#Best Yard Cart

[itendtothinkalot]

certified hater

summary: jake sim’s got a new roommate. and he hates it. he hates you. until one random wednesday afternoon, you look at him with those eyes, and suddenly he’s noticing things he definitely shouldn’t. now jake’s stuck trying to ignore the fact that his least favorite person is somehow making his heart beat faster. he didn’t sign up for this. but hey, neither did you.

genre: fluff | enemies to lovers

characters: jake x f!reader

words: 15.3k

warnings: curse words, kissing i guess

a/n: based on in this economy's jake! our fav hater is back!

“Well,” he sighed dramatically, hand over his heart. “There she goes. The only decent roommate I’ve ever had. The only one who cleaned the hair out of the drain without me having to beg. Who made late-night ramen taste like a Michelin-star meal. Who laughed at my jokes, told me when my shirt was inside out, and didn’t steal my shampoo.”

His best friend rolled her eyes, already halfway up the porch steps with her bag. “Jake, we’re literally 30 minutes away. You’re going to see me every other day.”

Jake turned to Heeseung with a sunny smile. “Well…take good care of her, yeah?”

“I do take care of her,” Heeseung said, voice flat, eyes sharp.

She snorted. “I’m not being shipped off to war, Jake.”

Jungwon—boba in hand, sunglasses on, posture far too relaxed for someone witnessing emotional carnage—finally spoke.

“Alright, drama club,” he called. “Wrap it up. People are starting to stare. Mostly me. And I’m starting to lose interest.”

Jake turned to him with a deep sigh. “What’s even the point of going home? The apartment is going to feel empty.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I still live there, right?”

Jake waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, but you don’t count. You don’t talk to me. You just throw protein bars at my head and call it a meal.”

“And yet somehow, you’ve survived,” Jungwon deadpanned, like Jake was some tragic survivor of mild inconvenience. “Anyway. You got to live with your best friend. Now I get to live with mine.”

Jake froze mid-chew, narrowing his eyes. “…Wait. Wasn’t that hypothetical?”

Jungwon didn’t even look up from his phone. “No? I meant what I said. She’s moving in today.”

“She? You mean to tell me… I’m coming home to a stranger? A female stranger?”

“She’s not a stranger to me,” Jungwon said with an infuriating shrug. “Anyway. She’s chill. You’ll love her. I think.”

Jake pointed accusingly at Jungwon. “I swear if she does something annoying, I’ll—”

“You’ll do what?” Jungwon said, already walking away. “Write her a strongly worded Post-It? Sue her?”

“Ugh. First, I lose my best friend to my annoying boss now…now this? I’m going home!” he yelled, heading for his Uber. “But before I do…Heeseung,” Jake called out.

Heeseung took a slow sip of his coffee. “That’s Mr. Lee to you.”

“Yeah, I’m not calling you that when we’re off the clock and you look like a walking beige napkin.”

“This is Gucci,” Heeseung said flatly, glancing down at his designer shirt—then at Jake’s outfit. “And whatever you’re wearing is…”

Jake sneered. “Is a gift. From your girlfriend.”

“Oh. Then I love them,” Heeseung said sweetly, turning to kiss her on the lips without breaking eye contact.

Jake recoiled. “Tell your boyfriend to back off.”

“Tell your ex-roommate to get a grip.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “I hope your new place has ants.”

And then... standing there on Heeseung’s stupidly spotless porch, watching them disappear into their stupid new house (because of course Heeseung could just casually buy a house like he was adding a new hoodie to cart), Jake squinted thoughtfully at the disgustingly perfect front yard.

Jake’s eye twitched. God, he hated rich people. To be specific, he hated Heeseung. Stealing his roommate and his best friend, just like that. Selfish bastard.

But then — just by the edge of the driveway — movement.

Tiny. Crawling. Full of untapped petty potential. Jake’s lips slowly curled into a grin.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured to absolutely no one, crouching down like a villain in sweatpants.

“Nature provides.”

Cut to twenty minutes later:

Jake crouched like a criminal in Heeseung’s yard with a plastic cup. Scooping ants off the sidewalk like he was foraging for revenge. Whispering to himself like a lunatic.

“This is what betrayal gets you, Heeseung. You bitch.”

By the time he had an entire squad of confused ants swirling around in the cup like unwilling accomplices, Jake stood up, dusted his hands off, and jogged across the lawn.

He rang the doorbell.

Once.

Twice.

Three times — annoying, spaced out, just to be a menace.

Finally — the door yanked open.

Heeseung stood there, deadpan, already exhausted. In socks. Mug of tea in hand. 

“What.”

Jake grinned, wide, sweet, feral. “Miss me?”

Heeseung blinked at him like he regretted every life choice that led to knowing Jake Sim.

“Didn’t you leave with Jungwon?”

“I was going to but…”

And then — without missing a beat — Jake yeeted the entire cup of ants straight through the doorway.

Heeseung’s eyes tracked it mid-air.

The cup landed with a hollow little plunk on the entryway floor — ants scattering like their Uber just arrived.

Heeseung stared.

“What—” Heeseung’s eye twitched. “Did you just—”

“Nature says hi.” Jake whispered.

And then?

Jake ran. Full sprint.

Cackling like an absolute child as Heeseung’s voice exploded behind him —

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Jake was already halfway down the street, gleefully texting Jungwon like a war general reporting a win.

jake: bro i did smth

jungwon: what did you do

jake: nothing much. Had fun w nature tho…lol

jungwon: wait a min…did u throw ants in their fucking house

jake: yea lol i can still hear heeseung yelling

jungwon: take a vid?

jake: i’ll snap u LOOOL

—-

It wasn’t that Jake hated new people. Well—okay. Maybe he did. A little. Just a bit.

Sure, he looked friendly — floppy hair, easy grin, that dangerously smooth voice that could charm strangers and confuse baristas into giving him extra whipped cream without asking. But deep down?

Jake Sim was a man powered entirely by routine, caffeine, and emotional damage.

At work? Immaculate. Precise. Heeseung’s best guy on every project. The guy you could trust to fix your mess without asking questions.

At home? At home, Jake Sim was powered by rage, Doritos, and spite-fuelled midnight snacking.

And nothing — nothing — disrupted that fragile ecosystem quite like a stranger invading his living space.

Jake sighed and glanced at Jungwon, who sat curled on the couch, no emotion on his face.

“You’re sure she’ll like me?” Jake asked, leaning back like he genuinely needed reassurance.

Jungwon didn’t even glance up from his phone. “Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t. I’m betting my money on the latter.”

Jake grinned, ego inflating instantly. “But I’m charming. I’m handsome. I ooze sex appeal.”

Jungwon finally looked up. Blinked. Paused.

“You’re… okay.”

Jake stared. “Okay?”

Jungwon shrugged, unbothered. “You’re like store-brand charming.”

Jake squinted. “The hell does that even mean?”

“Looks the same. Works okay. Nobody’s writing home about it.” Jungwon deadpanned. “But yeah, sure. Reliable in a pinch.”

Jake clutched his chest like he’d just been stabbed with a plastic spoon. “I am premium charming.”

Jungwon sipped his drink. “You’re aisle seven, bottom shelf, on sale for $2.99.”

Jake looked genuinely offended. “Wow.”

“Look,” he said flatly, “she’s moving in tomorrow whether you like it or not. So dust yourself off… and for the love of God, take down that thing you call art.”

He pointed lazily at The Painting. The painting that Jake did during his “I’m unemployed and spiraling” era. His “maybe I’m just like Van Gogh” phase. A little stressed, a little depressed, and unfortunately — very creative.

Except he wasn’t.

Because if Jungwon was being brutally honest (and he always was), Jake’s 36 by 36 inch masterpiece was…

A giant, aggressively well-shaded dick.

Like, museum-level shading. Art school tragedy. Anatomically correct in ways that made Jungwon genuinely concerned for Jake’s mental health.

“It’s abstract,” Jake had insisted once, dead serious.

“It’s a dick,” Jungwon had replied, dead inside.

“To you,” Jake had said, like he was Picasso defending himself in court. “To me it represents manhood. The transition from child to man.”

Jungwon stared at him. Stared at the cursed, hauntingly well-shaded disaster on the wall. Stared back at him.

"Just take it down by tonight, you moron." he muttered, already walking back to his room. "Because I am not explaining to a grown ass woman why there’s a three-foot dick staring her dead in the eyes while she’s just trying to eat her cereal."

—-

You balanced a box against your hip, car keys jingling in one hand, your phone wedged between your shoulder and ear as you stepped into the apartment for the very first time.

“You couldn’t skip one class?” you muttered into the phone, nudging the door closed behind you with your foot. “Just one? I am literally dragging my entire life through this hallway alone right now.”

Jungwon’s voice crackled on the other end. “And I am literally about to ace my quiz on post-colonial literature. We all have battles we can’t pick.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “I hope your professor forgets your name and ends up giving you the biggest F in history.”

“Trait—”

Jungwon cut you off with a yawn. “Anyway, key’s under the mat. Room in the back is yours. Make yourself at home. Don’t fight Jake. Love you.”

You paused mid-step. “Who?”

“Bye!” he said, then hung up like a man with no conscience.

You stared at your phone. “What do you mean ‘don’t fight Jake’?! Who’s Jake?!”

No answer. Just the echo of betrayal.

You let out a long sigh and took in your surroundings. The apartment was… livable. Clean-ish. A little too beige. Smelled like something between cologne and aggressively microwaved noodles. Classic boy territory.

Still balancing your box, you headed toward the back, where you assumed your room would be. The hallway split into two doors. One was cracked open slightly, revealing a glimpse of a desk.

You knocked once, half-hearted and awkward, and pushed the door open.

And then everything happened at once.

Music. Blasting.

Eyes. Wide.

Box. Dropped.

You screamed.

Because standing dead center in the room was a guy in nothing but boxers, aggressively dancing to Bruno Mars like he was auditioning for a boyband. 

He jumped like he'd been tasered, yanked an earbud out, and yelped, “WHAT THE HELL?! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

“WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!” you echoed back, slapping a hand over your eyes. 

“I’M NOT NAKED!”

“YOU’RE LIKE 80% NAKED!”

He grabbed a throw pillow off his bed and held it over himself like it could protect either of you from this moment. “What are you even doing in my room?!”

“Jungwon said the room in the back is mine!”

“This is my room!”

“Then label your damn doors next time!”

“You’re supposed to knock!”

“I did knock!”

“Then you wait for a response, smartass!”

“Are you serious right now?! How was I supposed to know you’d be air-humping the universe like a deranged psycho?!”

“That was choreography!”

You both stared at each other, panting like you’d just come out of battle. You took a long breath, picked up your box again, and hissed, “You must be Jake.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you must be the replacement.”

“Well,” he said, tossing the pillow onto the bed and grabbing a pair of sweats, “we’re off to a great start.”

If first impressions were anything to go by, this was going to be war.

And unfortunately, the battlefield was your new living room.

—-

You wiped your palms on your jeans, jaw still tight as you grabbed another box from the small pile by the front door. This one was heavier—textbooks, probably. Just as you turned around to haul it outside, you slammed straight into a very firm, very warm, very fully clothed chest.

You looked up. Jake.

Now dressed in a hoodie and joggers, hair slightly damp like he’d just showered the shame off. Unfortunately, he still looked obnoxiously good. Annoyingly taller than you. And, somehow, smug—which should be illegal after whatever happened earlier.

He blinked down at you. “Need help?”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he held up a hand.

“Unless…” He squinted dramatically. “You’re about to peep on me again, then I—”

“Peep at you?!” you hissed. “I walked into what I thought was my room and got assaulted by a hip thrust.”

He shrugged. “I was in the moment.”

“Are you always this delusional?”

Jake leaned against the doorframe like this wasn’t already a disaster. “You really can’t admit it, huh?”

“Admit what?”

“That you enjoyed the view.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t worry,” he added, all faux-gentle. “Not everyone can handle the Full Jake Sim Experience.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, Jungwon warned me about you.”

Jake’s grin kicked up, cocky. “Let me guess — ‘Jake’s a little dramatic, but give it time and you’ll fall for the charm.’”

“Actually,” you said dryly, “it was ‘don’t engage, it only encourages him.’”

“That’s slander,” he declared.

“That’s advice,” you corrected. “Good advice.”

—

Jungwon slid his bag off his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m home!” he called out, voice echoing through the apartment as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Finally. After years of joking about it, he was officially living with his best friend.

Jungwon knew the odds were low that you and Jake would hit it off immediately.

You were... you. Stubborn. Easily irritated. Quietly unhinged. But also — annoyingly kind. Thoughtful in that backhanded, "made you ramen but insulted you while doing it" kind of way.

You’d survive Jake.

Hell, maybe Jake needed to survive you.

He strolled down the hallway, humming as he knocked lightly on your door. “Yo. You alive in there?”

No answer.

He tried again. Still nothing. With a shrug, he walked over to Jake’s door and gave it a push. Open. Empty.

“Jake?”

Then, from the depths of the apartment, came shouting.

Jungwon blinked. Tilted his head. The bathroom. He padded toward the noise—and regretted it immediately.

“I was here first!” you snapped.

“No, I was here first!” Jake shot back, voice bouncing off the tiled walls.

“I had my towel in here! That’s bathroom code!” You yelled.

“There is no such thing as bathroom code, you freak!”

“Let me in! I’m going out and I have to pee!”

“Looking like that?” You sneered at Jake whose smile faded.

A long pause.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

You offered a polite smile. “Oh, nothing. I just thought you cared about how you dressed. But hey—good for you. You’re braver than most of the people I know!”

Jungwon closed his eyes. Rested his head against the wall. Inhaled slowly.

This was his life now.

—-

Jake sat slouched at the edge of the table, a half-spilled bowl of kimchi stew in front of him, aggressively chomping like it had personally wronged him.

Across from him, Heeseung and his girlfriend were mid–honeymoon phase nonsense—feeding each other dumplings, whispering like the rest of the room didn’t exist, giggling over god knows what as if Jake wasn’t having a full-blown emotional breakdown one seat over.

“She color-codes the pantry,” Jake snapped, waving his chopsticks like a weapon. “I left one bag of chips—one!—and she reorganized the entire cabinet. Who’s even looking in there, huh? The Pantry Police?”

“Oh—oh, and get this,” Jake ranted, mouth still half-full of kimchi. “She sends me photos of the sink. With captions. ‘This is your plate, Jake. I know it’s yours because it has your little cartoon fork on it. Like—what?! How does she even know I have cartoon forks?! Who memorizes someone’s cutlery?’”

He flailed a hand like he was being victimized.

His best friend didn’t even blink. “The real question is why you’re still using forks with tiny bears on them.”

“That’s not the point!”

“You ever thought of, I don’t know…” Heeseung finally looked up, lips shiny from dumpling sauce. “Being a better roommate instead of…an ass?”

“I’m not being an ass!” Jake protested — loud enough to startle the next table and wild enough to knock over the soy sauce dish. He scrambled to fix it with a sad napkin, still grumbling under his breath like he was the victim here.

“She’s just—she’s too clean, okay? Like robot clean. Psycho neat. I leave one hoodie on the couch and next thing I know, it’s folded, labelled, and put away neatly.” 

“It just sounds like you’re being an ass to her,” she said.

“Yeah, let’s unpack that.”

Jake squinted. “Unpack what?”

“You know.” Heeseung leaned back, annoyingly relaxed. “Why are you all…angsty and weird about her?”

“Because!” Jake snapped. Jake glared. At them. At the table. At the ceiling.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Because?”

Then he exploded, “…Because she freaking pisses me off, that’s why!”

The table went silent.

“That’s crazy. Sounds a lot like flirting to me.”

—-

You threw yourself onto the couch with the kind of rage that could only come from enduring Jake Sim for more than ten minutes. Jungwon sat across from you, calmly chewing on dried squid like he wasn’t witnessing a breakdown.

“He leaves his stupid fucking hoodie on the couch,” you exploded, hands flailing like you were directing traffic in hell. “Like we live in a prison bunk. Like there’s no other surface in the entire apartment for his crusty-ass clothes except the exact spot I want to sit.”

Jungwon nodded slowly. Unbothered. A man built for surviving your storms.

You inhaled sharply. But oh — you were not done.

“And don’t even get me started on the pantry.” You threw a hand toward the kitchen like it personally betrayed you.

“He messed up my color-coded snack shelf. My system, Jungwon.” He raised a brow. Brave. Curious. Foolish.

“What system?”

You blinked. Offended. “My Oreos go beside the dark chocolate. That’s balance. That’s harmony. That’s civilisation. That’s how society should be.”

“But noooo—” you went on, fully deranged now, “Jake Sim, chaotic neutral in sweatpants, decides to put my Oreos between the shrimp chips and the ramen cups like he’s staging a fucking rebellion.”

“So what I’m hearing is…” he drawled, “you think about Jake... a lot.”

“Shut the hell up.”

He ignored you completely. “God, you two act like toddlers.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whined. “He’s making living here hard.”

Like breathing was fine until Jake Sim walked into the room with his stupid smug face and stupid loud voice and stupid boy smell that was weirdly clean for someone who acted like a feral animal.

“You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine to him either,” he pointed out.

“That’s only because…” you muttered.

“Because?”

“Because he’s loud and smug and he–he leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor and–”

“Because?”

“BECAUSE HE FREAKING PISSES ME OFF, THAT’S WHY!”

The room went quiet. Jungwon stared at you. You stared at Jungwon.

And then he went back to chewing his squid, completely unfazed. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “you’re definitely in love with him.”

—-

It was nearly midnight, and the apartment was quiet except for the occasional sharp screech from the horror movie playing on the TV. The lights were off, the only glow coming from the screen casting quick shadows across the room. You were curled up on the couch, blanket over your shoulders, a bowl of popcorn balanced in your lap, gripping a pillow more out of nerves than comfort — heart jumping at every sudden sound.

Jungwon was long gone—fast asleep behind his locked door like a man who knew better.

The apartment was dark. Too dark. The only light came from the TV, flickering ominously across your face as the horror movie reached its cursed little climax.

On screen, the main character was creeping down some nightmare hallway — flickering lights, suspicious footsteps, a soundtrack practically begging something to kill them. You squinted, peeking nervously between your fingers.

“Don’t open the door,” you whispered to the screen, your voice tight. “Don’t open the door, you idiot—”

On screen, the character opened the door.

You sucked in a breath, ready for the inevitable jumpscare.

And then—

“Boo.”

You didn’t even think.

You screamed at the top of your lungs. The bowl of popcorn went airborne. Your fist met something very real, very solid, and very human.

Crack.

“OW—WHAT THE FU—”

You turned mid-panic to find Jake Sim, doubled over and holding his nose, blinking like he’d just been hit by a truck.

Your jaw dropped. “OH MY GOD—JAKE?!”

He groaned loudly. “Did you just punch me?!”

“YOU SNUCK UP ON ME!”

“DO I LOOK LIKE THE FUCKING DEMON?!”

Jake pulled his hand back and stared at the red streak now smeared across his palm.

“Is that—” you gasped, eyes wide, “OH MY GOD, ARE YOU BLEEDING?”

“Yes!” Jake hissed, clutching his nose. “My face is leaking! My nose is leaking because you decided to square up with me like this was Mortal Kombat!”

You scrambled to grab tissues, knocking over a cushion and somehow stepping on your own foot in the process. “I didn’t mean to! It was a reflex! Who sneaks up on someone during a horror movie? You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Jake flopped onto the couch like a man deeply wronged. “You need a warning label.”

“You need common sense.”

“You need to stop throwing hands like you’re in an underground fight club.”

You shoved the wad of tissues at him, dropping onto the couch beside him with a dramatic sigh. “Drama queen.”

“Violent rat.”

The two of you sat there, breathing hard. Popcorn crunched quietly under your sock. The horror movie still played in the background — completely forgotten.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, chewing your lip. Jake sat slouched on the couch, ice pack pressed to his face, still sulking like you’d ruined his modelling career.

“Are you okay?” you asked, cautiously.

Jake didn’t look at you. “Physically or emotionally?”

You squinted. “...Both?”

“Physically, my nose is fighting for its life. Emotionally? I’ve seen things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”

He gave you a look over the ice pack. “I googled it. I’m allowed to be dramatic.”

You snorted. “Let me see.”

“What, so you can break it again?”

Still, when you leaned in, Jake let you push his hand away.

Carefully, you touched the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed in focus. Up close like this, you were quiet for once — way too close, way too serious, and way too pretty for his peace of mind.

“It’s not broken,” you muttered, inspecting him closely. “Tragically.”

Jake huffed a laugh under his breath. “Bet you’re disappointed.”

“A little,” you admitted.

Your hand brushed his cheek as you pulled away and Jake’s brain short-circuited for a solid second.

“Okay, you’re fine. Still got your stupid face. The world can rest easy.”

He grinned lazily. “Worried about me?”

You scoffed. “I’m worried you’ll bleed all over the couch.”

You got up to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“To make you tea.”

Jake blinked. That shut him up fast.

“Chamomile?” he asked hopefully.

You groaned from the kitchen. “Isn’t that the only tea you drink?”

Silence.

Then Jake — deadpan, smug — called out, “Weird how you know that.”

You rolled your eyes. Hard. “Weird how you only drink the saddest tea on earth like an old timey British person.”

Jake snorted. “Says the girl who labels her instant noodles like they’re priceless artifacts.”

“At least I don’t treat chamomile like a personality trait.”

“At least I have a personality,” Jake shot back. “Yours starts and ends with passive-aggressive Post-Its.”

You yanked open the cupboard. “Maybe if you read them, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe if you punched fewer people we wouldn’t be here.”

There was a beat.

You grabbed a mug, muttering under your breath, “Should’ve punched harder.”

Jake, from the couch, still icing his nose, let out a scoff of disbelief.

“And yet,” he said flatly, “here you are. Making tea for me.”

You slammed the kettle down louder than necessary. “Because if I don’t, you’ll bleed out and haunt me out of spite.”

Jake leaned back, smug despite the tissue stuffed up his nose.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he called out. “If I do die and end up haunting you, I’m definitely hiding your stupid label maker first.”

—-

The next morning, sunlight trickled through the blinds, soft and golden. The apartment was quiet. Jungwon had already disappeared for his 8 a.m. class like the punctual little overachiever he was.

Which left you here.

In the kitchen.

Making the most humiliating thing of your life:

“I’m sorry I punched your nose” scrambled eggs.

This wasn’t because you liked Jake Sim. God, no. This wasn’t softness. This wasn’t kindness.

This was guilt.

Stupid, irritating, nose-bleeding guilt.

Because yeah — maybe he shouldn’t have snuck up on you like the human embodiment of a jumpscare. But also... maybe you shouldn’t have decked him like you were trying out for MMA.

Maybe.

Unfortunately, despite being fully committed to hating Jake Sim with your entire soul... you also had a functioning moral compass.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Jake padded out of his room half-asleep, hoodie sliding off one shoulder, hair a disaster, still mentally in dreamland — following the smell of butter like a man possessed.

But then he saw you.

And whatever was left of his morning brain just... stopped.

There you were. Standing by the stove — hair pulled back messily like you hadn’t even tried, barefoot, apron cinched around your waist, that stupid little dress swaying just slightly as you moved.

It was... weird.

Soft, almost. Domestic.

Like he’d walked into someone else’s life.

You were humming to yourself, lazily stirring scrambled eggs — completely unaware that Jake had frozen in the doorway like an idiot.

And he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even breathe.

Because it hit him — quietly, without warning — that you were pretty.

Not just yeah, okay, she’s kinda cute when she’s not yelling at me pretty.

But actually pretty.

So pretty it knocked the rest of his words clean out of his head.

Which explained why he didn’t notice the sharp corner of the kitchen counter directly in front of him.

WHAM.

His toe slammed into the sharp corner of the kitchen counter.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staggering back like he’d been shot.

You jumped, whipping around. “Oh, you’re awake.”

Jake blinked down at you from the other side of the kitchen, still cradling his busted toe like it was your fault. His hoodie was sliding off one shoulder, hair an absolute mess, socks mismatched.

Meanwhile, you?

Hair tied up like it was nothing. That stupid little dress swishing around your knees. Making breakfast.

It was almost offensive, really.

Jake narrowed his eyes. \Why did you look... annoyingly good this morning? Since when? Since when were you this pretty?

Damn, maybe you gave him a concussion.

You caught him staring.

“What?” you snapped, holding up the plate like it was a peace treaty you immediately regretted.

He blinked, snapped out of it. “What’s this?”

“Scrambled eggs. For you.”

“Pity eggs?”

You rolled your eyes. “Consider it hush money so I don’t have to keep looking at your tragic nose bruise.”

Jake hesitated. Then took the plate — fingers brushing yours just long enough to send something stupid and sparky down his spine.

Shut up, spine.

He cleared his throat. “You didn’t poison these, right?”

“Only emotionally,” you deadpanned. “Just like I do everything.”

Jake snorted under his breath — a sound halfway between disbelief and reluctant amusement.

But then, as you sat across from him, watching him eat like you weren’t the one responsible for his new villain origin story, you shifted awkwardly.

And Jake noticed.

Hard not to, when you were never this quiet.

“Look…” you started, voice forced like you were fighting every bit of your pride. “I was talking to Jungwon, and… maybe I’ve been giving you a hard time.”

Jake paused mid-chew.

Maybe?

Maybe?

“...You broke my face.”

You glared. “It’s not broken.”

He gestured wildly. “It could be. You’re not a doctor”

You exhaled sharply. “I’m just saying... maybe we could be, like, civil.”

“Are you sure you didn’t poison—” 

“I didn’t fucking poison them, you rat.” Jake just stared at you, smug. 

You cleared your throat, adjusting your tone like you hadn’t just threatened him with breakfast. “What I meant to say was… no. I didn’t poison them. If that’s what you were worried about.”

Jake watched you from the corner of his eye — the way your dress moved, the way your ponytail swayed.

“I just feel bad, okay?” you huffed, glaring at his very tragic, very dramatic face. “That big-ass bruise on your nose’s making eye contact with me.”

Jake froze. Instantly concerned.

“...Bruise?” he echoed, voice tight.

“Yeah.”

Like a man possessed, he snatched his phone off the counter, flipped to the front camera—

And the noise he made?

Somewhere between a gasp, a dying bird, and a full-on crime scene.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, horrified. “You ruined my face.”

You blinked. “I—”

“My beautiful fucking face!”

You winced. “That’s… a little dramatic.”

Jake spun around like you’d personally ended his modeling career, shoving the phone in your face. “Do you see this?! How am I supposed to show up to work tomorrow looking like I got body slammed by Dwayne Fucking Johnson?!”

You snorted. “You literally work in tech.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I’m pretty sure it is the point,” you deadpanned. “You’re not an idol, Jake. I’m sure the CEOs will survive your mildly distressed nose.”

Jake let out a pained groan, like you just didn’t understand the gravity of his suffering. “I have a presentation tomorrow!”

You raised a brow. “Okay... and?”

“A huge one!” he cried. “Multiple CEOs. Investors from all over the country. I’m supposed to look like I have my life together. Not like I got mauled by a vending machine!”

You shrugged, zero sympathy left in your body. “Can’t your boss… what’s his name again… Hee...Heesoo do it?”

“It’s Heeseung,” Jake bit out. “And he’s in Japan for a business trip.”

“Get someone else to do it.”

“I am someone else!” he exploded, pacing now like his nose was about to file a lawsuit.

A beat of silence.

You tilted your head slowly, casually, a little too calm for his liking.

“…What if I did it?”

“...What.”

“I could present it for you,” you said, crossing your arms, your smile inching into dangerous territory. “You wear a mask, pretend you’re sick. Cough a few times for realism. I’ll read your script. Boom. Problem solved.”

You turned back around, all casual, all dangerous. “Your pitch. I could do it.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“Yeah, uh, no offense, Broadway, but the presentation is about app technology. Not jazz hands.”

You shrugged. “Fake it till you make it. Plus, I’m excellent at pretending I know things. Ask any of my professors.”

Jake stared at you.

Like you had absolutely lost your mind.

“You,” he said flatly, “want to stand in front of a room full of multi-millionaire investors... and pretend to know shit about app tech.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“That is—hands down—the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you.”

“And also,” Jake added slowly, like it pained him to admit, “possibly... my only option.”

You shot finger guns at him.

You grinned like the menace you were. “Come on, Jake Sim. Admit it. You need me.”

“Fine,” he ground out. Like the word physically hurt coming out of his mouth. “But you’re getting a crash course in app tech in two hours. No complaining.”

You shrugged, breezy, unbothered. “Sounds painfully boring. Can’t wait.”

—-

The next day, Jake had already bolted out of the apartment like his hair was on fire while shouting, “The investors are here and they brought their lawyers! I gotta g–” and then he left.

Meanwhile, you?

You were still in the bathroom, casually putting on lip balm like you had all the time in the world. Because if you were about to scam your way through a tech presentation with nothing but sheer confidence and delusion — you were damn sure going to look like someone who belonged on a Forbes list.

Or, well... the clearance rack at H&M’s attempt at one.

Were you terrified of tech investors? Absolutely.

