “cold? But you are so hot!” but after he noticed his eyes seem to lack more will to live.

“I'm inc-”

As he attempts to apologize, your hand pulls on his wrist, getting him closer, his blue eyes wide, “You yourself are quite nice on the eyes, don't you want to tell me anything else?”

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows the spit that pooled behind his teeth, his little Freudian slip ended up better than he expected.

Kaeya

“Oh my, what are you doing alone here?” Kaeya sits down on the chair next to you, only a lonely drink with you

“Mhm, Venti got into a fight with Jose six fingers about who was a better bard” you sigh as you sip your drink, looking down a window at the two bards singing outside trying to get the crowd to decide who was better.

“To leave such an beautiful person alone in a bar, I wouldn't be surprised if a drunkard tried to sweep you off your feet” he sips his alcoholic drink, the burning on his tongue soon settling warmly in his stomach before letting out a roaring laugh from the bottom of his chest “I'm joking~ I doubt anyone would dare attempt”

You let out a simple ‘mhm?’ before leaning your head to the side to look at Kaeya with a mischievous grin “oh, such a shame, I would have allowed you to do something so bold and a bit more” and your hand falls on his thigh under the table and his soon follow.

Venti

Would NEVER, under No circumstances flirt first for reasons

Xiao

-holds too much respect to dar think about you like that-

“Aren't you sweet?” the small apple falls on your hand, Xiao had climbed a nearby tree after hearing your stomach rumble.

“I appreciate your kind words, even then I think I'm too jaded to be considered anything akin to that” He bows his head. It's been a while since he accepted that he would never be clean of the blood he spilled during the war, but that at least managed to make him want to protect Liyue so they will be able to live peacefully.

“You may say that but isn't selflessly protecting liyue sweet? I would say it's sweet how you care about little Qiqi, I saw how you carried her up a cliff to grab qingxin. Undoubtedly pure sugar”

“Your grace…” his eyes soften as he looks down where you are.

“You are almost like candy I could eat up!”

Traveler aether

-shy/ has other things in his mind-

“I have to say aether, your house is surprisingly comfortable” the words slip past your lips before you can think about it. Even if it isn't how you would have furnished it nobody could say he had bad taste. There are lots of fireplaces and cushions and the seats and beds are quite comfortable, an odd combination of styles that sustained the idea of him being a traveler and cherry picking the most comfortable parts of each nation.

“Paimon had a hand at it too! If it was up to aether this would only be cushions and blankets! Paimon had to push for these plants!”

“Well it wouldn't be strange for a traveler to seek mostly comfort rather than looks”

Later into the night he leads you to another room on the upper floor, just a few meters away from his “how strange, I would have guessed the guest's room would be on the lower floor”

Aether just sighs, his braid swaying softly “Paimon wanted her room to be close to the kitchen so it was this or having the game room up here”

A few hours pass, there is a noise like paws on the roof but you pay no mind, Aether already explained that nobody could enter unless he allowed them to and most likely they were one of the many animals he kept inside the teapot. Softly you walk towards his door and knock on it, not without looking down the railing only to see pain passed out surrounded by a few fruits.

“Could I sleep with you?” You stand before his door wearing your piyama, as you say those words you drink in his disheveled appearance, a t-shirt a few sizes too big hanging from his shoulders down the middle of his white thighs, long blond hair usually collected in a braid now loose, some bits tangled and another flowing as they please.

“Huh…? If you are afraid of noises the cranes sometimes go to the roof and you can hear them”

“It's not that… it's more like I want to be close to you, in the same bed” his cheeks, usually milky white bloom peony red, and the last bit of hanging sleep fell from his eyes. He nods vigorously.

He has principles and openly flirting with you almost seems disrespectful

Neuvillette

Melusines are the pride of Fontaine, with their joyful disposition and chubby cheeks even if chronologically they can be hundred if years old they can blend in with 5 year olds seamlessly. Be it their tiny huffing and puffing when things don't go their way, to their attraction to sweets and how clingy they can be with neuvillette. Especially when he misses the usual monthly visit.

“I have already apologized, work stacked up and-”

“You prefer our sisters who stay in the city! It's unfair” the melusine who took over his lap started kicking the air until Neuvillette combs her hair with his fingers.

“You know it isn't like that… could you as a group behave for their grace? they are arriving soon” he attempts to calm her down while looking at the drawing another is showing him and how two others are braiding his hair.

“Never took you for the fatherly type” as you walk inside the grotto some melusines jump on you, they only see you as mister Neuvillette's friend and someone with a gift which you soon give them, it's a small ball with glitter inside, soon the melusines focus on that and start running around chasing it “aren't they a joyful bunch?”

“They seemingly never run out of energy so they can be tiring at times. My apologies for such display, I expected them to be able to be calm by the time you arrived but as you can see…”

“I don't mind, it's adorable, attractive even” he doesn't look too taken aback by your comment other than his slit pupils being thinner and longer than usual.

Diluc

Thoma

Alhaitham

Would actually flirt, holds you in high regard but still sees you as a human

Dainsleif

Abyss aether

[juletheghoul]

Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox. 

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings;  C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell. 

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm. 

Unacceptable. 

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer. 

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head. 

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face. 

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work. 

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise. 

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him. 

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.” 

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him. 

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down. 

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”  

-

He was covered in grease. 

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail. 

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you. 

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck. 

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray. 

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter. 

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance. 

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast. 

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering. 

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black. 

-

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad. 

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent. 

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up. 

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke. 

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“ 

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself. 

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed. 

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter. 

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin. 

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.” 

-

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use. 

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off. 

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by. 

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco. 

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse. 

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you. 

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student. 

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants. 

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

-

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly. 

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon. 

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.” 

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again. 

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort. 

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there. 

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up. 

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed. 

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach. 

-

He works fast - you have to give him that. 

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower. 

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly. 

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep. 

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable. 

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest. 

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you. 

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink. 

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look. 

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it. 

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed. 

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan. 

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap. 

Nothing had ever tasted so good. 

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.” 

-

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you. 

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here. 

I probably would have died by now. 

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed. 

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.” 

Quietly, you got back to work.

-

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without. 

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface. 

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him. 

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away. 

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.  

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand. 

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter. 

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

-

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough. 

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun. 

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good. 

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth. 

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten. 

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish. 

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word. 

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up. 

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull. 

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

-

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest. 

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away. 

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.”  When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation. 

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you. 

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush. 

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin. 

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip. 

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him. 

-

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long. 

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself. 

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings. 

-

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home. 

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention. 

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he? 

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him. 

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face. 

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you. 

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him. 

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory. 

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored. 

-

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved. 

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane. 

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams. 

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name. 

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off. 

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again. 

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult. 

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

-

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood. 

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different. 

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging. 

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back. 

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face. 

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him. 

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned. 

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins. 

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face. 

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face. 

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts. 

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before. 

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back. 

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that. 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond. 

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration. 

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up. 

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

-

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock. 

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water. 

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence. 

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry. 

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair. 

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.” 

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man. 

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him. 

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion. 

-

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure. 

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse. 

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop. 

-

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling. 

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden. 

-

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before. 

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water. 

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand. 

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.” 

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome. 

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him. 

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him. 

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body. 

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated. 

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours. 

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter. 

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings. 

-

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth. 

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy. 

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway. 

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him. 

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless. 

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own. 

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you. 

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning. 

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored? 

-

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with. 

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness. 

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face. 

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back. 

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.” 

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.” 

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you. 

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you. 

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most. 

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple. 

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip. 

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly. 

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside. 

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up. 

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.” 

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit. 

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

-

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core. 

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.” 

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through. 

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.” 

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.” 

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck. 

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time. 

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.” 

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

-----

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[phoenixyfriend]

Fulcrum and Old Ben

Hiiiiii I'm thinking about time travel again

Specifically, I'm thinking about Rebels-era Ahsoka and Ben getting tossed back to Obi-Wan's teens in the Temple... and it's an open secret that they're time-travelers, and that the old guy is future!Obi.

The scene I'm fixating on is teen!Obi and Quinlan gossiping about how old they think Ben is, and how he knows the half-Mando-looking Tog Jedi (they aren't used to non-Guards wearing armor in the Temple, and Ahsoka's been wearing Mando-made armor since she was recruited by Bo-Katan in S7).

The whole Temple is trying to figure out what their deal is, but Ben is dedicated to being obtuse and confusing in the grand tradition of Yoda and Qui-Gon, and Fulcrum is enjoying the power of being annoying and able to properly relax for the first time in twenty years.

This is all happening in the refectory. Lunchtime gossip. Fulcrum and Ben are sticking together and while other people do join them, they don't really split up (that's her dad and she's not ditching him again).

Also the possibility of Ezra and Fulcrum "I may not be your Master, but he DID ask me to look after you, so sit down and listen until we figure out where to place you."

Ben: Remind me why you don't just take him on yourself? Fulcrum: You know I haven't been a Jedi since I was seventeen. Technically.

Different moment:

Obi-Wan: How is that ME? I mean, I guess he's from, like, a hundred years in the future, but-- Ben: Forty. Obi: …what. Ben: Closer to forty. I'm fifty-six. Obi and Quinlan: [open-mouthed horror that WILL get them scolded for being rude] Fulcrum, snorting: Ha, you look old. Ben: Yes, well, over fifteen years on Tatooine will do that to a man. Obi, to Fulcrum: Wait, how old are YOU? Fulcrum: A lady never tells. [wink wonk] Obi: … Fulcrum: I haven't been born yet, but I am in my thirties.

Also, there is just something soooo good about Ahsoka telling people she's been doing black ops for the better part of twenty years, and ribbing Obi-Wan about how he spent most of that time being sad and talking to ghosts on Tatooine.

And the two of them are having Fun while their audience is just [doingmeaconcern.meme]

[sliverslipped]

First impressions about you

Please be mindful of your words and as it's said not everything might resonate. This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath after taking a close look at the images. Choose the one that attracts you the most. Feel free to choose two piles if you feel drawn to both.

Credits: Pictures aren't mine. I got it from Pinterest.

PILE 1

Queen of cups: you may come across as kind, a nurturer and someone who they could open up to. You seem to be someone who has unconditional love to offer. You may also seem to be grounded and is very much aware of your surroundings. You also seem to understand them and read them without there being not much conversation going on. You might also be a healer. You appear to be reserved.

Sveen of wands: You're standing your ground, demanding respect and not afraid to face confrontation. Even if you don't feel like this is you, it's how you come across to others. You seem to protect and hold what seems valuable to you closer. You're not scared to fight back even if you're outnumbered. It may also seem that you seem to be stable, having achieved everything and is merely protecting what's yours. You may also seem to have rivals or competitors. You also have clear boundaries set across you and though it may make these people uncomfortable do what it takes for you to protect your energy.

Six of swords: now this may seem as a conflicting energy but I do think that this was how you were perceived in the past, a coward. However those notions about you have changed as the ones who come across you no longer see cowardice but rather bravery and strength exuding from you.

Sun: You may have been through a lot in the past, running away from your problems and not facing it but you seem to have emerged out of it just like the sun. The sun emerges after a long night and in a way we could interpret it as you no longer being in the shadows or hiding but rather welcoming new challenges and situations with open arms and a smile. People can see it too that you're content with whatever you have in life, you're stable and though you may have been through a lot it doesn't hold you back anymore.

Page of swords: You seem to be the type to be straightforward and honest about who they are and what they want. Though that's the case some may also assume that you're rude and blunt. I also heard rbf so some of you may have that which adds onto these notions.

Oracle:

Something about you is alluring, making people submit and surrender themselves to you. They feel at ease, they let down their guards and they feel that they'll be able to trust you. Something about you demands respect. You may look like you have clear boundaries surrounding you which again makes them scared but there's also something about you that's trustworthy that they let their walls come down first. It may even take you longer to trust someone than it takes for them to trust you. Also some may be stressed out rn so do meditate and exercise. Again the word allure comes up as they can see that you have a lot to offer to the world and your potential seems to not be noticed as much as it should've been. You're like a beacon for others to follow.

PILE 2

Ten of Pentacles: wealth and luxury, you come across as stable, someone who has established a lot in their lives. You seem to be content and even if that's not the case you will be, in the future. Some may even see you as spoiled, making these assumptions just because you possess material elements and they don't. You also don't seem to be in need of material things as you have already achieved those and are in possession of it.

Two of pentacles: you may seem to be the type to handle situations well no matter what life may throw at you. You seem to be flexible, adapting to your surroundings and being resilient. They may also think that you're someone who's well balanced and can handle whatever tasks they're being thrown. While this might be the case and you probably can handle the stress that comes along with it, make sure to take breaks.

Nine of pentacles: You're independent, strong and self assured. You know your worth and you're fairly content with what you have achieved and has your arms opened to whatever life has to offer you. You also seems to be disciplined and have self control not losing yourself within the fantasies. You're stable and have accomplished success in your life. This seems to be a confirmation that even if you're not stable right now materially you will be in the future.

Page of cups: You might be artistic. You may also seem to be the type to be in your head.

Seven of cups: you seem to have a lot of choices whatever this might apply to. I'm specifically picking up romantic options and this might piss people off as you seem to not be content with what you have, romantically. They might also see your potential to have greater achievements and success in your life. However spirits are also warning you to evaluate your options carefully as all that gleams are not gold.

Oracle: they might realize that you're an empath, you feel things deeply and you might also be intuitive and maybe even spiritual. Whatever the case might be they see that you're able to see through them and that you're probably guided by your intuitions and to not mess up with you. You also seem like the person to accept your flaws and accept that it's human to make mistakes. They may also seem like they're polar extremes away from you in the terms of physical,material or personality wise but it might also mean that the partners you're attracting or the ones who you leave an impression on might feel this way or are polar Opposites of you. They may also feel insecure because of this. You may show different sides of yours to different people. Not that it is bad but in the eyes of others that makes you unique and probably they're confused too. (more so when they get to know you). You may also appear to be wise.

PILE 3

Knight of wands: You seem confident and fearless. No matter what situation you may find yourselves tangled in, you're sure you'll make it out of it. You also seem passionate and motivated. You may also seem volatile and this might scare people off initially. Someone who's confident in them and their abilities and is not afraid of confrontations. May also come across as arrogant and reckless and all over the place.

Ten of cups: you also seem to be the type to hold strong connections with your family and value the bonds that you have. May also indicate that you come across as a family person. Perhaps they've seen the way you defend your family or take care of them. It also represents harmony and peace. You seem to be content with what you have. Listen to your heart and follow where it leads you to, victory will be on your side alongside pleasure and love.

Nine of pentacles: You're independent, strong and self assured. You know your worth and you're fairly content with what you have achieved and has your arms opened to whatever life has to offer you. You also seems to be disciplined and have self control not losing yourself within the fantasies. You're stable and have accomplished success in your life. Even if you're not stable right now materially you will be in the future.

Three of swords: you might be hurt by a situation, they can pick upon that. They see the sadness in your face, they're able to read it. Though they may not outwardly ask what that might be about they feel it. You might be going through tough times though this will not last long is what I've heard. You'll emerge out of it. You may also be a heartbreaker, betraying people and their trusts, at least that's what they assume.

Five of swords: people may think that you're selfish and you may have betrayed people to get where you're today. Very negative, needless to say, but this is what I'm hearing. You may have been alienated from others and they might think that it's because of your own actions. If that's the case and that you have betrayed people to get where you are, do evaluate yourself and whether it actually serves you after achieving it. This might also be a past behavior as they no longer see you as one.

Oracle card: innocence, golden child. You seem to be so innocent and regardless whether you agree with this or not that's how you come across. Ironic that this showed up after five of swords. This might be the differing opinions from a wide variety of people. You also seem to be very spiritually connected and intuitive. While pile two seems to be more on the don't mess with them, they're intuitive and can see right through you, you're more on the intuitive and know what's happening around me but choose to stay silent unless provoked. You may also come across as the one who would stand up for themselves and others no matter how innocent you may look. You also seem to be the type to leave situations if it doesn't serve you and though it may come across as selfish to some, you're doing what you need to protect your energy and it's totally valid. You may also come across as studious or workaholic. Again you come across as a brave person, one who's not afraid of confrontations but wouldn't inititate it unless provoked.

