#some of these are very ‘why [x] the bus driver all of the sudden’ but y’know

[asahicore]

bad news first - sjy (m)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mean it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

You see Jake before he sees you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you beam.

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

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

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

“Good night!”

“Night, Y/N!”

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

“Gosh, what’s all this for?”

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

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

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

“And what?” you ask. 

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

“What?”

“Is that it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know that, no need to remind me.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t-”

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

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

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

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

“You do English Lit.”

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

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

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

“You’re not answering my question.”

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

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

You pause. “He did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hadn’t started unusually.

“So, bad news first, right?”

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

“I’m moving to Korea next month.”

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

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

“Forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right.”

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You dated your boss?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long were you together?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How much of a bonus?”

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

“Okay. Got any more specifics?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tea tastes even sweeter that day.

--

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

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

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

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

All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could fix him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Snax? What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

“But… I’m scared,” Jake says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Like kissing her, or some-”

“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First, he has a trip to plan.

--

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

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

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

“Oh, we’re not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“People are used to the cold here.”

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such an idiot.”

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?”

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

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

And this is only the beginning.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you so much, Jakey.”

He smiles. “It’s no worries.”

“Did you do it all this afternoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am. It’s just a lot.”

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

“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

“No, just… I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would’ve been hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I guess.” 

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

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz (ask to be removed/added!)

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[eddies-house]

Cheese Dust

Bus Driver!Eddie x Teacher!Reader

8.2K Words

 A/N - I saw this post and had to do something with it so here it is 🥴 also, somewhat proofread but not fully, lmk what y'all think

Masterlist

High pitched childish screams and laughter filled the hallways decorated in various school projects, some with copious amounts of glitter and others with feathers hanging on by a thread of dried hot glue.  The beginning of the school year was always tiresome yet exciting, new groups of personalities filled your classroom abundantly.  In the past few weeks you’d identified the students who would give you a difficult time, those who would participate willingly, and those who were shy and would take a minute to come out of their shell.  Each one was welcome with open arms in your book, teaching was something you’d wanted to do for the sake of kids who didn’t have such great school experiences.  Your mission was to turn that around and make school a place where your students would look forward to coming every day, a safe space where they would never have to fear being judged for not knowing as much as some of their peers.  Not having the best luck with teachers and your academic life yourself, it was your priority to at least be the voice of the slightest bit of change.  Even if you were the only one trying and every other teacher in the school saw you as weird.  

Summer was ending and Fall was on the cusp of taking over, a slight breeze blew in through the metal doors into the building as students rushed out, hurrying home.  Your dress would’ve gone up with the breeze had it not been for your hands tugging at the bottom in a quick move to save your dignity.  Being known as the teacher that’s flashed everyone would be your nightmare especially since your coworkers already had some kind of disdain for you.  Maybe it was because you were younger?  All of them were over forty, the majority being older than fifty.  Being in your twenties may leave them with a sour taste in their mouth, a side effect of being old and bitter towards the youth of America.  The exact problem you were trying to combat as a teacher yourself since all you had experienced throughout school were old as hell teachers who had no patience for children or teens.  Why they chose a profession working with them, you’ll never understand.  

Keys clutched in between your fingers, you exited through the heavy door, the sudden wind taking your breath away momentarily before you basked in the lovely afternoon sun you had yet to become acquainted with all day, being lodged in your classroom for eight hours save for the fifteen minutes of recess.  But even then you were condemned to the shade at the picnic tables near the building to finish grading a few assignments, not being able to enjoy the warmth of the sun against your skin.  Eyes squinting at the brightness, you held a hand above your eyebrows to provide your retinas with some relief although your body thanked you for the vitamin D.  

It was your first day of bus duty, the rotation was still being figured out the past few weeks but they seemed to have sorted it out which meant it was your turn.  Strolling over to the bus loop, giant yellow school buses lined up around it, you stationed yourself toward the very end where no other teachers seemed to be.  Three of them were chatting in the middle of the sidewalk, paying no mind to the students sprinting around them to get to their designated bus.  Catching a glimpse of you at the end of the loop, they sneered, one of them, an older gentleman with a greasy brown combover peppered with gray, a mustache, and very beady blue eyes obviously gesturing toward you, not ashamed to let you see.  Your gaze shifted toward a crack in the pavement, humiliation flushing through your body.  You shouldn’t give him the satisfaction, you know, but there’s something so sinister about singling someone out and finding joy in making them feel so small.  

Letting a puff of air out of your cheeks, you fumble with your keys in between your fingers, twirling them around while you shuffle your feet back and forth, avoiding the stares of your colleagues.  “What the fuck is their problem?” a voice, smooth with a tinge of rasp, speaks.  Tilting your head up ever so slightly toward the bus in which the voice originated from, a man with brunette curls, wild and a bit frizzy lazily walks down the bus steps and places himself next to you, eyeing the individuals in which he was referring to.  His torso is adorned in some kind of a band shirt underneath a denim vest littered with patches and pins, the back displaying ‘DIO’ from what you can see as he stands beside you.  He wears some ripped up black jeans with a chain dangling at his side, finished off with a handcuff belt buckle.  In one of his back pockets is a bandana and in the other is what you can assume to be his neon vest that all bus drivers were supposed to be wearing.  At his words you only shake your head, staring back at the ground.  The mysterious guy points his finger, his hand showing off three chunky rings, pointing at your coworker who had humiliated you seconds ago.  “He looks like a perv.  He even allowed this close to the school?”  The older teacher catches the guy pointing at him, snarling his way, his fellow bullies, two other middle aged women sporting the same disgust.  At this you can’t suppress your laugh, your hand coming to cover your mouth to hide your joy.

Kids ignore every adult’s presence as they hurry onto the buses, some running past you at lightning speed, no doubt hoping to score the very back seat that everyone fights over.  The man next to you has no shame in calling out the foul behavior of your coworkers.  “What’re you lookin’ at porn stache?” he shouts through cupped hands.  A playful shove is given by you and you catch a sparkle in his huge brown eyes, forcing you to linger your gaze on them a little longer as the molten chocolate buttons encompass you.  You don’t even notice the way ‘porn stache’ clutches his chest in astonishment.  “Stop!”  you whisper, embarrassed but satisfied.  A gentle smirk rests on his pink lips as he turns his attention to you.  “What?  I call it like I see it.”  he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the bus and crossing his ankles.  A student approaches the bus, her dress is blue and she sports a high ponytail in her dark hair, scrunchy matching, bangs ruffled from the school day.  She looks too old to be in elementary school so you conclude that she must be a middle schooler as Hawkins Middle shared the bus loop with Hawkins Elementary.  “Sinclair.”  The bus driver’s dimples are on full display as he greets her.  Her eyes roll while she begins stepping onto the bus.  “I don’t know you at school, remember?” She scolds him.  “Yes ma'am.”  He puts on a southern drawl, snapping his fingers before pointing at her as she makes her way onto the bus.  

You’re in awe of him, he’s so care free and different from everyone else.  So effortlessly himself and you don’t even know him.  “Listen, if that guy ever gives you a hard time, say the word and I’ll give him something to be embarrassed about.”  His chin tilts toward the still chattering teachers.  “Them too.”  He points out the other two women.  You’d never learned their names come to think of it, you were on your own island within the school.  “Oh, that’s not necessary.”  Waving him off, your fingers toy with a loose thread at the end of your dress.  “I’m used to it.”  You tell him truthfully.  A nod is offered as he contemplates his next words, biting into his lip thoughtfully.  “Shouldn’t have to be.”  The words are simple yet reasonable.  You dodge them anyway.  “Sorry, what was your name?”  Attempting to change the subject, you remember to pay attention to your surroundings as your sole job was bus duty which entailed making sure students got on the buses safely and no one was left behind.  “Eddie”  He answers as he checks his watch, the last thing he wanted was to be late.  A single pissed off parent and he’d be written up.  One write up for him actually meant getting fired due to his reputation.

Your posture straightens, a way to appear more professional and authoritative not just among the students but mainly the other teachers that thought less of you.  A girl could try but ultimately your aura was more welcoming than intimidating which only gave them more ammo more often than not.  “Are you not going to give me yours?”  Eddie asks with a raised brow.  Now you were distracted between talking to this random bus driver and trying to prove that your colleagues didn’t get to you.  Glancing across the bus loop at them, you give him your name although you’re only halfway involved in the conversation now.  “Why do you give them the time of day?”  His sudden inquiry catches you off guard, your focus darting to the metal head leaning his weight against the bus, eyes squinting in the sun.  Who was this guy?  You weren’t sure how to process him, his edgy looks and his attitude were something you’d never been faced with before, coming from another small town yourself.  

Hawkins became your new home when the district transferred you a year ago for a higher salary to replace one of their teachers who had retired.  You couldn’t refuse since you were basically being paid crumbs at that point.  In the past year, you’d never come across him despite the population being so small, it only made you more curious.  “Excuse me?”  You answer, a hint of offense laced in your tone.  This so-called Eddie guy pushes his weight off of the bus and straightens out, lengthy legs stepping closer to you.  “I’m just saying, if you stop caring what they think you’ll be untouchable.  It’s kinda my thing.”  His hand motions in front of him as if presenting himself to you.  Opting to ignore his advice, you continue involuntarily keeping your peripherals on the snobby teachers.  “Not really an option.”  You mumble, pulling at a hangnail anxiously.  A scoff escapes Eddie, his tattooed arms coming to cross over his chest again as he stands in your view of the other teachers, forcing you to look into his large coffee colored eyes.  “It’s the only option.  Otherwise you’ll go insane.  Trust me, I would know.”  There’s a detection of sympathy within his features, eyebrows slightly knitting together and a barely there frown.  

The hint of confusion on your face indicates to him that you have no idea who he is or what his status among the Hawkins social ladder is.  And he doesn’t have the faintest concept of yours either though if he were to gauge it off of your physical appearance he would conclude that you had a doting husband at home, were more than likely settled in Loch Nora with a nice two story home and a pristine lawn, belonged to the local country club, and all in all, were too good to even be talking to him.  In fact, he couldn’t comprehend why you hadn’t told him off yet until your features communicated to him that you were oblivious to the hierarchy that plagued Hawkins.  Before you can provide a response he’s piping up again.  “How long have you been in Hawkins?  If you don’t mind me asking.”  He asks the question as if he’s trying to put a puzzle together.  Looking him up and down, you decide that you don’t want to give up the information seeing as you’d just met the guy and there was no way to know of his intentions.  “I’m sorry, why is that any of your business?”  Your tone is standoffish.  Buses began to let off that puff of air you hear when you know they’re about to leave, Eddie glancing around as he steps closer to his bus.  Shaking his head, curls dancing along with the motion, he apologizes.  “No-I-I didn’t.  I’m sorry, it's just—I’ve never seen you before and you don’t seem to know–who I am?”  He ends his sentence with a sigh, eyes closing in defeat.  Now he just sounds like an asshole, berating you because you don’t know him but the truth behind it is the exact opposite of what it looks like and what you think.  Eyes widening at him as if to say how dare you?, you begin taking a few steps back.  “Oh, did I miss the memo or something?  I’m sorry, I must have skipped over you on the brochure.”  You sarcastically chide.  He’s frantically waving his hands in front of him, face burning bright red as he tries to undo the interaction.  “No, no, no.  That’s not what I mean!”  Eyes bulging out of his skull, he glances behind him into the bus then to his watch.  “Fuck!”  He whispers under his breath.  “Okay–I really need to get these kids home but–”  Looking less than impressed, you cut him off mid sentence.  “Uh huh.  You don’t need to make an excuse, just go.”  You offer through clenched teeth.  With one last groan, he rushes up the bus steps, boots stomping behind him as he quickly shuts the door.  Through the open bus windows you hear him shout “Alright, sit the hell down or you might end up in the windshield!”  If you had any friends, there was no way to rationally explain what just occurred to them.  

–

Your work life and home life remained the same, bland.  It was hard to make friends in your twenties as a teacher in a town that was densely populated with older folks.  When you did attempt to go out and meet people your age, they really paid you no mind, already set in their ways with no incentive for a change.  Lonely was the best way to describe how you felt.  Neglected by those around you who you’d attempted to at least mingle with but no one would bite.  It was a tedious game of trying to appear more confident than you were at work and appearing nonchalant outside of work in hopes to attract some friends.  A hopeless back and forth that left you starving for attention, the kind of attention that was gratifying and that went both ways.  

Your students were of course the light of your life and each one of them brought an undeniable warmth into the shadows of your existence.  There was only so much that could provide to you though, they were all eleven and it probably wasn’t healthy to have the only positive attention in your life come from kids.  Kids that weren’t even yours nonetheless.  They loved you, absolutely loved you.  Each morning a majority of them would squeeze you in a hug or at least ask for a high five.  It was fulfilling to know that at least your mission in making the school system the tiniest bit better was playing out.  The class was always excited to come in and learn, something that should automatically just be a given but unfortunately wasn’t in the grand scheme of things since the entire system was broken.  At least you could sleep peacefully with the knowledge that your students appreciated you the same way you appreciate them.

As the next week came to an end, you were elected for bus duty again, clutching your keys in your palm as always and leisurely making your way out to the front of the school.  The kids were extra excited since you’d begun a unit on plants and organisms.  They each got to take home a clay pot with a seed they planted and watered in class.  Over the weekend they were instructed to leave it in sunlight and talk to it about anything under the sun so that it would have encouragement to grow.  You’d let them know that plants that had a friend to talk to were more likely to grow bigger and stronger than plants that had no one at all.  When little Samantha asked if she could decorate her pot, you were elated and urged the rest of your class to also do something creative and told them that you would all do a little showcase on Monday.  Now each of your students were quickly but carefully making their way out of the front of the school while carrying their soon to be plants, huge grins plastered on their faces.  

Heading toward your selected spot for bus duty, away from the rest of the grumpy teachers, you stood alone and took in each child that passed.  Each had an insane amount of energy, a buzz from the idea of the weekend just starting.  You’d come to learn that the older teacher just across the way from you, ‘porn stache’ was actually named Mr. Wilson at a recent staff meeting.  His reputation among students was less than satisfactory, they even go as far as saying he’s the worst teacher in the entire school.  The other two women you were still unsure of but you figured you’d get an impression sooner than later.  You would think that since you’ve worked at the school since last year, you would have been enlightened, however you remember how hostile the environment is and it makes sense. 

Bus number eighty six pulls up in front of you, the exhaust letting out air as it breaks.  A couple of students waiting nearby eagerly now stand in front of the bus door before it opens.  Once it does, they’re racing to the back of the bus, screeching at each other and shoving one another playfully.  Down the steps, clunky black combat boots step one at a time before big doe eyes meet your gaze.  You’d forgotten that his bus would probably occupy the same parking space next to the curb so really it was your fault that you were met with him again.  As his eyes land on you, he’s retreating back into the bus and slumping into his driver seat once again.  Avoidance.  Who were you to care though?  The guy had some kind of an ego, saying you didn’t know who he was.  Who did he even think he was?  Some kind of king of Hawkins?  You’d never even heard of him a day in your life and he was a bus driver for crying out loud.  Not that there was anything wrong with the job but there was no need for him to be on his high horse.  

The sudden chirp of one of your students, Jill, caught your attention as she ran up to you with a few of her friends, one being from your class, a boy named Harry and the other kids you didn’t recognize which meant they were from another class.  She explained to you how excited she was for the new unit on plants, her own pot held in between her small hands.  Jill goes on and on telling you about how no other teacher has ever done something like this, at least in all the years leading up to fifth grade.  Harry chimes in to say that he can’t wait to come into class on Monday to see how everyone decorates their own pots.  Your heart feels gooey, the fact that your students are comfortable with telling you that they’re actually looking forward to coming back to school is the biggest reward in your eyes.  The way they banter and joke with you has the other teachers scowling your way, Mr. Wilson included.  Instead of paying any mind to them, you continue to focus all of your energy on your students as they so deserve.  You learn about Jill’s new puppy her dad surprised her with and you request that she brings in a picture as soon as she’s able to, enthusiasm dripping from your voice.  Another student that isn’t in your class speaks up saying “I wish you were my teacher!” with a whine.  At this you offer a small smile.  “Well, I’m sure your teacher is just amazing!”  You respond graciously.  They all grumble in disagreement.

From his driver’s seat, taking in the scene of you on the sidewalk with your students, Eddie can’t fight the slightest upturn of his lips while you interact with them so sweetly.  At the moment he only wishes he had someone like you when he was that age.  Instead he was always met with harsh threats of being kicked out and sent to juvie for things that weren’t even worth that kind of punishment.  His teachers couldn’t give less of a shit about him, he even believed they would hold him back just to cause him embarrassment and not cause he failed his classes.  If that were the case, summer school should’ve been offered to him to up his grades but it never was.  When his Uncle asked about summer school being an option for him back in middle school, the school administration simply told him they were full.  

Eddie hated teachers with every fiber of his being and he had reason to, each one he ever had was always ready to set him up for failure and kick him to the curb.  He was only a kid and the adults who were in charge of teaching him and helping him only caused more mental abuse in addition to the physical and emotional abuse he experienced at home before moving in with his Uncle.  But he got over it and it made him hopeful that you seemed to treat the kids well and indulge in their child-like behaviors rather than disciplining them every time they raised their voice a bit higher than necessary.  You seemed genuine in your facial expressions and the way you would make sure each child received equal attention from you as they put their two cents into the conversation.  

Your smile faded as a fed up Mr. Wilson approached you and the students, his face feigning irritability as he cleared his throat, breaking up the fun you were having.  The way you shrunk down on yourself had Eddie leaning forward in his seat to catch every detail of the dispute he knew was about to happen.  Mr. Wilson addressed you by your name sternly before completing his thought.  “You must know that our students need to get home in a timely manner, we can’t have you holding them up with all the chit chat.”  The condescending voice of an older out of touch man has you internally cringing.  He talked to you as if you were stupid, as if you were some little girl he didn’t deem worthy of his time and that he could simply get rid of with a snap of his fingers.  Your students scurry off, frightened and you scold yourself for stuttering in your response.  “M-Mr. Wilson we have plenty of time still.  Bus duty doesn’t end until everyone is on the buses and as you can see, we still have a lot of kids left.”  You point out the groups of students still littering the front of the school.  “And it’s Friday.  They’re just excited and I think it’s my job as their teacher to let them express that!”  You defend yourself, voice still somewhat shaky which you could just kick yourself for but nonetheless you are standing your ground.  A scoff is earned from the old man before he begins reprimanding you again.  “I think it’d be wise for you to listen to those with more experience than you.  As a man, I think it's my job to keep our ladies in line.”  He spits, the words hitting you in the face.  Eddie, still watching from his spot, determines whether he should step in or not.  On one hand he could tell the guy off however he feels that would go against the whole point since he would also be a man stepping in.  On another hand, gender doesn’t even matter, he’s always had it out for that motherfucker from the day he confronted him about not wearing his neon vest and expressed his distaste for his tattoos while also bringing up that he was living up to that Munson name.  He should’ve punched him right there but thought better of it seeing as it would only add to the things people could say about him.

Formulating a reply in your mind, you attempt to physically appear unbothered even though emotionally you could never understand the thought process of a man under the influence of a power trip.  “I think it's none of your business what I do, personally, Mr. Wilson.  Have a great weekend.”  You dismiss him as he would you, turning to face the buses in front of you and pretending he no longer existed.  An attempt is made by him to pursue the argument however you ignore him and start slowly pacing around as if on patrol while waving to a few students.  He gives up, staring at you like you had just murdered his family and then eventually making his way back to his clique of older teachers.

For a brief second you glance over to ensure he’s gone when a smirk appears on your face at your small victory.  That’s when a familiar voice graces your ears.  “That was metal as fuck.”  Eddie.  He’s no longer afraid to step out of his bus, maneuvering around a student he nearly ran over accidentally before moving aside and bowing as he gestures to the door dramatically for them to enter.  Standing in front of you, he has a grin on his face.  You shrug at his praise, offering no words.  “No, seriously.  Next time you shouldn’t hold back, just fully let ‘em have it.”  A slight joke to lighten the mood as he punches the air with his fist but he means it.  You breathe out a laugh as you stare at the weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalk.  “If I don’t hold back he could probably get me fired.  I bet he’s even trying to find a way to have me fired for what I just said to him but it won’t really hold up since I was nice.”  A frown makes its way across his soft features, his boot crunching a pebble beneath it as he thinks.  “Welp.  I’m in your corner.  Don’t know how much good that’ll do you but I’ve hated that motherfucker since the day I met him.”  He flashes you a smile while blinking his dark lashes at you.  You hum in appreciation.  “Even though I don’t know who you are?”  You mock his words from last week, trying to hide the smile that's tugging at your lips.  A look of sadness emerges on his face before being buried again by his charisma.  “Sweetheart…”  The word rolls off his tongue so effortlessly and before you can even protest the nickname he’s further explaining his stance.  “I didn’t ask if you knew who I was because I’m some cocky asshole with a god complex.  It’s quite the opposite actually.”  He lets the anticipation build while you raise a brow for him to continue, him pacing around the sidewalk in a joking manner, almost like he had to go to the bathroom.  “I’m the town satanist, didn’t you hear?”  Now flashing jazz hands at you, his composure somewhat gives away a weakness.  Amusement paints your expression and a laugh escapes your lungs, he couldn’t be serious.  And he wasn’t as he began to go into a few details to aid in your confusion.  “At least, that’s what they’re all so sure of.”  His bitter tone gives you some insight on the situation as he shrugs.  “I’m not.  But because I look like me, talk like me, y’know…they just assume shit.  Cause I play DND, they think I’m a cult leader.”  Eddie fidgets with his rings but keeps his tone lighter as if this didn’t bother him.  Shock takes over as you listen to him, your jaw drops.  “And I probably just scared you, so I’ll just be on my bus.”  He uses his thumb to point behind him while sticking his other hand in his back pocket that was stuffed with his neon vest.  “No!”  You’re surprised at your involuntary reaction but he stops short of the bus door and waits, arm braced on the frame.  “I-I’m not scared.  I just…wow.  Those are the stupidest reasons to start a rumor like that.”  You offer a sympathetic smile and he gladly takes it.  “Honestly, I just use it to my advantage.  People don’t mess with you if they’re scared of you.  Has its perks.”  An optimistic viewpoint on such a fucked up situation but it only draws you to him more.  The last students saunter up to the bus and Eddie checks the time as he backs up onto the first step.  “I gotta go.”  Voice now soft, maybe even timid?  His face reflects a tenderness and his irises hold some kind of promise in them.  Nodding, you wave gently and with that he’s off with a final wave and a genuine smile that you hadn’t seen on him yet.  It was enchanting.

–

Eddie the bus driver tampered with your mind all weekend and suddenly you were more than happy to take over bus duty if any of the other teachers requested.  His gentle nature packaged in a rugged demeanor lured you in, the thoughts about him just kept manifesting in your mind–his deep dimpled grin, crazy curls, tattoos that now that you think about it made him that much more attractive, and of course those eyes–ugh those eyes would be the death of you if you ever had to look into them again.  Which you were planning to do of course which meant you were plotting your own demise.  Deep molasses pools that warmed you from the inside out, they were as addicting as the soda fountain at the gas station down the street from your house that you stopped at every day after work.  They even replicated the syrupy cola color and you felt as though you could become hooked if you weren’t careful.  So chocolatey almost like brownie batter that you couldn’t resist dipping your finger into, so sweet and so fulfilling.  Even in the sun they were this deep, rich, cocoa brown that you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before you met him.  

The scraping of a metal chair against the tiled floor of the teacher’s lounge snapped you out of your visions.  Suddenly you were faced with the reality of your now cold leftover pasta staining your tupperware container as it sat atop the wooden table, a few teachers chattering while some headed off to catch up on some grading.  What you would give to just continue drowning in those eyes rather than sitting in a room with a bunch of older adults.

Around two weeks later you still hadn’t ended up with bus duty, much to your disappointment.�� You were growing impatient, the only thing you were looking forward to was those big brown eyes and the charming man who possessed them.  On the bright side, your students’ plants had just begun to sprout which left them overjoyed.  Each individualized pot held in it a tiny sprout, a new little life that they were responsible for.  It only pushed them to want to learn more and the way you taught it definitely helped ease a lot of the more boring aspects of the lesson.  

A week later, you were finally approached with taking over bus duty for one of the other teachers who needed to take off early to pick up their own child who had gotten sick.  Although you wouldn’t wish sickness upon anyone, you were ecstatic to hear that you’d been assigned to take over, trying to hide the upturn of your lips.

Once 3:15PM rolled around and the bell rang, your students threw their backpacks over their shoulders and bolted out the door, shouting a goodbye to you as you yelled back at them to walk while laughing at their antics.  Giddiness fills your bloodstream on the way to the bus loop and your hands get shaky with anticipation.  He shouldn’t have this much power over you however you feel that he’s probably the only guy in Hawkins you’d met that you would allow that power to.  Something about your previous interaction with him had you yearning.

Reaching your selected spot, you wait patiently for bus eighty six to pull up.  And when it does, the muffled riff of some metal song is blasting, growing even louder once the door opens.  The music stills as he saunters off the bus in his typical uniform of a band shirt, denim vest, and ripped up black jeans.  As his eyes meet yours while he steps onto the sidewalk, a little grin adorns his face, dimples on full display for you.  “Hey, you haven’t been around for a while.”  he mentions, fighting to get the door all the way open as it was beginning to close on its own halfway, slamming his bodyweight into it which seems to do the trick.  “I’ve got my own things to do.”  You banter with him, a hand on your hip.  He fakes offense as he brings a hand up to his chest with a gasp.  “Things other than babysitting the bus drivers?”  His eyes crinkle at the corner in the cutest way.  “I’m shocked.”  He says in monotone before you both erupt in a fit of giggles.  “I see you got the radio on full volume today.”  You tease, referring to the booming music from earlier.  “Oh yeah, I had to tinker with it but I finally figured it out.  Really sick setup, it’s a pair of pliers holding the wires together.”  He shoves both hands in his back pockets, something you’re starting to pick up on as a nervous habit.  “Don’t tell anyone.”  He whispers playfully with a hand covering one side of his mouth to shield from the other teachers.  You laugh while staring at him in wonder.  Stepping closer to you, just inches away, he raises his eyebrows while lowering his voice.  “No seriously, I could probably get into a lot of trouble if you rat me out.  They’ll be too stupid to figure out exactly what I did but y’know as a satanist and all…they’ll pin somethin’ on me.”  You can’t help the cackle that escapes you, the ugliest sound you could’ve let out.  It only makes him put on bigger dimples for you.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re serious.  It’s just so ridiculous.”  You tell him through breathy laughs.  He nods his head in agreement and chuckles along.  This is the closest he’s ever stood to you and you’re now noticing the spice of his cologne and the scent of tobacco which strangely comforts you.  “I am serious, but it is funny.  I’ll know if you rat me out though.”  He warns, his face adorably stern.  “What?  The teacher that no one talks to is gonna rat out the only person that actually will?”  You give him a blank stare as he clicks his tongue.  “Okay, that’s fair.”  He decides.  The two of you are still going back and forth, deep smiles embedded into your features as if no one else existed when the party comes to an end.  

Mr. Wilson abruptly ends the conversation you and Eddie had been engaged in by clearing his throat in that annoying way he does.  “Munson, I see you’re not wearing your vest again.”  He talks down to him.  Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, not at all hiding it from the man.  “I can assure you, it’s right here.”  He slightly turns and points to his back pocket where the bright vest is hanging.  “Well I would think you’d be wearing it where everyone could see that you’re in fact a bus driver and definitely not some predator.”  Mr. Wilson’s words are laced with venom, you can pick up on the vendetta he has against Eddie–he certainly doesn’t care about the vest, he’s just using it to pick a fight.  “Listen, man–”  Before Eddie can continue, you step in.  “--Mr. Wilson I don’t know if I would be talking when you’re the one dress coding all these girls every single day.  Are you purposely looking?”  Eddie is taken back by your forwardness but also he can’t help the smirk as he takes in Mr. Wilson’s reaction.  His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, stunned.  You await an answer patiently but nothing comes as Mr. Wilson scurries away like a frightened cat.  It seemed he wasn’t able to handle when others would throw his own flaws back in his face.  “Well, fuck.”  Eddie sounds impressed, watching the man hurry into the building.  

–

Over the course of a month you and Eddie continued to have harmless conversations that would sometimes leave you flustered, he was just so handsome and he was by far the funniest guy you’d met.  You clicked with him, something you’d never experienced before, there was an undeniable chemistry.  Even some of your students would make kissy faces behind Eddie as you talked with him, causing a rush of blood to heat your face.  

On a Tuesday in late October, you had been filling in your grade book after school, working at your desk in the front corner of the classroom with most of the lights off to ease your eyes.  The room was starting to fill out nicely with many projects you and your students had done throughout the last few months.  Their plants had grown significantly and sprouted some leaves.  Each one made its home on the shelf toward the back window of the room and every weekend students were free to take theirs home.  They even had names, a piece of masking tape stuck to the front of every pot with them written in everyone’s handwriting.  

Your train of thought was interrupted while you jotted down some notes to assist a student with a subject they were struggling in.  A figure at the door had you glancing up only to be met with disappointment as you realized it was one of the teachers that would always gossip about you.  You’d never heard what they said but you were smart enough to understand that looking in your direction and pointing every so often definitely meant you were the main subject.  Her blonde hair was cut in a bob and she wore red rimmed glasses, perched at the edge of her nose.  The dress she wore was covered in these ugly flowers that looked like puke.  She had to be around sixty.  You didn’t even know her name but you had the slightest inclination that she was going to tell you.  Sure enough as she greeted you, she introduced herself as Mrs. Perry, another standard name.  Making the air uncomfortable, she sat herself on top of the corner of your desk like she owned it.  “I wanted to talk to you about something that myself and the other teachers have noticed.”  She announces.  All you wanted to do was roll your eyes but you refrained.  This was about to turn into some kind of lecture about how you did your job wrong in their eyes.  This conversation had happened before only with another teacher named Mrs. Dennis, who seemed fairly friendly at first but really  just proved that she was like everyone else by letting you know that your ways of teaching were too progressive for their school.  

You acknowledged Mrs. Perry with a hum for her to continue, signaling that you were listening to whatever nonsense she was about to bless you with.  Her lipstick was way too bright for her complexion, that you could see even in the dim lighting of the room.  “We were all worried…” she trails off vaguely.  “Worried about what?”  You ask, now a smidge curious.  They were never worried, they were always at most concerned.  Usually with your teaching techniques.  “Well you see, we’ve noticed that Munson boy has been bothering you at bus duty.  Now I know you probably were too afraid to say anything but—"”—Excuse me?”  You cut in, a tone containing bitterness.  “Dear, we all know who he is, what he’s done.  You know he’s a cult leader, don’t you?”  She looks at you with sympathy, as if to tell you that’s okay, little girl, you didn’t know any better.  It made you want to absolutely vomit.  You’re unable to grasp onto any words, a heavy and shaky sigh leaving you.  “He listens to all that satanic music too, god what awful noise.  It must’ve been terrifying having to face him all this time, you need to be careful.  He might try to exploit you, if you understand what I’m trying to say…”  “Okay, enough!  You know what I don’t understand?  I don’t understand how you people get to go off and judge anyone who is even the slightest bit different than you!  You do it to him and you do it to me!  And you wanna know something?  Eddie is a hundred times the man than all the lowlife ones that work in this very school!  Do you know that every one of them cheats on their wife or has some kind of a creepy problem with staring?”  Your rant temporarily ends and she begins chiming in again.  “I’m assuming you don’t know about his criminal background.  How he’s an accomplice to his dad’s life of crime?  He’s just like him and you’re going to end up like his mother if you don’t get out now.”  Her voice is full of malice, trying to shred any sliver of purity you saw in Eddie.

You have no knowledge of Eddie’s past but based on your experience with the people of Hawkins, you had no intention of listening to any of the things they said about him.  “I’m sorry, I can’t listen to any more of this.  You people really don’t know how to mind your own business. Have you personally ever talked with Eddie?”  You ask with a fire in your eyes.  The woman is rendered speechless for a moment and then speaks back up.  “No, but—“  “—No, nothing.”  You finish, slamming your grade book shut and shoving it into your bag, heading for the door and gesturing for Mrs. Perry to exit your classroom so you can lock up.  She attempts to reason with you some more but you won’t have it, holding a hand up in front of you to stop her as you storm down the hallway.  Eddie Munson was the sweetest man you’d ever come across and you’d be damned if you were going to let everyone talk so lowly of him solely because of rumors and a bunch of hearsay.

—

The next time you have bus duty it comes up in conversation that Mrs. Perry tried to sway you away from him and advised that you get out while you can.  “No fucking way.”  Eddie has an amused smile plastered on his face as he munches on a bag of chips you’d grabbed from the vending machine.  Nacho Cheese Doritos, his favorite.  “Yeah, she just kept saying things.  Was calling you a criminal, and even if it’s true it’s none of her business!”  He can’t help but feel his heart swell three times the size his chest is capable of holding.  Even if he were a criminal, you would still talk to him.  That’s what he heard.  While the rest of the population avoided him like the plague, you flocked to him willingly even if you weren’t sure whether it was true or not.  You were giving him a fighting chance and that’s all he could ever ask of anyone ever, a luxury he never really was granted.  “And then she said I’m gonna end up like your mom and that your dad—“  Immediately you stop talking as his breath hitches, his Doritos falling to the ground and his eyes void of emotion while he seems to be in another realm. 

You're left without a clue as to what to do as he completely checks out of reality.  “Eddie?”  You softly whisper.  “Eddie?  Did I—I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have, I was just going on and on and—“  “Don’t be.”  Suddenly he’s back with you, grabbing his chips from the ground and crumpling the remaining snack in his hands, the foil bag crinkling loudly.  “People uh, people like to—bring up my mom.  My dad.  They like to compare me to him.”  His composure wavers for a second as he squeezes the noisy bag in his fist.  He regains it and straightens himself out, looking directly into your eyes intently.  “I don’t wanna get into it but, I’m not like him.  Never will be.  If you wanna stop talking I get it.”  Your heart shatters as he lets a slice of vulnerability shine through.  How could he think that because of one thing a woman said to you that she didn’t even have the slightest idea about, that it would send you running?  Maybe other people had done so before you?  If that was the case you wanted to personally ruin their lives and avenge whatever broken parts of Eddie’s soul they left behind in pieces.  “Eddie, why would I want that?”  You question sincerely.  

You catch a panicked shift in his eyes as they move from left to right, he’s unsure of where to go from here.  “If I like you I’m not going to stop talking to you because these people can’t handle anything other than their set in stone suburban lifestyle.”  Your voice is gentle and you even venture to step closer to him, just barely grazing your fingertips against his only to realize his fingers were still dusted with nacho cheese.  “Your fingers are still dusty.”  You joke in a voice quiet enough only the two of you can hear.  At this he cracks a smile, pulling one of his curls over his face in a bashful manner.  “You like me?”  He asks with rosy cheeks however his tone is teasing.  “Mhm.”  You hum back with a bite to your lip and a nod.  “How much are we talkin’?  Cause if I ask you out right now and make a complete dick of myself I’ll never recover.”  He’s still twisting one of his curls around his finger, his opposite arm tucked under his bicep in a shy stance.  A step closer to him and you’re breathing in each other's air.  The kids around the bus loop are all too occupied in getting home to notice the flirtation happening among them which you were thankful for.  “If you don’t ask me out, I may never recover either.”  You eye his entire face, taking in the way his lashes dust over his cheeks while he gazes down at you, the hint of stubble threatening to break through his skin, and his pillowy pink lips that you’d hope to taste one day soon.  “Are you busy Friday night?” He asks, bringing the hand that wasn’t layered in cheese dust to brush against your knuckles.  Or so he thought.  “Eddie!”  You scoff, cringing at the gritty texture against your skin.  “Sorry, sorry.  Let me try again.”  He holds his contaminated hand behind his back while allowing his other to brush his thumb over yours.  “Will you go out with me Friday night?  No Doritos, I promise.”  He crosses his fingers in front of his face with a boyish smile.  “Although you’re the one who gave them to me—“  “Eddie!”  “Sorry, moment ruined again.  Let’s go from the top.”  He takes a deep breath but before he knows it, you press a kiss to his heated cheek, smiling up at him with a shy grin and your hands clasped in front of you, swaying from side to side as if this were a movie.  He was really starting to think he was, there’s no way you were real.  “Pick me up at seven?”  You bat your lashes at him and he swears he could die happy then and there.  “Yeah.”  He whispers like it’s a secret among the two of you.  “Wanna kiss you so bad right now.”  He says hushed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  “I think they’d tack on a sex offender charge though if I tried since we're in front of a school so you’ll have to wait.”  He smirks jokingly, you laughing with him.  A series of woops and yells are heard from Eddie’s bus, a few of your students and some others not in your class cheering you both on, leaving you a flustered mess as Eddie just waves at them, nacho dust still coating his fingertips.  

Quickly before he has to leave, you pull out a pen from your pocket where you’d always kept one just in case during school hours, jotting your number on his inner arm.  “Call me.”  You tell him with a close mouthed smile, attempting to contain all of your happiness.  “You know I will, sweetness.”  He purrs, offering you a scrunched up nose with a grin.  

~end~

Masterlist

[lunarsilkscreen]

The Problem with Fame (and money)

Have you ever been in a position where you were famous, and didn't know it? (BEFORE IT GOES TO MY HEAD.)

Imagine all of a sudden, a lot of theoretical dollars get sent to your YouTube bank account.

<aside>Theoretical Dollars is a South Park '08 reference, before YouTube and social media paid their users for good content, you could suddenly get famous. And people just assumed that meant you had $$. Despite being flat broke, and just having a lot of "Likes".

Even today, especially with the "Got paid by Musk on X" jokes; laymem assume that online persona's make *bank*. Who paid them? You?</aside>

That wasn't really an aside this time, it's kinda important.

Even today, you could have like 40k karma on Reddit, and all of a sudden; people think you can do whatever. You can pay for everything! Make everybody's troubles go away.

This gets even more problematic with the fact that people who can make a profit off of other people's fame (your tabloids, your TMZ, your X personalities who *do* make money from outrage content.)

And people who don't know they're famous get hurt for it. Or sometimes benefit from others starstuck-ness without knowing it.

Despite *only* having 40k reddit karma myself, I've had to tell people that no, I'm not internet famous. Not even Reddit Famous. I deleted my account because of old friends who thought I was a walking ATM machine (as opposed to atmospheric or "at the moment")

No bruh.

My own mother constantly asks for handouts. I can't call her a bad mother; but the only thing she sees me as is what she can get for free: bus driver, cigarettes, pocket change, and free home repair.

Despite only having enough to live off of.

And none of these people *fully* understand how money actually works, or how a paycheck works. Which is really sad for anybody above the age of 25. (And sometimes younger.)

If you need a couple thousand a month to make food and bills; you should understand its the *same* f* concept for anybody else you know. And despite being able to do math; they refuse to do that; think like a rational adult, that every person has monetary needs that need to be met. And just keep seeing people as a way to get their next fix. (That is; free stuff, not necessarily free drugs)

"I'm not looking to adopt a 30+ year old at the moment. You need to grow the duck up."

I've literally been harassed by people that I know for not spending money on them; and spending money to start a business. They see the *new* things they don't have.

Even if it just trinkets and collectibles from when you were young. (No I know why, they see graded Beta Magic Cards on pawn stars and they think *every single MTG card is $$*) f*ing commodification.