Were you about to march in there, smile pretty, and pretend you understood whatever the hell Jake had been mumbling about for the past 24 hours? Also absolutely.

Because if there was one thing you were good at — it was faking shit.

(And pissing Jake off. But that was practically a sport at this point.)

You strutted into Jake’s workplace like you owned the building. Or were seconds away from committing tax fraud in it. Either way — heels clicking, head high, shoulders squared like you’d been bred in the wild on sarcasm and petty confidence.

The lobby was ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Air that smelled like imported lemons and old money. A giant, abstract sculpture near the entrance that looked suspiciously like regret and cost more than your entire education. 

Upstairs, Jake checked his watch for what had to be the fiftieth time.

You’re late. 5 minutes late.

His shirt collar felt like it was conspiring to choke him, and the mask he wore (to hide the bruise you gave him) felt less like protection and more like a visual reminder that he’d been punched in the face by you.

The elevator dinged. Jake didn’t even look up at first—he was too busy internally screaming about font sizes and silently mouthing his pitch like a deranged TED Talk speaker. But then the room shifted. The air changed. Like the universe hit slow-mo.

His gaze lifted. And there you were. Jake looked up. And promptly forgot how to function. Because there you were. Walking out of the elevator like you were starring in his worst nightmare — and maybe his daydream too. He wasn’t sure anymore.

Soft curls. Glossy lips. That dress. That damn dress — classy, simple, hugging you like it was personally invested in his suffering. The type of dress that shouldn’t have been this illegal in a workplace setting but was, somehow, devastatingly so.

Jake forgot how to breathe.

Because here was the thing about Jake Sim:

He’d seen you in every possible unflattering state known to mankind.

Screaming about printer ink like it committed tax fraud against you. Hair up in a bun so chaotic it looked like it had survived a natural disaster. Wearing the same hoodie for three days straight — his hoodie, he’d realized once, which only annoyed him more — eyes wild with caffeine and vengeance at 3AM because Spotify ads kept interrupting your study playlist.

And still — still — Jake had always kinda thought you were...pretty.

Annoyingly pretty.

The worst kind.

The kind of pretty that snuck up on you mid-argument or when you were mid-rant about detergent prices. The kind of pretty that didn’t need fixing or dressing up. Just...you.

But today? Today was different. You weren’t just pretty. You were dangerous.

His jaw clenched so hard he swore he heard a crack. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t even think.

It was like the floor had disappeared beneath him and someone had swapped out his organs with static. His heart had ditched the beat and gone straight to drum solo. His brain, normally quick, charming, obnoxiously cocky? Dead.

“You made it,” Jake said — and immediately regretted it, because holy shit, was that his voice? High. Cracked. Betrayed him completely like puberty had just swung back around for one last revenge tour.

“Yeah, well,” you hummed, throwing him a look and gesturing vaguely to the black mask covering the evidence of your sucker punch, “figured I owed you.”

Jake nodded. Or at least he thought he did. Hard to tell.

He decided to stay silent. Because God knows what would happen if he opened his mouth again? God help him — a full-blown Ed Sheeran love song might just crawl out.

So he didn’t. He just...stood there.  Standing at the podium, you looked...ridiculous. Ridiculously good.

Like you didn’t just belong here — like you ran the place. Like you were here to pitch an app or recruit followers for a cult — and honestly? Jake wasn’t even sure which one. All he knew was… he’d probably sign up either way. No questions asked. No dignity left.

"Well, good morning, everyone,” you began, and even you were surprised by how calm you sounded. 

Jake stood in the back, blinking at you like he’d never seen you before. You were charismatic. Smart. A little terrifying. And you had the entire room hanging on your every word.

Somewhere between “LinkedIn is dead” and “our algorithm is based on actual passions, not titles,” Jake realized something horrifying. You weren’t just pretending to be good at this. You were good at this. Confident. Sharp. Effortless. 

His chest swelled — with what felt suspiciously like pride — until reality smacked him upside the head. This was the same girl who, just last night, sat cross-legged on his floor, staring blankly at his laptop and asked, with full sincerity:

"Wait… what does AI even stand for?"

Jake was still smiling like an idiot.

God, he hated to admit it — but you killed that presentation. Clean. Sharp. Smooth in a way that made him kind of want to brag about it like he trained you personally (he didn’t — he barely survived explaining what an API was to you without passing out).

A few came up to shake your hand — small talk, praise, the usual empty corporate fluff. Except no one really asked you questions. Not the tough ones, at least.

Right up until he caught movement at the edge of his vision.

Two guys. Tall. Sleek. Expensive haircuts that probably cost more than Jake’s entire outfit. Hovering. Too close. He squinted. Because they weren’t walking toward him. Nope.

They were walking toward you.

Grinning. Hovering. Talking with their hands like they were about to pitch you a deal or — god forbid — flirt. His eyes narrowed. You were still reeling from the high of the presentation, packing up your notes when a smooth voice cut through the air beside you.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” said Blondie. "Mr. Sim never mentioned someone so young... and pretty working in the App Tech department."

 “Oh, uh, I’m new,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. “Just joined.”

Blondie smiled, clearly not buying it. “New and already giving such an impressive presentation. I’d love to hear more about the algorithm sometime… maybe over dinner?”

You blinked again. Algorithm? Was that on Slide 7?

Before you could even form a response, a voice cut in like an unexpected thunderstorm.

“She’s booked.”

You turned just in time to see Jake—Jake—swoop into the scene like a knight in wrinkled business casual. His jaw was tight, eyes practically shooting daggers. And that mask? Somehow, it made him look even hotter. You were definitely going to need therapy to figure out why anger made him so ridiculously attractive. That was something for a professional to unpack. 

“She’s what?” Blondie asked, blinking.

“Taken,” Jake said, his voice like cold steel. “I’m with her.”

Blondie’s eyes widened like he’d just been slapped with a fish. “Oh! I didn’t realize—”

Jake grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips with a quick peck, way too casual for the situation. “Anyway,” Jake said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “thanks for admiring my girlfriend. I, too, find her absolutely breathtaking.”

Blondie and his friend, practically evaporated under the weight of the awkwardness. They muttered quick goodbyes and slunk off, leaving you standing there, completely stunned.

“Girlfriend?” You stared at Jake, still holding your hand in his like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jake leaned down slightly, his voice soft but pointed. “You’re welcome for saving you from that finance bro disaster. You looked like you were about to faint.”

“I was not,” you shot back, still flustered.

“You squeaked.” Jake smirked, his lips curling up in that annoying, irresistibly smug way of his. Your heart skipped a beat, but you shoved it down. He was being a jerk.

You crossed your arms, still confused by the whole situation. “You’re so weird. Why the hell would you do that?”

Jake shrugged casually, as if the whole thing had been no big deal. “Someone had to save you. I’m not letting some guy with a bad haircut flirt with you in front of me. It’s... inconvenient.”

"Inconvenient?" You stared at him, baffled. "What are you even—"

And then, like a slap to the face, it hit you.

He was jealous.

“No way,” you muttered, half-laughing. “Are you… actually jealous right now?”

Jake’s face flushed slightly, but he smirked, all smooth and defensive. "No, I just—"

You interrupted him, holding up your hand. "You are! Oh my god, you are jealous."

His eyes flickered briefly, like he was calculating his next move. “I am not. You're... imagining things.”

You leaned back slightly, giving him a teasing, incredulous look. “Right, because you not letting some guy get too close is just a totally normal response for someone you fucking despise.”

Jake paused, then looked at you with that intense, quiet stare, his expression unreadable for a moment. You felt a flicker of something in your chest, but before you could process it, he said, in a voice softer than you expected, “I don’t despise you.”

—

Jake sat across from you at the tiny grill table, doing his best to act like he didn't care that you were wearing what could only be described as the world's most unassuming dress. It wasn’t even remotely textbook "sexy." No slits, no plunging neckline, just a simple, casual thing that barely clung to you. Yet, somehow, you made it look like flawless.

You were just grilling meat, for crying out loud. Nothing remotely provocative about it. And yet, there Jake was, trying—and failing—to pretend he wasn’t completely losing his mind over it.

Then, disaster struck.

Jake’s grip on his chopsticks tightened, nearly snapping them in half. He could feel a vein pulsing in his temple. He didn't even realize he was glaring until the waiter noticed. And that’s when he realized something was very, very wrong with him.

You turned to Jake, blinking innocently. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Me?” Jake laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that wasn’t even remotely convincing. “Totally fine. Just making sure you’re not about to, y'know, set the whole table on fire.”

He shrugged off his jacket and—without thinking—slung it over your shoulders like his life depended on it.

“You look cold,” Jake muttered, trying to sound casual, but the effort was absolutely wasted.

“I’m sitting in front of an actual fire,” you pointed out, obviously not buying the excuse.

“Just take it,” he said through gritted teeth. He could feel his brain glitching as his fingers brushed against yours for half a second.

“You’re acting weird,” you muttered, clearly starting to suspect something was off. “Did you hit your head again today or…?”

“Just wear the damn thing.”

“Why?” you asked slowly, suspicious. “I’m not even cold.”

“It’s not for warmth,” he snapped, his voice tight with frustration.

You narrowed your eyes, not letting him off the hook. “So what’s it for?”

Jake leaned forward, dropping his voice to a near whisper like he was plotting a heist. “It’s... you're over there looking all... attractive, and the waiter’s looking at you like he wants to take you home. And I—” He paused and muttered, “I’m the one who invited you here, okay? So technically, you’re my dinner guest. And I just feel like you shouldn’t be—”

“Did you just call me attractive?”

Jake froze. For a split second, his mind went completely blank. He’d said it without even thinking, and now that the words were out there, the whole table seemed to get a little bit warmer, a little bit more suffocating.

“Uh—” He fumbled, trying to backpedal. “No! I didn’t—what I meant was—” He cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting in his seat. 

You stared at him, eyes wide. “Jake... you’re an awfully jealous person today.”

He froze. Blinked. And then launched into a performance so bad it was almost impressive. “Jealous? Me? Oh my god, that’s so cute. That’s actually hilarious. I’m not jealous. You? Of you? Pfft. I just... look, I just think it’s unhygienic for strangers to salivate this close to raw meat, alright?”

He avoided your gaze and took a big gulp of his drink, probably hoping it would give him some answers. “Also, that guy was undressing you with his eyes.”

You gave him a flat look, raising an eyebrow. "And your solution to a perv is to throw a jacket over me like I’m some fragile piece of art in a museum?”

Jake kept his cool, eyes still avoiding yours. “I could go beat him up if you want,” he offered, not-so-casually.

You snorted, leaning back in your chair, slipping your hands into the sleeves of the jacket he’d thrown over you. “You're an idiot.”

—-

The next time Jake found himself questioning the entire fabric of his reality, it was in the kitchen of your shared apartment.

A totally normal evening.

Except not really.

Because you were sitting across from him in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a smile, and Jake was experiencing what scientists might classify as a complete psychological collapse.

He wasn’t even sure what the hell the conversation was about. Jungwon was laughing about something, maybe a dumb meme or a cursed group chat screenshot, and you were giggling so hard you smacked Jungwon’s arm and nearly knocked over your drink.

Jake didn’t laugh. Jake stared.

Because every time you moved, your stupidly oversized shirt rode up a little, and your bare legs—the ones he absolutely should not be noticing—taunted him like they were sent from hell specifically to test his willpower. 

He hated it.

No, actually—he hated you. Yes. That was the correct narrative. He hated the way you always left passive-aggressive sticky notes on his leftovers ("These are MINE. I will KNOW if you eat one. By you I mean JAKE SIM."). He hated you when you reorganized his entire snack drawer by vibe. (“The spicy chips are angry. They go in the red bin.” What did that even MEAN?)

He hated that you chewed ice. That you used a ten-step skincare routine that monopolized the bathroom for thirty minutes every morning. That you once referred to him as “the reason I believe in selective mutism.”

And yet… he was currently staring at your thighs like they held the secret to inner peace.

Jake looked away, clenching his jaw. What the hell was happening to him? Was this a stroke? Had you poisoned his food?

The next time he went absolutely bonkers was a few days later. He had to pee.

He pushed the door open without knocking, because this was his house and he had…welll…he had the rights.

And then.

He saw you.

Half-naked.

In your bra and underwear, bent slightly over the sink, drying your shirt with a hairdryer.

His brain short-circuited like someone had poured water directly into his skull.

His gaze dropped—just for half a second, a reflex—and immediately locked on your bare legs, and oh god, he hated himself. He spun around so fast he almost slammed into the door.

“OH MY GOD—SORRY!” Jake yelped, one hand covering his eyes like he’d been hit with a solar flare. “You—why—WHAT—why didn’t you lock the door?!”

You blinked at him in the mirror and chuckled, totally unfazed. “Oh shit. I forgot to lock it.”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Me? You walked in,” you pointed out.

“You left it unlocked!”

“You could’ve knocked!”

“I shouldn’t have to knock in my own apartment! What are you doing half-naked drying your shirt in here?!”

“I spilled soda on myself.” You replied, nonchalant.

“I’M THE VICTIM HERE,” Jake yelled dramatically, still not turning around. “I just wanted to pee and now I’ve seen your underwear! I’ll never recover from this!”

You laughed again, breathless. “Relax. It’s just a body. You’ve seen legs before.”

A long beat of silence passed.

Jake slowly turned his head just enough to peek at the wall. “Are you, um...decent now?”

“Yeah,” you said, tugging your damp shirt back over your head. “Crisis averted. You can resume your regularly scheduled hate.”

Jake turned around cautiously. You were grinning, cheeks slightly pink, shirt clinging a little, hair a mess—and somehow, it was worse. Way worse. Because even like this, maybe especially like this, you looked unfairly adorable.

He stared at you for one second too long.

“Jake,” you said, raising an eyebrow, “are you...blushing?”

“No,” he snapped immediately, brushing past you with all the grace of a man running from his feelings. “Now get out, I need to pee.”

As he shut the door behind him, you called out, “You’re welcome for the free show, by the way.”

Jake groaned.

Out loud.

Into the void.

He was never going to recover.

—-

It all started with what Jake would later refer to—dramatically and with full PTSD—as The Saturday Incident.

He had spent the entire day in bed, pretending to do work, but actually doing what could best be described as “vague laptop clicking” and “aggressively avoiding you.”

You were out in the living room, probably plotting new ways to rearrange the furniture or alphabetize the spices by vibe again. He wasn’t going to risk interaction. Not when his heart had started doing these strange, erratic flips every time you were near. It was disorienting, this fluttering sensation that kept taking him by surprise. Honestly, he didn’t appreciate it. Didn’t appreciate whatever the hell was happening in his chest, because he'd never felt like this before. 

The thought crossed his mind—maybe he should go see a doctor for a cardiogram. Heeseung had laughed in his face when he mentioned it, as if the idea of it being a medical issue was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Jake didn’t get what was so funny, though. All he knew was that every time you entered the room, his heart seemed to forget how to behave, and he wasn’t sure that was something anyone could just laugh off.

So he stayed hidden.

Until there was a knock.

“Jake?” Your voice came through the door—soft, almost... sweet?

He stared at the door like it had personally betrayed him.

“Jake?” you called again, this time with a tone that made his brain short-circuit just a little. He sighed like a man being forced into labor and got up, preparing for whatever minor chaos you were about to deliver.

He opened the door.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

There you stood. In a dress—a glittery, stupidly pretty dress he had never seen before. The tag was still dangling from it, and for some reason, that made it worse. Like you were a gift waiting to be unwrapped and oh no what the hell, brain, stop right there.

His mouth went dry.

His knees? Unreliable.

You were—unfortunately—gorgeous.

“Can you help me?” you asked, turning around.

And that’s when he saw it. Your bare back.

Jake died a little. Right there in the doorway. He whispered, barely audible: “F-fuck.”

“Huh?” you looked over your shoulder.

“I said—sure! Sure, totally, yep,” he said, voice cracking like a 13-year-old boy seeing shoulders for the first time.

He reached for the zipper like it was made of lava. His fingers brushed your skin and he physically flinched. 

“You busy with work?” you asked casually, like this wasn’t slowly killing him.

“Yeah. Working. Doing... business things. Graphs.” Nailed it. “Are you, uh, going out?” He zipped faster, praying for this moment to end and also never end, confusingly.

“Nope.” You turned back around, smiling. “I just got this dress and wanted to see if it fit.”

Jake stared at you like he was watching the heavens open. “Oh,” he said dumbly.

“Besides, I was bored.” You laughed, brushing past him like this was your room, and plopped yourself onto his bed like it was no big deal.

Jake blinked. “You can’t just—don’t just walk into my room!”

“What? You hiding something?”

“Yes!” he said, voice a little too high. “I mean—maybe. You don’t know my life.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me guess. Secret stash of R-rated movies?”

“What?! No!”

“Love letters? Hidden shrine of an ex?”

“Oh my god.”

“Wait—you have love letters?”

“I don’t have any! Why are you like this?!”

You grinned. “Hard to believe. You’re, like, suspiciously single.”

Jake scoffed. “Suspiciously?”

“Yeah. You’re cute in a grumpy, emotionally constipated way.”

He blinked. “Did you just call me cute?”

“I mean, when you’re not yelling about laundry socks and acting like you’ve never heard of coasters.”

Jake’s face flushed. His lips twitched. A smile was fighting its way out, and he hated that you were winning. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m a delight.”

“You’re hell personified.”

“And you,” you said, leaning back onto his bed, “are blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Jake,” you said, eyes twinkling, “your ears are red.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Okay, but—hold on. Why are you in my room anyway? All dressed up, all dolled up, all pretty.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Was that a compliment?”

“No.”

“You just listed three compliments,” you pointed out, your voice teasing.

“They weren’t compliments.”

“They sure seem like it.”

He stared at you—your ridiculous sparkle dress, your smug little smirk, the fact that you looked entirely too comfortable lying on his bed like you belonged there—and felt his heart do a full-body sigh.

Oh no.

Oh no.

He was in trouble.

Because he didn’t hate you at all.

—-

Jake had one goal tonight: get snacks, avoid feelings, don’t die.

He’d nearly made it to the kitchen—eyes forward, brain reciting his grocery list like a prayer—when he heard your voice.

“Jake?”

He froze like someone had hit pause on his life.

There you were, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your legs and a bowl of popcorn in your lap, looking... cozy. Cute. Normal. Like you weren’t the cause of 99% of his internal screaming today.

“Yeah?” he called over his shoulder, already bracing for disaster.

“Come watch this with me.”

Jake turned halfway, one hand still on the fridge. “What? No. Why would I wanna–”

You pouted. And he hated—hated—how fast his resolve crumbled at the sight of it.

“C’mon. Please? I’m lonely,” you said. “Jungwon’s not back for another hour.”

Jake audibly swallowed, “F–fine.”

Still, he sighed and walked over like a man approaching a guillotine.

He sat on the very edge of the couch, as far from you as possible. Like you might spontaneously explode and take him with you.

You blinked at him. “Why the fuck are you sitting miles away from me? I’m not gonna eat you.”

Jake’s ears went red so fast it was almost impressive. “I’m—just giving you space.”

You threw a popcorn kernel at him. “What, do I have cooties now?”

“No!” he blurted, then immediately regretted sounding like a panicked fifth grader. “I just thought—I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You tilted your head, amused. “I thought we were pass our enemy phase and in the ‘I-only-hate-you-when-it’s-convenient-phase.”

His heart stopped.

Jake stared at you.

“We are! I just–”

You shook your head and patted the seat next to you. “Come on. You're so dramatic. Sit like a normal person.”

Jake, against his better judgment and every self-preservation instinct, scooted closer. A little. Then a little more.

You tossed the blanket over his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “There. See? Not so scary.”

He sat stiffly under the blanket like it was radioactive, absolutely convinced he was going to die. His arm accidentally brushed yours and his brain lit up.

You leaned in slightly, focused on the screen.

Jake leaned back slightly, focused on not passing out.

And somewhere between the opening credits and the second kernel of popcorn you tossed at him “for flinching like a grandma,” Jake realized something horrifying.

He didn’t hate you.

At all.

And worse?

Instead, it was the absolute opposite. Maybe he liked you.

(Or had the biggest stinking fucking crush on you.)

Either way, these feelings were huge. And scary.

—-

Jake was fine.

Totally. Absolutely. 100% fine.

So what if he maybe thought about the way your shoulder brushed his during the movie? Or the fact that your laugh made his chest do weird twisty things? So what if you looked really cute in that dumb glittery dress and then even cuter in sweats and a bun with popcorn crumbs on your shirt?

He was fine.

No, he was lying. He was not.

Because Jake Sim didn’t do feelings.

Feelings were for wimps. For poets. For people with acoustic guitars and questionable Spotify Wrapped playlists. For people like Heeseung.

Not him.

Jake Sim was immune. Built different. Untouchable. Feelings? He left those at the door with his dignity and expired loyalty card points.

Which is why he was currently, aggressively, avoiding you like you were radioactive.

You walked into the kitchen? He walked out.

You tried to start a conversation? “I’m busy.” (He wasn’t.)

You reached for the chips? “Take it yourself.” (They were on the top shelf. You couldn’t reach. He still left.)

You asked if he wanted to hang out? “No thanks. Be alone. Bitch.” (He did not mean that. At all. And also whispered it when you were already out of earshot, afraid he’d hurt your feelings.)

He was strong. He was cold. He was emotionless steel wrapped in flannel.

Until—

“Jake?” you called from the hallway.

He glanced up from pretending to type on his laptop. “What?”

“Do you wanna go to the store with me? We’re all out of eggs.”

And like the absolute fraud he was, Jake—emotionless, avoidant, emotionally repressed Jake Sim—paused for 0.0000001 seconds before nodding.

“Yeah. Let me grab my shoes.”

Traitor.

He followed you out like a puppy who just got asked if he wanted a treat.

As you walked side by side through the aisles, Jake pushed the shopping cart like he was starring in the most generic romcom montage of all time, trying not to let his arm bump yours again because every time it did, his brain felt like it had just short-circuited.

But it was fine.

Totally fine.

He was definitely not thinking about holding your hand in the snack aisle.

Definitely not wondering if you'd let him try one of your gummies, even though he could buy his own.

Definitely not wondering if this was what it would feel like to be yours.

He wasn’t. He wasn’t thinking about any of that.

Nope.

Totally normal. Totally platonic.

He was so screwed.

It all started in the canned goods aisle. And honestly? Jake should’ve known the canned goods aisle brought nothing but bad luck. It happened in third grade when he tripped over his shoelace and fell into a container of perfectly aligned canned soups. It happened when he was trying to grab some mushroom soup for Jungwon when he was sick and ended up dropping the can right on his pinky toe, fracturing it.

And it’s happening again now.

You were just standing there, trying to decide between tomato basil and cream of mushroom, looking entirely too cute for someone who was making soup decisions. Meanwhile, Jake, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching you, was already making a mental list of things he could buy—anything to distract himself from his growing awareness that his brain was short-circuiting.

“Hey,” the guy said. “This might sound crazy, but... are you single?”

Jake turned his head so slowly you’d think someone had insulted his ancestors.

He was standing a few feet away, comparing granola bar sugar contents like a responsible adult, and now he was staring at this random man like he’d just asked to marry you in front of a priest.

You didn’t even seem fazed. You turned your head slightly, giving the guy the most nonchalant look, probably silently wondering if this guy had any idea how little he cared about his question.

Jake could feel the nerve in his temple twitch. The air between you and the guy became suffocating. Jake's hands flexed, holding onto the cart like it might need a good shove.

The guy, oblivious to the thunderstorm brewing a few feet away, “Just thought that you’re really cute, and I figured I’d ask.”

You blinked. “Oh! That’s—um—”

“She’s not,” Jake snapped, suddenly right there, standing next to you like he’d teleported in through sheer fury. “She’s very not single. Taken. Off the market. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh... are you two—”

“Together?” Jake interrupted, smiling like it physically hurt him. “Yeah. I’m her boyfriend.”

You glanced at him, his eyes glinting with that smirk of his. And then it hit you—he was playing this way too well. A little too well. You turned back to the guy, giving a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my God,” you said, suddenly faking an epiphany. “Babe, I didn’t even realize he was flirting. I was too busy thinking about how your hair looks so good today.”

Jake twitched.

You leaned into him with an exaggerated sigh, grabbing his hand like you were in some overly dramatic rom-com. “I’m so sorry. I’ll try to pay more attention when people are flirting with me. Would that be okay with you, my Jakey-wakey? My Jakey-kins? My love machine?”

Jake nearly choked on his own spit. “Okay. That’s enough.”

But you were on a roll. You turned to the stranger, practically glowing. “Isn’t he so cute when he’s protective? Ugh, he gets so territorial over me. It’s like his thing. Next thing I know, he’ll start growling and peeing in the aisles to mark me like his territory.”

Jake made a strangled sound, clearly regretting everything. “Please stop.”

You ignored him, fully leaning into the bit. “Honestly, I’m just waiting for him to pick out a leash for me next, y’know? Just to make sure everyone knows I’m his property.”

Jake made a strangled sound. “Please stop.”

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder. “Should we kiss?” You smiled, putting your arms around his shoulder.

And then, in what could only be described as a full-blown panic move, Jake spun around and ran.

Like, actually ran.

Through the snack aisle, dodging bags of chips and disgruntled shoppers, past the sample table, and out the store doors. It was as if he'd spotted an actual threat. You stared after him, holding his dignity in one hand and a can of soup in the other.

The stranger who had been casually eyeing you looked even more confused now, as if he’d witnessed a scene from a badly written TV sitcom.

You shrugged, trying to cover for the man who was now two aisles away, “My boyfriend can be a little bit crazy,” you muttered, laughing awkwardly as you began walking toward the door. You dropped the soup can on his foot. “See you!”

And without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the store after him.

“JAKE SIM, I’LL KILL YOU!” you yelled across the parking lot.

You found him pacing next to his car like a madman who’d just come to terms with the fact that he’d let his emotions spiral in public. His hands were in his hair, tugging like he was trying to physically yank his frustration out of his brain.

You marched up to him, heat rising in your chest, and the nerve to confront him. “Hey! You made me look like an idiot!”

Jake turned to face you, eyes wide, clearly surprised that you were actually following him. “You made yourself look like that!” he snapped, a slight edge in his voice.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have to if you stopped acting like my boyfriend around any man who approaches me!” You felt your hands on your hips, standing your ground like you were the queen of this absurd conversation.

Jake’s face froze, his brows furrowing in frustration. “You want freaks like him to approach you?”

“No?” you shot back. “But I’m perfectly capable of turning them down on my own.”

“I was just—” he began, floundering for a reason that was not his own mess.

“Was just what? Why do you keep doing this? Acting all weirdly jealous and protective!” you interrupted, genuinely curious now.

Jake exhaled, turning slowly, like the weight of this conversation was about to implode on him. His voice softened, his eyes wide, clearly caught off guard by your determination. “Because…” he started, his voice lower than usual, the words stumbling out like he was wrestling with a secret.

“Because what?”

He didn’t answer.

Just stood there—hands clenched, jaw tight, breath sharp.

Then suddenly—he dropped his arms like they weighed a ton. Like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a single, desperate step before spinning back around to face you.

“BECAUSE!” Jake shouted, his voice louder than he intended. Your eyes snapped open wide, caught completely off guard.

Jake kept going—words spilling, frantic. “Because I don’t know what this is—whatever the hell you’ve done to me—but I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe when you look at me like that and I haven’t felt like this ever and it’s—it’s messing me up.”

His hands went to his temples. “Like fuck…I think I might need therapy. Like, actual therapy. Because of you.”

The air between you cracked—silence stretching heavy and tight.

You stared at him, voice soft now. “I– did I do something wrong?”

Jake dropped his hands, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. His face twisted, like he hated even having feelings, like letting them out was burning him from the inside.

Then—quieter. Broken.

“No,” he said. “Fuck, no. Quite the opposite.”

You stood frozen. “What?”

He stepped closer, eyes wild, voice raw.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, okay?” Jake snapped. His voice cracked, raw and strained like it had been clawing at his throat for days.

“You walk into a room and suddenly I can’t think straight. I forget how to function. I forget what I’m doing. It’s like my entire brain short-circuits just because you looked in my direction.” He raked a hand through his hair, pacing in a tight circle like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts.

“You drive me crazy. You laugh at things that aren’t funny, and you talk like the world’s ending if you don’t say it all right now, and you never let anything go—ever—and it’s infuriating. It’s exhausting. You’re exhausting!”

He turned, pointing at you like you were the cause of every malfunction in his soul.

“I shouldn’t care if you’re cold. I shouldn’t want to punch every guy who looks at you for longer than five seconds. I shouldn’t feel like I’m being electrocuted every time you accidentally touch me. That’s not normal. That’s not me. I’m Jake fucking Sim for crying out loud!”

He paused, chest rising and falling, eyes burning into yours.

“I don’t even like people! I liked hating you! I was good at hating you! And now I can’t sleep and I can’t think and all I do is wonder what you’re doing and if you’re thinking about me too and I—”

He broke off, swallowing hard.

Then softer, hoarse:

“I don’t know what this is. But I think I’m losing my goddamn mind over you.”

You stood there. Blinking. Heart somewhere near your ankles.