Ⓒsliverslipped

[itsjustrosee]

HIII I'VE BEEN SO INLOVE WITH YOUR WRITINGS SO FAR 🙏

since your request is open I'm hoping you can write this for me (I cannot express my thoughts to a full on fan fiction to save my life💀)

Request: so like reader is a runner. Minho and reader were running away from a griever like frantically trying to lose it then Minho suddenly pulled reader to a small crack on the wall so they would lose the griever. The griever was just around the area trying to find the two that's why both of the runners were just there in the crack, close together, litterly body to body😼 and you know some friction started to happen 🔥but of course they just can't do the thing😣 in the maze💀 so like after the griever was gone they both ran to the Glade and ykykyk they continued what they started🤡

If you don't get it basically smut☹️

Hehee thank youu in advance😘😘😘!!!

literally love this concept, and I will gladly accept ur request <3

SMALL SPACES (Minho x fem!reader)

Summary: look above for summary ^ (I made this enemies to lovers btw I'm sorry I couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Cursing, spice, smut (I don't really use the glade language in this one)

Word count: 4.6K (proofread, but there still might be some mistakes)

Today was like any normal day for you. You woke up at the ass crack of dawn, sloppily put on your clothes, and excited your hut. You walked across the glade, taking in the rather peaceful atmosphere while you looked up to see the sun peeking over the maze walls.

"God, mornings really aren't your thing, huh? You look like shit." Minho chuckled as you approached him while he stood waiting for the maze doors to open. He wore his signature blue shirt, which was paired with his infamous runners' vest.

Minho stood there with that shit-eating grin on his face as you stood next to him, rubbing your eyes and stretching as you let out a groan.

Since coming to the glade as a girl, all the boys have been nice to you and dare you say, rather respectful. All of them except for Minho. You never knew what you had done that warranted Minho's hatred for you, but it didn't matter because the feeling was reciprocated.

You really only needed to deal with Minho's attitude or rude comments when you both were running the maze together, which, unfortunately, was quite often. You came to the conclusion pretty early on that the worst part of being a runner wasn't the concept of getting trapped in the maze or being eaten alive with a griever, it was dealing with Minho's bitch ass.

"Not even a good morning. Starting the day off strong I see." You sigh, glaring at Minho while he checks the time. The doors should be opening soon and you wished that Ben and the other runners hadn't gotten totally hung over from the bonfire last night, resulting in them being in the medhut this morning with some really strong headaches. And it was because of that that only you and Minho would be running the maze together today.

"You know me," Minho replies while giving you a wink. You scoff at him, reminiscing about how you'd much rather be where you were ten minutes ago, sleeping in bed. "You know which parts of the maze we're running today right?" Minho asked, changing the subject.

"Yup, the outskirts of section six." You say as you roll your eyes, not bothering to mask the attitude in your voice. You put your hands on your hips, facing the maze while tapping your foot on the ground impatiently. You were ready for the maze doors to open so you could stop having to talk to Minho.

You knew yourself and you knew you wouldn't be able to stand talking to Minho much longer without giving in to the strong urge you had to maul him. But maybe then you'd finally be able to ruin his perfect hair.

I mean, how dare he have the nerve to wake up this early in the morning and look so put together. It wasn't fair.

"Well, someone's more grumpy than usual," Minho says, noticing the slight scowl you have on your face.

"I'm not grumpy." You reply while continuing to stare at the maze doors.

"Right," Minho says sarcastically before continuing, "You're going to get wrinkles if you keep making that face. Just letting you know." Minho explains as he lifts up his hand and brings it towards your face. He's about to tuck a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear and you feel a faint blush beginning to spread on your cheeks. For a second, you're tempted to let him, but that's until you come back to your senses, slapping his hand away as you do so.

"You just love pissing me off, don't you Minho?" you snap at him as you turn to face him.

"I'd say I love seeing your reaction to me pissing you off much more," Minho replies with a smirk as he stands confidently, bringing his hands up to his chest and latching his fingers onto the snug space between his runners' vest and his shirt.

"What, seeing me get mad?"

"No," Minho says while taking a step towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, his face now mere inches away from yours. "Seeing when I get you flustered." Minho finishes as he towers over you.

You look at him, shocked, and quite frankly, very bewildered.

Was he right? Yes, he definitely was, but you'd rather get stung by a griever than openly admit to that.

Nonetheless, it's safe to say his comment was exactly helping to calm the heat you felt on your cheeks from before now spreading like wildfire across your face.

You opened your mouth to say something in reply which would've been some sort of string of insults at Minho, but before you could, you both turned your attention to the maze doors which began to open. The stone screeched as whatever mechanism was built into the maze pulled the doors apart, revealing the maze and its seemingly infinite number of twists and turns.

As the doors came to a halt, a cold gust of air that the maze emitted whenever the doors opened or right before they closed, hit you and Minho. No matter how many times you felt it, it never failed to give you goosebumps all along your spine. The feeling of the wind on your skin made you remember the fact Minho's hand was gripped firmly around your wrist. And for some reason, instead of deciding to pull your wrist free right away, you decided to let him keep his hand there.

You exhaled a long and deep breath, one that you didn't even know you were holding in. You decided not to say anything else about what Minho had just said for the sake of being scared of where the conversation might lead.

So without warning, you jogged into the maze, pulling your wrist away and leaving Minho behind you.

"Hey wait up. Where do you think you're going?" Minho asked breaking into a sprint to catch up with you as you made sharp turns around corners of the maze.

"Where do you think?" You counter with an irritated voice.

"You know how to get to section six?" Minho questioned again, jogging up next to you.

You rolled your eyes but remained quiet. Speaking to Minho right now was taking up too much of your energy. All you wanted to do was stay quiet and focus on actually doing your job.

"Oh, so you're ignoring me now?"

Silence

"Fine. If that's what you want. No more talking." Minho said with an exasperated sigh.

And that's how the majority of the day continued. You and Minho mapped any remaining parts of the sixth section, though there wasn't really anything new to jot down, and stayed silent.

Even while you and Minho sat and ate lunch, neither of you spoke. You were determined to not be the one to break the silence and to be quite honest, you appreciated the quiet. But part of you missed the banter that you and Minho would get into. It helped you cope with the fact that almost the entire maze was mapped but there still didn't seem like a way out. And all in all, to you, your bickering and arguing could actually be quite fun at times, and it distracted you from having an existential crisis.

As hours began passing, you and Minho drew your searches for new areas of the maze to a close and began heading back towards the glade. You were beginning your trip back far earlier than normal, considering you were far out in the maze and not very close to the glade. If anything, it would be better to get out of the maze early than have the doors close before you could get back in the glade.

You jogged through the seemingly endless turns of the maze. Both you and Minho had gotten tired from today's work. You felt your legs burn and your energy dwindled with each stride you took toward the maze's doors.

You both couldn't have been too far from the glade when you heard it. Maybe you were ten or so turns until you reached the door, standing in a path that branched out in three different directions. One path was to your left, one to your right, and one straight ahead of you. You and Minho planned on taking the one straight in front of you to get back to the glade. However, you stopped dead in your tracks after hearing that sound, one in which you knew all too well.

The blood-curdling screech pierced the air, echoing along the walls as you and Minho just stood there. The worst part wasn't hearing the griever, but more the fact that it was far closer to you than you had anticipated.

You looked at Minho for some sort of reassurance. You wanted to convince yourself that maybe you were just hearing things, maybe you were actually just going crazy. Unfortunately, Minho's expression stayed stoic but you could see the fear in his eyes which honestly scared you more. Minho had been a runner for a while, much longer than you, so to see his carefree attitude change to something more wary and serious was new for you.

After standing in that spot for a couple moments, unable to move any part of your body, all of your worst fears were confirmed as you saw a griever turn a corner and run down the long passage of the maze that was in front of you.

Your breath hiched and for a split second, all you could do was stare. Stare at this disgusting, gruesome, and fucking terrifying creature. It was as if someone picked up a monster from your nightmares, something only your imagination would be able to conjure up, and placed it right in front of you. Something as horrifying as whatever the fuck that creature was, shouldn't have ever existed. But it did. And it was headed straight towards you.

Unlike you, Minho reacted quicker upon seeing the griever. "Come on. We need to go. Now!" Minho yelled, grabbing your wrist as he sprinted down the corridor to your right. Seeing the griever was all you needed to regain all the energy you had lost from running all day, and you quickly followed suit after Minho.

You ran as if your life depended on it, and in this case, it did. Literally.

Minho held onto your wrist tightly as he led you through the maze, the griever was hot on your tail and you both knew you wouldn't be able to outrun it for much longer.

Minho led you both into a different passage and ran down it frantically. Suddenly he pulled you into what could've been considered as a crack in the wall.

Most of the passageways in the maze ranged in various different widths. Some corridors were larger or smaller than others, but the one he had pulled you into had been smaller than you could've ever imagined. It would've been easier if you had gone in side-by-side, but at this point, that was a bit of an afterthought. Minho placed you in front of him as you both squeezed into the passage, desperate to escape the griever.

Your backs were up against opposing walls of the crevice, causing your chests to be pressed against one anothers. His hands were now placed firmly on your hips, pushing you into him as he attempted to eliminate more space around you in order to shuffle both of you further into the slit in the wall.

To be fair, you had to give Minho some credit because the griever wasn't able to reach either of you and trust me, it tried. Even as it left, both you and Minho knew it would still remain in the area, waiting for them to leave, so they would just have to wait it out.

You waited there for at least an hour already and the only issue was, of course, the lack of space. You had your hands on Minho's chest while his were gripped tightly around your waist, all while you did your best to keep your face away from his.

You would be lying if you said the tension in the air wasn't palpable.

Heat radiated off of Minho's body and beads of sweat laced your forehead. You didn't know how you could last another minute, let alone possibly another hour with your body pressed against his like this.

"It's only going to get more awkward if you don't say anything," Minho said while sighing, finally breaking the silence that had filled the air for some time. For the first time since you both got into this mess, you looked at him.

He looked just as tense as you did and you felt something in the atmosphere between the two of you shift. There was more of a longingness in the air, almost as if there was some sort of unspoken tension between the both of you.

"I don't get you Minho." You said as Minho gave you a confused look and you weren't quite too sure what you were going with it either, but you continued nonetheless, "It's like one day you hate me, then the next you're flirting with me. Seriously, is it just to tease me? Do you just like getting any sort of reaction out of me?" You said as the words just began to spill out of your mouth.

"I don't hate you," Minho replied, clenching his jaw. It almost seemed as if there was more he wanted to say but there was something that had stopped him from saying it.

"Then what is it Minho? What's your problem?" You asked with anger in your voice which was mixed for some reason with a twinge of sadness.

"The problem is that I like you (Y/N). I like everything about you." The look in his eyes matched the sadness you felt as he continued, "I've liked you for the longest time. I never said anything about it because I'm basically your boss and I didn't want to make things weird. I know that doesn't excuse me for being a dick but-" He paused, "I'm sorry. I mean it, I really am."

You looked at him, stunned once more by his words. Like a dam, all of the feelings you've had towards Minho flowed out at once. You had always vowed that you never liked Minho, not even as a person, but you knew that was far from the truth. Minho was the only boy in the glade that you had ever felt attracted to and it was safe to say the both of you had been denying that feeling for the longest time.

"Please, say something," Minho pleaded with you, looking down into your bright (E/C) eyes.

You wanted to say something. Really you did. But you just couldn't find the right words to say, so you didn't say anything at all. Instead, you kissed him. I mean, actions speak louder than words anyways, right?

You closed the small gap your face had with Minhos as you crashed your lips into his. Minho quickly got over his shock and reciprocated the kiss. In all truth, kissing Minho felt exactly as you dreamed it would. He was gentle yet passionate with you and if one thing was sure, he definitely took his time with you, savoring every part of your mouth as you allowed his tongue to enter it.

Minho drew away from you for a moment, "So I'm guessing you don't hate me anymore?" He asked, his lips already swollen from kissing you.

"We'll see about that." You answered with a cheeky grin on your face as he kissed you once more.

You melted into his touch even further than before, snaking your hands around his neck while he pulled you closer to him. As the kiss continued, it became more desperate and hungry, and neither of you could hold yourself back from each other.

At that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the fact that a griever was trying to kill you, or even that you were stuck in a giant maze. The only thing that mattered to you right now was Minho.

Minho drew away, biting your bottom lip as he continued to kiss you down your jaw and Neck, making you pull your head back slightly and moan. You felt Minho get hard under you, and it wasn't helping that the bulge from his jeans was positioned right by your throbbing core.

Though you could've stayed there, letting Minho kiss you all over, your mind reminded you of where you actually were. Part of you wanted to say fuck it, I'll take Minho right here and right now, but the more logical part of your brain knew you needed to get out of the maze now before the doors closed. And by now, the griever should've been long gone.

"Minho," you said breathlessly as he looked back at you after leaving marks all over your neck and collarbone. "We need to get back to the glade." You finish. You could see the look in his eyes and clearly, he had the same moral dilemma as you did a moment ago.

"Right- yeah, you're right let's go," Minho replied as you both did your best to squeeze out of the tiny crevice you had both wriggled yourselves into. Minho checked for the griever and thankfully it was nowhere to be seen.

Minho interlocked his fingers with yours as you ran through the maze, navigating its bends and corners. His grip was firm and protective and he was extra alert, checking behind and in front of you every so often.

Eventually, you both found yourself back in the glade with barely any time to spare. You let out a sigh of relief as you stepped onto the bright green grass, putting your head down and letting go of Minhos hand as you placed your hands on your knees while you panted.

The doors let out that familiar gust of wind and began to move once more, closing you into the glade for yet another night.

"What happened to you guys? We thought a griever got to you or something," Newt joked, walking up to you and Minho by the maze doors. You could tell a wave of relief passed over his face as he saw you both exit the maze and after he noticed that neither you nor Minho were injured.

You stood up straight again, putting your hands on your hips and giving Minho a look. You were about to tell Newt about the very close-to-death experience you and Minho just had, but before you could say anything, Minho spoke first, "Nope, we just spent too much time exploring. We made a lot of progress though." He lied.

You gave him a puzzled look. You both definitely did not make 'a lot of progress', not unless he defined 'a lot of progress' as rerunning areas of the maze you had already seen and mapped.

"We did?" You asked looking at Minho but he cut you off slightly as he continued.

"Yup, we did," Minho said grabbing your wrist and walking past Newt, "That's why we need to go to the maze room now," Minho concluded.

"Don't you guys want to eat something? Fry just made his stew, I'm sure you both are hungry by now," Newt asked, a little confused over Minho's urgency. For a while, Minho had started just grabbing a bite to eat before going to the maze room or bringing some food to the maze room as he mapped, but apparently, today was different.

"We're okay. Thanks though Newt." Minho said, still dragging you away as he waved goodbye to Newt who was left just standing there looking just as confused as you were.

After you both walked far enough away from Newt, Minho's grip on your wrist softened slightly, and soon you were both almost at the maze room.

"So are you going to tell me what that was about?" You questioned.

"Oh come on. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with not finishing something you started?" Minho asked, pulling you into the maze room, closing the door, and sitting you down on the table in the center of the room. He stood in between your legs as he placed both of his hands on your hips, leaning his face into yours, leaving barely any room between your lips.

You chuckle slightly while looking at him, "A little eager aren't we?" You ask him while you place one of your hands on his nape and the other on his cheek.

"How could I not be? I've waited far too long for this," Minho counters, one of his hands traveling up your side as the other stayed on your hip.

You thought the tension was heavy in the maze, but now it had grown ten times greater in here.

A deep sense of longing and desperation filled the air as you looked at Minho again, meeting his eyes as you spoke, "You're not the only one who's been waiting."

And with that, Minho's lips found yours. You clung to him as you wrapped both of your hands around his neck. Minho reciprocated as he wrapped one of his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him, while his other hand allowed itself to travel under the back of your shirt and up your spine. The feeling of his hand lingering up and down your spine sent shockwaves through your entire body.

Minho began kissing you hungrily and passionately, and being the sexually deprived teenager he was, he already grew hard again. You felt the bulge from his jeans press against your heat and you soon began to long for more of him.