I seriously don't understand people's thoughts processes.

Well actually. I do.

See, Melin Shoot seems to be mediocritcally known in certain circles. (That's me, I'm Melin; everybody thinks its a stage name.that I use professionally. DESPITE ONLY EVER HAVING BEEN ENLISTED MILITARY PROFESSIONALLY FOR A DECADE.)

And I didn't know that. Cuz nobody told me. Even today people think their own weird thoughts. Like *how much money I must've made for showing up on somebody else's stream*

It sounds like I'm fluffing up my own fame. I'm talking about being a minor character, a very minor character, everywhere... And people *think* I have more pull than I do.

I don't. I absolutely don't.

And yet for some reason; there's this strange way people act around me. As if I *was* somebody famous.

If you can be harassed for being mildly associated with Fame. And people can make money off of you without you making any money for the same: I cannot imagine how awful it must be for those who are *actually* famous.

$*. Imagine being famous for giving the president a blowjob and then just not being able to get a regular job after that ...

[neos-ultra]

use a chip!

-you pull up the battle chips and it seems like luck is on your side, two aqua-blades and a wave-rider! you grab them all and as the two watery katanas form and you step onto the surfboard, your phone speaks up again!

sho-co: "hey so i'm watching this stuff from the news and like, i know aqua style seems like a good idea cuz it beats fire but you like, really really need speed right now soooooooo"

neos ultra: "uhh... it's probably fine!" you stay in aqua style and zoom out on the board! the small wave of water carrying you along as you charge through the streets towards phantom!

-the monster yells out again as you crash forward and slash with both swords! cutting into-

-nothing. because it catches the swords and snaps them like twigs. you fall off the board and faceplant on the ground because you failed to dodge the second arm sweeping you.

neos ultra: "...oh man... that's not-" you feel yourself get listed up onto the air by your leg, upside down and eye to eye with phantom flame. "...hi-"

phantom: "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" it starts slamming you on the ground like a ragdoll. back and forth, your face against the concrete over and over. you hear something shatter as your whole body hurts. lifted up again you see shards of your helmet and one of your lenses on the floor. your right eye and some of your hair are exposed as you're too weak to fight. it's about to slam you down again, but suddenly stops.

???: "that's enough for now flame, return." a posh and confident voice speaks out from above. phantom flame vanishes into a flurry of pixels. you look up at the source of the voice, barely able to focus on it in your condition.

neos ultra: "who... the hell..." despite all the main, you're feeling something very odd. a burning sensation at the source of all this damage... you're not too familiar with this feeling.

???: "oh you'll find out later little hero, honestly through you'd be tougher than that... organisation X sends it's regards." the figure simply walks off, out of sight on the rooftops.

-you limp yourself into an alleyway and turn back to geo. many of the injuries stay, but you can at least walk again. to start walking through town to find a bus stop, you've just got to get home now.

-you feel yourself enter auto-pilot as you find a stop, stumbling onto the bus and falling asleep on it, barely even listening to the driver...

-you are not on the bus when you awaken.

-you are on... your couch.

sho-co: "yoooo alive. swag."

geo: "w... why are you here?"

nitro: "I SENT AN EMAIL WHEN WE GOT INSIDE."

geo: "oh, w-wait how did we-"

"the bus driver": "hey, that was me!" the bus driver is in your kitchen, he seems to be making some kind of stew and... you recognise the recipe. your dad invented that.

geo: "j-j-j-j- AUGH TONGUE WORK!!! just, explain everything man! i'm tired of not knowing stuff!" both the driver and sho-co seem caught off guard by your sudden outburst. "just... please."

sho-co: "woah..." the bus driver stirs the pot a little more and puts a lid on it, sitting down with both of you.

"the bus driver": "alright kid... ask away."

what do you want to know?

-who are you?

-why are you helping me?

[codgod-moved]

What's everyone's role in the sdv au? And what relationships are there (platonic or otherwise)?

okay okay so:

scott + jimmy: take the place of pierre and caroline running the general store (which actually sells seasonal produce that they grow themselves) and they’re married

joel + lizzie: they’re married, ofc, and live down where leah lives in game in that little house and they don’t really have roles? they’re just kinda There except joel also runs a trinket/crystal/etc. shop out of where alex’s house is in-game

impulse and tango are electricians, but tango also works with skizz on the ranch and they all live there together (platonically) (ngl skizz is mainly on the ranch because i couldn’t think of anything else for him, idk much abt him lol but it feels right for some reason. + it’s got 3 rooms so it works with the 3 of them)

etho and bdubs are married and live together in sams familys house (that makes it sound like sam etc. still live there lol i’m just using that as the location name). bdubs makes clocks for a living and i don’t actually know what etho does ?? i guess i can figure that out if it ever comes up

cleo lives next-door to them and idk what she does either ;-; honestly might just have her kinda take the place of willy because i don’t have a stand-in for him and (while this is entirely unrelated to last life) she did have a boat base in hermitcraft season 6 so using some logic leaps it works lol

pearl is the blacksmith because i think she deserves to be buff in every universe <3 bigb replaces gus (connection there was cookie = food, so bigb = food guy lol), scar replaces lewis as mayor (and maaaybe takes the role of the wizard a bit if that ever comes up), grian is robin, and ofc martyn and ren are marlon and gil + mumbo as the farmer. martyn and ren are kinda exes but in a “they were never really official in the first place they just acted like not-friends for a bit then went back to friends and literally never mentioned it” and like i might give grian an unrequited thing for scar just because i think it’d be really funny

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[fandom-imagines]

New Start

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Shane X Reader; slight Sebastian X Reader

Words: 5.1k (I love him)

Warnings: None other than non-proofread writing I don't think, let me know if there are any that need tagging ^^

Note: There could be a part two if anyone would like x)

“Pelican Town,” the name fell involuntarily from Y/N’s lips as she hopped from the bus that had dropped her at her new home. “Guess we’re here, Luna.”

The midnight black cat rubbed itself against her owners’ leg, hopping onto the ground beside the suitcase that had landed mere moments before. A purr escaped the felines’ lips at the feeling off Y/N’s fingers gently caressing her fur, back arching in pleasure.

The cold air blew through the girl’s body as she stepped from the bus with once final ‘thank you’ aimed towards the driver. A shiver ran through her, arms wrapping around themselves to keep a grip on the little warmth she had left. Luna, who was now pressed tightly against Y/N’s leg, seemed to feel the same as her.

“Come here,” she smiled, kneeling with an open arm to allow the cat to hop into, soon surrounded with the warmth of the jacket Y/N had luckily worn for her journey. “Good girl.”

The sound of a young girl’s laughter sounded throughout the street, blending into her eyes along with the roaring engine of the, now departing, bus. A small grin crawled onto the Y/H/C-haired womans lips as she spotted a young, dark-haired girl holding hands with a man who seemed just as happy as she sounded.

“Shane, who’s that?” The young girls’ eyes were now fixated on the newest arrival to Pelican Town, legs shuffling themselves to move behind Shane’s body.

“Not sure, Jas.” The man’s own attention was now on Y/N, unsure as to what to say to her, if anything.

“She has a kitty!” Jas, or at least who Y/N assumed to be Jas, pointed towards Luna whose head had popped out from the jacket once the chatter had begun.

“She’s called Luna,” Y/N smiled brightly as she, once again, pet Luna. “You can pet her if you’d like!”

Jas seemed to ponder this for a moment, small fingers playing with the strands of her hair, “can I, Shane?”

“Sure, Jas. Just stay close, okay?”

The kitty owner smiled at their interaction, kneeling down to the ground so that the girl could have easier access to the kitten when she came over.

“Wow, she’s soft. Shane, feel!” Whilst her words were mostly directed towards the taller man, Y/N still felt slightly flattered at the compliment.

Shane, who was sporting his usual blue jacket, kneeled beside Jas, cautiously petting the cat with such care that it seemed like he feared he would break her.

The three of them remained on the ground for a few moments, Jas still as excited as before at the kitten, until an elderly man’s voice caught their attention.

“You must be Y/N,” he grinned. “I’m Lewis, mayor of this town. I see you’ve met Shane and Jas already.”

“I have, it’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Y/N returned his friendly smile, shaking his outstretched hand with pleasure.

“Likewise. I suppose I should get you to your new house, hey?” Lewis chuckled, brown cap falling down his head slightly as he did so.

“I’d appreciate that,”

“Come on, Jas. We should let Lewis show this girl to her new house.” Shane gave Jas a small, almost unnoticeable, smile as they climbed back onto their feet. “Thank you,”

“They were nice,” Y/N commented as the two people from before left.

“They are. That’s Jas and Shane,” Lewis began speaking whilst leading Y/N towards her new home. “Jas is his goddaughter, very shy but talks a lot once she’s out of her shell. And Shane, well there’s more to him than meets the eye, but I’m sure you’ll figure that one out.”

The two of them walked in a comfortable chatter, occasionally being stopped by the townsfolk to either greet the new villager, or to say hi to Lewis who then introduced Y/N to them anyway. Everyone she had spoken to had seemed extremely kind, not having a single rude thing to say to either of them, some aweing at Luna who was now hidden inside the jacket, fast asleep from the long journey.

“Here we are!”

The house in front of her was small, but it was cute and big enough for herself and Luna. She knew that it only had a single bedroom, something that was to be expected considering her situation. The place seemed as though it had been deep cleaned recently, which was likely.

“It’s pretty, I like it.”

Lewis let out a soft hum, handing her the keys to her new place, “I’m glad! I’ll leave you to get settled in! You should try and meet some people tomorrow, everyone here is friendly; I’m sure you’ll get along well with them all.”

“Thank you, Lewis,”

“Anytime!”

*

The house was cosier than she had expected.

The fireplace was already lit, filling the entire place with warmth during the cold weather. In front of the fireplace stood a couch, placed just on top of a blush rug which Luna gladly hopped onto, curling up into a ball, enjoying the fires heat.

“Get some sleep, Luna.”

The kitchen was neatly laid out. Everything was pressed together whilst still maintaining the comfortable feeling of the house. It was clear that this place was cheap. She couldn’t complain, it was perfect for her; away from her old life, tiny yet comfortable, everything about this place screamed ‘perfect’.

The bedroom was larger than expected, a double bed seated in the middle of the room with a cabinet placed at the end of the frame. Other than that, the place was ready for her to make it her own.

Ditching her suitcase on top of the duvet, Y/N grabbed her shower supplies along with some night clothes and headed towards her new bathroom.

“Here’s to a new life,”

*

Early the following morning Y/N rose to the sounds of birds chirping.

Luna was laid asleep beside her, snuggling into the duvet alongside her owner who was doing the exact same. The unexpected noise didn’t startle her, it simply confused her. Having forgot where she was, Y/N was incredibly confused as to why birds were singing in a dull city.

“Wait,” her voice croaked. “We’re in Pelican Town.”

The sound of her owners’ voice seemed to wake Luna from her own slumber, tongue sticking out to lick the human before cuddling into her warmth, the duvet seemingly not as comfortable as her favourite person.

A silent giggle left Y/N’s lips at the kitten’s actions, hands raising from the cover to stroke the dark fur which Luna seemed to enjoy judging by the soft exhale that she let out, something that simply made Y/N continue her actions.

“Morning you little rascal,”

The two lay in bed for a few more moments, the clock soon hitting 7:00 which was when Y/N decided she should, most likely, get ready for the day having planned to go around town and meet some of the others that live here.

As though she sensed the sudden idea to get out of bed, Luna snuggled further into Y/N as silent plea not to leave just yet; to stay and enjoy the warmth and comfort of the creaky oak bed.

“I know you want me to stay, but I need to meet people,” a soft sigh escaped her lips as she spoke. “I promise I’ll bring back some treats, okay?”

The mention of treats alongside a promise seemed to be all the motivation that Luna needed to get up. Her small frame raised itself up from the warm sheets, dropping herself onto the floor with a soft thud, something that earned a giggle from the human.

“Come on, let me get ready then you can have some treats.”

*

“Be good for me, okay Luna?” Were her final words as Y/N left her new home, locking the door behind her.

The ground was layered with autumn-coloured leaves, the sound of them crunching beneath people’s feet being oddly satisfying to those hearing it. The wind blew threw Y/N’s Y/H/C locks, tossing them into her face which caused an annoyed from to coat her lips as she tugged the strands away, back to their original place.

In the distance, a large building could be seen with a sign that simply read ‘Pierres’ above it. Deciding to head there first in search of treats, Y/N took off with a newfound spring in her step. It wasn’t everyday you get to have a new start in a new town now, is it? A chance to be who she wants to be, without anyone saying otherwise; it was perfect.

“Welcome, you must be new here!” A polite man with glasses greeted from behind the counter. “I’m Pierre, owner of the shop. This is my daughter, Abigail,”

“Hey,”

“Please feel free to have a look for anything you need.” Pierre finished once Abigail had also greeted the newcomer, pointing around at various displays and their signs.

“Thank you,” Y/N gave them both a polite smile, immediately heading towards the pet aisle.

“What’re you looking for?” A soft voice startled her, pulling her away from her search for treats. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Abigail,” The purple-haired girl, now known as Abigail, introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. I’m just looking for treats for my cat, Luna, I promised I’d bring her some back.” A blush crawled onto her cheeks, embarrassed at admitting how she talks to her cat as though she was a human, despite knowing many do it.

“I’m sure she’s sweet. The treats are just down here!” Abigail said with a smile, the two of them walking down towards the end of the aisle, determined to find Luna some treats. “I always wanted a cat, my dad would never let us though. Shame really.”

“Cats are great, they can be a pain sometimes though,”

“I’m sure they can.”

It wasn’t long until they finally found what they were searching for, Y/N quickly choosing a pack of treats she was sure Luna would like judging by the flavour; all the items in the store being homemade meant she couldn’t get anything that she would usually buy, not that she was complaining,

“If you ever want to come hang out, I’m usually around here somewhere,” with one final smile, Abigail was heading back to her previous place when Y/N had first entered the store.

After paying for her items, Y/N left with one final waves to Abigail.

*

One long walk later, Y/N somehow found herself seated inside the local saloon with her new friend Abigail who had looked for her, inviting her for a drink with herself and a few other of her friends which they were currently waiting for.

“So, Y/N/N,” the use of the nickname made the named blush. “What made you move to a town like this?”

The question made her freeze, drink still raised slightly to her lips; she was certain that the shock was evident on her face.

Having not had time to come up with a perfectly constructed lie, Y/N simply said the first thing to come to mind, “new start I guess.”

“Makes sense. A nice quiet place where nobody knows you, I wish I were able to do that,”

An internal sigh of relief formed inside Y/N’s mind, relieved to have gotten away with such a short and simple answer; it was something she wasn’t used to. In fact, being able to get away with anything was a miracle in itself.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to someday,”

“I have some good friend, but sometimes I want something new, you know?”

Y/N gave a simple nod, completely understanding what she meant.

The saloons comforting warmth floated throughout the room, the background noise being ignored as the two continued to chatter about anything and everything, Y/N blissfully unaware of the gaze of another drinker fixated on her and her friends.

*

A banging head was what Y/N awoke to the following morning, only made worse by the ringing of her alarm clock which she switched off, a disgruntled groan leaving her lips and she did so. The noise simply made the pain in her head worse, a sigh sounding from her once she realised this. The sun shining through the open window also added to the pain.

Luna meowed from beside her, placing her paw on her owner’s face in an attempt of waking her.

“Sorry,” she apologised to the cat. “Want feeding?”

Feet padding across the cold wooden floor, Y/N headed towards the kitchen, both to take some painkillers and to feed Luna.

A smile crawled across her face as Luna sat at her feet, desperate for her food. Chuckling once Luna darted for the food, Y/N decided to finally get some painkillers to ease the banging pain in her head.

The wooden cabinet stood high in the air, too high for the girl to reach.

“Are you kidding me?” She sighed, attempting to jump to the height of the shelf. “I just want some painkillers,”

It took a few minutes for her to finally give up, a sound of defeat echoing throughout the room. Unfortunately, there was only one chair currently and it was plastic, no way anybody could stand on it without it breaking in two. So there was only one option: give up and suffer, at least until she was able to get some.

“Maybe Pierre’s sells some,”

It was a simple decision, her only idea as a matter of fact, and so she decided to head to Pierre’s and hopefully she’d bump into Abigail.

*

The autumn air was chilly yet still retained some type of warmth within. The leaves were, once again, coating the ground with their coloured patterns, blowing away on an adventure throughout the town. Despite the temperature being colder than she would have perhaps liked, Y/N pressed on, desperately praying that the fresh air would provide, at least some, relief to her head.

“Morning, Y/N,” Abigail smiled upon seeing her enter, evidently not as hung over as she was or maybe she just had painkillers, who knows?

“Hi,”

“You look hung over,”

“I am,”

The two continued to talk whilst searching for something to ease the pain.

“I hate to say this, but I think you’ll have to try Joja Mart,” Abigail sighed. “It’s up the road, just past the blacksmiths, you can’t miss it.”

“Oh, thank you.” Y/N gave one last smile as she left, ready to continue her search for what she needed.

*

Joja Mart was just what she was expecting, bold and flashy; everything she hated. Perhaps the hate stemmed from working for companies similar to this, or maybe she had always hated bold and flashy things, perhaps a mixture of the two. Either way, she had no choice but to go inside and find her painkillers.

The inside of the building was just as bad. Spotless and bright with posters plastered all over the walls advertising their own business, despite the customers having been inside their shop already. It was strange to say the least.

Y/N wandered the aisles of the store, searching high and low for any sign of painkillers; sadly, there were none. At least, not until she reached a shelf in the middle of the store that seemed to hold painkillers. Unfortunately for her, somebody was blocking the shelf.

“Excuse me,” her voice was meek. “Could I get some painkillers please?” Despite her pain, Y/N still mustered up a smile for the man, hoping to ease the clear annoyance on his face.

Wordlessly, the worker grabbed a box for her and gave her it before turning his attention back to stacking the shelves.

“Thank you,”

*

Swallowing the pills with a sip of water, Y/N was looking forward to feeling better again.

It was always fun drinking with friends, but the aftermath was not so fun. Despite all this, it was still worth it, at least in her opinion. Spending time with Abigail, Sebastian and the others of their crew was enjoyable, and it was fun to finally be able to let go and be who she wanted to be, who she is, with other people around her. She had thoroughly enjoyed doing so.

It was nearing late afternoon, the sky darkening and the moon replacing the sun that once sat high in the sky. The masses of people around Pelican Town had faded, leaving only a few lone wanderers to explore the territory; quiet and beautiful.

Deciding to remain outside instead of heading home, Y/N wandered to a place she had found yesterday with her friends.

The bridge was long, holding itself above the water with various wooden pillars below the surface. The water itself was a calming blue, moving steadily down the river, moonlight reflecting from the waves.

A content smile crawled onto Y/N’s lips as she took a seat at the end of the bridge, placing her shoes that she had removed whilst walking here on the ground beside her whilst dipping her, now bare, feet into the warmth of the water.

Time passed, the only reason she knew this was having watched sky darken further until it was a deep shade of blue, bordering on black.

“Hey!” A woman’s voice sounded behind her. “You look like you could use a drink, I’m Pam, and this is Shane.”

Looking behind her revealed both a man and a woman.

The woman was shorter than the man, whom she recognised from when she arrived at the bus stop, with short curly hair and a slightly distorted facial expression which Y/N assumed was caused by alcohol.

Shane looked the same as he was her first day there, blue jacket and green t-shirt keeping him warm and the tiniest bit of stubble covering his chin. He seemed slightly unhappy to be here, even more so when Pam flopped down beside Y/N, dragging Shane with her as she offered them both a drink.

“No thank you,” she politely declined the drink that was held out to her.

“More for me then, kid,” Pam’s voice was slurred, the stench of alcohol leaving her open mouth as she spoke. “What brings you here anyway? I know you’re new around here,”

The same question Abigail asked yesterday, why did everyone seem so intrigued by her sudden appearance? Then again, it’s not like you get many new faces in this town from what she had both seen and heard.

Shane’s attention seemed to be caught by this question, ears wide open to hear her answer but gaze fixated on the bottle of beer in his hand.

“Uhm- “hesitation was evident in her tone, something that only piqued the man’s interest. “I needed a new start.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; a new start was desperately needed for her. “Personal stuff I suppose,” she giggled nervously, running her hand through the warm water.

“Sounds about right, hey Shane?”

Shane wordlessly nodded, raising his beer to his lips to take a sip.

The three of them sat in a comfortable silence, the occasional sound if wind blowing through and the clanking of beer hitting wood being the only sounds that could be heard between them. None of them knew how much time had passed, only that it was nearing midnight.

“I should probably get home; my cat will be hungry.” Y/N sighed, lifting her feet from the water and putting her shoes back on.

“Be a darling Shane and walk her home,” Pam smiled at him, chuckling as Shane rolled his eyes in annoyance yet no remarks left his lips, simply standing up alongside Y/N.

“Come on,” Shane muttered, walking down the bridge with Y/N following quickly behind.

The short walk back home was quiet, Shane ignoring her attempts at making conversation, disregarding them along with a rude comment. It’s not that he wanted to be rude to her, she seemed lovely, but he had to.

His behaviour was confusing to say the least, leaving Y/N worried that she had done something wrong. This thought was clearly written on her face, almost making Shane apologise to her, feeling bad for making her doubt herself but alas he didn’t.

“Uhm- thanks Shane,” despite his rude behaviour towards her, she still offered him a smile. “I appreciate it.” And with that, she headed inside her house.

“Yeah, no problem,” Shane whispered once the door had shut behind her.

*

A few weeks had passed, and Y/N was getting along with most of Pelican Towns residents, especially Abigail and Sebastian who she would definitely say are her best friends with Penny being a close second.

Much to her disappointment, Shane was still quite rude towards her which sucked considering that she found him pretty cute.

“He’s like that with everyone he doesn’t know,” Abigail told her. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I guess,”

Despite all this, she was starting to feel safe and at home here in this small town. It was a small step towards her desired future, but it was one that she was proud of. Baby steps.

It was a quiet Saturday morning, Y/N on a usual morning walk to pick up some food for both herself and Luna. This was a routine for her, one she was used to by now. Less than a month ago she had found herself stuck doing everything for her mother, and now everything she did was for herself and her cat, just the way she liked it.

“Morning, Shane,” Y/N gave the dark-haired man a soft smile, watching as he directed his gaze towards the ground.

“Will you just leave me alone,” he snapped, not enjoying the way her smile dropped slightly before swiftly changing back into a bigger one.

“Sure,”

Shane watched with slight guilt as the girl walked away from him, desperately trying not to let his words get to her.

He knew she was nice. She had helped Jas and Marnie quite a bit in her first few weeks here, but he couldn’t let her get close to him. He didn’t want to ruin her innocence and kindness with his harsh and troubled personality, no matter how much he wanted to talk to her.

He couldn’t apologise.

*

More time passed and Shane found himself missing his, albeit small, interactions with Y/N. Instead of wishing him a good morning, she simply ignored him, staying true to her agreement of leaving him alone.

He would watch out for her of course, silently praying that she would say something, anything, to him so that he could politely reply to her. Nothing was said, not to him at least.

The small smiles and touches she shared with Sebastian at the Saloon irked him for some unknown reason. Shane hated the way Sebastian’s hand brushed hers as he handed her the drink that he had just bought her. The mere sight of Y/N and Sebastian together was enough to ruin Shane’s mood for the rest of the day, especially when they were alone together. It was clear Sebastian liked her as more than a friend, but the question was, why did Shane care so much?

*

The dark nights sky hung high above Y/N, the moon shining brightly alongside it to provide at least some light to anyone who may be out this late. It was a relatively clear night, not many stars littering the sky.

She had skipped meeting up with Abigail and Sebastian to instead sit alone, dipping her feet into the water much like she had done a few weeks before.

She was too deep in her thoughts, that she missed the sound of somebody walking down to sit beside her. It wasn’t until they were sat next to her, that she realised.

“Y/N,” they said.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you, Shane.”

Her words made Shane wince. Despite the words seeming harsh, there was no harshness in her voice.

He hesitated for a moment, before doing what needs to be done.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that to you, you were only being kind. There was no reason for me to be so rude, so I apologise.” His own words made him feel uncomfortable, not used to apologising like this.

“It’s okay, I get it. You’re scared of getting close to people, so you push them away,”

Shanes eyes widened at how accurate her deduction on him was; he didn’t know what to say in response.

“I-“

“You don’t have to say anything, Shane. It’s fine, I forgive you.”

Sincerity laced her tone, words being completely truthful. He didn’t know what to do, so instead he watched her. Her gaze was fixated on the night sky, feet gliding through the clear blue water. She looked truly beautiful.

That’s when it clicked inside his head: he likes her.

“I should get going, it’s late.”

Shane watched as she lifted herself up onto her feet, picking up her shoes soon after.

“Wait,” he called when she began to leave. “Let me walk you home?”

*

And that was how their friendship began.

The pair would greet each other each morning, meeting up in the morning to walk together, Shane going to work and Y/N going for her daily walk. In fact, that’s where they were now.

“It’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” Y/N giggled, wrapping her arms around her bare arms in a vain attempt to avoid the cold winter air.

Shane glanced at her cold frame, shaking his head slightly. “Should’ve worn some clothes then, shouldn’t you?” His words were clearly a joke whilst he laughed, slipping off the blue jacket covering his own arms, gently placing it around her.

The jacket itself was too big for her. The sleeves fell below her hands and the body buried her body; it was comfy.

“T-thanks,” Y/N smiled, praying that the cold weather had made her cheeks red, hiding the blush that had just formed.

“Don’t mention it,” Shane was praying the exact same thing. “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket anyway?”

“I uhm-“unsure as to what to say, Y/N glanced down at the ground, silence filling the air whilst she fiddled with the sleeves on Shane’s jacket.

“Hey, what’s up?” Shane halted his movement, noticing that Y/N had done the exact same.

Nervously, he walked towards her until he was stood in front of her. She remained still. Shaking his head slightly, Shane raised his hand to her chin, tilting her head to face him. “What is it?”

“I’m not supposed to wear them in winter,” her words were rushed as she immediately tried to turn away from his concerned gaze, but to no avail.

“Why?”

“M-my mum told me not to,”

Shane’s eyes widened at her words, finger unconsciously running across her red cheeks. He had no idea what to say to her, no idea how to comfort her; it was clear that she was getting upset. So he did the only thing he could think of and enveloped her in a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head, enjoying the way her arms wrapped around his body whilst her head rested against his chest. His hand moved from her back to her hair, wordlessly stroking to hopefully provide some comfort.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed there, both just enjoying the others touch.

“You should get to work,” Y/N said, pulling away from his embrace. “You’re probably already late.”

“Being late is worth it as long as you’re okay,”

*

“Hey, Y/N/N!” Sebastian yelled as he saw Y/N outside Pierre’s, looking at the calendar.

“Hey, Seb,” she smiled sweetly towards the man who gladly returned it. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” he chuckled. “Hey I’ve been meaning to ask you something!” Despite his attempts at seemingly calm, it was clear that he was nervous.

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go on a date? … With me…”

Surprise covered Y/N’s face, unsure as to how to react.

Sure, he was nice, but she didn’t like him, not like that.

“I, uh-“her sentence was cut short by another man behind her, someone who had clearly heard the question.

“Let’s go, Y/N,”

“Shane?”

Y/N felt Shane’s hand grasp her arm, the gentleness of the grip contrasting the dark look on his face.

“I-okay?”

And with that, the pair left a confused Sebastian behind.

“Shane, are you okay?” Y/N asked once the two were alone. “You’re kind of scaring me,” her hand reached out to Shane, resting itself on his arm.

“Do you like him?” His voice was merely a whisper, gazing at the ground as though he was too afraid to look at her.

“Well yeah, he’s my friend so of course I like him,”

“No, do you like him?”

“Shane? No, I don’t. I like y-“ Y/N’s eyes widened at her words, realising that she had almost confessed to her crush without thinking. “No, I don’t like Sebastian.”

Shane’s eyes glanced towards her, noticing her blushing cheeks.

She was still wearing his jacket; he could feel the sleeve on his bare arm as he melted into her touch. She looked adorable.

“Good,” Shane sighed, stepping closer to Y/N who was simply confused. “Because then we might have a problem,” his hand rested itself on her blushing cheek which darkened further at the contact.

“What do you mean?” It was her time to avoid looking at him, hoping that the blush wouldn’t get any worse. “I mean, it’s not like we’re anything, so why would we have a problem?”

“Because I like you,”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession, gaze darting up to the taller man. “You what?”

“I like you, okay? I have for a while now. If you don’t feel the same, just say and I won’t bother you again.”

Y/N stared wordlessly, unsure of what to say to him.

“Got it, I’ll leave you alone,” Shane’s hand dropped from her cheek to his side, slowly walking away.

“Shane,” she called out to him, only to be ignored. “Shane!” This time she ran towards him, taking hold of his hand to spin him around, lifting herself up to his height to connect their lips.

Her spare hand reached up to his neck, pulling him down to her. The faint taste of beer could be tasted on his chapped lips. Shane’s own hand moved to her cheek, melting into the kiss.

“I like you too,” she whispered against his lips once they pulled away.

Shane simply kissed her again.

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation P11

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Warnings: Violent scene description, death.

Notes: Wow, this seems really out of nowhere to post. Anyway 🤪 I don’t want this sitting in my drafts anymore so I’m going to let you all know if I edit it before the next update. Just... take it.

I spent the better half of the day looking over my shoulder as I worked. Candace’s sudden reappearance isn’t going to be swept under the rug just like that... she’s a dead girl walking and I’ve never been a fan of the zombie genre.

By the time I was counting the money from the cash register, Love seemed to have grown a smile. Though, I could still see the sleep deprivation in her eyes.

“Will,” She leaned forward on the counter, perching her head up on her hand. “could we do something tonight?”

At that moment, I really wish I could’ve said yes. But... I couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“Maybe another night? I’m...” I thought quickly, placing coins down and counting.

“We need to talk.” She leans forward to catch my sight. About what exactly, I want to ask but before I can even get a word out, Forty walks in with his mouth open.

“Will, would you be a doll and help me with something.”

I don’t say anything, only thinking to myself: why here and now? Forty has some of the worst timing... and then I spot Candace. Right behind Forty, with a white smile I hated to see.

“Oh, Will. This is Amy.” Love gestures toward Candace and my stomach turns and probably does some flips while it’s at it. If I wasn’t so used to staring into the face of death, I would of probably thrown up by now.

But, there’s no way.

“She’s Y/N’s friend.” Forty finishes. I bite the inside of my cheek. No fucking way she’s here unprompted. I’ve been so incredibly meticulous about everything including my online presence.

I look to Love’s face and she seems to spot something.

“Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” What? She’s not going to ask if I’ve seen a ghost?

“Yeah— no, yeah. I’m alright.” I smile wide, wiping my brow as I do. “It’s just—“ I turn to ‘Amy’. “Is Y/N still in town?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.” She looks me in the eye. For a moment, I feel myself crack under the pressure.

Hold me back, I might just kill her now.

“What do you mean?” Love looks to her.

“I was supposed to pick her up the other day, but she hasn’t responded to my messages since.” Candace looks at me with those dead soulless eyes of hers.

So, she’s the mysterious driver. When did she start driving that type of car? Since she’s decided to pursue a career in stealthily ruining my life?

What the fuck am I going to do about her and what the hell am I going to do about you?

“Will,” Love suddenly says, bringing the conversation back and snapping me out of my thoughts. “didn’t you see Y/N?”

“Y— no. No, I know it was late by the time I got there, but I passed a bus on my way.” I remember the way your soft face felt in my hand. “Could she have taken public transport? Maybe a cab?”

“I highly doubt it.” Candace replies immediately. I’m sweating, but I’m trying not to lose my cool.

I finally finish sorting through the change, no doubt making some mistakes. But with that done and out of my way, I need an excuse to slip through the cracks.

“Listen, I’m sure she’s just disappearing again. You’ve told me she’s done it before, I don’t see why she wouldn’t do it again.”

Love shifts around, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m calling Lucy.”

And there she goes. Love leaves the room after her statement, and I know she’s feeling worse. Why did you even bother coming back? You’ve literally disrupted everything in our lives... it’s going to be difficult to fix, Y/N. There’s no simple way around this, we just have to make it through alive.

~

Love remained in another room at Anavrin until it closed and the street lights turned on. She quietly spoke into her phone, observing the floor pathetically.

She spoke with Lucy openly, though she avoided the topic of your sudden disappearance.

The conversation eventually dies down, and she says her goodbyes.

“I need to show you something.”

Love sets down her phone and looks to Amy. She hadn’t noticed her enter the room.

“You surprised me. What is it?”

She continues once Love’s attention is on her. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but do you mind if we discuss it in the car?”

~

And just as expected, Forty’s one-off comment about needing help wasn’t easily forgotten by himself. I was dragged out of Anavrin rather quickly. Though, in a way, I appreciated the easy excuse to get away from such a venemous snake as Candace.

Forty never let up, no matter how obvious I made my lack of care, he remained just as motivated and just as annoying.

“Listen, this is probably my most prestigious and ambitious project to date.” Forty’s arm swings itself over my shoulder, bringing me in as he repeats the same garbage he always does. I’m glad to see that spirit remains.

“They’re wanting to make it into a movie, can you believe that?” Forty’s arm lifts itself, only to fall down on my shoulder like a pat on the back.

“I’d love it if you could... you know... help me out. A genius writer isn’t a genius without their ghost writers!”

That’s... not what that is, but I get his point.

When I looked at him, his eyes were wide and his bottom lip stuck out comically. He was pouting? No, it’s more of a puppy dog look. The lazy man’s pretty please.

I should have time for this, even if I’d rather stop by the nearest gas station and get you dinner.

“Earth to Will, I need you focused!”

~

Love wraps her arms around herself, feeling very out of place.

Amy continues to fumble with the lock, until she hears a click. She perks up and gives Love a nod.

The storage lockers were easy to access, surprisingly so. But none of this felt right.

“Wait.” Love says suddenly, halting all movement. “I don’t want to do this.”

“But you’re just a door away. Please, Love, you’ll want to see this side of him.” Amy pleas.

What side of him? The side that owns this locker she so happened to know about?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care for it either.” Love says, though she looks unsure of herself as she fiddles with her bag. Perhaps a part of her would rather be unaware of something as vile as Any had dared describe in the car.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Thats coming from someone with bold claims.” Love retorts. She catches herself for a moment, seeing a glimpse of someone she repressed long ago. She’s not that person anymore, she swore to herself she never would be.

Despite Love’s reluctance, Amy lifts the door up and pockets her bobby pin.

Hearing the doors roll up, you had expected Joe to step in. But he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you jumped at the image of Love and Amy, pinching yourself to truly believe they were really standing there.

You wanted to speak, to shout, to cry out... but your voice was far too gone. Your throat was hoarse and bone-dry.

“Oh my god.” Amy hurried, observing you inside the glass box. “You’re still alive— she’s still alive!”

Love remained silent, her jaw hung open in utter disbelief. Will... Will had told her you left.

He lied? Or Amy isn’t who she says she is.

But why would he? It... it must’ve been for a good reason, right? Will isn’t this kind of person, right? Maybe— maybe he got himself into something. Love clutched her keys between her fingers, her knuckles turning white as she focused her burning stare into the back of Amy’s head.

“Y/N. Can you hear me?” She says, hitting the glass.

You’re barely responsive, a mixture of dehydration and lack of nutrition hitting you all at once. The sheer excitement from seeing them took a lot out of you.

“We’ll get you out of there.” Amy states, turning her head to face Love.

Love jumps at her sudden movement, grip shaking as she stares into Amy’s eyes.

“Help me, would you?”

Love slashed her keys in Amy’s direction and she tumbles back. Without a second thought, Love does it again, this time catching her straight in the neck.

For a moment, Love realizes what she’s done. With the way you began to pound on the glass and the look of complete and utter fear Amy is giving her, it’s kind of hard not to. Love stares at her keys, stuck inside the side of Amy’s neck as a thick stream of blood flows downward. She grips her own neck, holding tightly as her mouth puckers like a fish out of water.

Amy doesn’t want her to pull them out—the keys- and Love notices that. But she does. She yanks the keys toward herself and watches Amy slap her hands down around her own throat.

She’s silent, surprisingly silent despite the gurgling.

Love watches Amy hit the ground and crawl toward her feet, all the while a pool of blood forms beneath herself.

When Love looks toward you, you’re curled up in the corner of your glass cage, arms covering your eyes as sobs shake you violently. She didn’t want you to witness this side of her, truly. But even more so, she had never wanted it to come out again.

However, Amy was a threat to the three of you. Love knew you were locked up somewhere, how could she not? She knew that Will— Joe- had done this in the past, but it could be different now— it could be better. A private detective isn’t just for show. But Amy didn’t have to get involved— didn’t have to go sniffing around and finding your location before she could.

When she notices you peek past your elbows, she feels her gut clench at the sight of the way you cower at the sight displayed by her feet. Watching someone bleed out is hardly a pretty sight and Love understands.

Knowing full well that she can’t turn back, Love wipes her keys and drops the rolled up door.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Baby, You Light Up My World

well I haven't done this trope yet...

sold to 1D au - modern au - absolutely a fluffy crackfic

I didn't do much editing, I just wrote this for funsies.

Please consider leaving me a comment since it is my birthday month. As both a bisexual and a Leo I desire nothing more than validation.

tw: mild panic attack

---

“Jaskier! You useless layabout!” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here!”

The young man dropped the book he’d been reading and jogged down the staircase from his room to the main floor. “Yes, Mother?”

“I had to pay the bills after your father died mysteriously so I sold you online.”

“What!?” Jaskier gaped, jaw dropping.

“Yeah, and your new owners are almost here.”

“My new owners!? M-Mother, what do you mea-”

“Go upstairs and get your shit packed,” the frowning woman interrupted. She lit up a cigarette and rolled her eyes in obvious annoyance. “That doorbell is going to ring any minute now and then my problems are over.”

The shocked teen wandered back up the stairs to his room, where he packed his meagre belongings into his old summer camp duffel bag and laid his father’s old guitar gently in its velvet-lined case. His mind raced with questions. Would they be nice people? Would they be cruel? Would he be happier with these strangers than he was at home or at school? Who were they? Was this even legal?

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ringing. He grabbed his bag and his guitar and slowly made his way to the front door. His mother was chatting quietly with several people - men, judging by their low voices - and his heartbeat skyrocketed.

“C’mere, boy,” she ordered, snapping her fingers with impatience. Jaskier scurried forward. “Meet the people who are taking you off my hands.”

“Hello, Jaskier,” said a familiar voice. His head shot up, blue eyes wide and confused.

“G-Geralt deRiv!?” his gaze moved from one man to the next in quick succession. “L-Lambert… Eskel?”

It was his favorite band, Wolf Direction.

---

EARLIER THAT MORNING

---

“Why the fuck are you buying another band member?” Lambert asked, glancing over Vesemir’s shoulder to read his laptop screen. “Why not just hold some open auditions?”

“Because this is a fanfiction, Lambert,” their manager huffed. “And this is how Geralt and Jaskier's meet-cute has to happen.”

“Oh.”

---

BACK TO THE STORY

---

Lambert took his guitar and Eskel took his bag while Geralt herded Jaskier onto the large tour bus parked in his too-short driveway. Jaskier was still in shock; his limbs moved on autopilot as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch that stretched along one wall of the bus, beneath the tinted windows. Geralt sat beside him but kept his hands to himself, waiting for the old man with the mustache to speak first.