Jake had just... exploded. Confessed? Kinda? In the most Jake way possible—by yelling about how much he hated that he didn’t hate you.

“…Okay,” you said slowly, like someone trying to defuse a bomb with zero training. “So, like... just to clarify… you’re not mad at me. You’re mad because you like me?”

Jake stared at you like he couldn’t believe that was your takeaway. Like you’d just handed him a banana when he asked for a pen.

“I just—like, not to make this about me,” you continued, hands half-lifted like you were talking to a wild raccoon, “but that was a lot of yelling and you kinda sounded like you were about to fight me and propose in the same breath.”

He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god.”

You bit your lip. “So... um. Do you wanna kiss me or punch drywall? I just need to know what stage of emotional collapse we’re currently at.”

A beat.

“Like... if I lean in, am I getting kissed or concussed?”

He looked like he was seriously considering both.

You tried to smile. “I mean… thanks? For the mental breakdown, I think?”

He just blinked—still breathing like he’d sprinted through a breakup, a confession, and a public meltdown all in one afternoon.

Like he hadn’t decided yet whether to kiss you, cry, or walk into traffic.

Then, softer, you glanced up at him. Still unsure. Still trying to play it cool despite the fact that your heart was definitely trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“Like… I mean, I totally get why this would frustrate you,” you said, nodding seriously, like you were a therapist delivering a diagnosis. “Totally understandable. If I was going through what you were going through, maybe I’d be a little insane too. With, you know, healthier coping mechanisms, sure.”

Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re talking too much. Do you like me or not?”

You blinked. “Wow. Okay. No trigger warning?”

“I’m at my limit.” Jake sighed.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s… kind of obvious. You’re, like, one sentence away from combusting.”

Jake pointed at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “I—God, this is so embarrassing. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like you,” you muttered, looking away.

“You’re saying a whole lot of nothing,” he snapped.

You threw your hands up. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have a perfectly rehearsed monologue ready! Some of us don’t process our feelings through public tantrums!”

Jake narrowed his eyes, “I yelled because I was panicking!”

“Well maybe don’t yell at someone who likes you, Jake!”

“You didn’t even say you liked me!”

“I was getting there!”

“You were stalling!”

“I was awkward!” you shrieked, pointing right back at him. 

Jake threw his hands in the air. “Why are you the one acting like you just confessed your undying love through a full-blown breakdown?!”

A beat.

Silence.

Your faces? Bright red. Breathing like you just finished a cage match.

Then you exploded.

“FINE. YES. I LIKE YOU TOO, YOU PSYCHO!”

Jake froze. “You what now?”

You looked away, furious with yourself. “You heard me. I’m not repeating it. Take the win and choke on it.”

“That was the worst love confession I’ve ever received.”

You glared at him. “It wasn’t supposed to be one!”

“Well, it was horrible.”

“Yeah? Yours wasn’t exactly sonnet material either.”

You stared at each other. Still angry. Still flushed. Still… weirdly too close.

And somehow, despite all the yelling, all the sniping—

There was that thing in the air again. That pull.

Jake blinked. “...So are we dating now or what?”

You groaned. “Not like this, the fuck”

—-

The silence in the apartment was deafening.

Not literal silence—the kettle was whistling like it was being paid to, and someone’s phone was playing a YouTube video just loud enough to be irritating. But the emotional silence? The thick, suffocating, “we confessed our feelings and now we don’t know how to human anymore” kind of silence? Yeah, the two of you were losing it.

You were standing in the kitchen, arms folded, staring at the toaster like it had personally wronged you. Jake was sitting on the couch, holding a mug he wasn’t even drinking from, eyes glued to the television pretending to be absorbed.

Neither of you spoke.

The toaster clicked. You jumped like you’d been shot.

The two of you glanced at each other. You blinked at him. He blinked back. 

Then immediately looked away, sipping his mug. The wrong end of the mug.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re drinking from the side with the tag still in it.”

“I like the taste of paper sometimes,” he said without looking at you.

You tried. “So... uh, did you sleep okay?”

Jake nodded way too fast. “Yeah. Great. You?”

“Fine.”

“Cool.”

You stared at each other for another five seconds.

Then, at the exact same time:

“So, what are you—” “Do you want—”

Silence again.

You turned back to the counter, flustered. “This is so weird.”

Jake exhaled sharply. “You think?”

You glanced at him. “Well, I’m not used to openly... liking you or being I guess civil.”

“You’ve done a great job hiding it,” he muttered.

You smirked, falling back on habit. “Well, I am cuter when I’m emotionally unavailable.”

“I think it’s scarier when you’re emotionally available.”

You turned, arms folded. “So what, you prefer when I threaten you with kitchen utensils?”

Jake shrugged, leaning against the counter like he wasn’t seconds away from combusting. “At least I knew where I stood.”

And that? That shut you up real quick.

Because you both knew—you’d just entered new, terrifying, heart-melty territory.

And neither of you had a clue what the hell to do next.

—-

There was a sock on the floor.

A sock. On the floor.

His sock.

White. Crumpled. Mocking you from the hallway.

Something inside you snapped.

“SIM JAEYUN!” you shrieked, the kind of full-volume yell that summoned the fury of every past version of you who’d ever tripped over that man’s laundry.

Jake’s door opened slowly, like even it was afraid of you. He peeked out. Hair messy. Shirt hanging loose. Clueless. Hot. You hated him.

“...Yeah?”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO PICK UP YOUR SOCKS—”

“I—”

“You what? This isn’t the first fucking time–”

“Ah, fuck it.”

You didn’t get to finish.

Jake stepped out. Two fast, easy strides.

And he kissed you.

Hard.

His hand found the back of your neck, fingers pressing gently yet desperately, as if he’d been aching for this moment, pulling you closer with a sense of urgency that couldn’t be ignored. Without hesitation, his lips met yours—no gentleness, no grace—just raw, impulsive need.

The hallway blurred.

You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound whole. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, like he needed your body to make sense of the chaos in his head. The kiss was hot and heavy, all teeth and tongue and emotion that neither of you had known what to do with until now.

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him even closer, as if you were trying to tear the tension from his chest and claim it for yourself. Jake’s groan vibrated against your lips—low, desperate, and filled with something completely unrestrained. His hands dug into your waist, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t get enough of you. And then, with a sudden shift, he moved—forward, desperate, no longer willing to hold back.

In one swift, breathless motion, Jake pressed you against the wall, his body caging you in with just enough force to knock the air from your lungs. His hand gently cradled your jaw while the other slid down to catch your wrist, his fingers locking with yours as if the touch was a lifeline, something he couldn’t let go of even if he tried.

You gasped, the back of your head colliding softly with the wall, and Jake swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss like he was trying to consume you whole. The kiss turned hotter, more frantic—lips pulling, chasing, moving with an intensity that had been building for weeks and was now unleashed all at once.

Then, you squeezed his hand. Hard. Your body trembled with the force of it, like you needed something to hold onto before you lost yourself. And Jake felt it—felt the desperation in your touch. Without hesitation, he squeezed back, his thumb brushing over yours as he refused to let go.

For half a second, his forehead rested against yours, both of you gasping for air, and neither of you willing to pull away.

You blinked up at him, your mind still spinning from the kiss, disoriented.

“…I’ll pick it up,” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended. “The socks.”

You bent down, still avoiding his gaze, grabbing the sock off the floor. “Just... just put it nicely next time.”

You turned and walked back into your room, your legs unsteady as if they could no longer hold you together.

Jake stood in the hallway, frozen, his heart racing, his mind completely blank. He gripped the wall beside him like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. But it did. And now, he had no idea what to do with it.

—-

Jake hadn’t screamed your name like that since the glitter explosion 2 months back.

“WHERE’S MY RED FOLDER?!” he bellowed.

Before you could even think of a way out of this—or how to hide under the floorboards—Jake barged into your room. Hair still wet from the shower. His shirt hanging half-buttoned, like he’d walked straight out of a webtoon. Fuck, he was sexy. Not the time though because you were sure you were about to get beaten up.

He slammed the door open so hard that it bounced back off the wall with a sickening thud.

You gave him a nervous smile, your best attempt at pretending you weren’t about to die. “Don’t be mad…”

Jake’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “What did you do?”

“I… might’ve thought it was old,” you said, wincing at the honesty in your voice. “So I kinda... threw it away?”

Jake’s body went rigid. His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“You what?!”

“I—” You stammered, hands raised defensively. “I swear it looked all crumply, all old and–and–and ruined!”

Jake stepped forward, eyes burning with anger. You could feel the heat of his fury radiating off of him—jaw clenched, fists tight by his sides, like he was about to explode. You knew this look. It was like he was one wrong move away from detonating.

And just when you thought the situation couldn’t get worse, you did the only thing you could think of.

You threw yourself at him.

Your hands grabbed his shirt, and before he could even get a word out, you yanked him down, your lips slamming into his with the force of a thousand thunderstorms. It was hard, urgent—so intense, so sudden, that it instantly shut him up.

Jake froze for a split second, like you’d short-circuited his brain, and then, just like that—he kissed you back. No hesitation. No holding back. You were already moving, pushing him backwards, your arms locked around his neck, drawing him closer, deeper. His lips tasted like desperation, like need, and it was all consuming.

You kissed him with everything you had, no holding back. No gentleness. Just the kind of hunger that had been building up between you two for far too long. Your lips moved together, fast, messy, and you felt him press into you, desperate to keep up. Every part of you wanted him—wanted him to feel the frustration, the desire, the rage that had been bubbling under the surface for weeks.

Jake groaned into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening. You kissed him harder, faster, pressing him back against the wall until he was pinned, his breath ragged as you both gasped for air.

His hands found your thighs and, without a word, you jumped. Legs wrapping around his waist, you felt him catch you effortlessly, your bodies moving as one.

Then, with a sharp turn, he slammed you against the nearest wall, his lips never leaving yours. The kiss was relentless, like he was starving, like he needed to make you feel every part of him, every inch of his desire. His grip on your waist was bruising, possessive, and you responded in kind, tugging at his hair, pulling him closer.

Your mouths collided, chasing each other, moving too fast, too clumsily. 

Jake pulled back only when you both couldn’t breathe anymore. Your foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, eyes wild and hungry.

He looked you over once, placed you back down on the floor, his expression unreadable, and then muttered, “...I’ll just rewrite it.”

And before you could process it, before you could say a word, he was gone. Leaving you breathless, in your own room, utterly wrecked—staring at the spot where he'd just completely destroyed every last bit of control you had.

—-

You were standing in the kitchen, Jake was at the sink, and the tension was so thick you could practically slice it with a knife.

“I don’t understand why you would move the dishes,” Jake snapped, gesturing like you’d committed an actual war crime. “I have a system.”

“You have no system,” you shot back, holding a spatula like a sword. “You just shove stuff in and pray the dishwasher works it out like divine intervention.”

“It does work it out!”

“Really? Because last week you melted a Tupperware lid onto a knife.”

“That was ONE TIME—”

You threw the dish towel down. “You’re such a control freak.”

Jake turned, dripping wet hands mid-air. “You alphabetized the seasoning rack. By aesthetic. I had to Google what "sage green" looked like.”

You huffed. “It’s about visual peace, Jake!”

He took a step closer. “You know what’s not peaceful? Living with a freak who organizes our spices!”

You stepped toward him, eyes locked, breathing hard. “Well you know what’s not sexy? Whining about spice jars!”

“Funny,” Jake growled, now chest to chest with you, “because I still want to kiss you right now.”

You both froze.

You were both holding something—him, a mug. You, a spatula. Neither of you blinked.

Then—at the exact same time—you both dropped them.

Clatter.

And lunged.

You collided in the middle of the kitchen, your mouths crashing together, the kiss so intense and fiery it felt like it could set the room on fire. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get close enough. You fisted your hands in his shirt, yanking him even closer, until there was nothing between you but shared breaths and weeks of pent-up frustration.

His kiss was desperate, furious, like he hated how much he wanted it, and yet couldn’t stop. Your lips moved together, teeth clashing, and you met his passion with equal intensity—biting his lip, tilting your head, the quiet sigh you let out making him groan into your mouth.

You were both angry, breathless, and so far gone you didn’t even care.

When you finally pulled apart, your noses brushing, your lips swollen and tingling, you both just stared at each other. Your hearts pounded.

Then, at the exact same time, you both asked, “...Are we boyfriend and girlfriend or what?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Jake pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and then your neck, before pulling back with that signature smirk.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think we are.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him back down, and kissed him again.

“Good. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Jake groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding to your back, pulling you even closer.

“God, I’m so in love with you, it’s actually disgusting,” he muttered, his voice full of both frustration and affection.

And for once, you couldn’t agree more.

—---

It was your first official date.

Like—an actual, real, human-first-date. No yelling. No post-argument makeouts. Just food. Chairs. Maybe eye contact if you were feeling brave.

You’d been dating for three days.

Which, so far, had consisted of:

Yelling at each other.

Making out.

Rolling your eyes at each other.

Making out again. Repeat steps 1–4.

Three days of chaotic tension. Of brushing shoulders in the hallway and pretending it didn’t set your whole body on fire. Of accidentally calling him “babe” and then gaslighting him into thinking he misheard you. Of Jungwon asking the two of you to shut up and stop arguing in the middle of the night. You weren’t arguing. 

Three days of sharing the sink like civilized people, brushing your teeth side by side, totally normal, totally casual—totally not internally spiraling over the fact that your former arch-nemesis was now your boyfriend.

And then there were the quiet moments.

Like this morning, when you walked into the kitchen to find him already making coffee. He handed you a mug—black, just the way you liked it—and pretended he didn’t notice the way your fingers brushed.

You stared at it.

“What?” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not a monster.”

You took a sip. “So you’re being nice to me now?”

Jake shrugged. “Don’t get used to it. I just don’t want to date someone who’s chronically dehydrated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re worried about my water intake while you eat chips for breakfast.”

“Those chips had lime on them,” he said. “That’s vitamin C.”

Still, later that day, he also handed you a granola bar before you left the house. No comment. Just tossed it at your head with alarming accuracy and walked away.

And that was your boyfriend.

You, of course, were no better.

Like last night, when you walked past his room and saw him still hunched over his desk, blue light glowing off his face, glasses crooked, typing like he was trying to physically punch a thesis into existence.

You didn’t say anything.

Just stood there in the doorway for a second, watching the way his brows were furrowed in that hyper-focused, very-stupid, very-Jake way.

Then you glanced at the time. No dishes in the sink. Nothing in the trash.

He hadn’t eaten all day.

You scowled, muttered something about “men and their lack of survival instincts,” and turned straight into the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, you dropped a steaming bowl of his favorite ramen next to his laptop without saying a word.

Jake blinked up at you. “Did you—?”

You didn’t look at him. “Don’t pass out. It’ll be annoying to carry your unconscious body.”

Then you left.

Fast.

Too fast for him to say thank you. Too fast for him to see the way your lips twitched just slightly at the corners.

And then…

The next day, you were minding your business, scrolling on your phone, sprawled on the couch like the world owed you peace, when Jake casually walked in and dropped himself beside you—close, but not too close.

He cleared his throat once. Then again. Dramatically.

You glanced at him. “Are you dying?”

“Not today,” he said. Then added, without looking at you, “Wanna hang out tonight?”

You blinked. “Out where?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Somewhere with food. Lighting. Chairs. That’s usually what dates have, right?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Was that you asking me out?”

Jake didn’t flinch. Just sipped his drink. “Depends. You gonna say yes?”

You stared at him for a long beat.

He stared at the wall like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Then, you smirked. “Only if you promise not to talk about tech stuff the whole time.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a grin. “If you’re lucky, I’ll limit myself to only mentioning API twice before dessert.”

You squinted. “You’re really bad at this whole romance thing, aren’t you?”

He grinned back, impossibly confident. “And yet, here you are. Saying yes anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, your lips threatening to betray you with a smile. “Yeah, well, I make questionable decisions sometimes.”

Jake nudged your knee with his, grinning like he’d just won a gold medal. “You’re about to make another one. I’m picking you up at seven.”

You crossed your arms, trying to look unimpressed. “We live together.”

Jake leaned back, completely unbothered. “So? I can’t be romantic?”

You didn’t argue.

God help you.

You were kind of excited.

—-

This was your first date.

And you were spiraling.

You had changed your outfit three times. Reapplied your lip balm five. Stood in front of the mirror giving yourself a pep talk like you were about to go on national television.

Jake was downstairs.

Wearing cologne and Jake never wore cologne.

When you finally met him outside, Jake blinked at you like you'd just materialized from a dream. His eyes widened, then quickly darted away, as if he could avoid the full force of your impact.

“You clean up okay,” you teased, trying not to smile too wide.

He opened his mouth, clearly trying to recover, but it came out wrong. “You look... pretty.” He froze, his face turning a shade of red that should’ve been illegal. Then he scrambled, “I mean, uh, shitty.”

“I heard you the first time, Jake,” you said, tapping his face lightly, almost affectionately. “So do you.”

—-

“Stop stealing my fries.”

“I’m not stealing. I’m redistributing.”

“Stop that! It’s not my fault I ordered curly fries and you got regular fries.”

“And I regret it. Let me live.”

You were about to launch into a full rant about Food Boundaries when your foot brushed his under the table. Then his knee. Then his thigh.

Neither of you moved.

And then—like gravity just snapped—you were both leaning over the table. French fries abandoned. Eyes locked. Breaths syncing. Heat crawling up your neck.

Jake reached out, brushed a hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

You stared at his lips. He stared at yours.

Oh, you were so going to kiss in this grimy diner booth, and it was going to be beautiful and stupid and you didn’t even care.

And then—

“Well, well, well.”

You both froze.

Standing next to the table, milkshake in hand, eyes wide with the smuggest expression on Earth: Jungwon.

Jake sat up like someone just caught him cheating on a test.

You blinked. “Jungwon! Hi! What a surprise!”

Jungwon glanced between the two of you. The blushing. The weird knee situation. The shared fries. The vibes.

He sighed, long and dramatic.

Then took a sip of his milkshake and said—

“Fuck. Now I gotta move out.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

Jake looked stunned. You stared after Jungwon in horror.

“Do you think he’s gonna tell everyone?” you whispered.

At that exact moment, both your phones buzzed in unison—a notification from Jungwon’s Instagram, tagging both you and Jake.

“That answers our question.” Jake replied.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

And under the flickering diner lights, knees still touching under the table, Jake reached across and laced his fingers through yours.He glanced at your intertwined hands, then at your face.

“God. I think I actually really like you.” he muttered, like it physically pained him.

You didn’t even blink.

“I hope the fuck you do. I’m literally your girlfriend.”

Jake groaned, slumping back into the booth like you just personally ruined him.

“This is so humiliating.”

You grinned, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah. For you.”

[aureatelys]

can't lose when i'm with you

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 7k a/n: happy valentines day! this idea came to me as a joke but then i couldnt stop thinking about it. also i know nothing about golf or country clubs so sorry in advance if i got anything wrong.

summary: You work as a beverage cart girl at your local country club and your dad ropes you in to make him look good during a business meeting with his new best friend.

content warnings: 18+ MDNI PLEASE, dbf!hotch so age gap, kinda flirty!reader, porn with no plot, dry humping on a golf cart yessir, semi public sex, m masturbation, some dirty talk, men (not hotch) being gross and touchy

read below or here on ao3 here <3

You’ve been working as a beverage cart girl at your dad’s country club for the past several months to save money for school. At first, the bluntness of some of these older men flirting with you caught you off guard, but after you got your first $100 tip just from serving a group of three men a couple of beers and flashed them a smile, you were hooked. Flirting was part of the job, which became easier and easier for you the more shifts you took.

After all, it was easy money—refilling the drinks in the coolers, driving around a well-kept golf course while underneath the shade of the cart, and handing out drinks with a little smile and a hair flip. Sometimes, you even sat nearby and cheered Ted on as he hobbled over to take his shot.

You even got to add some personal touches to your beloved cart—a pink fuzzy steering wheel cover, a blush pink sheet covering the leather seats so your thighs would stop sticking to them, a pillow in the shape of a heart for your back, and a cute miniature disco ball hanging from the roof because old people love to pretend like they can party again.

And the men weren’t too bad. You’ve had a few run ins with some on the handsier side, or ones that straight up asked to have sex with you, but luckily your manager dealt a swift and heavy hand and you never saw them again. Otherwise, the customers were mostly decent, as long as you were okay with some heavy flirting and generous eye-fucking.

It’s a typical busy Saturday when you meet Aaron.

You knew your dad was having some sort of “business meeting” with the highly decorated FBI agent he’s been recently obsessed and hanging out with, and he knew that you were mentioned the most in the country club’s Google reviews. He wanted you to put him in a good mood, which was basically in your job description. You didn’t mind since your father promised a hefty tip for you at the end.

You spot them a few yards away—your father’s lucky red hat, muted in color due to wear and tear, and another man nearly a foot taller standing near him. You call out for them and speed your way there in your rickety little cart when your dad waves to you.

When you pull up next to them, it looks like they’ve just finished Hole 2, which means this would be absolute prime time for you if they were typical customers.

“Hey boys,” you call out. You’re about to ask them if they’re thirsty when you get a good look at your dad’s friend.

He’s tall, almost outrageously so with how far you have to crane your neck to look at him. He’s also ridiculously handsome; strong brows, intense eyes, and floppy hair that looked so soft you craved running your hands through them. Wide shoulders, thick arms, and a little soft around the middle in a way that made something flutter in your stomach.

He was definitely not your typical customer.

“Hey sweetie!” Your dad comes to give you a kiss on the top of your head. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

He’s such a good actor, you think as you beam up at him. “And I didn’t know you were going golfing today. You guys thirsty?”

“Absolutely! I’ll take a beer, how about you, Aaron?”

“A water is fine.” Christ, even his voice is hot—low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You make your way to the cooler in the back, squinting as soon as you’re out from the shade and into the blazing sun. “A beer and a water for my two most handsome guys coming right up!”

As always, your dad laughs, but when you peek a glance out of the corner of your eye from where you’re bent over, half of your body basically in the cooler as you fish out a water bottle, Aaron was wearing an obviously practiced neutral expression.

You finally find the bottle, your hand nearly going numb from how much ice you had to dig through, and hand it to Aaron with a grin. “Here you go.”

He meets your gaze and you’re drawn to the pretty brown sugar shade of his eyes. “Thank you.” He’s polite, not even a smile gracing his lips before he’s twisting the cap off and tipping his head back to take a long swig.

You swear your throat goes dry at the tantalizingly long line of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You’re able to get a closer look at him this way— the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the tight red polo was stretching over his broad shoulders, and the way his hands were so large it made the water bottle look almost comically small.

Your father’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Aaron, this is my daughter. Sweetie, this is Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the BAU I told you about?”

Boy, have you heard about him—your dad hasn’t shut up about him over the past month, talking about how he’s such a great guy, how he’s been at the Bureau for over a decade, and how he’s been bragging about his golfing skills and that the two of them just had to play some time.

You don’t exactly remember what today’s meeting was about, something about implementing a new training program to his agents? Either way, he had hoped you would use your spectacular customer service to help his odds, but you’re sure he wasn’t hoping for you to have the thoughts you were currently having that involved his hands on your hips and your mouth pressed against his throat.

A ringtone blares, nearly making you jump, and you watch as your father steps away to take a call.

You put on your best customer service smile and put your hand out, pink nails glinting underneath the sun. “Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Something quirks at the corner of Aaron’s mouth as he puts his hand in yours. You try not to pay attention to how his hand nearly dwarfs yours or how you could feel the rough calluses on his fingers. “You as well.”

“Unit chief, huh?” you ask, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. “I bet that’s a really stressful job. You should come visit me more. To de-stress.”

And it’s like Aaron’s face transforms into something softer, younger. You watch in delight as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, mouth twisting in an effort to hide an amused smile. “Should I now?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, leaning your hip against your cart. You’re suddenly glad you wore your shortest tennis skirt and sleeveless top that emphasized your cleavage quite well today. “I’m here almost every day and we close at 6.”

His body turns towards you, stepping in closer. You think you catch the faintest whiff of his woodsy cologne, breaking through the freshly cut grass smell. “Is that why your dad was so adamant about going golfing today? So his daughter could flirt his way into me approving his training curriculum?”

An incredulous laugh nearly bubbles out of you at his instant ability to read through you despite only knowing each other less than 5 minutes. You assume he’s the unit chief for a reason.

“Is it working?”

He says nothing for a moment, just looking you up and down in a way that made you want to shift, though not uncomfortably. He studies you and your pristine white sneakers, the hem of your tennis skirt brushing against the warm expanse of your thighs, and your hair in a high ponytail. He glances at the cannisters of edible glitter and mini umbrellas on your bev cart. You see his eyes dance with amusement when he notices the mini disco ball swinging from your roof.

When he looks back at you, eyebrows relaxed, the professional flat line of his mouth was gone and instead replaced with something more private. “Yes.”

Excitement settles in your chest, light and golden. You feel your face flush out of your own accord and hope you can blame the summer sun beating down on you and not your father’s coworker, no more than 20 years older than you, flirting with you.

Your father suddenly appears right around Aaron’s shoulder, always with impeccable timing. He looks just as flushed as you feel, sweat building at his hairline while Aaron looks impossibly dry despite the humidity. “Ready to move onto the next hole, Hotch?”

And just like that, Aaron’s face smoothly changes to polite professionalism and not like you were seconds away from throwing your arms around his neck. He nods and gives you a courteous smile, something playful tugging at his lips. “It was nice to meet you.”

When your father fishes through his wallet to pay for the drinks, and hopefully your tip as well, Aaron lays a hand over his before he’s pulling out his own from his back pocket. “I got it,” he says, before handing you two crisp $100 bills.

“Oh,” you say before you could help yourself. And because it’s Aaron, whom you’ve never met before and not like your other customers, you didn’t feel quite comfortable in taking his money. Yet. “This more than pays for the drinks…”

He shakes his head and pushes the money towards you. “I know.”

You take his money, solely because you don’t want to cause a scene when your father was already stuttering over himself in an attempt to still cover the bill himself. You notice how thick his fingers are over the folded bills and ignore the warmth tingling up your spine when your fingers brush against his.

“Thank you, Aaron.” You don’t miss the way his eyes barely narrow at the sound of his name from your lips or the imperceptible clench of his hand at his side.

You try to hide the smirk threatening to show on your face when you get back into your cart, your silly keychains hanging from the ignition clinking with the action. You put your cart in drive and look over your shoulder at Aaron, your father’s attention already enraptured by the phone in his hand.

“See you around, handsome.”

You think you see a faint hint of pink at the tips of Aaron’s ears before you drive away.

-

You don’t see Aaron for several weeks.

You try not to let it bother you, starting to come to terms with the possibility that he just wasn’t interested in you or that you were too young and juvenile for him. So what if you’ve been picking up more shifts lately, just in case he decided to show up? Or spending your entire paycheck on cute outfits that hug you in all the right places? That isn’t anyone else’s business except yours.

So it’s totally because you’ve been bored all day when you let out a squeak of excitement at the text you get from your dad letting you know that him and Aaron were on their way to the country club.

It’s a slow Thursday afternoon, which means the men that do show up to play, clearly avoiding their wives, believe they can keep you around at their beck and call. A group of 3 older gentlemen who were somewhat regulars had asked you to drive them around in your golf cart despite regulations not allowing customers to catch a ride, but they’ve already racked up hundreds of dollars in drinks, so you’re sure your boss wouldn’t mind.

They’re also a little touchy, wanting to teach you how to play so they have an excuse to put their hands on your hips and not so subtly cop a feel, but their usual tips at the end of the day easily pays for half of your rent. So, you play along by flipping your hair over your shoulder a bit, maybe even acting a little ditsy when they talk about golf as if your dad hadn’t thrown you in lessons as soon as you were able to hold a club.

That’s why you’ve been sitting behind your wheel entertaining grandpa for the past 30 minutes, his friends actually focused on the game, as he rattles on about his ex-wife, how he’s currently looking for a younger girl to take out, and the best way to move your hips when you shoot.

“If you stand up, I can show you how,” he says hoarsely, standing so closely you can smell not only the acrid scent of beer that he’s been sipping on but also the general musty smell of old people you’ve unfortunately become familiar with.

You fake a laugh, even playing it up by leaning forward and patting his wrinkled hand from where it’s inching closer and closer to you on the headrest. “Oh, Jerry, I don’t think we have time for that. I have to make my rounds.”

When you spot Aaron and your father driving over the hill, the rattle of the shitty golf carts a familiar tune, you immediately lock gazes with him. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion the way you’re able to discern when Aaron notices the older man’s close proximity and your clear uncomfortable posture— his eyebrows drawing up in barely concealed shock before knitting in concern, eyes narrowing.

You let out a breathless laugh at the silent rage, plain as day, before scooting out through the other side of the cart and away from Jerry and his beady eyes.

“Where you going, hot stuff?” Ew.

You put on your sweet customer service smile, often used to placate the rowdier men, before you brush away imaginary dust and start throwing away the trash left on your cart. “Jerry! I still have to do my job!”

