#come downstairs in the afternoon for in-person classes.

[siena-sevenwits]

[russellsppttemplates]

You're a racewinner (Lando Norris)

The one where Lando won his first Formula One race

Note: english is not my first language. That race took years out of my life and all of the tears out of me, but I couldn't not do something for this moment ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to smut at the end, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Baby, can you come here and help me, please?", Lando called from the hotel bathroom, "I can't place this quite right".

Getting the plaster from your boyfriend's fingers, you fiddled with it a little before holding Lando's jaw so he could face you properly, "stay still,", you whispered, applying the sterile material on his nose cut with a tender touch.

"Thank you, lovie", Lando mumbled once you peeled both hands away from his face, pecking your lips, "couldn't help myself when I have your beautiful face so close to mine", he snickered.

Shaking your head at his capacity of turning you into mush, you pecked his nose gently, "are you going to play padel the whole afternoon?", you wondered.

"I'm not sure, I think so - we have dinner reservations downstairs though, Will, Mark and Oscar said they'd join us as well", he offered.

"Okay", you nodded, grabbing your laptop so you could get on with work at the desk in your room.

"Do you have a lot of work to do today, angel?", he asked, kissing your naked shoulder as he looked at the screen. For his life, he couldn't understand half of what you had written in there, let alone actually do any of the smart tasks you had in there.

"It's not too bad - it's the administrative boring stuff that I actually enjoy doing", you admitted. There wasn't much to it, and while your colleagues found it boring, you found comfort on the sequential and system like steps.

"I'm going then - call me if you need anything, okay?", he kissed the top of your head, "I love you".

"I love you too, Lan - enjoy yourself!", you kissed him back before he grabbed his things and left the room.

It certainly wasn't something you did for every race, but whenever it did, you'd fly in earlier with Lando and work remotely whenever he had his own duties and activities.

After King's Day, you and Lando flew over to Miami, the sunshine greeting you to contrast with the gloomy days you had back home. Warm weather always made you feel happier and you welcomed the golden hues on your skin after spending the first two days basking in eachother's presence by the pool and walks along the beach.

By the time Lando came back, he was met with you putting your laptop back into your backpack, "all done for today, beautiful?".

"Yes - for the week actually! There was a meeting that was cancelled and the other was pushed for next week, so I went ahead with the rest and it's all done!", you smiled, "I was about to shower when you texted saying that you were on your way back".

"You were waiting for me? Such a good girl", Lando whispered on your ear after wrapping his arms around your towell covered body, "let's go then", he pulled you with him.

After a shower filled with soft touches that were a thin line away from teasing, you both got ready for dinner, meeting the rest of the group at the restaurant.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?", Mark asked Lando once you were already enjoying your meal.

"What's tomorrow?", you questioned.

"I'm going the yoga class with Hilton - actually, you can come to that now that you don't have the meeting anymore", your boyfriend suggested, "you're a good... yoga practising person".

"That one on the beach? Am I allowed to go?", you asked. You wouldn't mind having a muscle stretching session.

"I'm sure they can put a mat down for you", Mark offered, "I'll text them about it".

"Lando will just get distracted by you and fall on his face - at least you can add to that plaster", Oscar joked before taking a sip of his water and earning himself a kick in the shin from your boyfriend.

.

"My girlfriend is actually quite good - I asked her to teach me some of this stuff because i didn't want to be too bad at it", Lando admitted, winking at you while he dusted the sand off of his fingers.

So far, the class was one of the funniest videos you've ever watched Lando record. He was really taking on the job and the part seriously, answering Alli with all of the lines you had told him about yesterday. Since you were sitting further at the back, you could giggle freely at his antics, stealing quick looks from eachother every chance you could.

"Look at this excellent form!", Alli complimented as she watched the rest of the class.

"She's talking about me, not you guys - me!", Lando chirped in as he stretched his arms up.

"Now this one is really good to stretch your hips", Ali added as she moved into a different position.

"Work on this one, lovie!", Lando shouted at you, "but be careful, okay?", he ensured as he looked to see if you were doing it well.

"I'm good, Lan, thank you!", you giggled, shaking your head before changing your feet position on the mat.

"Are you afraid of the sand?", Alli asked.

"I don't like the sand, no", Lando snickered, swatting the grains away from his hands, "Y/N will tell you all about it since she's always making fun of me because of it - she's lucky she's cute otherwise I might get mad", he argued half jokingly.

As the crew tidied the area, Lando crept up behind you, hugging your waist and pulling you to his chest, "did you like it, love?".

"It was nice, yes - my back and hips feel better actually", you smiled, resting your hands on top of his around your tummy.

"That's good", he placed a soft kiss on your neck, "how about we go and take advantage of that then?", he whispered.

"Lan, we're outside and we were doing yoga!", you scolded softly despite the goosebumps erupting on your skin. The warm Miami air didn't have anything to do with that reaction, so Lando knew you were just as bad as he was.

"We'll go to our room, of course - you look so good in these leggings and this top", he turned you around to face his chest, his hands grabbing a handful of your hips and butt, "I can tell you want it too", he smirked.

Playing coy, you fiddled with the string of his hoodie. How he was wearing it under this sun and warmth, you had no idea, but it would be a plus to touch and admire his body underneath it.

"You don't need to do anything else?", you asked. Despite your desire, you would never do anything that go between his work duties.

"No, I'm free for the rest of the day", he smiled.

As soon as you got the okay to leave and call it a day, Lando was a man on a mission to spoil you and let you lose yourselves in eachother.

.

Media day was usually the quietest day, but given the media and celebrity attention the paddock got for this Grand Prix, it was quite packed and action filled.

"Hello handsome", you greeted Lando once he came to meet you in the lounge for some lunch.

"I'm tired and I haven't done any racing yet", he muttered, "the social media team made me film this video which I think you'll like", he said, getting his phone from his pocket and showing it to you.

"Aren't we full of ourselves, hm? It's a video of your handsome face", you pointed out teasingly, kissing his cheek before watching it again.

"Are you saying you don't like it? If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have watched it again and again", Lando tickled, ending up having to hold your back so you wouldn't fall to the ground.

"You look very handsome, baby", you agreed with him, catching your breath as you sat on his lap.

"We also met Jimmy Butler and the team brought one of the trophies out - it was so cool, look!", he showed you on his phone, flickering through his gallery.

.

The first sprint qualifying session gave the team a 1-2, followed by Lando's pole position for the second session was applauded by everyone in the garage, "I'm not sure how it's going to be with the compound change though, but everyone else is also changing so we'll see", Mark observed. 

The car seemed to skid away slightly, the grip level from the new tire not allowing Lando a smooth turn as you watched his on-board for the third and last qualifying session. 

"I'm happy with everything, just not one thing", you heard Lando say in the post qualifying interviews.

You didn't get to see him before he went to the media pen, so you couldn't whisper sweet words to him before he went out there. Not that he would listen to them too much anyway. If there was something you learned over the years is that you should let him come to you, no matter how much you wanted to hold him in your arms.

He was always too hard on himself and it was no different after this qualifying. You waited around for him, chatting with some of the team members while you did so to pass the time.

"Lando!", you waved, calling him so he could notice you.

"I need to go to my driver's room", he offered his hand out for you to hold and follow him.

Once you were inside, you wrapped your arms around Lando's neck, kissing his neck multiple times and rubbing his back.

"I can't believe I did that? Not even a rookie would've done that shitshow, it's like I forgot how to drive", Lando muttered, shaking his head.

"Everyone struggled with the grip Lando, they were either eating up their tires or squiding away", you reasoned with him, "I don't think any of the guys thought they had a good lap".

"Mine surely wasn't", Lando scoffed.

"Hey, look at me", you said sternly, cupping his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't looking elsewhere.

You had to let him come to you, but that didn't mean you couldn't give him a piece of your mind first.

"You have been with this team since you were a kid, Lando, and everyone inside this hospitality is rooting for you, bad day or good day, everyone has your back, and as well as you don't win on your own, you don't lose or get a bad result on your own. Everyone out there is supporting you and no one thinks you're a failure or a bad driver", you stated.

You knew what was going on inside his head, Lando reasoned with himself - there was no point in lying to you or saying that he wasn't feeling like that when you could practically read him like a book.

"You're only as good as your last race, Y/N that's how this sport works", Lando offered.

"Then let's make this one count - the weekend has barely begun", you rubbed his cheek.

"I have to go to debrief", Lando mumbled, looking down before he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you, thank you", he whispered, squeezing your wrists before kissing them too.

"I love you too, all of you and everything that you do", you winked before he left his driver's room.

As soon as all of his duties were taken care of, you went back to the hotel, deciding to stay in for the night after a long shower.

"Come here so I can play with your hair and magically pull away all of those bad thoughts going on inside there", you smiled, finally sitting down on the bed.

Lando didn't want to seem needy or clingy, but every time you reached for the body moisturiser to scoop some of it out and rub it on your skin, he felt himself deflate a little, having to wait a little more to be able to touch you.

Crawling to your hold, your boyfriend rested his head on your chest as his arms circled your waist, feeling your fingers do as you had told him.

"Do you think tomorrow will be better?", he muttered.

"I don't know for sure, but I hope so", you answered honestly, "you deserve a good result tomorrow, you deserve all the good things, love", you added.

"I don't deserve you", he mumbled, looking up at you.

"You do, Lando", you kissed his forehead.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me", he stated, "whether I deserve you or not is another ballgame, but I hope you never leave me".

"It's not on my plans, no", you chuckled despite the seriousness of your words, "do you know what is though? Sleep, because tomorrow you have a big day", you kissed his lips, "go to sleep, baby".

"I love you, baby - sweet dreams", Lando whispered.

"They always are when you're here with me", you murmured.

.

"Fucking hell", you groaned, "is he staying out?", you wondered outloud.

The team radio with the veredict came in quickly, deciding that the risk they would be getting into by continuing the race and potentially worsening whatever damage the car had was not worth the points that would be up for grabs. Like so, they would retire the car, so Lando jumped out of the car and crossed the track.

"He shouldn't have done that", you muttered, noticing the other people around you looking at you curiously. Most of them were paddock guests who you had never seen before, so you excused yourself as politely as you could, waiting for Lando to come back from the pitwall and into the garage.

He exchanged a few words with the team before he approached you.

"I'm sorry it didn't go the way you wanted - do you want me to fight anyone?", you tried to get a smile out of him.

"Sometimes these things happen, there was nothing I could do", he kissed your forehead, "they're bringing the car back but it seems to have not been that bad - I was worried about the suspension damage but it doesn't look too bad from what they can see on the computer", he offered, "I need to go to the media pen, lovie".

"Go go, I'll be here if you need anything", you smiled, feeling him squeeze your hand in his before he found the team member he was supposed to go with.

A couple of hours later, race qualifying rolled around and despite P5 still being a good position, you could see that Lando was struggling a little bit and he would surely blame himself on his lack of skills.

"Is he coming straight here or the media pen?", Ria asked you.

"I'm not sure", you mumbled, looking around to check for any signs of where your boyfriend would be headed.

When Lando came back to the garage, you were the first person he looked for.

"Hello hello", he said, squeezing your hand once more before greeting the rest of the group.

"That was not bad, P5 means a lot is up for grabs still", you tried, not really sensing the mood he was in which was unusual for you.

"It felt better yesterday, we still have to check about the changes we made and decided what to keep and what to undo", Lando offered without a prominent emotion on his tone.

"I'll be here when you're back", you told him.

"I still have the debrief and I'm staying as long as I can", he stated, "you can go to the hotel if you want to".

"I'll wait here", you kissed his cheek before letting him go.

His mood wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't the worst you had ever seen it, so you had to make do for now. Getting your book from your bag, you went up to find yourself a spot in the lounge since Ria told you they would be going back to the hotel.

"Are you ready to go?", Lando announced his presence a couple of hours later, stepping closer to you with his backpack on his back already.

"Yes", you said, putting the book back and getting up, "What is that?", you wondered as you pointed to the envelope on his hand.

"A fine for crossing the track - twenty-five thousand euros because I got out on my own, and it's that little if I don't do anything else again", he shook his head, "do you want to have dinner out or in the room?".

"Whichever way you prefer, handsome", you replied earnestly.

"Are you doing it because you feel pity for me? Is that why you're that quiet and following my lead to whatever I say?", he mused, letting his insecurities get the best of him, "because I told you, it happens and I'm fine".

"It could never be out of pity when it is, always, out of love, Lando", you smiled, pecking his lips and heading to the car so you could make your way back to the hotel.

.

Lando woke up earlier than he expected considering how tired he had been, sensing your even breathing pattern next to him. His mind filled with strategies, outcomes and potential situations that could arise, so he definitely wasn't sleeping until nightime.

"Good morning", you surprised him as he didn't think you were awake yet, your eyes greeting him as he turned around to face you.

"Good morning, lovie", he smiled, getting your hand from under the pillow and kissing your knuckles, "you're awake already?".

"Couldn't sleep anymore - you?", you mused.

"Same - means we can have some morning snuggles", Lando offered as he pulled you closer to him.

"Do you want to talk about the race?", you mumbled after you kissed his lips.

"You know me too well, don't you?", he chuckled, kissing you again while he traced patterns on your waist.

"We've been dating for nearly seven years - it would be a little weird if I didn't", you pursed your lips jokingly.

"I don't know, I keep thinking about all the things that can go wrong and what I can do in that situation - P5 isn't bad but I'm not sure I can extract all of it", he sighed.

"You're too hard on yourself", you mused, "there hasn't been a challenge that you didn't want to face, you never backed down from it and it's not something you're going to start doing now, baby", you stated.

"Do you think I have it?", he mused. He wasn't sure what it meant, but right now he didn't know anything.

"Of course you do, it will come to you, my love", you tried to build his confidence up, "you're such an amazing, skilled driver, you climbed up the ladder on your merit, and your team is backing you up. With some work there, that podium can be yours, Lando".

"I don't know", he tsked still.

"Well, I do know, so you'll have to trust me", you moved under the sheets, supporting your torso on your hands so you could hover over Lando, "this one is for when you'll start doubting yourself", you kissed above his left eyebrow, "this one is in case you need a little push", you kissed his right eyebrow, "this here is for good luck", you kissed his forehead, "this one here is because you are the best driver out there", you kissed his nose, "this one is for how much you deserve to be on that podium", you kissed his cheek, letting your eyelashes tickle him, "This is for the amazing person that you are", you kissed his jaw, "And this one is for how much I love you and how proud I am of you", you landed a kiss on his lips, letting yours melt into his to show you just how much you meant all those words.

Lando felt loved unconditionally. There were no better words to describe what he felt. No matter what he delivered on track, you were always there for him. To congratulate him when things went well and to comfort him when he needed. It didn't matter if he was P1 or P20, your love and affection was a constant in his life.

"I never want to know what life is like without you by my side", Lando cupped your cheek, rubbing the skin.

"I'm not going anywhere", you promised.

You stayed in bed until the alarm rang, then getting ready to go to the track. Lando kissed your temple before he went to the debrief meeting, leaving you to grab a cool drink to deal with the Miami heat.

"I love you, be safe out there", you smiled, kissing over his left eyebrow.

"I could do with a little more luck", he admitted, blood rushing to his cheeks as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss his forehead like you had that morning in bed.

Lando continued getting ready while you occupied your spot on the garage, giving him a little wave before he went to the grid.

"He seems hopeful today", Mark nudged your shoulder as he sat next to you, "I don't suppose you have something to do with it", he smirked.

"What do you mean?", you wondered.

"Yesterday he wasn't exactly cheerful, but he walked into the debrief saying that today was a day full of opportunities", he clarified.

"Just helped him see the other side of the coin", you blushed at his assumption.

The race got off to a bumpy start, making you hiss as soon as you watched the cars get through unharmed, "that was a close call", you muttered.

Just as Lando had set the fastest lap, you watched Max go outside of the track slightly and hit the cone and later giving Oscar first place since he needed to pit, "the car pace looks good, doesn't it?", Jon told you.

"Oscar is coming to the pit and Max is right behind Lando", you muttered as you heard your boyfriend's radio and watched the mechanics get ready with the new tires for Oscar.

By lap thirty, still under the safety car, Lando was the one to pit and you couldn't help but do the math, "He's going to come out at the front, isn't he?", you looked at Jon and Mark, wanting to check your calculations right.

"Yes, look at him go", Jon pointed to the screen.

From then on, your heart beat as fast as it ever had, your eyes focusing on the gap between Lando and Max as your leg bounced up and down.

"Y/N, you should take it easy", Jon said, "you're going to work yourself up and it won't be good", he noticed. The way your eyes watched the race combined with the heat, your innate lack of water intake and the way your blood pressure seemed to be going, his worry was genuine.

"Mas just said on his radio that he's struggling with his car", Mark said as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't jinx it, don't jinx it", you whispered as you looked at everyone else around you.

Everyone shared the nerves you felt, everyone held on to see what was happening while keeping an eye on Oscar's brilliant drive after all that came his way.

"Should have dated an accountant", you mumbled before getting up, pacing around the small area once you made sure you weren't annoying people too much and not blocking anyone's view, "my heart wouldn't be like this", you took a deep breath as the last five laps warning came on the screen.

"Love how Oscar is the one with the fastest lap all the way down there - it's such a shame, he deserved more", you pointed out in an attempt of distracting yourself.

"Three laps!", someone yelled.

As you saw the rush to the checkered flag and your boyfriend's car be the first one to cross it, the garage and pitwall erupted in celebration.

"HE WON! HE WON! LANDO WON!", you yelled, crying into your hands after the initial shock wore off, Mark and Jon hugging you as they celebrated, "this is amazing? Aren't you amazed?", you yelled.

Lando's screams and laughs filled your ears as you listened closely to your boyfriend's first reactions after crossing the finish line on his first win, the pout being replaced with a massive grin even though you were still crying happy tears, "we did it, Will! We did it!", he boasted.

Once you were allowed, you joined the rest of the team and ran to Parc Fermé, stopping by Natalie once she spotted you for a quick hug.

"Will! Will! Will!", you called your boyfriend's race engineer once the team kindly let you go to the front, "Congratulations!", you hugged him, "I'm so happy!!", you squealed as he laughed.

Your phone rang with a FaceTime call coming from Max, "Hiiiii!", you beamed.

"Are you at the front?", he asked, "he did it, Y/N, he fucking did it! I'm going to add Adam here, just let me go here...", he tapped his screen until you noticed a new square forming on your phone.

"Hiii!", Adam and Cisca accepted the call quickly, "Y/N! Where are you now?", Cisca asked.

"I'm at the front here, slightly on the side!", you yelled as you showed them the number four car park in front of the number one plaque, "Look at him!", you squealed.

Lando was quick to get out safely, celebrating his first position and getting weighed in before taking his helmet off, leaving it on the ground and diving into the team who congratulated him enthusiastically.

"He's so happy and he has his big smile that makes his eyes crinkly!", you cheered as you stood next to Mark, making sure you didn't get shoved or pushed around too much.

"She and Lando are so cute, ugh, I can't deal with it", Pietra groaned.

"He's very lucky to have you, Y/N", Adam agreed before you saw Flo and Cisca.

"Lando No wins no more, hey? Y/N, have you seen him? He must be so ecstatic!", Flo offered.

"Stop it - I just passed by Natalie on my way here and she recalled the first time I watched a race from the garage when I was nineteen! Nineteen, might as well have been a baby! And I cried a little more, nearly choked because I had to run here and my breathing was ragged", you muttered, "I think the guys are putting him back down", you mused.

"Dude! Broken Rib time!", Zak yells once Lando was back on the floor, hugging your boyfriend before Andrea did the same.

"Now make room for the missus - she also gets to hug him all in one piece", the italian engineer encouraged while he helped you with the barrier.

Seeing Lando was enough to get your eyes to water again, not caring about hitting your phone on his back once he pulled you into his arms, nuzzling his face on your neck.

"I'm so proud of you, baby, you drove brilliantly out there", you let out, kissing his skin before cupping his face with both hands once Zak took your phone away from you, "you're a race winner, Lan, you're incredible and I love you so so so much", you told him before smashing your lips on his.

"Did the microphone pick that up?", Zak asked everyone on FaceTime after waving at them.

"It did - they're the cutest, I told you! I'm team Lando-Y/N until the end of time", Flo chuckled as she watched you and Lando look at eachother as if there was no one else around.

"I love you, babygirl", your boyfriend gave you a big smile, "this is for the team, for my family, my friends and for you! I love you, Y/N Y/L/N!", he said as he walked back with the FIA staff member that was guiding him to the cool down room.

Getting your phone back, the mechanics let you stand at the front with Will who gave you your phone back, "I'm back, the crybaby is back", you stated, wiping your cheeks.

"Mum is no better, Y/N, don't worry about that", Flo joked as you watched Cisca crying too.

"You and Lando are so cute, ugh, I can't deal with it", Pietra groaned.

"Stop it - I just passed by Natalie on my way here and she recalled the first time I watched a race from the garage when I was nineteen! Nineteen, might as well have been a baby! And I cried a little more, nearly choked because I had to run here and my breathing was ragged", you muttered.

At the podium celebrations, you grabbed a good spot to watch your boyfriend finally go on the highest step, accepting a hug from everyone who came to offer their congratulation on your boyfriend's achievement.

"You do know we are watching on TV, right?", Max wondered as you waited for the call for Lando to step on the podium.

"Of course I know - I'd feel bad for you if you were actually paying attention to what I've pointing the camera at -, I just need your company because I think I've cried all the tears I have in me and if you're not here with me, even if figuratively, I might fall apart again and that won't be good", you reasoned as you switched the camer around to show your face again.

Hearing the anthem and watching Lando raise his face up to the sun added magic to the serene moment until they sprayed the champagne between them, Lando saving some from his bottle to try and get the rest of the team too.

After all the media content was take care of, you and Lando headed back to the hotel ao you could get ready for dinner.

"You have a really big smile on your face, Y/N", Lando pointed out as you showered together.

"Look who's saying it", you blushed, grabbing his jaw so you could kiss him, "I'm so happy and so proud of you Lando, it doesn't fit inside my heart or my body what I'm feeling right now".

"I can't believe it still", he mused as his hands found themselves on your naked waist, "thank you for being here - today and every day you're with me", he joined your foreheads.

Dinner was lovely and you left to the party straight after, meeting up with Max once you were inside and in the reserved area. You danced all night along attached to your boyfriend who didn't seem to want to let you go, teeth nipping at the skin on your neck.

"Do you want another one, baby?", Lando asked and you shook your head no, kissing his lips.

"I'm good, Lan", you smiled, twirling him and kissing his lips.

"You two could stop fawning over eachtoher, you know? Y/N didn't rest until the whole paddock was informed of your win, as if they hadn't watched it happen and now this?", he chuckled playfully, "you two make me sick!".

"Can't help it if I'm proud of Lando!", you stuck your tongue out at him.

When you left the club to go back to the hotel, Lando walked with you on his arms with your back to his chest, allowing you to walk on your legs still but his rush setting the pace you were doing it with.

"Lando!", you squealed as you balanced yourself, holding on to his arms like your life depended on them "we're are we going?".

"I'm taking you to our room, put the no disturb sign outside and have my way with you in any way you allow me to", he smirked

"Our flight leaves in a couple of hours", you reasoned, a big smile on your face mirroring your boyfriend's.

"Then I'm going to take advantage of those hours we have left - I can't wait until we get home and what I want to do with you is not mile high club appropriate", he winked, "I'm a race winner, babygirl, and the celebrations are just getting started", your boyfriend said, tapping your butt once again.

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

[notnctu]

johnny: the dominant

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: face riding, penetration, unprotected, slight corruption kink, size kink, pet names, dirty talk, explicit language, big dck johnny ☆ WC: 3.8k ☆ SYNOPSIS: Johnny knows just the way to entertain you when you’re bored.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: the housemating series has been completed. this will be my final post on here. thank you all as always for being so patient with me and still giving me so much support. love you.

On this calm Friday afternoon, you are found laying flat on your stomach with your legs kicked up in the air. Your finger aimlessly scrolls through your social media, completely mindless and bored to everything. Your room is perfectly situated right by the stairs, meaning you hear every person that comes and goes downstairs.

Some of your housemates enjoy announcing their entrance to the whole house, some stomp upstairs or rummage through the kitchen silently, Johnny likes only greeting you when he comes home. Right on cue, the front door downstairs is open and shut within the same second. Quick footsteps run up the stairs and a familiar tall man leans against your door frame with a large beautiful smile.

“Hi tiny, I’m home.” Johnny rests his arm on the frame and his bicep pops subtly from underneath the sleeve of his white t-shirt. “How was your day?” 

You sit up in bed, tossing your phone somewhere on your pillow to rid the distraction. “Absolutely boring. My class was canceled so I’ve just been home alone all day.” Your adorable pout practically makes his knees weak.

“Say, what if you join me in my room? I have some homework to get done first, but then I promise I’ll entertain you.” You catch the slight mischievous twinkle in Johnny’s eyes. Nonetheless, Johnny knows how to feed into your love language too well. 

While the boys may be too much at times, you’ve always enjoyed company at your side. You never ask for anything more than their quality time, knowing that you’d have more comfort just sitting in the same room as them in silence. 

Johnny lends out his hand for you to take and you’re hopping off your bed as fast as you can. His hands are large and a bit rough from frequent trips to the gym, but you loved how they engulf your own. He isn’t the biggest guy in the room, but he definitely lets his presence known. 

Big personality, big heart, big smile, and big…. “What homework do you have?” You clear your throat and Johnny opens the door to his clean room. Unlike Jaehyun and Haechan, Johnny can see the floor of his bedroom. His room has a hint of his cologne still lingering and accents of his favorite things. 

“My professor split us into groups for a proposal project. We have to give a 15 minute presentation on a new pitch for this large corporation.” He swivels in his fancy chair, turning on his monitors to hurry on a video call with his groupmates.

You make yourself comfortable in his sheets, mindlessly going on your phone again. “Hm, sounds important.” 

“Never as important as the weird shit Haechan always talks about.” Johnny jokes and enters the video call with three other people on the screen. One of them is a girl you recognize from a party not too long ago, her brown eyes widened as Johnny turns on his camera. 

“Hey Johnny.” Something about her flirty tone causes you to chuckle to yourself, not caring if she heard you in the back. 

“Hey.” Johnny smiles back, but pays her no extra mind, “Shall we continue on the graphs?” 

The disappointment in the girl’s face is notable. Johnny has always had an entourage of girls waiting to be noticed by him. You’ve stopped keeping track of his and Jaehyun’s body count at this point. Despite his popularity among girls, Johnny genuinely loves spending time with you. 

You and Johnny are friends before anything else. He was actually the one that invited you to live with them, knowing you desperately needed a place and had a budget to stick to. He has helped you with many sticky encounters with unwanted male attention at parties.

Johnny makes sure your voice is heard in a large chatty crowd. He is every introvert’s favorite extrovert. That’s just the kind of person he is. Infectious personality, everyone wanted a piece of that.

Johnny is not the type to flirt with everything he sees, he is actually quite selective and intentional. He found you attractive the moment he laid eyes on you, but the flirting didn’t start until much later in your friendship. He wanted to make sure it was mutual, not wanting to ruin a good dynamic due to his desires. 

Your attraction toward Johnny began when you had moved into the house. Living with Johnny showed you a whole new side to him that you don’t see normally on campus. His preferred attire at home is no shirt with his toned stomach on display and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, a rather large print that dangles whenever he walks.

When Johnny walks, he strides. He walks with a sense of purpose, confident and so sure in every step. He is touchy, but not to the point where it was on the level of Jaemin. Johnny is a respectable skinship type – gentle head pats, light cheek pinches, a guiding hand on your lower back, chin lifts so that your gaze never falls. 

Johnny, your friend from class, became incredibly dreamy and irresistible. Then came the usual greetings: hi tiny, welcome home, how was your day? As if you two lived in a sitcom.

All of which piled onto the incredible person he already is. Nonetheless, the real tip of the iceberg was when you observed the mutual attraction on your own. Johnny loves holding eye contact with someone, he told you he likes making them nervous. So when your gaze started to waver at the new found nervousness that settled in your stomach, Johnny only held on longer. 

You also caught onto his stares when you would walk down the stairs, his dark eyes following your every movement. Johnny played it safe though, making his flirting into actions and expressions rather than verbal affirmations.