“Well hello there, Jaskier,” the stranger greeted warmly. “I know this is an unconventional situation but I wanted to personally welcome you to Wolf Direction. I'll admit that it's all a bit sudden and unexpected, but we needed someone with your gentle disposition to help balance out the boys and you're almost the same age, which is convenient.”

"I'm-" Jaskier blinked owlishly. "I'm joining the band?!"

"You're going to be the new front man," Lambert winked.

Jaskier, completely overwhelmed by the events of the past half-hour, passed the fuck out.

Geralt startled a bit as the brunette boy slumped against him and he gave Vesemir a worried glance. “What the fuck?”

By the time Jaskier managed to regain consciousness they were already nearly a hundred miles away. He sat up from the arm of the couch and stretched, listening as several places in his lower back popped into place. “Huhn?”

“Oh!” Eskel grinned, setting down his X-Box controller. “You’re awake!”

“And you’re Eskel.”

“Yeah… I sure hope so.”

“Cool.”

“Please don’t faint again!” Eskel pleaded, propping the smaller boy against a pillow and covering his lap with a blanket. “You scared the shit out of Geralt.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier blushed, allowing himself to be prodded and adjusted. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just been a very weird morning.”

“It’s going to get weirder,” Lambert added, slamming the bathroom door closed behind him. “Because now we have to know which one of us you’d like to bunk with. There are only four bunks and the bus driver has the couch.”

“Uhhh…” Jaskier’s eyes flickered between Eskel and Lambert. “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll take the floor,” Geralt offered, poking his head out from behind one of the bunk curtains. “He’s new and probably terrified. He’ll need more sleep than I do after the day he’s had.”

“I- No, it’s-” Jaskier tried to argue but none of the band members wanted to listen.

“Alright, floor for Geralt. Jaskier can have his bunk.”

Jaskier felt wrongfooted all over again. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem. You any good at FIFA?” Eskel asked, offering Jaskier a second controller. The young man shook his head and settled back onto the couch.

“I brought a book,” he smiled timidly.

“Oh, you and Geralt will get along swell,” Lambert teased, tossing Jaskier the duffel. “The bus has been infested by bookworms!”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to read a book or two,” Vesemir said over his shoulder. “Might actually manage to fill some of the space between your ears.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert groused. He fumbled his way into his own bunk. “Let me know when it’s time to eat.”

Jaskier, still surrounded by a cloudy sort of surreality, opened his book and lost himself in the pages.

---

TWO WEEKS LATER

---

Jaskier had forgotten how much he hated thunderstorms. He whimpered as another loud bang shook the bus and rattled him in his tiny bunk. Thankfully the driver had parked them for the night, so he didn’t have to worry about crashing into a tree during inclement weather. He was worried about blowing away in the wind, however.

“G-Geralt?” he whispered, poking his head out from behind the dark curtain. Geralt blinked up at him from his air mattress on the floor, still mostly asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna share the bunk tonight? I-” Jaskier licked his lips anxiously and took a deep breath “I’m scared of the storm.”

“Sure,” Geralt lumbered to his feet and slid onto the twin-sized mattress next to Jaskier. Their legs were pressed together and their faces were only inches apart. “Sorry. Bit of a tight squeeze.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaskier muttered. He was glad that the darkness kept Geralt from seeing the way his face had gone red from being in such close proximity to his favorite member of the band.

He and Geralt had been dancing around each other lately - terrified of their very obvious and very mutual feelings for each other - and Jaskier was glad for an excuse to be near him again. Geralt spoke up again: “Scared of storms?”

“I used to have the attic bedroom at my house,” Jaskier explained, keeping his voice low. Eskel was right above them, snoring away. “And once, during a storm, a tree branch flew through my window. I haven’t been able to sleep through the sound of thunder since.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Geralt replied. One of his heavy arms came to rest over Jaskier’s ribcage, holding him without holding him; merely a comforting weight to settle his nerves.

“Me, too,” Jaskier smiled. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed his acknowledgement. He tucked the younger man’s head beneath his chin and started humming an actual tune, running through all of Jaskier’s favorite Wolf Direction songs until he started snuffling quietly. “Sleep, Jask. I’ll keep you safe.”

And he did.

---

TWO MONTHS LATER

---

"Thank you so much, Detroit, we loved being here!" Jaskier waved to the audience and let the microphone drop. He was panting for breath and sweat dripped from his bangs into his eyes, still... this was the happiest he'd ever been. Geralt wrapped a strong arm around his waist, waved to the screaming crowd one last time, and escorted Jaskier into the wings.

"You did great, babe," he smiled. Jaskier grinned up at him.

"Really?"

"You always do."

"You guys are disgusting," Eskel made a fake gagging sound.

"I think it's adorable," Lambert argued. They switched sides every week or so to keep things interesting. "They were made for each other."

"Whatever," Jaskier stuck his tongue out. "This is a found family strangers-to-lovers fic. We can do whatever we want."

"I want to kiss you," Geralt suggested. Jaskier grinned again.

"Sounds like a great ending to me!"

So they kissed, and it was beautiful and sweet and everything Jaskier had ever hoped for.

[agustdakasuga]

A Place Called Home | Chapter 19

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook

Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

As you sit there and endure the tortures of being an illegal fighting ring’s prisoner, you soon hear what you dread the most. Your worse nightmare has come true. (Italics: Flashback moments)

Chapter warning(s): Light teasing, violence. Please read at your own discretion

The 6 just continued running, afraid that there would be people to chase them. Namjoon saw signs of a city and they cut out of the forest. 

“Let’s go.” He led the group towards the flashing lights of the buildings. Looking at the signs, they realised they were across town. There was no way they would be able to make it back home on foot. 

“Shall we take a train?” Taehyung asked. 

“We should have enough money.” Jin nodded. Hoseok took his pouch out to count what they had. He was in charge of the money for their trip. 

"Wait, it’s after curfew. We’ll get in trouble if people report us.” Namjoon frowned. They decided to start walking. Hopefully they had enough energy to talk until the curfew was up, then they could take public transportation. It was dark and the streets were empty enough that they wouldn’t be questioned or reported to the police. 

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asked Jimin, who stumbled a little. 

“I’m okay.” Jimin gave a tired smile. Yoongi took his water bottle and handed it to Jimin. Jimin took small sips, careful to reserve some for the panther and handed it back to him. 

“It’ll be about 2 hours until curfew is up.” Jin checked his watch. The group made sure to take small breaks every now and then to prevent over exhaustion.

“Yoongi?” A familiar voice spoke. The group froze and turned around to see who it was. 

“Head nurse Park?” The panther tilted his head. 

“How are you boys? I haven’t seen you in ages, what are you doing out here at this hour?” Head nurse Park asked. She was going to take her usual morning walk when she saw the familiar group of hybrids walk past her house. Luckily, she recognised Yoongi and called out to him. 

“We’re trying to get home. We think something has happened to (y/n).” Taehyung spoke sadly. 

“Oh, dear. And where have you boys been?” 

“At a safe house, separated from her. We ran away last night.” Yoongi explained. Head nurse Park’s heart broke as she saw how tired the boys looked from walking the whole night. 

“Come in. At least have some food and drinks until curfew is up.” She opened the gate wider for them to come into her property. 

“Stay here.” She handed them some blankets to bundle up as she went to the kitchen. First, she fixed them some hot tea to warm up. Then she made a quick, simple breakfast for them. Jimin quickly fell asleep in Namjoon’s lap, exhausted from walking the whole night. The boys were all thanking their lucky stars that they ran into head nurse Park. 

“Here, it’s not much but it’ll do.” She put the tray of porridge down. 

“No, it’s more than enough. Thank you.” Jin gave the bowls out. Namjoon woke Jimin up to eat something as well. 

“Is there anyone I can call or-” 

“No! Umm... sorry. We’re not supposed to be out of the safe house. They didn’t want us to know about something happening to (y/n). We found out by accident, which is why we want to save her.” Namjoon said. 

“I understand. Before (y/n) took her vacation, she was acting weird in the hospital. She was distracted, she wasn’t eating right, it was obvious something was wrong. Now I know the reason, it was because she was separated from all of you.” She smiled softly. 

The boys’ hearts all broke when they heard that you weren’t taking care of yourself while they weren’t there, not like they were exactly doing well either. 

“I hope (y/n) is okay.” She stroked Taehyung’s head. 

“She will be.” Yoongi clenched his fist. Once the clock hit 7 am, the boys got ready to head home. 

“Take this, enough for the bus.” Head nurse Park handed them some bills. 

“No, you’ve done enough for us. We can’t take your money too.” Jin shook his head. Head nurse Park just grabbed his hand and shoved the money in before leaving for her morning walk. 

“We better go.” Hoseok took the money from Jin and they headed to the bus station. When the bus came, they were about to step on when the bus conductor stopped them, he frowned at the group before pointing at the sign, ‘No strays allowed’. Sighing, they all proceeded to take their tags out from underneath their shirts. 

Only then did he move back into his driver’s seat. Yoongi rolled his eyes and made sure everyone was able to get in and find a seat. 

“You should sit, hyung.” Jimin was about to get up when Yoongi pushed him back down by his shoulder. Yoongi just looked away, continuing to shield Jimin with his body. 

“Why aren’t you sitting?” Yoongi looked up at you. 

“Because there aren’t any other seats, silly. It’s alright, the journey is not that far. Just sit or we’ll lose it and both have to stand.” You smiled down at him, stroking his head. Yoongi blinked and looked around the bus. Indeed, there weren’t any other available seats. 

“Yoongi, what are you-” Suddenly, Yoongi yanked you down onto his lap. You blushed at the sudden contact. 

“What are you doing?!” You whispered harshly. 

“Who says we can’t share a seat?” Yoongi smirked at you, circling his arms around your waist. You choked and met eyes with an old lady that was giving you disapproving looks. 

“We’re in public! This is very inappropriate.” You squeaked. 

“Aww, is my kitten have dirty thoughts? Naughty kitten.” He whispered in your ear. You shivered as you felt his warm breath against your skin. Immediately, your whole body went warm and your cheeks turned fire red. 

“Yoongi!” You slapped his arm. 

“I’m just teasing, just relax, kitten.” He chuckled. You ducked your head slightly but still bowed your head to the old lady. That was the first time Yoongi was taking the bus. Even if you had a car, you insisted that he experience ‘normal life’ and brought him on his first bus ride. It was definitely an experience that he would never forget. 

“Yoongs?” Jin called, breaking Yoongi out of his flashback. He looked up at the arctic fox. 

“We’re here.” He told the younger. Yoongi nodded and woke Jimin up. He held onto the boy’s hand, something he has never done before, and led him out of the bus. The 6 walked towards their old house. 

“There’s no one.” Hoseok sniffed the air. They could smell the scent of other people coming in and out of the house previously, as well as yours. 

“Be careful.” Namjoon cautioned. 

When they stepped inside, they felt the wind get knocked out of them. Their house wasn’t recognisable anymore. Everything was broken, like a tornado had swept through the place, leaving nothing intact. Yoongi’s eyes travelled to his now broken piano. 

“(y/n)...” Jimin whimpered as he picked up your family picture from under the pile of glass. 

“There’s something written at the back.” Taehyung pointed out. They all gathered as Jimin turned the photo over. It was true. In red writing, there was an address messily scribbled on. 

‘Come get your precious owner.’

The agents that came to scout and investigate the house obviously missed this, considering it was still left untouched under the glass. 

“This is all we need. We better go before others come.” Jin said. Jimin folded the photo and placed it into his pocket. They all froze when they heard cars pulling up outside, followed by unrecognisable voices. 

“They escaped the safe house?... Okay, we just pulled up to the house. We’ll see if they’re here.” There was someone on the phone. Taehyung pointed to the back exit and they quickly ran out the door as they heard the footsteps approaching the front door. Kilo must have noticed that they disappeared and informed the other agents. 

“Where shall we go?” Taehyung panted. 

“Just keep running.” Namjoon and Yoongi stayed at the back of the group in case anyone did discovered them and gave a chase. 

“We need to go to that address.” Hoseok said. 

“Let’s split into two cabs and go. The place is pretty far out and it’ll take us all day to get there if we walk or take public transport.” Jin suggested and they exited out into the main road. 

Luckily, they were able to get two taxis at the same time. They had just enough money to pay for the journey. It was Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok in one cab, Taehyung, Jimin and Jin in the other. Yoongi and Namjoon haven’t even seen the outside of the fighting ring before, they were going in blind. 

“Ugh!” You spat out more blood as a kick was landed against your stomach. You wheezed, feeling the dull ache as you breathed.

“You’re make this too hard on yourself, doctor.” Boss Im chuckled, putting a new cigarette to his lips. 

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” You glared at him. 

“I left a nice message for your hybrids. I bet they’re on their way here right now.” He smiled. You continued to keep your fierce gaze on him but on the inside, you were panicking. You prayed the boys weren’t actually coming.

“I’ll be sure to keep you updated on their due arrival.” He left with his men. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. 

“Let me help you.” The same girl that has been bringing you meals rushed into your cell with a first aid box. You let out a hiss, moving away from her. 

“Please.” She begged, grasping your wrist. You were sceptical but nodded anyway. Slowly she began to clean your wounds and bandage you up. There wasn’t much she could do for the internal bleeding you were suffering from but she managed to get the superficial wounds. 

“Who are you?” You asked. 

“His wife...” She looked away, almost ashamed. 

“If you see my hybrids, turn them away. Don’t let them find me, please.” You begged her, holding her hands in your own.

“Can I ask why you are trying so hard to protect them? To the point you’d rather suffer multiple beatings.”

“I’ve already broken so many promises with them. The least I could do is try my best to honour one promise, which is that they’ll never return to this life of illegal captivity and fighting again.” You scoffed with a sarcastic chuckle. She nodded her head and packed up, leaving the cell. You pulled yourself onto the mattress and laid down with a grunt. 

You were woken up by loud banging on the bars of your cell. Someone roughly bound your hands behind your back and unlocked the chain around your ankle. He pulled you into a standing position. 

“Let’s go.” He said gruffly and pulled you along. You were pulled into a big room, with Boss Im sitting in what looks like a throne.

“I told you I’ll keep you updated. I’m never wrong, doctor.” He spoke with a smile.

“No...” The colour drained from your face. 

“No!” You thrashed around as the other doors opened and 6 hybrids were brought in. For the first time in almost a month, you faced your hybrids. You cried as you shook your head. 

“No, please... no.” You sobbed. 

“(y/n).” They all whimpered at your state. You had lost so much weight, the dark circles under your eyes were obvious and you were bloodied and bruised. It hurt them to even think of how much torture you went through alone here. Boss Im gave a content smirk. 

“Yoongi, Namjoon. Nice to see you again.” Boss Im grabbed their chins. Yoongi spat at him and he frowned, immediately socking him in the jaw. 

“Please don’t hurt him.” 

“Help me understand why you like these animals so much, doctor. They’re feral, they’re killers and yet, you treat them like every house cat and dog. They’re monsters.” Boss Im chuckled. 

“You’re the monster! Not them!” You shouted. 

“I’ll kill you, Im.” Namjoon growled. 

“Not if you want your precious mate to stay alive. I go down, she goes down with me.” Boss Im nodded to the man holding him and soon, you felt a cold metal being pressed against the jugular vein in your neck. The hybrids all let out growls at his actions. Boss Im just laughed and clapped at what a good reaction they gave him. 

“You brought some nice extras for me. A tiger, a fox, a golden retriever and oh, what a rare gem, a male calico cat.” Boss Im touched Jimin’s clipped ear. 

“Stop. Don’t touch him!” You begged. 

“Oh, doctor. Aren’t you curious to see how your mates fight? And now that you’re here, maybe they’ll fight even better. It gives them a reason to give it their all.” He smirked. 

“You’re despicable. Just let them go.” 

“But the show hasn’t even started, doctor. Listen, I’ll let you see how well your little mates fight. You deserve front row seats after taking such good care of them. For now, take them away.” Boss Im waved. Other henchmen came and grabbed the hybrids, bringing them with you. 

“You two, in there.” Jimin and Hoseok were thrown into a cell with you. Jin and Namjoon were together while Yoongi and Taehyung were together, being canines and felines. 

“(y/n).” Jimin and Hoseok immediately embraced you. 

“No... why did you come? You will die here.” You cried. 

“It’s okay, kitten. We’re okay. Boss won’t kill us as long as we fight for him.” Yoongi reached through the bars to pat your head. He wiped your tears with a reassuring smile. Even if the bars separating you, Yoongi still tried his best to hug you and cradle you in his arms. 

“We’re together now. That’s all that matters.” Taehyung comforted. 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. 

“Hush, no apologies.” Hoseok said. You moved over to the other side to hug Namjoon and Jin. This was not part off the plan, for all of you to be trapped here. 

“Where’s Jungkook?” You asked Hoseok as Jimin hugged you like a koala. 

“He didn’t come.” Hoseok tried to smile. You pulled him close to you, stroking his head. The hugging from both of them hurt your bruised body but you didn’t care, you wanted to hold them forever. 

The 6 hybrids stopped outside the abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. 

“We’re here.” Namjoon and Yoongi recognised the place by it’s smell of the old building and blood. It was faint but they could smell you as well.

“This is your last chance to turn around and walk away. The boss wanted the two of us. There’s still a chance for the 4 of you to leave. Because once we get in there, there’s no knowing how long we’ll be there or what will happen to us. It may be death or torture. We may even have to fight.” Yoongi said. The 4 all looked at each other. 

“I want to save her, hyung. She doesn’t belong here.” Jimin said sadly. The others all nodded their heads. It didn’t amtter what happened to them as long as you were safe. 

“Okay. Let’s go.” Jin said. Suddenly, a small figure ran out at them. They all got into a defence position. 

“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you but please, go away.” She said frantically. Yoongi and Namjoon recognised her. They have seen her before and she was the one that delivered their food while they were here. 

“Who are you?” Taehyung asked. 

“It doesn’t matter. But you have to go. You can’t be here!” She shook her hands, trying to shoo them away. 

“We’re here for some personal business, lady.” Hoseok growled. 

“Your owner, the doctor. Her only request that she begged me to keep all of you away. She doesn’t want you guys to end up prisoner like her. She doesn’t want you guys here.” The lady explained. 

“She’s really here. Move out of the way.” Yoongi barred his canines and they shoved past the lady, walking into the compound. 

“My two best fighters and two new fighters, better eat your fill.” Boss Im came again. Two men had a tray filled with cooked beef. You went pale, he was going to ask Taehyung and Jin to fight for him as well. No wonder they kept them in two separate cages from you, Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin and Hoseok were domestic breeds, they don’t fight. 

“Let them go, please.” You kneeled by the bars of your cell. 

“Why would I? Namjoon and Yoongi have been trained enough that they can bring me a lot of money.” Boss Im smiled. 

“This is wrong!” You clenched your fists. 

“Do you think I care? These animals make me rich, that’s all that matters.” He shrugged and left. The 4 hybrids handed some beef to Jimin and Hoseok to eat. You buried your face into your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You chanted. 

“My love, listen to me. You did nothing wrong, you hear me? None of us are angry with you or blame you. What you did was just to protect us. We came here to save you on our own will, knowing what we will happen. It’s alright.” Namjoon cupped your face.

“They’re going to make Tae and Jin fight.” Your breathing quickened. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about that for a second. Take a deep breath, my love. Breathe with me. Like Tae said, we’re all together now. We’ll work through this together, hmm? We’ll never separate again.” Namjoon cooed. 

“There was never a moment that I didn’t think about you boys.” You placed a hand over his. 

“You were constantly on our minds too, snowflake. You’re our only mate, after all.” Jin chuckled, taking your hand to kiss the back of it. 

“You see? We’ve never parted with these.” Taehyung flashed his boxy grin, taking his green dog tag out to show you. Oh, how you missed that charming smile of his. 

“We’ll be okay.” Jimin whispered. 

-

The door slamming loudly woke Jungkook up. He jumped slightly and suddenly, was grabbed by the forearms. He was pulled up into a sleeping position, facing a frantic Kilo. 

“Jungkook! Where are they?!” Kilo shook him. 

“Who?” Jungkook replied lazily. 

“The other 6 hybrids! Your brothers, where did they go?!” Jungkook could just hear Kilo’s rapid heart rate. He was scared, nervous and panicking. Maybe he was afraid that losing 6 hybrids would cause him to get in trouble with Alpha or worse, get fired from the organisation. 

“Jungkook, where are the 6 hybrids?” Kilo asked again. 

“I don’t know.” Jungkook said monotonously, letting out a yawn.

“Listen, Jungkook. I know your brothers ran away because if they were kidnapped, you wouldn’t have been left here. Tell me, did they go and look for (y/n)?” Kilo was sweating bullets. 

“They are bound to find out.” Jungkook whispered. 

“They are in grave danger. You guys don’t have the strength to bring down an illegal fighting ring, much less, save your owner.” Kilo sighed, rubbing his forehead. Jungkook frowned, who was he to underestimate the strength of his brothers? Jungkook swatted Kilo’s hands off him and stood up. The man looked at the nonchalant rabbit. 

“Did you make breakfast? I’m hungry.” He yawned and went to the bathroom. 

“Jeon Jungkook, are you not worried about your brothers?” Kilo asked. Of course, Jungkook was worried but he couldn’t show it. He shrugged at Kilo’s question and headed to the kitchen. 

~~

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[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - more tension and also male and female masturbation

Author’s note: Chapter 3 wheyyy! I'm super sick at the minute, but nevertheless I hope my illness isn't reflected in this piece of writing. Yikes. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! Remember if you wanted to be added to my taglist feel free to let me know!

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER THREE - NEXT 

The rain drops pelted heavy against your skin as the cool winter ambience sent a shiver down your spine. Once dismissed by Maxwell Lord, you practically raced out of the building. The contrast between the heat you felt in his presence and the December air was immeasurable. You took a big gasp of air, letting rain drops fall on your face and soak through your clothes. You stood there in the middle of the busy street trying to process what just happened.

You had been successful. Your elaborate plan had worked out and you had gotten the job. Only, it was unlike anything you had ever done before. Maxwell told you to expect a call sometime tomorrow and before you left, he made sure you were comfortable with the prospect of his job offer. First things first— tell Tristan the good news. Hopefully then, he would let you stay in your apartment a little while longer.

Before you could grab a ride from a cabbie, the doorman tapped you on the shoulder. "Ms Minerva?" His tone was completely different than earlier, more polite and friendly. "Ma'am? Mr Lord has requested his driver take you home. He didn't want you to get wet in the rain but," the doorman looked you up and down. "I see you're already drenched from this God foresaken rain. I’m Andreas, by the way."

Maxwell had asked his own, personal driver to take you home? You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach from his kind gesture, but you worried about the authenticity of it. How genuine was he? Maxwell Lord was someone who built up his reputation and business on lies and false hope.

"Oh really, that's quite alright," you dismissed the offer. "I can just get a cab."

Andreas put his hand out, halting you from walking away. "I'm afraid Mr Lord insists." He told you, taking out a sleek black umbrella and opening it up. He held it above you, protecting you from the rain.

"Could you tell Mr Lord that I'm grateful for his offer, but I can make my own way home?" You said through gritted teeth.

"I'm afraid not," Andreas said with a short shake of his head. "Whatever Mr Lord wants, Mr Lord gets."

So that's how it was going to be.

Before you could reply, a black limousine with tinted windows pulled up on the road in front of you. A few passer-bys on the street, hands full of their Christmas shopping, shot you a strange glance as you slipped into the car. Andreas shut the door behind you and suddenly you found yourself sitting in a car that probably had more worth than your entire life’s savings.

The seats were sleek and black leather, the floor was carpeted and you spotted a small ice cooler by your sofa seat. You carefully clicked it open and examined the insides. It was just various bottles of alcohol- mostly spirits. You couldn’t help but smile as you continued to explore the limousine.

Upon meeting him, Maxwell Lord was not what you expected, but now you had found the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. You spotted a velveteen box nailed to the floor so you opened it up and found a variety of odd things. It was like a rich man’s junk drawer. Everything from gold fountain pens, jewellery, condoms, multiple checkbooks were mixed inside this box. Nosily, you scurried through it all, taking out the occasional item and examining it closer. You couldn’t believe it. You had never met someone who was just able to leave such expensive items lying around in a random box inside their own limousine.

This whole experience felt like a fever dream.

The lights in the limousine were dimmed and so you searched around for a switch or button of some kind to brighten the interior of the car. Your fingers tapped into a switch and rainbow disco lights flickered on, illuminating the limousine multi-colour. It looked more like a party bus. You didn't even realise the driver had already got into the car and as he turned on the ignition and began to drive, you jolted and fell back at the sudden force, into the plush leather seat. You scrambled to belt yourself up and compose yourself.

"Ma'am, where will I be taking you?" the driver called from the front of the limousine, as he tried to navigate through the busy Christmas roads of DC. You yelled your address back to him and he made a brief sound of acknowledgement.

After a few moments of sitting in still silence, despite the rainbow disco lights beginning to give you a headache, you heard a buzzing noise. You scrambled around in your seat, looking for where the noise originated from, when you found a phone nailed to the wall of the limo. Maxwell Lord’s limo had its own carphone! Of course it did.

Your eyes widened when you realised it was ringing and you contemplated answering it. It could be anyone! It could be someone important or a business related matter. It could be private. Thoughts raced through your mind as the phone continued to buzz.

"Are you going to get that?" The driver called out again.

You took a deep breath and took the phone off the hook, nudging it between your ear and your neck. "H-hello?" you asked, your finger anxiously twirling in the wire connecting the phone and the dock.

"Apologies for calling so early on, I usually wait a few days before calling back my female suitors," you weren't sure if your heart rate eased or increased when you heard Maxwell's voice. His voice sounded easy-going, and you were sure you even heard him chuckle slightly at his own remark. "I trust you weren't made uncomfortable by Andreas insisting you got a ride home."

"I have to admit, Mr Lord, I don't usually get into cars with strangers." you huffed, squeezing your eyes tight shut.

"Smart," Maxwell replied quickly. "So why did you this time?" His voice was dark and had a lulling undertone. He sounded similar to when he saw you during the interview earlier on, and the memory made that familiar heat erupt once more in your stomach.

You struggled to find your words. "I- I uhm-" you weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to Andreas. You would've never agreed to such a proposition before. But this is what Maxwell Lord wanted. And you didn't dare want to disappoint Maxwell Lord. You didn't understand because you didn't even know the man— nor did you have any care about him whatsoever prior to your meeting today. But since you exchanged those words in his office, you had been feeling a certain kind of way. "I trust you." you admitted with a defeated sigh. It was true. You trusted a man you had barely even spent half-an-hour with. You trusted a man who built his business on lying to the people of the world.

On the other end of the line, Maxwell was smiling to himself. His feet were on his desk and he was nursing a glass of his favourite whiskey. He could never tell you, but he craved to hear your voice again. He was already thinking about the next time he could see you. He put the glass down on his desk and with his free hand, palmed at his hardening manhood.

"I'm glad," Maxwell replied smoothly. "Trust is going to be very important in our kind of arrangement." There was a beat. "Speaking of which, would you owe me the pleasure in accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?"

"D-dinner?" you blurted out, feeling your cheeks heat up. Dinner with Maxwell Lord— this is not how you thought today would go. Sitting in a limousine and being asked out by the cover boy of Forbes magazine.

"I know a really nice restaurant by the river. Black-tie dress code type thing." His voice was like silk. It was getting hot in the limousine. You needed air. The thought of him taking you out for dinner at a restaurant, having a nice meal and enjoying his company felt like a dream. Then you were hit with the reality of your financial situation.

"Oh Mr Lord, I'm sure it's lovely but I don't think I can afford-"

"I think you're forgetting the terms of our arrangement darling," Maxwell snickered on the other end of the line. It was true— you had. For a moment you thought it would be a normal date. But this wasn't a relationship. He was right, it was an arrangement. "What I have, is yours. You are to want for nothing."

There was something romantic about his sentiment, you once again found yourself forgetting the true nature of his words. "Well then," you gulped."Dinner sounds great."

Maxwell's smile grew wider. "And then back to my place." his invitation sounded more like a command than a question, and the authority in his voice was enough to get your panties wet. You pursed your lips together to suppress a moan at the thought of going back to his house. You wondered what it would be like. Would your arrangement commence tomorrow night?

"I'd really like that." you let out a shaky exhale. Your hand dropped in between your legs and you slowly began to touch yourself through the thick material of your denim jeans. You ached to get home and take them off. There was something that felt so naughty about getting off in the car of a man you had just met. Especially when that man was Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell felt the same. He had intended to take you back to his place to go through a contract and discuss the specifics of your arrangement— but if the night led to something else, he certainly wouldn't be opposed. You were driving him wild; like no other woman had ever. He unzipped his pants and slipped his hand under his boxer shorts, slowly beginning to pump his length while holding the phone in the crook of his neck.

"You- you have something pretty to wear?" he asked, trying to remain as composed as possible.

"Maybe, maybe just my little black dress." you whispered in response, pressing your forehead against the cold window to try and release some tension.

Your description left much to the imagination, but Maxwell wasn't complaining. He wondered about the black dress: how short it was, exactly? How did it fit you? Did it accentuate his favourite parts of your body? Maxwell's eyes fluttered shut as he carried on stroking his length, a small grunt escaping his lips. It didn't go unnoticed by you.

"I'll have my driver pick you up tomorrow evening," Maxwell hummed. "6pm."

You couldn't even reply— he already put the phone down. Maxwell slouched back into his chair and worked at his already hard length. His thumb swept the precum that beaded at his tip and he continued pumping, wishing that the wetness around him was from your mouth as you devoured him.

He imagined your pretty lips suck him and his cock began to throb in his hands. He imagined having to push your hair out of the way so he could get a good look of your face whilst you took him in your mouth. He imagined your eyes wide and your cheeks hollowed as you fit him inside of you. He wanted to fuck your mouth, wanted to make you gag and have your saliva make a mess all over him.

Maxwell gasped as he spilt his seed all over his tailored suit pants. He kept his sensitive cock in his hand for a few moments after, feeling it soften. He wanted to soften inside of you. Already, he was enamoured by you. Desperate to feel your touch, your wetness. Desperate to hear your screams of pleasure.

When you got home, you had planned on seeing Tristan, alerting him of the good news. New job. Then maybe, he'd let you live in your apartment just a little bit longer until you could afford rent. You decided he could wait until tomorrow. Hurrying into your small flat you locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

You discarded your clothes, letting them pool into a puddle on the floor. In your frenzy, you had forgotten to open a window, so the steam from the hot water warmed your skin and small beads of sweat drew along your collarbones and chest as you ran your hands over your body. You bit your lip, hard, remembering the image of Maxwell's hands in the office which you had so carefully ingrained into your head.

You thought about his thick hands squeezing your tits, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your nipples and pinching hard enough to make you squeal. You wondered how his touch felt. You imagined him rough, and ruthless, but since meeting him today, and the way he diverted all your expectations, you wondered if he would have any surprises up his sleeve for your time in the bedroom. You let your fingers gently trace the skin of your stomach, a feather light touch that tickled slightly. You closed your eyes, imagining the wealthy CEO stood behind you, arms wrapped around your naked body and planting sloppy wet kisses into the crook of your neck.

With complete certainty, neither you or Maxwell could stop thinking about each other. Maxwell wanted to call you over in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep. His body ached for you. He felt a neediness that he had never felt before. Of course he could just call one of his assistants. He paid them enough, they would be able to come over and satisfy him (to some extent), but the problem was, they weren't you.

You had done something to him, and now nobody else could even begin to compare to you. You consumed his every thought. Maxwell had once almost married a rival CEO. He was meant to be in love with her but… the feelings were not the same as this. The feelings he felt for you were far beyond lust, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly they were. He cursed himself, feeling frustrated. This wasn't him. But he was completely and utterly whipped on you.

And you weren't much different. You swore you were in love with Tristan. You had been in an on and off relationship with him for two years but once again, the feelings you had for him were so different to the feelings you now possessed for Maxwell. It was indescribable. You wrecked your room, trying to find the perfect shoes and accessories to wear with your promised little black dress. You wanted to be perfect. You wanted to look perfect. And it was all for Maxwell.

He had you whipped, and you hated him for it.

You lived your life wanting to only impress yourself. You didn't think twice about the way men felt about you. It never mattered. But this was Maxwell Lord. Everything was just different.

So when your 'date' finally came around, you were both equally bursting with anticipation.

When you slid in the back of the limousine, Maxwell couldn't keep his eyes from you. His gaze was glued onto your amazing figure which he loved so much, and the way your little black dress clung to your body and accentuated all your perfections. Your little diamond earrings sparkled under the car's dim light and there was something so beautiful about the simplicity of it.

Truth be told, Maxwell Lord was nervous. He didn't date. He couldn't remember the last time he went on a proper date (he wasn't even sure if you classed this outing as a date). He wasn't one for relationships either. Hell, a woman could count herself lucky if she lasted a week with him. He liked the spontinuity of fucking different women, no strings attached. Throwing them away like garbage the second he got bored. He had the power to do that. It was just the way he was and he had no intentions of that changing.

Although, maybe his intentions were slowly changing and he hadn't yet realised. You offered him the kindest smile he had ever seen, your eyes glistening like jewels. And oh, he felt his cheeks warm up. He leaned over to the window on his side and pressed his face against it, the cool winter air calming his nerves. When your fingers graced the material of his tailored suit pants, just over his thigh, he swore his heart stopped.

"You look nice." you beamed at him, your heart blooming when he finally turned and his brown eyes met yours. You didn't expect Maxwell Lord to disappoint, in any sense, but especially not when it came to fashion. The power suit he was wearing was practically dripping in wealth, and you were almost certain every inch of him was wearing designer names from his suit jacket to his gold cufflinks in his shirt.

"So do you." Maxwell returned the compliment, gawking as he took in your exquisite form. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and you awkwardly looked down at your match black heels, scraping them against the carpeted floor of the limousine. "That dress- I saw it in Louis Vuitton last year?" Maxwell pointed out and you looked down, reacquainting yourself with the outfit you had chosen to wear.

"This? Oh no no," you chuckled earnestly. "I got this from the thrift store for seven dollars like a month ago."

You regretted those words as soon as they left your lips. You did not just admit to Maxwell Lord that you had bought the dress he had been so enthralled in, from the moment you entered the limo, second hand. To your surprise, he gave you a toothy grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight and that adorable little dimple appearing in his left cheek.

"We're here," he announced as the driver pulled up on the side of the road. You gazed out the window in awe. The whole street was lit up in gold Christmas fairy lights, and the restaurant that Maxwell had selected, was highlighted with tinsel and a huge Christmas tree in the front window.

"Wow," you couldn't help but whisper at the gorgeous view. You hadn't even realised Maxwell had already slipped out the car and opened your side door for you. He held his hand out for you, and of course you grabbed it. His hands were soft and warm… he definitely moisturized. He helped you out of the limo and shut the door behind you, sliding an arm around your waist as he guided you into the restaurant.

"Be careful not to slip on the black ice." he warned as he helped you slowly walk in your heels. Still hand in hand, you looked up at him with the biggest smile. You hadn't felt a happiness like this in a long time. He didn't look at you back, instead of focusing on successfully navigating inside the restaurant without falling over.

The restaurant was empty. Not a soul in sight. Your eyes snapped to Maxwell, waiting for him to give you an explanation. He caught on, offering you a small and understanding nod.

"I rented the restaurant out." He explained, raising an eyebrow as he examined his surroundings. Your gaze followed his as you took in the merrily strung Christmas lights and the beautifully decorated tree by the front bay window.

"Why would you do that?" You quizzed him.

"You never know who is sitting among us," he explained. "Journalists, paparazzi, crazed fans."

Ah, there it was. The part about Maxwell you had completely forgotten about. He was famous. Everyone in the world knew who he was and if you had known anything about Maxwell before meeting him, it was that the tabloids loved to pry into his personal life. So, you were somewhat understanding. But that didn't stop the devastating feeling of your heart sinking into your chest. He wanted to hide you. It made sense, I mean, you had only just met and you were only his sugar baby, but it still hurt. You done your best to ignore the strange feelings and told yourself you could still have a good night with him. But the thoughts didn't escape your mind.

You and Maxwell were ushered to a seat by a lit fireplace and passed menus by a beaming waiter. "Can I get you a drink while you decide on what to eat?" he asked with an enthusiastic smile.

"Just a bottle of your finest champagne with two glasses," Maxwell replied, not even looking at the waiter but flicking his wrist and gesturing for him to scurry away. The waiter left both of you in a frenzy, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Is something funny?" Maxwell prompted you, raising an eyebrow. You pursed your lips again but shook your head 'no'. Maxwell's eyes flicked back down to the menu and you burst into another fit of giggles. "Seriously, what is it?" Maxwell asked sternly and you straightened your posture, taking a deep breath and trying to compose yourself.

"That poor waiter looked so afraid of you." You admitted quietly. Maxwell shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal.

"A lot of people are afraid of me."

"Why?" you beckoned, leaning closer to him.

Maxwell hesitated and put his menu down. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"A lot of people used to be afraid of my mother," Maxwell admitted. "I'm afraid I'm going to end up like her."

"Why were they afraid of your mother?" you questioned him, thanking the waiter as he promptly brought you the two glasses and bottle of ice cold champagne. You began to pour it out.

"She was so cold. Bitter… heartless…" Maxwell scowled, quickly taking a glass of champagne and downing it in one quick gulp. "I worry that, maybe, others perceive me in the same light as they perceive my mother."

"That they think you're cold, bitter and heartless?" you quizzed, and Maxwell winced at your words. He didn't reply, instead buried his gaze into the cream coloured table cloth.

You extended your arms and reached out, taking hold of his soft ring clad hands. Maxwell's breathing hitched under your touch. You noticed the way his hands were considerably larger than yours but even still, you rubbed comforting circles into his skin with your thumb. He interlocked his fingers with yours and you offered him a warm smile. "I don't think you're cold, bitter and heartless."

Maxwell sighed. "You don't know me."

"I see the warmth in your eyes," you whispered. "I know there's more to you than meets the eye."

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[blarrghe]

“Wrapping arms around them when they make breakfast” Dorian x Anders, because I imagine Dorian has NEVER had a lover make him breakfast before (and Anders probably as a cat-shaped waffle iron)

Ok, as much as I love “his boyfriend makes him breakfast and it breaks Dorian” I also like, JUST did that over in my pavellan fic. It was very sweet and all, but consider: neither of these men are functional adults so who the hell is making breakfast? Still, got Anders his waffles. Anyway this directly sequels the last one again, because I’m using prompts to generate this story now I guess, and I’m really invested in this slow burn friends-to-lovers angsty mess now, so this got super long. I’m gonna start posting this as a series on AO3 I think -- also taking title suggestions XD. Thanks for dragging me into this hell :’) Here’s Breakfast:

He told himself that he was just coming along to keep an eye on him. A designated driver of sorts, just one without a car, or driver’s license, for that matter. He showed Dorian to the bar across the street and ordered himself a glass of water while Dorian asked for “the worst swill you have", with a rather large tip slapped on the bartop. He was handed something astringent smelling in a foggy glass, downed it in one quick backwards toss of his head — arching his neck, snapping back again with a shudder — and then he asked to have the bottle. 

Dorian took two more shots before he spoke. “Did you know that there was an author, horror novelist, whose mother disapproved so wholly of her marriage that after she died, she and her husband took their revenge by having sex right on her grave?” 

So. This was going to be an interesting evening. “I did know that, actually.” Anders said. 