You’re relieved when Jerry finally takes the hint and shuffles away towards his golf bag that he left near the teeing area just as Aaron and your father pull up next to you with a screech, giving you a slight breeze. When Aaron steps out of the cart, the most mundane action in the world, he looks unfairly attractive. You stare at the slight flex of his biceps when he holds onto the roof of the cart before tearing yourself away and turning towards your dad.

“How are my two favorite guys?” you tease, giving your dad a hug when he opens his arms out.

“I don’t know about Hotch but I’m ready to kick his ass,” your dad laughs, patting Aaron’s back like they’re suddenly best friends. Which is almost true, seeing as how your dad has somehow become even more obsessed with him, having not stopped talking about losing to him several weeks ago and has evidently somehow roped him into another day on the course.

“Well, I don’t think I should choose sides,” you giggle and glance at Aaron. He’s squinting at you, as if you’re speaking a completely different language, his expression still strained and posture tense.  

You smile at him and give him a cheery little wave. “Hi Aaron.”

“Hi,” he says slowly, shoulders slowly relaxing, and hearing his voice makes you breathless all over again. “Are you okay?”

And it’s sweet, the obvious way Aaron is checking in on you as if you don’t do this every day. Truthfully, you’re used to it and it’s not like the men take it too far. You’re more focused on the fact that this is your second time meeting Aaron and he’s already concerned about your wellbeing and personal space like the true gentleman he is.  

You almost want to tease, poke fun at him, but then you remember your father standing mere inches away who probably wouldn’t like you flirting so unabashedly with his friend/coworker.

Instead, you roll your eyes and head towards your cart. “I’m fine. So, what can I get for you, handsome?”

You’re pulling up the POS on your iPad when you notice Aaron hasn’t answered yet. You turn to lean your hip against your cart, meeting his gaze steadily from where he’s studying you.

You decide to blatantly look him up and down— drinking in the fitted dark green polo, showing off the veins decorating his forearms, and black slacks, making him appear taller and hanging enticingly low on his hips. His hair is tousled from the wind and you notice some gray dusting at his sideburns. And then there’s something about the Rolex on his wrist, God, he’s so hot.

Aaron notices you checking him out, because of course he does. His eyes barely flicker down your body, not quite taking the same liberty as you, but you feel want curling in your stomach when he licks his lips.

“A gin and tonic sounds great, sweetie,” your father says, once again interrupting your thoughts, before he’s immediately launching into a ramble regarding what you assume is some office gossip.

“A water is fine,” Aaron says in between your dad’s breaths. He gives you a sheepish little twitch of the mouth that you shouldn’t find so endearing before he turns to give your dad his full attention.

You make your dad’s drink, the motions automatic and familiar, before you’re opening the cooler and bending over to reach a water bottle at the very bottom. You weren’t really doing it on purpose this time, too focused on getting the coldest bottle at the bottom of the cooler for him, but you still feel a thrill run up your spine when you hear a choked cough behind you.

At least you chose a skort today and not a skirt, though you’re sure it still doesn’t leave much room for the imagination with its flimsy white fabric.

A smirk tugs at your lips, hidden by the cooler, before you turn around with a polite smile and drinks in your hands. Maybe you weren’t wrong about being too juvenile for Aaron after all. “Here you guys are.”

When Aaron’s fingers brush against yours, something hot twists itself into your stomach and settles in between your thighs. You meet his gaze and notice his eyes, dark and almost predatory, pupils nearly completely blown.

You distantly hear your name being called through the blood rushing in your ears. When you break from the hold Aaron’s stare has on you and turn to where the sound came from, you spot Jerry still standing near his golf bag. He and his friends evidently still haven’t taken their shots and moved on yet, instead beckoning you over with a wave as if you were some bumbling waitress.

“Well, duty calls,” you feign a sigh. When you turn back around, Aaron’s wearing an almost petulant frown as he watches Jerry continue calling for you.

“We’ll see you around, pumpkin,” your dad says before slapping a $50 dollar bill in your hand, tutting at Aaron when he starts to pull out his wallet. “Let’s get a move on.”

And then he’s walking away, once again leaving you and Aaron alone.

You move to clean up your cart from where you made your drink, expecting Aaron to silently follow your father and not seeing him for several weeks again. You’re pleasantly surprised, maybe even a little smug, when you hear Aaron clear his throat, as if unsure what to say. And wouldn’t that be something—causing a unit chief of the FBI to hesitate.

“You get off at 6, right?”

A lazy grin blooms across your face as you meet Aaron’s eyes. He appears composed, stoic, but you can see the uncertainty swimming in his eyes, the frown still tugging at his lips as if he can’t get the thought of you with Jerry off his mind. He’s rubbing his thumb across his fingers and you wonder how it would feel on the bare skin of your hips.

“I sure do,” you chirp. “I’ll see you then?”

You can tell that Aaron wasn’t expecting you to give him another chance at backing out. His eyebrows raise in surprise, similarly to how they did when he first met you, like he thought he had you all figured out.

“See you then.”

-

Although you’re stuck with Jerry and his friends for the next 3 hours, you can feel the heavy weight of Aaron’s watchful eyes on your back the entire time. There were even several moments where you thought he was going to burn a hole in the back of your head, or especially Jerry’s, every time he put his clammy hands on yours to help you with a swing or at the small of your back.

And so what if you played it up a little, knowing that you barely knew Aaron but you were already digging your way under his skin?

Knowing Aaron was only several yards away, you laughed extra hard at Jerry’s jokes and bent over a little more every time you set the ball on the tee. It was exhilarating, playful in a way you’ve never felt before. You couldn’t deny that noticing the carnal way Aaron reacted to you, how he stared at you like he wanted to eat you alive, didn’t get you all hot and bothered. You’re sure the wetness between your legs was proof enough.

By the time 6 o’clock finally rolls around and you’re pulling up to the extra storage shed at the back of the country club, your wallet has grown a couple hundred dollars more and your cart’s glove box has gained a couple more slips of paper with phone numbers to gather dust in.

You’ve just finished unloading your cart and cleaning out your shelves when you hear another cart pulling up behind you. When you turn and realize that it’s Aaron, that he actually showed up, you feel giddy in a way you haven’t felt since you were a teenager.

“Hey you,” you say over the stack of crates you’re trying to organize. “Let me finish up real quick and then we can go.” Go where, you have no idea, but you’re sure the two of you will figure it out.

“Do you need any help?” he asks, standing so close to you now you can get a full whiff of his cologne. It’s something woodsy and warm that settles comfortably in your chest.

Any other day, you would’ve taken up his offer if only as an excuse to see him lifting crates of drinks and drooling over the way his arms would surely nearly burst out of his sleeves, but you’re honestly almost done and ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m almost done, I promise. But next time you can help so you can show off.”

Aaron immediately rolls his eyes, but you watch with glee as something quirks at the corner of his lips. “Yes, I sat in my car in the parking lot and waited for you just to show off.”

Damn, he is so cute when he’s actually making jokes with you.

You put away all of the cleaning products and lock the door before you’re stepping out to stand in front of Aaron where he’s hovering near your cart.

When you crane your neck to look up at him, you’re suddenly aware of how alone the two of you are, tucked away in a secluded area at the back of the country club where only employees have access to. The two of you are surrounded by trees, thankfully shielding you from the sun, and there’s only one path in and out of the area. The near constant drone of cicadas would be almost annoying if your attention wasn’t all focused on Aaron.

“So, why did you wait for me then?”

And just like that, Aaron’s eyes darken and he clenches his jaw. Now that there was nobody else around, teasing him almost felt like you were poking at a grumpy bear. A cute and very hot bear, but a bear, nonetheless.

“So I can do this.”

And then he’s placing a gentle hand on your waist, hot despite your already sun-kissed skin, and leaning in slowly, as if giving you the chance to back out in case he was reading your signals wrong.

You don’t think you could’ve laid it on thicker, so you meet him halfway to finally press your mouths together.

His lips are soft and he smells like sunscreen, and the way he kisses you is so tender it makes your chest tighten just a little. But it’s not enough.

You step closer into him, throwing your arms around his neck, and deepen the kiss. You catch him by surprise, detecting the exasperated smile against your mouth, but then his hand tightens its grip on your hip and he’s pulling you until you’re pressed flushed up against him.

You can feel the muscles in his chest and the softness of his stomach this way, and it’s so fucking delicious you can’t help the moan that comes out of your mouth and into his.

It’s like a dam breaks loose because Aaron groans into your mouth, now causing you to smile, and then he’s spinning you around until he’s sitting in your golf cart and you’re planted right on his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his hips and the steering wheel digging into the small of your back.

You gasp in surprise, nearly dizzy with the action, but it melts into a breathy moan when Aaron’s hands run all over you—down your back, your hips, the flesh of your thighs, and then grabbing onto your ass so hard it just pushes you further into his lap. The barely there friction of his belt buckle against your pussy from the movement has you rolling your eyes back into your head, causing you to cant your hips forward again to chase the sharp pleasure twisting in your stomach.

“You’re so,” he mutters under his breath, face tucked between your breasts as he attempts to press open-mouthed kisses against the skin exposed by your black work polo. “Pretty.”

Then he’s lifting up your shirt until it gathers underneath your arms, just enough so he can move the band of your sports bra up so he could put his warm, wet mouth on the underside of your breasts. You know you must smell like sweat and sunscreen, your clothes still sticking to you, but that seems to just spur Aaron on as he moves up to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking it repeatedly with his tongue.

“Aaron…” you exhale, pushing your chest into him to chase the wet heat of his mouth as he continues alternating sucking and licking at your nipples, hardening nearly immediately under him. It feels so fucking divine, you don’t think having your nipples played with has ever felt this good. You don’t even want to think about where else he can use his mouth. “Not here…”

He pulls back from your breasts and you’re mesmerized by the spit-slick shine of his lips as he meets your gaze from below you. His hands immediately come to replace his mouth, initially groping at you until thick fingers are grazing over your nipples before gently pinching. “There’s a banquet going on at the front of the club so no one’s coming back here.”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a whimper at the hot pleasure-pain from your breasts, your own hands coming up to tug at the damp hair on the back of his neck. Aaron groans at that, a sound coming deep from within his chest, and he jerkily thrusts his hips up as if they moved of their own accord.

You can feel the line of his hard cock against your inner thigh, so close to where you desperately want him, and your patience wanes thin for just a moment. Of course Aaron checked out the club first before coming back to meet you, as if he was planning on ambushing you behind the country club the entire time.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Aaron says, voice tight as if he was holding himself back from taking you right there on your golf cart with the fuzzy pink blanket on the seat and fairy lights hanging from the dashboard.

You’re tempted take him up on his offer and stop; climbing off his lap and inviting him back to your apartment so you can moan and scream all you want in your very comfortable bed, because Aaron seems like the type of man to want to hear every single noise.

But the thought of both of you being so desperate that you can’t help but rut against each other behind a fancy country club, where you’re at risk of anyone walking around the building and finding you? With your shirt rolled up and Aaron’s fingers nearly pressing bruises against your hips? You really should not find that as intoxicating and hot as you do.

It’s going to be uncomfortable, with the summer sun just barely moving to set over the horizon and your golf cart sometimes being too small even for you. You feel sweat already forming on your upper lip and hair sticking to your neck, internally hitting yourself for not buying that $5 fan that mounts on your dash.

Yet, as you look down at Aaron from where he’s propped his chin on your chest to meet your gaze, somehow looking both cute and ridiculously hot, you knew you couldn’t back out.

“Okay,” you whisper, grinning down at him before your fingers intertwine with his hair again to lean his head back and kiss him.

You think Aaron chuckles but you’re already swallowing it, shuffling somehow closer until the entire line of your body is against his. The top of your head keeps bumping into the roof of the cart and your thighs are already burning from the uncomfortable position of sitting up, but just then you angle your hips differently when you drop down and his bulge rubs against your clit in a way that has you sucking in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty riding on my cock,” Aaron breathes against your lips, the grip he has on your waist tightening as he starts to move you up and down on his lap. “I bet you’re so wet for me.”

His left hand trails down your thigh, moving inward, and you squirm when you feel his thick fingers pressing against your cunt, wetness already seeping through your panties and the shorts of your tennis skirt. He briefly rubs through down your slit, spreading the wetness around and causing the fabric to cling to you.

“Is this all for me, pretty girl?” he murmurs, not even giving you the chance to answer before he’s moving the fabric aside to press his hot fingers against your soaked cunt.

You let out a long moan at finally being touched, the ache between your thighs becoming unbearable. You try to angle your hips in an effort to get more of his fingers on you, maybe even inside of you, but Aaron annoyingly avoids your hole and instead intently traces them gently through your folds before moving up to rub circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, eyes nearly fluttering shut and your thighs trembling as the tight coil in the pit of your stomach builds so fast it knocks the breath out of you.

Aaron hums. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, at a loss for words as you chase the building pressure. He rubs your clit agonizingly slow, like he wants to prolong this as he intently studies your reactions.

You’re about to beg him to hurry up when he stops and removes his fingers from underneath your skirt. Your breath stutters at the loss of sensation until you notice Aaron holding his hand up to eye-level.

His thick fingers are obscenely drenched in your wetness, nearly glistening. You should feel embarrassed, that you’re so horny for him that you’re getting off at the possibility of being caught, but you don’t. In fact, noticing just how much Aaron is enjoying you enjoying yourself makes you feel even more flushed, more needy.

You lean in to bring his two fingers into your open mouth, swirling your tongue around the rough callouses as your own musky taste infiltrates your senses.

When you look down to meet his eyes, yours no doubt glossed over, he nearly growls as he yanks his fingers out of your mouth and kisses you, tongue prodding against yours. You feel a rumble from his chest as he chases the taste of your pussy in your mouth.

When he pulls back, he has a wild look in his eyes that does nothing to quell the fire in your stomach and the growing ache in your pussy. He runs his hands up and down your sides, nearly reverent, before thrusting his hips up so his cock presses against you. “Do you think you can come like this?”

Honestly, you think you could come in 30 seconds, with the way he grabs and moves your hips so deliciously you swear you could feel every inch of him, staring at you as if he couldn’t believe you were giving him the time of day.

“Yes,” you breath, and then Aaron is giving you a wicked grin, something dangerous in his eyes.

He moves you until you’re fully seated on his lap, giving your knees a break, and then moving you back and forth against his cock, the drag of his slacks against the fabric of your shorts rubbing deliciously against your clit, causing you to nearly choke on your own saliva.

You rest your forehead against his, both of you panting, as you start grinding against him. Even through the several layers of fabric, you can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing in between your cunt and against your clit. You nearly feel dizzy, like the heat was getting to you, as your hands scramble to find purchase on his broad shoulders.

“Just like that, honey,” Aaron pants as you watch a droplet of sweat run down the side of his face through half-lidded eyes. “Make yourself come just like that.”

You’re shamelessly whimpering in between your moans now as you grind against him faster, the tightness in your core growing at the lewdness of his words. Aaron just lets you rut against him, essentially sitting still besides his hands on your hips helping you move back and forth. You feel the stickiness on your inner thighs, a mixture of sweat and your arousal, and you bet if you glanced down, there’d be a wet spot on his slacks. That image in your head sends you reeling and nearly over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his hips.

“Come on, sweetie.” Fuck, even the low tone of his voice adds to it, the raspiness giving away how just as equally turned on he was. Your chest is heaving, thighs trembling, and you’re so fucking close. “I can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy later, make you come, over and over on my cock.”

Aaron rolls his hips then, and the new angle has the head of his cock pressing against your clit just so that has you gasping, back arching, and you finally fall over the edge as your orgasm hits you like a fucking train.

Your breath is knocked out of your chest, your eyes squeezing shut as you desperately chase the feeling of his cock against your clit as your clench around nothing. You distantly feel Aaron still grinding your hips back and forth as you ride it out, the tight hold he has on your hips just adding to your bliss. The repeated motions eventually become overstimulating, almost too much, but it deliciously adds to your aftershocks and causes you to release a choked whimper.

When you blearily blink your eyes open, Aaron is staring at you like he’s drinking you up, memorizing every little detail about you. The hair at his forehead is curling from the sweat and his face is tinged pink, but his eyes are a pretty molten brown and there’s something soft tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey handsome,” you say breathlessly, giving him a weary smile as you bring your hand up to wipe away the sweat on your own forehead. When you purse your lips, Aaron huffs a laugh and immediately leans in to give you a chaste kiss that does nothing to calm your racing heart.

You feel Aaron languidly move his hips up against you, making you hum against his mouth. When you look down, not only do you see the line of his cock where he’s still impossibly hard, but also a barely visible wet spot on his black slacks. From you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, embarrassment burning hot on your ears.

“I’m not,” Aaron says before his hands come down to swiftly unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and briefs until his cock springs free.

Your mouth instantly waters because fuck, is he big. He’s thick, a drop of precum beading at the slit with a delicious-looking prominent vein that runs on the underside that you can see when he wraps his left hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, your hands twitching from where they’re still on top of his shoulders and eyes zeroing in on his large hand on his cock.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he huffs. “I’m close, just sit there and look pretty.”

You think your brain short circuits, because no way is this man not only okay with you rutting up on him, but also got close enough to coming from watching you come? And now he doesn’t even want you to touch him, he’s okay with just looking at you as he gets himself off?

Your heart thumps erratically because Aaron looks like the absolute definition of sin; hair slightly damp and tousled, his bicep flexing from where he’s erratically jerking himself off, and his chest heaving deliciously. His lips are parted and he’s watching you with half-lidded eyes, your shirt still bunched under your arms and exposing your breasts and your aching thighs wrapped around him.

You lean back against the steering wheel, ignoring how it digs harder into your back, as you decide to flip up your skirt until your clothed cunt is exposed. The piece of fabric is nearly see-through with how wet you are, and you bite your lip when you bring a hand down to move the fabric aside and angle your hips up until your bare pussy was exposed.

Aaron lets out a strangled noise, and you watch in awe as his hand around his cock pumps faster until it’s nearly a blur. You look up to see his eyes trained on your pussy, wet and puffy. The squelching of him fucking into his own hand, so turned on that he was steadily leaking precum from the slit of his cock was so fucking filthy that you felt the beginning sparks of arousal tugging in your abdomen again.

“Are you going to come all over my pussy?” you whisper.

Aaron suddenly lets out a deep and guttural groan, his breath stuttering and hand stilling, before he comes with his head thrown back. You watch, mesmerized, as hot spurts of his come land on your bare pussy, some even catching on your folds as you clench around nothing.

It’s so fucking hot, he’s so fucking hot.

It’s silent while you both catch your breath, the mindless chirping of birds dwindling down as the sun finally starts to set and the air begins to slightly cool.

You pull your shirt down before you lean over to reach for the tissues you usually keep in your purse on the floor. The way you have to twist your body while still on Aaron’s lap is uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he helps you sit back up with hands on your sides.

He wordlessly takes the pack of tissues from your hand to clean you up. He’s meticulous, eyebrows almost comically furrowed in concentration as he makes sure you’re presentable again. When he’s done, he looks around for a trash can and, upon not finding one, he stuffs the tissues in his pocket. You give him a teasing disgusted look, to which Aaron responds by rolling his eyes.

When you climb off his lap with a groan, your hips and knees pop. You stretch your back out a bit by twisting your body back and forth and notice Aaron getting up as well, watching you with a confused, yet fond, expression.

“You’re too young for your body to crack like that.”

You laugh. “Whatever you say, grandpa.”

You’re suddenly being pulled into Aaron’s embrace with a squeal, an arm snaking around your waist, instinctively putting your hands up on his chest as you steady yourself.

“I think I’ve more than shown you that I’m not a grandpa,” he mutters, lowly and directly in your ear, making you nearly swoon against him.

You clear your throat, using him as leverage to push back at him until you’re able to meet his eyes. “Well, not-grandpa, would you be able to wash my cart blanket? Since it was your idea to dirty it up.”

You can tell Aaron is holding himself back from rolling his eyes again. Instead, he chuckles, letting you go so he could grab the fuzzy pink blanket that is actually most likely devoid of any suspicious stains.

“Can I ride in your car?” you ask, giving him a shy smile. “So I can… see how efficient your washer and dryer is? The material for that blanket is very expensive, you know.” Never mind the fact that you got it from Target nor the fact that you drove yourself to the country club.

Aaron obviously sees right through you, not bothering to hold back a soft laugh. Witnessing him joking with you, his guard down, has your heart thumping just a little bit harder.

He stretches his hand out to you, palm up. “Come on, let’s go inspect my house appliances then.”

You place your hand in his, silently giggling to yourself when you notice how large his hand looks compared to yours, and sidle up next to him despite both of you still damp with sweat.

“Let’s go, hot grandpa.”

The laugh that Aaron lets out, soft and sweet, makes you so grateful to your dad for getting you this job.

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover lmk if you would like to be added!

[blood-smiles]

𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑-𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓��𝐒𝐓 - TW MDNI . yandere content . yanderes . creepy thoughts from both yanderes . post-apocalypse AU .

╰┈➤ Long ago, it was said that humanity thrived together as a whole in peace and harmony, they all went to the same places and had similar experiences, they shared and traded food and items, the peace was always kept because of laws, the air was pure and the water was clear and tasteless, complete perfection.

But where was that now? It’s the year 2313, it’s been a long time since that chapter was ripped from the ancient book of humanity,

You wrapped a mask around your head, clicking your tongue as your fingers fiddled with the leather buckles of the mask,

After a struggling with the mask for a few seconds you finally succeeded in fastening the item to the back of your cranium,

The thick belt wrapped around your head and behind your ears, the borders of the leather digging into your skin and leaving an aching red imprint on your head,

You steadily got up from your couch, walking over to the deserted shopping cart in the corner, putting your hands around the cart’s bars and lifting it up from the floor, putting it back on its wheels as it used to be,

You rolled the cart around your laboratory, listening for squeaks or strange sounds, when you made sure there wasn’t any problems with the cart you put it aside momentarily,

You ran over to one of your counters as snatched a pair of goggles from the metal surface,

Securing them on your eyes as best you could, your hands grabbed the flimsy fabric of your coat and pulled up the hood, you were all geared up and ready to go.

Your hands gripped the bar of your shopping cart, your eyes scanning the inside of the empty shopping cart, the once silver metal was oxidizing, slowly turning into a murky brown tint,

you pushed your cart through your run down town, waving at acquaintances and kicking little pebbles out of your way,

This is how your everyday life went, around 5 p.m you would get geared up and go into the junk yard to look for unwanted “trash” from Ether,

most of the time what you found wasn’t even trash, maybe a little worn down, but these people were throwing away full shampoo bottles and moisturizers! You wish you had that problem..

Ether was the island above the slums or better know as “the pit”, Ether was known as the place only peasants like you could wish they could end up there, which wasn’t ever going to happen,

Only the richest of the rich or elite are allowed up there, and the people down in the pit were uneducated and poor, having nothing more than a button and a few pieces of clothes to their name,

Truly pitiful, and you were no different, the only thing you had was a run down laboratory your father left behind,

He was supposedly a smart man, one of the first developers of the species known as “Androids” yet none of his work was given credit towards him, which ended him up here, in the pit.

You knew how to repair an android, but coding one was beyond your abilities, you worked as a handyman for a few silver coins, that’s how you went on about life,

You developed your skills as you went, and apparently the only note worthy trait you had was your ability to salvage broken things,

You kicked away some trash with your muddy boots, the rubbish flying far away and into the piles of trash,

“Fuckin’ trash..” you complained under your breath, your heavy duty boots clinging to the sticky mud underneath, making unpleasant squelches in the mud,

The sound of clanking was heard when the piece of trash hit a surface, your ears immediately pricked up,

Whipping your head into the direction of where the trash fell, you immediately let go of your cart and jogged over to a pile of crap,

You stepped onto the unsteady heap of trash, your knee beginning to buckle under your own weight, warning you that you were about to loose your footing,

You fell forward, wind brushing by your ears as you began your descension , sticking your arms out, you braced for the impact,

with a loud clank you landed on top of a scrap of metal, your hands laying on a hard, cool material, you pushed yourself off the object to get a better look on it,

it seemed to hold a humanoid shape, but it by no means looked like one, instead of a face it had a screen, which was pitch black and roughed up, split right through the middle, nothing you couldn't fix.

It didn't have the look of a typical android, it seemed like it was missing its silicone skin, a normal android look closely alike to a human, this one looked more like a robot,

Its body was large, made of a sturdy material, despite having no muscles it did have something alike to it but made of steel, the shine being dulled by the dirt,

your eyes trailed to its chest, which was steel, a shocker. It seemed to have a symbol on its left pectoral in an electric blue tint, while its right one seemed to have a name tag, but the letters were scratched off, what looked deep jagged scratches on its chest, whoever did this either didn't like their name or didn't want anyone to see its real name,

that logo.. That was the logo of the best android engineers in Ether, Its obviously an android, but its strange that they would throw out androids,

your eyes wandered down the android's body to its legs, which were missing, cables poked out of the holes where its legs were supposed to be,

you rand your hand down your face, where were its fucking legs? You couldn't take it home without its legs! You put the Android's upper body on your back, then letting it slip off your back and into your shopping cart with a loud bang,

you began to look around, lifting rubbish with the tip of your shoe, peeking under all surfaces until you saw what seemed to be a foot poking out from a pile of soggy cardboard,

you pulled out the limb with your whole body weight, the sheer height and thickness of that single limb was impressive, the leg stood in height about where your waist was,

you tossed the heavy limb in your shopping cart with the Android, you walked around for about 40 minutes, looking everywhere for the other leg,

just when you were about to give up you tripped over something, looking at what made your hit the ground, you realized it was the leg you were looking for,

your heart beat happily in your chest as you pushed the heavy cart back to your house lab,

you had a dopey grin on your face the whole way home, you couldn't help but have a pep in your step, you were already thinking of how you would name your new Android,

"(Y/n)? O-Oh! It is you! How are you, sweet pea?" You could recognize that voice anywhere, if it wasn't the the village doctor!

You turned around, smiling widely at the man, still in his clad white uniform, hair tie slipping down his long ginger hair, and those characteristic cracked glasses, it was Kairo.

"Heya Kairo! 'm good, jus' pushin this home.'" You waved to him weakly, your calloused hands tired from pushing the cart,

Kairo jogged up to you, stopping only inches away, he brought a hand up to his face, his cheeks adorned with alight dusting of pretty pink,

"I recall asking you to rest, didn't I? You better have a good reason to be wearing yourself out like this.." the ginger scolded, crossing his arms across his chest, his magenta eyes staring you down something alike to a mother’s disappointed gaze,

Kairo was an absolute blessing to have down here in the slums, he was the doctor and used to be a scientist, his knowledge in both fields was greatly appreciated, especially since it seemed the world had it out for you and your physical well being,

he got kicked out of Ether many years ago, you were about 13 when he got dropped in the pit,

He really stirred the pot when he got here, no one even tried getting closer to him due to their reluctance about him and his origins, no one here trusts those who were born in Ether,

Kairo got pushed away, glared at, kicked and even sometimes people spat on him, no one really knows what he did to get him off Ether,

Yet it is still a fact that even if the others have warmed up to him, they still treat him exponentially different from the other habitants of the slums,

you were the first and only one to extend your hand out to him in times of need, you gave him a safe haven when he needed it most, and just for that fact he has sworn to always be with you, through thick and thin, he will protect you and put you back together time and time again, just how you loved him, he will love you back tenfold.

your smile turned bashful, wiping your sweaty hands on your shirt you started trying to recount the events of today,

"..So then I decided to take him home to repair him back up! He's in pretty good shape, I jus need ta' wire his legs back on then fix his screen, give him a lil' bath and I will be done with him!"

Kairo looked back at the robot with narrowed eyes, a dark shadow casting over his pale features,

you felt oddly unsettled by his sharp gaze, this side of him was completely unknown to you, and gee was it scary.

"..Where did you find this thing?" He asked—no, demanded, his voice dropping an octave lower, the sharpness of his tone wasn't quite directed at you though, but more at the robot in your cart,

"Uhm, I found him in the Junk yard.." You rasped out, your throat feeling constricted, words barely audible out of the feeling of fear you had, this mood of him was awfully uncharacteristic of him, it really creeped you out,

Kairo seemed to notice your state, the last thing he would want was to make you fear him.. for now, he will let it go.

"I see.." the taller male responded, a tinge of worry in his voice "Well, all I ask of you is to be careful, you don't know where it came from, and personally, I don't want to see you hurt.." He hugged himself, looking off to the side shyly, his gloved hand reaching up to twirl a strand of his cantaloupe colored hair around his finger,

the carefree smile you had earlier started returning as you saw Kairo softening up again, you were glad he wasn't upset at you,

you ran up to him, momentarily leaving your cart and new companion behind to give him some affection,

your arms wrapped around his slender waist as you cuddled his chest, your cheek pressed up right next to his heart,

Kairo's breath hitched, a kaleidoscope of butterflies going off in his guts, the wings of the small insects making contact with his insides, the pleasant feeling didn’t help the flush in his face spreading like a wildfire,

his longer arms wrapped around your neck, hugging you closer to him, he pressed his lips against your forehead gently, intentionally catching a whiff of your hair's scent, ‘my sweet baby.. You really don’t realize what I feel for you, do you?’ His eyes fluttered closed, long eyelashes ghosting over his tired under eyes,

these were the moments with you he could kill for, he would do anything to be this close to you always, skin to skin, heart to heart, and hopefully one day, lips to lips.