You’re smart enough to know that his lingering stares, cute pet names, and chivalrous acts meant something intentional. So somewhere down the line, you two start sleeping with each other. You can’t remember how it happened, just that the next day you could barely walk. 

While Johnny is popular among the girls, you are also heavily sought after by many admirers alike. You have your fair share of one night stands and friends with benefits, but none of them compare to the way that Johnny fucks you into oblivion. Johnny isn’t the jealous or possessive type either, knowing your worth should be acknowledged by others. 

With Johnny, you’re safe to be submissive. You can guarantee that he’d be someone to take care of you the entire time. His dominance in bed is extremely fitting to his character, making his sex appeal more attractive.

After a complete 45 minutes of listening to Johnny speak in academic language and talk about things that do not make any sense to you, he finally ends the call with his groupmates. He quickly turns around in his chair and you think he’s going to finally talk to you.

However, he gets up and heads to the bathroom without a word. You sigh at the false hope and bury yourself in his warm blankets. His aroma fills your nose and your heavy eyelids start to fall over your tired eyes. Maybe you should have taken a nap during his long call.

The close of the door and the shift on the bed causes you to face the man of the hour. Johnny appears without his shirt, the pendant of his necklace lands perfect at his collarbones. Without any words, he pulls you onto his naked torso and rests a sneaky hand on your lower back. “Missed me?” 

“All I heard was you.” You groan, “but you did sound sexy using all those business terms.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, his fingertips gliding against your soft skin underneath your shirt. “Got all wet hearing me talk about KPIs and APRs?” 

“So wet. Why don’t you see for yourself?” Your playful smile is more than inviting. Johnny raises a brow at your suggestive tone. While his ears perk up at your suggestion, he teases a bit.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, y/n?” He questions, a bit more serious. “Because I don’t think you remember when’s the last time we’ve slept together.” 

“Of course I do.” You scoff, sitting up on your knees and the blankets falling from your shoulders. “Way too fucking long.” 

Johnny laughs at your answer. “So what I’m hearing is that you want me?”

“I always want you.” 

He’s quick to bite back at your response, “then maybe you should come into my room more often, you know you’re always welcomed here.” 

“See, I would do that but you’re so busy.” This back and forth is a game you two like to play. Johnny wants you to practically beg for his attention, but you like when he makes promises to give you more.

“Oh,” Johnny sits against his headboard and crosses his arms. His pecs squeeze together and his biceps bulge against his chest. You lick your lips, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “Are you saying that I don’t give you enough attention?”

Your innocent eyes drop from his intense stare, but his thumb holds your chin up and you’re met with a softened gaze. “I promise I’ll make more time for you. Just know that I’d open the door for you whenever you come knocking.” 

“Pinky promise?” You hold your pinky out for the broad man to seal the promise. He laughs at the childish act, but god how he’s hard as fuck in his sweats right now.

“Promise, baby.” Johnny wraps his pinky with yours. With one swift movement, he’s pulling you by the pinky on top of his chest again. You fall against him with a small “hmph” and Johnny dives in for a sweet kiss.

His hot lips are greedy for a taste. Johnny deepens the kiss and his big hands hold your cheeks to keep you steady. Your hands wander around for something to hold onto, knowing how you’re in for a wild ride in a few more kisses. 

Johnny moans into your mouth when your fingers graze the waistband of his sweats. When your instinct is to move your hand away, he holds your wrist and grinds his hard dick against your palm. Your gasp is lost in the kiss, swallowed by the one man that consumes you. 

His bulge grows bigger with every thrust and you’re reminded by the massive size of him. Johnny pulls away and he looks at you with small stars in his pupils. “Can’t wait to see how wet that pretty pussy is for me.”

“Why wait? I’ll show you right now.” Your eagerness causes his heart to swell tenfold. He still sees every ounce of cuteness that you exude, even in the middle of taking off your clothes. While his nicknames may be an exaggeration, he really does find you the cutest thing ever.

When you roll your pants off of your hips, Johnny watches the string of wetness stick from the fabric of your panties to your thighs. He has to hold himself back from pouncing on you. “C’mere and sit on my face, darling.” 

You happily oblige and hover over Johnny’s face. Your eyes meet briefly, grabbing the headboard in front of you to keep yourself steady and balanced. Johnny cups both of your cheeks to help hold you up. He takes his first long lick for a taste and a low groan erupts from his throat, “you taste so good, just dripping all over yourself.” 

He can barely control his desires, bringing your hips down more as he quite literally devours your clit. You jolt from the contact and as much as you move your hips, Johnny’s grip on you is tight. You try your hardest to keep your legs from squeezing together, but Johnny eats you out like he’s starving. 

“Oh my-” You grip the headboard until your knuckles turn white. His tongue enters your warm hole and your juices cover his chin, sliding down the corners of his lips. If you’re not mistaken, the muffled sound of a chuckle catches your attention. 

Looking down, you see Johnny completely engulfed in between your legs and hazy eyes peering back up at you. “I’m going to cum.” You coo softly and Johnny fucks you on his tongue faster.

Your legs shake from the pleasurable feeling and everything inside of you erupts like a cannon. You’re uncontrollably cumming on his face, eyes rolled back and hand gripping the headboard like you’re holding on for your life. His room is full of your sweet sounds as he helps ride out your first orgasm of the day.

Johnny lightly lifts you up and places you with ease on the bed. Your back hits his lovely sheets and he hovers over you, arm wiping your juices from his lips and chin. “How can you be so cute riding my face?” He kisses your cheek, his hand lightly wrapping around your neck. “You make me so hard, I want to fuck the cuteness out of you until you’ve lost yourself.”

His deep voice remains sensual and light — not menacing or threatening. Johnny’s actions are always full of adoration for you, nothing of malice. “Then do it. I want you to. I want to take you whole.” 

Your hands run up and down his abs. He can’t resist you anymore. Johnny is quick to discard his pants and his large dick springs up proudly against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, watching your expression turn into lust at the sight of it. 

“You like what you see, y/n?” The usage of your name catches your attention, causing your heart to flutter to his call. He rarely uses your name in bed, resulting in mostly pet names or his usual tiny nickname. Nonetheless, on the rarity of your name being used, it excites you even more. He knows every way to make you all his.

“Yes, Johnny. I always love what I see.” You respond, quite seductively. Johnny smirks, running his tip up and down your entrance. Every few swipes has his tip entering your hole just barely, but you’re really a mess to it all. 

Johnny grunts at how your wetness drips onto his sheets, a dark patch forming like a puddle. Your juices stick to the side of your thighs, emphasizing how much chaos he has caused in between your legs. He positions himself and enters slowly, enough for you to adjust to his size. You're squeezing your eyes shut from the pressure and the stretch. 

His thumb leaves a soothing touch between your eyebrows to ease the tension in your face. Each touch has him pushing deeper into you. However, your hand is quick to halt him at his abdomen and he stops all of his movements. “Should I stop?” He asks with concern, not wanting to overdo anything that could result in pain.

“Johnny,” You breathe, “just give it all to me.” You can tell Johnny was holding back, but the slowness only causes more anticipation and agony. You’d rather him singlehandedly thrust into you, all the chaos to hit you like bricks. 

He takes your wrist from his stomach and pulls your body onto his dick in one fluid motion, until your hips hit and he is practically in your guts. You yelp at how he fills you and you’re shy at how well you take all of him in. “Like this, baby? You take me in so well.” He leans down and you’re awarded a kiss on the lips.

Johnny lifts your body onto him as his back hits the mattress. You lay on top of his big stature, your boobs against his chest, dick still in you and legs now on either side of his hips. He bends his knees, feet planted sturdy on his bed, and drives his dick up into you. 

You quickly grip onto his bicep, wailing at how intensely his tip hits your sweet spot every time. Johnny wraps his arms around your body, hugging you close and keeping you steady. The position is cute, quite lovable as it’s like the two of you are in a warm embrace. All until someone sees his vigorous thrusts into your drooling pussy and your body moving up with every hit. 

Your eyes meet his for a moment. He smooths out the hair from your face to see you clearly and smiles at you. Johnny has the biggest heart for you – it’s all obvious in how his pupils dilate ten times in size when he sees you. “All of a sudden, you want to look at me with your gorgeous gaze?” His voice rumbles your chest and despite how raw his dick is stretching you, he is quite a romantic.

“I’m not cute anymore?” You’re barely able to speak, every thrust causes your voice to tremble and your mind to go blank. Johnny holds your hips down onto his shaft and every rush of wetness wraps around him tightly. You’re shaking yet again as his tip rubs against your insides, kissing every part of your cervix. 

“Fucked all the cuteness of you, my sweet girl.” He plants a wet smooch on your temple, grinding his hips into your quivering body until your nails dig into his skin, marking beautiful moon crescents.

Suddenly, you both hear the front door slam close and hurried footsteps running up the stairs. As you’re frozen, Johnny quickly switches positions and covers the blanket over the two of you. Not that anyone would come barging into his room, but it’s good to be safe. He’s always thinking of your comfort and decency.

You’re back on your back and Johnny hovers over you. His weight is slightly heavy over yours, but the pressure on your chest feels warm and enough to feel secure. Your legs are spread wide for him, as he holds up your knee and pushes it at a bend. Johnny handles you so freely, all the work at the gym paying off in these fortunate situations.

“I’m home, losers!” Doyoung yells. “And so is Jaehyun!” Doyoung’s voice follows with another door slamming shut across the hall. Another set of heavy footsteps run up the stairs and without a word, another door closes. 

“I guess Jaehyun finished his classes early.” Johnny’s mind wonders and you cup his cheeks to focus.

“Where is your mind at right now?” Your stern expression has Johnny laughing, completely entertained by how he is balls deep in you right now and his mind was on why your housemates came home early.

“Okay, tiny. You got me.” His smile brightens up his intimidating demeanor, you’ll never get over how handsome this strong man is. “Let me finish what I started.”

His statement sent shivers down your spine, but you already know what’s to come. His hard dick pulls out, almost all the way, the feeling of emptiness occupying your lower half fast. Johnny pushes back in without another word and fucks you into the future. His rhythmic thrusts are fast and hasty, but enough to feel intense and cause your orgasm to build once more.

“Look at me when you cum.” You don’t have to say it because Johnny literally feels your pussy tighten around him, just seconds from coming undone. You aren’t sure if you’re able to hold eye contact in the midst of you losing your wits, but Johnny doesn’t let it slide. 

As you squirm from the pleasure bubbling in your stomach, he leans forward and lifts your head off the pillow. A large hand to support the back of your head and eyes wide open to see how his big cock enters your pussy with so much ease. 

Every part of your muscles break at this point and you’re moaning at the top of your lungs. You do feel a bit apologetic to the other boys in their rooms, but it has to be an afterthought. Your high comes crashing and crumbling as your cannon shoots out everything you’ve held in. You feel so hot and tense, pleasure leaving your body within seconds all because of Johnny. 

Johnny watches your orgasm, feeling his come a close second after. He pulls out and gives himself a few strokes over your naked stomach. His white streams paint your skin and Johnny’s eyes are full of intensity. 

You both release air from your lungs as fatigue takes over both of your bodies. Johnny reaches over for some wet wipes he stores in his nightstand, cleaning you up and leaving a trail of wet kisses behind. Your giggles only cause him to continue, wanting to hear more of them.

“Since when did you get so buff?” You ask, poking at his arms. He flexes for you, showing off his protruding muscles on display.

“Since I found motivation for the gym.” Johnny helps you get clothed, along with putting on some clean pairs of underwear and sweats. 

“Which is?” 

He joins you underneath the sheets. His arm snakes underneath your head, allowing you to turn your body into his. “To be able to toss you around in bed.” He smirks and you’re already rolling your eyes. “Not that I ever had trouble before, but it’s nice for you to have something hard and solid to grip while I’m fucking the life out of you.”

“Okay, Johnny Suh.” You cover his mouth. “We get it, you’re a big buff guy. You can even toss Doyoung if you wanted to.”

His eyes light up and he sits up with an idea, “should I try?” He gleams, his boyish nature captivating his expression. Nonetheless, Johnny is jumping out of bed and out the door before you can even respond. 

Doyoung’s yells fill the hallway and Johnny is laughing maniacally. The one time Doyoung doesn’t lock his door. “Just let me try!”

“Get your sweaty body away from me! I know what you two were doing in there!” Doyoung shrieks back. 

Oh, how you love living with your boys. You’re thankful that Johnny took you in and truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Through protein powder scattered on kitchen counters and nightly hangouts after long days of classes, you wouldn’t trade laughter with your housemates and the love you all share for anything. 

When you peer out into the hall at the commotion, a smiling Johnny has an angry Doyoung over his shoulder at the door. “I did it, y/n!” Johnny exclaims, even doing squats with the bunny flailing around.

“Put me down, you meathead!” Doyoung kicks his feet, eyes up to the ceiling.

You smile to yourself, a soft chuckle bursting into a robust laughter. “You guys… are so weird.” 

“But you love us.” Johnny points, “isn’t that right, tiny?”

Your usual response would be something sarcastic and hard to get, but you give in this time. 

“Yeah, I do.”

[cowgurrrl]

Okay this is soooo very out there in actual probability of this being logical but the idea of a pool in Jackson or like people are allowed to go out to lake or something or they dig a lake like idek but something that involves reader in a swimsuit and Joel like 😳 in public so maybe a lil bit of jealous Joel in there, I just think it would be so cute and fun and spicy and idek if this makes sense hahaha, I’m so sorry for being awful at explaining ideassss🤦‍♀️🤣

The Snake River actually runs through Jackson so it’s entirely plausible (yes, I did do research for this)

Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I didn’t go into this wanting to write smut but it happened and I don’t hate it?? Please be nice to me I’m just a girl

Summary: Joel has something planned for you [3.3k]

Warnings: language, murder jokes, Joel being a little insecure, Joel the Menace making a return, smut (18+ MINORS DNI), fingering, dirty talk, sex in a semi-public place??, almost getting caught, brief mention of a safe word

Joel Miller is not a spontaneous person. It was one of the first things you found out about him. He hates surprises almost as much as he hates planning them. He's someone who likes to know what's happening and when. He loves a plan. But he loves you more. 

Everyone has gone back to school, and the seasons are in a neverending battle of when one begins and the other ends. The hazy August heat permeates the windows of your house as you lie in bed, hiding from the sun and the rest of your responsibilities. This time of year makes you especially grateful for your early morning patrol shifts. You get to finish up your work before the world has the opportunity to finish preheating, and then the town is quiet after that, with people shuffling off to work or school. Maybe that's why Joel wanders into your shared bedroom with your backpacks in hand.

"Are you doin' anythin' for the rest of the day?" He asks, and you give him a confused look. 

"Besides waiting for our daughter to come home from school? No, I didn't have any major plans." You tease, and he rolls his eyes before tossing your bag at you. 

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes." He says.

"For what?"

"It's a surprise."

"Are you finally going to kill me?" You ask, and he scoffs.

"Honey, if I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it a long time ago."

"Fair point. Suspicion always points to the spouse first," you say, sitting up in bed. "Where are we going?"

"Does the word 'surprise' mean nothin' to you?" 

"Only when it's coming from your mouth."

"Downstairs. Five minutes." He says, effectively ending the conversation by turning on his heels and walking away. You groan in protest but get up anyways. If it's something he planned, it's probably worth getting out of bed for. Still, you shuffle your feet lazily as you put more distance between yourself and an afternoon nap. 

He's almost giddy as you walk out of the house and into the blaring sunshine. Ellie still has a few more hours of school left, and even then, she's gotten over you and Joel walking her to and from class. She's becoming more independent as she gets older, which is fine, but seeing her not need you as much hurts. You talk about it on the way to wherever you're going. Joel says he's noticed the same thing but doesn't want to pry too much and risk being labeled "uncool." You have to literally bite your tongue to keep from asking when he was ever cool. 

When you're far enough outside Jackson's walls, Joel grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers, swinging them a little as you walk through the fields. Rock jasmines and asters shake in the window around you, painting the world in shades of white, blue, pink, and yellow. Sometimes it's easy to forget just how beautiful Wyoming can be, but when vast meadows stretch out to the mountain slopes, and the sky is unbelievably clear, you remember. You look over at Joel with his long, graying hair and scruffy facial hair and smile. It's also easy to forget just how beautiful he can be with his gentle hands and crooked nose. He turns to meet your eyes, taking away your view of his side profile, and gives you a look.

"What?" He asks, and you shake your head. "You're starin'."

"I just like looking at you." You admit, making him scoff. Joel is probably the only person in this world who's unaware of how attractive he is. 

"Needa get your eyes checked." He mumbles under his breath. 

"Big talk coming from a man who refuses to wear his glasses even though he desperately needs them." 

"I don't desperately need 'em." 

"Really?" You ask, and he hums. You lift your free hand away from your body and hold up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He tugs on the hand he's holding and pulls you against him until your chest collides with his. The wind gets knocked out of you, either because of the impact or because you can see all his freckles when you get this close to him. He smirks as he stares at you, glancing between your eyes and fingers.

"Three." He says easily, leaning in to kiss you. You move back enough to make him huff in annoyance.

"That's cheating." 

"Mm, I think it's called bein' resourceful."

"Is that right?" You ask, and he hums as he finally kisses you. You indulge him for a second or two before moving back again. "Could you really not see that far?" He sighs and mumbles your name, but you refuse to let it go. "Joel, if your vision's that bad, you need to be wearing them on patrol. I don't want you to make stupid mistakes because you can't see six feet in front of you."

"Look, I hear you. I do. I just..." he trails off, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's stupid." 

"Stupider than not wearing them at all?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes—the drama.

"They make me look old, okay? That's why I don't wanna wear 'em," he says. Once again, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. "I'm already one of the oldest guys on patrol, and that's enough for the younger guys to make fun of me. If I start wearin' 'em on patrol, I'll never hear the end of it, especially from Tommy."

"You really care what they think about you?" You ask.

"No," he starts, but quickly shakes his head. "Yes. It didn't bother me, but then they started sayin' they didn't know what you see in an old buzzkill like me, and I just... I don't know." He says. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Does this have anything to do with you suddenly planning surprises for me?" 

"I told you it was stupid." He avoids the question, but you still find an answer. He tries to hide his face in your shoulder, embarrassed, but your hands find his jaw and stop him.

"I don't think it's stupid. I think the other guys on patrol are stupid for saying that and making you think I'm anything but grossly in love with you. I think they don't know what the fuck they're talking about," you say, your thumb brushing against the patches in his beard. "And I think you don't realize just how hot you look wearing glasses," he scoffs, but you don't let him wiggle out of your grasp. "I'm being serious, Joel." You assert, and something behind his eyes shifts. 

"Really?" 

"Are you kidding me? It's, like, annoying how good they make you look," you say, and he smirks. "It's also sexy for you to try to stay alive. So, it's a win-win." He laughs, the sound making the sun shine a little brighter. 

"I mean, who am I to argue with my wife?" He asks, relenting, and you hum.

"Exactly," you say as you kiss him. It was supposed to be quick, a passing kiss to remind him you love him, but when you try to pull away, he's back on you. His big hands snake their way into your hair as he kisses you like he's drowning and trying to pull the air from you. The buzzing bees and chirping birds of the field disappear, and all you can do is hold him. His body is firm against yours, and the soft flannel of his shirt feels perfect beneath your palms. "Was my surprise making out in a meadow? That's pretty romantic, even for you, Joel." You ask as you break away to take a breath that's not his. He groans and rolls his head back to look at the cloudless sky.

"Almost forgot bout the surprise," he says, looking back at you. "You're distractin' me."

"What did I do?" You ask. He grabs your hand and starts leading you through the flowers.

"You were tryna use your woman powers on me."

"Please, explain to me what 'woman powers' you think I possess." 

"If you don't know, I can't tell you." He says like he's answering a riddle, and you laugh. The rest of the walk is spent hand-in-hand with his shoulder bumping yours occasionally as your feet walk over the summer grass. As soon as you hear water lapping over smooth rocks, you look at Joel, who pretends not to hear the same thing. He smiles when you hit the break in the trees, and the crystal water of the river sparkles in the sun. 

You've heard rumors about the water being safe to swim in, but you didn't trust it. Not that it mattered. You and Joel have swum in way dirtier water than the winding blue river in front of you. Still, you were sure that it was a set-up by Raiders. But now, with Joel by your side, in the daylight, it's taking everything in you to not jump in the water. "I thought it might be nice. Just the two of us." Joel says. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, looping an arm under his and holding his bicep.

"It is nice," you agree. "But we don't own swimsuits," you say, immediately clocking the excited expression on his face. "You're a menace."

"What? I planned a very nice day for us, and I just... forgot we needed swimsuits."

"Oh, you forgot?" You ask, and he nods. 

"I told you, I'm an old man. I forget things easily." 

"Give me a break." You roll your eyes before letting go of his arm and walking over to a big tree. You bend down to take off your boots and socks, and Joel quickly follows suit. His eyes stick to you as you pull your shirt off your head, faded scars catching the sunlight. Once you're left in your bra and underwear, you pause and look at Joel. He's stripped down to just his underwear, too, and you have a full view of his broad frame. 

His muscular chest is littered with scars, some old and silver against his tan skin and others new and still raised and angry. Your favorite is from where he got caught under some fence a million years ago. It vaguely looks like a thunderbolt striking from his collarbone to his shoulder. You can see the goosebumps rising on his thick biceps from where you're standing. His hands are relaxed and open at his sides, visible veins thrumming blood through his body. His belly has rounded just a little since you've settled in Jackson, something he grew insecure about while you reminded him every day that you loved the softness of his body. His strong thighs are a little paler than the rest of him, considering his patrol schedule in the summer, but they're still freckled and scarred like the rest of him. Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls down his underwear and stands fully naked in front of you.

I guess we're actually doing this, you think as you unclasp your bra. You leave your clothes in a pile under the tree before darting into the cold water together. He ducks his entire head under while you tread, letting yourself get used to the temperature and laughing when Joel comes up with a sharp gasp. "Oh, you think that's funny?" He asks before shaking his head in your direction, frigid water droplets landing on your skin. You shriek and splash at him to get him to stop. He splashes back, making huge swells with his arms, and you have to dive under to swim away. 

Once you call a truce on the water fight, you just swim together. You alternate between floating on your back, watching the clouds float by, and diving deep under the water to see what might be down there. After a few minutes, your bodies adjust to the water, and you can actually enjoy the river currents working against you. It reminds you of all the summers you spent in pools, the ocean, rivers, and lakes before the Outbreak. The memory presses on a familiar bruise in your chest, but it doesn't hurt. At least, not as much. Not when you're here with Joel, making new memories in a new world.

You swim over to where Joel is standing, his long curls touching the water as he looks up at the sky. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist once you're close enough, and he meets your eyes with a smile. His hands grip your thighs and trace patterns into your skin, the warmth of his touch a welcome relief in the cold. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as you stare at him. "This a good surprise?" He asks, his voice low in his chest, and you nod. 

"I like doing things like this with you," you say. "But I also don't want you to worry about keeping me interested in you," he sighs at your words but doesn't break away from you. "We've been together for years now. We went halfway across the country together. We have Ellie. You're it for me. I don't care what the younger guys on patrol have to say about it."

"You don't think I'm an old buzzkill?"

"Not all the time."

"Alright, smart ass." 

"I mean, I don't know a lot of buzzkills who go skinny-dipping with their wives."

"See? Gimme a little credit here." He says, pinching your thigh, and you laugh. As the sound dies in your throat, his gaze hangs heavily on you. Suddenly, you're all too aware of his sturdy body under you and his hands on you. You get a little closer to him, and his stomach brushes against your core. A quiet, shaky breath leaves you, and Joel hears it. His lips ghost over yours as his hand dips down, a deft finger grazing your clit. 

"Joel," you cry softly, clinging to him tighter when he presses a little harder. He shushes you as his middle finger ventures lower and just barely pushes into you. More. You need more, and he knows it. Asshole, you think to yourself, but your brain shuts off when he inches a digit into you so fucking slowly. You can feel his smirk when he leans down to mouth at the column of your throat. 

"That good?" He rasps in your ear, and you nod as his hand adjusts to thumb at your clit. You jump a little at the molten pleasure pulsing through you. He chuckles lowly and nips at your earlobe. "I've barely touched you, honey, and I can already feel you squeezin' me." You can't even formulate a response once he starts moving. The slow drag of his finger against your walls is enough to drive any sane person insane. You whine when he pushes another into you and claw at his shoulders. 

Your heart is fast against his chest. Everything you breathe, hear, and feel is Joel. You can't think about anything other than the weight of his hand working you over in the broad fucking daylight. You're close enough to the shore that anyone would be able to see you, but you hope you just look like a clingy couple enjoying a mid-day swim. It's a long shot, especially since he's mumbling absolutely filthy things to you. "You always sound so damn pretty." "Gonna let me fuck you like this?" "You're so good for me, baby." Every syllable makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. His fingers languidly move in and out of you like he has nothing better to do before stopping completely, and you whine in protest.

"You're f," your sentence breaks off when he quickens suddenly. 

"What was that, sweetheart? Where's that smart mouth now?" He asks. Your hips start moving in time with his ministrations, and he watches you like a man starved. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as his fingers move faster inside you. You think your blood is thundering through your ears as bliss overtakes your senses, but you quickly realize it's hooves. You don't know if Joel hears it, but if he does, he doesn't stop. 

"Joel, I think, fuck," he rubs at your clit with more fervor, making you see stars. "Someone's coming." You breathe, and his teeth scrape under your jaw. It's all too much. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, losing all motivation to get him to stop.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, and you nod. "C'mon, I know you can do it. Come for me." He hooks his fingers, nudging that spongy part inside you, and that's all it takes. Your mouth falls open, and fuzziness takes over your senses. You hold Joel closer as he works you through your orgasm with encouraging words and gentle strokes. Finally, you have to reach for his wrist to stop because you're so overstimulated, and he would live between your thighs if he could.

"Y'all alright?" A voice comes out of nowhere, and you jump. You and Joel turn to see one of the patrolmen from Jackson, James, on his horse a few hundred yards away. He's far enough away that he wouldn't be able to see you're both naked, but he can clearly see your clothes and backpacks on the shoreline. 

"Yeah, we're alright. Just... havin' ourselves a date." Joel says, his voice annoyingly even. James looks confused, so you nod in agreement even though Joel still has two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. If he doesn't kill you, embarrassment just might.

"Well, then," James says awkwardly. "Y'all don't stay out too long. Maria'll have your ass if y'all come back hurt or somethin'." Joel shifts his hand as he nods, and you choke on a moan but try to play it off as a cough. Still, James gives you a look. "You good?"

"Yeah, are you alright, honey?" Joel asks in a mocking tone. You grit your teeth and dig your nails into his arm before nodding at James.

"All good. Just had a little tickle. We'll start heading back to town now. Thanks for checking on us." You quickly dismiss the patrolman, who is more than happy to get the hell out of Dodge. Even if he didn't suspect anything was happening, you know he's terrified of you and Joel. His ideal patrol is not having to deal with either of you and now he just got the whole package plus some. As soon as he's out of earshot, you smack Joel's arm. 

"Are you fucking insane? He could've heard us!"

"Us? I'm not the one who was screamin'!"

"Okay, first of all," you start, holding up one finger. "I was not screaming. Second of all, I told you someone was coming, and you kept going!" He doesn't exactly look apologetic, but then again, you're not really mad.

"You know the safe word just as well as I do, sweetheart. I woulda stopped if you said it," he says, and you sigh. He's right. You hate it, but he's right. You try to hide your smile and shake your head as he kisses you. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, swallowing your over-sensitive whines down with gentle licks. A stupid thought wiggles its way into your brain, and you laugh against Joel's lips. Once you start, you can't stop, and Joel looks at you like you're a crazy person. "Now, what is so goddamn funny?" He asks, and you compose yourself enough to look at him.

"Think they'll still tease you over being old after you just made your wife come faster than they ever could?" 

[adidastain]

motion and momentum

college matt stone x fem reader (y/n)

warnings: smut (vaginal penetration, fingering, handjobs), body worship (ish?)

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), small disclaimer: the physics in this are based off of what i remember (i did not pay attention in that class at all) so bear with me i had to do some extra research

word count: 6921

—

I could have finished these notes nine hours ago. I could have finished studying for this stupid test (which I was going to redo) nine hours ago. But I wasn’t. All ‘cause I couldn’t keep my eyes off of my tutor the entire time he read from the textbook. 