You and Minho were quick to take your hands off of each other for a moment to take off your runners' harnesses. Your shirts were on the ground soon after, and you couldn't help but stare at Minho's figure as he stood in front of you.

God, this man was the definition of hot.

The way the muscles on his bicep flexed as he took off his shirt was quite possibly the most attractive thing you've ever seen. Not to mention that each and every one of his muscles was toned and defined.

Minho noticed your eyes linger on him, "Someone's staring." Minho stated as he lifted your chin up with his fingers, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans with his free hand while he did so.

"Can you blame me?" You ask, taking off your shorts and letting them fall on the ground, "You're hot Minho. I can't help but stare." You say as you begin to sit up straight. You tilted your head and placed your arms around his neck once more, staring up at him with a puppy dog-eyed expression.

Minho, who clearly isn't used to receiving praise for his looks, is floored. It's safe to say the compliment went straight to his dick because you could feel him grow even harder under you. You chuckle as you kiss Minho once more and this time, he melts into your touch completely.

Minho moves one of his hands to your back, the other moving up your thigh until it reaches your soaked panties. He moves them to the side so that he has access to your pussy and he places two of his fingers between your folds, rubbing you up and down.

A moan escapes from between your lips as you throw your head back, relying on the arms you have wrapped around Minho's neck and the hand he has on your back for support.

"So wet for me already," Minho chuckles to himself as he continues rubbing circles into your clit. Suddenly, he pushes one of his fingers into you, causing your body to jolt in pleasure and surprise.

He adds in his other finger and begins pumping them in and out of you, agonizingly slow. As if a reflex, you roll your hips against his hand and moan his name. You fail to suppress your soft whimpers as he picks up the pace, making you drown in pleasure.

"Minho please, I want you." You breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Want me to do what baby?" Minho asks as you bring your head back up to look at him.

"I want you inside me." You confess. "Please," you whimper, on the verge of begging him.

Minho kisses you softly as he takes his fingers out of you and you use your elbows to prop yourself up. Minho pulled his boxers down so they pooled at his ankles and his cock sprang out, hitting his stomach as he did so. His cock was long and hard as beads of precum dripped down from his tip. Fuck he was massive.

Minho lined himself up with your entrance and with one swift push, he entered you fully. You gasped as you sunk into him further. Your walls stretched around his girth and the quick pain you felt as he made his way inside you was quickly replaced by pleasure.

"Fuck- you're so big," You moaned out, as Minho began his thrusts.

He groaned as he began moving in and out of you. The pleasure both of you felt was unmatched as Minho gripped your hips, using them to help guide his movements.

"God you feel so good," Minho panted as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Minho kisses you again, messily and sloppily as he continues with his movements, but neither of you can focus on kissing the other, not when he is pumping in and out of you. You couldn't help but savor what it felt like with him inside you. The way he filled you up made you feel like you were on cloud 9.

Minho kept mumbling out words of praise while he moved in and out of you and he could tell by the way your walls began to squeeze around him, that you were close. And you could tell that he was close by the way that his thrusts began growing more sloppy and desperate. But maybe it was him removing one of his hands from your hip to apply more pressure to your clit as he rubbed circles into it, that pushed you over the edge.

"Minho I'm going t-" You began to say as your voice broke but you couldn't finish your sentence before letting out a loud moan. A wave of ecstasy crashed over you all at once and you threw your head back in pleasure.

Minho groaned as he pushed into you with one final thrust, filling you up completely. It took a moment with the both of you panting before he pulled out.

You sat up straight as Minho brought his head towards your ear, "You did so well, you know that, right, baby?" Minho whispered before meeting your eyes. You gave him a smile and he gave you a soft kiss. "Want to grab some food and then cuddle in my hut for the night?" Minho asked as he pulled away, picking up his scatted clothes and putting them back on.

"Mhm," You replied with a smile. Today was quite an eventful day and to be honest you were exhausted and Minho picked up on it.

"Are you tired?" Minho questioned as he grabbed your remaining clothing and put it back on you while you yawned.

"Just a bit," You replied with a chuckle as you hopped down from the table.

"We can go to be early tonight then," Minho said while wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you outside the maze room. You pecked him on the cheek as you both walked off.

____

Bonus

"Hey Minho I know it's your day off but I can't find (Y/N) anywhere. I checked her hut and then thought maybe you'd know wher-" Newt paused as he barged into Minho's hut to see Minho now sitting straight up in his bed. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to your neck?" Newt asked, referring to the very obvious hickies you had ended up leaving Minho.

Minho was struggling for a response as you emerged from under the sheets in Minhos t-shirt, rubbing your eyes and looking over at Newt.

Newt looked at you both, bewildered and flustered as the dots finally connected in his brain. "You know what- Never mind. I'll leave you guys to it. Didn't mean to interrupt." Newt replied quickly, slamming the door on his way out of the hut.

You huffed and rolled back on your side in hopes of getting a bit more sleep. Minho gladly wrapped his arms around you and joined you.

Ok, this might be my favorite fic I've written so far. I'm really happy with how it turned out and I hope you guys like it too!!

Also, thank you guys again for all of the overwhelming support I've been getting. And thank you guys for 30 followers!!!!!!!!! I can't thank you guys enough for how kind you've all been, but seriously you're all so amazing and so sweet.

[chaoticklesblog]

Maybe You Just Need More Convincing

Adam gets his everloving shit wrecked from some of the Hotel Staff in order to convince him sinners really can be redeemed. Charlie also recruits Lucifer to give them a hand, in more ways than one.

Warnings for foul language, some violence, suggestive humor (nothing extreme, just some totally in chatacter comments), my shitty grammar/punctuation, and lots of fluff/tickles. I hope you enjoy!! :3

It was no secret that Adam was heaven (and hell's) resident douchebag. He was stuck up, conceited, and completely self-centered. He had no real intentions of giving Hazbin Hotel a shot. He hadn't even shown up in person to the meeting in which was arranged originally between himself and Lucifer. And after Lucifer's daughter had stood in Lucifer's place at that meeting, well, Adam just couldn't take anything the princess of hell had to say seriously.

Charlie Morningstar was less than pleased to discover that the angels were going to be on a new six month extermination schedule. How was that even fair? It was so frustrating that Adam had flat out refused to listen to reason or even take Charlie's pitch of redemption even halfway seriously. He spent most of their allotted meeting time making sexist comments, talking about himself, interrupting anything Charlie had to say, and eating his pile of ribs in the most obnoxious and rude way possible.

Charlie had to think of a way to truly convince the head angel to call off the extermination and redeem those who were taking their path to redemption through the hotel seriously. But no song, no dramatic speech, no amount of begging or pleading could convince the dickhead that her Hotel would ever actually work.

"How could we actually convince heavens top angel to take our Hotel seriously?" Charlie had asked the staff and two meager residents in a meeting that was originally to be comprised of forgiveness role-playing and trust exercises. The change of routine was much welcomed by all, though they'd never explicitly tell Charlie that.

"We could just kill him?" Alastor suggested, his grin broadening and eyes darkening at the thought.

"That wouldn't be a good way to exemplify our goals or show redemption," Charlie paused. "We just need to figure out a weakness, you know, find something that we could use against him! Does anyone have any... less violent ideas?" She shoots Alastor a sympathetic smile.

"Vicious blackmail?" Angel suggests casually. He has the day off, and while he'd rather be scoring drugs or drinking at the bar with Husk's sole company, this discussion is far better than trust exercises.

"That's a less violent alternative," Charlie comments, "But still shady..."

"Listen toots, we aren't gonna convince Adam or anyone else to take us seriously if we don't play at least a little bit dirty," Angel tucks his upper set of arms behind his neck in a bored gesture.

"Angel has a point, Charlie. They wouldn't listen to reason, and the angels are notorious for not playing fair. I know you're trying to find a way that isn't violent or unconventional, but we might not have much of a choice. Especially if we want to defend our people," Vaggie steps closer to Charlie to embrace her briefly.

"Blackmail... nonviolent... unconventional... playing dirty..." Charlie thinks briefly about the options that fall under all these categories, and suddenly her face breaks out into a wide and evil grin. "I know exactly what we have to do! And I know just the person to call to ensure this plan will work. But I'm 99.9% positive, and it'll be foolproof!"

••••

"You want to what?" Lucifer's voice raises an octave. Unsure of what exactly this favor was his nearly estranged daughter had asked of him, he couldn't tell her no. But he hadn't known this was the specific favor in question until he arrived to the hotel. And Charlie had intentionally left out a few key details.

Had Lucifer known his precious daughter and hotel patronage had planned to exploit his ticklishness, he would've very well declined and spent the afternoon with his vast collection of rubber ducks.

"But that's only part of the favor. We also need you to arrange a meeting with Adam face to face. But first we need to know if this plan will work," Charlie's voice at the end was near pleading. Lucifer almost felt sorry for her, but what did this have to do with tickling him?

"I can arrange him to meet you all in person," Lucifer spoke slowly' "but what the hell does this have to do with tickling me?" His voice rose to a strangled octave, indicating that he was indeed ticklish.

"Mr. Morningstar, erm, your majesty, Charlie pointed out that you and Adam have similar angelic traits... so we figured that if you were... also inflicted the same weakness... We might actually have a shot at bringing that Adam prick down a few pegs," Vaggie nervously stepped forward to shake her girlfriends father's hand.

"I'd like to peg him," Angel murmered, earning a few looks of utter horror he quickly added "Adam, I meant Adam! Besides haven't you heard of hate fucking?" Angel grumbled defensively.

Lucifer turned back to Charlie.

"So you're asking me... if you can find various sensitive spots on my body... to use on Adam... in hopes of getting him to call of the next extermination?"

Charlie nodded enthusiastically and damnnit, Lucifer just couldn't say no to her.

"Okay, okay, okay... But a few things first... I'm only letting you do this as part of that favor. If anyone here ever tries to tickle me outside this one stand alone instance, consider yourselves to be absolutely wrecked. As ticklish as I am, I will ensure to pay you back in kind tenfold if any of you pull a stunt like this outside this small window of time. I'm only doing this because it would be nice to knock that dickhead down a few pegs."

His threat clung to the air a few moments. The king of hell was known to be ruthless, and he was a force to be reckoned with.

"Thanks dad!" Charlie reached over to hug him. Something the two hadn't done in such a long time but their embrace felt familiar. Normal even.

"A couple of other points..." Lucifer told the group, "an angels wings are the most sensitive, pretty much everywhere. Between the feathers, shoulder blades, wing pits, I mean, it's lethal... Lilith used to..."

Lucifer couldn't help but turn a blushy pink color at the mention of his former wife. He hadn't been properly tickled since... well, it had been quite some time. Lilith wasn't a stranger to tickling Lucifer to tears, but she was the only one to ever indulge in his weakness. He was never tickled by anyone other than Lilith. And cetainly not by this many people. Charlie had grown up with witnessing Lillith tickle him to pieces. Faint memories of her father squealing, shrieking, and downright begging Lilith not to tickle him while laughing helplessly. But Lilith had always been able to easily overpower her much smaller husband. But Charlie also knew how Lucifer could hold his own. She knew what a fierce tickle monster he could be in her own experiences and knew by watching her parents in her much younger days that Lucifer almost always sought revenge.

Lucifer kept reminding himself that this was necessary. He knew this was to help his people of hell, his daughter even, but being demon royalty and exposing his most innate physical weakness and allowing others to take advantage of it was downright terrifying. It had been bad then, but now? Lucifer let out an involuntary shudder.

"For Adam, specifically, I'm led to believe that he would have another weak point aside from his wings. But if his wings are anything like mine, then you shouldn't have much trouble!"

Lucifer tried his hardest to ignore the shit eating grins forming on the faces of both Angel Dust and Alastor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But he remembered his favor to Charlie, and all the memories of his past tickling experiences and thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Please, do tell us of any other weak spots you think the angel will have, your royal higness!" Alastor chimes in, eager to have something to use against both Adam and Lucifer.

"God removed one of Adam's ribs to create his new wife. And being touched by that amount of power would absolutely cause that spot to be more sensitive... It's basically a given."

"So torture the guys wings and ribs, got it," Angel smirked.

"Torture Adam's wings and ribs," Lucifer clarified "you motherfuckers better go easy with me." Lucifer couldn't help but back away nervously from the group. Unfortunately for him, there was only so far he could back up before his back collided with the wall of the Hotel lobby adjacent to where Husk was sleeping at the bar. At least Nifffty and Husk weren't involved in this scheme.

"Anything else we need to know before we tickle you to death?" Charlie asked almost sympathetically as Vaggie, Angel, and Alastor closed in on the king of hell.

"Sixty seconds. Do NOT exceed sixty seconds." Four against one was definitely not a fair match.

Lucifer wasn't given time to think while the group circled around him. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"Sixty seconds," Charlie clarified, "starting in 3..."

Why the fuck did he agree to this again?

"2..."

This really had better work on Adam. Otherwise Lucifer knew he'd be totally fucked around Alastor, Angel and Vaggie, who all seemed to take pure delight in discovering the king of hell was ridiculously ticklish. Why did Charlie have to tell them?

"1..."

Shit. And he was lost in helpless, screech filled laughter. Lucifer had curled into a ball as ten arms and countless tickling fingers dug into almost all his ticklish spots.

"WHAHAHAHAHHAHT THE FUHUHUHCK AHHAH STAHAP!" Lucifer pleaded, knowing it hadn't even been 10 seconds yet.

Alastor had taken the liberty in casting a temporary paralysis spell on Lucifer so he couldn't even protect his worst spots. He had taken this opportunity to also tickle the smaller demon's shoulder blades which shook helplessly as his six magnificent wings unfurled.

Angel and Vaggie started to explore his wings and Lucifer had severely underestimated just how much it would tickle.

"OohoHAHAhaA, IHIHIHT tiHIHihihCkles HAhahHa soHo mUhUHUHUCH AHAhaHa!" Lucifer squealed as Angel and Vaggie had tickled the soft skin beneath his feathers, Angel's extra set of hands had made quick work of his wing pits which caused his laughter to shoot up an octave.

"That's kind of the point, short king," Alastor teased as he had switched to taser his sides while Charlie had been scribbling at his ribs, grinning madly as her plan had seemed now that it could be executed without fail.

Lucifer was in absolute tickle hell. Literally. The sensation of Vaggie and Angel mercilessly tickling his wings, scritching the skin beneath his feathers, digging into the sensitive wing pits and occasionally poking and scratching at his shoulder blades combined with Alastor squeezing his sides and Charlie torturing his ribs had nearly caused Lucifer to break. He couldn't move to protect his tickle spots. And all he could do was laugh and shriek and hope the ticklish assault would end whenever the alloted minute was up.

"I didn't think you'd still be this ticklish!" Charlie cooed.

"OkAYHAHAHhahAH! SEhehee? IHAH- I TOHOAHAHHOLD YOUHOO AHAHhahah it WOHOULD WORK!" Lucifer cackled.

He never had four people tickle him at once before. It was the most ticklish he'd ever felt in his entire life. It wasn't fair to have all his tickle spots exploited at once!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of cackling, the minute had passed and as promised, Charlie called off the experimental tickle attack. Alastor reversed the spell and Lucifer had crumpled to a giggling panting mess on the floor, overstimulated from all the tickles and trying to rub away the residual ghost tickles.

"So was that 60 seconds of getting your everloving shit rocked, short king?" Angel grins down at Lucifer.

"Seriously, fuck you guys," Lucifer giggles.

"Think this will actually work on Adam?" Vaggie turns to Charlie beaming as she helps her one day father-in-law off the floor.

"It has to!" Charlie says with pure confidence.

"Thanks, dad, for helping us prove our theory to be true. Adam won't stand a chance against us." Charlie hugs the still giggling Lucifer around the middle.

"I don't mind seeing that loser taken down, I'm... glad I could help, but seriously, that was awful," Lucifer says, hugging Charlie back.

"I'll arrange for Adam to arrive here tomorrow and then you can convince him to listen."

●●●●

Adam was irritated. Sure, the king of hell was able to order him to meet in person to discuss business matters, but that didn't mean he wanted to. If it were up to him, he would meet through holographic magic, but Lucifer had strictly forbidden it for this meeting only.

So here he was, at the hotel's doorstep, expecting to meet with Lucifer and returning to report back to heaven as soon as this mandated meeting was concluded.