The ginger reluctantly let go, crossing his arms once again as he gazed at your retreating form longingly, his mind couldn't help but wander back to that specific Android, dangerous thoughts leaking into his brain continuously like a broken faucet,

"If you do something to her, I will rip your fucking head off.."

But you on the other hand were giddy as fuck, you had already unloaded the android and sat him down on your lab counter,

lifting his left leg up you propped it below the wires hanging off the holes of where his legs were supposed to be in,

you connected the wires carefully, melting them together once again, soon you connected the legs into his hip socket, a loud clicking noise let you know you did the job correctly,

you did the same with his right leg, another loud click reached your ears, you pulled on the legs as best as you could from different angles, and they wouldn't budge, not a single creak or sign of the limbs wanting to detach from the body anymore,

and with that you moved onto the cracked screen of the head of the android,

you somehow managed to seal the cracks and give the mask a polish to leave it looking good as new, you were pretty satisfied with the results,

you scrubbed off the dirt and grime off the metallic protective plates, you scrubbed and scrubbed every single crevice of its body until the robot was spotless and shining under the dim lighting,

he was beautiful.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, anxiety coursing through your veins, sweat beads ran down your skin, dampening your shirt,

you opened the back of his cranium, cables wrapped in metallic material linking to the back of his head, a blue power button inside all the wires and mother boards inside, green and silver peeking out from inside his head,

you pressed on the button, then stepped back, crossing your fingers that he would come to life, you clasped your hands together in prayer,

buzzing came from the Android, limbs twitching, sparks coming from its joints,

soon, the screen on its "face" lit up, something alike to a smiley face being displayed on the black screen,

it looked down at its hands, closing and opening its fists, kicking its legs, it realized it was alive once more, that it was moving and that it was okay,

you didn’t know how to react, should you be happy? Scared? It was all so conflicting, you wanted to jump out of happiness but at the same time you wanted to run away, cry and vomit.

It turned its head to you, the gentle sound of ticking coming from deep inside his metal plates,

The sound of its metallic feet hitting the murky ground startled you, making you jump violently, you would have jumped out of your skin if it came closer,

It seemed to stop when it saw that you were scared, and so it stopped, it stared at you, not moving an inch from it place,

slowly, it extended its long arm, opening its robotic palm and holding it out to you, (e/c) looked down at its hand, analyzing how his joints popped and twitched,

you were starting to regret taking the massive machine home, Kairo was right, this Android totally had something off about it,

but even as your common sense screamed at you to stay back and run away, it all was drowned out by the overlapping thoughts buzzing in your head,

how much could this thing sell for? It was modified, Obviously, it was crystal clear that these modifications had been done illegally,

you carefully put your smaller hand in his own, you looked up at the screen that was his face warily,

“a-ah..” the android made a noise, was his voice box broken? You tried repairing him as best as you could, but his voice box was something you unfortunately didn’t know how to repair,

he pointed a finger towards you, tilting his head while making more noises,

“ah.. ah?” Was it asking you something? It gently tapped your arm, pointing at you,

oh. It was asking you for your name.

“oh.. You can’t speak, can you?” It shook its head, putting it hand on its throat to emphasize,

“well.. I’m (Y/n), and.. It’s nice to finally meet you..?” You coughed into your fist as you finished, awkwardly shifting from side to side,

an emoticon of sorts appeared on the metallic male’s face visor, it seemed… happy?

“Aaah?” It pointed to itself, looking down at its name tag, only to realize that it had completely scratched off,

it stayed silent before looking up at you, gently guiding your hand to its chest, where it’s name tag once resided,

“..You want a name?” It nodded, pointing to itself once again,

“..I actually was thinkin’ about what to name you.. Welcome to the world, Exo.” You gave it a toothy grin, watching as how the screen visor of his suddenly showed a blue glowing heart,

It took you by surprise when the droid grabbed onto you by under your arm pits, lifting you up to his height,

you watched as how the glowing blue heart on his visor beat like how a heart would, and it only seemed to be getting faster,

it brought you closer to it, holding you like a baby, it rubbed its cheek(?) against yours, the uncomfortable friction of its glass screen making contact with your own,

And that’s when you heard it, a low rumbling sound resounded from its chest, the vibrations melting against your skin,

is he fucking purring..?

“I’m glad— urgh.. you liked your name..” you barely made out, trying to create some space between both of your bodies, however the bot wouldn’t move a centimeter away from you,

after pleading with it, he decided to put you down,

it gently pat your head, before putting its hands on its knees to observe you more closely,

“uh.. Okay, Well.. You can just follow me around, I want to see how good of a job I did at fixing you..” and with that you walked out of your laboratory,

a larger hand grabbed onto your sleeve, you already knew who it was so you didn’t spare him a look,

you let him grab onto your sleeve, the cool feeling of it’s metal fingers making contact with your skin,

Exo didn’t know what to make of things, he was especially surprised when he woke up to a little human greeting him,

he couldn’t see anything, but from the noises and fleeting touches around his body he could tell that someone was trying to fix him up,

and then he could see everything, from the little scars on your skin to the exact shade of your eye color,

his memory board felt empty, he tried to remember, but his mind was a blank slate, it was like trying to squeeze water from a stone, impossible.

but one thing he did know was that he was eternally indebted to this cute human, Exo wanted to assume that this was his creator, but he knew better, his real creator didn’t care about him,

he knew he was thrown off somewhere high, he didn’t know when or from where, but just that action showed him that whoever created him had no care for him,

But.. You took the time to fix him with your caring hands, you didn’t have any obligation whatsoever to even touch him, but you did,

from looking down at his own body he could tell you spent countless hours polishing his body, not even a crevice of his body had a single spot of filth,

his joints were smooth, his movements were swift and elegant, something he never thought he would be able to regain,

you might as well be his owner now, you are so small.. So frail, he looked down at you and he felt this inexplicable feeling of wanting to grab you and cradle you like a human baby,

your smaller form was so comfortable to hold in his arms, he could accommodate his body to your liking,

he understands that his chest isn’t the most comfortable, under the heavy metal plating there is soft layers of silicone that could help with trying to make you more comfy against his body,

he wished nothing more than to communicate with you, to tell you how much he appreciated you and how he wished to serve you in the way you served him,

but the only type of noise that made it out of his mouth (?) was pathetic moans and sighs, that was no way to communicate with you,

He heard the voice of a man earlier, his sensors picked up on his heart rate, it was.. familiar, he knew that rhythm from some where.. but he can’t quite remember from where,

this mysterious man’s heart beat spiked up as soon as you approached him, his breathing turned slower and heavier,

Exo heard you call out to that man, apparently his name was Kairo.. the android repeated his name in his mind, Kairo, Kairo, Kairo.. That was an unusual name..

then he spoke, and his voice hit home, he still had no idea who this man was, but his hate for him tenfolded,

Exo hated how he spoke to you, his voice was so warm and welcoming towards you, pure love and adoration in his tone, he just knew that man wanted to shove his tongue down your throat, repulsive.

but Exo has claimed you long ago, ever since you picked him up and ever so gently put him into your cart he had vowed to be by your side,

‘Kairo’ directed his tone towards him and Exo didn’t like it one bit, his tone was so sharp, the iron-clad Android could feel the intensity of ‘Kairo’ on him, his eyes feeling like they could burn through the thick layers of metal of his body,

Then he felt a warm calloused hand on his shoulder, gently running up and down the ridges of his armor, that touch made him melt into a puddle of goo,

making him forget about the developing grudge against Kairo,

however he knew that wasn’t going to be the last time he would see him.

. . .

Several days had passed since you had booted Exo’s system up, and it was safe to say that the last days had been nothing but bliss,

it was like he was lying on cloud nine, he started to believe that he had been blessed by some force and sent you down, it was nothing less than euphoria.

You, however had to head into town, and Exo could never dream of making you go alone, never in a millennia would he allow that,

So he decided to accompany you, his large hand clasped around your own, your hand gently grabbing onto his pointer finger,

Exo kept a close eye on you, trying to sense of something was amiss, your heart beat seemed steady, your glucose was normal and your oxygen levels were okay,

he wished he could just carry you so you wouldn’t need to walk, he wouldn’t want to wear down your fragile bones!

but you refused his offer.. you said that you were ‘too old for that’, Exo really didn’t want you to be embarrassed, he decided to let this slide— for now.

his steps were heavy behind you, loud thumps being heard when his mechanical feet hit the ground,

you were pushing your cart through the dust and dirt, while Exo was carrying your backpack and money, who were comically small compared to his large and broad body,

you snickered to yourself as you looked back at him for a split second, he seemed to notice, suddenly his screen lit up, a blue heart blinking on the screen,

“a-ah..” he moaned out, tilting his head close to his right shoulder, you really wished you could understand the damn thing, but it seemed to be able to communicate through moans and exhales,

“Ya know I have zero idea what yer sayin’, right?” You sighed as you looked away, your cart wheels getting jammed on a rock out of nowhere,

it had you clicking your tongue as you bent down to pick the rock out of the old wheels,

the bot bent down to assist you, kneeling right next to you, there to help you if you needed anything,

“(Y/n)! What a coincidence! It has been a bit since we have last spoken, you aren’t running away from me are you?” The familiar voice of a certain admirer rang out from above you,

“hah? ‘Course not, You are my favorite person in this old dinky town..” you gave Kairo a crooked smile, dusting off your pants to face him fully,

his eyes softened, a gentle smile marking his plump lips, sometimes you really forgot how pretty Kairo was,

“..Y-You really think so..?” Aw shit, did you say that out loud? You nodded your head either way, an embarrassed flush warming your cheeks, Kairo put his hands on his face trying to hide the blush heating up his whole face, his hand gently extended out towards you,

Kairo was about to put his hand on your head, however his hand was stopped by a silver encased one, the mechanic fingers tightening around the Ginger’s arm,

“…” a certain chrome plated male stopped Kairo’s arm from going any further,

“..Huh. And who do you think you are?” Kairo retaliated, veins sprawling across his arm and porcelain face, an unnatural look to his other wise doll like appearance,

his glasses slipped down the slope of his nose, showing a pretty little bump on his upturned nose,

his thick brows furrowed, his pretty face twisted into a menacing scowl, his lively magenta eyes losing the shine they had when they met with your (e/c) eyes,

Exo on the other hand didn’t show a sliver of emotion, the screen visor he possessed didn’t show the emoticons he tends to show, instead a pitch black screen was shown,

Expo refused to utter a single sound, which was somehow more menacing than anything, fear instilled deep inside you, slimy tendrils of uncertainty and the urge to run pooling in your intestines,

“ha..haha— How about we calm down?” You suggested as calmly as you could, which was not very good since you were about to piss your pants,

You didn’t notice your hands shaking violently, your fingers and hands being unable to keep still, you were so distracted trying to tone down the situation you forgot about keeping calm yourself,

Both of the men turned to face you, noticing your shaken up state they seemed like they were about to stop,

the duo simultaneously reached out to you, trying to touch you, they seemed to have gotten distracted from their fight, however they were far from over,

“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Can’t you see she is scared? Tsk.. what a disgrace, to think you would care about a human being.. Touch her and I won’t hesitate to pull those cables out of your fucking head.” Kairo threatened, his hand balling into a fist

“…” the bot just stared at him, unresponsive.

This was your chance to book it out of here, a crowd of people were coming your way, you took advantage of their ‘moment’ to get away,

you blended into the streets, luckily you had a few silver coins on you, so you could hang out until Exo came to find you, which he always did,

you could apologize to Kairo later and spend some well deserved time with the ginger, not today though.

shit.. Did they team up to come after you? Because.. they aren’t where they were going when you looked back..

Is it just you or.. Are two people breathing down your neck?

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Them As Parents #2

𐙚 Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

𐙚ྀ ͜ ͡ ︶ Added Nikto this time + his is a little longer bc I didn’t add him the first time

Ghost

Lost the kids at ikea once

The way he was so unbothered too

He’s so nonchalant about it because he’s confident that the children know better and are capable of taking care of themselves

If anything he’s a little anxious about your reaction if you found out

So when an employee notices Simon frequently turning his head, eyes roaming around they approach him

When Simon told the employee he had lost two little kids the employee was more concerned than him

Soap

When you leave the kids home alone with their father it’s almost worse than if they had been left alone

He is NOT a trusted adult

If you don’t leave a large enough pot of food for them Soap will order whatever the kids want to eat

Unfortunately for you, his sons inherited his big appetite

You come back home, groceries in hand gawking at the boxes of takeout set all over the table

“Johnny, I said I wouldn’t be long at the store…”

“Sorry, got a bit hungry” he responds while stuffing his face

Gaz

When going to the store he likes getting matching outfits for his girls

He’ll overload the cart with an assortment of cute bows and hairclips, pretty dresses, and adorable little shoes

When going out, he carries a backpack for each kid packed with a sweater in case it’s cold, comfy shoes incase they lose one, and snacks for when they’re hungry or fussy

He gets so excited when he’s there to witness his baby’s first everything, records it on a calendar and you best believe he’ll never forget those small milestones

Alejandro

When he’s cooking meat on the grill outside he raises his head to watch the kids play in the yard

His love language is calling them over to give them a piece of roast meat to taste

When the kids were old enough to drive he first taught them with a riding lawnmower because he didn’t trust them with his truck

He likes to be mean to his kids (in a loving way ofc) and play pranks on them

Phillip Graves

He can be stern at times but most of the time he’ll spoil his kids rotten

Especially his daughter

When she asked for a pony he almost decided to move to a house with 3 acres for a couple of horses

You reasoned with him and instead settled to take your daughter to weekly horseback riding lessons

Keegan

One of his favorite things to do is figuring out what features of yours and his he can find in his kids

“She’s got your smile” “He has your wit” “Your sass is apparent even in our children”

I bet he’s the type of carry his toddlers like a bag

He pays great attention to detail so he’ll immediately notice if something or someone upset his children

König

After he overcame his insecurity he was head over heels for the baby

Will constantly watch over your shoulder, taking in every detail of how you care for the children so he can do it too

Not wanting to spend a moment apart from you or your children

If he’s running errands he’ll take the kids with him

When his daughter was a few months old he used to bring her with him into the hardware store and proudly show her off

It would make his day when someone would tell him how adorable she was and how alike they look

Horangi

Imagine him with twins ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

He’s almost always carrying them

You argue with him over this because it’s made your toddlers used to being held all the time

He’d be a great girl dad, wouldn’t resist buying cute toys and kid makeup sets and letting them paint his nails and apply lipstick on him

Would walk around in princess high heels and bows whilst keeping a poker face

Nikto

He wants to be seen like a pillar, someone his kids can rely on and never fear for their safety

Though concealed, under the strong surface his heart pulsates and beats the moment he’s handed the squirming bundle at the hospital

A mix of emotions swirls underneath his facade, the small face he’s staring at is his flesh and blood and he can hardly believe it

Strives to create a secure ambience at home for his little ones to grow up in

He wishes he could shield them from all harm

On mornings when he’s supposed to rest, the kids will sneak into your bedroom and crawl into bed between you

He groans, feigning annoyance, but scoops them in his strong arms chuckling as they squeal and giggle

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Hi 👋 I'm knew to posting stories so please don't be rude , I understand that this isn't what some people like ,but there's no need to be rude. I appreciate everyone who read my first post and I am very grateful for them. Please leave tips on how I can improve. Thank you for your time and enjoy!!

Note: this is the first chapter of that little drabble I did. This chapter doesn't include damian or the batfamily. Next chapter it will. I just wanted yall to see readers family dynamics ,and I didn't want to make the chapter so long. Oh ,and N/N= nickname.

WARNINGS: None really no one is yandere ,yet.

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

It was snowing. Which should be no surprise to you ,atleast not at this time of year. It always snowed in October ,always. As always the snow was beautiful and quite peaceful as well. Watching the perfectly white snow fall onto the dead leaves on your yard was quite peaceful.

Comfortably sat on your living room couch waiting for your dad to get ready for church. You quietly watched TV. You had already been ready for about half an hour. Decided in it was best to get ready earlier than later. Just like your mother had always told you. Your mother always rather be early to an event rather than on time ,and usually she was on early. But then came your father. Now Your father was the complete opposite of your mother. I suppose that's what evens them out.. See your father always seemed to have a problem with keeping up with the time. So more often than not you'd be late because of your father.

You didn't mind though, atleast not as much as your mother did. You found it funny how your tall and fierce father. Sherrif of the small town you live in. Looked like a kicked puppy as your mother scolded him.

you silently watched as your father practically ran through the house looking for his church clothes. You smile as you see your mother walk towards you. She smiles back at you and kisses you on the top of your head. "You ready for church , baby " she says walking to kitchen. "Yes ma'am " you say turning your attention back on the TV. "Good" your mother says packing the food she plans to bring to church. You sigh in frustration. There's never anything to watch on Sunday. So you resort to the only channel that might be interesting. The news.

Your eyes open in excitement when you see the headline for today. BATMAN SAVES GOTHAM FROM A NUCLEAR BOMB! You always liked batman. You thought he did good. Sure he made some mistakes ,but he was only human. After all he had saved Gotham , like a thousand times. So he had to be good.

"Baby turn that off. I don't want you seeing that kind of stuff." Your mom says from behind the kitchen counter. "C'mon mom it's batman. He's a hero." You say trying to persuad her. Nothing big like that ever happened in your small town. Sure you were gratefull that your town wasn't always being attacked ,but nothing even slightly exciting happens in your town. So you live off the gossip of gotham.

"The only hero you need is Jesus. So turn. It. Off. I'm not telling you agian, baby." Your mother says gently smiling at you ,but you know better than to push her buttons. So with a dramatic sigh you turn off the TV.

"Thank you. Now go check on your brother for me." She says pointing towards your brothers room. " whatever" you say quietly ,scared of what she would say if she heard. Because in her eyes that's 'disrespectful'.

"Riley are you ready?" you say knocking on your brothers bedroom door. No reply . So you knock agian. No reply. "I'm coming in."You say and your shocked about what you see when you open the door. Riley your 7 year old little brother is sleeping peaceful in his bed. quickly you rush over to his bed. "Riley wake up ,mamas gonna kill you." You say as you shake him. Slowly he opens his eyes. "What's wrong N/N." He says and you almost feel bad for how concerned he looks ,but then you remember.. He's the one that decided to play Mario Cart all night.

" It's Sunday riley" you say. You watch as realization hits him straight in the face. Quicker than you can imagine he's up and running around in his room. "Oh no , does mama know I slept in." He says grabbing him a towel to take a shower. "No , she thinks your ready." You say but surely he didn't hear you by how quickly he rushed to take a shower.

Being the kind sister you are you grab him some cloths and leave them on the bed.

Deciding that it's definitely best not to go back to the living room. Since your mother would probably ask about riley. So instead you go to your room.

walking in your room you stand in front of the mirror your grandpa had made for you. Looking in the mirror you definitely thought this was one of the best outfits you had worn to church. Not the most expensive though ,since most of your clothing was thrifted. Nevertheless you did love your outfit today.

"I'm ready." You hear you father yell. "Well it's about time." You hear your mother reply. You smile to yourself as you walk towards the front door. You know your mother and father love eachother, but to someone that doesn't know them would probably think their about to sign divorce papers any minute. "You look beautiful ,princess."your father says with a light kiss to the top of you head.

"Riley!" Your mother yells ,since she didn't see your brother by the door. "Coming." He shouts back. Hurriedly your brother practically runs down the stairs. " how do I look." Riley questions and you don't even have to say what's on your mind. Because your father beats you to it.

"Like a mess." Your father says. Which earns him a punch on the arm by your mother. "Nonsense , you look handsome baby." You mother says as she gives him a kiss on the head ,and pats his hair so it doesn't look like a literal mess. "Thanks mama." Your brother says with a smile. "Well we better get going or we're going to be late." Your mother says. As she practically pushes everyone out the door. "Darling, it's only 7:10 by the time we get there we're going to be 40 minutes early." You father says with a sigh. Unlocking his truck.

"Which is practically late." Your mother says hopping into your father's Ford. To which your father just shakes his head with a smile.

The drive to the church wasn't long ,but you wish it was. So maybe you could get to watch it snow for a little longer. Snow was beautiful. Snow seemed to cleanse everything and turn it white agian. Which if you said that to your mother she'd probably say Jesus does the same thing...

Looking over to where your brothers sitting. You can see he's passed out. His head is resting on the window and he's drooling a bit. He looks kinda cute ,but that's only cause he's asleep and not cuase trouble. An you know it.

'Today is gonna be a good day.' You say to yourself ,and Who wouldn't think that it's Sunday. Every Sundays a good day because we get to go to church ,and see family. Maybe it was a bit naive to think that just because it was Sunday it was going to be a good day ,but that's how you were raised.

Ten years from now you'll look back and wish that for once. Just once in your 16 years of having lived your family would have missed church this sunday...

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

THANKS FOR READING!!!!

[puckinghischier]

just a random post with a string of nonsense thoughts about the hughes brothers and how bad i want to be a part of that family

like, not even having to marry into it kinda way, but maybe being best friends with one of the boys and just assimilating into their routines?

i mean, imagine being jack’s bestie and always being over at their house or driving him to hockey practice or tagging along to games and it’s always just assumed you’re staying for dinner after giving him a ride home from practice. Or it’s always assumed when they go to the lake on weekends you’re going to be there too

and don’t even get me started on how luke and quinn basically treat you like a sister since you’re attached to jack’s hip and act just like him. the arguments you’d have with luke about who gets to choose what’s on tv, then quinn eventually vetos any kind of compromise between the two of you because he’s the oldest so his choice “means more than both of yours combined”

also thinking about when the guys want to go play golf but you show up at their house to hang out with them, so they have you tag along and drive the golf cart, resulting in everyone getting kicked off of the golf course because you were caught by the cart girl for having two grown men hanging off of the back of your golf cart re-enacting king of the world from titanic as you make your way to the green.

or when you go on a date with a guy your friend set you up with, all three of them sneak around and tag along in ridiculous “disguises” with fake wigs and mustaches to make sure he’s not a dick or a serial killer. and when you catch them, seeing a glimpse of luke’s curly hair from a few booths down, you walk over to confront them and threaten to call ellen because you know that’s the only threat that scares them, watching them scurry off with glares on their faces, mumbling how they just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a dick.

then weeks later, when the same guy ghosts you and you see him with another girl, the only place you want to go is the hughes house, so you show up unannounced, quinn watching you walk into the kitchen (you have a key so you just let yourself in) with tear stained cheeks and he immediately goes angry big brother mode, insisting you tell him where the asshole lives so he can go rough him up a bit. jack comes downstairs to see what all the commotion is, and once he hears what happened he takes over quinn’s role as shoulder to cry on, quinn already setting everything up for a movie night and telling luke he needs to go out and get your favorite snacks.

when ellen and jim come home that night to a dark house and a blanket mound in the middle of their living room floor, they see you asleep cuddled in-between jack and quinn, with luke laying at everyone’s feet, and they smile and turn the tv off, happy that all of their kiddos are safe under one roof tonight.

and the next morning, when you all wake up to ellen cooking a huge breakfast, knowing her boys wake up like starved animals, she pulls you aside to make sure you’re okay, her heart swelling when you look over at the three heathen’s absolutely demolishing their plates of breakfast, and tell her you’ve never been better.

don’t even get me started on holidays. you have to split time between your own family and the hughes residence like you’re a child of divorce because you’ve been involved in all of their holiday traditions since you could remember. you help them decorate their tree, you help ellen wrap presents, you help jim set up all of their yard decorations, you have annual ginger bread house decorating competitions with each of the boys, and your favorite, helping the boys surprise ellen with a huge gift each year.

or when you attend all of their big games, from their team usa juniors games, to quinn and luke’s games at michigan, to each brother’s first pro game. you and ellen always have matching, personalized jersey’s for the occasion, wanting every to know who you’re there to support.

also thinking about flying out and being there for each of them when they go through their first big struggle with homesickness and missing their family, wanting to be there for them like they’ve been there for you over the years. and sending them each care packages each month with goodies from home and handmade gifts from whatever craft you’ve taken up that month (the crochet phase produced some very oddly shaped socks)

and when you decide you can’t stand not living near your favorite set of brothers, you move be closer to the youngest two, hating that you likely won’t be able to live in a place close to all three of them again. but quinn petitioned for partial custody (his exact words to jack) so the spare bedroom at his apartment in vancouver is now yours and he insists on paying for you to fly out to his place every other month, no matter how much you protest that you can buy your own plane tickets.

you know they all have countdowns to lake time each summer on their phones, too. quinn sending updates in the groupchat every day, then starting over the day everyone returns home from the summer festivities.

but overall, i’m just thinking about how fun i know it would be, and how anyone in that family will be surrounded by so much kindness and love.

anyways there’s my nonsense, random, run-on string of thoughts for the day.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Still Not Dead (Sevika x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After being branded Silco's personal tailor. You weren't sure what may come of the arrangement. But as his right hand woman becomes the frequent go between. Well who were you to complain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, I'm back at it again. Having recently watched Arcane season two. My love for Sevika was reignited. She finally got more screen time. And oh boy did she shine.

So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

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

The scowl that had settled on her face had become a constant today. It seemed as if every stop she had made for Silco's sake, was trying to piss her off. A comment here, a challenge to her station there. It really was a shit day. The kind of day she wished the brat had followed her. Maybe then she wouldn't have this seething silence bearing down on her.

But as the last place crossed her mind, her face softened. Sevika usually wasn't the type to grow fond of anyone. It took a lot for a person to worm there way into her heart. Against all odds you had managed to do it. Between your sweet nature and soft body. It was hard to not like you in one way or another.

Stepping into your shop, she took in the scent. Fabric and incense filled her lungs in a pleasant way. You did your best to source new material for your shop. But in the bowels of the lanes that was far and in between. So you made do, between the incense and detailed hand washing. You really put in the work to make what you had great.

This had been what drew Silco to your Tailor shop. Your lovely fabric selection and skill with a needle. It didn't take long for you to become his tailor. Which you didn't argue with. If the King of Zaun wanted you in his fray, you agreed. While it did leave you with a few less customers. It also garnered you protection, along with a steady income. Not a bad deal, especially in the underground.

She hesitated and looked at the entrance of the shop. You weren't in the front. But would she be over stepping boundries if she went through the storage door?

She didn't get long to think about it. Poking your head around the corner, your face lights up. Taking in your flush cheeks and the sweat on your brow. It made her heart flutter for a moment. Seeing you that way made her mind drift to the reasons you could be in that shape. Mentally shaking the thought from her mind, she only caught the end of you sentence.

“perfect timing.” You rushed over and grabbed her arm. Guiding her to the back room with a soft warm grasp. Even as your slightly moist hands wrapped around her arm. She couldn't help but feel admiration. Though this time when you began to speak, she made sure to pay attention.

“You wouldn't believe what they were trying to charge by the yard. But yours truly managed to haggle them down to something more than reasonable. With the new price I happened to buy out their stock." Your free hand gestured wildly. That was another thing she liked. Just how expressive you were. Between the faces or motions you made. You were always showing how you felt. Not putting a wall between yourself and others. The complete opposite to herself really.

“They were kind enough to help me load it on the cart. But in my excitement I didn't consider the unloading. Really you would be a lifesaver if you'd lend a hand.” Bringing her out the back entrance, you stopped by an over stuffed cart. Staring up at her hopefully, you gave her a sheepish smile. “If you don't mind that is.”

Her face burned with a heated flush. Thankful for her darker complexion, she nodded her head. “Of course. It shouldn't take long.” Scooping reams of fabric under each arm. She easily hefted the considerable weight and carried it inside.

You rushed after her, stuttering. “Oooh, you don't have to burden yourself with so many.” You weren't sure what the warmth coating your face was from at this point. While you wanted to blame it on the few spools of cloth you had managed to carry. That didn't stop you from admiring the taut muscle that covered her arm. Or the way her back flexed when she placed the textiles in you storage area. In less time than you had been struggling. She had emptied the entire cart, without even breaking a sweat. A small part of you was jealous. While a much larger part was singing her praises.

“Really, you don't know how long that would have taken me. Is there anything I can do to thank you.”

Shaking her head, a small smile settled on her face. “I was headed here anyway. So it was no problem.” She wanted to add on ‘especially for you'. But her walls wouldn't let the words leave her mouth. Feelings like that were better locked away.

Your eyes widened in remembrance. “Oh right, Silco's order." Darting over to a rack, you gathered a few racks. “The shirts have been reinforced with a layer of wool. I know little Jinx is rough on clothes. Even if they're not her own."

She gazed down at your ernest smiling expression. Wishing she was a bit more selfish and could indulge in your company a bit more. Still your comment made a chuckle squeeze out of her chest. “While that's true, Jinx isn't as little as you remember her.”

Your smile dimmed a touch. “I wish they would come around more. But it's always a joy to spend time with you.” Gazing up at her through your lashes, your smile brightened once more.