It was nearing December, so my physics professor kept giving us these little practice tests in order to prepare for the final exam. I guess all the studying that we had to do would help us in the end, but it fucking sucked. Now that the weather was changing, the Sun set earlier and earlier. The large library that Matt and I usually studied in had large glass windows that let in plenty of golden light in the late afternoon nowadays. It was nice. The only problem was that it had become an enormous distraction from the tutoring and had caused me to pay more than enough attention to my tutor himself. 

Now I was stuck in my dorm, damning myself for not paying attention beforehand. The stress of not being prepared for the test was keeping me from falling asleep, though I probably deserved it since it was my fault and my fault alone. It was way past curfew, meaning all major doors to get into the building were locked for the night. It was also storming heavily outside, and there had already been a number of times where the lights flickered on and off. 

There was absolutely nothing I hated more than physics, except thunderstorms. 

I thought about calling Matt and asking him to come over. He was in the same building as me; I remember that from that one time we studied together in his dorm on the weekend. That was yet another situation where I was desperate for his help at an outrageous time, but that was before I started crushing on him. Before I realized it, at least. 

I did want to study; I needed to. But I also didn’t want to be alone. I wasn’t going to tell him that I was scared of the storm and the dark. He didn’t need to know that. So I called him. 

“Hello?” a voice answered, deep and exasperated. 

“Matt? It’s Y/N,” I said softly. 

“I know,” He said. I could hear the grin in his voice. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said. I stood up and started pacing around my room in slow steps. I felt nervous for some reason. “Just, um, stuck on some of these equations for motion.”

I heard Matt laugh slightly over the other line. “You’re studying?” he teased. 

“I need your help,” I whined. I started to worry that he was going to turn me down. I’d had a pretty good feeling up until then. 

“I can imagine,” He laughed. I felt my cheeks turn red. 

“It’s not funny, Matt. I feel stupid,” I said. I rubbed my temples, staring at my feet on the floor. 

“Alright, alright. You’re not stupid. Tell me what’s up,” he said, grunting slightly as I assumed he was getting out of bed. 

“Can you come over?” I asked meekly, my voice lowering. I bit my lip and stared into space, waiting anxiously for his answer. 

After a long pause, I heard him sigh and mumble something that the phone didn’t quite pick up. “I guess,” he said. “It’s kinda late.”

“I’m only downstairs,” I smiled, hoping to convince him. My floor was all girls, and the floor above, where his dorm was, was all boys. “I have snacks.”

I heard another soft sigh, before he obliged. “Okay. But if you don’t pay attention, I’m leaving,” He said. The sound of rustling came through the other line, making me assume that he was packing up his stuff. I loved the way his stern tone made me feel sometimes. 

I bit back a grin. “Okay,” I said. “Make sure you bring your textbook.”

The dial tone rang in my ears before I could say “See you,” or anything like that. I felt kinda bad; maybe he was annoyed with me. He had every reason to be. I knew he’d help a few other underclassmen study sometimes too and there was no doubt that I was his most difficult pupil. 

Pretty soon, Matt was at my door in a baggy gray T-shirt and some dark blue basketball shorts. Something about the way the fabric hung off his chest and shoulders was so easy on the eyes. 

He had his bag with him and he set it down on the floor next to where I was sitting. He huffed as he lowered himself onto the shaggy rug, trying not to let himself crash into the ground. Matt’s eyes scanned me up and down, taking a moment to linger on my legs. I had a pair of short shorts on, so the entirety of both my legs were pretty much exposed for his viewing leisure. 

Matt cleared his throat and sighed, pulling his textbook out from his bag. He came in, no “hi,” “hey,” nothing. 

“Sorry for waking you up,” I said, setting my notebook in my lap with my legs crossed. My hair sat on my shoulders, still damp from the shower I took an hour earlier. Thinking about it, this was the first time he’d seen my hair down.

Matt looked at me, smiling slightly. I still worried that he was irritated with me, despite his calm, content manner. He looked tired. His short, curly hair was messy and his eyes looked a little puffy. 

“It’s fine,” He said. “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.” 

His dainty fingers flipped through the textbook to land on a page with a bunch of different equations for calculated different parts of motion like speed, distance, and acceleration. Matt set the textbook down in front of us and scooted a little closer to me, taking a deep breath in before speaking. 

“Are you still having a hard time with the variables?” He asked me, looking into my eyes. He often made eye contact when asking me questions when we studied, but now it felt so much more intense than it usually did. He had a stone cold expression on his face that made me feel small and intimidated. 

“Yeah,” I squeaked. I’m struggling with the whole fucking thing. 

Matt leaned closer, taking my notebook and turning it towards him. Our shoulders brushed together and our faces were closer than ever before. To keep myself from having a heart attack, I moved so that I was leaning back against the side of my bed, staying a good foot or two away from him. 

He took a moment to scan over the work that I already attempted to do based on the practice equations he’d given me earlier in the day. “You have the right idea, you just- Do you have a calculator?” he asked, looking at the drawers behind him. 

I nodded, standing up to reach inside my bag on my bed. His fingers brushed mine as I handed him the chunky silver calculator. I swear to this day, I caught his eyes on me for a split second before I turned back around. I totally didn’t turn my back to him on purpose, definitely not. I definitely didn’t mean to put my ass in his face. 

“Show me how you put it in the calculator. I think that’s where you might be getting confused,” He told me, leaning close to me again. 

“It’s, um…” I mumbled. My hands trembled slightly as I pressed the buttons on the calculator, trying to avoid Matt’s punishing gaze. I felt extremely embarrassed. That is why I hated studying. “Initial velocity times the, um, time.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. I looked up at him, seeing his focused, patient expression as he looked at the calculator, then in my eyes. He smiled slightly, nodding as if to say “Keep going.”

“And then you add the acceleration times time and-”

“You forgot something,” he told me, raising his eyebrows. It felt awfully like he was teasing me somewhat. I had absolutely no fucking idea what he was talking about. 

Matt leaned forward and used the tip of his pinky finger to point to a spot in his textbook that showed the equation. There was a ½ that I was supposed to multiply the acceleration by that I completely forgot about. 

“Oh, yeah,” I laughed, still fucking humiliated. Matt made me feel so stupid. Not on purpose; he never said anything that made me feel stupid unless he was frustrated, which was rare and even then it wasn’t on purpose. It was just the fact that he was majoring in mathematics, so I knew he was pretty damn smart and could probably spend the time he spent on me doing something else. Something more worthwhile. 

I was grateful, obviously. For a number of reasons. Help was better than no help, and to be honest, he was nice to look at. He was pretty handsome in the face and he had a great smile with a little gap between his front teeth, with soft, reddish-brown curls of hair. His eyes were gorgeous; he had those grayish-greenish-blueish eyes that looked more blue on some days and more green than others. He also had muscular arms and dainty, elegant hands that looked strong at the same time. He was completely dorky, but it was quite endearing and kinda adorable sometimes.

I found myself completely distracted from the lecture he was giving me, my eyes lingering on his face and neck as he spoke. I noticed a dark freckle just below his jaw, and another one right behind his ear. 

“You’re not paying attention at all, are you?” Matt asked me, sighing deeply. I am now. 

“I am,” I said. “You’re very captivating.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He looked down at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck. I thought I could see him blushing slightly. 

I crossed my arms, pulling my knees up towards my chest. I lifted my leg to nudge his arm with my toe. “You’re blushing,” I said, biting my lip. 

“It’s hot in here,” He said, lifting his head up. He didn’t look at me, pulling his textbook back into his lap. 

“I want you to try to do these three problems at the bottom,” he told me, pointing to the bottom of the page. I nodded, taking the textbook from him and setting it next to me, my notebook in my lap. “If you get stuck, let me know.” 

I watched Matt pull his own notebook out of his backpack, beginning to doodle something onto the page while he waited for me to complete the problems. I slowly copied the variables down along with the equations, stalling so that I had a little more time to stare at him. He’d bite his lip or his tongue occasionally while he worked, furrowing his eyebrows when he’d think about something on a deeper level. I peeked over my kneecaps to see what he was working on, seeing just a bunch of words and diagrams all over the page that probably worked for him organizationally. Unfortunately, when I went back to looking at my own notebook (once again, staring at him), his eyes were on me and he looked disappointed. 

“If you’re not gonna study, I’m gonna go back to my dorm,” he warned, smiling to soften his demeanor. “Do you need help with something?”

“Yeah,” I said, scooting closer to him. I perched up right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Matt stared at me, confused, but quickly moved on to seeing what I’d done so far. 

I tilted my head up to look at him, giving him wide eyes with a soft gaze to hopefully show him that I wasn’t being difficult on purpose. I also thought that maybe the doe eyes would convince him to let up a little and take it easy on me. 

He sighed heavily, listening to me explain how I wasn’t sure what exactly to do after plugging the equation into the calculator and whatnot. They were two-step problems, so the variables moved around. Maybe I really was an idiot. Explaining the trouble I was having really just made me sound dumber and dumber. 

Matt didn’t look at me once while I spoke to him. He swallowed harshly a number of times, keeping his eyes fixed on my paper as he listened. Then he started explaining the steps, looking at me once in a while, while I didn’t look down at the paper a single time. 

He looked at me again, keeping his eyes locked with mine this time. I felt my stomach flutter as he bored holes into me. Matt sighed heavily through his nose, glancing down at my lips before turning his head away and rolling his eyes. 

“I guess I should go,” he huffed, closing the textbook and shoving it back into his back. I snapped out of my trance and panicked, grabbing ahold of his bicep. His skin was warm and I felt the muscle flex at my touch. 

“Wait, Matt,” I said, sitting up. He was already standing, my hand sliding down his arm to gently grasp his wrist. “Please stay. Please.”

I swallowed harshly, staring up at him through my lashes. I let go of his wrist and rested my hands in my lap. Matt exhaled, smiling softly as he sat back down and shook his head. 

“What do you want?” he asked gently. “Did you really ask me to come over to study? ‘Cause it really seems like you don’t want my help.”

“I do,” I said. “I just… I like having you around.” 

Matt bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing his forehead. 

“You were in my dream last night,” I continued, pulling my knees to my chest and backing away from him. His head snapped up to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “It was… weird. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” 

“What happened?” he asked, tilting his head and resting it in his palm. 

What had happened was that we had sex in a bathtub, from what I remember. I never usually had dreams like that, but when I did, it was typically only about someone I was severely attracted to. Like Matt. 

“I don’t really remember,” I lied. “It was just weird.” 

“Hmm. Must have been pretty crazy if it’s been on your mind all day,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Matt looked at me, waiting for my response. I didn’t say anything; I had no idea what to say. He pretty much had me backed into a corner. 

He was right. All day, all the time I spent with him, I was just imagining what he would be like in bed. I figured he knew a lot of people, and he was severely attractive, so I couldn’t imagine him having any trouble finding a hookup every so often. I wondered if he’d been in any situations with the other underclassmen that he tutored, like the one he was in with me. Were there other peers of his that were falling behind because of their infatuation too? Or was it actually just me, and this was all uncharted territory for him?

I wondered if he even knew the effect he had on me. I tried not to make it obvious, but based on the fact that I never paid attention to his lecture and rather focused on the way his mouth and throat moved when he spoke and the way his eyes glistened in the light of golden hour, there was no way he couldn’t tell. 

My train of thought was cut off when Matt leaned forward, softly caressing my chin with one large hand. I gasped slightly, flinching at the contact. He leaned in close and traced my bottom lip with his thumb, looking deeply into my eyes with dilated pupils. I choked; there was no way he was going to get any words out of me at that moment. 

“If you can focus and stick with me to get through this one chapter,” He started, his voice reduced to a deep purr that sent shivers down my spine. “I will stay the night. Okay?”

I nodded, completely willing to obey him and do literally whatever he said. Matt grinned, glancing down at my lips for a brief moment. “Good girl,” he purred. He removed his hand from my jaw, pushing my hair away from my face. He leaned back, dodging me as I leaned forward in an attempt to connect our lips. “Get your notebook.”

My head was spinning and my cheeks turned red. I had to snap out of it if I was going to finish this unit or even get close to crossing the threshold with Matt. I was way more concerned about the latter. He had me wrapped around his finger. 

Matt watched me scramble to get my things together, a content smile on his face. I took a deep breath and laughed, trying to compose myself. He giggled softly, which didn’t help me at all. I’m glad you think this is funny. 

With some trouble, I managed to overall stay on task and focused for about an hour until we finished the chapter. Matt caught me zoned out a few times, but he kept giving me second chance after second chance, gently trying to steer me back in the right direction. He kept telling me that I was getting there and that I wasn’t stupid and that physics would not be the death of me. 

“It’s a one-semester class. It’s almost over,” He told me, before rubbing my shoulder and then proceeding to read from his textbook. 

Once we were done, I got up to use the dorm restroom so I could brush my teeth and wash my face. I was mentally exhausted and it was almost 2 AM at that point. I had completely forgotten Matt’s promise, so when I stepped back into my dorm room and saw him getting situated on the floor, I was a little confused. I remembered just as I closed the door behind me and locked it for the night. 

“So tell me about your dream last night,” He said, not wasting any time. I sat on the edge of my bed, throwing one of my extra pillows at him as he laid a blanket that he brought down on the floor. So he planned to stay the night. I wondered whether he was actually going to leave when he said he would, or if he just said that to make me beg him to stay. 

“Oh, y’know, just…” I mumbled, reluctant to share what I remembered of it. “It was weird.”

“Well, I already know that,” He laughed. “Tell me more.”

I looked him in the eyes, feeling my body start to burn up. “There was a bathtub involved. I remember that much,” I told him, sighing softly. 

Matt’s eyes shot wide open, a devilish smirk creeping up his face. He looked me up and down, his gaze softening as he did so, before shying away and looking down at his feet. 

“That does sound crazy,” he said, exhaling. 

“Mhm,” I hummed, looking at the ceiling. 

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to me on my bed. It was then that I became so grateful for the fact that I had my own dorm all to myself. I nodded, scooting over for seemingly no reason as Matt plopped himself right next to me, elbow brushing mine. “Do you remember anything else?”

I shook my head, staring at my wall. I looked at him, seeing if he had anything else to say. Part of me wanted him to be able to tell that I was lying and there was in fact much more to my dream than I was letting up. 

“C’mon, you can tell me,” he egged, grinning softly. He nudged me with his elbow. “Are you embarrassed?” 

“I just don’t remember,” I stated, shrugging. I pushed his shoulder in response to him pushing me. 

“Well, if it’s the kind of dream I’m thinking of…” he started, purring again. “By all means, don’t be embarrassed.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him again. “Gross,” I mumbled, full of shit. I regretted saying that. I didn’t want him to back off, but I didn’t know what else to say and he was making me nervous. I squirmed next to him and pulled my shorts down slightly. 

“You’re blushing~” he teased me. 

“Shut up,” I said. I bit my lip, taking a deep breath and turning my head towards him so he could see that, yes, I was in fact blushing. Heavily.

Matt grabbed my chin again, tilting my head up. I leaned in, but he held my face in place, preventing me from getting any closer to him. Let me kiss you, asshole. 

“How do you find acceleration?” he asked softly. I rested my hand on his knee, slowly sliding it up under his shorts. 

“You… multiply the change in velocity by the change in time,” I said quietly, peering up into his eyes. 

“Good girl,” he grinned, leaning forward to press his lips against mine. 

Matt’s hand moved to caress the side of my neck, pushing my hair back and pulling me closer. His lips were so warm, moving slowly with mine as they fit together perfectly. I squirmed a little bit, moving my hand without really knowing where I was gonna put it. My fingertips brushed his jaw and I felt him smile into the kiss. 

“You’re so timid,” he stated. His large hand moved down to my hip, gripping it slightly and pulling me towards him. Without another thought, I climbed into his lap, placing my hands on either side of his neck and quickly kissing him again. 

Matt introduced his tongue into the mix as he pulled my hips closer, pressing them against his hard-on. He groaned into the kiss, his mouth hanging open for a moment while my tongue slid against his. I ran my fingers through his short, curly hair, before sliding my hands down to lay flat on his chest, pulling my lips away from his. 

I was hungry for him. Starving, even. I pushed his chest, making him lay down underneath me as I leaned forward and started kissing his neck, specifically the freckle under his ear. Matt groaned again, sliding his hands up my thighs and around my hips. He lightly squeezed the flesh of my ass, his fingertips slipping underneath the hem of my booty shorts so he could trace circles into my skin. Meanwhile, I was busy kissing, nibbling, and sucking on his neck, listening to each strangled breath he held in as I left little marks on his skin. 

My own hands explored his body, caressing his small waist overtop his T-shirt. It smelled like fresh laundry and it looked good on him, but I knew it would look better on the floor. I adjusted my hips so that I could reach under the hem of his shirt, lifting it up as my hands slid up his warm body, feeling each of his muscles tense up and flex at my touch. 

I pulled my lips away from his neck and sat up, looking at him as I pulled his shirt over his head. His face was bright red and his neck was covered in light bruises, his lips hanging slightly agape as he stared at me, breathing heavily. I tossed the shirt on the floor, letting my eyes trail down his body. 

“Fuck,” I whispered. He looked absolutely divine underneath me. He was skinny, but he certainly had some muscle in his arms and chest and even a little bit in his abdomen. Matt’s waist was curvy, his hips protruding outward and up, giving him an almost feminine figure. He had a small patch of hair on his chest and a thicker one trailing from his belly button down below his pants. Everything about his body was perfect. I felt myself almost drooling at the sight. 

“You have a staring problem,” he stated, grinning. His hands ran up and down my thighs, gently squeezing them. I blinked, looking at his face. I swallowed harshly and leaned forward to place kisses up his throat, his head tilting as far back as it could to give me more room. 

“I just like to look at nice things,” I hummed, gently pinching his skin between my teeth. The area was more sensitive due to how thin the skin there was, his Adam’s apple just underneath my lips. He whimpered softly, hands traveling up my waist underneath my shirt. 

My own hands lingered just above his hips, caressing his body as I started to drag my lips and tongue down his neck, over his collarbone, and then his chest. We were sideways on my bed, and if I kissed any lower, I’d have had to get on the floor. 

He ran one of his hands through my hair, groaning as I started sucking another bruise into his chest, right below his sternum. “Oh, fuck me…” he purred. I looked up, seeing his head thrown back and all the pretty dark red and purple spots I put on his neck. I giggled into his skin, causing him to laugh as well. 

I sat up, rubbing my thumb over the fresh bruise I put on his body while adjusting my hips so that I sat directly on his bulge, which was pressing hard against me. I shivered, spreading my legs a little more until a sharp pain shot up the inside of my thigh.

“Ah, fuck!” I hissed, my body collapsing slightly as I tried not to move my leg any further. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow…”

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked, sitting up. He wrapped his arms around my waist, one of his hands gently resting on my leg. 

“I pulled a muscle,” I whined, screwing my eyes shut. Matt laughed slightly, shaking his head. 

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Here, lay down.”

He lifted my hips, placing one of my pillows under my ass and tenderly moving my legs so that they were laying straight and not spread. He hovered over me, kissing and massaging my thighs while I tried to let my body relax into my bed. “This leg?” he asked, rubbing circles into my left thigh. I nodded, sitting up slightly so I could move my hair to a more comfortable spot. Not that it really mattered; it was gonna get messed up in about ten minutes anyway. 

Matt placed a soft, wet kiss into the skin of my compromised leg, looking up at me through his lashes. I could feel the cold metal of his glasses press into my skin, poking me slightly. I reached down to run my fingers through his curls, pulling them lightly. 

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked me. I nodded frantically.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, laughing softly. “Not the worst thing that’s happened to me during sex.”

He giggled, pressing a few more soft kisses into my thigh before climbing on top of me and straddling my hips. 

“I really liked that,” he exhaled, pushing my hair out of my face. 

“Liked what?” I asked, my hands resting on his warm, freckled shoulders. 

“You kissing all over my body. It was hot,” he grinned. He was such a dork. 

Matt gently grabbed my hand, placing it right between his legs onto his bulge. The material of his shorts was slippery, allowing me to rub and squeeze him through the fabric. He felt warm. Warm, hard, and big.

He exhaled, immediately leaning in to kiss me as I caressed him, playing with both his dick and his balls in one hand. He let out a moan, his hips subtly rolling into my hand as he tried to get more friction out of the contact. I squeezed him harder, causing his hips to buck forward. 

“Fuck, so good…” he mumbled, laughing slightly. 

I let go of him, sitting up for a moment to pull my tank top over my head, leaving my torso completely exposed. 

I brought one of his hands to palm my breast (which was almost half the size of his entire hand), and I looked him in the eyes. “Put your knee between my legs. Like, push against me,” I told him. He obliged, applying a good amount of pressure to my core while my hand returned to his crotch. My other hand pulled him back down into a kiss, opening my mouth for his tongue to slide in. 

It took him a moment to figure out what to do, but after a few seconds, both he and I were coming undone. I’d reached inside his shorts and boxers to caress his cock, running my thumb along the base gently and squeezing it at the same time. Meanwhile, he alternated between both of my boobs, spending a few seconds on one, massaging it and pinching my nipple, before switching to the other. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, his eyelids hanging low with hunger in his eyes. “Can I touch you?” he asked, caressing my waist. 

“Please,” I giggled, panting. Matt smiled and brought his hand down to rub over my shorts. I still held him gently, watching his hand manage to pull my shorts off by itself.

Two of his fingers dipped between my legs, prodding the outside of my underwear and likely finding nothing but wetness. 

“Oh, you must want me so bad,” he teased me, biting his lip. 

“Mmm, I guess,” I teased him back. He rolled his eyes, pushing my underwear to the side so he could run his fingertips between my lips, collecting my slick and rubbing circles into me. 

I sighed, closing my eyes and squirming slightly. I thought about how hot it would be for him and I to have sex in the library. That was becoming an increasingly likely possibility as each second passed by. 

“Does that feel good?” He asked. I suppose I’d gone quiet for a moment. 

“Mhm,” I nodded, grabbing his hand so I could guide it to a better spot. Matt leaned down and over me, his face inches from mine as he watched where my hand was taking his. 

“You can put your fingers in,” I told him, whispering. I looked up at him, waiting for him to heed my instructions. It wasn’t long before I felt him push into me, lightly moving in and out inch by inch, deeper and deeper with each thrust. 

He started to kiss my neck, softly and slowly to match the pace of his fingers. He nipped at a spot just below my jaw, making me hum slightly in bliss and he licked and sucked on the skin. 

He started moving faster, pushing deeper and curling his fingers inside of me to brush against that infamous spot over and over again. “Matt-“ I moaned out, choking slightly as I held my breath. 

Matt chuckled softly, pushing his fingers deeper. “I’m right here,” he purred, leaving a wet kiss on my jaw. 

“Please fuck me, Matt. I-I want you,” I groaned. He was working magic with his fingers, but I was more interested in what he could do with his dick. I was starting to get desperate. 

Suddenly, he removed his fingers, wrapping his lips around them and sucking them clean. He looked kind of silly doing it, but his lips were now covered in my slick and he hummed in pleasure as he swallowed it. 

He rubbed my thighs as he pushed himself off the bed, quickly standing up to reach into his back for God knows what. I shimmied out of my underwear, sitting up with my knees together as I watched him pull something shiny out of the front pocket. 

“I didn’t realize you came so prepared,” I teased him, crossing my arms over my knees. First the blanket, now a condom. He didn’t even ask me first if I had one in my room (I didn’t). 

“Rather be safe than sorry,” Matt shrugged, sitting on his knees in front of me as he grinned and pulled his shorts off. He wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath either. 

“And no underwear? Matthew!” I gasped, whacking his arm. I watched as he took himself in his hand, stroking lightly. I moved his hand away and caressed his warmth, moving my hand up and down slowly while pressing into it with my thumb. Matt moaned softly with his mouth closed, bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he rested his forehead against mine. 

I pecked his lips, making him look at me as I carefully removed his glasses with my free hand. His eyes had to cross slightly due to how close my face was to his. I giggled, letting go of his cock and setting his glasses down on my nightstand. 

I laid down, pulling him close by his neck and into a kiss. The kiss was soft, like the first one we shared. Just passionate and gentle, taking care of each other. It finally hit me that this was really happening. My dream was becoming a reality. Minus the bathtub. 

“You okay?” He asked me, his eyes darting nervously around my face. I nodded, kissing him again, harder this time. 

I felt his tip brush against my inner thigh, smearing warm precum on my skin. My body tensed up as I gasped into the kiss, pulling away to look down at our hips, inches away from each other. 

“Hold on,” Matt grunted, sitting up. His head turned every which way, searching for the unopened condom that he’d prepared and somehow lost. The bed shifted slightly as he leaned over the edge to pick it up off of the floor, tearing it open with his teeth like an animal. 

It was hot. 

My eyes trailed down his body again, admiring the way his skin wrapped around his muscles while his chest moved at each breath he drew in. His lips hung agape as he slid the condom on, his movements hasty but careful. 

I lifted my body up, sitting on my knees in front of him and matching his height. My hands slid onto his waist, caressing his body once again as I kissed him before he could ask any questions. 

He stopped, taking in the kiss. His hand gently wrapped around my throat, before grabbing my whole face and pushing me away. 

“Quit making me feel girly,” he said, his face red and flushed. 

I ran my hands up and down his body, making him shiver. “You like it,” I teased him. I placed my hands flat on each of his pec muscles and squeezed them like they were a pair of tits. Matt rolled his eyes, taking my hands in his.

My body fell backward, crashing into the bed. Matt pinned my hands over my head, looking me dead in the eyes. “You ready?” he asked quietly, stroking my wrist with his thumb. 

I nodded.

“Good,” he smiled, giving me a sweet peck on the lips. He let go of my hands and instead grabbed my hips, shifting his body so that his tip was lined up with my entrance. Matt looked at me one more time for approval, seeing me bite my lip and nod. 

It hurt way more than I thought it would. I’d noted the fact that he was big when I held him in his shorts and laid eyes on him a few minutes before, but wow. I took a deep breath, gripping the sheet underneath me as he pushed in slowly at first, then rammed in the rest of his length once he got the tip in. Immediately he sent a shockwave of pleasure through my body, the bed shifting slightly from the momentum he created until he bottomed out. 

He stretched me out a bit, but God, did it feel like Heaven. “I’m okay,” I laughed, out of breath. Matt smiled at me before laying down on top of me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He didn’t waste much time before beginning to move in and out, already starting to fall apart himself. 

“You feel so good,” he exhaled, his hips shuddering slightly with each thrust. His words made me feel hot; my face burned up and my stomach felt warm from both my reaction and the friction between our bodies as his skin rubbed against mine. 

I knew that I wasn’t gonna be the best sex he's ever had; there was no way. I’m sure he’d taken multiple peoples’ virginities at this point and there was no way I could compare to that. 

“Would you believe me if I told you this was my first time?” Matt grunted, sending a pointed thrust into me. I looked at him, somewhat horrified. 

“No,” I answered. “Is it?”

“No,” he grinned, shaking his head. “I’m just messing with you. You got all quiet.”

I hummed, looking at the ceiling. His smile quickly faded and he caressed my cheek, hovering over me. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, his tone sad, but empathetic. I shook my head. 

“Go faster,” I said, taking a deep breath. I pulled his face down, his lips crashing into mine. A smothered moan escaped his throat as I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling his hips in by squeezing my legs around his waist. Matt reached one hand behind my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair as he started to thrust into me, each movement faster than the other. 

His free hand moved to start massaging my breast, matching the pace of his thrusts as he squeezed and pinched. 

“Hmmn- fuck…” he whimpered. Matt’s voice had gained a higher pitch as he moved faster. “Fuck, I think I’m close…” 

“Rub my clit,” I told him, removing his hand from my chest. “Fuck me harder.”

Matt huffed, propping himself up so he could see what his hands were doing. One remained behind my head, while the other traced down my body, stopping at my hips. He spread his hand out so that his palm was pressing down on my lower stomach and his thumb rubbed circles into my aching clit. The movement of his hips had shifted from a smooth roll to a more jagged, harsh thrust as he followed my instructions. 

“Perfect,” I moaned, gripping the sheets beneath me. My hips bucked, causing them to land at a new angle that allowed him to hit that spot again and again. 

“Fuck,” Matt whined for the 80th time. “I’m so close.”