What Adam wasn't expecting, however, was to be met with Alastor, opening the door positively beaming at him.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Why, you must be Adam, we've all been dying to meet you! Well, if it weren't for the fact that we are already dead!" Alastor chuckles at his own joke. "Do come in!"

"Who in the fuck are you?" Adam glares at Alastor, wary of the taller demon.

"Why, I'm Alastor, the infamous radio demon of hell and manager of this fine establishment! Allow me to show you around hell's only rehabilitation center for lost souls!" Alastor grabs Adam's wrist and drags him through the hotel lobby toward the bar.

"Allow Husker to pour you a drink, on the house!" Alastor grins at Adam's sheer befuddlement. He was out of his element here in unfamiliar territory. Husk pours an unmarked liquid into a glass and slides it toward Adam.

"...uh, thanks... but when am I supposed to meet with Lucifer?" Adam looks at the drink as if it were poisonous.

"Don't be a silly! We would never think to poison the one and only angel who had the power to permanently end the exterminations of hell's residents!" Alastor laughs as if he could read Adam's mind.

"And Lucifer will be here soon, but we have other eager candidates to speak with you before hand!" Alastor continues smirking as Adam slowly begins to drink from the glass.

That's when Adam turns and notices Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel behind him, a bit too close for comfort. And suddenly, Adam finds himself unable to move, thanks to Alastor's demonic power and curse of immobility.

"What the actual FUCK, Charlie?" Adam tries to writhe away but is unable to do so.

"Adam, thank you for joining us today! We thought it might take a team approach to convince you that our redemption center deserves a chance to save sinners from extermination," Charlie smiles.

"I already fuckin told you that hell is eternal damnation, I'm not changing my mind and I think that your hotel is a worthless waste of time!" Adam spits angrily.

"Maybe you just need more convincing..." Angel smiles, excited to be able to have one over on this pompous angel prick.

"I said Noho!" Adam let's out a startled Huff as Charlie prods his side near the bottom of his ribs.

"I don't think you're in a position to refuse our quite reasonable requests." Alastor chuckles.

"What are you all playing at?" Adam sneers, albeit nervously.

"Well, we can't harm you, obviously, but we found a rather unconventional method of torture to utilize to convince you to take us seriously," Charlie explains.

Torture? Adam now realized three things.

One: he was outnumbered.

Two: he was completely immobile and couldn't move from whatever power was keeping him trapped.

Three: The poke Charlie had administered to his side had been... well... ticklish... Adam had started to realize that they intended to tickle him. They couldn't. They wouldn't, actually, could they?

"No, no, Charlie. I demand you to release me!"

"Maybe this will help convince you not be such a pompous asshole," Charlie smirked down at Adam evilly.

And suddenly, Adam felt her dig all ten fingers into one of his most ticklish spots, his ribs. And he felt Angel and Alastor tickle into his sensitive shoulder blades, causing his wings to expand.

"Nohohoho, what thehahahhah FUHAHAHAHAHUCK?" Adam squeals.

Vaggie had hopped in to help Charlie tickle his stomach and hips and Adam was in absolute ticklish hell.

"Fuhahahahuck YOHOU GUYS, AHAHAHAHAHA!" Adam can't even squirm away from their torturous fingers. His laughter shoots up an octave as Alastor and Angel tickle into his wings.

No tickle spot was spared on the guy and he couldn't even move or writhe away from the ticklish touches. It wasn't fair!

"Think you'll give the hotel another shot?" Charlie asked, digging sharply into Adam's lower rib cage. Adam's laughter doubled.

"NohohahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Oh shit, Adam! It feels Ike one of your ribs are missing!! Maybe we should count them to see how many are there!" Charlie teases, enjoying how much power they have over Adam.

"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOHOOFF!" Adam screeches as Charlie proceeds to count and recounts his ribs.

"We've got all day, tough guy!" Angel digs roughly into Adam's wing pits as Alastor digs his claws beneath the feathers to torture the delicate skin beneath. How long had it been? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Adam quickly realizes that he is utterly fucked.

Adam's laughter goes silent. It's not fair to have them all tickle him to pieces. He couldn't even fight back or try to get away. All he could do was lie there and take it. His eyes begin to water as they continue their ticklish onslaught. And Adam just can't handle much more.

"Think we can renegotiate now?" Charlie asks and Adam quickly nods despite his silent hysteria.

"Okay, I think he's had enough," Charlie slows her hands and pulls them away, and the rest of the group follows suit.

Adam lays there panting giggling, still feeling the ticklish assault through his nervous system.

"I hope you won't forget this, as we are easily able to convince you to do exactly as we want," Alastor chuckles darkly, removing the immobility curse.

"Seriously, fuck you guys," Adam flips them off as he uses his magic to dissappear. His tough guy facade had been broken.

Adam would call off the next extermination, out of fear of what would happen to him if he continued to refuse. Now, his greatest enemies knew of his ticklish weakness. He would never be able to live it down. And maybe a part of him didn't want to.

[firewasabeast]

a prompt: don't really care what, but I loved your little Husbands fic you did and I'd love more husband stuff with tommy and buck!

Okay, I adored writing this. I hope you don't mind I added "dads" into the equation too!

(ao3 link if you'd rather read there)

Old Man

“How about this one?”

Buck turned around to see Tommy holding a bright blue cane. He was hunched over, a hand on his back, as he shuffled himself forward using the cane for support.

Buck rolled his eyes. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed. “You're not an old man, Tommy.”

“That's not what that kid said the other day.”

“'That kid' is our kid, Tom.”

“Well, when he's calling me an old man he's that kid. What four year old calls his dad an old man? Where'd he even learn that from?”

“I don't know, maybe from the father that called the man in the restaurant the same thing not even two weeks ago, in front of said child?” Buck stared at Tommy pointedly.

“Okay, but that was an actual old man and he kept being rude to the waitress.”

“Doesn't mean you had to turn to RJ and tell him that he was a grumpy old fart man that deserved laser beams fired at his toupee.”

“You're gonna remember that forever, aren't you?”

Buck sighed. “Can I get back to finding RJ's favorite toothpaste now? Is the crisis over?”

“No, it's not over, Evan. It's not over because I'm forty-six and I have a son who thinks I'm eighty!”

“If it makes you feel any better, he- he thought I was half golden retriever last week.”

“How would that make me feel better? You are half golden retriever.”

Buck picked up a tube of toothpaste that was nearest him. “I will throw this at you.”

“And risk injuring the elderly?”

Buck tossed it toward him, hitting his chest before it fell to the ground. Tommy just looked down at it. “You know I'll never be able to reach down that far to pick it up. Not with my sciatica.”

“Tommy, I swear to God.”

“Okay, okay,” Tommy surrendered, reaching down to pick up the tube. “I still think the comment was undeserved.”

“You grunted as you got up out of your recliner to go get your reading glasses, Tommy. Think about it.”

A beat of silence, then, “Oh my God. Oh my God, Evan, I'm old!”

Buck's head fell forward, eyes closing as he tried to calm himself. “This is how I die, isn't it? I- I've survived the unsurvivable, but this is what's gonna take me out.”

“I like to sit out on the front porch every evening and watch cars go by.”

“They'll put it on my tombstone, 'Lightning couldn't get him, but his husband did.'”

“The last time I bought socks, I got the ones that go higher on the calf. They're just more comfortable, Evan!”

“Maybe if I tug hard enough, this whole shelf will topple on me and I'll get a week's coma out of it.”

“The other day at work, I used the word 'ruckus' in a sentence! Ruckus!”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

Buck sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I need you to calm down, please. Do the breathing thing we taught RJ, or I will leave you on this aisle, so help me.”

Tommy closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath through his nose, breathing out through his mouth. “Smell the rose, blow out the candle.” That's what they'd taught RJ after a set of particularly embarrassing, public temper tantrums that started not long after he turned three. “Fine,” Tommy said after a couple breaths, “I'm fine.”

“Praise be.” Buck started to turn and resume his search for the “bubblegum toofpaste but not da white one” when Tommy stopped him again.

“Hey.” He used the cane as an extension of his hand, lifting it to Buck's waist to pull him closer. Buck groaned, but moved toward him. “Will you still love me when I'm actually old?”

He already knows the answer. Of course he knows. They still ask the question all the time, “Will you still love me when...?” simply because it's nice to hear the answer.

“I think that was the whole point of this,” Buck said, raising his hand to show Tommy the ring on his finger. “Did you forget your vows, old man? Sickness and health. The whole death thing? I'm here for the long haul.”

“Promise?”

Buck gave the three finger salute. “Scouts honor,” he said, then added, “plus I heard divorces are expensive.”

“Aye!” Tommy yelped, using the cane to swat at Buck's ass as he turned back to the toothpaste.

Buck squatted down to search the bottom row of the aisle as Tommy put the cane back. “Oh, here you go,” he said once Tommy had returned, tossing him a box that he actually caught this time.

Polident.

Buck smiled brightly at him. “For your dentures.”

[modernsuperhero]

Who are these fun characters and why are they taking over my dash? /pos /please tell me abt your blorbos

i'm assuming you mean these little guys:

These guys are my newest silliest dudes from the webcomic School Bus Graveyard! It's free to read on webtoons here and is currently in talks to get a TV adaptation soon so now is 1000% the time to be getting into it!! It's basically a supernatural mystery about six high school freshmen from Georgia who go on a field trip and end up sucked into a demon dimension every time it hits midnight! It's super cool - the pacing is very good imo, a good balance of the Main Plot (oh no we need to survive the Demon Dimension again, also Why Are We In A Demon Dimension) with character development and backstory stuff!

The characters are badass but in a way I feel is very realistic? Like, not just "oh i'm the protagonist suddenly i know how to judo flip armies the moment i'm in danger" but more like "i'm going to train for months in self defense classes to build up some basic muscles" kinda way. The characters themselves are also pretty well fleshed out - they're not just the typical archetypes. Like, the "weak bullied nerd kid" isn't JUST a weak bullied nerd kid, he has well developed motivations and backstory and simultaneously realistic and satisfying character growth.

There are implied potential/future romances but it is so NOT the core point of the story, so whether or not that's your thing you can either ignore it or get excited about it in equal measure. The characters also aren't just edgy and gritty "we must deal with this alone... augh misery woe is us..." they actively do what they can to use all the resources available to them (including trying to get help from their parents, which is an ick for me in other media when the kid protagonists just refuse to ask for help? or assume they can't without trying? anyway).

I would say to be careful about any warnings at the beginning of specific chapters, because some can get quite violent.

The six main characters, without giving to many spoilers, are as follows under the cut (cuz this got long):

The protagonist Ashlyn, an asocial ballerina with her loving ex-military parents, who has a condition that gives her incredibly sensitive/enhanced hearing (she ends up using this to help detect the monsters after them, since they're otherwise silent to the other protagonists!)

Aiden, a creepily-smiley ex-homeschooled rich kid who has no concept of social convention or personal space. Has forcibly chosen Ashlyn to be his friend during his first year in school against her will and ends up accidentally setting off the chain of events leading to the Plot. (I love him. He definitely has Every Mental Illness <3)

Ben, Aiden's incredibly physically intimidating cousin, who is mute and so, so sweet and gentle and follows Aiden like his shadow, in part to take care of him when Aiden's antics get him injured and in part because Ben's muteness makes it incredibly difficult for people to understand him. Aiden, however, can understand his nonverbal communications with ease

Taylor, a friendly girl's girl who tries (often in vain) to befriend Ashlyn. Is also a talented mechanic who ends up putting googly eyes on her weapon once they end up in the Demon Dimension. She's the most Emotionally Aware Person Here but also she's like, 15, so, the bar is on the floor

Tyler, Taylor's twin brother, a somewhat aggressive and rude baseball jock who mostly Minds His Own Damn Business aside from his clinginess to Taylor. In fact they wear matching outfits in almost every episode of the comic it's so funny and cute. Is often found fighting bullies to defend their victims so i forgive him for all his own asshole crimes he's just a dude. he's one of my little guys

Logan, who is canonically compared to a puppy. Shy, intelligent, and incredibly empathetic! My partner's favorite character who has one of the best character arcs so far imo. Likes photography, astrology, and gardening. I think they should give him more guns, as a treat. He can never have enough

anyways thank you for the ask! overall i highly recommend - it's still ongoing, we're currently in the middle of season two!! the mystery is unfolding, there's funny and sweet moments along with the intense ones, and i am INVESTED. :DDDDDD

[esamastation]

Part thirty-three of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two

-

Reno hates the fact that in the last twenty four hours he's somehow become the Turk Expert on SOLDIER behaviour. Well, Rude did some of the research too, but still, this is not the way Reno expected to see his career going.

"I think the fundamental problem with the entire SOLDIER corps is that they don't know how to take a fucking break," he decides, rocking his chair back and forth on its back legs while making faces at the ceiling. "I mean, just look at the shitshow that started just because Sephiroth took some time off! They couldn't even let him have that."

Rude hums, shuffling through what looks like all of the camp's paperwork.

Reno continues, crossing his hands behind his neck. "Rhapsodos and Hewley don't leave him alone, everything he does is scrutinised -"

"Mostly by us," Rude comments.

Reno ignores him. "The other Firsts take him out training, because they don't do enough of that in their work hours, clearly, and then Rhapsodos drags him out shopping, and that's just the first day. The second day he goes to train in what was at the time an empty training room not in use, and the moment he does, people call Hojo on his ass," he waves a hand. "The poor schmuck took a break, and all he got was so much stress for it! And that's without even taking into consideration his memory loss!"

Rude hums in agreement and then looks up. "SOLDIERs don't have work hours."

"What?" Reno asks, his momentum halted.

"SOLDIERs aren't paid by the hour - they're paid by the mission. They, technically, pick their own hours. They can and do regularly make thousands of Gil in a matter of hours."

The front legs of Reno's chair bang against the floor, rattling their entire paper hut of a house. "Well, I know that, yes, everyone knows that. It's a big selling point, aside from the whole become a hero by having Mako pumped into your veins thing."

Rude hums in agreement. "With his mission completion rate, Sephiroth regularly makes up to quarter million Gil in a month."

"... By working how many hours, in general, per day?"

"Seventeen - 

"Seventeen?! When does the fucker sleep?!"

Rude shrugs and puts the papers down. "According to his medical file, he generally can do with five hours of sleep while maintaining optimal function."

"And who the fuck determined that - Professor Hojo?" Reno scoffs. "Un-fucking-believable. Also my point is made! SOLDIERs don't know how to take a fucking break."

"Truly a detrimental view on work," Rude agrees.

"It really fucking is! I mean, come on! You take a bunch of jacked up meatheads, give them a system that massively rewards their overwork, you keep them on call all the time, keeping them on edge and hyped up, all the while Hojo looms over them like the fucking boogeyman and can pull them into the labs any time he wants!" Reno scoffs. "Never mind the fact that they're considered, technically, Shinra property, with all the Mako in their veins, so they have fuck all employee's rights."

"Might add to the reason why so few take time off," Rude agrees.

"They do have paid time off, right?" Reno asks. "The program isn't that much of a shit, right?"

"They do, standard rate… which is on average about a fifth of what they'd stand to make working. Or in Sephiroth's case… one-thirtieth."

"Of course it fucking is," Reno scoffs with disgust.

"... And the Science department can still call them in, if they're in Midgar."

"So either work yourself to early death or take a massive hit to the wallet and still Science can just grab your ass if they feel like it! What the fuck," Reno mutters. "Who the fuck designed the SOLDIER program, anyway?"

"According to the paperwork, originally Professor Gast… but its current form is mostly Professor Hojo's handiwork."

"Guess I should've expected that," Reno mutters and rocks back in his chair again, glaring at the ceiling. "The whole fucking system is rigged to blow. Nice fucking experiment you got there, Professor."

And now it's his problem to deal with. Wonderful.

He thinks of the way Angeal said it, time and privacy, like it was a joke, an impossible task. It makes him so fucking mad.

The only fucking reason work as a Turk is worth it sometimes is because it comes with some sweet fucking benefits - including properly paid time off and all the incentive on the fucking planet to use it, too. Because way back when Turks were first put together, then still called the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department, someone had the common sense to look at these guys, with abilities and access of fucking spies, and go, "yeah, you know what we don't want to see - what happens when these assholes get burnout." Because that's how you end up with your asshole bosses assassinated in the night.