Stumbling to gather the clothing, she agreed. Swiftly making her way out of your shop. Heart pounding all the while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't long before she was back in your store. Berating herself all the way at what a fool she was the last trip. But there was no way she would explain how much of an idiot she was to Silco. No, that would give him weeks, if not years, of material to tease her with. They may be close, but that didn't mean she wanted him involved in her love life. As nonexistent as it was.

Still under his orders she was stepping through your door once again. The upper crust of the Zuanites were throwing a gala of sorts. And he expected her by his side. Even if these events were supposed to be peaceful affairs. It didn't hurt to have some muscle with you.

Entering your shop, her heart leapted into her throat. There you were, bent over a pile of fabric. Your plump bottom wiggling enticingly in the air. Shifting through the textiles for something just out of reach. She gave herself only a moment to ogle the scene before her. Then cleared her throat.

With an exclamation, you whirled around in surprise. Holding a hand to your chest, you sighed in relief. There were a lot worst people that could walk in on you in that position. Fanning a hand towards your full face, you made your way to her.

She was tall, broad, and imposing as ever. But that only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter all the same. Between the smell of cigars, oil, and something uniquely her. You had to hide the shiver that ran down your spine.

Wrapping her arm within your own, a habit it seemed. You maneuver her to the back room. “I can't wait to work with you. Really I have so many ideas. It will be quite the challenge to narrow it down to one.”

Once again you had swept her up in your whirlwind. Your warmth and casual compassion flowing over her in a pleasent wave. She welcomed you in like the old friend she wishes she was. It would have been overwhelming with anyone else. But not you, never you.

Shifting her arm a bit, to make it a more comfortable position for yourself. She noticed the way your grip tightened over the newly flexed muscles. Meeting you gaze, one side of her mouth lifts in a crooked grin. “I'm sure you'll make the best choice.” Her ego skyrocketed at the flush that coated your plush cheeks.

The afternoon was filled with measurements and light conversation. It seemed as if both of you wanted to avoid the more political subject at hand. More and more enforcers were showing up in Zuan. It was only a matter of time before blood was spilled.

Instead you focus on the moment and soaked in one another's company. You may have warded away the silence with your chatter. But everytime she had anything to say, you listened whole heartedly. And as you basked in the gentle lull of companionship. The both of you grew closer, emotionally and physically.

You draped the deep red fabric against her skin. You knew the color was a favorite of hers. She never traveled with her crimson cloak. But the rich color you had picked brought out her eyes so well. On top of the embroidered golden details. It made for a sight that got your blood rushing.

Her pulse was pounding. Every touch of your soft talented fingers made her stomach clench. She was sure that you could feel the excess heat coming from her skin. Gazing down at the way you would contort your plush body to work. It was mesmerizing. It caused an anger to well within herself. How many times had Silco offered to get her something made by you. But it made this moment all the sweeter.

Even through all the sensations and feelings. She couldn't help but admire your talent. The way you pinned the fabric upon her. It was something that boggled her. Every adjustment making the textiles transform into a piece of proper clothing.

As you smooth the fabric over her prosthetic arm, she smiled. You gave it just as much respect as the rest of her body. It was something she wasn't used to. Being treated so human, rather than regarded as a weapon. You really were special.

“How did you end up here?” It had slipped out of her mouth. She watched your widening eye shoot up to her own. A somber smile slid into place on your face. Even if it was a sour emotion, she found it still beautiful on you.

Sliding the garment around her waist, you pinned it in a more flattering position. “No matter how hard you work…. It doesn't make a difference if you come from poor beginnings.” The emotions that flashed through your eyes at the statement was heart breaking. But a feeling she was all to familiar with. The people that lived in Piltover wouldn't give you a chance if you came from Zuan.

Then in only a moment, you stood taller and squared your shoulders. “It's there loss though. Haven't you heard, the King of the Underground says I'm the best tailor around.” And with that your usually bright smile returned. Even if it was a bit forced at the corners.

In that moment all of Sevika's reservations began to melt away. You were a pillar of beautiful compassion. This gorgeous being of grace and hospitality. Leaning towards your welcoming aura, she lowered her head forwards. Glancing between your eyes and lips. Her heart jumped furiously when you tilted your head up. Eyes fluttering shut, as you craned towards her lips.

The two of you a mere breathe away, when your door slammed open. “Sevika, Silco needs you.” Jinx's shrill voice rang out in the small shop. Causing both of you to jerk back, as if her voice had shocked the two of you. Making her way to the back, poking and prodding at things along the way. She grinned at your fast hands taking the unfinished clothes off the bruiser. Her smile only widening at the glare that the tall woman sent her way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stumbling her way to your shop. Her breath came out in heavy pants. If she could just see you, it would be OK. This was the lie she told herself. On repeat in her mind. It was the fabrication that kept her from breaking.

Slamming her hand against your shop door. Her last shred of hope hinging on you opening the door.

Swinging it open, you blinked up at her in surprise. She had never visited this late. It was honestly lucky for her that you had fallen asleep at your desk. But as your eyes focused on her, you realized what shape she was in. She was covered in scraps and bruises. Hair messy and out of it's usual half up style. The strands hang, limp and loose in her angular face. And most worrying of all, her mechanical arm was missing.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, you meant to usher her inside. But the moment your soft hand graced her skin. She crumpled into your plush chest. Gathering her as well as you could into your arms. You shut the door with a bump of your foot.

The two of you colapse to the floor, barely out of the entryway. Shuffling her into a bit of a more comfortable position. You threaded your fingers gently through her disheveled locks.

The moment you tucked yourself around her, the damn broke. Tears poured unfettered from her aching eyes.

Gripping you tighter, her voice quivered. “He's dead. Silco is….” She burried her face into your neck. Unable to finish the statement. Not wanting to deal with your expression at the admission. She knew you cared for him as more of a friend than a client.

Your eyes filled with tears. But you didn't pay them any attention as you held her firmly. Cupping her face in your hands, you met her gaze. The sincere look you gave her sent another bout of sobs out of her chest. “We'll get through this. Silco knows how strong you are. But you can lean on me as much as you need.”

She couldn't stand it. Leaning all of her weight on you. Her wet salty lips met your own. Molding together in a slow deliberate fashion. You pulled each other closer, fitting yourself’s together.

Forhead resting against yours, she breathed heavily. “You're the only good thing I have left in this world.”

The tears that tracked down your face were an odd mixture of grief and happiness. Crashing your mouth back on hers. You allowed all your pent up emotions to flow into the kiss.

She met you with the same ferocity. Wishing that he could be there to say ‘I told you so’. But knowing that having you in her arms, pressed into her. Was enough to make her think of a better future.

[alyyybrooke]

drunken love

tara carpenter x fem!reader

Tara and R haven't had their first kiss yet. At a party, R gets a little bold.

Warnings: alcohol, smoking

word count: 1.9k

Tara pulled up to the house in which the party she told you about was held. You could see the bright neon lights through the windows, each one packed with people. The music was blaring so loud you could hear it within Tara's car. A few people were out in the front yard, where they laughed stupidly at their moronic drinking games. As you stepped out, you shivered instantly, surprised at the bitter cold. Tara shut her door and walked over to you, offering you her hand. You blushed and laced your fingers with hers, letting her lead you to the party. Even before you entered, you could feel the vibration of the music in your feet.

You and Tara have been dating for the past few weeks. It was fairly new, but you've never felt feelings like this with anyone before. You looked over at her as you walked, and she smiled at you, making your stomach churn. When you opened the door, a thick, pungent odor of sweat and alcohol hit your nose.

"Oh, Jesus," you muttered, scrunching your nose in disgust.

"Oh, relax. We all know you'll be drinking tonight," Tara smirked teasingly beside you.

"Well yeah but, I always forget how gross parties are."

She giggled at your complaints and took you to go find some drinks. Bodies of other teenagers pressed against your own, cups in every hand. The kitchen was extremely crowded, with everyone trying to drink their nerves away. Grabbing a cup, Tara poured a dark, amber colored drink for the both of you.

"Shot to start off the night?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

"Hell yeah." The bitterness of the drink burned pleasantly in your throat.

"Hey!" you heard a voice call. It was Chad, accompanied by Mindy and some other people you've never seen before. "You guys came!" he exclaimed excitedly. He walked over to Tara and put his arm around her, a wide grin spread across his face.

You rolled your eyes in distaste. It was so obvious he had a crush on her. You wanted to like Chad, he was sweet and easy to talk to, but his feelings for Tara made that impossible. A knot twisted and tightened in your gut as you watched them. Bitterly, you poured yourself another shot, downed it, and slammed your cup on the counter.

"I'm gonna go find my friends," you told Tara and left before she could respond. You liked Tara's friends, but you didn't wanna be around Chad's insatiable flirting with your own girlfriend. Plus, you weren't one to make a scene, so you let her be. You made your way through the house, searching for familiar faces. All around you people laughed obnoxiously loud, some bumping into you. Couples made out aggressively in every corner.

"Hey Y/N!" a voice called.

It was your friend Scarlett, along with everyone else in your group, spread out across a couch. Gaby's legs laid across Scarlett, red solo cup in hand, while talking to Noah. Noah's eyes were hooded, evident from the cart in his hand. He pressed it to his lips and inhaled, the blue light illuminating the pen. They all turned and smiled lazily at you as you approached the couch.

"Come sit!" Scarlett exclaimed excitedly, patting an empty space next to her. Her blonde hair was curled perfectly and her makeup highlighted all of her best features. You sat next to her and she instantly shoved a drink in your hands. "Soooo, how are things with Tara?" Scarlett asked.

You blushed upon hearing her name, shaking your head and letting your hair hide your face.

"Things are good. She's really sweet and I really like her," you said, shrugging your shoulders. You took a sip of the mystery concoction Scarlett handed you. It was pleasantly sweet, just enough to compliment the bitter taste of alcohol.

"Awwww. You're so in loooooove." Gaby cooed.

"Ugh, shut up, Gaby," you groaned, playfully shoving her.

"Yo, Y/N, wanna play beer pong?" Noah asked.

"Sure, why not? Lemme hit that first though," gesturing to his cart. He tossed it to you with a knowing smirk. You brought it up to your lips, held down the button, and inhaled. The vapor expanded in your lungs, before you exhaled and let it out in a slow, hazy puff of smoke. "Alright, ready to get your ass kicked?" you taunted Noah.

"You wish."

The hours quickly went by, and you were about to win your second game out of three. Your body tingled with intoxication as you grabbed the small white ball. Brows furrowing in concentration, you tossed the ball shakily, and it somehow sank right into the cup, beer splashing out onto the table. You threw your hands up in victory and watched as Noah chugged the cup. When you turned to the crowd around you, you were met with Tara's gaze of amusement.

"Taraaaaaa! I won beer pong! Twice!" you slurred with glee and you put up three fingers proudly to emphasize your pride. You stumbled closer and threw your arms around her.

"Wow. You're super drunk. Remind me to never leave you unattended at a party." she said giggling.

"I'm not even that drunk, silly."

"Right," she said, unconvinced. "Let's get you upstairs, okay?" She put an arm around you and carefully led you back inside. The rest of the party was a blur. Literally. Your head spun dizzily, and your arms swung numbly at your sides. It felt as if you were floating, grounded only by Tara's arm wrapped around your shoulders.

Somehow, you made it up the stairs without falling, though you came close. Tara found an empty bedroom and tugged you inside. You flopped on the bed, eyes closed, and dragged her with you. She laid her head beside yours, enjoying your inebriated state. She brought her hand up to your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes shot open at the sudden contact. It spread warmth throughout your whole body, as if setting it on fire. You wanted, no, needed more of her touch. Scooting closer to her, you gazed into her deep, chocolate brown eyes. They were dilated, no doubt from her own intoxication, and they widened a bit as you got closer. Though you were dating, you've never been this close to her; just inches away.

"Taraaa," you slurred.

"Yes?" she asked playfully.

"You're so prettyyyy." you whined, saying the words as if it physically hurt you. Sometimes, you swore it did. She flushed at your comment, then opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off. "Your hair is just- so perfect. And your eyes are so so so so sooooo beautiful. I could stare at them all day long." you said gleefully. She smiled at you and tried to reply but you cut her off yet again. "Your face is just perfectttttt. I love your freckles so much. They make you look sooooo cuteeee. And your lips...god your lips are so..." you trailed off and zeroed in on her smooth, supple lips. "...pretty...god I just wanna..." your words fell again, and thoughts of her lips pressed against yours caused your body to erupt in flames once more.

You yearned to kiss them, but the fear of the uncrossed territory between you two scared you. A brief flash of Chad's arm around her crossed your mind, and that fear was quickly replaced with jealousy. You knew that he probably thinks about kissing her too, and that if Tara wasn't currently involved with you, she would likely be with him. The thought angered you, and desire and lust over Tara clouded your mind. Refusing to contemplate this anymore, you leaned over and finally pressed your lips against hers. She gasped quietly into your mouth, eyes wide at your sudden bold move. You cupped her cheek and pressed your body against hers, and she quickly melted into the kiss. It started soft and tender, both of you a little scared to take the kiss any further. But soon, any and all nerves washed away and the kiss quickly heated up. Air didn't matter to either of you as you kissed each other fervently. Her hand slid up your shoulder and into your hair, tangling in it and tugging it lightly. You intertwined your legs with hers, and brought an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. There wasn't anymore space between you two, both desperately craving more contact. You moved to lay on top of her and she sighed, letting you take control. Your lips moved to her neck, where you sucked and bit, leaving trails of bruises all across her collarbone. She moaned quietly at the pleasant sting of your teeth against her skin.

"More," she whispered. You complied with a smirk, and continued your assault on her neck and lips for hours.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. Sunlight shined brightly right in your eyes, as if it was teasing you, urging you to wake up and face your inevitable hangover. You grumbled bitterly, desperately wanting to go back to sleep. But the nausea in your stomach made that impossible.

You rubbed your eyes, finally taking in your surroundings. Noticing you weren't in your own room, your heartbeat quickened.

"Morning," Tara said quietly beside you. You turned sharply towards her, then relaxed, realizing you were in Tara's room. Her eyes were still closed and her body was still covered in the warm comforter. "How do you feel?" Her morning voice was attractively raspy, and you knew you would never get used to it.

"Like shit," you groaned.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Oh god, what did I do?" you whined, sinking back into the pillows.

"Well, for starters, you won beer pong. Twice." Brief images of you at the table sinking ping pong balls into cups and chugging beer flashed through your head.

"And thennnn, since you were super drunk, I took you to a bedroom to get you to sober up..." she said slyly with a smirk.

"Why did you say it like that..?" you nervously asked, scared to see what stupid thing you did this time.

"Well..." she trailed off and sat up, letting the covers fall from her body. Your heart stopped. Her neck was covered in dark purple bruises, surrounded by angry irritated skin. Her hair was disheveled, and her lips were stained with your lipstick. Your jaw went slack, eyes almost bulging out of your skull. "You uh...got a little bold," she giggled.

"Oh...my god," you whispered in disbelief. Mortified, you retreated back into the covers and pulled a pillow over your head. "I'm so sorry, oh my god."

She laughed at your muffled response and lifted the pillow off of you. "It's okay it was super cute." Laying back down beside you, she grabbed your jaw and turned your head, forcing you to look at her. "...And hot."

You flushed at her remark, and closed your eyes in embarrassment. She laughed, then climbed over your body and laid against you. Wrapping the blanket around her, you let her relax into your arms. She sighed happily, and pressed little kisses all over your face.

"Wait did we...?" you started but didn't finish, afraid to say the word.

"We didn't fuck if that's what your asking."

Relief washed over you. As appealing as that idea was, it'd probably be much better if you two were sober. She then pressed kisses all the way up to your ear lobe, nibbling and tugging softly with her teeth.

"But if you want to, I'm down." she husked in your ear.

a/n: posting this and a few others from wattpad.

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Inky-writing masterlist Mirage masterlist

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,550

Chapter 5: Identity

Christmas time

December arrived in Forks with a crisp chill and snow. The town was transformed into a winter wonderland, with lights strung across Main Street and wreaths adorning every door. Y/N found herself embracing the season with ease, despite the ache that accompanied the holidays this year.

Her friend group had remained close, even after her breakup with Mike. To her relief, he had forgiven her quickly, and their friendship had returned to its playful dynamic. He still teased her endlessly, but there was no bitterness. Jessica, too, seemed lighter, though Y/N wasn’t sure if that was due to Mike’s renewed attention or something entirely different. Either way, the tension that had once hung between them was gone, replaced by an easy camaraderie.

On Christmas Eve, Y/N and Charlie decorated the tree they’d picked up from the local farm. It stood in the corner of the living room, adorned with mismatched ornaments that Charlie had accumulated over the years. Y/N’s heart clenched as she hung the final piece: a delicate snowflake ornament that had belonged to her mother. Charlie noticed her hesitation and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“She’d be proud of you, kid” he said gruffly, his voice thick.

Y/N nodded, blinking back tears, “Thanks, Uncle Charlie”.

The evening passed quietly, the two of them sharing a simple meal made of a take-out from their go-to diner: stuffed turkey with vegetables, and chocolate patisseries as dessert; before settling in to watch a Christmas movie. For the first time in months, Y/N felt a glimmer of warmth in her chest. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was enough.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Y/N woke to the smell of coffee, eggs, pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. She padded downstairs to find Charlie at the stove, a rare sight that made her laugh.

“What’s the occasion?” she teased.

“It’s Christmas” he replied with a shrug, flipping a pancake, “Figured I’d make it special and cook”.

After breakfast, Charlie led her outside to the garage, where a surprise was waiting, covered in the corner like a mystery begging to be unraveled.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

Charlie grinned, “Merry Christmas, kid”. He pulled the tarp away, revealing an old forest green Jeep Wrangler.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You… what? Is this for me?”

“I’ve been working on it for years. I bought it with my brother, your dad” he admitted, looking a little sheepish. “Figured it was about time I finished it. Thought you might like it”.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the worn but lovingly restored exterior. “Charlie, this is amazing. Thank you”.

Charlie smiled, clearly pleased with her reaction. “Figured it’d be useful, too. You’ve got places to go, people to see”.

They spent the next hour going over the Jeep’s features, with Charlie explaining everything in detail. Y/N didn’t mind; she loved seeing him so animated. It was the best gift she could have asked for.

Later that afternoon, they headed into town in her new car, to shop for Bella’s room. Y/N had been looking forward to her cousin’s arrival in January, and Charlie had enlisted her help to make the room feel welcoming. Together, they browsed through the small shops in Forks, picking out purple beddings, a lamp, and a few decorations.

“Do you think she’ll like this?” Y/N asked, holding up a string of fairy lights.

Charlie gave her a dubious look. “Fairy lights? What’s wrong with a regular lamp?”.

“Fairy lights are cozy” Y/N insisted, rolling her eyes, “Trust me, she’ll love them”.

Charlie relented, and they added the lights to their cart. By the end of the day, they had everything they needed to transform Bella’s room into a cozy retreat. As they drove home, Y/N hoped that Bella would love the warm welcome awaiting her.

That evening, as Y/N sat in her room looking out at the snow-covered yard, she realized how much had changed in the past few months. Her grief still lingered, but it no longer consumed her. She had friends, and a growing connection with her family. And for the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

January 2005 - Y/N

January brought a fresh start. Y/N had spent the last few days helping Charlie put the finishing touches in Bella’s room, and now the day had arrived to pick her up from the airport. The drive was quiet but not uncomfortable. Charlie’s focus on the road gave Y/N time to think about what Bella’s arrival might mean for her life in Forks.

Seattle airport was bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet of Forks. As soon as they spotted Bella at the baggage claim, Y/N swelled with happiness. Bella looked just as she remembered: unassuming and somehow older than her years.

“Bella!” Y/N called, waving her arms to get her attention.

Bella’s face lit up at the sight of them, “Y/N!” She hurried over, her suitcase trailing behind her.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug, “It’s so good to see you! You’re going to love it here, I promise.”

Bella gave a small, nervous laugh, “I’ll take your word for it.”

The drive back to Forks was filled with conversation, mostly between Y/N and Bella, with Charlie chiming in occasionally. Y/N did her best to highlight the positives of Forks: the quiet, the beauty of the forest, among other things. Bella listened, though Y/N could sense her cousin’s apprehension about her new life.

Bella’s first day at Forks High School came faster than either of them had expected. Y/N walked her through the halls, pointing out classrooms and giving her a crash course on who’s who. Her friends were quick to welcome Bella into the group, though Mike’s interest was immediately obvious.

“Hey, Bella” Mike said, flashing her a grin, “If you need any help finding your way around, let me know”.

Y/N shot him a look but decided to let it slide. Bella seemed oblivious to his attention, which was kind of amusing.

By the end of the week, Bella had settled into a routine. Y/N could tell she was still adjusting, but her cousin’s resilience shone through. They spent their evenings catching up, talking about everything from their childhood memories to the quirks of the high school. It was comforting to have someone who understood her and shared her interests, someone who felt like home.

Meanwhile - Esme

Esme Cullen sat in the library of their home, elegant and still. Her outward demeanor was warm and maternal, as it always was, but her thoughts were far from innocent. Hidden behind her gentle smile was a mind that worked tirelessly, orchestrating a plan that had been decades in the making.

She closed the book she had been pretending to read while Carlisle was still home, but as soon as he left, she made sure the house was empty before walking to the study. Locking the door behind her, she pulled out an untraceable phone and dialed a familiar number. The line barely rang before it was picked up.

“Esme” came Caius’s voice, always tinged with coldness. “How lovely to hear from you”.

“Caius”, Esme replied, her voice soft but steady, “I have updates”.

“Go on”, he prompted, his tone sharpening with interest.

“Everything is proceeding as expected. The family remains unaware of my true purpose here. Carlisle is as devoted as ever, and the others suspect nothing” she reported. “Edward has been… restless. His infatuation with the new girl, Bella Swan, might bring an opportunity to make him join us”.

“Interesting” Caius mused. “And Alice? Has she shown any signs of… awareness?”.

Esme shook her head, though he couldn’t see it, “No. She remains loyal to the family. Her visions, however, have been… unreliable. She’s attributed it to the Swan's cousins presence, but we know better.”

Caius chuckled. “Indeed, my dear. Your ability to manipulate perception serves us well. Ensure that her visions remain clouded. We cannot risk her uncovering the truth”.

“Of course”, Esme said smoothly. “What are your instructions?”

“Continue to observe and report. Edward and Alice are of paramount importance. When the time comes, we will act swiftly. Until then, maintain your cover. You have done exceptionally well, Esme. We are pleased. When all is done, you will be generously rewarded”.

Esme allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you, Caius. I will not fail you”.

The call ended, and Esme returned the phone to its hiding place. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself before leaving the study. As she rejoined the living room, her expression was serene. None of the Cullens suspected the truth, she thoughts. To them, she was Esme, their loving mother. And for now, that was exactly what she needed to be, even though she missed the taste of human blood. 

But inside, she was already planning her next move, her mind a labyrinth of schemes designed to ensure the Volturi’s dominance. After all, loyalty to Caius was not just a choice; it was her destiny.

Chapter 6 >>>

[otterneuvillette]

✧ WE'RE HERE FOR YOU ! ✧

⋆🌼🃏— Pairings: tighnari x gn! reader x cyno (can be read as platonic or romantic, pick your poison :0)

⋆🌼🃏— Sypnosis: You have been targeted by a group of Eremites for unknown reasons, so for your safety and the sake of their worries, you have been staying with Gandharva Ville. Here's how your life has become since then.

⋆🌼🃏— content: gn! reader, mentions of injury and just fluffy with light angst.

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It happened all so suddenly.

You were a Rtawahist researcher, one of the best of your years. You went on an expedition to the desert with a team of adventurers to research the sudden change of movement of the stars.

Along the way, you and your team had a couple of gnarly encounters with the same group of Eremites, which was weird, why are they so intent to capture your group? As far as you know, none of you had offended them or made them feel threatened.

Until they finally captured you while the others were sleeping.

"Come on, give us your research papers and your Mora, and we won't hurt your pretty little head, yeah?" One of them spoke with a gruff voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Archons! Why do you need my research paper so badly?! Like I understand if you wanted just my Mora, but my research papers??" You exclaimed.

"We don't have to give you our reasons, brat."

They stood up and stabbed the dagger they were holding into a crate next to you.

Thump.

"Just give us the damn papers before things get ugly, you hear me?!"

You shook your head stubbornly.

"No! I worked hard on those, I will not let you have it!" You yelled.

They let out a sound of annoyance.

"Fine, I'll just do this the hard way then." They lifted the dagger up again, it's chilling glint underneath the desert moon made you shiver.

But you'd rather die than let them have it.

You closed your eyes, preparing for a moment of pain that never came.

A groan of pain echoed in your ears, and the sound of cold metal clashing made you open your eyes.

Sliver hair filled your vision along with flashes of purple lightning. You were dazed by its familiarity as a thought crossed your mind.

Cyno.

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That was a week ago.

Cyno told you that your expedition had lasted an extra week than you wrote in your letters. He went looking for you out of concern, and he had found your team and they told him that you disappeared overnight and that the group of Eremites that were terrorizing you and them.

You thanked him with dinner and a couple of rounds of TCG, which you lost, miserably.

And you managed to hand over your research papers to your professor before the deadline.

A win-win situation one might think, right?

Wrong.

Because when you get home from running some errands—

—most of your house was burned down.

All your equipment, your research books are half burned into a crisp.

You felt yourself holding back a scream.

No, this is not the time for an emotional breakdown. You ran inside what's left of your home, as you took whatever you could save in it.

Photo albums, important documents, your boxes of trinkets, anything.

You groaned softly as you cursed yourself for getting a place further out in the city in the first place.

By the sevens, who could be this cruel to do this?!

After a couple of hours, you salvaged quite some stuff. But you were glad that the box was unscathed from the fire, it held all of your precious trinkets that you kept growing up. Everything that they had given you.

You dragged your stuff into a cart that you kept in your yard and headed towards the city. Along the way, you passed by a certain blonde haired traveller who helped you with your other stuff that you hadn't managed to fit into the cart.

When you arrived, you managed to get yourself a place to stay for a while. And without wasting any time, you reported what happened to the Matra. They told you that they will open an investigation as soon as possible. You thanked them as you went back to the place you were staying.

Moments later, you heard a knock on the door, and you opened to find a worried Tighnari and also a serious-looking Cyno.

"Hey, we heard what happened, are you okay?" Tighnari asked you, his ears twitching slightly.

You nodded quietly, too tired to give him a proper response.

"I have some leads to who's the culprit that burnt down your house." Cyno said sternly.

You looked up, curious to hear his answer.

"The group of Eremites that terrorized your team a week ago might have been the ones that did it." He said.

You sighed defeatedly.

"Honestly, I was dreading that. Archons, I have no idea why they are coming for me and my work." You sighed, slumping on the bed.

Tighnari approached you and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

"You should lay low for now. I suggest you find a safer place to stay, they may still be on the lookout for you." Cyno said softly, feeling quite sympathetic for you.

"You could stay with me? I'm sure Collei would be happy to see you again..?" Tighnari offered. His tail swished gently,as he looked at you with concern.

"I agree with Tighnari, you'll be safer staying with him." Cyno nodded.

"Meanwhile, I'll lead the investigation, I'll make sure the culprit will get the judgment they deserve." He added.

"Fine, I'll stay with 'nari. But only, until I repair my house." You said, sighing.

Both of them nodded in agreement, as you stood up to follow them to Gandharva Ville.

"Let me help you with your cart," Tighnari said, already holding on to it.

You thanked him, while Cyno informed the nearby Matra to gather information about the incident.

You hoped that this matter would be over soon.

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It's been a few weeks since then, whoever did the crime was insanely good at keeping their tracks clean, it even had the General Mahamatra stumped.

Yet, both Tighnari and Cyno did their best to help you take your mind off it, they didn't want to see you stress yourself sick.

You'd just been in your room, minding your own business, when you started to hear voices coming from the living room of Tighnari's house. You decided to go out to the living room to check out what was going on.

"Well, you see, it's funny because-" Cyno seemed to be explaining some dumb joke.

"Oh, archons! Stop with the terrible jokes already!" Tighnari groaned, but his ears perked up when he saw you enter the room. "Make him stop, please!"

"Cyno....please behave?" You whispered quietly, clearly exhausted from the house repairs the day before.

Cyno's playfully pouted, but he sighed and gave in to your gentle request.

"I suppose I can behave myself. For now, at least."

He smiles at you affectionately and then turns his gaze to Tighnari, whose eyebrows were furrowed.

"What's with that face, 'nari? Are you having a headache again?" You said worriedly, hastily approaching where he was sitting.

Tighnari nods slightly, a small frown appearing on his face. "Yes. It's been a long day. The headache seems to be getting worse every day. Archons, I wish they'd go away." He sighs quietly, his ear flicking down in displeasure as you move closer to him.

"Hmm....maybe you should take a break... I'll talk with the other rangers, Let me help you with the patrols for the week." You immediately offered, without even a stutter or hesitation.

Tighnari blinks his eyes in surprise at your eagerness to help. He shakes his head slightly, a small smile appearing on his face. A soft, affectionate gaze wanders over your face.