“Keep going,” I moaned. I could feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter and tighter. Everything he was doing to my body only pushed me closer; he was making me feel so good and I didn’t want the moment to end. 

Suddenly, Matt’s moans started to get louder and more frequent as his hips stuttered with each thrust. The sounds he was making were so heavenly; I felt boastfully lucky to be hearing them and being the reason he was making them. 

“You’re so pretty, Matt,” I huffed, arching my back. I moaned out loud, feeling my climax approaching like a fucking bullet. Matt was not far behind whatsoever. 

He leaned forward, kissing me on the lips and thrusting into me as hard as he could. I yelped, moving my hands to grip his hair as my body started shaking violently. I came in a fit of loud moans and whines, his name lingering in my curses as I caught my breath. 

Matt gasped, whining as the rhythm of his thrusts was disrupted. I could practically feel his dick throb as he came, still inside of me. He exhaustedly moaned into my mouth, letting me shove my tongue between his lips and kiss him harshly while he was still catching his breath.  

“Can we do that again sometime?” he asked me, panting into my mouth. I looked into his eyes, pushing the curls that were stuck to his sweaty forehead away from his face. 

“One-hundred percent,” I giggled, pulling him in for a soft kiss. My legs were trembling alongside his arms.

We laid for a little while, catching our breath and taking in the feeling of our bodies pressed against each other, relaxing. I was sure Matt was very close to falling asleep, and I didn’t blame him. It was late and I too was exhausted. 

Eventually, we both got up, and I pulled on his gray T-shirt so I could run to the bathroom and clean up. I brought back a wet rag so he could clean himself up, before he pulled his shorts back on and climbed under the covers with me. 

“Promise me something,” he said. 

“What’s up?” I asked, snuggling up to his chest while he wrapped his arms around me. 

“Promise that you’ll still pay attention to the work during our next session,” He laughed, pulling me closer. His body was still warm and his skin was soft. 

“Will you reward me if I do?” I asked, looking up at him. 

Matt smirked, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I promise if you promise.”

“I promise,” I whispered, kissing him softly. He smiled in the kiss, softly tracing my jaw with his thumb. 

“I promise too,” he said.

[qinluofu]

₍^..^₎　⌅　Day in the life of younger sibling ＠sae&rin ‹𝟥

(# >o<) 　 ❛ 　💐 　 ♡⃘ 　 pure fluff ﹒ ❀ ﹒no warnings

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waking up in the morning at 7:00am sharp, getting ready for the minature version of prison but with your 2 older brothers. sae, the oldest, sleeps at the bedroom right side of yours - along with rin, second oldest, who sleeps at the bedroom left side of yours.

they're already awake by the time you are. in fact they wake you up, because if they didn't we'd be here until noon. sae makes the pancakes and rin makes the orange juice, your in charge of eating it.

since its the morning there's not much conversations being made & it's dead quiet aside from the rustling sounds of plates and bags being taken out. the itoshi brothers don't mind you being reliant on them, as they think it's a responsibility. they'd be willing to make you breakfast and wake you up everyday until you die.

when you arrive to the gates of hell, sae has to go to the other building. he tells you to stay safe and walks away, leaving rin to take care of you. rin always walks with you till the lockers cuz what if some creep goes up to you?? you need a 6 ft tall brother to handle this ( emo dog priviledges )

hanging out with your friends is cool, but not when the captain of the junior soccer club rin itoshi is constantly staring at your guy friends while his team mate isagi yoichi tries to get his attention. everytime you tell him that your fine and it's alright he goes :|.

class goes by smoothly and now its lunch time, yippie :D. oh but you don't need to get in line to get school lunch food that's ew, you already have a handmade lunch box made by sae.

today's lunch box consisted of sticky white rice along with fried egg, baby carrots with sweet & sour chicken. all in separated containers, packed nicely in a heating bag - oh and a pot of seaweed soup. nice.

as usual, the baby carrots are left untouch with a few white rice left sticking on the container. that's gonna be sae's business later on in the afternoon. you don't miss the way sae passes by your classroom, claiming he wants to see the school's newest football player isagi yoichi but everytime isagi talks to him he looks at the container of untouched baby carrots instead with an annoyed glare

isagi is starting to think the family has some issues going on.

school life is tough but when its finally over, you practically sprint to the metal gates only for sae to grab your hand and tells you "it's not safe" and to "calm down" while rin crosses his hands and gives you an unimpressed look.

"too slow turtle, i was already here" "you were supposed to wait for them dumbass" "says who?"

since its a hot summer day, sae takes you and rin to an ice cream shop to cool down a little. sae never eats the ice cream though, just hands you and rin a cone each and pays for it.

when you get home, you leave your lunchboxes on the table and decided to get a cooling bath. you don't do your homework immediately despite the constant nagging from sae and instead play some games.

at 8:24pm you went downstairs to eat dinner. rin always drags you off the bed because no matter how loud sae calls you to come down and eat you never seem to find the energy to do so.

at 11:30pm, after a tired day of everything you finally fall back to bed and sleep. you always forget to shut the lights so rin has to personally go to your room to do that for you, he says its a bad habit that you should fix soon but somehow his eyes never show a hint of annoyance.

at 12:00am does sae finally sleep, not without checking up on you and rin's room to make sure your both snoozing away. only after doing that does he find the comfort to be able to fall asleep, dreaming about whats to come.

a/n - this was not proof read guys so ignore the spelling & grmmar mistakes ...

[munsonsprettygirl]

Y/N is exhausted and Eddie just wants to help

pairing: eddie munson x little!reader

summary: y/n’s sleep is plagued by nightmares and eddie discovers a way to help her. nsfw mentions but no smut. caregiver!eddie softness

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N can’t sleep. The nightly rest that she once adored is now plagued by nightmares and monsters that no amount of Benadryl can shake. They leave her feeling fuzzy and scared and helpless and more above anything Y/N hates to feel helpless. Preferring to stay up rather than battle another nightmare; she’s awake long into the night. Tip-toes downstairs while her parents are asleep to watch treasured vas tapes of Care Bears with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There’s a certain fuzziness that comes after, coupled with the feeling of being underwater. It’s nice and warm there, where Care Bears and soft blankets matter more than the trivial aspects of high school. 

For a while, it works. She can keep up with her schoolwork and friends on the mere three hour naps she takes after school. Then sleep deprivation catches up and swallows her whole. She starts nodding off in classes she previously found interesting and misses out on important notes and due dates. Eddie nudges her when she does it. Blames it on boring content material because, shit, he’s practically falling asleep himself. But then she does it at lunch even with the surrounding clatter of noise echoing in the cafeteria. Slumps right there on his chest where anyone can see and he shakes her out of it before they do. 

“Hey, hey.” He pats her shoulder until she whines, rubs her eyes and then nuzzles back into him. “Sweetheart, you can’t sleep in here.” He holds her by her cheeks and waits for her to open her eyes. When she does they’re red-rimmed and hazy with sleep. The lavender circles underneath look painful and Eddie strokes them with his thumb. “Why are you so tired, hmm?”

“Can’t sleep.” She mumbles, hardly loud enough for him to hear. 

Eddie sighs and reaches down to his bag, messes around in the pockets before he pulls out a pair of sunglasses and slots them over her ears. “Here.” He drops a kiss on her forehead and guides her head back to his shoulder. “I’ll wake you up before lunch ends. But we’re going to talk about this later, okay?” There’s a hint of worry in his voice and she feels her chest ache because Eddie always worries so much. Worries if she’s eating and taking care of herself. How she’s doing in her classes and making sure she doesn’t push herself too far. Always calling her when she needs him and holding her close.

Y/N closes her burning eyes and lets the wash of sleep rinse over her while Eddie strokes her back, chest vibrating with the conversations he shares with his friends. 

                                                       .              .              .

When school lets out on a Friday afternoon, the hallways crows with relieved teens pushing each other over to escape the suffocating building and forget about it for two days. Dustin’s slipping through the chaos beside Eddie, rattling off about the campaign he’s writing and what he wants to do with his character for Eddie’s campaign. Eddie hums and nods but his eyes are searching over the sea of heads for Y/N. He sees her once they get out to the sunny parking lot, leaning in the window of Steve’s car and talking to Robin. His sunglasses are perched on the top of her head, pushing her hair away from her face. Dustin opens the back door and slides inside, the sound of Steve griping about his dirty shoes floats through the open windows. Y/N looks over her shoulder to where Eddie stands and bids Robin goodbye, backs away from the car as they drive off, shouting at her from the windows. 

“What were you two talking about?” Eddie asks once he’s hanging onto her side, his arm wrapped around the waist of her soft baby-pink sweater.

“Oh, just English class. Robin’s going to let me borrow her notes.” And it’s a little bit concerning because Y/N’s never had to borrow notes. Usually, she’s the person you would borrow notes from. Eddie’s done it plenty of times. Marveled over her pretty handwriting and the way she dots her i’s. “Shakespeare, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles, opens up his passenger door and helps her in. He rounds to the other side after throwing their bags in his backseat trying to push down the worry that’s rising in his stomach. He pops into the drivers seat and looks over at his girlfriend, rubbing her sleepy eyes and yawning. Thinks about how warm her body will feel pressed to his while they cuddle. The way her breaths feel like velvet against the skin of his neck. “Hey, why don’t we go back to my place?”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t-“

“Please, baby? It’s the weekend and I miss you.” He pouts, taking one of her hands and kissing around her knuckles and down her wrist. 

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“You left some at my house and, besides, you usually sleep in my shirts anyway. C’mon, you can pick a movie out for us and I’ll run out and get us snacks and dinner or whatever you want.” He gives his best puppy eyes just to make her giggle and when she does she lets her head roll back to his seat and for a second he can see the liveliness that once surrounded her.

“Fine, fine. But I have to call my parents and let them know.” Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans across the center console and drops a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“You won’t regret it, babe. Get ready to have the best night of your life.”

                                                                             .              .              .

Eddie makes box brownies while the opening credits of Labyrinth roll across the TV. Wayne waves hello to her and steals Eddie’s Twizzlers on his way out the door. Says he’s working a double and makes Eddie promise not to burn the house down. Y/N giggles from where she’s curled up on the couch wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of cotton shorts she’s left there and whines for Eddie to hurry up in the kitchen. 

“Ok! Ok! Jeez…” Eddie sets a timer on the brownies and runs over tot he couch and pulls her onto his lap. “Whiny little thing you are.” He teases and pinches her thigh, smile spreading when she wiggle sup his thigh away from his pinching fingers. 

“Just wanted you to watch Labyrinth with me.” She pouts while Eddie pokes at her sides and leaves kitten licks behind her ear. 

“Ughhh, haven’t we watched this movie enough? I think I know every word to it.” Though he did partially learn every word just so he could dramatically reenact Y/N’s favorite movie when he needed to. Or force her to sit in his lap and let him wave her arms around while his knees bounce beneath her and he horribly sang the lyrics of Magic Dance. The laughs that spilled from her sounded so light and pretty he wanted to hear them forever. Moreover, being the reason for her laugh s was an honor he took very seriously. They filled his tiny trailer and made everything seem warmer and coated his heart with an added layer of love and adoration for his girlfriend. 

“Eddie, stop!” She laughs, half-heartedly fighting against him. 

“Dance magic, dance! Dance magic, dance!” He ignored her, large hands holding onto her forearms and thrashing them around, watching her eyes squeeze up in laughter. Eddie let her go once the song was over and she clambered off his lap to sit beside him. 

“That’s the last time I’m sitting in your lap.” She mumbles but there isn’t any seriousness in her tone. So Eddie smirks and drapes his arm over her shoulders and pulls her in, pressing kisses to the side of her face. He fusses over her while she tried to watch the movie, trying to turn her eyes away and distract her by leaving nibbles on her neck nd shoulders. Y/N batted him away and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he persisted, loving all over her until the timer for the brownies went off. 

“You know what would make the brownies taste even better?” Y/N asked from the couch while Eddie took out the pan and set it on the stovetop to cool. 

“What’s that?”

“A joint.” Eddie throws her a toothy smile and points the oven mit at her. 

“That’s a great idea, baby.” She pauses the movie only to follow Eddie into his bedroom where she sits on his lap, holding his handmade D&D figurines while Eddie stuffs bud into a grinder. He tells her about their next campaign and watches with fond eyes as she turns the figurines over in her hands, handling them delicately. 

“Is this your character?” She asks, pointing to another figurine. Adorned in black robes they hold a sword that stands out amongst the blackness. Purple vines up the sides of the sword and look like magic. The figurines hair is black and flowing behind them. 

“Yup, that is Fenven Silvernight. He’s a level seventeen half-elf vampire warlock that I’ve been playing since I was twelve.” Eddie says proudly as he opens up the joint paper and starts spreading out the ground-up weed. “You can play with him, if you want.”

Y/N picks him up slowly, feeling as though she was holding one of Eddie’s greatest treasures. “Dustin’s writing this campaign right now that he wants me to be in. It’ll be his first time DM’ing but I think he’ll be great at it. Besides, I’ll be able to get some XP and level up Sir Silvernight.”

“Level up?”

“Ah, it’s a long explanation but the more you play the better your character becomes. You get to do more things like work with a patron diety. But I’m trying to level up to an Eldritch Master. That way you can entreat your patron for more spell slots.”

“Do you make up your own patron diety?”

Eddie nods and his tongue pokes out while he rolls the paper over the filter, trying to keep the crumbs inside. “Haven’t yet for this campaign though. Maybe it could be you.”

Y/N laughs. “Me?”

“Yeah! We could do it together, you can name them whatever you want and decide their abilities and weaknesses-“

“Can Warlocks and patrons date each other?”

Eddie blushes and brings the joint up to his mouth and seals the paper shut with a lick. “Well, duh, that’s a given. Fenven Silvernight would be on his knees for you, sweet girl.” Eddie twists the top of the joint closed then pulls open a drawer, rummaging through fine-tipped paintbrushes and pens until he pulls out a lighter. “Alright, m’lady, light her up.” 

They smoke down the whole joint until they’re both giddy and feeding each other the corner pieces of the brownies. Labyrinth is still playing on the TV but it is forgotten about once Y/N is lying down against the couch, hips bucking up into Eddie’s while needy whines escape her. They spend the rest of the night fooling around, stroking each other and laughing airily until sleep comes. And Y/N, so caught up in her adoration, forgets she doesn’t sleep at night anymore. Snuggles into Eddie’s bare chest while he combs through her hair. He talks some more about Fenven and deity’s until his voice is faraway and sleep overcomes her. 

                                                                             .              .              .

Eddie’s eyes peel painfully open. There’s a cool breeze coming in through his open window, leaving goosebumps across his skin. He turns over to throw his arm over Y/N’s tummy but finds her curled up legs instead. Her face is turned away from him and when he cracks open his eyes he can see her moonlit shillouette through his eyelashes. 

“What are you doin’ awake?” Eddie slurs, rubbing his sleep-crusted eyes with the back of his hand. There’s a soft sniffle coming from beside him and he sits up on his elbows. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Shit, sorry Ed’s. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Her voice is small and sounds distraught. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Uh-uh. You’re awake and you’re never awake in the middle of the night.” He reaches out a hand and lays it on her shoulder, feeling how her body trembles beneath his hand. “Baby you’re shaking-“

“I’m fine, Ed’s.”

“No, no, no. You’re not fine. You’re shaking and you’re clammy. What. Is. Wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” Another sniffle and the nod of her head confirms his suspicions. “Oh, honey. It’s okay, c’mere.”

He pulls her down to his chest, heart aching when she curls her fingers into his shirt and takes in a shaky breath. “Shh, shhh. You’re alright, I’m here.” They stay that way until her breathing slows down and the grip on his shirt lessens. Eddie pets back the sweaty strands of hair around her head. “You wanna tell me about your dream?”

Y/N rolls back against Eddie and stares up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re scared.”

She sighs. “It’s always the same. I’m in the woods and it’s dark and there’s something coming after me. A monster I think.” She pauses. “I try and run but my legs aren’t working and I can’t get away or wake myself up.” Her voice trembles again and she covers her face with her hands. “It’s so silly.”

“No, no, no stop it. It’s not silly at all.” Eddie reassures her, rolling so he’s propped up over her. “H-how do you wake up? If you can’t on your own?”

“When the monster gets me.” Her voice is ice-cold sending chills down his spine. He touches his fingers to her cheeks and strokes over where her tears have dried. 

“You said they’re all the same.” Eddie begins and her eyes flick to his, waiting for him to continue. “How long have you been having these nightmares?”

She swallows nervously. “Almost two weeks.”

“What? Two weeks? You- you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you! I’m sorry.” Then her voice is trembling again like she’s going to cry and Eddie feels awful. 

“Baby, baby, baby. Don’t want you to apologize.” He presses a long kiss to her head and cradles the back of her neck. “I worry. Okay? I’m always going to worry.  You’re my life. My everything. My baby.” He kisses her again. “Is this why you’ve been so tired? Because the nightmares wake you up?”

She nods and sniffles. “Sometimes they wake me up but lately I’ve just been… not sleeping.”

“Wait, what do you mean not sleeping? Like not at all?”

She hums in answer and Eddie lets out a long breath and drops his head into her neck. 

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again and Eddie cuts her off by shaking his head. 

“No more sorry’s. I’m serious.” He bites down on his bottom lip and looks over her face, strokes it gently like she could break at any moment. “I wanna help you… if you’re okay with that. I know a few things about curing bad dreams.” 

“I- I think I would like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” She answers and Eddie smiles and leans forward with another kiss. He flips the covers of of him and rolls out of bed with a grunted, “Alright baby,”

He comes around to her side of the bed and stands in front of her, draping a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders. “C’mon.”

“What?” She questions, cocking her head. “Where are we going?”

He lifts her with a quiet groan, one arm underneath her bum and the other around her back. “We’re going to make you sleepy.” He answers, stumbling through his dark bedroom until he reaches the door. “I know just the trick.”

That’s how they end up in the kitchen with Y/N sitting on the counter, slightly swinging her legs while holding the blanket around her shoulders. Eddie doesn’t realize it until that moment how small she looks. Her eyes are a little hazy, almost like they would be if she were high, but the redness in them is one from exhaustion, not smoke. They talk softly while Eddie moves around the kitchen, pouring milk into a mug and heating it up. Feeds her some of the leftover brownie and wipes the crumbs from her lips. Notices how wherever he touches her she leans into it a little more than she usually does and that’s how he knows somethings up. His girl is a brat, an independent and sometimes crude little thing when she wants to be. Quips back at everything he says with an amused giggle. Tonight she’s quiet and waits for direction, needs to be told what to do and how they’re going to do it.

When the microwave beeps he pulls himself from where he was standing between her thighs and she whines. “Hold on, baby.” Eddie soothes, slides his fingers around the microwave handle and gives it a tug. He takes out the steaming mug and looks into the frothing bubbles. He adds a couple drops of vanilla and honey, feels Y/N’s eyes on him while he does it. 

“What do you do when this happens at home?” Eddie asks, stirring the milk while the spoon softly clinks against the mug. 

She nuzzles further into the blanket and locks her ankles together. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because it’s dumb.”

“Y/N-“ Eddie adds a couple more drops of vanilla and stirs again. “Nothing you do is dumb especially if it’s helping you when you’re having nightmares.” He sets down the spoon and reaches into a cabinet for the cinnamon. “So?”

“I take my blanket, go downstairs, and watch The Care Bears Movie.” She says it so quietly Eddie barely hears but he nearly doubles over clutching his chest in adoration. 

“God, that’s so fucking cute.” He kisses her warm cheeks. “Not dumb at all, baby. I love Care Bears.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, they’re like the most metal bears around.” Eddie answers and she snickers, watches him take a sip from the mug and hums. “Here, you try.” He hands her the mug, not thinking about how the hazy look in her eyes and the way she’s slower than usual would impede her ability to hold a mug. But it does and Eddie barely catches it before Y/N spills milk all over hers (his) pajamas. “Shit babe!” Eddie yelps, holding the mug away from her. “Okay, I’m going to give this to you now.” He chuckles to relieve the tension from her shoulders, noticing the embarrassment that tickles her cheeks. He holds the mug up to her lips and tilts just enough so that she can sip from it. Her eyes flutter shut and she takes a long, slow sip. 

“Mmm, tha’s good.”

“Isn’t it? Wayne used to do this for me when I was a kid.” Eddie recalls fondly. “Alright, now, I don’t have Care Bears but it is-“ He cranes his neck to where the green oven clock blinks back at them. “Three in the morning so I am sure that there’s some adequate cartoons on somewhere.”

Y/N smiles and cradles the side of Eddie’s head, skims her finger across his temple. “Thank you, Ed’s.”

He returns her smile and gives her a gentle peck. “No problem, baby. Arms around me,” He tells her and she does, hides her face in his throat while he maneuvers them to the couch with the mug in his hand. Settles into the corner of the couch and flips Y/N around, gets her to hold the mug with two hands while he flips through channels, deciding on The Smurfs. He takes the mug back and brings it up to her lips again, lets her sip on it a couple times before he takes it away. They do this until the mug is empty and Y/N’s body is slumped against Eddie’s, her eyes are heavy with sleep but she refuses, rubs them with her knuckles until Eddie bats them away. 

“You can sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

                                                                             .              .              .

After that, Eddie tries to find more ways to make Y/N fall asleep. He pulls out his worn copy of The Fellowship of The Ring, situates her on his chest, and reads her the books under the soft light of a bedside lamp. When they’re three chapters in and she’s still wide awake, he runs her a bath. Adds bubbles from his body wash and sets out a warm fluffy towel. He sits on the floor beside the tub and makes a bubble beard on her face then yelps when she blows them back at him and they land in his hair. When that doesn’t work he drives them around town, hoping the rocking of the van would soothe her to sleep. Except, when they get back to the trailer she jumps down on the grass with the liveliness of someone who’s gotten a full nights rest. He brings her to bed and gives her three mind-blowing orgasms that tire him out but after cuddling for a mere five minutes she’s blowing on his face and poking at his sides.

Nothing is working and Eddie’s running out of ideas. Y/N’s convinced herself she’s a creature of the night but she says it half-heartedly because she would love nothing more than to curl up beside her boyfriend and sleep. Monday morning arrives and she gets ready for school in Eddie’s bathroom after a sleepless night. Runs cold water over her face until her eyes are no longer a painful red color. 

The week passes in a daze of short-lived naps and stacks of assignments that build-and-build. Y/N’s having to ask for extensions in classes she’s never had problems in and now her teachers are becoming concerned. Mrs. O’Donnell catches her nodding off and embarrasses her in front of the whole class. The entire ordeal makes her cry and, after, when Robin’s helping her wipe up her smeared mascara she snaps because the lights are too bright and everything to loud and she hates the way the wet paper napkin feels on her face. Then she’s crying more, apologizing, curling in on herself and feeling too small and out of control for anything. When she gets home and cleans herself up, she calls Eddie, trembling as she clutches the cord of the landline and waits for him to pick up. 

“Hello?” A deeper Munson voice crackles through the other end and Y/N sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Hi, Wayne. It’s Y/N. Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, he’s in his room. I’ll get him. You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She mutters, holding back another wave of tears while Wayne gets Eddie. He picks up the phone a moment later, breathing frantic as he fumbles the phone to his ear. 

“Baby? Baby what’s wrong? Wayne said you were crying-“

“Eddie…” Her voice shakes and everything comes crashing down around her. “I’m so tired and I fell asleep in English and I got yelled at and Robin just wanted to help me but then I snapped at her and I feel so bad because she’s always so sweet to me-“ 

“Shit. Honey, slow down and take a deep breath.”

Y/N throws her head into her hands and sucks in a breath but its cut off by another sob. “Need you. Just need you.”

“Ok, ok. I’m on my way. Gonna take care of you alright?” Eddie promises and Y/N whimpers out agreement, hears the sound of his keys jingling. “I’ll be there in a bit, baby.”

                                                                             .              .              .

When Eddie’s van pulls up outside her house she’s sitting on her front steps, hiccuping with her arms wrapped around herself. Eddie spills out of the front seat and runs towards her, gathers her body in his arms before she can stand. The smell and warmth of Eddie have her crying again, pitiful little sobs leaving her as Eddie rubs her back while her shoulders shake. 

“M’here, sweet thing. Right here.” He presses kisses into the side of her head that isn’t buried in his hoodie and sways her. Breathes in her conditioner and clothes. Notices how her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie and she melts into his touch. He pulls away from her and cups her face, the rings cool against the hot trails of tears marking her cheeks. Y/N takes in his worried expression, even more apparent since his hair is pulled up in a ponytail letting her see the entirety of his face. He frowns and kisses her forehead. “Need you to take a couple breaths for me. We can do them together?”

She nods but chokes on the first slow inhale they take together, breath shaky on it’s way out. 

“Good girl. Let’s do it again.”

The second breath is easier than the first, and by the third the blood rushing to her head has slowed. On the come down from it she can feel herself slipping into that fuzzy place. Her eyes are droopy and her arms feel like they’re hanging off her body. Eddie’s eyes are glassy when they look at her. The brown softer than she remembers and it almost makes her cry again. 

“Shh, no more tears, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.” He throws his arm over her shoulder and helps walk to the van

                                                                   .              .              .

Eddie runs into the drug store while Y/N stays in the car, dozing off against the window on the passengers side. He hated to leave her alone but between her weekend visits, Eddie and Wayne live on the bare minimum of groceries. He grabs a half-gallon milk jug from the fridge and a box of Cocoa Puffs. He finds the chocolate in the gift aisle and picks out an expensive one he thinks she would like. Before he can head to the register a blue plush bear catches his eye. It isn’t until he sees the little red heart on it’s side before he realizes what he’s looking at. When he turns the bear over, it’s tag reads “Bedtime Bear” and he wants to burst out laughing. The top is soft against his hands and it’s large, patchy eyes stare right through him. He stands there smiling while he imagines what Y/N would think of a Care Bear stuffy. He’s seen the other stuffed toys hiding behind her bed pillows, the ones she holds when she’s sick or sad. It’s always appeared more as a personal comfort but Eddie wonders if she would share this one with him. Then his eyes are falling to the shelf next to the Care Bears and he makes out a blush pink baby bottle decorated with smiling crescent moons. 

It’s the tenderness of the thought of using it that makes everything click into place. The reason why she wants to watch children’s shows and snuggle with blankets. The sleepy, adoring film that comes across her eyes. Her willingness to let Eddie hold her however he chooses. Always slinking in behind him and watching everything he does. Those clumsy hands trying to hold onto a warm mug and failing. 

He puts the bottle in the cart, checks out of the store as quickly as possible, and puts the bags in the back of the van so Y/N won’t see what’s inside. When they get back to his trailer he sends her into his bedroom while he puts away the groceries and hides the bottle in the cabinet behind old Tupperwares while he seeks out a better hiding spot. 

“Eddie?” He jolts after hearing Y/N behind him. “Is Wayne here?”

“No, sweetheart. He was leaving for work when you called.”

“Oh.” She frowns and steps towards him, eyes shy and cast at the grimy tile beneath them. “I miss him.”

Eddie’s heart clenches up and he brings her close for a hug. Wraps both his arms around her back and rocks her. “I know, baby. Me too. But he’ll be back in the morning. First thing.”

“Before we wake up?”

Eddie chuckles and kisses her warm forehead. “Yeah, before we wake up.”

He puts a smile back on her face by reading her his new Hellfire notes. Does all the voices and the impressions just to make her laugh. Fixes her a bowl of ramen and feeds it to her when her she keeps dropping the fork against the bowl. They bring Eddie’s comforter onto the couch to watch He-Man, Y/N laying on top of Eddie’s chest while his hands stroke up and down her back. He can feel her body getting heavier against his as she relaxes, pushing him into the cushions of the couch. He gasps suddenly, remembering the bear. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Let me up for one sec.” She whines in response but rolls off of him and bunches the comforter around herself. Eddie disappears in his bedroom and pulls the bear out from his closet along with the bar of chocolate. He holds it behind his back as he nears her, a smile growing on his lips. “Okay, you have to close your eyes.”

“What are you doing?” She giggles and Eddie hushes her and repeats himself until her eyes pinch shut. He brings the bear around from his back and places it in her lap. 

“Okay, open.” Her eyes peel open and hands come around the side of the bear to pick it up. 

“Is this-“ Her eyes flick up to Eddies and the dimples in her cheeks deepen as she smiles. “You got me Bedtime Bear!” She hugs the plush toy close to her chest and buries her face in the top of him. “I love him! I love him! I love him!”