To this day Turks will fight tooth and nail to keep their off work hours off the fucking clock. Because what happens on the clock is bad enough, and if it doesn't justify being able to fucking punch out at the end of the day, then what's even the fucking point?

Time and privacy aren't impossible to get, for the Turks - those are fucking contractually enforced benefits they're entitled to, and just a few of many! They keep them fucking sane! And woe be the fucking asshole who tries to mess with them. Even Heidegger knows better.

It's so damn wild to realise that just a few floors down there a bunch of bastards who just don't… care? Who are incentivised not to care. Who'd rather work themselves to death rather than risk being seen at loose ends. Guess that's how Shinra keeps the SOLDIERs in check - they're clearly all of them too overworked to even think straight anymore. And those who are not working still might be pulled into the Science Department any time. Shit.

Dragging his hands down his face with a groan, Reno rolls out of his chair. "I hate this fucking assignment already. Did you find anything?"

"There are a few potential sites," Rude agrees and shows him a drawn map of the area. "A charcoal burner's house over here has been abandoned for months, and might be in bad condition. A hunter's lodge over here, it's higher up on the mountains and might be within view of Wutai patrols from Fort Tamblin. And here there's an old farm, partially burned in a bombing two years back, abandoned since."

Reno considers the locations. The hunter's lodge is right out… "We'll start with the charcoal place," he decides. "If that doesn't work out, then the farm."

"Sounds good," Rude agreed. "How will we justify it?"

"Do we justify it? It's Turk business," Reno scoffs, taking out his PHS. "And so, it's no one's business."

Rude thinks about that for a moment and then nods. "I'll requisition supplies."

"You do that," Reno agrees, checks his watch to make sure it's office hours back home and makes a call. It takes no time for the call to connect. "Good morning, boss, how's the weather in Midgar?"

"There was a storm, but it looks like the worst is over now," Tseng answers. "What's the word for Sephiroth?"

Reno flashes back to the moment he heard the arguably strongest man in the world sobbing into his hands about how fucked he is. "Yeah, so, about that. We're making some new arrangements."

-

What I love most about the Turks is how they definitely know how to appreciate time off.

[infoglitch]

i beg of thee... please... more blackguard stuff. am dyin over here...

It appears the sinners have demanded my attention.

Very well, it's time

TO LOCK THE FUCK IN!

Back bone.

Jaune found himself sitting in his dorm gaming with ruby and surprisingly Weiss was with them, watching as the two were playing "street clash revolve" with jaune winning 3 matches as it was a best of six. With ruby winning 4 matches.

Jaune: Oop! Oop! Here it comes ruby!

Ruby: oh you think?! Aight bring it vomit boy!

Jaune proceed to tap a chain of buttons.

Up forward and then B as jaune shouted with enthusiasm.

Jaune: KANE OVERDRIVE!

On the TV screen the letters K. O. plastered the screen as Ruby groaned but also laughed as her and jaune fist bump. With Weiss watching in awe.

Ruby: GG jaune, GG.

Jaune: what you mean GG? We only got two rounds left before one of us wins.

Ruby: unfortunately I gotta get ready.me and yang will be heading to our dad's cabin for our break, and I gotta grab my bags and get ready, me and her will leave in an hour.

Jaune: awe, well I understand

Weiss: you sure you two and your father couldn't reschedule?

Jaune and Ruby had to do a double take as they looked at Weiss who they completely forgot was there.

Weiss:... Look I'm on the edge of my seat and I want to see who wins!

Jaune and Ruby look at eachother.

Jaune: are you sure we aren't sharing a dream?

Ruby: definitely. But regardless sorry Weiss but I gotta go, if don't who knows when me and yang will be able to go again.

Weiss sighed and nodded.

Weiss: very well, I do hope you and Yang enjoy your time back with your father.

Ruby:.. thanks weiss

Ruby walked out as jaune and Weiss sat on the formers bed with Jaune just looking at Weiss.

Jaune: hey um.. real talk, but why have you been so interested in what me and ruby do lately.

Weiss: oh just curiosity, plus I figured it do me some good to get to hang out with my leader and her friend.

Jaune looked at her as he put his controller away and fully turned to her.

Jaune: it's Bleiss isn't it?

Weiss just sat there before groaning.

Weiss: i don't know why but whenever I try to be Alone she constantly pops up and bugs me over and over again, its getting frustrating and since i cant be alone any more-

Jaune: you started hanging out with me and ruby?

Weiss nodded and looked away somewhat ashamed.

Jaune: so I assume you dont actually find what we do to hang out interesting?

Weiss: at first yes but just being around you two, there's this energy you give off that is just.. nice to be around, your like air purifiers... That was a bad analogy I'm sorry.

Jaune just chuckled but waved his hand.

Jaune: I think I understand. But outside of that.. Weiss this is your sister we are talking about. And neither of you have seen eachother for...

Weiss:... 5 years.

Jaune: 5 years, and from what i can tell, she wants to atleast catch up.

Weiss: it's not like I don't know that! Its just- why can't she just be-

Jaune: normal? Weiss your normal is based around fancy balls and gala's. How Bleiss is acting is normal. Shes being herself. Shes being&

Weiss: loud, foul mouthed, and is flirting with basically every man here?

Jaune: yeah that. All I'm gonna say is this, siblings may come from the same family, but they don't always have the same lessons as us... I can't believe I actually used the advice saph gave me.

Weiss chuckled as she just looked at the knight. The two hadn't completely become friends but jaune hoped they were getting there, and so far from he could tell.. they were.

Then footsteps are heard as one Belamere "bleiss" noir givrése. Weiss Schnee's twin sister. Her attire still the same biker aesthetic as ever with her looking around the room, before seeing jaune.

Bleiss: ah you jaune I wanna talk to you for a second.

To both Jaune and Weiss's her tone was less rude and more... polite.

Weiss: where the hell was this?!

Jaune: uh sure just give me a second.

Bleiss: take your time but this is rather important.

Weiss: WHERE THE HELL WAS THIS?!

Jaune adjusted himself as he followed Bleiss outside the room only to be pinned to the wall as he yelped before being hushed by the twin of his snow angel.

Bleiss: I need your help arc, my dear sister and I have obviously not gotten along. So I need you to help me out here since you, Weiss, and that ruby girl, are buddy-buddy now. Got it?

Jaune simply nodded as Bleiss smiled.

Bleiss: good. And If you do well enough who knows.. I may give you a taste of people out of your leag-

Jaune removed her hand from his mouth rather calmly as he spoke.

Jaune: don't even think about it, I'm doing this because Weiss is my friend, and I prefer her not having to deal with any problem that can be solved. I don't care what you give in exchange.

Bleiss:.. that's surprisingly noble. Here I was thinking he was just a loser going for women out of his league.

Jaune: are we done now?

Bleiss: hm? Oh yes, I'll be going now, till then, noble knight~

Jaune raised an eyebrow at the nickname as Bleiss walked away with a smirk.

Bleiss: perhaps this place is nothing like vacoue, and if that's the case this will be lovely~

And that end this installment of the growing story between Bleiss and Jaune.

[ivystoryweaver]

The Box (Fluff edition)

Read the NSFW version My Masterlist

Summary: You have a secret to share with Marc. A box under your bed. But he may have one too.

Paring: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Notables: One-shot. This story has 2 versions. This is the f l u f f version. (It also has more plot). The story starts the same, but completely changes after the divider. (dividers by saradika)

Warnings: fluff, mention of reader in danger, cursing, not beta'd

Sometimes you can know someone so well and still be completely blindsided by their secrets. But some secrets really aren't that big of a deal. Right?

Marc, your boyfriend of six months, had asked you to move in with him.

You had a shitty roommate anyway, so you were ecstatic. Plus Marc lived much closer to your job.

Some of your friends - the few who always had something to say about Marc - cautioned you that it was too soon. That you didn't know one another well enough. You calmly explained to them that you had spent practically every waking moment with him for the last 187 days. These were the friends who labeled Marc too quiet, grumpy and when they were feeling especially rude: boring or moody. (Maybe you needed new friends)

Your other friends encouraged it. They knew how crazy you were about Marc, and their opinion was that you could really get to know someone by living with them. These friends saw how Marc was protective of you - always walking you where you needed to be, always waiting for you after work. They enjoyed his rare but funny jokes, and appreciated his poker skills.

A few of them, guys and girls alike, were absolutely crazy about his American accent.

"Who knows what kind of things you'll learn about Mr. Mysterious?" Your best friend teased. That's what she liked to call Marc, even to his face. Well, she wasn't wrong.

Marc had trusted you with all manner of personal information, including the fact that he was actually a system. Just last week, before he asked you to move in, you met Steven. Marc told you Steven was his alter.

You started to wonder what Marc could even see in you. He was this complex, well-traveled, multi-lingual retired solider. And he definitely had that mysterious vibe going. Hadn't he met so many other interesting people?

His answer was that you always accepted everything he told you, as if he were completely normal. And that he loved you.

So given the fact that your relationship was solid, loving and secret-free (for the most part), why were you so nervous to tell him about your teeny tiny, little secret? It couldn't be more interesting than his background.

So why couldn't you show him your box?

Since you were a kid, you had inadvertently collected a box of...comfort items. It was kind of embarrassing. However, Marc always put his trust in you, right?

So you decided, if you were going to live with Marc and share a closet with him - it was time to either get rid of The Box (not likely) - or show it to him. You were certain he wouldn't even bat an eyelash at the items inside or the thought of you using them. He would probably be all for it.

Your favorite item was something you typically only used it when Marc was gone on a trip, or on an occasional night alone, if you had trouble sleeping.

He was coming over tonight to help you pack up your kitchen, since there was no way in hell your shitty roommate would ever help you. You had already asked him to spend the night, so the situation would lend itself to this exact conversation.

"I have to tell you something."

Marc was relaxing on your bed - one hand behind his head and the other, stretched out to hold yours. Having shed his hoodie after working up a light sweat packing your entire kitchen, his almost-too-tight t-shirt sleeves wrapped deliciously around his biceps.

Damn he was pretty.

Releasing his hand, you reached under the edge of your bed and pulled out The Box. Marc's dark eyebrows shot up while the corner of his mouth curled.

"What's in there?"

Hoping you didn't seem like the biggest weirdo, you slowly removed the lid. "I've been wanting to show you this, but...I didn't know what you would think."

Sitting up a little, he leaned over to get a peek. You slammed the lid back on The Box with a squeak.

"Come on, baby, don't stop. Please show me."

Something about that little beg made you tingle all over.

"Okay," you breathed out, finally removing the lid. "I know it'll seem like a little much but...well, just look."

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Marc peered down into The Box, rummaging around in your secret stash.

"Iiit's...like...an emergency preparedness kit?" One eyebrow shot up questioningly.

Laughing out, you realized how it must seem. The Box contained several types and sizes of flashlights, numerous batteries, candles of various sizes, a few lighters, matches and mats and dishes to set the candles on. There were also a few packages of glow sticks. Now that he mentioned it, you surely would be prepared for a power outage.

That was the whole point!

"Who is this?" He asked, reaching for the most embarrassing item of all. "Is this like an eagle? Or a - "

"Falcon," you corrected, swallowing hard.

"Cute," Marc shrugged, squeezing the fluffy stuffed animal. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

Slowly nodding, you watched his handsome face carefully for any judgment.

Marc's previously teasing smile eased into something warm as his fingers toyed with the furry fake feathers, and squeezed the black tip of its beak. Then he noticed something on its fuzzy, plush midsection.

"Oh, what's this?" Leaning in closer, he noticed a circle made of hard plastic.

"Push it," you instructed.

He complied and a bright light shined in his face, temporarily blinding him.

"It's a flashlight," he chuckled. "Like a stuffed falcon tummy flashlight."

You melted at how cute he was being. Noting the bird's stoic, almost stern expression, you pointed between it and Marc's forehead.

"You know, he kind of looks like you. Very serious," you teased.

"Ha ha," Marc mocked, clicking the tummy flashlight back off. "I like it."

"I've had it since I was little," you confessed. "My dad and I used to go to the Natural History Museum. He loved the birds. Still does. That's where we got it."

Marc gently smiled, listening to you speak about your dad.

"Anyway, um...see, I haven't told you this but..." chewing on your lip, you blew out a long breath. "I'm scared of the dark."

You paused, waiting for a reaction. Marc reached for your hand, nodding encouragingly.

"That's it, that's my secret," you huffed out. "I'm totally, completely, absolutely, insanely scared of the dark. Since I was a kid. Like terrified. Like...complete phobia." Nodding down at The Box, you added, "Hence...my collection."

"Shit," Marc laughed out. "That's it? I thought you were trying to tell me you were into some skin-burning cult or something. I had no idea what you were going to say, baby."

Burying your face in your hands, you realized how silly you must sound. "I know it's dumb," you mumbled through your fingers.

"It's not - lots of people don't like the dark," he sympathized. Didn't he know it? He was the protector of the travelers of the night, after all. Not that he'd had the courage to share that with you quite yet. He'd only just told you about Steven, so he was trying to give you a few days before trying to explain an ancient Egyptian deity who imbued him with power.

"I'm surprised I didn't notice it before," he added, reaching to pull your hands down so he could see your lovely face.

"Haven't you ever wondered why I sleep with my lamp on? And why at least one light is always on when we - " Licking your lips, your eyes traveled down his body, "You know..."

"I just thought you wanted to see all this," he winked, motioning to his body.

"Always," you fired back, giggling. "So...you don't think it's weird?"

Eyeing you curiously, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, moving The Box aside. "That you're scared of the dark?"

"That I sometimes sleep with a stuffed animal. Or - sometimes I have a flashlight on my bed, that just happens to be in the form of...a stuffed falcon?"

Reaching for Flashlight Falcon, Marc shrugged. "You mean this guy? Who wouldn't want to sleep with him? He's awesome."

"I only do it sometimes. When it's really stormy or you're out of town - stuff like that."

"You were actually worried about what I would think?" Shaking his head, he chuckled. "Honey, I promise you - I am the weird one here."

"Hey," you protested, grabbing Flashlight Falcon and bopping Marc on the arm with it. "Don't talk about yourself and Steven like that."

"I'm not. Believe me, Steven is the normal one here."

A comfortable silence fell between you and Marc decided he better confess about his nighttime routine as Moon Knight. After all, if you were going to share a bed, you would want to know where he went at night. He should have told you sooner. He just couldn't find the words.

But before he could, you spoke up again. "I actually learned how to live with the dark - mostly - when I went off to school," you quietly explained. "But...something happened to me, around two years ago."

Marc nodded for you to go on.

Then you told your deeper story. How you hardly left your flat after dark on purpose - not unless you were with a friend or a group. You rarely walked, budgeting for transportation, because you simply hated dark streets that much.

But one night, two years ago, you and your friend were walking home. She offered to walk you to your door, since you only lived a couple streets over from her, but you insisted you would be okay. The path from hers to yours was well lit, with plenty of pedestrians.

So you set off on a very brave journey when the exact wrong thing happened to someone like you. Out of nowhere, on a well-lit street, someone grabbed you.

"But nothing happened," you explained to Marc, who was looking rather worried. "Someone saved me. Like - like an Avenger or someone."

"You were saved by an Avenger?" He marveled, eyes wide as you told your tale.

"No, not actually. Or - at least I don't think so," you explained. "He - I mean, I think it was a 'he' - it looked like a man. Although he wasn't that tall. He was about your height, actually... Anyway, he was dressed like completely, head-to-toe in all white."

Well, shit... Marc swallowed hard, slowly nodding.

"He had like...this hood and this long cape - I didn't even think superheroes wore capes for real..." You mused. "Maybe except Thor. Or Doctor Strange. I don't know - but anyway, he pulled me out of the way, told me I was safe, beat the hell out of this asshole who grabbed me and like...it was amazing."

Blowing out a quick breath, you shuddered at the memory. "Scared the shit out of me, though. He had these glowing, white eyes. It made me feel so safe because they were kind of like these safe beacons...or - or flashlights. I immediately felt better."

Chewing on your lip in confusion, you added, "But I think they're meant to be intimidating. His eyes, I mean. And, of course, he was sort of wrapped up like a mummy? So that was freaky."