“I’m rather a fan of hers, of her work, I mean.” he took another shot, “and of her misbehaviours. Only, do you think it would be too gouache, seeing as it’s already been done?”

Anders coughed. “Because if it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t be?” 

Dorian shrugged, and took a fourth shot. Maker, he’d finish the bottle within half an hour, at this rate. 

“I’m a fan of hers too,” Anders attempted to steer the conversation into something somewhat more...appropriate, “of her work.” He was also a fan of the story, but maybe not at this particular moment. 

“Oh?” 

Anders took a sip of his water, and signalled to the bartender to put a water glass in front of Dorian, too. “I tend to enjoy stories about misunderstood monsters,” he shrugged. 

“Me too.” Dorian ignored the water glass in favour of shot number five. “Of course, she was married to a like-minded soul, I’d have to find myself a willing participant.” 

“Strange thing to put into your dating app profile,” Anders agreed. Dark humour came easy — though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea.  

“Mm. Man seeking man to fuck on father’s grave, must be willing to break cemetary locks and city bylaws. Risk of haunting, serious inquiries only.” 

Anders tried to stifle his laugh. Man seeking man, though. No. Nope. Very terrible idea. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be game?” 

Anders coughed again, his cheeks flaring up, and shook his head. “I — uh — I think that must be against...one of my oaths.” he stuttered, still flushing. 

Dorian took yet another shot, which made six. What in the world was he made of? "Yes I suppose it must be. Or should be, at any rate." His cheeks were a bit flushed too, even in the dim light, but just from the alcohol; evidently the man had no concept of shame, because next he said, "well, it was worth a shot." 

Speaking of shots. "Water," Anders instructed, moving the water glass closer to Dorian, "you should drink some water." 

"Yes doctor." Dorian obliged, taking the glass to his mouth but raking his eyes up and down Anders as he drank down the entire thing. Anders just kept on blushing. 

"I take it you and your father didn't get along?" It probably wasn't the right question to ask the recently bereaved, but he'd nearly failed that psych 101 course he'd taken in first year, and it was a step away from morbid propositions. Void, where was Merrill when he needed her? 

"You met him, didn't you?" Dorian raised an eyebrow, and with quickly failing coordination, poured himself one more shot, while spilling enough to fill another over the bartop. Anders grabbed a napkin, while Dorian threw his shot back without seeming to notice. "My father hated me." He said, once he'd swallowed. 

Tear soaked apologies and an alcohol soaked "celebration" of his death. Anders felt something in the pit of his stomach plummet that was quite removed from the growing pangs of hunger his measly lunch — a granola bar five hours ago — had left him with. 

"I'm sure he didn't —" Dorian stopped him with an ice cold look, intimidating even as he swayed in his seat. Anders frowned, there had been something in that psych course about not sharing your own traumatic experiences with a patient, even if they were relatable. Muddies the waters of who's caretaking who, or gives them ideas, or makes you look crazy too, so they lose confidence, but — "mine did, too." He gave Dorian's arm a tentative pat, and waved the bartender down for a refill of water. Dorian drank it without prompting this time, but his eyes watched Anders again, waiting for more. "Or he must've, got rid of me quick enough." 

"Ah," Dorian leaned back, a little too far, Anders tensed to catch him in case he started to fall, "then I'm an ass. Sorry." 

"No, you're —" Dorian swayed back forward with a bit of a jolt, like he'd forgotten how to stop and needed to grip the bartop to keep level. He reached for the bottle again, and Anders shot a hand out to grab it first. Their hands met, Dorian's falling on top of his over the bottle, and then in an instant Dorian's flew away again. "You're drunk." Anders said. 

"Yes," Dorian agreed, "marvelous." He went back to the water, then cast Anders' hand, still on the bottle, a hopeful look. "Though not to the point where I won't remember any of this miserable day, yet." 

Anders raised an eyebrow, and kept his hand on the bottle. 

"Not that I'm saying I wish to forget you," Dorian's eyes were pleading with him, glossy as they were, "you've been rather kind, really, it's just…" when Anders still didn't release the bottle, he groaned. Then he straightened out his face again, a mask of sensibility that was barely holding: "I'm afraid you aren't seeing me at my best, doctor Anders." 

"Just Anders." Maker, but the sadness behind it all was killing him. You're heart's too soft, Anders, he scolded himself. 

"Anders, then. Quite the name." 

"More a point of origin." Anders explained with a shrug. 

"Yes, the hair rather gives you away. And the complexion." He reached out and slipped two of his long fingers through a strand of Anders' strawberry hair, which was falling in a straggled mess about his temples. Anders flinched, pulling his head back, and Dorian frowned apologetically. "Pretty. You're very pretty." He said. Anders shook his head and rolled his eyes — the man was drunk — but blushed again. 

"It's what the circle gave me," Anders explained the name with another shrug. He wasnt entirely sure why he was volunteering so much personal information to this perfect stranger. Perhaps he felt it was owed, after witnessing the death of the man's father, and all he'd overheard. Or maybe it was those eyes...

"Oh." Another apologetic frown, "and you ran away to Tevinter? Well, you wouldn't be the first." Anders nodded. "Where from?" 

Anders chuckled dryly, "Kirkwall, most recently." 

"Oof." Dorian grunted a drunken sound of disgust, and Anders chuckled again, "how in the world do you manage not to drink?" 

Anders’ laugh grew stronger, he shook his head and took another sip of his water, while Dorian redirected his attention once more to the bottle still protected by his hand, as though just now remembering his plight. "One more, I promise I'll be good." He begged. 

"Speaking as a doctor, I think you've had enough." 

"I thought you were off duty." 

"You're going to make yourself sick." 

"Then it's lucky I'm with a doctor." 

Anders sighed, and poured him one more slightly scant shot. Dorian frowned at the way the alcohol didn't reach the rim of the glass, but threw it back with a grateful sigh. 

“Can I call you a cab, Dorian?” Anders offered, watching worriedly as Dorian gave his head a dramatic shake and swayed a little more back and forth. The bar was emptying out, and last call was coming upon them. He cast a glance at the old watch ticking away on his wrist, mentally calculating how long it would be until he could be at home, in his bed. Not that he minded keeping the miserable man company, quite the opposite, despite everything. He had a pull to him Anders couldn’t quite explain; the eyes again, probably. But the bus came once an hour at this time of night, and didn’t stop at the closer stop, just the well-lit main hub that lay several blocks from his apartment — another fifteen minutes of walking after he got off, so a good hour or more to get home, altogether, if he left now. 

“Is it that time already?” Dorian sounded disappointed, spinning the empty shot glass around on the bar, then with a sudden spark of concern in his eyes he turned his face to Anders, “I’ve kept you too long, haven’t I? How dreadfully selfish of me, I —” he was sputtering a rather pitiful apology, and Anders’ stomach fell again at the sight of it. 

“It’s alright,” he said gently, muscle memory finding the soft smile he used for giving bad news to patients, “your father died today, you don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Yes, father died…” Dorian got a far-off look in those cold eyes of his, and then directed them back at his empty glass, “and you — you had to, I mean, here I am wasting your time when you must be — selfish —”  all at once, his face crumpled, and the guilty muttering gave way to tears. Shit. 

Anders patted his back once, carefully, and Dorian seemed to utterly collapse under his touch, sobbing into the sticky countertop. Anders took a deep breath, and dragged him up again. He tossed a tip of his own onto the bar as the bartender shot them an aggravated look, and hauled Dorian away, draping his arms over his shoulders. Dorian slumped into him, heavy, hunched over, still crying, as Anders pushed through the door of the bar and into the balmy night air, awash with the putrid stench of dumpsters in the alley and the sick coughed up by the bar’s less restrained patrons. It all made him a little homesick. Dorian, hanging halfway off of him, lurched forward like he was about to add his own mess to the stink in the alley, but then he righted himself again, and propped himself up using Anders’ shoulder. Anders took the opportunity to pull out his phone. 

“Where am I sending you?” he asked helpfully. Dorian made another face that seemed to threaten that he was about to be sick. 

“I’m not going back there,” he muttered, less to Anders than to the ground. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Just help me find my car?” 

“You can’t drive.” 

“I’ll sleep in it — I left it in the lot.” 

“No.” 

Dorian pushed himself off of Anders, propelling himself away from his shoulder, and staggered forward a step. Then he seemed to change his mind, or realise he was in no state to walk on his own, and reached an arm out to fall back against the wall of the alley.

“No?” He asked, incredulous as Anders took his arm and draped it back over himself, walking them out of the alley and the stink. 

“I’m not letting you sleep in your car,” Anders shook his head as he dragged the man forward. He was heavier than he looked. Strong, too, if the grip on his shoulder was any indication. “Besides, I can’t risk leaving you in a vehicle, if you did something stupid that would be on me.” 

Dorian snorted, “do you think I’m stupid?” 

“I don’t know you well enough to judge.” Anders answered honestly, which seemed to amuse Dorian. 

“I’m not stupid.” he said, “very, very smart, actually.” he insisted. Anders nodded appreciatively. 

“Alright then, so you see why I can’t just leave you in the hospital parking lot, in your condition.” 

“Mm. Kind of you, but I can think of worse places.” So could Anders, but he shuddered to think what could happen to Dorian if he left him alone like this, drunk and stumbling and wearing the most expensive looking suit he’d ever seen; he’d already flashed his overstuffed wallet far too openly when ordering his drinks inside. “Is there a hotel? I could buy a hotel.” Dorian slurred. 

Anders was fairly certain he’d forgotten a word in his suggestion, but given the suit and the wallet, maybe not. Before Anders could answer, he lurched forward and away from him again, back towards the alley, and into a spasming sort of crouch, retching. 

Anders took an instinctive step back as Dorian gagged and sputtered out a vomit of mostly liquid and bile onto the broken stone of the alleyway, then remembered his physician’s training, and rushed forward to steady him. Between coughs, Dorian swore, and when he finished (miraculously, his suit and shoes were still unharmed), he began to cry again. Anders sighed, and once more feeling a little bit homesick, he breathed out an all too familiar refrain: “well, shit.” he said. 

“Not —” Dorian was stuttering apologetically at him now, “not my best.” He wiped at his tears, swore again, then got up from his crouch and began to stumble forward once more, heading the wrong way down the alley. Anders took him by the shoulders and led him out again. 

“Hotel?” The word smushed out of him with so much drunken misery that Anders felt almost like crying for him, and he sighed again, pulling out his phone. 

“I’m taking you home,” he dialed the number and gave the taxi company their location, then propped Dorian up against the wall of the bar that faced the street, rather than the alley, keeping an eye on his paling face and shaky breathing. 

“What, your home?"  

Anders nodded, “if you choke on your vomit and die in your hotel room, I’ll feel responsible,” he explained as Dorian looked up at him with a perplexed, and dare he say it, even eager look. 

“Very kind of you, doctor Anders.” he said, but before Anders could correct him on the honorific again, he stooped and threw up, so doctor Anders it was. 

——

Dorian all but fell asleep in the taxi, head drooping down into his chest, swaying this way and that as the car rounded the corners, but thankfully he kept from throwing up any more. The luck didn’t hold once they were inside Anders’ apartment though, and soon Anders had him steadied in a kneel over his toilet bowl, getting out the rest of it. Dorian flung most of his clothes off before throwing up this time, wrestling himself out of the suit jacket and tight shirt beneath it, while Anders tried not to be impressed. He had a really remarkable physique, but he was also lurching and coughing miserably into Anders’ toilet, so it was definitely not something to admire. Then he got him onto the couch, set a large bowl on the floor by his head, and coaxed him into one more glass of water before letting him lie down. Dorian offered him another tearful apology, and then tearful thanks, and then he passed out. Anders sat back in a chair across from him for a while, watching as his breathing slowed to a steady rise and fall, ensuring that his head was turned to the side, mouth facing the bowl, in case he was to vomit any more in his sleep, and then he finally, finally, stumbled his own way to bed. 

He woke to the sound of his cupboards banging shut and the kettle screeching to a whistle.

Anders stumbled out into his kitchen to find Dorian standing there with a distraught look on his face, pouring water into two large mugs. He was dressed again, and looking remarkably perfect, actually. Hair all in place and posture all upright once more. The bowl was gone from the floor, too, and nothing smelled off — just a little like tea. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly aware of his own shabby pajamas. 

Dorian turned, still looking distraught. "You don't have any food." He complained, "I fed your cat —" Anders looked down to the corner of the kitchen where Ser Pounce's food bowl was, and found Ser Pounce there happily nibbling from a bowl filled to slightly too full, "I hope that's alright. I woke up with him on my chest and he wouldn't stop pawing at that cabinet so I figured…" 

Anders smiled softly, and not in a practiced way, he'd entirely forgotten to check the food bowl when they came in the night before, occupied as he'd been. 

"And then I saw you had a coffee pot, so I was going to make coffee, as a thank you — well, actually, I was going to have some delivered, but I don't rightly know where I am —" Dorian ran a hand through his hair, and he was talking quite speedily, cheeks going just slightly pink "but you don't have coffee. Or anything." 

Now Anders blushed, embarrassed for the nakedness of his cupboards. 

"Anyway, thank you. Tea?" 

Anders nodded, and took the few remaining steps to the counter to grab one of the mugs of still steeping tea; he liked to keep the bag in. He moved from the counter to the couch, cupping the mug with both hands, and sat down. 

"117 Orseck Ave.," he said, "that's where you are. How are you feeling… how much of last night do you remember?" 

"I remember making a fool of myself, if that's what you're asking. And you being uncommonly kind." He paused, "it is Anders, right?" Anders nodded, "is there anything else I should remember, Anders?" 

Anders shook his head, "that about sums it up." 

Dorian chuckled. When he wasn't drunk or crying, it was a nice sound. He leaned against Anders' counter — stunning, how was he stunning after a night like the one he'd just had? "Well, you've certainly wasted enough of your time looking after me, and I can get out of your hair now, but —"  

"— I wouldn't call it a waste of time," Anders interrupted, because something in him always seemed to speak up whenever Dorian went about making statements like that. It kind of had been a waste of his time, Anders tried to protest against that something, he'd lost a great deal of sleep to it, anyway. But somehow the look that his interruption gained him from Dorian was impossible to remain grumpy with. 

"Have you been to Marc's?" Dorian asked suddenly, brightening with a hopeful smile, "since I know where we are now, and its nearby, and you have no food," he went on, "and personally, I'm starving —" 

"I imagine you would be," Anders said, though at the mention of hunger his own stomach took the opportunity to awaken too, noisily. Dorian raised an eyebrow at the sound. 

"Might I buy you breakfast? I feel I owe you that much." 

Anders hadn't been to Marc's. He'd been by it many times, a busy little brunch place, always smelling of bacon and pancakes and with a line out the door. It was a bad idea to say yes to this, he thought, a bad idea to say yes to anything involving absurdly handsome men who just lost their fathers, who were obviously walking disasters waiting to happen (you always had a thing for disasters waiting to happen) — shush. His stomach grumbled again. 

"I haven't been," Anders answered, "there's always a line — and I am on call, I might not have time to —" 

"Oh, we can skip all that." Dorian brushed the protest aside, "so? Don't try to tell me you aren't hungry." 

Anders kicked at a bit of cat hair fluff adorning the edge of his couch, "alright, sure."

Dorian was certainly good at getting him to say yes to things he should know better than to say yes to. If he kept going on like this, the next thing he knew he'd be having sex on his father's grave. 

---- 

They arrived at the restaurant, just a short walk from Anders' building, and yet in a considerably nicer part of town — the new money was creeping in towards his end of things, but where he lived at least was still very much no money — and Dorian walked straight up to the front of the line. Anders hung back, watching skeptically as Dorian performed a series of intricate maneuvers: some charm, a smile, a handshake Anders recognized from Varric — the kind with a bill snuck inside — and then he turned, waving Anders over. 

"We can wait ten minutes for a table, or have our food prepared now and take it outside. Your choice." He smiled. Maker, such a good smile; straight teeth and a brilliantly white gleam. "But you're on call, right? And to be honest with you, the fresh air is making me feel considerably less queasy. Park across the street?" Anders nodded and shrugged at the same time, a gesture that seemed to satisfy Dorian into continuing to take charge of the situation. "Alright then, to go. And fast, if you can. We're both very busy and important." He winked at the young hostess as he was handed two paper menus, and Anders could have sworn she blushed brighter than the checkerboard red on the apron she wore. "What do you fancy?" Dorian asked him, handing over one of the papers. 

It was diner food, but not really. Poached eggs with house-smoked bacon over an heirloom tomato coulis, waffles with Orlesian creme sauce and glazed berries, rare wheat pancakes with apple cinnamon compote and vanilla syrup  — just a few options, all of them coming with a detailed list of decadent flavours. In addition to those few confounding main courses was a fresh juice list filled with exotic fruits Anders had never even heard of, and approximately twenty different kinds of coffee. 

"Uh, waffles?" He said, squinting at the menu, "waffles and coffee?" 

Dorian beamed some more, and took back his menu to point out the waffle dish, as well as several other things, confidently ordering far more food than could possibly be necessary as well as coffee and one of the strange fruit juices while insisting that Anders simply had to try it. The patient employee nodded and hurried away, and not ten minutes later came back with two plastic bags stuffed near splitting with cardboard containers, and a tray of drinks. Dorian thanked her with another winning smile and secretly-funded handshake, and then they were off. 

The park across the street had benches, so they sat on one — finding one in the shade of a great, leafy tree, as even the morning sun was warm. Then, Dorian began a conversation, and the whole thing was far less awkward than Anders had expected. Dorian asked about his work, so Anders described some of it, though he avoided anything too close to topics of death and dying, and Dorian held his gaze while he talked and asked compelling questions. He seemed to be, as claimed, very smart, and the food was practically otherworldly. Then Anders asked Dorian about his work in turn, and Dorian sighed. 

"Well, you're new here, aren't you? How much do you know about Tevinter politics? The intricacies of it all can take a lifetime to wrap one's head around. That's by design; keeps things all tied up with the upper classes who have it in their blood to be intollerable bureaucrats." His air was flippant, but altogether disapproving, which Anders appreciated. 

"I've been here a while now, actually. A couple of years, anyway, I understand it a bit. Political science was always my…'' downfall? "Second passion." He washed down a heaping forkful of creme covered waffles made of pure fairy dust and clouds with whatever exciting fruit drink Dorian had handed him — it tasted like bright green, with a hint of citrus. "I feel people should be informed — active. Healthcare is as political as it is practical." And mage freedom, that was political too, but they didn't have to get into that. Mages were already free in Tevinter. Other kinds of people, however — something bitter bit at the back of his mind. But it was too sunny, and the food too good, for that sort of conversation. 

Dorian nodded approvingly, his eyes lighting up. "Alright then, I'm an Altus. I argue things in circles in the house a lot, these days I've been losing all sorts of friends arguing this Sopperati electorate reformation bill," Anders' eyes widened, impressed. He'd been following the progress of it, a huge step for increased class equality, if it passed. So maybe it was just sunny enough for such a conversation. "but of course it can only go so far without approval from the Magisterium," Dorian went on, a slight growl of frustration colouring his tone, which was appealing in a different way, "and for that we need to convince those with seats in the — in the —'' he stopped, and some of the light fell from his eyes. "I just remembered that my father is dead." He said. Shit. Not a sunny conversation, after all. "His seat passes to me, you see, because nepotism still runs stronger than good sense and he's written my name into all these continuations of his legacy and…" he sighed, and stabbed hard at a piece of brilliantly poached egg, which honestly didn't deserve it, "sorry. It's going to be a very hectic and difficult few weeks, with all the ceremony and paperwork and the whole ordeal of burying him…" he scooped up some of his bleeding egg yolk with a wedge of toast, and went silent in favour of eating, while Anders took an uncomfortable sip of juice that seemed to have lost some of its vividness. "You've been here for years, you said?" Dorian changed the subject, refocusing on Anders. Anders nodded, still awkwardly sucking up juice through the straw of his cup. "I would have sworn you were an escapee fresh from the harbour." 

"Why?" Anders bristled a little. 

"Your apartment. You have no food or furniture," Anders bristled a little more, "and you've never been to Marc's", Anders frowned, furrowing his brow at the impossibly good, impossibly expensive waffles, "and you're too nice." Dorian finished. Anders looked up in surprise, catching Dorian's eye. They were still a bit lost for light, but soft on him. 

"I'm just very busy," Anders shrugged. And very poor, but, well, Dorian probably thought anyone with fewer than a thousand acres of family land was poor, given his status. He didn't need to know the extent of it. 

"Hm," Dorian's eyes were still on him, soft and thoughtful, "what else haven't you done?" Anders shrugged, and Dorian began listing things. Tourist attractions and famed galleries, but also other, lesser-known offerings of the city that Anders had never even heard of. 

"Ferry through the archipelegos?"��

"No." 

"The volcanic sand beaches?"

"No." 

"Dinner at the top of Tidarion Tower?" 

"No." 

And on like that, until he finally said yes to something — taking in a show at the infamous burlesque playhouse in the city's red light district, which elicited an eyebrow raise.

"Priorities, I see." Dorian chuckled, "at least you have good taste." He reached an arm up over Anders' side of the bench, as he finished with his food and slid the box away, very smooth. "I'd have offered to take you. Maybe one of the others sometime, then, if you've a mind." He suggested. Anders could feel his cheeks beginning to run hot again. Still a bad idea, he reminded himself. Apparently sensing his unease, Dorian removed his arm from its perch near Anders' shoulders. "May I say something painfully honest?" he asked. 

Anders swallowed, but he managed a smirk as he replied. "I think we're well past that," he said. 

Dorian shook his head with a dry chuckle, "yes, well. I'm all out of sorts, as you may have noticed." 

Anders chuckled too, but with him, not at. 

"And normally, if I'm to get drunk and go home with a stranger, it all goes a certain way," then he actually winked, which on him was somehow charming and not over the top at all. Anders swallowed again, "and, not that I'm opposed, but, well, as I said: you've been uncommonly kind. I could — I've been losing friends left and right lately, it seems, with this bill, and…" 

"I'm a fan of the bill," Anders said, "in fact I'm not sure it goes far enough." 

The interruption seemed to lend Dorian some more confidence, as though he needed it, "so, pretty as you may be, I could use a, uh —" 

Anders blushed again, but finished for him, "a friend?" He could use one too, if he was being honest. Near everything seemed to be making him homesick, lately. 

Dorian nodded. "If that's not too forward." He said. 

"You fed my cat," Anders replied, "as far as I'm concerned, we're already friends." 

At that, Dorian smiled. He asked Anders his cat's name, and chuckled at the answer, and then they exchanged phone numbers and Anders stuck a little cat next to his own name as he entered it into Dorian's contact screen, which had him laughing even more. Anders offered to put the puking emoji next to Dorian's in return, but he insisted on a snake, because he “had a reputation to uphold”. Then Anders’ pager went off, and he groaned inwardly, wishing he could spend the day in the sun for once. 

“Duty calls?” 

Anders grimaced, and stood up. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said, meaning it. Dorian stood too. 

“You should take the rest — actually, this may be awkard, but I think we’re going the same way.” His car. Of course. 

“You’re going to have a small fortune to pay in parking tickets,” Anders realised, frowning. 

“Oh that’s fine. I have one of those — big, actually.” he winked again, “very big.” Sweet Maker, he just never stopped. 

Dorian insisted on a cab, and then he insisted on paying for it, and then he insisted on Anders taking the rest of their uneaten brunch items to store in the breakroom for his lunch, and then finally he was ready to let him go, with a promise to be in touch. He extended his hand for Anders to shake. Anders took it, holding fast with a sure grip, and then, drawn in yet again by those cool, sad eyes, he pulled Dorian’s arm towards him, and wrapped him up in a tight hug. 

Dorian stumbled back afterwards, cheeks flush, eyes glinting with surprise. “What was that for?” 

“Just seemed like you needed it,” Anders said. 

Dorian was still blushing, and his smile warmed Anders’ own cheeks. “Suppose I did,” he agreed. 

“Take care, Dorian.”

“As you say, doctor.”

[faithfully-writing]

Jealous/obsessive TFP Knockout X female reader [NF NSFW]

~your point of view~

I had been friends with Jack for a long time since we were children, even though there was a four year age difference between us. Me being older obviously. But lately, I've noticed that I've had to pick up more of his shifts at the burger house then usual. He would usually beg to have my shifts but more often than not he's begging for the opposite where I take his shifts. He worked so hard to save up for a motorbike but now all of a sudden he's disappearing somewhere I don't know. I was walking home after a tiring day of part-time work at the burger joint, having taken my shift and Jack's in a row. I just wanted to be home and sleep in my comfortable bed.

The sound of cars in the distance could be heard, around this town I figured they would be racing. As I wrap the jacket closer to my body, a sudden chill in the already chilly air brushes against my (s/t) skin. Just because it went dark for the moon to rise, the weather decided to get cold. Now I miss the bright warm sun, the sun that warmed my back and made me feel safe.

The sound of the car engines were getting closer. I was walking past the service station when my (e/c) eyes spot what I'd like to think was a sweet ride. A bright red Aston Martin, which I only happen to know because my father had a love for cars. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the red car and such without thinking I cross the road to look at it. "Woah..." Is softly gasped as I look at the sleek lines and shiny paint job. Noticing the gold on the inside of the wheels, I bend down to look at the glinting paint, shining at my eyes under the dull yellow street light. "You're gorgeous," I mumble. Sure I couldn't understand what goes into a car like this one before my eyes but I could admire the paint job. I stand once again just to admire. "Damn I wish I could afford a car like you," I say, running a hand from the front hood to along the roof. I wasn't even sure if the driver was inside or not for the windows were tinted black, and if I looked close enough I could see white and a brighter red details running along the car, heightening its beauty.

I stand there, just admiring the car, not worrying about the fact that the cars had drawn closer and that it was getting later at night when I was supposed to be home. I turn around when the car in front of me suddenly lights up as several car lights land on myself and the Aston Martin. Looking ahead into the bright lights I see a couple more cars, more like eight all behind each other. One of the cars drive forwards and turns on its side, the window rolling down. A wolf whistle is heard, and I'm unsure whether it's directed towards me or the car but I flinch anyway. "Sweet ride there sweetheart. Now how did a girl like you get a car like that? Must have done some... jobs? Am I right?" The sleaze behind the wheel asks, winking at me.

I shiver at what the man said and the fact that he was even trying to hit on me. "W-well at least my b-beast is far better looking than your s-stingy unfinished paint jobbed t-thing." I stutter, very uncomfortable with the male and just wanting to run and hide as a blush takes over my features, the shyness taking control. "a-an-and I-I-I-I would n-never do su-such a thing."

"You sure honey? You wanna hop in my car and prove it to me?" The man said, annoyed by what I had said.

Feeling threatened I look around but I see no way to escape away from it. "n-no. I need. I ne-need to go."

"This baby can go from zero to a hundred and twenty in ten seconds." The man says proud of his car, patting the door by hanging his arm out the window, almost as if he was trying to show off his scrapheap. "Now hop in. And I'll show how I can go that fast too."

Now I was honestly grossed out. "N-no w-way. I-I'd rather sp-spend the n-n-night with t-t-th-th-this car." I turn my back on the cars and trail my hand along the roof until I reach the boot, and without a second thought, I move to the other side of the car, hoping to be out of view of the other cars. Crouching I hide, knowing that myself against eight cars was never a good idea. But I was too shy and scared to do anything else.

"Oh, I wasn't giving you an option sweetheart." The sound of a car door slams close, these people were ready for a race, and now I had become the prize for one of the racers. "Now come to me and nothing will hurt much."

I also hear the sound of a motorbike, knowing that I could possibly be safe if the person was kind enough. The bike stops in front of the other cars, the shadow casting itself into the red paint job and though the window. Poking my head around I see Jack take the helmet off and hop off the bike. I was shocked. So he did save enough to buy himself a bike, that would explain why he didn't have any need to be stealing my shifts or working his own. "Jack!" I shout, drawing attention to both myself and Jack. Running out from behind the sweet red ride I'd found, I run at Jack, wrapping my arms around my best friend. "I-I'm so g-glad y-y-you're here."

"(y-y/n)?" Jack stutters in shock, taking a step back to regain his balance. "What are you doing here?"

"I w-was going home w-when I saw t-that car. I wanted a-a closer look at the paint job as from a distance it looks gorgeous, and it was on closer inspection. I-I stayed too long and that man." I turn around and point at the sleazebag who was trying to get back into his car, "t-t-tried to h-h-h-hiit... o-o-on me and wanted to-to-to.. do things to m-me." I inform your best friend, my voice stuttering over simple words as I shake from having to talk to a stranger. I rub my toe against the ground, after telling Jack, in worry and look towards the said ground.

Jack eyes the male and narrows his eyes, he hated when people put his friend's safety at risk. "Scrap," Jack says, making me look at him oddly.

'What a strange word to say.' I think, taking a couple of steps away from Jack. "I-I-I need to get home be-before my m-mum worries, or c-c-calls the police to s-say I'm missing." I stutter, "I h-h-have go, nice s-seeing you again Jack a-and thanks for arriving, th-th-though ni-nice timing."

I start to turn and walk away, the cars speeding away, fighting to overtake each other. It seemed the race started. "I'll take you back, I was going home anyway." Jack grabs my hand and drags me over to his bike. "Hop on." He hands me his helmet, and I purse my lips at the thought of Jack without his helmet.

"B-bu-but don't you have t-to wear this?" I ask.

Jack shakes his head, already sitting on his bike. "I trust Arcee," Jack says.

"G-great, he n-named the thing," I mumble to myself. "Alright t-then, if you're s-sure." I agree, my voice soft and quiet, and I hop on behind Jack, wrapping my arms around his middle. As soon as I did the bike was off, and the red sports car was too, it drove after the group most likely wanting to begin the race too. my eyes widen at the sudden change of speed and my grip on Jack tightens, frightened that I may fall off the speeding vehicle. Within minutes you reach home. Feeling dizzy from the adrenaline I stand for a few moments before handing his helmet back, "T-th-thanks Jack." I say nervously before turning my back on him and walking away to the front door. Looking over my shoulder I give a small wave before entering the house.

Entering the house, I miss Arcee talking to Jack, "Who was that Jack?"

"That is (y/n), an old childhood friend," Jack says.

"Why does she stutter so much? Doesn't she have any self-confidence?" Arcee asks.

"She does, but only when she is by herself or around people she trusts. She's just really shy, and even around me she's shy like that." Jack informs, looking at the door that was now closed.

"Then why was she with Knockout? Does she know we exist? Because if she does she either has to go or we put her under protection."

"Relax. She doesn't know about you guys. And his model must have just appealed to her. Her father used to work with cars." Jack put his helmet on, "Now let's go home." Jack hops on Arcee and she drives to Jack's home.

"Hey, mum! Dad! Guess what car I saw." I say, no longer feeling shy or nervous, I was inside my home with only my parents.

"What car did you see slugger?" Dad asks, looking at me with a grin.

"It was a red Aston Martin, it was sleek and shiny in its paint job. It even had gold wheeling." I describe the car.

Mum listens intently along with dad. Each smiling at my excitement. "You have to show me next time we're out (y/n). It sounds like you fell in love with a guy."

I pause and blush a bright red, almost like a tomato, "I-I-I didn't I just never s-saw such a ca-car like it. I bet y-you would too if you saw i-it." I say, wanting to go and hide now. "Anyway... what's on?" I slouch on the couch between my parents, putting my feet up on the coffee table.

"(tv show that's not tfp) is on." Mum says before tapping my legs as a way to say get them off the table. "You should be going to bed (y/n)."

"It's Sunday tomorrow though," I whine, not wanting to go to bed yet. "There's no school."

"Doesn't matter, I don't want you tired tomorrow," Mum says back, wanting me in bed this minute. "Now chop chop." She gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead which dad does the same before watching me leave for my room.

Not even bothering to change into pyjamas I collapse onto the bed and roll about, trying to get comfortable amongst the pillows and blankets that I have on my bed. I toss and turn, unable to get that car out of my head. It was a different car for this town. Sure there were sometimes people who came to race on the longer roads out of town but each car was different much like that Aston Martin. I couldn't fall asleep no matter how much I tried.

I wake up, opening my (e/c) eyes and looking around the now brightened bedroom. Today was Sunday. And I felt excited for no reason. It was just like nearly every other Sunday. I crawl out of bed slowly, not really wanting to leave it before changing out of yesterday's clothing. Leaving my room, I grab an apple, eating it as I leave the house after a quick goodbye to my sleepy parents. I stuff my phone in my pocket and have music blaring through the headphones. I walk into the town, enjoying the sun on my skin after last nights coldness.

Walking along I spot Jack up ahead who looks like he's talking to somebody. Without a second thought I stuff my headphones into my pocket where my phone was and started to run towards Jack, he was facing towards an alley so I had the element of surprise. I was close enough to see that it seemed like Jack was talking to someone but I didn't know who. Jumping on his back I whisper boo in his ear.

"(y-y/n)!" Jack stutters in surprise, almost toppling over from my added weight before catching his balance.

I freeze in shock as I look in front of me and Jack. There, crouched down to hide was a massive blue robot with female features. My (e/c) eyes widen as I just stare. "Jack. Now, look what had happened. I told you there was too much risk."

"Sorry, Arcee." I let go of Jack and take a couple of steps towards the oversized robot.

"What are you?" I ask.

Arcee doesn't answer but instead, she just changes into her alt form and Jack hops on. Putting the helmet over my head and getting me to sit on the bike behind him. "Everything will be explained soon (y/n). I'm sorry Arcee, I didn't think anybody would see us." A hum is heard before she takes off. Driving faster than before along roads, gasping I grip on Jack is like a boa constrictor on prey.

Arcee drove along the highways outside the town, the empty roads drifting away from town and further into the orange desert landscape. Coming up to large mountain Arcee just keeps driving. Growing increasingly worried the closer it came, "Jack!" I scream as I cling tightly to the man's back, hiding my face in his blue jumper. The mountainside lowered, revealing a hidden passage but hiding my face I don't notice it until Arcee stops and Jack lifts me off the bike's seat.

"It's alright (y/n). You're okay." Jack calmly says, rubbing my back in an effort to stop my shakes.

"Arcee. Who do you have here? You know it is dangerous to reveal yourself to humans." A deep commanding tone bounces off the walls, soundly slightly electronic much like Arcee's.

"I'm sorry Optimus but the human saw me speaking to Jack. I know it was irresponsible of me."

Upon hearing the voice I look around at the massive dug in military base, but massive was too small of a word. Standing in front of Arcee, in her form, was an even taller robot. He was painted blue, red and white and had a red print in the middle of his chest. I dubbed him as Optimus as he seemed to be the one talking. Staring at the oversized robot I quickly as possible hide behind Jack who had turned to face the talking things. I cling to his back, peeking around him slightly as the robots notice me. "Rachet, bring Knockout back. I have a feeling that this one will help us all with him." Optimus kneels on one knee in front of me and Jack but it doesn't make him appear any smaller. In all honesty, he frightens me. "What's your name small one?" He asked, his voice making the ground tremble.

My (e/c) eyes widen and I bury my face back into Jacks hoodie, too shy to speak to the strange ones. "They're not going to hurt you (y/n)." Jack comforts.

"(Y/n). That's a nice name. My name is Optimus Prime." He notices that I wasn't going to tear myself from Jack's side and so he stood up. "And we are the Autobots. Guardians of Earth." He gestures at the bots in the same room. "Over by the workstation is Ratchet, our leading medic." The white bot, that wasn't as large as Optimus but was still larger than Arcee, just grumbles under his breath about another human to look after. "And the other three are out at the moment, have you caught on to Knockout yet?"

"Not yet Optimus sorry. It seems he's racing again but in this place called Tokyo, where the people who Meiko call parents live." Ratchet pays you no attention as he speaks to who I gather is the leader.

"What about Bumblebee or Bulkhead?"

"I've gotten in touch with them and they're going to arrive as soon as possible."

And within those moments the sounds of two cars echoed from within the tunnel behind me. Turning around in fright I spot two cars. A bright yellow muscle car and a dark green SUV came racing towards me and Jack. Squeaking in fright, I quickly move to the front of Jack and cling for dear life, afraid that I'd be run over. Metallic noises and grating can be heard. "That was awesome Bulk! We need to do that again!" An overexcited feminine voice shouts in joy. Looking over Jack's shoulder and the said friend laughs at my reaction, I spot two more humans.

One looked Japanese with black hair and hot pink dyed tips in two small ponytails and a pink fringe that was side swept. She wore a light pink shirt with purple hemming, over the shirt she wore a navy blue tank top. Her denim shorts were short and held up by a bright yellow belt with a light blue and light green pig heads clipped on. Her two shirts were tucked into the shorts. On her legs, she wore purple and navy blue striped stockings, with knee-length brown pink books with purple laces. She overall looked punky and eccentric while she jumped up and down fist pumping the air in excitement.

"Maybe another time Meiko." The large green robot says, his voice unsure. Looking at him I could see that he was wider and taller than Optimus. I shrunk back as the girl shrieked with joy. I really disliked loud people for I wanted to stay quiet and out of people's way.

The yellow muscle car had transformed and a small boy with brown hair spiked back and red glasses on his nose. He wore a light yellow button up long sleeved shirt that seemed too large for the small boy, with an orange vest over the top. His navy pants were baggy from the knees down and on his feet, he wore orange and silver sneakers that somehow were wide enough where the hole for the foot went through to go around the bagginess of the pants. He seemed young. Younger than the others and I felt unsure if it was okay for him to be around such large transforming Autobots. But overall he looked like a nerd that would get bullied or wedgies from the older kids, making me feel like protecting the seemingly quiet kid which was strange for me.

I look up at the smaller yellow Autobot, he was smaller than Optimus and Ratchet but larger and taller than Arcee. He made a series of beeps, buzzes and tones as his bright blue eyes looked down at the small nerd boy. "Haha of course Bee! Let's go and play right now!" The kid laughs looking away from the bot he called bee to where the small group of seemingly three stood.

The kid froze and the bright yellow bot made a series of sounds once again, catching the attention of the other two, Bulk and Meiko. "My scout, you are right." The deep voice of Optimus echoed around, frightening me and I practically jump into Jack's arms, hoping I could hide. But even that action itself was embarrassing and my face grew a bright pinky red as I looked down at the silver coloured floor. "We do have another member and I'm hoping that she can help Knockout understand why we must protect humans. As well as stop him from racing." Optimus says, seemingly to infer that I'd play a large part in things.

"What about Grumpypants?" Meiko asks loudly, pointing at the white and orange bot by his station. "It could help him too."

"I-I'm not a-an it..." I quietly speak up, unsure if I were to even speak at this moment.

"Jack let's go. You wanted to take that girl out again." Arcee speaks up.

Jack looks down at me and smiles, "(y/n). I need to go now. I promise you that no-one here is going to hurt you."

I look away and instead look around at the Autobots and humans talking to each other, jokes going around and smiles about.

"And you like video games, right? Why don't you go and play them with Bumblebee and Raf." Jack offers, pointing out where the small bot stood by a high platform where a couch, TV and Raf sat, with controllers in their hands. "Go on. I have a feeling that you will get along finely." Jack gives me a small push before jumping on a transformed Arcee and going through a large green circle that closed behind them.

"Wha-What was that they just went through?" I ask, not noticing that all of the eyes and optics were looking at my form.

Rachet just huffs and looks away, muttering something about stupid human. "That was a ground bridge little one. It transports those that go through it to a destination given by coordinates." Optimus informs me, his voice loud in my own ears, unused to how those larger creatures spoke.