“I’m glad you love him, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and sits beside her, watching her pet over the soft bear. “I also got youuuuuu-“ He shows her the chocolate. “Dark chocolate. I read somewhere that a couple pieces can help you fall asleep. Anddd it’s the yummy kind.”

Y/N’s cheeks heat up and Eddie watches the smile on her face turn into something softer, more vulnerable. Something she reserves for him. “Thank you, Ed’s. I-I don’t know what to say.”

Eddie cups her cheeks with his hands and lays kisses all over her face. “You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart. You’re my girl. Gonna take care of you until you tell me to fuck off.”

She breathes out a chuckle and the gaze that she holds with Eddie turns hazy. Eddie’s chest swells up and fights the urge to swaddle her up and bring her close. 

“Do you- do you think-“ She stumbles around her words, fiddles with Bedtime Bear and looks away. “Do you think you could make me the vanilla milk? If you want to.”

Eddie leaves a wet kiss on her lips before hugging her close, breaths in her sweet smell and rocks her. “I want to, baby. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He leaves her to her new toy and the chocolate while he bustles around in the kitchen making her milk the way she likes it. When he peers over at her from the kitchen she’s looking smaller than ever, mumbling to Bedtime Bear and playing with his arms. He thinks of the bottle hiding in the cabinet and in a moment of shamelessness fishes for it in the cabinet and approaches her with it.

She looks up from her bear, lips twitching at seeing Eddie, then her eyes fall to what he’s holding and her head cocks just a little bit. “Is that a baby bottle?”

“I saw this at the drug store, next to where I found Bedtime Bear. I don’t know why I got it but I-“ He struggles to find his words. “I noticed sometime it’s hard for you to hold the mug and I’m worried you’re going to maybe drop it on yourself one of these days and I don’t want you to get burnt. But ah,” He fishes for more words to say, to explain why he thought buying her something that’s meant for babies was a good idea. 

Her eyes stay fixed on the bottle, heart fluttering at the way his ringed fingers wrapped around the pink bottle. The fuzzy feeling seeped in and consumed her. She was slipping fast without any chance of stopping. 

“I was wondering if maybe I could… maybe… feed it to you in the bottle if—“ Eddie takes a deep breath but he dosen’t let it out. “If you’re okay with that.” He reaches the hand that’s not holding the bottle to mess with his ponytail back and she can see how nervous he is from the way his eyebrows are screwed up together. “I just thought it might be better because then we don’t have to worry about you spilling  and you can lay down when you drink it or snuggle with Bedtime Bear or-“ 

He’s cut off with the thud of her flying onto his chest, squeezing around him so tight he can’t breathe. He hesitates hugging her back but then she’s crying again, locking her arms around his shoulders while she shakes. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry.” He starts apologizing but she interjects, shaking her head while she sniffles. 

“No, no. I-“ She lets out a breath. “Nobody’s ever… ever wanted to…” She’s blubbering and crying again, clutching onto him and her bear. “I love you.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie wraps himself around her, nearly crying himself from the relief. “I love you too, so much.”

                                                       .              .              .

Eddie pours the milk from the mug into the bottle and screws the top on tight. Flips it over to make sure its closed and checks the temperature of the liquid on his wrist. Y/N watches him approach her slowly, narrating everything he’s doing and asking her if everything was okay. It was all okay with her. Even though her heart was racing in her ears there was still a sense of safety that Eddie gave her. She maneuveres herself across Eddie’s lap and follows his hushed instructions. 

“Lay back on my arm, baby, there you go.” He holds her head on the inside of his elbow, his hand coming round to her shoulder. She can feel his rings over the shirt, a cool feeling that grounds her. Then they’re shuffling around again while Eddie pulls the comforter around them, fishes for Bedtime Bear and tucks the blanket around him too. “Okay, you comfy?”

“Yeah, m’comfy. Love you.”

“And I love you, sweetheart.” They share another kiss before Eddie holds up the bottle and tips it towards her. He doesn’t move it again, or talk. Just waits patiently for her to make the choice to open her mouth for it. And when she does she’s met with sweet praise and reassurances. 

The milk tastes even sweeter than before and makes her body feel all warm. She blinks at Eddie through lidded eyes and reaches a hand up to swipe his teary ones. She can feel the love pouring out of him all at once and it makes her cry too. Then they’re just sniffling on his couch, watching each other, while Eddie feeds Y/N a bottle. 

She’s realizing how much she’s needed this. The patience to just be small and soft and float away on that cloud that spreads throughout her until everything tingles pleasantly. She stops crying to smile at the feeling of it and Eddie mimics her. 

“What’s got you all smiley?” He turns his head into her palm and kisses it.

“You.” Her voice is muffled by the bottle but Eddie still hears her and the corners of his eyes crack in a grin. “I lub you.”

He leans forward until his nose is pressed into the crown of her head. He breathes her in slowly and closes his eyes. Turns his cheek onto her head and starts swaying the both of them. “You have no idea how much I’ve needed this. Needed to love you and do this for you.” He pulls his head back to look at her glassy eyes and apple cheeks. “Is it okay?” 

Eddie’s referring to the milk but also to the entire situation. He’s always scared he’s going to overstep with her. That his doting and babying will make her want to run away. His heart squeezes up while he waits for her response. And it comes, delivered around the bottle with a droplet of milk sticking to her bottom lip. 

“’S perfect, Ed’s.” Fuck. He wants to cry all over again. Squeeze her up tight and keep her on his lap where he can always watch her and take care of her every need. 

“Good, I’m glad.”

She falls asleep halfway through and Eddie spends a while just watching her. Makes sure her face doesn’t twitch up from any nightmares and keeps her bear from slipping from her arms. Doesn’t make any moves to wrongly rock or disturb her and after an hour of him rocking her, he’s wondering if she’s asleep enough to take to bed. He tries to stand up with her as smoothly as possible but his legs almost give out from underneath him and he almost drops her all together. But once he’s standing he makes his way to his bedroom, dragging the comforter behind them, and situating her on the bed with his pillows around her and her bear tucked to her chest. He closes the window and put the comforter back on the bed. Slides in behind her and pulls her into his front. 

“G’night, sweetheart.”

                                                                   .              .              .

She wakes up still feeling soft. Eddie’s arms are wrapped around her and her head is nuzzles into Bedtime Bears tummy. She feels good. She forgot what it was like to wake up and feel rested. Her mouth falls open in a yawn and she stretches out her legs and arms to stretch. Wiggles her fingers and her toes. Picks up Bedtime Bear and rolls over to Eddie. He’s still sleeping, hair fallen out from his ponytail and falling over his face. She moves it behind his ear and his nose crinkles. 

“Mmm, baby?” He croaks out, peering open one eye. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Dunno. No school today.”

He rubs his eye with the heal of his hand. “You wanna skip?”

She hums and leans into Eddie’s warm body, pulls her knees up to her hips so she can make herself smaller to fit into his side. “Just wanna stay with you.”

Eddie turns his head to her and delivers sleepy kisses onto her hairline. “Okay, we can skip. You feeling okay? Did you have bad dreams?”

She shakes her head. “No, I had good dreams. Just want to be small for a bit longer.”

Eddie pulls her closer and snuggles back into her. “You’re so sweet. My sweet girl. Love you so much.” He mumbles it into her skin while his eyes pull him back to sleep.

“Do you think we could-“ She traces her fingers over the lettering on his shirt. “Do that again? Like today?”

Eddie’s lips break into a smile and he leans forward to kiss her. “Of course we can, sweetheart. Whenever you want.”

[venluming]

Meltdown (Petrigrof)

Wordcount: 2.05k.

Type: One-Shot, SFW

Warnings: None, really.

Summary: After a long, stressful day, Simon has a meltdown and Betty helps him through it.

Extra Notes: Hello, hello! I’m writing again, yay!! I felt proud enough to post this little one-shot of Petrigrof! I don’t see enough fics that depict Simon as autistic, so I wrote one myself! And… it’s him having a meltdown, haha— but hey, it’s something! This is also based on a personal experience of mine, so there’s that. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

With the gentle pattering of rain against the window and the warm air flowing through the heater in the corner, Betty sank into the covers of her bed, bundled up in her favorite brown, woolen blanket. Beside her was a hot mug of lemon balm tea that she occasionally sips to help her go to sleep.

In her hand, she held a sketchpad with small sketches of random objects around the room, assumingly for an art project, or maybe just as general practice. She had recently begun picking up this hobby again, as she had been so busy with other things, such as her expeditions and research papers for other minor classes she had. Betty enjoyed making pieces for herself, although she very seldom mentions her love for art to others for reasons of… well, no one really cared enough to ask.

Well, all except Simon.

Speaking of Simon…

It’s just about 8 PM right now. It’s pretty dark, and Simon still hasn’t come home from his afternoon class. Betty mused on where he might’ve gone. Perhaps working a bit later than usual, which was a somewhat common occurrence with him. He’s known to be quite the workaholic…

‘I wish he wouldn’t push himself so hard…’ Betty thought, frowning slightly.

No matter, she’ll have to give him a good “scolding” when he arrives home.

…Well, not an actual scolding. He hated getting those, as it always triggered his PDA.

After a bit of time passes, she’s finally finished and decided to put a pin in it for tonight. Her main worry seems to be her lover who still hasn’t arrived yet. What was he doing?

“He’s probably just working a little late, Betty. Nothing to worry about..” Betty mumbled, taking a sip of her tea and letting out a soothing hum. What a wonderful, serene-feeling taste.

Just then, Betty heard the front door slam from downstairs. Betty quickly turns towards the bedroom door and begins to climb out of bed but pauses when heavy footsteps start trudging up the stairs, then stopping momentarily. She waited quietly for any sudden movement when the quiet steps grew louder as they approached the door.

As expected, the door swung wide open, which startled Betty a little. Standing there was a… sopping wet cat who seemed to have, unfortunately, been caught in the storm of the hour. His clothes were drenched in rainwater, dripping onto the floor. His tousled hair cast downward as it stuck to his cheeks and forehead— but he desperately wiped the stray hairs away from his wet face. He looked… terrible —with his vest and shirt slightly unbuttoned to where the collar barely touched his neck, his bow tie clenched tightly in his hand.

Simon stood in the doorway for a moment with his head hung low. It felt like, as soon as he stepped through, he just… fell apart. His hands found his head and he gripped a fistful of dark brown locks, then an exasperated and strangled groan tumbled out of his throat. Betty immediately ran to his side, attempting to touch his face but he jerked back from her, vigorously shaking his head. Betty was a little confused and slightly perturbed at first, but upon observing him more, his body language told her everything she needed to know. The way he trembled in front of her, arms up in a more defensive position like a scared little kitten despite having his hands tangled in his hair. Betty knew what this was.

“Okay, no gentle touching, alright.. uhm ,” Betty made her way to one of the lamps in her room and turned it off. “Here, I’ll turn off some of the lights for you, okay?”

Simon nodded, running a hand through his soggy locks. Glob, he was so glad to be home, home to his lover. She always knew what to do when he had these moments. Moments where his body shut down and wouldn’t cooperate with him no matter how hard he tried. Moments where every single article of clothing on his body felt like sandpaper scraping against his skin. How much it hurt to utter a single word. No matter how much he might’ve wanted to, it felt like walking barefoot on pins and needles while everyone else but him came prepared with steel-toe boots.

Simon’s wet clothes clung to his shivering body. He hated the feeling of wet clothes, he hated it. He desperately peeled the clothes off his body and they hit the floor with a gentle ‘thump ’. Betty scrounges around in the closet for his favorite blanket while glancing back at her lover every few minutes. She could feel him trembling from afar, even as warm air encircled him, and in those moments, she wished that she’d been there when this first started so she could have helped him through it.

“Okay, let’s get you wrapped up,” Betty pulls out the navy blue blanket and scurries over to him. He seemed to have already stripped himself of his clothes, to which she wrapped the soft blanket around his shivering body and led him to their bed. “I’ll get you some water… do you want some water?”

Wiping his tear-stained face, Simon nods and tries to bask in the warmth of his blanket and the heat from the heater, now that he laid closer to it. Betty opens the door and glances back at Simon with a gentle smile before closing the door and running down the stairs.

Not long after, Betty comes back with the water and places it on his bed stand. He seemed to have dove under the covers again with only his head poking out from his blanket. Betty chuckles, climbing over to the other side of the bed and laying beside him. Upon observing him closer, his scleras were bloodshot red, like he’d been crying for a while. Simon scooted closer and stared into her eyes for a moment before looking at the sketch pad in the space between them. Betty slowly turned to the book and picked it up, placing the pad in his lap. She figured he might want to say something without straining his voice since he’d gone non-verbal.

Simon’s hand snakes out from beneath the covers and he takes the pencil attached to the pad then flips to a blank page. Betty watches him curiously as he begins to write something down in a slow, gradual manner, his face softening the more he writes. He flipped the page over and she couldn’t help it when the corners of her mouth rose to her cheeks.

“Thank you, I love you”

Betty resisted the urge to take him into her arms and pepper his face with kisses. Alternatively, she takes his free hand and squeezes it firmly.

“I love you too, Simon.”

Simon flips the pad back around and begins scribbling something else.

“I need more pressure”

Realizing what he meant, Betty nods and begins climbing on top of him, aligning the side of her face with his own, and dropping most of her body weight onto him.

“Howzzat? That enough for you? Twice for no, once for yes.

Simon taps her once and she smiles against his face. She looks to him for permission, which he does give, then proceeds to wrap her arms around him and give him a firm squeeze. A small giggle escaped his lips as Betty held him in her arms.

After a while, Betty found herself growing more drowsy by the hour. Really, she had only been rambling to Simon about her day and other miscellaneous things. Only after a few minutes of talking did she hear the gentle snoring of the man who’d curled up beside her with the slow rise and fall of his chest. She thought that now it might be a good note to end off for tonight.

Leaning over the sleeping man, she pulls the cord to their dimmed lamp light then snuggles up against him. With a soft glittering of her eyes, she drifts into a soundless, serene sleep.

────────────────────

“Mmhh… five more… minutes…”

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips as he shook his lover once more. Betty stirred but her eyes stayed shut. After a few more gentle shakes, Betty groaned, rubbing her eyes before sitting up slightly and opening her groggy eyes to look at him. She sighs and gives him a tired smile.

“Ah, morning… how’d you sleep?”

Simon pressed his lips against her forehead. “I slept alright, you?”

Betty’s smile only grew when she heard his voice. Ever since last night, he’d been quiet as a church mouse, so hearing his voice again, it quelled that lingering anxiety she didn’t realize she had inside.

“Heyyy, you’re talking again! And I slept alright myself. I’m assuming you’re feeling better after your meltdown last night…”

“Indeed,” Simon lays against the bed frame, his bare chest exposed to the warmth of their room. “Thank you, again… last night was really… stressful— for me. I—uhm… glob, I was suppressing that for a while…”

Betty pouts, gently jabbing him in his side. “You dumb-dumb, why did you suppress it? You know that’s not good and… you can step out of class, you don’t need to prioritize your work if your nervous system is donking out!”

“Ahm— I was doing another presentation, and a lot of smaller things kept building up… and before I knew it, it almost happened— in the middle of it. That same guy threw another… book at me today. Starting to reconsider this whole thing, honestly…”

Betty huffed. “Again?? Who was it, was it the same guy? I should really teach that guy a lesson—“

“No, no… it’s okay,” Simon waved his hands. “You don’t… it’s fine. Please don’t.”

“No, because what’s this guy’s fascination with throwing shit at you??”

Simon shrugs. “No idea, but it’s fine. I’ll manage.”

“Simon…”

“I promise it’s fine, dear. If it’ll make you feel better, the next time it happens, I’ll give them a lecture on presentation etiquette, how does that sound?”

That was mostly a joke.

“You sound like you want a book to be thrown at you.”

Simon chuckles, scratching his nape. “Alright, bad joke.”

Betty chuckles right along with him until they’re both laughing at his really stupid lecture joke. The laughter soon died down though as the two climbed out of bed, raising their arms to stretch.

It only took Simon a few seconds to realize he wore only his underwear, which he remembered was a result of yesterday where his damp clothes lay bundled still near the doorway, so he made his way towards the closet to search for his spare PJs he’d leave here in her room.

Betty, being her usual self, stares lovingly at his backside, especially towards the lower region. She folds her arms and smirks to herself.

“Hey, are you working on your glutes?”

Simon blinks, trying to process what she just said. He slowly turns around, perplexed. “What?”

“Like… glute exercises.”

It took him a minute, but it finally clicked and his cheeks began to burn at the question. He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, haha . Ass joke, funny. I don’t… workout, that’s just how it naturally looks.”

“That just makes it better!”

“Betty.”

Betty giggles, embracing him from behind and nuzzling into his cheek. “Okay, okay… I get it, too early…”

He huffs. “Way too early…”

“Apologieees— I’ll go make us some breakfast while you change . What’re you in the mood for?”

Simon finally finds his blue and white-striped pajamas. He slips on and buttons the shirt and then the pants. “Pancakes.”

“Cool, cool!”

As Betty quickly exited the room, Simon stood beside the closet, pondering over the events of last night. How fast she was able to catch onto his symptoms, how loving and caring she was during the ordeal, how safe he felt when he finally let himself break down in front of her, which he hadn’t done in a while.

His lips curled into a warmer smile, feeling content.

He’s really happy to be with such an amazing person. He wouldn’t trade her for anything else in the world.

“I should help her with breakfast…” He finally said, closing the closet door and making his way downstairs to his soon-to-be wife.

[nuclearnik]

Run To Me When He Lets You Go

Rated E

Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

17k Words

Tennis shoes squeaking on the dingy, off-white floors of Hawkins High, Chrissy hurries down the empty halls on her way to the gym. It's Friday, and she has a game to cheer at. 

She’s late.

She’s never late. It's unladylike and disrespectful and yet another line on the endless list of things Chrissy must do and not do. Ironic, isn't it, that the very person who drilled those things into her mind had made her late?

Her mother had a lecture ready when Chrissy put on her cheer uniform and came downstairs to leave for practice, all about how lazy she was for spending the afternoon holed up in her room when she could have gone for a run or spent time with her boyfriend, Jason. She droned on about Chrissy's selfishness for wanting a moment to herself.

In reality, she'd spent the one measly hour alone retching over the toilet in her bathroom after being woken from a nap by haunting dreams and then sitting in the shower with her back against the tiled wall, letting the water fall on her head, knees pulled up to her chin with terrifying images flashing behind her eyelids like a malfunctioning movie reel.

Red sky, red ground, red smoke

Skeletal fingers, knife-tipped claws reaching

Death, dirt, decay

Rotting bodies, mouths sewn shut  

She's been missing youth group, too, avoiding it because when they split up into boys and girls prayer groups, she'll get asked about her walk with God, and it's getting harder and harder to lie and say her faith grows stronger every day.

Now, with her mother’s voice repeating over and over in her head, Chrissy turns sharply around the corner, barely paying attention to her surroundings until she comes to an abrupt halt with a surprised oof.

The obstacle she runs into is taller than her—her forehead meets a cloth-covered sternum—and hands land lightly on her upper arms to keep her from bouncing back and falling. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. You okay?"

When she blinks away the disorientation from the impact and slowly raises her gaze to see dark brown eyes warm with concern directed at her, something like electricity sparks up her spine. The guy standing in front of her is familiar; she has at least one class with him—and knows his name simply because the teachers like to pick on him; she's heard Mr. Munson in a condescending tone more than once—and she’s definitely seen him causing a scene in the cafeteria. If she’s honest, she’s caught herself a time or two feeling a little envious of his boldness, his lack of concern over what other people think of him. She makes a mental note to check last year's yearbook for his first name.

His hands are large and hot, the rings on his long fingers cool against her flushed skin bared by the sleeveless vest of her cheer uniform. They’re close enough that she can feel his body radiating heat. He smells like sweat and smoke and boy, and for a moment, all she wants to do is bury her face in his neck and let him hold her.

What the hell, Chrissy?

Mentally shaking herself, she returns to earth and steps back, staunchly ignoring that she’s the tiniest bit disappointed when his hands fall away from her, even though that's exactly what she wanted.

“You on the run?”

“Um, what?” she says, nervously picking at her thumbnail.

“You look like you just swiped all the bake sale money from Principal Higgins’ office and took off in a hurry.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk; he’s teasing her. So, she does something she rarely gets the opportunity to do.

“If I did, you're probably an accessory now,” she quips right back.

“Partner in crime to a pretty outlaw cheerleader? There are certainly worse things to be,” he says, full-on grinning now.

She laughs—the first time she's so much as smiled all day, she thinks—a bright crack of sound before she can stop herself, even as her cheeks warm with a blush, and something like delight flashes in his eyes at the sound. Maybe she's seeing things where there's nothing, but it's a welcome reaction when she's used to being told to be quiet, be timid, be less.

As she opens her mouth to respond, she catches sight of the clock on the wall in the small room behind him—dimly lit and filled with odds and ends that must be theatre props—and gasps. 

"I have to go," she says, flinging the strap of her duffle bag onto her shoulder from where it had slid down to her elbow. "I'm so sorry for running into you, really." 

Before she's finished speaking, she takes off down the hallway again, smiling to herself when he calls out, "See you around, Bonnie!"

Continue reading on AO3

[youraveragebtsstan]

💫✨ Supernatural, but it's an early 2000's teen drama. (Think 'The O.C' meets 'One Tree Hill' vibes) ✨💫

Imagine, it's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in 2003. You're in the kitchen pouring a bowl of Resse's Puffs when you hear Ain't It Fun by Paramore from the living room TV. (Pretend this song was out then.) Knowing the hit TV show Supernatural's theme song by anywhere, you rush to the couch.

Since the hit TV show aired in the early 2000's, its all anyone can talk about. Staring heartthrobs Jensen Ackles and Jarred Padalecki, this show tells the story of brothers Sam and Dean as they navigate life raised by their father John since their mother Mary's pasisng.

🤫 Allow me to set the scene...

Tension between Sam and John has been brewing since Season 1, always butting heads on the littlest of things. Dean says it's because they're an awful alot alike but neither party seems to see it. After moving from school to school, town to town, by Season 3 it's at its peak.

Season 3 opens on an 18 year old Sammy filling out an application for Stanford. He does so in secret, knowing Dean would bitch about it and John- well John probably won't be around to care anyway. Thoughout the season we see him rebell, staying out late and going to parties he probably shouldn't be. Dean tries his best to reason with him, but Sam needs to come around on his own time.

By the season finale, tension is at an all time high. Dean reveals to Sam he knows he's leaving them for Stanford after stumbling across his acceptance letter. This prompts Sam and Dean to get into an argument which John overhears.

After some awkward back and forth, Dean eventually blabs to which John says, "Like the college?"

Sam says, "Yeah, Dad- the college."

Dean says, "Isn't that something? He didn't even tell us he applied."

More silence sits netween them before Sam asks John what he thinks. After some thought John says, "Well, if you want to go, go."

Sam looks shocked, "Really?" he asks.

"Yeah," John nods. "But if you're gonna go, you might as well stay gone."

Sam's heart drops, Dean grumbling at his father's carelessness.

This ensues a BIG argument between John and Sam, to which Sam eventually Sam says, "You know what, I will."

Sam heads upstairs to pack, Dean once again trying to be the peacemaker. Eventually the season ends with Sam walking out of the door with a classic one-liner that absolutely shocks the hearts of millions across the world.

Sam isn't actually seen in the following season (S4), giving the audience well needed view of Dean's devotion to John (but also because Jared begins his stint on Gilmore Girls.) His welcome back to the show occurs at the end of the next season where the Original Supernatural starts, but done with a little more class.

On the last episode of Season 5, we see the infamous Impala pulling up outside a college dorm. Someone steps out of the Impala but we can't tell who it is, not just yet anyway. The person walks up to the door and maybe contemplates ringing the doorbell. Eventually he sneaks in and we see him knock something over on the way in.

Upstairs a girl sound asleep hears a noise. Waking up, she shakes her boyfriend saying, "Babe. Babe, I think someone's downstairs." We got back to downstairs where the man is now looking around in the dark- but wait, there's someone behind him. Someone with a bat takes a swing at him, tackling him to the ground. They tussle back and forth, until the burglar is revealed. We zoom in to see Dean, laying on his back with a smile.

"Dean?" says familiar voice.

"Hiya Sammy," Dean replies.

Boom! Hard cut to Sam's face and the crown goes wild!!! Sam says Dean what he's doing there to which Dean says, "Dad went on a hunting trip and now he's missing. I need your help."