Marc had played the role of Moon Knight for years, and saved countless travelers, but never once had he heard one of his rescues explained back to him. He was a scary mummy who wasn't very tall with comforting/intimidating flashlight eyes.

The Moon Knight effect was meant to be felt by those deserving the wrath of Khonshu's vengeance. But he hadn't given a great deal of thought to his perception by victims. He typically just made sure they got out of the way and knew they were safe.

And you - lovely, wonderful you could have been hurt, but he got the chance to save you.

"Anyway, that's when I beefed up my Box," you concluded your story. "That night really freaked me out and - not only did I have my flashlights and candles, but...I actually dug through some storage items to find Flashlight Falcon."

"Babe, that is a very cool story," Marc finally responded, completely sincerely. "Well, except for the asshole grabbing you part." Gathering his courage, he knew this was his clear opening to tell you the truth.

"You know..." He picked up Flashlight Falcon and turned his tummy light back on. "There's an Egyptian god of the moon - protector of night travelers. His name is Khonshu. He's a falcon."

"Really?" You gasped. "I guess Flashlight Falcon was watching over me," you joked. "Maybe that's why that Avenger had flashlight eyes."

Marc chuckled, setting the plushie aside. Turning to gaze into your loving eyes, he squeezed your hands, hoping you would take this well.

"You know...when we met, you seemed a little familiar to me. But I couldn't ever figure out why. But now I know."

"You do?" You questioned, having a bit of trouble keeping up with his line of thought. Weren't you talking about falcons?

"Yeah. And it...it's a bigger secret than your uh - emergency preparedness kit or a stuffed flashlight."

"Okay," you slowly nodded. You had been so nervous about Marc learning of your Flashlight Falcon, but now he seemed like the unsure one.

"The Avenger who saved you isn't an Avenger," he explained, still holding onto your hands. "His name is Moon Knight. He is a guardian of the travelers of the night. His white suit is from Khonshu - the god of the moon."

Narrowing your eyes disbelievingly, you replied, "The moon god? Is a superhero?"

"Not the god...and not really a superhero, I guess, but...the white suit is Khonshu's healing armor. That's why it looks the way it does."

"How do you know all this?" You asked. "I mean...there are all sorts of sorcerers and demigods and aliens in the world nowadays, so it's not so hard to believe. But how do you know?"

Staring into your eyes, Marc granted you a hopeful smile. "Because…he’s me."

Sometimes you can know someone so well and still be completely blindsided by their secrets. But some secrets really aren't that big of a deal. Right?

Marc, your boyfriend of six months, had asked you to move in with him.

And now you knew that one falcon or another had always been watching over you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Jealous, Oblivious, Text Me Tomorrow

Have some pre-relationship Javey

***

Jack Kelly's favorite activity, by far, is stealing Davey's clothes. Specifically the sweatshirts, though, because Davey always managed to keep them soft, no matter how many times they were ran through the dryer.

Jack enjoys Davey's sweatshirts, and it's easy to take them, so he does.

Davey doesn't really mean it when he objects.

This time it was different, though.

"I believe that's mine." Davey said, entering their dorm one evening after a date.

"Oh, here." Jack peeled off the sweatshirt and handed it to Davey. Davey blinked in surprise. Jack never complied like that.

"I didn't mean you had to take it off, you know?"

"Uh-huh."

Davey paused. What was up with him?

"Do you want to put it back on?"

"Nah, it's alright. Better save it for Kyle."

"Who?"

"Your date? That you just got back from, by the way."

"Oh, Kyler? No, he had his own jacket, he wouldn't need this."

Jack laughed a strained laugh.

"You don't get it, do you Dave?"

Davey looked confused, and it tore Jack apart. He buried his face in the couch, groaning in agony.

"I don't, not really." Davey said. "I mean, why would he need this? you're the only person I know that wears like six layers of sweatshirts."

Jack sighed.

He could be fine with this.

"Sorry, I just- come tell me about the date?"

Davey's eyes did not light up as he smiled and said, "Okay." Which gave Jack hope but also worried him immensely.

"So, how'd it go?"

"It was alright."

"Any fascinating details to share?"

"No, no. Nothing happened."

"Asshole didn't even send you off with a goodnight kiss?" Jack was glowing inside.

"No, uh. He said, he said he had a good time, but he couldn't see himself with me, and he wants to be friends."

"Oh, that's rude."

"A little, but I don't mind." Davey shrugged.

"Well, you deserve better if that's what he's like."

Davey made eye contact with Jack, uncertain. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he seems like a little bitch and I think you deserve better."

"You sound like a jealous boyfriend right now."

Jack could not do this. He could not, he could not, hecouldnothecouldnothecouldnothecould-

"What if I want to be?"

"What, jealous?"

"No! I would kill the jealousy dead if I could. What if I wanted to be your boyfriend!?"

"You don't, so..."

"Oh, says who?" Jack was on the verge of yelling now.

"SAYS YOU!" Davey was yelling. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have gone out tonight if-"

"Whoa, whoa, when did I say that? I don't think I ever fuckin' said that."

"Like, Tuesday! You were on the phone with someone and-"

It all came flooding back to Jack. His father was on the phone. From prison. He had wanted to speak to Jack. Jack talked about Davey a lot, and his father finally stopped him, saying "You aren't dating him, are you?" In a deeply disapproving tone. Jack had replied as quickly as possible.

"You said, "Davey? Oh, no, I could never date Davey, he ain't my type." Davey finished off with a bad impression of Jack.

"It was my dad! I couldn't tell him the truth, he would have... he woulda broke out just to beat my ass. Davey, I'm so gone for you I can't even think."

"You're lying."

"Shut the fuck up. You don't know anything. You don't know the way it's been eating at me all night that you wasn't on a date with me! It should be me!"

"I wouldn't have even gone on the date in the first place if I hadn't heard you saying that!"

"Blame me!"

"Well, do you blame me? For feeling like I didn't even have a chance?"

Jack didn't want to yell anymore.

"Do I still have a chance with you?" He asked softly as Davey was retreating into his bedroom. Davey just shut his bedroom door.

Jack, on the verge of tears, received a message from Davey a moment later:

ask me tomorrow when I'm not pissed at you

[hunted-moth]

Just Like Him: The Before Times 

Word count // 7k

Summary // Y/n is just a normal girl who loves to hunt with her dad. She has a loving and attentive mom. Her relationship with her brother is rocky at best but she still loves her small little life. That is until it's all turned upside down after she gets into an accident, with her dad passing away and her mom flushing her life down the toilet how is she supposed to manage when the world ends with it?

Warning // Language, character death(not twd cast), Talks of death, violence, the killing of walkers, 

Special Thanks to @catbunblue302 and my friend for editing/proofreading this with me, it would be a disaster if they didn't lol

OTHER STUFF// This is just the prologue, it's kind of important but you don't have to read it. But I gave Y/n the nickname Bear, idk why but I love it so im keeping it. She also has shorter hair in the beginning and in my mind is Biracial but her race isn't brought up very much. But things like hair texture, skin color, and eye color aren't mentioned or described so it is up to you how Y/n looks to you

A/N // its in gods hands now. this is like half edited by someone who knows what they're doing and the other half done by me at like 11:00 at night.

***: Major time Skip/scene change

*: small time skip/scene change

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     ~~~2005~~~

             It was early in the morning, maybe five or six. You were fast asleep dreaming about nothing and everything, but while you lay sleeping, a figure crept into the room being careful not to wake you.

When he got to your bed, he hovered over it ready to pounce on you. You were snoring into the night, unaware of what was about to happen as he snaked his hands under the cover skillfully and-

“Wake up, bear! We got lots to do kid.” Your Dad tickled your sides as you yelped and writhed from joy. 

“Dad! Sto-stop I can't brea-breathe,” you laughed. 

He smiled down at you before he got up, releasing that classic dad grunt while laughing quietly.

“Alright, get dressed, then get something to eat.” 

You smirked up at him and flung your cover off yourself. 

“Already one step ahead of you,”you say, revealing to him that you were already dressed in your hunting clothes, minus your boots. 

He chuckled quietly, careful not to wake up his wife and stepson. He nodded his head, telling you to get up and go to the kitchen. You rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and had some fruity pebbles. Your dad just had a pop-tart that he popped in the toaster. 

While he was waiting for it to ding, he looked at you. He saw you scarf down your food as fast as you could.

“You know you can enjoy it, right?” he teased, but you just looked up at him while the spoon was still in your mouth. 

“I know, just eager to leave.” Your mouth was full and milk streamed out of your mouth. 

Your dad just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

POP!

He grabbed his food and went to sit with you. Looking up, you asked him a question. “So what are we doing today?” 

Your dad took a bite of his pop-tart. “Hmm, well I was thinking about going into town and getting some more snacks for the trip. Maybe some extra bug spray.” 

You nodded at that. “Yeah, they love me for some reason.” 

He smirked. “Yeah, it's ‘cause you got sweet blood, they like it.” 

Your eyes widened. “WHAT!” You practically yelled. 

You covered your mouth hoping not to awaken your half-brother and mom.

But it didn't help. 

“The hell’s all this racket!?” Your older brother, Jason, stormed in with an annoyed and tired look on his face. 

You looked at your brother when he walked over. He was three years older which made it easier for him to ignore you. He was indifferent towards you, like you didn't matter to him. The only time he gave you any attention was when you irritated him, like you were bothering him with your existence. 

Jason and your dad had a hard relationship. For some reason, Jason was always rude to him. Whenever your mom wanted to tease Jason she would explain how when she and Dad had started dating Jason would throw fits when Dad came over. And how Jason would stare at your dad with a mean glare. Jason had the meanest glare, it could put the old judgy ladies at church to shame.

“Sorry, son, me and your sister were just talking about our trip.”

Jason seemed to glare at the word ‘son’. Your brother looked at the clock on the wall with a sleepy stare. “It's five in the mornin', so stop yellin' in the house, Y/n.'' He looked down at you as he walked over and made a bowl of cereal, the same as you. 

“O-okay, sorry.” You looked down meekly at your nearly empty bowl. 

Your dad sighed, “Well, we're about to leave.”He looked at Jason. “You sure you don't want to come with us, Jason? Wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

He responded with a quick “No.”

Relief washed over you. 

“I’d rather shoot by myself than with her.” He glared at you. 

You looked away from his glare and shrank into yourself.

Your Dad sighed and got up. You copied him and went to put your bowl in the sink. You rushed to your room and went to get your bag and put your boots on. By the time you left, it was about five-thirty in the morning, and the sun was already starting to rise as you and your dad got into his truck and started driving to town.

Looking out the window, you could see the familiar trees and a few birds flying by. You always loved the woods. It was quiet, yet the singing of birds could still be heard in the distance. Looking into the rearview mirror, you could see your cabin disappearing in the distance. 

“You excited, kid?”

Turning your head, you looked at your dad with a smile, “Yes!” you exclaimed excitedly.

Your dad chuckled. “Oh, I bet, bear, but uhh, been wanting to talk to ya ‘bout something.”

You tilted your head with curiosity. “What, Dad?” 

He sighed lightly. “Yer teacher called your Momma and me yesterday to discuss your schooling. They said you were falling behind in yer work, withdrawing from other kids, and advised me to talk to you. Can you tell me why, bear?”

You looked out the window without answering. 

“I won't push you right now, but if you ever want to talk,” he trailed off and rubbed your shoulder the best he could while driving.

***

              By the time the truck made it to town, the sun was up. The truck pulled into the mini-mart. You jumped out of the truck and waited for your dad, before sprinting into the mart and grabbing different snacks you liked. You had an armful by the time you returned to your dad at the counter.

He looked down and his eyes widened at your selection. “Jeez, Bear, you going into hibernation?” He let out a hearty laugh. Grinning at him, you put your snacks on the checkout counter.

“One thing I love about you two coming in here-” The owner started to ring up your stuff, “I always make money.” 

Your dad waved his hand at them dismissively before grabbing the bags and handing them to you.

“Let's get a move on, don't want to miss any of the good spots.” Hopping into the truck, Dad started it and headed out to your campsite.

***

             A few hours had passed by the time you made it to the site. Hopping out of the truck, you went around back to the truck bed and grabbed your bag and bow. Your dad set up the tents and you set up the fire pit, gathering some rocks and stacking them, then went to find some sticks.

When it all was done, your dad came over and patted you on the shoulder. “Ready, Bear?” 

You looked up at him. “Yeah!” 

You grabbed your bow and followed him into the woods. Stopping at a clearing, your dad put his stuff down and stood next to you.

“All right, Y/n, you remember what I taught you?” He knelt as you grabbed an arrow and drew your bow back. 

“Where do you want me to shoot?” You looked at him. 

He thought for a moment, looking around, till he stopped his gaze at a certain tree with a unique-looking branch that hung low on the ground. He pointed. “See the knot in the tree? Shoot that.” 

You nodded your head and tightened the bow once more. 

You held your breath and focused on the knot on the branch, taking a second before you released your arrow. You heard a thunk as it hit the tree and you looked to see if you had hit the knot, but sadly your aim was a little off. It was a few inches to the right. “Aww, I missed it.” You kicked the dirt slightly.

Your dad stood up and went to retrieve the arrow. “It’s ok, sweetheart, you're getting better just remember that.” He tried to cheer you up. “Remember when I first took you out here? Your arrow would be two or three feet away from the target.” 

You smiled to yourself.“Thanks, Dad.”

He walked over and crouched down to your height. “Now let's try again.”

He handed you your arrow and ruffled your hair. You smiled to yourself. Regaining your stance, you drew back your bow and released another arrow. You hit it closer every time. And when you finally manage to hit it after your third time, you jumped up and down in joy. 

“Good job, Bear, why don't we try something harder hmm?”

You nodded, and he took your quiver, put it over his shoulder, and took your hand, leading you deeper into the woods.

***

             It took hours before you returned to your camp, the whole time spent practicing your aim on things besides the normal target. By the time the sun was down, your dad decided it was time to head back.

*

             Your dad had started the fire and was cooking some hot dogs for the two of you. “You have fun, Bear?” 

You look at him. “Yeah, I got better at my aim I think. What about you Dad?” You ask, tilting your head at him. 

“Hmm, it was amusing to see you miss sometimes.” He pulled out your food from the fire while you groaned with embarrassment. 

You ate your food while looking up at the stars. “Hey Dad, what's that one called?” You pointed up at the sky. 

“Hmm, I think it's Orion. He was a skilled hunter who used a bow, and some say he managed to woo the heart of the virgin archer. He even claimed that he ‘could hunt any and every animal’, but Momma Gaia heard this and sent a mighty scorpion after him, which is why–” he lead your head to another part of the sky. “–If you can find him, you’ll see Scorpius, the very same scorpion that killed him.” 

Looking at the stars, your mouth was agape. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath and rested your head on his shoulder.

After a few hours, you and your dad went to bed. 

***

              The end of your weekend trip went by fast, and before you knew it, you were on your way home eating a bag of chips while listening to the radio. 

Your dad was focused on the road, but the conversation about your schooling was still playing in his head. "Bear, we still need to talk." He said. You paused for a moment, not wanting to have this conversation. Since starting school, you've had trouble keeping up with the other kids. Since you were behind, your classmates would treat you differently.

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, looking down at the floor. 

Your Dad looked over, sadly. "Can you tell me about it? You don't have to tell me everything."  

"The others treat me differently, and I don't know why.” You looked out the window again, trying to focus on the songs the birds were singing.

Stopping the truck, your dad pulled you into an embrace. “It’s ok, Y/n, I'll tell your Momma and we’ll talk to your teacher, okay?” He looked down and rubbed your shoulder, waiting for an answer. 

“O-okay.” Your voice was muffled

The truck started again and you both drove off toward your cabin. 

***

              When you got home, it was around dinner time. Since it was a Sunday your mom was making your favorite for dinner. Your truck pulled up, and you ran out of the cab and into the arms of your momma.

“MOMMA!” You tackled her, sending her stumbling back a bit. 

“Hey, baby, how was your trip?” she asked with a loving smile.

Looking up at her, you gave her a big grin. “It went awesome! I got better on my aim and distance.” 

She smiled down at you. “Well, that's amazing, maybe one day you’ll be better than yer daddy.” She ruffled your hair. “Now come on, supper’s cooking, want you and yer daddy to get washed up.” She shooed you away into the house.