"No, no. I'll be alright. You know I'm tougher than I look," he tries to protest, but you can tell from his expression how much your offer means to him.

Cyno steps forward and places a hand on Tighnari's shoulder. "Come on, Tighnari. Take a break for once."

"See? Even the General Mahamatra agrees with me. So, just sit tight and rest. Let me handle the rest."

Tighnari sighs and looks up at you then at Cyno, then sighs again, giving in. A slight smile forms on his face as he looks back at you, clearly relieved.

"Alright, alright. I suppose I can take a few days off. But you better not overwork yourself," he relents, his tail flicking slightly.

Cyno smiles and nods affirmatively. "That's better. You look like you haven't slept in days," he comments as his hands gently brush back Tighnari's hair to examine his face.

"I promise I won't overwork myself. I can handle the patrols for a few days. Don't worry, 'nari. I'll be fine," You reassure him, offering a comforting smile.

Tighnari lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes, clearly exhausted, his ears slumping down a little.

"Alright, alright. I trust you. Just..." He reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Cyno watches the scene with a fond smile and adds. "Yeah, don't do anything reckless. We both know how you get when you don't take proper breaks."

"It's not really that bad, guys! I promise." You whined playfully, before patting Tighnari's shoulder.

"Let me go make you some herbal tea. I've acquired some new medicinal tea from Liyue from my pen pal." You said excitedly.

Tighnari smiles faintly as you pat his shoulder, his ears twitching slightly in appreciation.

"Thank you. That would be very helpful," he says quietly, clearly grateful for your offer.

Cyno, meanwhile, gives you a slightly teasing smile. "Yeah, sure. And maybe don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? We don't want you getting sick, too. You're not immune to everything either," he adds, his tone playful and affectionate.

"Says you, Mr. "Oh no, I have fallen ill because I refuse to wear proper clothing during cold desert nights!" Seriously, Cyno. You should let me knit you a blanket or something." You huffed as you started brewing the tea, filling the small space with a light jasmine scent.

Cyno groans quietly, a little embarrassed that you've brought up the incident again. His arms crossed defensively, but he can't help but chuckle.

"I'm fine with my clothes, thank you very much," he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "Besides, I like the feel of the desert air against my skin. Even the cold is refreshing." Tighnari, meanwhile, chuckles softly at the exchange, his ears perking up in amusement.

He raises an eyebrow at Cyno, his tone lighthearted.

"You're always insisting that your immune to everything, but look at you. You're just as susceptible as the rest of us," he points out, a fond smile on his face.

Cyno sighs and chuckles, unable to argue with that.

"Fine, fine. I see your point. But... I still enjoy the cold air."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Sit down, Cyno. I'm bringing the tea over." You called out.

Cyno sighs and obeys, flopping down on the couch next to Tighnari. His lips curled as he heard your lighthearted chuckle.

"I guess you're right," he admits, leaning back on the couch and stretching his arms. "But I'll still take my chances with the desert air. As long as you brew me some tea to help me when I get sick." Tighnari glances over at you, amusement is evident in his expression.

"The things I'd do for the both of you."

Cyno chuckles, a fond smile spreading across his face.

"And we appreciate it. We really do," he reassures you.

Tighnari nods in agreement, his expression softening. "You always take such good care of us, even when we're too stubborn to admit it," he adds, his tail flicking gently against the couch.

Cyno glances at Tighnari, then back at you, a grin spreading on his face.

"Yeah, you're practically a miracle worker. Always knowing when we need a helping hand, even when we're too proud to ask for it."

Tighnari laughs quietly and nods in agreement. "We're lucky to have you around. Who else would put up with our nonsense?"

"You're being too sweet, just drink the tea already!" You said softly, flushing slightly.

They both chuckled at your reaction.

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"This is delicious. You've outdone yourself this time," Cyno compliments you.

Tighnari nods in agreement, his expression softening as he takes a sip. "Yes, it's so soothing. You're quite a talented herbal tea brewer."

"Thanks, I'm just gonna leave you two to it. I have an appointment with Kaveh soon, so I need to prepare some supplies."

Cyno raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk spreading across his face.

"Kaveh, huh? What are you two getting up to?"

He takes another sip of tea, his tone lighthearted and playful.

"It's not what you think. I'm just going over my house plans with him. I'm repairing my house because a part of it got burned down, remember? The arson case a few weeks ago? The reason why I've been staying with Tighnari since then?"

Cyno's teasing expression quickly turns to one of concern.

"Right, of course. My apologies for teasing. I remember that case. How's the repairs going?" he asks you.

Tighnari nods in agreement and his ears perk up slightly as well. "Yeah, I hope you're not having too much trouble with the rebuilding," he adds, a hint of worry evident in his voice.

"Well, between having to acquire materials and trying to not break my back fixing it, I'd say it's going smoothly."

"I just hope that my savings are enough to cover for it. The prices of materials are insane." You sighed.

"But Kaveh has been helping out with finding affordable yet quality materials, so I think the repair would go as smoothly as I hope it to be," You reassured.

Cyno nods gently, relief is evident in his expression.

"Sounds like you're in good hands. Kaveh always has a knack for finding good deals. And as for your back, maybe you should take some breaks. Can't be overworking yourself with all this rebuilding," he teases lightly, a gentle smirk on his face.

"I know, I know, thank the Seven, Alhaitham offered to help me with my work, even if I didn't want him to, I could have perfectly done it myself,"

Tighnari nods in agreement, his ears perking up.

"Well, Alhaitham is somewhat of a difficult person to get along with sometimes, but I can't deny that he's quite considerate and helpful if the situation calls for it. Maybe he just wanted to return the favor you extended to him when you helped him in his research." He pauses for a moment, his expression softening. "But you should still take care of yourself. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" He adds, giving you a gentle look.

"I will. I'm going to head out now, so I'll see you tonight, 'nari and you later, Cyno." You said softly and waved the two of them goodbye.

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As you leave Gandharva Ville to meet up with Kaveh, Cyno, and Tighnari continue to chat in the living room over tea. Cyno shares a few jokes with Tighnari, who rolls his eyes but secretly smiles at the playful banter.

As night falls, the house feels a little emptier without your presence. Despite their easy-going demeanors, Cyno and Tighnari can't help but feel a slight sense of worry and longing for your return.

When you finally return home, the apartment is quiet. Cyno and Tighnari are just lounging around the living room. When they hear you enter, they perk their ears up slightly and look over at you. A wave of relief washes over both of them, and they can't help but smile at the sight of you.

Cyno greets you cheerfully as usual, while Tighnari gives you a gentle smile and a tail flick.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to run away from some angry group of Fungi on my way here." You said, catching your breath.

Cyno raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Angry Fungi? Sounds like quite the adventure. How many were there?" He asks, a serious glint in his eyes.

"A whole group of five huge Fungi. " You answered him.

Tighnari's expression softens and his ears twitch slightly. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt at all?"

You scratched your head bashfully, before looking at Tighnari.

"I might've....gotten a massive bruise on my back...."

Tighnari's expression immediately turns to one of concern upon hearing about your injury.

"Oh no... Let me see that bruise," he requests gently, taking a step closer to examine your back.

"I-I'm fine! I swear, 'nari!" You said hurriedly. taking a couple steps back.

"One of the Fungi headbutted me from the back while I was busy dodging the other ones."

Cyno raises an eyebrow at your insistence that you're fine.

"Headbutted, huh? You should be more careful. We can't afford to have you getting injured. Especially when we're not around to look after you," he remarks, his expression serious for a moment before his usual smile returns.

Tighnari's ears twitch, his concern still evident. "Regardless, let me just take a quick look to ease my worry," he insists gently.

"Fine, fine, just let me change into looser clothing first." You muttered.

Cyno nods in agreement, acknowledging your need for comfort.

"Alright, take your time. We'll be here when you're ready," he reassures you, his ear flicking a little. Tighnari gives you a reassuring smile and nods as well. "Yeah, no need to rush. Just take the time you need to change and then we can check your back. We want to make sure you're alright."

You quickly changed, and soon, Tighnari carefully guided you to the couch.

"How is it? Is it really bad?"

Tighnari examines your back, his fingers gently ghosting over the massive bruise that has formed there.

He winces slightly when he sees the extent of the injury but tries to maintain a calm demeanor. "It's a large bruise. You're going to have to take it easy for a few days to avoid aggravating it. I'll prepare some herbs to make a salve that can help speed up the healing process a little. In the meantime, try to avoid any unnecessary movement, okay?"

You sighed yet again. "I guess I have to postpone the repairs again....." You muttered under your breath.

Cyno overhears your muttered comment and his expression softens, sympathetic to your plight. He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright. There's no rush. Your health comes first. We can figure out a way to handle the repairs later when you're feeling better."

Tighnari gives a nod of agreement and gently pats your back. "Yes, take it easy. Let us handle the repairs for now. You just focus on resting and getting better."

Cyno and Tighnari help you get comfortable on the couch, bringing you pillows and blankets to make sure you're as relaxed as possible.

Tighnari prepares a soothing salve to help reduce the pain and inflammation in your back, while Cyno grabs a cold pack from the freezer to press against the bruise.

They sit with you, keeping you company and making sure you're feeling alright. They chat with you softly, making lighthearted jokes and sharing stories to keep your mind off your pain.

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Eventually, Tighnari returns with the salve he prepared, and he carefully applies it to your back with gentle but firm movements.

As the salve works its magic, slowly reducing the pain and swelling, Cyno gives you a smile and speaks in a teasing tone.

"You know, maybe this is just what you needed. A little break to rest and relax. Maybe a few days off might not be so bad after all."

"But I was supposed to help you so you could take a break, 'nari!" You whined quietly, pouting.

Tighnari smiles at your pouting expression, amused by your stubbornness.

"I appreciate the thought, but sometimes life has other plans. Right now, the most important thing is for you to focus on recovering. Once you're back on your feet, you can help us all you want."

Cyno rolls his eyes playfully and adds in a joking tone. "Yeah, and speaking of being back on your feet, maybe you should try picking on smaller targets next time instead of those huge Fungi."

"It wasn't my fault they came on me in the first place, I don't even know why they were so irritated in the first place!"

Tighnari chuckles softly, trying to imagine you fending off a horde of angry Fungi.

"Fungi can be picky sometimes. And they tend to guard their territory fiercely. Perhaps you accidentally wandered into their turf without realizing it, and they took action accordingly."

"I was walking down the designated path to Gandharva Ville! The Fungi weren't there when I first passed by on my way to Sumeru City!!"

Cyno bursts out laughing upon hearing your playful defense.

"Ah, well, perhaps those particular Fungi took a sudden detour and decided to set up camp on your usual path without warning. Those mischievous creatures can be quite sneaky, you know," he teases.

"Whatever..." You groaned, voice muffled by your face planting into the pillow.

Tighnari grins at your reaction and gently pats your head.

"Don't be upset. We're just teasing. We know you did your best." He turns to look at Cyno, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Cyno, why don't you make it up to them with one of your jokes? That'll surely lift their spirits."

"Please don't, can't you see I suffered enough? You guys are bullying me, I swear."

"Oh, don't worry, we're not bullies. We just believe in the healing power of laughter!" Cyno says proudly.

He takes a moment to think, then grins wider. "Hey, what do you call a snake with no legs?"

"What is it?" You groaned.

"An adder. Get it? Because it's a snake, and it has been 'added' without legs? Haha!" He laughs at his own joke, clearly pleased with himself. Tighnari hides a small chuckle with a cough. They both look at you, eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"I hate you guys...."

Cyno laughs even harder at your response, clearly enjoying your reaction to his terrible pun.

"Oh, come onnnn. Don't be like that. You know you love my sense of humor." He says with a smirk.

Tighnari can't help but smile at your groaning. He reaches out to pat your head softly, trying to soothe you.

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As the evening progresses, Cyno and Tighnari keep up the light banter, sharing jokes and stories to keep your spirits up.

Slowly, you start to relax, the stress from your injury fading away as their company puts you at ease. The room is filled with laughter, and a comforting atmosphere settles in. Cyno tells another terrible pun, and even though you try your best to maintain a scowl, you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

Tighnari notices your slight smile and grins at Cyno, silently signaling him that their efforts are working. They exchange a sly, knowing look, grateful that you are starting to feel better.

As the night drags on, the room gradually falls silent as you doze off into a contented, healing slumber. Even after you fall asleep, Cyno and Tighnari take turns watching over you, making sure you're as comfortable as possible. They can't help but share a warm, fond smile, appreciating the peace and tranquility of the moment.

Your healing progresses in the following days, Cyno and Tighnari take turns caring for you. Tighnari diligently prepares meals and soothing herbs to help with your recovery, and Cyno occasionally comes by to offer his own unique way of making you feel better – by sharing yet another one of his terrible puns.

Despite your protests, Cyno's jokes never fail to crack a dumb smile on your face, and you find yourself secretly looking forward to his visits, just to hear those awful puns.

Eventually, your injury starts to heal as the days turn into weeks. Your pain and discomfort gradually fade away, and the bruise on your back begins to yellow before finally disappearing completely.

Tighnari examines your back once again, his fingers lightly tracing the area where the bruise used to be, before nodding in satisfaction.

"Yup, it appears that you have fully recovered. The injury has healed nicely, and there are no signs of pain or discomfort left."

Just as you're about to express your relief and thanks, Cyno chimes in with a dramatic sigh.

"Ah, it's a shame that you've recovered so quickly. I was already working on a new series of puns to keep the cheer going."

Cyno remarks, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Tighnari rolls his eyes but can't help but smile at Cyno's antics.

"Oh yes, because your terrible puns were an absolute cure for all our ailments. We simply would be miserable without them," Tighnari retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cyno pouts, feigning offense at Tighnari's words. "Hey, they weren't that bad! And besides, I had a whole new stockpile ready to go."

"Maybe, some other time, Cyno." You giggled.

"Spoil sport," Cyno grumbles, crossing his arms in mock disappointment, but a smile creeps onto his face at your laugh.

Tighnari lets out a lighthearted chuckle, shaking his head at Cyno's antics. They both sit quietly for a moment, enjoying the light banter and the relief of your full recovery.

You felt relief knowing that no matter what, come rain or shine, both of them would go to the ends of Tevyat for you as you would do for them as well.

But for now, let's just enjoy the tranquility of the moment, shall we?

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extras:

Tighnari: hey, I noticed that you kept the pictures of our student years in the albums you have in your cart.

Y/N: of course I did, they're really precious to me.

*Cyno come closer and picks up a picture.*

Cyno:....hey, when did you take this photo of me passed out on Lambad's Tavern, and...wait...DID YOU SERIOUSLY BALANCE PLATES ON ME?!

Y/N: ......yeah, i'm just gonna leave- *sprints*

Cyno: OH NO YOU DON'T- *runs after Y/N*

Tighnari: *dies of laughter.*

[itsnotamatterofif]

Thinking about Dinah and Porter friendship, which means I’m thinking about Evergreen again. Thinking about how no one would think to tell Dinah what’s happened - she’d know about the conversion, she went to the party, but no one thinks to tell her it goes badly. It’s been days and she hadn’t heard from her best friend, only that he disappeared into Wrench’s shed and never returned. She’s never told that he’s carted off in the dead of night since Electra is too ashamed to let anyone see Evergreen, and they don’t care for Dinah to tell her - she hears drips and drabs through Pearl, but doesn’t know the full story until Slick comes out of mourning, and it hits her so completely.

This is the boy who helped her through every break up, every back together, every argument with Greaseball. The first non-coach to welcome her to the yard, who was always keeping one eye out for her, and no one thinks to tell her until it’s been a fortnight after his disappearance.

[leftshoeuntied]

Good Neighbors | part four

König x Reader 

part one part two part three

CW: reader has feminine pronouns, not edited

note: sorry this was so short, was kind of hitting a block so I just wanted to write and see where it goes, this week has been a bit tough with family so just wanted to write to write and tried not to put too much pressure on myself with this

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You couldn’t help the groan that left your lips as you stretched out in your bed the next morning. The thumping behind your eyes was prominent, and you just knew you were experiencing a hangover from last night’s drinking. You didn’t plan on drinking so much the night before, but red wine catches up on you quickly, especially when you weren’t the one pouring your own glasses. You even knew going to bed last night that you should’ve drank some more water before going to bed but you were just so sleepy.

Finally convincing yourself to get up, you roll to your side and scooch out of bed. Carefully you step down the stairs, trying your best to not wake your grandmother up. Making your way to the kitchen, you quickly gulped down a glass of water and an acetaminophen. 

You already knew what you were getting yourself into today, your uncle had asked, well more like voluntoldyou to set up the metal wheelchair ramp he had bought off of one of his buddies. He told you it was easy enough, one of those portable aluminum and steel ones that you just had to make sure was correctly docked to the front porch and everything will be easy. You appreciated his confidence in you, but you would be more confident in yourself if you didn’t have this hangover to deal with.

Your uncle had told you that he left the pieces to the ramp just inside the shed in Carol’s backyard, and when you casually tried to ask why he didn’t just set it up himself since he’s the one who insisted on buying it for her, you were told he didn’t have the time. Funnily enough, most of your family members seemed to have the same answer any time you would ask them about visiting your grandmother or helping with projects around the house.

You didn’t have the heart to tell your grandmother that you tried to corral some of your local family members to stop by the house sometime soon, not even to have them help with a project, you just wanted them to see Carol but the most positive answers you received were wishy washy we’ll see’s.   

Part of you still hopes that working on these projects, updating the house, and making the home more usable and accessible will encourage more family members to stop by and see this as the family home again, just like your childhood. But the other part of your brain knows that that the dream is just that at this point. 

Prying open the creaky shed door, you’re met with the pile on metal planks and railing pieces are all stacked in pile just inside the doorway, just like your uncle said. Huffing, you start to move the pieces into the small garden cart you were able to pull out from underneath your grandmother’s back deck. Once the cart was sufficiently full, pulling the cart to front the yard, careful not to slip in the small patches of mud in the front. Thankfully it only took a few trips to get all of the pieces up to the front yard, but even now looking at the pile in front of you, you felt a bit in over your head.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring at this pile of planks, trying to figure out where to even start, let alone make your game plan on how to handle these, before hearing some shuffling of footsteps in the leaves behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you catch König walking up to you, and he stops casually next to you, without much of a greeting. 

“What’s this?” He asks while nodding over to the pile in front of the two of you.

“Wheelchair ramp”

“For Carol?”

“Mhm, one of my uncles bought it for her, doesn’t want her doing as many stairs. Doctor’s been trying to convince her to use a walker when leaving the house apparently, and my uncle hopes this’ll convince her to.”

“You’re the one installing it?” You chose not to acknowledge the slight tonal change in König’s usually level tone and from the corner of your eye you could see him giving you a look, but again you chose to ignore it.

“Well, that’s the plan at least” you say bending down to mess with the looser pieces in the pile, picking up the bag of bolts and screws from the ground. “Can’t be that hard.” This time when you heard a small huff of laughter from König, you whipped your face to the side to give him a what? look.

“Give me a second.” König said casually with a turn before jogging off to his own backyard. Within a minute or two, he was jogging back to you with a bag of tools in hand. He let out a quiet let me see these, before softly grabbing the bag of bolts and directions from your hands, and just like that, started working through the pile of planks and lining them up in order, while pulling the planks with his right arm, the directions in his left. 

You just quietly filed behind him, grabbing the tools he asked for and bringing them back to the bag once he was sufficiently done with them. Sometimes he would ask you for your thoughts, having you lean down next to him, double checking that the support beams looked correct to you. You didn’t really know what a correct support beams looked like, but if you had to guess, you would say it should look like this. But König still waited for your response each time he asked your thoughts on the process.

“Alright, I need you to do something for me” König finally looks up from the project and up to you, pausing before he continues, and you nod excitedly waiting for his directions. “I’m going to hold this plank in place, I’ve already drilled the pilot holes, but I need you to screw the bolts into them with the nuts, yeah?” You nod and he continues “there’s a socket wrench in the bag, grab that.”

From there, you follow König’s directions on picking the right size of the socket wrench to the most efficient way to get the bolt in without hurting your wrist. You have used a socket wrench once or twice in the past, but still you appreciated his guidance. He really had made you feel like an equal in this project, even if you weren’t carrying your equal part in this project.

Once you felt the bolts were successfully tightened into spots, you straightened your back and looked down between him and the bolts, “good?”

König took the socket wrench from and did a quick wench on each of the bolts, “good.” He sat back on his legs, letting out a huff, and gazing over the completed ramp. “It’s complete, but we’ll have to fix the railing.” He says reaching up and patting the bottom half of the railing on the porch that was still sitting in front on the entrance to the competed ramp.

“You two have worked hard enough this morning, you can fix the railing after lunch.” Carol says from the front door, you didn’t even realize she had been standing there watching, or just how long the two of you had been at this project. The soft morning sun had already shifted to a blaze straight above your head, and you hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in the project.

“It’s easy enough Carol, just give me-“

“No, come on you two, you need to eat and drink something, can’t have the two of you getting sick.” Carol cut off König, and with a smile she turned back into the house and out of sight. With that, you knew she expected you two to follow.

“Come on, no sense on fighting her on this” you gave König a soft smile and laugh, before reaching your hand out to help him up off the ground. He took it, his hand dwarfing yours and the callouses on fingers grazing your softer hands, and stood. Even with your offer to help him up and his palm on yours, he didn’t actually apply any of his weight on your grasp. 

Once up he brushed his hands off on his pants and attempted a soft smile, “after you” he said with a nod and followed you up the steps into house. The clattering the pans gave you pause, as you knew her talent for cooking had unfortunately dropped these past couple of years, and you let out a soft oh god, before you hurrying your steps into the kitchen. “oh geez Grandma, please just let me cook lunch.”

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divider by @/riottsrph (thank you!!)

[sunraies]

This will contain spoilers for OBX4 Part 1. Ep4 used the most. Other plot lines missed out.

She's so gone

Pogue Reader. Hints of Rafe Cameron.

Warnings- Violence, animal cruelty, blood, mentions of drugs.

JJ Maybank's sister isn't the quite, sweet girl she was 18 months ago.

Just a little background as hard to explain/cover in a one-shot :

Y/N Maybank nicknamed May, MayB or MB

JJ Maybank's sister. (Obx 4 spoiler, you can chose if biological, Luke's or someone else's)

Naturally shy, kind and caring. Loves to read and enjoys nature and the beach. Quietest out of the Pogues.

Changed during the 18 months JJ and the Pogues were away, treasure hunting and fighting for their lives.

I may chose to do more with this nicknamed Y/N character if people enjoy her. Sorry if I'm rusty and seems rushed had this idea after finishing part 1.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

The last 18 months had been hell on earth to put it lightly. While your brother and his friends were off finding treasure and as you found out from all the details later, fighting to survive, you were left behind. Left with no father, brother and friends to try and keep the only home you knew. You literally worked until your fingers and feet bled. Taking cleaning jobs around the Cut and Figure Eight, working as many hours as possible at the Country Club taking any shift they had going from lifeguarding and golf carting to bartending and waiting. Anything to keep your roof over your head, hoping the people you loved would be home soon.

Things turned darker when you got so desperate you used some of Luke's contacts to make money. It started small selling a few stolen pills to dealing using many cleaning jobs as a cover. You were almost caught by Shoupe a few times but he seemed to go easy on you, thinking you were still the grade A student, polar opposite sister of JJ Maybank. Before things got too serious the person to help pull you out was the last person anyone would expect, Rafe Cameron. Why he helped you was unclear but after many months of denying his help, you finally accepted having received a busted lip on a deal gone wrong. The money he loaned you save your home for a little while.

An odd friendship formed between the pair of you but never went any further as before it could the Pogues returned home, with life changing treasure and the news of Ward Cameron and Big John Routledge's death.

Rafe closed himself off to you and you had to go on like nothing happened.

Life got easier and so good with your family's return. They brought your home and land. Poguelandia was re-created and you got a taste of the paradise they had created on the island they told you all about.

After building the paradise. You helped run the shop, organised JJ's charters, helped Kie in the garden and kept the bills and books in check with Pope. You got to be your old self again, spending days relaxing, reading in the sun and enjoying the company of your loved ones.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It had happened a few times over that summer, a storm over the Atlantic hundreds of miles away sent ripples right over the pond. Having grown up on the Outerbanks you told tell, you could hear it the moment you woke up. The flags on the roof and in the yard sung a perfect sympathy with the gulls flying over head.

"We're going to the beach!" You heard JJ yelled through your open window, the tell tell sounds of John B slapping him out of happiness confirmed the feeling in your bones. "Wakey-wakey everybody!"

It didn't matter what you had planned that day, it changed to hitting the brake. No matter what, everyone would stop. It was one time the whole island came together. That perfect summer swell.

"Yeah, baby, now that's the perfect swell. It's probably the best of the year" JJ howled as he checked his phone, tracking the swell making sure the broads were ready and prepared in time to hit the best waves.

Everyone woke with the tingle in their bodies and happy buzz of that beach day. You happily lounged in the hammock while the others prepped their boards. Planning to read on the beach as the others surfed.

Pope had decided not to join causing outrage. Sarah sat up quickly in the swinging chair and you almost toppled out of the hammock. "There'll be other swells. Someone's gotta keep the shop open"

"Pope. That's like saying there's other pizza to eat all right?" JJ exclaimed "like come on, now. You serious?"

"Wow" Kie sighed "Listen to your earth mother, Pope. She's like begging you to surf."

"I think my earth mother is telling me to maximise our intel" Pope wasn't having any of it. "The shop needs running as someone bet our tax fund" He glared at JJ who ignored him.

"Mines tell me to maximise the swell" Kie argued, looking for support.

"Wanna maximise this beach day?" John B looked at Sarah who agreed.

"I wanna maximise this tan" Sarah smiled before turning to you "May? Maximise beach day?"

"I'm gonna maximise this book" you waved your book bag having stood closer to Kie who hummed. They knew you wouldn't get in the surf but never missed beach day.

"Okay, everyone have fun maximising" Pope shrugged. "Cleo texted to say she's collecting bait, someone's gotta sale it"

"Lame. Tell her we're closed" Kie frowned

"Pope, hey, hey, rule number one, Pope, is no working on a swell day." JJ said, desperately trying to stop him as John B wrapped an arm over his shoulder.

"Rule number one" You echoed as Pope looked your way. Having worked the books with him, you knew the shop was sinking but didn't have the heart to tell the others yet. Pope still deserved a day off through but you understood why he was so adamant.

"Someone's gotta do this. If we want to keep business going" Pope shrugged "catch a nasty one for me" He smiled at a broken hearted looking JJ.

"I can stay, I can read while on the till" You offered but Pope shock his head.

"Go enjoy the sand, MayB" He smiled wrapping an arm over your shoulders before kissing your temple.

They all knew how much you worked while they were away but not the dealing side of things. You deserve a beach day, they'd seen a slight change in you but didn't talk to you about it. Taking whatever details of your time alone you'd give them.

Being in the Twinkie, cruising along the coastal road with the music blaring felt like home. Kie smiling happily while an excitable JJ disturbed John B and Sarah in the front.

"Look, John B" JJ grinned pointing over him "Look out there"

You laughed with Kie and Sarah as John B covered his eyes and pushed him backwards, causing JJ to flop over you and Kie.

"May, did you see!? The waves were huge" He grinned boyishly up at you as he held his arms wide, the size of the waves.

"Yeah J, I saw" you smiled softly down at him.

As soon as the Twinkle hit the sand, JJ slide the door open and happily ran his hands in sand while John B let her roll to a stop. Everyone laughed as they soaked up the sun. You laughed as John B almost hit JJ over the head with the umbrella.

"Half-baked Poguelandia" John B sighed as Sarah chuckled "its gonna be great"

Once everything was set, you happily flopped into a chair identical to JJ's, a matching set you had since he was 3.

Kie adjusted the umbrella for you before wrapping you in a back hug "all set, MayB. We'll miss you out there"

"Hey, beach bag guard has always been my duty" You leaned back into her, laughing as the chair wobbled you both "you guys catch the waves while I stay on dry land"

"Let's get those boards off!" JJ hurried over to the van while the roars of jeeps took over the peaceful sounds of the beach.

"Oh boy" John B sighed

"What?" JJ asked distracted by the boards.

The mood suddenly dropped as Kook jeeps rolled closer in a convoy.

"You're joking" Sarah muttered clearly annoyed

"Don't stop" JJ sighed while Kie shook her head "anywhere but here"

You all watched as Topper cruised by at the front. They clearly spotted your group as a random Kook called out look. Stopping a small distance away.

"Oh, you're joking. Of course, they stop here" Kie sighed, her thoughts out loud."Why wouldn't they? When there's a whole beach"

"We were here first," Sarah pouted. "So lame" she walked back towards Twinkie, unable to look at them as John B stared at Topper, unloading his fancy board.

"Let's go, Baby," you heard Rafe yell as he jumped out the back of Top's truck. You hadn't seen him in months. Your heart jumped a little before plummeting as Sofia cuddled into his side. You'd hear rumors but hadn't seen them together yet.