"Oh okay," I say and turn around, growing rigid as I see that everyone's eyes were on me expect Rachet who I guessed was still trying to get in touch with this knockout person, well bot possibly and most likely.

I slowly made my way over to where the yellow bot and Raf were, the game already started and from what I could see was a racing game. I waited until they finished before wanting their attention. "Uh... H-Hi." I stammer out awkwardly as I rub my arm.

The yellow bot replies in buzzes and beeps. "Hello," Raf says pushing his glasses up and holding out the controller. "You wanna go?" He asks, moving over so there was room for me to sit on the couch. I had a feeling that Jack was right with me being able to get close to these two. Smiling I nod my head, unable to trust my voice as I sat on the couch, sinking into its softness. Grabbing the controller I press start and such a round against Bumblebee starts

"That's not fair!" I whine realising that I had crashed. "You're a car so you're good at this." I turn around and face the blue optic bot, who seemed to be cheering at his win. Pouting I look away, handing the controller over to Raf. Bumble makes a series of noises as if asking if I were fine. "I'm fine Bumble, but I can't believe I crash every time. You need to teach me." I say, already comfortable around the pair that is made up of an energetic yellow bot and a genius child.

Bumble makes another series of beeps and Raf translates, "He said he'd be glad to."

"Yay!" I cheer, quickly moving to where Bumble laid his hand and hugging one of his fingers before realising what I did and moving away with a blush on my cheeks. "O-oh so-sorry," I mutter.

"It's fine." Raf translates a whole series of fast beeps and buzzes as if he shortened what the bot said.

"I'm in contact with Knockout." Ratchet said out of nowhere, informing the whole room which at this moment only consisted Bumblebee, Raf and myself. Meiko and Bulkhead had left to do some off-roading and Optimus was in his berthroom.

Bumble lets out a series of beeps and buzzes as he holds out a hand. I watch Raf jump on the boy's hand and Bumble looks at me, expecting me to follow. I stand unsure and awkward, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Apparently, I took too long for the bot encircled me with his cold metallic fingers and lifted me into the air, it seemed the cheerful bot was taking care to not squish me into a mess of blood, grounded bones and a clump of pulp.

The sound of metal hitting concrete echoes into my ears as Bumble moves about, coming to stand in front of a short, wide circular tunnel with wiring and things along the sides. From somewhere I could hear Optimus' steps as he makes his way, arriving to stand beside his scout. His hand is out as if asking for me.

"Don't make me fall off your hand," I say as Bumble lowers me onto the silver hand before letting go.

"Servo." Ratchet corrects from seemingly nowhere. "It's a servo."

"Teach her about the anatomy after she greets Knockout." Optimus points out, sighing as if he expected Rachet to of spoken.

"I have better things to do than teach a simple-minded human about how our forms work." Ratchet huffs, pulling a switch down.

The car transformed into a tall bot, his eyes were startling as they were a bright blood red colour, brighter than his paintwork. He had a slender face, if they called it that, and seemed more sexually appealing then the other bots. I gape at the change. To me, he was more gorgeous, even sexy, in his bot form them his car form. "Shit," I mutter under my breath, in both awe and worry. What happened if he remembered last night?

"Bring him in. It's time he met who he's to protect." Optimus changes topic, knowing not to rile his medic up too much. I watch as the wires and things light up, creating the ground bridge that Arcee and Jack had gone through. It didn't take long for a red car to come speeding through the portal before it closes with a flick of the switch. I stare wide-eyed at the car that I recognized from the night before. It was the red Aston Martin. The red paintwork shone in the light but there seemed to be a large scratch on the side. "Knockout."

"Those humans thought that they could just scratch this beautiful paintwork and get away with it! Do they not know how long it takes to buff and shine this body for this look. Like seriously. They barely spend any time on their scrap heaps and when a much better and more appealing worked on car with an awesome finish arrives they want to destroy the hard worked on paint. It just hurts my spark to know that they can't appreciate beautiful sexy things like myself." The newly transformed bot rants. Looking closer he seemed to have a different mark than the others. Maybe it stood for what he did? Or maybe it was for something different altogether.

"Knockout." Optimus states trying to catch the attention of the ranting bot. "Knockout. I have something for you."

"Is it a new buffer? Oh Primey, how'd you know I needed a new one? The old one just wasn't shining this finish enough for it to look perfect like I am." I know it's going to be pretty bad when I'm introduced now.

Optimus shakes his head. "It's nothing like that. Hold out your servos." Optimus moves his hands that were covering me above Knockout's. He was just going to drop me on to the servo. Like I'd allow him to do that.

"No. Please don't. No." But he does anyway. "Ahhh!!" I scream as the world spins and turns around me until the breath is knocked out of me.

"What's this?" Knockout looks down at me with a look of disgust, "Is it going to stain my paint?!" He panics as I try to catch my breath back and cough.

"It's the fleshy you're to guard," Optimus states, ignoring how the red bot stared at me.

"Why is it so squishy?" He just simply asks, as if he never heard the guarding part. A single silver digit made itself known above me as it lowers and pokes my stomach before poking my legs. "Would it stain if I squished it?"

"C-can you s-stop? P-please." I stutter, rolling away from the unwanted pokes and hiding my blushing face.

"No, but it would make a mess," Ratchet speaks up from nowhere once again.

"Ewww!" He scrunches his eyes up in disgust, "Get it off me. I need my buffer now."

"You're to guard it," Optimus says once again, this time successfully grabbing the vain bots attention.

"What? Why? I don't want to. I can't be seen with such a disgusting thing. It would make my image go bad. And it's so plain. Like, look at its pedes." He uses two of his digits to grab a hold of one of my legs and lift it in the air.

Not realising what he's doing I'm soon off his servo and hanging upside down by a leg. "Bu-bumble. A L-little help. P-p-please?" I beg the yellow bot who was looking away and at Raf.

"Put (y/n) back on your servo Knockout." Optimus orders, his tone saying he doesn't want to be disobeyed.

"I don't want to look after a fleshy." So instead of putting you back on his silver servo he just let's go of you. "Hey look, one less fleshy to look after." A shrill scream echoed from my lips as the ground came closer.

The sound of shattering glass echoed as well, "Don't make so sudden sounds. I needed that before you made me drop it." Ratchet thundered.

I landed heavily on the yellow bot's hand, rubbing my side which hit the metal. "Are you okay (y/n)?" Raf asks, nervous about your welfare.

"I-I'm f-fine." I shakily say, wanting to hide from the red bot. "C-can we g-go some-somewhere else?"

I look up at Optimus who nods his helm. "Knockout. I need a word with you." Optimus states annoyed that a human's life was put at risk by one of his own members.

"Bee. Let's go for a ride." Raf offers, wanting to get me out of the hideout for a while. Bumble makes his series of noises before transforming, Raf and I found ourselves in the front seats with seatbelts tightly done. I smile at Raf just as Bee takes off, driving as fast as he could out of the hideout and onto the highways. I started laughing as the world flashes by quickly, forgetting the events that had taken place moments before.

"This. Is. Awesome!" I cheer, enjoying myself.

I hear Bee make a series of beeps. "Bee says he's glad that you're enjoying yourself." Raf translates as normal, his excited tone proving to me just how much he was enjoying it too.

"Thank you Bumble," I said with a laugh.

We speed and drive for what seems like a couple of hours until my stomach growled loudly. "Bee let's go back. Maybe Meiko and Jack are back. Then we can all get lunch." Bumble buzzes and beeps in agreement and quickly start driving back to the base, getting there in record time.

"Good to see you three back." Optimus greets beside a silently peeved Knockout. "Knockout."

"Fine. But I am never doing this again." Knockout scrunches his face up. "I'm sorry that the dazzling me tried to kill the plain you."

"Wow what an apology," I mutter to Raf from the transformed Bumblebee's servo.

Raf agrees with me as Knockout speaks again, "To make up for it, allow the awesome me to drive you to lunch." I knew that Optimus was forcing him to say this but I smiled anyway with a nod, agreeing to go with the bot.

"Yaay!!" Meiko screams from where she was tuning her guitar unnoticed by me. "Let's go get lunch!"

I flinch as her voice echoes in my ears, "RIP ears." I quietly mutter, too quiet for anyone to hear. Knockout holds out a servo looking bored. I jump the small height and land on the silver metal, clinging to a finger as I almost slip through. I'm quickly encircled by knockouts servo as he stops me from falling from the height that would surely kill me.

"Let's go. I have to finish my buff when we come back so the sooner the better." He turns and walks towards the exit back into town. Transforming and placing me in the passenger seat. Meiko and Raf follow behind in their guardians.

Once the six reached the cafe the humans jumped out of the cars and walked through the doors after a quick bye to their rides. Raf and I stayed outside and found us a table close to the curb where the bots could park and listen to our conversations. Meiko comes back and slouches into a chair beside me minutes later, a large smile on her face. "The food will be here in a few moments." She announced, bouncing in her seat.

I looked like a babysitter as I sat with the two. As our time went on and we talked over our food, I got to know more about the two. Like the fact that Raf has an older sister called Pilar and he can hack into any technology. You learnt that Meiko's parents lived in Japan and she felt like she was pushed into what she did while looked down at for what she did. Sure you felt like she was too loud at times but during that lunch thing, you really connected with them both.

The Autobots watch from the curve as the three humans spoke. One of the boys was paying careful attention to (y/n), the one he is now to protect. He could see her beautiful (h/c) hair catching the sunlight like it was a halo that surrounded her and proved her purity. Her glimmering (e/c) eyes sparkled as she laughed at a joke Raf made. From when he was holding her in his hand and how she sat in his car seat he could feel how smooth and soft her (s/c) skin was. She was almost as perfect as himself. But he would never admit it. Afterall, it would be bad if anyone knew what he was thinking or if someone thought they could upstage him.

~Time skip of a few months~

Overtime I found myself spending more time with Bee and Raf, allowing KO to run off to his races. It was a comfortable silence that filled the air. Bee and Raf had gone out for some time together, Ratchet was at his station playing with something that he wouldn't tell me. I felt like I had gotten closer the Ratchet more than my own guardian who was still grumpy about the fact.

"Ratchet!" I complain, hanging upside down on the couch. "I'm bored."

The white and orange bot just huffs, probably not used to my complaints. "I preferred it when you were more quiet and shy."

I just stick my tongue out at the human hating bot. "Well tough luck princess."

This gets his attention, never having been called a princess. "What did you just call me fleshy?"

This is where my fun begins. "A princess. What else?"

He sighs and makes his way over to me, hiding something in his servo. He picks me up in his other servo, making sure to keep a firm grip on my body. He brings out what seems to be feather, holding it dainty within two digits. "This is your fault fleshy." He then proceeds to use the feather against me. The soft flittery feel of it tickling me made it draw out loud laughs and screams as I twist to get away. Ratchet chuckles at my actions, finding torturing me amusing. 

"Please. Please Ratchet!" I laugh. "Please stop! I'm begging you!" But he doesn't stop, not even when Optimus makes himself known in the room by clearing his throat. It was amusing to the white bot. How could something like this make a fleshy laugh so much? He was sure it was something only the fleshy in his hand would respond to as such.

"Ratchet." Optimus finally interrupts, letting me catch a breath as tears ran down my face. "What are you doing with (y/n)?"

Ratchet places the feather down on his work bench, making sure to put it where it won't get lost. "Experimenting with reactions."

I look up to the bot and pout, "Bonding I think you mean."

"Bonding?" Ratchet looks down at me and Optimus almost looks regal.

I nodded, "It's when you get to know the other person and make memories with them." I bite my cheek, "It's not like the bonding in terms of animals." It was like a light went on in both their heads as they nod at my explanation.

"And what do fleshies do with the animal bonding?" Ratchet asks. "You are of age to bond right?"

I choke on my own saliva. Who in the world did this bot think he was to be asking that so casually? "Yes I'm of an age where I can do so."

"And so how do you do so?" Ratchet asks, writing down everything he noticed about my reactions. I was completely flabbergasted. I look to Optimus for help but he looks just as curious as Ratchet. "Because when I looked it up it mention sex and the basics but it wasn't exactly what I was looking for."

I just wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Ratchet's questions were making me uncomfortable and they were quite personal too. "Well Ratchet I just can't say as its different for each girl. Some like it one way and another might want it differently."

This seemed to confuse the medic even more as he scribbles as fast as possible. "What do you mean by that?"

I didn't know how to answer. "You can bond in different ways. Like you said the different positions." I start blushing, this was so embarrassing to be explaining. "Well girls prefer different ones to another. Or they prefer different roughness."

That seemed to set Ratchet and Optimus into deep thought. Ratchet placed me back down by the gaming station before returning to the medic bay and Optimus went back into his room. I look to where they both left, scratching my head at their sudden disappearance. It was strange. I return to my game, boredom filling my veins again. I just had to wait for Bee and Raf to return, and possibly Knockout.

Once Bee and Raf returned it was my turn to be curious about how the Autobots ran. Apparently Bee had hit his helm quite hard and some blue stuff had been running down his face for a bit. I watch as Ratchet looks after him, how nimbly the grumpy bot could fix him up.

"Is Bee okay?" I ask

Ratchet doesn't respond, instead letting Raf tell me. "Yeah he'll be fine, after all he's a strong Bee."

I hear Ratchet cough, "Young. Not strong. There's a difference." Bee beeps at Ratchet once it's said, sounding annoyed.

"Wait how does that work?"

"He hasn't been around for as long as the others. So he's considered younger." Ratchet informs me.

"What is the liquid though? Does it run inside you?"

"Let me finish patching this one up and Bee can help you."

"So what's the liquid that runs inside you?"

I ask Bumble after he finishes explaining how they work and playing a few rounds of helm, shoulders knees and toes.

From behind me, I hear Ratchet start coughing as he spits out his high-grade energon he was drinking as he finished some work. Bumble makes a few noises that Raf translates, "In our fuel lines?"

I nod my head, stretching back out across the couch as Raf sat on Bee's shoulder. "What other liquids would I mean?"

I look over at Ratchet who wouldn't stop coughing as his face lit up a bright blue. "Oh dear Primus. Bumblebee is too young for this."

I didn't understand what he meant, I thought they were asexual beings. "Does that mean that you're not asexual?" You ask, addressing Ratchet more.

But all you get is stutters from the bot. "Another time (y/n)."

From the other side of the room, I could hear Knockout grumble about some messed up paint and needing to fix it, as well as feel his red optics burn a hole in my body. Since joining the group and Prime forcing Knockout to be my guardian the red bot hadn't changed at all.

"They have energon running through their systems." Raf translates, getting my attention back on the two of them again.

"Oh. And so to have more energon as you don't replenish it like we humans do you drink or eat it?" I ask hoping to be on the right track. Bumblebee gets excited and nods his helm, his bubbly personality on show.

"Why don't we stop this lesson and I'll take it from here." Knockout informs, growing slightly jealous that Bee had all my attention.

I smile up at my large red bot, he was slowly beginning to like me the big softie. "It's fine KO. I've learnt all I need."

"It's not fine!" He suddenly raises his voice, "I want to teach you everything else about us. Not those other Autobots. They're not as fabulous as I am. They don't even deserve to be near someone like you." It was a shock to my system to hear him talk like that. "And I'll teach you about the reproduction, not Ratchet."

Ratchet is suddenly on guard and walks over. "Back up." He says, his servo coming to shield me. Sure he still didn't really like the humans but I knew he had a soft spot for me like the other three. "Bumblebee why don't you take Raf and (y/n) out while I speak with Knockout." Ratchet states, keeping a servo on the red bot.

Knockout glares at Ratchet as he speaks of me leaving. "No! (Y/n)'s not leaving." His silver servo reaching to grab me, "I don't want to lose her. And I'm her guardian, not the yellow bot. I'm the one looking after her. She's mine to protect and keep." His servo clasped around my body as he quickly lifted me into the air. "I've been the one looking out for her, not you."

"Woah! Slow down, big boy!" I exclaimed in shock at being picked up, those months with the group really took you out of your shyness. "Just put me back on the couch and we can talk about this later."

Knockout's red optics look down at me who now sits comfortably on his servo. He had gotten over the fact that he was my guardian but he was still grumpy about it whenever I got in trouble, using it as a way to make me feel guilty.

"Don't you need to fix up your paint?" I ask making sure to change the topic before any damage could be done. Knockout looks down at me in his servo and scrunches up his face, most likely annoyed at me for making him remember. "Aww lighten up KO, let me help you." You tease the vain bot, knowing exactly what buttons push now after the months being with the bots.

Knockout grumbles under his breath before turning on his pedes and stalking to his berthroom. I wave goodbye to Bee, Raf and Ratchet before they were out of sight. I start humming and bobbing my head to some unsung tune, around KO I felt the calmest and safest. He seemed to make it much easier for me to come out of my shell, yet not completely.

Once in KO's berthroom, he places me in the corner of the room where he had placed a stolen garage with all sorts of things to look and keep a car clean within it. He transforms back into his vehicle mode of the Red Aston Martin and drives to the front of the garage, waiting for me to open the roll-up door. As it rolls up he slowly drives into the garage, parking in the middle of the large room. I sigh and grab a bucket and a sponge, walking over to KO and setting the bucket of water beside him.

"Why do you constantly have to be cleaned? And by me precisely?" I question as I dip the sponge into the bucket. He doesn't answer as I start to clean the hood, leaning across the shiny paintwork to reach the other side without having to move too far from the bucket. What I didn't know was that as I pressed up against KO, he was thinking about all the things he could do to me. He could feel the softness of my body caressing his build and the slow easy circles of the sponge were making his mind run amuck. "KO what would you say?" I ask my guardian.

He just hummed, not seeming to listen to me at all. I stop cleaning and take a few steps back waiting for his attention once again. "What?" He asks with a grumpy tone of voice.

Sighing I get back to cleaning him, "Bee wants to take me out to one of the big cities for a few days, saying that there's this awesome place he wants to show me." You inform the red car, "And I wanted to know if you okay with that."

"I am absolutely not letting that happen (y/n). I'm your guardian and you're to stay with me." KO demanded driving backwards, he wanted out so he could transform. I huff and open the garage door, watching as the red Austin Martin turned into the tall and handsome bot. He places a hand on the ground waiting for me to climb on it. "I'm your guardian (y/n). I'm the only one who can protect you. If you went with BB his thoughts will constantly be of Raf and if something goes wrong over there he wouldn't think for a second about you and leave you wherever you are to save Raf." Knockout says, his voice deep and soothing.

"Bee wouldn't do such a thing. He cares for me." I say, scrunching my face as I'm lifted up to optic level.

"Are you sure (y/n)? We have to protect our chosen human over the other humans." KO didn't like lying to his little human but it was the only thing he could do to get her to change her mind and to stay with him. Over the course of the months, he grew to like and respect the tiny being that looked after his bodywork and hung out with him even when he was annoyed, even if it was only because he was her guardian.

I cross my arms, "I don't believe you. Bee would always protect me. Raf even translated that to me."

KO was getting annoyed with my behaviour and it was starting to show "I am your guardian. If I say no then I mean no! You're never leaving my side." He demands squishing me within his servo. "Do I make myself clear."

This wasn't the Knockout I knew. This wasn't the Knockout that broke some of Rachet's stuff just for fun or who was so vain that it got on everyone's nerves. No. This was a completely different side of the otherwise overly self-confident bot. A side that frightened me senseless. "Y-yes." I go to hide my face, not wanting to look at him and just wanting to go and hide somewhere where he wouldn't get me.

"Do you know how much I care for you?" He asks, red optics looking at me as he loosens his servo. I shake not wanting to answer him after his last outburst. "I'll show you just how much you mean to me." He places me back down next to the garage and walks off to the door, pressing something as a loud clunk is heard. "There. Now nobody can disturb us."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I ask watching the bot walk over to me. But something seemed different the closer he got. He seemed to be getting smaller until he was a human size he the time he stood in front of me. I look up, straining my neck at his large height. He was still far larger than a human. "I'm going to show you exactly how much you mean to me. You will look wonderful beside this beautiful bot." He gestured to himself as he speaks, still appears vain. I back off, sure I thought the bot handsome but I had no idea what he wanted.

"H-how come you're smaller?" I ask in shock at his size, finally speaking."

"It's called mass displacement." He seemed to have this dangerous smirk on his face as his red optics scanned my clothed body. "Now no need to be frightened, I've seen the way you've looked at me. And I'll treat you far better then BB could."

He walks towards me, arms outstretched to grab me as I take steps backwards. We enter the garage and he closes the roller door behind him, cornering me into the corner as his arms trap me.

"Your eyes are so beautiful, you can only look at me with this face." He whispers, a cold digit stroking my cheek as he leans down and rests his forehelm against mine. "And only I can touch your soft skin." His alloy metal seemed to be heating up the longer he stood near me, almost like he was conducting the warmth. His digits slipped into my hair and started to massage my scalp. I tilt my head back and into his touch, relaxing against him and closing my eyes.

I miss the devilish smirk that splits his face as he hides it in the crook of my neck. His glossa slips out of his dermas and licks up my neck to my earlobe where his dentas nibble it teasingly. A soft unfiltered moan leaves my lips at the pleasurable soft sensations that KO was giving me. His servos gripped my hair and bent my head back as he starts nibbling back down my neck, biting rougher as he reaches my shoulders. I wrap my arms around his build and let my fingers dig between his amour plates, groaning as I feel his cold dentas bite my skin.

Knockout felt like his processor would short-circuit from the sounds that entered his audio receptors. He didn't want any bot or fleshy to touch his soft skinned fleshy. He should feel the skin under his servos as he lets go of his fleshy's hair to trail his digits down her neck and to her shoulders. He could feel the breath brush his dermas.

His servos start to tighten around my forearms. Pressing me against the wall in a rougher manner as he presses against me even more, almost as if he wanted my shape to be engraved into his metal. His glossa came out from his dermas and forced its way through my own lips which were pressed tightly against his own. I could feel the tips of his digits playing with the sleeves of my shirt, fiddling with it and pulling at it. I hum into the kiss as I melt in his arms.

Since he had to bend down quite the fair bit to reach me, KO lifts me up against the wall so I was eye level and sits me on his tibulen so I was straddling it as his knee pressed against the wall. His servos pressed my shoulders back against the wall aggressively as my thighs clench around his single thigh in an effort to stay upright. I can't help but squirm as I feel the cold seep through my pants and underwear from his tibulen.

He smirks down at the effect he causes me to have. Squirming on his knee as soft moans exit my mouth as his servos slowly trailed to the bottom of my shirt, slipping under the hem and drawing small patterns on my stomach.

I suck my stomach in at the strange cold sensation and try to bury deeper into the wall to escape his trailing digits. "Ah! You-you can't. Not there!" A low chuckle escapes his dermas as his fingers find purchase on my skin. His dermas latch onto the skin on my neck again as he nibbles softly down to my collar. His fans click on and softly hum showing that he was heating up, but he was still taking his time.

"And why not my shy fleshy? Your flesh is mine and only mine to keep and protect." A low rumble leaves his voice box and he trails the cold digits from both his servos up and down my body; playfully dancing up to the underside of my breasts then back down to my belly button.

"Because... because..." I didn't know what to say. My thoughts left and my voice got lost. His movements left me breathless and my heart fluttering like a small hummingbird. He didn't seem to mind my stomach or the size of my breasts and I was glad that he wasn't saying anything about them if he disliked the size of either. He blinks his red optics and his optical ridges furrow.

Leaning his cheek against my own his breath drifts over my ear sending shivers down my spine, "You are perfect in every which way (y/n). The perfect piece for the perfect bot. My missing piece."

I grip his bitarlueus tightly as his digits rise even higher during their dance on my exposed skin, forcing a breathless moan to pass my lips as they lightly pinch my nipples. I intake a sharp breath of air and arch my back into his hands, gasping at the new sensation.

Knockout smirks at the sounds and his fans start to him faster. "Only I will ever hear these little noises from you my fleshy. I'm the only one perfect enough to hear them." He groans into my ear as his dentas bite my lobe softly and pulls on it. His servos cover my (c/p) size breasts and he starts to kneed them. Squeezing softly, to begin with as he breathe fans the side of my face before his movements get rougher. Pinching and pulling at my nipples as his glossa runs down the side of my neck and he bites the crook of my neck.

"Kn-knockout." A low groan is dragged from my lips as his digits continue to play my skin like it was his buffing supplies.

His digits dug into my sides and he lifts my shirt off my body. "I'm going to frag you senseless so the only bot you'd even think of or laugh at their jokes is me." His digits start their dance again. Moans leaving my lips at the cold and pleasurable sensations. I start to grind against his knee, trying to control the building heat and neediness. I couldn't cover my naked body from how he held me and I could feel my heart beat faster and my cheeks flush a bright red. Almost as red as Knockout's paint.

A low sexy chuckle is heard in my ear and I shiver. I could finish just by hearing his voice and by feeling his digits. Knockout starts to help me grinding by moving his knee roughly against my clothed clit. I could feel the wetness pooling in my underwear the more I grind and moan. His digits slip their way past the hem of my jeans and lightly tease my hips and skin through the underwear. Growing bored and wanting to hear different noises from me he slips his digit under my underwear and then lightly trace up and down my clit, the knee now gone and his chassis and other servo holding me up by pressing me into the wall. He slips two of his cool digits into me and starts to move and wiggle them about. My breath hitches as the air gets trapped from the feeling and I arch my back pressing my hips against him even more.

For a robot from space, he really knew his way around the female human body as his dentas slowly sink into my skin and two of his digits pump in and out of my vagina making wanton moans leave my open mouth. He had me openly grinding my hips on his two digits as they fuck me mercilessly and I was meeting their thrusts in a needy wanting manner as I begged for more.

"Kno-knockout. Please more." I beg slightly out of breath as my hands grip around his neck and my hips meet his thrusting digits. They spread and massage the insides of my walls with each stroke they make. The moans and noises escaping my lips like a waterfall as I repeat his name like a mantra.

"Not yet (y/n). And you're not to overload until I say so." His digits work faster making it harder for me to think straight or breath. I lean my head back and close my eyes as my mouth drops open in a loud moan. I was so close but I held on. My walls tightening around his digits in an effort to both keep receiving the pleasure and to hold onto the climax until KO says.

"Puh-please!" I beg not sure how much longer I could hold on as my mind was growing fuzzy with pleasure and all I focused on was the delicious feeling of his cold digits in my warmth.

Knockout ever so slowly draws out his digits, making sure that they brushed against every part of me to extend this pleasurable torture he had me in. I feel my body shamelessly rock and grind against him as my walls try to keep the digits buried within them. But he pulls them out, glistening with my wet translucent pre-cum as he studies his two digits. My hips move against him in an effort to quench the heat, it was like I became a slut within two minutes of being in his presence. A needy hormonal slut that just wanted to be fucked by the massive robot from outer space. Let alone me not even knowing if he had anatomy the same as us humans.

He wipes his wet digits on the inside of my thigh on the pants that covered the skin before he lowered me to the ground. "Pants off." He growls lowly, his fans getting faster once again to my notice. It seemed that the fans were a way to tell how hot or turned on he was.

Without a second thought, I shimmy out of my pants, hopping about on one leg to get it off the other leg and almost falling flat on my face because of it but saved by Knockout. After righting me all he does is stare and watch as my body jumps and moves as I remove my pants. My breasts capturing his attention as they jiggle and the showing cheeks of my butt do too.

As soon as my pants and underwear were off Knockout had me once again against the wall. His dermas harshly pressing against my own in a lustful kiss. His servos gripped at the meat on my hips as his digits left red marks to show that he had been there.

"I'll be gentler as it'd be your first time for our reproduction system." He whispers almost to himself as his dermas leave mine and travel back down my neck. His pelvis jerks against me roughly, betraying his calm movements of his kisses and soft bites. "And you'd no longer want to hide or shy away from me after this."

He seemed to groan against my skin as his smooth pelvis rub against my own, my own eyes flutter shut from the feeling as his dermas reach my right breast. I felt so on edge with his sharp grinds and soft kisses. It was like my body was milking all the attention as it struggled to find enough friction. My senses tingled as he continued his actions on my body.

He left me no time to try and hide away from him or to overthink the fact that I was completely naked in front of a robot. I move my arms to push him away and cover myself yet Knockout seemed to be one step ahead as he grabs my arms in his servos, breaking off the kiss and looking down at me with mild disappointment. "(Y/n)," He starts, not using the word fleshy at all, "Why cover yourself? From me to you only I will say this. You are perfect, maybe not as perfect as me but you're up there. You are everything I could ever want beside to be able to keep my smooth paint job, but that doesn't matter. I want you and I care for you with all my spark. I don't care if I was forced to be your guardian because I no longer care. I just want you to stay by my side and look at me only no matter what happens or who speaks to you. I want to become the most important thing to you like you have to me. I care more about you than my paint job or buffing up my shine."

I stare up at him with admiration, never having heard him say something or someone was more important than his looks. I look down and away from him, unable to hide my shame at my thoughts and the growing blush on my cheeks. He lifts up my chin and presses a kiss to my lips again, slowing his movements down to match the speed I am comfortable at. He presses up against me even more, knowing that my lips was most likely soaked from his actions.

I hear a faint click and a whoosh as something happens to Knockout's body. Looking at him I try to see what had change but instead I feel it as he grinds up against me. Something cold was pressing between my legs and against the lips and clit. I let a groan leave my mouth as I move, it was cold compared to my body but Knockout didn't allow it.

"Ready my little fleshy?" He asks as his fans are kicked to maximum. I nod my head and he moves me upwards just a tad. The cement on my back is cold, but not as cold as whatever was between my legs. I couldn't believe that I was about to do it with a robot, well autobot possibly. He had the different marking decorating him compared to Bee and Optimus. Being like this with KO made me feel even more shy and awkward, I had no idea what I was suppose to do and it must of shown for Knockout spoke up, "Don't worry about a thing. Just let me do it all."

All of a sudden he thrusts his pelvis up and half the cold thing enters me, high pitched squeaky moan exits my lips as my eyes shut. My nails scrape along the back of his helm which he grumbles lowly about as he patiently waits for my human body to get use to his form. From what I could feel it was thicker at the base and tapered into a round tip that was still thick. But not as much as the base. I was glad that he didn't try to fit the whole thing in one go because with how it seemed to be going, the length seemed much more and it got thicker to the point it was thicker and longer than a normal human male's.

I groan at the cold feeling as my walls loosen and tighten trying to get use to the strange shape and lack of warmth. "Do you know... what that is called?" He softly pants out, his grip on me tightening as he holds his pelvis from jerking up any further. I shake my head, breathing roughly as I got more use to his cold cock. "It's called a spike... from its shape."

I couldn't concentrate on his strange fact as I slowly roll my hips, testing how my body reacts. A low groan exits from both of us and he takes it that he could push more in. He moves slowly, stopping whenever I felt uncomfortable as he does so. He stops when his pelvis is flush against me. The whirring of his fans and my harsh pants are the only things that could be heard in the air as he waits for me to once again adjust fully. The shape of him was truly different yet pleasurable in a completely different way. Whenever I breathed out, I could feel the very tip of his spike brush against something deep inside me. He was far bigger than a normal human being and based on what he is and the small size he became just got me it was very proportional.

He waits until I'm ready before he slowly pulls out and pushes back in, testing to make sure that I felt completely comfortable. I groan. It felt weird but not uncomfortable. As the smooth metal pushes back in I arch my back as it reaches further then it did before. The rounded tip definitely pushing against something that was deep within my body. I panting harder as he starts to speed up once KO realises I was comfortable.

His digits grip my hips tightly as he keeps the same speed. Resting his forehelm against mine he locks eyes with me. "I'm taking you racing after this. I want you to see me in action." He growls out, not missing a beat with his actions. He just seemed to move so smoothly that it seemed pink he wasn't putting any effort into it, while myself on the other hand was having trouble keeping up as moans spill from my lips and my fingers grip anywhere they can, being careful not to dent or scratch his paint.

"Wh-why?" I moan out, feeling myself flush and grow hot from the pleasure.

Knockout presses his dermas against mine, "Because I want to show off my cute shy girl and let everybody know she's mine. That not even BB could live up to what I can do."

"Wh-what?"

"Hush. I just want to hear you." A sharp gasp of breath is heard from me as he thrusts harder once he said that. "Only I can hear these noises. Only n you look at me like that. And only I can touch you like this."

His thrusts were getting hard and fast as our hips slapped when flesh met metal. I felt like I was going to tear or be ripped apart as he pounded into me with his spike, growling dirty talk into my ear as he licked it with his glossa and tugged on the lobe with his dentas. It was completely different and more animalistic compared to when he first entered which was slow. He just wanted to get off on this as much as I did now.

His vents were full power and sounding like a jet while his body had heated up considerably. Groans and grunts were leaving his dremas as the heat crept up on him. My eyes were rolled in the back of my head as he hit deep in me, rubbing and stretching my walls in a delirious effort to reach our ends.

The pleasure was all I could think about as we grind and thrust together. I wanted to reach my end, it was almost painful at how much pleasure was overloading my nerves and senses. "Kn-knockout!" I groan out in a small shout. I want shim to realise just what I was feeling.

"I know my little fleshie. I know." He groans back his thrusting even more powerful as he presses me Eben tighter against the wall. He was feeling the same as me but he was holding on. He wanted to end at the same time as me.

His fingers dance along my skin. Tickling in some places while firm and pleasurable in others. His glossa glides along the side on my neck and collar bones. This combined with his thrusts soon sent me over the edge. Screaming his name loudly as he slams his dermas against my lips in an effort to quiet me down as he finishes too, groaning lowly against my lips as I'm pressed against the wall even more as his body tightly presses against me. His digits find purchase on my hips and my fingers grip his neck win all their might as I close my eyes tightly.

He thrusts slowly, wanting to ride out his high as much as possible as well as relax my now tense body. "Hey relax my little one. Relax. Your in the brilliant hands of the most fabulous bot."

I groan against him, slumping against his strong metallic body as his arms wrap around me in a comforting warm hug. His thrusts slowing until he slips out and his spike clicks back into his body. His fans start to slow down before clicking off and he lifts me up. I waste no energy on lifting my head as it rests on his chassis and instead I relax further into his arms.

He starts to dress me in the clothing from the floor, before returning to his original large size and hold me in his palm. "I love you fleshy." Knockout softly whispers as he walks out the room.

"I love you too KO." I whisper back, smiling up at him and curling up in his palm. "Now let's go see you race!" I yawn while trying to seem excited, when I was in fact really nervous. What if I meet new people? What if they hate me? What of they like me?

"It will be fine my girl. I'll stay by your side no matter what and nobody will get between us." A smirk graces Knockout's face as he walks into he hall where everyone was. "I'm leaving for my next race." He announces, seeing Bumblebee and Raf's head turn to face him from the TV screen.

I hear Bee let out a series of beeps and buzzes which Raf quickly translates. "Can Bee take (y/n) out to see the town or she can video game with us?"

Knockout growls, "No. She's coming with me. I'm no longer allowing her to go anywhere or be with anyone without me there."

Bee holds up his hands in a surrender and Knockout transform into his vehicle mode and drives out of the base at high speeds, the seat belt buckling me in automatically.

In record speeds he reaches where a series of cars, sports or otherwise, were lined up. People, men and women, were in groups talking and some were even waving money around. He locks the doors and slowly rolls into his place at the front. People stopping to stare as he smoothly glides. "See how they draw their attention to me. That's how you draw my attention." He whispers quietly. "Now give me a few moments."

A bold boy starts to make his way over to me and the car. Knockout rolling the window down so that I didn't have to get out. "Y-yes?" I stutter, looking down at the steering wheel.

The boy whistles, seeming impressed. "What a cutie driving a car like this. Do you need someone to handle this beast for you?"

I was confused, sure Knockout was a beast but I never had the need to control him. Afterall, he controlled me. "I-I'm s-sorry. What d-do you mean?" I question, making sure not to make eye contact with the stranger.

"Excuse me." A deep voice speaks up from behind the male. It sounded just like Knockout. "But I'd like to get to my girl." The male spits out the my part aggressively and I knew it was Knockout.

Standing behind the boy, staring down at him with red eyes was a fire red haired male. His arms were crossed and he had a dark look on his face. "I-I'm sorry." This time the boy stutters and quickly moves away from us as he gets whoops and hollers from people who I suspect are friends and where the ones who egged him into doing that.

"Would you like to see my world now little one?" The male asks, his red button down shirt rippling with his movements as he opens the door and leans down, bowing as he holds out and arm. His shirt was tucked into his black pants and ended with black shoes. Even in a somewhat strange humanised form, which actually really surprised you, he was still handsome and can be seen that he carried a large package in his pants. But I didn't stare for long as I got out the car with his help and I walked with one of his arms around my waist to where the large crowd was. It was time for the bets to be placed.

He walked with such confidence that everybody knew that he owned the Austin Martin with ease. High bets rolled into Knockout's favor and he just smirked. The money was just going to roll into his hand at the end of this. And with his girl by his side the money was rolling in even larger amounts.

Keeping the smirk on his face he leans down and rests his forehead on mine, eyes watching my expression of surprise and uncomfortable. He presses his lips tightly against mine, hands wrapping around my waist as he presses his crotch against mine. Grinding slightly letting me feel his already hardening member. "KO!" I gasp into his lips, a bright red blush staining my (s/t) face. I couldn't believe he was doing something like this in front of so many people. All he does is smile and then walks me away from the people back towards his car.

"Two minutes left!" Some girl shouts from in front of the cars, she held two black and white checkered flags, waiting for the drivers to get sorted.

"We can do a lot in those two minutes." He whispers heatedly into my ear. I blush even deeper at his words as he leads me back to the car. Getting into the driver's seat and pulling me onto his lap as he rolls the window up and closes the door, once again locking all the doors. "Now let's get started."

He presses his lips against me. It was weird feeling the soft warm lips of a human then the cold dermas of his robotic form. He let's nimble fingers run up my shirt and along my spine, making me shiver. "Knock-Knockout. Not now."

"And why not? It will get me all pumped to win if you show affection."

I couldn't say no, not with how he was touching me. His fingers dancing along my body as he chuckles against my skin, biting harshly along my neck to make sure I, as well as everyone else, knew just who I belonged to.

"Start your engines!"

Knockout breaks away from the kiss as his fingers reach into my pants and using his other hand he moves my hand into his pants. He slips in two fingers as he makes my fingers wrap around his cock. Moving my hand up and down his member he starts to pump his fingers in and out of me. J start moaning loudly against his neck where my head falls as I start moving my own hand on my own accord. I couldn't fit my whole hand around it so I just did what I could. I move faster as he starts to breath heavily, letting grunts leave his lips as his eyes closed, no longer fixated on getting me off but getting himself off. He starts to thrust up into my hand and against me each time.

"Ten seconds!"

His breathing gets heavier and he bits my neck as he groans loudly, his cum covering my fingers and hand. He kisses me just as the lady starts to count down from five and he disappears. "We'll finish this tonight." He whispers as he finally starts the engine and as soon as the lady reaches one the seatbelt is buckled and he takes off quickly. Knowing that he'd be able to win the race with ease like usual.

[badsext]

A Comedy of Errors: Nathan Young x Female Reader

This was a combination of a request from my friend @elliethesuperfruitlover for a story where Klaus and reader are exchanging horny messages all day, then go crazy on each other when they finally see each other. That is combined with an anon request I received for a Nathan fic wherein the reader notices his boner and they have dirty filthy sex with loud moaning, biting, etc. I took some liberties and changed a few things to fit the narrative. I hope you like it 😚 Warning: Smut (of course)!