Running to your room, you grabbed some shorts, a T-shirt, and other stuff and ran to the bathroom, but your brother was walking by and had a sour look on his face. 

“Yer back.”

You looked down. “Yeah, how was it here?”

He glared down at you. “Peaceful, shoulda stayed that way.” He walked past you and bumped your shoulder.

***

              When you got out of your shower, you went to the kitchen to help your mom cook but just ended up sitting on the counter and telling her about your trip with your dad.

“Then Dad told me to shoot an apple that was still on the tree.” You told her excitedly. 

“Wow, baby, did ya hit it?” 

You nodded. “Yep, it fell and knocked down some apples with it. Dad and I ate them on our walk back to camp.” 

“Sounds like you two had quite the adventure.” Your mom said as she stirred the pot.

She took the pot off the burner and walked to the dinner table. You followed her and sat down. 

“Yep, it was.” While your mom grabbed other things for dinner, you helped set the table.

            “BOYS, DINNERS READY!” she called.

Dad came out of the garage and Jason came out of his room. You sat next to Mom, across from Jason, and Dad across from Mom. After everyone was seated, Mom said grace and you all ate dinner. You ate yours quickly while Jason picked and prodded at his. 

When you finished dinner, you kissed your Mom and Dad good night and went to bed. You lay under your blanket, looking at your glow-in-the-dark stars, and drifted off to sleep. 