Cut to black, end of Season 5.

~~~~~~

Lol, dramatic I know, but I just get this awesome feeling of nostalgia whenever I imagine Supernatural as one of those teen drama, sentimental shows. (I've been binging those lately and they're all I can think about..lol)

[abcd-adventures]

Yesterday, the husband's chili making ended up taking until MIDNIGHT and my kitchen is a complete disaster this morning. There is just something that I uniquely hate about coming downstairs to get my coffee at 5am and seeing a messy kitchen. I like to start the day with at least some semblance of order and a clean kitchen is a part of that. I totally get that I wouldn't want to clean up either if it was midnight...I'm mostly grumpy because I had to do bedtime and entertain B all afternoon and evening because the husband is a singular-focus kind of person. B is also back to waking up at 5:30 and has been in here no less than five times in 20 minutes and I'm not loving that. *blah, blah, whine, whine*

I need to figure out a way to incorporate yoga back into my life daily. I miss it...and my mind and body miss it, too. Also, I feel this added layer of guilt--like somehow because I am a yoga instructor I shouldn't ever be in a place where I "don't have/make time for yoga." Obviously, that is not how life works...but annoyingly, it is how my brain works.

Today is supposed to be 70 degrees, though! And, I teach my exercise class at work on Mondays, so today's class will either be a walk or yoga outside--depending on who shows up. Maybe some clients will even want to do walking sessions. Days like this really make me miss my one client who ALWAYS did walking sessions with me no matter the weather. It was so nice to reliably count on being able to get outside during the day whenever she was on my schedule.

[nash-dara]

GLIDE

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Trope: Friends to Potential Lovers

Characters:

Reader (nickname: Bambi)

Bucky Barnes

Avengers (mentioned)

Friday

SUMMARY: You and Bucky are left alone in the tower and you got bored being put in the side line.

Tag/Warning: Swear words, a little bit of angst(?), comfort fluff, not Beta'd (I don't know how to Tag/Warning sorry)

Author's Note: It's my first time writing a fanfiction and I wanted to give it a go. So if ever I miss something or there's something wrong please let me know. Enjoy reading!

AN2: Originally this was one of the exercises given to me by my instructor in my class in Creative Writing/Non-Fiction where we write about a situation with our crush - Well, my crush is Bucky, so I wrote about him. (Bucky is not only my crush but my loml)

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

The shade of the sunlight bounces back to the cold ground as I walk barefoot toward the Avengers Common Room. It's late afternoon and the sun is slowly setting, I don't know if it's really just the amazing architecture of this tower or it's just simply the climate change working its way to healing itself but it's still hot in here, and somehow it sits well with how the tiled floor of the compound feels cold. It just reminds me of the comfort exuded by the cuddle of someone as we lay to each other during movie night.

    

Bucky and I can be called friends, he's the first person who didn't feel repulsed after I introduced myself— well maybe he's worried, I mean I don't blame him since my powers are kinda weird to think of. Being able to jump out of nowhere, or control something mundane, I would be afraid of myself if I don't know who I am. I have tons of issues—Well who doesn't have any anyway. He's warry but after 2 months of chatting, continuously pestering the living out of him. I knew I would grow on him and he will warm up. After all, I use a special trick on him, Food.

No one in their right mind will refuse the delicacy of something made by me.

"Agent Bambi, the ETA for the team's arrival is 21:00"

    I almost trip to the sound of Friday's echoing voice as she announced an update about the arrival of the team. They've gone to one of Hydra's underground facilities to check if something is up since scans show that frequent movements are happening right there. I wanted to go there too but Tony put me on the bench since I got injured last mission.

I got scrap... but Tony and Steve being the Mother Goose they are told me to lay it off and take a rest- and accompany Bucky since he got it bad last time. Seeing the bloody chair where he was put, is not a great thing to see and not a great way to deliver someone into a trip to memory lane.

I lean into the large island counter, pondering what might just come out of the AI's mouth - If Friday even has a mouth. "Come again, Fri?"

"The team's ETA is 21:00 as of the moment, boss says they'll take a detour to prevent any retrace of location."

It makes sense that they will take a detour since I heard from Nat 5 hours ago that movements are happening, well it's not Hydra if they did not take passion into their glorified motto "Cut one head, two will grow" a bunch of sh*ts.

    I stretched my arms before I answer, "Okii, tell Bucky that too, and keep me posted. Thank you, Fri"

"No problem, Agent Bambi"

    I spot a half-eaten banana laying at the top of the counter, I forgot I'm eating a banana when I rush to the lobby when they call to remind me that I have a package downstairs. I picked it up planning to continue eating it.

Seeing no one would judge me anyway after all I'm alone right now since Buck-buck is holding himself hostage in his room. Then I remember the remaining banana in the fridge — maybe I can whip something from the ingredients right here. As I scavenge the fridge to look for the freaking banana, I  see it, a banana so over-ripe, only 1 great thing can come out. Rushing feeling of great success like I just finished an experiment and won a Nobel Peace Prize for the thought that slide into my mind, feeling like there was a light bulb on top of it. I yelled out of nowhere

"Banana Bread!"

    This just fucking hit all my dilemmas right now, I forgot to write the report Steve has been nagging me to continue, I'm bored, I'm hungry and Buck's doing his own me time. With this precious banana bread, I can coax Steve from his lengthy speech of self-responsibility in finishing that mission report, this banana bread will ease my boredom, will make my belly happy, and last but not least help lighten the gnawing feeling that's been looming in Bucky's Room.

    One thing I know, food solves everything.

"Friday, can you please play some music? Thank you!"

"Playing Speak Now (Taylor's Version) Album"

    As I prepare the ingredients and the tools I will need while dancing to the tunes of the music being played. Something came up to my mind, this will be great if I add chocolate chips and if I partnered it with Hot or Cold Choco. While I'm cracking the egg in the bowl in front of me, I turn to open the fridge and get milk for the choco drink when I turned back I notice that messes starting to come to the counter.

I sidestep to look for the paper towel to wipe the counter since it's not comfortable working if there are a lot of things going on, I didn't notice the puddle that I have created, with a wrong twist of my feet I accidentally slide my life into it. Expecting an abrupt landing of my bum on the floor I close my eyes to prepare myself as I look for something to hold on to, getting the bowl with me as I land.

    But it didn't happen, all I hear is the sound of the utensils that fell into the floor and the feeling of a mixture of cold and warm arms holding my back as it catch me.

"I got you, sweets."

    I open my eyes and look at the face on my side, I saw his grinning smile slowly creeping its way to his lips.

"Didn't know that Tony will be right when he says I need to keep my eyes on you, look at that honey; you've made a mess."

    Telling me without breaking eye contact, "Just want to eat something"

"Your shadows didn't tell you that you have a puddle behind you?" I stand up straight as he helps me steady myself. Before I even move he grab a few towels and clean my hands off, patted my head, and get the bowls and utensils that have fallen.

"They've gone haywire, think the day about to come." I turn to the closet to get the broom and the mop to clean the mess I made. Bucky took it from me, "Sit right there, let me help you before we do what your doing, sweets."

    I'm still standing, confuse why he start to clean up, arrange the things I'll need to make banana bread,d and how he managed to go right here in the moment where I embarrassingly did something un-comprehensively stupid. I'm still observing him when our eyes met again and he look straight into me, playfully giving me his scolding eyes for not adhering to what he said to sit as he clean up.

    "Thank you, Buck" I whisper under my breath as I watch him stack the washed tools on the countertop and get the remaining ingredients.

    "It's nothing sweets, so what's our agenda for today?"

    "Let's make some Banana Bread and Choco drink, you hungry Buckaroo?" I round to the counter setting the bowl in front of me as I take the dry ingredients in front of me.

    "Starving to death"  he gave me a playful push as he chuckle a little bit. "I assigned you to mix wet ingredients right here, O' Sir Buckbee"

    "As you wish, sweetie" He looks into my eyes before he begins.

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

AN3: Feedback is greatly appreciated, Thank you I dunno if it's too much or enough, so I kinda cut it off. Tell me if part 2 is needed. Thank you, again.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Three

The air is still sweet and warm enough the following week to leave the windows of the print studio open, and in between my cleaning sessions, in particular the area around Gabriel’s desk which looks like an avalanche of cardboard and loose paper has crashed around his feet, I work on my Christmas card designs and occasionally gaze outside over the street below, cracked, patched pavements and sturdy old red brick council houses that belonged, once upon a time, to the lived in by workers from the biscuit factory and the brewery, but now have been purloined by the middle class. 

Simon comes over to check how I’m doing from time to time. He has the type of presence that makes me want to sit up very straight and address him like he’s a teacher at school about to quiz me on my multiplication tables, but Simon’s not really like that. He’s so chilled out he might as well be horizontal, and all he ever really does is say “cool.” or “looking good.”, so eventually, after some days the sharp edges of my terror of criticism fades and I stop freaking out every time I see him get out of his seat. It is art, after all. The most subjective thing in the world. 

“So this is design two? Or three?” He’s saying to me today, pausing at my desk on his way to the printing press. I hold up two fingers.

“Right. I’d love it if we could have six by the end of next week, if you can hack that. Just like, with the suppliers…” He trails off and I nod enthusiastically like I know what he’s talking about. “Of course, I think I have enough ideas to get six designs.”

“Cool, and at some point today could you pop downstairs to the shop and talk to Petra? She was asking if you’d do a favour for her.”

“Yeah, of course.” I resist grilling him about what she wants or rushing downstairs and insisting that she talk to me immediately, because I’m trying very hard not to be a person who seems desperate for anything lately. Even though I frequently am. 

“Thanks.”

He heads over to the press next to Izzy, and moments later Michelle comes into the studio with a coffee and a paper bag in her hand. He grins at her and leans down to kiss her cheek. “This is a nice surprise.” 

“I can’t stay long, Jen and I are heading into town for lunch but I know you’re working through it today so I thought I’d just get you a sandwich.” The idea of Jen standing outside this very shop at this very moment makes my heartbeat quicken.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Simon says to her. “Saves me making the intern get it for me.” He winks at me so that I know he’s only joking, even though he’s actually not, and that’s exactly what would have ended up happening, he just doesn’t want her to know about it, most likely. 

“Can you stay for lunch?”

“No, I have plans with Jen, but I’ll see you later on.” She glances around the room at everyone else. “I suppose I’ll probably see you all later on.”

“At Izzy’s gig!” Gabriel whoops. “Yes you will.” I smile at her and nod, already trying to come up with a plan as to how I will wrangle Shane and Claire into coming with me. It’s out of pure social anxiety, not because I think they’ll enjoy the music. 

When Michelle heads out and the rest of us start making moves for our own lunch break, Izzy asks if I’ll get food with her, since Simon and Gabriel are too busy. She says she knows a nice takeaway spot nearby, and I trust her because she seems like the kind of person who would know the best places to eat and drink in every corner of the city. 

The streets are busy that afternoon, the last gasps of tourist season leaving the foot traffic heavy enough to have to stop and start behind the people who want to take photographs of things like fan windows and the fronts of pubs. Izzy stops me to let a middle aged couple take a picture next to a statue of a teapot. I think about how that was nice of her, to stop walking for them when I’m sure I would have barrelled through and ruined the photo. I don’t think I’m the type of person to do things like that anymore, my patience has worn too thin over the last two years I’ve lived here.  

“Cute.” She comments as they smile and let us pass them by, and then we continue down a street that opens onto the Liffey. It really doesn’t smell very good on warm days, and as I peer down into it I count two shopping trolleys and a child’s bicycle. I wonder what else they’d find if they did an expedition of that river. Considering the possibilities of what could lie there under the silt kind of makes my stomach turn, and draws to mind the time I saw a dead poodle floating in a river on a family expedition to county Cork. Izzy guides me around a corner and up a hill to a cafe, and the sun is in my eyes.

My gaze slips over the people eating outside the restaurant as we approach. There’s a woman with a small baby who is kicking and writhing in her arms, fat little legs creased adorably at the knees. An elderly man on the next table tries to enjoy his newspaper, only he can’t help but glance over his shoulder at the infant when she babbles and shrieks, interrupting his concentration. There’s a girl with her back to me, long, wavy blonde hair that spills all the way down her chair, and a man sitting across from here with dark hair and sunglasses. He’s handsome, well dressed and has an upturned, clever little mouth that sends a jolt of recognition through me. I almost gasp out loud, but then I remember that it couldn’t be him. It never is. This city is full of good looking, dark haired men, and not one of them has ever been the one that I hoped. As if he’s ever going to be here… 

And then he lifts his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, and those brown eyes could only belong to one person. My breath catches in my throat. I can’t look away from him, and I stand at the door of the cafe frozen still in anticipation of the moment he’ll see me too.

His eyes flicker over the blonde girl’s head for a second and then widen with surprise. He practically shoots out of his seat, the metal legs of the chair shuddering across the concrete behind him, and the look on his face is astounding, like he can’t believe I am real. “Evie.”

“Hi.” I say, and then somehow I am next to him, wanting to launch myself into his arms, but I stop myself. His fingers twitch outwards too, like he’s reaching for me but his hesitation matches my own. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch me anymore. 

“What are you doing here?” I manage. Jude looks the same as he did the last time I saw him, but somehow I’m surprised. I don’t know how I keep forgetting how gorgeous he is, as you’d think that something like that would be permanently imprinted in your memory, and yet it’s like every single time I’ve ever turned my head to speak to him I’ve been whipped across the face by his beauty. 

“I… we…” He’s flustered. He’s never seemed flustered before, and seems bewildered by himself. I watch a blush come over his nose and cheeks. “College doesn’t start for a few weeks.” He manages. “And I needed to help out with something at home, so we decided to make a holiday of it.”

We. I look to my right where his girlfriend is sitting. She is an unmistakable presence, and yet at first I almost missed her. She’s head to toe in black. They both are, as though they plan to attend an extremely fashionable funeral. Her clothes are so contrasting to her hair which is the whitest, blondest blonde I’ve ever seen. She’s slim, languid, long hands and wrists and sharp collarbones, full lips and a button nose, the kind of pretty that makes ordinary girls feel like monsters in comparison. I imagine a photo taken of both of us side by side, and how I’d never look nice next to her, my dull, limp brown hair and unremarkable features would make me vanish into the wallpaper while she would positively glow with beauty. 

I’m caught up in the situation, looking at her and looking at him, and I forget all about poor Izzy waiting for me at the door. She clears her throat gently and tells me she’s going to go inside and order her lunch. I feel a bit embarrassed that this significant moment happened right in front of her without her knowing the context of any of it, but I tell her I’ll follow her soon. 

“This is Astrid, by the way. My girlfriend.” Jude says, as if she needed an introduction, as if I didn’t know that already, and I smile at her. “Evie.” The smile she returns is a bit thin and lukewarm, and she doesn’t take off her sunglasses so I can’t really read her face at all. My skin prickles, and for the first time I start wondering if I’ve made my return appearance at the wrong time. 

“I never expected to just run into you.” Jude says with eyes that leap all over my face.

“Me neither, I…” I feel bad about cutting him out of my life for a guy who almost ruined my life. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has. Over a year now.”

I grimace as the most egregious moments from our last conversation float into my mind and I feel as though I have to blink them away. “I hope you’re doing well.” 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” He pauses again, like he’s not sure how much I even want to hear. “We’re around for the next week. We’re going to be hitting some of the main spots in Dublin before flying back to Berlin. ”

“Touring around. Like tourists.” I cringe at myself.

“Yeah, it’s Astrid’s first time in Ireland.”

I look down at her and smile and tell her that she’s welcome, because that’s what I feel like I should say, but she doesn’t smile back, takes a berry from the top of her pancake stack and nibbles on it. 

“I think that tomorrow we might do the whole Trinity library tour thing. It’s hard to come up with things to do when you, like, lived here for so long, you know?”

“Yeah I know, I couldn’t think of much either. But it’s not like you ever really do all of the touristy things when you live here, do you? Like the leprechaun museum or whatever.” We pull identical faces of disgust at each other and I find myself laughing. I look at Astrid. “What kinds of things do you like to do?” 

She leaves a reluctant pause. “I’m not sure.” and her voice is gentle, accentless. She doesn’t even seem interested in looking at me, and then doesn’t say anything else when I leave the space for her to elaborate, so Jude finally explains for her, albeit a touch impatiently. “In Berlin we normally go out. Like, bars and clubs and concerts. We have a mutual love for music, so.”

“Oh, that’s so funny, I’m actually going to a gig tonight.” I point at Izzy through the café window. “Izzy is the singer, she’s playing later on, and actually I think Jen is going too.”

“Oh, well, she didn’t say anything to me about it.” A line appears between his brows. 

“Maybe she forgot?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“Well, I’m inviting you. Inviting you both.” I attempt yet another smile at Astrid who is now scrolling on her phone and feel a bit rattled by her, aware of her displeasure at my interruption. I give Jude the breeziest smile in my repertoire. “You better get back to your lunch, or your food will get cold.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Okay.” Jude says, still watching me with some disbelief. “Maybe we’ll see you later on?”

“If you’re at the gig, you will.” I give them a rushed goodbye and hurry inside after Izzy, my skin buzzing all over, heart thumping inside my rib cage. 

“I’m sorry if that was awkward.” I mutter to her as I join her in the queue. “That was just my old friend, I haven’t seen him in a while. I think I should have just introduced you.”

“No it’s okay, it wasn’t awkward because you didn’t introduce us, I just felt weird about interrupting an argument like that.”

I blink. “Were they arguing?”

She looks out the window to where they’re sitting, their food uneaten, and it’s suddenly obvious. Their body language is tense and they’ve turned so that their torsos are angled away from each other, Astrid says something to Jude, and he says something back with a furrowed brow and a swipe of his hand. I suppose I didn’t notice it at first but now it’s so obvious, and I feel stupid. “Oh, they were.” 

“Don’t feel bad. You didn’t know. What are you ordering?”

“Oh, um, whatever you’re having. I’ll just have the same.” I drag my eyes away from them. Whatever it is, it’s nothing to do with me. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[xsparklingravenx]

the rose’s scent

Title: the rose’s scent

Fandom: Link Click

Characters: Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang, Qiao Ling, Xiao Li

Rating: T

Word Count: 12,363

Summary: Cheng Xiaoshi, photography, and the act of preserving the past in the face of a daunting future.

[Major spoilers for season 1′s finale.]

AO3

There was a camera in his hands. An old one, small and black, with a space in the hollow for film and a heaviness that could only be associated with something analogue. There was no digital screen to see its subject, a small viewfinder at the top, and chunky buttons that clicked satisfyingly when pressed. A treasure by any other name. A way to freeze the present dead in its tracks, to embalm the past, to prevent decomposition.

The early afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the empty classroom, rambunctious shouts coming from below where Cheng Xiaoshi could see other students mingling. Some were talking while others played sports, balls bouncing across hot concrete. It was a perfectly normal day, achingly so, several lessons behind him and several more to come. This window of peace would last only for thirty minutes more before it would be back to the grind, pens on paper, textbooks open.

He raised the camera, centring the unaware students beneath him in the viewfinder. A girl shyly approaching a lonesome boy, a gaggle of friends laughing and clutching at their sides, the tallest member of the basketball team taking a shot. Which moment was worth the most? What should he choose to save?

“Oh. It’s you.”

Click.

Cheng Xiaoshi hit the shutter release in surprise. Whatever picture he’d taken would have to wait until he got the film developed—that was both the beauty and the curse of a non-digital device. Whirling on the spot at the semi-familiar voice, his eyes fell on the newcomer, his own brows raising in surprise.

White hair, just on the right side of unkempt. Dark eyes, the pupil hidden from view in their depths. A mouth downturned, not quite severe, but not quite soft either. A boy, one Cheng Xiaoshi had encountered only a couple of times personally despite sharing the same class.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, lowering the camera. Lu Guang’s eyes tracked its movement, but he said nothing. Never one for silence, Cheng Xiaoshi carried on. “Too hot for you outside? I get it, the sun is killer today, huh?”

“Not quite. I forgot something,” Lu Guang approached his desk, where a boring-looking, doorstopper of a novel sat unopened. “Just came back to get it, is all.”

Cheng Xiaoshi hummed his response, watching as Lu Guang reached for the book, his fingers curling around the spine. His hands were slender, not quite suited for basketball at a glance, but it was on the court they’d met regardless. He was a new addition to the school, a new addition to Cheng Xiaoshi’s periphery, a boy who didn’t seem to quite fit in with the status-quo.

But Cheng Xiaoshi appreciated that, because he’d always felt like he didn’t quite fit either.

It was a pleasant kind of silence as Lu Guang flipped through his book to check his ear-marked page, as Cheng Xiaoshi fiddled with one of the settings on the camera. Comfortable, even, in the same kind of way it was when he was at Qiao Ling’s house, the two of them doing their homework together while her Dad watched the news downstairs. There was a considerable distance between them, one stood at the window, one across the room at his desk, yet it felt like nothing at all.

“You gonna hit the court again sometime soon?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked.

“You like photography?” Lu Guang’s voice slid the question beneath Cheng Xiaoshi’s own.

They both looked at one another, startled by their perfect timing. A small smile broke like dawn on Lu Guang’s face, while a peal of laughter escaped Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. He shook his head, straightening up. “Me first, or you?”

“I’ll give my answer first. It depends.”

“On?”

“On if you’ll be playing too.” Lu Guang paused. “You’re always the best player. I can’t trust anyone else to shoot if I pass to them.”

It was kind of an arrogant thing to say, but because it was praise directed Cheng Xiaoshi’s way, he couldn’t help but grow euphoric with pride. He recognised those words, that talk of trust and passing. “Oh? I’m the best? Wanna say that again?”

“You heard me the first time.” There was that smile again, small, but fun. “You know you’re good. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice hearing it anyway. Cool, so we’ll hit the court together, no big deal.” Cheng Xiaoshi glanced back down to the camera. “And, to answer your question now, yeah, I guess I do.”

It was a lame answer; so few words could hardly explain the magnitude of what photography really meant. But it felt foolish to go into it with someone who was a casual acquaintance at best, a complete stranger at worst. And what use would there be, really, in laying out every pathetic detail to someone who’d only asked a simple question?

Lu Guang’s gaze was heavy as he stared at the camera in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands. He could feel the weight of it even from across the room. The sun beat through the window onto his back, and time felt gauzy and immaterial, like this moment would last forever if he let it.

He raised the camera, finger hovering over the shutter, but in the end he thought better of it. Instead, he asked, “You look interested. Wanna see it? It’s nothing much, kind of an old model so it might look a little difficult, but, uh…”

Cheng Xiaoshi trailed off as Lu Guang crossed the distance between them, taking the camera in his hands and peering through the viewfinder. For a moment, Cheng Xiaoshi thought he might take a photo, and he wondered desperately what he might look through that lens. Qiao Ling had taken pictures of him, with him, low-pixel selfies on the latest smartphones, washed-out polaroids on those little cameras that girls bought as fashion accessories, but he knew what to expect with those.

But Lu Guang didn’t press the shutter-release. He lowered the camera again, his dark eyes peering over the top. “What sort of pictures do you take?”

“All sorts. People, places, whatever catches my eye, you know?” Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t sure if he did know, but that was fine. “I can take one of you, if you want. Right here, right now.”

“Uh, no, no thanks.” A faint hint of pink dusted Lu Guang’s cheeks, starkly contrasting his pale hair. “I’m good.”

“Camera-shy?” Cheng Xiaoshi laughed.

“Something like that.”

“Why does that sound like it’s not true?”

Lu Guang snorted softly. He handed the camera back, a brush of skin as Cheng Xiaoshi took it. The sun caught them both in its glow. “It’s true enough. Well, thanks for showing me it, but I should…”

“Go?” Cheng Xiaoshi finished for him. “Aw, so that’s it? Just gonna grab your book and leave? Why not stick around a little while. People-watching is great, you can see the whole campus from up here.”

He gestured to the window behind him. Lu Guang stood at his side, looking out. A heartbeat passed, another, and finally he spoke. “Everyone has something going on in their lives, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi agreed. “Way too much sometimes, and then the people in their lives have all their stuff going on, and it just kind of keeps spiralling out.”

“Do one thing, and it affects everyone around you,” Lu Guang mused, leaning his arm on the window, forehead against it. “I didn’t think you’d be one for watching. You seem like the type to act.”

Cheng Xiaoshi looked back down at the camera, a little impressed. “Sounds like you’re the observant one.”

Lu Guang laughed at that, a delightful, shy little sound. Something told Cheng Xiaoshi that it was a rarity, bottled lightning, a moment worth preserving, but he could hardly keep sound in a photograph. There was a limit to photography. It could capture singular moments, save an expression, an act, a mood, but that was it. The heat of the sun, the pulse of his heart, the ring of laughter—all of it would be gone in a moment, a faded memory in motion.

But Lu Guang didn’t know that. He simply turned his head and said, “Maybe I am.”

~x~

The science-fiction and fantasy shows the three of them often got together to watch in the late hours were right about one thing; for every supernatural power, there had to be a limit.

The interrogation room was cold and silent. The food was tasteless, cardboard in Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth. Every bite was a struggle to swallow, stuck to the back of his throat while his hands shook too much to get the chopsticks to his lips.

In the end, he put them down, took a few shaky breaths, then collapsed into his arms. It was the worst sort of crying, loud and ugly and brittle, like any breath could snap his body in two. Small. He felt small, like a child, lost and lonely and breaking apart.

He died. He died. He died. Again, again, again, those words spearing through him like lances, pinning him down to the table, suffocating like Liu Min’s hands around Emma’s throat. All these powers, the ability to throw himself into the past and make a difference, and for what? All to attract the attention of a serial killer, all to lose one of the only two pillars he’d ever manage to build himself.

In here, there was nothing. Without his phone, he had no photographs. Without a computer, he had no security footage. Without Lu Guang, he had no guide. What use was there in power when it had no use? What use was there in power, when the one person he’d shared it with was gone?

He wanted Qiao Ling. He wanted to touch her, to make sure she was okay, to pull her into his arms and feel her warmth against his. He wanted to hear her voice in the present, brushing against his eardrums. He wanted to hear her say, “Come on, Cheng Xiaoshi, it’ll be fine,” just the way she’d done all those years ago after May 12th.

But she was gone too, her bloodstained visage haunting him. She was likely being questioned elsewhere while he was left to stew in the knowledge that his best friend was dead and it was his own fault it had happened. Emma’s memory weighed him down like a stone and what he wouldn’t give to go back, to tell himself, stop.

“You seem like the type to act,” Lu Guang said, their first real conversation of thousands, but Cheng Xiaoshi had always remembered it. Punching a woman five-times his size. Screaming bloody-murder about an oncoming earthquake. Laying in bed, sending a text that should never have been written.

“You seem like the type to act,” Lu Guang had said, and though the memory was faded, Cheng Xiaoshi remembered this; he’d sounded a little in awe. Like it was something he couldn’t quite comprehend, something he couldn’t quite do for himself, which was ridiculous, because Lu Guang was Lu Guang, confident and unflappable and calm.

“Would you say it like that if you’d known?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked through tears, hands balled into firsts. His fault, his fault, his fault. All it had taken was a single woman’s love for her parents and he’d crumbled. One quick text message, one attempt at making a real, palpable difference, and now the blood of his best friend was all over his hands.

Time ticked onwards, every second slower than the last. His thoughts spiralled in disarray. Emma, falling. Qiao Ling, knife in hand. Blood, all over the couch, all over the floor, Lu Guang unmoving. Each sob that shuddered through him threatened to fracture in his heart. There was no coming back from this.

For hours, he waited there. The food went cold. His sobs tapered to nothing. Reality warbled around him, like the smallest movement would splinter it entirely. When the door opened, he snapped his head up, some stupid part of him wishing for someone who would not be there.

Captain Xiao Li stood there, his mouth a grim line cutting through his stern face. Cheng Xiaoshi closed his sore, red-rimmed eyes, and dropped his head back into his arms. His chest tightened; his lungs unable to expand properly.

Movement by his head. His shoulders trembled as he held back his grief, as he fought for words. He needed to ask about Qiao Ling. He needed to ask about the real killer. There was so much he had to do but it felt impossible, paralysing, like he was drowning.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered, but deflecting blame felt wrong, felt like a lie in itself. “It was my fault, but it wasn’t me.”

“The knife had your fingerprints on it,” came Xiao Li’s voice, stiff yet calm. “But, then again, it had the victim’s and the girl’s on it too.”

Of course it did. It was in their house. Cheng Xiaoshi probably used the damn thing every day to cook. “There’s someone else.”

“Convenient.”

“Someone else like us.” Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know how else to tell him, and could only hope he would catch onto the implicit meaning. “We wouldn’t—he’s our—was our friend.”

His voice cracked as he switched tense. A hand touched his shoulder. Hefty, but firm. A weight unlike Emma, unlike his own memories, just a comforting touch.

“Someone told you,” Xiao Li said, but he sounded irritated, not sympathetic. “You asked about him, then?”

“I need you to get me a photo,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, finally looking up. Desperation coated his tone like frost. “Or footage. Something. It doesn’t matter what, I’ll make it work, I just need—”