——————————————————

‘I had a dream about you last night.’ You knew a spicy little text like that would get a reply, even at 9:00 AM. And it was true, you’d had a filthy sex dream about Nathan Young and woke up horny as hell.

You pictured him zipping himself into that orange jumpsuit, then checking his phone and grinning like a jackass with his imagination running wild. He responded immediately, begging for details. But you loved teasing him. You were going to make him work for it, dropping hints and innuendos all day long.

As soon as the probation worker sent him home, Nathan headed for your place. But first a quick stop for something to spice up your evening for less than 20 quid. Double cream, a jar of maraschino cherries, a (stolen) bottle of vodka and ultra thin condoms that claimed to provide a tingling sensation. Nathan was very pleased with himself and optimistic about the evenings events. He became so distracted daydreaming about your naked curves that he ran smack into another pedestrian, sending the contents of his grocery bag toppling onto the sidewalk.

Nathan immediately let out a series of swears until he realized that this human obstacle was a wisp of a woman old enough to be someone’s gran. The impact had knocked her to the ground. He apologized and tried to help her back up, but his clumsy effort only made matters worse. The old broad was mortified. Help!,” she shrieked. “This man is molesting me!”

Nathan panicked, grabbing whatever was on the ground and stuffing it back into his bag so he could get the hell out of there.

After getting on the bus he noticed the cherry juice leaking all over everything in the bag and instead of condoms he had taken the old lady’s rash ointment. He sighed, abandoning the whole sticky mess and cutting his losses. He patted the bottle of vodka still safely tucked into his pocket. ‘Fuck it,’ he thought, sneaking a quick swig, then took a seat by the window.

By this time you knew he had already left the community center, so you sent him some extra motivation.

‘Hurry, I’m so wet!’ 💦

Nathan started to get hard and the fact that he was on public transport made no difference. His lust knew no such limits. ‘On the way’ 🍆

He looked out the window to see what street he was on and it suddenly dawned on him that he was headed in the wrong direction. He had gotten on the wrong bus! How could this get any worse, he thought, signaling the driver to get off at the next stop. He exited the bus like a shot and ran haphazardly across the street, his boner leading the way like a divining rod.

A car smashed into him going about forty miles an hour, enough to snap several of his important vertebra. Nathan heard the loud crunch of metal against bone before hitting the pavement and losing consciousness. Shocked onlookers started to gather and emergency services were called. Nathan expired in a pile of gore and debris just seconds before the ambulance arrived.

The paramedic examining him couldn’t find a pulse, so she administered CPR, but it was no use. He was pronounced dead on the scene. She had already called the coroner, placed a sheet over his body, and began filling out the paperwork when she noticed it. A conspicuous lump forming under the sheet. She dismissed it as nothing but a post mortem involuntary spasm until he sat up and threw off the sheet with a loud gasp. The paramedic stared back at him in shock. Nathan looked down at his erection, then back up to her and winked. “Thanks, love.” He got up and dusted himself off. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get home to my girl, so I can fuck her brains out.” Priorities!

He arrived at your door panting and sweating. “Jesus, Nathan! You look like hell,” you teased, pulling him inside by his shirt. Your mouths converged, tongues fighting for dominance like a couple of territorial moray eels.

He tasted pleasantly of cherries and vodka. You pried your mouth away from his to playfully admonish him. “You’ve been drinking already I see...and why are you so sticky?,” you said, tracing your thumb over his lips and chin.

“I’m gonna make you sticky.” His breathy retort tickled your ear as his hand crept under your t-shirt to play with your nipple. You could feel yourself getting wet at his touch.

“Mmm.” You grabbed his stiff cock through his jeans.

He groaned, peeling your shirt off and eagerly cupping your breasts. “You wouldn’t believe what I went through to get here. A fucking quest!” Then he whipped his shirt off dramatically for emphasis, mussing his curls.

“Ooh. Did you slay a dragon?” You unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops with a snap, dominatrix style.

“No, but I died.”

You learned of Nathan’s immortality soon after meeting him. Following the initial shock you discovered it was a huge turn on. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, gliding your hands down his chest. Nathan cracked a sly smile as you drew closer, kissing and nibbling his neck. You pressed your cheek to his to body to listen to his beating heart. “Was it painful?,” you asked, gazing up into his eyes, deep green pools of chaos.

“Excruciating.”

You looked back at him as if to say ‘no more fucking around.’ You led him back to your room and made him sit on the edge of the bed. You knelt down between his legs. “It looks like you need some T...” You unfastened the button on his jeans...”L” You unzipped them...”C”....You pulled them off along with his boxers. You began stroking his stiff cock gently with your fingertips. Nathan struggled to keep his cool. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch you work. His ragged breath betrayed him as you began to nuzzle him, dragging your lips and nose over his smooth, sensitive flesh. You licked his length and lapped playfully at the little drop of pre-cum at the tip. He whimpered. His eyes shut tight and his hands grasped the sheets.

Nathan let out a helpless moan as you took him into your mouth, bobbing slowly up and down, savoring him. You became lost in the act until you noticed Nathan’s breath change. “If you do that any more I’m gonna come,” he said with desperation in his voice.

You released his cock and raked your fingernails down the length of his thighs before standing up and sliding your panties to the floor. Nathan’s green eyes studied you, hazy with lust. He latched his mouth to your nipples, suckling each one them ravenously as his hand crept between your legs.

“Oh, no,” he said suddenly, his voice muffled between your breasts.

“Oh, no what? What’s wrong?”

“That old lady has our condoms.”

“Nathan, what the fuck are you talking about? I have an IUD....birth control. I got it a month ago.”

“So I get to fuck you raw?....unenCUMbered?” He smiled, and wagged his eyebrows.

You nodded with a giggle at his enthusiasm...”Wait, Nathan, was that a pun? You know that’s grounds for PUNishment.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his excitement.

You climbed on top of him, kissing him roughly, forcing his head into the pillow. Then silk ropes were used to secure his wrists to the bedposts crucifixion style. Nathan flicked his tongue at you defiantly as you straddled his face. “I’m going to teach you a lesson,” you said, lowering your most sensitive flesh onto his open mouth. You gasped at the exquisite feeling of his warm tongue on your clit. You ground your hips against him over and over, the rush of adrenaline filling your head. Using him the way he liked to be used. In this moment he existed only for your pleasure, your insatiable need. Your breath grew heavier, building to a sort of primal growl. Then the sudden pulse of your muscles, echoing the pleasure radiating from your core to every inch of your body.

After coming back to your senses, you realized you were squeezing the poor boy to death with your thighs. When you looked down Nathan was still. His neutral expression started making you nervous. “Nathan? Nathan?! “ You shook him. “Nathan?”

He opened his eyes. “What, love, I was just quietly basking in the afterglow,” he said, innocently fluttering his long eyelashes.

You hit him with the nearest pillow. “Jesus, Nathan I though you were...you know! I thought I might have...”

Nathan laughed. “You thought you smothered me to death with your fanny?”

You were embarrassed, but you had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “You are such a little shit,” you said with your hands covering your face.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway. Now, let me fuck that juicy little fanny before I go mad!” Nathan rolled on top you and searched your eyes for reassurance. Then he lined himself up with your entrance and moaned as he delved into your silky softness for the first time without protection.

You grabbed him by the ass and shoved him in as far as he would go. He started achingly slow, so you bit his chin and raked your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Nathan was always encouraged by a little bit of pain. He drove into you over and over, with vigor and purpose. You felt yourself unraveling once more. Your voice rang out at the peak of orgasm, then mumbled unintelligibly into his neck as you savored the rush of dopamine that flooded your brain. You watched his face contort as he came inside you. Nathan’s body suddenly tensed, then twitched. He made a new sound, vulnerable and uninhibited. He sighed contentedly and it looked like he wanted to say something. Of course you knew exactly what he wanted to say. You almost said it yourself. If he can’t bring himself to say it, here comes a joke, you thought, but Nathan just smiled shyly and laid down beside you. Then his hand crept nervously under the covers to hold yours.

@elliethesuperfruitlover @bubblyani @vinawyatt @chipster-21 @chokemerobert @helena-way07 @moorehollandplz @punknatch @renegadesheehan @dandycandy75 @meowbearspandas29 @taintedrosebud @bi-satanist @gunnerxsenpai @allthingsextrordinary @royhey @bitshy-life @honeymelon22 @gurlimtired @nobodydoodle @anonymouscherry @clownass-hoe @shuckinsquib @that-boi-misfits @klaushollandyoung

[greenv]

We're the same PT.ll | Peter Parker x Stark!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are used to having Peter in your world all the time, he was in the base with you more than at his own home, it was time for you to spend time in his world.

Warnings: None? A small sexual reference or joke? Idk...

Word count: 3,5 k

Notes: (Y/R/L/N) \ Your real last name.

A/N: I just want to thank you guys for all the love "We're the same" received! For real! Thank you! Here's part two, I hope you guys like it as well!

[Part 1]

_______________________

You and Peter were getting back from one of your night patrols, it was something that the two of you always did and it was part of your routine now, you loved fighting crime beside him, and he loved being able to fight by your side as well, the both of you made such a perfect team that even your dad, Tony Stark was proud.

"So… I was thinking" Peter takes off his mask giving you a look, you look at him waiting for him to keep talking "You know, how I always spend time on the avengers place? I was thinking that maybe you would like to… I don't know… Spend some time at my place? Maybe?" Peter smiles awkwardly, you remove your marks looking at him with a smile.

"You got all shy all of a sudden" You put your arms around his neck, giving him a little kiss on the lips.

"Not with you, I mean, no, I just… Do you think that it's time to introduce you to my friends?" Peter sighs.

"Wow…" You look at him with surprise "You have friends?!" Peter looks at you offended, you start laughing and he can't help but laugh as well with you "I'd love to meet them, if that's what you want Pete… I'll do it" Peter looks at your face trying to memorize your features, but to be honest, he already knows your entire face and body by memory, he just loves admiring your beauty.

"That will mean a lot to me, thank you" Peter closes his eyes giving you a sweet kiss.

"Well… in that case, just tell me when and I'll be there" You smile.

"How about tomorrow? You can go to my school and you can spend a day in my world" Peter suggested, you frown, that wasn't what you had in mind when he told you he wanted you to meet his friends.

"At your school?!" You ask, surprised.

"Yeah, is that… a bad idea?".

"Well, why not after school? We can go eat something or maybe… Why?" You put your hands on your hips, you can't help but laugh. "Don't you nerds go out?".

"Ouch…" Peter smiles "Well, remember I told you I'm going to the academy decathlon? I need to start staying after school to study and between classes as well from time to time, and besides… I could really use your company" Peter grabs your hands swinging both your bodies, you only shake your head. 

"Alright fine, I'll go to school with you tomorrow, but I'm not taking the bus, I'll go swinging" You wink at him.

"Uh, no, you need to take the bus with me, so you can pass as one of the students" Peter winks back.

"Ugh! Is it really that necessary?!" Peter hugs you, hiding his face in the crack  of your neck.

"For me… pleeeeeease?" Peter whispers against your skin.

"Okay… See you tomorrow then" You put on your mask getting ready to go back to the chaotic place you call home.

"Love you!" Peter screams, smiling and feeling the luckiest man alive, once he lost the sight of you, he climbs the wall and opens his window to get into his room, tomorrow was the big day, he'd  been waiting for so long to introduce you to Ned and MJ, he was sure you were gonna love them.

[°°°]

"Wake up Parker!" You open his window, getting inside his room, Peter was getting changed after his usual morning shower, he looked back at you smiling.

"Good morning baby" He blows a kiss at you from afar, you sit on his bed taking a good look at his room, you've been there plenty of times, but today felt different, you felt a bit nervous and you didn't know why.

"When are we leaving?" You ask, impatiently.

"Well, you're a bit early baby girl, the bus will be here in thirty minutes" Peter puts on his shirt and sits beside you on his bed.

"You're not taking the suit?" You lift his shirt a bit, looking at his bare skin, Peter smiles and shakes his head.

"I want this to be a normal day for the both of us, just you, me, school, friends, a normal teenagers romance… No super heroes, no super powers, no fighting the bad guys, just for today" Peter grabs your hand.

"Pete… Baby… I am the daughter of Tony Stark, even before I got my powers, the words 'have a normal day weren’t part of my vocabulary" You fake a smile and Peter chuckles, biting his lip.

"Are you wearing your suit?".

"No, it's in my backpack, just in case you know…" Peter grabs your backpack, he opens it taking out the suit, throwing it into his closet. "Pete…" you look at your boyfriend with sadness "I'm already going to school with you let me take the suit, you never know!".

"Y/N, nothing will happen today, and I promise that after school we'll come back here and we'll go back to being Mr and Mrs Spider-Man" Peter jokes, you smile with sadness nodding, after all you promised him a normal day.

"Peter I seriously can't believe I'm the one who's asking to keep the suit and not the other way around".

"Honey we'll be okay!". "Fine… But if something does happen, I'm calling dad". "That won't be necessary". "We'll see". "We won't".

After a quick breakfast with Aunt May, you and Peter went down to the bus stop and waited for your ride to his school, you were used to Happy driving you to your private school where your dad had you at, you always wondered what it would be like to go on a bus like Peter did all the time, not wear a uniform, this could be a good day, maybe you can convince Tony to let you change school.

"So, we met at the Stark Internship… right?" You look at Peter trying to memorize the fake story on how you two met.

"Exactly, let's not mention that we both have super powers" Peter smiles.

"I thought your friend Ned knew?".

"Well, yeah, he's the only one, but the story is for the rest of them" Peter takes your hand.

"Okay… my last name is… (Y/R/L/N)?" You sigh "I'm ready!".

As the bus arrives, Peter manages to sneak you in without the bus driver noticing, but you didn't feel worried, it was an old man and he could barely see.

"There's Ned, my best friend" Peter points at a guy in the middle of the bus, you nod, just following Peter.

"Hey bro!" Ned smiles at Peter, you see them make a kind of secret handshake, you smile at the sight of such a cute act.

"Ned, this is Y/N… The Y/N" Peter says nervously, Ned looks at you and he opens his mouth with surprise.

"You're Peter's girlfriend?!" Ned asks.

"Yup… Nice to finally meet you, Peter talks a lot about you" You shake Ned's hand.

"He talks about me?! Ha! He talks about you a lot as well, you're like the main topic of our conversations" Ned chuckles, Peter hits Ned's arm giving him a warning.

"I'm flattered, I hope he only says good things" You look at Peter, taking a seat next to Ned.

"You're not sitting with me?" Peter chuckles.

"Nah, Ned's better company" You wink an eye at Peter, he takes a seat in front of the both of you.

"So… Are you really Tony Stark's daughter?" Ned asks.

"I don't know what you're talking about, we met at Stark industries… I have an internship as well" you smile.

"Baby, remember he knows" Peter chuckles.

"Oh… yeah, sorry" You smile shyly at Ned "So you know about Spidey?" You whisper at Ned.

"About Spidey one and two" Ned smiles and you smile at him.

"Well I'm glad I don't have to pretend in front of someone".

The bus makes another stop and a bunch of students get inside of the bus, you see Peter shake his hand in the air with a smile, you look over to see a pretty girl, messy hair and a 'kill me' kind of face, you knew that was MJ, Peter always says that she has a funeral face.

"Sup losers" MJ sits beside Peter. She looks at you and you give her a small smile.

"Hey" you say, MJ looks at Ned and then at you.

"Who is she?".

"She's my girlfriend" Peter spoke, MJ looks at Peter with an extremely surprised look, but her face goes back to her neutral expression right away.

"So, you're that Y/N?" MJ looks at you.

"Yes, you must be MJ" You offer her your hand to shake, but instead she gives an awkward high-five.

"Are you sure you're dating this ass? He's not paying you to fake a relationship?" MJ looks at you trying to study your expressions, you only chuckle shaking your head.

"Hey! I can get a girlfriend!" Peter says offended.

"Yeah boy… but not like her, she's waaaaay out of your league" MJ huff taking out her book, Peter looks at you and you give him a little wink.

Once the four of you arrived at school, no one was paying attention to you, which you liked, normally, at your other school you were treating with a bit of privilege just because of your last name, and here, it was all different, maybe because no one really knew your real last name, or maybe because you were with the nerds, but you liked it, being invisible for once.

"Let's go to class then" Peter grabs your hand.

"What class do we have first?" You smile.

"Wait… you're attending this school now!?" Ned exclaims.

"Yes, for today" You smile shyly.

"Cool… Are we going to say that she's an exchange student from another country or...?" Ned looks at Peter.

"No, she just transferred schools that's it" Peter smiles.

"I can make an accent" you look at both boys.

"I wanna hear" Ned smiles.

"Please no" Peter puts his hands over his ears, as you start speaking with a heavy (very bad) french accent, making Ned laugh, even MJ gave you a small chuckle.

"Can she please keep the accent?!" Ned looks at Peter.

"No! Please no!" Peter grabs your hand pulling you to class.

The teacher was already there so you had to go through the entire 'hi I'm blablablaba the new kid' kind of thing.

"Y/N, tell us a bit about you" the teacher looks at you. You felt everyone's eyes over you, you looked at Peter who was sitting in his place, saving a chair beside him for you.

"I'm dating Spider-Man" you said seriously, you could hear Peter choke in the back of the class, everyone was quiet, but then everyone started laughing and Peter felt his soul go back to his body.

"Yeah, I'm dating Spider-Man as well" another girl jokes.

"Okay Y/N go take a seat" the teacher smiles. You nod walking towards Peter, you look at the girl who made a joke as well, you lean close and whisper.

"You're not his type sweetie" You wink and eye to her and she rolls her eyes at you. 

You sit beside Peter taking out a notebook and a pen out of your backpack.

"Hey sweetie… Don't sit with Parker, come sit with us" you look up from your notebook to see a boy wearing a Polo shirt, you knew, by fact that he was Flash, the annoying son of a… Who made Peter's life a living hell in school.

"No thanks, I'm good here" You fake a smile.

"Come on, I don't bite, unless you want me to" Flash winks at you and his friends start laughing.

"Just ignore him," Peter whispers, taking your hand.

"Permission to break his jaw" you whisper with anger.

"As much as I'd love to see that, permission not granted… It's okay, he's like that, you'll get used to him" Peter chuckles.

"Okay, but if he says something offensive to you, I won't hesitate".

"I love when you get all overprotective of me" Peter whispers in your ear leaving a small kiss on your cheek.

"Well, you know that someone has your back Parker" You bite your lip, trying not to kiss him so you both don't get detention.

As class goes by, you actually pay a lot of attention to it, making a bet with Peter on who could answer more questions than the other, the loser will go patrolling alone, but the both of you know that's an impossible thing. 

You and Peter go to the next class, woodshop. 

As you and Peter arrive, Ned is already there, working on something, Peter grabs your hand and you look at him with a smile.

"Remember when you first got your powers? I made your web shooters here" Peter smiles, you could see how proud he was of his work.

"I can remember that day as if it was yesterday… And I can also remember your face when you showed me the web shooters for the first time" You caress his cheek with love, Peter feels electricity in his body, he shakes a bit and smiles, you really had an effect on him.

The two of you made your way to Ned, you see him working on some type of mechanic arm, he seemed to be having a bit of a problem there, you look at Peter wondering if he's going to help his friend, but no, Peter only sits beside him, working on his own project.

"Need a hand Ned?" You smile, sitting in front of him. Ned and Peter look at you.

"Uh… I don't really want to bother, I can't seem to make this work, I don't know why" Ned shows you the mechanic hand, you grab it taking a good look. 

Grabbing a bunch of tools on the table, you quickly manage to fix it and the mechanic like hand starts moving.

"Wow… where did you learn that?" Peter looks at you with a bright smile.

"Yeah, that took you like five seconds!" Ned grabs the hand admiring your work.

"Well, I'm Tony Stark's daughter, I know how to repair his suits as well" Your chest sticks out and you look at Peter feeling proud, you were glad that there was something Peter Parker didn't know about you.

"You keep surprising me babe" Peter smiles and winks at you.

"Not in front of me guys, please…" Ned rolls his eyes and goes back to working on his hand, you and Peter chuckle.

"So… You really are spending your day with the nerds huh?" Someone speaks behind you, you take your eyes off of Peter's project to look behind you. 

Flash was there, he was holding his phone typing something, he looked at you smiling.

"I knew I've seen that pretty face before…" Flash has a cocky smile in his face, he then turns his phone to you "Tony Stark donates one million dollars to charity, and beside him, the women that inspire him to do good day by day… His wife, Pepper Potts, and his daughter, Y/N Stark…" Flash finishes reading the news, you really started to hate that guy. 

Peter looks at Flash with anger, all he wanted to do was have a normal day with you in school, show you that you could be happy in a normal kind of way, but of course Flash was so obsessed with him that he had to ruin everything. 

Peter stands up from his chair ready to fight Flash, but your words stop him.

"So…? Should I give you a golden star?" You ask Flash, with the same cocky smile now "Should I clap for you? Let me do it…" You start clapping in his face "You're so intelligent, you found out who I am!".

Peter looks at you and then at Flash, feeling proud as hell, Flash looked intimidated by you, and Peter was enjoying the show.

"I-" Flash opens his mouth but you interrupt him.

"So what's your point… Flash, right?" You cross your arms.

"Just tell us all the truth! You're not dating Penis Parker! You're here to donate money to school or something!" Flash smiles back at you.

The smile on your face is replaced with pure anger, your eyes darkening as you look at Flash, you could hear him swallow saliva.

"You did not just  say that" Peter whispers with a smile, he goes back to his  seat he was tired of letting Flash get away with all the shit he does, and of course he couldn't punch him cause it was obvious who would win, he was trying to be fair. But today, today it was different, and he was glad his queen was here.

Flash looks at Peter and then back at you, knowing that he made a huge mistake on calling Peter that in front of you.

"What's your point?" You speak with anger.

"Just tell us you're not dating Parker, he has nothing to offer! Instead go out with me! I have money, cars… I can take you wherever you want" You put your arm around  Flash's shoulders squishing hard, he starts to feel pain but he holds it in, trying to look tough you made him face Peter, your boyfriend looking at the both of you delighted.

"You looking at that man right there?" You point at Peter "He gon' get it when we get home, he will keep me up all night… He is much more than you'll ever be!" You squish  Flash's shoulders even more, but not enough to leave  bruises the next day. "You say you have money? Cool, he has an immense heart, amazing jokes... you have a car? Cool… He has something better I prefer to ride" You wink at Peter and you see him blush, he was red at this point "Flash, you wish you could be like Peter Benjamin Parker, now, do me a favor and leave me and my boyfriend alone" you push Flash away from you, sitting back with Peter and Ned, you turn around one last time look at him "Leave your obsession with Peter behind, we all know you're not his type" You wink and eye to Flash.

Flash basically leaves running, when he does, Ned and Peter explode in laughter, you look at the both of them with a smile.

"Damn! That was amazing! About damn time someone said something to Flash" Ned cleans his fake tears.

"You didn't  have to  say anything to him Y/N" Peter smiles.

"You're right, we don't need to prove anything to that loser, but I got angry! He's an asshole and the thought of you having to deal with this dumbass all the time makes my blood boil!" You take a deep breath trying to calm down "Also, I wanted him to know how good you are at what you do" you wink and eye to Peter, your boyfriend opens his eyes wide and looks at Ned, who is pretending to mind his own business with his mechanic arm.

"Y/N… Don't speak like that" Peter whispers, he was a blushy mess, he looked adorable. 

"Oh Peter, you should feel proud of yourself…" You stand up looking around "I'm bored, I'm gonna build something" You smile and you start walking around the classroom looking for pieces for a project.

Back at the table, Ned turns his head to look at you and then he looks at Peter.

"Man… I don't know what you did to get a girl like her, but you're one lucky moth-" Peter covers his mouth, blushing.

"Okay Ned, she's too hot for me I get it…" Peter looks at you smiling "When she's with me all boys hate me". 

And he was right, and he just proved that with Flash trying to steal you from him, the way you talked to Flash, the way you defend Peter, it made him feel some kind of way, he wasn't used to having you do that, but he was proud of it.

[°°°]

The bell rings letting all the students know that the day is over, you stand up from your chair looking at Peter, waiting for instructions.

"Okay, let's go home" Peter smiles taking your hand.

"Home?" You look at him confused "don't you need to study with your decathlon team?".

"Yeah I do but…" He leans closer to you and whispers in your ear. "You said I was gonna get it when we get home so… Let's keep you up all night" He gives you a soft kiss on the lips.

"Peter Parker… I-" you try to make a joke but you just can't, he caught you off guard "Oh boy… Let's go! You have work to do!" You smile and clap happily making Peter laugh out loud, catching everyone's attention, but he didn't care. 

He was planning on having a nice evening with you and his friends, but that could wait, you can see his friends any other day.

[lemonietrinket]

Love ||| Wayv x Reader

Summary: Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. And so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet. Though, not everything is as a clear cut as you perhaps once thought.

Genre: Angst, but then lots of Fluff to make up for it!! and Humour too bc i think im funny

Warning(s): Detailed description of big crying, no mention of reasons why, just left as a very bad day; single sentence description of a mild bruise; a bit of arguing but it’s mild and there as so to highlight something

Word Count: 20,314 jesus christ

Theme Song: The Flower (feat. Maximilian Hecker) - Leo; Heart Flutter - W24; Only Love Can Hurt Like This - Paloma Faith 