   ~~~ 2005, A few weeks later~~~

              It all happened in a blur. You and Dad were driving back from your trip in the forest, and you even managed to bag a rabbit all on your own. One minute you were on your way to register what you had, then you were waking up in a hospital with your Momma by your side, crying and a local sheriff on your other side gearing up to ask you a few questions

“Momma…” Your voice was weak. “What happened?”

 She grabbed your hand and kissed it. “You were in an accident, baby.” 

Your eyes widened the best they could but you were still loopy. “What?” You looked around the room, your heartbeat picking up. “Where’s Dad?” Your voice was starting to hurt.

Your Momma cried, her tears falling on your hospital bed. “He-He didn't make it, baby.” 

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cried with your Momma.

“Mrs Myers, I’d like to speak with your daughter alone, to get her account of the story.” The sheriff gently led her out of the room, then sat next to you and asked you a series of questions.

“Now, Y/n, I understand you and your dad were driving, do you know where?” 

You choked back a sob before you answered. “The a- the game warden's office.”

He wrote that down. “Can you tell me what you and your daddy were doing before then?”

Licking your lips, you replied, “We were out camping like- like we always do. He was showing me how to hunt.”

He nodded and wrote that down too.“Do you remember anything while you were driving to the game office?”

You thought for a moment. “I was talking to Dad when suddenly he threw his hand in front of me then…everything went black.” You started to cry, all your emotions catching up with you. 

The sheriff looked down at you with sympathy and leaned over you to rest his hand on your head. “Just get some rest, Y/n, we’ll talk later, ‘kay?” 

You nodded, and he took his leave, and your mom rushed to your side once again.

***

              The day you were discharged from the hospital was bittersweet. You were leaving and going home, to sleep in your own bed. But you were leaving without your dad, and in a few days, you would be giving him a send-off for his funeral in Oklahoma. 

The drive home in Mom's car was different. It didn't have that old dusty truck smell, and it didn't rumble as it drove down the dirt road. No, Mom's car was clean, quiet, and smelled like pine. You hated it.

The drive was quiet, only the sound of the radio filling the car, but that quickly got turned off, much to the displeasure of Jason, who quickly turned it back on, which upset Mom.

“Quit it.” She turned it off again. 

“I want to listen to the radio,” Jason protested. 

“NO, Jason, stop it!” Silent tears were running down her cheeks, but Jason just scoffed and looked out the window

*

              When you got home, Jason went to his room and you sat on the couch and curled yourself into a ball. Your mom went straight to the kitchen and came back out with the champagne bottle that had been saved for their anniversary. 

Her dark green eyes were dull and wet with her tears. She took a good look at the bottle before she took a swig and sobbed. You didn't know how else to comfort her, so you just crawled over and cuddled under her arm.

“It’s ok, Momma.” You whispered to her.

That just made her cry harder– the fact that her baby had to comfort her. 

She took another drink while the two of you just sat on the couch and watched TV.

It wasn't long before she passed out. The bottle she'd been drinking fell to the ground and the rest of the contents spilled out, the sound of the bottle hitting the ground woke you up. You looked up at your mom and kissed her good night, before you cleaned up the mess she'd made, and went to bed.

Laying in your bed, you looked up at your fake stars.  You turned over to look at a photo of you and your dad, It was taken when you were five, first learning how to use a bow.

You smiled sadly and went to sleep.

***

              It was just like that for years. You would wake up, go and eat whatever Jason made, and find your momma on the couch, passed out with a bottle of some kind in her hand or on the floor. And as always, you would clean it up before you went to school. 

Sometimes she would wake up and tell you to have a good day. You always said you would but you never did.

When you went to school, some would be nicer. You didn't know whether it was because they felt bad or because they'd been told to. It didn't matter ‘cause the alienation continued and you were still by yourself. The boys still asked mean questions, but now they were about your dad, questions like “Did you see his mangled corpses in the road?” Others would reply with “Yes.” or “It was disgusting.” 

Some of the nastier ones started to say that you should’ve died. One group even cut a chunk of your hair off. It was a choppy pixie cut. Your poor teacher tried her best to make it look nice.

But it didn't matter, ‘cause when you got home, you would put on a smile for your mom and tell her you had an amazing day. Your hair? Well, you got gum in it, that's why it was short. 

Your momma cried a bit when she saw your hair. It was exactly like your Dad's, long and beautiful, but now it was cropped short. Just one more thing she had loved and lost.

***

              You supposed your Momma must have been feeling lonely. Instead of drinking on the couch, she started to go out to drink, sometimes with her coworkers or sometimes just alone. 

And when she was out late at night it was Jason who had to take care of you. He would make you dinner, and make sure you did your homework. He wasn't nice about it but he did it. He also started to take you hunting, and in Jason's fashion, he was harsh and rude with his remarks unlike your Dad had been.

“Y/n, shoot the squirrel over there, you see it?” You roughly pointed in the direction.

You nodded and aimed your arrow at it. You released it, but you missed and it scurried away.

“DAMNIT!” He shot up to his full, towering height. “Can't ya do anything! Jeez, a rock has better aim than ya!” He went to retrieve the arrow. You followed him to find more quarry.

“Ya know, what if som’ happens and we got to provide for mom, huh? What if I can't hunt and you have to hunt fer us, and ya can't hunt shit and we die?” He liked to be overly dramatic with his lectures.

But his “lecture” did nothing but stab your already bruised ego, but to prove him wrong you had to get better.

When you saw a rabbit, you both got down low on the ground. You drew back your arrow and aimed, making sure it was perfect before shooting. The arrow flew past different branches before it finally sunk into the rabbit's abdomen. The rabbit kicked, using up whatever strength it had left before it finally died. 

You ran towards the rabbit and picked it up to show Jason. “Look I got it, it's big too!” You showed him proudly.

He caught up to you and scoffed. “Jus’ a rabbit, nothing to get worked up over,” he said, giving you an unimpressed look. “Itz big though,” he admitted under his breath as he walked away. It was a small comment, but it brought a smile to your face. 

He looked down at the ground, looking for any tracks that could lead to bigger animals. You took the arrow out and put the rabbit in your animal satchel, and followed him.

It was the same cycle that lasted for three years, but then your momma did what you thought she never could. Something that rocked your world, and made you look at her a bit differently.

              Remarry.

        ~~~ 2008 ~~~

              It was late, really late at night, maybe three in the morning. You and Jason were up watching movies and eating what was left in the kitchen. Your mom had the car most of the time so Jason couldn't go out and buy more food.

You were currently watching an old zombie movie called Dawn of the Dead, one that your dad and Jason both seemed to like. The only thing they could agree on was movies.

It was almost over when you heard a rapid knock on the front door. The suddenness surprised you, making you jump a bit, spilling the remaining popcorn. 

“BABIES! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!” Some smaller knocks could be heard. “PLEASE, I FORGOT MY KEYS! AND WE’RE COLD!” 

You and Jason looked at each other before he got up to open the door for your Momma. Her hair was messy, along with her makeup. And behind her was a man with blonde shaggy hair and a beard. He wore a blue button-up and was shivering. 

Your Momma walked past your brother and so did the man. You and Jason gave him a strange look, almost like he had a second head.

Your Momma seemed to notice the looks and stopped to introduce him on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh um, guys this is my fiance, Steven.” She looked at him with puppy eyes.

“Ah, Steven these are my kids, Jason and Y/n, but we call her Bear.” She had a goofy grin on her face as if she didn’t realize she'd dropped a bombshell on you and your brother.

Your brother just huffed and went to his room to sleep. 

“I wonder what that was about” your Momma uttered his breath “Hi baby! What were you two just doing?” she rushed to your side and sat on the floor with you.

You looked up at her “Just watching a movie with Jason” you glazed at the awkward and clearly drunk Steven before watching the movie again. 

“Ooo looks scary, think im gonna make me and Steven some drinks” She kissed your cheek and got up “ooo Stevie why don't you sit and talk with Bear Bear?”

His head shot up in confusion “Wha-what oh um yea of course baby” he walked to the couch and sat down nervously. He looked around the room and then landed on some old photos of you and your dad hunting.

“So, you uh hunt?” you turned your head towards the man you may call ‘dad’, his eyes dart to yours than back to the TV.

“Uhh, yea, my Dad taught me, but haven't caught anything ‘sides som’ rodents” You glanced at him and he just looked somewhere else, he looked so out of place in your small home.

You decided to try and “bond” with him “What about you? You hunt?” His head shot towards you in surprise.

“Ah no, no I don’t hunt. I find it uh too much, to be honest” he laughed awkwardly, you looked away and at your mom who walked back into the living room

“Hey guys! Whatcha talking about!” she said in her drunk cherry, In one hand, she had some snacks and some beers “Sorry we don’t get much, we don't have a lot in the house” She laughed. 

You shifted awkwardly, cause she was the reason for no food “Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow Mom?” she stood there thinking,

“yea-yeah sure, me and you. Ya know just a girl's day!” You smiled and got to kiss your mom's cheek and went to bed Hopefull she’ll get better with this new guy around and fulfill a promise to you.

        ~~~ 2010 ~~~

              You woke up rather late one morning. You walked out of your room to see the TV was on and some trash around the living room, you went to clean it up but your eyes grew when your mom past out on the couch with Steven, in a rather awkward position. You turned around to go to your room when Jason came out too. He seemed to notice the mess to and went to clean it up

“You don't wanna be in the livin' room” You stopped him, and he gave you a weird look. 

“The hell do you mean?” you cleaned your throat. 

“Umm, ste-steven and momma were gettin’ comfortable if ya know what I mean” he just shook his head and went to the kitchen.

“Whatever, im going to get food, you coming?” He grabbed the keys and walked to the garage doors.

You nodded your head and went to get dressed and were quickly out the door to the car. The sun was up, it was a warm day in August, a week before school started. You looked out the window while the radio played, some news guy was mouthing off about some world problem, it was enough for your brother to turn the radio to something else. 

When Jason pulled into the parking lot you could see it was packed but was dead silent. You got out of the car when another car whizzed by almost hitting you. 

You and Jason walked into the store questioning what happened when you noticed the store was dead quiet. You could see carts abandoned some of them being tipped over with groceries all over the floor.

“What tha” Jason looked at the scene in front of you. Jason looked at his watch and half decided to leave but you needed food he just pushed it to the back of his mind.

You grabbed the basket and walked to the food aisle grabbing milk, bread, eggs, and other stuff you needed. But your brother stopped you, grabbing your shoulder roughly

“Wait” you turned to him.

“What? What's wrong?” he pointed down the clothing aisle, it was destroyed and the clothes were everywhere. “Th-the hell happened there? And why hasn't anyone fixed it yet” You started to walk over to investigate but Jason grabbed your arm to stop you 

“Don't, I don't like this” he pushed you forward to the front of the store. Jason grabbed your arms as he speed walked passed the alise of food thrown around the floor. But one alise made you stop in your tracks, making you drop the basket to cover your mouth. 

There in the middle of the floor was a dead body, what was worse was that it looked like it was gored on. Her face was eaten, her abdomen was torn open and her intestines and blood were all over the floor. 

You could see blood tracks near the body, leading away to the next aisle. Your brother pushed you down to the ground, telling you to keep quiet. He looked over to the next aisle and went back quickly.

He dropped down to the floor as well, he gestured you over to him while putting a finger up to his lips. You rushed to him.

“What's going on?” you asked panicked.

“I don’t know, but there's someone over in the next aisle with blood ‘n shit all over 'em” You looked at him with scared eyes.

“Wha-what do we do Jason” you looked to your brother for protection.

“We're gonna slowly and quietly leave the store, don't want to attract the cra-” He shot up, pushing you out of the way and kicking the woman's head out of the way. She flew back giving you and your brother time to run as fast as you could out of the store. While you were running you saw more and more blood and gore, you just didn't seem to notice. 

You got to the car and speed home. The radio was still on, with it blasting the current news:

“IT APPEARS THAT A VIRUS IS SPREADING THROUGHOUT THE WORLD, KILLING THE INFECTED, AND BRING THEM BACK TO LIFE AND ATTACKING OTHERS! 

THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE AGGRESSIVE AND IF YOU COME ACROSS THEM EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY AND CALL LOCAL OFFICERS!”

“What- what does this mean” Your eyes started to water “What are we gonna do Jaso-” you were cut off-

“JUST BE QUITE and let me think” his grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white as he stopped the car to think,

“Here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna go home, then pack our shit and leave! Head into the woods and wait this shit out” You nodded and jumped when a hand slammed on the window on your side, you shrieked causing Jason to jump when he saw the thing he floored the car.

Not once did he stop the car, not even when other cars were around. When you turned into the driveway of your home you hopped out and ran in to see your mom and Steven watching the TV. She leaped off the couch and hugged you tight.

“Oh baby, baby are you okay where were you guys!” she was crying, her already smudged makeup rubbing off.

 “We were at-at the sto-store and w-we saw this woman all-all over the palace” you cried in her arms and hugged her arms

Jason busted in the door “Ma pack yer shit we’re leavin’ NOW! Y/n get our bow stuff, I'll get the campin’ stuff, Steven gets as much food as you can, Ma get essentials and anythin’ else we need”. 

You ran to your room, grabbing your bear bow, quiver, and arrows. Doing the same and grabbing Jason's hunting bow and equipment. You grabbed your school bag and some clothes.

You were about done when you thought of something. You rushed to your mom's room and grabbed your dad's coat, you loved your dad's coat. It was a bit big but it'd be good in the winter or as a blanket.

By the time you were done, everybody was running out the door. Jason and Mom were packing the food and camping gear in the trunk of the car. Steven was “the lookout”, he was holding your dad's old shotgun when he saw a figure walking down the driveway,

“H-hey there’s someone comin'” Jason turned his head to see someone limping down the drive way. The man had half his arm ripped off.

“Shit, shoot it” Steven looked at Jason like he was crazy.

“Th-the hell you mean to shoot it? THATS A DAMN PERSON!” Jason slammed the trunk closed, and stormed over to Steven, and snatched the gun from him. 

“Those things aren't people! They won't hesitate to eat ya!” he turned to you and your mom “Get in the car and start it, we’ll leave soon” 

Your mom ushered you to the back seat furthest away from the thing as your brother called them. Your mom got in next and started the car. She looked panicked, gripping the stirring wheel out of nerves. 

You heard the crack of a gunshot not that far away 

“SHIT!” Jason yelled.You turned to look at the commotion, to see the figure with a giant hole in his chest, but he was still walking as if nothing happened.

“Sh-shoot it in the he-head Ja-Jason”  Steven could barely talk but he tried to help the best he could. Jason re-aimed the gun and shot the head, well the best he could.

The thing finally went down and Steven and Jason hopped in the car, Jason in the front and Steven in the back. Your mom started the car and drove into the city, taking the path to the local campgrounds. 

It seems that while your family was getting ready to leave, things got crazier. There were crashes everywhere, fire, smoke, and screams could be heard, and these, groans or moans could be heard if the things were close to the car.

When you got to the campsite it was quiet. Nothing could really be heard, not even the birds in the trees. Silent, just like the store.

***

             “THE CDC HAS ISSUED A NATIONWIDE QUARANTINE ALL CIVILIANS ARE ORDERED TO STAY INSIDE OR  GO TO THE ATLANTA REFUGE CAMP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE ARE IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA

FOOD, MEDICAL SUPPLY, SHELTER, AND MILITARY PROTECTION WILL BE SUPPLIED” 

The radio chatter went on and on, spouting the same things. It's been a week since the “outbreak”, as they’re calling it, happened. And in that small little window, your family and Steven have had to move twice, going deeper and deeper into the woods.

“D-do you think we should go to Atlanta? It's not that far from here” Your mom had been suggesting it, but your brother always dismissed it.

“Naw, too risky” he poked the fire “Eaters be everywhere and we’d be sitin’ ducks” You were torn on where to go, staying here you'd be by yourselves but at the same time you didn't have to worry if your neighbor was crazy enough to kill you for bread. But if you went to Atlanta you wouldn't have to worry about eaters –the new name for them– attacking you.

“We’re low on food, Y/n grab yer bow, were goin’ hunting” You nodded and hopped off the opened trunk. Running to your tent and grabbed your bow and quiver and hurried to your brother who was already leaving. 

When you went hunting Jason made a rule that you couldn't make too much noise, not since he spotted an eater while he was hunting. You kept your eyes down on the forest floor to keep an eye on any tracks, while Jason kept an eye out for eaters and any animals. 

When you found some faint deer tracks you tugged on his shirt and pointed to them. He kneeled down to inspect them and shook his head “Too old, probably dead by now” nodding your head you continued, but stopped in your tracks when you saw a doe looking at you. 

She was beautiful, her eyes hadn't noticed you yet, but you had. Jason got up behind you “Guess ya were right, why don't ya bag it” he nudged you forward and you drew the bow back. The bow itself was new, you bought it yourself after cleaning your neighbor's yard for her, she was old frail, and couldn't do it herself.

You released the bow and it landed in her abdomen. She ran off deeper into the woods with whatever strength she had left. You and Jason chased after her, her blood leading her to you.

She was stronger than she looked because it took about twenty minutes before you caught up with her. Jason loaded his bow and shot it and hit her just below her shoulder blade killing her. 

“Common, let's go get her and bring her back” You shouldered your bow and walked up to her with Jason. Since he was bigger he took up the grunt work and shouldered her while you carried his bow. 

“Now, ya need to find our tracks” he huffed while trying to position her right “Should be easy enough since we were running” You nodded and glued your eyes down looking up when ever you heard something in the distance.

It took about an hour before you got back to your camp. You ran to your mom and hugged her “We bagged a doe, Jason gonna clean ‘er up the we’ll eat it” Jason dropped her by Steven “ya know how to clean a Doe Steven?” Steven looked from Jason to the Doe, back to Jason. 

He swallowed deeply before answering “I-uhh I've never done it no” Joson rolled his eyes then sat down next to him and started to show him how. 

It was one of the little things your dad never taught you. You've seen him do it, but he never shown you how. Jason had to teach you, and he did that in your kitchen, if your mom was there and sober she would've freaked out. 

You sat next to your mom who was still paying attention to the radio. All it did was worry her as she bit her nails with her legs pulled into her chest. 

“You okay momma?” you put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped a bit but eased up a bit when she saw you.

“O-oh ye-yea baby, im good” she smiled “How’d your hunt go with Jason?” you pulled your knees up to your chest 

“it went fine, I found really old tracks and Jason brushed them off and when we looked up BAMB there she was!” you told the story of how you found the Doe.

Your mom softly clapped for you “Wow, you're a real Orion aren't you bear?” you smiled, your Momma loved Greek Mythology, and she always said if she could be a professor, teaching students about the great tales of the Greek gods and heroes. 

“Ya know where your nickname comes from?” you shook your head, but you knew why, this was the closest you got to your old momma from before the accident, plus you loveed the story.

 “Artimiss was the goddess of the hunt, and she swore off marriage—one of three goddesses to be exact– she would hunt on the earthly grounds with other women and nymphs. One of these women was a woman named Callisto, she was a hunter who was sadly assaulted and fell pregnant at the hands of Zues.” 

you had a sad expression as if this was the first time you heard this “and Hera and Artemis found them. Artemis cast Callisto out and Hera turned her into a bear.” you gasped playfully, and she smirked.

“well she gave birth and Artemis guided the baby to civilization, and he grew to be a mighty hunter. And he came across his bear Momma and went to kill her, but Zeus saw this and before he could kill her, he put Callisto and her sun the stars” You rested your head on her shoulder and she hugged you. You sat there for a while as you looked at the stars.

 “Well it looks like you brother is about done with the deer, shall we go sit by the fire?” you nodded and grabbed your bag which had your remaining books and sat by the fire

Jason started to put some meat on the fire. The blaze reflected in his dark green eyes, he looked like he was thinking about something. He checked his watch and figured it was time to take the venison off the grill. He gave it to you.

“She found it, she gets to eat it first” was his reasoning when Steven asked why you got it. Steven was very whiney, you suspect he’d be dead if he was alone.

***

              It was deep into the night, and you just finished your comic book. Your Momma was looking for batteries for the radio, it had died about an hour ago and your Momma had been going crazy looking for them. When she finally found them she cheered with triumph and put the new ones in the radio. The radio roared to life with the same news as before. 

Jason was poking the fire a bit while Steven was getting something from his tent. You got up and went sit by Jason. He gave you an odd look which you ignored and picked up your bow and began fiddling with it 

“What are ya doin’ Y/n” he stopped what he was doing and looked at you.

“Jus’ sittin’ is all” you fiddle some more “and wondering” he went back to the fire 

“about what?” you looked around your makeshift camp.

“if all of this will be over soon, and when we can go back” you looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

Jason stayed quiet, he didn't know. But if he was honest, he didn't mind it all that much–could go without the living dead though– it was like an extended camping trip. 

              SNAP

Your blood ran cold when you heard the groans and snarls coming closer. You shot up when you saw them closing in on the car. Your mom was running towards you as you held your stuff. 

She grabbed your arm and ran to the woods as Jason and Steven stayed behind to fight them off. Your Momma dragged you into the woods further and further. You kept looking back to see other eaters staggering toward you

“Mo-momma, they’re behind us!” your mom just ran faster “I-I know baby but we just need ru-” Out of nowhere an eater came and attacked her. 

She let go of your hand when another one latched its dirty maw on her shoulder. Her screams were horrid, you imagine it was the same scream she let out when the love of her life and baby were in the hospital. Just filled with horror and dread.

“Y/n, Y/n YOU NEED TO RUN!” you shook your head with tears in your eyes “NO LISTEN AND RUN NOW!” hearing the groans of another eater behind you made you run off into the woods. Crying as you heard the cries of your momma. 

                                ~~~ 2010, A few weeks later~~~

              You had been on your own for a few weeks since your camp had been overrun. You thought about going back to it, to see if Jason or Steven got out okay. Well if Jason got out, you were sure Steven did. And you knew if he got out safe then Steven was safe–probably. 

But you were on your own, so you had rules now: Always move, Stay in the trees at night, And NEVER stay if it's too quiet.

That's how you made it all these weeks alone. You rationed the food you managed to hunt on your own. It was small, with rabbits, birds, and a raccoon once. It was odd but it kept you fed. 

At night you'd find a tree with a sturdy branch, climb it, ruffle in your bag for something to tie around you and the branch, and sleep. And repeat the cycle again the next morning.

*

              You were currently in a tree, just waking up from sleep. The denim jeans you used to keep you tied to the tree were a little loose. You gathered your things, putting your bow around your torso, same with your bag. 

You nimbly climbed down the tree and leaped out on the last branch and landed on the forest floor, you fumbled a bit but were fine nonetheless. 

You made a small fire and cooked the last of the rabbit meat you had. After that, you put the fire out and continued on your way to nowhere. 

You suppose you were in a good part of the woods, cause you could hear the birds singing some little tune they came up with. You humed along to it while walking on a fallen tree, balancing on it like a tightrope walker. 

You stopped walking when you noticed deer tracks and debated on following them or not, but decided to just do it anyway, no set direction and all.

You followed them to a clearing, there wasn't anything there though so you just sat on a log. You figured it was safe enough to relax a bit. With an arrow, you start drawing random things in the dirt. You liked drawing, it was a pastime you did before.

You started drawing hearts, butterflies, and flowers, pretty things really. Then you drew your Momma, she was beautiful in your eyes, with long hair that reached her midback, and her beautiful green eyes. 

You stopped what you were doing when you heard something in the distance, it sounded like something talking. You quickly loaded your bow and stood up aiming your bow at the noise.

There you saw two men. One was old, with short-cropped grey hair. He was bigger than the other one. The other guy was younger and more scrawny, he had squirrels tied around a rope,  he had a crossbow, also aimed at you, and the old guy had a hunting rifle

   “Well well well, what do we have here baby brother,” Old Guy said with the meanest grin on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next // I Met Two Old Guys In The Woods

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[canirove]

Rúben Dias Imagine | four

Author’s note: This is a request from Wattpad. They asked for an imagine with Rúben where you are a Real Madrid supporter and he still teases you about losing against City this season. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

"Meu amor, have you seen my iPad's charger?" Rúben asks. "I can't find it anywhere."

"I still can't believe that someone as organized as yourself and who travels so much, struggles so much with unpacking" I chuckle.

"Maybe because I'm constantly traveling and packing and unpacking takes too long?" 

"Then don't complain about not finding things" I shrug.

"I didn't complain, I just asked. Anyway, have you seen it or not?"

"Nope. When was the last time you used it?"

"Last Wednesday before the Champions… sorry."

"Uh? Why are you apologizing?"

"I've mentioned the Champions League game."

"And?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"I know it still hurts."

"It doesn't hurt, Rúben" I laugh.

"It's just the two of us, you can tell me, you know?" he smirks.

"It doesn't hurt. Besides, I knew we were going to lose, so" I shrug.

"But you got your hopes high after the draw in Madrid, didn't you?" he asks, resting his forearms on the back of the sofa.

"Maybe a little bit, yeah. Anyone would have. But I was still expecting to lose. This year we suck, and you've sadly been playing really well."

"Sadly" he laughs. "But are you really sure, meu amor? Didn't you expect another remontada?" 

"Did you? You didn't sleep well those days" I tease back.

"I asked first."

"I didn't, no. Since the moment they said we would play against you if we made it to the semifinals, I knew that was it. I told you, remember?" 

"I still don't believe you."

"Then don't, I don't care" I shrug once again. "Now go find your charger, you are distracting me and I have to finish this" I say, nodding towards my laptop.

"Changing the topic, uh? That's because losing still bothers you."

"Dear God, Rúben" I say, rolling my eyes. "Did you wake up extra annoying today or something?"

"It was a tough defeat, I get it."

"Rúben…" I sigh.

"4-0… that's a lot these days. And you are Real Madrid, you know."

"Everyone has moved on from that game, why can't you do the same?"

"Because thanks to that game, I'm going to play the Champions League final!" he smiles.

"Yeah, and hopefully lose it."

"So rude, meu amor. I'm your boyfriend! You should be happy for me."

"Maybe if you stopped teasing me about last week's game, I would be happy for you. That's small team mentality right there, you know?"

"What?" Rúben laughs.

"Focusing more on your rival losing than on your own achievement is small team mentality. We've lived rent free in your mind since last season when we beat you in six minutes, we've been all you've been able to think about. Real Madrid, Real Madrid, Real Madrid."

"That isn't small team mentality. That's wanting to do better, to keep improving."

"Because we are the best team in Europe?" I ask.

"If you were, you would be in the Champions League final. But you aren't, we are" he smirks.

"But we've won it… let me check. Oh, yes. fourteen times. And you and your team have… none! Zero!"

"Yet."

"Even if you win this year, you won't be at our level, meu amor" I reply with a teasing smile.

"Whatever" he says, rolling his eyes and moving from the back of the sofa.

"I still remember last year's game, what a night that was. Look, I even got goosebumps just by thinking about it!" I say, showing him my arm. "Thank you for the penalty, by the way."

"Yeah, that game. I was gutted after what happened, and where were you? Celebrating with your Madrid friends."

"But the next day I flew back to Manchester and I was here with you, making you your favourite dinner and watching your favourite movie with you to cheer you up. What did you do for me after this year's game? Oh, yes, annoy the hell out of me" I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It isn't the same and you know it. You are just a fan, I'm a player. This is my job, and I sucked at it last year. I wanted to redeem myself and I managed to do it."

"And making fun of me was part of your redemption?" I say, raising my voice.

"I just wanted to lighten the mood."

"Then take me out on a date somewhere I like instead of behaving like a jerk! I never made fun of you for your penalty. Never!" I say, getting up from the sofa.

"You did a minute ago."

"Because you are behaving like an idiot! That's why!"

"What?"

"You can tease me nonstop about what happened the other day, but when I do just a bit with what happened last year, you get mad."

"Because it isn't the same, I already told you" he says, crossing those big arms of his over his chest.

"It is equally annoying!"

"It isn't."

"It is!" I insist.

"Wait, where are you going?" Rúben asks as I walk past him.

"To bed."

"Already? What about dinner? And what about what you had to finish on your laptop?"

"I'm not hungry anymore. And I can finish it tomorrow."

"Meu amor…"

"No!" I say, threatening him with my finger. "Don't meu amor me. And you are sleeping in the guest room tonight"

"What?" Rúben laughs. "I have a game tomorrow night, I must rest!"

"You should have thought about that before being an idiot" I say, walking into our room.

"C'mon, meu… ouch! What are you doing?"

"Giving you your pillow so you can at least sleep" I say after hitting him with it. "You don't deserve it, but…"

"Wait, are you seriously gonna make me sleep in the guest room?" he chuckles.

"Yes, I am. Good night, Rúben" I say, closing our room's door with such force that it trembles.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Wait, you argued about what?"

"I know, I know" I sigh. "But he's just being so annoying about it. You guys won against my team, cool! Let's move on, you still have a final to play, you know?"

"He's just happy after what happened last year. He was really gutted, you know? His team lost a Champions League semifinal because of him, and it was against Real Madrid, which besides historically being the best team in that competition, happens to be your team."

"I know, he told me. And I get it. But at the same time, that should make him feel better. He lost against the best team, my team, the one that makes me happy. It wasn't all that bad."

"But for us that point of view isn't that easy to understand" Bernardo says over the phone.

"I guess, yes" I sigh. "Anyway, I should probably go upstairs, I don't want to get cold after my run."

"And you should also apologize to him, he's probably leaving already and I need him focused for the game, not thinking about a stupid argument."

"That too" I sigh again. "Thank you for the talk, Berni."

"You're welcome. That's what friends are for" he says before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Holy shit, Rúben!" I say, taking my hand instinctively moving to my heart. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry."

"What are you doing standing there?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?"

"I wanted to give you this" he says, showing me the bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back.

"Tulips?"

"Your favourite flower" he smiles. "But these are yellow."

"I know, I have eyes."

"Yellow means I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"About what happened last night. I know I was too annoying, that I should have stopped teasing you."

"Yes, you should have. But I also overreacted a bit, so sorry about that. Did you manage to sleep?"

"Yeah, don't worry" Rúben smiles. "Do you accept my flowers, then?"

"I do. Thank you" I say, walking towards him and taking them. "Is this why you weren't home when I woke up?"

"Yep. You don't know how hard it is to find yellow tulips in Manchester" he chuckles.

"I love them."

"And I love you" he says, caressing my cheek. "But you better go take a shower, you stink."

"Thank you" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"If it is a quick one we can cuddle a bit before I have to leave. Will you be at tonight's game?"

"I will" I smile. "I love you, Rúben."

"And I love you too. But go take that shower, I'll find a nice vase to put the flowers in."

"Look at him. He wins against Real Madrid once and gets all bosy" I smirk, rolling my eyes.

"Wait until I win that Champions League" he replies with a matching smile. "Now go shower."

"Yes, meu amor" I wink, Rúben laughing and holding a bouquet of yellow tulips being the last thing I see before walking into the bathroom.