"Oh, great, my brothers here" Sarah sighed as Rafes eyes scanned the beach and your group before they locked in on you.

"Kie, don't worry, he's not getting near you" JJ confirmed her as you all knew about the boat incident. "I can guarantee that"

You wished the promise of protection was to you too but they didn't know, you hadn't told them of your betrayal. The life line you took from Rafe. The reason the house and land was still there to buy in the first place.

"Hey, ya'll. John B" JJ called from the top of the Twinkie "Sunshines coming"

You broke eye contact with Rafe, adjusting your shades, placing the book in your lap to watch Topper approach. You watched as Sarah whispered warnings to John B, most likely telling him not to bite if Topper provoked him.

They seemed tense but ended civilly as John B walked back to your group. You rolled your eyes as some dumb Kook yelled, "Go home Pogues" like they owned the beach.

Things seemed to go smoothly after that. The Pogues happily caught the waves. You jumped up cheering as Sarah successfully rode a big swell in. "YEAH GIRL!" You cheered, picking up her towel while she was briefly stop by Kelce and Topper.

As she walked over you noticed Sofia saying something to Rafe, but he swigged his beer and shook his head.

"You ok?" You asked Sarah as she thanked you for her towel and flopped next to you.

"I'm good" She breathed before looking away from the Kooks "I just wished he'd stop staring over here"

You nodded as you noticed Rafe watching you two. Was he looking at you or Sarah?

"Hey, forget it" You hummed handing her a can out the cooler "he probably doesn't know....." You stopped as Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'How to talk to you after everything' you wanted to finish but instead said "he's probably plotting. You know crazy Kook shit"

Sarah let out breathy laugh "you sound like JJ. Kook conspiracy!"

Sarah dozed next to you as you read but you found it hard to focus, re reading the same line as Rafe kept looking over. You were reading a sentence for the 5th time when you heard yelling from the water. Sarah sat up just in time for you both to witness JJ poach Topper, sending him toppling into the waves as JJ rode to the swallows.

The Kooks yelled at him, including Rafe, before he flipped him the bird, and JJ shrugged, making you and Sarah, even though it clearly broke whatever peace had been created. "Well, that didn't last long" you sighed

The peace seemed to stay for the rest of the afternoon. A few pity poaching and pushing out of the waves happened but it didn't amount to anything. You helped Sarah and John B load the Twinkie as JJ and Kie got the last of the boards on the top.

"Guys! There's a turtle hatch!" Kie gasped, rushing over to the moving sand. You all hurried after her.

"Holy shit! Look at these little nuggets!" John B smiled as baby turtles emerged.

"They're so little!" Sarah made little movements with her hands

"Adorable!" You smiled

"Wait, guys, give them some space. Don't touch them" Kie warned after her excitement.

"Wait, we gotta make a path, right?" John B asked

"Yeah, clear the way" JJ exclaimed before starting to make a part towards the shoreline.

"We gotta clear these footprints" Kie instructed. "Sarah, MayB, keep the gulls off"

"I don't see any!" Sarah spread her arms wide, looking up before wobbling. You caught her laughing before helping shield the baby turtles.

"A turtle highway!" JJ exclaimed.

"Follow the turtle highway. Come kids" Sarah happily called out to them, and John B joked he was their human daddy leading them to the ocean-ocean

"Go on, babies." you smiled before looking at Kie, who was smiling widely, over the moon to see a hatch and that you were all helping her. The turtles and saving the ocean was her dream, and this was a part of it. If this hatch made it, all of them with your help they had a 50% better chance.

Just as you looked back down at them, something fast moving along the beach caught your eye "guys" you muttered before the revving got louder "guys!"

"Hey!" Kie jumped up quickly waving her arms as she saw the jeep too. You both desperately waved your arms to stop whoever it was. All of you started waving and yelling

"Hey stop!"

"Stop!"

"There's a hatch!"

"Yo Stop"

"Go around!"

They didn't stop. If anything, whoever was behind the wheel accelerated more. You and Kie stood your ground till the last second, diving and tumbling out of the way before you could be hit. JJ desperately looked around, seeing Sarah had Kie, he helped you up, checking you over for any injuries. "Shit, you good?"

You hummed and nodded before he ran over to Kie checking on her.

"Fucking Assholes" Kie frowned, looking at the babies. The revving started again "Oh hell no!"

She stood in the path of the jeep again this time, all five of you stood together, yelling from them to stop. Again, they didn't, making you all jump out of the way. Kie got hit with a drink as the Kook you recognised as Ruthie drove by.

As the others checked on Kie, you looked over that the Kooks hollering and cheering. Noticing Rafe and Sofia not joining in. If anything, Sofia looked disgusted. Did they feel bad for watching you almost get run over? You hadn't spoken to Sofia much, but she always seemed kind. She clearly didn't belong in a good way.

Kie's gasp and cry of "no no no no" broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down at her kneeling in the sand, you noticed a murdered baby turtle in her hands. The tiny broken shell. Kie whimpered and remained for a moment before suddenly standing up and heading for the overly happy group.

"Stay here" she said before walking away. JJ ran after her as John B held Sarah back before calling out to you, but you didn't listen.

"Kie, I know I'm the last to say this. But not today" JJ tried to stop her.

"I don't care" Kie bluntly responded

"Kie, we need to be smart about this" you said softly.

"I don't care" she repeated

"No. All right" JJ sighed "Just we are little outnumber in this situation. Let's jus-"

"I don't care!" She snapped at him, looked at the both of you.

"Here she comes!" Topper called out "on a warpath. Get ready!" Ruthie smugly stood beside him as everyone watched Kie with you and JJ behind her to see what would happen.

"Look what you did" Kie held out the baby turtle. "Is this OK?" Ruthie smug ass look dropped suddenly glancing at the baby before looking away.

"No, look at it!" Kie urged."You drove right over it! there was a turtle hatch, you idiots!" Everyone looked uncomfortable.

"I understand your upset, Kiara." Topper tried some conflict resolution bullshit.

"No, I'm more than upset, Topper" Kie snapped at him.

"All right but it was only one" Ruthie sighed pointing back towards John B and Sarah "I mean look there's so many more of them" she shrugged like it was nothing "what a hatch is like 100 turtles? Most of them don't make it anyway"

"Yeah, it's like 1 in 1000" Topper added, like stating the facts Kie knew would help.

"Hey, you know what? You should so throw that to the seagulls. " Ruthie taunted "cycle of life, right?"

"Cycle of life!" Kie pushed her back, causing her to cry out in shock, and Topper jumped in to protect her "getting flatten by a truck is not the cycle of life!"

JJ got between Topper and Kie holding him away from her as some Kook held up her phone. Ruthie got close to Kie, "Your move, Kie." She clearly felt protected by her friend recording. "What you gonna do?"

"I would just walk away. We are not going this today" Topper warned JJ and Kie. No one was really paying attention to you. You were JJ's quite, sweet sister.

"There is something seriously wrong with you people!" Kie yelled at them before turning around and pushing a speaker over.

"Come on, Kie" You said softly, putting an arm around her, which she shrugged off.

"Yeah, that's right! Get back to your side, Kie!" Ruthie yelled. You glared back at them, pausing between Kie walking away and JJ staying.

"If you touch her, or any of us ever again. I'll come back and kill every single one of you" JJ threatened.

"Was that a threat?" Ruthie gasped as someone called out they had JJ on video.

"Come on" He said softly to you as you continued to watch Ruthie, blood bubbling away under the surface.

"Always knew he'd end up like his daddy" Ruthie muttered, clinging to Topper like some poor victim. You caught what she said and saw red.

Before anyone knew what was happening, your fist connected with Ruthies' nose. A horrific crack broke the stunned silence. Blood poured from her nose as she cried out. You shook your hand out, not sure if the crack was your knuckles, her nose, or both.

"You dare speak of my family again" You seethed "and it will be more than just your nose. TURTLE MURDERING BITCH"

Chaos broke out as Topper went for you, JJ pushed him away as he broke out of his shock. John B sprinted over as Kelce took as swing for JJ. Shockingly, Rafe got between the four of them.

"Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled at JJ and John B "get her and go!"

JJ scribbled over to you, grabbing you arm and pulling you away "Holy shit, holy shit" He muttered "what the fuck? How the-" He was stunned just as much as everyone else.

"We have that on video?! Right?!" Ruthie cried, holding a towel to her nose, but her friend shook her head, having stopped when JJ and you started to walk away. She'd only caught the aftermath.

Back the Twinkle, Sarah held your hand, checking the bruising and broken knuckles. "You got a serious swing there, May"

"Well, J taught me" you shrugged.

"I taught you for emergency situations!" He ran a hand through his hair."That was not an emergency!"

"She looked too smug" You said sighing softly.

"Yeah, now we gotta deal with Shoupe" JJ sighed, knowing he'd probably already been called. The death threat was bad enough.

"May, hasn't got a record. She'll be fine" Kie said "but girl, you did what I wanted to do!"

"Plus Shoupe hasn't had to deal with MayB before. She's normally covering your messes. " John B pointed out calming JJ a bit.

"Um, yeah. Kinda not the first time" you muttered.

"WHAT?!" JJ and John B yelled, John B slammed the breaks in shock, bringing the Twinkie to a sudden stop just outside Poguelandia where blue lights flushed.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I'm going to need Joe and Storm picking up reader at the airport and they're both like "don't EVER leave us again"

Airport Reunions--A 'Roll for Initiative Blurb'

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

__________________

Joe’s not shocked when his phone shows a preview for the text and it states, 6 attachments. There’s been periodic dumps from the vacation--food, beaches, skylines of the night life, videos of you shouting loudly over the music thumping, you in the best dressed, the silly selfies. Joe’s hoard of them grows, each time you send him a collection of photos, he downloads them all without even looking at him. 

In an instant. 

“Boy, you ain’t even look at the pictures yet to know which ones to save,” Ja’Marr cackles, watching from the left of Joe. 

“Keep your eyes on your fucking cards and not my phone,” Joe huffs in return, turning the screen so Ja’Marr can’t see. 

Tee laughs from across the table, slapping down yellow seven to the stack. Ja’Marr goes back to his hand to look through what he can play and it gives Joe just enough time to look. The first one is of the beach, a video follows of you and your friends working together to build a sand castle, the third picture stops Joe instantly, setting his cards face down on the table and he scoots back. 

Ja’Marr and Tee laugh. “What you got there? A bathing suit picture? The way that man scoot back like it was a fire,” Tee ribs--a bright smile dancing over his face. 

And they’re not wrong. It is a picture of you, kissed in the sunlight, water running along your chest, a teasing smile on your face like you knew exactly what you were doing when you snapped the picture of yourself. Joe chews at his lip, feels the groan bruising at his ribs, aching to come out. 

I think I went into cardiac arrest, Joe types in as a reply to the picture. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding, even as he goes through the rest of the pictures his brain doesn’t compute what they are because all he can see is the trail of that water droplet down your collarbones, wanting to lick it of your sun kissed skin. 

Adding life alert to the cart as we speak. 

“Oh, fuck off,” he grumbles at your reply and Ja’Marr and Tee are still cackling, howling at their own jokes about his response. The smell of the grill still wafts around them, a soft smell now that they’ve eaten nearly an hour ago--at Joe’s insistence to use the device semi-regularly now that he owns it and the weather is nice. 

“Man is out here hurting without his baby,” Ja’Marr laughs, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “Twin coming back. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. You pick ‘em up tonight.”

Life alert cannot save you from what I’ve got planned, Joe retorts over text to you.  

Your reply is near immediate, the grainy meme of a referee that reads, “Unnecessary horiness 15 yards.” But your reply is far from shock, or even repulsion, Ready to play dirty?

Joe is beyond ready to play dirty, but he’s thinking about how the bed’s not going to feel so big without you. Storm passes around them, Joe feels his fur against his ankles. Storm settles under the seat, the shade of Joe’s body probably more than welcomed from the wave of warm weather. It’s going to be nice to have you back, to hold you in his arms again. 

“Joke me all you want,” Joe murmurs, noticing the Draw 2 on top of the deck. He picks up his deck and adds a green Draw 2 to the stack. “I’m locked down happily. How’s your love life again, Ja’Marr?”

“Oh, so you trying to fight now, huh?” Ja’Marr cackles. Tee adds a red Draw 2 and Ja’Marr sucks his teeth, but that doesn’t stop him from taking the six cards. “That shit ain’t funny. Y’all just fucking sore ass losers. And Official Uno rules say that shit is illegal.”

“Oh, now you wanna play by the official rules?” Tee teases. “Who’s the sore loser now?”

Joe loops the airport three times until his phone shakes and he sees the text from you. He settles in front, placing his hazards on. Storm meows from the back, inside the carrier to keep him as safe as possible. “They’re on the way, buddy.”

It’s a risky play, Joe knows it as he slips out of the front door and slips Storm free from the carrier but no sooner than Joe can get upright, the front doors slide open again. “Look at my boys.”

Joe turns to your voice, relieved to see you--safely returned home and smiling. The suitcase rolls against the concrete. He hears it but all Joe focuses on is you, the twinkle of your laugh, how you slot so perfectly against him, how Storm purrs between the both of you, climbing to your shoulder. How you feel so much like home, if home could ever be a person, could ever be a feeling. This would be Joe’s home, to have you in his arms, to inhale the sweet scent of you, to keep you wrapped up in the hug. This is home and damn anything that tries to get in the way. 

“God, it’s good to have you back,” he whispers. 

“Oh, did you two miss me or something?”

Joe laughs at the way Storm nuzzles into your neck. “Yeah, or something like that. I think he missed you more.”

“I missed my boys too.”

The luggage is easy to slip into the trunk. It’s easy to ease back out into the road, to takes all the turns and exits he needs to get you all three back home. Storm settles into your lap. Joe slips his hand to your knees, thumb brushing over the material of your sweatpants, thick enough to hide away he bumpy texture of the joint, but not thick enough to hide away the warmth of your skin. 

“Looks like you had plenty of fun?”

“I did,” you return to the question. “Remind me to never drink dark rum ever again though.”

“What happened on dark rum?”

“I danced on a table top in a bar.”

His laughter is sharp, rumbling in his chest as Joe risks a glance over to you. The two of you didn’t party hard in college, a couple outings. Partying was nice, but Joe was almost always out with the team. He’s seen you out before, but a drink or two at most. But it’s not a far enough image--how a couple more drinks deep into the night, a song you love blaring over the speaker and some poor wooden table as your stage.

“Please tell me you have a video.”

“I do, hon. I do.”

The sound of his nickname makes his chest warm. The space feels lived in around him again. Joe feels lived in, warm, and complete again.

[briarpatch-kids]

are you willing to talk about your experience gardening while disabled? i have different support needs and limitations than you, but i have no idea how to navigate pain, fatigue, and limited mobility (wheelchair user) and still care for plants (and even associated tasks like canning or otherwise preserving your harvest). it's something i've always wanted to do but always felt was surely impossible for me. if specific details about my situation would help i can provide them! i'm just in such awe of the work you share on here and i'd love some ideas of what i might want to try to work towards.

Thank you so much! Here's a lot of what I've learned over the past 8 years or so. I went from using a cane to a walker to a wheelchair to a powerchair so I've had a lot of varied experience.

I've found doing it in a powerchair makes things MUCH easier, but I also did it in a manual chair. You can get shorter handled shovels (go from the ground to your shoulder in the chair for measuring handle height) and that helps a lot, as does a hori hori style garden knife. Sometimes I get like, children's hoes and tools so I can use them easier. I can still move my legs, so I kinda stomp on the shovel while still sitting in my chair to dig. I'm trying out a tool called "grandpa's weeder" this year to see if it can weed better than the garden knife. Sometimes, I use my powerchair to add extra leverage to digging by driving forward with my shovel in the soil. I use my footplate to carry things like bags of compost or tools.

A lot of my physical therapy tasks focus on keeping the bend over and sit back up skill because I don't do the tall raised beds, the tallest i have are the four 12 inch high raised beds in the back. I generally make sure I have three feet MINIMUM between garden beds, four in spots I might want to turn around in.

A three foot wide bed is generally the best width for me reach wise. Most of my pathways are packed soil, but that's a little harder in a manual chair, if you can get pavers put in it's a lot nicer. If you have a manual chair, the wider casters are better for this.

Go SLOW. My big garden is the culmination of like... 8 years of work. I generally do less than an hour of work a day MAX. A lot of times when it's not prep and planting season (about two months in the spring and one or two in the fall if you want to dig a new bed) there isn't much more than 10 to 15 a day of pulling the odd weed and harvesting. If you are gardening in both the front and back yards, get one hose for watering each side or you'll suffer. Dragging hoses is literally the hardest part for me. Planting perennials (plants that grow year after year instead of just one or two years) works really good because once they're in, they're in, and don't need much maintenance beyond a winter haircut or pruning.

If you're ambulatory and capable of it, consider a rollator for gardening or one of those garden carts if possible. You can also get these cool little stools that come with taller handles to help you stand back up. I used to be able to sit on my walker and plant and bed prep so easily when it was just my four little raised beds in the back. That was so much easier than hauling my ass around the dirt in a manual chair. If you are not ambulatory or barely ambulatory, I would recommend only gardening when someone else is home and able to rescue you if need be because I've gotten stuck a couple times lmao. If your wrists and hands are weak, there are adaptive gardening tools you can get to help out, like gloves that you can basically velcro a tool into for weak grip or tools with like a brace that goes against your arm.

[viperixsworld]

Born to die

━━ Benjicot Blackwood x oc

Chapther three: friends

Year 126 A.C

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dearest sister,

We hope this raven finds you on your way to your new home. Father wrote from Oldtown with the good news, both Olga and I are delighted with your recent engagement.

I want to hear all about it once you arrive at Raventree Hall (I had to look up the location on a map). IT'S A LONG WAY AWAY.

Unfortunately, Olga says we won't be able to come to your wedding, as it's a long journey and Father and Lady Julianna's wedding is taking place first. You have met her. Is she nice? Does it smell like horse poo? Is she pretty? Please, please get a quick crow to tell me before she arrives.

Anyway, Livia will attend, she's got your wedding dress. Olga didn't want to show me the drawing and fabric selection because she says I'll ruin the surprise for you. IT'S NOT FAIR, YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE SURPRISES.

That's all for now, Olga says her hand hurts from writing this letter. But we'll send you more once you get to the Riverlands.

Give Livia a big hug for me, I miss you both so much.

Best wishes,

Patricia Redwyne.

Lucrezcia reread the letter three times on Maegor's back. The huge black horse was restless, eager to gallop as soon as his owner gave the command.

They were waiting for the servants to load Lucrezcia's belongings into the cart, along with Nyssa.

Alyssane Blackwood's six men were preparing for a long journey home, their mission accomplished in securing a new maester.

Kyle was a skinny young man with blond hair and a grey habit. He was two years younger than Lucrezcia and had gained his chains at the tender age of twelve. A prodigy, the archmaesters said, but a tremendously shy and frightened prodigy. The young maester was on a small grey horse, which looked like a pony compared to Maegor.

The Redwyne girl looked out to sea, specifically to the boat with the blue sail with the cluster of grapes on it. Her father and his young betrothed were setting sail for their former home.

She would miss the wedding, and so would her family miss hers.

It didn't make her sad, but it gave her a certain twinge in her stomach.

It's not as if they were one big happy family, she herself nor her sisters attended the eldest's wedding. Livia had married her husband at the Sept of Oldtown, only her father and mother attended the ceremony.

True, she would not marry for the Seven, much to her father's dismay. Lucrezcia would marry for the customs of her new house, the faith of the Old Gods.

Now she had to face this new phase alone. Without her father's orders, Olga's disapproving looks and Patricia's laughter.

She didn't know if she liked or dreaded the idea.

"Ready?" asked Alyssane, pulling her horse ahead of her.

The girl nodded, starting on the road to Raventree Hall.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The journey would be a long one. It would take three weeks on horseback, four if the weather was bad.

In the long hours of the day that they could ride, the Blackwood banner would only be taken out in towns or on land, not on the road, so as not to attract bandits.

One of the rivermen, Butch, would tell stories during meal breaks. Mostly to pick on Kyle.

They had been in a routine of teasing the young maester for several days, as well as trying to flirt with Lucrezcia's maid. To which Nyssa responded with amusement. When Lucrezcia looked at her with some judgement, the bravoosi would reply in her thick accent.

"You are the betrothed, not me."

Lucrezcia could only shake her head and agree with the young woman. Despite the jokes and the good humour of the rivermen guarding her, Lucrezcia felt tremendously bored.

Alyssane always walked a few yards ahead, flanked by two of her men, while the other four guarded Lucrezcia, Nyssa, and Kyle, as well as the cart with all the belongings.

She led and when it was time she hunted. Lucrezcia had helped a couple of times, getting a couple of hares and birds. She was not so skilled with the bow, she was better with the spear and commanding the dogs.

Dogs that would sail to Seagard, and then be transported to their new home.

How she missed them.

Her pack of four dogs could now run all over the Riverlands.

In the days they had been travelling, Lucrezcia had tried to learn as much as she could about her new home. She had asked Alyssane, about the castle, the people, how many people lived under its protection, what kind of organisation they followed.

Not only the duties of the lady of the house, she wanted to know as much as a lord.

Alyssane looked more than pleased, she had made a good decision with the girl. As they rode side by side, the women talked about Raventree and its lands. Kyle helped by contributing maps and scrolls, it was one of the few times Lucrezcia appreciated that the boy did not stammer.

They had formed a friendship. A shy boy and a mouthy girl.

"Oi! Baby Maester! C'me here" one of the men called "Do you have a cure for this one here?It stings like hell" he cried, clutching his private parts.

The party gathered around the fire, for it was getting dark in the forest. Alyssane, as usual, walked a couple of leagues ahead, leaving Lucrezcia and the others with the carriage.

They were preparing dinner, Lucrezcia had managed to catch two hares and the men a wild boar, which would last for several days. What little was left of the journey.

Kyle blushed and looked at the ground in embarrassment. Lucrezcia, sitting next to him, said.

"If you spent less time in brothels and more time doing your job, your dick wouldn't itch, Robb."

Robb stood up and walked over to Lucrezcia, who sat on a log, impassive.

"And who says I don't do my job? A spoilt child?" he spat.

"I say so," said Lucrezcia, "The future lady of your lands, so leave the future maester of those lands alone, because maybe, in the not too distant future, your parts will fall off, and this master won't feel like helping you".

Robb looked down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Now, apologize to Kyle for being rude."

Robb looked at the boy and pursed his lips.

"I'm sorry Kyle" Lucrezcia raised an eyebrow "I'm rude and I apologize".

"Now that is..."

Lucrezcia's words were interrupted by a thunderous noise in the bushes. In the hour of the bat, the only thing separating the group from the pitch darkness was the campfire.

Blackwood's men became alert at once. Robb signalled the others to put Lucrezcia, Kyle and Nyssa in the carriage. Lucrezcia rose from her seat, but stood still as Robb drew a dagger from his belt. It was pitch black, but Lucrezcia could make out one figure, two figures, four?

"Enter the carriage, my lady."

As the girl approached the cursed caravan, with Kyle and Nyssa already inside, an arrow stuck between the sleeve of Lucrezcia's dress and its door, breaking the handle and locking her two friends in. Or her outside.

Robb's men drew their swords swiftly. Lucrezcia tried without reward to disengage herself from the carriage.

From the shadows emerged three figures, shabbily dressed men with daggers and short swords. They did not look malnourished, and despite carrying sacks like soaps, one of them wore a gold tooth, one wore pearls in his ears, and one wore the carcass of a suit of armour that had once belonged to the Royal Guard.

"It's our lucky day, isn't it fellas?"

The man had an accent that was not from the Riverlands, nor was it from the Reach or the Crownlands. But she recognised it, it was the same one she had heard in Starfish Harbor.

"They are from Volantis," she whispered from behind Robb.

"They're filthy bandits."

The apparent ringleader of the group, a man with sparse red hair on the crown of his head and a golden tooth, tried to approach them.

"Clever girl."

Before they could get any closer to the chariot, Robb and his men charged the bandits. For Blackwood's men were not known for their patience. Lucrezcia found herself pressed against the carriage door as she tugged at the sleeve of her dress. She had counted four figures, and none of the men carried a bow.

One was missing.

Amidst the chaos of the scuffle, cries for help from inside the carriage caught the girl's attention. Kyle and Nyssa were pounding on the door from inside. One of the bandits had cut Robb, the one with the tooth. Lucrezcia watched as they scrambled around the fire, stamping their feet.

They were trying to put out the fire.

So they would have the advantage in the dark.

With all the strength she had, Lucrezcia tore the sleeve of the dress.

"Robb! Don't let them put out the bonfire!"

But Robb seemed very focused on fighting the red man who dodged her blows with ease. Lucrezcia was beginning to panic. Perhaps if she screamed, she would alert Alyssane and the reinforcements. Or more bandits.

Lucrezcia found herself in a situation where shouting wasn't going to help, but she didn't know how to fight either. So with the knife she was skinning the hares with, she tried to prise Kyle and Nyssa out.

One of the bandits fell right into the fire, the smell of burning flesh and hide was not pleasant and made Lucrezcia want to vomit.

Just when she thought the bandits were at a disadvantage and could get out of it, arms wrapped around Lucrezcia, lifting her off the ground.

"Hold still there, girl."

When the Blackwoods heard their future lady's shout, they turned in fright. Seeing the girl clutching a dagger to her throat, Robb and his men looked at each other and threw their weapons to the ground and raised their hands in defeat.

"Tie them to a tree," said the ringleader.

"You may take the gold," said Robb, "but leave the girl."

The man holding Lucrezcia, the archer, stood still, waiting. The red-haired man approached the girl, cupping her face in his dirty hands.

"And why is gold worth more to me than this pretty face, mm?"

There, Lucrezcia did the only thing she could. She spat in the bandit's face.

Apparently, this caused her other captor, the one who was holding her, to laugh.

"Shut up, Astor" said the red-haired man "What a playful little thing, aye?" he said this time referring to Lucrezcia. "You're going to entertain me tonight."

"The only thing that will entertain you is the beating my men are going to give you." she said haughtily.

"I'm terrified" laughed the red head. "Take the things and the girl," he ordered, "and kill the rest."

Astor, her other captor, seemed to hesitate.

"They are unarmed, Oren." he said, Lucrezcia noticed that this one was not from Essos, but spoke the common tongue like her.

Oren, the ringleader, addressed Astor in a mocking tone.

"Have you grown honour in your balls, now? At this moment? What a fucking idiot."

At that moment, an arrow flew into the forehead of the bandit who had tied Blackwood's men to a tree. It pierced his ugly head.

The galloping of horses could be heard in the darkness, broken by the torches carried by Alyssane and her men.

Astor loosened his grip on the girl, while Oren, seeing himself cornered, grabbed a stick from the ground and lit its tip with the fire of the nearly extinguished bonfire.

"If I'm not taking anything, neither are you, girl."

And he threw the flaming torch under the carriage.

Kyle and Nyssa screamed louder from inside as they felt the heat beneath their feet.

In terror, Lucrezcia kicked out of Astor's grip. The bandit made no attempt to recapture her, seeming too busy trying to tear his companion's head off with his eyes.

Lucrezcia tried again to pry open the locked carriage door with all her might. The smoke stung her lungs.

Alyssane arrived just in time to stop the bandits, who were trying to flee. Except for Astor, who, at the last moment, approached the carriage door.

Lucrezcia and the boy looked at each other for a second, before Astor assisted. A silent agreement. Then the bandit drew his sword, and failing to leverage it as the young woman had before, he slashed at the hinges of the door with the hilt of his sword.

Then Lucrezcia pulled hard, opening the door. She reached inside and tried to pull her friends out.

Meanwhile, Alyssane and her men rode to the scene. As one of them untied Robb and the others, Alyssane charged at Oren, who was trying to flee. And from her horse, Alyssane grabbed him by his thinning hair and pointed her sword at the bandit's throat.

"A last word?"

"Lord of Light, lead me. The night is dark and full of terrors. Lord of Light, protect me."

Then Alyssane slit his throat.

Once Kyle and Nyssa were out of the burning carriage, Blackwood's men were unleashed.

"This is my cue to leave," said Astor.

Lucrezcia looked at him. Trying to look grateful. He had saved her friends, but there would have been no need to save them if he and his gang had not attacked them.

"Thank you for your help" said Lucrezcia "Go, before you get caught."

"Many thanks to you, Vala."

Lucrezcia's head whipped around as she heard her mother's name from the stranger's lips. A name that had not been mentioned aloud for the last four years of her life. Spoken by a bandit in the Riverlands rather than in her own home by her own family.

"What did you call me?"

The boy gave him a half smile, and set the dagger he had helped rescue his friends on the ground between the two of them. Before disappearing into the shadows, he said to her.

"You look a lot like her." was not the only response "Valar Morgulis"

And he left. Leaving Lucrezcia confused and dizzy. Dagger in hand.

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tag list: @erysione @asteria33 @shifter-101 @drwho-ess @hotdxdragon @username199945 @nixtape-foryou @saturnssrings

so sorry if i left anyone out the tag list, i just don't know how to add more people