“To go backwards?” He didn’t break eye-contact as Cheng Xiaoshi gaped at him. “I know what you do. Hard not to notice when you show up on our security footage from two years ago looking the same as you did when I met you.”

Hope ignited in his heart. Death was a node that couldn’t be changed, Lu Guang had insisted as much, but how could he know? “Then, you know—you know what I need, so Captain Xiao Li, please—”

“But you don’t need it,” Xiao Li cut him off swiftly, snuffing the hope out in an instant. “Because it’s a lie. For his protection, and you and your friend. Better the killer thinks they’ve finished the job instead of coming back for more. So take some time to calm down, and then I’ll come back and we can talk about this. You need to tell me everything you know.”

For a moment, the words floated above him, drifting on the surface. Cheng Xiaoshi took a breath, and they sank, crashing into him like a mallet. His chest loosened. “You mean he’s…?”

“Keep it to yourself,” Xiao Li said. “Situation’s tenuous, he still in surgery and might not make it, but they haven’t called it yet. But, listen. I know it wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t the girl either. There’s more to this than we could ever have imagined, and I think you’re already aware that we’re going to need you to get to the bottom of it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi nodded, quick, repeatedly, like one of those little solar-powered bobbing toys that Qiao Ling had left on their windowsill as a gift. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Xiao Li grunted, but said nothing more. A heartbeat, two, and he was gone.

~x~

Warm days were always his favourite. The shop was closed for the day, but the sun was only just on the verge of setting. The red glow across the skyline was a fraction just past golden hour, but beautiful all the same.

Cheng Xiaoshi bounced the ball in one hand, sipping at his boba with the other. Lu Guang was strewn over the park bench, the butt of his own cup resting against his forehead as he tried, futilely, to cool down. Qiao Ling sat a couple of inches away from him. Earlier she’d declared that it was too hot to even think about sharing body heat, and now she scrolled her phone, drinking her own iced tea.

“Oh! I like this one,” she said, using her thumb to hold on whatever she’d found. “Quote of the day from the page I follow!”

“Is this that weird English page you keep quoting from?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked. “‘Cause none of those sayings make any sense.”

“Because you’re illiterate.”

“Because they’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid.” She puffed a single cheek in annoyance. “Anyway, listen, here it is. Take time to stop and smell the roses.”

Admittedly, Cheng Xiaoshi’s English was not outstanding. Different grammar structures were enough to make his head start spinning, but he caught enough to figure out the literal meaning of what she’d said. Though he doubted that was the real intention of the phrase, he looked around with a grin, then shrugged. “None around to sniff, Qiao Ling.”

“That’s not what it means,” said Lu Guang. Of course he would resurrect himself from the dead given the opportunity to lord his knowledge over them. Unlike either Cheng Xiaoshi or Qiao Ling, he knew enough English to not only speak it to the very few tourists who poked their heads into their shop out of curiosity, but to also competently read it. “It’s an idiom.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi’s an idiot,” Qiao Ling giggled.

“Oh, come on! That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It means,” Lu Guang said over the top of them, taking the boba from his forehead, “that you should stop every now and then to appreciate the things around you. Like boba.”

He took a pointed sip. Qiao Ling shook her head and carried on scrolling, the twin ears of her rabbit-themed case bouncing with the movement. Cheng Xiaoshi bounced the ball again, rough texture against his fingers, heat pounding down around him. A sweet smell reached him, like rich honey, the hydrangea of the park spilling their scent all around.

And then, giggling. He looked up, spotting a very young child playing football with his father not far from them, the mother watching with a serene smile on his face. Elsewhere, a couple walked past them, hand-in-hand. A businessman spoke swiftly on his phone as he cut through the park, and Cheng Xiaoshi was at once struck by the enormity of it all, of the world at large.

Déjà vu. He’d experienced this before, in a classroom years ago now, in every single dive he’d ever made. Living the lives of others, feeling their emotions, recalling their memories. He’d lived in the bodies of the dead, of the left-behind, of the lost. He’d lived in the bodies of the living, the leaving, the found. Old and young, happy and sad, determined and aimless, he’d experienced a hundred different viewpoints, a hundred different dreams, a hundred different relationships.

Yet for as well as he’d learned all those different people, he still felt as if he had no idea of himself. Superficially, he knew of his own traits—annoying, impulsive, difficult to love, easier to leave behind—but he didn’t know who he was.

Time felt blindingly fast. Crippling fear clutched at him, as if everything might be snatched from his hands. “Think fast,” he said, tossing the ball at Lu Guang, who had to drop his boba to the bench and scramble to catch it before he got hit in the face. He barely made it in time, the ball inches from his nose, angry gibberish leaving his mouth.

Qiao Ling laughed again, her eyes twinkling in the light of the setting sun. “What was that? You nearly got him square!”

Lu Guang’s expression darkened in a comical fashion. He reached up with both hands, the ball held high, rearing back to throw it back just as hard and without any kind of verbal warning.

“Wait!” Cheng Xiaoshi cried, one hand in his pocket to grab his phone. A couple of taps, and the camera was open. He flipped it to the front-facing camera and raised it, his head low in the frame, Lu Guang caught in an act of violence, Qiao Ling leaning over to flash a V sign.

“Everyone say Shiguang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, snapping the image before giving anyone the time to say it. A half-second later, Qiao Ling came out with it while Lu Guang watched with an inquisitive gaze.

“You didn’t give me time!” she shouted.

Swiping through the phone, Cheng Xiaoshi brought the image up, smiling in satisfaction. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Was it a good one at least?”

“Nah, terrible. You look so ugly.

“That’s because you took it before I was ready!” She jumped up, peering over his shoulder. “Ugh, we all look bad. Delete it!”

“No way!”

“Delete it, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

She reached for the phone. He held it high out of her reach, the two of them dancing around the park in a one-sided tug-of-war that she had no chance of winning. He opened up their messaging app and sent it to both her and Lu Guang. Qiao Ling looked down at her own phone as it dinged, and then battered his shoulder hard with its case. “You’re the worst. Tell him, Lu Guang!”

Lu Guang had his own phone out now, peering at the photo with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for when they were working. He wasn’t using his power—it had barely been twelve seconds, let alone twelve hours—but he took his time before languidly looking back towards Cheng Xiaoshi.

“It’s a good photo,” he said, much to Cheng Xiaoshi’s surprise. He gave Qiao Ling a triumphant look, only for Lu Guang to carry on. “But, is everything okay?”

Drops of condensation from Qiao Ling’s boba cup hit Cheng Xiaoshi in the face, ice-cold, a startling reminder that the moment was as fragile as he’d assumed. Words bubbled in his throat and died on his tongue. How could he ever convey the truth, that he was terrified of the unexpected earthquake that could tear their lives apart in a fraction of a second, that he feared himself changing in a way that would tear the three of them apart, that he knew how fragile life was because he’d lived those scenarios.

But for all Lu Guang was observant, he was no mind reader. For all his omniscience when it came to time, he couldn’t ever inhabit another person’s head the way Cheng Xiaoshi did. So Cheng Xiaoshi forgave him for that and grinned, as wide and brilliant as the dying sun behind him, and said, “I’m smelling the roses. Couldn’t you tell?”

~x~

Sometimes, time sped along like a bullet train, hurtling forward with no means of stopping. Cheng Xiaoshi had experienced that time and time again; thirty minutes before an unpreventable disaster, or a photo’s time limit approaching the elusive twelve-hour limit, or a moment of peace he never wanted to end. In those moments, the minute-hand of the clock seemed to rush like it was desperate to reunite with its partner at the turn of the hour.

Other times, it stuttered to a stop, the train losing power on the tracks. Cheng Xiaoshi had experienced that, too; waiting at the door of the photo-studio for his parents to return, stuck beneath the rubble with another boy’s mother dying atop him, or now, in the intensive care unit, Lu Guang’s arms a mottled collection of bruises from the lines fed into him, the lower half of his face obscured by the mask.

He was awake, though to what extent he was actually conscious, Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know. He’d been warned beforehand about the sedatives, the lines, the machines, the beeping and the alarms, but nobody had told him how harrowing it would be sit at his bedside and see the strongest person in his life reduced to this.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, knowing there would be no response. Lu Guang’s eyelids fluttered, gaze sliding around but never focusing. “Sorry it took so long to get here. They arrested me, you know? Thought I’d done it ‘cause I grabbed the knife off that sick bastard. I know we fight but that’s kind of pushing it, huh?”

He wished he wasn’t alone in this room. Qiao Ling had gone to get them drinks from the vending machine. She’d said that she’d catch up, that she thought Cheng Xiaoshi should go and see him first, but he knew it for the lie that it was. It was obvious; her guilt ran deeper than sepsis despite her bearing none of the fault, but nothing he said would make it any better.

“They have so many drugs in you right now,” Cheng Xiaoshi observed with a forced laugh, taking Lu Guang’s hand in his own. It was cold, and when he gave it a customary squeeze, he didn’t squeeze back. “Guess it makes sense though. They told me you—they lost your heartbeat twice. ‘Cause of all that blood. Ruined our couch too.”

The joke fell flat with nobody to laugh at it. Lu Guang’s eyes slipped shut. Cheng Xiaoshi held on still, because he knew that if their places were swapped, he would want the same. “That red-eyed freak…we’ve got to get him back for it. Not just for this, but for Qiao Ling too. Emma. Everyone who he’s hurt.”

He’d had one-sided conversations with Lu Guang before, at night in bed talking endlessly at the bunk above him, but it was never so lonely as this. Cheng Xiaoshi dipped his head low and drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry…this is my fault. If I’d just listened, if I’d done what you’d said, then maybe—”

The door opened behind him. He knew Qiao Ling’s presence like a second skin, would have known it wasn’t her in the photo studio even if she hadn’t been covered in Lu Guang’s blood and wielding a knife. She stood utterly silent in the doorway, and when he turned to face her, he saw the frozen horror scrawled over her petite features.

She clutched the two cans of soda in her hands to denting. Tears welled in her eyes. She backed up a step, then another. Cheng Xiaoshi stood, and, before she could flee, he grabbed her around her shoulders to pull into a crushing hug.

Alive. Both of them were alive. He’d nearly lost her too, the moment the killer had turned the knife inwards and Cheng Xiaoshi had to grapple with it. His worst fears, seconds away from coming true.

“Not your fault,” Cheng Xiaoshi told her, firm, furious, not at her but at the circumstances, the killer, himself. He already knew what was going through her head because it was the same as what was going through his. “Don’t you blame yourself, you didn’t do anything.”

“Why did this happen?” she asked, her voice watery. “It was just—harmless. We help people, that’s all we were doing, so why…?”

I played with time, Cheng Xiaoshi thought, but did not say. And then I cheated the game. And now he wants me and it’s my fault, my fault, my fault—

He couldn’t spiral, not here, not when they were both damaged and he was fine. Taking Qiao Ling by the wrist, he brought her to Lu Guang and tucked his hand into hers. Then, he deposited the two cans of soda on the bedside before drawing up a second chair to take for himself.

Qiao Ling stared at Lu Guang, shadows deep beneath her eyes, her gaze haunted. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Every detail was a curse that Cheng Xiaoshi wished to forget, so he turned his attention away. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he scrolled through his camera roll. Not to jump to—Lu Guang would never forgive him if he tried to change the past in any serious manner—but to relieve the past in a different kind of way.

“Hey, Qiao Ling,” he knocked into her side, showing her the screen. “Remember this?”

Summer, the setting sun casting its red glow, Lu Guang with a ball held high, his face twisted in irritation. Qiao Ling with her V sign, mouth half-open and her eyes half-closed. Cheng Xiaoshi just in the frame, eyes wide and entertained, mouth spread in a smile for Shiguang!

Qiao Ling scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand, her other holding Lu Guang’s in a vice-grip. “Why do you still have that stupid photo? I told you to delete it.”

“I don’t delete any pictures that make me look dashing,” Cheng Xiaoshi said with a faint smile. “And I don’t delete anything that makes me happy.”

“You’re so childish,” Qiao Ling sniffed. “Do you have more?”

“Tons. Wanna see?”

He handed over her phone, and before long, she was bringing up old memories, Cheng Xiaoshi’s great photos, his less-than-stellar ones. Weak laughter mingled with the beeping machines, and after a while, Qiao Ling said, “When was even the last time you took a proper camera out for fun instead of work?”

Too long, was the answer. He had enough fun with them at work; the photography studio was hardly the most profitable venture in the world, but sometimes someone came in looking to book for a wedding or a birthday. Though they were few and far between, they paid well, and occasionally they got requests for headshots or other professional ventures outside of their supernatural dealings.

Outside of that, Cheng Xiaoshi rarely took his vast collection of cameras for a spin anymore. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to, it was more a time thing. He never had enough of it, and when the urge struck to take a picture nowadays, he always had his smartphone on him.

But smartphone images were one thing. A polaroid, or film, was another. The customary grain of a photo taken the old-fashioned way, the different look to the light, the depth to each shadow. Something to hold, afterwards, something to frame, or pin up, a different experience entirely.

“After this,” he said, “let’s go somewhere. Maybe down to the beach, or some kind of amusement park. I’ll take a hundred pictures.”

“Yeah.” Qiao Ling nodded, then turned her head suddenly. “Oh! Lu Guang…!”

His eyes were open again, half a groan breaking past the mask on his face. His heart rate, which had been steady the entire time Cheng Xiaoshi had been sat there, picked up. His hand twisted in Qiao Ling’s, shoulders shifting. She froze, but Cheng Xiaoshi could pick up the signs of distress he’d been warned about instantly. Sedatives, drugs, the lines—all of it could cause confusion, agitation, fear.

So he rushed to the other side of the bed, took Lu Guang’s other hand in his own. “We’re here,” he said, voice artificially bright, an awkward imitation of the Cheng Xiaoshi he presented himself as every other ordinary day. “Looking at all these terrible photos that manage to make your handsome face look as ugly as that lucky cat Qiao Ling’s dad got us for the shop—”

“That was a gift…!” Qiao Ling said, momentarily distracted from the ongoing crisis in the face of offence. “You take that back, Dad wanted to be nice!”

“And we appreciate it, but it’s still ugly.” Cheng Xiaoshi drew his hand through Lu Guang’s lank, deflated hair, a soothing motion that he recalled from ancient memories of his mother. His eyes still lacked any kind of focus, but that was fine. Normal. Expected. “Qiao Ling, show him that picture. I want him to see what I’m talking about.”

Qiao Ling seemed hesitant to lean over him, but she did it anyway, tilting the phone screen so Lu Guang might be able to see it. Cheng Xiaoshi doubted he could, doubted he really knew what was going on, doubted he even knew that he’d sustained multiple stab wounds and his insides were a ruinous mess, but he hoped that he at least realised they were there.

Lu Guang’s heartbeat slowed. His wracking, half-movements stilled. His eyes focused for a brief second on the phone, and Cheng Xiaoshi thought he saw his friend for real, hoped maybe he was using his power to experience those twelve hours again instead of being trapped here—and then his eyelids fell again and he was silent.

Qiao Ling looked up. Cheng Xiaoshi met her gaze across the bed.

“We have to find the real killer,” she said, quiet determination spilling into her tone.

“I know,” he replied. “We’ll nail the bastard ourselves, I swear it.”

~x~

As a child, Cheng Xiaoshi had never been all that friendly. Spiteful, angry at the world and others, envious of the things they had, the things that had been taken from him. Other children were a threat to his fragile peace, talking about weekends spent with parents, siblings, trips and games and fun. Every reminder that he was different was another blow to the shoddily crafted walls he’d built around his heart, an attack on the desperate coping methods he’d had no choice but to come up with on his own.

By the time he realised he couldn’t go his entire life with a social circle consisting of just Qiao Ling, he was already well past the age where making friends was easy. In high school he drifted from group to group, sitting on the sidelines with his easy humour and cheerful disposition, but it was all an act. He tossed basketballs around courts, pretended he was in with the crowd, and never let anyone close. Popular, but on a superficial level. Everyone knew him, but nobody knew him.

Then, Lu Guang transferred into his class one dreary spring morning. He was a walking anomaly, and left one hell of an impression. With his white hair (bleach?), his stoic expression, his few words, it felt like a mystery had just been dumped straight into first period’s mathematics class. Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t deny that he was more intrigued in him than Pythagoras’s theorem.

But Lu Guang didn’t have much to say, and though Cheng Xiaoshi was a professional at keeping a conversation going, the right time to start one never seemed to arrive. Fortunately, fate seemed to have his back for once, and a couple of weeks later, just as summer was rolling in, Lu Guang wandered onto the basketball court of the local park at the exact same time Cheng Xiaoshi was shooting shots.

One encounter turned into another. A classroom bathed in the sunlight’s glow, the local milk-tea place afterschool, a hazy day when he and Qiao Ling were repainting the front of the battered photography studio. One day, Cheng Xiaoshi invited Lu Guang to sit with him while he ate lunch in the cafeteria, and from then on, they were rarely out of each other’s company. Conversation or companionable silence in their breaks, trading answers while studying, video games in the studio’s sunroom, selfies taken on phones that steadily grew on-par with his beloved cameras as the years flittered by.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s walls fell beneath Lu Guang’s gentle pressure. He shared things he’d never shared with anyone but Qiao Ling; his parents, his fears, his dreams. Lu Guang listened to it all, offered comfort when it counted, and was otherwise a pillar to lean on when Qiao Ling couldn’t be there for him. High school faded into university, which they attended together, and then in the height of the summer one ordinary year, they travelled abroad for their studies.

They came back with the newfound knowledge that they were skilled in ways regular people were not, complimentary abilities that thrived in the presence of the other, and Cheng Xiaoshi wondered if their meeting on the court was fate after all.

“There has to be rules,” Lu Guang said, sitting in the corner of the couch that he always occupied when he came over. Cheng Xiaoshi hung off it next to him, legs over the back, head nearly touching the floor, scrolling his phone looking for a good image to try next.

“Rules,” Cheng Xiaoshi repeated. “Psh. Come on, we’ve got supernatural powers and you want there to be rules? That’s so you, boring as always.”

“If we don’t make rules, something will inevitably go wrong,” Lu Guang said pointedly. “Time is…fragile. Think about it. Change one small thing in the past, and the world you come back to could be completely unrecognisable.”

“Like that would happen,” Cheng Xiaoshi rolled his eyes, stopping on a selfie of them at a party Xu Shanshan had thrown the year before. The lighting and framing left much to be desired; he’d been drunk when he’d taken it and judging by the luminescent blush on Lu Guang’s pale cheeks, he had been too. He didn’t remember much of the night, really, these pictures the only real testament that it had ever happened.

“I’m serious,” Lu Guang carried on, unfazed. “Time could unravel. We could cause paradoxes, we could write people or events out of history—”

“Paranoid much?” Cheng Xiaoshi poked him hard in the side. Lu Guang slapped the back of his hand, which was as much of a declaration of war as firing a bullet. Cheng Xiaoshi sat up, slapping him in the arm in retaliation, and their childish squabble began.

They’d done this sort of stupid playfight many times before, usually when Cheng Xiaoshi’s antics bypassed irritating into outright annoying. It was light and silly, right up until their hands met in mock-violence and Cheng Xiaoshi found himself hurtling backwards into the past.

He stumbled, music booming in his ears, chatter all around him. “You okay?” Lu Guang asked him, voice muffled beneath the din, words slurred into each other. Cheng Xiaoshi blinked hard, his thoughts fuzzy all of a sudden, his heart hammering. “You’ve had a lot.”

Indeed, there was a glass in his other hand. It had been obscured by the angle of the selfie, but he could see the significant amount of alcohol left in it. Should he drink it? Should he not? He was in his own skin but he felt like a trespasser, this whole dive-back-in-time business still not quite second nature yet.

“Cheng Xiaoshi! You idiot!” Lu Guang’s voice rang in his ears, crystal clear unlike his younger, drunk counterpart. “You dived!”

“Not my fault! You slapped my hand, you started the fight!”

“You started it first!”

Were they really going to have this argument now? When past-Lu Guang was looking at him with such concern? “Forget that, quick question, do I drink this?”

A sigh so heavy it could have pulled the moon from the sky. “Yes.”

He downed it in one, which was a mistake. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, and he couldn’t help but choke on it. Past-Lu Guang slapped his back in alarm, but Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“Really?” Lu Guang looked left, where Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling were doing their best approximation of some dance that had been popular on bilibili lately—or, at the time, Cheng Xiaoshi supposed. “Maybe we should go get some air. They’re going to be at that for a while, I think.”

“Agree with him—me! Agree with me, Cheng Xiaoshi, that’s what you did.”

“Was it?” Cheng Xiaoshi answered aloud, to which past-Lu Guang gave him a questioning look. “I mean! Why don’t we join them for a moment? As revenge.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi!”

“Revenge?” Past-Lu Guang’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “On who? You’re really drunk.”

“And so are you, so let loose!” Cheng Xiaoshi grabbed him by the wrist. Qiao Ling cheered as he danced beside her, Xu Shanshan throwing her arms around Lu Guang’s shoulders. Cheng Xiaoshi smiled wide, lost in the moment, lost in this euphoric moment of the past, music so loud it vibrated through him, resonating with his heart.

This power was the best. After trying so hard to preserve the past to recall it, now he could return to it with a simple clap of hands. The heat of the summer on his back, the sound of a transfer student’s voice as he asked a gentle question, chirping insects, grass against his skin, whatever he wanted, he could have it. Nothing would ever abandon him again.

Cheng Xiaoshi had always known he was unlovable, had always known that he would find himself alone again one day, but now if anything threatened him, he had the past to fall back on.

Past-Lu Guang got into it, after a moment’s hesitation. Present-Lu Guang said nothing. They danced until they were breathless, until Cheng Xiaoshi pulled him away to the refreshments and downed another glass of alcohol.

“You need to do something if you’re going to stay here,” Lu Guang said in his head.

Cheng Xiaoshi knew that much, because though he didn’t remember this conversation in particular, he remembered Lu Guang the morning after, a rare-teasing look in his eyes as he asked, “Do you remember what you asked me last night, Cheng Xiaoshi?”

And Cheng Xiaoshi, bleary-eyed, nursing a coffee with the worst hangover he’d ever had, replied, “Hopefully I didn’t propose. I’m only twenty.”

It hadn’t been a proposal. It had been something more damning, it had been Cheng Xiaoshi finally kicking the door to his heart wide-open to Lu Guang. Drunk on the atmosphere and the alcohol itself, he looked his best friend in the eye and said, stupidly, “Wanna move in with me after we graduate?”

He’d never known what Lu Guang’s immediate answer to the question was, because his idiot brain had forgotten it. The morning after, when they’d discussed what had been said, Lu Guang simply told him that he’d given it some thought and had come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial for the both of them to share rent. Cheaper. Efficient.

But here in the present (past?), Lu Guang, drunk and bright-eyed and flushed, laughed and said, “Don’t I live in the studio already? Sure.”

Days spent studying, gaming, reading, laughing. Nights spent staring at the ceiling, both of them wrapped in blankets on the sofa, Cheng Xiaoshi airing his restless fears while Lu Guang listened. He was right; they’d been living together for years now, Cheng Xiaoshi had just been too blinkered to notice.

“Smartass,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, bringing his hands up. “I won’t remember this in the morning, you know.”

“I’ll remind you,” Lu Guang replied. “If I remember.”

“You better,” he said, clapping his hands together.

Coming back was always less disorienting. He fell out of the air, the bright light of the sunroom blinding, the sudden silence a relief. And then he crashed, hard, into the body beneath him, eliciting a sharp cry from his suffering partner who now had a shoulder buried in his bony ribcage.

“Cheng Xiaoshi—!” Lu Guang started.

Cheng Xiaoshi knelt over him, raising his hands in surrender. “We were so drunk that I could have done anything and it wouldn’t have mattered, because we had the perfect excuse to not remember!”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“And besides! It was just a bit of fun. Hardly changing anything big now, am I?”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“And just for the record, it was you who started that fight, so it was you who sent me back there, so you’ve got no-one to blame but yourself.”

Lu Guang deflated beneath him, all the fight going out of him. “You need to be careful,” he said. “I know that you didn’t change anything significant, but that doesn’t mean you can just act recklessly. You have to listen to me.”

“You once told me that I was the type to act. What can I say? Just living up to expectations.” Cheng Xiaoshi winked, a little giddy still. “Anyway, it was nice.”

Lu Guang blinked in surprise. His hair had gone wayward from the fall, a mess of white atop his head. The light flush of his cheeks from the past was absent, but Cheng Xiaoshi could still picture it, his best friend, unguarded in his drunkenness, as open as any book.

“What was?”

“Hearing what you really answered that day.” Cheng Xiaoshi smirked. “Don’t I live in the studio already? That’s hilarious!”

Sweet was the word he really wanted to use, but he didn’t quite have the courage. Despite that, Lu Guang turned his head, that faint dusting of pink sweeping across his cheeks again. Cheng Xiaoshi laughed openly, reaching for his phone again to look back at the picture.

Yes. This power was everything. Everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever needed.

~x~

The ward was different to intensive care. Quieter, fewer nurses, other patients trying to sleep. Lu Guang was awake when Cheng Xiaoshi arrived, flat on his back with the blanket drawn up around his shoulders. It was late-November now, just over three weeks since the incident, and it had brought in the cold.

“Warm under there?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked as he walked in.

“Not warm enough,” replied Lu Guang, voice rusty and hoarse, a thin imitation of itself. “I miss the bunk.”

“I miss you in the bunk. It’s too quiet in there right now. Makes it hard to sleep.” Cheng Xiaoshi dropped his backpack to the floor, rummaging around for his lunch. “Uh, do you mind if I eat in here? I know you can’t, so I don’t wanna make it worse, but I haven’t had breakfast ‘cause we’ve been busy.”

“It’s fine. I don’t have any appetite anyway. Enjoy yourself.”

He drew out his lunch box and chopsticks, dipping the points into the rice. He tried not to look too hard at Lu Guang as he ate; he’d withered in the ICU like a rotting flowerhead. Already a beanpole to begin with, his friend looked unhealthily thin now, and the shadows under his eyes were even more pronounced. The knife had done more than wreck his stomach.

Solid food would be out of the question for a long while still, which was why he still had the tube. Recovery was a long, arduous road, and they’d barely walked any of it.

“How is it progressing?” Lu Guang asked him.

It being the investigation, Cheng Xiaoshi knew. He swallowed his food and glanced away. “It’s…well. It’s going.”

“I thought as much. Your face gives everything away.” Lu Guang smiled. “Too easy to read.”

“Which reminds me! I brought you some books to keep you occupied, wanna see them?”

He dumped his lunchbox on the bedside and hauled up his backpack. Three paper backs tumbled out when he tipped it upside down, three popular fiction novels that had been released in the last two weeks. Not a single one was a murder-mystery, nor did any include stabbings. Cheng Xiaoshi had trawled the internet for hours to vet them.

As he stacked them next to his lunch, Lu Guang shifted in the bed, wincing hard as he tried to push himself up on his elbows. He gave a soft gasp as something obviously pulled, and Cheng Xiaoshi abandoned the books in an instant to take him by the shoulders. “Not on your own,” he said softly. “Let me help, and no sudden movements. Hey, look, I get to tell you what to do for once.”

“So you do,” Lu Guang said, fondness leaking into his voice. Cheng Xiaoshi got him upright, gently resting his back against the bedframe. Without the blanket covering him, he got a good look at the fading bruises on his arms, the one on his neck, the sickly pallor of his skin. He still had a needle jammed into the back of his hand, but otherwise, it was a vast improvement compared to the overwhelming number of tubes in the ICU. “Thanks, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Don’t mention it. Here, check these out.” He put the books in Lu Guang’s lap, letting him parse through them at his own leisure. It took him longer than normal, stiffness in his joints and weakness in his muscles forcing him into a slower pace, but Cheng Xiaoshi was content to simply watch, to bask in the fact that his best friend was alive, to be able to just sit with his noodles and let time do whatever it wanted around him.

But he still grew impatient after a while. Unable to contain himself, he asked, “Do you like them? I wanted to get you something ‘cause me and Qiao Ling are so busy, it’s been hard to get away to come see you.”

Lu Guang frowned. His fingers stilled against the covers, and then he asked, “Didn’t you come visit yesterday?”

Cheng Xiaoshi paused, rice halfway to his mouth. “Uh, no?”

“Oh.” It was a resigned, odd little sound. Lu Guang pressed his bony hand to his forehead, eyes squeezing shut. “Right. You’re right.”

“Lu Guang?” Concern, rising like a tide in Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest. Breath became a little more difficult to source.

“They said it’s normal,” Lu Guang carried on, swift, voice still rusty but calm as usual. “Forgetfulness, bad dreams. I thought you came to see me. You and Qiao Ling. You were laughing about something. It was like looking through a photo—I could see you, but I couldn’t interact. I thought maybe I was just dozing when you came.”

He and Qiao Ling had been very much occupied yesterday—Captain Xiao Li could attest for that alibi at the least. That, coupled with the fact that Lu Guang had been aware and conscious for over a week now, suggested a different scenario. Cheng Xiaoshi could recall only one instance of laughter with Qiao Ling, the very first day in the ICU when he’d wanted to cheer her up, when he’d wanted to calm Lu Guang down, when they’d shared the picture of the past.

“Sounds like a memory to me, just in the wrong place,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “The first day I finally got to see you. You freaked out a little, so we tried to calm you down. But, huh…would that help? Seeing any pictures? I know you’re stuck here and it kind of sucks, so do you wanna escape for a bit?”

Lu Guang seemed to consider it, but only for a moment before he shook his head. “No. Reliving the past won’t change the truth of it—and I can see even you’ve figured that out, seeing as you haven’t tried to change it. Anyway, I can’t just leave you here on your own after you came to see me.”

And though the words warmed him, there was a small part of Cheng Xiaoshi which couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t deserve it. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, voice muffled when he spoke. “You should if it’ll help, if it’ll make you happy.”

“I’m happy right here.”

“In the hospital bed I put you in where you can’t remember one day from the next?”

“What?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to let Lu Guang know. Despite the cold, Cheng Xiaoshi felt too hot, his thoughts stuttering to a stop on a single one. My fault. It’s my fault. I cheated. I changed the past. I didn’t listen.