AN: original was a request from @idont-knowapil. I hope yall enjoy the rewrite. It’s pretty different in some places, but now there’s actually a lot of foundations for what is to come. Fem!Reader 

 ~~~

It had taken all of your strength to not cry on the way home on the bus. There were too many people around for you to let the tears fall, but you’d bitten your lip so hard it bled and had held your breath until you were heaving, for it to all prove to be little use.

You tried your best, turning your head into the glass and staring into the darkness outside, praying that no one turned to look back at you or your reflection.

As soon as you got off at your stop, unable to utter a ‘thank you’ to the driver which made you feel even worse (if that were even possible) your defences began to break down. 

Tears streamed down your face in the frozen evening air, merging with the rain and slipping between your trembling lips, the salt tingling on the tip of your tongue. Your nose ran viciously because of the wind, which also mussed up your hair causing you even more frustration as you tried to hold it out of your face, only for it to cover eyes uncomfortably again.

Your voice seeped into your breath as you tried to remain silent, strained whines at the effort it took to not openly weep as you needed to, whilst you prayed endlessly that no one would pass you by on the street and see the mess you were in.

Fumbling with your keys, just inches from being inside and away from the world, almost sent you over the edge. The key had got caught in one of the keyrings and with your shivering fingers and blurry vision, it seemed the world was kicking you while you were down. 

A cry rose in your throat, and you forced it down as best you could, until finally you crashed into the house, bags toppled by the oven across the room. You were home at last. Slamming the backdoor behind you with a strength you didn’t realise you had left, you took merely a single step inside before you tripped over an abandoned pair of shoes and fell to the floor with a thud and a sob so hard no noise came from your body. 

Today was not your day.

Your chest constricted upon itself, ribs very nearly bruising your lungs and heart, until you finally caught some air and howled.

You were ashamed of how you must have looked, sprawled on the kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, no doubt with a muddied coat and a bruised knee and hands pressed into wet footprints upon the linoleum floor. 

If you’d been told to write the worst day you could have, today took that itinerary and then dragged it through hell. 

You didn’t have the energy to stand, even if the puddles from outside that your shoes had dragged inside were being soaked up by your socks, unrolled at your heels and stained from their pristine white. Lethargically, you began to lift yourself out of the doorway as best you could, and to your feet. Your success was tainted however as you accidentally knocked your elbow against the counter ledge, and fresh tears immediately sprung to your eyes. It was the final straw for you, as you leant over the countertop and wept. Your fingers gripped the wood roughly, your forehead coming to rest against the cupboard as ‘what if’s swirled around your head. What if you’d been more polite to her. What if you’d done your printing the day before. What if you’d taken your lunch break elsewhere.

You knew rationally that nothing was your fault, but the rational part of your brain was far surpassed by raw emotion of emptiness that the uncaring world had showed you that day. 

Your ears just about caught the footsteps outside before the door opened. When it did, you flicked your head towards the man out of reflex, your muscles tensed and breath shallowed.

“Y/N?”

The door closed, and the man came to a stop a few feet from you. The light flickered on suddenly—you hadn’t noticed his hand reach to the corner and turn on the switch—and the two of you suddenly reached a realisation as quickly as you were bathed in light.

It was Kun, a sight that you unfortunately greeted with creased features and tear-stricken face.

He responded to yours with a sharp inhale. His voice was hushed and filled with concern however, as he shrugged off his bag and immediately made the rest of the way to you, “Y/N…”

The man’s palms hovered beside you, unsure of what the situation was and what to do about it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a broken cry was the only sound you could make.

“Y/N, are you ok?” he exclaimed, lightly brushing the hair from your face to try and understand what was wrong. “What’s wrong love? P-please, I don’t…” 

At the first touch of his fingertips against your damp cheeks, you shook your head, instead slumping into his chest. You clung to him, fear gone as you cried openly into his jumper, speckled with rain. Kun was very nearly speechless, his hands eventually settling upon your back. Though of course you were still in your coat and the weather had left it sodden.

“Oh, love, oh…” he trailed off, unable to find the words. Seeing you like this hurt him beyond explanation, and he had no idea how he could even convey what he needed to do. Slipping off his shoes as quickly as he could and discarding them by the door, he reached his arms between you. “Come on, love, let’s get you out of this coat. You’ll catch a cold.”

A pang of hurt struck your heart briefly as he somewhat unceremoniously pushed you off him, but before you could begin to wallow again he’d slipped the coat off your shoulders and hooked it by the door, speaking once again, “You can get your shoes, right?”

You nodded sullenly, reaching down to undo your laces, meanwhile Kun rested his hand upon your back to hold you steady. His touch was surprisingly warm for someone who had only just come inside from the cold, however the chill of the room was creeping into your bones as your shirt provided you little warmth in the barely-heated house.

One shoe was off without a problem, however as you lifted your leg to take off the other, a twinge of pain ricocheted through your knee. You had clearly fallen harder than you had first imagined.

“Love? Did you hurt yourself?” he enquired, as his mind finally connected the dots as to what had happened, roughly. 

“I…” you began, swallowing thickly, before you realised you didn’t exactly have enough energy to finish what you had started. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got it.” And without hesitation, Kun crouched down to remove the shoe for you. 

You felt pathetic to say the least. Like a child who had thrown a tantrum but had a parent who spoiled her nonetheless. You’d only hurt your knee, too. How could you possibly need someone else to remove your own shoe?

Truth be told, Kun felt like he wasn’t doing anywhere near enough, and had leapt at the chance to help you in absolutely any way possible. 

Besides, before you could really do anything about it he’d placed your shoes neatly on the rack and returned to your side. “Alright, you’re good to walk?”

You nodded after a moment of hesitation, making his concern worsen. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was shaky, but possessed enough certainty to convince him at least.

“Ok, that’s good. Where does it hurt?” 

“Just… my knee…”

“Cut? Bruise?” His eyes dropped down instinctively to check, to only find a few muddy splotches upon your trousers.

You sighed, trying to work up the effort to explain. “I o-only tripped… hit it on the… the floor—stupid shoes.”

He was mildly startled by the sudden venom in your voice, glancing back to try and see whose shoes it had been. A wave of panic rushed to his chest as he spotted his overturned shoes in the middle of the doorway.

“Love… I’m so sorry, they’re mine. They must have fallen, I’m sorry—” 

Your heart crashed to the pit of your stomach as you heard his words, and suddenly you felt terrible for even speaking. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m ok, it’s ok, I’m not mad, it—it…” Your teeth sank into your lip as you desperately tried to quell the overwhelming urge to cry again.

“Hey, it’s alright! I…” Kun’s eyes flew wide open as he attempted to ease the situation. He quickly changed tact. “Love, why don’t you go get changed? You’ll get cold otherwise. I’ll get an ice pack for your knee, and everything will be alright… yeah?”

You swallowed, mouthing a ‘thank you’ that you had intended to give a voice to, but it did not come. Deciding he had the right idea as you shivered, you edged your way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your room, clutching to the banister as you went. 

.

.

.

Stumbling into your bedroom, you set yourself down on your bed with a sigh, disgruntledly throwing some the clothes you’d discarded on the covers that morning out of the way onto the floor beside the end of your bed. 

You haphazardly removed your clothes, your elbow crying out in pain now too as you stretched a bit too far, leading you to whimper. Even after changing into a warmer set of pyjamas, you remained cold.

As you began to shift your legs to attempt to remove your dirty socks, Kun knocked on the door.

You really wanted to reply with a ‘come in’, but all that really came out was an awkward hum.

He got the message however, slipping his body through a tiny crack in the door as if he didn’t want to disturb the room. He’d put himself into a more comfortable hoodie to keep himself warm before he’d come to you, a pack of cold peas in his hand.

“Honestly, you’d think we’d have specific ice packs in this household but, no,” he chuckled sheepishly, “all we have is cold peas. For some reason. Who here even likes peas?”

Had you been bright as you normally were you would have pressed the charge, accusing him of being the pea lover, since he was the dad of the house, obviously. You lamented the fact that you weren’t able to really muster even the melancholic humour it at the very least required.

In the period of time you’d been zoned out, the man was by your side, eyes searching your face. “Are you sure you’re doing fine?” He handed you the peas as you nodded slowly, accepting them with an empty face.

While you grimaced, feeling the ice cut deep into your bones, Kun found himself unable to watch, turning his attention elsewhere. He couldn’t help but note that whenever the slightest bit of pain touched you, whether it was physical or emotional, he couldn’t stand it. It was as if his entire chest contorted into a cage, the bones of his ribs becoming iron bars and just… crushing.

He found himself scooping up your dishevelled clothes from the floor and folding them neatly, before stacking them on your desk chair. Except the dirty ones, he’d looped those over his arm. 

“Hey, I’ll just go put these in the wash real quick, ok?” His eyes carefully moved to look over to you again. He found your own gazing at the trousers upon his arm, glistening.

Before he could mention any comfort, they’d slipped to the pitiful state of your socks, as you choked an apology. It seemed so irrational to you to get so upset about socks, but they had been so clean and you’d just messed them up and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. 

Kun however wasn’t letting you descend again.

He came to your side, shushing you gently. His fingers reached your head, stroking your hair with a gentle care you’d never felt from him before. “Love, sweetheart, it’s ok! It’s ok, it’s not your fault.”

He cursed himself in his head. If it was anyone’s fault in this scenario, it was his. He didn’t want to upset you further by mentioning that though, and so managed to keep it to himself. 

“Let's just get you out of these, so they can be washed and all clean again, yeah?” He gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. “Do you need any help?”

You really didn’t want to accept that you did. To try and prove that, you slipped your left sock off with an issue, to which Kun took off your hands swiftly and added to his looped pile. However, even with the added angles from your bed, the makeshift ice pack prevented you from really removing the second one without pain.

Kun wordlessly took to his knees so he could help. 

His kindness was tugging at your heart, smashing it to pieces in your vulnerable state, only to pull it all back together again. You didn’t feel worthy of his care, but on the other hand all you wanted was him to stay and never leave you.

In seconds the sock was gone and your foot cool. You expected him to stand again, but he remained on the carpet.

You peered down at him. “K-Kun?”

He was looking at the peas. “Love, can I see your knee?” He glanced upwards, soft eyes meeting your own for a brief moment before slipping away. “I just want to make sure it’s not too bad.”

Lifting the ice pack away from your knee cautiously, you helped him ease the cloth of your pyjamas up over your knee. 

He hissed at the sight of the bruise you found there, as if the pain were his own. “Oh, love that looks painful.”

“D-does it?” The sight of the pinkish circle only startled you in the sense that it didn’t look that bad. 

“It must hurt a lot,” he reiterated, “be careful around it. Don’t want you getting hurt more.”

“Oh… ok…” 

The rough pads of his fingers left your skin, as you shifted the cloth back over your leg, all while goosebumps began to speckle across your arms.

Kun noticed immediately, eyes darting around the room as he got to his feet. Eventually he settled on the blanket balled up somewhat at the foot of your bed. Unravelling it, he brandished it around you like a cape, before wrapping you up in it.

“There.” He seemed pretty proud of his work, a smile finally adorning his handsome features. “Feel a little more comfortable?” 

You pulled your eyes up to meet his gaze, and attempted to give a smile. It didn’t work. You settled on another nod.

“Well, that’s a success.” He laughed softly. You always liked the sound of his happiness, he always sounded so warm. “I’m going to head back downstairs, you want to come or stay up here?”

“I’ll…” you took a deep breath, “I’ll come.”

“Yeah? Great!” Your answer made his face light up even further, eyes actually turning into beautiful crescents. His sudden excitement reflected in his actions too, as he outstretched his hand to you, to help you up.

You took it as quickly as you could manage for how tired you still were, and the thought of how nice it felt to be holding his hand crossed your mind without a single hindrance. In fact it worried you, for reasons you were too exhausted to try and determine. And so you decided to drop it, fast. 

It was surely nothing after all. 

.

.

.

After leading you downstairs in a comfortable silence, you were eventually on the centre of the sofa, all the remotes beside you, with Kun by the entrance to the kitchen.

 “I’ll make you some food? Ramyun will be good right?” he hesitated, feeling the corners of his lips twitch at the sight of you, encompassed by the blanket like a burrito. It wasn’t fair how adorable you were.  “Or grab you some more blankets, anything you need.”

You hummed sadly, trying to draw your lips together to speak.

“Yes, love?”

He was so patient.

“I…” you swallowed, hands tiredly lifting away from your body and towards him, as outstretched as you could manage, “can I have… have a… hug? Please…?”

His features softened even further, if that were even possible, his eyes regarding you carefully as his lips curled into a smile.

Before he could answer—and make no joke, his answer would have been to take a seat beside you and instantly take you into his arms—there was a clatter, as the back door opened. Several voices swarmed over one another, littered with giggles and whoops as they bickered in the falling darkness.

Kun’s head turned to the kitchen, and he nodded as he saw what you presumed was the face of one of the members through the doorway. “I think you can get a really big one, now,” he remarked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Not quite understanding the situation, you merely pouted, feeling the burn in your heart. 

Kun was extremely aware of how your face fell so drastically “I can’t leave them in charge of cooking can I?” Kun explained with a chuckle, worry tinging his voice. “Please don’t be sad, love. I-I’ll hug you later I promise.”

“Promise?” you asserted.

“With my whole heart.”

His words threw your own through a loop. 

Kun meanwhile called out to the others, “Welcome home! You’re late, but I’ll let it slide if you come here and help me.”

There were a couple of confused ‘eh’s until a few familiar faces came into the room, shrugging off their coats. 

You almost broke into fresh tears as you saw Xuxi’s bright, sunny smile drop from his face when he laid eyes on you.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed, glancing at Kun for an explanation.

At the sound of his deep-set shout, Sicheng leant out from behind the giant puppy’s shoulders to see what Xuxi was so upset about.

He too went from quietly happy to extremely concerned at the sight of your reddened cheeks.

You quickly became very embarrassed. You hadn’t been cute crying, exactly, and you figured you still looked like a dazed, tear-stained mess. 

That was when Ten slipped past the two of them abruptly, running over to you before you could even cry in surprise. 

“No no, no…!” he cooed, perching very carefully on the edge of the sofa, his body turned completely towards you as he extended his hands to your face. He dabbed at your mottled cheeks rather frantically, the coolness of his fingers making you shiver, as they were chilled the winter, whilst your skin had been made hot by tension and stress.

“No, baby, are you ok? What’s wrong? What happened?” He glanced back at Kun who was heading through into the kitchen. “Kun, is it just my hands or is she running a fever?” Before you could answer he continued, eyes shining, “Are you hurt? Sick? Did someone hurt you?”

“They better not have hurt you!” Xuxi interjected, leaning over the back of the sofa. “If they did then you tell me their names, Y/N,” he said diligently, “I’ll make sure they never even look at you again I swear—!”

Sicheng rolled his eyes, a light scoff drifting from his lips as he patted Xuxi's shoulder, before heading round to the chair opposite you. “It’s ok guys, she’s not dying.”

He’d said it with a joking lilt and a gentle tone, but Ten’s mouth hung open as he shot him a look. “I know she’s not, but she’s upset and I’m not having that!”

“Neither will I!” 

“Xuxi, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried,” Ten returned, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, if my girl is not sick, and not physically hurt, then I know exactly what she needs, don’t I?”

As soon as he grinned at you, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your own lips lift. And, much like a chain reaction, as soon as he saw you brighten, even if only slightly, his smile grew into a beam.

“My girl wants hugs, doesn’t she?” he murmured, giddily tapping his finger against the tip of your nose.

You couldn’t avoid emitting a squeak at the contact—his fingers were too cold—but rationale had also left you in some parts, perhaps, as you nodded eagerly, dragging your arms up and throwing them out to welcome him in.

Ten slipped back on the sofa, pulling you into his chest protectively. He was careful to place his hands where they wouldn’t touch your skin, but also where you would know he was there, and so he nestled one into your waist and the other upon the back of your head. 

Adjusting your position only slightly to lessen the pressure off the bridge of your nose, you settled your face in the nook of his neck, fingers laced in his shirt, as you took in the scent of his cologne. He must have several varieties but this one was easily your favourite—whatever it was. It was light, but deep and welcoming, with the openness of a spring day but the independence of a lucid dream, which was kind of how you felt held so close to his heart. You could feel it beating against your arm, seeping through your sleeves and sinking into your skin, through to your own heart, which skipped as soon as the thought of it all struck your conscious mind. You very nearly forgot about the others around you, though as soon as you’d been dipped into the waters of serenity, you’d been pulled out by your own awareness.

Ten was stroking your hair gently, though his touch was shallow to avoid both knots and making you shiver.

Kun was instructing someone about something, words just out of reach for you to piece together, but no sooner than he’d finished, a loud voice that could only be recognised as Xuxi’s, yelled, “group hug!” and a figure then bounded around the sofa.

You couldn’t see Sicheng, so had no idea what he was doing, but you heard a chuckle that sounded like his. 

And a second after you’d questioned the reasoning behind his amusement, you felt a weight crash behind you on the couch.

Ten snapped up out of surprise, indicating he perhaps hadn’t seen in coming either, and with his hand leaving your head, you pressed yourself up slightly to try and get a better look at what happened.

“Hm—?”

It was no use however, because you were knocked back against Ten with a yelp from both of you, as the newcomer practically slammed his weight against your back.

Ten hauled you up as best he could so you weren’t stuck in a folded position but what you had ended up in nonetheless was still not overly comfortable. As you glanced at him you could see his lips wavering, formulating a sentence to most likely scold whoever had pushed the sudden attack with.

But there was no need, as you felt a pair of much longer arms encircle you and pull you more upright, a chin coming to rest surprisingly neatly on your shoulder.

“Hi, Y/N!” Xuxi sang, tapering off into a giggle as he gave you a tiny squeeze.

You laughed bemusedly, relieved to be alive, but also welcoming the warmth from the other side. Xuxi was in fact much warmer, to the point he could be described as an actual radiator, and with him smushed against your back you felt as if you were truly at home.

After a few seconds of his eyes evaluating the sight that he could see and you could not, it seemed that Ten appeared to accept it eventually too. Even with you practically stolen from his arms, he laughed it off, identifying that he could be perfectly comfortable laying into you rather the other way round.

With roles reversed, he slipped a hand up to your collarbone, resting his head just above the other, and seeking the opportunity to wrap one of his legs over yours, which was jutting out over the side of the sofa. Now you could see the room more clearly, and, with a tired laugh, you waved at Sicheng who was watching the borderline catastrophe with a confused but delighted grin on his features. There was a shade to his eyes though, something that you couldn’t quite place. 

Peering over Ten’s head, you could see Kun leaning against the doorway, smiling proudly, as if the whole thing had been his doing.

Though thinking back to Xuxi’s sudden, but most likely inevitable, surprise attack, it maybe had been.

“Hi…!” You waved at him too, leading him to chuckle.

“Hello,” he replied, “you look better already.”

And with a brief scrunch of his nose, he was pushing himself off the wall’s edge and heading into the kitchen. 

You pressed your chin into the crown of Ten’s hair, smiling tightly as quiet settled over the room.

You loved all of them, you honestly did, and you would never do without their bickering and yelling and screeching laughter. But it was relieving to hear peace every once in a while, with the only sound being the sound of steadied breaths—two pairs of which had become more-or-less synonymous with your own. 

“You sure you don’t want to join us, Chengie?”

It was Xuxi that spoke.

You could have bet a million with certainty that it would be him that broke the silence. Man could never stay quiet for long, which was often one of the most endearing parts about him, as it often led him to some extraordinary lengths to find something, anything to say, crafting absolutely wonderful results. A lot of what Xuxi had to say ended up being enshrined as legendary tales that got passed down the long line of units until everyone had heard some form of what he’d said, and if not, they were plastered all over social media at the very least. At least half of them were your doing as well, in the sense that you were the prime messenger, relaying it to Johnny when you next video called him just to hear him one-up your story with one that originated from Mark, or Jungwoo whenever he visited.

The thought of how long he’d been missing for washed over you like sinking into a silent lake. He was back now, and you had been elated when you’d heard the news, waking up to a call from a no doubt bleary-eyed Jungwoo. But the pain of the near radio-silence at some points or his hiatus had been particularly tough to bear. And you hadn’t been the only one suffering.

You glanced back as best you could to the man who had spoken, his words on this occasion unfortunately not sparking much interest, as you waited for a response.

“No.” Sicheng shook his head once, voice neither amused nor melancholic, continuing, “But thank you.”

“Oh, ok! More space for us!” Xuxi’s responses were always bright and cheerful. You felt your heart lurch at the memory of the few times when they hadn’t been.  

Meanwhile the man in question punctuated his words with another, tighter squeeze, which made you cry out in mildly strained laughter as you were brought back to the real world.

“Hey!”

“Dear lord…” Ten sighed, rolling his body-weight to allow his voice to carry into the kitchen. “Kun?!”

There were a few moments of silence, besides the sound of a knife meeting a chopping board from the kitchen. As you knocked your head back, Xuxi fingers digging into your sides, Ten proceeded, desperately trying to avoid your jolting legs, “When are the kids—ow!—when are the kids getting back?! Xu—xi!—is getting boisterous again!”

You freed one of your arms to poke your assailant’s side, making him jump and momentarily loosen his grip with a yelp—an opportunity you took without halt, shifting yourself out of his arms so you could tackle him head on. 

“Ten, play nice!” you asserted gently, catching Xuxi’s hands and pushing against them as hard as you could with a laugh. You knew that if he was genuinely trying he would own you in an instant but you appreciated his instincts telling him to go easy on you. At least for now.

“I could say the same about you, actually!” Ten huffed, curled up on the furthest corner of the sofa and feeling rather discarded. 

He watched the two of you wrestle, giggling through puffs of worn-out breaths, and couldn’t quite stop the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. He did find it endearing how you cared for the others, and how bouncy you could really get. 

Though it was clear to say you were quickly tiring, and couldn’t keep up the chase as much as was perhaps needed. And so, he came to the rescue.

“Y/N! I’m cooooold…!” Ten whined.

Just because he was second oldest didn’t mean he was above whinging to get what he wanted.

Regretting how you’d unceremoniously shoved Ten off you, and accidentally somewhat kicked him, and then forgotten about the poor guy, you just about managed to slink your hands out of Xuxi’s with a quick exhale, swiftly backing off and sweeping your hands out of his reach as he tried to catch them again.

“Xuxi, no,” you murmured very softly, as if you were talking to a puppy, which  to be honest it could be argued that you were, “Ten’s sad I gotta go.”

“Awh…”

“I’m also tired…”

“But what if I’m sad?”

Behold. There it was. The legendary Xuxi pout. Irresistible to those without prior training.

You shook your head, laying back to recline in Ten’s open arms. He immediately curled into you, cheek nuzzling your hair as he smiled victoriously.

Meanwhile Xuxi’s eyes widened further, glistening like clear gemstones in the evening light. 

You held out your own hands, inviting him to come to you, however. “You can come and cuddle again though.”

He accepted that point, albeit a little sulkily, as he leant down, placing his head in your lap and a hand in yours as he arranged his unimaginably large frame into a ball to fit on the sofa, with room to spare.

It always confused you how someone so big could be so small.

Both their grips were a little firmer once they’d reestablished them; Ten’s now warmer hand had found its place upon the bare skin below the hem of your shirt, shielding it from the chill of the room while simultaneously making your heart beat just that little bit quicker, and Xuxi’s rested neatly around your thigh.

You were comfortable though, at last.

.

.

.

The kids, as they had been dubbed, arrived not long after, just as the delicious scent of Kun’s famous cooking began to fill the whole room to the brim. They stepped into a delightfully warm house, the tips of their noses and clouds of their cheeks blushed pink from the cold outside, and immediately they were stripping themselves free of their coats, as the temperature difference made them feel too hot to cope.

You’d rested in peace upon the sofa, kept warm but not too much so between the combined body heat of Ten and Xuxi. Sicheng meanwhile had taken out his phone a while ago, occasionally showing you funny memes and pictures he found. You didn’t really understand some of them, and he had to explain them, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, even if that same shadow tinted his eyes again as he did it. 

As he entered the living room, Xiaojun regarded the sight of the three of you piled on the couch with curiosity to say the least, brows furrowing as he let the two behind him pass.

Yangyang barely scraped a glance at you, until he came back and saw it properly, smirking. “What is this?” 

“Y/N was feeling sad, so we had to come and cheer her up!” Xuxi jumped in, shifting his weight upwards so his head was resting upon your stomach and where he could just about see the new arrivals.

“By… piling on the sofa?” 

“What’s wrong Yangyang?” Ten snickered, before cooing, “Do you feel left out that I’m not babying you too?”

The youngest narrowed his eyes defiantly at the elder, who merely stuck his tongue out.

“Hey, you can join us if you want,” you interrupted cleanly, the wobble in your voice long gone. 

“Can I?!” Hendery called from behind the two stood in the walkway, slipping through to poke his head around Xiaojun where you could see him. His lips were curved into a tiny little smile, eyes wide and clear and glimmering in hope for a ‘yes’.

“Of course!” you replied, hand leaving Ten’s arm and beckoning both of them over. 

“I don’t think there’s any room,” Xiaojun remarked, exhaling amusedly as he hung up his bag round the banister, “you might have to take it in turns.”

At this, you felt both pairs of hands’ grips tighten, as if in reflex. 

“But...!” Xuxi stuttered in his defence. “But I’m—!”

Ten meanwhile snorted in disapproval. “No, I’m comfy. You’ll have to drag me off yourself.”

“Not sure that’s a wise idea,” Sicheng said, barely looking up from his phone, “you’re the lightest one here, you know.”

As the two chaotic forces glanced at one another, grins affirming their idea before snapping back to begin stepping over to the smallest link in the chain, Kun’s voice rose above them all. 

“Dinner’s ready! Come get it! The later you are, the less dumplings you get!” 

It was as if it was a survival zone, as everyone barrelled to the kitchen. 

Xuxi, no matter how loyal he could be, was always swayed by food, and so you had anticipated his sudden departure. However you could never have claimed to have expected the brief placement of his lips to the skin of your temple.

It was so quick and sudden and barely there that you couldn’t even begin to rationalise it. In fact, you only ended up conceiving that it hadn’t been a kiss at all. Perhaps it had never even been. You could have so easily imagined it, his lips grazing the air that surrounded you, muttering something instead. He could have so easily done, as you hadn’t really been listening. 

Either way he slipped out of your hands, leaving you wrapped in Ten’s arms.

He—not that you could see due to the angle you were resting at—sent a glare to the retreating man as he made his way to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but do it, and he stopped as soon as he realised his features had become twisted in such a way. 

He remained pressed against your back, unwilling to leave as he was not affected as severely by the thought of dinner, his hands remaining in their places in proof. 

“Can’t we stay here and eat dinner?” he mumbled against your ear.

“I don’t think Kun would ever allow that.” You giggled. “Not after last time.”

“You never know until you try…” Without much warning, Ten tilted his head towards where Hendery had just exited from and shouted, “Kun?! Can Y/N eat her food on the sofa?!”

The man’s response was immediate. “No! Definitely not—! Not after last time!”

“See,” you snorted, patting his knee in consolation, “told you.”

The man rolled his eyes, sitting up reluctantly with you following suit, as he stretched his arms and back. “Fine. Come on, let’s eat.”

.

.

Dinner was a ruckus, as usual.

You cram eight people around a table and it will always be noisy, but if you then make half of those people crackheads and the other half happy to allow them to be crackheads, then you’ve got yourself a table of absolute chaos.

With the conversation flitting every few seconds, words bouncing from one side of the room to the other to a rhythm of laughter, many would probably have arranged to sit in their rooms to eat but you would never dream of doing such a thing. 

Hearing the banter, weekly in-jokes and teasing was necessary, as it always lifted your spirits—as long as you weren’t upset at the time they picked on you. Luckily the previous cuddling had worked, and you were back to feeling ok, your problems not seeming so impossible anymore. 

However, ‘ok’ was not good enough for these guys, and you knew they wouldn’t leave you at just that. They’d already given you some of their own dumplings (except Xuxi who had kept his to himself with a muffled apology) to you. And besides, you had a promise to keep to the two youngest.

As soon as you spotted the natural lull in conversation, you piped up, “Hey, do you guys want to watch a film tonight?”

Your suggestion was met with a flourish of agreement, only that two faces also fell.

One tried to hide it somewhat valiantly, no doubt to protect you from feeling bad. The other didn’t possess the finesse for this as such, and more-or-less openly sulked at the dining table.

You looked at the two of them. “Ten? Xuxi?”

“SuperM,” Ten remarked, voice monotonous, “meeting on tour dates.”

You let out a small ‘ah’ in understanding. You attempted to look on the brighter side. “There’s always next week…!”

Xuxi nodded sadly, while Ten huffed, earning him a side-eye from Kun. 

“In my defence,” he began, holding up a finger to the eldest in a request for him to wait,  “they’ve worked out all the dates that don’t clash for us. It’s 127 they’re having trouble with, and the managers there can’t seem to do basic maths, because they’ve confirmed two lots of dates that don’t actually work. It must be driving Taeyong mad over in Korea.”

“Why do you need to be there, then?” Yangyang asked.

“We don’t,” Xuxi emphasised.

Ten sighed. “No, I think we do. Even if we’ve outlined our schedules a hundred times, we still need to be in the room while they set the dates, for legal reasons. It’s just irritating that we have to sit there for hours on end, barely able to do anything to help, and if we do have any suggestions, that a—jerk of a—what is he? A producer? Executive? I don’t even know—he won’t let us speak half the time, because of his strange superiority complex that basically means he won’t allow us to ever speak, the absolute f—”

“Ten.” Kun’s voice was hard as stone, his eyes carved into a warning stare. 

He sighed, standing and offering to take the others’ empty bowls and plates. “The point is, this shouldn’t be going on for any longer than it already has, and so tonight won’t be very peaceful, but it’ll be worse if we don’t leave soon.” As he leant over the table to collect your bowl, he whispered, “I’ll be here pretty much all tomorrow though. You?”

You nodded, eyes fallen at the sound of the mess he’d been drawn into. Everyone was so tired, him and Xuxi especially with their extra schedules, and so being dragged through that was only going to stress them out even more. They needed the movie night more than perhaps the others did. 

Noticing the downturn in the energy of the room, as well as how crestfallen you appeared to be at his plight, Ten offered you a wink in response. It took a lot of energy to try to slow the tempo of your heart after that.

Xuxi collected the remaining utensils in one hand, giving everyone a big wave with the other. “We will return!” he announced.

“What are you going to do?” Xiaojun enquired. “About the ‘guy’, I mean?”

Ten shrugged, tilting his head to the side melodramatically. “Guess if he tries anything this time, he’ll face the pure wrath of this bad bitch.”

“Ten!” you cried in faux shock, a gasp quilting the air. “What have we said about swearing in front of the child!”

Laughter erupted as everyone synchronously looked at Yangyang, who was sending you an exaggerated scowling pout. “Not cool Y/N! I’m not a child!”

“Oh yes that’s right, you’re not a child, Yangyang,” Kun interjected plainly, leading the table to hush as each person accepted his words as an instruction to quieten.

Except everyone was wrong. 

Kun glanced at you with a surprisingly sly smile, and then at Ten, then round the entire table, before looking Yangyang dead in the eye, and uttering the words, “You’re baby.”

A plume of cheers erupted round the room as Hendery shrieked with laughter, Xuxi dropping a spoon out of pure joy, leaving Yangyang to merely accept his fate as burned.

.

.

.

You bid both Ten and Xuxi farewell from your place in the armchair closest to the kitchen, soon enough hearing them slip out of the backdoor and into the night. But you barely caught Kun as he seemed to follow them.

After performing a near-comical double-take, mind ticking and realising that the person who had silently swept through in their wake was Kun, you very nearly leapt into the kitchen, the clunk of a car door slam piercing the darkness as your eyes searched for the leader. 

“Kun?”

The man jumped nearly out of his skin, just outside in the cold, halting his motion to shut the door as you poked your head into sight. “Oh, Y/N. Is everything ok?”

You nodded, humming. As you stepped forward, you pulled your shirt further up to your chin to try and retain some heat so as to combat the flurry of new, cold air. “Where are you going?”

His eyes were transfixed upon your face, not that you could make that out in the dim light. All while he could distinguish yours much more clearly, the chalk platter face of the moon granting you a celestial glow from where it rose above the neighbouring buildings. “Oh, giving them a lift, so they don’t have to walk, since it’s so dark out,” he sheepishly apologised, “I should have mentioned it, sorry. But you can start the film without me, I don’t mind!”

“Oh, ok,” you mumbled. You had been about to say you’d make sure everyone waited for him, as you were aware the drive wouldn’t be long, but his words had stopped you in your tracks. 

There was no way for him to avoid the dip in the glimmer of your eyes at what he had said, but he couldn’t push his departure any longer. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. I promise I won’t be long.”

You tried to lift your arms in time to request that hug he owed you, but the door had closed before he could have accepted. 

You couldn’t help but wallow a little bit in your thoughts for a moment. You’d wanted to have as many people in as possible, as those were always the best times. And you understood you couldn’t have Ten and Xuxi, so why couldn’t you have Kun to make up for it…?

He was helping them, however, and going by how freezing it was out there, you had to acknowledge you would have scolded him for not offering to drive them the pretty long distance to the executive building somewhat on the other side of town. It made you kind of hypocritical, and you couldn’t quite shake that thought off.

At that moment, there was a slosh of water that made your ears prick up, leading you to turn towards the sink.

You hadn’t even noticed Xiaojun there, doing the washing up as he’d been elected to by Kun as he left the table. You felt bad for a bit but it was surprisingly dark in the room, and in your defence, he’d been basically silent the entire time. 

“You alright, Y/N?” he enquired, adding more hot water to the bowl.

“I could ask the same about you?” you glanced around the room, looking for the lightswitch. “Has the bulb gone again?”

“No, the light’s fine.”

“Oh, well…” You made your way over to the switch.

“Don’t turn it on,” he announced, tipping his head over his shoulder. The lights from the next room crystalised in his eyes, azure-gold and tracing a diamond upon his cheek. It illuminated the curve of his lips, as he spoke again, quieter this time, “Come here.”

You did what he asked, brushing his shoulder with yours as you came to his side.

You tried to meet his gaze, looking up to his face and drawing across his features, only to get distracted by the shine of his silver hair, tracing down his skin and curling round the shell of his ear so neatly. Plush lips parted as he spoke and you raised your eyes to meet his, only to have him turn away at the last second.

You were left with no choice but to follow where his stare was facing. 

“Look, out there,” he whispered, gently placing a plate at the bottom of the bowl.

You peered into the garden, dimly lit by the light from the living room dancing beyond you, the faint silver of the moon, next door’s garden light, and nothing more—the sky starless and as dark and thick as ink. You couldn’t see a single shape, or even determine the colour of the grass, and it disheartened you to have to explain it to Xiaojun, who was clearly much more excited than you were.

“Jun? I can’t see anything,” you murmured, but he hushed you suddenly, leaving you to slam your lips shut, heart pinched.

After a few seconds he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper, “We have to be really quiet. And no sudden movements. She’ll appear very soon, I know she will.”

You frowned, glancing through the dark window, confronted by the hazy grass of the garden meeting the grey tile of the patio, and then your own musty reflection as your eyes switched focus.

You couldn’t see much of Xiaojun in the glass, the shadow engulfing much of his mirrored-self. However, you could see one half of his face, shaded as if through clouds, his crown crudely lit like a halo from the auburn behind. 

A sigh very nearly left your lips as you stole another glance at his real face, his brow furrowing while his eyes narrowed into the darkness outside, teeth ever-so-slightly teasing his bottom lip as he peacefully waited.

It wasn’t fair how ethereal he was sometimes.

Suddenly he perked up, eyes widening, and leaning into you as he carefully pointed with a soap-sud painted finger into the black. “Look! There!”

You leant forward on the edge of the counter, eyes desperately scouring the garden until you spotted what he was waiting for.

A small bundle, tapered with jagged edges upon its top, snuffling through the shadows. A moment’s thought, and you finally put an understanding to the creature.

A tiny hedgehog, on the search for food.

As she came closer, you could just about make out the twitching of a nose, while she made a somewhat beeline for the fence on the left hand side of the garden. There you could just about make out a weathered blue pet-bowl, filled with some food of sorts.

“There she is,” Xiaojun sighed, whispering a laugh sheepishly. “I was beginning to worry there for a bit, I’ll be honest.”

A wide smile rose to your face, overtaken by the purity of an animal that small just... shuffling through the cold to find food which had been placed in the back garden—and just for her too.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah, the dog food was me,” he replied. “She only comes when it’s quiet here, which isn’t often but it does happen after dinner, as the others get quiet. That’s why I offer to do the work here, so I can check up on her.”

You couldn’t glance away from the hedgehog, especially when she finally reached the bowl and began to tuck in. Though it was in the shade and it was very hard to see anything besides the bowl by that point, made to stand out against the night by the brightness of its sides.

“She’ll eat it all no doubt, she didn’t come yesterday. Unless she has somewhere else and is just running rings around me,” he chuckled, picking up the plate. 

“Why didn’t she turn up?” you asked, wrenching your eyes away to look at Xiaojun again.

The corners of his eyes rose as he wrinkled his nose briefly. “Xuxi’s euphoria last night?” 

You stood confused for a second, trying to retrace your memory, until you finally struck gold. “Oh yea! Jungwoo’s message! I think it was everyone’s euphoria to be honest,” you sighed, laughter at how over-the-top-bubbly Xuxi had been at the sight of his groupmate just texting him ‘hello’ dwindling, “I’d been worried sick about him. No matter how many times anyone assured me he was ok, I knew I wouldn’t settle until I heard it from him himself.”

“It’s alright, I understand that. And I’m pretty sure the others do too.”

As your eyes fell, remembering the anxiety you had about his condition, Xiaojun’s finally settled back on you. 

“You’re extremely kind Y/N, you almost care too much,” he said, “I know Jungwoo can’t wait to see you again, too.”

You finally met his gaze, letting a small smile rise to your lips as you did so. He was just so beautiful, you couldn’t actually look away even if by some bizarre curse you wanted to.

“Thank you, Junnie.”

“I mean it though, Y/N,” he insisted softly, eyes alight with a sudden certainty, “I worry sometimes you care too much about others, and though we appreciate it very much, I don’t…” His voice faltered, as if he’d spoken too much. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself in the process, and forget to care for yourself. We all love looking after you, but we also don’t want you to be hurt at all, if we can help it. So if something hurts you, let us know immediately, so we can support you… yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing as you felt your throat clench. His words were so kind—too kind. It made your heart wrench. Blinking quickly, you looked back into the garden, spotting the hedgehog making her way back to the hedgerow.

At that moment, a voice rose from the living room. “Y/N! What film do you want to watch?”

Somewhat grateful for the distraction, you felt the urge to cry dissipate as you took another glance at Xiaojun. He hadn’t looked away from you this time, it seemed, but you didn’t focus upon that for your own sanity. “I’d better go,” you said, “thank you for showing me the hedgehog. She’s really cute, I’m glad you feed her.”

“No problem, I’ll let you do it tomorrow, if you have time and would like to?”

“That sounds great!” You sent him a grin, covering any sadness you had felt a few moments before. Laying your hand on his shoulder for a second before you passed as a small farewell, you made your way to the living room to go help Yangyang. 

As you reached the archway though, you turned back around to ask one more thing, the thought suddenly preoccupying you to a stop. “Oh, Xiaojun?”

“Yes?” He finished washing a plate and placed it on the draining board, peering over his shoulder at you once again. 

“Does she have a name? The hedgehog?”

In the shadows of the kitchen, you thought you saw him falter, his lip waver in an attempt to formulate a sound, a shape, a word. Brash to the silence, you heard a stutter in his answer.

“Actually, no, I didn’t think... I just call her ‘hedgehog’.”

You spluttered at his seeming inhumanity. How could he possibly not name the poor little thing?

Your disappointment in him was obvious too, and so he hastily added, “Maybe you could come up with one?”

You reasoned with the suggestion, but it didn’t take long before you responded happily with a nod. “I’ll see what I can come up with. See you in a bit!” 

After you left the room, however, he let out a sigh of relief.

He was glad you’d fallen for that excuse, especially since it was so far from the truth. The first thing that he had done, once he realised the hedgehog was a regular, was give her a name. And since she was adorable, with her little nose and love for food, he decided to name her after the first adorable thing he thought of.

He hadn’t foreseen the issue that would occur if he showed her to the person of which he’d secretly named the hedgehog after. 

.

.

.

You spun round the door-frame, willing your thoughts to clear and dissipate. You clapped your hands against your cheeks to try and cool them from the raging pink they had flushed from your previous conversation. Being so close to him had hit a nerve within you somewhere, though what it was, you couldn’t quite comprehend. 

As you passed through, Hendery slipped round the other corner and collided into you.

His sudden appearance made you jump, a rather pathetic yelp uttered past your lips as you quickly found yourself losing your balance after an effort to haphazardly make distance between the sudden newcomer.

Luckily for you, Hendery’s reactions were faster than your falling. He grasped your shoulder firmly, though in such a manner it made you wonder if he wanted to touch you at all—you were at arm's length, his fingers fanned out to rest upon your shoulder blades, his touch barely there, yet very much present. 

You were quick to slot back onto your feet as you staggered to accommodate for his reflex. Only to push yourself further into his arms. You felt as if your luck couldn’t get any worse, face burning up once again as you almost butted Hendery’s head with your own. It was almost as if you were in some cliche skit where you had temporarily become a hapless staggering damsel for the day, and you weren’t going to have that for any longer.

You freed yourself from the sudden proximity with Hendery, refusing to make eye contact as you moved from staring at his exposed collarbone and instead the floor as you rooted yourself to it, folding your arms and huffing. 

He watched you attempt to reclaim your pride, exhaling in relief as you seemed to grow in confidence once again. He had to admit, he understood well that you’d had a bad day, but he couldn’t help but find it odd how flushed your soft cheeks were and how on edge you appeared.

Meanwhile, his face had been a picture, lips pursed into an ‘o’ of moderate horror as he’d almost knocked you to the ground, which then spread into a wide smile as he giggled sheepishly. His eyes were clear as glass, dark and glinting and rueful, as you finally worked up the courage to meet them again.

“Sorry Y/N!” he said, mischief lacing his words.

You scoffed, staring him down, though feeling more of a rush flood through your chest. “Y-yeah, you will be!”

He laughed at your response, quickly dropping the issue entirely. You were grateful for that, you didn’t want to admit that he’d spooked that much. “We need to choose a film, so… what one do you want to watch?”

“I don’t…” you shrugged, “I don’t really know.”

You were glad that you didn’t need to look at him now that he had shifted to your side. You could feel his stare on you however, and it made you want to shiver.

He nodded, interlinking his arm with yours. “Shall we go have a look, my lady?”

Before you could let any words slip through your lips in bemused amusement, he pulled himself closer to you, arm interlocking with yours, and then led you through to the corridor with the shelves stacked with movies.

Slipping through the archway, thanking any deities that were listening that there was no reason for Hendery to be able to hear the heightened tempo of your heart, you found Yangyang already there. He was squinting up at the top row as you reached the rack, fingers running across each box like a small child reading the letters of their first book.

Hendery extended his free arm towards the shelving, bowing his head, “Your moving pictures, my lady.”

You snorted, taking in the sight of the stockpile of films. He was always so extra. In fact, it made it hard for you to focus upon the selection, barely registering the fonts of the titles and colours of the boxes, as you were hit by a sudden spring of sentimentality. 

They’d been ordered alphabetically by title, and you remember the day starkly that you’d sat down with Xuxi to organise them. 

He wouldn’t have been your first choice to help order things, since his attention span normally lasted around that of a cocker spaniel with a new toy, but he’d been the only one in the house at the time, and he was the only one tall enough to reach the very top shelf regardless (you still didn’t understand why that top shelf had been installed and even being used, because if Xuxi wasn’t around—which did occur often due to his new schedules—then it was a real safety hazard to get a film down from there, seeing that no one else in the group managed to grow anywhere near 6″). 

On this occasion though, he’d been uncharacteristically focused, listening to your instructions carefully, his dazzling grin a sight to behold as he had cocked his head to one side whilst he thought—you could have seen the letters wafting across his thoughts as he counted them. He’d been very calm and rational, as if the bounce had been temporarily quelled, and he’d made jokes about how short everyone else was only a couple of times, too. 

In fact, he’d been a very big help, and the afternoon had also proved useful in the sense that you weren’t the only one with a better idea of where all the movies were. Even if they were organised well, the two of you could still find them faster than the others usually could, simply due to the fact you could remember where you’d placed them on the shelves in the first place. 

Kun had been extremely happy with the end result as well, which was always a bonus. Meanwhile Ten still didn’t believe you’d managed to get Xuxi to sit down and do it with you. You didn’t blame his disbelief. You could barely believe it yourself. But there he had been, clear as day, settling himself on the carpet without you even inclining to ask him to.

However, you did admonish the system you’d used now though. Perhaps taking the extra time to organise them into genres would have been better, as after all, you rarely knew a specific movie you wanted to watch.

You suddenly became very aware of Hendery’s presence. He’d inched forwards, his lips pursing out of the corner of your eye as he narrowed his sights on the possibilities for the night.

His movement had snapped you out of your thoughts, though it took a lot of effort to avoid getting caught upon the sight of his lips, beautifully curved and the perfect shade of rose—

You forced yourself to scour your eyes over the titles, eventually straightening to join Yangyang in peering up at the very top row, where the box-sets were kept.

“Whatcha looking at?” you asked Yangyang, a giggle thinly veiled. His thoughtful little frown was adorable, and it was clear he was thinking very hard about something.

“Did we watch the final part of The Lord of the Rings?” he answered.

You and Hendery both nodded. 

“Oh... well there goes that suggestion then.” He shifted down from tiptoe and came to lean against the table beside the shelving, sending you a sweet smile. “Y/N, what type of movie would you like?”

Eased, you sent him a quick smile before glancing down at the films at the lower rungs. “I’m not sure, really. Nothing too heavy, and nothing that will make me cry.”

He hummed. “So, a comedy then?”

Hendery’s eyes went wide, a look of genuine fear playing on his features. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Our senses of humour in this house, when it comes to films can…” he paused, silk voice tentative, “…vary, a lot.”

You nodded in agreement. “Remember what happened over that Robin Hood film?” You shook your head very firmly. “Bad times, my dudes.” 

Yangyang cocked his head to one side in thought, frowning at seemingly nothing. “Fair enough…” Suddenly, he perked up, showing a grin you knew well. “I’ve had an idea. What if we watch a really bad movie, one that’s so bad, it’s actually kind of good?”

You clicked your fingers, before shooting him finger-guns, “Now that is a good idea!”