“You blame yourself,” Lu Guang said, eyes growing bright with lucidity, then stern in the same beat of Cheng Xiaoshi’s fickle heart. “Stupid as always.”

“I screwed things up, of course I blame myself.”

“Did you pick the knife up?” Lu Guang asked, spearing him to the chair with the brutal question.

“Lu Guang—”

“I wish I understood you,” Lu Guang gripped the edge of the blanket, frustration sweeping across his features. “I wish I understood what drives your rash, idiot way of thinking. There is only one person at fault for this, and it isn’t you, or Qiao Ling, the same way it isn’t the client who gave us the job that led to Emma. All blame lies with the killer, never you.”

Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t want to cry again. He’d done enough of it the day he’d sat in the interrogation room and believed that his best friend was dead, but heat welled up in his eyes and his hands began to tremble. He took a thin breath through his teeth as he clenched his jaw, leant back in the chair, tipped his head back too.

“I thought you were gone,” he said to the air, to the ceiling, anything other than Lu Guang himself. “I thought Qiao Ling would be ruined by it, too. I thought you were both gone and I’d be alone again, and it didn’t even seem like a surprise because I knew it would happen one day. I’m just clinging on to borrowed time, waiting for it to run out.”

“Borrowed time?”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m living out moments that my future will dive back to,” he said, voice quivering just like his hands. “I used to take pictures to try and preserve what I had. Now I take them to give my future self some security. No matter what happens, I can always return to that moment. I can feel the heat on my skin, or hear Qiao Ling calling me some stupid name, or laugh with you about some show. I love this power I have, but at the same time, sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off without it.”

Lu Guang listened, because it was what he was best at doing. “You seem like the type to act,” he’d said once, years and years and years ago now, sounding wistful and longing.

“Sounds like you’re the observant one,” Cheng Xiaoshi had replied, and if only he’d known how right they both were, how well they knew the other despite being nothing more than friendly strangers.

“I won’t tell you not to worry, because you will,” Lu Guang said eventually. “Sorry, it’s hard to order my thoughts. Give me a moment…right. Listen. Are you listening?”

“I guess.”

“Nostalgia is a liar, Cheng Xiaoshi. When you look at the past, it always looks better than the moment you’re living in, because there’s an uncrossable gulf between you and it. But there has never been anything better in my life than the moments spent in the sunroom where we did nothing but lounge around, or nap, or lose video games to Qiao Ling. There has never been anything better in my life than the both of you, but if I were given the choice between reliving those days or making new memories with you in the present, then I know what I would choose.”

It was, perhaps, the most open that Cheng Xiaoshi had ever heard Lu Guang be. He leant forward again, looking his friend in the eye properly. He drank in the sight of him, broken and bruised and gaunt, but gloriously alive in a way Cheng Xiaoshi had not thought possible three weeks ago, and it broke something inside him.

He rocked forwards onto the bed with a shuddering sob, and despite his stitches, despite his IV and his tubes and his ruined body, Lu Guang still put his arms around him. Still drew him close, still held him the same way he had the night Cheng Xiaoshi punched him hard enough to send him tumbling.

The memory of that picture resurfaced again, Lu Guang holding the basketball, Qiao Ling with her distorted expression, Cheng Xiaoshi in the bottom half of the frame. Through his sobs, he laughed. “So, what you’re saying is…you really like to stop and smell the roses?”

“Living in the now isn’t so bad,” Lu Guang said, and though Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t see his face, he could hear the smile in his hoarse voice. “Even if all we do is spend our time in the past.”

“Maybe after this,” Cheng Xiaoshi mused, “we could do more photoshoots for clients instead of time-jumping.”

“With what clientele?”

“The ones we’re going to get by smothering your handsome face all over the shop ads.”

“I’m not sure advertising someone who looks like death will do much for our business.”

“You’ll look better by then,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “We’ve got to get the killer before we do that, anyway, so we can let everyone know you’re actually, you know, not dead.”

Lu Guang laughed above him, only to tense when it likely pulled at his wound. He took a moment to recover before asking, “Feeling better now?”

Better was hard to quantify. Of course, part of him was still crushed and it would be until the entire case was put to bed, but compared to minutes ago, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. Breath came easier. Lu Guang was warm against him despite the cold. He was alive. He wasn’t going to leave. In the back-and-forth of their conversation, it almost felt normal.

Things went silent between them. Cheng Xiaoshi stayed there for an unknowable amount of time, right up until Lu Guang’s arms went lax around him. He stayed a few seconds longer, before opening his mouth again to speak.

“If you’d known,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, then stopped, searching for the courage to ask the question. “Do you remember the classroom?”

The answer came delayed, but Lu Guang sounded lost when he said, “Classroom?”

“Oh, sorry, that was totally out of context. Uh, when we were in high school, after we played basketball that one time. I think I was hanging out there and you came in. Do you remember that?”

He extracted himself carefully from Lu Guang’s hold. When he looked up, he found that his eyes had gone a little glassy, a little gauzy, the kind of look Cheng Xiaoshi had seen on him too many times in the ICU when he was awake, but not really awake. He feared for a moment that he’d lost him to whatever crap they had in the IV, or just general exhaustion from exerting himself, but then he nodded, a slow, imperceptible movement. “Yeah. You had a camera. I’d left a book behind.”

“Oh, so you can remember that, but not what happened yesterday?” Cheng Xiaoshi’s teasing seemed to fall on deaf ears, though, as Lu Guang only blinked languidly. “Never mind. I should let you rest.”

“No…say what you wanted to say.”

It felt stupid now he’d had a moment to ruminate on it. But Lu Guang was fading fast, whatever he said wasn’t something he’d be likely to remember, so he carried on anyway. “I think it was the first time we talked properly, and I can’t really remember most of the small stuff we said, but…if you knew then that this would happen, that you’d end up here, would you still have talked to me that day?”

Lu Guang’s eyes closed, head lolling forward. It was what Cheng Xiaoshi had expected, but it was still a little disappointing. He stood putting his hands on Lu Guang’s shoulders to begin the gentle work of getting him lying flat again—only for his eyelids to flutter at the touch.

“I think,” he said, “that I would have done it even if I’d thought I’d die here.”

Then, he was gone again, sleep claiming him swiftly. Cheng Xiaoshi wordlessly laid Lu Guang down, drawing the blanket back over him. Then, he sat back in the chair at the bedside, counted his breaths, and wrapped his arms around himself.

You’re loved, he thought to himself, again, again, again. It was something he’d never really believed, not until now. Even Lu Guang and Qiao Ling’s constant companionship hadn’t been able to convince him of it, but this—this did. And though it had been dreadful, though he’d lived through horror and fear and despair, Cheng Xiaoshi realised that Lu Guang was right.

No matter how he much he relived his past, he would never find that single reassurance there. It was only in the present he could make his peace. Only by living in the moment could he be satisfied. Only in smelling the roses could he realise the beauty of it all.

~x~

Spring brought with it singing birds, budding flowers, a closed case, and Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling took him home together on one crisp morning, the three of them riding the taxi with a boba tea for each of them. Lu Guang had filled out in the last month, not quite at a healthy weight but healthier, the clothes that Cheng Xiaoshi had grabbed out of his wardrobe fitting far better than they would have during the worst of it. Sat in the back of the taxi, it was close enough to normality that it was almost enough to think that none of it had ever happened, that it was just another ordinary day.

And maybe it was, the first in what would hopefully be a long string of them. The taxi parked in front of the photo studio, the driver gave them his well-wishes, and then he was gone.

It was just them and the photo studio.

“I never did ask about the couch,” Lu Guang said suddenly, looking a little pale as he faced the shopfront. Cheng Xiaoshi figured it made sense; Lu Guang hadn’t been back since the night he’d been stabbed, while Cheng Xiaoshi had no choice but to sleep only a short distance away from the scene of the crime. It had desensitised him in a way he hadn’t realised.

“It was evidence for a little while,” Cheng Xiaoshi admitted. “Then I got rid of it with Captain Xiao Li’s help. Couldn’t be helped. Too, uh, stained.”

“The room probably looks empty without it.”

“Yeah, it did, which is why we begged Qiao Ling’s dad to pitch in for a new one. It’s mega comfy, swear!”

Qiao Ling nodded enthusiastically. “Super flumpy. Soft too. Dad spent a fortune on it, so you’ve got no choice but to love it!

Cheng Xiaoshi went in first, unlocking the door and shivering as the cold air of the studio hit him. He went to get the heating on, and found Lu Guang and Qiao Ling in the sunroom inspecting the new couch. His memories flittered back to that hideous night all those months ago, but he shoved them aside just quickly. The past was the past. The present was now.

And just like that, Lu Guang was home. The store stayed shut as they celebrated with breakfast and Qiao Ling’s laptop, where she brought up all the funniest viral videos she’d collected in the last few days. Hours melded together as they lounged in the company of one another on the sofa, trading anecdotes of the police station, the hospital, everything that had been missed.

Eventually, Qiao Ling left for home as evening fell, and Lu Guang, who was not allowed to lift anything heavier than his books and banned from strenuous activity for the foreseeable future (his next check-up) was banished to the bottom bunk.

“I can climb up,” he protested half-heartedly.

“I’m sure you can, but the doctor said you can’t, so don’t blame me,” Cheng Xiaoshi replied, launching his pillow at him. “Give it up, Lu Guang, you’re staying down there.”

“Your restless sleeping will keep me up all night.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

“I’m going back to the hospital bed.”

“Oh? After all those complaints? All those nights of, I miss the bunk, Cheng Xiaoshi! I miss you rattling the bedposts, I miss you sleep-talking, I miss—”

“I never said that.”

“You did. Well, the missing-the-bunk part, anyway.” Cheng Xiaoshi snorted. “It’s not forever, just like the hospital ward wasn’t. You’ll get the top-bunk back eventually.”

Lu Guang grumbled something, but he wasn’t petty enough to argue a case he’d already lost, so it was with that they both burrowed into bed. Being up so high felt like a privilege, a novelty, and utterly wrong all at once. The ceiling was so close that if he reached out, he’d be able to brush his fingers against it.

But in the silence of the room, he could hear Lu Guang breathing, filling space that had been left hollow for too many months. Somewhere along the way he’d grown used to that silence, had learned to live with it, but he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed it until now.

“Hey, Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi said, his voice made louder in the dark.

“Yeah?”

He’d missed this, too. The closeness, being able to call out and know he was there, not needing to pull up his phone and dial a number to reach him. “I never said it before, but welcome home.”

A beat. A moment so quiet that Cheng Xiaoshi maybe wondered if he was already asleep. But then his answer, quiet but firm, cut through the darkness like a gentle flame. “I’m home.”

~x~

Peace was fragile. Cheng Xiaoshi had learned as much as a child, where the transition between being a normal child and a parentless one had occurred in a heartbeat. Normality was a butterfly’s wing, delicate, beautiful, in danger of being torn by any number of outside factors.

Peace was fragile. That lesson had been reinforced the day they went from two guys running a less-than-ordinary photo studio to the targets of a serial killer. Cheng Xiaoshi had forgotten many things from that night—the time on Lu Guang’s bloodied watch, if it was dark or light at the window, the twist of Qiao Ling’s voice drunk on power—but the crisp air of the sunroom stayed with him, the coppery scent of blood, the sticky consistency as he pressed his hand to a still-bleeding wound.

But it was past. Gone, just like every other terrible moment he’d lived through. That was not to say it didn’t haunt him; he’d spent enough nights staring at the ceiling after being jolted awake from a too-real dream to know the finer details might always stay with him. But a haunting was just that; a phantom of the past, something that he could maybe ignore, given time.

Days came, went. He divided his time between the present and the future, making money for the next month of rent through his usual means, and, occasionally, with a dive backwards. Qiao Ling still advertised their services, but Lu Guang had become pickier with what they did. Simple jobs; nothing that could attract danger to their doorstep—making lives better, but on a smaller scale.

Cheng Xiaoshi could live with that, he thought, as he pressed the shutter on a woman glancing to her left, her eyes bright and shining, a headshot to advertise her new novel. He hoped she would do well, and considered buying a copy for Lu Guang when it released.

Life went on. The shadows beneath Qiao Ling’s eyes gradually faded, her presence brighter every time she brought boba tea and news of their friends to their doorstep. Lu Guang was given the all clear for light exercise, and they switched bunks anew. Occasionally, there were hiccups. Qiao Ling calling up to say, not today after they’d made plans, or Lu Guang, as restless as he claimed Cheng Xiaoshi was, caught in a nightmare of the ICU again, but they made do.

Wounds healed into scars, and sometimes those scars, raised and irritable, were impossible to ignore. Cheng Xiaoshi had slapped Lu Guang’s hand away from his stomach enough times to know.

But peace, for all its fragility, was all the more beautiful because of it.

It was one Sunday afternoon, just as spring was trading places with summer. The shop was shut, and it was the time of day when families would be at parks, the sea, eating ice-cream on a pier somewhere or drinking ice-cold drinks beneath the shade of the tree. Cheng Xiaoshi towelled his hair dry as he wandered to the sunroom after taking his shower, his loose, cotton shirt and shorts enough to beat the oncoming heat.

He found Lu Guang on the floor a couple of feet from the sofa, a pillow behind his head as he laid directly in the sunlight, a book in his hands. The entire room had a golden hue that reminded Cheng Xiaoshi of another time, another place, rambunctious shouting from somewhere below, balls bouncing on a court, a perfectly normal day some six years past.

“What’cha doing on the floor?” he asked.

“Best place to catch the sun,” Lu Guang replied. It could have been a lie; the couch was not shaded, or it could have been the truth; maybe the couch just didn’t have enough. Cheng Xiaoshi had long since stopped questioning him when it came to things like this, not when they all had their own neuroticisms born from that day. If Lu Guang didn’t want the couch, then he didn’t want the couch. It was no big deal.

Cheng Xiaoshi stopped in the middle of the room, looking down at his friend. He basked in his presence, in his dark eyes as they focused hard on the words before him, in the glow of his white hair in the sunlight, in the furrow of his brow when he flipped a page. Handsome, he’d always called him, always jokingly, but the truth of the matter was that he’d always meant it.

“You’re staring,” Lu Guang said, eyes not leaving his page. “What did you want?”

A hundred excuses came to mind. Wanted to ask what you wanted for dinner, wanted to see if you wanted to watch a show, wanted to ask your opinion on a shirt, but the truth slipped out instead. “Just to see you.”

Lu Guang raised his eyebrows. “You do that every day.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say? You’re nice to look at.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughed as Lu Guang clicked his tongue. The heat was pleasant, dust motes floating like gauzy stars in sun’s rays. He was hyper-aware of every aspect, the exact shade of brown as light bounced from the floorboards, Lu Guang’s laptop whirring on the desk where it had been abandoned in rest-mode, the curl of his wet hair against the nape of his neck. All the fine details he would lose to time.

But right now, he knew them intimately. It felt like the right moment to ask a question that had been hanging over him. “Do you remember when I came to see you in the hospital?”

A soft snort. “You came a lot of times.”

“Okay, yeah, I did, but I mean one specific time. The first time I brought you books.”

Lu Guang dropped his current novel face-down onto his chest, eyes flicking up and right as he thought. “I think…that was the time you brought food, and asked me if it was okay to eat it. Because I was still on the tube, right?”

“That’s the one.” Cheng Xiaoshi crossed the room, sitting cross-legged at his side as he tossed the towel aside. “You remember what we talked about?”

Another furrow of the brow. “Something about time?”

He wondered if this was how Lu Guang had felt, the day after the party when he’d woken up and said, “Do you remember what you asked me last night, Cheng Xiaoshi?” Had he been frustrated, beneath that calm veneer? Had he been desperately hoping that he had remembered?

“A lot of our conversations were about time,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, no longer feeling like following up on it. It was months ago now. Even if he hadn’t been on a hundred different drugs, it would have been a stretch to imagine he would recall it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine, I was just interested in if you’d managed to get any of those memories back.”

“Hm.” It was a non-committal sound. Wondering if he would go back to his book, Cheng Xiaoshi drew his phone from his pocket and popped open a strategy game to distract himself. He’d just gotten into a campaign, sliding units about the screen when Lu Guang said, “Did you ask me about high school?”

Cheng Xiaoshi paused, the unit he was holding hovering over the target. “Uh, yeah, I did.”

“About…if I would still have spoken to you, even if I knew what would happen.”

Swallowing thickly, Cheng Xiaoshi closed the app. He let the phone hang in his hand, unable to look Lu Guang in the eye. “So you do remember.”

“I thought I dreamt it,” Lu Guang admitted, drumming his fingers against the wood floor. “I had a lot of conversations with you and Qiao Ling that I don’t think ever happened. But apparently this one did. Before you ask, yes, I meant what I said to you. It wasn’t drug-induced, or whatever stupid justification you’re thinking up.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart pounded hard against his ribcage. He flopped backwards, head hitting the remaining space on the pillow, Lu Guang’s hair tickling his cheek as he pressed his face into his. “Cheng Xiaoshi—” Lu Guang began, both fond and irritated, only to cut himself off when Cheng Xiaoshi threw his arm over his chest. They laid there a moment, just the two of them, breathing, breathing, breathing.

“Alright,” Lu Guang said. “Let me try then. If you knew about the outcome, would you still have carried on the conversation that day?”

There was no question about it. For every low moment, a higher one came. For every past happiness, there was a moment of crippling despair, but the same also rang true for the present. For the sunlight, for the motes of dust, for the press of warm skin against skin, Qiao Ling’s laughter, Lu Guang’s reassurances. For all of it, and this singular moment, Cheng Xiaoshi would do it again, again, again.

“Yeah,” he said, his phone forgotten next to him, the urge to snapshot and preserve the moment long since having dissipated. “I would.”

[bobattef]

I don’t need a baby sitter:

Storming up the stairs and slamming your bedroom door shut (so loudly that the walls shook) probably wasn’t the best way to prove to your dad that you were a grown ass woman but hey, he needed to know just how annoyed you were at him.

Being the daughter of ‘the’ Tony Stark definitely had its perks, what 20 year old had their own fleet of cars for one?

But it also came at a price, and not the legal tender type price.

You were only introduced to your father 3 years prior.

At 16, you were kicked out of the American adoptive system for now you were classed as an adult.

And it was only by pure desperation did you seek out your real parents, you thought you hit the jackpot when you matched your DNA with a billionaire.

Fast forward a few years and you had well and truly established yourself in this life of the fast living.

You had attended parties on top of parties.

Rubbed shoulders with real life superhero’s, one’s from even out of this world.

You also had a fair few arguments with actual government personnel and once was escorted out of the White House.

Still, the massive falling out you had with your Dad that particular day would be nothing compared to this one you were about to have as just…13 minutes ago, you had been told you will be given a personal bodyguard.

Yes, your Dad may have said body guard but you translated it to ‘babysitter’.

And at 20 years of age, who would possibly want a babysitter?!

Morgan doesn’t even have one for gods sake!

“She’ll calm down soon” Tony sighs out loud.

Pepper smiles weakly as she strokes Morgan’s hair.

“Do you think it will be any easier when this little one is her age?” She asks him but doesn’t really want an answer.

She knows deep down Tony feels guilty about missing out the fact he had another Daughter out there somewhere.

***

“Rise and shine starlight…��� Your Dad raps on your bedroom door the next morning, or more like afternoon.

“I know you’re mad at me but you can’t be so mad you’ll miss out on brownie-pancakes!” 

“Ergh!” You throw the pillow you were laid on over your head.

“I’m not a child!!” You shout out into the soft  fabric.

“I know” your Dad feels the guilt pang at him again as he remembers that he never saw you as a child.

“But who can refuse brownie-pancakes??…” 

“…I’ll be down in 5” you roll your eyes like he can hear them!

You thought about getting showered and dressed before going downstairs (it was gone noon after all) but the promise of sweet treats for breakfast were too good to miss out on.

Throwing some slacks and a hoodie on, you make your way down stairs, hugging Morgan hello as you walk past her in the middle room.

“I didn’t make them myself so they’re good!” Your Dad says as you take a place at the breakfast bar.

There was quite a spread as you gathered a few brownie-pancakes on a plate, topped them with the whipped cream and strawberries your dad had put out whilst also pinching a few chocolate shavings for the top.

He just smiles at you as you get started on the pile of food, enjoying the silence for once.

It’s short lived though, as you hear the clicking of Pepper’s heels along the corridor over the sound of her speaking quietly, is she on the phone? 

“Ah, glad you could make it Cap” Your dad looks up, past you sitting at the breakfast bar and towards the 2 men now entering the kitchen.

You freeze on the spot.

You weren’t expecting guests, hence the choice of relaxed attire you had on so are hugely embarrassed anyways but the fact that it was THE Captain America was 10 times worse!

You’ve met him a few times at parties, but that’s when you were done up to the 9’s. 

You’d never come close to being with him of course but that never stopped you flirting outrageously with him at every chance.

One, he was ridiculously handsome and two, you knew it would piss your Dad off to no end to see you giggling and grabbing the arm of his Avenger team mate.

He definitely didn’t have anything to worry about now though as you’re sure when Steve sees you dressed the way you are with no make up on, he’ll never look at you twice again!

“Morning girls” the heavenly voice of his rings around the room as Morgan squeals whilst saying her hello back.

You haven’t turned around yet.

Hopefully your Dad and Cap and whoever else it is will go off to the offices for the business it was that had him here.

“Good morning Y/N?” Steve says to you as you pop your hoodie on over your head, at least trying to hide your look of homelessness. 

“Mmm, Morning” you quickly speak up, still not facing him in the doorway.

Your Dad laughs.

He knows exactly what you’re thinking and he’s loving every minute of it.

Maybe now you’ll leave his team mate alone at parties?

“Y/N?” He sounds so innocent as you glare back at him from underneath your hood.

“This is the bodyguard I was telling you about…” he smirks at you again.

You are fuming.

Not only did you point blank refuse his idea of having a personal bodyguard but not even 24 hours later, he’s brought someone in for you to meet whilst you’re looking like a hobo!!

“I don’t need a baby sitter” you say to him through gritted teeth but it soon disappears as you hear Steve’s laughter from behind.

“He’s not a babysitter y/n” he says walking over to you, (oh no!) 

“Your Dad’s right, you need protection,  24/7 protection and when we’re not around, then…”he’s in front of you now as you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Smiling as you turning pink he carries on “…then Bucky will be there for you if and when you need it” 

Your heart sinks at his words.

Did you even hear him right.

Bucky will be here?

Bucky Barnes?!

You turn your head towards the doorway, forgetting about the state of your face, needing your eyes to confirm for your ears.

And sure enough, there he is, taking up the whole frame of the doorway pretty much, it’s the winter soldier.

***

You had met Steve’s old war pal a handful of times before today.

He didn’t really like the whole ‘Stark Party’ vibes you had most weekends and he rarely hung with the others around the compound much.

He would sometimes acknowledge you when Steve would say hi or bye but that’s about as far as interactions have been between you both. 

So you have no idea why your Dad thought the ex Hydra assassin would be the best pick of the bunch to be your bodyguard.

You had yet another argument with him about it, this time with Cap and Bucky stood there in the kitchen to witness it.

You were being a massive brat but you didn’t care.

You had to get your point across but it, once again, fell on deaf ears as just 3 days later you were left alone in the compound with your new security.

It had been exactly 4 hours and 37 minutes since you watched the Quinjet pull out of the landing bay with the Avengers on board.

Off out on some pissy little mission in the Middle East somewhere, you kept your best pouting face on the whole time your Dad explained himself to you.

Turning to Bucky stood just behind you, you could have sworn he sighed out loud as he turned and walked back inside.

Perhaps he wasn’t happy with this arrangement either?

Not that you could ask him.

He stayed in the kitchen whilst you were laying on the sofa, scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

A light rumble from your stomach reminded you that you had skipped breakfast this morning, too annoyed to eat! 

You practically dragged yourself up from the comfort of the lounge area, wrapping the blanket you had around your shoulders like some sort of cape.

Bucky flickered his gaze up to look at you as you walked over to the fridge.

You tried not to look his way as he was leant over the breakfast bar, his dark blue shirt showing off his vibranium arm.

The silence in the room got louder as you finished making your lunch, deciding to sit at the opposite end of the bar.

Bucky sighed, making that same exasperated sound he had done previously on the balcony today.

The noise made you look up towards him, your eyes found his staring straight at you.

Your cheeks heated slightly as you he kept his eyes on you.

“You er…” you cleared your throat “hungry?” 

You ask the Super Soldier, why was he staring at you like this??

But he doesn’t answer, instead he stands from the breakfast bar, the sound of the stool legs scrapping on the floor caused you to jump a little.

He maintains your awkward eye contact with him as walks out the kitchen, away from you.

“Ooook…” you say to yourself.

***

The next couple of days were pretty much the same, you knew the super soldier was in the compound with you whilst your Dad and the others were still out on the mission but you never found yourself in the same room as him, ever.

If you were in the kitchen, he’d wait in the lounge.

If you were in the lounge, he’d be upstairs in his room.

If you were in your room, he’d be down in the gym.

He always made sure he’d leave which ever room it was, just as you were coming in.

It was weird as hell.

You tried to smile at him as you crossed paths in the hallway or stairs but he never gave you anything back.

You started to get annoyed with him.

You weren’t happy with this arrangement, that was obvious, but why did he agree to it if he’s not even going to nod a good morning greeting once in a while.

On day 4 of no Dad or Avenger’s here, you finally snapped.

You had wanted to go and meet your bestie in town but Bucky said no.

You didn’t even ask him if you could, so you wasn’t prepared in the slightest to hear his very firm ‘no!’

“I’m sorry…did you just tell me no?” You gave Bucky a chance to change his answer, rewrite his little script of this conversation but he wasn’t budging.

“You’re not going” he said to you as he turned to walk away but you step in front of him.

This is the most words he’s ever said to you and yet they aren’t what you want to hear.

“I don’t think you can…” you try to argue your point but he cuts in.

“Your Dad said I’m in charge whilst he’s gone” Bucky snaps at you.

“But, I…” the way he’s glaring down at you makes you stutter, what is his problem??

“But nothing” he simply states, walking around where you had been standing he goes back into the lounge. 

You stand there for a few more seconds.

Trying to take in what had just happened.

Did the winter soldier just ground you??

***

You were fuming.

You thought about stomping after Bucky, tell him what’s for and that he can’t speak to you like that but you were still pretty intimidated by him.

He was a trained assassin once upon a time.

So, you opted for the plan which you did best, you’d sneak out instead.

Of course you haven’t had to do this for a long time but you didn’t realise it would have to come to this.

You stayed in your bedroom until you knew Bucky had gone down to the gym, like he always did when you were up here.

You peeked out the crack of your door, just about catching the screen above the elevator as it dinged to say it was at the ground floor.

Perfect.

You eased out of your bedroom, closing the door ever so quietly.

I mean, he was a super soldier after all, who knew if he had super senses??

You tiptoed to the stairs, one last look to make sure the elevator was still displaying the ‘G’ for ground floor, you bolted down them, maintaining those light foot steps each time.

You stepped off the last one and into the reception area, your feet squealed from the rubber on the bottom of your trainers as they hit the shiny surface of the floor.

The noise startled you but you carried on running, you cleared the distance to the front entrance doors in no time, you could feel your hand starting to sweat as you reached out to grab the handle.

Twisting it frantically, it took a little longer than it should have to realise the top was bolted across.

Something you’ve hardly ever seen on this door as it’s never needed to be locked so tightly.

“Eurgh!!” You can’t keep your frustration inside as you desperately try to jump and reach the lock. 

One, two, three times it took you to outstretch your arm long enough to be able to slide the metal across but you did it.

A loud sigh escaping from your mouth as you finally go to swing the door open, almost tasting freedom, but the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from behind you.

Dread fills your body.

You know damn well whose mouth that left from.

Closing your eyes in defeat at getting caught, you drop your head down to the floor also.

“I thought I told you no” Bucky’s voice almost echoed as you both now stood in the reception area.

You could feel your body start to pump adrenaline as his words hit a nerve with you.

“You can’t tell me no” you bite back.

Staying where you are, facing the, now unlocked, door.

You put your hand back onto the handle, you got this far you might as well carry on.

What could he possibly do to stop you from leaving?

“Take your hand off that handle Doll” Bucky threatened you, you almost got annoyed all over again at the tone he had used.

Like telling a child off but the name he added at the end of his sentence took you by surprise.

“Doll?” Your inside thoughts decide to break free as you question if he meant to say that to you.

“Let go of the door” Bucky repeats himself, leaving out the pet name he previously had said.

“Or??” You pushed it a little further with him. 

Maybe because you still had your back to him, so you couldn’t see just how scary he probably looked right now. 

You gripped a little tighter on the door handle too.

You hardly heard his footsteps yet he closed the distance between you both in mere seconds. 

His breathing was suddenly very close to your neck as he stood almost flush behind you.

He reached up, leaning over you slightly as he slid the bolt back across the top of the door with ease.  

You still had hold of the handle, even though the top bolt made your action redundant, you felt like it was your only way to help prove your point.

You didn’t expect him to wrap his hand around yours that was still clutching onto the metal to pull it away.

“Just do…” the sound of him talking so close to your ear almost sent a shiver down your spine.

Why was he so scary?

“…what you’re told. For once” 

He added on that last bit through gritted teeth it sounded like.

With his hand still entwined with yours, he uses this contact to pull you round, so you were now facing him.

Your back hit the wooden paned door as you glance upwards to his face.

His eyes pierced into yours, almost trying to read what was going on behind them.

But you had nothing.

No plan, no action, no words.