The three of you turned towards the mountain of films. It wasn’t long before your attention was drawn from them once again, as Hendery gently lent upon your shoulder, letting his fingers just brush the jumper at your shoulder. Once again you were convinced he wasn’t perhaps focused on the films.

“Ok… bad… films…” Yangyang murmured, pulling out a blue box to read its description on the back. You didn’t even gather what he’d picked out, as your eyes had been drawn back to Hendery’s as if magnetised. 

As it turned out, he was a lot closer than you had previously thought. This time, it was his eyes that formulated the centre of gravity, and you immediately found yourself held in them, glistening mahogany so dark the tints stowed away in the shadows of the curtains of his fringe.

You sent him a smile, awkward and most likely faltering out of no reason other than mild shock at just how well poised his features could be, enquiring with a stutter, “Do you have any ideas?”

He smushed his lips together, as he usually did when he was thinking, something of which that always made your heart simper, and let his eyes wander away from you and up to the penultimate top shelf. 

“’Azure Shadow’?” he said, reaching up and grabbing the box, his arm shifting lending his hand to consequently rest around the curve of your shoulder, fingers grasping ever so tenderly as if you were an artifact he wasn’t supposed to touch. You couldn’t help but freeze up at it, all while he didn’t even seem to notice, his voice as clear as a cloudless, spring day sky. “I heard it was pretty bad—hey The CP Times gave it 4 stars!”

Yangyang pointed victoriously, as he quickly realised a point he’d made long ago was now finally proven. “See! I told you guys you should never trust the CP Times!”

You were grateful for his interruption, as it drew potential attention away from you, stuck in your emotionally stumbling mess. You felt his grip tighten lightly, fingertips rubbing ever so slightly against your shoulder blade as laughter seeped into Hendery’s voice. “What? What problem do you have with the CP Times? I…?”

“Oh come off it, Hendery, you know! That awful article they posted about—!”

“Oh…! I see where your allegiances lie, Yangyang the Traitor!”

“I—what does that mean?!”

“They published a lovely one about my favourite—”

The hand finally left you, your shoulder falling into the grips of a surprising cold, but your mind began to pull itself finally out of its trance. 

“And? They were horrible to mine!”

“They didn’t mention her though!”

To be frank, you had no clue what their little squabble was about, and it didn’t help that they kept interrupting one another. You shivered as you regained your sensibility, tiptoeing forward to urge yourself to enter the fray.

“Exactly!”

“She was on hiatus at the time!” Hendery countered, eyes bright in contrast to Yangyang’s wilder ones. “You’re just too in love with her, that’s what.”

Yangyang had no words for that. His mouth hung open like a guppy fish, as he scrambled for something to retort back. But he was panicked, and it showed on his face, as colour seemed to simultaneously drain from it but also rush to his cheeks. 

“I am not in love with her?!” Yangyang was scowling, his voice jagged and incredulous and harsh. You winced at the unexpected sound, leading his eyes to quickly flicker to you. Any strength that had once been in them vanished before your own, as all fighting energy left his body limper. His voice was much quieter as he echoed himself, glancing away from you and staring at the floor instead,  “I am not in love with her…” 

All the while Hendery just laughed it off, as if everything that had just happened had been a ruse to rile the youngest up all along. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I got you.”

You decided it would be wise to intervene before their bickering ended in a tussle again.  

“Well… maybe this film isn’t bad enough,” you remarked, earning a nod from Hendery and leading him to put it back on the shelf.

Yangyang remained silent for a while, even as Hendery suggested some other movies. His gaze was uncharacteristically vacant, while his presence had grown rather small.

You wanted to go over to him, to make sure he was ok, but there were many contradicting messages going on in the room, and you couldn’t really tell if it was that serious or not. One was behaving as if it was, the other as if it was not. Besides, Yangyang was neither super cuddly nor super solitary, so it was more of a case by case thing as to whether he wanted attention to help him calm down and cheer up or not.

“What about ‘The Man of Blade’?” he measured suddenly out of the blue, scoffing weakly as he retrieved it, “this one doesn’t even show its ratings, it must be awful!”

You skipped over to him, now given an inclination that he wanted to socialise. You really didn’t want to leave him, even if you didn’t know what the hell had just happened. And so you took hearing him talk as an invitation for you.

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you ducked your head in carefully. You wanted to see the description, but you also wanted to offer him some comfort, thus your cheek just barely brushed the cloth of his hoodie.

You had expected Yangyang to read it out, but feeling him shift his weight, perhaps just to accommodate for you, but you expected it was more out of sudden nerves, so you decided to take the role up instead.

As you cleared your throat in order to begin reading it dramatically to keep Hendery on side, Yangyang turned the box at an angle so you could read it better. You snuck a glimpse at him, to find a smile already filtering back onto his face. The signs of there being no lasting impact boosted your confidence as you found courage in reaching success.

“’A man makes a wish to a genie’,” you began, the corners of your mouth twitching already as you attempted to keep your tone serious, “‘to become the most powerful man to ever live so he could face God in a one-to-one’ battle to the death—”

“I’m sorry what?” Yangyang was back in business, ripples of his laughter seeping through his chest to where you could feel it, lending you further chance to rest your head fully against his shoulder. 

All the while Hendery merely laughed.

You tried to hold it together. “—a-and restore not only his pride but his… his…”

“Oh no, what?” 

Laughter bubbled in your throat as you forced the final sentence from your lips. “His valiant steed’s honour—yo, what the actual—?!”

Yangyang cackled as he began hastily opening the box. “It’s decided! We’re watching ‘The Man of Blade’! And we can all suffer together!”

Hendery snickered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but why the hell is that even here?! Who bought it?”

“It must be a present?” you insisted. “Surely! No one in this house would buy this in their right mind otherwise—”

“I bought it.”

Three heads simultaneously whipped in the direction of the living room. 

There, standing in the archway, was Sicheng.

A moment of silence passed as the three of you stared at him, mouths agape and words lost, until you exclaimed, in more fear than you had perhaps originally anticipated, “Chengie, no!”

“Look,” he projected, before the other two could add to the confusion, “it was supposed to be dumb gift for Ten, something that I could hide his actual present behind, and so I decided to hide it plain sight until his birthday.”

A chorus arose. “Ohhh.”

“But, does that mean we can’t use it then?” Hendery questioned. 

“Oh, yeah, damn,” Yangyang said, closing the box, “it’s ok Sicheng, we’ll put it back.”

“Actually,” you began, eyes flickering from each man, and finally resting on the box, “Ten isn’t here, so as long as no one tells…”

“We can still watch it!” Hendery finished, clapping his hands and motioning for the box. “Let’s start it up, I want to see the menu page!”

As the two fought over who got to put the disc in the player, their squabbling much more harmless this time, you made a mental note to ask someone about the debacle later, turning your attention currently to Sicheng instead.

His eyes, dark caramel and hidden from the light, were down-turned and avoiding your gaze. They seemed to graze across your cheeks instead, flickering up to your own only occasionally.

You offered him a smile, small and soft, and then walked over to him. “Hey, thanks for the film! It sounds perfect for tonight.”

“It’s no problem, I’m curious to watch it too,” he grinned back, before easing you out of the way of the two bundles of energy that bounded through into the living room, “I really hope it’s as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh it’s got to be!” you assured, feeling warmth settle back into your system, slowly, but surely, as you laughed. Relief felt good after all. “Come on, Chengie, help me get some snacks?”

“Of course.” He stepped backwards, letting you past to lead the way. 

Back in the kitchen, you began to scavenge for all the food you could find, layering Sicheng’s arms with bags upon bags of snacks. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the number you’d piled, however, until you swung all the cupboards closed and aimed to place a final packet on top, only to find that you’d crafted a tiny mountain, and Sicheng’s face was practically completely obscured by its silhouette.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Chengie, I didn’t notice how much…”

“It’s alright,” he answered brightly, peeking carefully round the precarious pile, “I got it!”

His smile was glimmeringly bright, and you couldn’t help but be stunned by it, since a bright smile like that wasn’t exactly common for him, even in the dorms. He stepped forward carefully to request the final snack be crowned upon the summit above his eyeline, and with caution, you obliged, balancing it on top as best you could.

“Now all we have to do is get you into the living room without dropping them—are you sure you don’t want me to take half? It’s not hard at all for me to do so…!”

He turned so he could see you. “It’s ok, you’re already doing too much by organising this. I can carry a pile of snacks, don't worry! Just… warn me if I get too close to an obstacle.”

You nodded, peering over his shoulder to see his way. “I can try and do that. I can promise I can help you avoid a chair, but I must warn you Sicheng, I can’t guarantee I can help you avoid other ones such as Hendery and Yangyang.”

You heard a laugh from behind the snack pillar, and felt your heart leap with pride as a response. It wasn’t that Sicheng was boring—no, far from it—it was just he wasn’t on the verge of being a giggling mess all the time like the others were. You’d guessed it came with maturity. Then you remembered how much of a dork some of the older members could be in general, and then admitted to yourself that you had to more or less discount that theory. 

“Moving obstacles are always the worst,” he agreed, shifting his hands slowly to keep a firmer grasp on the mountain as he turned to make his way back into the living room. “But I appreciate your effort nonetheless. You ready?”

You hummed in affirmation, and the two of you began your careful trundle into the living room.

.

.

.

With snacks arranged on the coffee table, you slumped on the sofa, taking care to mind your feet as you went—you didn’t want to knock all your hard work on the carpet, as then you would have to vacuum it all up and unless you had someone to make the pain more bearable, it wasn’t fun in the slightest. 

You watched as Hendery emerged victorious over the disc and scampered over to the TV, fiddling with the DVD player.

Yangyang, pouting from the sidelines, perked up once he realised that he now had a crucial advantage. 

He bounded over to you, barely choosing a side and instead practically flung himself onto the sofa too. He threw his arms open to encase you as he went, and once his back hit the cushions, he pulled you into him. 

Shrieking in surprise and glee, you shuffled yourself round so you could rest your head more comfortably on his chest. 

“There,” he murmured proudly, a hand coming to pat your hair softly, “comfy?”

“Very.” Your voice was muffled against his hoodie. 

Hendery glanced back over his shoulder at the sight, and hurried himself. You couldn’t see, and even if you could have, you wouldn’t have been able to notice the brief pang that hit Hendery’s heart at the sight of you snuggled closely into his warmth.

You would have been able to witness Yangyang’s smirk that he sent him as he began to make his way over.

All of this knowledge of course was obsolete to you, as you could see nothing at all, enveloped in warmth and seeing nothing but darkness with your eyes closed, your ear pressed against Yangyang’s heart.

Its beat was wild.

Sicheng meanwhile took a seat where he had been previously, spinning the chair around so he would be able to see the screen.

You heard it creak and peaked out from beneath Yangyang’s arms to catch a glimpse of him.

“Hey,” you called softly, causing him to swivel a bit further round to see you, “you sure you don’t want to come sit over here? It’s comfier than that desk chair.”

“But it is a spinny ch—” You hushed Yangyang before he could finish. 

Sicheng smiled, the dim in his eyes growing as he shook his head. “No, it’s ok, I’m good here.”

“You sure?” You couldn’t deny it to yourself: you really did want him to sit over there with you. You didn’t know why, or what you wanted to do with him had he come over when you beckoned, because he wouldn’t have been comfortably with you draped over him in any shape or form, which you respected, but you also wanted to touch him in some way. You hated seeing that grey hue in his eyes that forced him to turn them away from you, you reasoned.

There was probably something more to it all too, but as per usual, your ramblings were interrupted by his response.

It was a nod, and the very gradual spin of his chair as he pushed himself back to face the TV subtly.

You tried not to take it personally, but you couldn’t hide the falter in your smile. It was hard to get all your feelings together sometimes after all.

Yangyang couldn’t quite see it at his angle, but Hendery could, and it led to him pouting at you as he waddled over.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want the others to hear. You were thankful for that, if it was the case, as it wasn't that big of an issue, and you didn’t want to worry anyone else.

“I’m ok, don’t worry!” you declared. “Just tired, is all.” 

Your response had been too fast, and it was just your luck that of course both Hendery and now Yangyang had noticed. You cursed your accidental volume, sending them both an eye roll as you played it down. 

“It’s been a real long day, but you guys worry too much,” you jested, poking the arm beside your head. 

You received a little huff from above you in a wordless reply, whilst Hendery quickly settled down beside you, inclining into your sloped body as he held your hand tightly, fingers laced with your own. They were a little clammy but then again so were yours, and you never cared.

‘Attention whore,’ you thought to yourself, a chuckle seeping into reality. Yangyang frowned at the random burst of humour, since no one had done anything as you did. He wondered what was going in your head. It was a merciless thing to chase, since no one would know, and he’d never really understand—that’s kind of how brains worked after all—but he loved hearing what you had to say about everything. He shifted his weight to bring you just a little bit closer, as if it would make a difference, let him understand why you were laughing.

He didn’t have long to consider much at all, with the film menu loading up and sending everyone in the room into a bout of horrified laughter.

“What even is that?!” Yangyang yelled above you.

“That, dear Yangyang, is an actual, colourised depiction of hell,” you countered, lips twisted in terror as you sat up instinctively. Yangyang too was tense—it was as if the atrocity had immediately set off fight-or-flight responses of every single person in the room. 

Hendery flicked his head over to you. “In the shape of a horse?!” 

“It’s never going to leave my head,” Sicheng murmured. “There it is. Emblazoned into the insides of my skull. Behind my eyes. I’ll never escape it. Set me free from this torment—”

“What’s going on?”

Xiaojun had come through from the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel and striding through into the living room as if he’d been summoned. 

Everyone silently and simultaneously pointed at the TV, depicting the single-shot menu screen of an abominable CGI horse crowding the entire screen.

“I don’t—mother of sweet jesus—” 

“I know right?” Yangyang exclaimed. “It’s horrifying. I hate it!”

“It’s actually cursed,” Xiaojun stated, unable to draw his eyes away from the savagery of art he’d been presented with. His mouth was agape as he leant on his hands, placed on the back of the sofa. “Obscene!”

Winwin’s voice was still low, but you could just about hear it over the whoops and cries of the others; “My sleep paralysis demon.”

“Is this what we’re watching?” Xiaojun asked, deep eyes wide and begging for the answer to be any cognate of ‘no’.

“Yep.”

He turned to look down to you, his expression torn in misery. “This crime to humanity?”

“One hundred percent.”

Xiaojun stared at the screen, eyes alight with the tacky flames of the anathema displayed before him. Eventually he snapped out of his cursed gaze and headed back into the kitchen. “Dear lord—don’t start without me!”

As the laughter died down, you settled back into Yangyang’s embrace, ushering Hendery to come closer too so you could have him near too.

He looked over to you, feeling the tug on his hand. With only a momentary pause to check if you were sure, he flopped down onto your stomach, exhaling happily with an arm stretched.

“You feel happier now, right Y/N?” Yangyang suddenly asked, voice low, and just below a whisper. 

You were surprised, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better than I did before. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” He cleared his throat, shifting his balance to support the extra wait Hendery brought to the table. “You’re certain we don’t need to enact special measures?”

You frowned, tilting your head up to come to look at his jaw, as he quickly looked back up to somewhere else in the room—or at least, anywhere besides the TV, for clearly very rational reasons. Bemusedly, you asked about his supposed ‘special measures’, but won little response. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, before he glanced down at you, eyes flickering across each paradigm of your face with his lips pressed plush as he thought. 

He parted them eventually, ebbing with air and possible words, until you felt the rise of his chest as he inhaled and readied himself to speak.

Only then did Xiaojun enter the room and take the final spot at the end of the sofa, patting Hendery’s legs to get them to move. 

“Ok, I’m back, we can start now!” he announced.

The ball of conversation was knocked from its ledge and rolled in a different direction to what you’d hoped. 

“Who has the remotes?” Hendery piped up, feet repositioned but this time on top of Xiaojun’s legs. The elder of the two wasn't impressed by it all though, and instead shoved them off by flicking his toes. 

“I do,” Sicheng replied, already frowning at the buttons. “Can someone get the lights?”

“Sure.”

Yangyang stretched up behind him, hand awkwardly sliding up the wall as he sought for the switch. Eventually his fingers struck gold, and the room snapped dark.

And then the menu finally disappeared as the horror of a film began. 

.

.

.

And by no surprises, it was utter garbage. 

But it lived up to expectations in that sense, and it was thus absolutely hilarious.

You’d spent the first hour shrieking with laughter, and then you proceeded to tear each scene and every piece of dialogue apart as a five-piece.

The entire film was in itself a curse, a sin, blasphemous.

Hendery was slapping criticism on the plot left, right and centre to the point it made you wonder why he was here at all and not a movie critic. Meanwhile, Xiaojun just snorted at everything he said.

The two had come to an unspoken truce, after squabbling over where Hendery could put his feet. They were now situated on Xiaojun’s thighs, and swinging every now and again, especially when the owner got particularly pent up and passionate about a piece of dialogue or plot hole. 

You felt your heart burn at how adorable it was, though also suffered the pain of the jerks that Hendery made every time he had the sole of his feet poked or tickled, which Xiaojun seemed to enjoy doing too much.

You stroked Hendery’s hair gently, lightly pressing his fringe out of his eyes where his head rested on your stomach, whilst you peered around to Sicheng to check if he was alright, having not heard a peep from him in half an hour or so.

What you found was borderline horrifying. He was completely engrossed in the movie, with a  grin plastered on his face as the lights of the terrible CGI glowed in his irises and fashioned him into a cult leader in a fantasy movie, watching something demonic burn.

You hushed a chuckle behind your hand, as you leant back to turn your attention to Yangyang. 

He’d been the forerunner of the jokes, cackling at every little thing and turning it into pure comedy gold for the rest of the people in the room, which you were very grateful for. The movie would have been brain-soup without him.

He’d re-positioned himself slightly so you were higher up on his body, head much closer to be of an equal height to his. This way you could press your temple against his cheek, if you wanted. 

However, it was him that had his head nuzzled against you, his cheek resting in your hair. 

He eventually quietened down as he grew more drowsy, instead taking in the scent of you, sweet and calming. It only lulled him into more peace. 

With you in his arms he felt complete, in a way. As if he had a duty of sorts and when you were there he was completing it. Not that he’d ever tell you as such.

But he wasn’t sure what this meant to him, and he didn’t want to think about it too much.

A part of him deep down knew that it would cause some pain, somewhere along the line. And so he didn’t spare those thoughts the chance. 

However, he couldn’t still the beating of his heart whenever you moved against him, whenever you looked at him and smiled.

As the credits rolled, there were several sighs of relief, but otherwise it was complete utter silence as the room tried to comprehend what abomination you’d just witnessed.

You glanced over at everyone to see if they were just as confused as you were. Seeing you were in firm company in your bemusement, you announced, “The Oscars are clearly rigged for this not to win.”

Yangyang snorted. “Of course!”

“Best film ever! Y/N couldn’t make a better one even if she tried.”

Xiaojun flicked Hendery’s toe for that one.

“Oh of course, honey.” You leant over slightly, arms gently squeezing the boy in your lap, giving him a squeeze. “And you couldn’t make a worse one.”

Hendery seemed to take it as more of a compliment as he grinned, nose scrunching as he headbutted you softly.

You tickled his sides briefly, seeking joy in the squeal that it earnt you, and let Xiaojun take the fall as he got kicked in the arm. You sent him an apologetic pout, not that you deep down meant it wholeheartedly. 

“Ow! Y/N!” he exaggerated, “And to think I defended you!”

“Karma,” you responded simply, much to his chagrin.

“For what?!”

“For all the headbutts I got in the stomach?” you asserted

Xiaojun shrugged, admitting his faults and hence, defeat. “Yeah, that’s fair—” 

It was Sicheng that interrupted. “Oh.”

His voice was disappointed, and where his melancholy suddenly procured from confused you, since you couldn’t see any possible origin anywhere. Had someone done something? Said something to dismiss him? More likely ignored him. You hoped for the others’ sake they hadn’t. He’d been so sunny during the movie. 

You looked over to him, trying to veil your concern in its entirety, but still show care. “Chengie?”

“The time,” he said, holding up his phone.

It was nearly midnight. 

“How long was the movie?” Yangyang exclaimed.

Sicheng answered, “Longer than you’d expect.”

“Well over two hours?” Xiaojun suggested. “But that time included the credits.”

“Haven’t you guys got to be up like, stupid-early tomorrow?” you asked, voice timid, fearing the ‘yes’ that you knew would follow.

A moan of irritation ricocheted across the room. 

Xiaojun confirmed it for you. “Yeah, we do.”

“I don’t want to go…” Yangyang whined.

“I’m sorry but you gotta,” you encouraged sadly, “you need sleep.”

“And so do you,” Hendery added, kicking his legs off the sofa and stretching as he stood. 

It was your day off tomorrow, though you couldn’t deny you were pretty tired. You decided not to protest. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, come on, otherwise Kun will be mad at us,” Xiaojun chuckled, “not sending you to bed at a responsible time, you know.”

You snickered, slowly shifting yourself out of Yangyang’s arms. 

His hands seemed resistant to the idea, catching on your shirt as you moved away.

Eventually though, he was freed from any of the ‘constraints’ he had—and thus all of his possible excuses as to why he wouldn’t head upstairs too—and was ordered by you to head to his room. “Come on, Yangyang. You gotta go.”

He pouted at you, in a last bid attempt to get you to have mercy and stay just a bit longer.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but I can withstand even the strongest Xuxi pout,” you explained. From behind you heard someone, the identity of which you could not tell, whisper that that was a lie, but you ignored it and continued, “I’m sorry, but you’ve still got some training to do before you can win me over like that,” 

“Yeah, ok, I’m going,” Yangyang reluctantly nodded his head, mumbling,  “Worth a try…”

Hendery followed second, waving to you as he went with that Prince Charming smile almost knocking you off-guard again. It hadn’t, but of course something else was going to succeed in its stead. That ‘something’ took the form of Xiaojun, bidding you goodnight with a chaste kiss on your cheek. You were startled to say the least, it had been so brief, but felt like it had also lasted for minutes. His lips were warm, soft, but you hadn't been able to hold onto much tangibility to them, as no sooner had they met your skin, they were whisked away again. Like the touch of a spirit, afraid of the rapidly rising sun. It seemed no one else noticed due to the darkness of the living room and the fact that most of them were already halfway up the stairs or gone.

You remained in the living room a bit after they went, pretending that you needed to stretch on the sofa for a bit before getting up. It was a lie, though, and you knew that well, and you felt your fingers tracing over the curves of the invisible imprint he’d left there.

“You need to head up too.”

Sicheng’s voice was light and airy, like the shadows had engulfed it. You barely heard him, but he made you jump nonetheless. With one hand at your kiss-embroidered cheek, you threw one down to your chest where you wished the weight of your hand would somehow slow the sudden spike in your heart rate.

“I know,” you assured just as quietly, “I’m just… taking my time.”

You could just about trace the lines of his smile in the dim light after he turned the TV off. His presence was faint, but what you could feel was warm and gentle.

He whispered something that this time you didn’t catch. But you felt the tethered urge to know what it was.

“Sicheng?”

“Don’t worry.”

You swallowed, knowing that you weren’t going to get it out of him, much to your disappointment. He had just said what sounded like a collection of random syllables, but together they had carried something heavy, something with depth, something that had been patient for quite a time.

He sighed, getting to his feet. You heard the crinkling of wrappers and the clatter of bowls as he began to tidy up. 

“Here, I’ll help,” you began.

But as you sat up, you felt a hand press firmly against your shoulder.

“There’s no need, it’s ok.”

You frowned into the dark. He wasn’t looking at you, which was why his voice sounded distant. You could make out his silhouette, broad and proportioned as if he was drawn. He was like an artist's unknown creation, stood in the background of their studio, overlooked by many but appreciated much more than any by the few that knew him.

You worked up the courage to enquire about the occurrences earlier. “Why wouldn’t you come over and sit with us? Like, during the movie or before.” Feeling intrusive, you hurriedly added: “I mean, I don’t mind of course, just… you know?”

That caused him to look at you, dead in the eye, but he remained silent for the longest time. 

You reasoned that maybe this was why he never made eye contact with you. Because when he did, it was like he was peering much deeper than just your eyes. His stare was the definition of eyes being the gateways to the soul. You briefly considered if this one worked both ways when he finally replied, eyes dipping away once again.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” he cleared his throat, scooping up an unopened snack bag under an arm, “besides, you were already quite busy with the others, so… I didn’t want to overwhelm you with anything more.”

Your features softened at his words, a pang in your heart. “I appreciate that, Chengie. But please remember that you won’t overwhelm me or get in my way. I like hanging out with you just as much as the others.”

You could make out the smile on his face, small and sweet, before he ushered himself away towards the kitchen. “You need to head to bed, Y/N, you need some sleep.”

He was right, but you were convinced you weren’t going to leave until you got one thing. If you'd calculated everything right, he wouldn’t have a problem. In fact, it may just be what he specifically wanted.

You headed to the entrance into the kitchen and waited for Sicheng to come back. Upon his return, he almost bumped into you, but caught himself just in time.

Your eyes met in the darkness, lit by the streetlamp from outside the window far behind you. His hair glimmered with the golden haze, crowning him surreptitiously, as he wordlessly questioned why you were there.

“I know, I’m heading up I promise,” you answered for him. “But… I just... can I have a hug first? Please?”

With his lips pressed into a small ‘o’, he looked shocked by your request to say the least. You worried for a moment that you’d misjudged, and was asking for too much of him.

Before you could backtrack and hurriedly explain that it didn’t matter if he said no, you’d be fine and wouldn’t think any different of him, that delicately crafted yet stoic face melted right before your eyes into the softest smile you could have imagined. “Of course.”

The silhouettes of his hands rose in the dark, barely touching your body as he brushed them along the slopes of your shoulders. He was gentle, but they moved with a certain affirmity, as if they took a mind of their own, following an old familiar road throughout their long-left hometown.

You found your own fingers gracing his collarbones, before shifting up, your arms coming flush against his bare, smooth neck, and finally interlocking gradually behind him. Sicheng meanwhile rounded the curves of your upper arms, eventually spiralling around to make the jump to your waist, where they wasted no time in nestling into the nook of your lower back.

He held you delicately, but firmly against him. It was reassuring, despite the lack of time you spent there pressed into his warmth, as you felt your breath slow, and your eyes close.

He felt so… tender? Vulnerable? It felt like he really meant whatever he was trying to convey through his actions. You just felt at such a loss because you couldn’t figure out what it was.

As his head came to a gentle rest against yours, his hands secure at the small of your back tightening as if instinctively, it occurred to you awfully suddenly. 

It was if he was hugging you like he was never going to get the chance to do so again.

.

.

.

Once you’d reached your room, you’d breathed a sigh heavy with a boiling froth of emotions.

In a cruel sense of irony, chasing after comfort had only succeeded for so long, as you were drawn back into the realms of stress once again.

It was of course something you could handle, you imagined at least—you’d gotten through the day of hell, you imagined you could handle a cornucopia of thoughts. Though you had to admit to yourself that there was a lot of string to unravel. 

You couldn’t help but remember the thrum of your heart as Sicheng had placed his thumb against the cusp of your jaw while he gradually pulled himself away, encouraging you to go to bed. His palm had barely touched your neck, the contact was so brief it felt like the breath of a ghost, but you had found yourself barely able to use your lungs regardless.

For a brief moment there had been a light in his eyes, that despite the dark shone so brightly. And then he’d pulled himself away, and that grey from prior had returned, like clouds pushed by a November gale.

What did it mean?

Oh please. You knew, didn’t you? Deep down the understanding was there, not that you could perhaps believe it.

What you were rather dealing with was the question of what it meant to you.

You decided to watch Youtube for a while to calm yourself down a bit after… whatever had just happened, and consequently ended up staying up long enough for the others to return.

The sound of the door opening and the joyous cacophony of Xuxi’s laughter—instantly answered with incessant hushing from not just Ten but also synonymously Kun—reminded you of one of the no doubt many reasons why you were unable to settle.

Kun had promised to return quickly, but he had been gone all night.

You wanted to ask about it, desperately. However, this coincided with the fact it was very late indeed. And how comfortable you were in bed. But it was also going to drive you crazy all night if you didn’t find out why. Kun was a man of his word. He would never just… break a promise like that. Would he?

After a few minutes, once Ten and Xuxi had retired to their rooms, your disgruntled prayers were answered as Kun knocked on your door, face peaking through the gap.

You stared up at him, eyes big and expectant with your lips pursed. He had explaining to do after all. It appeared he was aware of this fact too, with guilt written over his face.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he began, “can I come in?”

You pretended to think about it for a few moments, even though you both knew the answer. He waited though, and it was only when you gave him a ‘yes’ did he come inside.

He sidled over to your bed, eyes sweeping the shapes formed by your bed covers, to make sure that when he eventually perched on the side, he didn’t accidentally sit on your feet interlocked beneath the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I promised I would come back but the other two swore it wouldn’t be long, and it would be more rational to stay,” he explained, “but then it took longer than they thought, but I couldn’t risk coming home only to then head out again and… I don’t know why I listened to Xuxi about it to be honest, it’s not an overly rational thing to do.”

“Did he pout at you?”

“No! I am above falling to such… charms…”

“Sure you are.” You arched an eyebrow. “Did Ten tell you to stay?”

He nodded, his eyes surprisingly big. He wasn’t really one to pull the ‘kicked-puppy’ image to try and gain mercy, but here he was.

“Well, I’ll let you off then,” you let the faux scowl fall from your face and giggled instead, “we know how persuasive he can be.”

Kun paused, eyes flitting to yours. “So you’re not mad?”

You scoffed. “Kun, I wasn’t even that mad to begin with, I promise! I can’t be mad at you for long anyhow. You’re just too—”

You’d let your mouth talk without your brain, and it suddenly occurred to you what you were saying. As your voice faltered, you weren’t sure what was supposed to follow. 

Kind? Sweet? Cute? Handsome? 

Kun was waiting for you to finish, and unfortunately, you panicked a bit.

“Kun.”

He frowned bemusedly. “I’m too ‘Kun’?”

You nodded awkwardly, while you interrogated your own intelligence in your head. “…To be mad at for long, yes.” 

He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed towards but not quite at your bedside table. “Well, I mean, I prefer that to you being mad at me.” He exhaled, clearly relieved, looking straight at you instead. “Did you enjoy the film?”

“Oh it was awful!” you exclaimed. As you saw his eyes widen again, you laughed. “We enjoyed it so much.”

He was clearly very confused, and his lips wavered as he didn’t know how to respond. 

You took some delight in his confusion, you couldn’t deny. “Well,” you propositioned coyly, “you’d understand if you’d been there.”

“I’m sorry!” he reiterated, eyes wide and searching yours for any sign of relent.

Normally, you would have perhaps kept up the teasing for a little while longer. However, sleep was lodged beneath your eyes, encouraging them to close. 

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now,” you laughed, though you felt a little bit guilty and sighed, sending him a small sweet smile. It still, however, occurred to you that he still owed you. “But… there would be something that would make it all up to me—”

To your surprise, Kun interrupted you, already one step ahead, “I know. Here.”

He shuffled along the bed so he was much closer to your body, arms held out for you. And you didn’t hesitate, much to his gratitude, levering yourself up with a temporary, newfound energy and straight into his embrace.

His warmth enveloped you, strong hands holding your upper back firmly, gently pulling you even closer. He didn’t even hesitate, nestling his nose into your neck, much similar to how you’d buried yourself into him.

Tender and tranquil, Kun seeped solace no matter the mood of the room. Some would perhaps identify this as a negative, but they would be wrong—very much so. He was needed to balance everyone else’s volume, brashness, fire. And you probably had very much needed him all day. Things could not be changed however, and the world kept turning even if you had previously wished it to. You wished for it to stop turning this time too, although for different reasons. 

His fingers drew art upon your back, much to your soothed delight. It wasn’t something he did super often, but it was a characteristic of his: whenever someone needed comforting, he caressed characters into their back. They were often straight lines, as you’d found over the time you’d spent living with them, decorated with divots and curves.

His head tipped into yours, his voice a deep murmur, “I’ve been waiting hours to do this.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t even help it, though you shook it off as best you could. You’d been all over the place that day, emotionally, so of course you were going to be reacting all fuzzily over general acts of kindness. Well, that’s what you told yourself. Besides, he was just stating facts.

However, you were distracted by a small epiphany that hit you somewhat out of the blue. The calligraphy he traced between your shoulder blades felt so foreign to you, and it took no shape you recognised. This wasn’t something new to you, admittedly. You’d felt these moments of tenderness before. And since you could assemble no familiarity, you normally led yourself to just move on. But with silence in the room, the pure stillness that so rarely occurred, you were able to pay a fresh attention to the patterns, to the weight of his hands. It occurred to you that his ministrations were not random. In fact, his fingers drew the same code into your shirt, over and over. It was a long line, three consecutive dots, another line—was it lipped?—horizontal, then swooping, then flat, finalised by two curves. And subsequently, it repeated. 

You had barely an idea of what it was, but whether your scrap of a theory was right or not didn’t matter to you, as you were curious and were going to ask him nonetheless. He still owed you, you rationalised

“Me too,” you finally answered, frowned absentmindedly into his shoulder as you asked, “Kun, are you drawing something?”

“Hm?” He paused, confused by your words out of context.

“Into my back.” You shifted your face further into his hoodie, as if to hide yourself. Though it would be from him, which was slightly counter-productive. “You often draw as you hold me.”

“Do I?” Quickly though, his tact moved away from feigning ignorance, as he sighed, “Oh, that. I’m not really drawing, it’s more writing, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I-I do it to the others too…! Whenever they really need it. Though I’ll admit that’s not often,” he explained, his fingers halting as he spoke, “It sounds odd but… well actually quite silly actually…” he laughed breathily, awkwardness seeping into the corners of his eyes as he peered down at you. It was rare for Kun to get this anxious. “I write Mandarin kind of… without realising it,” he finished, “it helps the others and gives them some familiarity I guess? I figured subconsciously, I suppose, that it would help you a bit too? I don’t know really.”

He seemed pretty worried about what you thought—groundless, as you found his habit extremely endearing, actually, to the point you felt your heart swell. “Kun, that’s so sweet! Is it always the same thing for everyone?”

“No,” he answered after a moment’s thought, “I think I kind of write a specific one for each, but I can’t be sure now I think about it. To be honest, I don’t really pay—”

Your curiosity was not sated, and unfortunately for Kun, you couldn’t stop your nosey self from asking the question that this prompted. “Really? What do you write for them?”

“Well, like I said I don’t really pay attention to what I’m doing,” he responded sheepishly, “but… Ten gets ‘strength’, I know that one for sure, because I feel that’s what he has more of than he realises. Sicheng would get ‘ān’—you know, calm, content—because he is, but I've never had the chance to, as you, well, you know why. Lucas is lucky, he gets two characters because he’s ‘puppy’—”

“Obviously.”

He continued with a laugh that reverberated through to your chest. “—A-and I couldn’t honestly tell you what the others get. One of them I gave ‘loud’ because I think that’s what he needs to work on but—”

“I thought Lucas was ‘puppy’?” you snickered.

“Yeah, well,” Kun trailed off, “maybe it was him… I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

You smiled, releasing one of your hands from behind him to nestle instead amongst his hoodie as it had grown cold. You took this moment to work up the courage to enquire about the part that you couldn’t deny your interest was invested in the most. “What… what about me?”

He pulled away from you gradually, his hands coming to rest upon your upper shoulders, so very close to the sensitive parts of your neck. He studied your face, his own twisting into an expression of concern. “You really need to sleep,” he said, “your eyes are constantly closing.”

You pursed your lips at him. What did he have to hide about it? Was it something rude? It better not have been. “Hey!”

He cocked his head to one side. “What? They are. And you’ve had a tough day, you really should get some sleep.”

It was evident that it wasn’t him deflecting or avoiding your question—tiredness had seeped so far into your body that your voice had been barely audible, especially muffled by his clothes.

Hence you acknowledged his remarks reluctantly with a lethargic nod, before shifting yourself out of his grip, billowing the blankets out so as to allow yourself to lie down beneath them. Kun had stood to allow you more space, thus letting you curl up to conserve warmth properly.

He gazed down at you with particularly softened features. It was only in the dim golden light that you noticed how rouge his lips were naturally tinted, and how they curved into a smile as they opened to speak. Or how soft his cheeks were, as a long, slender dimple appeared as he did.

“You got everything you need?” Voice as light as silk, he leant over to catch your eyes behind the bundled blanket. 

You affirmed with a simple nod, feeling your body give into the approaching heaviness. 

You were barely able to work up the effort to speak anymore. The tiredness swept over you suddenly, but you didn’t fight it. Your body was crying for sleep, and your mind very nearly relented. But there was one more thing you had to clear up in some capacity before he left.

“Wait, Kun.”

The man turned back swiftly from where he’d gotten, heading towards the door. “Yes, love?”

You hummed, working up the words. “Something happened while you were out.” Upon seeing his face turn stony in concern again you proceeded before he worried too much. “Nothing bad! Just… Hendery and Yangyang had a bit of a bicker earlier. Over a newspaper? The CP Times? I think? Hendery really seemed to have struck a nerve though.”

Kun nodded, eyebrows furrowing in familiarity. “What happened specifically?”

“Well,” you sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow, as if it would help you think any clearer in your dozy state, “I think it had posted something mean about someone. Or excluded them from something when Yangyang thought they should have been included?”

“Yeah, that’d be the one.” 

Confused, you frowned at him, silently requesting him to continue. 

Kun winced as he drew forward a bit, in fear that the person in question would overhear from down the hall, “The CP Times wrote an article about YFCN—you know, the girl group?”

“Ohhh…” you drawled, things clicking into place a bit more.

“Yeah, one of the members was on hiatus at the time because she was ill, if I remember correctly, but the journalist wrote as if everyone was present and basically ignored her existence entirely. Lili I think her name was?”

You hummed in confirmation, “Does he like Lili a lot?”

Kun waggled his head slightly. “I guess you could say he’s a fan. Why?”

You shrugged, sinking back down onto your pillow, your arm struggling to keep you upright for any longer. “Hendery teased him about liking her, and Yangyang just… got all red and exclaimed ‘I am not in love with her.’ It really did come out of nowhere—and he did back down into himself after. He was totally fine once it had passed, though.”

Glancing back over to Kun, you saw his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed in pained thought at instead your blankets. His energy seemed to drop and disperse, just as though he had something he needed to mull over. 

In fact he was suddenly thinking over what you’d told him very carefully. “Did he say it like you said it to me?”

Your eyes trailed away from him as you nodded, fiddling with the covers of your blankets. “Why, do you think he was lying?”

His head flicked up to you at hearing your interpretation. He couldn’t believe you had ignored the emphasis in Yangyang’s words; you were usually so in touch and intuitive with the group’s tones. He excused it though, and waved it off as nothing to further worry about—you’d had a long day, the intricacies of Yangyang’s secrets were not exactly your top priority that evening.

However, this did leave him with a dastardly tantalising opportunity. He could take control of part of the narrative. He could curb some of the risks, even manoeuvre himself into a better position. It disturbed him how big of a part of him actually wanted to seize the chance and bathe in the possible outcomes.

Luckily, his morality immediately crushed those considerations, coupled with a healthy dose of realism. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone, especially you. And that was not the sort of person he wanted to be. Ever. 

Meanwhile you had your own subtle pain to fret over. Its origins were difficult to distinguish, as they always appeared to be that day. If Yangyang had a crush on Lili then it made perfect sense. She was gorgeous and strong—you were familiar with her group’s music, and you could never say you didn’t approve of his choice. She was the lead rapper, and an absolute badass with her own neon-punk style that contrasted so drastically but also gelled so well with the others in her group. It was no surprise he liked her—hell, if you had to choose a bias yourself you would choose her—and so you shouldn’t have been surprised. And, in all degrees, you weren’t. 

No. Instead you were stuck with this uncomfortable pit in your stomach. A swollen stone that weighed just a bit too much for you to dismiss.

“I don’t know,” Kun finally finished, almost making you question yourself if he’d spoken without you even realising, caught up in your own head. He hadn’t, but it made you realise how correct he was in suggesting you go to sleep.

Watching your eyes anxiously wander about the room, he added hastily, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. You know how weird those two are sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, and Kun found himself inclining towards you, just to catch a better glimpse of the beautiful sound; only for him to stop himself just before his movement became noticeable.

“Anyway,” he sheepishly started, never intending to ever finish.

You echoed him, before letting yourself take in his face one more time for the night. No matter where or what the lighting was, he was incredibly handsome. 

Settling into your pillow at last, your subconscious finally quelled itself, agreeing at last that it was maybe time to give into that small, tired voice that begged you for rest.

Kun was grateful you were calming down, and as soon as he spotted his relief he felt the fangs of guilt bit into his neck. He didn’t want to leave you in any distress, and so he wanted to stay with you for as long as possible. But he also had his own emotions that were now deciding to not remain in check. And he hated it, but he had to acknowledge that he inevitably needed to be left alone to have his epiphany, and motivate himself into a game plan.

He nodded absentmindedly, straightening up and heading for the lamp on your bedside table. As his fingers flipped the switch and the room was plunged into darkness save for the blade of silver from the hall, his brain stuttered.

He’d wanted to do something for a very long time, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. In fact it would be a way to get ahead of everything, perhaps. And it wasn’t like there was no evidence for his wishes. You’d already been desperate for a hug from him and him specifically.

But it was if his words were stolen, his movements forced to a halt. 

Was it fair to do anything after all?

He wasn’t sure. 

And so the lights went out, and he felt his feet moving by themselves towards the doorway, arm outstretched instinctively towards the handle, but too early to catch it—away from where he truly wanted it. 

“Goodnight, Kun,” you called after him, watching his retreating silhouette carve a shadow in the light from the hall. He looked so tall and impending all the way over there. It was rare for him to be so tense—in fact, you couldn’t name a single instance where he was this pent up, and the other members could be a real hassle when they wanted to be.

As you began to worry in your sleep-deprived state for him, he reached the door and held it open. His head turned, and he stole a long, gradual glance into the darkness to take in a glimpse of your face. You already had your eyes half closed, cheeks sweet and squished against your pillow as you squinted over to him, waiting for his next move. You looked so adorable wrapped up and surrounded in warmth, and with your hair crowning you, gifting you a makeshift halo, your temple was left exposed and waiting.

But Kun, as he cursed himself numerous times in his head, was a coward.

“Goodnight, love.”

And with that he left the room, leaving the door ajar just how you liked it.

As he trundled to his room not far down the corridor, his knuckles reached up to his chin, and then his lips, where they rubbed uncomfortably hard. 

There would be another time. Surely? He prayed that there would be, and that it was him alone who got the opportunity. But he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

Hearing the click of a door from further down, he desperately slipped himself into his room, narrowly failing to avoid Ten’s omniscient eyes as he exited his bedroom.

He didn’t know where the younger was going, and he didn’t want to know, his brain was too preoccupied with other things.

Yet he knew that he knew too much. Ten knew everything. Kun didn’t have any proof, or know for sure, but he had a feeling that the guy thrived off knowledge, things he could perhaps perhaps spin.

No. That was too far. This was all just a strange bout of paranoia.

But he couldn’t deny his disbelief at how all the members never chose Ten as the member they were most afraid of on variety shows. Maybe it was the age dynamic. 

“And there’s no evidence to show that Ten would ever do anything low like that,” he murmured to himself as he closed his bedroom door, “pull yourself together, Kun.”

He let himself exhale all the air that had built up in his lungs.

The conversation overall for him had been around a solid 4 out of 10 in terms of success. Not ideal.

He guessed he had to count his blessings though, that you didn’t apprehend his deflection prior over the characters. The idiot he was. Tracing ‘love’ into your back without even realising.

He was entirely lovesick.

And now he knew he wasn’t the only one, too. Of course he wasn’t. Why he hadn’t realised it sooner was a real challenge to his personally-perceived trait of ‘aware’ that he often took pride in.

It was him, and Yangyang. But was it just those two? His thoughts flipped like a switch, as if the vintage slideshow in his head had changed and had confronted him with nothing more than the purely angelic moving picture of you. Giggling when he had bought you ice cream at the beach, eyes gazing wide up into the grey skies as you’d been caught in a downpour and huddled under his tiny umbrella, the peace upon your features that he had just witnessed. 

He had to come to the conclusion that it was most definitely not just him and Yangyang.

Xuxi? Of course. The kid couldn’t hide anything, and he had seen the way he stared at you 24/7. The optimist in him had just dismissed it because he didn’t want it to be true. There wasn’t a lot he had on the guy. It was purely down to your preference, as he lamented to himself, because there was no way he could compete with Xuxi’s face, his humour, his doting, puppy-love affection. 

The qualities Kun did have were somewhat echoed in Sicheng though, he decided. And was it him too? He was always willing to help you. And just because he kept to himself more… Kun resolved he couldn’t count him out.

And Xiaojun? God, he wasn’t sure, but would he explain to him what he named the hedgehog after? No.

The leader cursed under his breath. He was in trouble to say the least. 

Again, he questioned himself why he was so surprised. You’d been living with them for a while, for efficacy to begin with. And then you’d chosen to stay. It was practically inevitable that since he’d fallen so quick and hard that the others would obviously do so too.

He was left to establish Ten’s involvement, and the diagnostics were hardly in his favour there either.

As he contemplated everything, sitting on his bed with his phone discarded in his hands, the man in question meanwhile barely let himself look away from where the retreating shadow of his leader had stolen away to, so guilty-like. Ten’s gaze was only snatched away by the image of your passed-out face that he caught a peek of through the gap in the door. 

Your beauty glimmered in his mind, a fuzzy image hazed with holy pink. And then he was silently taking the stairs, his mind becoming stuck on the picture of Kun’s eyes that he’d briefly seen before his head ducked away, and now covered his thoughts of you. They were glazed over, his real priorities tucked elsewhere. And as he noted where he’d just come from, and the context for the entire day, it wasn’t difficult for Ten to connect the dots.

He knew.

~~~

AN: here it is. The final piece. look out for the coming Endings!

Also, all film names were randomly generated on a title generator. If they are actually the names of films then they weren’t intended to be.

Ending One - Kun Ending Two - Ten Ending Three - Sicheng Ending Four - Lucas Ending Five - Xiaojun Ending Six - Hendery  Ending Seven - Yangyang

Masterlist